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scorpioracha · 2 years

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Dating Bang Chan

Hey guys! I’ve decided to do a series, let me know who you want next. Please reblog/read comments, it helps me to keep creating this content.

Bang Chan 방찬

-I feel like your relationship progressed very naturally from platonic to romantic. Bang Chan gives me shy/reserved energy when it comes to romantic endeavors so I feel like he would need the security that comes with a deep friendship to even consider pursuing you romantically.

-the changes to your relationship was more subtle than anything—like he was testing the waters to see where your boundaries were. Resting his hand on top of yours, knocking your knee against his, tentatively moving your hair from your face. Basically using any excuse he can get to touch you while also gauging your reactions.

-he only gets bolder if you’re receptive. Although he is shy, he’s a lot more obvious than he thinks he is. Like an overgrown puppy who thinks he’s being sneaky when he’s not. It’s hard to not think somethings up when he’s making direct eye contact and tracing shapes on your hands with his finger tips.

-poor baby spends months agonizing over how he’s gonna confess when in reality your relationship has shifted without him really realizing. It’s only until you’re in his studio, straddling his lap, one hand on your hip tracing lyrics while he’s working that he has a 😳 moment.

-his brain kinda 404 errors and he rips his headphones off saying “y/n will you-I want you to-can you-gf?” His body had gone stock still underneath you and you’re half asleep like huh 🤨😒????

-which does not ease his anxiety at all. He takes a shaky breath and tilts your chin down so you’re at eye level with each other.

“Y/n, I want you to be my girlfriend”

You shake your head and run your hand through his messy hair.

“Channie, I thought I already was”

-from that moment on he is not shy not me ITZAYYYYY

-All the kisses. Forehead kisses, shoulder kisses, corner of the lip kisses, hand kisses, etc. If there is a kissable spot then Chan’s lips will be on it. He is the master kiss giver but gets shy and giggly whenever you return him.

-Big Hug™️. All the hugs from channie, all the time. He will scoop you up into his lap and coddle you over the smallest thing, no emotion is insignificant in this household and he will remind you however many times you need to hear it.

-Just like before he is always touching you, either rubbing your back or your ears or playing with your fingers—basically he needs to be touching you at all times. His love language is touch, it’s how he shows he loves you and it helps ground him.

-loves nothing more than to stay at home with you, curled up in some blankets binge watching a show or having a movie marathon. Chan is a bit of a cliché but something about it makes him all giggly and giddy when the lights are dimmed low and he’s got you in his arms. It feels like time stops and he can’t really process how full his heart is when he sees you.

-Always let’s you eat off of his plate at restaurants, another one of his love languages is sharing. Sharing food, sharing music, sharing clothes, etc. if it’s something that can be shared, Chan wants to share it with you. It scratches the itch of needing to provide as the eldest hyung of skz and the eldest brother in his family. Even if you’re older than him, he’s going to want to share all of his things with you.

-On that note, paying. You’re funny if you think Chan is letting you pay for anything🤡 you can’t hide anything you want from this man, somehow someway he always just knows??? If your eyes linger on a necklace for too long in a jewelry store, it’s yours. If you’re in a store touching the stuffies just to touch them? Congrats on your new child, name it well. He doesn’t even mean to flaunt his wealth and honestly feels really bad if it comes off that way, he just wants you have whatever you want. He doesn’t mind if you get a little spoiled, that’s what he was going for anyways.

-Late night convenient store runs in your pajamas. Chan usually comes back late or very early from the studio, he tells you not to wait up but if you do it anyways he’s only going to scold you a little bit. He’ll walk through the door, kiss your forehead, go through his nightly routine and put his shoes back on so you guys can go raid the 24/7 store. The snack options are limitless between 1am-4am. These convenient store runs are ALWAYS followed by a mandatory cuddle session on the living room.

-All the serenading. Chan will sing to you whenever you ask him to. if you’re a singer too? Even better, he’s immediately composing cute little duets. If you’re not a singer? He wants to hear you anyways, doesn’t matter if you’re good or bad he still looks at you with stars in his eyes.

-I hate to say it but he is a baby girl/baby boy/baby type of guy😩

-Besides the obvious he’s a fan of the classics. Sweetheart, prince(ss), Darling, etc. during extra soft moments when he’s feeling so squishy his heart can’t take it he calls you love or lovie—this is usually followed by cooing.

NSFW

-definitely the type to grab your jaw when he’s kissing you. It’s firm but gentle—almost as a reminder that he’s the one leading. He has no problem falling back sometimes too and letting you lead, this is just where his mind naturally goes. He’s a natural born care giver and this is one of the ways he thinks he’s taking care of you, making sure you don’t have to lift a finger. Your pleasure is his pleasure.

-Chan is versatile he’s a libra I feel like if he trusts his partner, he’s comfortable taking on any role. He is definitely adaptable. Basically our boy has no problem switching if it’s what you want. If he did have a preference or to put it in percentages it’s about 60% dom 40% sub, but if you want him to tap into that 40% he’s gonna tap into it. Chan is a pleasure dom first and foremost, he’s going to make you cum as many times as you think you can and then some. He gets this wild look in his eye every time you cum, biting his lip and looking just a little bit dazed as you squeeze around him.

-Secondly, I’m sorry for the hard dom Chan enthusiasts but this is a soft dom Chan account. I think he’s a soft dom with some hard dom tendencies—again he’s very accommodating to his partner and as long as it’s within his limits he’ll do it. He’s much more praise centered than degradation and likes to let his partner know they’re being good for him. He wants to have you sitting pretty for him between his legs while he guides your head up and down his cock cooing if it’s just a bit too much for you to take🥺 willing to go into more detail if prompted

-I don’t think he is necessarily a fan of brats. I think if he loved you and you just so happened to be a brat then it’s not a problem for him, but I don’t think he exclusively seeks them out? He doesn’t give brat tamer energy. He’s soft for you but he’s also no nonsense in a way. I feel like a lot of his leader tendencies bleed over into the bedroom and he just expects good behavior. Like, if you’re acting bratty it genuinely shocks him in a ‘what kind of audacity’ kind of way. I think for truly bratty behavior he either ignores it until you realize it’s not going to work or he shuts that shit down so quickly.

-that’s where the hard dom tendencies tend to kick in, because Chan does not tolerate blatant disrespect. He doesn’t like being pushed. He’s the type to do a complete 180 on you if you’re genuinely being a little shit just for the sake of doing it. Like, his smile drops and his whole demeanor changes. He’s the type to look you dead in your eyes and be like “does it look like I’m laughing?” This more often than not results in a punishment instead of a funishment(within your limits ofc)

-But this is a last resort kinda thing, he usually tries to coax you back into being good with praise and rewards rather than threatening a punishment. If that doesn’t work he starts lowkey psychoanalyzing you. Once again he leader tendencies bleeding into his personal life, he starts asking if somethings the matter, if anything’s bothering you etc which usually solves the problem. But if none of that works and you’re acting out simply to act out, he simply does not tolerate that kind of behavior. It’s not how he’s wired.

-If Chan is subbing for you, he’s gonna be a good boy. It’s a bit harder to get him into a submissive headspace as he’s always taking care of others and never lets his brain shut off—but when he does go down, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever saw.

-he doesn’t sub often not because he doesn’t want to, because he does. He really does. It’s just really hard for him to turn his brain off and relinquish control. Domming is safe to him, because being in control is safe. if he’s in control, no one can disappoint him. He’s always been afraid of being too much and if he doesn’t let anyone see this side of him then he doesn’t have to face his fears.

-then he meets you, and his world crumbled down around him.

-our boy comes off as a service sub, he of course wants to make you feel good but also wants you to praise him and play with his hair when he’s giving you head. It’s hard for him to voice his needs at first when he’s subbing since his main priority is please my you. But once you get him on his back and straddle his lap, it’s like his brain does a factory reset and he becomes a pillow prince who just wants to sit there and take it.

-begs so prettily for you and makes the cutest little hiccuping cries when he cums. Tear stricken cheeks and burying his head in the crook of your shoulder. He’s a sight to behold. Always says thank you after every orgasm because he’s a polite puppy. He basically gets tunnel vision and his entire world orbits around you.

#skz #skz headcanons #skz hard thoughts #skz smut #skz fluff #skz reactions #skz fiction #skz x y/n #skz bang chan #stray kids bang chan #stray kids reactions #stray kids headcanons

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dragodina · 1 year

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10 Songs, 10 People

Thanks so much @except4bunnies for tagging me 😊! That was interesting, a bit emotional but so much fun 🙂.

Since I don't have Spotify I just shuffled my phones music libary.

This is possibly going to be real odd for me 😅 (me and my very strange taste in music 🙈)

But anyway, here we go:

1. "Midnight City" - M83

I don't know why but that song just really positively lightens my mood and makes me want to sing the lyrics loudly at the end and dance along ... against the beat (so I don't). There is even a drum cover from Coop3rdrumm3r on Youtube that I like just as much as the original because, suprise, it has some more additional drums.

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2. "Poison" - Freya Ridings

My favourite song of Freyas first album, to me it has some Bond touch to it and her voice ist just soo wonderful. Then those touching lyrics. And listening to them now I feel in some way they are pretty fitting for Julia Grosz and Ela Erol (small wink to @except4bunnies 😉✌🏼).

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3. "Cosmic Love" - Florence And The Machine

FATM definitely belongs to my top 3 favourite artists. Not only does she has a unique breathtaking voice but also her lyrics are so heartwrenchingly beautiful. Especially with "Cosmic Love" but also "Falling" in particular. Florence just writes songs and words like they are poems, each song being a chapter and leaves me in awe, in tears and in wonder. And I absolutely love how she includes ever so often a choir in her songs, that feeling of many voices singen her lyrics together with her voice is just so damn powerful (especially in her debut album). And sometimes I'm a sucker for just one line of lyrics that becomes very special to me.

I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map

And knew that somehow I could find my way back

Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too

So I stayed in the darkness with you

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4. "Evigheden" - Scala & Kolacny Brothers

Funny enough (and my music player did that all on its own) Scala is a girls choir from Belgium that became famous for their cover versions. And I absolutely freak-fu**Ing love them. For about ten years I made it a tradition to see them live at least once a year. Another of that top 3 artists of mine. "Evigheden" is just so gently beautiful. Every time I hear that song I close my eyes and at some point it just hits me right in the feels ... and in the heart. The end of the song always seems to destroy me. I can't remember ever not crying when that song comes on. To listen to it live is even harder but also more special. I remember that one time, after loosing a very close loved one, I went to their concert, they played that song. And I burst out in tears sobbing. But I felt it was some sort of a good crying, because I was so deep in memories and the music brought me there and carried me through. It was really embarassing but somehow I needed that in that moment. It will always have a special place in my heart.

(The atmosphere this creates is just so freaking crazy ... yes ladies at 2:45 and 5:42, I get you 😭)

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5. "Take Me Home" - Jess Glynne

Another female artist with. I absolutely love her uptempo and dancy souly songs yet the lyrics for "Take Me Home" are so beautiful and Jess voice is just so full of soul.

Came to you with a broken faith

Gave me more than a hand to hold

Caught before I hit the ground

Tell me I′m safe, you've got me now

Could you take care

Of a broken soul?

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6. "Happiness" - Jónsi & Alex Somers

No lyrics. Just sound. And that so beautiful that it always takes my breath away, brings me to tears, touches me on another level. Especially the live version of theor performance at the White Festival. Jónsi is part of Sigur Rós and Alex Somers back then was his partner. They together released that one album called "Riceboy Sleeps". One of my favourite albums of all times. There are so many feels, so much history that I can't put into few words. Just that its very special to me.

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7. "Hero" - Chad Kroeger feat. Josey Scott

Song to the first "Spider-Man" movie with Tobey Macguire. I liked that one back then 😅. Honestly I haven't listened to that in ages but I sang along right away. Such a cool song after all those years. Even though I'm still chuckling by the beginning line "I'm so high, I can hear heaven". Yeah Spidey, what good stuff did you take?

Someone told me

Love would all save us

But, how can that be

Look what love gave us

A world full of killing

And blood spilling

Now that the world isn't ending

It's love that I'm sending to you

It isn't the love of a hero

(That historical up side down kiss scene 😍 I need something like this for Tinia ..... 😅🥰🙈)

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8. "La Terre Vue Du Ciel" - Armand Armar

I'm a bit of a sportsfreak (maybe not so much for the WM right now but normally I really am). I didn't know the song before but in 2018 at the winter olympics Aljons Savchenko & Bruno Massot performance to it. I'm not so much into figure skating but that performance had me in awe, made me speechless. Because it was so damn perfect, just as the song. I really screamed at my screen when they took home gold.

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9. "Tornado" - Jónsi

Okay, I probably don't have to state it, but I'm a huge . His first solo album Was just awesome! I love it still so much. And I did had the chance to see his live. I was so insecure back then myself, really shy and I'm an introvert. But I wanted to see him live so badly that me (coming from a small town in saxony) drove to the big city Berlin. I was shoved and mocked. But it was all okay and fine in the end because just to see him live and hear the songs made it all allright.

I wonder if I'm allowed ever to see

I wonder if I'm allowed to ever be free

(That intro and that drummer ...)

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10. "Unser Stern" - Ron van Lankeren

Okay, now it get's really embarassing ...

One song from the soundtrack of the anime "Digimon". That was my youth. I loved that anime. And I can still sing along to all of those songs. ALL OF THEM. I probably should look up where I can watch that again, just for the feeling of good old times.

Unofficial additional number (because I made a stupid mistake and suddenly had two number 5s and continued on, wooopsi 🙈)

11. "Ny Batterí" - Sigur Rós

Yep. Thanks smartphone, I almost thought it would leave me without a Sigur Rós song. Sigur Rós. That one band that changed my life completely when I was a teenager. Jónsi with his falsetto voice, the bowed guitar and that way of using his voice as an instrument rather than singing lyrics (they called it hopelandic). At first I even thought it was a woman singing 😅. I don't even know if there is one song of them that I don't like. And yes, it's strange. It's so strange. But I just simply love their music. I can't even describe that feeling. Ever since I first heard that bowed guitar solo intro of the live version of "Ny Batterí" I was under their spell.

There is so much history, so much emotions, so much tragedy and joy and everything in between I connect with their music. The way that "Sæglópur" carried me through when I needed emergency surgery twice and was so fucking scared. My brother came into the hospital and left me with his MP3 player where he had put on all their albums for me to listen to.

Sometimes all you need is to hear, to feel, to listen. And to let go. No words needed. But make up your own story to the music.

Sigur Rós did that for me. And so much more.

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Since probably all people that I know and follow around here already got tagged for this I will not tag again or evetypne will get this twice or thrice 😅.

Just have a wonderful 2. advent evening and a good start to the new week all you lovely peoples 😊!

#ten songs #ten people #okay not ten people for me #but ten songs anyway #strange songs maybe but songs #okay eleven songs because im a stupid mini me #Youtube

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seasurfacefullofclouds1 · 2 months

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"I also would have focused on maturity and growth. Zayn admirably works with people in different genres, and his musical fusions are bomb. But he is missing a deep dive. He needs to show that there is growth beyond “I have unhappy relationships but the sex is hot because I’m hot.” "

I wanna say something cause i 100% disagree i don't know if you'll post it but i'll say it anyway hopingto not trigger either u or the anon, i know you and most of your anons aren't the biggest zayn's fans but it's unfair to say the only things he shows are sex and being hot, among his 3 albums there's a lot of growth on lyrics, styles and in the way of approaching themes, besides sex he always talked about hurt,lonliness, feeling inadequate, waisting times, waisting youth, overthinking etc. There's just the need to liste to his music to know

When it comes to the way of presenting a new project to the public i agree it always sounds pretty much the same that doesn't mean the all the albums sound the same or touch the same exact themes in the same exact way. The marketing might be a bit off but it's normal considering his new label is still adjusting and finding a way to create new opportunities for him, also that might be a personl choice, Tayor Swift always markets her albums as "this is my story now, this is what happended to me lately and i'll tell it in a way where everyone around the world can relate to the feeling and the emotions behind the lyrics" yet it still works after 10+ years of career and no one really complains, actually she's considered a marketing genius. Her albums still sound different and show growth (even decrese sometimes imo) just like zayn's albums touch different themes and sound different besides the marketing for them.

Yes, I think the other anon and I were mostly talking about Zayn’s marketing, not the music, which we agreed show a lot of growth, maturing, experimentation and good risk taking.

In Taylor’s case, I think she has enough of a track record that her fans and the GP will expect her talking points and music to differ from each other: she is a great enough wordsmith that her songs can do the talking 99% of the time.

There are very few celebrity singer songwriters on that level. Zayn isn’t as established (as a solo artist), so his marketing has to be more out of the box. We’ll see how it goes. I respect him a lot as an artist, but I also want to see growth and maturity from him.

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wackywritings · 3 years

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Rafe Cameron - Stare into my eyes

Summary: Y/N and Rafe have a complicated relationship. One minute they're on the brink of kissing, the next they're fighting because he's wanting to get high again.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of drugs, fighting.

If it wasn't for the loud music at Barry's and the chatter of people under the influence of god knows what concoction of substances, perhaps she would've heard him arrive on his bike. But alas, she didn't. She was blisfully oblivious as he stumbled up the few steps leading to the trailer, his eyes searching the crowd for her.

"Country club! What you doin' here bro?" It was Barry's voice that made her blood run cold, the conversation she was previously engaging in long forgotten. He was here.

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping over the wooden floor making an awfully high-pitched sound, piercing the ringing in her ears. She passed by him on her way to Barry's bathroom, not even having to spare him a glance to know he was trailing close behind as soon as he tracked her movement, only to leave a confused Barry behind. He never quite understood the relationship between the two. It's a good thing she didn't look up at him, because she would've no doubt seen the change in his eyes upon meeting hers; hard eyes void of emotion, fleeting around the room anxiously turning into a soft gaze that didn't focus on anything but her. If it wasn't him, now, it would've been almost endearing.

But it was.

He followed her into the bathroom, locking the door behind him as soon as they were both in the cramped space. It was quieter here, but instead of bringing some peace, it only made their thoughts louder. She wasn't looking at him yet, her back to him as he pondered over how to break the silence. How to address this wrack-up of a matter he'd gotten himself into.

"So. I'm a bit high." He cringed immediately after the words left his mouth, internally cursing at himself.

"Yeah, I figured that much, Cameron." She held up her hands in exasperation, but her frustation soon turned into worry as she finally took in the boy's appearance. His right eye sported a new bruise, green and purple and red mixing together on his sunkissed skin.

"You're hurt."

"Clearly. Why else would I get high?"

"Because you have an addiction?" Her eyebrows raised as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was not afraid of him in the slightest. "C'mon, Y/N." His tone was pleading, no, begging. In any other instance, he would've loved her having an attitude, doing anything in his power to rile her up even more. But right now he just needed someone to take care of him.

Her stance softened considerably as she took in the rest of his appearance: the bags beneath his eyes, the locks of hair - not gelled back like usual - sticking to his forehead that was covered in a sheen of sweat, not unlike his polo.

"Okay." She whispered, ever so slowly nodding her head, before moving past him to unlock the door. He didn't smell like the cologne he normally wore, a mix of alcohol and sweat floating between the small space between them. "Let's get you something to change into, alright?" Though she didn't wait for his answer as she opened the door, moving straight to Barry's room.

"You gonna dress me in a wifebeater or some shit?" He inquired with a chuckle as he followed her, plopping himself down on the bed as he intently watched her rummage through Barry's wardrobe. Most of his high had worn off already, and he could begin to feel it.

"Are you kidding? He'll notice it's his and have your ass for it. I'm sure he has some decent shirts he never wears. It'll be less obvious." She reasoned as she opened multiple drawers to find what she was looking for. A victorious 'aha' left her as she finally found what she was after, turning around with the blue longsleeve held high in her hand, only for her proud expression to change into shock, her mouth hanging open.

He'd taken the liberty of taking his shirt off already, something she hand't noticed him doing. She should've said something- anything, so he wouldn't question her change in demeanor. Joked teasingly with him, or even just asked if he thought it would fit. But she couldn't utter a single word as she looked at him. His shoulders broad, arms more muscular than she imagined them to be under his usual attire. Not to mention his chest, or the muscles in his abdomen that rippled underneath his skin (God it looked so soft. She wondered what it would feel like under her grazing fingertips) as he moved to stand up from the bed. She felt her heart hammer against her chest, flushed cheeks as she tried to look anywhere but his shirtless form.

"Gonna give me that?" He was pointing to the shirt still firm in her hand, an amused look on his face. The smugness made her snap out of it - as if his ego needed any more boasting.

"Don't flatter yourself." She scoffed, though she made no attempt to throw him the shirt. It took three, maybe four quick strides for him to be right up in her personal space. She was trying to stand her ground, straighten her back and keep eye contact to seem less affected by their current predicament. She was sure he could hear the hammering of her heart anyway. "Just took me off guard, 's all." She managed to murmur, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from shyly smiling.

He wasn't one to play with her feelings - he knew the kind of effect he had on her. But he quite enjoyed dancing around the subject with her, flirting and teasing and tender touches shared after spending long days together. It was their thing. He had convinced himself it was all he needed from her. God forbid he was honest about how much she meant to him, how much he craved her presence.

"Hm. Did you rather have me change in the bathroom, doll?" He came incomprehensibly closer to her, a breath too deep would have their chests touch. His eyes were boring into hers, now at eye level with her as he bent down slightly.

"I-" She wanted to say something. Tell him a warning would've been sufficient, adding a wink just to tease him back. Maybe say she wanted to be the one to take his shirt off, if she so dared. But his blue eyes were so mesmerising - specs of light shimmering in the dark blue pools of his irises, his pupils focused on her and only her. She could look away to stop the tight feeling from spreading in her chest, sure, but then she'd have to look at his large shoulders covered in freckles and sweat, or his chest rising with every breath he took. Warm breaths that she could feel hit her lips ever so softly. Getting lost in his eyes really was the only option she had. Inevitably, so was losing her words.

And it made him smile. A real, genuine smile. If he wasn't so close perhaps she wouldn't have noticed the way his eyes twinkled, how creases at the corner of his eyes formed, how that dimple arose on his chin.

As if that wasn't enough to make her weak at the knees and her breath hitch in her throat, the bolt of electricity that she felt when his long fingers touched hers, tracing around them like it was some kind of game to him, would've done her in.

"That's what I thought." His voice was raspy and dangerously low as he whispered it - so close to her mouth she wished he would just close the goddamn gap already. But it's Rafe, so of course he didn't. He just tugged on Barry's shirt held tight between her fingers, grabbing it and putting it on a split second later.

"How do I look?" His questioned as he couldn't find a mirror in the room, hopefully glancing at her.

"Peachy." She nodded as she wiped her hands on her jeans. She was upset at the loss of proximity, so perhaps what was supposed to be a comment of teasing nature came out harsher than she meant. Something that didn't go lost on him. Maybe he did take it too far just now.

"Alright, well. I gotta find Barry." He discarded her previous comment, rubbing his nose. The high had officially worn off completely now, and he was dying for more. Though he wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to forget his earlier fight, or forget her. How he felt about her, and how he wasn't ever gonna be enough for her. How he would never have the guts to do something about it.

"Rafe-" She started sternly, glaring at him. Though she quieted down as he held his hands up.

"No, not this again, okay? You don't have shit to say about this, you hear me?"

"What, that's it?" She let out a dry laugh as she stood in front of him, blocking the door. "You're just gonna get high again. Seriously?"

"Y/N, don't start with me now." His voice was threatening now, glaring on the edge of venomous.

"It always ends the same, Rafe, and you were high just minutes ago. Don't you think that was enough? Don't you ever get bored of this shit?" She was asking too many difficult questions for his liking. Her tone was exasparated, too. Tired of having to deal with him and his stupid issues. Of having to patch him up and take care of his pathetic self that just couldn't get fucking clean. He felt the urge to scream, but bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from acting on it.

"What, you're not even gonna say anything?"

"Stop." He gritted his teeth, jaw clenched as he spat at her.

She threw her hands up, before running them through her hair. How was she supposed to stay calm - or approach this situation when he wouldn't even talk to her?

"I just- you're hurting people with this. You're not you, Rafe. Not anymore. I mean look at you." She gestured towards him.

"You don't know who I am."

"But I do!" She all but screamed at him. He kept his composure and his cold glare, but she noticed the way his shoulders tensed upwards at her outburst. So she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. "I know you. You're sweet and gentle and caring and so incredibly smart."

"Y/N." He wasn't used to compliments, or feeling this many emotions, for that matter. He could feel the need for another line coursing through every inch of his body. He just needed a little bit. Just needed to be able to breathe again.

"No, I'm serious. You're a great brother to Wheezie, you're great to me."

"Don't." He twisted his head to the side, his eyes rolling back as he felt his whole body heating up again, Barry's shirt no doubt already showing sweat stains. But she was far too invested in telling him how amazing he was, eyes trained on the ground as her brows furrowed, words flowing from her mouth at such a rate that in any other situation would've made him wonder where she found the time to breathe. So she didn't listen nor notice how he was struggling.

"You're always trying to please your father."

"Y/N, do not-"

"No, Rafe. I know how much he means to you, but you're never gonna be able to please him if you keep using! He's just going to keep abusing you and you're gonna keep being disappointed and running to Barry to stop yourself from feeling it."

He was proper boiling right now. Sweat was trickling down his forehead, jaw shut tight as he balled his fist at his side. They always say anger looks red, but even with his eyes shut tight all he saw was white. Pure, white, blinding rage. Everywhere in his mind - dying to creep out all at once.

"And it's just this vicious cycle that's never gonna end. And I worry for the day that it becomes your death, Rafe!" She all but yelled his name, voice hoarse and filled with unplaceable emotions.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" He bellowed out, two quick steps bringing him right in front of her, his fist making contact with the door behind her before he even knew he moved his fist in the first place. She cowered down at the proximity of the sound. His body was flush against hers now, even closer than they were before. He was breathing hard, his arms on either side of her as he trapped her between him and the door. His skin touching hers felt hot and damp, but it still made her shiver. Not in a good way though, not like before.

The worst of it all wasn't even his anger, or the drugs, or the fact that she knew she wouldn't be able to stop him.

It was his eyes.

The ones that she had so lovingly stared into mere minutes ago. The ones that held so much adoration and passion for her. The ones that twinkled under the light, sparkled with mischief as he playfully teased her. The ones that she could look into and feel safe - no matter what. The ones that she considered to belong to her home.

They were darker now. Harsh and fierce, flaring up with anger as he looked into her frightened eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed hard, a frown between them. The shadows they casted leaving sharp edges prominent on his face. The specs of light weren't not visible anymore, they were simply gone. She couldn't even distinguish the blue from his pupils. She'd never been the subject of his rage before, and she never understood how most people feared him. But now? As he looked down on her with no emotion but anger written on his face, he looked scary to her for the first time. And she wondered if his eyes would ever feel the same again as her own filled with tears.

"Don't talk about my father again." His voice was strained but louder than she expected. He leaned into her even more to give power to the threathening statement, before completely pushing off. Large hands wrapped around her arms, fingers digging into her skin bordering on putting enough pressure to leave a bruise. He forced her away from the door. Perhaps he expected more of a struggle from her, but she was so shocked by his behaviour that she could only take small and hasty steps away from the door, scared to anger him more. He janked the door open, the sound of the loud bass of the music hitting her ears. The sensory stimulation was too much for her to bear, and she looked up both in a prayer for him to leave and to keep the tears from falling.

"And don't talk to me. We're done." He added. She wanted to look into his eyes. As much as they scared her now, she needed to know if they held any more emotion than his completely void voice just did. But he'd already slammed the door shut.

She was left looking at the closed door as she finally allowed the tears to soak her cheeks.

#Rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron imagine

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more-stuff-of-pi · 3 years

Text

Hands

a/n: a friend sent me this tiktok and i have not stopped thinking about it so ofc i dragged maya into my bullshit (she was a huge help for akaashi). s/o to @saetyrn9 for being a godsend and supplying me with this advice so i could write tobio <3

notes: these are all separate pairings. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: various - daichi, kuroo, kageyama, akaashi, bokuto, suga x fem!reader | genre: spice & fluff | warnings: pet names; spicy; in some, reader has enough hair to be tucked/pulled on | word count: 2,444 total

Daichi chuckled low and dark, the sound rumbling in his throat. You pressed your thighs together in anticipation as he reached towards your face. You continued to stare at him though your defiance was beginning to waver at the glint in his eyes.

His hand lightly scraped against your cheek, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He smiled at you, unnerving and exciting all at once. Daichi then slid his hand down until his thumb rested on your chin, the rest of his fingers curling around it.

“Are you finished, pretty girl?”

Your heart frantically beats out of your chest and, despite that, you smile wickedly. You tilt your chin down just enough to pop his huge thumb into your mouth, sucking it down and swirling your tongue around it. His eyes rolled back as he groaned.

You pulled back so that his thumb slid out, going back to resting on your chin. The movement left behind a delicious shining trail, your lips looking even more devilishly tantalizing.

Daichi chuckled again, sounding more strained as he opened his eyes only to meet your cheeky smile in return. Once your gazes met, your own smirk widened, Daichi’s own only growing.

“Oh,” he warned, squeezing tighter around your chin, grinning at the way you audibly gulp, “you’ve done it now, princess.”

Kuroo Tetsurou was an absolutely chaotic ride. One minute, he was being the absolute biggest dork, cracking stupidly delightful puns, the next he was what you could only describe as unbearably sexy, and the next he was so refreshingly serious and vulnerable. Tetsurou was colorful and lovely and warm and funny and handsome and compassionate and diligent. He was so in tune with you, always willing to match whatever level you were at. He flowed and ebbed like water. You were pretty sure you depended on him like he was, and he you.

And because Tetsurou was so well acquainted and well versed in you, he knew from the moment he stepped in the door and saw you that something was off. You were washing dishes, a chore that you hated. Tetsurou usually was the one to do it since he didn’t mind it and you would do the laundry since he despised that chore. It was a trade off and one that worked well. The only time you would ever do the dishes was when you were overwhelmed and simply needed something methodical to take your mind off things.

After slipping off his shoes, Tetsurou slid behind you, slowly loosely wrapping his arms around your waist, giving you plenty of time to shy away from him if you wanted. But once he was encircling you, you immediately melted into his embrace, leaning into his face when he hooked his chin over your shoulder.

“Hi, baby,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Bad day?”

You sighed, whimpering almost, in response.

“Wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head gently, reaching over to unplug the drain. Wiping your hands on a towel, you turned around in Tetsurou’s hold, hands fluttering to his arms. You bit your lip, embarrassment flushing your cheeks as you looked at the space between you so as to not have to directly face Tetsurou. “Can you just help me forget about it?”

Tetsurou’s eyes widened, a little surprised at the request. But his mouth grew into a soft grin, his eyes melting to a place of care and desire. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, leaning down to kiss a spot right next to it as he did. He gently kissed the corners of your eyes, too, as red and tired as they looked. When your mouths finally met, the kiss was slow and passionate and loving and eager all at once. It didn’t really make sense but your tongues were dancing like they knew the rhythm anyways.

Molten heat began swirling at the unmistakably loving way Tetsurou was kissing you. He felt the same stir in him as he pulled away, looking equally as dazed as you felt. With a few blinks, the glaze of his eyes swirled to a more solidified darkness. His hand that had slipped to the small of your back gently tugged your hips closer, the other hand caressing your face. He stroked his thumb over your cheek before sliding his hand to gently grip either side of your face.

And in the most loving, tender, gentle voice, Tetsurou whispered against your lips: “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember your own name.” And he sealed his promise with a chaste kiss.

You tried to feel bad about how much of a devil you could be, but teasing Tobio was just so addictive, the rush it gave you might as well have been some kind of drug, thrilling as it was. Though Tobio was quite perceptive in the middle of a game, he always needed a bit of a nudge in the right direction to catch onto your teasing. But, after being with him for so long, you became a natural in nudging him right where you wanted him.

You had purposely waited for some formal charity event that you and Tobio couldn’t afford to be running late to. In getting ready for the event, you had slipped into a lacy set, a beautiful deep blue to compliment the color of Tobio’s eyes. Feigning ignorant innocence, you walked into your living room, presenting Tobio with two choices to pick for the formal event. He had only stared at you, a blush quickly rising to his cheeks as you shrugged and slipped into the option that had a tasteful but rather high slit.

The rest of the night he kept glancing at you and his face would heat up all over again, remembering exactly what it was that you were teasingly wearing underneath. You had done everything you could think of to tease him. Leaning too much into your chin, the neckline of your dress shifting precariously. Moving your hand to your throat, squeezing when you knew he was looking. A few times when he was across the room you had crossed your legs, ‘accidentally’ letting the slit fall open to reveal the garters sitting snugly around your thighs. Once you had even slipped a finger in between the garter and your thigh, pulling and letting it snap back against your skin.

But the last straw for Tobio had been when you slid into the seat next to him while he was talking to some important businesswoman or other, innocent dazzling smile sitting prettily on your lips. You had taken his large hand into yours, gently placing it on your thigh. Hidden by the overhang of the table cloth and the distraction of the conversation, you had inched his hand up, over the garter until it eventually cupped you, his fingers meeting the intricate patterns of the intriguing swirl of lace and the wetness they were holding.

It was no wonder that you found yourself now with his large hand wrapped around your jaw, fingers and thumb digging painfully into the sides of your face.

He used the deliciously sinful grip that he had on your face to shove you against the wall of the entryway of your shared apartment. Even through his lustful fury, what really got him was how, in the depths of your gorgeous eyes, even now pressed up against the wall held by his larger strength, Tobio saw nothing but love, trust, and adoration. In his eyes, he saw that you were truly his for the taking. And he was yours.

Tobio jerked your face, forcing you to look at him. “If you wanna play, princess,” he squeezed possessively, and on instinct you opened your mouth. Tobio grinned, leaning on his forearm above you, staring you down, his own eyes mirroring all of the emotions found in yours. “Then we are going to play.”

It was, regrettably, rather easy for you to become lost in thought. You didn’t ever mean to lose focus, sometimes your mind would drift off, carrying you to some faraway place or memory.

Fortunately, however, Akaashi Keiji was used to his girlfriend’s mind wandering. He found it rather endearing that way that you could be present in one moment and adrift the next. It didn’t happen too often, only every now and then, enough to warrant it a recurring issue.

Keiji was at the sink, cleaning the dishes used for dinner that night while you were sitting at the table, sifting through the small stack of mail there. He was talking to you, telling you about the latest panels that he was excited to be working on, though frustrated with how slow he seemed to be going compared to his usual pace.

“Maybe it’s because there’s not enough caffeine in my coffee,” he joked, briefly glancing over his shoulder to watch you laugh knowingly with him as you both well understood that the amount of caffeine Keiji consumed was probably a borderline addiction. Only, you were busy staring blankly through the mail in your hand. Keiji smiled at the sight. “Love?” he called, not really expecting any kind of response. And sure enough, you were still as lost as ever.

Keiji wiped his hands on the towel kept by the sink, crossing to stand in front of you. He braced himself on the back of a chair, slightly leaning forward as he innocently lifted your chin with his finger, tugging to get you to look at him. “Angel, did you even hear a word I said?”

Despite his gentle tone and small touch, you seemed to be jerked back into reality. You looked down from the finger on your chin, to Keiji’s blue eyes and not a moment later, you were shifting in your seat, flustered and at a loss for words. Keiji quirks an eyebrow, wondering what could have you so hot and bothered until he remembers certain events the previous evening. The room had been dark and so very hot, filled with the music of both of your pants and moans. You had clung to him like your life had depended on it, face fallen open into wanton bliss, messy and without a care in the world. The scratches you had left on his back suddenly flared with the memory.

As he looked into your eyes, ever perceptive, he could see the familiar glaze ringing the edges and immediately understood what place your mind had taken you to. Keiji smirked, fully prepared to bring his angel another moment to occupy her pretty little mind.

When you first got together, you wondered if Koutarou was simply too big. The man was big, massive even. He always made you feel so small, his hands wrapping around your waist, covering a lot of ground. When he would come up behind you to wrap his arms around you in a giant loving hug, he would always curl over you, resting his head atop yours. And though he made you feel so small physically -- he couldn’t help it, afterall, he was just big -- he always, always made you feel like the world to him.

Even now, loving you so gently, he reminded you of the large part you occupied in his world. He didn’t even need words to do it. Koutarou was always so wonderfully and delightfully expressive, deliciously so in moments like these.

You were in his lap, nothing but an old worn shirt of his drowning you in fabric, the probably unflattering shorts that you wore around the apartment hastily discarded somewhere. You had your hands hanging off of his shoulders, lazily crossed at the wrists. Your legs were wrapped around him much in the same way as he held you, hands loose around your waist. The kisses passing between you were passionate yet soft, heated yet full of the tenderness that Koutarou always treated you with. Even when you asked him to be anything but gentle, he always found a way to slip it in, a small yet significant reminder of his utter love and adoration for you.

He rolled his hips up into you, the particular motion pulling a whimper from your lips. You could feel Koutarou smile into the next kiss. His hands trailed from your waist, squeezing playfully as he went up, both of you giggling into each other. After a few pinches along the way, Koutarou’s hands rested on either side of your face. The look in his eyes made you still, being helplessly drawn into the stars there. His eyes shone, bright and vibrant and full of the excitement that you felt with him everyday. His thumbs rubbed into your face as he searched your gaze, a gentle smile resting peacefully on his lips.

“You’re my everything. I love you so, so much. Let me show how true that is.”

Koushi’s voice was beautiful. It was so soothing. Any other time you would love to listen to him read to you if only for the chance to hear his voice.

But now, with your wrists tied to your ankles, your legs spread wide open and trembling, and just an overall overstimulated mess, you swore you were going to kill him the next time you could form a coherent sentence.

Your eyes rolled back into your head at another vibration, fresh tears streaming down your face.

Koushi must have noticed, his voice pausing.

You knew you must have looked ridiculous. Old tears having already dried in streaks down your face, new ones gently adding fresh paths. Your mouth was open, tongue almost lolling out. Maybe it was. You really couldn’t tell, you were so lost in your own head. You honestly didn’t really even notice Koushi had stopped reading aloud, only processing it when he clicked his tongue.

“You know, if you keep spacing out, you’ll never learn. And we wouldn't want that, now, would we?”

You couldn’t do much more than nod your head forward, your neck having given up on supporting its suddenly incredibly heavy weight.

Koushi tsked once more, stopping his pacing altogether. “Now, now, angel,” Koushi cooed, taking the manuscript he was holding and scraping its weight underneath your chin, lifting up. “Eyes on me.”

With the assistance, you were able to meet Koushi’s eyes. There, you saw the mischievous glint that sent a shudder down your spine. Your eyes fluttered closed and Koushi gently lifted your chin further. You managed to open your heavy lids once more, gazing submissively back at him. Koushi licked his lips, devilish smirk stretching his pretty lips across shining teeth.

“Good girl.”

taglist: @samwrights, @mayaoliviee - send an ask to be on it!

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

Just friends

Pairing: Sky x reader

==============================

After an entire night of sipping beer and looking for someone to connect with, Y/N finally found a guy that truly stood out. Tall, broad shoulders, dirty blonde hair that reminded her of a certain Specialist she wanted to forget and those eyes….Phew, those emerald green eyes that drew her in with their promise of a good time she’s been looking for truly captured her attention.

Standing a little too close to him in order to keep up a conversation with music blaring, Y/N allowed herself to lean into his lean body, his hand resting on the small of her back. His lips called out to her, or the beer in her system made it seem so. Whatever the case may be, she didn’t really care.

Y/N wanted someone to feel close to and he looked like someone appropriate; similar to the very cause of the aching heart she’s trying to ignore. The way he looked at her showed he’s just as interested as she is, but his eyes kept glancing at something or someone behind them.

Irritated with his loss of focus, with her index finger on his chin, Y/N demanded his attention unapologetically.

“Ignore a fairy and she leaves.“ Y/N said with a light tone, but she hoped her pursed lips and slightly narrowed eyes were a warning he’d read.

Chuckling, the guy, Porter, nodded, licking his lips. Following his gaze, Y/N turns. Tossing her hair over her shoulder to make sure nothing obscured her vision, she gnaws on the inside of her lower lip.

On the far end of the room stood a handsome guy taller than Porter. He’s leaned against a wall, muscular arms crossed over his chest, hair floppy with blond bangs that fell on his forehead. He held a pensive look on his face, lips pressed together and dark blue eyes sending daggers Y/N’s way.

Sky.

“Who is he?“ Porter breaks up the little staring contest with a question. Turning to him, Y/N gives him an innocent smile, shrugging.

“No one important.“ She informs him, placing a hand on his chest. Trailing it upwards, she holds onto his shoulder and looks into his eyes.

Raising an eyebrow, Porter glances at the guy and at Y/N once more, tilting his head. “Not a jealous boyfriend or anything?“ He questions, unconvinced by her previous answer.

Y/N sighs, faking a smile that never really failed to trick those around her; especially not him. She could never fool him, even when she tried. Somehow, he always knew better.

“Nope.“ She says, popping the P for effect. Feeling her heartbeat quicken its pace, she keeps that smile frozen on her face as if she had used her ice powers on herself, knowing it’s rehearsed to perfection.

“Does he know that?“ Porter asks, smirking.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N let him go, moving out of his embrace.

It took her a moment to stop herself from blowing up on the guy, annoyed by his constant questioning. She figured he’s a senior in Specialist training looking for a way to blow off steam that wouldn’t ask too many questions, but Porter proved to be anything but.

“Be right back.“ She taps his arm, turning around and walking towards the door.

Leaving the basement, she sits on the steps. They’re cold but she’s used to cold - she’s the ice queen anyway. She knew she’d have to be waiting patiently only for a short time. Moments later, the door opens again, the man who couldn’t keep his eyes off her coming outside.

“Took you long enough.“ She huffs, focusing her eyes on the ground in front of her instead of him. She didn’t have to look at him to know who it is. She knew by the sound of his footsteps, the left one always releasing a slight creak on the floorboards as he stepped with his entire foot while he only stepped with his heel on the right one.

Taking a seat next to her, Sky doesn’t look at her either.

“He’s not good enough for you.“ With those words, Y/N feels his piercing gaze on her. The emotion in Sky’s eyes is fathoms deep, yet they carry the warmth and life of the sunlit surface. They have a thousand hues of blue and a small touch of hazel radiating in softly swooping arcs and they leave Y/N breathless, as they always do.

Blood rushes to her face, turning up the temperature in her head to a dangerous level and it wasn’t from his eyes on her…it was that statement. His sentence had pissed her off enough for ice to swallow the steps they sit on; enough to lose control.

“You don’t get to say that.“ Y/N spits, standing up. Body rigid from anger, hands clenched so tight she felt her knuckles turning a pale color with a disruption in blood circulation. “Or anything to me. Ever.“ She turns to him with narrowed eyes.

Sky didn’t look away, no matter how cold her glare got. She hated how he could withstand it as it tore her apart.

“I only have your best interests in mind.“ Sky dares to say, fixing his tender gaze upon her as if his words were meant to calm the storm inside. His fingers twitch, like he can’t decide if he should reach out or keep physical contact to a minimum in fear of making the situation a lot worse.

Looking up in disbelief, Y/N releases something between a choked sob and a chuckle. Biting her lower lip to keep herself from shouting, her eyes fall back on the man before her.

“Don’t. Just…don’t.“ Placing a hand on her hip, she uses the other one to point her index finger at him.

“You said we were friends and then you kissed me! And then you told me we would never happen!” Shaking her head, Y/N sighs. “You can’t do this to me. You can’t stare down every guy I talk to or tell me they’re not good enough or...” Pausing, she stops before she breaks her own heart.

She thought, ‘Friends don’t look at friends the way you’re looking at me now’, but what’s the point? He’s determined it means nothing. That she means nothing.

Standing, she points her finger at him again, “Stop. Alright? I’m tired of waiting, I’m tired of arguing! Just leave me alone.”

Standing as well, Sky seems to have made up his mind and went for it. He grabs her finger, wrapping his hand around her entire fist with ease, pulling her closer to him. Flush against his firm chest, Y/N dares not look up, feeling his raging heartbeat through the palm pressed over his sternum.

“I never meant to hurt you. Do you know that?“ He whispers. His warm breath reaches her forehead, fanning away a couple of loose strands of her hair.

"Sky, I can’t do this right now.“ She feels her head spinning. Being so close to him was too much too fast. Especially after he broke her heart.

“You’re my best friend.“ Sky’s voice breaks, his chin resting atop her head.

She could feel him pulling her closer, pressing his body against hers in a mock embrace, but she’s just a frozen statue in his arms. There is no way for her to relax. If she did, she’d break and she never wanted to break in front of him. Not again.

Placing both palms against his chest, ignoring the way his heart rushed with the contact, she pushes with all her might. Moving away as Sky stumbles backwards, Y/N turns her back on him. Feeling her chin tremble as his warmth leaving her body renders her as cold as the ice in her veins, her eyes close She never found the cold bothersome, not until she felt the warmth of Sky’s embrace and tender kisses.

“Yeah, well…things changed. You know very well how that came to be.“ Y/N’s response is surprisingly calm, but she’s certain Sky could read her emotions even without looking at her properly. After all, he knew her for so long…In a way, they grew up together.

“Why am I to blame for that, huh? I can’t help how I feel.“ Sky defends, lips parted as Y/N scoffs, turning back to face him.

She shakes her head slightly. It feels surreal that she has to have this conversation with him again.

“You left me standing there without a word. I poured my heart out and you had nothing to say! You couldn’t be with me? You’re not good enough? You can’t give me the answer I want? Well, guess what? I can’t give you the answer you want either.“ Y/N’s voice trembles as she speaks, feeling every muscle in her face clench under the pressure of keeping a straight face. Her entire body shakes, but she’s determined to keep herself centered.

Going to a dance with her best friend was meant to be fun and an experience she’ll never forget. However, the entire night she was stuck with Riven while the guy she wanted to dance with was away flirting with Stella, Bloom, everyone but her. She didn’t mind Riven, he’s definitely someone she considers to be very close to her heart, but she was in love with his roommate.

The guys took her home, Sky walked her to the door to make sure she got in safely. It gave her butterflies, but it was just who Sky is. He always made sure she was taken care of and protected. Always.

However, that night, Y/N was unsheltered, vulnerable in every way possible. She couldn’t keep her secret any longer.

Turning back, she looks at him, shaking. Averting her gaze to the right, only to focus it back on him, she wraps her arms around herself for reassurance.

“Everything okay?“ Sky steps closer, tilting his head.

Shaking her head as an answer, Y/N musters up some courage fueled by years of jealousy and heartache.

“Do you love me?“ She blurts out, slightly bouncing on her feet though the heels she wore made her feet hurt.

Sky smiles widely, rolling his eyes at her playfully before answering. “You know I do.“

Shaking her head furiously, feeling her heart beating so fast her head is pounding and her knees are weak, she explains.

“No, I mean. Do you LOVE me?“ she emphasizes, leaning on her right leg more for balance. She watches the look of realization cross his face, confusion taking place. He didn’t say a damn thing, just looked at her like she had uttered the most atrocious insult.

Blinking fast, she bites her lip so hard, feeling a metallic taste of blood in her mouth as a result.

“Sky, do you?“ Her voice cracks, the last part coming out almost as a whisper.

Sky stares at her, searching for an appropriate answer in her eyes in hopes of escaping this entire conversation, but he’s dead silent.

“Say something!“ She whisper shouts, desperate for a reply. She had opened up to him, completely vulnerable and at his mercy and all he gave in return was a lost stare and fast, shallow breathing by the way his chest moved.

Until he moved toward her, pushing her against the locked door. Before she has a chance to say anything, his lips capture hers and her eyes widen in shock. Arms wrapping around her waist gave her courage to entangle her hands in his hair, drawing him closer to her.

Breathless, she couldn’t think, she didn’t want to. Being in the moment, drowning in his tender, yet passionate touch was more than enough.

But as unexpected as the kiss was, so was the moment Sky broke it. He steps back, lips swollen and smudged from hers, even more kissable than before. He opens his mouth and Y/N’s ready to hear him say it back, to promise her they would try, but when Sky speaks, her heart breaks.

“I…I can’t give you the answer you want.“ Sky spoke slowly, continuing. “You’re…you’ve always been out of my league.“ Taking a step closer, he keeps talking as she grimaces at the unwanted closeness. Moments ago, Y/N wanted him closer, but it made her queasy now.

“You’re just so…perfect!“ He exclaims, outstretching his arms in her direction.

She tries to step back, tensing up as she realizes she’s backed against the door already. She has nowhere to run.

“I’m not good enough for you. I will NEVER be good enough to be with you.“ Sky’s arms return to his side, understanding she’s not interested in any sort of touching.

She nods in disbelief, not believing his logic nor the words he spoke. “You don’t get to use that as an excuse. Especially when it’s not true. But if this is the way you want to handle things….Then this is goodbye.“

Barely holding back tears, she watched Sky turn around, leaving her broken and alone with her heart bleeding on the ground after he so carelessly tossed it from his hands.

What hurts is that he didn’t even try to fight for her to at least remain a friend. He didn’t even try to stay. He simply stole her peace of mind and stomped on her heart and left.

In the end, the night was definitely one she wouldn’t forget, simply not for the good memories.

“I just want you back.“ Sky’s eyes brim with tears he hadn’t shed in years, leaving her speechless, but firm as he continues. “I’m not me without you.”

Y/N couldn’t give in. Sometimes you have to take care of oneself and this is one of those times. She gave him every chance and when it came down to it, he didn’t take them.

“I wanted many things and I didn’t get any of them. I don’t blame you for not loving me back, Sky. I don’t. I just wish you would understand how it feels for me.“ She says softly, feeling a crack in the tall, icy wall specifically meant to keep him out of her heart.

“I never said I don’t love you back”, Sky breathes out as the door opened again, Porter stepping out.

Porter’s eyes immediately find hers, showing his concern and caution. “Everything okay here?“ Porter asks.

Folding her arms across her chest, she releases a shaky sigh. Did Sky really just admit he loves her too? Was it serious or just a way to keep her close?

She can’t make that into something it’s not. Not again.

“We’re okay. No biggie.“ She plasters a smile that Sky could read as a fake one a mile away, but Porter seems to be clueless.

“Want me to take you to your room?“ Porter returns her smile, standing in front of her. She notices he keeps glancing back at Sky, unsure of what went down moments before he arrived.

“Unless someone has something against it?“ She looks at her former best friend, hoping he’d give her a reason to stay. One word would be enough, to say that he really does love her again. She saw him saying it in her mind a thousand times, but in reality, his lips parted without a single word leaving his mouth.

He didn’t care that much after all. If he did, it wasn’t enough. It’s just not enough.

Taking Porter’s hand, she smiles genuinely now, pulling him along without looking back.

“Let’s go.“

And all Sky can think of as he watches them leave is that it might take his whole life to make it right, but he truly felt he did the right thing for her; for them. He never dreamed it would have broken their friendship.

Perhaps he’s guilty for the kiss he’d have died if he didn’t feel against his lips that night, because letting her go without ever tasting her would haunt him forever.

Joke’s on him - the kiss, she, would haunt him regardless. It was the first time he felt connected to anything, but he isn’t good for her. Not now when his father is back and adamant on ruining his life.

He must protect her from Andreas and he will. Even if it costs him everything.

PART 2

#sky x reader #sky fate winx saga #sky of eraklyon #sky of eraklyon x reader #sky imagine #fate the winx saga #fate the winx saga fic #fate the winx saga fanfic

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writingsfromhome · 3 years

Text

Water under the Bridge (Josslyn II)

A/N: Okay! Here it is!!!! This was fun and made my heart hurt a little but maybe I’m just being emotional. And can you guys believe it’s been over a year since I posted Josslyn?? Where has the time gone?? I don’t think we’re on the sacred timeline anymore........Anyway thank you anon who suggested this storyline, and hope y’all enjoy! <3

Josslyn (Original)

------

We’re going to have the best weekends evr, Regan texts me even though she’s just in the other room. Schedules were released for our summer semester and Regan and I had managed to get Fridays off. Summer was going to be so fun, and after two years doing college together we were experts at managing our workload to have fun on the weekends--even if that meant sacrificing a few nights’ sleep.

We’ll make summer our bitch, I text back. I hear a chuckle from her room.

Help me pick out a fit? she texts. I want to tell her Adam would love her in whatever, but I head to her room instead and watch her try on a dozen outfits before settling on the second. I tease her about Adam--they were going steady since first year, but she still got so nervous about him sometimes. Adam’s college was a train ride away so he would come down at least one weekend a month.

As for my own love life, there’d been no one steady. I did the whole hooking up and dating scene in first year but I was romantically burnt out by second. Nowadays, I could go home with someone if I chose to, but I also didn’t mind if I didn’t. My active endeavor to find a boyfriend had stopped when I realized I was trying to fill a gap. Instead, I was learning to be happy on my own.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you?” Regan asks. She was taking the train to Adam’s college and staying with him, there was this big start-of-summer party and she’d been trying to convince me for weeks.

“I don’t feel like being a third wheel,” I tell her honestly.

“You don’t have to!” She goes over her one argument again. “Gaelle’s roommate isn’t even back until next week so she has a spare room! She said you should come. Plus,” she ties her hair up, “it’s the weekend before the semester starts so have some fun.”

I make a noise, and she turns to look at me, totally judging me. It makes me laugh. “That’s why my version of fun is to.binge Netflix and-”

“Y/N!” She groans.

“Fine! I’ll go.”

Two words that would change everything.

***

By the time we get to the campus, Regan and I had come up with a dozen things we could potentially do this summer. I’m high on excitement as we meet up with Gaelle, and the three of us head to Adam’s place.

The sun is almost set by the time we leave, most of the sky is dark but a streak of orange stays stubbornly on the horizon. I pause to take pictures before we’re rushing off.

We approach the frat house--if you could call it that. It was half glass with a very modern structure. The greek symbol on the side of the house was the only indicator it wasn’t a millionaire’s summer-house.

“Since when did frat houses get so modern?” I ask. “This is...nice.”

“Wait ‘til you see inside,” Adam says. And he was right, even the drinks were fancier with their own guy behind the bar...although he was taking the occasional shot and getting progressively drunk.

We settle in an area close to the music and get swept up into the party atmosphere. Some people were beyond drunk already and I enjoyed the slight buzz of the drink in my hand. The views from inside with floor-to-ceiling windows were amazing.

Pretty soon, Adam and Regan break off. We move towards the centre of the party where the typical party shenanigans were happening. We tip back our drinks and pretty soon I’m straddling the line between tipsy and drunk. I find a cute boy with blonde hair and deep brown eyes and makeout with him until he gets too handsy.

“Ugh!” I give him one last shove and look for Gaelle but I’d lost her too. I search for a bathroom but they’re either occupied or have a lineup. This was a huge ass house, one of the bedrooms had to have one.

I open the first door to shouting.

“It’s called locking the door!” I shout drunkenly as I close it. The next room actually is locked, and the next one isn’t but I wish it was. “Eugh.”

I climb up to the topmost level, three doors--one was locked with the sound of people inside and the second is a bathroom. I was grateful people hadn’t made it up this far.

As I wash up, and touch up the mascara that was crusting under my eyes the door shakes as someone bangs on it from the other side.

“Dip! What the fuck are you doing in there? Everyone’s waiting for you!”

My heart pounds at the sudden noise and the deep voice demanding me to open up. The rush of adrenaline sobers me for a moment as I rush to open the door, “Sorry I didn’t realise anyone was...waiting.”

My words slow down and freeze altogether as I realise the fist banging on the door belonged to...him. Harry. He seems just as surprised as me, straightening up before a smile slowly inches across his face, it was almost sweet bordering on predatory. “Y/N!”

“Hi,” I say awkwardly. There was a lot of history and also not at all. I was also, I decide, too drunk for this. Act sober, this is not the night to run into this fucker.

“You-you’re the last person I was expecting to--excuse me it’s... good to see you! You look--you look as beautiful as ever!”

The events from high school that created this tense history between Harry and I was one of the worst things possible to happen to teenage Y/N. The thing is though, that I’d totally bounced back after I had decided he could fuck himself. Although it was awkward seeing him every day until graduation, it made me tougher. I credit it for making me so casual about relationships now...I stopped expecting so much of the boys I saw.

But leaving high school behind, my world expanded with college, I realised how childish it had all been: I’d had a fling with a player, and he’d played the field...It wasn’t that deep. But seeing him now, It made me aware in a way I wasn’t for a long time. Maybe what they said about distance had some merit. Or maybe I was just buzzed.

“Thanks...I wasn’t expecting you either.”

“You don’t uh, you don’t go here do you? I’ve never seen you around.”

“No,” I look out to the small hall but there’s no one there. The room that was previously locked is slightly ajar carrying male voices. “Adam goes here, I’m...with Regan.”

“Ah, Regan.” He smiles. “You’re still two peas in a pod?”

“Obviously,” The stiffness eases at the mention of my best friend. “So...can I get out of here?”

“Yeah sorry,” he moves aside so I can step into the hall. “Um, we’re playing video games in here room if you...you’re probably not interested.”

I clear my throat, Harry was playing video games when there was a party downstairs? I was curious, that maybe he changed.

“Oh,” he laughs and the dimples I adored make an appearance. “I’ve still got it! My frat just hosts too many parties for me to keep track.”

I guess I said that out loud, I bite my tongue but it really has a life of it’s own. “Did you jussay you still got it?” Oh my god, I was teasing him already. What about Harry made me absolute putty.

“Yeah,” he looks almost bashful. “Uhm, go easy I’m a little nervous here Y/N.”

I don’t know what to say to that, I bite my lip so nothing stupid comes out.

“So you’re just here for the night?” He carries on.

“Staying over with a friend,”

“A fr-” he cuts himself off, pressing his lips together. I realize I’m staring and look away.

“I should go-”

“Wait I-wait uh, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Yea,” I play with the rings on my fingers. “M’good, great. College’s a lot better than high school.”

“It’s not even comparable,” Harry says as he leans his shoulder against the wall. He looks perfectly placed there, and a tipsy voice flashes inappropriate thoughts into my head. “So...any...boyfriends?”

“Um,” that was direct. “No. No, I’m trying out being single...”

“Did something happen?” His expression is still casual but he holds himself rigid.

“No? A girl can’t be single?”

“Sure but someone like you...I’m just surprised.”

“Whatever that means,” I roll my eyes and head past him to go down but he blocks my way.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to offend you...” his voice dies out as I cross my arms. “I also didn’t mean to block you in.”

He steps aside and it feels painful to me but I take the small steps towards the staircase. One part of me--I blame the tipsy stupid part, wants to kiss him just to see if there was still something there, see if anything’s changed. The other was listing all the reasons this was an awful idea, to top it off he was a proven player, has broken my trust once before, and went to a school almost 2 hours from mine.

“Y/N,” Harry’s gruff voice says from behind me. My feet turn without permission and he’s right behind me. “M’sorry. Let me start over.”

I glance at his lips, damn. I can’t meet his eye suddenly. Oh god, I was still pretty tipsy. My mind short-circuits and all I can do is turn back to walk away, down the two sets of stairs, past sweaty bodies and loose limbs. In a great coincidence I bump into Gaelle in what looks like a game room.

“Harry goes here?” I ask--shout at her immediately. Her eyes widen, something passes over her face. “Was no one going to tell me he was going to be here?”

“I’m sorry!” She shouts. “I forgot you two had history!”

“I just wish I was prepared,” I say and she doesn’t hear, I just shake my head when she asks me to repeat. I needed another drink, and Regan. Maybe she could remind me why I stopped caring about him.

As I set off to find her, I’m reminded again how stupid this all was. High school was an ancient dream, we were all different people. I was a different person.

But even though what happened in high school was petty and juvenile, I remember how Harry made me feel. How it felt when we were together--even if it was a joke for him back then, I couldn’t forget the feeling of being seen. Of having arms to fall into, even if I knew they weren’t permanent.

“Regan!” I find her sitting on the dining table while Adam spoke with someone else. Her eyes alight and she waves me over. “I saw him! He...he goes here!”

“Who?” Confusion strings her brows together.

“Harry! From...you know Harry! He was upstairs! I--I didn’t know how to act.”

“Shit Harry! I forgot he went here!”

“You knew?” I throw my hands up.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal! He’s a dick but that was high school?”

“No I-” I sigh. “You’re supposed to tell me he’s still a dick! I saw him and it just got...complicated.”

Regan slides off the table and pulls me into a side hug, we can also hear each other better. “You’re a big kid now, do whatever you want Y/N. Tell him off, kiss his face, take revenge, who the fuck cares? We’re taking the train two hours home after this anyway!”

She had a point. But still...he couldn’t have changed much from the boy who hurt me.

“Adam hangs out with him sometimes,” Regan continues. “Apparently he’s not as bad as high school. He’s...mellowed out.”

“Unreal,” I roll my eyes. Adam was just covering for his friend. We hear a cheer go up behind us and Regan bulges her eyes as two guys help Adam up on his hands to do a keg stand.

Regan swears and heads back to him. I walk away, somehow feeling more and less confused after talking to Regan--do I go back up and see what this leftover emotion was, or ignore it as a drunken need for comfort?

But it’s like the decision is made for me when a hand wraps around my arm as I move from the dining area to the kitchen. I already know it’s him before I turn.

“Can we talk?” he asks. I nod and his grip loosens, slipping down into my palm. “Upstairs?” He motions to the staircase and we climb up the two flights. This time he leads me into one of the locked doors and although I’ve never been here, I’d been in some version of this room before. It’s familiar.

I ignore the ache when he lets go of my hand once we’re inside. I set my drink down on his desk and perch on the window ledge, it’s not big enough to sit on but has enough space for a few of his books and a speaker. His room’s pretty near, but then again Harry was never messy.

“So what do you want-” I start just as he says “Let me get this off my chest.”

“Go ahead,” I cross my arms before uncrossing them, and then crossing them again. With the way he ruffles his hair and crosses to the door and back, he seems just as nervous.

“You can leave at any time. I just want to say I was an asshole, I still kind of am sometimes. And I’m sorry for what I did to you. I know it’s like what--2 years late but all that with...Josslyn and all that...I’m sorry.”

Hearing her name makes me want to grind my teeth but I let the feeling pass. I reach for my drink instead to give me something to do. “It’s all water under the bridge.”

“Really?” Harry regards me suspiciously. “Because the way you were talking to me out there...”

“You’re just you,” I shrug. “Harry Styles, player and sweet-talker. I was just guarding myself against that.”

“Because of what happened between us?”

“No...maybe. I don’t know. But honestly, I’m not upset with you. It feels like an eternity ago. I guess it’s just self-preservation.”

“I guess,” he echoes. “So where does that leave us? If you’re all self-preserved?”

I eye him but he cracks a smile, he was teasing me. “It doesn’t have to leave us anywhere,” I snort. “We’re water under the bridge Harry...”

“My parents split,” he says suddenly and I’m reeling with the direction he’s taken. I open my mouth, and close it when nothing comes out. “Sorry, I know that’s random it’s just I never really talked to anyone about how they were rarely home and when they were they were always arguing a-and we spoke about it a lot. About our families so I just...”

“I’m sorry to hear that, do they still live in town?” I ask, wanting to put my hand on his or show him I cared but they stay glued to my drink.

“My mom moved into the city, it’s closer to her job and since I’m not living at home anymore it doesn’t really matter...”

“You still go home?” I ask.

“I don’t even know where home is?” He looks at me then, and the look in his eyes chips at the wall I’d been trying to build all night. Things had changed, for him.

“Are you--do you have someone to talk to?”

His laugh is dry, “They split last summer, convinced me to talk to some therapist. I don’t know if it really helped I think I’m actually better off. They’re better off and I just feel...free.”

I don’t know what to say to that so I stay quiet. He looks back up at me then, cracks his knuckles, before perching on his bed. “I’m just--sorry I’m not telling you that so you can feel sorry for me-”

“I don’t I just-”

“No it’s okay I just want to tell you that because you knew about that stuff. But I’m trying to tell you I’m not the same guy. Not completely, I’m just trying to tell you things changed and so have I.”

It echoes the same sentiment I had earlier in his conversation, and I remember Regan said he’s mellowed out. Maybe it was true. It still didn’t mean I was going to get together with him anytime soon but my heart hurts for him. I walk up to where he sits, he watches me with a steady gaze.

In the quiet, I hear the party going on outside the window, three floors below us. If I listen really carefully, I can hear sounds coming from the video game being played next door. In the stillness, I reach for Harry’s hand and he obliges, grasping mine.

“I wish I could...help you with the hurt. Not knowing where to call home is pretty shitty.”

“Don’t worry about me Y/N,” he pastes on his classic smile and I return one for his sake. It was getting heavy in here. “I’m just happy I got to talk to you. And I just found out you don’t hate me so...” he holds our intertwined hands and shakes it. “woo hoo!” I laugh as we let go.

“I guess I should go back to the party.”

“Yeah, okay. I won’t keep you.”

“Okay,” I’m a little stung he doesn’t suggest I stay a little longer. Maybe it was all in my head, maybe his intentions really were to make amends and that’s it. I pick my drink up from his windowsill and move to the door. I glance back before I go, he’s laying on his bed deep in thought, gazing up at the ceiling. I close the door behind me.

***

I wake the next morning, surprisingly well. I can’t say the same for Gaelle who’d passed me her keys at some point and told me she’d be home late. I spent the rest of the party trailing Regan until I decided I should just go crash. Harry hadn’t come out to find me, and I tried to hide the sour feeling, excusing myself early.

“Fuck me,” Gaelle croaks from her bed when I step into her open doorway.

“How about coffee, and pancakes?” I ask, returning the favor of being able to sleep here.

“I’ll take it,” she flops back into bed. I busy myself with measuring coffee and water, my thoughts occupied with everything Harry and I had been through since we last saw each other. I demonized him for so long, humanizing him is harder to swallow.

What he’d done to me was shitty, there was no denying. But had he really changed? And most importantly, why did I care so much? It’s not like he was the one.

My phone rings: Regan. She’s talking so fast I hardly hear her, only really understand that it was a party ritual to gather in the student centre the morning after a big party. Endless coffee and free food seemed to be the general consensus for a party cure.

“I don’t know if I can make it there,” Gaelle says when I tell her. “I was hoping for pancakes at home.”

“I already put the coffee on but I’m hauling your ass there if you’re not up in 5. Our train leaves after noon anyway and it’s closer to the college.”

Slowly but surely Gaelle emerges and we make our way, spotting Regan easily as the bright spot in a sea of college students in PJs and last night’s clothing. She’s the only one fully dressed, with a full face of makeup on.

“I didn’t drink that much,” she shrugs when we settle around her and Adam’s friends. “Unlike some people.” She looks pointedly at Adam who’s slumped where he sits. I remember the kegger and laugh.

Life soon flows back into the group around us as does the coffee and breakfast foods. I’m relaxed in the environment until I look down the tables to where Harry stands, looking back at me. He raises a hand and I do the same until an extremely tall angel--she was literally wearing a halo, probably from last night-walks up to him and wraps her hands around his waist. She says something to him and he tears his gaze away.

I look down at my cup immediately, my cheeks burning with humiliation. I’d been thinking about him all this time, thinking about how it might feel if I kissed him and of course he had a girlfriend. She never came up, but he never said he didn’t either. He didn’t make any moves on me yesterday, if I looked at it he only made an attempt to talk. Sure he was flirty but that was just Harry and I...I was a fool. I was such a fool. Things may have changed for him but he hadn’t. He was still the same Harry who chose Josslyn over me. He would always have a girlfriend, I was just the girl from his past who he could trust. I couldn’t say the same about him.

“What’s wrong,” my best friend nudges me. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I don’t know,” I look into her concerned eyes. “I’m just going to--I’ll be right back.”

I head out and find the closest washroom. The tears are instant and I let myself cry--out of frustration, humiliation, or some twisted sense of betrayal...it was all the same for me. I check the time, I just had to hold myself together and avoid Harry for another 2 hours before we were back on the train home. I would tell Regan everything then.

*** Three weeks later ***

“If Adam’s over later...” Regan trails off. She’s sprawled on my bed while I sit in my desk chair trying to read one more chapter before I close the books for the week.

“I have my earplugs ready and a second place to stay,” I roll my eyes. “I already told Kiara I might crash on her couch.”

“I owe you,” she jumps back up.

“You owe me like, 7 and a half.”

“7 and a half?”

I’m about to answer but a knock on our door has her racing out. I try to ignore the voices, I just had two more pages I had to get through--the joy of summer classes.

“Y/N?: Regan’s voice is a whisper. “We’re going now but...you have a guest. If you want me to kick his ass I totally can though.”

Standing behind her is Harry. I focus on him, yes it really was him. Why was he here?

“Harry?” I sound confused because I am. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans, and he’d traveled 2 hours just to get here.

“He wouldn’t leave me alone,” Adam says louder as they leave the room. “I’m sorry Y/N...”

“What is this?” I ask. My feelings are at war with each other, I was still feeling slighted by the last time we saw each other but seeing his face was also an exciting surprise.

“I wanted to see you,” Harry says nervously. He still stays at my bedroom door.

“You can come in...” I stand up and realize I was wearing an oversize t-shirt and the scruffiest PJ shorts I owned. “Phones have cameras now, you didn’t have to come all this way.”

He shrugs, taking one step in. “I liked seeing you in person last time. But I feel like we left it wrong.”

He knows I saw him, what conclusions I must have come to. It wouldn’t be that hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We talked it out.”

He comes to life, “Don’t play dumb Y/N I know you saw me with...I know what you thought and-”

“Did you really come all this way to explain that you had a girlfriend? Like, three weeks later?”

“No that’s the thing-”

“Because that’s kind of dumb. And unnecessary-”

“No listen!” He says a bit louder so I do. “The thing is she wasn’t my girlfriend...we’d hung out a few times but she saw me at the caf and got clingy. We’re not an item honestly, I can’t remember the last time I had a girlfriend-.”

“So why are you here?” My voice is higher than usual. I was confused, and upset, and I wanted him to leave. This was starting to sound like Josslyn part 2.

“You know why I’m here. Y/N I’ve been nothing but a dick to you and I know I don’t deserve you but I really like you. I want to clear the air, and ask you if you can see something here I...”

He trails off when he notices the tears trailing down my cheek. It’s just too much for me, as I finally face the emotions from that weekend. I’d shoved them aside after Regan had gotten onto the train worried her and Adam were headed towards a breakup. I’d put aside what happened and never thought about it. But my heart broke a little that morning.

I knew what I knew: maybe Harry and I weren’t good for each other but we were good with each other. In an attempt not to get hurt I’ve been distancing myself from romantic connections--I found more of myself in doing this, but a part of me was missing without exploring it.

Harry moved closer until we’re nearly touching. I wipe my tears with my shoulder and we stand still on the hardwood floors of my room. An eternity passes before he reaches out to wipe the tear caught in my lashes. I close my eyes to his touch, scared of how much I wanted it.

“Y/N,” my name is a breath on his lips and it makes my heart stutter. My eyes open in slow motion, seeing him so vulnerable right in front of me, and suddenly things speed up and we’re reaching for each other; two waves crashing until they become one.

***

I don’t know how much time had passed in minutes, Adam and Regan are still out but Harry and I had fallen together and crashed apart so many times that I’m dizzy with it.

“You’re wonderful,” he says as we face each other, our noses just nearly touching. He trails a finger down my cheek. “Just...incredible.”

I feel the flush spread through me, “Great vocab Styles. We’re really using the big words.”

“Words are sort of hard right now,” he grins. “My brain’s all mush.”

I laugh, “Not much different to its usual state!”

“I knew you were going to say that!” he tries to reach for me but I skip off the bed with a laugh. “Come back.”

“I have to pee,” I slip on pants and can’t stop grinning the whole time I’m away. When I come back in, the blissful smile on his face tells me everything I need to know. I climb over him but he stops me in place, a knee on either side of his hips.

“I’m happiest when I’m with you Y/N,” he says, his voice roughened with emotion. “I think I always was. Younger Harry liked to self-sabotage.”

I bend down and my hair slips around us. The way he looks at me makes my insides mush. And even though I have proof of why I shouldn’t trust him, he’s here. In my bed. Miles away from where he would be if he hadn’t traveled all this way to see me. And that means something.

“I’m glad you’ve done some growing,” I say to him quietly.

“I had to,” he says softly. “I couldn’t have you like I do now if I hadn’t.”

“I guess we’ve both grown,” I brush a curl from his forehead.

“I know, old Y/N would have punched me if I showed up unexpectedly.”

“Rightly so,” I grin. He smiles back, brushing my hair behind my ear, back over my shoulder. He props himself on his elbow to kiss the shoulder he’d bared. It’s simple, and sweet, but it’s enough to unravel me all over again. And he knows it.

“When does Regan get home?”

“We might have another half hour,” I grin.

“Let’s not waste it,” he mumbles into my skin.

I agree.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #series #harry styles series #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #writingsfromhome #college!harry #I think the idea of growing separately as a young adult #and coming together again as more mature versions of yourself is what #gets me #or maybe I'm emotional because I'm a year older soon #and it's got me thinking about being in your 20s #either way hope this is enjoyable #tag talk out #ps dont mind any inconsistencies i wrote this quick

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sourwolfandlilred · 3 years

Text

Out in west texas, it hardly ever rains

(but when it does, it’s amazing grace)

Stiles Stilinski flipped off the radio, tired of the breathless play-by-play of the Friday night football game. Golden boy quarterback Derek Hale had already scored four touchdowns guaranteeing the “douba-yah”--as it was called around these parts--anyway.

His jeep bounced along the rutted road as storm clouds gathered in the distance. Heat lightning flashed in the distance, but it would likely burn off before it got to Marfa.

The church stood sentry on the edge of town, parched dust-cracked earth stretching for miles and miles behind it. Stiles parked the Jeep and headed inside.

To the piano.

It was an old model, the C key so worn the ivory dipped where a finger tip would rest. But it played just as pretty as the best grand out there. Stiles didn’t bother with lights, just sat on the bench, and played.

The thunder accompanied him, a deep bass line that Stiles felt in his chest. By the time he finished the song, his cheeks were damp and the storm had passed.

***

“You weren’t at the game.”

Stiles slammed his locker and rolled his eyes, side stepping Derek Hale in all his snapback, wanna-be frat boy glory. “While I’m oh-so-flattered that you noticed my absence, me thinks you should get an MRI to check for brain damage if you thought I would show in the first place.”

Derek wasn’t deterred by Stiles’s acid tongue. Instead, he fell in step beside him, despite the fact that Stiles--for reasons he wouldn’t admit to--knew that Derek’s first class was on the opposite side of the school.

“Would you come if I asked you?”

Stiles stopped abruptly enough to earn himself a curse from the freshmen behind him who hadn’t been expecting. He met Derek’s eyes. “Why would you ask me to?”

The corner of Derek’s mouth ticked up, but it was almost self-conscious rather than smug. “Does it matter?”

***

Stiles went to the fucking game.

***

Lydia Martin hosted a party every friday night to fete the celebrities of their podunk town. Stiles had never been to one, though all sixty-three of their classmates were always invited. The place was too small for bullying tactics and popularity contests.

Someone shoved a red solo cup into Stiles’s hands, and he downed half the contents in one swallow. His fingers itched for smooth ivory and he tried to ignore the jittery sensation of looking for someone in particular.

“Brooooo, you came,” Scott McCall slurred in Stiles’s ear while slinging an arm around his neck. Stiles took the weight of his drunk, pliant body, turning the tackle into a hug. They rocked like that as Stiles laughed. Scott loved everyone and everyone loved Scott, but Scott loved Stiles best.

“Hey where’s your QB?” Stiles asked as casually as possible, and Scott beamed at him. Apparently he hadn’t been subtle.

“Gazebo,” Scott waved, flashing all his white teeth so that his eyes squinted into tiny bits of happiness.

Stiles maneuvered him toward Kira and then wove his way through gyrating bodies and couples who had too little sense of what level of PDA was appropriate.

When Stiles stepped outside, his skin tingled with the electricity in the air. Something was coming.

Derek was alone, surprisingly. It seemed like he was forever surrounded by fawning groupies, or at the very least his phalanx of ride-or-die friends. Stiles didn’t bother saying hi as he sat on the bench next to him.

“Did you have fun?” Derek asked as he took a hit on his joint. Golden-boy wasn’t always so golden.

Stiles let his legs fall apart until their knees touched. “No.”

“But you came.” Derek said, said without looking at him.

“But I came,” Stiles agreed, plucking the joint out of his loose fingers. Had they been doing this dance for years now? Stiles couldn’t tell. Derek was a part of the landscape as much as the snow-topped mountains in the distance.

They’d never really been friends. Stiles’s father was the Sheriff, Derek’s mother the lawyer. They had enough crime that it caused friction between the two families. But they weren’t exactly Romeo and Juliet, either. They were just two dudes trying to make it out of this god-forsaken town anyway they could.

For Derek that was football. From the Smurf League when they’d been kindergartners it had been obvious exactly where Derek was headed in life. First draft pick for the NFL.

For Stiles it was the long-shot Juliard--a dream his mother had passed onto him the day she’d died.

He and Derek were as different as could be, and yet still...

Maybe it was the way Derek’s eyes lingered on Stiles’s mouth when he took a hit. Maybe it was the Stiles let his hand drop to Derek’s thigh after he handed back the joint.

Something in the back of Stiles’s brain itched, though. Him and Derek? It wasn’t just two queer kids finding each other in bumble-fuck Texas. He just didn’t know what it was.

“Do you want to play?” Stiles asked, his eyes on the lights from the house. “Professionally I mean.”

“Nah,” Derek shook his head, earning a sharp glance from Stiles. “It’s what I’m good at but... no.” He laughed softly. “I like my brain intact.”

Stiles huffed out a breath. “Same.”

Derek glanced over. It wasn’t often that Stiles complimented him. Then he lifted one shoulder. They were close enough that it brushed Stiles’s arm. “I’ll use it to pay for college. But I want to be...”

He took a hit instead of continuing, and then handed it over to Stiles. Stiles bumped his knee against Derek’s. “Yeah?”

A blush crawled along Derek’s perfect cheekbones, and Stiles had to look away lest he do something utterly mortifying.

“I like gardening,” Derek mumbled. “I thought maybe landscape architecture.”

Maybe some version of Stiles would have laughed at the admission. The idea of snap-back wearing, pick-up truck driving, all-American stereotype in the flesh planting daisies should have been funny.

It wasn’t.

Stiles took a hit. Held the smoke in. Then in one swift move shifted so that he was in Derek’s lap, his knees on either side of Derek’s hips. Derek’s fingers came up, gripped the skin just above the waistband of Stiles’s jeans.

The moment seemed frozen in time, syrupy and unreal. Stiles leaned in and Derek’s lips parted. Smoke slipped out between them, but in the next moment, Stiles was pressing it into Derek’s mouth.

Derek breathed it in. Breathed Stiles in, really.

When they drew apart, Derek’s eyes were wide, almost vulnerable, and Stiles ached with every part of his being. He wanted this to be real.

So he ran.

***

The church was as quiet as it always was when Stiles came to practice at the old piano. He made sure of it.

But for the first time in a long time he didn’t want to play.

The keys had always offered him an escape, a dreamworld where his mother wasn’t dead, his father wasn’t an alcoholic, and he wasn’t a weird kid who talked too much and dreamed too big for this small Texas town.

For once, he didn’t want to escape.

He pressed a thumb to his lower lip, as if he could capture the warmth of Derek there. The way the tip of his tongue had darted out in what had turned into a goodbye.

“Play for me?”

Stiles didn’t startle. He’d almost expected Derek to show, though he couldn’t say why.

But you came. But I came.

Without acknowledging the request, Stiles dropped his fingers onto the keys. Amazing Grace was so easy, he didn’t have to think about it. By the time he finished, Derek was on the bench beside him. “Beautiful.”

Stiles chewed on the inside of his mouth. “My mother taught me how to play.”

A beat. And then, “Do you play because she wanted you to, or do you play because you want to.”

The question struck, like lightning, in the very center of Stiles’s chest. “Does it matter?”

It was a deliberate echo and Derek huffed. “No.”

Maybe it had seemed like walls going up when that wasn’t the case at all. So Stiles took a breath. “Aren’t all of our lives made up of a combination of that? Expectations and hopes and desires and rational thought and irrational emotions? Her wanting me to play doesn’t mean it’s any less important if it had come from nowhere. It just makes it all the more meaningful that I am doing it, doesn’t it?”

“But what about your life?” Derek asked, and in that moment Stiles realized how much Derek’s trajectory had been guided by other people.

“It’s not an either or,” Stiles said as carefully as possible. “For me.”

Derek nodded, his eyes on the piano. In the smallest voice Stiles had ever heard him use, he said, “I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Stiles nearly laughed at that. But instead he nudged Derek’s shoulder. “No matter what you do, I’m pretty sure it would be impossible for you to disappoint anyone.” He searched for the right words, the ones that wouldn’t dismiss the fear, the ones that wouldn’t add more weight to Derek’s shoulders. “I would be proud of you no matter what you do.”

That blush again, the one that would drive Stiles to distraction. “Play it again for me?”

“Anytime,” Stiles promised and surprised himself by meaning it.

Outside the clouds opened up and the rain beat against the windows.

Inside, Derek hooked his ankle around Stiles’s, and the music played.

#sterek #sterek drabble #high school au #football au #stiles #derek hale deserves nice things #sterek fluff #sterek fic

116 notes · View notes

sugako · 3 years

Text

alfajores y mentiras

timeskip!oikawa x reader

sum: after faking dating oikawa for a few months things start to heat up between the two of you and come to a head one night

cw: 18+ minors dni, nsfw, smut, fluff, alcohol use (no one is drunk tho), mirror sex, spanking, oral (female receiving), face sitting, fingering, slight edging, size kink (implied), semi-rough sex, creampie, ‘princess’ nickname again

wc: 3.3k

a/n: part 2/2, this is mostly smut idek how it got this long but pls enjoy!! (part 1 if you want the intro)

Three months passed and being Tōru Oikawa’s fake girlfriend was just part of your life. You went to most of his games, you ate lunch and dinner together when both of your schedules allowed, and he gave you obnoxious kisses on the cheek and forehead whenever he possibly could. Each time his lips skirted a little closer to yours or his touches lingered longer and longer, but you pretended to not notice. It was nice in a way, all the emotional benefits of a relationship without actually being in one. But at the end of the night you were always alone in your bed, a wall away from him.

Any complicated thoughts you currently had about the arrangement were drowned out by booming music and the light buzz in your system from the drinks. To celebrate a new brand deal the team was partying in a club far fancier than any you had been to. Oikawa had personally chosen the tight blush mini dress you were wearily adjusting yet again. Leaning heavily against the high table, you watched as he sauntered back.

“A water, for my princess.” He set the glass in front of you and pressed a short kiss to the crown of your head. “And another drink for me.”

“Thank you, Tōru.” You hummed. The nickname had grown on you. It certainly hadn’t helped that he had started to call you it even when you were out of earshot of others.

He sipped his drink, but didn’t take his eyes off of you. Impossible to escape his intense stare, you finally met his gaze.

“What?” You asked quietly.

“You look really good tonight.” He said lowly while leaning into you. When his hot breath hit your cheek you couldn’t help but shiver.

“T-thanks, so do you. I mean, you picked out this dress, so thank you.”

With his roughened fingers, he tilted your head up.

“Can I kiss you, princess?” His normally whiney tone was low and huffy now.

“You kiss me all the time.” You giggled nervously and tapped your cheek. Pursing his lips, he took your hands into his and leaned in so his breath fanned across your face.

“I want to really kiss you.”

Gulping hard, you made no motion to move. “You’re just drunk.” You knew that was a lie. He had barely drank all night and the barely touched drink on the table beside you was only his second.

“I’m not.” His thumbs massaged the back of your hands, sending you into a confused spiral. If you really kissed him than this entire fake relationship would feel like a real relationship and you knew he didn’t want that. You wanted… well, you weren’t sure what you wanted in the long run, but right now you didn’t mind being kissed by Tōru Oikawa.

“Okay, uh, yeah, go ahead then.” You stammered out.

With your soft ‘go ahead’ his lips were attached to yours. You had expected his touch to be rough and lust-filled, but instead he was kind and passionate. Any concerned you had about the nature of your feelings were pushed aside when his hands slinked lowly around your hips. When he finally pulled away, you were both panting hard.

“It’s late. I wanna go home.” He gulped down a little of his drink and grabbed your purse, practically dragging you out of the club. If anyone noticed your quick departure, they didn’t say anything. In seconds he had hailed a cab and you were on your way back to your apartment.

He was uncharacteristically silent, obviously deep in thought, but his hand closest to you kneaded deeply in the soft flesh of your bare thigh. Attempting to keep from squirming, you clutched onto your seatbelt as though it would keep you grounded. As soon as the cab stopped and you had paid and tipped the kind driver, Oikawa was dragging you away. His hand was still clamped tightly over yours when you stepped into the elevator together.

You couldn’t begin to wonder what was going on in his head, but you had other thoughts on your mind.

“Tōru?” You asked quietly as the machine whirred and began quickly moving up the levels.

“Hm?” He finally looked at you, eyes hungry and sparkling.

“Can we kiss again?”

He responded by clutching you around the waist and meeting you with another deep kiss. You felt his hot tongue poke just past your lips, demanding entrance. Without hesitation, you offered it to him, moaning as he pulled you impossibly closer. Only when the elevator dings that you’re on your floor do you separate again. As you step out into your hallway, he speaks at last.

“Come over.” He says, already dragging you toward his door. You hum in agreement.

If you really wanted to, you could tear your hand out of his or speak up. But you don’t. When he gets the door open, he shoves you through and slams it behind him, backing you up against it. Your small purse drops from your hands onto the floor as you leaf your fingers through his soft brown hair. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” His mouth latches onto your neck and you cry out. “And tonight in this fucking dress.” Large hands snake down from the sides of your ribcage to the hem of the dress. “I just… fuck, I want to keep doing this with you, but I…”

His head slumps toward the floor, eyes downcast. You reach out and cradle his face in your hands to force him to look at you.

“You what, Tōru?” The look of concern on your face in genuine as he looks as though he may cry any second.

“I want to keep acting like you’re my girlfriend, but I don’t think it’s acting if I actually like you.” He paused to take a breath. “We’ve been friends for a little while and I’ve always thought you were cute and I really like spending time with you, but now… I couldn’t imagine ending this.” Oikawa’s pale cheeks flushed as he awaited your answer.

“Me either.” You whispered, wholly unable to contain your grin. He brought you into a bone crushing embrace, sighing deeply against your shoulder.

The moment, while awfully sweet, was stung by your overwhelming need to keep touching him. Your hands freely roamed up and down his back, eliciting a small, breathy moan from him. He lifted his head off your shoulder to capture your lips yet again. You tugged away at his jacket, which he quickly discard on the floor. His hands squeezed into your ass before he crouched just enough to wrap both hands around your thighs.

“Jump, princess.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. With your arms wrapped around his shoulders and legs around his torso, Oikawa hoisted you up. The stretchy fabric of your dress hiked up to reveal your scant white, lacey thong. His eyes rolled into the back of his head at the sight. You kept sloppily kissing what little exposed skin you could above the collar of his dress shirt.

Before moving he kicked off his shoes and helped you take off your own with one hand. When his hand came back up to cup your ass, he moved just a little too sharply, accidentally smacking you. A jagged moan forced its way out of your throat before you could think about what you were doing. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head. He let out a short, wicked laugh.

“Very interesting…” he mused, beginning to walk toward his bedroom. After nudging open the door with one hand he brought it down on your bare ass hard. The sharp sting went straight to your pussy. This time, you tried to silence your much louder cry against his shoulder. “Whoopsie, my bad.” He snickered and turned on a soft lamp in the corner of the room.

His arms dropped you onto his low bed and he immediately began undressing. You glanced around the clean and fairly barren room, trying to figure out why it felt so large even though it wasn’t. At last the answer was right in front of you when you met your own face in the wall mirror that spanned over his sliding closet beside the bed. His devilish eyes met yours in the mirror when he had freed himself everything except his boxer briefs.

Your mouth drooled at the thick outline that pressed against the soft black fabric. Finally, you tore your eyes away from the mirror to really look at him. Unable to wait for him, you tore the dress off over your head as the bed dipped beside you. Not having worn a bra, since it wasn’t needed with the dress, left you only in your soaked panties.

Oikawa barely admired your body before latching onto one of your breasts. His tongue circled your hardening nipple while he eagerly sucked and nipped at your sensitive skin. With one free hand he toyed with the opposite breast. The other hand smoothed up and down the skin on the inside of your thighs, just barely brushing against your clothed mound. The thong left little up to the imagination and barely covered you, but that wasn’t a concern you had right now.

Just as his long fingers finally cupped your damp sex, he popped himself off your chest to press a wet kiss against your lips.

“So wet already, princess.” He said with a grin. You whimpered as he tugged the lace of your panties and the rough fabric brought needed friction against your clit. “And so sensitive too.” He cooed down to you. “Has anyone touched this little pussy since we started going out? Hmm?” His thumb pressed down hard just above your clit, the sensation driving a sharp cry from you.

“N-no,” you breathlessly sputtered out, “No one.” You gasp when you hear the soft squelching noise from how he’s kneading your cunt.

“I bet you could cum just from this, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” your whine is lewd. It’s almost infuriating to agree with him, but you do anyway, too swept up in the feeling. The soaked fabric and his fingers work in a steady rhythm against you. The sparks build up in your stomach, tightening that familiar coil. Your squirming under his every hot touch, hips bucking up to meet his motions. Just as you feel yourself nearing the edge, he pulls away and yanks you up with him. He yanks the flimsy fabric off of you and tosses it onto the ground.

He kisses away the disappointed look on your face. “I’ll make you cum in your panties another day, baby, I promise. C’mere,” He leans back horizontal on the bed, “Don’t be shy now.”

Confused and heart racing, you do what you expect him to want and reach out to palm his cock. The angry red tip is peeking out just under the band, leaking a bead of precum onto his toned lower abdomen. When he laughs, you yank your hand away in shame, worried to ask what you did that was so funny.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I meant come here and sit on my face.” He says slowly so you can hear every word.

“Oh, I, uh… yeah, okay.” The words barely make it past your flustered lips as you crawl up his body. He helps adjust you over his broad shoulders, fingertips digging into your hips as he lowers you down. Only when you relax and look up do you realize you’re facing yourself again. From his position on the bed, Oikawa, rolls his eyes back just enough to watch you when he takes his first lick.

“Watch me make you cum.” He says quietly, the little hums from his voice vibrating into you. When he feels your body tense again, he slaps your ass just enough to jolt your clit against the tip of his nose. You twitch under the sensation, having been so close to release just moments ago.

Your eyes are locked to where his tongue is endlessly lapping up your slick. The transfixing image forcing your hips to twitch and buck against him every so often. He encourages every soft whimper and moan you make with a deep, vibrating grumble between your thighs. When his tongue forces its way into your drooling hole you actually cry out, hands crashing against the top of his head to tug at his soft hair.

His sweet, wide brown eyes meet yours clouded by lust. Your thighs are shaking around his head by the time he’s done fucking you with his tongue, but before you can relax he’s attaching himself to your pulsing clit.

“Tōru, gonna, hnngh… gonna cum.” Your voice is hoarse and ragged as you’re watching all of your own movements in the spotless mirror.

It doesn’t take much to set you over the edge. You can’t really tell what he’s doing, all you feel is pleasure as that tight coil snaps and your thighs clamp down on either side of his head. His sturdy hands keep you upright as your hips thrash against him. You can feel the hot wet drip of your own cum sliding down your thigh as he messily laps you up, easing you through the shattering orgasm.

When you settle at last, he scoots out from under you and holds you in his arm, still facing the mirror. He shifts you into his lap, spreading your legs apart with his own. You watch as your soaked cunt continues to clench around nothing. One of his hands holds you upright against him while the other caresses through your folds. He easily slips one finger into your hole, sighing happily as he lightly rests his chin on your shoulder to watch.

“Look at yourself, princess. Such a pretty little pussy and it sucks my fingers in so well.” He added a second, long finger and scissored them inside of you. It should have been more embarrassing, but your eyes remained locked exactly where his fingers were pumping and curling into you.

“Want you.” You huffed, trying to catch your breath. His cock was pressed just against the lowest part of your back and you could feel that he craved you too.

“You can have me soon, I’m just making sure you can take me.” He punctuated his words with a particularly wide sweep of his fingers that made you crumble against him.

“I-I can take you.” You argued. Happy with how you had relaxed around his fingers and not wanting to wait a minute longer, he popped his fingers out of your tight hole. He displayed his drenched hand for you. When he separated his fingers they remained obscenely connected by your thick cum.

“You’re so cute.” His voice almost sounded casual as he nuzzled into your neck. Frustrated with the wait, you literally took matters into your own hands, taking his slick-cover hand into yours and sucking off his fingers. Your hips rutted back into his cock, hard. Oikawa shuddered against you with a broken gasp. “And a tease.”

He ripped his hand from your mouth and threw you to lay normally on the bed. In seconds, he was looming over you again, pressing soft, cuddly kisses against your lips. Your grabbing hands found his waistband and tugged down until his cock was free. It slapped against your tummy while he shuffled to pull the underwear off the rest of the way.

You pulled him in for a deep kiss, desperately trying to lift your hips up to meet his. The thick length of his cock brushed against your slit with every slight movement of his hip. You realized he had been right to prep you so much. He was large. It shouldn’t have been surprising considering he was a taller guy, but you hadn’t expected such girth and length.

“Want me to fuck you?” He whispered when you pulled away from one another.

“Yes, please, please.”

His classic grinning smirk was back as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“No need to beg, princess.” He eased the tip in, grunting as he tried to move slowly. “You’re so tight even after all my hard work.” His overly whiney tone is enough to somewhat snap you out of your lovey lust-clouded haze.

“You didn’t work that hard.” You try to scoff, but it turns into a choke when he slips a couple more inches in, stopping just at the thickest point of his shaft. You whine and quiver below him, gripping onto his muscles shoulders to keep grounded. The stretch burns delicious inside of you and you can’t wait until you can take him all the way.

“What was that?” He hums. Part of you wants so badly to just submit and take back what you said, but another more devious part decides to push back.

“If you worked so hard then it shouldn’t be so hard for you to fuck me.” Your softer tone betrays the playfully biting words, but it’s enough to make him nearly bottom out in you.

“It wouldn’t be hard for me to fuck you. I’m just letting your tight pussy get used to this big cock.”

You can’t help as you flutter around his length at the words. The slight movement is enough to suck him in the rest of the way. You loudly moan into his ear when his tight balls lightly tap against your ass.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you sigh, trying to relax around him. As much as you want him to fuck you hard right there, you know you have to wait.

“Tell me when you’re ready, baby.” He hums, watching as your eyebrows knit in frustration. Taking one arm that’s propping him up over your frame, he reaches down to press at your clit, hoping to offer some distraction while you’re being molded to his shape.

You were struggling to focus on anything other than his cock splitting you. His nimble fingers brushing warmly against your clit was just enough to lull you into comfort.

“Ready.” You puffed out.

“Y-yeah?” Oikawa moaned as he slowly pulled himself almost all the way out of before evenly sliding back in. He continued on like this, going slow and deep inside of you until you were clawing at his back and demanding more.

“Please, harder.”

Your plead is immediately heard by Oikawa who kisses you softly on the temple. “Of course, princess.” His tone is gentle in comparison to his hips that immediately snap into you. The force is almost startling and his speed matches it.

His stamina seems endless as he ruts into you like he’s feral. Your body is burning with pleasure, so pleased to be filled up with him, you almost don’t notice when his fingers start to toy with your clit again. He’s panting little huffs into your ear, whispering sweet praises and nothings. His honeyed words only encourage you to cum faster.

You legs wrap around his middle, forcing his hips in closer, as you cry out beneat him. It’s too much, convulsing around his thick cock. Your cunt sporadically clamps around him, desperately trying to keep him in place as he fucks you through it. Fucked out, you limply hang onto him. Your head lolls to the side to simply watch the two of you in the mirror once again, lips parted as you gasped for air.

“Mmh, good girl.” He kisses you sloppily, grinning as he notices you watching yourself get fucked into the mattress. His words make your pulsing center flutter around him again and you feel his perfect thrusts start to get a little sloppy.

“You gonna cum?” You slur out, rubbing small circles into the muscles of his back. “You wanna cum in me?”

“Y-yeah, gonna cum in that perfect tight little pussy, princess.” He chokes out, hips stuttering. He sheaths himself all the way inside of you, shallowly pumping as his cum shoots inside of you. You’re holding him close, sighing into his skin at the way his hot cum fills you up. He catches your mouth in a sweet, but messy kiss as the last of his seed spurts into you.

“We should’ve started actually dating a long time ago.”

#oikawa x reader #toru oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #hq smut #oikawa smut #toru oikawa smut #oikawa toru smut

269 notes · View notes

vminity21 · 3 years

Text

Speak Now | myg

Pairing: groom!yoongi x bestfriend!reader

Word Count: 3,124

Genre: angst/fluff

Warning(s): curse words used, mention of a toxic relationship, mention of advances toward infidelity Rated: pg 13

Summary: When the love of your life is about to marry the wrong person, you muster up enough courage to profess your heart before it is too late. By late, you mean the day of your best friend’s wedding.

Credits to: @suhdays for making the cover, you are my favorite!

With clammy palms, you relieve a steady breath descending into the pew while bundles of people bustle through the chapel doors in search for a place to sit. You picked the first available section that you saw and with a silent prayer, you hope that whoever chooses the same row will maintain their distance. With your mind racing, you frantically observe the scenery encompassing the audience from the colorful stained windows, the mahogany pulpit to the rich color of the carpet- absolutely anything to distract you from the overwhelming anxiety plaguing your tightening chest. There is, rather, one thing you are searching for. More like, someone. You are aware he is hidden in a room in preparation for the event about to take place, but unbeknownst to him, you did reluctantly, after many nights of pondering, decide to show up with a mission in tow. Your heart shattered in millions of pieces when you discovered, scrolling through social media, that Yoongi’s wedding ceremony was shared on his wall.

Upon assumption, you were not invited to the event for reasons you are certain of. But this post gave you a date and a time to organize your thoughts and the words that you want to say.

Since elementary school, you and Yoongi have been inseparable. Thick as thieves as your best friend Monnie would say; two peas in a damn pod her boyfriend Jeongguk would say, and even your mother supported the dream of you and Yoongi getting married one day. That day seemed to vanish suddenly even though Yoongi has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, and regardless of him being taken, you have also been his shoulder to lean on throughout his incredibly toxic relationship with his soon to be bride to be. The comical part of it all to you is that she has never been fond of you from the beginning which you inwardly knew it boiled down to jealousy. And as you figured, you were not invited because she demanded so.

Anger brims harshly beneath you and in attempt to clear your unwanted thoughts, you shake your head. She’s irrelevant anyway. It is Yoongi I am here for. In the end, you are here for one reason and one reason only. For Yoongi to know how you feel about him once and for all.

“Y/N?” Jung Hoseok approaches you, one out of the six best friends Yoongi has other than you. From afar, shoulder leaned against the brick wall of the school, you stared in evident longing as Yoongi set his backpack in his car irritatingly. A fight unfolded between him and his girlfriend and the pair were oblivious to you being a witness. Uncertain of yet again why she was mad at him, you turned to face Hoseok with a gasp of surprise since he unexpectantly caught you hiding. “Look,” he wets his lips, “If you don’t tell him how you feel, I will.”

“Please don’t!” You gasp, watching your volume as you switch your gaze to make sure Yoongi and the blundering wench hadn’t seen your presence. Turning to Hoseok, you plead, “It’s not-! What if?” You sigh, “What if I can’t? What if he still doesn’t get it?”

“But she’s not good for him and you know it. If there’s anybody who deserves each other it’s the two of you,” Hoseok’s expression becomes saddened when you look away from him. Emotions gather in the form of tears as you fight to hold them back.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be standing here telling you to confess to him if I felt it was a bad idea.”

The church pews continue to become occupied until the echoes of conversation simmer to cease once the out of tune organ cringingly serenades the atmosphere. Wincing in response, you grit your teeth to stifle a giggle because of course the wench of the west would choose the most untuned instruments there are. Ultimately, how fitting can this be for a wedding that should not even be happening? Turning to look at the first coupled bridesmaid and groomsman, memories start to churn when you see each of Yoongi’s friends. Hoseok was not the only one who warned you ahead of time to profess your feelings for Yoongi.

“So, when are you going to tell Yoongi you’re ‘unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him?’” Taehyung’s fluffy curls fall into his eyes as his cheeky grin enters your vision. He is leaned over the back of the couch as he bounces from his knees hitting the cushion.

“And this concludes the last and final time that I will ever watch Twilight with you,” you announce, crinkling at the wrapper of a rice krispie treat from the kitchen. “I’m not as wanted as Bella Swan.”

“You see that’s where you’re wrong. What makes you think you are the only one who feels the connection?”

Pausing from your eventual snack, you glare at your friend, “I’m not in love with him,” you denyingly mutter.

“Your eyes say you are.”

“Gah! Taehyung, how many times do I have to tell you that it’s not going to happen, alright? He has a girlfriend. Obviously if he wanted me, he could have chosen me a long ass time ago. We’ve been in each other’s lives all this time, so why hasn’t he said anything?”

“Have you ever considered that maybe he thought he couldn’t?”

“Excuse me?”

“As being a previous ex of yours, let me explain.”

“We dated for two days. In the first grade!”

“It counts.”

You scoff, pressing the krispie treat underneath your palm as you lean onto the counter to steady your rising nervousness. After a moment, you signal for Taehyung to proceed.

“I think you tend to forget that you’re not the only one who is afraid to confess your feelings to someone. Yoongi may be afraid, too.”

You shrug in reply.

“You are his best friend, Y/N. Maybe he didn’t want to be at fault for ruining a friendship if you happened to not feel the same, so he settled for her.”

He’s right, and deep down beneath the fear, you know it. Stepping toward Taehyung, you ruffle his frilly tendrils, “I loathe you.”

Playfully slapping you away, he chuckles, “Hence why I force you to binge watch chick flicks with me. I loathe you, too.”

Taehyung and his bridesmaid LenLen remain poker faced as they gradually step down the aisle. The memory of Taehyung fades when you find Namjoon sitting alone staring straight ahead with the same expression and another flashback ensues.

After ranting about how hurt you are by the upcoming wedding date, Namjoon visits to console you since counseling is something he does daily, and he is the perfect friend who listens to every word you say other than Min Yoongi. “I just don’t get it. She treats him so poorly and all it does is break my heart. And of course, I never got an invite. She despises me!”

With crossed arms, Joon’s glasses sit daintily on his face while the turtleneck he is wearing shapes his frame- he looks incredibly professional even on his day off. “Yoongi asked me to be in the wedding,”

“Oh?” you say, “As he should. You are one of his best friends,”

“I am, but she happens to despise me, too.”

“What?” You gasp incredulously, “How could? Joon, how do you even know that?”

He settles upon the couch while your gaze follows him, a brief sigh brushes his lips, “He asked me to marry them which she openly opposed.”

“That’s.. That’s a really huge deal, Joon. So, are you going to do it anyways?”

“No,” Namjoon responds quickly, “The reason she despises me is because she thinks I will ruin her and Yoongi’s relationship, the same as she sees you- a threat.”

“But how?”

Joon rubs at the crease in his eyebrows, “She made advances toward me when they first started dating, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him which is why I can’t push you to tell him your truth until you are ready. I was scared he would think I was lying. The last time I saw her was at a sports game and when he left to grab her a drink, she started touching my thigh and I left immediately.”

“That’s why,” your voice trails off as you remember something, “That’s why Yoongi was so worried about you! Because you never miss a game with him! It was because of that conceited, selfish bi-”

“Hey, let’s not stoop to her level. I strongly dislike her as well, she put me in a very uncomfortable position which is why I am never around when she is. I refuse to be pictured as whatever she decides to manipulate.”

“Joon,” you murmur, leaning forward to squeeze his shoulder, “We all know who you are. Yoongi adores you. Knowing how she is, we would have believed you over her most definitely. Are you going to attend the wedding at all?”

“I’m not sure,” your eyes flicker between his as sadness clouds them, “I want him to be happy and the only person he would be happy with is you.”

It was silent immediately after Namjoon said those words that are still repeating within your mind. Did all of Yoongi’s friends concoct a plan to nudge you to profess the entirety of your heart to him? And what happened to Namjoon was so cruel and it was the final straw that motivated and fueled you to do exactly what you are about to do today. She doesn’t deserve Yoongi, she doesn’t deserve his family, she doesn’t deserve his friends, and she most definitely doesn’t deserve his love. It is time for Min Yoongi to know the truth and nothing but the truth.

The piano chimes in with the organ clashing hideously as the time drags, and you notice Hoseok who is arm and arm with a bridesmaid you are unfamiliar with, stifling the urge to react to the disconcerted music. He takes his place where the best man stands and links his hands before him- a quick grin is shared with whoever he makes eye contact with and his dimples appear for the slightest of seconds. Seokjin and Jimin as well as Jeongguk are completely lined already and when Guk finally locks eyes with Monnie who is sitting in the audience, they share loving smiles. After today, if all works accordingly, Yoongi will be yours and you no longer would envy the love you always longed for with him.

Looking back especially after all the encouragement from you and Yoongi’s friends, there are moments where you almost worked up the bravery to tell him the truth, but it seemed with every opportunity, his girlfriend would find some way to interfere. It was as if she disturbingly knew your schedule and your thoughts which is something you never truly admitted to your friends. You didn’t want her to sound like an excuse that is holding you back from saving Yoongi’s heart from further turmoil.

Flitting your gaze to the handsome lineup of groomsmen, you realize not even one is smiling. Before you can contemplate further on all the reasons why there aren’t any smiles, you move your gaze just for your heart to halt instantly. There he is. Min Yoongi, the love of your life, dressed in a well fitted tuxedo that clings to his thin frame, makes his way timidly to stand in front of the pulpit. His blonde hair spreads neatly upon his forehead while his lips stay in a firm line once he takes a moment to fix the cuffs of his sleeves before resting his hands together in front of him. Gaping at how beautiful he looks; the nerves swerve tremendously inside you because the time is inching closer for you to tell him everything without holding back.

Your shoulders tense once the reverend directs the audience to rise, you are so focused on Yoongi, you hardly can hear the beginning of the wedding march as you swallow roughly. Standing to your feet, your hands are freezing when you hold them together, yet you muster enough to turn to see her make her entrance- the bride who wanted to hold captive of Yoongi’s heart. It’s hard to watch her smile at him as if she truly cares for him, it takes everything not to feel nauseated by the scene. The way she has treated Yoongi, Namjoon, and everyone else it feels like, will never settle with you. The times she obsessively called Yoongi whenever the pair of you would study together, interrupting the time he wanted to spend with his guy friends, or the curse words she would spew at him when she didn’t have her way; or the times she made him cry by threatening to leave him just to turn around and post a selfie of her and a random guy to make Yoongi jealous. So of course, Namjoon would have been heard. He has a heart of gold as well as the rest of the crew. And Yoongi deserves to surround himself with this serene positivity.

She stands before Yoongi as the two join hands. He hardly gives a smirk; doubt seems to exist within his glance, or so you hope. Your icy palms clasp together once the preacher bellows for the guests to now take their seats. The ceremony proceeds, yet you wait for the preacher to say the exact words you are desperately wanting to hear. Lightheaded, you feel the blood drain from your body despite the hammering your heart is profusely beating against your rib cage.

Never in your life did you dream you were going to do what you are about to do. It is bold. It is courageous. And you could care less about what the aftermath will be. The only person whose reaction matters is Min Yoongi’s. The reverend seems to drag his sentences, but when he clears his throat, you straighten your back in preparation for what is coming next.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Here’s your chance.

Hands shaking, body trembling, you jolt from your seat,

“I. OBJECT!”

Dramatic responses of collected gasps reverberate to the ceiling of the building. Eyes turn to stare at you in congruent with the hushed whispers scattering amongst the pews wondering why you made such a bold choice; and, if looks could kill, you would drop lifeless by the dark daggers burning through your skull by the witch trying to be Yoongi’s forever. Fingertips numb, you try to tune out the raving murmurs, you hadn’t realized you closed your eyes for a few seconds to gather yourself, and when you open them, they instantaneously connect with Yoongi’s that enlarged in shock. His thin lips part and as you gaze at him, tears pool though you relentlessly try to fight them.

“Yoongi,” you speak between stammered breaths, “I know this is…. Sudden, and possibly the most insane thing I am ever going to do,” you put a quivering hand to your lips for a second then dropping it to your side, “But Yoongi, if there is anyone who deserves to spend the rest of their life with you, it’s me.” You cannot believe that sentence slipped from your mouth, but in your heart, you know it’s the truth. Just like that, without your knowledge, smiles begin to bloom from the men standing by Yoongi’s side. Not only do you see it, but so has everyone else who has been in each of your lives. Why else would his “bride to be” have been jealous of you since their whole relationship began a few years ago? She could even sense the chemistry you and Yoongi have shared and still share.

“Yoon, she will never see you the way I see you; the way your family sees you; or the way your best friends see you.” From your peripheral vision, you see a gleamingly proud Hoseok along with Namjoon whose hopes are flying as high as yours, but your gaze never once falters from Yoon’s. Wetting your lips, you continue, “I know you. I have always known you. And you deserve the world and so much more.” Yoongi steps forward then pauses to hear more of what you have to say, “And Yoon,” a tear escapes, trailing warmly down your burning cheek, “I am deeply, undoubtedly, and wholeheartedly in love with you.”

In that moment, Yoongi begins to walk down the stairs, Taehyung’s boxy smile lights up his face as he fist pumps excitingly in the air. You may not have used the exact words from his favorite script, but you know you are beyond words with how much you are in love with Min Yoongi. The horrified bride agonizingly tries to stop Yoongi, but he refuses to take his eyes off you, brushing past her, she lights up in prominent rage. You, with glistening hope sparking across your soul, you shuffle past the gawking people in the pew, ready to crash into Yoongi’s arms.

When he reaches you, his tepid palms cup your face, swiping away the tears that just keep falling as you stare into his umber eyes that mirror the emotions you have brought to him that he is finally seeing. Before you can take a breath, he leans in, capturing your kiss exactly how he has desired, but never found the courage to reveal, that he in fact would dream of you too on countless nights. Or when he felt uneasy or sad, he would relive the best memories that happened to be with you to give him peace. Everything you have ever dreamed of is coming true as the fireworks explode in every direction within your chests. He kisses you so passionately that you both forget about the world, your hands dig into the sides of his tuxedo jacket as he deepens the kiss, tugging him as close as he can be.

Namjoon starts clapping as he stands to his feet until the entire place erupts in a fit of cheers. Even though hundreds of people are encompassing the two of you, it still feels like it is only you and Yoongi within the vast universe. How long have you waited for this moment with the one person you have loved for so long? How many stars had you wished on to finally end up where the two of you are now?

Breathless, Yoongi rests his forehead to yours while the sensation of his kiss still lingers, dazed and filled with immense happiness, you gaze at him fully, he speaks, “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

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sagefzy · 3 years

Text

PART ELEVEN: THE PERFORMANCE

perfectionism | prev | next

After sitting down for about ten minutes, Atsumu redirected his attention to the now dimming lights. The once lit up auditorium was now only being illuminated from the light appearing on the stage. There was almost an entrancing aura in the room, everyone gathered in the same room for the sole purpose of watching people showcase their musical talent. Though completely different activities, he couldn't help but be reminded of the similar feeling when watching a volleyball match.

Although Suna had mentioned to him many times that he and you had two very distinct and different personalities, he couldn't help but disagree. From the little he'd observed, you both had strong passions that you had dedicated your whole lives to. Even though you two may approach situations differently. You both have a mutual understanding of the thrill that comes with pushing yourself to the limit for something.

He had never really chosen to get to know another person on a deeper level. Of course, there was Osamu, but that didn't really count since that was his brother. Additionally, his friendship with Suna was only a byproduct of Osamu's friendship with him. Atsumu constantly had girls throwing themselves at him, and even though he enjoyed basking in their attention, he knew that they were only in love with the idea of him.

Outside of volleyball and his family, he never got the chance to have a close relationship with someone, but that was something he was willing to sacrifice for the sake of achieving his dreams. Not to mention, he always had the lingering fear that, in the end, people only hung out with him to get close to Osamu. He really hoped that you were an exception to that case.

The competition had to at least been going on for an hour now, Atsumu thought to himself. When he imagined attending a piano competition, he envisioned a relaxing show that he could attend for free, but that wasn't the case. Instead, he spent his time watching musicians attempt to play grand, complex pieces to perfection, but at most they only achieved mediocre performances. Just how long was it going to take for you to come on stage?

"Now presenting contestant 105, l/n y/n. Playing piano concerto number one in E minor, opus eleven: two. Romance larghetto."

His eyes were directed to your figure that now walked onto the stage. Your head held high, your footing confident. Atsumu grinned, noticing that you were sporting that perfect smile of yours. He watched as you took a deep breath while fixing your stool.

Before your hands touched the keys, he observed how, for a quick second, your eyes changed from confident to anxious when studying the crowd. Your eyes were glued in the same spot briefly, however they were quickly averted back to the instrument. Could it be that large crowds made you anxious? No, it couldn't be, you seemed way too confident walking out on stage. He wondered just what made you apprehensive.

He continued to watch you intently.

Your fingers graced the keys. They quickly found their tempo and danced to the rhythm. You didn't miss a single beat nor note as you played. Everything was played to perfection, just as it always was.

Your smile disappeared, only to be replaced with a face of precision and focus. Your hands produced a soft melody, making the sound glide into his ears. No previous performer enchanted the audience like you did. The notes danced and swayed in the air.

Your song had so much power to it. It was as if a mystical spell was casted in the room the minute that you started to play. Atsumu's eyes widened as he watched you get lost in the song. There was absolutely no hesitation as you played. Your body was completely in tune with the instrument.

Although you weren't saying anything, you were telling a story to everyone in the room, captivating them. It was all perfect. Your rhythm, notes, tempo, and tone- it was exactly as written on paper. You quite literally were playing the piece perfectly. However, the story you were telling with your music, wasn't quite your own, but rather the composer.

You were guaranteed a first place win since you were playing a technical piece perfectly, but it lacked the emotion. You played it exactly as the composer intended, nothing more, nothing less.

Atsumu recognized the seemingly stoic look on your face. It wasn't something he could decipher easily at first, but now hearing you play, he could understand it. You were so obsessed, so intent with playing it perfectly, something he often found himself partaking in when in an important match. You were perfect, but at what cost?

There was no denying that you were extremely talented, certainly more talented than himself, he thought. But, he could only imagine how much more captivating you could be when expressing your own emotions with your talent.

As your song neared its end, the whole room stood up in applause. You stood up, knowing you played it perfectly, but you still felt empty. You remember a time where you used to love savoring the gratification from an overwhelmed audience. Now, however, you stood in front of everyone clapping for your perfect performance, and you couldn't feel less accomplished. Perhaps you were being too hard on yourself. When did playing piano turn into a chore?

You glanced to the top of the audience, the same place you were looking before the performance, and locked eyes with your dad. The same unreadable expression was present on his face. He shook his head and walked out the exit door. Your chest grew heavy, trying its best to hold in your tears in front of the audience.

You bowed in front of the audience, trying your best to conceal the emotions running rampant in you. You swiftly paced yourself offstage, running past your mentor who was there for support and into the backstage bathroom.

Your back leaned on the heavy door, all of your bottled feelings washing out. You looked at your face in the mirror, placing two hands over your heated cheeks. Your eyes started to sting, but you still stared into the reflection. Anger, disappointment, humiliation, vulnerability, and most of all, loneliness. You let it all spill out at that moment.

There was so much more you wanted to do with your music, but at that moment no amount of praise could convince you that it was worth it. All in life you ever wanted to do was make your dad proud, show him that you are worthy enough to be your mother's daughter. Was anything you did ever going to be good enough for him?

"y/n, it's Haruka-sensei." A voice from the door knocked. "I thought you played the piece perfectly, I'll be in the lobby, so come out when you're ready."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Your hands made their way to your face again, this time cleaning up the tears and smudged mascara. Looking up one last time, you smiled into the mirror. Over the years, you convinced yourself that if you faked being happy enough, eventually you will be. It's not like anyone could tell the difference from it anyways.

You opened the door slowly, trying to gain your composure again. You bumped into many kids roaming the halls backstage looking anxious to perform. The maze of people was something you were now used to navigating.

The lobby was empty with the exception of your sensei and dad, everyone else still in the auditorium watching the final stretch of the performances. Haruka-sensei and your dad didn't get along for the most part, which is why you weren't surprised when you saw them standing in completely opposite areas of the room.

Your dad was first to approach you. "What did you think that was?" His voice was laced with alcohol. Your gaze met his. His eyes filled with resentful judgement. "You think you can get away playing like shit and make your way to the top?"

Droplets of tears fell to the ground once more. "I asked you a question!"

You looked to the ground. "No, I know I'll never be good enough." You sniffed harshly, still trying to maintain your composure, but failing. You hated crying in front of your dad. It was arguably the worst feeling in the world, like you were being isolated in a dark void with nothing but disappointment.

He watched you cry. You could feel his gaze burning into the top of your head, which still faced the ground in fear. All of a sudden, you felt a harsh grip on your wrist that was sure to leave a bruise.

"And don't you ever forget that," He spat. "I bet your mother is even more repulsed by you than I am. It's a joke that you think you'll ever be anything great." He shook your arm firmly, forcing you to see the aggravation displayed on his expression.

"That's enough," Haruka yelled, shoving your dad to the side. She might've been a small lady, but she sure did know how to stand her ground. "I can't stand hearing you spread such bullshit hatred to your own daughter. You make me sick. Why don't you go and get yourself even more drunk. Maybe you'll wake up and find yourself passed out on a park bench."

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. He left the building, leaving just you and Haruka.

"Listen, y/n, I think you played beautifully. Your technique was perfect, and with just a few tweaks here and there, I'm sure you'll be more than ready to take the top spot at nationals." She praised. She gave you a genuine smile and pulled you into a hug.

Feeling overwhelmed, you started to cry for the third time that hour. "Shh- don't worry about your dad, he's just a loser-asshole that projects all his issues onto you." You felt comforted by her embrace. Although she'd only known you for about a month now, Haruka had quickly become one of your favorite piano mentors. She had the loving presence and embrace of a mother, something that was so foreign to you at first.

After your heavy tears and emotions subsided, you re-entered the backstage hallways. You sat in the corner of the hallway, directing your attention to a boy- who couldn't have been any older than twelve. He sat next to his mom, holding her hand as he kept on muttering about his nervousness.

You watched as the mom eased his nerves with a single statement. "My child, I love you now, and I'll still love you after you go out and perform." The words warmed your heart. The affection from a mother was a distant memory in your mind. You could never recall a moment you were sad around your mother. Why did she have to leave so soon?

Before the kid could respond, he was called out to perform. He hugged his mom quickly and scrambled to the stage. You sat there lost in your thoughts, imagining what life would be like if your mother didn't pass away so early on.

You sighed. There was no use in fantasizing about a false reality even if it brought you temporary peace from your discomfort. What only mattered now was the present moment.

You noticed that the boy was back, a giant grin plastered on his face as he met up with his mother, it'd only be a few minutes until the winners were announced. Soon enough, all of the competitors were asked to reconvene at the stage.

You looked out at the audience again, but this time it was different. Rather than feeling anxious when meeting the gaze of someone, you felt content. Atsumu flashed his famous smirk and displayed a thumbs up, only to be quickly smacked down by Osamu. The two seemed to get into an argument after that, making you look at Suna who was now a giggling mess. The whole event made you laugh, momentarily forgetting about the heavy reign of disappointment on your shoulder.

However, the three of them got their act together once the top three standings were being announced. This part always made you fidgety. The uncertainty of the outcome always twisted your stomach in knots. Once second and third place were announced you took a deep breath, hoping that you were to be crowned first.

"And-" Here it was, you thought. The moment that decided whether or not you'd go to nationals. "-first place for the Hyogo Regional piano competition goes to-" You could feel your heart beating out of your chest. Your nails dug into your arm, the tension eating away at you. "-l/n y/n."

You almost jumped to the front of the stage when they announced your name. You did it, despite what your dad said, you did it. And it didn't matter what hateful words of disappointment he spat at you because in that very moment, you were enough.

Atsumu watched as you were handed a certificate. A radiant smile now present on your face. This smile was different, though. The one he was used to seeing was the seemingly perfect one, the one so perfect it was almost fake. The one you wore right now was one of genuine, heartfelt joy. Was this the real you? Just what else were you hiding under that perfect smile?

Osamu tapped his shoulder. "Stop staring at yer little girlfriend and let's go to the lobby before it gets too crowded. Suna said we're going to go out for udon."

"Yeah, yeah 'm coming," He muttered, never once taking his eyes off of your smile.

fun facts !

Osamu and Atsumu are notorious for always being late for everything, whether it be 10 minutes to an hour.

Atsumu daydreams when he's bored, only paying attention to what he wants to.

Every time Osamu cooks, he always puts on music in the background and it always differs depending on his mood.

smau written by @sagefzy

taglist: open just send an ask :)

@shephard17895 @art-junkie-13 @vhsryuu @qualitygiantshoepsychic @everytimeswift @kritiiiii @why-couldnt-it-be @sunahyejin @jbsonelesslonleygirl @tanakasimpcorner @iwasunshine @succulentmom @ashy-lyn @bakudummy @rinsangel @kachuuha @sakusasimpbot

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1-800-seo · 3 years

Text

1-800-SEO’s 𖣘 ‘Healing of the Heart’

- pairing: Taeyong X Y/N

- genre: drabble, fluff, alternate timeline, non-modern AU, herbalist/apothecary!taeyong, pining best friend!y/n

- warnings: mentions of mice and ill health. I wrote this ages ago for another idol and it has been sat in my drafts for a year and a half, I apologise if the writing is subpar ://

- words: 1307 (unedited + open ending)

Taeyong felt the patter of tiny feet running all the way up his arm as the brown mouse made its way to the hood of his cape. It rested there, its tiny head poking out and sniffing the air. Taeyong lifted his arms up and felt around in his hood until he touched the warm furry body of his pet mouse, Ida. He picked her up in his large hands, scooping her tiny body, and brought her down to rest on the desk before him. She walked in a small circle before deciding to climb up his stacked pile of encyclopaedias, making her way up them like an enlarged staircase. To avoid her falling off, he picks her up again and places her back in her cage, and then turns back to his large boiling pot of mixed herbs and roots. The pot bubbles and sloshes as he mixes the contents around with a wooden spoon, the herbalist thinks of what to add next. His latest concoction is a blend intended to soothe a fever, something his village will most likely need as winter draws near.

The autumnal sunlight seeps in through the adjacent window and the small beams light up Taeyong’s shop. It illuminates the plants sat in the window who are assumably soaking it up, and sheds light through the glass herb jars along the dark wooden shelves. Taeyong racks his brain for the correct herb combination for his creation. As he lands on an appropriate root he has in his collection, you walk through the door of the shop, little bell alerting him to your presence. It’s not the first time you’ve been in Yongie’s shop, in fact it’s not even the 20th time, since you’ve been in ‘TY’s Herbal Healing’. Your regular visits to his shop had become a daily thing, the title of best friend had been bestowed after you became his regular customer ever since the opening of the shop. The only good thing your ill health had brought about was you meeting Taeyong, ever since you’d met him that day he’d opened the shop up, you had been inseparable. Your shared love of plants being the building blocks of that once budding friendship with him.

“Hey Yongie” you say, unwrapping your scarf from your neck and placing it on the counter. “How’s your latest broth?” “Not bad, thank you, I’ve just been attempting to level out the acidity in it, I’m thinking of adding some ginger to make it more palatable. Could you pass me some from the shelf please?” “No problem.” You reply whilst taking some from the shelf and jumping over the shop counter to his brewing quarters. The front of his shop is arranged neatly, the counter clear, bar from his old bonsai stood stout over in the corner. This neatness isn’t carried over to his brewing quarters; open jars of roots and herbs lay open on his worktops, the stove is on heating the bubbling broth, a few books are open and strewn across the sides. Even Ida’s cage is a bit untidy although you doubt this is Yong’s fault, she has a habit of upending her little wooden house and throwing her bedding everywhere.

You pass the ginger to your herbalist and watch as he works, picking up a chunk of the root and chopping it up on the board he has off to the side. He then promptly tosses it into the pot and stirs it a few times. You love watching his deft hands work, seeing how much care he puts into each and every one of his creations. His love and care doesn’t just extend to how he makes his medicines. You can see his loving touch in his shop, in his home, in his music. It’s demonstrated through his care for his plants that litter his shop, through the carefully arranged displays, his well thought out diagnosises to patients. You see it in the delicately handsewn patchwork bed sheets he has, the expertly placed candelabras, the devotion to his pets. And most of all you see it in his beautiful songs, the way he arranges for the lyre is unearthly, and only in the sense that the songs he creates are so ethereal it sounds as if it was plucked from heaven.

The time’s when you are so lost in thought like this lead you to wonder how close you are to your precious Yongie; and your precious friendship, would you prefer if it was something else? Something more intimate, something where you could greater witness the inner workings of his world. You could watch all day his loving works and his caring deeds, you could love him with all your heart. You wonder, whether it would be so bad belonging to the village herbalist, you don’t think it would be hard to cross the boundary from friend to lover. You stare into your herbalist’s deep onyx eyes and realise you could get lost in them forever.

Your thoughts had lead you to make a move, you had to do something. Spending all your life single wasn’t your plan anyway; having resided yourself to a life alone, convinced no one would love you with your many ailments and need to be looked after. But with Taeyong, that didn’t feel the case. You were sure he could love you properly and care for you in all the right ways, the question is, would he want to? You longed to find out. Those days you’d spent pining for him as you weaved a basket or baked some bread. He permeated your thoughts, seeping into the the fabric of your mind at all hours of the day and night, never did you stop thinking about him and you were a little ashamed to say that. But time had come to say what must be said, and so, you did.

“Taeyongie? Have you ever thought about courting anyone?” You query, legs swinging as you sit on the counter, an anxious tremor making itself known through your fingers.

“I have... I’ve thought about this before, I’d like a doting partner, I’m not sure if anyone could love me though. Who would want to put up with me?” He replies, following his sentence with a nervous chuckle.

You gulp at his words, mind racing. “I-I could put up with you. I wouldn’t be ‘putting up’ with you though, I’d give you all my love.... I’ve thought about you for so long Yongie, I wasn’t sure if you liked me, loved me even. I want to be the one who loves you. Will you let me?”

His mouth hangs open, eyes wide with shock. He’s stopped staring his broth and has paused his actions. “I- I’m so sorry for springing this on you. It doesn’t matter. I was stupid to think you would ever love me like I’d hoped.” You look at your hands, head hung low.

Taeyong interrupts before a tear can make your way from its eyes. “No— no! I love you y/n, I really do. I was just so shocked you felt this way.” He takes your head in his hands and rests his fingers on your cheeks, hands splayed. “How long have you felt this way?” He asks.

“Umm, about a year.” Embarrassment flushes your cheeks, staining them rose red. “You should of told me, I’ve loved you for so long. I just thought no one could love the clumsy healer at the edge of the village. I told myself I was ok alone. Now hearing you say this has made me realise how much I need you in my life.” He punctuates his sentence with a tender kiss on your forehead, such a sensitive and emotive action, you feel see his shoulders release tension as he does it.

Some risks are worth taking.

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hb-writes · 3 years

Text

Don’t You Dare Touch Me

Summary: When Sam and Dean let Nora in on a hunt, she gets more of an experience than she bargains for. She deals with it the only way she’s ever seen a hunter deal—by burying it deep down below a level of anger and alcohol.

Characters: Dean Winchester & Nora Winchester

Content Warnings: Angst, typical Winchester family business - murder/ death, emotional pain/ trauma, and alcohol consumption.

"I think that's enough."

Nora scoffed, her eye contact with Dean remaining steady as she pitched back the drink, feigning indifference as the whiskey seared her throat, sending a warmth through her chest that barely flickered when compared to the pain surging through her as she searched for some sort of release or whatever it was that her brothers and father and every hunter she had ever known seemed to be chasing down the bottom of a bottle.

Dean rarely had much to say about his sister having a drink these days, hadn't really since she turned eighteen. He didn't have much of a leg to stand on considering he'd started consuming much earlier than she had and it didn’t bother him much anyway. Nora was a good kid. She was usually responsible about it.

Nora had only gotten drunk once in the time since she’d started indulging without asking permission, and she’d done it in the company of her brothers, the three of them collectively getting a little out of hand in the name of celebration, but this was something different. This wasn’t a finger of whiskey enjoyed with her bare feet up on the coffee table or Nora and Sam sampling a fancy bottle of wine. It wasn’t a beer used to wash down one of Dean’s famous burgers.

He recognized this as something else entirely, something he’d done more than once, something he’d never wanted for his sister.

Dean wasn't sure how much Nora had had, but his sister had been alone in the library since they arrived back at the bunker, heading straight there without a word to her brothers, the music coming from Sam's laptop growing steadily louder until it finally pulled Dean from his bedroom to check on her while Sam went out to pick up dinner.

The bottle of whiskey sat beside his sister was nearly empty. Dean couldn't remember how much was left before they'd gone out for the latest hunt, but he imagined it had been more than half-way full the last time he’d had it out of the cupboard. How much she’d had didn't matter though. His concerns were more closely tied to the fact that his sister had sought this out on her own, reaching for oblivion as she pored over the book they should've read a bit closer the day before, poring over the passage he shouldn't have rushed her through.

She'd been curled up with the book in the backseat for the entire ride back to the bunker, completely silent with her headphones firmly in place, not a single request to stop for the bathroom or lunch or to stretch her legs made during the seven-hour journey, not a single interruption to Sam and Dean's conversation voiced, no complaints or sounds coming from their sister in the back seat other than the turning back and forth of pages as she memorized the words Dean hadn’t given her a chance to even skim.

She'd gone for a shower back at the motel, been in there for maybe twenty minutes and she’d come out what Dean would have called stoic, strong and stoic and in control of herself. Dean was a little impressed, proud of the way she was handling everything, especially considering what she'd been through, what she'd ended up having to do, but Dean recognized it was his father’s voice in his head. It wasn’t him.

He and Sam should have known better than to be impressed, should have known better to be proud of Nora for something like that, something their sister wasn’t even capable of, pushing it all aside like that in the name of soldiering on. Sam and Dean knew their sister better than that, knew better than to accept her words at face value when she insisted she was fine after what she’d been through, what she’d done. And even if it hadn’t been their sister, even if it had been some random person, Sam and Dean should've known better to accept that sort of nonchalance because neither of them had been fine the first time someone else’s blood made its way onto the soft pad of their inexperienced hands. It wasn't something you could ever really wash away, not in the span of a shower, not in the span of a lifetime.

That's why Dean had always relegated his sister to the role of researcher. There were no blood splatters where the books were concerned, not direct ones anyway. It was safer, set a physical and emotional distance between Nora and what they really did, spared her aside from the occasional paper cut and whatever ideas the knowledge put into her head. But Dean understood why she was eager to experience the rest of the job. He'd been the same way once, curious and pulled to it with no real clue as to what hunting really meant.

But just like Nora’s consumption of alcohol, Dean and Sam had been able to push her introduction to it much later than their father had done for either of them. Sam and Dean had spent years instilling in her how important the research was, reminding her how necessary that component was to the success of her brothers’ business.

It had all started as a way to keep her out of the actual hunting, to keep her occupied on the long days left alone in hotel rooms or to entice her acceptance of the long stays at Bobby's, emphasizing the opportunity it gave her to learn from a seasoned hunter and his extensive library. It had been designed to keep her happy and safe, but it had become more than that at a certain point, more than a diversion and a convenient excuse because Nora was good at researching, better at it than either of her brothers, something Sam and his big shot college education were loath to admit some days.

Nora was smart, natural with the academic stuff like Sam had always been and always with a book nearby from the time she could read, but she had a hint of rebellion in her that kept her from loving school in the same way Sam did. And whenever she hadn't done as expected in regards to the school stuff, she was always quick to point out that Dean hadn't done as expected either, something he often had a hard time arguing with.

So her diligence and skill she’d developed with the research had come as a bit of a surprise, something Dean partly attributed to Nora being so eager to prove herself to them, so eager to fit some place in her brothers’ business that her determined eyes saw things Sam and Dean’s eyes more quickly dismissed or passed over.

Her determined eyes had still been looking, barely glancing up when they'd come back to the motel the day before, more engrossed in the words before her than her brothers’ updates, and Dean should have paid more attention to that, should have given more weight to the slew of old tomes and Sam’s laptop spread out in front of Nora on the motel bed. He should have heeded the fact that she clearly wasn’t finished with her part of the job, not ready to relinquish the work to them, but Dean hadn’t read his sister right. He’d gone ahead and announced their next course of action, decided what the kid was and that they could take care of things easily without his sister finishing her part of the job, a simple extraction and they'd have Jesse Miller back to frat parties and sleeping through the 8 am college classes his parents paid for from their retirement savings.

Nora had fought him at first, asking after a few more hours with the books just to be sure, but Sam had already agreed and Dean had easily dismissed the need for confirmation, their collective confidence in the plan enough that a bit of doubt about her abilities, doubt about her experience and hunches, crept into Nora’s mind, and her own confidence fell away, allowing her to set her own plans aside as she agreed to the course Dean charted, moved along that road by the fact that Sam and Dean were letting her come along.

It had been a while since Sam and Dean had let her do anything more than sit in the car, and she’d been eager, but now they all wished they'd left her behind sulking at the motel. Nora hated it and she usually railed against her brothers' protection with varying levels of intensity, but it had protected her, physically and mentally. It had kept her safe and whole and all of the things Sam and Dean hadn't been for a long time.

Nora met Dean's eye before filling the glass again, her hands shaking as the liquid sloshed over the rim.

“To saving people, hunting things, the family fucking business,” she said, lifting the glass in his direction and offering him a smile that made him feel sick in the pit of his stomach.

"Nor—" Dean stopped himself when she tipped the whiskey into her mouth, a soft hiss coming from her lips before she started filling the glass once again. "I said that's enough."

Nora stood and backed away from the table, taking the glass and the bottle with her as she stepped away. Dean took a few steps toward her, hand extended and reaching for the glass though her back was to him as she trailed away.

“Nora, give me the glass.”

Nora tilted her head back a moment before extending an arm out behind her, setting the now empty glass in his outstretched hand while retaining the bottle and the small bit of whiskey left inside. She let out a self-satisfied snort and sent a smirk over her shoulder at him.

Nora was drunk. She wasn't herself, wasn't in control. She wasn’t conscious of exactly what she was doing. Dean knew that and he knew that he had no right in being pissed off for her behaving the way she was. It wasn't on purpose, but it set something ablaze in him anyway, a flash of anger running through him at his sister's smartassed defiance.

Dean set the empty glass aside, letting it clash with too much force as he placed it on the table and he moved with a more deliberate pace to close the distance she'd put between them.

"Nora, give me the goddamn—"

Dean didn't have a word to describe the sound that ripped from his sister's throat as he pulled her back to him, one hand wrapping around her arm as the other closed over her hand in an attempt to release the bottle from her grasp. Dean understood it though and it stirred something old and nearly dead, something interred deep within him, the sound of his sister's pain resonating so strongly with the residual something that still lived within him, a pain applied and buffed into his bones and soul, so well permeated that he'd never wash it away.

"Don't you dare touch me."

Even if Nora hadn’t growled the words, her wants had been made clear enough, discernible in the way she recoiled from Dean’s touch as if his fingers burned the skin through her shirt sleeve, made obvious by the way she tried to rip herself away from him. Dean didn't allow her to break the contact though, not even when she released a scream so high pitched that Dean could still hear a ringing in his ear a few seconds later when she stopped to take a breath.

The bulk of the remaining whiskey had spilled out in the struggle, drops of it covering them both, but Nora still gripped the neck, her effort to keep hold of the empty bottle renewed as Dean attempted to rid her of it, to get it out from the small space that existed between them, to save them from an even bigger mess, a different kind of pain. Dean couldn't imagine having to physically hold her down to bandage the cut that would inevitably come from allowing her to continue having the thing in her grasp.

Dean made a decision then and almost mechanically took hold of the bottle, twisting Nora's wrist as she cried out in pain, her whole body turning as he did it, her fingers involuntarily releasing the bottle which Dean quickly set aside, freeing her wrist, almost certain she'd use the opportunity to put some distance between them, use it as justified ammunition to keep him away.

Nora put her hands up and shoved at Dean’s chest hard enough that he stumbled back a step, dazed for a second as she rushed forward, whatever energy she’d been using in retaining the bottle, all of the focus and determination she’d held, now directed at her brother instead, and Dean simply took it, took the fists pounding against his chest, standing firm as Nora pushed against him, trying to move him back, trying to push him away as she sought a bit of the satisfaction she’d gained when he’d first stumbled, her words starting to come as the adrenaline subsided, a string of pained demands taking the place of the pounding fists, a continuous stream of cruel words wielding more power than any of her punches could have, most of them heavy enough and true enough that Dean tried to ignore a good bulk of it, tried to remember that Nora was working at creating a distance between them, both physical and emotional.

Her arms grew slack and Dean finally got a grip on her wrists, her fight renewed as he gained control.

"You can't push me away, kid."

She stopped fighting against his hold then and Dean sighed, relief just beginning to flow into him as he shifted his grip, preparing pull Nora against his chest, to work on getting her through the worst of it, to help her to shift from the anger to the tears, hoping he’d get her to sleep after that.

"You're murderers,” she said, her words barely above a whisper though they held a certain conviction. “You and Sam. Killing innocent people. Innocent fucking people. Ruined. Broken."

Dean swallowed as Nora stepped back, using his second of shock to put some distance between them, both of them working through her words and pulling out what they'd really meant, so much more than Nora labelling her brothers as exactly what they were.

Sam and Dean were hunters. And they had killed innocent people, hurt innocent people, ruined innocent people, broken them.

And Nora had now done the same. She'd summed it all up in words that took her only seconds to get out, expressed that she'd been ruined and had done the ruining, some precious part of her, the person she would never be again, killed in the three seconds it took for the knife in her hands to plunge into Jesse Miller's side, that part of her dead before the kid was, taking its last breath before the first bit of Jesse’s blood came to the surface of the wound she'd inflicted in the name of self-defense, the wound she'd inflicted because her brother had been wrong, wrong in not letting her finish the research, wrong in allowing her to come along, wrong in not watching over her more closely once they were in the middle of it, for putting her in that position.

Dean looked away from Nora for just a moment, to gather himself and avoid having to look at her as she came down from the anger, the hurt taking over as the venomous rage subsided, the tears coming from her heavy eyes somehow different than those that had been there just a moment before, the choked sobs somehow screaming at him though no sound came from her mouth.

"I—"

Dean rubbed a hand down his face, pulling his eyes back to Nora as she tried to speak, her feet moving just a step or so forward as she tried to fill the gaps, tried to fill the space between her and Dean and the space between what she'd said and what she'd meant, but Dean didn't need her to say any of it. Although she hadn't been able to get past that first syllable, Dean knew his sister had opened her mouth intent on labelling herself in the same ways she'd labelled her brothers.

Murderer.

Killer.

Ruined.

Broken.

Dean took a single step, the distance between them already small enough that he could easily reach out and pull Nora against his chest. Any composure she’d had left her shattered as he did it, her whole body shaking with the sobs that were no longer silent, her pain no longer buried under a layer of anger and stoicism as she clung to her brother, barely aware of his attempts to soothe them both.

"It's alright, kiddo. I know."

Bye, Bye Apple Pie (Supernatural) Masterlist

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

#500 follower celebration #angst prompts #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester #nora winchester #winchester!sister

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fangirlandiknowit101 · 3 years

Text

Here's the sad pining sasuke i wrote last night... it's not finished and who knows when/if i'll finish it. university AU, not edited and there's some naru//hina and sasuke//OC bc i couldn't think of a canon character that fit. The texting part is also weird bc i wrote it all very fast lol. i'm sharing bc why not *shrugs*

xxx

It hurts, to look at them.

Sasuke can’t help himself. Naruto is his best friend, after all, and he’s not yet so desperate that he’ll avoid him. It’s worse, somehow, that he can’t even dislike her.

She’s good for him, he thinks, when he’s feeling particularly self-deprecating. Her hair is dark and her skin pale as porcelain, and that’s where the similarities end between him and Hinata.

Sweet, and so patient with Naruto. Soft-spoken, but not a pushover. Impeccably dressed, always, no make-up needed to outshine any girl beside her. A picture perfect couple, that’s what they are. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t have to watch it unfold from the front row.

How her shyness turned to surety, how her eyes would catch on Naruto and look away before, but now – now she looks at him like he belongs to her, soft smile on her plump lips.

Sasuke can’t even hate her, and he wishes he could.

It’s not her fault that Sasuke is the way he is. She doesn’t know, isn’t doing it on purpose. And yet, there’s a stab to Sasuke’s chest every time she takes his hand, every time Naruto tucks her silky hair behind her perfect ear.

Naruto will kiss her cheek and Sasuke will be looking, always looking. His face devoid of emotion, his voice carefully neutral. He can’t be mean to Naruto’s girlfriend, though he wishes he could. Maybe if Naruto got mad at him and pushed him away, Sasuke would be free to move on.

It’s more likely that Sasuke would apologize and do better, and he’d rather spare himself the embarrassment.

Sometimes he imagines that Hinata will find out, that she’ll start treating him with suspicion, watch his every move with her wide eyes. Feel threatened by him. But Sasuke is no threat. He’s tired and hurting, but he’s not a homewrecker. It would be a lot easier if Naruto didn’t keep nudging him in Sakura’s direction.

It’s not Sakura’s fault, either. She’s dreaming of something she can’t have, and the similarities make him sick to his stomach.

Sometimes he thinks he’ll date her, live the lie to the fullest. Give her what she wants, since he’s doomed anyway. He doubts he’d last long, though. If he had even the slightest bit of interest in women – but when he looks at her, there’s just no attraction. He’s not sure how no one’s noticed yet. It’s not like he’s that good of an actor. He thinks the only reason no one’s figured it out is because he’s so deep in the closet, and they’re all so heterosexual. Why would they suspect he’s gay? It suits them better if he isn’t.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was that late already,” Sakura says beside him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

The bar is lively around them, but the music is at a bearable noise level. She’s looking at her phone, frowning. On the other side of the small table, Naruto pouts.

“It’s not late!” he objects, the beer in his glass sloshing around as he waves his hands around. “We just got here!”

“We’ve been here for three hours, I think,” Hinata says, leaning her cheek on his shoulder.

Sasuke wonders how she manages, the way he moves around so much. Perhaps her body is as soft as her voice, easily following him.

“I told you I have to get up early tomorrow.” Sakura sighs, irritated. She fishes her bag up from the floor, putting her phone inside it. “I really have to get going.”

“I’ll walk you to the station,” Sasuke offers. Not because he particularly wants to, but he’s not in the mood to subject himself to third-wheeling Naruto and Hinata. “I should get going, anyway.”

“What?” Naruto looks disappointed, more disappointed than when Sakura announced her departure. “I thought you were free tomorrow.”

Rolling his eyes, Sasuke swallows down the last of his drink.

“Doesn’t mean I want to stay up all night,” he counters with, easing out of the booth. “I still have to study.”

“You study too much,” Naruto mutters, giving Hinata a smile like an afterthought when she squeezes his arm.

“Maybe if you studied at all you wouldn’t need to panic before every exam,” Sakura nags at him, coming around the table to wait next to Sasuke. “Some of us care about our grades.”

“Nerds.” At least Naruto looks a little happier, and Sasuke hates to think that it’s because he thinks anything’s going to happen between him and Sakura. “Don’t get lost, you two!”

They say their goodbyes, and Sasuke tries to pretend he doesn’t notice how Sakura’s cheeks fill with color when they step outside the bar. She’s put a jacket on, but Sasuke’s fine in his sweater. It’s not cold enough that her blush can be blamed on the weather.

“Thanks for walking me,” she says, hefting her bag higher up her shoulder. She’d joined them straight from the library, researching her latest paper. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s fine,” he tells her, hands tucked into his sleeves.

He doesn’t want to run the risk of her attempting to reach for his hand. As much as he dislikes her attention, it’s safer if she thinks he’s just playing hard to get. He won’t have to explain, then, why he hasn’t outright told her to give up. He should, he knows. But Naruto would just nudge him towards some other girl, would bother him about it until Sasuke started going on actual dates. It’s touching, how worried he is over Sasuke potentially being lonely.

Too bad Naruto himself is the cause of it.

“You’re not doing anything tomorrow, then?” Sakura asks, stepping aside as they meet a group of half-drunk businessmen. “I’m working until five…”

It would be so easy to invite her out. To suggest a movie, or trying out that new café near campus. To watch her eyes light up with hope, watch her mouth stretch into an excited smile.

“I really do need to study,” he says. “And I’m almost out of clean clothes.”

None of it is a lie, technically. He’s just not sure he’ll actually do either of those things tomorrow.

“Oh.”

She tries to hide her disappointment, and Sasuke is an expert by now at pretending he doesn’t notice. They walk the rest of the way in silence, waving a quick goodbye at the ticket gates as Sakura’s train is due to arrive in just two minutes. Sasuke buys a drink from a vending machine and takes small sips as he waits for his own, mindlessly scrolling through social media. He almost ignores the text Naruto sends.

> Wanna hang out tomorrow?

He contemplates it. On the one hand, yes, of course he wants to. On the other, having an entire day to himself has its appeal.

> I’ll be busy

> Ooh, with sakura?

The train arrives, and Sasuke snags a seat next to a couple too caught up with each other to pay attention to him.

> No

> Got studying and laundry to do

The reply is instant.

> That’s too boring!!! I’m coming over for lunch

> Whatever

He pockets his phone, and stares down at the bottle in his hands for the rest of the trip. It doesn’t help against the warmth rising in his chest. At least he doesn’t do this to Sakura – doesn’t invite himself into her space, ignorant of her feelings. It doesn’t make him feel better.

xxx

Sasuke doesn’t have a lot of friends. He’s got Naruto, and then there’s his small group of friends from high school. Naruto is the only one who still lives nearby. Rather, Sasuke had ended up staying in Konoha like him. It’s a big enough city that most of his classmates are strangers, although slightly less so in their second year. He stayed with his parents for his first year, but when one of his cousins moved abroad for work he took the opportunity to stay at her apartment instead. It’s closer to his university, and if he, potentially, wanted to bring a guy home then no one would know.

He doesn’t think his parents would mind, but there wouldn’t be any privacy. He relishes in it, and Naruto does, too.

“I should just move in with you,” Naruto groans, spread out on his couch. “You wouldn’t believe how annoying my mom was this morning.”

“I think I can believe it,” Sasuke tells him, cleaning up after their lunch. “And just to be clear, I’ve never said you’d be welcome to live here.”

“Stingy,” Naruto grumbles. “How long is your cousin gone, anyway?”

Shrugging, Sasuke dries off the counter just for something to do with his hands.

“A year at least. We’ll see. So it’s not like I’ll be living here forever.”

“But still!”

“Where would you even sleep?”

Naruto happily pats the couch. When Sasuke scowls at him, he simply grins.

“Come on,” Naruto says. “I want to watch a movie.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I need to study.”

Still, he gives in too easily. Naruto lifts his legs to give him room, dumping them all over Sasuke’s lap once he sits down. It’s things like this that makes Sasuke’s heart refuse to give up. He leans his elbow on the back of the couch, cheekbone pressed to his closed fist. He doesn’t say anything when Naruto picks a drama at random, letting him comment on the plot as much as he wants. Watching movies with Naruto is certainly never quiet, and he winces as Naruto kicks his legs as he shouts his anger at the main character.

When the movie ends, Naruto doesn’t start a new one. Instead he chews on his bottom lip, playing with the remote. Sasuke considers getting up to use the toilet, maybe suggesting going to the corner store for snacks, but then Naruto clears his throat suspiciously.

“What?” he asks, irritated when Naruto takes his time.

“So, how are things going with Sakura?”

He resists the urge to pinch his nose. He still lets out a heavy breath, not quite a sigh but close enough that Naruto frowns.

“I mean,” Naruto continues, “you could just ask her out. She’s definitely going to say yes.”

Sasuke shifts, uncomfortable. Naruto’s legs are still on top of his. His socks have little frogs on them.

“I’ve told you I’m not really into the idea of a relationship right now.”

“Uh-huh.” Naruto rolls his eyes, pushing himself up and finally removing his legs, crossing them at the ankles instead. “Sounds like excuses to me.”

“Just drop it, Naruto.”

“But if you get together things will be so much easier,” Naruto insists, poking at his arm. “We can go on double dates, and stuff.”

Sending him a glare, Sasuke pulls a leg up to his chest. It won’t prevent Naruto if he decides to get comfy on his lap again, but it might make him think twice at least. Naruto’s only wearing shorts, and all that naked skin isn’t good for his heart. It’s definitely too cold for it, but Naruto’s never been one to care about the weather.

“We already go places together.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same!”

Sasuke pinches his lips, looking away. If he’s not careful, those large blue eyes will convince him to cave in, and then he’ll find himself with a girlfriend. He does a lot for Naruto, but there are limits.

“I’m not going to ask her out,” he mutters, knowing it will only lead to more questioning.

Sure enough, Naruto makes a noise of protest.

“But you haven’t rejected her either!”

“She hasn’t asked me out either.”

“It’s obvious she likes you.”

“That’s her problem.”

Naruto kicks at his thigh, using his heel. He looks properly annoyed now, as if Sasuke is a petulant child, refusing to do what’s best for him.

“If you got over yourself for a minute, you’d realize what a catch she is!”

He doesn’t reply. Let Naruto think he’s just stubborn, or an asshole, or whatever. Let him think Sasuke’s just stringing her along, keeping her attention while refusing to commit. It’s better than the alternative.

“Leave it, Naruto,” he warns, getting up and moving to the kitchen. “We’re not talking about this.”

At least Naruto doesn’t follow him, though it doesn’t make much of a difference. The apartment is small, no wall separating the kitchen from the living room. He searches through his cabinets, locating a forgotten bag of wasabi peas. He throws them at Naruto’s head.

“Eat these and shut up,” he says.

To his relief, Naruto does as told.

xxx

He picks up the call from Karin half-distracted, mind still stuck on a question for tomorrow’s seminar. As usual, she doesn’t wait for him to say hi, making her wince with the volume of her voice.

“Do you have any idea how tiring it is to listen to Naruto whine about you?” she starts with, the background noise suggesting she’s outdoors. “Can’t you just tell him you’re gay and put me out of my misery.”

“No thanks.” He drops his pen on his desk, rubbing at his eyes. He regrets not going to the university library, at least then he wouldn’t have been able to pick up the call. “Was that all? I’m kind of busy.”

“You know, this is exactly why I moved away,” she continues, ignoring him. “I thought I could get away from all the high school-level drama. Just get yourself a boyfriend, and go on those stupid double dates my cousin is so desperately yearning for. How hard can it be?!”

He can feel a headache incoming, and he rubs his fingertips between his brows. Naruto had sulked for hours the day before, until Sasuke got sick of it and threw him out. It was definitely backhanded of him to call Karin and complain.

“If you really wanted to be left out of it, why are you calling me? That’s the opposite of not getting involved.”

“Because it’s really painful and I’m morally obligated as the only person with functional brain cells to tell you to move on. Juugo’s too nice to say it and Suigetsu would give you terrible advice and sit back and watch. I’m being nicer to you than you deserve.”

“By telling me to move on,” Sasuke deadpans, wondering why his parents couldn’t have settled down somewhere else.

“Well, someone has to do it! Clearly I’m the gay cousin in the family, so you’re screwed. Might as well get over it and get laid.”

“I really hate you sometimes, you know that?”

She huffs at him, traffic and broken conversations filtering through the phone. There’s the jingle of a shop’s door, and the noise cuts off.

“Your pining is just getting sad,” she eventually replies, distractedly. “Trust me, I know my cousin. He’s not worth it.”

Something unpleasant churns in Sasuke’s stomach. He wants to argue with her that he is worth it, but he doesn’t want to land himself in an hour-long lecture if he can help it. He rolls his neck, making a face. She’s got a point, but he doesn’t enjoy hearing it. His life would be a lot simpler if he could find someone who made him forget about Naruto. He’s just not sure it’s fair to expect someone to instantly replace a lifetime of friendship.

“I don’t think I should have to come out just because Naruto irritates you,” is what he says instead, leaning back in his chair. “What if my parents find out and disown me? You want to be responsible for that?”

“Sasuke,” she sighs, “your brother is literally gay and your parents love his boyfriend.”

“So?”

“Stop. Making. Excuses.”

He bites his cheek, holding back a denial. He’s not worried about his parents, he’s worried about Naruto’s reaction. That things will change between them. That he’ll think Sasuke has feelings for him, which would be correct but would also ruin absolutely everything.

“I’ll… consider it,” he concedes, after a long silence, during which Karin has finished buying whatever it was she needed.

“Really? Because I’m going to hold you to that.”

He sighs.

“Next time I’m not picking up when you call me.”

xxx

A few weeks pass, and not much changes. Naruto still takes up too much space in his head and life, Sakura continues to drop hints but refuses to make the first move, and Hinata is still as lovely as ever. She doesn’t seem to have much of a personality other than being Naruto’s girlfriend, but to be fair Sasuke hasn’t precisely paid attention or tried to get to know her. Naruto’s birthday is drawing closer, and he can’t bring himself to do anything to break the status quo before then.

He’s been considering it, though. It would be a relief to stop pretending. He can’t imagine himself finding a boyfriend, though, because where would he even meet someone? It’s too awkward to use a dating app, and he’s not precisely social. He doesn’t have any experience, either, if you don’t count those childish games they played sometimes when they were younger. And that one time Naruto kissed him by accident when they were twelve.

Because of this, he’s really not expecting it when one day in class, just as the lecture ends, his eyes fall on the messenger bag that the guy next to him has just finished packing. There’s a rainbow pin on it, and Sasuke blurts out his question before he can stop to think about it.

“Are you gay?”

He only lifts his eyes from the pin when the surprised silence stretches out a bit too long. Their eyes meet, and the other boy is staring at him like he’s not sure how to react.

“Uh,” he says eventually, fingers clenching around the bag’s strap. “I mean, yes? But if you’re thinking about the pin it’s just a regular rainbow…”

He trails off, and Sasuke feels his cheeks heat up a bit. He can’t believe he just asked, when he himself has gone to such lengths to make sure no one made such assumptions about him.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine.”

Maybe he should know the guy’s name, but he doesn’t. He’s pretty short, hair dyed a light brown and glasses perched on his nose. Cute, but Sasuke’s not sure he’s his type. He’s not sure he has a type, other than Naruto.

“Are you gay?” the guy asks him, eyebrows rising above the frame of his glasses.

Sasuke licks his lips. He could say no, but to what end?

“I am,” he forces out, breathing in a deep breath.

“Oh.” There’s red color blooming on the other boy’s face, his eyes flickering to the side for a moment. “I was kind of hoping, but, um… I mean, hoping sounds weird! Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to ask outright.”

When Sasuke stands up, he realizes he’s almost a head taller than him.

“I’m Sasuke,” he offers, clicking his laptop shut and slowly sliding it into his bag.

“I know. I mean! I’m Hiroshi. Nice to meet you.”

Sasuke nods, and awkwardly turns to leave. Hiroshi stops him with a hand to his arm, though, and Sasuke swallows nervously as the turns back. He’s not interested in Hiroshi, not really, but he’s never been asked out by a boy before and the novelty of the situation is getting to him.

“Do you, um, are you busy right now? We could have lunch?”

He weighs the pros and cons in his mind. As nervous as Hiroshi looks, there’s a determined glint in his eyes that sways Sasuke over.

“Okay,” he says, and just like that he’s doing what Karin told him to do.

He’s trying, at least.

xxx

Over the course of a week, including having coffee together and a visit to the aquarium, Sasuke learns a lot about Hiroshi. Or Hiro, as he likes his friends to call him. They don’t have too much in common, but they’re both gay and studying agricultural economics. Once Hiro gets over his initial shyness, Sasuke finds he’s got a great sense of humor and won’t hesitate to poke fun at him.

It’s a breath of relief, to spend time with someone who doesn’t know him from before. He didn’t realize how much he needed it – just being able to be himself, without constantly keeping himself in check.

He can’t fool himself to think it’s enough to replace Naruto, but maybe he doesn’t need to replace him. Maybe it’s enough that Hiro seems to like him. He doesn’t really think about it, when he invites Hiro over on a Saturday night, after they’d had dinner at a nice udon place.

“Oh, wow,” Hiro says as he steps into Sasuke’s apartment, making an impressed face. “Nice place.”

“It’s my cousin’s, so no need to sound so impressed.”

Hiro rolls his eyes, taking off his shoes and jacket and following Sasuke inside.

“Alright, I’ll try to keep it in,” he teases, sitting on the couch when Sasuke motions him towards it. “But it must be nice, to have your own place like this. The dorms are fine, but I can’t exactly bring guys there.”

Humming his agreement, Sasuke grabs two cans of soda from the fridge, handing one of them to Hiro when he sinks down on the couch next to him.

“Want to watch something?”

Hiro nods, and Sasuke brings the TV to life. He’s not expecting anything to happen – they’ve only known each other a week. He’s still coming to terms with having a friend other than Karin he can talk to like this, and she doesn’t really count since there was never the potential for anything to happen between them. Hiro is… potentially someone Sasuke could date. At least there’s nothing wrong with him, not yet, and Sasuke’s easing himself into the idea of getting to know him better.

He finds a movie at random, some sci-fi that doesn’t look terrible. The movie turns into background noise as they talk, Hiro’s eyes watching his face more than the screen. It’s nice, in a new, exhilarating way, to have a guy’s attention on him like this. He’s not sure what to do with it. When Hiro moves closer, knee touching Sasuke’s thigh, hand resting on the back of the couch and occasionally touching his neck, Sasuke can’t find it in him to move away.

It feels like a secret, shared between the two of them. He thinks of Naruto for a long moment, allows himself the pain lacing through his chest as he imagines light brown hair replaced with blond, dark eyes replaced with blue. Then, he pushes it away, tells himself he can have this. The emotions are only his own.

It’s all happening too fast when Hiro grows bold, leaning in to press their mouths together, but he doesn’t care. It’s no one’s business if he spends the evening on his couch with a boy in his lap, a boy who isn’t his best friend.

The pain is easier to swallow if he tells himself that he’s the only one hurt.

#at this point i'm just writing whatever's in my head #something is better than nothing #i hate tumblr's formatting

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