#also that droop on my face isn’t supposed to be my nose

[quibbs126]

So we’ve had a freeze over here since yesterday, and this has been my experience when I go outside

Also I say 20 degrees, but that’s only been today, yesterday was 30. Which isn’t much better, but it wasn’t 20

But yeah, I’m not exactly prepared for the weather. And unfortunately, since I can’t drive and have to rely on buses which are currently operating hourly (if they’re running at all today), I can’t go out and get stuff like gloves or longer socks

This is why it sucks to live in Texas, because we don’t usually get snow and stuff like that, so we aren’t really prepared whenever we do get that, and I’m currently left like this

Also this is just my normal outfit plus a bigger jacket, I usually wear this all throughout the year (though I lose the jacket when I go home since I don’t go out much)

Ah well, I just felt like complaining about it through a poorly drawn sketch, it was fun

#also that droop on my face isn’t supposed to be my nose #it’s the frozen snot thing you see depicted on characters when it’s cold #I just didn’t also draw a nose #I drew this in like 10 minutes #real life stuff #freeze #my art #me #poorly drawn comics #been a while since I used that tag #random stuff

[issybee06]

Because…

Part ii

Warnings: swearing, smoking, underage drinking, trauma but it's ✨trauma✨, bad flirting, uncomfortable conversations, bro Kakashi is still 18…just a baby, TI building shenanigans, insomnia, coffee addiction…thats a warning right?

Eunoia

(n.) beautiful thinking;a well mind

…………………………………………………………………..……

I sigh, squeezing the bridge of my nose as I push back from the lad bench. It was 3 in the fucking morning and I was still here in this tiny lab.

Anbu had returned home two days ago, severely wounded, with one of their comrades dead. They had been in the Stone Country when they encountered their enemy and a new poison. A new poison meant a new threat, and that meant I was pulled from my 3-day break on the first day.

My head fell back and I looked up at the grey ceiling, closing my eyes when the fluorescent light began to sting. Yeah…this is better than fieldwork my ass.

It could be worse, I reminded myself as I unconsciously reached for my chest to press the grey fabric... This is why I picked this job.

Groaning, I stand up. I look down at my notes, all scribbled and messy, 1/3 of it was Japanese, another was fucking scroll marking and the rest was just chicken scratch…how the fuck was I supposed to read that when I could see straight?

That's a problem for future me, I think as I walk out of the lab, closing the door firmly behind me. I don’t bother with turning the lights off…I’m coming back. Walking down the hall, I stuff my hands into my pockets.

Moving to the kitchen, I open the cabinets to grab the unground coffee beans before dumping my version of a cup into the machine.

I grab a glass bear bottle, dumping the residue into the sink before washing it out and then filling it with water. I fill the coffee maker with water, before pressing the button, filling the quiet quarters with the irritating grinding.

Sliding to the ground, I sit with my back against the cabinet. TI was…grey. The walls, the uniforms, everything was grey. The only colorful thing here was the people, I smirk slightly.

“SENSEI!!”

The world was on fire, licking at my face and burning my hands.

Konoha was gone, flattened by the heels of the fox demon. Houses, trees, hills, and buildings all whipped away like crumbs on a table by the claws and nine swishing tails.

I go to run, only to be dragged back by arms circling my waist.

“Let me go! I can save them! I CAN SAVE THEM!!!”

“Don't be stupid!”

Kakashi…he pulled me close to his chest as tears cleaned the dirt and ash off my face. I sob, falling to the ground and he falls with me, burying his face into my hair to hide his tears.

“…there's nothing we can do.”

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Mother fucker…?”

I open my eyes, pulling myself up to see that the coffee was done.

“Oh fuck yes, come to mama.”

I grab a mug, pouring the black liquid into it, “you are going to keep my body functional…”

Inhaling, I move back down the hall to the lab. Looking down, my eyes droop at seeing my chicken scratch notes. You know what? Inoichi can just use his freaky mind powers to pick at my brain.

I sit back down, taking a sip before placing the cup on the desk. I lean on my hand, mental deciphering the notes as I switch back and forth between the papers and the microscope.

This poison…it isn’t like anything I’ve studied before.

When Inoichi, Ibiki and I had gone to the Autopsy of the Anbu member it was too hard to look…he was almost interlay eaten away on one side; skin, muscle and bone.

The poison had disintegrated him, but when we took the samples and stored them in the glass test tubes…nothing happened.

This poison only ate away at living tissue, and not just flesh but also flora too I had come to realize after running a few test.

I reach for a tube, holding it up to the light.The poison was oddly pretty…it was an almost impossible electric blue, reminding me of chakra almost.

My job was to break this sucker down, find out what made it tick, then use my finding to conduct an antidote with the help of the medical core.

“Fucking chemistry…” I sigh, placing the tube back and replacing it with my coffee.

As I sip, the lab door opens.

“Setsuko-Chan…is my shift done already?”

The young women blushes, adjusting her glasses, “I-I’m truly sorry I’m late Senju-Hime! I promise it won’t hap-”

I raise my hand, continuing to chug the coffee down. She shuts her mouth, gulping.

I place the empty cup down, giving her a smile, “don’t worry about it, I get into my groove around this time anyways.”

She breathes out a sigh of relief and I can’t help but raise my brow at this kid. She’s a Chunin, fresh Chunin, that Inoichi recruited after seeing her skills in making laxative drugs out of berries during the forest part of the exams. I thought she was hilarious, I knew one of the kids she got, and I think that’s why I liked her.

I stand, grabbing my old notes and handing her the clearer ones.

“Here’s my findings, coffees in the pot-don’t accidentally drink the poison…I’ve done that once.”

She makes a concern face as I walk past her, heading to the front to clock out.

It’s still winter, I think to myself as snow lightly flutters down from the sky. The walk back to the apartment, thank the gods, isn’t that long but I can’t seem to stop myself from dragging my feet as I walk. My shift…was from 3pm to 3am, you do the math, and I was really starting to feel those fucking hours.

I was praying silently that Genma would leave me the fuck alone when I got home, he never did and always seemed to break something in our shared apartment.

My relationship with Genma…i wouldn’t ever say I was closer to the lay back brunette then our other childhood teammate Gai, but we just understood each other a little more.

Nothing about our relationship was sexual, he just didn’t want to buy and pay rent for an apartment and I understood that. We shared the rent, 50/50 and split the chores somewhat evenly. He did the cleaning while I cooked, I was not going to let someone who burns water cook in my kitchen.

We had offered Gai a room in the apartment, but then Kakashi bought his own apartment and Gai just had to beat his rival by buy a bigger one.

I stop, looking over at the bright lights of the 24-hour open food shop that was set up for Shinobi. I didn’t want to cook…but I had only drank coffee and ate food pills while working to minimize how much cross contamination could happen in the lab, and I was starving.

Heading in, I raise a hand in creating to the shop owner who smiled in return. I move to the frozen food, eyes zeroing in on the microwaveable soup dumplings. They were shitty, but so good at the same time.

I grab two boxes, knowing Genma was going to bitch and complain if I didn’t get him something. I also grab two soda bottles, more coffee beans, and a can of cat food for my cat, not me.

I head to the register and the old man smiles, “hard work today?”

I smile kindly, “yes, but it’s worth it right?”

The old man nods, “you Shinobi do a great service to the village, remember that.”

He hands me my spoils in s paper bag, and I pay up. Walking out, I give him another wave before making a B-line towards the apartment.

I sigh, opening the door but furrow my brows when I find not only Genma up, but also four other shinobi that do not pay rent, in the living room playing cards.

“Genma…it’s 3 fucking 30.”

He grins and the others snap their necks to look at me. My confusion fades and I sigh, “of course it’s you guys, hi Gai-kun.”

Gai grins, a faint blush on his cheeks from the Saké. Next to him on the couch is Kakashi, which is a surprise, in the armchair sits Ebisu and on the floor is Asuma who is smoking what looks like to be his third cigarette.

Ebisus face turns crimson and I raise a brow, shutting the door. Ebisu always seemed to have a crush on me-well, he did have a crush on any woman who breaths-but I never understood why…I punched him in the face when we were kids.

Genma jumps up, drunkenly giving me a wet kiss on my cheek.

“Hime~ come play cards with us! I know for a fact you’re a better gambler then your cousin!”

I duck under his arm, “ no can do, Babes, I’m crashing. But I brought food.”

Asuma and Gai perk up, getting up to see what to had.

“That’s a relief-don’t look at my cards Ebisu!”

“Gods Asuma! I wasn’t!” Ebisu groan, also getting up.

Kakashi stayed on the couch, eye staring straight as his sneaked sips of his Saké. I frown at him, opening the packages of soup dumplings. The boys hover, sitting on the counter top and island as I cook for them. I knew Kakashi was watching, I could feel his eyes burning the back of my head.

Dishing out the food, I give the boys a tired smile.

“Welp, I’m beat…don’t stay up drinking again.” I warn, walking to my room as the shinobi in my living room all but jump on the food.

I pulling off the lab coat, then the grey TI jacket revealing my white tank top and the sealing that began on my back, can up onto my shoulders and wrapped around my arms.

I sigh in relief, those grey jackets were heavy and uncomfortable. Unbuttoning my pants, I hear a soft tap on my door.

I open it, and a soft blush rises to my face when I see Kakashi leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. It wasn’t a commanding look, quite frankly he looked like he was about to bolt if I spooked him.

“Can I help you?”

He clenched, then unclenched his jaw, “…the poison, do you have any new leads?”

Ah, work. I had almost forgotten he was apart of the small circle of people who knew of the poison.

I wave him in, “yeah, come in we can go over it.”

I nods, stiffly walking in. I close the door behind me and walk over to my desk were I had sent my jacket down. Fishing threw the large pocket, I pull out my notes.

Blushing, I hand them over, “sorry…when I get tired I switch between real words and sealing symbols…and then just random shit.”

Kakashi looked over the messy writing, and if he couldn’t read it he didn’t voice it, all he did was look over at me with his tired eye, “…I remember you used to switch between kanji and Fūinjutsu symbols, old habit?”

I blush harder, not thinking he’d remember something like that-hell, even Genma would forget and get pissed trying to read my notes.

He looked away, his milky skin showing just a bit of color. He sunk into my desk chair, lifting his hitae-ate to reveal his gifted eye.

I move to my bed, flopping down on it as I waited for him to finish storing all my notes into his memory. I felt a small shift, and was treated with a high pitch meow as my cat decided to show himself.

I smile, scratching behind his brown eye as his big blue eyes blinked slowly at me. He purred, flopping onto his side and I continued to pet him, almost therapeutic like.

Kakashi made a noise and I look over at him, but his eyes stayed away.

“I…uh, Arigatō.”

I snort, “it’s fine, Kakashi. You don’t have to thank me.”

He made a face, and my eyes soften. He was raised right, Sakumo made sure of that. Kakashi had been a little shit when we were growing up together, but over the years as he grew he began to fall more and more back into his father’s teachings (whether he knew it or not).

I sit up, and Kakashis eye stays on me, “when’d you get a cat?”

I look down at the rag doll, smiling.

“My Kaa-San got him for me when he was a kitten…birthday present.”

Kakashi nodded, and the air went tense again as we both couldn’t seem to decide if we wanted to have our eyes stay locked or if they were going to wander.

“…does he have a name?”

Was this 20 questions? How much did he drink…?

Sober Kakashi wouldn’t bother with this, he would have left by now, and I don’t just mean my room but the whole apartment. Sober Kakashi wouldn’t be sitting at my desk, cheeks red.

“…his name is Saké.”

He snorts.

He fucking snorts at that.

“You named you cat after an alcoholic beverage?”

My legs cross and I wave my hand, “no, no. I didn’t name him, Genma did! I wasn’t even home when my Kaa-San dropped him off!”

Kakashi shakes his head, softly chuckling and I smile back. He really did have a nice laugh…

He stands, and I do too. My cheeks pink when I have to look up to meet his eyes.

He grew since joining the ANBU…

We stare at each other, both of our faces slightly flushed. We haven’t seen each other since Gais birthday, and that was a month ago. He had been close back then too, so close.

“…I should go.”

I release my breath, nodding, “Y-yeah, it’s getting late.”

He gulps, brushing past me as he reaches for the door nob. He twists it, but doesn’t open it.

“…I could read your notes, I understood it.”

And then he’s gone.

#kakashi x reader #hatake kakashi x reader #naruto #naruto shippuden #anbu kakashi x reader #genma shiranui #kakashi hatake x reader #might gai #asuma sarutobi #ebisu

[jvkeh]

this is not a txtenha members but ive been such on a jeno drought today and his bday live is making me SHAKE LIKE honestly whenever he leaned back from the phone its saur hot like if i was there physically i'd jump on him and make out w him after he turned the live off. SO CAN U WRITE A MAKEOUT SCENE W JENO AFTER HIS BDAY LIVE BC I WANNA KISS HIM SO BAD (words length up to you it could be a drabble too idrm!!!)

based on this live because its easier to visualise instead of the the one referred in request

STEAMY

⤷ c.w sexual tendencies/pashing | jeno x reader | © jvkeh

he leaned over the bed, waving to the fans as he said his goodbyes and ended the livestream.

“thank the fuck.” he muttered, placing his phone on the charger immediately. “that sasaeng ruined the mood.”

you merely chuckled at his look of frustration. you been with jeno long enough to know that as much as it was upsetting to have stalkers, the dreamies were way too protected for them to actually do anything against the boys. so your worries at the beginning of your relationship soon faded into mere amusement, though you resonated with his anger at the constant interruption from delusional fans while he was supposed to be connecting with the sincere ones, especially on his birthday.

as much as jeno having a frown on his face upsetted you, it also turned you on majorly. the boy was leaning back on the bed, his arms faced on the crispy white sheets as he stretched his back, letting out a groan that can be mistaken for a sexual one.

you were standing up behind the bedside table he placed in front of him, and was the one to sit through his forty minute livestream in pure silence. so be damned if he thought you were acting desperate, because god knows he looked delicious in his black shirt and messy hair, while raising his arms in frustration to show inches of milky skin. and you were tired of being patient.

your legs instinctively shifted closer at the sight of jeno’s abs paired with his erotic sounds, as you exhaled sharply through your teeth. why was he so fucking hot no matter what he did?

jeno was an attentive person, so he could tell the emotions radiating off the slightest of movements. when he noticed your legs clenched once he moved back, he knew what your intentions were.

“after this morning?” he scoffed, keeping a light tone to instate the humour of his comment as he referred back to when he was woken up with you dry humping his back at five am on his birthday. jeno, who was sensitive already from the night before, immediately felt himself get hard as his back was assaulted by your clothed body, and had to wake you up before flipping the both of you over to fuck you into next monday. “i would think you would have a little more shame in being horny, angel.”

you began to whine, which earned a mock pout from him. “stop being so mean, jen.” you rolled your eyes as you began to walk towards his place on the bed, where he remained stretched back, arms laid on the bed as his legs were spread.

“isn’t it my birthday?“ jeno whined back, causing a soft punch to the chest as he continued his statement. “so i get to call the shots.”

“and if you want your birthday present, be nice.” you grinned, as you finally got to his lap, positioning your body to face his as you placed your legs over his, letting them droop on top while you wrapped your arms around his neck. “so right now, i really need you to do that.”

jeno nose was mere inches away from yours as he placed his own arms on your waist, tightening his hold once you adjusted yourself on his lap. yes, he was most definitely hard, you could tell as his cock began to stir under his pants, lightly rubbing against the fabric that you were seated on.

“fuck, angel.” he muttered under his breath at the close proximity of your face. even after the amount of times you been in this situation, where you sat on his lap as you guys made eye contact, it still felt thrilling and sensual to be put on the spot like that, where the both of you know it can either escalate or not. “you really want to kill me, huh?”

and maybe you did, you thought to yourself, as you began to move your body. pushing yourself upwards, you started to pace yourself back and forth on his lap, your clothed cunt rubbing over his cock every minute through the cycle. jeno abs tightened at the feeling of his cock getting more bolder, and you used your left hand to balance yourself while your right rubbed over his sensitive six pack, feeling the muscles pulse under your fingers.

“angel, stop teasing me.” his words were soon disorted as another moan exited his mouth, an experimental pinch to the nipples being the cause. “shit, you little whore.”

“your little whore.” you said cheekily, making sure to move up and down on his lap for good measure. judging from the fact his cock was basically impaling his sweatpants, and you could hear the pained whines slipping from his lips with every second.

“jeno-mmph!” his lips crashed against yours, a tangle of sounds leaving your mouth and his as tongues clashed with each other, wrestling for the dominant position while your hands continue to roam the rest of his body.

your left hand found his nipples, altering between squeezing and pulling one of the other, while the right went to his crotch region. palming the thick cotton material, jeno bit down on your lip ever so softly as his hand on your waist intrudes on your senses as pain filled your body, before pleasure followed.

you broke away from the kiss before tugging at his collars to push him further into the bed, causing him to lie backwards as you climbed his lap higher, bouncing with every movement as your skirt travelled higher up.

you leaned over jeno, who was watching you intensely, before going in for another kiss. you could feel a hand trail up your behind, massaging your asscheeks before slipping up your skirt further, fingers strumming alongside the flesh.

your lips went south, carressing his neck as you littered dark bruises upon his skin. Your hands reached for his chest, before being met with a layer of fabric.

“i need you in your birthday suit.” you deadpan, cracking a smile when a snort exit his throat unknowingly. “ha! i told you i was funny, didn’t i?”

“and just like that my boner went down.” he groaned.

#for reenifer #jvkeh #jeno smut #nct dream smut #this is so shitty i cant

[crystalflygeo]

“are you sure you haven’t seen her around?”

“no,” yaoyao said sadly, “i’m sorry, mei jiĕjie… i asked the other adepti and they also said they haven’t spotted spring bringer in a few days now…”

“i see… and you say you overheard the funeral director saying that the consultant on the parlor is taking a few day offs?”

“mhm! but… why do you ask? are they related?”

“…. you could say that.”

meirin’s frown deepened.

were they perhaps just taking a vacation together? but in that case, why…. why didn’t she respond to my prayers? no, something is definitely wrong here. if anything happened to her, there was no way that person would stay silent, after all.

the young child looked up worriedly as the woman’s expression turned darker, the lines between her eyebrows creasing further. her dainty fingers tugged on the adult’s hand, “…. jiĕjie, have you had lunch?”

“hm? oh, not yet… hey, why don’t we get lunch together over at wanmin? my treat, of course.”

“i was about to suggest that! it's always better to think with your stomach full! ah, but i can pay for myself…”

“no no, consider it thanks for helping me with the information gathering. besides, i’m craving some liyue-style meat-based dishes…,” meirin paused, remembering a certain tale - or, well, it would be more proper to describe it as an incident - which crys had told her before.

“…. yaoyao? after the meal, can you show me the way to the nearest post office? i’d like to send a letter to fontaine before planning my next move.”

if the geo dragon is missing, then i’ll try my luck with the hydro dragon….

...... i hope al haitham has some new information when we regroup later.

“Survival skills like those become very much a necessity when you’re wandering all over the world. The wind can tell us many things including the coming of rain or the presence of danger.”

“I still think it’s impressive! You have very keen senses…”

The pair chats calmly as they eat, this time enjoying a meal at one of the village’s restaurants, sitting side by side at the counter, taking small bites with their chopsticks and enjoying fragrant tea. A ship set to Liyue will sail early the next morning and agreed to take them for a comfortable price (With Crys promising she’d pay Kazuha back ASAP and once again thanking him profusely)

“So, you’ve been to Liyue and Mondstadt before, any other place?”

“I’ve wanted to visit Sumeru for a while… hmm, what about you? Mentioned Fontaine for a… business meeting? And the Ministry of civil Affairs… I’ve heard before of an adeptus working there.”

“Oh! Well… I do… I travel a lot too I suppose. Though I cannot recall much, and specially not being here in Inazuma before.”

“Hmm.” Kazuha remains pensive, statements like those does make it sound like she’s probably important, most likely people will quickly recognize who she is as soon as they steep on the harbor, or at least he hopes so. Or that at least going back to a familiar place her memories would come back easier.

“Oh! I want some of th-”

“Do you think-”

Crys stretches a bit in front of him to pick a piece of sashimi, at that moment Kazuha turns back to her and both end up faces mere inches apart, noses almost brushing.

Kazuha’s cheeks get warm with a healthy blush spread while Crys immediately turns scarlet.

“I-I’m sorry-!!”

“No! i-it was me I-!”

“Um…!”

Both sit back a little apart, Crys practically shrinks into her seat looking at her lap while Kazuha pointedly stares at a wall. There a short silence.

Awkward…

Crys feels bad, her ears droop. “I’m sorry Kazuha, it was my bad.”

“No worries…”

Oh.

Great.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite diplomat.” A female voice purrs with amusement. “I thought you’d be long gone back to Liyue, dear.”

The pair turns across the counter, there sits a woman with long flowing pink hair, fuzzy ears hanging low adorned with jewelry, and a stylized shrine priestess’ outfit. She rests elbows on the table, chin propped at her crossed hands with a mischievous glint.

Crys stares and blinks.

“Ah… Guuji Yae.” Kazuha murmurs.

“Hm, I thought after your business at Narukami a couple of weeks ago you’d be right back home, how interesting to find you here in such unique company.”

“I’m sorry I… we know each other?” Crys asks embarrassed.

Yae Miko stays silent for a few moments, her eyes sharp and unreadable as she seems to calculate a million things at once. Finally, she speaks again, her tone completely serious. “What happened to you?”

“She’s… lost. She lost her memories it seems, can’t remember a lot of things, flashes come and go in the past few days” Kazuha explains. “I found her passed out outside Chinju forest almost a week ago, Lady Guuji.”

Yae Miko hums, eyes narrowing. “Any aggressiveness? Has she passed out again since then?”

“N-no…” Crys mumbles.

“So probably not erosion. Anything particular?”

“Um… I can’t… remember people close or important to me, their names, faces, my own names… it's like just out of reach, I have them at the tip of my tongue but”

“But,” Kazuha pipes in. “Whenever she does remember a name, other memories seem to come back along with it.”

Miko’s eyes widen a fraction. “I see… allow me, just a moment.” She stands up and gets closer, much to Crys’ nervousness. Her gohei materializes with a glow and she waves it around a couple of times in slow precise movements before almost tapping the illuminated beast on the head.

Her expression turns severe.

“Hm. As suspected.” She sighs and dismisses the item again. “You my dear, have been ‘pranked’ by a powerful youkai.”

“W-what?”

“It’s an ancient and difficult technique, usually meant to… ensnare others and force them into subservience. You’ve had your name stolen.”

“My… name?” How can one steal a name?

“That’s right” She drawls, sitting back again across from them. “Your memories, your experiences, your identity, they are all tied to your name, it’s who you are, and so long as you don’t reclaim it, you’ll continue being lost…” She explains calmly.

Crys pales, she feels anxious, sick.

“Can’t you undo it, Lady Guuji? After all you are… very powerful.” Kazuha clears his throat. Miko gives him a look.

“Unfortunately, only the bearer of the curse can break it you see.”

“B-But-!” Crys stands up, she’s shaking slightly. “Y-You know who I am, you know me, you know my name, my real name… don’t you, Lady Guuji?”

Yae Miko sucks in a breath almost imperceptibly. “It’s been… centuries since you called me that.” She murmurs. Then shakes her head, and Crys’ feels her hope drop. “I have always known you officially as Spring Bringer and for several centuries you have gone simply by ‘Crys’ I’m afraid I am not privy to your true name.”

“That… can’t be…” Crys drops back into the chair, crying. Panic rises in her chest, how did this happen? How can this be? How does no one know? What if no one knows? How does she herself not remember her own damn NAME!!

This time Kazuha stands up, placing his hands on the crying woman’s shoulders trying to comfort her as she sobs. “But then how did some random youkai know her name?”

“Simple, to steal a name you need it to be written down. Literally ripping out or destroying it seals the deal. You must have had some document or letter on you with it perhaps.” She shakes her head. “Regardless, Spring Bringer, listen to me, do not fret. Go to Liyue. The other adepti will know, they will help you.” She reassures.

Yet, the distressed adeptus continues crying.

Kazuha steels himself. At least they now have answers… and a solution.

Lost in the forest, so deep In solitude’s embrace, shroud of mystery A deer wanders, and softly weeps     

no drawings this time but ayyy biggest lore bomb drop 1k words

@i23kazu ebg Jan 19-26

#crys answers: ebg edition #crys plays ebg #rin friend #genshinblr january ebg 2024 #let's ignore how convenient it is that she's there #let's also completely ignore that I totally based this of Uuyu restaurant even tho they're in Ritou LMAOOOO #bonus points to whoever guesses where I got this idea from heh #loving this loving this loving this #GAME IS ON PEEPS WHAT IS HER NAME?? :))) //hit #Imma still drop a hint hehe

[wondernimbus]

two sworn enemies — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: there is only one thing worse than being hated by draco malfoy; it’s being fancied by him.

requests are closed for now! please refrain from plagiarizing my work.

After being on the receiving end of Malfoy's torment for four whole years at Hogwarts—a place where she's supposed to be making friends and learning and making the most out of all her youthful years—[Y/N] is beginning to grow tired.

The last thing she’s supposed to be worrying about is a snarky Slytherin boy who always has some sort of rude remark resting on his lips every time he comes across her in the corridors. Or anywhere, for that matter—Draco Malfoy's incessant jest seems to stay within no boundaries.

Eleven-year-old [Y/N] used to be fazed by it; she used to cry herself to sleep every time the platinum blond would push past her in the hallway, yelling out something offensive on his way, usually to do with her friendship with blood-traitors and the "big-headed" Harry Potter (or so Malfoy referred to him). She used to feel angry—angry enough to want to whip her wand out at him and hex him into oblivion every time he'd even as much as lay eyes on her. But the more Malfoy tried to bother her, the more it didn't anymore.

Fourth year wasn't so bad. Malfoy had already called her about a hundred nasty names at that point and was running out of them—his creativity was dwindling and [Y/N]'s concern along with it. She'd even laughed at him, one time during Transfiguration class—genuinely laughed, not out of frustration or anger but because she found something that he said to her funny.

"How does it feel being surrounded by blood-traitors and Mudbloods, [Y/L/N]? Pity you chose the wrong crowd to hang around."

"How did it feel to get punched by a girl, Malfoy? I hear Hermione packs quite a punch."

Malfoy’s nose had wrinkled into his signature sneer before he scoffed. "Tell Granger she can improve her right hook." At which point [Y/N] had snorted out a laugh—and yes, it wasn't a full-blown burst of chortles, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

Fifth year rolls around and Draco Malfoy is the least of [Y/N]'s worries. She's gotten over his nagging at this point; all his jabs have lost a bit, if not all of their luster.

But then a week after classes have started, Malfoy starts acting—weird. Very weird. [Y/N] has no idea what's gotten into him, but Draco's cruel insults seem to have veered off course and taken a very dramatic turn. He still yells at her in the hallways, but not to make some harmful jibe [Y/N] has heard thousands of times before. Instead Draco—yes, Draco Malfoy, the same boy who has never once failed to torment her in the past years they've known each other—has now made it a habit to yell pick-up lines. At her. At [Y/N]. At the same girl he's been bad-mouthing for the past four years.

The first time it happens, [Y/N] can't believe her ears. She thinks he's yelling at someone else other than her, because there is no way bloody Draco Malfoy is shouting "DO YOU PLAY QUIDDITCH? BECAUSE YOU SEEM LIKE A KEEPER" at her from halfway across the Great Hall.

But he's definitely staring at her, grinning widely in that conceited sort of way that [Y/N] has always despised.

"Is he talking to me?" [Y/N] asks Hermione, bewildered.

"Looks like it." Hermione looks just as surprised as her. "Knowing Malfoy, he's not up to anything good. Ignore him, [Y/N]."

But ignoring Draco Malfoy is not something [Y/N] is capable of; the feistiness in her makes sure of that. So instead of moving on and turning a blind eye, she cups her hands over her mouth and yells, just as loud, "ARE YOU A BLUDGER? BECAUSE I'D LOVE TO BASH A BEATER'S BAT INTO YOUR—"

Whatever Malfoy is up to, [Y/N] isn't entirely sure she's enjoying it. The next afternoon—also in the Great Hall, while [Y/N] is doing her homework instead of eating lunch (because Snape apparently thinks it's a good idea to ask for a four-page essay when the school year has barely even started), there's a thump and [Y/N] looks up to see that there's a little red envelope sitting on her empty plate. Looking even further up, she sees an owl flying away from the table and out of the roof of the Great Hall, where the owls always come from to deliver letters—although that only happens at breakfast. Which means this is from someone else, likely another student.

[Y/N] stares.

"It's a Howler," Harry says from next to her, like she doesn't already know.

"I'm aware," she mutters, narrowing her eyes at it before she sets down her quill to grab it.

"Who would send you a Howler?" Ron has looked up from where he'd been shoveling beans into his plate. He crowds into her space, peering at the envelope she now holds in her hands; and she can't really answer him, because only her name is scribbled across the front in handwriting she doesn't recognize. Whoever sent it to her didn't bother with writing their own name.

She hesitates, brows furrowed as she, too, wonders where it's from. Her parents don't have a reason to send her a Howler—unless she's done something wrong that she isn't aware of. But it's only been a week since school has started and as far as she can tell, she hasn't done anything worthy of being sent a Howler. Or at least not yet.

"Might as well," she sighs—it's going to deliver its message one way or the other, anyway, and [Y/N] prefers to open it herself than have it burst into flames, rain ashes down upon her homework, and then start talking—so she opens the envelope.

The Howler jumps to life in front of her, hovering in front of her face, and [Y/N] has never seen a piece of stationery look so angry before. A forked tongue slips out of the envelope—[Y/N] braces herself for the worst, despite not knowing who on earth might have sent it—until a familiar voice booms around the Great Hall.

"ARE YOU A BASILISK? BECAUSE WHEN I SAW YOU, I FROZE."

Ron's shoulders automatically start shaking with laughter. Most of the Great Hall—or at least the ones close enough to hear the Howler—have turned around to watch the spectacle unfold, giggling behind their palms and pointing at [Y/N] like she can't see them. [Y/N], in the meantime, stares, completely dead to the world and everything else around her, because she knows that voice.

But then the Howler keeps talking. "IF YOU LET ME TAKE YOU ON A DATE, I CAN PROMISE YOU THINGS THOSE FILTHY PEASANTS CAN NEVER GIVE YOU."

The entire hall has fallen completely silent. [Y/N] feels her face burning up, but not with embarrassment—[Y/N] is angry. She feels it thrumming in her veins, curling around her lungs, clouding all of her senses.

With a single flick of [Y/N]'s wand, the Howler bursts into flames with a final feeble wheeze of I'm also a fairly good snogger. Ron is roaring with laughter and Harry has also joined in. Two-faced gits.

[Y/N] slams her palms down on the table and vaguely even registers the pain this gives her as she steps out from behind the bench and turns around to face the Slytherin table because of course she knows who sent the Howler. Of course she knows who would go out of his way to humiliate her in front of the entirety of Hogwarts, because that extremely irritating, maddeningly haughty voice can only belong to one person—and sure enough, the idiot in question is standing there on top of the benches, arms outstretched towards her and that proud, snooty look on his face like he expects her to actually be impressed.

Over Ron and Harry's laughter, [Y/N] shouts angrily, "Malfoy!"

Malfoy drops his arms to his sides, hops off the bench, and swaggers towards her. She meets him halfway—and when she does, she doesn't hesitate to shove him angrily by the shoulders. He stumbles back a little, but he's still grinning annoyingly wide. "Have you come to me bearing an answer?" he says, his tone mocking, and [Y/N] just barely suppresses herself from whipping out her wand and jabbing it somewhere she wouldn't want a wand anywhere near. They are still surrounded by teachers. "I imagine it's a yes—who would turn me down, after all—"

"Drop the fucking act," she hisses; all eyes are on them, because Hogwarts never passes up a chance for gossip, and this might be the most exciting one yet. Draco Malfoy publicly asking out the girl everyone knows he's hated, and has hated him, for a long time—what a spectacle. But [Y/N] knows that his intentions are far from genuine; this is just another way to humiliate her and get on her nerves. And as much as she hates to admit it, it's a pretty good fucking move, because she hasn't been this annoyed by him in a long time.

Her teeth are gritted together so hard her words barely come out coherent. "I don't know what you're playing at," she practically growls, taking a step closer to get in his face, "But I encourage you to get yourself together."

But Malfoy seems unaffected. "Pity you didn't let the Howler finish," he drawls, still with that same smirk on his lips as he wriggles his brows suggestively. "I could've told you more about my superior snogging skills."

"Which is exactly why I didn't," she fumes. "We're in the middle of lunch—any more of you talking about your 'superior snogging skills' and the entirety of this hall would've thrown up on themselves. I know I would've."

At this, the smile on Malfoy's face droops a little, a ghost of his familiar sneer seeping in. [Y/N] takes a step back away from him, because she can't stand being more than a few feet near the prat. "You've got a lot of nerve, pulling this," she scoffs. "Try it again and you'll regret it. Now excuse me while I go do my bloody homework."

And then she turns around, goes back to the Gryffindor table, and does her bloody homework.

—

But Malfoy, as it turns out, isn't as weak-willed as he lets on. She's started receiving Howlers every morning at breakfast, all of which burst into flames every time to rain ashes upon her innocent plate of eggs and toast, but only after loudly blurting out some ridiculously bad pick-up line. It's been four days since the first Howler and they've only gotten progressively worse ever since—"you must be a Boggart because I'm terrified of pretty women"—and [Y/N] is beginning to grow so very tired.

Today, she hexes him in the middle of the hallway just as he's coming out of Potions class. She had warned him, all those days ago, that he'd regret it if he didn't let up. So [Y/N] watches, terribly amused as Draco starts wailing in the corridor, his hands splayed over his face in a measly attempt to cover the sardines falling out of his nostrils. It's an irreversible hex—or at least for eight hours—but until then, Draco will have to deal with the tiny fishes that shoot out of his nose at random intervals. [Y/N] can't bring herself to feel bad, not when he's humiliated her time and time again in front of so many people.

No Howlers arrive the morning after. There's a sense of what feels like disappointment coming off of the Great Hall; some people have actually turned around in their seats to watch her in anticipation for an owl to come swooping down upon her bearing a red envelope. Unfortunately for them, it doesn't happen. [Y/N], meanwhile, is finally at peace.

Or at least until Ron jabs her in the side and goes, "So are you?" he's grinning. "A Boggart, I mean."

It's a reference to the Howler she received yesterday. Her movements are dangerously swift; immediately she smacks the back of his head, sending him into a complaining frenzy. She rolls her eyes. "Stupid Malfoy."

"As much as I hate to say this," Harry begins, "I kind of wish you hadn't hexed him into stopping. His pick-up lines were pretty funny."

"Ha!" [Y/N] points a finger at Harry and nods approvingly, laughing a little. "That's a good one, Harry."

Harry stares at her dead in the eye. "Oh, I wasn't joking."

Her face falls.

"I suppose being on the receiving end of Malfoy's affection isn't any better than being hated by him," says Hermione, offering [Y/N] a sympathetic smile. "It's a good thing you showed him not to mess with you any further, [Y/N]."

[Y/N] tries for a smile of her own, but it comes out all stiff and crooked. "I feel like the past few days have been a fever dream," she says, shuddering. "This new form of—bullying, I don't know—has just been so weird. The bad names I've gotten used to, but—the compliments? The pick-up lines?"

"D'you think he's gone off his rocker?" Ron suggests.

"Maybe he fancies you," says Hermione off-handedly.

The effect this has on the three is instantaneous; Ron, Harry, and [Y/N] simultaneously blanch as though they've all swallowed something sour at the same time. Ron is choking on a piece of toast and Harry has spit water everywhere.

"Absolutely not," [Y/N] is shaking her head, nose wrinkled in distaste. "He can't possibly—that's ridiculous. We've hated each other for years."

"Feelings do change," Hermione shrugs, rolling her eyes at Ron and Harry, who have yet to recover from their initial shock. "And besides, it was just a suggestion. Although I don't see why he'd go out of his way to send you Howlers repeatedly asking you out if he doesn't fancy you."

"Because he wants to humiliate me in front of everyone!"

"Oh, alright, alright," Hermione sighs, sensing her defeat. "But you never know."

Ron has gathered his bearings once more. He turns to Hermione, genuine concern flooding his features, and blubbers, "Did I hear you right? Malfoy—fancying [Y/N]?"

"Yes, Ronald." Another eye-roll. "It's not that outlandish. Boys are boys—even Malfoy."

"Merlin's beard," he slumps down in his seat, shaking his head. "I don't think I've ever been this surprised. Not since I heard that Percy managed to score himself a girlfriend, and that was three years ago."

A few days pass, and while no more Howlers arrive, Malfoy is still as insistent as ever in his attempts to "woo" her—or, well, whatever it is he's trying to do. [Y/N] doesn’t quite know what to call it anymore; for some reason, it no longer feels like an attempt to bully or humiliate her. It's not as though he's insulting her, and it's not like her reputation is in any way being lessened. In fact, most of Hogwarts, it seems, enjoys the so-called "love-hate relationship" they've got going on, and expects them to get together sometime in the near future.

[Y/N] learns all of this from Fred and George, who are always a good source of gossip.

"What better love story than two sworn enemies falling in love?" George gushes, clasping his hands together.

"So romantic," Fred sings, closing his eyes and swaying his hips as though listening to a sultry tune only he can hear. “Setting aside their differences to answer the call of their hearts."

"Oh, Malfoy's still an arse, of course."

"But it's still romantic."

Part of [Y/N] wishes that the twins hadn’t told her that, because it makes it all the more confusing on her part. If, by some miracle, Malfoy does fancy her—what is she supposed to do? Ride off with him into the sunset? They are enemies—they have been for four, supposedly five years now, except this year Malfoy is being an insufferable twat who won't stop yelling pick-up lines at her in the hallways.

[Y/N] decides to turn a blind eye on him. If she ignores him for long enough, he's bound to stop.

Right?

—

Despite being a close friend to the famous Harry Potter, [Y/N] can say she’s made a name for herself at school that stretches far beyond just that girl who hangs out with the Chosen One. She’s been playing for the Gryffindor Quidditch team for two years and has contributed to some of the house’s most fantastic wins as a Chaser, and she’s also a fairly good student. She may have a penchant for trouble-making, but she knows how to limit herself. She prides herself for her work ethic and thus her grades are above average—enough for her to earn the favor of most of her teachers and for eager first-years to sometimes come up to her asking for help doing homework.

But enough for those very same first-years to come up to her in the hallway ready to do all of her biddings for the day, practically demanding her to hand over her books so that they can carry them for her? No. Certainly not. [Y/N] may have made a name for herself, but definitely not one renowned enough to earn the eleven-year-olds now crowded around her moments after she steps out of potions class, telling her that, “We’re here at your disposal! If you need us to do anything, just say the word!”

[Y/N] stares at the three children clustered around her, all wide-eyed and for some reason incredibly eager for her to start bossing them around.

Taken aback, she ushers them into a corner; the hallway is busy and people will keep bumping into them if they stay in the middle of the hallway like that.

Once away from the bustling main corridor, she bends down a little so that she’s at eye-level with all of them. “At my disposal?” she repeats, eyes narrowing playfully. “What do you mean?”

“We’re here to carry your books for you or grab you snacks from the kitchens or tie your shoelaces if you need us to!” one of them exclaims, bouncing on his toes.

Alright—this is getting ridiculous. [Y/N] pauses, lips pressed together into a thin line as she stares at each one of the first-years in turn; all three of them are staring at her as though waiting for her to start asking them to do push-ups.

She inhales. Someone must have put them up to this, because there is no way these children woke up this morning and simultaneously decided to become her servants for the day.

“Well,” she begins, smiling at them—and good grief, did she really look that young when she was eleven? “Thank you for offering to help me. I appreciate it, really—but lucky for me I’ve got some very capable arms and I think I can handle tying my shoelaces and carrying my books around and whatnot. But again—thank you. You’re all very nice.”

She pauses to look at their reactions; the smiles on their faces have drooped a little as they turn to one another, seemingly at a loss for words. “But,” the one girl says, frowning, “We’re supposed to help you.”

[Y/N] raises her eyebrows. “Supposed to?”

Someone definitely put them up to this—[Y/N] is certain of it now. And she has a good guess as to who.

She starts by saying, tone gentle, “Did someone tell you to do this? Because that’s really kind, and I’d love to thank them.”

The girl bunches up her lips in thought, shuffling her feet against the ground. “We’re not supposed to say,” she mutters, glancing at the two boys next to her nervously.

[Y/N] inhales. She needs confirmation, so she crouches down so that she’s the same height as them, and offers them all the friendliest, most trustworthy smile she can muster. The kind that wins over eleven-year-olds. “You won’t get in trouble if you tell me,” she tells them gently, and waits for them to nod in understanding before she goes, “Was it Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?”

They don’t have to respond—the looks on their faces are enough confirmation. [Y/N] suppresses the urge to roll her eyes, because of course Malfoy is the kind of person to somehow get first-years to do something like this. And she’s pretty sure it has something to do with bribery.

“Did he promise to give you anything, maybe?” [Y/N] presses on patiently.

The girl leans in and cups her hand over her mouth to whisper excitedly, “Chocolate frogs. Five for each of us.”

Ah. Of course. [Y/N] sighs inwardly and nods, standing up properly to once more tower over the tiny first-years. As much as she would love to have her own personal butlers, there is absolutely no way she is agreeing to take any part in exploiting these young kids. So she ruffles all of their hair in turn and promises to give them much, much more chocolate frogs than Malfoy will ever be able to offer if they swear to ignore him for the rest of their lives.

So she stands there in the hallway, a minute late for Transfiguration, watching the three first-years skip down the hallway, grinning excitedly to themselves—no doubt because they’ve just been promised what could be an infinite supply of chocolate frogs.

Which [Y/N] will now have to spend a lump of her summer savings on. Great. Bloody fantastic.

She didn’t think she could hate Draco Malfoy even more than she already did, but now, with the burden of buying chocolate frogs resting on her shoulders, she realizes that anything is possible.

[Y/N] finds Draco later on in the day when she’s heading to the Great Hall for dinner; as she’s passing by a window that coincidentally overlooks the Quidditch pitch, she sees him zooming around the stadium by himself, no doubt practicing to better his (in [Y/N]’s opinion) ghastly Seeker skills.

So she trudges off to the pitch, arms folded over her chest as she yells, “Malfoy!”

He notices, stops in mid-air, and immediately flies down to land in front of her, one hand on his hip and the other resting on top of his broom. That signature smirk is already on his face, mirrored by [Y/N]'s angry scowl. “Here to take me up on my offer for a date?” he grins, shaking his (sweaty, wet) hair out of his eyes. [Y/N] watches the movement, unimpressed. “Or were you just planning to watch me practice?”

She scoffs, tearing her eyes away from the way he’s running a hand through his blond hair. “Neither. I thought you were bad enough, Malfoy, but bribing first-years into doing my bidding for me? In exchange for bloody chocolate frogs?”

Malfoy’s hand pauses in carding through his hair. He drops it back to his side. “So you figured it out.”

”Why else would first-years be so eager for me to boss them around?”

”Maybe because they find you just as beautiful as I do?” he suggests, eyes glinting, the smile on his face growing even wider. [Y/N] lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter, because is he really still keeping this act up when no one is around to see? Is he that desperate to get on her nerves?

“Just stop it, Malfoy,” she says through gritted teeth, taking a step closer to him. At this, he whistles a little, eyebrows rising, and for some reason [Y/N] tries very, very hard not to look at the sweat trickling down his forehead, the pale pink hue of his cheeks from the strain of practicing—“Please for the love of Merlin can you just drop the whole I’m-in-love-with-you act? You got what you wanted. You’ve annoyed me enough.”

Draco's nose wrinkles. “Oh, but that’s not what I wanted,” the smile on his face falters a little. ”Did you really think I did all of this just to annoy you?”

[Y/N]’s eyebrows furrow—and is that her heart skipping a beat? No. No, definitely not. Falling quiet for a few moments, she finally sniffs and says, “Why else would you go out of your way to act absolutely smitten by me?”

An echo of Hermione's voice from several days ago reverberates through her head. Maybe he fancies you.

Malfoy shrugs, his smirk falling just the tiniest bit to be replaced by a semblance of sincerity. But that can’t be. And then he says, “Maybe I fancy you,” and [Y/N]’s eyes widen.

That can’t be right. Flabbergasted, she blinks, taking a step back. This has to be some sort of joke—no, yes, that’s exactly what this is: another way to crawl under her skin and annoy the daylights out of her. She has to applaud him for his creativity.

Pinching the space between her eyes in irritation, she looks up at Malfoy, inhales, and says, deadpan, “I’m being serious.”

“I am too,” Malfoy counters, eyebrows raised innocently, and [Y/N] has never wanted to smack him more than she does now.

She lets out another incredulous laugh, because this entire situation is just so bloody ridiculous that she can’t quite wrap her head around it. Throwing her hands up in the air in frustration, she turns to him and says, “Alright—okay. Let’s say you do fancy me. I’m going to pretend for a few seconds that you do—okay?”

Draco watches her, evidently amused judging by his grin, shrugs, and nods.

“Okay,” she huffs. “If you do fancy me—why on earth would you?”

Draco opens his mouth, but she cuts him off: “We hate each other, Malfoy. We’ve hated each other since the moment you laid eyes on me and I laid eyes on you. What could have possibly changed your rotten mind?”

He rolls his eyes at this, shifting a little on where he stands. “For starters,” he begins, like he’s talking to a five-year-old, “I didn’t hate you. I disliked the fact that you hung out with the wrong sort of people.”

”The wrong sort of people,” she repeats, deadpan.

“The Weasleys. Blood traitors. Mudbloods.”

She scowls at him, brain struggling to fathom what the bloody hell he’s trying to tell her. Managing to once more plow through her confusion, she says, “Your point is?”

“I’d have asked you out long ago if only you were smarter with who you chose to befriend,” and there it is—that familiar, distasteful sneer [Y/N] hasn’t seen in a long time. “Your family’s one of the oldest wizarding families around. It’s a shame.”

She lets out another scoff of disbelief, but the first few of Draco's words have something inside of her stirring. She refuses to address it and instead says, “So—and again, I’m pretending—you fancy me because of my family?”

He lets out a little sniff. “Not what I said.”

”What is it you’re trying to say, then?”

“Blimey, how long is it going to take you to realize that I actually bloody fancy you?”

Draco has dropped all pretense of nonchalant arrogance; he’s staring at her, obviously frustrated and a little annoyed. He stops leaning on his broom and lets it drop to the ground in favor of advancing towards her until he’s mere inches away from her face.

”I fancy you,” he repeats, and it’s funny, how he says it, because declarations of love are supposed to be sweet and gentle—not scathing and angry. He’s scowling down at her, lip curling, brows drawn in together in the middle in a tight frown. “I’ve decided that I don’t care who you hang around anymore because I fancy you. Do you get it now?”

[Y/N] swallows, staring at him, momentarily frozen. Malfoy doesn’t seem as though he’s joking—and now she doesn’t know what to say. She’s never been this close to him before—close enough to see herself in the reflection of his eyes, which are a striking grey and remind her of thunderstorms brewing behind dark clouds—

She takes in a deep breath and swivels around, turning away from him. “Stop sending children to be my servants,” she says, and starts to walk away—until Malfoy grabs her wrist and forces her to look at him again.

For a moment the look in his eyes convinces [Y/N] that he’s about to apologize, but then his lips are splitting into a wide grin again and he says, “What if I bribe a seventh year into doing your homework for you?”

Another scoff. She tears her wrist away from his grip and stalks off, in complete and utter disbelief.

”Or a house-elf to bring you food?” he calls after her. “Someone to do your hair for you in the morning? Or someone to yell at me for you?”

She halts at the last one, and for some odd, unknown reason, she feels like smiling. But she doesn’t, because that will open a door into something she isn’t sure she wants to explore. So she turns around, suppressing that mysterious little smile, already twenty feet away from Malfoy as she says, loudly, “I like doing that last one myself, thanks.”

From this distance, she thinks Malfoy might be smiling. But she doesn’t stay long enough to find out.

click here to read pt. 2!

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter oneshots #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #harry potter fanfic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic

[dienamights]

Unfavorable Guidance | H.Shinso

​✎ Mindjack has been doing these kind of jobs since he was recruited as a hero, he is unmistakingly the best at them, doesn’t need anyone butting their noses in his business, especially you, the sly fox in disguise, offering your tainted helping hand.

✎ Protagonists: Hitoshi Shinso x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 6.4K

✎Category: noncon/dubcon, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

✎Caution(!):  noncon/dubcon, Smut 18+ MDNI please, , mentions of alcohol, mentions of murder, minor character death, sex under quirk use, spitting, degrading, swearing, manipulation, unprotected sex. 

✎ Author’s notes: I KNOW I’M LATE EUFGKHDFVBDFXL, but here is my contribution to @daisy-bakugo​ 2k event Vice City! Please take the time to read everyone’s work if you haven’t! Thank you so much for letting me participate.

I listened to this throughout the entire process of writing it, if you’re familiar with Kingdom Hearts, some names will ring a bell to you lol. also I hate the header and the summary but you’re just gonna have to live w it for now cause its 8 am I NEED SLEEP

» Masterlist | Requests | Taglist

The annual auction of Vice City is one of the biggest social events of the year. The wealthiest families and richest people in the world come from everywhere in attempts to win what is secretly considered the greatest treasures of all time. Greatest and most expensive.

Alas, the after party held later on is what people are all secretly actually waiting for, where the most exquisite and rarest artifacts of the year get auctioned off to whoever is lucky enough to even be included in the guest list.

While not all are there for the auctions, it certainly is the perfect opportunity for anyone who's anyone in the world to show off their wealth. Filthy rich people sway all around, laughing and bragging. Venetian crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets, gambling, and alcohol. Men with their cigars, men with their wives, and men with their arm candies, their escorts or mistresses.

Yet, Shinso isn’t here for the luxury, he isn't here for the fame and the fortune, nor the reputation people thrive for when they buy those - meaningless, he calls them - relics. No, he is here on a mission, one he certainly wants to be done and over with because he wants to go home. He loosens his tie with an aggravated sigh before knocking back the last of his only gin and tonic, the bitter taste prickling his throat as he surveys the crowd of people all around him while he stands idly by the bar.

He knew it’d be a pain in the ass the second he got the mission assigned to him from the agency, the words “intel” and “Vice City'' of all places forced a frown upon his face, yet, being the most suitable for this job, he couldn't really decline.

Mindjack isn’t the type of hero you see on billboards and magazines, isn’t the type of hero to kiss babies’ heads that get thrusted at him in meet and greets, he certainly isn’t one to have those adoring fan clubs that follow his every move, posting about his greatest conquests. Oh no, he is a hero that works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, undercover -lie through your teeth throughout the whole ordeal- kind of hero, the kind of hero that goes home at the end of his missions with no gratitude towards his work, because nobody knows who he is or what he contributes to the society.

For the longest time, Shinso accepted the life he’s living, he didn’t look for validation from the citizens, knowing his work is always beyond the scope of their knowledge and their awareness, but sometimes, just sometimes, the sour droplets of envy would foul his mouth when his amethysts for eyes scan over the extravagant heroes, making a show out of saving their cities and getting praised and awarded and loved for doing what they’re supposed to be doing, their job. 

“Squeeze that glass a bit more and you’d break it”

A voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him, Shinso blinked twice before his eyes dragged over to you, oh so beautiful and oh so close. Your nimble fingers wrapped around his fingers, the lacey glove lightly scratches his hand before he lets go of the glass in surprise, dropping it into yours. You giggle sweetly, turning around to place it on the bar before ordering your own, but not without looking at him over your shoulder and sending him a smile.

“What will it be, sugar tits?” the bartender leans over the counter, towel thrown on his shoulder as he sends you what's supposed to be a sultry look. Your elbow is placed on the counter while you rest your chin on your hand, smiling temptingly at him. “Anything that’ll get you to stop staring at my boobs.” Shinso almost laughs at the contrast between your smile and your voice, sharp and venomous, and the man leans back so far from you like he’s been stung. Walking away to work on a drink for you.

Shinso’s eyes rake your body without his knowledge, he admires the dress adorning your body, hugging you in all the right places, cascading down to the floor, and that slit my god, your legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how you can strut so elegantly with them on. A snap of your fingers breaks his trance and he tries - keyword tries - to act nonchalant to his obvious ogling and you only laugh in return.

You hum lowly, “So,” you’re turning to face him as you lean back on the counter, pushing your chest out to grasp even more of his attention, “what's an esteemed hero like you doing in a place like this?” It takes Shinso a good minute before he narrows his eyes, left foot back and ready to either take you down or run away if you were to involve greater forces. No one is supposed to know about his true identity, no one is supposed to know that there is a hero within them.

But what shakes his demeanor is the way you dangle his wallet in front of him, like dangling a stupid feather for some silly cat, waiting for it to jump at you to entertain you. Shinso swallows with a struggle, deciding that using his quirk to retrieve his wallet back will lead to him leaving, and he didn’t want that. He’s been keeping an eye on the wanted man for hours now, and it’ll all go to waste because of your slimy little hands and your-

“Here,” you toss it back to him, and he stumbles a bit before catching it properly, eyeing you for any sudden movements, but you simply turn back around in time to hold the drink from the bartender’s hand with a smile dazzling your lips. “You’re getting intel on The Wise?” you mumble against your cup, sipping slowly, eyes never leaving Shinso’s glaring ones. How the fuck do you know?

“You’re not the first.” you smirk, finger wiping the smeared lipstick against the glass before circling the rim. “You all look the same, thinking you’re better than them because of your position in the society, only for that ego to come and bite you right in the ass.” It’s almost ironic how poisonous your voice could get while still maintaining that mesmerizing smile, and oddly enough, Shinso’s eyes keep drooping despite his desperate attempt to fight against them.

You hum again, the click of your heels sounding muffled to him, eyes blurring when you get so close to him your breath tickles his cheek. “But you’re different, hmm? You’re gonna make the bad guy go away?” 

“Yes.” it's rushed, almost desperate, and the hero is astonished at how he sounds. “Then, lemme help you… Hitoshi.”

A blink, and you’re gone just like you vanished right from under his nose, slipped right between his fingers. A low curse escapes Shinso’s lips and he turns around swiftly to question the bartender, hell bent on getting any information on the girl that just revealed his entire identity and mission to him in a matter of seconds. 

“How can I help you, sir?” the question boggles his mind, the big burly man with an attitude problem wasn’t there anymore, replaced by another sweet woman that held concern in her eyes at his sight. “You’ve been staring at the wall for a while there, need me to call your driver to get you back?” 

“Wa- but I- She,” Shinso’s body started heating up in anger, worry, embarrassment, he doesn’t really know, but what he wants to know right this instant is how long he’s been out of it and for god’s sake, why?

Shinso doesn’t really consider himself to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but dammit did he feel like a complete idiot letting you run off like that, a quick trip to the restroom for a splash of water clears his head enough for him to pull back his wallet from his pocket, flipping through it and finding something he was absolutely sure wasn’t there prior to your visit. A silver card, with ‘Surveillance room’ scribbled on a note behind it.

Caving in and accepting whatever help you were offering him, Shinso slides the card through the reader, sighing in relief upon the satisfying ding sound, followed by the door opening to the surveillance room.

“Now that’s what’m talking about.” life got so much easier now that he could watch The Wise through multiple screens, making it hard to miss a single move of his. The hero allows himself to relax a bit, hand messing with his hair and tired eyes blinking in irritation against the glare of the screens. The Wise was the mastermind of Organization XIII, as their name intel, they’re consisting of the same thirteen members that founded it years ago, nobody really knows how they started, what shocked the whole world is how grand their first crime actually was, bloodbath of the century -they would call it, seventeen slaughtered heroes, followed by their families, including women and children, thousands of millions of ¥ in money laundering atop of it, all within a span of 4 months, that was years ago, back in their prime.

Now, with eight of them behind bars, the remaining five were able to stay under the radar, distributing whatever money they were able to keep between them and fleeing to different parts of the world. Just because they were apart, didn’t mean they were any less dangerous, The Wise is a prime example for that, brutally murdering three of the undercover heroes sent his way to bring him back to justice, but they weren’t Shinso, he’d try to remind himself.

May their soul rest in peace, they were those heroes he felt dissociated from, the type of heroes to flaunt their powers, monetize the peoples’ knowledge of their quirks, uncover the secrets of their job, they were easy targets for people like The Wise, he’d know their weaknesses and how to take them down before they even think about pursuing him. Now, Mindjack was a different story, he wasn’t held on a pedestal by the people he saves, simply because they don’t recognize him, while he would loath that reality sometimes, he thanks the god for it today, as he’s watching the man’s call out for a drink.

Amethyst eyes scan the remaining screens, widening upon the sight of you looking right back at them, you are a vixen to him, eyes half lidded with a smile so intoxicating it does nothing but entrance whoever was lucky enough to catch its sight. Lace clad fingers wrapping around a piece of paper, you are so beautiful, Shinso tries to stop his mind from wandering, imagining what you wore underneath that angel crafted dress, envisioning what those fingers could do to please him, the same fingers that held the unfolded paper, the word ‘RUN’ smeared across it in lipstick.

Wait a minute, run?

Even before the poor hero could react, the similar satisfying -now dreadful- ding rings in his ear, before the door opens behind him, illuminating the room even more. Shinso stands to face two men, both as surprised as he is to see another occupant in the room. Right before any of them move, the hero opens his mouth and prays to god that whatever way he’s winging it works. “You got a permit to be here?”

Jesus one of you answer, and they both do - the left having fingers curving into talons while the right pulled at strings from the tips of his fingers, both ready to attack - and by god Shinso couldn’t be happier upon hearing a sound, because the minute the word ‘yes’ slips through their lips, Mindjack is smiling like a madman, welcoming the look of glossy eyes and heavy heads like a beloved relative’s return back home. 

“Great… Now,” the two manipulated  men face him, unaware of the dreaded fate bestowed upon them, while Shinso just can’t seem to keep the glint in his eyes at bay. “Why don’t you put on a show for me,” he breathes, smiling down at the ground before looking at them. ”Choke the fucking life out of each other.” The men don’t even blink, quick to face each other and jump, hands wrapped around throats like a vice, Shinso only moves away from the men on the floor as they thrash and kick at each other, limbs flailing as they try to force the life out of each other.

Turning his back against them, Shinso eyes the screen he was monitoring before their entrance, ignoring the groans and gasps of air behind him. He curses under his breath when he sees The Wise getting up from his place, heading towards a room that is supposed to be monitored by screen #6, but is purposely out of service. If he isn’t able to question The Wise or even keep an eye on him, then he’s gonna head on over to the next best thing. Gargled screams echo through the corridor as the hero makes his exit, making sure the door clicks shut behind him, he wouldn’t want to cause disturbance to the esteemed guests of the society of lowlifes.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, killing machines that didn’t spare the live of the innocents, so why should he spare theirs? 

Shinso makes it back to the main event, immediately finding you between guests, sitting so pretty on the poker table, eyes drawing him closer, the grin adorning your lips now wobbly, easy for him to distinguish as fake, forced, a façade kept for the people surrounding the table. He is hasteful in settling himself in the chair near you, shoulders tense when different pairs of eyes fall upon him, the dealer shuffles the deck to draw cards for Shinso, but you hold your hand out with a smile. “He’ll sit this one out, by my lucky onlooker.” A round of laughter causes Shinso to flush in embarrassment, feeling degraded and looked down upon by all these lowlifes, petty thieves and criminals, thinking they’re better than him, oh he’ll show them.(1)

It takes a few rounds for the table to empty out, now occupied by Shinso and yourself, the dealer asks him to move over to the next chair before they start their game. “Place your bets.” you’re quick to slide over a few of your chips to his side - some black, others red and blue, he didn’t really pay that much attention to them- your eyes daring him to reject your invitation to take the money to play.

He only blinks at you, his eyes seemingly never wanting to lose sight of you as he fights with himself to sit straight to face the dealer again, the man proceeds to deal both of you the cards for you to review before placing your bets. “You tricked me.” Shinso is almost appalled at the hurt laced in his voice, as if the two of you had a bond that was never meant to be broken. “don’t believe so, told you to run didn’ I?” The mockery in your voice is a hoax, the single twitch in your brow catches his attention and he can only deem it as you being stressed, whether it be because of the ordeal regarding the surveillance room or not is beyond him. No, he was stupid and foolish and he will not fall for your silly games again. “Exactly, you knew they were coming.” you hum in response to his accusation.

“Call.” Dropping a few of your chips on the table, your eyes shift momentarily to him, “I did, I said I’d help you and here I am.” He slams his bet on the table, ‘Raise’ gritted right through his teeth at your words. “I don’t want your help!” He reveals his cards on the table, a way to show his disinterest in your assistance as the dealer announces ‘Flush’ at his hand. Your eyes meet again from above your cards, now narrowing down instead of the half lidded look you seem to always have “You don’t want it, but you need it.” The façade you held before is slowly but surely breaking, now a deep frown tugging at your lip as you reveal your own hand, brows furrowing even further in challenge as you hum in displeasure when the dealer announces your ‘Full House’ hand to be the winner of this round.(2)

Shinso moves swiftly to stand when he sees you do the same, right before his entire world starts to spin, lights and colors mingling together and causing his head to spin, he sits down again, head between his hands as he tries to calm himself down, it's probably the strain of the mission, maybe it’s the weight bestowed upon his shoulders to finish it up. The hero lifts his head up to ask you, about something he himself isn’t even sure of, he just wants to hear your voice, like a drug to him that he can’t help but ask for more. Except when he does, you aren’t there, the table is occupied by different people, the dealer is another man with longer hair and slimmer figure, and by god did Shinso want to rip his hair out.

The minute he feels like he could get back on his own to feet without falling down on his ass, Hitoshi is quick to check his pockets, adamant to find a clue your sneaky hands slid into one of his pockets while he was out, despite the tantrum he almost threw at not wanting your help nor guidance, and he does find something, a simple metal key, attached to it was a tag with the number XIII on it. 

In his shock, he almost drops the key on the ground but barely holds himself together to avoid any further embarrassment, Shinso takes deep breaths, knowing that the key in his possession is his entry to the heart of the organization, and especially to The Wise. 

Every year, specifically at the Vice City annual auction afterparty, The Wise holds a meeting with the most dangerous men within the continent, the most loathsome masterminds of the criminal world, all in the hopes of recruiting one of them into the organization, to uphold its name and spread its message. Every year, with no recruitment yet. 

With trembling hands, Shinso stuffs the key back into his pocket, eyes on the lookout for anyone who might’ve caught the key in his hand, but sighs in relief when he sees some engrossed in their meaningless poker and absurd talks, while the majority have made their way to the next hall over for the auction that is being held. He takes the stairs three at a time up the floors, facing a red oak double door, the same forsaken number engraved into it. After multiple failed attempts at inserting the key in the lock, he finally does with a huff, hearing the lock echoing in his ears before pushing the door open.

To be honest, Shinso didn’t know what he was expecting to see on the other side of the door, he thought maybe he’d watch weaponry trade off, perhaps people brawling and fighting amongst each other for the title of being the new members. But he certainly didn’t expect to be engulfed in jazz music, men with their cigars laughing and chatting, without a single care in the world, as if their hands weren’t tainted with the blood of the innocents, oh how he loathed them. In an attempt to fit in, he grabs a glass of whiskey from the butler standing by the door, nodding to him in thanks before moseying his way over to the corner in the room, he’d be damned if he got caught in the crossfire of those lunatics.

A stage is set up in the front of the room, and it takes a second for him to acknowledge the pole placed right at its center, it takes him another few seconds to see the beauty dancing on that pole, Shinso’s eyes rake her body without his knowledge, he admires the lingerie adorning her body, hugging her in all the right places, garter snug against her thighs as she twirls, her legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how she can dance so elegantly with them on… wait a minute. 

As if predicting the minute he realized it was you, you twirl to face him, lips pulled into a smile yet again, a giggle interrupting your humming as your body twists and turns on the pole. Shinso isn’t really sure how long he sits there captivated by your body, the only thing breaking his trance is the clap on his back and the heavy weight that sits next to him. “Beauty, isn’t she?”

Bile rises to Shinso’s throat at the mere sound of the person next to him, fear stills him in his place, restricting any movement he’s even thinking of doing, all he could do is sit, widened eyes and sweaty brows at the sight of The Wise right beside him. 

“Don’cha love it when women like her,” The Wise points at you with his cigar, “work to please men like us?” His arm now completely wrapped around Shinso’s shoulder as the hero feels his soul levitating from his body. “Look aroun’ya,” and he does, and only then does he really pay attention, he should’ve seen it all along, the glossy eyes, the droopy heads, it's a sight he was so well accustomed to that his brain normalized it to him. With whatever courage he musters up, he shifts his eyes to look at the man beside him, noticing the ear plugs he wore, and right then the gears start to turn in his head. “My most prized possession I tell’ya.” 

Of course you would be, how else would you have access to all these things, the card, the key, the vanishing from thin air, it all makes sense now.

“Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?” your words are flowing like honey to his ears, a low buzz ringing in his brain as you spoke to the men in front of you. His ability to frown is nonexistent, a relaxed look adorning his face as he looks up at you, so elegant and beautiful in whatever hugged that miracle of a body.

“Sure are,” The Wise jerks Shinso by the shoulder, and he realizes that was done to break whatever trance he was in, he could only glare back at you when you smile at them, that conniving smile that hosted all the lies you spouted to him.

“y/n,” He calls you and by God if this isn’t the most beautiful name Shinso ever hears, what a shame it's being tainted by the voice of this criminal. “Wadda ya say to takin’ this fine boy to the red room, hm?” The man urges him to stand and take your hand, which he did at the blink of an eye, his body moving on it’s own to graze his lips against your knuckles in a breathless kiss. “Treat’m real nice for me.” The hero’s feet take him to follow you, his steps light, like walking on clouds, the sway of your hips pulling him closer to you until his chest is flush against your back, pushing you to move faster into the room you are pointed towards.

Walking aimlessly through hallways, taking lefts and rights he would never be able to recollect in his current state, you both enter a room, red just like The Wise called it, crimson silk sheets fitted on a king sized bed, maroon loveseats and plush carpets, everything in that red hue that it's almost nauseating. 

Bringing your hands in a loud clap, the fogginess in Shinso’s vision dissolves, your creased brows and frown now more prominent to him than ever, his eyes catch the scar trailing from the back of your neck to your cleavage, confused as to why his usual perceptive self would miss it, but then again, he doesn’t feel like he was ever himself throughout this whole ordeal.

To say he was furious is an understatement, he never felt more played in his life, he is Mindjack, the most conniving hero of all of Japan, he was manipulative and sly , known by his people to get jobs done, no matter who his opponent is, he always comes back victorious. And when his ears pick up your sigh of relief, he could only see red, he is hurt, he is scared, but now its his act, his turn to fuck shit up, he wants to hurt, he wants to scare.

“Fuckin’ lying bitch,” It takes him all but two steps for his body to graze yours, tantalizing eyes boring down into yours as you gasp at the close proximity, “you were workin’ with’em this entire fuckin’ time?”

“N-no that’s not it,” you stutter, flustered at his overwhelming presence, trying to put some distance between you and the fuming man by pushing his chest, “Please, I need you to listen to me.” 

“Oh, now you’re beggin’ hmm?” his firm warm hands circle your wrists, tugging them away from his body and using them to pull you even closer to him, his breath now grazing the tops of your cheeks, “Didn’t your boss tell you to treat me right?” he breathes, “well, get to it, slut.”

“That’s not what this is Hitoshi, just listen-” for the love of all that’s pure in this world, why does the sound of his name exceed his perception of how happiness is supposed to reverberate in his ear? “Keep my name outta your mouth, or I swear,” He hisses at you, the grip on your wrists tightening as you whimper out in pain. 

“You think you can just toy with me? Have me running around and following your orders like a lil bitch!?” He sees you trembling, lips wobbly and in tears, how ironic, he doesn’t know a few words would get you to start tearing up, the change in demeanor from when he first met you confuses him for a second, but only a second, because he’ll be damned if he falls for any of your tricks anymore. “N-no, I swear it isn’t like that, just p-please, please c-calm down! Let me explain myself-” the ugly cackle he lets out shuts you up, teary eyes widening as they fall on his, the aura he’s radiating is terrifying to say the least, your knees shaking in dread at what’s about to fold.

“You think you can play my game and win?”

It takes you a minute to answer, the word no echoing in your head, throbbing in your brain so painfully you forget the words that follow it, but what you can’t forget, what you will never forget, no matter how delirious you feel, is the look of pure sin across Shinso’s face, grin rivaling that of the Cheshire cat, because you were now simply a measly little pawn in his game. 

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, criminals that broke every law in their way to get what they desire, so why couldn’t he indulge even a little himself? 

He lets go of your wrists, watching as your arms sway next to your body like dead weight before he turns around to flop down on the loveseat, legs spread wide as he waves his hand over to you.

“Waddaya waitin’ for,” he knows you can’t answer him, but it feels so fucking good to hold such power over you after all you’ve put him through. “Now, strip.” the surge of power he feels jolts his dick up in excitement as he watches you take off your lingerie, moves robotic and forced, eyes glazed over both with tears and his control over your dumb little brain. Hitoshi is no villain, he is a respectable hero, but he’s been called that all his childhood, he might as well live up to that expectation, one way or another.

Shinso stands when you’re fully naked in front of him, long legs circling you and taking you all in, the back of his hand grazes your nipple and he all but groans as it pebbles at his touch. But god, he was nowhere near being done with you.

“Spread your legs for me on that bed,” he grins at the way you follow his orders even before he asks, “will ya?” you settle yourself on the bed before slowly dropping your weight on your back, hazy eyes staring up into the ceiling as your arms bring themselves down to circle the back of your knees, pulling them up close to your chest to expose yourself to him. 

Shinso’s cock twitches in his pants again at the opportunity to just seath it into you without any warning, but he barely holds himself back, approaching your body and feeling himself salivating at the sight, what a sight it is, your pussy looking so fucking beautiful clenching over nothing, the sight tempting him to just dive his face right in to get a taste of your juices.

Taking off his suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of his shirt, Shinso presses his thumb to your clit, frowning when he notices how dry you are, of course you would be, he chuckles to no one, puckering his lip to spit right at the nub, watching it trail down to your clenching hole, the sight igniting a flame within him, he does it again, simply to watch your spit hide in your cunt, impatient to follow suit and bury himself in there. 

His thumb is quick to draw circles with your clit, needing for your orgasm to wash over you quickly, eager for the things he’d do to you after he preps you enough to take him. The usual comforting silence is thick between you, no moans escaping your ajar mouth as your arousal seeps out of your pussy, he prods your hole with his finger to collect your nectar, smearing it across your clit again to rub even faster against it.

The only indication of you coming undone is when your thighs start to shake, your body curling in on itself as your back arches, your cunt gushing on his fingers, and Shinso is almost disappointed to not hear you moan out his name in pleasure. But he isn’t that disheartened, he’s bound to hear you scream.

You on the other hand, are petrified at the way your body is being handled, feeling yourself looking down at the horror being folded in front of you, this isn’t you, this is a shell of who you are, wrapped around his finger, at his mercy, and you want out, no matter the cost. But, you are to regret these words, because you see him unbuckling his belt, you hear the zipper drilling in your ear, and you watch him lay atop you, feeling your lungs constrict at the weight settling upon it, and to your utmost terror, the only thing that breaks his bind on you is when you feel his warm head prodding at your entrance, right before seething completely in, your throat prickling when you wail hoarsely in pain at feeling like being split into two.

“No, nonononon, st-stop please, please!” You’re crying, legs thrashing and arms flailing trying to push this monster off of you, but you can’t, you think as your walls pulsate in pain at the intrusion, you’ll never be able to with him placing his entire weight on you like that, and the way he pulls out before impaling you again has you seeing stars in the worst way possible. Desperate for an escape, you grab a chuck of his hair, your nails digging into his scalp before you yank, your jaw throbbing at how tight you clench your teeth in pain and disgust and pure panic. The strength you muster to pull his head up is in vain, because it only jerks his face deeper into your neck, right where your scar trails, and he bites, so hard you’re certain it draws blood. 

Only then does he lift his head up, his upper lip smeared with a smidge of blood, your blood, before he spits right into your mouth. Sick to your stomach at the metallic taste invading your taste buds, you spit right up at him, mindless to the debris falling right back at your face, your mascara running down your cheeks as you sneer up at him. Even as he laughs teasingly at you.

“Don’t worry slut,” He rasps, his nose brushing against yours as his thrusts find a pace, pulling out to the tip before pushing himself fully inside, “It’ll feel good in a minute.” and it does, he feels more of your arousal coating his cock as he snaps his hips against yours, your wails and whimpers slowly yet surely are coated more with lust as you moan out his name. “See tha’, almost too easy…” almost too good to be true.

And it is, because when his eyes struggle to find yours, he is reminded by the feeling that overtook him this entire evening, and when he sees the corner of your lips pull lightly does he want to rip your head right out, but the minute he moves his hand, he is overwhelmed by how wobbly he feels, how your face distorts and misshapes before he is met with the sight of the ceiling, the sight you grew accustomed to when he was taking advantage of your unconsciousness. 

He groans when he feels you impaling yourself on his cock, pussy clenching so tight as you bop yourself up and down his shaft, your tits bouncing with you as he looks up at you, so mesmerized and entranced by your beauty all he does is hold your hips, helping you lift yourself up before dropping you on him, the squelching sound that follows it music to his ears.

You plant your hands against his chest, hips rolling as you pant at his lips, both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other and chasing your highs, “You gonna listen to me, when I ask you to?” His hand claps against your ass at your question, “Yes, yes oh God, anythin’ just don’t stop.” He can’t help but want more of you, want to feel his cock push against you even further, so he plants his feet firm against the bed, hand grabbing handfuls of your ass as he starts thrusting up at you, moaning against your neck when he shoots ropes of his cum inside of your sopping cunt, squeezing him so tight and milking him, and all of what Shinso remembers is the way you arch your back, pressing your chest against his as your whimper out his name, as he feels your juices dripping against his balls and down on the sheets beneath you. After that, all he could see was black.

Shinso awakes startled, eyes darting in alarm before he relaxes when he confirms he’s alone, the red silky sheets now draped over his lower body, pooling at his lap when he sits up to look around once more, desperate for any sign of you. Yet he only sees a brown folder on top of the love seat, impressively thick with the amount of papers stacked inside it, and when Shinso reaches for it, he catches the note that slipped off and draped down on the floor, reading it and scowling at it. ‘You promised you’d listen’

And boy is he more than lucky to listen to you when you asked him to. Because that folder has every tiny little detail he needs to know about The Wise, from the quirks of his circulating bodyguards to the keys to his multiple homes within the world. Pictures upon pictures of the man, decoded letters and basically intel on his entire criminal record.

Fucking finally, Shinso gets to just go home no that everything’s over and done with.

Limited Edition Sneak Peek:

It is way too early for Shinso, the sun glaring at him as he makes his way into the agency, the honking cars and chattering people feeding into his migraine so early in the morning, and he groans as he pushes his door open, ready to get back to his regular routine after the incident at Vice City.

It hasn’t been even a week, but it sure was eventful, using the folder you left him, Mindjack was able to capture The Wise the very next day, via the map of the routes he takes that was attached in the folder. They were able to ambush him, easily being able to bring the right heroes for the job to overcome the quirks of both his workers and himself. Now the mastermind of Organization XIII was behind bars, making the job of catching the remaining members now much easier.

It almost felt like child’s play, at least, that’s what the heroes made it out to be, flexing their powers and their potential, when they were well aware that all their efforts would’ve been in vain if you and your folder weren't there to aid them in every step.

To say that guilt ate him up is an understatement, he feels himself decaying from the inside out from resentment, he figures he spent too much time in the dark, that it started to mess with him, manipulate him, carve him into someone he isn’t, someone that isn’t fit to be a hero. He feels like was walking into a tunnel with no way out, engulfed and trapped in pure merciless darkness, that ate away at his soul every step he took further in.

Shinso trudges up the stairs with a heavy heart, the dread at what he did to you, especially that your intent to help him didn’t waver despite his actions loomed over him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt like he didn’t deserve the life that he’s living in right now. 

Yet, the saying ‘there's a light at the end of the tunnel’ rings in his ear, the minute he opens up the door to his office, eyes widening at the sight before him, smile so dazzlingly sweet, a voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him as the words captivated him despite their simplicity.

“Missed me, Hitoshi?”

(1) its common in poker for women to be onlookers, like the wives of the players for example, the jab at him being an onlooker is basically just a sexist joke to make the people around the table laugh to ease their mind.

(2) to help gain more perspective about the poker scene you can read the elaboration here

Aaaand more about the reader’s quirk here!

Hope you enjoyed! Also, PLEASE if you could theorize with me after reading the fic I’d love you forever, ask me about the reader’s quirk, ask me about some hidden meanings between the scenes JUST ANYTHING. MWAH

Borrowers (taglist):

@hanji-is-life @anarchicmartyr @sleepykyan @yourprincess-maybe @wolfygirl1900 @tteokdoroki​

@theehoneybunii @nanamisbento​ (not sure if you wanted to be tagged for bakuhoe only of all my fics, so sorry if its the former!)

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

#cw dubcon #cw noncon #bnhacity #shinso smut #shinso x reader #shinso x you #shinso x y/n #shinso hitoshi x you #shinso hitoshi x reader #shinso hitoshi x y/n #shinso hitoshi smut #bnha smut #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader #mha smut #mha x you #mha x y/n #mha x reader #shinso headcanons #shinsou x reader #shinsou x you #shinsou x y/n

[farfromharry]

Call me when you get this | College!Tom fic

Summary: you knew it’d be difficult for your relationship when you and tom went away to seperate universities. but now you were missing each others calls, your only form of communication, living off of the sound of your lover through a voicemail.

Word count - 14.3k+

Warnings - language, mentions of underage drinking, suggestive content, angst

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Friday, 7th September

Standing in front of your boyfriend’s house before nine in the morning on a cold Friday in September was not the place you really wanted to be right now, especially when you were having to say goodbye to him for who knows how long.

“I guess this is it,” he said, his voice lacking that usual boyish excitement it possessed when he was around you.

Today was the day you and Tom had been dreading for so many months. The day Tom left and really solidified the fact that the two of you had to part to go to different colleges, which were also quite a few hours away from each other. Your heart was aching as he stared at you with those sad, brown, puppy dog eyes, but you were sure your own eyes were exactly the same.

You began to tear up as you watched him pack his bags into the back of his mum’s car, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout directed at him. When he turned his head he noticed you staring and opened his strong arms for you, inviting you in. You obviously immediately accepted, rushing into his warm embrace. He squeezed you tightly in his arms, feeling your body begin to shake as you let out a broken sob.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” He cupped your cheeks, making sure you were looking at him before he spoke. He had a comforting smile on his lips, one that always made you feel all warm inside. “This isn’t goodbye,” he promised, kissing your head a few times, “‘m gonna visit as much as I can, we’ll see each other soon. I’m not leaving forever,” he said.

“I’m going to miss you, so much,” you whispered, letting his strong, calming, scent overwhelm you when you buried your head back in his hoodie. “I’m so used to seeing you everyday.”

“I’m going to miss you too, more than you know Y/N.” You sighed sadly, nuzzling your face even deeper into his chest, if that was possible. Tom smiled, running his fingers through your hair as you both swayed softly in your embrace.

The moment was ruined all too soon by Nikki shouting for him. She felt bad for breaking up your moment, but the drive was already long and they wanted to arrive before lunch.

“Tom, we have to go,” his mum announced, trying to motion for him to start heading to the car. All his stuff was already packed inside, you’d helped with most of that part earlier this morning just so you got to spend more time with him, and now he was all ready to go; even if you wish he wasn’t.

Nikki offered you a sympathetic smile, knowing you were struggling to part from her son. She’d always called it ‘puppy love’ but she didn’t quite understand the extent of your affection for one another.

“I love you, and I’ll call you as soon as I can,” he promised, pressing no less than three quick pecks onto your lips. You nodded, plastering on a fake smile. He wiped your tears with the pads of his thumb, his heart fluttering as you giggled at how silly you were being.

He leaned down to kiss you one more time, ignoring the mixed taste of both of your salty tears. Only then did you realise Tom was crying too, your heart aching.

“We’re idiots aren’t we?” you asked. He nodded, chuckling as he pulled away from you. The only touch you had now was from the way your pinkies were still locked in a promise that you were going to make this work.

“I’ll see you later, bub.” “See you later, Tommy.”

He placed one final kiss on your head before turning on his heel to walk down his driveway. As he climbed in the car you were tugged into a hug by one of the twins.

When you looked up you noticed the wild curls and rolled your eyes at Harry, but nonetheless rested your head against his chest. “I still don’t know how you put up with him for so long.”

You laughed, playfully pushing Sam for the comment to scold him.

“Seriously Y/N, he’s so in love with you. Everything’s gonna be fine,” he admits in Tom’s absence. He knew that if Tom were here right now he’d probably hit him for saying so out loud.

“He’s right, he never shuts up about you,” Harry added. “Always gushing about everything you do,” he fake gagged.

“He’s whipped,” Paddy said, the youngest of the brothers making you giggle. Your heart swelled in your chest, your body suddenly feeling warm, even in the cold London weather.

Within the time of your conversation, Tom had already left, shooting you one last longing glance along the way, a smile forming on his lips when he saw you laughing with his family. You eventually had to part from the brothers and head home to pack your own things, saying your goodbyes and then starting your short walk home.

»»——⍟——««

You didn’t expect that Tom would already be desperately missing you by the time it turned dark. But your computer ringing on your desk proved you wrong.

Seeing his contact name on your screen for a facetime call made your heart flutter, sitting down in your chair to answer his call. It was slightly glitchy for the first few seconds, just while it connected, but within a minute Tom’s pretty face was lighting up your screen.

“Missing me already, Holland?” you poked fun. You watched him roll his eyes, completely ignoring your comments. “Hi, angel,” he greeted.

You bit back a smile, tucking some loose hair behind your ear to try and tame it after you caught sight of the mess you looked like in the small box at the top of the screen.

“Hi, how was your drive?” you asked. You shuffled around a bit, trying to get comfortable in your now much more bare bedroom. You’d been packing your stuff for most of the day after you got home, so your hair was a complete mess that had just been thrown out of your face when you started getting too hot to have it in your face all the time. You had one of Tom’s many hoodies you’ve stolen clinging to your body, his scent surrounding you.

Just bringing the sleeve up to your nose was enough to make it feel like he was really with you right now and not just on a screen.

“It was long, very boring too,” he whined, running his hands through his curls. “I suppose my mum made it at least a little better.” You giggled, pouting playfully for him. “How awful.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you pack,” he said, motioning to the boxes stacked behind you, a soft pout on his lips that just made you want to kiss him. He’d already told you he’d felt guilty that you helped pack for him, but he wasn’t there to do the same for you in return.

“S’okay, one more box and then I’m all ready to go in the morning anyway,” you reassured, motioning around your pretty much bare room with your arms.

“It looks so empty,” he commented, recalling in his head how nicely decorated it’d looked during his millions of visits. You nodded, frowning as you looked at your childhood room that held almost no kind of decoration on the walls.

“Anyway, let’s stop moping, I don’t want to cry again today,” you demanded, hearing a chuckle come from his end. He nodded his head, quickly changing the subject to something more positive.

You and Tom were talking for hours. In that time he showed you his new dorm room, and told you that he’d need your assistance at some point to help decorate, but it was more of an excuse to get you to come visit already. Your parents also made themselves known at one point, greeting your boyfriend and asking how everything was going so far. You kicked them out after a while, playfully irritated that they were hogging your boyfriend from you.

“Get out,” you said, trying to hide your little giggle. Tom was laughing on the other side, watching this all go down. “I am so sorry about them.” He was still giggling, making you smile and roll your eyes.

“I love them, don’t worry,” he reassured you. You huffed. “I’m pretty sure they love you more than me,” you told him. He shrugged his shoulders, flashing you a cheeky grin.

“I can’t really blame them.” You scoffed, shaking your head at him, feigning disappointment.

Over the course of the call you could see him growing more and more tired. His words would come out slightly more slurred, his movements slower and his eyes fluttering shut every few minutes, craving sleep desperately.

“Is it bad that I miss you already?” he asked, eyes drooping as if he was about to fall asleep any second. You smiled, watching him with a heavy heart.

“No,” you whispered, so gently Tom almost didn’t hear it. “But i told you so.”

Your lips twitched into a grin, hearing an unimpressed groan come from the other end. When the moment died down you took another long look at your boyfriend. “You should get some rest, looks like you’re going to fall asleep any second.” He hummed, smiling at you sleepily as he rested his chin on his hand.

The simple action, even after seeing it a hundred times, still made your stomach erupt with butterflies, yet another smile overtaking your features. You were sure that at this rate your face was going to end up hurting from smiling so much, but you suppose those are the kind of sacrifices you have to make when your boyfriend’s adorable.

“Goodnight Tom, I love you,” you said, your finger hovering over the end call button. You waited for his reply patiently, knowing his very sleepy mind often took longer to process things.

“G’night. Love you.” He nuzzled his face into the blanket you’d given him before he left. The one you normally take with you to sleep at his house, the one that smelled just like a mix of your shampoo and perfume.

It made Tom’s heart pang, but your smell also comforted him in a way he couldn’t explain in words. You took one last look at his sleepy face before ending the call with a small sigh.

You fell back on your bed, your eyes landing on the box of stuff that you had to finish up before you could head to bed, your body and mind screaming at you for not doing it earlier. You begrudgingly pushed yourself up, moving over to the wall of your room that held your photos of your friends and you.

You smiled as you looked through each one, some of friends and family, others with Tom or Tessa or the other Holland siblings that had built up over the years.

One specific picture caught your eye, one where you and Tom were happily slow dancing together at his cousin's wedding in late June of the same year. The memories from that night all came flooding back all at once, your heart overflowing with love and adoration for the male for the thousandth time today.

“Ow tom, you just stepped on my foot,” you whined, frowning at him. Instead of apologising like a normal person would’ve, your boyfriend instead chose to burst into laughter. You gawked at him, trying not to crack up yourself, trying to keep up your angry facade.

“I-i’m sorry-“ he wheezed. You started to giggle yourself due to his contagious laughter, shaking your head at how childish he was.

“That hurt. You’re heavy,” you laughed, “You’re such a dick,” you mumbled, your smile refusing to fade. Tom beamed unphased by your attempted insults, kissing your head and somehow pulling your body even closer to him.

“But you love me,” he whispered, his head tucking into your neck, placing another barely there kiss on the skin of your bare shoulder. You rested your cheek against the side of his head, fingers stroking the short hair at the nape of his neck, listening to the sound of him humming along to the song.

“Yeah, I do.”

You didn’t even know Nikki had snapped the picture until you were in the car with his family driving home that night. Tom had fallen asleep in the car, his head on your shoulder after one too many drinks, the boy taking much advantage of being over the legal drinking age for the first time.

His mother had grabbed your attention in the silence and showed you the beautiful picture on her camera, watching as your face twisted into one of delight. “Nikki, it’s beautiful,” you told her, being completely honest with yourself, you were in awe.

“Well, I thought you two were just completely adorable.” She smiled at you. The romantic aura had your heart melting, asking her if you could have a copy for yourself. She was more than happy to oblige and the next day she was handing you a physical copy of the image.

Now here you were, taking the picture down after only two or so months of having it up. You felt your eyes welling up again, wiping them with the back of your hand. “Damn it Tom, you cursed, chuckling to yourself over how obviously in love you were with this boy.

»»——⍟——««

Monday, 10th September

Tom's classes at uni were scheduled to start almost a week earlier than yours, which is why he had to leave home before you. Today was his first day of classes, he only had the one today but he had already promised to tell you about it as soon as it was over. He also knew that you should’ve arrived at your own campus this morning, making a mental note to ask you how it was going so far when he called you later.

Everything on your end was going well, you ended up driving there by yourself because your parents were unfortunately busy, but the unpacking process was coming along well.

Tom left his first drama class after the hour with a wide grin on his face. He'd just had arguably the best class of his life and he could barely contain his excitement long enough to wait to tell you about it. He pulled his phone out almost as soon as he stepped out of the classroom, stepping out of the way of the students piling out of the class. He pulled up your contact and hoped you weren’t too busy with unpacking your stuff, so he could talk to you while making the long journey back to his dorm.

Your loud ringtone filling the silence in your room interrupted your current task, shuffling over to see Tom's contact lighting up your screen the same as the night before. You knew you couldn’t be annoyed at his little interruption, especially because you’d already missed the sound of his voice so much and it’d only been a few hours at most.

“Goodmorning, angel.” You smiled as he greeted you, almost as soon as the line connected.

“You sound cheerful today,” you pointed out. You held the phone between your ear and your shoulder, putting the last of your books on the small wooden bookshelf in your room.

“I just had an amazing first class.”

“Well, I’m glad, tell me all about it,” you told him. He talked to you about his morning class for almost 20 minutes, rambling and gushing about how much he enjoyed it and everything that happened, down to a T. You couldn’t have been happier for him. After your long discussion, making sure you asked him lots of questions to give him the chance to let him give you every detail, he seemed to finally take a breath and turned the topic of conversation around. You ended up talking about you now, one of Tom’s favourite things to talk about as he’s told you tie and time again.

“How’s unpacking going?” he asked, finally arriving back in his own dorm. You heard him greet someone with a hello, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “Who was that?” you asked.

“My roommate,” he answered casually, like he hadn’t forgot to mention he ever even had one.

“You have a roommate, since when?” He paused and thought for a minute.

“Since I got the room I think, his name is Harrison,” he suddenly lowered his voice, cupping his mouth around the speaker of the phone, “He’s a bit of an arsehole though, I won’t lie.” You laughed loudly, glad you didn’t have your own roommate to share the small dorm with. You quickly got back on topic, Tom asking you even more questions.

“How are you settling in?” he asked, just as you had asked him last night.

“I'm okay, have some unpacking left to do, and classes don’t start until next week.” He hummed along with what you were saying, listening to every little word. “How’s the campus?”

“It's nice, but it’s lacking a certain pretty boy that I’m so used to seeing.” He awed, teasing you thoroughly about how sappy you were. You always got nervous when trying to flirt with your boyfriend, scared it wasn’t going to come out as smooth as you’d hoped.

“Shut up,” you said, trying to mask your embarrassment. He always managed to make you flustered when you talked about your feelings for him. He didn’t let it linger too long though, changing the subject as quickly as you’d moved on to it.

“So,” he started. “When do you think you could come help me decorate?” he asked, once again changing topics, this time however you were rather grateful he did.

“Need to see me in person already, Holland?” You turned the teasing around onto him, pausing what you were doing to give him your full attention.

“You know I do,” he said. You rolled your eyes when he didn’t end up nearly as embarrassed as you had just been. Sometimes his confidence in flirting really did infuriate you.

“No, but really, I want to see you. I miss your cute face,” he said, groaning towards the end of his sentence. You giggled, shaking your head. “Well, I have all this week that I can come down and see you,” you offered.

“How's Friday? You could stay the weekend, go back Sunday,” he suggested, “If that’s okay with you,” he added, not wanting to sound so demanding like he was forcing you to come.

“That sounds perfect, but check with your roommate, I don’t want to give him a reason to be more of a dick.” Tom laughed, nodding his head. “I appreciate that,” he chuckled. “and I will, don’t worry,” he promised.

There was a sudden, unintentional shift in the mood, the two of you becoming rather quiet as you both thought for a few moments. There was still the traces of your smiles on your lips, but they were quickly fading.

“How are we supposed to do this for so long?” you asked after the laughter completely died down, finally showcasing your worry to him that had been eating up at you practically since you got your college offers.

He smiled, shrugging his shoulders to himself as if it was obvious. “We’re Tom and Y/N, a fucking power couple, we got this,” he said, quoting something your school friends used to call you, all while calming your nerves about if your relationship would work long distance. “We had this discussion plenty of times before we left, I promise you, we’ll be okay.” You smiled, not that he could see.

“Good, because I'm not letting you go that easily mister.” He chuckled.

“I wouldn’t dream of letting you go either, you’re one of a kind Y/N.” You grinned, the two of you just basking in the knowledge of each other's presence.

“How did this get so cheesy so quick?” he asked, making you laugh.

“That’s just who you are,” you said.

You heard a childish scoff on the other end. “Am not.”

“You so are!” The two of you stayed on the call until you realised how much work you really had to do with your room. The boxes were still stacked up and unopened, you hadn’t even unpacked half yet.

“I appreciate your company, but I really need to get back to putting stuff away.” You didn’t really want to stop talking to him, but you couldn’t deny he was a massive distraction from your original task.

“Yeah of course, but I can't wait to see you Friday,” he said, making that giddy feeling linger in your chest. Butterflies were erupting in the pit of your stomach the more you thought about it.

“Me too, and we’ll have to plan when you can come down here sometime,” you said. “Unlike you, I have a room to myself,” you pointed out, having a slightly suggestive undertone to your words.

“I’ll remember that,” he paused, “Princess.”

You shivered, chills shooting down your spine, the nickname was something he would only use when the two of you were having, adult time.

“You bastard,” you said, referring to the way he said that with such ease, knowing it’d play on your mind for the rest of the day.

“Alright, well i’ll text you later,” he brushed it off, making his promise instead, hearing an ‘alright’ from you on the other end.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you more, see you later Tom.” You ended the phone call with a fuzzy feeling all over your body, smiling to yourself, dazed. Tom was exactly the same all those miles away, laying back on his bed with a lovesick grin painted on to his face. You were both so in love, and so, so confident that your relationship would make it through this distance.

»»——⍟——««

Friday, 14th September

Friday thankfully came very quickly, something you were very, very happy about. Before setting off on your long, lonely journey, you pulled your phone out of your pocket to call Tom.

“Hello Thomas,” you greeted, unable to wipe your grin from your face. You were seeing your boy today.

“Hi beautiful, what’s up?” he asked, sounding rather out of breath. You furrowed your eyebrows. “Do you need an inhaler or something, or-“ you teased.

“I woke up late, I'm currently running across campus to my class.” You laughed at him, receiving an annoyed scoff from him.

“I just wanted to tell you I'm leaving now, I should probably be there just after lunch,” you said.

“That’s amazing, I’m sorry you’ve got to drive all that way alone though.” You shook your head, once again forgetting that he couldn’t see you.

“It’s okay, but I should let you get back to being late for your class, good luck,” you said.

“Thanks, very funny, I'll see you when you get here,” he said. You could practically hear the smile in his voice, even over his dog-like panting.

“See you later.” You hung up with a small squeal, a small smile staying glued on your face, even well into the drive after the conversation had ended.

You had to admit, the car ride was lonely by yourself, but it was also so worth it for Tom. It’d only been, not even two weeks, but you missed him greatly already and from what you’d heard from him, he felt exactly the same.

The silence in your car was filled with the sound of your different playlists playing through the speakers. Some were just from random playlists, others from the playlist that you and Tom seemed to most enjoy together.

You could feel your heart starting to beat faster, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you got closer and closer to your destination.

You sent him a quick text when you hit traffic just outside of the campus, telling him you’d be about 10 more minutes. You just received a simple smiley face in response. You and Tom both had your locations on for each other anyway, so he’d know when you arrived. It’d become a promise that you always would after one night when you’d been out with your friends getting drunk, and you’d gone a little bit too far.

You could barely even stand straight anymore, having already forgotten about a few drunken messages you’d sent to Tom before the last shot you’d taken. You were drawn out of your daze when you felt your phone buzzing against your leg, seeing Tom’s contact on your screen. You squealed like a little girl, answering his call with a slurred yell of his name.

“Where are you, baby?” he asked, concern laced all through the tone of his voice.

“ ‘M having fun with m-my-” he heard you huff, “I can’t find them.”

Tom’s eyes widened at the thought of you being alone and drunk in now an unknown location. He cursed under his breath, trying to think of a reasonable thing to do.

“Can you turn your location on for me, Y/N?”

You hummed, pulling the phone away from your ear. You tried to steady your vision, telling Tom that the room was spinning. It made things ten times more difficult, but you eventually managed to do it, alerting Tom with a cheer.

“I did it, Tommy,” you said, “Are you proud of me?” you sounded like a scared child, desperate to receive Tom’s validation.

“So proud of you, angel.”

Tom pulled up your location on his phone, noticing you were at a bar. He wasn’t sure how you’d managed to successfully get in underage, being only 17, but you managed.

“Can you stay where you are for me?” You nodded your head before realising he couldn’t see you. You giggled to yourself quietly before mumbling a quiet yes. Tom offered to stay on the phone with you but you told him you needed the bathroom, feeling as though you were going to throw up.

When Tom arrived, he had to ask the bouncer if he’d seen you, showing him a picture. The large man motioned to where you were sitting on the curb by yourself, shivering from the cold hitting your bare arms. He bent down beside you, reaching out to place his hand on your arm, shocked by how cold you were.

“Tommy,” you gushed, wrapping your arms around his neck, “By the way, I didn’t throw up,” you stated, almost as if you were proud of that achievement.

“That’s good, but let’s get you home.” He pulled off his jacket to wrap around your shoulders, helping you up off of the floor and guiding you to his car. You were heavily drunk but you weren’t completely out of it, so when Tom drove past your house, you began to whine at him.

“I’m not letting your parents see you like this, they’ll kill me and then you.”

You huffed like a child. “You’re too pretty to die.” Tom laughed, reaching over to grab your hand and press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Yeah?” “Yeah,” you sighed dreamily.

Tom helped you inside his house, making sure to avoid any creaks in the floorboards so he wouldn’t wake his family. He guided you up to his room and then started the process of being a good boyfriend. No matter how tired you were, he helped you change into some of his clothes, helped to take off your makeup and tied your hair up and then made you brush your teeth by yourself, even when you complained.

The last move was getting you under the covers off his bed, seeing you pass out almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. “Goodnight angel, you’re going to have a horrible hangover tomorrow.”

And true to Tom’s word, you woke up the next morning in his bed and clothes, your head pounding and only a faint memory of the previous night. Tom strutted into his room clad in only a pair of plain black joggers, his abdomen on full show.

“Ah, you’re finally awake.” He placed a glass of water and two pills down on the nightstand beside you, telling you to drink up so you could feel better. He filled you in on all the basic details and you just wanted his, ridiculously comfy bed, to swallow you whole.

“Maybe we should keep each other’s locations on from now on,” Tom suggested. You nodded, rubbing your side head and leaning into him. “I think that’d be a good idea.”

That’s how he knew you’d arrived in the campus car park. You had barely even stepped out of the car when he practically tackled you in a hug, taking you off-guard. You laughed loudly, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling your nose into his cheek.

“I'm so glad you’re here,” he said, squeezing you tightly. You couldn’t push away your grin, your heart feeling like it was going to explode as you held your boy in your arms.

“I missed you bub,” you whispered, pulling back to kiss him. Your lips molded together perfectly, the two of you feeling as though you were complete again.

You weren’t sure you’d ever shared a kiss like this with Tom, and the two of you had shared lots of kisses. This one was different though, it felt like every moment of emotion from missing his person these past two weeks was being poured into this kiss and you loved it.

“Oi, Holland, cool it with the pda.” Tom turned his head, spotting one of the lads from his drama class and suddenly feeling embarrassed. You tried to turn his head to kiss you again, searching for his lips with yours and ignoring the obvious moron that interrupted you, but then huffing when he denied you. You followed his gaze, seeing a boy standing a few feet away.

“Who’s that?” You watched as he flipped him off jokingly, making some comment about how he at least had a girlfriend.

“That's Tuwaine, he’s in my drama class, met him the other day.” You nodded, smiling before turning back to look at your boyfriend.

“So, are you gonna show me to your dorm, or do we have to stay out in the cold?” you teased. He laughed, helping you take the bag you packed out of the back of your car and offering to carry it for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you commented.

“That I am,” he said, bowing playfully. You shared another round of laughter before you silently decided you really should get out of the cold weather.

“Lead the way, handsome.” He laced your fingers together, leading you in the direction of his building. You walked slowly, giving you both a chance to catch up. Over the small journey you’d shuffled closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your other hand around his arm.

“Right in here,” he said, guiding you through the door of his building. His hand resting comfortably on the small of your back. He unlocked the door to his room, opening it and like the gentleman he claimed he was, let you go first.

The two of you entered his dorm room, Tom holding out his arms and muttering a quiet ‘voila,’ making a show of it. You giggled at his behaviour, humming as you looked around at the messy and pretty much bare room.

“Very nice, it practically screams boy,” you pointed out, sending him a tormenting smile.

“Hey, hey, be nice.” He pointed his finger at you, scolding you teasingly.

“I’m always nice, whatever do you mean?” you smirked, playing dumb. He tossed your bag on his bed and pulled you in by your waist, he kissed you again, more passionate this time now it was without the interruption of the public eye. You gently pushed on his chest, ignoring his whine when he tried to follow your lips again, just as you had done earlier.

“I came here to help you decorate, not to sleep with you.” Tom rolled his eyes.

“We could do both,” he muttered. You tossed one of his pillows at him, seeing him raise his hands in defense.

You punched his shoulder lightly, kissing him quickly.

“Alright, let’s decorate,” you said, clapping your hands in front of you. Tom pulled out the boxes he had yet to unpack from his small wardrobe, handing you one that had pictures in it.

“Where do you want these?” you asked. He motioned to the wall next to his desk.

“Right there, so I can stare at your beautiful face when I don’t want to do my school work.” You giggled, nodding your head.

“Alright then, can’t argue with that.” You started pulling pictures out of the box, some of you two together, some of his family.

“Do you remember this?” you asked, holding one of the pictures of you both between the tips of your fingers. It was you and Tom at his family’s cabin in France, the one where they go skiing almost every year. You were both in big coats and snow trousers, trying to keep warm on the snowy mountain. You both had your ski goggles resting on your head, the two of you grinning widely. “Yeah, I do, he smiled, “That was such a great trip.”

“That reminds me, my mums been asking about if you’ll come again with us this year.” You smiled at the thought of Nikki thinking about you and wanting you to be around her family.

“I'd love to, I always have so much fun there,” you said, trying to be heartfelt and honest.

“Me too,” he winked, referring to the separate ‘fun’ you two always have right after midnight on new year's day, just to start the year off right.

“Behave,” you warned, pointing your finger at him.

“When's your roommate coming back?” you asked, changing the topic while stretching to put up another one of his pictures. He laughed, pressing his solid front to your back, cheekily nibbling on your neck.

“Why, something on your mind?” he asked, hinting at something else, squeezing your waist underneath his hands.

“No, stop that,” you scolded playfully, shaking your head at your boyfriend. “Just wanted to know if he’d have an issue with me being here, that’s all.” Tom hummed.

“He said he’d be fine with you being here, in his words ‘as long as he doesn’t have to hear us fuck,’ so.” You laughed, nodding your head.

“Well, he won’t have to worry about that,” you said, a cheeky smile on your lips. Tom pouted, however accepting your kiss as apology.

You spent the next few hours unpacking Tom's things, focusing more on hanging up some of his clothes on the racks he had, rather than the pictures you were doing earlier. At some point you did steal one of his hoodies, pulling it over your head just to have a sense of him close to you, even if he was already in the room with you, receiving the comment of, “Just can’t stand to be away from me, huh?” tugging at the material of the pink hoodie. “Shut up.”

After it went dark, you and Tom put off the rest of the decorating until tomorrow, not that there was much left to do anyway. You agreed on just watching movies for the rest of the night, calling for pizza. He got some extra too, to thank his roommate for letting you stay.

You spent what felt like forever searching for a film on your boyfriend’s laptop, finally settling on one that you and Tom both thought sounded good. The two of you sat together on his bed, your legs in his lap and his hand rubbing the scratchy fabric of your jeans.

“I’m starving,” you whined, burying your head in Tom's chest. Your stomach growled just to prove your point, making Tom laugh.

“It'll be here soon,” he reassured. A knock on the door made both of your heads perk up.

“That was good timing,” you joked. Tom jumped up from his bed, pulling some cash out of his wallet and opening the dorm door.

He frowned slightly when he saw his roommate.

“Forgot my key, sorry,” Tom nodded, seeing your face drop knowing you had to wait even longer for your food. “Someone did hand me this on the way in though, said it was for our room.” He held up 2 pizzas, a cheer coming from you that made Tom laugh. He handed them both to Tom. Tom however handed you one of the boxes, then the other one to the blonde male, who looked at him confused.

“This is actually for you.” He handed him the box of pizza, receiving a rather shocked thank you. “Just a thank you for letting Y/N stay,” he explained.

“This is Y/N by the way, Y/N this is Harrison,” he introduced. You smiled, waving to the blonde.

“You can join us if you’d like, we’re just watching a film,” you offered, just trying to be polite.

“No it’s okay, I’ll let you enjoy your time together, but thank you.” Tom smiled before making his way back over to you, climbing back into his bed behind you. He kissed your head, wrapping his arm around your waist and getting himself comfortable. Harrison put in his own set of headphones, watching something on his computer.

The movie dragged on, finding it growing harder and harder to keep your focus on it.

“Are you tired?” he asked. You hummed, turning your face over your shoulder to look at your boyfriend.

“We can finish the movie tomorrow,” he said. You thanked him, nuzzling your face in his chest and wrapping your arm around his stomach.

“Get ready for bed, I’ll pack this all away,” he said, motioning to the food and things on his bed and nightstand.

“Okay,” you mumbled, begrudgingly letting go of him and climbing out of his bed. You stretched your arms, your shirt riding up slightly and exposing the bottom of your stomach. Tom playfully jabbed you, making you squeal at the ticklish feeling.

“Stop,” you whined, slapping his hand away, pouting as he laughed at you. Tom kissed all over your face until you smiled, getting rid of your pout.

You grabbed your bag off of the floor, sticking your tongue out at your boyfriend childishly. You headed to the attached bathroom to change. You changed out of your current outfit, putting on some comfortable shorts to sleep in that you’d brought with you and then leaving on Tom's hoodie that you stole earlier. You put your hair up, just so it wouldn’t get in your face, tying it in a messy ponytail at the crown of your head.

“Y/N, are you decent?” Tom asked. You furrowed your eyebrows, opening the door for him.

“What’s up?” you asked, pulling your makeup remover out of your bag.

“I need to brush my teeth,” he said. You nodded, shifting to give him enough room by the sink as you began to take off your makeup. He watched you like a hawk the entire time, following your hand movements with every gentle swipe of the cotton pad on your face.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, causing him to snap out of his slight, dreamy daze.

“You’re just so pretty.” You huffed, shoving his shoulder.

“Stop being such a sap,” you commented.

“Only for you,” he teased, sending you a wink through the mirror.

Halfway through him brushing his own teeth, you began to brush yours. Playfully bouncing your hip against his own to push him out of the way of the sink. He stumbled and you let out a muffled giggle, watching him glare at you.

“Oh it’s on, I'll get you back,” he promised, receiving a teasing ‘oo’ from you.

After spitting in the sink, he flashed you a toothy grin through the mirror, one that made you giggle. Now that he had nothing left to do, he moved over to start bothering you, wrapping his arms around your waist and gently prodding your stomach to try and tickle you and get you to laugh.

“Tom,” you scolded, trying to focus on brushing your teeth.

“Hurry up, I wanna go to bed,” he whined, sounding almost like a pouty child. You finished up brushing your teeth, holding your hair back as you spit your toothpaste into the sink.

You wiped your mouth with the towel and then turned to Tom with a smile. He playfully pinched your cheeks, telling you you looked cute.

“Okay, I’m done,” you said, slapping his hands away. He placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the bathroom.

Upon entering his room again, you saw that he’d actually cleaned up his mess for once, receiving a proud, but sarcastic, clap from you. He caught on, telling you to behave.

“Come on, get in.” He pointed to his bed, letting you get in first. His bed was barely bigger than a single, so the two of you had to cramp together, not that either of you would ever complain. He climbed in after you did, pulling you back into his chest and burying his face in your hair.

“You smell really good.” You giggled tiredly at his comment, eyes fluttering shut.

“Thank you bubba, now go to sleep.” He turned off the light above his head, kissing your neck and closing his eyes.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled.

“G’night Tommy.”

You had to admit to him, his bed was almost as comfy as sleeping on a cloud- not that you’d know what that’s like, but still. It was possibly the best night's sleep you’d had in months, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the bed or because you were back in Tom’s strong arms. When you woke up though you were alone in the bed, looking around to find you were alone in the room too, Harrison’s bed already having been neatly made.

The door opened right on time and Tom strolled in. He noticed you were awake and flashed you one of his charming smiles.

“Good morning,” he greeted. You stretched your arms above your head, making a soft noise that almost made Tom melt in his converse.

“Morning,” you smiled, pulling his covers up so they were right underneath your chin. Tom thought you looked so precious, pulling out his phone to snap a quick picture of you, even after you protested against it.

He leaned down, kissing you gently.

“I went and got us some breakfast.” You pushed yourself into a sitting position, thanking him quietly. You ate together, making happy conversation. Tom asked about how you slept and also admitted he slept better with you in his arms. He basically forced you out of bed, after you refused to leave the warmth.

“Let’s finish decorating and then we have the rest of the day to spend together, doing whatever you want,” he said. “I like the sound of that.”

The rest of the weekend after that went by quicker than you would’ve liked. It felt like only hours before Tom was walking you to your car, ready to say goodbye to you again.

“I hate this,” you whined.

“Me too,” he mumbled. “I'll come and see you soon though, I promise,” he said, squeezing you tightly before opening your car door for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, referencing the moment when you arrived a few days ago, kissing his lips.

“I’ll see you as soon as I can,” he repeated.

“I love you,” you muttered, running your fingers through his untamed curls.

“I love you more.” He kissed you one more time. You climbed into your car, waving to him through the window as you started up the engine. You sighed as you drove out of the gates of the campus, not really ready to start your long journey back to your own.

»»——⍟——««

Friday, 18th November

Unluckily for you and Tom, ‘soon’ ended up being almost a whole two months later. Tom was so busy with schoolwork that just kept piling up and by the time he was free, you were busy. The cycle kept repeating and it was horrible. You missed your boyfriend greatly and you were hoping he missed you just as much as he said he did.

Tom had arrived at your campus early in the morning, at a time you wished you didn’t have to be awake, just so he could spend longer with you. At least you could appreciate the gesture, even if you were losing out on sleep.

“And this is where the magic happens,” you said, opening the door to your dorm and guiding him in. He chuckled, kissing your head.

“What kind of magic?” he asked, an underlying dirty meaning to his question.

“Shut up.” you flushed.

“I can’t believe I haven’t been able to touch you in almost two months,” he whined, his boyish attitude dissolving and being replaced by your whiny, adorable boyfriend, nuzzling his face in your neck.

“I know,” you said, getting completely distracted by running your fingers through the overgrown curls that were peeking out from underneath his cap. You thought it was adorable, but you knew he’d grow to hate it soon enough. “You need a haircut,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I think I like it longer,” he said as you pulled off his cap, tugging at the long strands of dark hair. Tom stared at you as you did so, watching how fascinated you seemed to be with his hair. He couldn’t help leaning in, connecting his lips with yours.

“Uh-uh, not now,” you told him. “Later, baby.”

He huffed, pulling your lip between his teeth, running his hands up and down your body.

“Come on, you can decide if you like my hair longer.” His sentence had an underlying tone of lust to it, just like his earlier comment had too, trying to hint at a very non-pg act the two of you could be doing right now.

“Nope, later though, I promise.” He whined, throwing his head back. You bit back a grin, taking in the way his jaw looked sharp and very much attractive from this angle.

“Well, get dressed handsome, I’m taking you to dinner.” He lowered his head and looked at you with a smile, kissing you softly. “Are you trying to woo me, now?”

“Of course, now put on something pretty and let’s go, I need my arm candy.” You slapped his butt playfully, moving over to your wardrobe to pull out a slightly raunchy dress. Tom recognised the fabric instantly, one he’d seen time and time again that made him go wild.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” he asked, in a state of shock just imagining you in the material.

“Got a problem with that, Holland?” you asked. He rapidly shook his head, unsure if you were joking or not. “Good, now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go change.” You made your way into your bathroom, changing into the risky dress without any more interruptions from your boyfriend. 

You took your time getting ready, wanting to make Tom wait just to build up even more anticipation.

“Y/N, hurry up,” he whined. “I want to see you, already,” he complained, whining like a child on Christmas who didn’t get the toy they wanted. You opened the bathroom door slowly, leaning against the frame, staring at him innocently.

“Oh wow, you look incredible,” he said, getting up from his seat on your bed to shuffle over to you, sliding his hands around your waist. You made eye contact with him through the mirror, giving him a seductive smile that had his hands wandering around your body.

“How is my girlfriend so attractive?” he asked. You giggled, leaning back into his touch.

“We need to go, we don’t want to be late,” you said, dodging having to respond to the compliment that made you feel all warm inside, taking his hand and your purse and leading him out of the door.

Tom was in awe of the restaurant when you arrived, he didn’t realise you were taking him somewhere this fancy. “This place is really nice,” Tom said, looking around the restaurant. His hand clinged to your waist nervously as you told the hostess about your reservation. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been somewhere this nice that hadn’t been some sort of family function, so he felt like royalty right now.

“Are you trying to bankrupt me?” he asked, poking your stomach. You slapped his hand away, turning your attention back to the woman.

“This is my treat, come on.” You snapped him out of his daze, guiding him with you to your table. He pulled your chair out for you, kissing your head and almost daring you to make the gentleman joke again.

“You know I’m not letting you pay for this, right?” he asked. You stared at him with a furrowed brow. “Why not?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m visiting you, let me spoil my girl.” He changed the topic of conversation before you got the chance to object.

“I’m so glad we got to do this,” he said. You shook your head, a grin growing on your face. You couldn’t lie though, you were happy to see him in real life again.

“Me too, I know we say this like every day,” you laughed. “But I really missed you Tom.” 

He leaned over the table, kissing you gently before sitting back down in his own seat. You went straight for and picked up the drinks menu, making Tom laugh and shake his head. “Already on the alcohol.” 

“Oh hush.” You scanned the list of wines, finding one that you and Tom had purchased before on a special occasion. You pointed to the name, seeing the cheeky grin spread across his face.

“I remember that night,” he chuckled. “How many rounds- I’m sorry I mean bottles, did we have that night?” Your jaw dropped, giggling at his false cover up. You shook your head.

“We’re in public, stop being inappropriate,” you warned. He shot you a wink, making your whole body flush for the thousandth time since he’d got here this morning.

“Hi, are you ready to order?” the waitress asked, glancing between you two and interrupting your reminiscence into the past. Tom looked up at her with a smile, her eyes widening.

“Could we just have a bottle of red wine for now, please,” he pointed to the one you meant. She nodded, trying to give him a flirty smile that made you snicker. She glared at you, timidly touching Tom’s shoulder before walking away.

“What was that?” you asked, a playful smirk that told Tom you weren’t mad at him.

“You can’t blame me, I’m just that irresistible.”

Her antics continued for most of the night, and you were growing more and more frustrated with how she was blatantly ignoring you to flirt with your boyfriend.

“If she flirts with you one more time, I won’t hesitate to knock over my wine on her,” you threatened, seeing Tom’s lips twitch into a smile. 

“Are you jealous?” he asked, intertwining your fingers on the table. He raised his free hand in defense when you glared at him. 

“Shut up.” You kicked him gently as a warning, seeing the wince cross Tom’s face.

“But not the red wine, you know that’ll stain,” he continued to tease, sarcasm lacing his words. You huffed, flipping him off. Tom didn’t let up on teasing you about your spontaneous hatred for the waitress all night. When she brought out your food he couldn’t help but make a few sly comments in response to her flirting.

“Do you want to try some?” he asked, holding his fork to you. He was trying to make up for pissing you off. You nodded, taking the food off of his fork with a hum.

“That’s really good.” He nodded, taking a sip of his wine. 

“Do you want to try some of mine?” You offered, doing the same for him as he’d done for you. He took it with a thank you, telling you he really liked it. Your food didn’t last long, you were both starving and it was exceptionally good.

You and Tom grew more and more tipsy as the night went on. You began to flirt with him some more too. You’d forgotten how much you enjoyed spending time with Tom.

“Oh here she comes,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. Tom laughed, squeezing your hand in his.

“Do you need anything else?” she asked, her flirty gaze focused on Tom. You rolled your eyes, teasing your heel up his thigh under the table as you sipped on your drink. He coughed nervously, trying to ignore how close your foot was to his crotch.

“C-can we get another bottle of wine, please?” She nodded, leaving you both as you were.

“Spoiling me today are we?” you teased. He laughed, nodding his head. “Always, gorgeous.”

After your second bottle you didn’t waste much more time at the restaurant after paying the rather pricey bill, calling a taxi to take you back to the campus.

You could barely even stand straight by the time you were pushed up against your dorm room door. Your hands were working on unlocking it, struggling with the way his lips were attacking your neck and shoulders. You still weren’t wasted, but you could definitely feel the alcohol in your system, making everything feel lighter and Tom’s touch even more amplified than normal.

“So, when’s your roommate coming back?” he joked. You giggled quietly, throwing your jacket somewhere in the room. 

“Very funny, now shut up and just get in my bed.” He laughed loudly, picking you up by your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinning up at him when he dropped you back on your bed. “Get ready for the night of your life,” he whispered, attaching his lips to your neck.

“I’ve been ready.” 

»»——⍟——««

Wednesday, 3rd April

As the months went by, the visits became less frequent, finding it increasingly more difficult to find time to actually physically go and see each other. Rather than at least once every two weeks, it started to be once in a while, and then eventually you wouldn’t see each other until the trip over Easter break. 

You both tried to call as much as you could, but you eventually started missing each other's calls more and more. It got to the point where you could not talk to each other for a minimum of 3 days, with the exception of a quick text in a morning or just before you went to sleep and the occasional voicemail.

It felt like everyday one of you was waking up to the notification of a missed call on your phone, followed by the message you’d received a voicemail. They all went the same way, a greeting, making some kind of light hearted joke that you’d manage to plan badly again, a simple i love you and then a call me when you get this.

When Easter time finally rolled around, painfully slowly, you and Tom were able to organise a time when the both of you would be free so you could plan the trip you wanted to take together.

The familiar sound of your ringtone blared through your dorm room, a small smile creeping onto your lips when you saw Tom’s contact picture lighting up your phone. The picture was an old one you’d taken of his a few years ago, reminding you that you should probably update it soon with a more recent one, that is if you had one.

“Hey, Tom,” you said, greeting him sweetly. You got a hello back, followed by a rather uncomfortable silence that the two of you had never experienced before. “So, um, where are you thinking we should go?” 

The man on the other end was biting his lip nervously, not sure if you’d like the sound of his idea or not, but this also had never happened before, so what was he supposed to do? He always came up with ideas you loved.

“I was thinking we could go to this cabin I found, really pretty view, um-“ He hated that he was unable to see your face right now, not able to see what kind of reaction you were giving off to his words. “You can say no of course, but I thought it’d be nice.” His voice trailed off towards the end and he spoke much quieter, almost like he was scared to hear your answer.

“That sounds really nice. I’d love to.” You could hear him let out a sigh of relief, the man feeling as though a weight had been lifted off of his chest.

“Great. I’ll make sure to call the place.” “I can’t wait.” 

When the day of your trip rolled around you were nervous. You hadn’t seen your boyfriend in forever and you weren’t sure if things were automatically going to jump back to the way they’d been, even if you were hoping they were.

Your eyes landed on Tom with a smile, the man opening his arms to you for a hug. You had no problem practically jumping at him, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly while his snaked around your waist to hold your body close.

“I missed you, so much,” he whispered, his nose buried in your neck to take you all in. You agreed silently, pulling back to be able to press your lips onto his sweetly, sharing your first kiss in months.

Tom had been generous enough to pick you up from your campus and then drive you both down to the cabin, rather than you having to drive yourself. The car ride was full of the stories you hadn’t been able to tell each other yet, filling what would’ve been an awkward silence.

You were more than happy to be back with him, and little did you know he felt the exact same.

However, it felt like for the first few days of the week that you weren’t really there. Of course you and Tom were both physically there but it felt like you were sending longing gazes and looks from a distance rather than really feeling that natural spark between you both.

You’d be sitting on the couch in the cabin, both of you in silence as you watched any random movie that played on the TV in front of you. Normally the two of you would be making constant unnecessary commentary throughout the duration, but here you were, sitting stiffly next to your boyfriend.

“What is wrong with us?” Tom asked. You turned your head, furrowing your eyebrows at the pretty boy who was staring right back at you with those puppy eyes. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. You had an idea that he was talking about the atmosphere between you both.

“This is so awkward, we- we’re usually so natural and us,” he complained. You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder with the first display of affection that night.

“Yeah, I know. We’re probably just out of practice, right?” you suggested. You didn’t want to believe that your relationship could be going downhill, you were Y/N and Tom, that couldn’t possibly happen. “We’ve got this Tom, we’re still us.” 

That short conversation seemed to have worked. Over the next few days, and the last few remaining days of your trip, you and Tom were practically back to your normal ways. Your affection and love was able to come naturally again, calming all your racing thoughts about the pair of you drifting apart.

Unlike the past few days, now you’d be in the kitchen cooking, laughing and making jokes while having mini food fights. Or you’d be getting ready for bed, brushing your teeth when Tom would wrap his arms around you from behind and start placing kisses up and down your neck, making you flush and giggle sweetly. You spent your mornings sharing sweet words and kisses that made you completely weak for the man, and even thinking about giving it up again for who knows how long brought you physical sadness.

When it came to the time you had to leave you were obviously sad, more than you thought you’d be when this week began. You and Tom had almost managed to rebuild your relationship to the strength it once was, so now it was hurting just as much as the first time he left on that Friday in September.

He drove you back to your campus in mainly silence, the two of you keeping your fingers interlocked while he drove, soft music playing over the radio in the background. 

“How much longer?” you asked, hoping to have at least a little longer with him. He flashed you a small smile. “Under twenty minutes.” 

You sighed, feeling him squeeze your hand in response while his eyes stayed fixated on the road.

In a very short twenty minutes Tom was pulling into the College, parking quickly and turning off the car. The two of you just sat there for a minute, not saying anything but at the same time saying everything that needed to be said.

“Well, I guess this is it,” you said, turning to him with a sad smile. He nodded his head, lifting your hand from where it rested in your lap to place a gentle kiss on the back of it.

“‘m gonna miss you,” he whispered, leaning forward to rest his forehead comfortably against yours. You hummed, quickly pecking his lips.

“Don’t forget to call me, Holland,” you warned, pointing your finger at him playfully.

“Wouldn’t even dream of it.”

»»——⍟——««

Sunday, 29th May

By the time June was about to roll around you hadn’t seen Tom in almost two months.

He never did call, and the calls you left for him only ended up being missed. Everything had gone back to the way it was before. Almost two whole months. You still had faith in him, and almost everyday you’d wait to see if he’d call. Most of your calls to him would go straight to voicemail, so you simply gave up on putting in the effort.

It was the same routine everyday. Wake up, go to class, wait for Tom’s call, give up. Today was slightly different because you had plans for the night. You tried to wait as long as you could in your dorm to see if Tom would call, but when the clock hit six you gave up.

Some girls you’d begun to be friends with from your History class had invited you to a party they were going to, so to take your mind off your boyfriend not calling, you agreed to go. You did some light makeup, curling your hair like you knew Tom liked, then slipped on a black dress that would’ve made him drool.

You snapped a few pictures, some of just your face but then others of you in your dress too, debating on whether or not you wanted to post them to your account where Tom would definitely see. 

After staring at them for probably way too long, you gave in and did it anyway. You smiled as your friends gave nice comments, waiting to see absolutely anything from your boyfriend.

A sudden knock on your dorm door startled you away from your entrancement with your phone, opening it to see your new friends with large smiles. They held up a bottle of alcohol that would no doubt be for pre-drinks, making you laugh. You ignored their attempts at trying to get you to do a shot, telling them you were waiting on something from Tom. 

“Are you ready to go yet?” one of them asked. You sighed sadly and nodded.

“Let me just grab my purse,” you said, you walked back over to your bed, checking your phone one last time with a sigh, still nothing. 

“Alright, let’s go.” You smiled, closing your door behind you and heading off to the party to forget. You laughed together along the way, internally grateful for them trying to take your mind off your boyfriend.

But even in the party atmosphere, after they’d gone to get drinks or find someone to hook up with, you struggled to tear your eyes away from your phone. 

“Y/N, I don’t want to see this phone again,” Lainey said, holding two drinks in her hands. You were guessing she was already tipsy.

“Hey, fuck him okay? He’s the one missing out.” You giggled, thanking her and nodding. You put your phone in your bag out of sight and took the drink from her outstretched hand.

“Now, let’s party,” she announced, dragging you into the crowd of people where you’d end up being for the remainder of the night.

When you finally got back to your dorm after the party, it was the first time you checked your phone in hours. You saw a couple missed calls from Tom, as well as a voicemail. Your excitement from the night faded and your heart clenched, frowning that you’d missed him again. Even when you were waiting for any sign of contact from him, you weren’t expecting him to call you today and now you just felt guilty for mentally cursing him out earlier on.

You played the voicemail on speaker as you were taking your makeup off. The sound of Tom’s voice still made you feel all warm inside, even when you were mad at him, and you were addicted to the feeling.

“Hi beautiful, looks like I missed you again.” He laughed. “We really need to get better time management.” You nodded your head with a smile, agreeing. “I just wanted to hear your voice, I had a pretty shitty day and uh, yeah,” he paused. After hearing that you were able to hear the obvious signs of sadness lingering in his tone. “I saw your post by the way, you looked gorgeous, I hope wherever you went you had fun.” It was quiet for a few seconds.

“Call me when you get this, I love you.” 

Your heart ached, you didn’t know he’d had such a bad day. You planned on calling him back straight away, but upon noticing the time and realising that at three in the morning Tom would most likely be asleep, especially due to him having classes in the morning, you didn’t have much faith in him answering.

Just as you suspected, the call almost straight away went to voicemail, telling you to leave your message after the beep.

“Hey Tom, I’m so sorry I missed your call,” you started. “I-I was at this party and just got so caught up in it all, I didn’t even see my phone ring,” you paused, the line going silent again.

You knew when he listened to this voicemail that he’d hear how happy you sounded talking about the party. For now you knew you needed to say something else before the line cut you off.

“Well, I’m really sorry your day was bad. Call me back, I want to hear what happened, ‘nd know what I can do,” you told him. “I love you tom.”

Your eyes wouldn’t let you stay awake much longer after that. Letting you change into comfier clothes before you passed out for the night.

The next morning was a Monday, and you had absolutely nothing to do all day due to having no classes. You woke up earlier than you would’ve liked, having a quick snack for breakfast and then climbing back into your warm bed.

You pulled out one of the books Tom had bought you over Christmas, smiling as you traced the hardback cover. You could still vividly remember how happy you were the moment he’d given it to you.

“So I know I already got you something,” he stated, grabbing the wrapped book from out of his suitcase, “but I also know how much you’ve been wanting this.”

He placed the present in your hands. You thought it felt quite heavy, beginning to tear away the wrapping paper until the mystery was revealed. Your eyes widened as you read the front cover, over and over, just to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you. It was the same book that you’d been trying to find since its release, however it’d been sold out everywhere and you’d complained to your boyfriend countless times.

“Tom, oh my god,” you gasped, staring at him in shock, “How did you get this?”

“I have my ways.” His lips curved into a smirk and you pulled him into a tight hug, practically suffocating him.

“Thank you, you angel.” You kissed him softly, but it was a kiss that was filled with so much passion and adoration that it made your head spin. “You’re perfect.”

“I’m guessing this means you like it?” he teased. You rapidly nodded your head, even if he was being sarcastic.

“I adore you.”

You were engrossed with reading it for the next hour or so, a soft smile on your face as you got lost in the storyline. It was arguably unlike anything you’d ever read and you absolutely loved it.

The loud, blaring noise of your ringtone filled the silence in your room, making your heart leap, alerting you of an incoming phone call. You reached over to your nightstand, picking it up and glancing at the caller ID.

Seeing Tom’s name splayed across the screen made you smile, bringing the phone up to your ear after answering.

“Hi Tommy, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today,” you said, smile wide as you answered the call. “I was just reading the book you got me for that one Christmas, d’you remember?” You heard him clear his throat, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

“I think we should talk.” Your heart dropped, smile falling from your face, putting down your book and sitting up straighter because he definitely didn’t sound happy.

“What?” you asked, following with a nervous laugh. It probably wasn’t what you thought it was right? It was just a harmless phone call. “Where is this coming from?”

Tom felt vulnerable. He was never one who was amazing at having deep conversations where he’d wear his heart on his sleeve. And he was positively in love with you, so this was torture. “I never talk to you anymore- We never talk anymore. You’re always out having fun and I-I feel like you don’t want to be with me now.” You frowned, tears beginning to cloud your eyes at his confession. You weren’t even aware he felt like that until now. You were glad he’d told you, but your heart ached at the idea of you making him feel like this unintentionally.

“Tom, I love you, with my whole heart and I-“ You heard his shaky breath and quiet sniffle down the phone line, your heart breaking at the sign he’d been crying- or maybe even still was. “Tom.” 

“No, I, it’s breaking my heart Y/N,” he cleared his throat. “I just-“ he stopped talking, sighing loudly. He was starting to get frustrated with himself. He didn’t know how to confess his feelings and it felt to him as though he was making it harder. 

You weren’t able to process what was happening right now. Your thoughts were running wild and you were scared to death that he was about to break your heart, something he promised he wouldn’t do when you started dating. As cliche as it sounds, you thought he was it for you. You weren’t able to picture anyone else in your life besides Tom, and even though you were young, you were certain this would be endgame.

You were crying now too, tears racing down your cheeks, dripping from your chin to your lap as you sniffled. You whimpered his name into the phone, prepared to fix this and fight for your relationship, you couldn’t lose him like this, not this easy. Part of you was hurting for him, you felt utter sympathy for what you’d been putting him through, you wish he’d told you sooner so you could’ve tried harder. But, another part of you was angry at him, for springing this onto you so suddenly, for doing it over the phone and for being so selfish.

“What are you saying?” you asked, your voice coming out weak and filled with obvious desperation. “Tom, please, I can’t lose you.”

There was a few moments of silence. A few hours away from you Tom was sitting alone in his dorm room. At least he thought he was alone. For the entirety of the phone call Harrison had been standing outside of their dorm room. He was about to enter when he heard Tom talking on the phone, not wanting to interrupt he decided to wait, but the course of the call clearly took a turn from the usual lovey-dovey conversations he overheard.

Tom had his knees pulled up to his chest, his head leaning back against the wall and his bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he played out all the things that could happen from now on in the call.

He was evidently stressed, tears streaked across his cheeks as he took shaky breaths to push down his sobs. “I-I think we should talk about this another time,” he said, the sound of a small sniffle following down the phone. You squeezed your eyes shut, more tears spilling down your cheeks.

You didn’t know what that meant. Did he want to break up? Did he want to fix things? When was another time? There were so many questions floating around unanswered and you wanted to scream at him for leaving things so open ended.

“I-I don’t understand. We can figure this out- Please.” Your voice broke towards the end, showing your pain through to the man who was struggling to hold back all of his emotions. 

He hated knowing he’d put you in pain but his own heart was hurting too, and it was almost like part of his resented you for that.

He gave up a little bit, deciding he couldn’t do this anymore, not today. “I’ll call you some other time Y/N. Goodbye.” You let out a sob as the line went silent. 

Tom, for one, hadn’t told you he loved you when ending the call, and two, he’d said goodbye. The one thing you promised that you wouldn’t say to each other while you were gone, a promise you made on the very first day he left. It was always, see you later, and now you didn’t know where you both stood.

When Harrison heard the call ended he took it as his chance to enter his room, only to find Tom with his head buried in his hands as he tried to muffle his heartbroken cries.

“Hey, man.” The brunette looked up nervously, furiously wiping his eyes and trying to pretend as though he hadn’t just been bawling his eyes out. “You okay?” he asked. 

Tom wasn’t an idiot. He knew he looked a mess, he knew Harrison noticed, and he didn’t particularly feel up to lying right now. He just needed a friend.

“No,” he answered honestly. Harrison frowned, taking a seat next to Tom on his bed. The two hadn’t been that close since becoming roommates, but were much closer than when they’d first met.

Harrison pulled Tom close to him in a friendly hug. He hadn’t quite been through a breakup so he didn’t know what to say to Tom to help him, but for Tom this was enough.

“Things will get better, I promise.” He shook his head, almost laughing at how ridiculous his roommate sounded right now.

“I don’t think they will. Not anymore.” 

»»——⍟——««

Thursday, 3rd June

It got to the point where you hadn’t heard from Tom in four days. You were almost sure it was over at this point if he didn’t call you soon. You’d tried calling him of course, left countless voicemails and texts, as well as the ones to wish him a happy birthday, something you were rather upset you missed.

You’d barely left your bed in days, it felt like you were too heartbroken to even move. Little did you know Tom was exactly the same. He’d overthought everything he’d done, refusing to speak to anyone but Harrison, who was only making sure he still ate and drank, meaning he missed lots of messages and calls on his birthday.

With a lot of persuading and guilt tripping from his roommate he finally decided to do something about it. “You need to talk to her, mate. Don’t let this ruin everything you have.” 

After that he showered for the first time in days, which Harrison was very grateful for, and got dressed and was ready to head out with one last burst of reassurance to himself.

When you heard the knock on your dorm door you didn’t even consider moving to see who it was, choosing instead to keep ignoring the world like you’d been doing for the last near week. You’d ignored pretty much everyone that had tried to see if you were still alive this week, messages from friends included.

It was only when the knocking became more urgent that you started to get frustrated. Normally after a few short minutes your friends would give up and just leave, but this only seemed to be carrying on.

You groaned, wiping your dried tears and pushing yourself out of bed begrudgingly. You didn’t care that you looked like a mess anymore, so you didn’t care that this person, whoever it was, was going to see you like this. 

You pulled open the door open rather angrily, your eyes widening in shock when you saw Tom standing there with a bag on his shoulder, looking almost as broken as you did, but possibly more cleaned up as he’d actually made an effort.

You didn’t know how to react at first. You didn’t know where the two of you currently stood and you didn’t want to push his boundaries, but seeing him standing there told you he was ready to fix this. When he flashed you a small smile you didn’t waste another second, nearly flinging yourself into his arms, almost crushing whatever it was he was holding.

“Oh, thank god,” you cried, wrapping your arms around his torso. You were scared he wouldn’t hug you back at first, confirming what you thought about your relationship truly being over. That wasn’t the case though. Tom wrapped his free arm around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly in his grasp, his hand drifting to the back of your head to keep you tight against him.

The two of you thrived being in each other’s touch again after so long without it, feeling as though your heart was finally mended again. 

You were reluctant to pull away. However, you unfortunately had to at some point. You led him inside your room, trying to quickly tidy at least a little bit of your mess that had collected over the past few days, even if that meant just making your bed for you both to sit on.

Tom set whatever had been in his hands down on your desk and then placed his bag on your floor before sitting down next to you on your bed, finally letting you see the mini cake he’d brought with him. You felt your heart flutter, the idea that he still wanted to be able to celebrate his birthday with you was too precious for you to handle.

You didn’t talk for a few minutes, messing with the sleeves on your jumper that was probably Tom’s as you waited for him to talk.

“Y/N,” he said, watching as you raised your head to look at him. “C’mere.”

He opened his arms for you, not feeling physically close enough to you as he wanted to be. He helped you crawl into his lap, your legs thrown over his while your face tucked into his neck. His hand rubbed up and down your back when he felt the way you were shaking slightly.

You were trying to string together the sentence of words you wanted to say to him but for some reason it was just too emotional for you.

“I-I was so scared Tommy,” you admitted. “I didn’t want us to be over,” you cried.

Tom hated seeing you like this, knowing that he’d been putting you through this for days without returning your calls or messages, even if he was no better on the other side of the phone. He shook his head, cupping your cheeks and making you look at him so he knew his words would sink in. He gently wiped away your tears, even if they just kept on coming.

“I would never, I promise,” he said. “I could never let you go that easily, not without trying to make it right. I’m sorry for putting you through that.” You smiled, for the first time in days.

“Good, you’re too hot to leave me,” you teased. He chuckled, shaking his head at you. “I’m sorry too, by the way. I didn’t know I was hurting you.” 

It fascinated you that all you needed was to apologise and pretty much all was forgiven. Things clearly weren’t going back to normal straight away but you were glad you were able to at a minimum not break up.

The whole moment felt like something from a movie. Tom was looking so lovingly into your eyes, silently pouring all his love for you in the simple action of holding you while his thumb stroked your cheekbone. You looked back with an exact reflection of his own emotions, your heart feeling as though it was mending everything that had broken it this past week.

Tom took the moment to lean down to kiss you, his lips curving into a frown when you turned your head for his lips to meet your cheek.

“Why can’t I kiss you?” he whined. He looked like a scolded puppy, his expression bringing a smile to your lips. Your expression changed though when you remembered why you didn’t let him kiss you, letting out a huff that twisted into a frown. Tom gently kissed away the crease that had formed between your brows, your face heating up at the simple gesture of love.

“You said goodbye,” you said, hitting his chest lightly. He cocked his head in confusion. “What?” he asked, innocence lacing his tone.

“On the phone. You said goodbye, and you told me we wouldn’t do that.” 

He could tell you were getting worked up again, his hands coming up to wipe any stray tears that fell. “Oh bub, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot for doing that over the phone,” he apologised, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear to keep it out of your eyes.

You smiled at him, letting him think you’d forgiven him enough to finally let him kiss your lips. He leaned in again, only inches away this time when you pulled your head back, giggling quietly to yourself as he let out an audible groan.

“Now what?” he asked.

“You need to tell me what that cake is for first,” you grinned. He rolled his eyes, reaching over as much as he could to grab it from your desk.

“I thought, seeing as we missed my birthday, we could celebrate together a little late.” 

Your heart melted as he confirmed your thoughts. You rested your head against his shoulder, letting out a sigh as you allowed your eyes to close for a few seconds.

“I missed you,” you mumbled. It was something the two of you said a lot, but even then every time was just as true as the next. He hummed quietly, kissing the top of your head lovingly.

“I know, I missed you too.” You gave in this time when he gently guided your chin so you were looking up at him, letting him press his lips to yours gently. Your hand snaked into the hair at the back of his head, keeping him close to you so he couldn’t pull away from you prematurely.

When your lips parted you rested your forehead against his, your eyes tracing the freckles that decorated the skin of his nose and cheeks. 

He lifted his hands up slightly, a motion to show the object he was holding. “So, how about some cake?” 

You let a soft giggle slip past your lips, nodding your head as you wiped away and excess tears that still remained on your face. Tom rummaged through a few things in his bag until he found some utensils to eat the cake with, making you laugh at how he’d come so prepared.

“Happy late birthday to me,” he said, taking a bite of the cake with a content look on his face. You hummed, watching him with complete adoration glittering in your eyes.

“Happy late birthday, Tommy.” 

The two of you ate in a comfortable silence, relishing in the fact you were back together again. Your mind was brought back to the bag you’d seen him bring, catching his attention long enough to ask him a question.

“Are you planning on staying?” you asked, trying to contain any excitement just in case you’d end up getting your hopes up. He nodded, trying to suppress his grin as he saw your eyes light up. “I want to take the time to make this right again, Y/N,” he admitted. “As long as it takes.” 

You agreed, pressing another kiss to his soft lips. “As long as it takes.” 

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

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#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland oneshot #frat!tom

[pies-writes-and-more]

the first time saying I love you

Warnings: nothing! Maybe some swearing but all fluff!

Characters: Daichi Sawamura, Bokuto Kotaro, and Ushijima Wakatoshi all with a Fem!Reader

A/N: I know I have some requests and other WIPs I should be working on but I was having a bit of trouble finding some inspo so I thought maybe this would help haha. Hope you enjoy! I might make more parts with other characters :)

p. 2 

Daichi Sawamura Who says it first: You

“You’re going to do great! I love you! Good luck!” With those words, you ran out of the gym and made your way up to the stands, perching yourself over the edge with the rest of the Karasuno fans. You glanced down at the court to make sure you had a good view, trying to give a smile to your boyfriend.

It was odd though, Daichi hadn’t moved. It was like he was frozen in the spot you left him. His body seemed stiff and his feet were glued to the floor.

The Karasuno team all looked up at you with wide eyes, even Kiyoka staring up at you in surprise, most of their jaws open. You tilted your head in confusion - did something happen while you came up to the seats? Was it something you said-

Oh.

Daichi turned and looked up at you with wide eyes. His lips parted but there wasn’t a sound coming out. What was that look in his eyes? Was it… panic? Annoyance? Were you not supposed to say that?

You could feel your insecurities rising up in you - how stupid were you? The two of you had only been going out for a few months now! How could you say something so carelessly?

But it hadn’t felt careless. In fact it almost felt… effortless. You did love him. You’d known this for a while now, even if you had avoided voicing it. Ever since he met your parents and was the sweetest guest ever - they loved him. You loved him. And now those words were in the air for him to decide what to do with.

“Y-You love me?” He managed to get out after a while. You wanted nothing more than to sink back into a chair and hide. This wasn’t the time. This was an official match. Daichi had to focus, how was he supposed to focus if he was going to break up with you right now- “I love you too!” He declared loudly, a smile growing from his lips to his eyes. 

Your eyes widened and blinked at him, feeling the genuineness of his words. “I love you, Y/N!” He repeated, giving a firm nod. “And we’ll win this match for you! Promise!” He assured you, Sugawara and Asahi coming up behind him and clapping him on his shoulders, both of them sending you a thumbs up.

“We love you too, Y/N!” Sugawara grinned and Daichi smacked his head playfully. “What! She’s nice to Asahi when we’re not, and she bakes me food,” Sugawara smirked sending you another cheeky grin that makes you laugh. Asahi just chuckled, but nodded in agreement. The four of you had gotten close even before Daichi and you had started going out and their bond was something you always loved seeing in action.

“Shut up,” Daichi grumbled to his friend but shot another look at you, as if memorizing this moment before going out and getting ready for the game. He had never broken a promise to you, and he wasn’t going to start with this one.

Bokuto Kotaro Who says it first: Him

“Are those for me?” Bokuto gaped as you walked into the gym, his jaw practically on the floor seeing the container of sweets in your hands.

“Well they’re for everyone really,” you laughed, admiring the sweet smile on your boyfriend’s face, “but you can have the first pick just cause you’re cute.”

Bokuto was drooling already - he loved it when you made him any kind of food. He grabbed the container from you, peppering your face with kisses as he attempted to get it open.

“Akaashi! Look! Y/N baked us some treats!” Bokuto called, waving his best friend over. “It’s no wonder I love you, you always make the best food!” He grinned over at you, shoving the first sweet he could grab into his mouth.

He hadn’t even swallowed before noticing the look on your face, eyes wide like you were a deer in headlights, “Sumfin’ wron’?” He asked you through brownie crumbs. He turned to Akaashi who had slowed down making his way over upon hearing his friend’s words, but he only offered a raised eyebrow in return. “What?” Bokuto asked confused.

“Bokuto, you idiot,” Akaashi shook his head in disappointment. “I don’t think that’s how you’re meant to say that kind of stuff. Isn’t it supposed to be more... private?”

Bokuto frowned a little, thinking back to his last words, “That she makes good food? But it’s true-” And there it was. Bokuto’s whole body froze in realization, turning to you with eyes as wide as an owl. “Y/N-” he started nervously.

“It’s okay!” You offered a grin, rubbing the back of your head nervously, “You can take it back if you want to! I’ll pretend like I didn’t hear it!”

Akaashi’s fingers slipped the container out of Bokuto’s hands quickly, sneaking away to give you guys some privacy while also trying to get the rest of the team some food before Bokuto ate it all.

“Take it back?” Bokuto thought it over for a moment before shaking his head, “Would you want me to take it back?”

You shifted nervously, “I mean I wouldn’t ever want you to say something you didn’t mean.”

Bokuto laughed, a sound that surprised you but also put your nerves at ease, “Why wouldn’t I mean it?” He grinned at you, hands on his hips. “I’ve loved you since we met, Y/N. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that I’d want to be with you forever.” He beamed proudly, smiling down at you. That smile froze for a moment, his eyes widening again, “Unless… you don’t feel the same…” Somehow it seemed like his hair drooped and you could see the signs of sad!Bokuto coming on.

“Of course I feel the same,” you insisted quickly, your face feeling hot. “I… I just didn’t think we’d have this moment in front of your teammates,” you whispered playfully, laughing a little.

Bokuto glanced at his team who were eagerly eating the snacks and watching the show in front of them: starring you two.

“Oi! Go eat somewhere else! I’ve got to finish declaring my love to the most wonderful human in the world!” Bokuto ordered before turning back to you with a smile while Akaashi shoved the rest of the team out the door (much to their protest). “I’m sorry for... not making it more intimate.” He apologized with a light chuckle, “I’ll make it up to you though!”

You shook your head with a smile, reaching up and pressing a kiss to his nose, “As long as you mean it, I don’t care where you say it.”

Bokuto smiled and scooped you up into a huge hug, pressing his lips to your ear before murmuring, “I love you, Y/N. I love you. I love you. I love you,” he chated softly, “I’ll love you forever, every single day of my life.”

Ushijima Wakatoshi Who says it first: Him

Ushijima never really cared for interviews but he knew that his team being as good as they were warranted some media attention. But what he hated most about it was their constant need to know everything about him.

“What’s your favourite food? What a line that makes your team really inspired? What kind of workout routine do you follow? What’re your plans for after this tournament?”

Most of the time he would grunt a short answer or excuse himself and let someone else answer, but this time around, it didn’t seem like Tendō was going to be able to save him.

“Who was that girl you were talking to before the game? Is that your girlfriend? What’s it like for her knowing her boyfriend is being watched as a top player in all of Japan?”

Ushijima wondered why they didn’t ask you that question - what was he supposed to know about how you thought about it? At that thought, Ushijima decided not to run away from this interview. He didn’t want you to feel forced into explaining your feelings and knew that he had grown accustomed to all the questions and reporters - you might not have.

“She is my girlfriend, yes.” Ushijima stated flatly, his eyes subconsciously glancing in your direction. Tendō was saying something about the other team and making you laugh with this snarky and playful songs. A gentleness grew in Ushijima’s eyes, just watching you. It was subtle but later when you watched the recorded interview online, you’d be able to catch it. Your heart would flutter a little, wondering if he was really looking at you at the time. “I don’t want to speak for her feelings, but she’s always very proud of the team and our performance.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Almost 2 years now.”

“Must be young love then,” the reporter had grinned, nodding to themselves in satisfaction.

There were a few more questions but Ushijima’s mind had practically left the interview already. He thought about what the reporter said, calling it young love. He had heard his mother describe her feelings towards his father like that. It had been young love.

But was that how young love ended? Was it always a crash and burn that ended in his mom’s quiet cries when she thought he couldn’t hear?

Ushijima’s mind filled with worry, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. There was a pit of nerves that sat in his chest, refusing to move. What was there to be done to stop the crash of a young love?

You came over as he hydrated himself off to the side, the reporters finally leaving him alone, “They really want to know everything about you huh?” You laughed, smiling up at him and giving his arm a quick squeeze. “You should take some time to stretch out.”

Ushijima nodded but stood there for a moment longer, looking down at you, “I love you, Y/N.”

It was blunt but the look in his eyes said everything else. You stared at him in surprise. 2 years it had been and those words hadn’t left his lips before. It hadn’t really worried you - Ushijima was extremely loyal and even if you were worried, he was usually always busy with volleyball so it wasn’t like there was even time for him to find someone else. You often thought it was because of how things went with his parents that he took things slow… but why now?

“Do you not feel the same?” He asked after a moment, a small crease in his forehead.

You quickly shook your head, grinning up at him, “Of course I do! I just… I didn’t expect you to say it.”

Ushijima’s forehead creased further - had he not said it before? Didn’t she know?

Maybe this was what Tendō had talked about before. You’re a real quiet dude, Ushijima. I wonder if Y/N tries to figure out what’s going on in that head of yours like the rest of us. But you know, relationships have to have some sort of communication… you do tell her things don’t you?

At the time, Ushijima had thought Tendō was talking about normal things. Of course he told you about how volleyball was going, how he was struggling to keep his mind at school and not on the court, what kind of food he was craving, things like that. But… could Tendō have been talking about feelings?

“It’s okay,” you quickly interjected, giving him a smile, “I didn’t expect you to say it sooner or anything. The thing I love about you is that you always say what you mean, so I figured you just weren’t ready yet.”

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Y/N,” Ushijima commented softly, reaching his hand up and gently caressing your cheek. “I’m sorry I never said it. But I’ve always felt it.”

You could feel your face go hot in his hand, moving into it just a little more, “I’ve always loved you too, Ushijima,” you whispered to him gently. A small smile tugged at his lips and he pressed a kiss to your forehead before taking your advice and starting to stretch out his limbs.

After that, he started saying it a little more often. Communication seemed to be important to a relationship, this he understood. So if that’s what was needed, he would do it. This young love wouldn’t crash, he’d make sure of it.

** ** ** ** **

Haikyuu Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added :))

@thisnoodlewritesao3​ @scphiredrafts​ @aurumk​ @devilkittymusic​ @satan-ruler-of-hells​ @trashy-simp​ @jeppiet​ @lucyheartfilias-wife​ @darkvadeeer​

#haikyuu!! #daichi x reader #bokuto x reader #ushijima x reader #daichi sawamura #bokuto kotaro #ushijima wakatoshi #daichi x y/n #daichi sawamura x reader #daichi x you #bokuto x y/n #bokuto x you #bokuto kotaro x reader #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x you #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #daichi headcanon #daichi fluff #daichi imagine #bokuto headcanons #bokuto fluff #bokuto imagine #ushijima headcanons #ushijima fluff #hq daichi #hq bokuto #hq ushijima #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader

[adrian-the-lonely-writer]

Transitions

A fluffy 'Dean WinchesterXTrans!Male' Reader one-shot where you had come out to Dean, and Dean decided he's going to do everything he can to support you.

“So,” Dean began. His heart was pounding. He rather be facing any number of ghosts and ghouls to avoid fucking this part up. Hell, he’d even take a few demons over this. Anything over these tense emotional moments. Still, he was glued to the bed, hand holding yours. He loved you. He wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of helping you.

“Y-yeah?” You stumbled over your words. You had no idea how your boyfriend was going to handle the news. Tears were threatening to fall over your cheeks as you kept your eyes glued to the floor.

Dean swallowed. Dammit, his brother mentioned something like this in the past. Why couldn’t he remember now? “Well in that case, I suppose we better get you some comfier clothes. C’mon.” He stood up, offering his hand to you. Looking up, you saw that same smile dance across his lips, the same smile you fell in love with. “Wouldn’t want my boyfriend to be uncomfortable.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you jumped into his arms, relief and love washing over you. Dean just chuckled, quietly as he shifted to wrap his arms around you, squeezing you against him. “Thanks Dean…Thank you so much.”

“Of course. You have a different name you like to be called now?”

“Y/N now- I uh, kinda picked it out when I realized I just-”

“Y/N is perfect babe.” His lips left a light little peck at your nose. “C’mon. Sammy’s with Bobby looking for another job, let’s take the day to get you feeling as good as possible, hm? I just had that great poker payout-”

“I thought that was for silver bullets-”

“Pshh. I can win another game or too.” Dean went to smile, but it quickly drooped into a frown. “Your clothes...do they make you feel-” He tried to find the right word.

“Dysphoric? Well I mean a bit. I didn’t exactly have time to choose great clothes when I ran off with you Dean.” Before you could even finish your sentence, Dean was digging through his duffle.

“I was going to drop them off somewhere, they feel a little small.” Dean grinned, poking his head back up. In his hands were an AC/DC shirt and an old pair of jeans. He even pulled out his spare hunting boots. “Might not be the most practical all the time, but we’ll get you some stuff today.”

You tried not to cry once again.

Few minutes later, you found yourself wrapped up in your boyfriend's clothes, in the passenger seat of the car. AC/DC rang out through the speakers. You couldn’t help but smile.

“You...really don’t mind Dean?”

“Mind? Why the hell would I mind?”

“Well you were into me as a-”

“I am into you, period.” Dean smiled a little. “Masculine, feminine, It makes no difference to me. You are still you. So, clothes we’re doing. Not half assed Walmart clothes either, we’re gonna get you some good hunting gear.” You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that. “Masculine fake IDs from now on, easy enough. Anything else you need?”

“At the moment, I’m not sure...I kinda like what Sam does with his hair so I don’t think I’ll cut it off yet. It isn’t as long as his at the moment anyway.” You giggled at the scrunch in Dean’s nose at the mention of his brother.

“Cute guy with a ponytail never hurts either. Ah. Here’s the shop.”

“Dean this is a mall-”

“Yeah, sporting goods, including guns, bullets, as well as various clothing stores to get you what you need. Plus crowds to blend into. Malls are great Y/N.” He turned into the parking lot, picking a spot somewhere in the middle. “Plus, the impala doesn’t stick out too much here.”

Dean slipped out of his side, opening the door for you before you were even unbuckled. His calloused hand still felt tender as it grasped yours tightly, pulling you towards the store.

Your boyfriend was right after all. The crowds were seamless and the selection would be much greater.

“I’m thinking, we hit the sporting goods store, get some food and supplies. Take our time with it. Then just meet up with Sam and Bobby for the job, sound good Y/N?”

“Sounds perfect Dean.” Your smile was glued to your face as you leaned against his arm walking into the shop Dean had picked. “Is this where you got all your flannels and things?”

“Most of em, yeah. Why? You like that one?” He winked as he saw your cheeks turn a little pink. Sure, you loved the flannel. It made you feel more you, it also smelled like the man you loved more than anything.

“Well it’s nice and warm and-” You tripped over your words again. “Just really nice hunting clothes ya know? Like durable enough you have some protection, it’s also warm enough for nights but I can always open it ya know.”

“Great. So a couple flannels. Some jeans that won’t trip you up. Shirts.” Dean guided you to the clothing area of the store, whipping out his cellphone.

“Dean? Something the matter?” He doesn’t often look at his screen with that much concentration.

“Nope. I was just looking at a size chart.” He matched his screen to a couple of the tags. “These your colors?” He held out some forest green flannel and a black shirt.

“To start with, yeah! Although lighter colors are still nice. I don’t want anything thinking I’m your little brother if I match your style.”

“My style is functional and timeless. Plus, if I had a nickel for everyone who thought Sam and I should-” He scowled as you laughed. You couldn’t help but pick up those books when you saw them. Plus, as prank wars broke out it definitely gave you an upper hand.

“Alright, I concede your style is wonderful Dean.”

“Damn right it is.” He smiled a little. “But I get it, c’mon. Let’s walk around and see what catches your eye.”

The two of you scoured the store from top to bottom. Dean’s arms quickly became laden with fabric as you both approached the fitting rooms.

“Find everything you need sir, and-?” The guy in charge of the rooms spoke.

“Sir.” You introjected. Your heart rate spiked a little. Dean’s hand rested on your shoulder as he nodded to the cashier, as if confirming what you said.

“Of course, right this way. Here is your room, sir.” Without batting an eye the cashier escorted you back to try on your new wardrobe.

“Give 'em hell babe!” Dean called after you, taking his seat. He fiddled with his phone. Sam had finally convinced him to upgrade, and this one had a camera on it.

Quickly, pulse racing, you put on the first outfit of clothes, and slipped outside to model for Dean. Your nerves subsided when met with that goofy grin of his, and you couldn’t help but match it.

“You look amazing.”

“I feel amazing.”

“Wanna try more?” Dean snapped a photo. “That’s gonna be my new cell wallpaper.” You stuck your tongue out to him, a look he cheekily returned.

You went through this a few more times. Different mixed and matched outfits and hunting gear. Dean flirting with you every time you slipped into his sight. Soon you had a week's worth of clothes, with some extras to wear during a wash. Eventually you made it towards the food court, carrying the bags. You both went immediately to the burger stand and sat down.

“Fucck~” Dean’s eyes were closed in bliss. “I forgot how amazing these burgers were.”

“God we ate at gas stations so much I had forgotten food could be juicy.” You were devouring your burger as ravenous as Dean was. Oblivious to the look he was giving you.

Dean just smiled, chewing as he looked at you. It had only been a few months since you were traveling with him. Demon blooded kid like Sammy, you wanted to be able to help. Truthfully you were thankful they accepted.

Dean sometimes kicks himself at night for almost saying no. He had fallen for you, hard, the first time you rode in the back of the car. The way your eyes lit up as his own music started to play. The way you got along with Sam. He had fallen hard. You were perfect in his eyes now as you were then.

“Dean?...” Your voice was quiet, head against the window. After eating Dean had loaded you and your new things into the impala before starting to make your guy’s way to Bobby's place.

The excitement of the day had driven your eyelids to a close by this point. The soft rumblings of the engine were lulling you to sleep. Dean’s hand found yours once more, with a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah babe?”

“I love you Dean…”

“I love you too Y/N.” His words were the last things you heard before finally succumbing to sleep.

Dean drove on, hand never leaving yours. He had found the best boyfriend in the world, and he intended to keep things that way.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #fanfic #trans man #trans pride #trans reader #pride #dean winchester x transreader #transmasc #trans ftm #gay ftm #ftm

[imagineabrighterworld]

A Heart Meant for Two

A/N: A poly relationship between Hawks, Dabi, and the reader! Based on the song The Way You Say Hello by tiffi and City Girl ^^

“He said he loved her more than words, so instead of words he gave her flowers to observe”

Hawks was your first boyfriend to ever have a current boyfriend. It was an odd adjustment to get used to sharing your boyfriend with someone else, especially when you first met Dabi. But with some help, you got used to it quickly.

“Flowers?” You eye the bouquet of roses in Keigo’s hands. He had given you flowers before, but these felt like a bribe. You peer at him with suspicious eyes, snapping your book shut. “What did you do?”

“Can’t I buy my best girl some flowers?” The Winged Hero replaces your book with the flowers, flipping through the pages before tossing it to the side. As he sits down next to you, his wing instinctively wraps around you to pull you in.

You press yourself into his side and bury your nose in the flowers, breathing in their sweet scent. A small smile forms on your face. “Hmm.. You're either planning something stupid, or it's Dabi that is doing something stupid.”

“Kid-”

“It's Dabi isn't it.”

From the flash of blue light coming from outside and the nearing of police sirens, you know the answer.

“They were also on sale.” Keigo murmurs under his breath, turning his head to hide his blush of shame as you laugh.

It had been a full four months since you started dating the two of them and Keigo still thought you were woefully ignorant. But you were much more observant than he thought. You knew your other boyfriend was a villain, one that still had a long way to go if he was to be pardoned of his crimes- that is, if he wanted to be pardoned. It was that bit of information that you did stay ignorant on, you didn't want to lose sleep on something like that.

You sigh happily and give your boyfriend a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you.”

Later on, Dabi would return home with another bouquet of flowers. A bit crumpled from him jumping over fences, but still intact.

Your boyfriends were weird, but you loved them.

“She drew him pictures in a card, he said it was tacky and almost broke her heart”

Dabi was not a spoonful of sugar and sometimes he could be a bit blunt. Painfully blunt. How you got used to his silver tipped tongue? You didn't know. Maybe it was a skill you should add onto your resume.

Removing your heels at the front door, you slip on a pair of slippers and sneak your way into the house. Dabi was the only one at home, the main indicator being the lack of Keigo’s jacket on the wall hook while Dabi’s boots were tucked away in the corner.

You duck low as you hear a quiet snoring from the couch in the living room. With soft steps, you creep in on a sleeping Dabi and lean over the cushions to reach him.

His arm was slung over his eyes, his mouth parted slightly as he sighs. Sleeping Dabi was the softest you've seen him. He was always smirks and sharp lines, but when he was asleep he was so.. Soft.

“What do you want?” A low grumble rises from Dabi’s throat. He moves his arm to uncover an eye. The piercing blue cuts through you and leaves you halting in your movements. That's to say, you stopped your hand from removing a card from your purse.

“I wanted to give you something.” You pull out the card and offer it to him.

He shuts his eye and- goes back to sleep?

“Dabi?” You whisper.

He opens his eye again and swipes the paper from your hand with a huff. Dabi sits up before paying your card any mind. Flipping it open, he runs his eyes over the drawings inside.

“Is that supposed to be a cat?”

“It's a human.”

“ It's a human, she says.” Dabi chuckles, laying back down and covering his face with the card, resting his arms on his chest in a mummy like fashion.

"Do you like it?"

"It's garbage, babe."

It stung until you found it tucked away in his chest pocket while doing laundry a week later.

“I know he hates the way she does her hair”

You constantly changed your hairstyle. One day it was braided and the next it was in a high ponytail, or cropped to your chin. Every style looked good on you, but the day you started dying your hair was the day Dabi grew truly frustrated. Though.. Not for long.

“Dabi!” You yell from inside the bathroom, your white towel now shades of purple. “I think I messed up!”

“You think or you know , babe?” He hisses as he nears the bathroom. The lights were far too bright after he had been napping for two hours. It was nighttime, nearly one in the morning according to the clock on the wall. And you were doing your hair? When you had work the very next morning?

As soon as he witnesses your hair, he knows that you know just how badly it went. He holds onto the doorframe and laughs heartily, bending over slightly as his lungs begin to burn.

“Come on it's not that funny!”

“Your towel has more hair dye than your hair does!”

It was true. Your hair was supposed to be a deep indigo, but all that was left after rinsing off the excess dye was a few lavender streaks in your now stained platinum hair. You had went to get it bleached a few days ago and today was the day you were going to color it. How did it go so wrong? The hair dye was rated so highly!

Your face burns with embarrassment. You move to shut the door on him. “If you wont help me I’ll just-”

He moves his hand in time to stop you from closing the door and pushes it open further to let himself through. “I never said that, did I babe?” He breathes in slowly to ease his now stinging lungs. “Sit down, I'll do it for you. I have more practice.”

“I know she hates the way that he pretends to care”

Keigo wasn't without his own flaws. Dabi was the villain, but Keigo came with his own problems. They weren't too big, luckily, but it wasn't always easy being on the receiving end of his disinterest when he was tired.  

You lay in defeat on the floor, your arms spread out with empty clothes hangers on your arms. Tonight was your high school reunion, a day you had been planning for since the email was first sent. The only thing you didn't have planned was your outfit. Which was why you wanted some input from your significant others, but unfortunately only Keigo was home.

Why was it unfortunate? He was tired. And when he was tired he never had much to say, or any energy to do anything other than breathe.

You look up at him from the floor and poke at his wing. “Keigoooo!”

Keigo was laying on his stomach, his right wing drooping downward as he attempted to sleep. “Mmnn..?”

“What do you think about this one?”

“It's beautiful.”

“You're not even looking.”

“Mm..”

“Birdbrain.”

“I know she'll slightly disagree on what he wears”

You loved Dabi’s odd sense of fashion and went shopping with him for matching outfits (something he said he hated, but would never stop you on doing), but Keigo.. had a special sense of fashion that always managed to confuse you. Maybe it was best you stopped going to him for his input.

"You'd think that being in magazine shoots would help you gain a fashion sense." You say from behind a fist, your hand curled to hide your grimace.

"They dress him. What do you think he'll learn?" Dabi chimes in from behind you. He laid on the bed with pillows propping him up in order to watch the show that was Keigo dressing for date night. It was a little game Dabi always liked to observe.

It wasn't that the clothes Keigo had were terrible. If they were in the right color they would look great. But.. they weren't in the right color.

They were every goddamn color in the rainbow.

Keigo looks at the vibrant pink and yellow jacket he was sporting and at the baby blue tank top he had on underneath. Vivid orange and purple peaked out from the windbreaker he wore underneath the jacket and you didn't want to know what other layer of clothing he had on under that .

"I think I look great."

"For a bird, babe." Dabi chuckles. "For a bird, you're a hot ticket."

"But not for a human Kei." You walk behind him and tug at the jacket. “Let’s just go with the other outfit.”

As it turned out, Keigo did have more in common with birds than just his wings. Bright colors were just as alluring to him as a bowl of seeds was for a sparrow. You kept this in mind for the next time you went shopping.

“I know he chokes when she sprays too much perfume in the air”

Your boyfriends knew they were difficult and could be major pains in the ass, but for once they would appreciate it if you didn't try killing them with your perfume. They knew it wasn't intentional, but how could you not notice the whole house smelled like you?  

“Question.” Dabi rests his chin on top of your head while looking at you in the mirror. “You know what my quirk is, right?”

“I do.”

“And you know what fire does when in contact with alcohol, right?”

Now you look up at him, squinting your eyes at him as you lower your brush onto the sink counter. “Yes.. it's basic safety measures. Alcohol is extremely flammable.”

“Do you know what perfume has?” Your boyfriend smirks. He curls a lock of your hair around his finger and gives it a small tug.

You slap his hand away and turn around to look at him directly. You cross your arms and lean against the counter. He was being coy, but it was too early in the morning for this. He never stalled you from getting ready to go to work. “It has alcohol. What about it?”

He cages you in his arms, leaning in and letting a flicker of blue flame light the side of his face. But unlike usual, blue flames burst in the air for a split second, the sudden flash of heat startling you enough to bump into him as you jump away from the counter. Dabi turns off his flames and pecks you on the cheek.

“Unless you want the house to burn down, I'd stop spraying so much perfume, babe.”

After work you end up buying an alcohol-free perfume.

“But she likes the way it feels when he's right there”

After the third attempt at sleeping in the same queen sized bed at the same time, Keigo and Dabi decided to buy a new bed without you knowing. It went well until you came home early to them attempting to assemble the frame without instructions. But once it was put together and finished, you had to admit you liked the result.

“No more facefuls of feathers!” You squeal with joy as you leap onto the bed and spread your arms out, enjoying the spaciousness of it all.

Dabi sits down on your left while Keigo takes your right. He flicks your forehead to catch your attention and motions for you to tuck in your arm so he could lay down next to you. “Now you get why he doesn’t get to sleep in the middle?” He pulls you into a hug while flipping Keigo off from over your shoulder.

Keigo flops onto the bed, his wings spread out and covering the two of you like a tarp. “You're just jealous baby.”

You wriggle around and lay with your back against Dabi’s chest. Pushing his wing away, you stick your tongue out at Keigo. “Jealous of being attracted to stop signs?”

“It's a sexy red.”

“What about mirrors?”

“I’m a sexy man.”

“Birdbrain.” Keigo huffs and moves closer to the both of you, wrapping his wing to engulf the both of you. “The bed was my idea you know.”

“I know.” You admit. “Dabi doesn't care if he smooshes us to death.”

“Ouch.” Dabi murmurs from your hair.

It's not long after that you fall asleep in their arms, completely content to spend the rest of your night between the two of them. But when the winter came, you and Keigo agreed to keep Dabi in the middle to act as a heater.

“She loves him so much it's absurd”

It was winter when your boys began to grow more busy. Sometimes you would go to sleep alone, but you didn't let it get to you. You knew they visited the house when they could. What else would explain the endless supply of your favorite flowers in vases by the window or boxes of your favorite chocolates on the table when they weren't there when you left? The nights you did get to see them, you enjoyed their presence to the fullest.

Keigo squeezes his eyes shut in annoyance as he hears his phone ringing once more. It was the third time in a row, and he knew he couldn't go on ignoring it anymore. Being a hero meant sacrificing down time. It meant sacrificing time with you.

“Kei.”

“Yeah?”

“It's okay.” You keep your eyes shut as you trace swirls along his back in the area between his wings. “I understand you need to leave.” You knew you couldn’t keep him forever. It wasn't right. People needed him. He saved people. It was like keeping a firefighter from putting out a fire right in front of him. If they were calling Keigo so adamantly then it must be important.

Keigo presses a kiss to your temple and releases his hold on you, letting you lay on your back as he tugs on his jacket and prepares to exit the room.

“I love you.” You say from under the still warm blankets.

“I love you too.” He smiles from over his shoulder, eyes pained.

What did he do to deserve you?

“He thinks it's cute that her singing is the worst he's ever heard”

After a whole month away from the two of you, Dabi had to admit that he missed Keigo’s stupid face and your singing. Was it good singing? No. But did he miss seeing you enjoy yourself? Yeah. Yeah he did.  

Dabi sat outside the house, listening to your singing from his spot under the tree. He had yet to enter the house and opted instead to stay under the shade. He would have to leave again soon, so he saw no point in raising your hopes only to let you down.

A feather jabs at him from behind.

“You should go in and see her. She misses you.” Keigo lands beside him, lifting his goggles from his face. He crouches in front of him, running his gloved fingers through Dabi’s hair. “We both miss you.”

Dabi leans into his touch. How many times did he find himself missing it? Keigo was his first love after such a long time, but now there was you too. You both made him weak.

“I’ll be home soon.”

“And the way she’ll close her eyes, when she's nervous and just about to cry”

Keigo and Dabi didn't always agree on everything. That was a given when one was a hero dating a villain. But what they constantly agreed on was making sure you were kept out of the fray.  

The shopping district was utterly decimated and all you felt was heat. A sweltering heat that couldn't be put out. Blue flames surrounded you on all sides, flames you knew instinctively were Dabi's.

"What's going on?!" You yell as debris falls around you, Dabi was just there- you could've sworn you saw him! It had to be him! Where else did the flames come from?

A hand wraps around your bicep and pulls you upward, the familiar sight of red wings takes up your vision as you look at Keigo. He was covered in ash and his goggles were cracked in half atop his head. He squinted through the smoke that was building in the air.

"The League is here. I'm getting you home."

"What about Dabi?! He's here, we need to bring him home too!" You look behind you at the structure that began to cave in on itself, all you could see was blue. "He's in there!"

"And so is Shigaraki! You can't be here kid!"

"We cant leave him! Please Keigo!" Tears blur your vision as all you can think about was how burnt Dabi's skin already was. What would being in the center of that fire do to him then? What kind of state would he return to you in?

"I'm sorry kid.. He's the one who warned me you were there.."

“He likes the way she plays songs on repeat”

Keigo  watched as you grew more and more despondent, shutting down as more time passed that Dabi was gone. Japan was in an uproar, and it kept calling him back to patch it up each time villains showed. Japan was like an open wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. However, this changes one day as he comes home to hearing the sound of music blasting on your speakers.

Lights were strung up from the front door to the living room to the bedrooms, fairy lights dotted every inch of the house. Keigo tucked his wings in taunt to his body to keep them from getting tangled in the haphazardly placed lights. While he loved bright colors, it was almost too much for his eyes. Where were you?

"Kid?" He calls out, ducking underneath bluebell lights. "Please tell me you're still alive in here?"

The song on the speaker repeated on itself, which was odd with how clunky it sounded, but he learned to like it once he found you.

If choppy music was what it took to bring a smile back on your face, it was worth it.

He found you taping up lights in the bathroom while singing under your breath, mascara smudged but a smile still on your face. You look at him with your hundred gigawatt smile. It threw him for a loop, the sudden hope in your eyes when only yesterday you were crying yourself to sleep.

"Its for when he comes back. Want to help me?"

Keigo takes the loop of lights from your hands and nods.

"Make some room kid."

“He likes the way they flow together like electricity”

Covering the house in Christmas lights was actually a fun distraction for the both of you while Dabi was gone. Keigo was in charge of the higher lights that covered the rooftop, but you had plenty of fun stringing them around the plants surrounding the house. After finishing your impromptu decorating, you both decide to spend the rest of the night in the living room.

"Just follow my steps, baby."

"If I followed you I'd end up on my face." You laugh while holding onto his shoulders as you both hovered in the air, his wings flared open to keep you both afloat. What steps was he even talking about? For the past ten minutes he just held you both up and spun in a lazy circle. His wings were doing all the work while his feet did nothing.

"I’ll make you soar kid." He winks at you. "One day you'll see. I’ll take you to dance sessions and everything."

"I'll hold you to it."

“He likes her ringtone and the way she'll say hello”

When it came to being part of the League, Dabi had to be careful on what information he let loose. They couldn't know about his relationships. If Shigaraki knew then he would most definitely use it to his advantage. Dabi had two weak points and that was you and Keigo. But when he was out with the LoV, he had his ways of being with you.  

“Hello! This is my voicemail, which means I'm probably busy right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you ASAP! Have a good day!”

Dabi holds his phone limply in his hand, looking up at the cracking ceiling of the League's current hideout. He had to make face for now, which meant staying away from you and Keigo for a while. Still, he had his phone, one thing he was glad Giran gave him after he burnt his old one accidentally. He knew you were busy, and he had no intention of talking to you while on the job, but to hear your voice was enough for him.

Weeks later, he welcomes the sound of your voice as you greet him, receiving him back into the house with open arms.

"Whats with all lights?" He laughs in response to your face nuzzling into his chest and feathers lifting the both of you to Keigo who stood in the doorway.

"Its to a bright future."

“He likes the way her hands feel even if they're cold”

Dabi couldn't blame you for having cold hands, but he found it cute how you were so insecure about being cold all the time. He loved how you latched onto him rather than Keigo when the temperature began to drop. Maybe it was the fact that he was gone for so long that he didn't mind being clung to. But somehow he found himself in situations he wasn't sure how to handle.

“How long am I going to be in the middle for?” He mumbles under his breath as the two of you cling to him from underneath piles of blankets.

“Until winter is gone.” You state simply.

“It isn't winter yet.”

“Did she stutter?” Keigo grumbles from under the sheets.

Eventually he would grow tired of it, but for now he let the two of you do what you wanted. He was home after all.

“And when she’s away from him, she’s away from home”

After two years of dating you knew you could never return to being without your boys. They were yours.

You reach upward, feeling the familiar rough texture of Dabi's scars along his neck and under his eyes. You drag your your thumb softly under his eye, breathing in his scent. From behind you, you could feel Keigo's breath fanning across your neck.

It was a lazy day today. No one needed them, no one needed you, it was just you and them. How long would the peace last? How long until one of your boys were called away? How long until one of them lost a battle?

No, you wouldn't think of that. For now, it was just you and them.

And that was alright with you.

#bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami #bnha keigo x reader #mha keigo #mha keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #Dabi x reader #bnha dabi x reader #mha dabi x reader #bnha hawks x reader #mha hawks x reader #hawks x reader x dabi #dabi x reader x hawks #bnha polyamory #mha polyamory #sfw #I swear I’m going to finish the Mr. Compress request I just got super excited about these two #Mr. Compress is on his way with a starter for his own mini series ^^

[hhjs]

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary  —   Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

 You accept it. 

 For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

 Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all. 

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour.  Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe.  While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him. 

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell. 

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

 Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose.  You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger  stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

 You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night.  See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart. 

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.”  he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

 “I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

 Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've  passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side. 

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous. 

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it. 

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say. 

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

— 

Kiss underneath a mistletoe. 

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right. 

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different.  Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

  Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

 He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

— 

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh.  Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

 Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you?  "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."  

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know.  Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

— 

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of  honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear,   "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

#kwritersworldnet #stayhavennet #hwang hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin angst #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids angst #stray kids fanfiction #skz fluff #skz angst #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #minho x reader #jeongin x reader #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #skz smut

[justoneofthoseghosts]

Brettsey + unbind me

Sylvie groans as she hears her alarm blaring.

Is it already 7 am? She thinks. It feels like her head just hit the pillow.

She groans again sticking out her hand and blindly searching for her phone on the night stand. She manages to grasp the offending item and is about hit snooze when she realizes two things from looking at the lit up screen:

One - it’s only 3 am and two - it’s not her alarm but rather someone calling.

Who the heck would call her at this God forsaken hour? Sylvie considers ignoring it but her better judgement rules. It could be an emergency. She hits the accept button, yawning.

“Hello,” she greets groggily, her voice hoarse from sleep.

The person on the other end of the line speaks for a few moments and Sylvie’s eyes grow wider with every word she hears.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she confirms before ending the call.

What the heck, she thinks.

She quickly scrambles out of bed and grabs her purse from the chair, not bothering to change from her pajamas. She moves into the hallway, getting her coat from the rack and putting on a pair of slip on sneakers. Lastly, she picks up her keys from the catch all on the table near the door. She swiftly locks the door and flies off into the night.

“Tell me how this happened?”

Sylvie lifts an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s by the open door staring at Matt and Kelly, who are both slumped in chairs, looking worse for wear.

They were supposed to be at Kelly’s bachelor’s party or at least, that’s what Matt told her earlier in the evening. Sylvie didn’t ask what they were doing but she’s sure it didn’t include a pit stop here.

“Brett! You’re here,” Kelly says a bit too loudly when he notices her standing there.

Sylvie bites her lip trying hard to stifle a laugh. She tries to remain stern but based on Kelly’s reaction, he’s clearly had too much to drink and she finds it hard to keep a straight face.

“Hey man,” Kelly nudges Matt and whispers conspiratorially, “Brett’s here to save us.”

Matt’s head suddenly snaps up, searching around the tiny room for Sylvie. When he spots her, he breaks out into a wide grin.

“I knew you’d come,” he remarks, still smiling like a doofus, his eyes glazed over.

Sylvie lets out a snort. Trudy called to inform her that a patrol car had picked up Matt and Kelly trying to break into the Lincoln Park zoo. Thankfully, they recognized the two as CFD firefighters and brought them to the 21st district more for their safety than anything else. Trudy assured Sylvie that neither man would get booked. She sighed in relief but now, all she wants is to know why they were attempting to get into the zoo.

Sylvie walks into the room and pulls up a chair, folding her hands on the table. She gazes from Matt to Kelly, “start from the beginning.”

“So -“

“The thing is -“

They start to speak at the same time. Sylvie holds up a hand. She’s barely awake herself and trying to decipher the truth from two drunk men talking over each other isn’t going to help.

“Matt, what’s the story?” She asks, her curiosity piqued.

“See, it was a really, really normal night. We went on a uh, a uh - hey, Sev, what was that we did again?” Matt inquires as he taps Kelly on the shoulder.

“It’s called a pub crawl, Casey,” Kelly points out, his eyes drooping.

“Thank you,” Matt slaps his best friend’s arm in gratitude.

“Ow.”

Matt doesn’t bother apologizing and meets Sylvie’s gaze again, “right, so we were on a pub crawl then we went to this one place that had a The Hangover poster framed on the wall and It reminded me that Severide wanted to be stuck on a roof with Mike Tyson’s tiger.”

Sylvie takes in what her boyfriend just told her.

“So you decided to go to the zoo to -“ Sylvie trails off.

“Borrow a tiger,” Matt mentions casually as if it wasn’t a big deal and extremely normal in any circumstance.

And it’s exactly what Sylvie thought Matt would say and she can’t hold back her laughter any longer as it bubbles out of her. Jesus, she thinks, she’s glad those officers were able to stop this rather strange escapade of theirs. She can’t even imagine what would have happened had they been successful.

“Oh my God, Matt,” she wheezes once she’s able to regain some composure, “how much did you guys have to drink?”

Matt scrunches his nose as he thinks about it, “well, there was the beers from the first pub, then some whiskey, then at that little Tiki place near the river walk, we had a couple of fruit flavored shots that a bunch of sorority girls bought us.”

“Sorority girls, huh?” Sylvie quips amusedly.

Kelly responds before Matt does, “don’t worry, Brett. Casey barely looked at any of them. Also, I think they all preferred Gallo. Casey looked like the kid’s dad.”

Sylvie chokes out another laugh as Matt shoots a dirty look at Kelly, “I resent that.”

She straightens up, eyeing them both, “so let me get this straight, the two of you drink your body weight in what - Jell-O shots? - and end up thinking it’s a good idea to just waltz on over to the Lincoln Park zoo to grab a tiger and possibly drag said tiger onto a roof?”

“Yup,” the two men say in unison.

“Right,” Sylvie states. She can’t wait to tell Stella all about this, which reminds her -

“Why didn’t you call Stella?”

“Trudy said we could only call one of you so we did, uh, Rock Paper Scissors and I won.” Matt admits sheepishly.

This whole situation is one giant trip. Sylvie considers that maybe she might be dreaming so she reaches over and pinches Matt’s cheek.

“Ouch.”

Okay, not a dream then but she is definitely tired and in need of some sleep.

Sylvie stands up and beckons to them, “I think that’s enough excitement for one night. Time to head home boys. I’ll drop you off at the loft.”

Matt gets up and stumbles over to her. He holds her hand and looks into her eyes.

“I want to go home with you,” he slurs as he hugs her close, “like every day.”

Sylvie is at a loss for words. Did Matt just ask her to move in with him or rather, tell her he wants to move in with her considering he doesn’t have this own place?

She doesn’t give an affirmative instead she rubs his back and whispers, “one day.”

He smiles briefly, locking eyes with her again. His face is mere inches from hers and Sylvie leans in but before they can kiss, they hear a loud noise. They turn to the left to find Kelly passed out on the chair, snoring loudly.

They manage to wake him up and as the three of them make their way back to the front desk, Trudy smirks.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you, Trudy?” Matt asks tentatively, starting to sober up.

Trudy quirks an eyebrow.

Matt grumbles, “you already told Mouch, didn’t you?”

“Yep."

#NGL I laughed at some parts while writing this #it's totally absurd but just go with it #chicago fire #brettsey #fanfic prompt

[shivada-jade]

magical mischief (2)

hogwarts!au

character(s): diluc ➡ mentions: kaeya, sucrose, childe, venti, baal, diona warning(s): swearing <3

notes: it was supposed to be diluc, zhongli, and thoma but diluc's unexpectedly got longer than i hoped oOPS so i made a separate one for zhongli and thoma

part 1: kaeya, childe, albedo

gryffindor!

diluc

everyone knows of the gryffindor prefect. some people would mistake him as ravenclaw for being so studious; some people would mistake him for slytherin for being so closed off. in his first year of hogwarts, people often mistook him as hufflepuff for being friendly, overly polite, and outgoing. the hufflepuff mistake changed when he turned sixteen.

no one knows what happened to his sudden change of personality. no one but kaeya and a strange, childhood, ravenclaw friend that works with another even stranger ravenclaw.

sucrose pushes her glasses up, watching you create another explosion in her room.

you cough, wiping off the ashes from your face. the black smudges on your face don't go away. sucrose hands you a handkerchief and you gratefully accept it, finally getting the grime off.

"project sixty-two oh-eight is unsuccessful." the mint haired girl notes in a journal. "moving on to..."

you tilt your head, giving her a nod to go on but she stares at the space behind you. you turn and see kaeya, cracking open the door with a quiet knock. you frown, his uncharacteristic actions feel so weird. he usually just blasts open the door with a flick of his wand and sashays inside.

"kaeya?" you ask after apologizing to sucrose for interrupting her. "what's up?"

the slytherin clears his throat, opening the door more widely. "may i have a moment of your time? preferably not here, though."

he's so... formal. unlike himself.

you wave goodbye to sucrose and promise her to do another experiment next time then direct your attention back to the boy in front of you. "sure, outside?"

he nods. with a swish of his robes, he walks out. you note his posture is so unlike him. his strides are more rigid, less carefree. it's like a comparison from a beauty model to an uptight CEO.

he leads you right in a place where you can see the black lake. it's awfully farther than you expected. you thought he was going to lead to to the court yard, or at least the slytherin common room.

"kaeya, you're not acting like yourself." you comment.

"haha!" an airy laugh escapes from someone. you jolt, surprised from the unexpected guest. you feel two hands clamp your shoulders. "you're absolutely right, my dear."

you knit your brows, walking away from kaeya and... diluc. you slap a hand over your mouth. "wait, diluc- did you just laugh?!" did he just call you 'my dear' with a peppy tone

kaeya grumbles in displeasure. his arms cross while his brother leans on him with a carefree attitude.

you make an 'o' shape with your lips, piecing the clues together. "oh.. oh." you try to remain stoic and serious about the situation, seeing how uncomfy kaeya- no- how uncomfy diluc is.

you gasp out laughing, clutching your stomach. you crouch on the ground unable to control your laughs and look up to the brothers with tears in your eyes, "oh- please! you've switched bodies! how?!"

no wonder the slytherin had been acting all curt and polite. diluc in kaeya's body pinches the bridge of his nose. "the new first year did this," he starts to explain. "took one look at me and said, 'i will destroy the wine industry!' i don't even know how the kid knows of my family's business in the muggle world."

"placed a spell on us with weird words while having a quidditch practice match," kaeya finishes. "but really, who doesn't know of the winery? even the purest of purebloods know of it."

kaeya (still in diluc's body) looks at the red portion of his robes with a scrunched up nose. you're unable to tell if he hates how the robe feels on him. or if he hates wearing gryffindor's colours.

you hum, scratching your head. "you want me to undo the spell, right?"

"if it isn't a problem," diluc presses his lips together. with one glance at your unsure face, his shoulders droop. "you don't know how, do you..."

you smile sympathetically. "i'll try my best to undo it, but just in case, we need to find that first year, to the source itself"

kaeya raises his arms behind his now red hair, "great! it feels so weird to be seeing with both my eyes. or well, with both diluc eyes. the kid's name is diona. she's also in slytherin like me. diluc will lead you to her."

"what? why me," diluc asks.

"because you're the one who looks like me, duh! i cant go in the slytherin common room if i look like gryffindor prefect. just bring [y/n] with you. childe can also help-"

diluc glowers, "you still hang around that scum?"

"you still keep that vase?" kaeya throws sweet poison to diluc.

you chuckle nervously when you see them bring their wands out. "so, diona? let's find her."

kaeya raises a brow, and smirks. "toodles~! i dont want to spend another minute in this grump's body. that donna girl keeps trying to give me a pie- i dont want seven different pies." he wriggles his fingers to show his goodbye.

you shiver. it's so weird to see diluc- when you know diluc isn't actually diluc in his body. but his face keeps smiling and showing emotions with kaeya's soul inside. it's weird to not see only little quirks of his mouth or his typical sighs.

but really though, you could stare at kaeya's new face. it's strange seeing diluc with a scheming face: the one kaeya typically wears

"please at least try to not get into any trouble..." diluc purses his lips. "i'll try to act like you- you try to act like me."

you stare at diluc with owlish eyes. diluc? acting like kaeya?

it seems kaeya has the same reaction, because he freezes. luckily for him, he's quick witted, "oh? act like you?" he musters the grouchiest face and crosses his arms. "hello, i am diluc ragnvindr. i am a grouchy gryffindor. i hate kaeya. i hate lots of slytherins, especially the beautiful, gorgeous asshole named kaeya," he praises himself.

diluc fights the urge to throw him into the black lake. you laugh, dragging diluc away and leading him to where the slytherin common room is.

"i've only been here once, but i am acquainted with childe, so he can show us around." you bump his side playfully and stand outside the slytherin common room.

"CHILDE." you yell with your hands amplifying the noise.

"WHADDUP SHAWTY," you hear a shout from behind you.

you nod to diluc, encouraging him to somehow find a way to get the slytherin password from childe. you know he hates him, but you want to see dilucs words come true. you want to see how he acts as kaeya.

he lets out a shaky sigh and smiles so casually. the smile is so pretty, it hurts. it's a shame he doesn't do that with his own face.

childe beams seeing the two of you, "hey comrades! what are you all standing around for?" he prods around, eying diluc then snaps his fingers as if realizing something.

you wait a bit for diluc to say something, or act more, but it seems he's done his acting gig and goes straight to the point. "what's the password?"

you deadpan. childe's gonna question him now and he'd have to say he's actually dilu-

"yeah sure no problem! it's 'reckoning'"

diluc says the word to a blank wall and enters through the door. you squint your eyes and make a face at childe. "you're up to something, i know."

he shrugs and pushes you in after diluc. "tell diona i said hi."

...

you sit at the lounge, waiting for diluc to show up with diona. your brows crease, because diluc is right. childe knows something others don't. you don't recall telling childe you were trying to find diona.

you doubletake, seeing a hufflepuff drinking an absurd amount of butterbeer from who knows where. they hang their arms around a slender, purple haired slytherin who tries to push him off with disgust.

what is venti doing hanging out with the slytherin queen. he'll die-

"venti," you hiss, reaching out to try and let him live a bit longer.

he hiccups and waves you over. he 'whispers' to the slytherin next to him. oh he's in trouble now. "psst, baal. is that the one all the slytherins are talking about?" his whispers are shouts at this point.

the slytherins at the lounge freeze, hoping you havent caught on yet.

baal hits venti's head with a hand, "shut up. you're ruining the plan."

you snort seeing venti spill his drink on his clothes.

"but baal," venti downs what's left in his mug. "if that grumpy gryffindor wont confess to [y/n] then how on earth is the plan even going to work? he barely even talks to [y/n] these days because hee likes [y/n] too much." he says as if you're not in the room. he continues babbling even after baal kicks his shins, "kaeya's plan won't work if diona-"

oh shit so it's kaeya's plan and every slytherin is on it

baal drags venti out of the common room and throws him out and all the other slytherins hastily leave to their own rooms.

diluc coughs from behind you, now transformed to his normal self and with who you assume is diona. pink peppers his face while he tried to cover his face with his fiery hair. "um, i found diona. she swapped me back."

diona sticks her tongue out. "that ugly kaeya made a deal with me on something and i had to oblige! it's honestly so pathetic how you can't confess so deal or no deal: i had to do it, but the uglier bard ruined the whole plan so i turned you back."

diluc dusts imaginary dust off his cloak and grasps your hands. he looks down to his feet, still unsure of whether to do this or not. "well, you heard it all. it's a shame it couldn't be from me but-" he rambles. with other's he's confident, but with you he's a mess. "i hope you can accept my feelings. if not i understand, i'll go on with my day and you'll never have to see me."

he holds his breath, silently quivering with the lack of response you give. a hand lifts his chin up and he stares at your eyes, nervous.

you didn't say anything, but you smile and give his the warmest hug.

he knows the answer now.

he wraps his arms back, silently thanking kaeya for his idiotic plan. it's stupid, but it worked in the end.

BONUS!:

"KAEYA I WILL FUCKING MURDER YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS"

kaeya swirls a gold goblet with sparkling grape juice inside. he wolfishly grins and holds his cup up with a hand. "a toast for master diluc! for finally confessing, if people can even call it that."

he lowers it, placing it on his lips but never drinking it. he grins under the cup seeing diluc's wand in his hand flaming red.

"it's not even my fault." kaeya starts to explain his bullshit to diluc, "you can blame yourself. honestly, it gets tiring seeing you pine for so long and avoiding them like you weren't childhood friends with them."

the tips of diluc's ears turn red, not wanting to agree with his brother, but it was true. he was hopeless in the romantic department by himself. he can reject thousands and millions of people. he can have who ever he wants, but you aren't "whoever." you're the most special someone to him and that made him scared.

kaeya hands his drink to diluc, "do i get a thank you?"

diluc scoffs, yet accepts the drink. "thank you," he quietly mutters.

part 3: thoma, zhongli

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader

[plush-rabbit]

An Indulgence for the Night

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Compress stans have finally been fed and I want comfort (I also wanna get a feel for him)

Atsuhiro lays in bed, a thick comforter on his body that traps heat and feels as if it weighs more than the world itself. His body is tired, exhausted beyond belief with eyes that droop and vision that grows hazy the longer he stays awake. And yet, he can’t force himself to fall asleep- no matter how long his eyes stay closed, they only reopen and he has to bite back a groan to keep you from waking up. 

It’s silent. The electricity that hums in the walls do nothing to calm him down, they make him wary and they’re too loud for him to concentrate on anything. Outside, nothing moves. The trees stand still, not a car flashes by with its headlights, there’s no squealing of tires that fill the night in a godforsaken screech- the world is on pause and he is unable to sleep because of it. 

He’s thought about waking you up, to seek a bit of comfort from you in hopes that it would lull him to sleep but you also need your rest- you’ve been out and about for so long and you’re tired- he won’t ruin your sleep just because his body and mind have decided to fight against each other. He’ll stay in the soft bed, grow warm and have muscles that ache to be stretched until sleep does finally consume him. He’s a grown man- he can handle a bit of restlessness. Even if it means doing it alone. 

The patience lasts for five minutes before he’s removed the too heavy blanket from his body and stretched his legs out in front of him. His hand drags down his face and he’s biting the bottom of his lip as the pink under his eyes leaks for a quick second. He shakes his head and binches the bridge of his nose, nails pressing into the thin skin and tosses his legs over the bed, leaning forward and holding onto the residual limb with a soft groan. His feet- decorated in geometrical print socks with neon colors that you once gave him- press flat against the floor and he paces around the room. He’s aware of what he's doing. You may be a sound sleeper, but with enough noise, you’re bound to wake up. He feels a tad guilty, lips pulled into a frown but he thinks this is better than shaking you awake. At least this way he can pretend that he didn’t mean to wake you up. He’s alway been a great pretender. 

His steps are dulled by the socks, the floors are new so they hardly creak under his weight and there’s a higher chance that he’s going to wake up the people below rather than you. His arm is beginning to ache- a dull pain that isn’t as strong as it once was and his movements are getting sluggish. Perhaps he'll fall asleep with the pacing before you even have a chance to wake up. It was selfish of him to do so anyways- he could have just held you by his side, it’s always been enough to make him grow at least a bit drowsy, to feel himself relax in your arms as you stroked his hair around your index. He just wanted an excuse to not be alone tonight. To not let the silence drown him. 

He stops midway, shoulder slumped forward and head in an acute angle, eyes that close and he can feel his body sway, and he’s sure that if he stays in this position, he’ll end up falling asleep but he’s also positive that if he were to move, he’d disturb the sleep that has begun to creep into his mind. There’s no real reason why he can’t fall asleep, no nightmares that threaten to reveal themselves once he’s vulnerable, no churning in his gut that warns him that something bad might be approaching; there are no worries that keep him awake. He is with you, he is in bed with you, your body draped in a shirt of his, nestled under the blanket where he should be and you both are safe- you’re alive and unharmed. There really is no reason for him to be awake. 

With a heavy head that has begun to ache, he walks back into bed, and lays above the covers, right arm near your body as his hand dances over the space between you and him and under the covers, he grabs your hand, running his thumb over the knuckles, dipping in the small spaces and there’s a tugging feeling gnawing at his chest, telling him to shake you awake and deal with the consequences later as he just wakes you up. There’s no reason to do it- the anxiety is at bay, and he supposes he’s just restive- he just needs something to quell the silence and fill it even if it’s your voice in a hushed manner. He wants to call you name and his mouth opens, turning his head to look at you and your sleeping expression that is content and he can’t bring himself to. You’re content and you indulge him enough with his own wishes- you at least deserve sleep that remains undisturbed. 

His hand lets go and even under the blanket, it isn’t as warm as it was. He reaches over and presses his lips against your temple, tilting his head until his nose is pressed against you in a soft tap. His breath fans across your face, a shuddering breath that leaves him feeling shaky and even as his body grows weary, he tilts his head, lips pressing against your sleeping face, and your brow twitches, aware of his movements and he can’t stop the soft kisses that cover your face. He kisses at your brow, shushing the little twitch and pecks under your eye, feeling your lashes brush against him in a butterfly kiss. He peppers you in kisses, leaving your face marked by his love, feverish and pressing deeper the more he continues, feverish as he breaths against your lips, eyes shut tight until color blooms. He shudders when he feels your breath and lets out a low whine when you brush against him, leg kicking out softly to touch at his. He’s sure that if he were to kiss you again, to let his lips brush against your skin or have his nose swipe against yours, you’d awake and you’d welcome him into your arms.

Atsuhiro remains still, eyes closed and breath heavy and deep, and he’s sure that sleep is just a touch away, that he can rest against you for a moment- for the night until sleep catches him in their clutches but the he hears you yawns, a soft whimper that starts in the back of your throat and he opens his eyes to watch as you roll on your back and curve over the bed, eyes shut tight until you drop unceremoniously onto the bed. You blink once. Then twice. And you turn your head to face him.

“Well hello, you,” you say in a weak voice, a hand coming up to rub at an eye that is still bleary with sleep.

“Did I wake you up?” He asks, smiling as you narrow your eyes in a playful manner.

“I don’t know-” a yawn interrupts you and makes your words so hollow- “were you trying to?” With another yawn you roll back to face him, inching closer to him with the blanket pulled tight in your hands.

“Would you like the truth or a lie?” His voice is hushed, lowered into a whisper as the sleep that he desperately craved, slips past him in wisps.

You hum and bury yourself deeper into the bed, raising the blanket so he could join you. He gladly takes the invitation and comes to rest near you, resting on his arm and raising a brow as he waits for your answer. “Humor me.” Your smile is coy, teasing as you lean up and brush your nose against him in a small kiss.

“Ah!” His smile brightens, immediately closing his mouth until his smile is stretched across his face. “That,” he says in a quiet voice, “I can do, my dear.” He legs jerks against you, knee pressed against yours, until he bends his leg and pushes himself against the softness of your thighs. “I’m always here to entertain, of course.”

You roll your eyes and he can feel his heart quicken. Every smile of yours turns him into someone who he once was as a child- someone who blushes furiously at the sign of attention from someone attractive, whose heart skips a beat when his hands meet yours and words start to slur and stutter until he can do nothing more than smile sheepishly at you. He’ll hold his hat in hand, fiddle with the brim and speak through the mask, face growing hot under and for once, he wished that he could drop the theatrics but you always stayed close to him, pecking him through the mask and letting you hands play with the edges as you held him. You gave him the chance to reveal himself to you, something intimate that left him teary eyed and looking away as if he were sharing something forbidden with you. He let you see all of him- to indulge you in moments that felt so intimate that he was sure his heart was going to stop, to collapse as you took his face in your hands and held him tenderly.

“Well,” he starts off slow, voice below a whisper in a gentle tone, “if I have to be honest- which I will be-” he winks at you and he takes great delight in your chuckle- “I just couldn’t sleep.” His eyes lower and focus on how your lips pout and open. “Nothing bad- just restless, I suppose.” 

You snort and he looks up at you, a silent warning as he raises his brows, lips curling into a lopsided smile. “You- restless? Well, color me surprised.” Your hand reaches under the covers and cups his face and he lets his close in a flutter. “And how long did it take for you to wake me up?”

He smiles and shakes his head softly. “I’ll have you know, I lasted much longer this time.” He opens his eyes and meets yours for a second before turning his head and pressing his nose against your palm. “I even paced around the room,” he mumbles into your hand, pressing a gentle kiss against the lines that decorate your palm.

“Oh you poor baby,” you pout, tapping your fingers against his face. He smiles against you and shakes his head.

 He takes a deep breath. “Alas, that’s how it is.” He pulls away from your hand. “I did want to wake you up,” he confesses, ears burning in shame. “I paced to get your attention. Kissed your face in your sleep and wished that you would wake up.” He can’t meet your eyes, keeps them focused on the thin line that your lips have formed into. “I-” he sighs and closes his eyes, letting the word hang in the air.

Your thumb strokes his cheekbone and the space between his brows knit together. He wants to open his eyes but he’s unable to face you without feeling a tad of shame. He lets out a shuddering breath when your hands slide down his face, and thumb presses in the middle of his lips, dragging down until they part and he looks at you through half-lidded eyes, swallowing nervously. In his chest, his heart pounds against him, painful and heavy, longing and yearning to kiss at your lips and let himself indulge in your touch for the moments that he is awake. He lets out a soft moan, letting his eyes close and lips remain parted when you run your hand through his hair, curving over the side of his head and feeling at the soft curls that decorate his head.

“You know, you can always wake me up when you’re restless,” you mutter, your fingers binding and scratching lightly at his head. “I don’t mind-” your motions are soft and controlled and he sighs in relief when you go to cup his face again- “not when it’s you, Atsu.”

He smiles softly, eyes closed and nods. “If I have to be honest, I think I’m finally starting to grow weary.” He opens his eyes only to shut them once a yawn pulls his mouth open and tears prick at his eyes. “Thank you.” He bows his head and inches himself close to you, leaning in to close the gap between the two of you. “I appreciate it very much.”

“I know you’d do the same. Because that’s who you are,” you reply, closing the gap.

And he would. He’d stay up for hours if it meant that you wouldn’t be alone. He’d do whatever you wanted if it meant that you would smile. He wants nothing more than to see you happy and right now as you kiss him and pull away to pepper kisses down his neck and against the lobe of his ear. Atsuhiro would cherish his moments with you, to keep himself against you and welcome your touch and return it eagerly as he felt you smile. You hold him with softness that can never be replicated, cusped in your hands and fingers threaded through his hair as he whines under your touch, letting out a breathless laugh. He’s grateful to have you here, pressed against him and mumbling good night to him as you push him onto his back and drape yourself on his chest, your hand drawing loose shapes on his chest that he is too tired to make out and he lets his eyes close as your hand falls flat against him, curling and pulling on his chest and he’s glad he got to kiss you before he fell asleep.

#sako atsuhiro x reader #atsuhiro sako x reader #sako atsuhiro imagines #mr compress x reader #mr. compress x reader #mr compress imagines #compress x reader #i have requests to do #and here i am #wanting comfort #bleh #i'll get stuff out i promise #i have a sequel to work on #and then i have a holiday gift for yall #oh god #maybe three holiday gifts #ive been meaning to write for mammon again #im rambling #bye #eat and drink water #ily

[duskholland]

Okay, um soft mob!tom calling your princess? Like both in an nsfw way but also in a domestic way, like he loves and adores and is in awe of his princess? He has hella hearteyes for his princess.....(kill me now)

so...it would turn out I am, perhaps...feral for this concept. extended warnings beneath cut but this contains nsfw 18+ content !! minors dni. 

— it’s mob monday !! —

extended warnings: this descends into smut, including oral (m-receiving) and MxF unprotected sex (please practice safe sex ! condoms act as a barrier against STIs as well as unplanned pregnancy). 

———

It had started off innocently. 

Tom’s men call him the king, sometimes. The King of London, King of the Mob. You gather it’s more an inside joke than anything serious, but one day, you feel your ears prick as someone flippantly refers to Tom as the king, and your curiosity piques as you watch your boyfriend roll his eyes. After the man leaves, Tom walks over to you and curls his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck and pressing a flurry of warm kisses to your skin. 

“Do you like being called the king?” You ask, turning in his arms to face him. Your hands go to his shoulders, and his rest on your waist, fingers firm. Tom shrugs, humming a little. 

“I find it amusing,” he says, running his thumbs over your sides. You shift a little closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. “Makes me feel powerful, I suppose.” 

“You are,” you remind him, a teasing smile on your face as you reach up to stroke a hand through his hair. “You’re the King of London.”

Tom grins, the tips of his teeth glinting. “If I’m the king, you’re my queen.” When you pull a face, your boyfriend raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you don’t like that?” He pauses, thinking. “How about the princess, hm? My princess.”

Your throat runs dry, and suddenly you become very aware of a throbbing heat between your legs. You bite at your lower lip, a soft noise of reaction travelling into the air as you process the way Tom’s smooth, accented voice sounds as he calls you his princess. You like it. You like it so much it’s almost embarrassing. 

“Yes,” you say, voice hoarse. 

“Yes?” Tom’s smirking now. He can see right through you, grinning wider as he moves closer to kiss your cheek. His hands pull you nearer, drawing you in until your crotch presses directly to his. The scent of his minty mouthwash floats out across your face, and you sink into him. “Do you like being called my princess?” 

A shiver rolls down your spine, and you nod wordlessly. 

Tom kisses you very softly. 

“Interesting,” he muses. “Very interesting.”

From there, he makes a point of it, throwing out the pet name every now and again just to watch you melt for him. 

In the living room, when he suddenly appears with a cup of tea in tow and presses it into your cold hands. “For my princess,” he says, kissing your forehead fondly. 

In the kitchen, when you’re eating together and he reaches over to offer you a bite of his food. “Open up, princess.” 

In the bedroom, when you’re showing off your newest dress. It’s a silky number - silver and stitched with dazzling jewels that you dread to ask if are real or fake. You spin around, the hem drifting through the air. 

“Well?” You ask. 

Tom stands from the bed, reaching you and smoothing his hands over your shoulders. His eyes glint with appreciation as he takes you in. 

“You look stunning, princess,” he coos. “Really, really gorgeous.” He kisses your cheek chastely. “The most beautiful woman in the world.” 

But princess doesn’t stay innocent for long - not around Tom. He still sprinkles it through daily life whenever he deems it appropriate, but it’s soon to sink deeper. It isn’t long before he’s calling you princess with his hands in your hair as you take him in your mouth, eyes prickling tears as he fucks the back of your throat. 

“So good,” he moans, voice raspy. His face is flushed, and you enjoy the feeling of deep throating him. “Taking me so well, princess.” 

His favourite way to use the pet name is when you’re on top, though. His hands on your waist, guiding you as you bounce over his length. You love it - love the power that comes with assuming this position, love the way it grants you front row access to Tom’s face. The expressions of enjoyment and the grunting pants that leave his mouth as you ride him fuel you on. 

“You look so fucking pretty,” he moans. His hands are hot against your hips, palms slick with sweat. Tom looks so hot like this, with his face red and a sheen of sweat on his forehead. You’ve messed up his hair, unravelled his strands from the gel, brought it back into curls that now droop across his forehead. “So good for me, aren’t you? Riding me so bloody well.” 

You whimper as he brings a hand down to play with your clit, the movement easy and frictionless due to the mess of arousal, spit and lube between your thighs. Fire rages in the pit of your stomach as you feel your climax building. 

“Just feels so good,” you moan, panting. You clench your hands around his bare shoulders, digging in for purchase. “Love it.”

The sounds of skin meeting skin just spur you on, and as you lower yourself against him again, you cry out as you feel the tip of him brush up deeply within you. You clench around him and Tom groans, eyes fluttering shut as his hips snap up to meet yours. 

“Don’t stop,” he begs, voice weak. With a grunt, he opens his eyes, looking at you through a lust-filled gaze. “C’mon darling, that’s it. Take me. So fuckin’ tight around me, lovie.” The hand on his hip shifts around to hold your ass, and Tom smirks widely when you whimper as he grabs handfuls of you. The hand toying with your clit speeds up. “You like it, don’t you? Being my pretty princess, fucking yourself on my cock. Going to let me fill you up, hmm? Let me fill up your pretty pussy?” 

Your head falls forward, forehead pressing against Tom’s shoulder. “‘M gonna cum,” you manage, voice tight. You’re so close you can almost feel it, pleasure lapping up against you, threatening to spill. 

Tom leans down, licks your earlobe, and then whispers, huskily,

“I want to watch you fall apart for me. Want to feel that tight little cunt squeezing me. Are you going to let me fill you up, princess?”

It sends you over the edge, and you’re a mess of loose limbs and loud moans and slippery skin. You tremble as your peak washes through it, and Tom’s grunting as he releases a few moments later too. You grip at his shoulders, basking in it, feeling his member pulse as he shoots his load into you, your movements growing sloppy and desperate until you’re both coming down from it. 

Tom places both hands on your cheeks, drawing you away from his shoulder until he’s able to kiss you, deeply. When he leaves your lips, he takes his mouth on a brief journey around your face, tickling your cheeks and your nose with his chaste kisses. He ends with a suspended warm kiss to your forehead and then pulls back to look at you with adoration in his gaze. 

“Love you, princess.”

#requests are open for soft/fluffy mob!tom concepts !!! #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.filth #mob!tomblurbs #mob!tomfic #anonymous #smut

[seokmingiggles]

sleepytime herbal tea.

Prompt: "How about something warm? It will help you sleep."

Pairing: Xu Minghao x gender neutral reader

Genre: fluff, mutual crushes, roommate!au, college!au.

1.65k words

No warnings.

Sometimes, you believe there’s something unspoken between you and your roommate. Sometimes, he’ll do little things for you or say little things to you that will make your heart warm like it’s a teabag brewing in a toasty cup of fragrant tea.

Alternatively, maybe Minghao is your human equivalent of a cup of tea: warming, calming, and all-around comforting—particularly at 3 am when the rest of the world is asleep.

A/N: What started with Minghao shall end with Minghao. (Just kidding! I’ve already written a second piece for some members! ^^)

Back to the teacup masterlist.

•• "Oh, hey. What are you still doing awake?"

Minghao looks up from his novel to see you making your way into the kitchen. You're wearing the pair of slippers he got you for your birthday; the shuffling sound scampers across the apartment's wooden floor. Your hair is messy, going in every which direction, and your eyelids droop heavily. Your eyebrows furrow slightly.

"What time is it?" his expression is confused, lips gently pouting as he rubs his eyes with his free hand, the other one acting as a makeshift bookmark between the pages of his novel.

You glance at the clock on the microwave, "Just past three in the morning."

"No kidding," he mutters, standing from his spot on the sofa to stretch out his limbs after remaining in the same curled-up position for hours. The boy creases the top corner of his page, setting the book down on the couch's armrest. "What are you still doing awake?"

"I couldn't fall asleep," is your answer. You frown, "I was just lying there until my mouth got dry. But when I reached over for my glass of water, I realized it was empty."

Minghao hums, knowing the all-too-familiar feeling. "How about something warm? It will help you sleep," he says as he wades over to the kitchen, ending up by your side. He reaches up into the wooden cabinet above your head, "I like this one. You're welcome to try it tonight."

With a short hum, the boy presents his favourite herbal tea in the adorable little box: the brown bear clad in pyjamas and sat by a fireplace in its comfy armchair.

You set your empty glass on the kitchen counter and take the thin cardboard box in your hands. "Your sleepytime tea? I thought this one is off-limits."

Minghao shrugs, a gentle smile forming on his face in the dim lighting, "It normally is, but this seems like a special occasion."

"Us—both being awake at three in the morning with classes later today—is a special occasion?"

"Don't make me change my mind, (Y/N). Here," he grabs a pair of mugs from the dish-rack by the sink, "I'm going to have some too."

Minghao moves to fill the kettle with water and places it on its base, adjusting the setting on the side with a shrill beep at its programmed start.

You fiddle with the handle of the ceramic mug, trying to distract yourself from your roommate's delicate features in the faint light sourced only from the oven range hood and the moon outside the far window in the living room.

"What were you reading?" you ask him, still fixated on the countertop. "It must have been good if you lost track of time."

The boy nods with a hum. "One of my friends recommended it to me a little while ago—the one in my literature class. I haven't had the time to read it until tonight—or last night, I suppose—but I must be a third of the way in already. Maybe even half-way by now."

"What's it about?" you nonchalantly question, continuing the conversation while keeping your eyes low.

Minghao's ears begin to burn. "Ah, nothing in particular," he softly clears his throat. "Just a slowly-building love story between a couple of childhood friends. But," he adds quickly, "it's quite contemplative and poetic."

"A romance novel?" your eyes eventually meet his. "I wouldn't have taken you for someone who enjoys reading love stories, Hao," you can't help the playful smile that wiggles onto your lips.

The kettle's signal is high-pitched as the water reaches its desired temperature, giving Minghao a reason to pull his eyes from yours. He pours water into both of the mugs, allowing a few centimetres from the rim. You watch the rising steam as it tickles the bottom of your roommate's circular glasses when he leans over the counter to place the kettle back on its stand.

"It can be fun to read stories about a picture-perfect relationship sometimes," the boy continues. "Novels are the only forms of romances so pure and heartfelt. They're carefree, too," Minghao says in a hushed tone. "It makes me wonder why real-life isn't the same way."

You're now fiddling with the hem of your shirt when you whisper, "It could be."

Minghao looks up from his gaze on the teacups. He swears he sees a twinkle in your eye when you follow his movement to meet his stare.

"Relationships in real-life can be sincere and passionate too," you continue with a low voice to maintain the quiet three o'clock atmosphere. "Maybe not in the ideal way fiction can depict them to be, but that's what makes them real. It makes them human."

"Since when are you such a philosopher of romance," Minghao chuckles.

"At three in the morning, Hao, anything is possible."

"Anything, huh?" the boy smiles and nudges one of the mugs closer to you across the kitchen counter.

You softly thank him and take the cup in your hands. Your eyes focus on the teabag spinning in lazy circles, a solo slow dance on the surface of the hot water.

"Let's go sit down to drink our tea," you hear Minghao say as he begins to walk back to the couch.

You let him lead you, following behind in his shadow.

It's times like these where you aren't sure how close you should sit next to him. You sometimes wish you could curl up against his side and feel him hold you tightly in return, or even being able to rest your legs overtop his lap with his hand on your thigh.

Tonight, though, you take a seat at a respectful distance from the boy: about a couch cushion's length away.

Minghao rests his head on the sofa's backing, eyes trailing upwards to the speckled ceiling displaying the moving pictures of shadows from the foliage projected by the moon and streetlights outside.

"If you could have the perfect relationship, would you?"

Your eyes search for Minghao's once you hear his question, but he remains to look upwards and away from you.

You hesitate momentarily before saying, "No."

Minghao lowers his gaze and takes a sip of tea. He finally peers at you. "You wouldn't?"

You shake your head. "No. Because although disagreements and turmoil can be difficult to deal with, without either of them results in a relationship that won't grow," you take a small sip of your steaming tea. "If nothing else in life is perfect, then why should a relationship be that way?"

"Nothing's perfect, huh?" Minghao traces your facial features, trailing along the bridge of your nose and lingering at the dimple of your cupid's bow, but stopping himself before his gaze reaches the plush of your lips. He suddenly returns to your eyes, "But you have a point. Perhaps perfect relationships should stay within the pages of novels and works of fiction."

The wind rustles the tree branches nearby, and you find yourself bearing a small smile at Minghao's words. His gentle voice, combined with the warm mug of herbal tea in your hands, makes you lean deeper into the couch and pillows. Your eyelids suddenly feel heavier.

"I could lend you the book after I finish it if you'd like," the boy asks, turning his head to the side to gauge your reaction. But upon looking at you, he takes in the sight of your closed eyes with your head pressed against the couch backing, all while still sitting up.

Minghao's heart warms at the image. The boy drinks the remains from his cup before standing and moving to your side. He quietly places his mug on the table in front of him before slowly taking yours, still clutched between your hands, and setting your cup next to his on the coffee table. Your palms and fingers radiate the tea's warmth—his touch lingers.

"And you didn't even finish your tea," he whispers to no one, shaking his head with a smile.

He looks at you fondly before gently maneuvering your body to lie you down. Minghao gathers the blanket draped over the side of the couch and places it overtop of your body. He takes extra care to make sure it reaches all the way up to your chin but also without your toes peeking out from the bottom.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he speaks softly, carefully moving some stray hairs that have fallen onto your face.

Seeing you nuzzle into the soft blanket in your sleep nearly makes him coo at your cuteness.

An image pops into Minghao's head: he can picture himself leaning down, delicately kissing your forehead while his hand gingerly grazes the side of your face, thumb tracing the high of your cheekbone; he can feel your warmth radiate through his fingertips. He can feel your smile as it spreads across your cheeks. He can see your eyelashes flutter open and your eyes crinkling with your grin when you notice his proximity, your hand reaching up to thread into his hair when he leans in, and you close your eyes all over again–

But instead, Minghao decides he'll wait until you're awake so he can kiss you properly for the first time. He's not sure when it will happen—it could be this week or this month, perhaps when you're done with your semesters. It could be later today. It could be a year from now.

It may not ever happen for all the boy knows; what even are the odds that you return his feelings?

Minghao takes one last admiring look at you before he stands and retreats to his bedroom for a long-awaited sleep, collecting his novel from the edge of the couch on his way.

A pair of mugs remain on the coffee table—one entirely empty, one nearly full, but both belonging to hidden romantics. Buried feelings brew beneath the surface, steeping like the gradually darkening herbal tea.

••

#caratwritersclub #kpopscape #kdiarynet #ficscafe #newskynet #svtsource #xu minghao #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao fluff #xu minghao imagines #minghao #minghao x reader #minghao fluff #minghao imagines #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen minghao #seventeen the8