#don’t ask me specifics about this AU I just wanted them to be all friends and happy

[ktficworld]

Behind The Red Curtains

Pairing: soft dark! Steve Rogers x actress! reader

Summary: You come to know that your success might not be solely because of your talent.

Warnings: 18+, dub-con, forced relationship, bondage, size kink, degradation + praise kink, choking, oral(f receiving ), unprotected sex( it's fiction, your life's not), dirty talk, explicit language, explicit sexual content.

(Let me know if I forgot something)

Prompt: Oral sex, overstimulation, praise, Mob au, Blackmail + Cum play + “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you even enjoyed it.”

A/N: So, this is my entry for the cum together extravaganza hosted by @labella420 and @stargazingfangirl18

I wanted to write this for a long time after the provocation by @biteofcherry 👀. I hope you all enjoy and this is my first time writing smut so, be gentle.

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Main masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

“Johnny Storm was seen with the new sensation in the modelling industry yesterday night. Rumor has it-”

You pressed the switch-off button with more force than needed as the squeaky voice of the anchor finally died down. Throwing the remote across the bed, you groaned in agitation.

You were dating Johnny Storm. Everything was going well, the meeting was story worthy, he was handsome, charming and had some good qualities you were looking for. This was the first relationship you got into since entering the film industry. Because you may be a hopeless romantic, but you were also choosy.

You didn’t know what happened in the process that just torpedoed your budding relationship. One day you were walking out of a cafe hand-in-hand and the next day, he was fucking some modelling sensation. Maybe you got lost in translation.

Or maybe he was just a fucking asshole. No matter what happened it showed you his true colors. That or instead of coming to you to talk out his issues, he went around, fucking and ghosted you.

Oh, but that was not the problem. The real problem was that you were shooting a movie with him. A romantic movie, with sex scenes. And you have no idea how you would be able to show any affection or chemistry on the screen without being awkward as fuck. This would be the best test of your acting skills for sure.

“Why do you look like you regret being born?” your friend and manager, Wanda asked as she entered your room.

You glanced at her and rolled your eyes. She was trying to lighten your melancholic mood but, it was of no use. “You know damn well why.”

She sighed. “I know, but you’re a great actress. You could easily pull off a serial killer then a rom-com is nothing for you. Don’t get worked up about it. Just imagine your celebrity crush instead.”

You laughed at that. You worked with people whom the masses considered celebrity and if you had a crush, you’d simply ask them out. So, you’re stuck in that department.

“I appreciate your support and I’ll get over this. Just give me some time. Is that why you came here?”

Wanda shook her head with a smile. “No, actually the PR guy told me to tell you to go to partage restaurant. Someone wants to meet you.”

You frowned. “You know if I started giving time to ‘someones’ then I won’t even be able to breathe. I need the specifics.”

“He didn’t tell me. Said the person didn’t want to be known till you meet them. But he said you need to go or they’ll be pissed and it could pose a problem to your career.”

Some rich asshole again. You pinched your nose in frustration. People really glamorised a celeb’s life but if they knew that you all have to play rich people’s puppets, they wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about it. 

“Fine, I’ll go. What time and day?”

“8 p.m Sunday.”

“Great. Now get lost, I need my beauty sleep.”

Your heels clicked on the floor as you stepped inside the restaurant to utter silence. 

The usually bustling restaurant was deserted. There was no violin swimming in the air, mingling with the chatter of the expensive people, the polished tables had no spilled drinks and the fine plates had no leftovers. The lobby had no sight of a reception and all the staff had evaporated out of existence. You were half doubting yourself that maybe you arrived at the wrong time or date. Maybe the restaurant was closed.

But all of them vanished when a prim and proper lady approached you. You had never seen her before but you didn’t care to ask if she was new.

“Good evening, ma’am, you may go to the VIP area upstairs. Sir is waiting for you there.” She said in a professional voice.

“Yeah, sure. But can I ask why the restaurant is empty?”

“He booked the entire restaurant.” She said like it was the most normal thing in the world. It was not like this place costed more than the top-paying actors in the Hollywood.

You thanked the woman with a polite smile you went upstairs to get to the VIP section.

The he made you shudder from inside. Another sleazy old man who thought that you would open your legs for him just because he was rich was awaiting you and judging by the stunt he pulled. You’d have to be more tactful.

Reaching the shiny golden doors with a lion emblem, separating the demi-gods from the gods, you knocked on the door of the VIP room.

“Come in.” A thick and deep voice called out, making you frown. How come an old man has such a great voice?

Oh, but how wrong you were. Because, as soon as you opened the door, in front of you, sat a man who was far from aged. He was pure muscles. His rings sparkled in the chandelier lights. Draped in the finest black suit with his blonde hair combed back, sat none other than Steve Rogers, the mafia lord of New York. The one who you have been trying to avoid your entire career. Who posed as a successful businessman but everyone was aware of how he earned his dollars. Just, they were too afraid to acknowledge it.

You couldn’t move an inch, frozen from fear and surprise. You had only met him once, during the premiere of your debut film and people had acted like he wasn’t someone who could wipe them off from the face of the earth without even blinking an eye. That night, his eyes were glued to you like Hades's gaze on Persephone. So intense and consuming that you never wanted to see him again.

And now, here you were.

“Sit down, darling.” He husked out, the sound of alcohol filling his glass reverberating through the walls.

Breaking out of your trance with a gulp. You pulled out the chair and sat down across from him while your heart was in your throat. “Good evening, Mr. Rogers. What brings me the pleasure of your company.’ You managed to get out without your voice cracking.

He smirked and leaned back on his chair. “It’s your beauty, your talent and your creativity that brings you here, sweetheart. I’m a big fan of art and beautiful things, you are both of them.”

“Thank you…” You drawl out, expecting him to continue.

“I liked you the moment I saw you. In your pink dress, you looked so innocent, so shy. Overwhelmed by the media attention. I knew you would do something big so I gave you the freedom to shine and shine you did. However, it looks like your freedom has got to your head.” The last sentence was said with a lower voice and an ominous smile.

Your hands became sweaty as they clamped down on the armrest. “I’m not getting what you are trying to say.” You whispered out. 

His chuckle only made your heartbeat faster as he leaned forward and his gaze bore into your soul. “Let me rephrase, I claimed you the moment I saw you. But I knew you had potential so I let you go but your little dance with Johnny Storm made me realise it was time you became mine.”

“What-what did you do?” You choked out but you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer.

You yelped as he yanked your chair closer towards him till your knees were touching. Your chest moved rapidly as he leaned closer, his hands covering yours on the armrest.

“Awww, don’t play stupid, honey. Johnny, he’s a himbo and you are mine,” He said as his left hand moved to caress your cheek as you flinched away from his touch. “So, I pulled some strings, fed some mouths with dollars and your cute little on-set romance came to an end.” Your eyes widened in horror as he was the one that ended your relationship with Johnny. 

He gripped your face in his big hand and turned your head so that his eyes burned through yours. “Trust me, honey, I was generous with him. I could have him disappear and no one would have given a shit.”

“No.” You whispered, wrenching his hands away. You suddenly stood up from your chair, effectively surprising him.

“No?”

“That is not happening. I don’t want to be with you, I’m sorry.”  You stumbled back to the door but before you could touch the doorknob, you were whirled around and pushed against it.

“When did I tell you, you could say no?” Steve growled his hand wrapping around your throat. “If you think you can reject me then you are sorely mistaken, darling. Don’t forget that the production house you work with the most is mine.” 

You gasped. How could it be his? It was of Tony Stark, you scorched the earth and back and found no such connection. 

Steve noticed your reaction and tsked.“You didn’t know? Don’t worry, you are not stupid sweetheart. The public doesn’t know that Stark is nothing but my pawn.” His other hand snaked around to squeeze your ass through your jeans and you screwed your eyes shut as his touch sent tingles through your body and your breaths became shorter.

He tugged you closer to him with your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. “Now, do you still want to be stubborn?”

Now, you were no dumbo. If Steve can jeopardize your relations with his production then he can also ruin your entire career. Mob involvement in the film industry is an unsaid rule. However, you didn’t know their claws were so deep and sharp.

“And what if I leave? Leave this industry?” What could be more precious than your pride?

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Then you’ll just be the wife of Steve Rogers who was an actress. Remember princess, I’ll never leave you alone. If I held onto you for three years what makes you think I’ll not find you and drag you to my hell?” 

Tears threatened your waterline as you murmured. “You are really forcing me?” What a stupid question to be asking a mobster.

He let out a throaty chuckle and moved his hand from your neck to his pant pocket however he was still invading your private space as his lips were inches away from your lips. “I’m giving you options: either come willingly or I’ll force you. Your choice, darling.” 

He fished out a silver card from his pocket, tracing the sharp and cold edges of it on your face, meandering down your neck and stopping only when it reached the valley of your breast. You gasped harshly when he slid the card inside your bra, the chilled hard paper resting against your warm skin.

“My number, call me when you make a decision. You have one week.”  He whispered against your lips before sealing the unspoken vow with a kiss.

With that he slipped away from your body and took his seat again like dark clouds gilding away from the moon before shortly, engulfing it once again. He resumed sipping from his glass like nothing serious happened and said nonchalantly. “You can go now.” 

You ran to your car like you were burned. Which you were, your soul was burning. Burning from the choices you were given. Which was essentially choosing which cage you preferred better, golden or grey.

“Did you like the dinner?” Steve asked in his deep voice as he sat across from you at the dining table.

Blinking your eyes away from the full moon that shone outside the dining room window, you glanced at Steve and nodded. “Yes, I liked it.” 

You did come to him willingly in the end, after all, what choice did you have? The moment you admitted your defeat and called Steve flashed in front of your eyes. His smug and triumphant words ringing in your ears.

“Nice choice, princess.”

“You seem to like the moon a lot,” Steve observed as his piercing gaze never left you, noting your every move and reaction.

You looked down at your hands, clasped in front of you. His presence still sent chills of fear down your spine. His imposing figure and intense gaze made your heart race. Not to mention the way his eyes sparkled with desire and lust whenever they laid upon you.

“Yes, the night is beautiful.” You replied softly.

“Do you want to go upstairs? In the balcony for a better view? I also have a very pretty garden.” Steve offered and you refrained from frowning. 

From the moment you accepted his advances, Steve has been acting like the perfect lover. Sending flowers, expensive gifts, wanting to have nice and deep conversations and supporting you in your work. But still, you couldn’t decipher if he was actually being nice or plain manipulative.

However, you had grown tired, sitting and chatting in the room, the walls suffocating you. “I would like that.”

Steve grinned and stood up from his chair, taking a few long strides he reached you and offered you his hand. “Let’s go.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, slipping your hand in his, you got up. You sucked a sharp breath when his hand tightened around your smaller one and his eyes grew darker. You ignored the building tension as he led you upstairs, to the balcony.

His mansion was spectacular, painted beige with marble murals. It resembled old French castles with intricate paintings from Greek mythology on walls to railing carved with various plant and flower motifs.

When he said he enjoyed beauty, he wasn’t bluffing.

Stepping on the top floor, there was a lounge area with a fireplace on the right and a couch on the left. In front was the glass door leading to the balcony. Steve opened the door and you had to hold back your gasp as the view was absolutely breathtaking. 

It had the same marble railing as before and also had a sitting space for two people with two chairs and one glass table, perfect for a cosy morning or evening. The balcony ran along the entire top floor, connected with all the rooms.

However, the main highlight was the enormous garden that stood before your eyes. Tall trees were perched vertically of all types, some bearing fruits, some flowers and some none. Speaking of flowers, bright, colourful flowers adorned the garden like jewels. Rose, jasmine, sunflower, etc scattered all over with moonlight pouring on them.

It was straight out of a princess movie and you could spend your entire life wandering inside it, reading books under the tree shade.

“It’s gorgeous.” You whispered to Steve as you stepped forward, leaning on the railing.

“I know, my mother made it. She wanted me to keep the garden big and flourishing. So, I put everything I could to keep it perfect.” Steve revealed and moved behind you, his body pressing against yours.

You were so engrossed in gazing at the garden that you missed his hand coming to cover yours and he laid a soft kiss on your cheek.

“What are you doing?” You questioned as you tried to step away from his grip but he had you trapped.

“Enjoying my view,” He said as he gripped your hips and pressed them against him, his semi-hard cock pressing against your ass. “See what you do to me?”

His lips trailed down, kissing and sucking on your neck. His left hand travelled from your hips to your breast, he squeezed the underside of your tities while grinding his erection against your bottom. Your breathing was getting heavy as he continued to massage your boobs and sucked on your neck, collarbone and shoulder.

You had to refrain from biting your lips. His strong body and demanding moves were making you unwillingly wet. But he forced you into a relationship you didn’t want, you didn’t want this, right?

“I don’t want to do it.” You whispered despite wanting nothing but his hands under your scarlet dress.

“No?” He chuckled. “Let’s check, shall we?” He whispered seductively in your ear.

Your eyes widened as you thrashed in his grip but he stopped all your attempts to deny the truth with a hand around your neck and a squeeze that made you go still. His other hand glided under your dress and found your panties damp.

“Your pussy proved you wrong, princess.” He said with a smug laugh. He sucked at your pulse point as his fingers moved your lace panties aside and caressed your folds. The suddenness made you let out a choked moan as your hold tightened on the railing.

His words embarrassed you but you couldn’t deny that his touch was making your body betray you. He played your body like an instrument.

His fingers ran along your petals, spreading your arousal and brushing your clit, his index finger teasing your entrance when he abruptly stopped.

You blinked, gasping and panting. You were about to glance at him in confusion when he bent you over, your head resting against the marble railing as he went down on his knees, bunching up your dress around your waist. He ripped off your panties, the sound heating your cheeks with humiliation.

“You deserve to be punished.” He said through gritted teeth as he slapped your clit, making you jerk at the delicious sting as he spread your legs wider for him so your pussy was on full display. Wet and ready.

“Spank your ass till it’s burning for going out with that pathetic excuse of a man Johnny or have Bucky watch you as I fuck you senseless. He’s also a fan after all." He spread your labia and sucked on your clit, making you moan out loud as your stomach flipped.

“But I can’t, because this pussy is too tempting of a distraction.” He lamented as his lips went down to your pussy and his tongue teased your cunt with slow yet precise strokes.

Your left hand moved to his hair and tugged on the blonde locks as his administration made your clit pulsate with need. You couldn’t decipher whether you wanted him to stop or continue.

He tutted on you pulling his hair. You whimpered at the loss of his mouth on your pussy when the clicking of his belt echoed in the empty space. He yanked both your hands behind your back and secured them in place with his belt, the grip firm but not harsh. 

“No.Touching.” He growled in your ear as his words were accentuated by a slap on each of your buttcheeks, making you whimper in pain and pleasure as you let your forehead rest against the cool marble and he knelt again.

He took your clit in his mouth again but with more ferocity as your pussy clenched around nothing, “Oh my god, Steve yes!” You mewled.

“Captain or I won’t let you cum.” He commanded as his fingers joined in and drew slow and teasing circles around your cunt.

“Captain, please.” You pleaded as your orgasm started to build up in your stomach.

“Good girl, that’s my good girl.” He finally eased his index finger inside of you, his thick and long finger filling your pussy and you were afraid as to how you were going to take his cock as his finger alone stretched your vagina.

He pumped his finger in and out of you all the while kissing and sucking your clit. When you bucked into his finger he added another one, exploring your velvety walls to find your spot that would make you sing. He curled his fingers when you dripped around his fingers and mouth.

“Mhmm, captain. Feels so good.” You cried out as your climax was approaching you faster, your skin glistening with sweat under the pale moonlight. It was so embarrassing, being this crying and moaning mess he had turned you into. His hands kneading your thighs and ass.

“Are you going to cum, princess?” Steve asked in a husky voice as he kept up his pace, replacing his mouth with his thumb to grow circles around the bundle of nerves,

Your skin was on ablaze, the coil tightening in your belly as you were tethering on the of falling apart. “Yes, Captain. Please let me cum.” You requested, spellbound. He didn’t need to ask you to beg, you were already sliding into your subspace. His finger found your g spot as he twisted his fingers, making you whimper as your breath shuddered.

He snickered, sending vibrations through your body. “I didn’t know you were so obedient, good to know.”His hand came down on your clit and it was the final straw that threw you over the edge. 

You came with a loud moan as the blinding pleasure brought tears to your eyes and you gushed around his lips and fingers, coating his chin. He lapped all your juice, his pace not halting as he drank your nectar greedily.

Your body was quivering from the force of your orgasm, your heart racing as you tried to collect yourself.

Steve got up on his feet and you almost collapsed when he wrapped a sturdy hand around your shaking body, pressing you against his chest. He jutted your chin up and grinned down at you. “Aw, you already look so fucked out darling but it’s just the beginning, we have the whole night.” He smashed his lips with yours, swallowing your tired whimpers and moans.

After devouring your mouth and leaving you breathless. He picked you up and started walking to his left. You were too dizzy to notice your surroundings till you were hitting silk bed sheet and plush mattress. You glanced at Steve through your hazy vision as he stood at the end of the bed.

He smirked down at you. “How about you return the favour, sweetheart? Strip.” He ordered and it was enough to clear your mind of any hangover.

Your hand snaked to your back and you slid down the zipper and pulled off your dress, your breast clad in red lace coming into view as you completely removed the dress and discarded it on the floor.

You then unclasped your bra, trepidation and anticipation mingling together as your boobs spilled out. Now, you were completely naked, your panties already torn and tossed away.

“On your hands and knees.” He commanded as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, his abs and chest made your mouth water and you wanted to grab and touch him but shook away the thoughts.

You got on your hands and knees, clothes rustling till the bed dipped behind you. Steve ran his hand up your spine, sneaking underneath to grop your breast. You mewled as his thumb tweaked your pebbled nipples, twisting and flickering the buds till you were writhing under him.

His other hand smacked your ass, causing you to whimper. “Spread your legs more, I want to see that pussy.”

You spread your legs some more, displaying your glistening cunt to Steve’s hungry gaze. “You have such a pretty pussy.” He said as he played with you enough that you were whining before he rubbed the tip of his cock over your cunt, spreading your arousal and his pre cum.

You shuddered, you had an inclining that he was big but how much? That you didn’t know since you couldn’t see his dick from your position.

He slapped the head of his cock on your pussy and you visibly shuddered. He did it a few more times before you were dripping for him and was on the verge of sobbing in frustration. 

“Such a shame that it is about to get ruined by my big cock.” He declared and pushed the tip inside you. You moaned as you awaited your eventual mounting.

You clutched the silky sheets as he slowly bottomed out, your walls spasmed as they tried to accommodate his length. You were so full already and he was gracious enough to give you time to adjust. All the while he explored your body, kissing your spine, kneading and spanking your thighs, ass and breasts. His touch was electrifying and in no time, you were whimpering for him to move.

“Ah, someone is getting impatient.” Steve mocked but began moving out of your hot channel. He was slow and deliberate, his girth dragged through your walls and your pussy fluttered.

He hissed. “Don’t do that darling if you want to walk the next day.” He pulled out all the way, only the tip remained inside. Pushing your head further into the pillow as he slammed inside your cunt in one stroke, taking your breath away.

“Look at your pussy, pulling me in and clenching around me,” He grunted as his hold on your hips tightened. He looked where you two were connected and sighed in awe. “I didn’t know you were such a slut, you look so innocent. But look at you now, dripping around a man’s dick you barely know,” He pulled out again and thrusted back in with the same power. The slow yet rough pace he set made you cry out in pleasure as your climax started to stir in your lower belly again. “But I like how cockdrunk you are that you just don’t give a shit anymore.” He groaned and pulled out.

He changed his angle slightly and when he thrusted back again, he hit your g-spot and you screamed, flames of pleasure intensifying. He tugged you by the hair, pressing you against his toned chest. “Tell me that you are my slut.” He growled in my ear.

“I’m your slut, Captain!” you said breathlessly as his deep thrusts made you gasp.

His hand came to your clit and his thumb started drawing circles, making you tremble in his grip. “Yes, you are my slut. My fuck toy, who would let me do whatever I want and whenever I want with her because I own you now. Repeat what I have said.” He thrusted harder and if it wasn't for his strong grip, you would have fallen down. 

“I'm your fuck toy. You can do whatever you want and whenever you want with me because you own me now.” You cried. 

“Such a good obedient girl- Ahh, taking my cock so well. Now, you are going to ask me to make you cum.” He groaned his thumb sped up. Leaning down, he sucked on your pulse point, surely leaving a hickey, marking you as his.

“Please Captain, let me cum! Let me cum around your big cock.” You squealed out. Tilting your face upwards he kissed, hard and rough, you moaned against his lips as you tasted yourself on him.

“Good girl, now cum for me.” He demanded as fingers and thumb pinched your clit, his cock hitting your sweet spot in quick succession.

You shrieked ‘captain’ as you came around his girth, squirting on his dick. “Good, what a good little slut for your captain.” He moaned in satisfaction as he nibbled at your earlobe, fucking you through your release. 

He let go of you when your shaking died down. Your face fell on the pillow as you tried to catch your breath. Your fucked out mind didn’t register that he didn’t come till you were being flipped on your back. Coming face-to-face with his annoyingly handsome face.

“You didn’t think it was over, did you?” He rasped with a smirk as he plunged into your cunt once again, but this time with more fervour.

You instantly mewled but the overstimulation and coming two times had worn you out, you weren’t used to this. You attempted to scoot away from Steve. “I-I can’t, too much.” 

He pulled you back down on his cock, wrapping your legs around his waist. He restrained your hands over his head with one hand, leaving you unable to escape the pleasure he was giving you. “You can and you will. Get used to it, sweetheart. I’m being gentle right now,” He growled as he moved on top of you.

The pace was rough and fast, the bed rattling with each thrust, your boobs jiggled from the speed. He placed his hand on your lower stomach. “Do you feel me here?” He asked, the belly bulge sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes, I do, Captain.” You managed to choke out as he pounded in your pussy mercilessly.

“Then enjoy it, honey. Enjoy, writhing and moaning underneath me. My cock stretching your tight cunt, because that’s where you belong. Taking my cock like a good little fuck doll.” He husked as the force of his thrust increased with each passing second. The pain and pleasure mixing made tears fall from your eyes, the knot tightening yet again.

Steve leaned over you, kissing your tears, trailing down to your neck and then your boobs, groping and licking the plump area before taking your pebbled nipples into his hot mouth.

“Oh my god!” Your back arched, pleasure zapping through your body like thunder as his hot tongue sucked on your nipples and his hand massaged your other breast. All the while his thick cock rammed into you, his pubic areas brushing your clit.

Your hands jolted to touch him but he had your hands pinned above. You shut your eyes and enjoyed the unyielding pleasure he was bestowing upon you as pressure built up for the third time in your stomach. Your moans and his grunts bounced off the wall, so did the clapping sound of skin slapping against the skin.

Suddenly, his grasp loosened before coolness touched your ring finger. You looked up as he slid a beautiful sapphire ring into your finger, sealing your fate with his forever. You managed out a surprised gasp. He brought your hand down and pinned it to your side, giving you a proper view of the ring as it sparkled under the stark glowing moon.

“Imagine me, sweetheart,” Your breath caught in your throat as his speed grew frantic, his cock hitting the deepest part of your cunt as he chased his own release. “Imagine me when you have to romance on screen with some pitiful A-list actor.” He whispered in your ear, intertwining your hands with his as he kissed your lips. It was softer than the previous ones but no less demanding.

“Imagine me when you have to pretend to fuck someone on set. Because I know,” He whispered against your lips before lowering his hand to your clit and he drew fast circles on the bundle of nerves to help you fall apart. 

Steve cursed under his breath and thrusted faster when your walls clenched his dick. “Because I know that I have ruined you for any other man. Ruined this pussy for anyone except me. So, imagine me when you kiss a man and realize that he’ll never make you feel this good.” You nodded along his words as tears streamed down your cheeks, smearing your eyeliner and mascara but he paid no heed to it. Rather, enjoying your fucked out state.

The fullness of his dick inside your pussy and the overwhelming stimulation finally tipped you over the edge as you came the hardest and it hit you like a tsunami.

After some more brutal thrust, he came inside of you with a loud groan. His hot cum spilling inside your abused cunt as it milked him dry. He pumped into you a few more times, giving you every last drop of his seed and staying inside your warm channels till his cock softened.

He put his forehead against yours as he finally pulled out and you almost whined at the loss of dick but restrained yourself as his cum leaked out of your hole.

Only heavy breaths echoed in the spacious room as both of you caught your breath. You were beyond regaining your previous strength as you couldn’t even move a muscle. However, Steve recovered shortly afterwards as he kissed your forehead and whispered smugly. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you even enjoyed it.” 

You didn’t answer because he was right, you enjoyed every bit of it even if you didn’t want to. Before you could drown yourself in self-pity. Steve picked you up and took you to his bathroom to soak you in a nice, warm bath…

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #mob steve #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x reader au #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #mob steve rogers #CT 2024 raffle entry

[hazbinhotelie]

I need to work on a list of headcanons for Alastor in general, hold on

-HOOVES (confirmed)

-Tail and fluff (unconfirmed :()

-Deer noises (slightly confirmed? With Rosie)

-Is a very snuggly person but in the sense that he can invade other people’s space when he wants, but no one can touch him without permission (this might be canon, I haven’t checked)

-No Touch Days! Where he doesn’t want to be touched at all, and honestly, that’s relatable.

-When I’m making him as show-accurate as possible, he’d be sex repulsed.

-otherwise I’ll be sticking labels on him like little stickers, swapping them around for situations as needed. In one fic he’s ace, in another, he’s aroace, it’s all fiction you can’t stop me >:)

-This asshole is a virgin who definitely platonically married Rosie for tax benefits

-His radio static can interfere with Vox’s signals (which leads to so much potential for trolling, but also angst if it’s possible to manipulate Vox’s perceptions of things)

-Zestial helped him sew his mouth shut/into that near-permanent smile (or taught him some of what he knows)

-He hates Valentino for many reasons, his treatment of women (and people in general tbh) being a big part of it, but also that whole love potion thing he did with Velvette. And of course, his preexisting hatred for Vox and their affiliation with him probably plays into it

-I don’t think he hates Vox. Even their rivalry is one sided lmao.

-I think they had a falling out and it was bitter for a time, but Alastor has gotten over it. Now he’s just trolling Vox because it’s what he does to everyone.

-he has a little ace ring on his finger that Rosie gifted him

-he can’t actually play piano, but he is a good dancer and can obviously sing well

-he keeps up to date on the latest music and news (and vaguely knows of tech, he just doesn’t care for it)

-he has tea sessions with Rosie specifically dedicated to learning slang

-the two points above this are specifically for his radio show, because I headcanon it’s not all just screams, he’s got some actual segments in there. Especially considering he used it to diss Vox in Stayed Gone and nobody was surprised

-Under different circumstances, he would have definitely adopted Velvette on sight. (Keep in mind for AUs)

-his antlers are sensitive, that’s why he usually keeps them so short (instead of having them big, like in his full demon form)

-His ears are also sensitive! And soft. Don’t touch them, or you’ll die.

-he gives both the best and worst relationship advice, depending on who’s asking and when.

-He doesn’t like sweet things very much, but he’ll eat it when necessary (to make his friends happy. He won’t admit it)

-He eats raw meat like an absolute menace, but he is a good cook.

-he’s very particular about the way the kitchen is organized, no one else is allowed in lest they mess it up. No one is allowed to Interrupt his cooking, but they may offer to help clean up the dishes afterwards.

-he hums old tunes when cooking (or doing anything really) and his radio static accompanies him at all times, it’s just a matter of how loud or quiet it is. Usually people don’t notice it because it’s so quiet.

-The static changes volume, frequency, etc. depending on his mood, a key indicator when he’s pissed off or joking or not.

#alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #alastor #headcanon #alastor headcanons #the radio demon

[funkyboxofinterests]

Allen’s dad(s) has got me down bad

Inspired by this

I have an agenda and it’s to appreciate the effort that Hoshino sensei puts in making all the dgm dads hot

#dgm #d gray man #allen walker #kanda yuu #lenalee lee #howard link #alma karma #mana walker #cross marian #yulma #don’t ask me specifics about this AU I just wanted them to be all friends and happy #how does Allen have both cross and mana as parent figures at the same time? idk but I’m rolling with it for joke reasons #the best part of drawing this was imagining allen and lavi sititng on one side of the booth while the other four squeeze on the other side #originally alma was sitting next to lavi but he missed yuu and thats why they are all squished like sardines #kanda would normally get upset but he can’t get pissy at alma for wanting to be closer #I might have gotten too invested in this happy modern AU while drawing this #allen gets paranoid of leaving his friends in a room alone with his parents after this #my art

[alvojake]

Tight Spaces | L.HS

「paring」 : badboy!heeseung x fem!reader 「word count」 : 5.6k

「synopsis」 : who would have thought a little game of truth or dare your sister forced you to play would end in such a way?

「genre」 : smut, fluff, a tiny bit of angst, university au(ish)

「warning」 : mentions of cheating, toxic ex, mentions of alcohol, truth or dare, seven minutes in heaven, making out, unprotected sex (big no-no), dom!heeseung x sub!reader, dirty talk, conservative neighbor?, praise, pet names (pretty, baby, princess, baby girl...), teasing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), creampie, manhandling, multiple orgasms, aftercare, heeseung is sickeningly sweet at the end, lmk if I missed anything!

It seemed like the world was out for blood, specifically yours. It hadn’t exactly been a good week for you, first you woke up late for an important test, then someone spilled their nasty kale smoothie all over you, staining your favorite hoodie that monstrous green, and you were stuck working overtime, without the pay, because no one else wanted to work. However, the sweet cherry on top was that you just so happened to walk in on your boyfriend in bed with another woman.

It wasn’t like he was the best guy to ever exist and your friends told you multiple times to just leave him. He was also toxic as hell and could give less than two shits about you or anything related to you, but that didn’t keep you from running out with tears streaming down your face. 

Now that Friday has finally rolled around you wanted nothing more than to curl up in your bed and forget the world around you. Though as fate would have it, your sister barged into your room without knocking and flipping the light switch on momentarily blinding you.

“Go away, Sana!” You whined, grabbing your pillow to cover your face surrounding yourself in darkness once more.

Sana just rolled her eyes before walking over and snatching the pillow right out of your hands, “Get your ass up y/n, I’m not letting you wallow in your self-pity while there's a rager going on in town.”

You let out a huff as you lay flat on your back, staring at the dark-haired girl, “I don’t wanna go.” Tears involuntarily filled your eyes and you quickly bit the inside of your cheek to keep them at bay.

Sana stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, a glare adorning her features, “is this about Sungho?” 

You didn’t say anything, but then again you didn’t have to because your face says it all. Sana just sighed before walking over to your closet and pulling the doors.

“Sis you have got to get over his sorry ass,” She rolled her eyes as she shuffled through your clothes all while you sat up in bed, watching her.

“It’s not even that he’s bothering me-” The look Sana gave you told you she believed otherwise, “Alright maybe a little bit, I mean he's going around telling everyone I’m a bore.” You scoffed, running your fingers through your hair. “He’s the real bore here, only caring about himself… asshole.”

As you went on a small tangent Sana put together an outfit, something that would catch someone’s attention but you would still be comfortable in. She was determined to get you laid or something so you would get out of your little rut with Sungho. When she was done she walked out of the closet and laid the clothing on your bed.

“What is that?” You asked with wide eyes, staring down at the outfit. Admittedly it was cute, but you were sure you’d free your ass off in the cool autumn weather.

“The outfit you’re wearing, now go take a shower, you stink.” With that, Sana walked out of the room leaving you sitting there to pick your jaw up.

And with that you stood in the living room of a very unfamiliar house, red solo cup in your hand. The bitter liquid was becoming more and more tolerable the more you watched your ex quite literally sucking the face off of a new woman. 

“Are you seriously just going to stand here and watch that disgusting rat or are you going to try and enjoy yourself?” The sound of your sister’s voice broke your focus on Sungho. 

You look over at her as you take another sip of whatever concoction was in your cup, “what do you expect me to do? Dance with some rando?” 

Sana burst out laughing, catching the attention of some of those around you two, Sungho included. He detached himself from the chick he was with before making his way over to you with a smug smirk on his face.

“Well, you’re the last person I’d expect to be here.” At the sound of his voice, you rolled your eyes before grabbing Sana’s arm and walking off, ignoring his calls for you to come back, “Good luck finding anyone who wants to be with your boring ass, bitch.”

His words hit a deep nerve and it took all of your self-will to not turn around and deck him right in the face. Noticing this Sana tugged you towards a group of people you barely recognized. Looking around you saw Sana’s two best friends and their boyfriends, but you had no idea who the rest of them were. You felt really out of place among them, your sister was popular while you, well for the lack of better words, were a nobody. 

“Let’s play some games!” One of Sana’s friends, Hanna suggested before pulling her boyfriend to the empty couch.

You, however, just stood there awkwardly unsure of what to do. You then felt something bump into your shoulder causing you to look over. There stood the university's residential ‘bad boy’ Lee Heeseung. 

“Pretty sure that includes you, come on.” He smirked, causing your heart to speed up, your face flushing red. Heeseung motioned to the group before walking over to them while you watched him. The black ripped jeans he was wearing hugged his legs perfectly and his black band t-shirt was nothing short of ‘him’.

“Y/n get over here!” Sana called out, snapping you out of your trance. You meekly walked over, taking the empty seat in between your sister and another girl. Looking up you locked eyes with Heeseung once more and you thanked the dim lighting otherwise he’d see you turning into a tomato. 

“Let’s play truth or dare!” One of the guys suggested as his buddy finished chugging his beer and holding out the bottle. Everyone around you cheered and agreed while you could have sworn you had been cursed.

Now you sat in a circle playing the classic game of truth or dare, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, but you? This was your worst fucking nightmare imaginable. Playing a game where you either had to answer some of the deepest, darkest, dirtiest, and freakiest questions to exist or do some provocative, cringe dares they could think of. This kind of game was not on your forbes to-do list, but you couldn’t just back out, not without becoming the laughingstock of the entire university.

You sat there, hands tucked under your bare thighs as you watched the guy next to your sister spin the bottle. Heat travels up your neck as the bottle stops spinning, landing right on… you.

“Y/n finally! Truth or dare?”

‘Fuck.’ You didn’t like the way he phrased that sentence nor did you like the way everyone's eyes fell on you. However, you weren’t going to give them a reason to tease you so you put on your best poker face before taking a drink.

“Dare.”

“Oh, she’s bold!” The guy smirked which left you feeling uneasy, the feeling worsened when he started looking around the circle.

‘Please don’t make me grind on someone or some shit.’ You silently prayed that you wouldn’t have to embarrass yourself in front of these people, who you didn’t even know. 

“Seven minutes in heaven with… Heeseung.” You could have sworn you felt your heart stop. Your eyes widened for a millisecond before you were able to cover it, then looked up meeting the eyes of the chosen male.

At first, you didn’t move not really wanting to be in a small confined space with another male, not right now at least. Sana just smirked as she bumped into your shoulder letting you know that the time wouldn’t start until you and Heeseung were in the closet. Rolling your eyes you handed her your drink before standing and making your way to the hall closet.

There were times you wanted to strangle your sister, more than you can count on your fingers, but right now? This very instance would probably take the cake. You stood damn near chest-to-chest with Heeseung in a tiny closet, neither of you saying a word, but you could feel his breath fanning your face. The smell of his cologne filled your senses making you lightheaded as you tried to will your heart to calm down.

Heeseung’s eyes never left your face, watching and studying your expressions. He leaned back a bit more to try and give you more space so you were comfortable which only caught you off guard.

“We don't have to do anything, you know? Just make some shit up when they ask.” His voice was low causing heat to pool in your stomach as you looked up at him. Your eyes were slightly wide, but he could see the curiosity in them.

You hadn’t expected that from him, not with the rumors you heard around campus. The girls that talked about him always talked about how he wasn’t one for relationships and that he could give two shits about their feelings, so to say you were pleasantly surprised would be an understatement.

Heeseung pulled his hand from his pocket before snaking around your waist, pulling you flush against him, “Unless you want to pretty…”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked up at him, searching his eyes. Then Sungho’s words rang in the back of your mind, instantly ticking you off. You were going to prove that you weren’t this bore that he made you out to be and if sleeping with Heeseung would prove that then so be it. So without another thought you grabbed the chain that was sitting around his neck pulling him down, connecting your lips to his.

His lips were soft against yours, sweet like cherries with a hint of alcohol, addicting almost. Your brain felt fuzzy as his lips melted into yours, and his tongue swiped at your bottom lip prompting you to part your lips. It didn’t take long for him to pull you closer, tongue slipping into your mouth.

Heeseung watched in amusement as you chased after him as he pulled away. Your swollen lips and glossy eyes almost made him want to say screw it and just fuck you in this closet, but he’d rather not get interrupted.

He leaned down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “We won’t have enough time in here, but we can go back to mine, how does that sound?”

“Please…” You let out a breathy sigh as his lips connected to the soft skin of your neck, leaving wet and sloppy kisses in his trail. Biting your lip to conceal any noise from any listening ears as he bit down and sucked on your skin.

After the seven minutes were up, the closet door flew open only to your classmates' dismay you and Heeseung were standing opposite each other. They ushered you to tell them what had happened to which you just shrugged your shoulders.

“Nothing much,”

However, your sister saw the darkening spots on your neck as she handed your drink back to you when you sat down. With a knowing smile on her lips, she leaned closer to you, “he’s taking you to his, isn’t he?”

You coughed slightly, tongue jutting out to wet your lips as you just nodded your head, giving her the answer she was looking for. Heeseung watched you talk to your sister from the other side of the room with a smug smirk on his lips, his friends pestering him for more information.

As the game continued you would catch Heeseung watching you or he’d catch your lingering gaze, you would hold eye contact before it became too much and you looked away, blushing. Sana was watching in amusement from beside you until she caught sight of Sungho walking over.

“Mind if I join y’all?” His voice made your face drop, souring your mood instantly.

“Sungho man, of course!” One of the other guys exclaimed with a wide smile and you watched reluctantly as he walked over taking the now empty space next to you. He sat down, hand brushing against your thigh.

Heeseung watched with a raised eyebrow as you tried to scoot closer to Sana, but Sungho just followed. He could tell you were uncomfortable, hell anyone with a pair of eyes could see it.

Sensing his gaze you looked up, sending him a meek smile, trying to ignore Sungho’s wandering hands. Sana sent a glare in Sungho’s direction before spinning the bottle, watching it as it spun and stopped on you, again. However, this time you were happy because you’d do just about anything to get you away from the creep next to you.

“Y/n, truth or dare.” Sana asked as she turned towards you, already knowing what you were going to pick and as soon as the word ‘dare’ left your lips she nodded. “Hmm…” She faked thinking for a dare before her eyes landed on Heeseung, “sit on Heeseung's lap for the rest of the game.”

Heat traveled up your neck, painting your face red, but you didn’t complain as you stood. However, before you could get too far Sungho grabbed your wrist.

“Now Sana, why would you do that knowing she has a boyfriend?” He raised an eyebrow as you glared at him, daring you to say something.

Had this been a few weeks ago you would have kept your mouth shut, but now? Never again.

“We broke up Sungho, would you please get that through your head?” You hissed, ripping your arm out of his grasp before walking over to Heeseung.

The dark-haired male smiled smugly at Sungho as you took a seat on his lap, arms wrapping around his neck. As you made yourself comfortable Heeseung wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

Sungho’s eyes never left you and Heeseung throughout the entire game, annoying you even more and Heeseung noticed. His hand that was resting on your lower back moved to grab your hip, his lips brushing against your jaw, eyes locked with Sungho’s.

“Wanna get out of here?” His voice was low enough for just you to hear, but his warm breath against your skin made you shiver. You nodded your head and Heeseung placed a soft kiss on your jaw before letting you stand. Once you both were standing he took your cup, sitting it on the table before grabbing your hand. “We’re outta here.”

That was all he said before walking away, sending Sungho a wink as he pulled you behind him.

Heeseung really did take you back to his place, after managing to escape prying ears and eyes.

You laughed softly as Heeseung ushered you into his apartment, away from his nosey neighbor who just happened to walk out as you guys made it to his door. Giggles spilled from your lips as you listened to him try to play the whole thing off from the small crack in the door.

“Don’t worry Ms. Kim, she's just my lab partner, we have a project due soon, no funny business I swear,” Heeseung reassured the older woman, crossing his fingers over his heart, a nervous laugh leaving his lips as she glared at him.

“Mhm.” She hummed before turning and walking towards the elevator.

Once she was far enough away Heeseung pushed the door open, moving you further inside. When the door was fully shut, he let out a sigh before looking up and meeting your eyes. As soon as your gazes met you both burst out into giggles.

“What was all of that about?” You managed to ask through your laughter and Heeseung just shook his head.

“She’s just some nosey conservative hag, don’t worry about her.��� He rolled his eyes as he made his way toward you, “Now where were we?” He grabbed your waist pulling your body flush against his, your arms snaking around his neck.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him. Heeseung took your face in his free hand, using his thumb to pull your lip from your teeth before leaning down, and connecting his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut, relishing in the feeling of his soft lips against yours. Heeseung groaned against your lips when you tugged on his hair at the nape of his neck, “fuck, are you sure you want to do this? We can just chill and watch a movie.”

Your eyes search his as you nod your head and he leans down, lips ghosting over yours, “use your words, princess,”

You went weak in the knees, the fact that he wanted verbal confirmation had you fall head over heels. Then, again he probably didn’t want any sexual assault charges so you tried not to think too much about it. You couldn’t fall for someone again, especially not someone like him, but the way his thumb was rubbing soft circles on your side was making it very hard not to. 

Letting out a shaky sigh, you nodded again, “I want this, please Heeseung.”

 That’s all it took for him to grab the back of your thighs hoisting you up onto his waist, a small yelp leaving your lip but was quickly silenced by his. He walks over to the couch before sitting down with you in his lap, lips still on yours. The kiss was hot and messy, teeth clashing as his hands traveled the length of your body.

His hands were all over you, squeezing your thighs. Ass. Hips. Everywhere. Hands warm against your bare skin as he lifted your shirt. Once your shirt was off Heeseung threw it off to the side somewhere before making quick work of your bra, unclipping it like he’s done it a million times. His gaze on you was so intense that it made you squirm, face turning a vibrant shade of red. 

His hands fell back to your hips halting your movements, “Holy fuck, you’re so pretty.” He groaned, and you suddenly felt shy under his gaze. So you turned your head, averting his eyes trying to will your heart to calm down.

Heeseung pulled your hips down and you could feel his bulge against your clothed core causing a small whine to leave your mouth. The moment that you felt his warm mouth on your boob you swear you could have melted in his lap. A whimper fell from your covered lips as his teeth scraped against your hardened bud. 

You had never experienced this before, Sungho never, never, focused on your pleasure, only his own. So this new feeling left you feeling confused and extremely overwhelmed. The fact that Heeseung was taking his time and focusing solely on your pleasure, it was making your head spin.

Heeseung pulled away from your chest with a pop, looking up to take in your flustered face, eyes avoiding his. He kissed his way up the valley of your breast, chest, and neck before stopping by your ear, “Why are you being so shy now?”  His voice was husky and low, sending a chill down your spine.

You couldn’t meet Heeseung’s eyes, you were too embarrassed because you weren’t even sure if you were supposed to be feeling like this. Sungho had deprived you of any of this, of the pleasure, of the care and you felt like you could cry. Had he really only cared about himself the whole time you guys were together?

You were snapped out of your daze when Heeseung leaned back against the couch, his grip on your hips loosening, “we don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.” His words made your stomach flutter, he cared about your feelings even if he was rock-hard underneath you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as your hands fell to your lap.

“No I want to do this, it’s just…” The words died on your tongue, what were you supposed to tell him? That your ex never did any of this so you were confused? No, he’d probably just laugh in your face.

“Just what princess?” Heeseung’s voice was soft, his thumb rubbing small circles on your waist. You licked your lips trying to gather your thoughts, why did you have to be so fucking awkward? Why couldn’t you just let him continue doing what he was doing? Thoughts cloud your mind and Heeseung could tell so he brought his hand to your face, grabbing your chin softly making you look at him. However, you were quick to avert your gaze and he didn’t take too kindly to that, “Look at me pretty.”

Your teary eyes flicker up to his, god you wish that the universe would just suck you into a black hole right about now. Heeseung’s gaze was filled with concern and that was enough for the first tear to break free, falling down your cheek. You, however, were quick to wipe it away before closing your eyes trying to mentally prepare yourself for the embarrassment that was to come.

Heeseung sat there, waiting till you were ready to talk, his eyes never leaving your face. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable, especially when he finally had you. So he waited.

Letting out a shaky breath you opened your eyes, meeting his, “It’s just that my ex, he never really did any of…” you gestured to yours and Heeseung’s body, “this.” Your face started to heat up as you tried your best to keep his eye contact.

Heeseung instantly felt an annoyance bubble up in his chest, not because of you, but because of the douchebag you called your ex. In a blink of an eye, he had you lying on your back, his body slotting over yours. Your eyes were wide in surprise as your hands lay next to your head. 

“So let me get this straight, not only was he a cheating asshole, but also never pleased you right.” His words made your face flush red, but you nodded nonetheless, “fucking useless scumbag.” He growled under his breath as he latched his lips to your neck once more.

A whimper left your lips as he bit down on the junction of your neck, “H-Hee-”

“Don’t worry baby I got you. I’m gonna show you how you should have been treated in the first place.” He said with a shit-eating grin, his tongue lapping over the spot he just bit, “Will you let me?” His hands traced the length of your body before finding purchase on your hips. He pulled back to look at you in your eyes and you nodded, “Words pretty,” 

You felt lightheaded under his intense gaze, “Y-yes.”

Without another word he hooked his fingers on the hem of your shorts, pulling them down as well as your panties. Heeseung looked down at you with such a hunger in his eyes that it left you breathless, much like when he ran a finger through your slick folds, groaning at how wet you were.

A small moan left your lips, your hips bucking against his touch. He slowly inserted his finger into your tight hole, slowly rubbing his fingertips against your gummy walls. Your eyes never left his as he lowered himself onto you, lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your thigh. He pressed featherlight kisses to your skin, letting his lips trail down your thigh until his warm breath met your glistening core.

Your head fell back against the couch cushion as he dived into your pussy, a shiver running through your body. A moan tore through your lips as his finger sped up inside you, rubbing one particular spot that left you seeing stars. His tongue and fingers work in unison to bring you closer to the edge. He continued his actions until you practically shoved your hips in his face trying to gain more friction. A loud whine fell from your lips as his free hand traveled up to your stomach pushing down, keeping you in place. It didn’t take long before you were coming undone underneath him, sparks flashing across your vision, your whole body twitching with each of Heeseung’s movements.

Heeseung slowly pulled his soaping fingers from your core, a devilish smirk on his lips as he watched the dim moonlight reflect off of your juices. Your head tilted up, eyes meeting his just as he stuck his finger in his mouth, licking all of your essence off of his digits. A groan vibrated in his throat at the taste, eyes rolling slightly leaving you dripping on his couch.

“You taste so fucking sweet baby,” His voice was raspy as he pulled his fingers from his mouth, crawling back over your body. A moan fell from your lips as he touched you, only for it to be swallowed by Heeseung’s. Your brain nearly short-circuited when you tasted yourself on his lips, his tongue pushing more into your mouth. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling roughly making his head tilt back. You took the chance to latch your lips to his honey skin, leaving your fair share of wet, open-mouth kisses along his jugular. He groaned above you, hands tightening on your hips.

In one quick motion, he had you both in the same position you had started in, you straddling his lap. You didn’t let the sudden change alter your movements, too blinded by pleasure to care how he takes you, as long as he does. His grip on your hips tightened even more as you rolled your hips against his bulge, relishing in the feeling of his jeans against your bare cunt. 

“Fuck princess, are you that desperate for my cock.” His head fell back as you latched your lips back to his neck, leaving a trail of marks in your wake. Your lips trailed down his neck until you were met with the collar of his shirt. 

Leaning back you grabbed the edge of the fabric, pulling on it, “Off now, please.” The pleading in your tone made Heeseung’s dick twitch, a smirk pulling on his lips.

“Don’t let me stop you baby girl, take it off.” He pulled his hands from your hips and you didn’t waste another second pulling his shirt over his head letting it join the ever-growing pile of fabric on the ground. You sat back in his lap taking in the sight in front of you, your finger running down his chest to his toned stomach before landing on his hard cock. A groan fell from his lips as you palmed him through the fabric.

Finally fed up with your teasing touch he grabbed your wrist pulling your body flush against his, “Stop fucking teasing.” 

“Then fuck me already.” The sas in your tone flipped something in Heeseung, he wanted to be nice, to make sure you’d be left wanting more, to make you feel good. However, that plan flew out the window as he stood to his feet, taking you with him.

His grip was so tight on your thighs that you were sure that there would be bruises in the morning. The sound of his bedroom door crashing against the wall made you jump, but before you could even begin to question it he threw you on the bed. You leaned back, looking at him with a cocky smile that Heeseung so desperately wanted to wipe away, so he was going to do just that.

“On your hands and knees.” His voice was rough as he undid the button on his jeans. You didn’t give it a second thought before following his instructions, arching your back and giving Heeseung the perfect view of your glistening cunt. You weren’t sure where all of this was coming from, maybe it was just lust but you wiggled your hips enticing him, which worked.

Heeseung grabbed your hips before letting his hands travel across your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You whined into his pillows as you felt his cock against you, rubbing against your folds and clit. You pushed your hips into him, feeling the tip of his cock graze your entrance.

“You’re so needy princess…” He chuckled as he grabbed your hips, stilling your movements, “Let me make you feel good.” You opened your mouth to say something, but the thought quickly left your brain when you felt him push into you. A high-pitched moan fell from your lips as he thrusts deep inside you in one go, fingers gripping the sheets beneath you. He gave you just enough time to adjust before he pulled back until just his tip was left, then thrusts back in, eliciting a scream from you. His pace was nothing short of rough and fast, his thrusts deep. His tip kissing your cervix with each thrust leaving you seeing stars.

“Hee- fuck, fuck.” You chanted, any coherent sentences disappearing as tears broke from your eyes. Heeseung watched with a smug smirk as you came undone under him, your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping the sheets.

He leaned down, kissing the back of your shoulders, one hand grabbing yours as the other stayed on your hip. “You’re doing so good for me baby, so tight.” He groaned in your ear as you clenched around him.

A cry broke through your lips when the head of his cock hit that one particular spot inside your drenched cunt. He took note of your reaction before positioning his hip to repeatedly hit the same spot, leaving you a screaming mess beneath him.

“HEESEUNG!” You screamed his name as his hand trailed down, rubbing harsh, tight circles on your clit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m- fuck, I’m close Hee…” You whined out, your vision turning white for a moment as your whole body convulsed. 

“I know princess. Let go for me. Cum for me.” His voice was soft in your ear and your orgasm hit not even two seconds later, mouth hanging open with silent screams. If it weren’t for Heeseung’s grip on your body you would have fallen flat on the bed.

He cursed under his breath as he stood straight, grabbing your hips with both hands. His hips pounded into yours at an animalistic pace knocking all of the air out of your lungs. Sensitivity surged through your body as Heeseung chased his own high, leaving you a whining mess as you reached back, grabbing his wrist, nails digging into his skin. After a few more harsh thrusts he painted your velvet walls white, rolling his hips against yours and riding out his high until he came to a stop. You closed your eyes trying to steady your racing heart, Heeseung rubbing soft circles on your hips.

“Shit…” Heeseung growled slowly as he pulled out of you slowly. He watched as his cum mixed with yours spilled from your pussy, eyes following it trail down your thigh. Your meek voice calling out to him snapped him out of his trance, looking up to meet your fucked out eyes. Your whole body felt sore and you didn’t want to get up, but you knew you needed to get cleaned up. So you moved to sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed.

However, before you could get too far Heeseung stopped you, “What are you doing?”

All of your movements stopped, worried that you upset him, hands in your lap, “I was gonna go clean up…”

“That son of a bitch…” He growled under his breath, combing his fingers through his hair. “Stay there.” He looked at you pointedly before grabbing his boxers and pulling them up his legs before walking off into another room. Confused, you just sat there, fingers fiddling in your lap, thoughts started to swirl in your head.

‘Was he gonna come back and make you go home? Or was he upset that you hadn’t moved quick enough?’ 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Heeseung’s hand cupped your face, making you look up, meeting his worry-filled eyes. He swiped his thumb under your eye, clearing the tears that you hadn’t even noticed were falling from your eyes.

“I got you, baby girl, just lay back for me.” His voice was soft and his hands gentle as he laid you on your back. Your face flushed red as he parted your thighs, his jaw clenched at the sight of the mess between your legs. He willed himself to not get hard as he cleaned the mixture of yours and his cum off of your body before pulling one of his shirts over your head.

He threw the washcloth in the hamper before climbing into the bed, pulling your body close to his. You couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed as his body warmed yours, his heart beating directly under your ear, but at the same time, you loved it. You love how he made you feel so comfortable, so warm, so seen, so loved. 

Heeseung’s lips on your forehead pulled you from your thoughts, making you look up at him. It was like one look in your eyes and he knew exactly how you were feeling. He shuffled his body a little bit until he was face-to-face with you, caressing your cheek softly.

“Just forget about him, I’ve got you now.” His voice was sweet like honey as he pressed his lips against yours in a silent promise and so you did. Not a single thought of Sungho crossed your mind as you drifted off to sleep in Heeseung’s arms.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀ��ʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @heesitation @jaeyunology @luvyong2z

#alvojake writes ^^ #enhypen #kpop #enha #enha x reader #enhypen jake #enhypen jay #enhypen sunoo #enha imagines #enhypen heeseung #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jay park #park jongseong #kim sunoo #enha sunghoon #enha sunoo #enha jungwon #enha jay #enha jake #enha jongseong #enha jaeyun #enha heeseung #enhypen sunghoon #yang jungwon #lee heeseung #heeseung smut #enha smut

[ellecdc]

A Man With a Plan.4

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: brief mention of a sexual encounter (non-explicit)

The following week-and-a-half was both chaotic and painful for (likely everyone involved, but specifically for) Remus Moony Remus (& Moony).

Remus (under the watchful glare of one Sirius Orion Black) apologized to James for speaking so rudely to him, and to Peter for upsetting the room.

Pete was quick to forgive him, whilst James just asked, “are you ready to talk about it?”. Remus replied no, James said “talk to me when you are”, and the two haven’t spoken much since. 

The closer and closer Remus got to the full moon, the more incessant Moony became. Even if you weren’t around, Moony was whining after you. When you were around, Moony was begging for you. 

Remus, much to Moony and Sirius’s (never mind his own) chagrin, would hear your soft lilting voice moving down the hall speaking to James, and would quickly grab Amelia and find the closest broom closet. 

After the 3rd or 4th time, he was starting to look like a horny pre-teen who just discovered playboy magazines.

But while Amelia was on her knees and his hand was on the back of her head, he could muffle the howling and yipping of the angry wolf for at least the moment, and it felt like enough.

Until it wasn’t.

“Stop, stop.” He groaned as he pulled away from Amelia’s wandering hands. She looked quite lovely – flushed, slightly damp and pupils blown wide, but Remus couldn’t appreciate much of anything with the chorus of ‘Need, need, need, need. Mine, mine, mine, mine’ inside his mind.

“What is it, baby?” She cooed at him. Remus had to fight back a grimace at the nickname.

“I ca-I can’t do this right now.” He said, bringing his hand to his mouth; he suddenly felt queasy.

“Are you sure? I can be a good girl for you.” She purred.

“No.” he said as he flung the door to the broom closet and nearly collided with you.

Dammit, how were you everywhere!?

“Oh, hello Remus! Are you alright?” You asked him.

Mine. 

Remus could only let out a keening sound in response – hand still pressed to his mouth.

Your eyes seemed to flit around his being – not actually looking at him but around him as your mouth pinched in concern.

“No, not alright at all.” You answered your own question, speaking more to yourself than anything. 

“Rem?” Amelia said as she rubbed his back and spotted you in front of him.

“Oh, L/N,” Amelia said with a chuckle. Remus felt his hackles rise immediately. “Your aura looks wonderful today.” 

Her voice was filled with contempt, but your eyes never left Remus’ form. 

“Here,” you said to Remus as you began to dig through your book bag. You missed the ‘tosser’ that Amelia threw your way, but Remus didn’t.

Moony wanted her dead.

“This should help, Remus. It’s mallowsweet, shrivlefig juice, powdered moonstone, and rosewater. I think it’s just what you need.”

Your voice was so soft and sweet, and Moony was so quiet while you spoke. Remus almost wanted to tell you to forget the vial you were offering as he felt his migraine lifting just from listening to you talk.

Remus might as well have been a puppet as he raised his hand to take the vial from you – he didn’t even know what this concoction was for, but if you kept looking at him like that? He’d drink forty of them.

You dropped the vial into his palm, keeping your fingers to yourself as if you were somehow aware he was afraid to touch you.

“I hope you feel better, Remus.” You breathed softly, parting from him with a gentle smile as you floated back down the hallway.

“Gods, she is such an airhead.”

Remus suddenly understood James a little bit better.

“Amelia,” he started as he turned to stare daggers at the girl, “don’t make fun of my friends.”

And he stalked off down the hall, opposite the way you’d just went.

It was Thursday evening, and there were only two more nights until the full. Remus sat at the table with his head in his hands as he tried to swallow against his gag reflex.

Amelia Bones was staring daggers at him from the Hufflepuff table, but it was you, speaking so sweetly to James across from him, that had his heart beating like a hummingbird in his chest.

Mine, pack! Pack! Pack! Mine, pack. 

Remus mentally grabbed The Wolf by the scruff, causing a pitiful whine and quiet whimpering to follow. He was too tired and too close to the full for this.

James was speaking animatedly to you about the niffler’s from class today, but Remus Moony could tell your mind was elsewhere.

“One moment, Jamie.” You said quietly to your friend as you began to walk away. Suddenly, you were standing behind Moony Remus.

“Excuse me, Peter. Would you mind terribly if I sat here?” You asked sweetly, pointing to the sliver of bench between the two of them. Sirius’ eyes flew to meet Remus’ from his spot across from him.

“Oh! Uhm, no, Y/N, not at all.” Peter agreed as he moved to create a space for you beside Remus.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, you were suddenly sat between Remus and Peter, directly across from James who was placed beside Sirius. 

Remus felt his shoulders sag in immediate relief to have you so close to him. Horrifyingly, he felt tears spring to his eyes. He tucked his chin into his chest, knowing Sirius’ gaze hadn’t left him.

You pushed your ankle up against Remus’ as you continued discussing the pilfering little creatures from your class with James as the first tear fell. 

He wanted to be angry. But he couldn’t bring himself to.

He wanted to resent you. But he couldn’t bring himself to.

Because you were kind and sweet and understanding and patient. And he was the monster.

And somehow, you knew all of that. And yet, you sat here, beside him, and offered him what little comfort you could.

Remus was fucked.

You were at the quidditch game Friday evening. Gryffindor was playing Slytherin, so you appeared to be present only to cheer on James.

It was sweet.

Remus was fucked.

Amelia came too, which pissed Remus off seeing as Hufflepuff wasn’t playing either, but it gave him the chance to not sit there staring at the space beside you wishing he was selfish enough to take it.

Her company wasn’t as nice as yours, but Remus supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The weather kind of sucked – it wasn’t raining but the air was thick with fog and mist, and visibility was low. Remus wasn’t sure how the players managed between the mist, the wind on their brooms, and their sweat, but the game raged on.

“Wait, so the little braids that you find on horses randomly...” Peter asked you from a few bleachers below Remus.

Remus kept his eyes on the players he could make out through the fog and pretended he wasn’t listening to your conversation.

“Yes, those are nargles. They appear at night and twist the hairs of horses or unicorns to create stirrups and leads so that they can ride them. It’s important you don’t undo them, though, as nargles may become frustrated that they have to redo their work. They are also more likely to return to ride your horse again instead of outright taking them for their own if you respect their work. Tricky little thieves, they are.”

“Huh.” Pete offered brightly. Remus smiled widely to himself. “Well, I suppose they also look pretty in the horse’s hair. Might as well leave ‘em.”

Remus felt a warmth radiating in his chest. He couldn’t see either of you as he kept his gaze on the game, but he could clearly picture your kind and airy smile, and how Peter had his body turned to you to ensure you had his full intention.

Moony loved it too.

Pack. Good. Good. Good. PaCk GooD. 

Remus began to think maybe he could handle this. Maybe he could keep you here, sort of at arm’s length but still within his reach. Maybe he could accept you as a friend and...pack member if that’s what Moony insisted on calling you.

Maybe this didn’t need to be all or nothing, maybe this could just be...

But Remus’ train of thought stopped as Moony began raging within his mind. Remus started to panic, thinking maybe he miscalculated the next full moon; he’s not been wrong about a moon once in his entire life, but fuck, stranger things have happened.

He looked to the sky, and even through the fog, Remus could tell the moon was nowhere near risen. He was also very sure the full moon was tomorrow night.

“Look out!” A player shouted from the pitch as Remus spotted a very large ball careening its way over...straight for you.

Mine. Mine. Mine MINE MINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINE.

Remus’ mind went blank as he stood from his place. Suddenly, he was standing in front of you as the ball hit him in the middle of his back. He grunted in mild discomfort, but it was far less damage than what could have been had it made contact with your face.

Your face, which was looking up at Remus with your mouth parted in gentle surprise, and your eyes searching his person.

“Remus! Are you alright, mate?” Peter cried in shock.

The whistle sounded on the pitch as players flew their way over to the Gryffindor benches to retrieve the ball. 

“Yeah, Pete, I’m fine. Doesn’t hurt that bad.” He offered, though his eyes never left yours.

“Moony, what the fuck was that?!” Sirius called from his broom.

“What was what? Aren’t you players supposed to aim the ball at each other?” He snarked back.

“Mate,” Pete whispered to him, “you apparated.”

He...he apparated!?

Hogwarts had ancient magical wards lining the school grounds and castles. One such ancient ward was an anti-apparition ward. No one should be able to apparate in or out.

Ignoring all of that, however...7th years still hadn’t been taught how to apparate yet.

Well...Remus didn’t know what to say about that. So instead, he asked “are you alright?”

You looked between him and his right shoulder for a moment before nodding. “Yes, Remus. Thank you. I’m very sorry about all of this.”

But before he could say - oh, that’s okay, or that’s not necessary, or even what the hell are you apologizing for? - you were out of your seat and leaving the stands.

“What did you say to her?” James barked at Remus from his broom beside Sirius, glare turning stormy.

“Nothing mate,” Sirius answered for him, “he just asked if she was alright.”

“Was she?” James asked, eyes softening slightly.

“Yeah, she’s okay.” Remus answered.

James seemed to analyze Remus’ face before offering him a curt nod and flying back to the centre of the pitch. 

“McGonagall’s going to be so pissed if you broke those wards, mate.” Peter muttered as the game resumed.

Sure, Remus thought, let’s focus on that. 

McGonagall was kind of pissed about the wards, but she told Remus it was but a minor tear within the grid and may be repairable. 

Seeing as the burst of accidental magic was...well...accidental (and lunar in nature, though he figured it was best they all ignored that little fact for the time being), he was off the hook for the damage.

He was the victim of relentless torment, however.

“Lord Rem, are you reading ahead to make the rest of us look bad?” Lily smirked from her place in the Gryffindor common room. 

Remus groaned into his book as he pulled it to the face.

“It was an accident.” He muttered miserably.

“Sure. Just watch your back, Lupin; I’m still top of the class.” She fired at him with a smirk.

The common room continued thinning out until it was only Lily and James playing wizards chess, Sirius and Peter playing exploding snap, and Remus trying to read his book as his muscles and joints swelled and groaned under the pull of the moon. Tomorrow night, and then he’d be free for the rest of the cycle.

Well, not free, seeing as now he was also plagued by you.

Suddenly, the group of five could hear the portrait of the Fat Lady screeching at someone in the hall.

“I will do no such thing; I am not a secretary” the muffled voice spat.

Sirius and Remus shared a confused look before the former stood and made his way to the portrait hole. 

“Reggie?” Sirius asked quietly as the portrait swung open to reveal the form of his younger brother.

“Uhm, hi, Sirius. I... I was wondering if Potter was here?”

Sirius’ head reared back slightly as he blinked over at James.

“Uhm...yes? He is.” 

Regulus sighed. “May I speak to him?”

Sirius slowly moved aside and gestured for Regulus to come in.

“Hello Regulus.” James said politely, looking bemusedly at Sirius for a brief moment before standing.

“Potter. My apologies for the...intrusion. But I’m wondering if you’ve seen Y/N.”

Remus’ book fell into his lap as he sat straight in his chair, hands gripping the arm rests. Remus had heard from Sirius (who heard from James) that you and Regulus were quite close. This at least explained why Remus’ friends and yours had never intertwined before.

“No, no. Not since the game, why?”

Regulus sighed again as he grimaced. “She’s not in her dorms. One of her dormmates asked me where she went – apparently, she told them it was important for her to be ‘away from the castle’ for the weekend. I was hoping you knew where she went.”

Remus ran up to the Marauder’s dorm room and accio’d the Marauder’s Map. He scanned the parchment and, sure enough, you were nowhere to be found. He double, triple and quadruple checked to no avail. 

You were nowhere to be found on castle grounds.

Continue to chapter five here.

Taglist: @hanniejji, @y0urm0m12, @c0nsc10usworld, @aphrcdites, @starsval, @thepunisherfrankcastle, @anuncalledbridge, @unstablereader, @rai-strangebr, @klazina-couch-potato, @cancelledkaley, @fandom-crashlanding, @ttulipwritezz, @boo8008, @daisiesformylove, @frostooo, @myriadmoons, @aremuslupinsimp, @simars3, @stargurl99, @dreamingofts18, @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface, @agent-tempest, @xxrougefangxx, @serenadingtigers, @adhxmoony, @spokenfolk, @hufflepufffangirlqueen, @thebiggestnaturaldisaster, @urmomw4ntsme, @b4tm4nn, @jamieolivia27, @stqrgirlies-blog, @loving-and-dreaming, @cultish-corner

If you asked to be tagged in this work and do not see your name - I've been informed that if you've never made a post to your own blog before, you are unable to be tagged...sorry!

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #werewolf mcswearwolf #werewolf soulmate #soulmate au #hp marauders #remus lupin ficlet #remus lupin blurb #werewolf #the lupins #james potter #sirius black #peter pettigrew #lily evans #regulus black

[emphistic]

i’m afraid i’m not too specific, i just read your pucker up, buttercup and that seems like what happened before they started dating

i honestly don’t know if you’re writing a multi chapter series about this specific sukuna bf or it’s different from each one, but can you do something like his friend hitting sukuna with the “can i like your friend?” about reader so sukuna becomes jealous and claimed reader

if not, it’s alright, looking forward to reading more of your works :))

A/N: hi! just to clear up some confusion, my General Masterlist is full of works that are stand-alones (not in any series) — but i guess some of them could be read as works from the same universe. on the other hand, all works part of my Boy Nextdoor Series Masterlist are in the same universe/au and the same timeline.

anywho, here’s your request

Sukuna used his jersey to wipe the sweat off his face. The gymnasium was still full of shouts by angry fans, hollers by exuberant fans, and sweaty basketball players — of course including himself.

His team had just won another of their games and all Sukuna wanted to do was to take a quick shower, change, and spend the rest of the evening relaxing, with you. But alas, the duties of a team captain were far from tranquil.

For, he soon heard the squeaking of shoes approaching him. Sukuna didn't turn around, wholeheartedly expecting it to be just another person trying to shoot their shot and get his number. But he was wrong; it was actually quite opposite.

"Yo, Captain! You're close with Y/N, right? Could you maybe hook me up with her? I think she might be the one for me," Jacob — a friend of Sukuna — spoke, in a loud and obnoxiously masculine voice.

Gojo — another of Sukuna's teammates — spits out his water, laughing in the background. "He's gonna be an Adam 2.0*, I'm calling it," Gojo nudged his friend Geto — another of Sukuna's teammates — with his elbow.

*allusion to Oblivion

Sukuna huffed, turning around and raising a brow at the younger man, "Hell no," before walking away to the locker room. Jacob let out an audible 'huh?' before he turned to look at Gojo. "What's his problem?"

"Haha, you seriously don't know, man? Aren't you and Sukuna friends or something?" Gojo continued to laugh.

Geto frowned at his friend's behavior towards Jacob, "Don't worry about it, dude. There's plenty of other fish in the sea . . . just try not to get eaten by shark."

This made Jacob go 'huh?' again.

All the while, Sukuna went to finish up his shower and change, before exiting the locker room and searching for you. He walked up and down the court, waited outside the women's restrooms, looked under the bleachers (in case you had fallen through), but you were no where to be found.

Sukuna was completely and utterly puzzled. Where could you possibly be?

He didn't even get the chance to kiss you after his game; Sukuna's lips contorted into a pout.

Defeated, Sukuna resorted to just going to the parking lot and waiting for you by the car. When he neared the said car and saw your figure already sitting in the passenger seat on your phone, Sukuna started to pick up his pace.

"Hi, baby. Congratulations on your win," you placed your phone onto your lap when Sukuna entered the driver's seat. Sukuna frowned, making you ask, "What?"

"Tch. Nothing," Sukuna crossed his arms.

"You're so demanding," you giggle, pulling Sukuna in by the collar and meeting his lips with yours.

Sukuna smiled against your lips, humming in content.

You pulled away, "Why'd you take so long?"

"Was lookin' for you. But I guess you were already waiting f'me in the car."

"Ah, my bad. Anyways, what should we have for dinner? Or would you rather prefer eating out, since you won your game. It'll be on me," you laced your fingers with Sukuna's on the car's console.

"Let's eat out. And — I appreciate the offer, baby, I really do, but we all know I'm never letting you pay."

-

The next time you go to another of Sukuna's basketball games, Jacob finally grows the balls to talk to you himself — albeit, he was still confused from last week about why Sukuna wouldn't give him your number.

You mindlessly tap on your phone, waiting for Sukuna to meet you at the bottom of the bleachers — where you currently stand.

Out of the blue, you feel two arms wrap themselves around the curve of your waist before their owner pulls you in for a kiss. Sukuna, you think, as you kiss him back.

"Congrats, baby!" You pull Sukuna closer into a hug.

"Uh huh," that was all Sukuna could say, as he focused on making sure Jacob saw that you were wearing the jersey that he had forced you to wear. His jersey. His last name on your back. His team number.

All the while, Jacob stood with his mouth agape. From that day on, he never tried to approach you, much less looked in your direction ever again, in fear of his captain kicking him off the team.

A/N: Sukuna is such a baby, but he's my baby — this wasn't beta read btw, sorry; i cringe while reading my own writing

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso

#sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #yay another request is done

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

hey so i finally wrote more witch au!

enjoy, friends!! though it's significantly shorter than the first part

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,004 | rated: T

Mama thinks that Steve’s had a love spell on him this whole time.

“Since when?” He’d asked.

“I don’t know, my dear, maybe since before you were even born.”

“What?! How?! I thought you said there was no such thing as love spells!” He knows that’s not true.

“There are none that are worth the pain.” she repeats, trying to placate him.

“Yeah, well.” Steve huffs, dropping his hands to his hips and heaving a sigh.

“But there are some that are rumored to be true love spells, soulmate spells.” She continues on when she sees the look on his face. “Rumored, Steven, only ever rumors.”

“Okay, so what do the rumors have to say about them?”

“Every spell like that I’ve ever heard of of this nature is specific to each caster.”

“So I’ve had this spell on me for possibly my whole life, and there’s no way to know anything about it or about the caster.”

“...I’m sorry, honey.”

“Maybe there are clues in the words you have.” Robin cuts in, reaching for the notepad and sliding it in front of her.

Steve huffs, “I need to know the whole thing; there’s definitely words missing.”

“Should you eat more bread?” Robin asks, already sliding the previously abandoned plate of bread towards him.

“You shouldn’t overwhelm yourself.” Mama says, pushing the plate back. “We don’t know if there’s a trigger to the spell, or if you and the caster’s paths will just cross one day, maybe they don’t even know they cast it.”

Steve blinks at her. “So I have a true love and they might not even want me?”

“No!” Robin belts out immediately.

“No, of course not,” Mama says, continuing on. “The one known thing about any spell like this is that they only work on those who are receptive to it.”

“So some weirdo can’t put you under their spell?”

“Yes, exactly Robin; Steve, whatever this is, whoever this was, they love you with all that they are. And you them.”

“I don’t even know who it is! How can I?”

Mama doesn’t have an answer besides saying “Your soul must know them already.”; Their conversation was over soon after that.

Steve spends the next couple days silent and brooding. He can’t stop thinking about how he’s what, marked to love someone he doesn’t even know? How’s that fair?

It could be any random person on the street that thought he was hot, some weird old guy or a lovesick middle schooler..He only just turned 25 the day before the bread incident, but he’s saddled with this huge unknown that isn’t going to get better any time soon?

Okay, apparently not just some weirdo according to Mama, but still. Un-fucking fair all the same.

He’s also pissed that he can’t give anyone all the baked goods he’s made within that time. Each and every one of them ending up with a sour aftertaste. 

“Damn witch bullshit…” he grumbles to himself, only half serious, as he scrapes another batch of sour sugar cookies into the trash.

He’s salty, okay? Pun intended. If he hadn’t ever learned the truth about the powers over food his grandmother (and now him too, apparently) has, he could’ve just excused the batch after batch being off on bad butter, or old flour.. Something other than his mood being what’s ruining his cookies.

That’s what he’d done every other time something he’s made tasted off, now he knows it was him the whole time.

Mama comes in then, he doesn’t have to look up to know the look she’s giving him.

Steve leaves the bowl of leftover dough on the counter, mumbles out a “I gotta go.”, then tromps out the back door and into the woods behind his grandparents’ home. 

He supposes it’s good that they live just outside the city, really, having the trees to escape under like this has helped him before, and he’s hoping will help him now.

Meandering through the underbrush, he strolls along until he reaches the small clearing he’d claimed for himself when he was what, 8? 9? Doesn’t matter. It’s his spot to get away from anything he needs to.

He sits down against the big oak at the edge of the clearing and tips his head back toward the sun filtering down on him through a gap in the canopy above him. He breathes in the fresh air, focuses on the warmth hitting his face, and just exists there for a while, slipping in and out of a soft snooze.

Suddenly, he’s shocked out of his dozing by the sound of twigs snapping underfoot.

If it were coming from behind him, he’d expect it’d be Robin coming to find him here, but it’s not. It’s coming from ahead of him across the clearing.

Steve stands and presses back into the trunk of the tree, wondering if there’s bears in these woods when a person stumbles through the tree line.

The man is thin, about Steve’s age if he were to guess, and covered in dirt, his light wash overalls and his boots are caked in it. His hair is long, pulled half-back away from his face and full of bracken from the forest.

He also seems to be in a daze, staring with dark eyes at Steve with an unfathomable expression. 

It shifts soon after, though, warming into a watery smile. “I’ve come home to you.” he says, clear as day, then collapses onto the grass.

“Oh, shit!” Steve rushes forward, kneeling down beside the man and quickly checking him over for injuries. 

Steve presses his fingers to the man's pulse confirm it's still there (it is) and there don’t seem to be any bruises or breaks in his limbs, so he goes to his head, feeling quickly under the tangles in his hair for any blood, any knots.

Nothing. There’s nothing apparently outwardly wrong with him.

“Hey, hey, wake up! You gotta stay with me, man.” he says, shaking him lightly. 

The other man’s head lolls to the side and his eyes open a crack, his lips quirking up into a smile. “M’love…”

“What is your name?” Steve insists in a slow, clear voice.

Instead of answering, the man raises his hand slowly to cup Steve’s cheek. “...v’wait’d so long..” he slurs, then goes limp again, his hand dropping to his chest.

“Oh no you don’t,” Steve gets his feet under him and gathers the man up into his arms in a bridal carry. His steps falter when he feels how light the man is in his arms, how much more thin he is than how he’d looked.

Steve adjusts his hold on him, making sure not to let his head hang backward over his forearm, and rushes back toward the house.

“Mama!” he shouts as soon as he clears the treeline into the yard.

She’s at the back sliding door as soon as he is. “Steve, honey, what—”

He pushes past her, hurrying to the spare room on the first floor with her on his heels. “I found him wandering the woods, I couldn’t just–I don’t know what’s wrong with him, Mama.”

She gestures him forward to the bed, “Put him there, on top the covers,”

He does, setting him down as if he’s made of glass.

As soon as the man is out of his arms, Mama takes his place. “Nothing seems broken, but he’s so light, he needs food, he needs water, should I call 911? I don’t even know his na—” he rambles on, not even realizing he’d started to pace until his grandma stops him in his tracks.

“Steve, listen to me.” she says, pulling at his wrists gently, removing his hands from his hair. “He will be fine. Now, go get a bowl of warm water and a washcloth and come straight back here.”

He nods dazedly, stumbling backward out the doorway and spinning to the kitchen.

Steve slides to a stop on the tile floor in front of the kitchen sink at the same time Robin gets home from her classes that day.

“I have a date!”

Wait, he needs the bowl first. He scrambles to the opposite counter for the large mixing bowl Mama uses for her damn bread and fishes it out with a clatter of everything that that had been in front of it on the shelf tumbling out to the floor.

“Steve?”

Should he put soap in it?

“Steve!”

No, Mama just said ‘warm water’, not ‘warm soapy water’. He nods to himself and turns on the tap, reaching under the sink next for a washcloth.

“Steven Otis Harrington.”

“Oh, hey Robin, you’re home.” The bowl’s almost full.

“Steve.” She spins him to face her, holding tightly to his shoulders.

He tries to twist back around futilely, “The bowl–”

“Steve. What. Is. Happening.”

He blinks at her a couple times. “Robin!” He pulls her to him in a tight hug. “Holy shit, you’re not gonna believe–”

“Steve, the bowl?”

“Shit,” It’s nearly full when he shuts off the tap, so he dumps a bit out and picks it up with both hands, “C’mon, he’s this way.”

“He? Who’s he?”

“Dunno, I found him in the woods.”

“Aw, Steve, you can’t just take in any ol’ stray dog you happen to find out in the wood—-” Robin cuts herself off as they get to the bedroom door. “Ohhkay…so..not a dog.”

“He looks to be dehydrated, but I don’t think he has any injuries.” Mama says in lieu of a greeting when they return. Steve sits down on the opposite edge of the bed that she is, and carefully passes over the bowl of water without looking at her.

The stranger immediately takes in his attention. His soft features, dark brows…Steve starts to pull the bits of brush out of the man’s hair, untangling twigs, leaves, and he can already see one of those pesky prickle things twisted into the hair next to his ear.

Mama sets the bowl on the sidetable, and gets to work immediately, wiping the dirt and grime from the man’s face and arms. “Robin dear, can you grab one of those sports drinks Pa loves so much outta the fridge? And a bottle of water.”

“Of course!” she says, darting back into the kitchen.

“We’ll need to get some food in him too,”

“We should make him scones.” Steve states apropos of nothing. “With chocolate chunks.”

“Maybe after he’s a bit better, sweetie.” Mama scoffs, wringing out the washcloth. “He needs healthy fats first, butter, oatmeal, avocado, things like that.”

“I can do that!” Steve says, jumping up excitedly. His former task forgotten, he rushes out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, nearly bowling Robin over in the process.

He gets to work on simple eggs and toast for their houseguest, avoiding Mama’s lucky bread in favor of his own store-bought stuff for now, he can make him his own later. 

As he scrambles the eggs, he focuses everything in him on the stranger, on getting him better, making him healthy again. He’s not exactly quite sure how to do what Mama does, but the sour cookie dough says he’ll do it without thinking about it…kinda.

Whatever. 

All he knows is that he’s telling the fuck outta these eggs to make his love better. Make him whole again.. Make him—

Wait..

Did he just refer to the random man laid up in the other room as his love?

Is…

The fugue state he’d been in since first laying eyes on the man crackles away just long enough for him to think.

What did he say before he collapsed? "I've come home to you."?

That..sounds right....why is that so famili—

Steve's eyes leave the pan of eggs in front of him and snap immediately to the scrap of paper he'd scrambled for a few nights ago.

Is he…?

And of course, as if the words weren't already plastered permanently onto his grey matter, there they are, plain as day.

tagging those that were interested on the last part!!! @mugloversonly @kittydeadbones @maybequizas @queenie-ofthe-void @newtstabber @angeldreamsoffanfic @eyesofshinigami @sunflower-trashbaby @perseus-notjackson @kaspurrcat @quinns-shadowy-arts

also, idk if this counts for it, but one of february's songs for @steddiesongfics is work song! which is what this fic is based on! 😊😊

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #witch!eddie #witch!steve #work song #hozier #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #st #robin buckley #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve has good grandparents #steveddie #eddeve #witch au #noelle writes

[doobea]

✰⋆⁺★ WE KEEP THIS LOVE IN A PHOTOGRAPH ─ CHOSO KAMO

synopsis: you're serious about getting an A for your photography class. so serious that you end up fake dating your best friend. and, well, it gets out of hand.

contents: no curse AU, gn!reader, sfw, fluff, mr ed scares me but his songs are corny bops, friends to lovers + fake dating, choso has been secretly pinning but waits for you to make first move hehe, a satosugu kfc joke thrown in here, i always make my readers a stem major but they're an artsy major here, i feel like choso will always be some sort of chem major in my stories because it just works???, kinda PROOF'D, i finished writing this at 4am... word count: 3.8K (crazy ik) a/n: i love him, i love him, i love him sm *explodes* songs related to this fic: out of my league by fitz and the tantrums + photograph by ed sheeran

The best part about majoring in photography is that you’ve enjoyed every single project you’re given. This year, your professor explained that she wanted all of her students’ projects to always follow a specific theme — happiness, sadness, anger, etc. And, throughout the year, you’ve gotten nothing but A’s on all of them. It’s something you’re proud about, something that you didn’t hesitate to tell your best friend Choso when he had asked about it the first time around. 

However, this straight A streak might soon come to a stop as the end of the semester wraps up. Your professor had just gotten engaged a few weeks ago and today's the first time she’s returning back to classes from her honeymoon, which she hasn’t stopped gloating over. She’s happy and you’re happy for her, you really are, but the themes of the projects for this class usually revolves around what she’s feeling and, unfortunately for you, the last theme just happens to be—

“Love!” your professor writes the word in big pink letters on the chalkboard and you immediately hear half of the class cheering and half of them groaning. Safe to say, you’re part of the other half.

“Oh, c’mon guys,” she frowns before pointing to her diamond engagement ring. “Love is amazing, it’s beautiful, it’s everlasting—”

“Some of us are single, you know?” one student calls out, several others joining in right after. “What if we don’t have a partner?”

It’s a valid point. This project will be a piece of cake for anyone in a relationship. Half of the class will probably submit a folder with selfies with their partners. And, given that your professor is in a particular good mood for this assignment, it’ll be an easy A. You, on the other hand, have nothing to submit because you’re not dating anyone. If somehow your professor suggests taking photos of your crushes, then that’ll be really fucking weird.

“You don’t have to be in a relationship for this project to work,” she explains with a smile. “For example, you could always submit pictures of your crushes.”

Fuck that.

“Kinda borderline stalkerish,” your thoughts slip out quite audibly.

Other students around you quickly agree while the other half of the class is arguing to keep the theme. Your professor opens her mouth to protest but only ends up shutting it again.

“Okay,” she laughs nervously before clapping her hands together in an attempt to calm everyone down. “If anyone would like a modification to this assignment, just send me an email by the end of the day and I’ll make a slight adjustment.” she says seriously. 

That seems to work as some of your classmates are already typing away on their laptops. You’re tempted to join the list, not out of frustration of being single, but rather because you’re not sure if getting an A is possible this time. You’re wondering if you should even bother asking Choso to be your little guinea pig, but that would probably be asking a lot from someone who already has a lot on their plate. Plus, it would be really weird to actually ask your crush to be your pretend boyfriend.

“How was class?”

“Fine.”

Choso cocks a brow as he slides into the dining booth across from you. He has a brightly assorted platter consisting of various vegetables and a fat salmon filet. He’s been lecturing to you about healthy eating habits a week ago after catching his half-brother downing a bunch of fried foods and burgers. What a health nut. Which is why he splits his sides of vegetables and adds some on your sparse plate when he sees you have nothing but a lonely scoop of pasta and fries.

“No, seriously, tell me what’s wrong,” and he gives you that look where you know you can’t make up an excuse out of it. 

You gracefully jab your fork at some of the oven roasted carrots he placed down, chewing and swallowing them in a way that made it seem like they kidnapped your entire family. And, fuck, they taste really good.

“My professor told us about the final project today,” you start, eyes focusing only on your plate and avoiding your best friend at all costs.

“Yeah?” Choso slices a piece of the salmon off and plates it on top of your pasta. “What about it?”

You briefly frown at the action, feeling your cheeks burn up shamelessly because why does he have to be so attentive and perfect?

“The theme is ‘Love’ and… well, I don’t really have anyone.” you cringe, poking at the salmon until it shreds apart. 

Your friend goes silent, making a low humming sound as if deep in thought. After some pauses, Choso speaks up, “What about crushes? Or celebrities?”

Your eyes immediately flick to his face at the word ‘crush’ but you steel yourself before your emotions betray you. You begin coughing into your fist, pretending to be choking on a piece of noodle before downing your glass of water. 

“That’ll be weird, dude. I can’t just take a photo of my crush and I feel like celebrities would just be a shitty cop out.” Sadly, you’re quite the model student in your major, and you’re not going to half-ass a project just because it’ll still give you a passing grade.

“So, what’s your plan?” Choso asks genuinely.

You purse your lips together, shrinking back into your seat, gaze now downcast again. “I’m not sure… I’ve been doing really well in that class and, well, it would suck seeing a C on this assignment after all the hard work I’ve done.” you answer honestly. 

He’s silent again and you can feel his foot tapping against yours underneath the table. Choso doesn’t show emotion easily on his face unless provoked, but you can tell he’s really focused on finding some sort of solution because he’s chewing the insides of his cheeks, brows slightly creased under his bangs, and the tattoo on his nose is slightly scrunched up. You probably think he looks the same when he’s taking his exams and, for some reason, it makes you kinda happy that he’s putting this much effort into this silly dilemma. Though, makes you also feel slightly guilty, too. 

“Hey,” you put up your hands in defeat and laugh. “It’s alright, Cho. Unless you volunteer to be my fake boyfriend and I take cheesy selfies with you, I don’t think you gotta do anything for me.”

“No, I can do that.”

You go into a coughing fit again. “I-I’m sorry?”

“Well,” this time Choso looks slightly flustered, hand rubbing the back of his neck and the other drumming away on the tabletop. “If that gets you an A, then I’ll do it for you. If, you know, you’re okay with that?” When you don’t give him an immediate answer, Choso waves his hands dismissively in the air, shaking his head, “Actually, never mind, it’s a dumb idea.”

No, it’s a genius idea. An idea that you thought only existed in your fantasies. And, now, you can’t stop thinking about actually doing it. “We can do that,” you say quietly, swallowing a heavy lump. “A few sappy photoshoots and then we call it, yeah?”

Choso nods slowly. “Anything for that A, right?”

“Right,” you echo back.

The first photo shoot occurs pretty soon after the proposal. Choso had suggested that a dinner date would be a good start and he just happened to make a quick reservation at Kentucky Fried de Chicken, or KFC for short. He’s heard good reviews from his classmate Suguru prior and texted you its details.

Business casual, ambient lighting, and live jazz music. You’re starting to wonder if he’s taking this more seriously than you are.

The fancy restaurant is way fancier than you originally anticipated. It’s the type of fancy that only the richest of the rich would go to, definitely not where a bunch of college students like yourselves would hang around in. Still, it’s impressive that Choso managed to find a spot last minute. You hope to order just a mini appetizer to split and pray that they don’t charge for a glass of water like some places do.

“Fuck,” your eyes feel like they’re about to jump out when you breeze over the menu. “How do people justify these prices?”

Choso stifles a groan of his own, probably thinking about losing a week’s worth of pay to a side he can’t even pronounce. “Nepo babies,” he answers bitterly.

“Ugh, Suguru probably made Satoru pay for everything…” you mumbled. “Not that he would mind, I guess. He’s practically the definition of old money.”

“Sorry, next time I’ll pick somewhere less… flashy,” Choso frowns, seemingly disappointed in himself.

You feel a wave of guilt hit again. Shit, you didn’t mean to make him feel bad or poor on this pretend date. Hell, you can barely afford student housing but you would probably spend the last of your money in your bank account to treat Choso out. You’re under the delusion that he’s doing that right now. But, if anything, you should probably cover for most of it because it’s your project, not his.

You lightly kick his feet, careful enough to not scuff his only pair of loafers. “No, I’m sorry. This,” you motion to the hanging chandelier above the table and towards the live band across the room. “This is perfect, Choso. I’m gonna be jealous of your future partner.” you say fondly but also exasperated. 

This makes him tense up, and you’re wondering if somehow he does have someone in mind. You’re about to ask, but the waiter swings by with two glasses of lemon water and a side of complementary towels. When the waiter starts asking for your orders and you respond with ‘just the broccolini’, he gives you an eye roll and scribbles the dish down with most likely a complaint added to it. 

“Budget tight, I see.” the staff comments before moving to a busier table of actual business men.

You stick out a tongue once he’s out of sight. “Budget tight?” you mock his tone and Choso laughs from across. “Dude, the broccolini costs as much as a full tank of gas in this economy and he wants to complain about the size of our wallets?”

“Half of a tank of gas,” Choso corrects and waves his wallet around. “You’re my date for tonight, I think it’s fair that I pay.”

Your cheeks flush at his words and you’re glad that it’s dark otherwise Choso would probably think you’re having a fever right now. You swallow thickly, “Let me pay, you already cover for Yuuji’s groceries.”

“How about I pay for this and you can cover for the next photo shoot?” Well, you can’t really argue with that logic, as much as you do want to.

“I, ugh, okay fine,” and to lighten up the mood, you add, “As your date, it’s your job to spoil me tonight.”

Choso laughs a little, seemingly satisfied by your answer. “Yeah, I know.”

The broccolini ends up tasting subpar. But you both knew that, afterall, you couldn’t afford any of the entrees on the menu without going into debt. You split half of the dish, which really isn’t that much to begin with — maybe like three pieces for each person. You’ve seen Choso eat before, you practically have lunch and dinner with him almost every single day, but something about this feels entirely different.

He’s more careful, using the comically gold plated silverware to cut into the dish and making sure he doesn’t make a mess. There’s a certain softness in his eyes when he looks up, asking if the food is okay, if it’s too salty and if he should order more. Obviously, you say no, because you’re not the type to take advantage of his kindness, no matter how much he persists. When you manage to get a bit of sauce on your cheeks, he subconsciously reaches over and swipes it away with his thumb, only then do you smell his rich cologne and see that he’s freshly shaven in the face. It makes your dumb heart do even dumber flips until you remind yourself that it’s just for a class project.

The rest of the 'date' goes surprisingly well. Of course it does – you’re with your best friend, and the topic of fake dating doesn’t come up again in the night. You both end up making stupid games with each other about inventing fake backstories for all the rich old people in the restaurant, and you both have to bite down on your hands from laughing too loud.

It feels like a normal hangout but, in your mind, it’s so much more.

After another futile attempt to fight for the bill, Choso wins, and you both start leaving. You’re lagging behind him, hands fiddling on your camera settings as you look through the few photos you manage to take during the meal. The dim lighting makes Choso look moodier than usual, but the images still feel stiff and doesn’t really capture the whole ‘love’ theme. 

You only look up again when Choso tugs on your sleeves, dragging you gently out the revolving doors and finally into the cool, night air, and you can’t help but gasp.

Choso blinks and his hands fly to his face, rubbing around for any traces of green florets. “Is there something on my face?”

“Don’t move,” you angle your camera, getting down to one knee and making sure the moonlight is shining directly at his sides because he looks absolutely ethereal right now.

The camera releases its shutters several times, taking at least ten photos in case one of them ends up looking bad, which is practically impossible because it’s Choso — but you’re not going to tell him that. Satisfied with the outcome, you rush up to him, bumping into his shoulder, and eagerly present the finished results.

“One of these is definitely going into the project,” you huff out with pride and Choso nods besides you.

“I’m not usually the type to have photos of myself but these are good,” he agrees. “Mind sending a few over?”

“Yeah,” you give him a soft smile and laugh.

You decide to save the first one for your portfolio and leave the other nine for your memories.

The second photo shoot ends up being domestic themed. Which is way better than paying for an overpriced meal.

It’s the weekend and also your monthly movie night marathon with Choso, so both of you are currently laying on either end of the couch in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and sweats. You decide, in order to fit the theme, that the perfect movie series to put on is the After series.

“Did you know that this first started out as a One Direction fanfic?” you huddle your knees close to your chest, eyes practically glued to the screen as the introduction plays.

“Is that why the reviews are bad?” he jabs.

Your eyes widen, scooting close to his side and pinching his arm as punishment for looking up the movie prior. “Hey, you’re supposed to go into this blind.”

“You’ve already read it though,” Choso counters and nudges you back. 

“Yeah, and you haven’t,” you roll your eyes and somehow neither of you comment how close your bodies are. 

You understand why they have to change the names of the characters due to copyright laws but you can’t help but to cringe at the replacement names. Harry is now Hardin, Zyan is now Zed, and Liam is now Landon. And the acting? Pretty bad. Possibly even worse compared to the Sharknado marathon you both had last month.

“That’s,” you pull out your fingers to count, “like the fifth sex scene within the past hour.”

In the middle of it, when Choso is pressed up against you, you decide it’s picture time. You raise the camera to fit you both, and throw up a peace sign, because why not? It’ll make a cute photo.

Or so you think until impulsively, Choso leans down and plants a chaste kiss on your head.

The photo ends up looking comically cute, with his eyes closed and your surprised look, but you're pretty much trying to keep yourself together from exploding on the spot.

“Sorry,” he pulls back, and there’s a heavy blush running across his cheeks as he says, “I thought it would look good and fit the theme.”

“R-Right,” you sharply inhale a breath as you wordlessly lean back into his touch, continuing the film without bringing up the kiss again.

When the third film starts playing, Choso ends up falling asleep on your shoulder, and you take it upon yourself to steal yourself a kiss on his forehead, somehow convincing yourself it’s for the project without even taking a photo.

“Have you ever, I dunno, thought about the fact that he likes you back?” Nobara asks bluntly during one particular evening at the library. 

“Shh!” You press a finger on her lips, ignoring her muffled whines as you try to control the rapid beating from your chest. “Not so loud!”

Nobara sighs and pulls back, pen gliding across her notebook and draws a shitty version of you and Choso in the middle of the page. “This is you, and this is him,” she points at the figures before doodling hearts above. “This is you and him from everyone’s point of view—so disgustingly in love that it makes all of us physically vomit sometimes,” she says this in the nicest way possible.

“Dude,” you frown and hide your face behind a textbook, fearing that other students would overhear. “He doesn’t like me like that. We’ve been friends since forever and I feel like if we make a move on each other then our dynamic will be fucked.”

She blinks, unfazed by your frenzied state, and sighs again. “Keep telling yourself that.” Nobara rips out the doodle and slides it across the desk to you. You begrudgingly accept it, shoving it in your bag. “When are you guys meeting up? You have one more photo shoot, right?”

“Later tonight, in his dorm,” you mumble shyly, feeling yourself growing smaller at that fact.

Nobara snorts. “A sex photo shoot?”

“No!” and you slap a hand over your mouth once several students hush you. “No.” you repeat, softer this time.

She laughs and doesn’t push the conversation any further. “Mhm, okay, okay.”

A few hours later and you're browsing around in his dorm room, trying to understand some of his organic chemistry notes but all it does is makes your brain hurt.

“I don’t get how you’re able to do this,” you plop down on his bed, staring hard at the back of Choso’s head as he pulls out an earbud, chuckling at your frustration. 

“I can teach you,” he offers, to which you immediately decline. “Or not, that’s cool, too.”

It bothers you a little of how normal everything is. You’ve definitely moved on from the kiss. Definitely. Not like you replayed it every day of your life for the past week. Not at all. Completely moved on. Yeah. Maybe Choso’s doing the same thing? Or, maybe he’s completely engrossed in his studies and you’re just a sick, sick friend who’s using your best friend? Yeah, maybe that’s it.

You clear your throat after a few beats in silence. “What did you have in mind?”

Choso hums in thought before shrugging. “Maybe capture something personal in my dorm? I think that’ll work.” Then, he gets up and excuses himself to the bathroom. “If you’re hungry, I have some snacks in my drawers. Be back in a second.”

When the door shuts, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding in. You’ve been in his room plenty of times and, after everything, it’s so hard to keep yourself composed around him. Ugh, this project wasn’t supposed to make you feel anything.

You take up his offer and start rummaging through his drawers. The top drawer consists of nothing but graphing paper and his carefully curated pens and pencils. His second drawer holds his other lab notebooks and extra scrap paper with scribbled notes. As you approach his third and final drawer, your gaze falls to an old photograph of you and Choso back in middle school on his desk.

It’s tucked away in the corner, just behind his lamp, and it’s a fond memory. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, his body slightly lifted above the ground, and your face looks absolutely constipated as you were trying your hardest to hold him. Choso, on the other hand, looks like he was about to burst into flames. Without thinking, you grab your camera and capture his desk, zooming in on the photo as the focal point. It’s slightly out of focus and a bit shaken up, like you couldn’t keep your hands still when you were taking it, but it’s perfect.

The following day you submit your portfolio, along with the rest of your classmates. Some complaining about how unfair the project was, some boasting about how it’s the easiest assignment out of the year, and some—you—are a bundle of nerves.

It’s not until the end of the week, where you’re having dinner with Choso in the dining hall, that you receive an email notification stating that grades are finally posted. 

You jolt from your seat, swallowing the last bits of roasted vegetables on your platter, before checking your grades. One. Two. Three… when the site loads, you practically screech in celebration.

“I got the A!”

“Congrats,” Choso smiles softly before it fades away, replaced by a nervous laugh and then a frown. “I’m sorry about kissing you the other day.”

Wow, that’s not exactly what you were expecting.

You choke on your drink but he continues, “I can tell you’ve been acting weird since then. And I think I stepped out of the line doing it. I’m sorry.”

Fuck, what are you supposed to say to that?

You scratch the back of your neck, face now equally as warm as his. “Don’t apologize, I’m actually kinda glad you did…”

He blinks. “You are?”

“Yeah,” you nod and Choso flushes more at that.

Then, his eyebrows shoot up. “You like me?”

“A lot,” and he gets even redder. God, he has no idea how much you’re madly in love with him.

“So, I guess we can start taking photos together like an actual couple then?”

You laugh, not fully believing that this is how your confession gets to be known. “Yeah, I guess we can.”

Looking back at every photo, every longing moment to the lingering touches, kisses, and the methodical layout of his room, you wonder if there was a moment where you faked your feelings for one another. The simple answer is no, to anyone, these photographs only contain unconditional love.

© 2023 DOOBEA. do not copy any of my writing and translate/repost.

#doobea writing #choso x reader #choso fluff #choso kamo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #i love him so much mwah <3 #jjk choso #choso #choso kamo

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 2: See me

Chap 2. Summary: To be loved is to be seen. You're slowly learning that Joel sees you a lot more than you realize. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for future smut) Word Count: 6.7k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, no smut (yet...pls be patient), tension, banter, a fuck ton of angst, mutual pining, language... I think that's it this go around? A/N: trust me, we're building up to the good stuff. I'm just enjoying developing Joel and the reader a bit more, so pls hang tight. It's all coming soon, I promise.

Masterlist

It had been two weeks since you had last seen Joel. You managed to get through the first round of tests and projects for each of your classes, but as the midterms slowly approached, you began to notice a shift in your students—specifically, Sarah. It wasn’t noticeable at first; she was still chatty with her friends, but her grades were slipping. Then, it became her grades and mood. During lessons, you’d catch her staring out the window blankly or doodling dismissively on the margins of her notebook when you were running through the guidelines for the midterms. She lingered longer after the school bell, choosing not to leave with her friends. After a particularly dull day of presentations, you decided to pull her aside after class. Sarah was reluctant to stay, but you reassured her she wasn’t in trouble. 

“I’ve noticed you’re a bit off lately, Sarah,” you said, leaning against the edge of your desk. 

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” she shrugged. 

She wouldn’t meet your eyes, and you noticed her shifting her weight between her legs the longer she stood in the empty room with you. You feared something was happening at home with Joel, but you didn’t want to explore that topic with your twelve-year-old student. Instead, you gave her a soft smile and tried a different approach. 

“I know you’re on the soccer team. Has that been tiring you out?” You asked.

“I mean, I guess so.”

“When’s your first game?” You were really trying now. 

Sarah tightened her fingers around the straps of her backpack, staring at the floor. 

“This Saturday,” she mumbled. 

“Are you excited? I’m sure your dad can’t wait to cheer you on!”

There it was—the breaking point. 

She looked up at you through blurry eyes, biting her lip to stop from crying. You immediately regretted bringing up Joel. You had overstepped a boundary, and you were paying the price. Dipping your head to meet her at eye level, you placed both hands on her shoulders, trying to comfort her the best you could. 

“Oh, honey,” you sighed. “I’m sorry. Is that what’s been upsetting you?”

She nodded, sniffling back the tears. 

“He’s always working,” she explained. “I don’t really think he’ll make time to come watch me play.”

“I bet he wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you assured her. 

“Yeah,” she said, wiping away a stray tear. 

You watched the defeat etch itself into her features, the deep frown across her face, the brightness in her eyes dwindling. You wanted to believe Joel was a good dad, and you had no doubt he was trying his hardest, but that clearly wasn’t enough. Tipping your fingers under her chin, you coaxed her eyes to meet yours. 

“Look, how about I go?” You offered. “I know I’m not the person you want to see on the sidelines, but I would love to watch you play.”

“Really?” She asked, her eyes growing wide. 

“Really,” you promised. 

Your words seemed to have soothed a bit of the ache inside of her, and she left the classroom with a smile growing on her face. If Joel wouldn’t show up for her, then you would. She deserved someone cheering her on; she deserved to be happy. 

Whoever decided to schedule soccer games at eight AM on a Saturday was cruel, but regardless, you threw on some leggings and a sweater and made your way to the school soccer fields. The parking lot was littered with minivans and families walking with lawn chairs tucked under their arms, their coolers filled with juice pouches and snacks dragging behind them. Obviously, you were uncultured in the sports world and came without a chair or blanket…or anything. So, you opted to stand behind the line of parents on the field, swaying under the morning breeze as you watched the kids chase the ball across the field. 

Your eyes never left Sarah while she was on the field; her bouncy curls and lean figure were easy to spot among the other players. She was quick when given the ball, dodging the opponents as she neared the net. There were only three minutes left in the first half of the game, and she had possession of the ball, weaving in and out of the players tracking her moves. You held your breath as she ran closer to the net, the ball easily controlled under her feet. An opponent was gaining on her, trying to kick the ball away, but Sarah did a little twirl and evaded them perfectly to shoot the game's first point. You were cheering and clapping loudly with the other parents on the sideline, watching her teammates swarm her with hugs. But as the cheering died out, you were left with this profound sadness that her dad wasn’t here to see her first goal. 

You let that bitterness grow inside you as you watched the remainder of the game.

When the final whistle blew, the team won 1-0, with Sarah being the game's star player. With a sheen of sweat over her forehead and a juice pouch in hand, Sarah skipped over to you with a bright smile. 

“Great job!” You cheered, welcoming her into a warm embrace.

She squeezed her arms around your torso, babbling off a slew of ‘thank you’s.’ You put aside your anger towards Joel as you grounded yourself in the moment. Sarah deserved this celebration, and you would happily give her every bit of attention you could. 

“Do you need a ride home, honey?” You asked, pulling away from the hug. 

Sarah’s cheery exterior faltered as she looked around at the families embracing their children. You knew where her mind was going. Looking around, she nodded slowly, clutching her drink tightly. 

“My friend’s parents took me here, but I think they’re going out to lunch. I was hoping my dad would be here, but…” She trailed off. 

“I’m happy to take you home, Sarah. Want some food for the drive home?” You offered. 

That bright smile was back as she happily agreed, following you back to your car. 

Both you and Sarah were munching on fries and singing along to pop tunes when you finally parked in front of her house. To your detriment, Joel’s truck was parked in the driveway. Sarah timidly looked between you and the truck as she gathered her sports bag and soda cup, thanking you again for the day spent together. You gave her the best fake smile you could conjure up and watched her head to the front door. 

You sat in front of the driveway for an extra few minutes, debating whether you should confront Joel, but before you could even decide, he was walking down the front porch and towards your car. That bitterness and anger you had suppressed all day surged forward, and you jumped out of the car to face him with a frown drawn on your face.

Joel greeted you with your name falling off his tongue, and you didn’t have time to register the beautiful way it sounded in his Southern accent before you began spewing a litany of remarks about how you felt. 

“Why weren’t you there?” You shouted, your body at arm's length from his. You needed to distance yourself from him, too afraid that your anger would send a hand flying across his face. You had to remind yourself that he was Sarah’s dad and you were her teacher, but that wouldn’t stop you from speaking your mind. 

Joel looked at you with a furrow of confusion and guilt, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. It was apparent he regretted missing the game, but that didn’t matter. Saying sorry wouldn’t turn back the clock and magically make everything better. You knew that firsthand.

“Tommy and I had an early meetin’ with a contractor,” he explained. “Trust me, I hate that I missed the game.”

“You didn’t just miss the game. You missed her first goal,” you snapped. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, rocking his heels. “I appreciate you takin’ the time to go and watch her play. And drivin’ her home… and gettin’ her lunch.”

“I did everything you should have done,” you accused. 

Joel swallowed thickly, his eyes settling on yours with a wave of sadness passing through his irises. Those big puppy dog eyes wouldn’t soothe the anger steamrolling over your professionalism. Fuck being professional. Sarah deserved a dad who was present, and if no one were going to call him out on his bullshit, you’d do it.

“I feel real shitty ‘bout it,” he sighed. “You ain’t gotta remind me.”

“You should feel shitty. She’s your daughter. I shouldn’t have to be the only one cheering for her on the sidelines. Nothing should be more important than that.”

“Would you quit lecturin’ me?” Joel barked. “I know I fucked up, and I already apologized to her. Again, I appreciate you takin’ the time to be there for her, and I’m real sorry for makin’ you do that.”

You huffed a laugh, folding your arms over your chest. 

“You didn’t make me do anything,” you argued. “I wanted to be there for her, but she wanted you to be there for her.”

Joel said nothing at that, only stared at you in stunned silence. You were done with him, letting your anger get the best of you. 

“I know what it feels like when the one person you want to see doesn’t show up. I know that disappointment. Have a great day, Mr. Miller. Tell Sarah I’ll see her on Monday.”

You spun on your heel toward your car, flinging the door open with more force than you wanted. You shouldn’t have brought your past into it; Joel was nothing like Bennette, but it hurt all the same. 

Joel didn’t try to stop you as you drove out of the neighborhood, but he remained at the curb of his driveway, his eyes never leaving you until you were out of view. 

You barely managed to put your car in park before you broke down in tears. Everything was crashing at the surface, and you didn’t have the strength to bottle it away this time. Bennett had been your entire world for five years. Your whole life revolved around him, from going to the same grad school together to moving away from Boston to be with him in his new career. You left everything behind for him and were happy to do it because you loved him. Despite his flaws and the “not-so-picture perfect” relationship, you stayed because you loved him. And in that moment when you needed him to be there for you… he was gone. You weren’t lying to Joel when you said you knew what that disappointment felt like; it was that same feeling that kept you up at night when you wondered if you had done something to deserve it. But Sarah? Sarah did nothing to deserve to be abandoned by her dad. All she wanted was to see that one person cheering her on from the sidelines, to hug her and tell her she was loved. 

She didn’t get that today. 

And you didn’t get that two years ago. 

With whatever dignity you had left, you dragged yourself inside and into your bedroom, flinging yourself onto the mattress. Curling into a ball on top of the comforter, you let the tears continue to fall as you stared at the empty walls where the pictures of you and Bennett had hung before. Every inch of this house was a reminder of the scars Bennett left on your heart. You could have moved out months ago, you could have gone home, but what was the use when the pain would just travel with you? Shutting your eyes, you let the emotions exhaust you until you drifted asleep. 

“Bennett, I told you what time the cake tasting was scheduled for,” you shouted across the kitchen. 

Bennett wasn’t even listening as he responded to a thread of emails on his computer. The law firm he had been working at kept him on a short leash, always requiring him to be there at their beck and call. Between you and his job, his loyalty was in the latter. 

“I know,” he nodded, still glued to the computer screen. “They needed a proxy for the shareholder meeting and asked me to step in.”

“We’ve had this scheduled for weeks now. You can’t expect me to make all these decisions alone.”

“Whatever cake you choose, I’m sure I’ll love it,” he shrugged.

“That's not the point!” You yelled, slamming down the Tupperware you had been scrubbing. 

That caught his attention. Slamming the laptop shut, Bennett’s nostrils flared at your sudden outburst. You weren’t usually this outspoken; you were always the level-headed and obedient fiancé he expected to have. But the entire engagement had been a disaster, between work conflicts and the constant pressure he put on you. Every day, he expected to come home to a fresh meal, never considering that your job didn’t end when three PM hit. Being a teacher meant your responsibilities began at home, when you were hunched over curating the next lesson and grading papers. You never complained about his workload extending into the evening, either. God forbid you ask for more time together. 

“What is the point?” He snapped.

“The point is that I want you there. I want you to be a part of this wedding planning process. All I’m asking for is two hours together, where we eat too much sugar and choose a damn cake flavor. It’s not even about the fucking cake, Bennett. It’s about you being present in this engagement.”

“Are you saying I’m not present?” He accused. “Because I have been as present as possible despite me working so hard to fund this big wedding that you wanted!”

“I just want you there with me for these things. Even if they aren’t important to you, it’s important to me,” you said, your energy dwindling. He always found a way to make you feel bad, and you looked past it for the sake of your heart. You loved him and did everything you could to make him love you in return. If that meant placating your feelings, you’d do it. 

“If it’s so important to you, then just go. You can tell me all about it when I get home tomorrow.”

That was the best resolution you’d get, and there was no use fighting anymore. He would always win. 

“Okay,” you acquiesced. “I’ll do that.”

Bennett rose from his chair and met you around the kitchen counter with a big hug. He rested his chin on your head as you melted into his chest.

“I love you, honey. I don’t want you angry at me all the time. You know I’m trying my hardest to be everywhere all at once. Just work with me, okay?” he sighed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be better about it. I love you, too,” you whispered.

A firm knock on your front door jolted you awake from the flood of memories in your dreams. The shadows in your room were a telltale sign you had slept through most of the afternoon, which would put a hefty dent in the list of never-ending work you needed to finish. Sulking through the house to the front door, you smoothed down your hair and sweater, trying to gather your bearings. With one last heavy inhale, you pried the door open and stood paralyzed at the further standing before you. 

Joel said your name softly, his eyes tired and hair ruffled at the crown of his head. He looked as just a mess as you did, but most definitely for different reasons.

“Mr. Miller,” you said. “What are you doing here?”

He swayed back on his heels, holding your eyes apologetically. It was written all over his face; he didn’t need to say the words.

“Our conversation earlier ain’t sittin’ right with me,” he sighed.

“I overstepped, and I’m sorry,” you said honestly. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

Joel held his hand in protest, shaking his head at your words.

“Don’t apologize, okay? You were right about everything. I shoulda been there, and I wasn’t. I let her down.”

“Mr. Miller, I—.”

“I let her down,” he repeated. “And I let you down.”

You stood in stunned silence, trying to understand his words. Joel watched you turn the words over in your head, his eyes never leaving yours. He said everything you had ever asked to hear from Bennett in just a few words. You didn’t understand the emotions stirring inside you, nor could you control the tears welling in your eyes. This would be the second time you cried today, and now it would be the second time you cried in front of Joel. 

“You didn’t let me down,” you faltered. 

“I did. I want you to see that I’m not a bad father, but I seem to keep makin’ mistakes left and right. She expected me to be there, and so did you. I’m the type of man who makes and keeps his promises, but lately, I’ve been fallin’ short. It ain’t fair to her, and it ain’t fair to you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” you whispered, wiping your tears. 

“I sure as hell do,” he protested. “I owe you an apology. I’m sorry, okay? I’m gonna do better about bein’ there for her, and I want you to see that. I don’t wanna keep fuckin’ it all up.”

“Did you tell her that?” You asked. 

“I did, and now I’m tellin’ you. I want you holdin’ me accountable on all this, and I want you to call me out on my bullshit like you did earlier. I needed to hear all that.”

“I was just angry. I didn’t need to be that mean to you.”

Joel lifted his hand to brush away a stray tear falling down your cheek, the touch of his hand on your skin electrifying you. You flinched away, trying to curl into yourself. He noticed your movements, letting his hand fall back to his side. You glanced down, watching him clench his hand into a fist as if he were trying to control an urge inside of him. You were trying to do the same; being near him scared you. It shocked you to see someone act mature and actually own up to their faults; it was something Bennett rarely did. You couldn’t make sense of it. 

“There ain’t a single part of me that’s mad at you, okay? Don’t ever be afraid to speak your mind—at least not with me,” Joel said. 

You only nodded, too afraid that if you spoke now, you’d succumb to an ugly sob. Joel’s broad frame was shadowed and looming over you in the dying sunlight, a cloud over the haze inside your mind. Joel didn’t understand the weight in those words, the way they sewed shut the empty holes left inside you. It wasn’t Bennett saying them, and it definitely didn’t rewrite the past, but it was writing the future. It was a future with the possibility that you weren’t as broken as you thought. 

“Thank you,” you muttered. “I—just thank you.”

“Somethin’ tells me you ain’t been told these things before, huh?” Joel prodded. 

“It doesn’t matter. I appreciate you taking the time to come out here, and I’m sorry again. I promise I’ll be better about my anger,” you laughed, hoping you’d be able to brush it off with a forced smile. 

Joel saw right through you; his lips tugged down into a frown. You watched the crease between his eyebrows appear as he watched you minimize yourself right back down to zero. It wasn’t easier that way—making yourself small. Too big, and you’d be too much to handle. You were tired of being too much for anyone; it had already been your downfall once before. 

“Whoever made you feel like y’need to apologize all the time is a real piece of shit,” Joel huffed. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Miller. Thank you again for stopping by.”

“It’s the least I could do. And y’know what? I’d be happy if you joined me at the rest of her games. She loved havin’ you there, and I know it would mean a lot to her to see you on the sidelines again. Think that’s somethin’ you’d interested in?”

“I’ll think about it, yeah,” you smiled. 

“Yeah? Good,” he exhaled. 

Joel met you with a genuine smile, his eyes dancing over your face. You swayed in the doorway, unsure of what to do now that the conversation was coming to an end. A strange part of you didn’t want it to end; the stillness with him had managed to bottle away all of the lingering memories of Bennett, even if only for a moment. You’d take this over, crying yourself asleep like so often did. 

“You should head home to Sarah,” you sighed. “I hope you have a good weekend, Mr. Miller.”

“You have a g’night, alright?”

You watched him walk down the porch steps, the muscles in his back tense as he retreated back to his truck. You should have walked your ass back inside, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Before opening the truck door, Joel glanced back at you, waving a quick goodbye. You waved back and waited until his truck dissolved into the distance to finally shut your door and sit in the blaring silence. 

You watched the night fade away from the comfort of your couch, a half-eaten sandwich in front of you and a wine glass in hand. Not only did you overstep your boundaries as a teacher, but you overstepped every possible rule between a teacher and parent. Despite what happened at the bar with Joel, he was still Sarah’s dad and completely undeserving of the anger you had toward him today. He was slipping behind every brick wall you had built up around you, a fortress no one could penetrate, yet he was managing to do it so effortlessly. And it was infuriating. How were you supposed to protect yourself from him? Bennett had been the perfect man at the start, always saying the right things and showing his love in so many different ways, but even with the rose-colored glasses on, that all crumpled away as time moved on. Nothing about your relationship was perfect, yet you tried to mend the broken pieces in hopes the possibility of marriage would solve all your problems. But clearly, it didn’t. It never even made it to marriage.

You weren’t even considering dating Joel, but that didn’t stop you from doubting he would be any different than Bennett. Sure, he might seem interested now, but that would change once he saw every damaged piece of you. You were hardly controlling your emotions, as it were, so why would you spend the time sharing the rawest parts of yourself with someone who would end up leaving?

I’ll do better, you told yourself. Bottle it away.

Another week passed by without fuss; the students passed their practice exams and had even begun working on their group presentations on the new poetry unit you had created. After next week's midterm exams, you’d be on a plane heading to Boston to see your family during the fall break. You hadn’t been home in over a year, and you were well aware of the fact your parents and sisters missed you. It’s not that you didn’t miss them, but going home was another reminder of all you had lost. But you’d steer clear of the roads you’d traveled down with Bennett, you’d avoid the bars and restaurants he had taken you to, and you’d absolutely banish all thoughts of returning to the Public Garden where he had proposed. Every corner of your hometown was haunted by the ghosts of what had been, but you’d brave it for the sake of family. 

You had forfeited any thought of going to the soccer game out of sheer self-preservation. Being around Joel more than necessary was putting you at risk for an inevitable heartbreak, and it just wasn’t something you were ready to deal with. You didn’t want to let Sarah down, but Joel would be there for her, and that mattered more than you standing on the sidelines. She didn’t need you there; you’d only gone to the game to fill a void within her life. Joel was going to stick to his word, and you’d be able to maintain your teacher-parent relationship once again. You still had yet to forgive yourself for Saturday’s outburst. 

It wasn’t until Thursday when Sarah approached you, that you were reminded of the game.

When she approached your desk at the end of class, she had her textbook in hand and her backpack slung over her shoulder. You were feeling particularly drained from the day after spending most of the night tossing and turning between nightmares, and you had to muster up the strength to keep things light between you and her.

“So,” she started, a bright smile plastered on her face. “My dad said you might come to the game Saturday.”

“Oh, yeah. I—I haven’t decided yet. I’ve got to make sure everything is prepped for testing next week,” you lied.

“Oh,” her face fell. “That’s okay. I know the exams are important.”

Fuck.

You were transported right back to the kitchen with Bennett.

“I’m sure the prep work can wait till after the game,” you smiled, already giving up on your initial plans to avoid everything—everything being Joel Miller.

“If you don’t want to come…” Sarah trailed off, looking down at her sneakers.

“Hey,” you said softly. Her eyes traveled up to meet yours again. “I’ll be there. You have my word.”

Sarah perked up, nodding her head enthusiastically. 

“I’ll tell my dad! Maybe we can all get lunch after!” She babbled excitedly. 

Oh, Christ. 

“I’m sure you guys will want the day together,” you smiled, your patient wearing. “Go enjoy your night, Sarah. I’ll see you tomorrow in class. Don’t forget your notes on Shakespeare!”

“Bye, Miss Smith!”

You watched her sprint out of the room to catch up with her friends, and you sunk into your chair, dreading what may come during the weekend. 

Maria stopped by your classroom after the final bell, skeptically looking at you while you gathered your work bag. Thankfully, you both had Thursdays free of crosswalk duty, and you were ready to get home and sulk away under the guise of cheap wine and a bubble bath. 

“You’re extra grumpy today,” Maria noted, slinging her large purse over one shoulder. 

“I’m not grumpy,” you huffed. “I’m fucked. Completely fucked.”

She barked a laugh and watched you stuff files into your bag before you grabbed your keys and shooed her out to lock the door. The hallways were empty, except for a few teachers trickling out, and you walked a pace quicker, trying to escape the building before anyone else stopped you. 

“Why do I get a feeling this may be because of a certain parent?” She asked, shoving into you playfully. 

“Yes,” you grumbled. 

“Explain!”

“Ugh, okay. Listen, all of this is against my own will, okay?” 

You peered over at her, seeing a wicked smile splitting across her face. If anyone was on board with your confused emotions towards Joel Miller, it was Maria. She had been all for it since day one, and you knew she wouldn’t shut up about it until she saw you and him together. Which wouldn’t be happening. 

You dive into retelling the events of Saturday, including the outburst and the conversation with Joel that had followed. All through your rambling, Maria was squealing like a little girl and inserting small remarks here and there—all of which revolved around the idea that you should fuck out your feelings and get it over with. 

“Maria,” you snapped. “I’m not going to fuck him! Would you quit that?”

She shrugged, laughing off your stubbornness. 

“All I’m saying is that there is clearly some sort of chemistry between you both,” she sassed. “One night of hot sex might clear your mind, and you can resume your up-tight ‘teacher-parent’ bullshit you’re trying so hard to keep.”

“It’s not bullshit, Maria,” you argued. “It’s called being professional.”

You both had made it to the parking lot, and you tried to inch closer to your car in hopes of coming out unscathed from this conversation. But Maria was anything but relentless. 

“You really need to get laid,” Maria huffed. “Dust off the cobwebs and get back out there.”

“I’m perfectly fine with how my life is right now. I don’t need to get laid, and I certainly don’t need to be in a relationship.”

Maria grabbed your hands in hers, leveling you with a stern look under her thick mascara-coated lashes. With her lips set in a firm line, she squeezed your hands.

“It’s been two years,” she sighed. “Stop letting Bennett control your life. He’s in the past, and you need to find a new future—preferably one where you’re happy and in love.”

You squeezed her fingers in return, giving her a sad smile. You knew somewhere inside you that she was right, but it wasn’t in the cards for you right now. Not when you still had so much healing to do. 

“Thank you, Maria,” you whispered. 

When you arrived at the school, the soccer game had already begun. Your car sat idle in the parking lot for nearly twenty minutes until you finally found the strength to head toward the soccer fields. Among the line of parents on the sidelines, Joel was standing further away, his body swaying against the windy morning as his eyes stay focused on the field. You walked up slowly, smoothing out your t-shirt and running sweaty palms over your jeans. You definitely didn’t spend too much time getting ready for a simple game. As if he felt your energy circling him, Joel turned toward you with a beautiful smile breaking across his face. 

“I was hopin’ you’d show up,” he said. 

“Good morning, Mr. Miller,” you greeted. 

You weren’t sure what to do with yourself beside him, so you mimicked his stance and folded your arms over your chest. With the morning sun rising above the soccer field, you watched as his skin glowed in the sunlight, his tanned skin illuminated in the soft hues of the sunrise. He was undeniably gorgeous, but you forced that thought away along with all of the unruly ones that seemed to constantly evade your mind. 

“Sarah’s doin’ great out there so far,” he mentioned. “Got herself close to scorin’ a goal ten minutes ago. No doubt she’ll get one at some point.”

“I bet she will. She’s amazing out there.”

Joel beamed at your compliments of his daughter, his eyes tracking her as she ran across the field. A teammate shot the ball to her, and you both stood silently as she kept control of it toward the goal. Instead of taking the shot herself, she crossed the ball to another teammate, letting them score the first goal of the game. The parents on the sidelines sounded off with a round of cheers, and you and Joel joined in on the excitement. 

“She’s a team player,” you commented. “That’s a good quality.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled proudly. 

This. This is what you had hoped to see for Sarah. A dad who was present and proud of her accomplishments. You could give her all the applause in the world, but his voice cheering above the rest was what mattered the most. 

There was a lull in conversation for a while as you both watched the game with rapt attention. You tried hard not to notice the way Joel shifted closer to you or the fact that he had dropped his arms so that he could casually brush his against yours. Each touch of his skin against yours was like a wave of heat rushing through your body, an electric current that started with him and ended with you. There was no doubt he did it on purpose, but you did nothing to stop it. You were losing the war between self-restraint and vulnerability. 

“How’s she likin’ class?” He asked, making small talk. 

You shrugged, glancing at him with an easy smile. 

“She’s one of the best kids in her grade. This new unit we’re working on will be a challenge, but I know she’s up for it.”

“What’s the new unit?”

“Poetry.”

Joel snorted a laugh, his fingers brushing against the denim on your leg. You shifted to glare at him, amused at his response. 

“What’s so funny, Mr. Miller?”

He ran a hand through the curls atop his head, giving you a lopsided grin. 

“Nothin’,” he chuckled. “Just don’t understand why poetry is so popular in schools nowadays.”

“Poetry has always been popular,” you said pointedly. 

“Has it? Must not have paid much attention back in the day,” he smirked. 

“It’s my favorite unit to teach,” you confessed. “I think poetry gets a bad rap—clearly—but it’s important to understand the way words can convey so many layered emotions in the simplest of ways.”

Joel eyed you as you spoke, nodding along with you as you spoke. Even if he wasn’t completely sold on the idea of poetry, you enjoyed how attentive he was to the conversation. In the distance, you heard the parents cheer again, and you glanced at the field to see Sarah running with the ball toward the goal. 

“Look!” You said, pointing toward the field.

Joel snapped his head back to his daughter, watching as she sent the ball soaring into the net. You jumped up and down, clapping at her goal and yelling out her name in excitement.

“That’s my girl!” Joel cheered. “Way to go, Sarah!”

Sarah looked over at him, her cheeks rosy from the play, and shot him two thumbs up. Joel returned the same hand gesture; his cheeks stretched wide with a smile as he watched his daughter dance into an embrace from her teammate. 

“You were sayin’,” he pressed, his eyes sliding back to you. 

“Oh,” you laughed. “That’s okay. I don’t want to bore you with all the school talk.”

“You ain’t borin’ me. I wanna hear what you have to say.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, realizing he wasn’t just asking these things to make small talk. He sincerely wanted to know the things you were interested in and the work you did, which was far from what you received from Bennett. Half the time you talked about your lessons, Bennett would just aimlessly nod while typing his emails and debriefs, his attention far away from you.

“Well, I’m starting off by teaching them about Shakespeare,” you explained, watching Joel open his mouth to make a retort. You held your hand up in defense and continued. “Before you go complaining about Shakespeare, I’ll have you know he’s one of the most renowned dramatists in history. His stylist choices in his playwrights were unlike anything else, and his work has completely impacted modern-day English. It’s because of him that we have so many words and phrases in the English language. Say what you want, but he really is worth learning about.”

Joel studied you for a moment, his lips curving up at the corners. You weren’t used to rambling off about useless things, more because you never really had the chance in the past. It was exciting to talk about the things you were passionate about, and you didn’t realize you’d find that moment being with Joel Miller. 

“Maybe I need to read some of his work,” Joel said. “What’s your favorite?”

“My favorite?” You blinked at him. “Oh, um, it’s cliche, but my favorite is Romeo and Juliet. That’s what I’m starting with on the unit.”

“Sarah got a copy of it?” he asked. 

“She should, yes.”

“Might need to steal it from her so I can see what all this fuss is about,” he smiled, bumping his arm into yours. 

“You don’t need to do all that,” you muttered. “I’m sure Sarah could tell you all about it after she’s done reading it.”

“I’m sure she could,” he acknowledged. “But maybe I'd like to do the research.”

“Research?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

Joel leaned into you, his face drawn closer to yours. 

“Yeah, research,” he repeated. “I wanna know why y’like it so much.”

Your mouth opened and closed, all words seemingly melting from your brain. What the hell were you supposed to say to that? He wanted to take the time to understand your interests… but why? Once again, Joel was proving to be everything you never saw in Bennett. And it scared the fuck out of you. Because you couldn’t date Joel, nor did you want to. Giving yourself up to another person, exposing those vulnerable parts of yourself like that would just be inviting the possibility of another heartbreak. 

“I can save you the time and tell you instead,” you offered. 

“Nah,” he smiled. “I wanna find out myself.”

The game came to a close, with the school team winning 2-0. Joel embraced Sarah when she ran off the field, wrapping her into a gigantic bear hug and planting a kiss on her forehead. You gave her a small high five, congratulating her on the win. You followed them out to the parking lot, watching as Joel kept his arm wrapped around Sarah’s narrow frame. From this angle, they looked like the perfect father-daughter duo, and your heart seized with happiness knowing he had kept his word. 

Digging through your purse for your car keys, you said a quick goodbye and made a beeline for your car. You wouldn’t insert yourself in the rest of their day; you needed to find some distance between you and Joel before he started crawling further under your skin. But as you tugged open your car door, a warmth grew behind you, and you turned to see Joel standing a few steps away. Sarah was nowhere in sight, so you figured she was already waiting for him in his truck. 

“Yes?” You asked, standing idle between the open door and Joel’s tall body. 

His eyes bounced between your lips and your eyes, never settling on one too long. 

“Look, this is gonna sound forward of me, and I can probably guess your answer,” he started. “But can I take you out to dinner sometime? As a ‘thank you' for everything.”

“Mr. Miller,” you sighed. “I appreciate the invitation, but this needs to remain purely professional. I’m Sarah’s teacher, and I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his eyes trailing to the ground. Despite every cell inside your body screaming yes, you needed to stick to your rules—whatever the hell they were.

“I figured you’d say that,” he mumbled. "Listen, let me give you my number at least. If you ever change your mind, or if you need someone to drive you home from the bar, y’can shoot me a call. Is that okay?”

“I…” You trailed off, considering his offer. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

You searched for your phone in your purse, handing it over to him with shaky hands. His fingers brushed against yours as he took it, a crackle of energy bursting through your skin at his touch. He must have noticed, too, because his eyes met yours before he typed in his number. With a few more clicks on your phone, he handed it back, brushing his hand over yours once more. 

“I sent myself a text on it,” he confessed. “Now I have yours, just in case of anything, y’know?”

“Yeah, just in case.”

Joel gave you a soft smile before turning and walking away. You watched his figure fade into the cars still filling the parking lot and caught him glancing back at you one last time. You stared down at your phone, seeing the text lit up on the screen. He had sent one simple word to himself: your name. Not Miss Smith, not ‘Sarah’s teacher’, but your name. 

You opened his contact information and typed one simple word: Joel

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x teacher!f!reader #joel x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pre outbreak!joel

[hydrngea]

Rafe x reader

They grew up together and as kids Rafe got reader a necklace and she still wears it to this day but Rafe doesn’t notice until she’s all dressed up for midsummer

(This is really random but I thought it was cute lol)

Ur writing is amazing btw! 🫶🏻

perfect pick

a/n : thanks sm!!! i appreciate the compliment :)) i didn’t completely answer the prompt but i might do a part 2 in a couple of days :))

notes : rafe cameron x reader, au to some extent featuring rafes mom before she disappeared.

masterlist | PART TWO

————

rafe could care less about your tenth birthday. in fact, the only reason he even knew it was coming up was because it was all you and sarah could ever talk about lately; what the theme would be, what kind of cake would be the best to eat, who should and should not be invited.

rafe cameron does not care about your birthday- which is why when his mom forced him to come along with her to pick out a present for you, all he wanted to do was jump out of the car and run away.

“but she’s not even my friend.” he whined as they entered the mall, keeping the door open for his mom to go in with wheezies stroller.

“no buts. she’s family, rafe.”

he groans, his steps heavy against the large and perfectly square porcelain tiles of tiffany’s.

“just because she’s your best friends daughter doesn’t mean i have to get her a present.”

his mom shushes him as they approach the jewelry counter, placing a hand on his shoulder before smiling at the associate.

the associate is too enthusiastic to be genuine at this time of day. rafe rolls his eyes at her sickly sweet tone while she asks what they’re looking for. he feels a nudge at his side and his face twitches with annoyance.

“a necklace.” he says under his breath, planning on choosing the first one the associate suggests.

she leads them to the left side of the store, hand gesturing to an array of really expensive necklaces for them to choose from.

“i’ll be right where you found me if you need any help with specifics.” she smiles before abandoning them.

rafe turns to look at his mom, who holds wheezie on her hip. “so?” he shrugs.

“hm?”

he shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts, “what one do you want?”

his mother laughs, adjusting wheezie on her hip and grabbing her hand, stopping her from dirtying the display with her chubby fingers. “i don’t want any of these. which one does y/n want?”

the question makes him think for a second. he doesn’t know what you would like. he flips through his memories for some sort of indication, but really he should just point to a random piece and call it a day.

red. he thinks, he remembers you saying your favorite color is red- on multiple occasions.

it was red like ladybugs 4 years ago. then red like pretty roses. red like red pandas a couple years before. red like taylor swifts iconic lipstick now.

he shakes his head, then points to a silver chain with a little red charm in it. “that.” he shrugs and then turns on his heel, before his mom can question if its the best choice.

…

he fidgets with the black ribbon wrapped neatly on top of the gift box theyd put the necklace in, eyes tracing over the bolder lettering over and over again as they walked back to the parking lot. he avoids making eye contact with his mom, like for some reason it’d trigger her to go on another rant about how he should act gentlemanly when he gives her the present or at least act like he cares.

they make it to the car without any conversation, save for some half-coherent blabber here and there from wheezie. he slips into the passenger seat while his mom buckles in wheeze into her carseat, the box still in his hands.

halfway through the car ride, the silence between them is broken. “i know you don’t like to talk about your feelings rafe, but you don’t do a great job at hiding your facial expressions.”

“mom,” he groans, leaning the back of his head deep into the leather seat of her escalade.

“i can tell you have a soft spot for her.” she continues, pressing on the brakes as they approach a red light.

“i don’t.” rafe grumbles, fingernail digging into the box and leaving a mark.

“deny all you want, but i saw the way you looked thinking about her. it’ll catch up to you one day.”

he finally brings his gaze to her, his blue eyes meeting her mirroring irises with a glint of curiosity over what her words mean. he makes to open his mouth, to ask what she means by the look. to ask what’s going to catch up to him. but then reminds himself it doesn’t matter and stops himself.

he doesn’t have anything to catch up to him, because he doesn’t have any sort of feelings for y/n.

there’s no way he feels something towards you- could he?

he shakes his head, putting the box to his side and out of his lap and flickering his eyes to his window. why is he letting his mom get into his head?

he doesn’t care about you. doesn’t care about hee stupid birthday, or even care much about the stupid present he chose for you.

—————-

your tenth birthday party is excatly how you wanted it to be. it’s perfectly decorated, with red streamers hung all over the downstairs of your house and taylor swift themed snacks and games. you were having the time of your life, drunk off shirley temples in fancy alcholol flutes.

you notice a stain on your birthday sash and you pout. quickly excusing yourself to drop off the sash in your room, you rush out of your back patio and into the house, making your way towards the stairs when you bump into someone’s solid chest.

here’s one thing to note; regardless of what everyone says, you do not like rafe cameron. “oh, rafe.” you say, taking a small step back-you can feel your cheeks burn under his gaze.

okay fine, the previous statement was a lie. but not completely, it was only a small crush. tiny. as big as the sprinkles on your birthday cake.

“here.” he shoves a small gift bag into your hands and then hastily walks away before you can ask what it is.

the interaction leaves you somewhat disoriented but also flustered, skin pink and pulse fast.

on your past birthdays, you always get one present from sarah and one from her parents. and that’s what you think it is, a present from sarah’s family.

you bring the bag up with you into you room and pull the sash off your body, throwing it into a random corner of your room.

you know it’s bad etiquette to open presents before it’s time, but for some reason you’re too drawn to the gift bag to wait. you peak your head out your bedroom door and find that the coast is clear, and open the bag, pulling out a small teal box with a black ribbon wrapped around it. you shake it close to your ear, guessing it’s some sort of jewelry and grin to yourself when you realize you’re right

you open the box and find the most perfect necklace ever. it’s silver, with a small red heart attached to its chain with your initial engraved onto it.

you’ll have to thank mrs and mr cameron for the gift. it might be even better than the one sarah got you.

you hear your mom call for you from the bottom of the stairs and you quickly shove the box into the top drawer of your dresser, leaving the bag on top of your bed before hurrying back downstairs to rejoin the party.

——-

you’re confused when mrs cameron hands you another gift bag when it’s time to open presents.

“another one?” you ask with your brow furrowed, though you aren’t complaining.

“from me, ward and wheeze.” she hands it to you with a warm smile and a quick wink.

that’s when it clicks that the present wasn’t from who you thought it.

you slip away from the party and rush back up to your room, grabbing the original bag and digging inside for a card or an indication form who it could be from.

there’s a note stuck to the bottom of the bag, made of ripped loose leaf and written with a dull pencil.

“happy birthday” it says, with no signature. but you don’t need one to know who it’s from.

suddenly, your heart starts hammering and your face starts to swell with a smile.

you can’t believe it- rafes the one who got you the necklace, and somehow he managed to make it perfect.

—-

authors note part 2 : i want to say this is extremely UNEDITED so i apologize for any errors and incoherences etc ! there’s a 90% chance i’m gonna take this down and repost this with edits lol.

taglist : @mrsstarkey1 @maybankslover @of-many-fandomss @dearreader03 @penny4yourthoughts @willowpains

PART 2

#rafe cameron #jj maybank #obx #drew starkey #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #withbeautyandrage.txt #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron fluff #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #obx s3 #obx netflixs #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x kook!reader #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x reader #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #obx fic #rafe angst

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

jealousy, jealousy || Chan x f!reader

Summary: You can feel Chan's eyes on you from across the room. If you're honest, you're enjoying the attention a little more than you should. Sure, technically there's nothing about the little 'arrangement' between the two of you that justifies it, but if you're being honest, what you have with him has been about more than sex for quite some time now.

Word count: 5k

Genres: college AU, friends with benefits AU, smut

Warnings & Tags: jealousy, swearing, mentioned slut shaming (not in a sexy way), smut [oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex], unprotected sex, reader has commitment issues

series masterlist

A/N: final piece in this series! I hope you've enjoyed the ride with me, even if it took way longer than anticipated~ Thank you for the love and support!

Ask anyone on campus, and they’ll tell you how wonderful of a person Bang Chan is. Sweet, kind, involved in campus life, somehow juggling being captain of the swim team with being producer-singer-songwriter for the rising group 3RACHA, he’s loved by everyone and their mother — literally, since he’s the ideal son-in-law.

Ask anyone on campus, and they’ll say you’re a bitch.

Well, maybe not a bitch, but the word that comes back about half the time when talking about you is messy.

To be fair, it’s not a reputation you’ve done anything to counter, or something that you’d say isn’t true about you. ‘Homewrecker’, that you disagree with. You don’t keep tabs on people, and if guys happen to have girlfriends when they hook up with you, you don’t think it says anything about you. ‘Slut’ also gets thrown around every now and then. You don’t feel any type of way about it. Yeah, you like to have fun, no shame in that. Part of you is amused by the word, thinks that the second it gets dropped in a conversation, you know to stop giving a fuck about the person using it. The other’s somewhat annoyed by it. No one’s saying that about Seo Changbin, even if there’s a different girl in his bed every other day. No, he’s a lady’s man, a charmer, but you’re a Jezebel, even though— Ah, forget it. You don’t have to justify any of your actions.

You know your reputation leads to you being easily approached by dudes, specifically when you’re at a party on campus. Guys think it means you’re more likely to sleep with them, when the truth is, you’re very picky with a large number of people to chose from, and no reason to go for the bottom of the barrel.

The thing is, though, that you like having fun at parties. Dancing around, laughing with people, maybe a little bit of harmless flirting that doesn’t have to lead anywhere, that’s just part of it for you. The guys who approach you, however, have a tendency to take that as an indication that you want to fuck them. Which leaves you in the uncomfortable position of having to strike a balance between having fun, not leading people on, and not being mean to them if you’re not interested. Except you regularly do have to be mean to them.

Hence the ‘bitch’ reputation.

Tonight’s not any different on that front. You’re having fun with some guy you have no intention of fucking, laughing at his jokes, all without getting too close. It wouldn’t bother you to do that, even without doing anything with him later on, but you don’t want to deal with that much drama tonight.

What’s new — though it’s become increasingly familiar to you lately — is Chan’s attention on you, which you can feel radiating towards you from across the room. You’ve caught him staring three times in the last hour, shooting him a knowing grin when he didn’t look away fast enough, daring him to come over, if it bothered him that much. He hasn’t moved so far. But he’s been glaring for a while.

It's not like he's not busy, too. He’s surrounded by people, several of whom are talking to him. They get his attention every now and then, and he’s pretty good at pretending. He just keeps on coming back to you, like a butterfly drawn to an incandescent lightbulb.

That’s a game you don’t mind playing, but you’re starting to get bored of the conversation you’re having and, well, you’re not trying to upset Chan, even if he’s cute when he’s angry.

“I’m gonna go get some fresh air,” you say, smile turning polite, as you uncross your legs and start to get up. That works, sometimes. People let you go, and take the hint when you don’t come back.

“I’ll come with you,” the guy says, mimicking your movement immediately.

That isn’t rare either. Just means you’ll have to work a little harder to shake him off.

Though the weather’s been warm lately, a reminder that summer is just around the corner, the air outside still feels cold, compared to how hot it was inside. It would be the perfect change of pace, if it wasn’t for the presence still hovering right beside you. You’re figuring the right way of getting rid of him when he puts his sweaty, clammy arms around your shoulders, and you can’t stop yourself from jumping out of his reach, the feeling supremely unpleasant.

Oops. So much for tact.

“Look,” you say as he’s staring at you with surprise, “I’ve had fun, but I think it’s time we go our separate ways.”

Smooth. There was definitely a better way of phrasing this.

At least you didn’t tell him he’d been boring you for the past twenty minutes?

You don’t get much time to feel bad though, because his face contorts in anger — not disappointment, sadness, or even embarrassment, but anger — and then he goes “Are you for real? You’ve been fucking teasing—”

“Hey,” a stern voice comes from behind him. “I think she wants you to leave her alone.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business,” he snaps, turning around, and then freezing when he’s met with Chan, who’s folded his arms over his chest in his best impression of a displeased dad. “Chan, I, uh—”

It takes one look from Chan for the guy to vanish without adding another word. No one wants to cross him, all too aware of the fact that he can ruin someone’s life by even implying that he doesn’t like them — ‘cause Chan’s so nice, why wouldn’t he like you? It’s pretty suspicious of you, to be disliked by this one dude, who’s never asked anyone to take his opinion as gospel.

“My knight in shining armor,” you purr, taking one step towards Chan, mostly just so you can enjoy hearing him clear his throat and watch him averting his eyes. You both know you’re his biggest weakness, after all. “You know I was going to be fine, right?”

That brings back the frown on his face.

“He couldn’t take you telling him you weren’t interested. That shouldn’t be your problem to deal with.”

He has a point. You think. Maybe. You can’t tell for sure, because this is just so normal for you. These days, every other interaction with guys goes like this, and you’ve sometimes had to grapple with the uncomfortable question of whether it’s your reputation doing the work for you, or if you are making people think you’re interested. You know what you do when you’re trying to get into someone’s bed, know that you didn’t pull any of it with that guy, but clearly you’re not being perceived that way.

In the end, you shrug.

“I mean, I was having a good time before this. I just wasn’t going to fuck him.”

It’s always fun to see Chan react to how blunt you are. You know for a fact that he’s capable of swearing like sailor — like he does when he’s inside you — but he always seems taken aback by you being this direct.

You get another step closer. Now, you’d just have to push a little to steal a kiss from him, and his plump lips sure are looking awfully tempting.

“Were you bored without me?” you ask, mischief dancing in your eyes.

“I was—” He clears his throat, not quite looking at you. There was a time when this behavior would have annoyed him, which you also found to be fun, but these days are far behind you now. “—busy.”

You hum in amusement, not fooled by the answer whatsoever — and a little insulted he’d even try that excuse when you know he’s been staring, and he knows you know he’s been staring — but there’s still a tiny little bit of concern poking through.

“Aw,” you say, not dropping the teasing, “even at a party you can’t get a break?” And then, leaning even closer, “Want me to help you relieve some of that stress?”

The tip of his ears goes red, but this time he meets your eyes, and you think he’s going to give in, when a voice calls his name.

From behind him, in appears Mido, and you raise an eyebrow at her. One of the top students in her field, she’s also super involved in campus life. Lately, she’s been busy planning a music festival — you think, you haven’t been paying much attention — which has led her to hang around Chan a lot. She’s pretty high-strung and a workaholic in the making, but she’s kinda cute in her determination. She’s also very into Chan, which, really, who isn’t?

But that makes her, uh, not your biggest fan. You suspect that she’s caught on to some of what’s been going between you and Chan, and it’s clear that she’s not super happy about it. You can’t really blame her. You probably wouldn’t want yourself hanging around Chan that much, if you were a friend of his — not even out of jealousy, but out of fear that you’d break his heart.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she says, somewhat out of breath, “I’ve been working on changing the program, like we’ve discussed, and I was hoping you could take a look at what I’ve got done.”

And there goes your sympathy, replaced with annoyance in the span of a minute.

Maybe you’re like Tinkerbell, not enough space within you for more than one emotion at any given time.

You’re speaking before Chan’s gotten the time to opine and get to work again.

“Seriously?” you say. “It’s a Saturday night. It’s— Fuck, it’s almost two a.m. Can’t he get a break?”

You get a surprised look from Chan, while Mido rolls her eyes like she’d expected that reaction from you and came prepared.

“I realize that you don’t understand the concept of responsibilities, but some of us have stuff to do.”

You almost want to laugh.

“The faculty isn’t going to collapse in on itself if Chan takes a night off.”

“It’s work that’s going to accumulate and make it worse on him as it goes on—”

“Then it sounds like you need to learn to delegate more efficiently, because there is no way that he’d have to be working these hours if that was handled better.”

Mido’s turning very red now, opening and closing her mouth as she looks for a retort. You suppose that the jab at her abilities, something she probably values a lot, wasn’t that nice, but also, fuck, you mean this. Unpleasant opinions have a tendency to slip out of you without you having much control over it, but it’s not like you can take them back when you very much thought ever word you said.

“Hey, how about we calm down,” Chan says, putting a hand on your shoulder, and you know that he has a point, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to snap ‘why should I calm down’ at him. You hold back just enough to get to see him turn around towards Mido with a polite smile. “I’ll look at the schedule first thing tomorrow,” he promises her, and she’s clearly boiling, but she’s more in control of herself than you are, so she doesn’t say anything.

“Sure,” she answers, sounding like she’s stopping herself from screaming. “I’ll email it to you.”

“Thanks,” Chan nods.

He only turns to look at you once she’s left the balcony, marching back inside, no doubt beelining for her friends in order to complain about you.

“Can’t you just play nice?” Chan asks you. He sounds tired rather than pissed.

“I would if you played less nice,” you say. You know that he’s going to have something to retort to that, because he’d probably drop dead if he put himself first for one fucking time in his life, and you don’t want to play into that. So instead, you hook two of your fingers into his belt, pulling him closer to you.

“What do you say we make good use of your hard-earned freedom?”

He swallows, and you know you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, even if it only lasts until morning.

You’re already entangled with Chan by the time you push him through his door. His back hits the wall, and he lets out a delightful groan into your mouth. He’s kept his hands gentlemanly on your waist, but you know for a fact that the gentleman act never lasts that long when he’s with you. It’s just a matter of getting him to snap, and these past few months have given you all the opportunities you needed to master that skill.

“You sure Changbin isn’t here tonight?” you ask against his lips. “We could give him a show.” Then, with a grin, “Or we could ask him to join.”

And sure enough, that gets to him. His kiss turns more demanding, he bites at your bottom lip, and, fucking finally, he grabs a handful of your ass. You hear yourself letting out an undignified yelp.

“No way,” he growls, giving you another one of his glares, eyes dark and filled with desire.

“Hmmm, I really like you jealous,” you can’t help but tease him, pushing your hips against him where you can feel him, already half hard. You’d bet he gets off on the idea of showing you that you’re his.

But the comment seems to throw him off a little and he ducks his head sheepishly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the gentleman in him getting back on top when all you want is for him to rail you unceremoniously. “About earlier.”

He hasn’t let go of you, but he looks like he wants to get this off his chest before you can go with the festivities, so you humor him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you listen to him. If your nails graze against the nape of his neck, it sure isn’t in an attempt to get him to focus back on you.

“You were defending me,” you say with a shrug, mostly to give him in an out.

“No, I was, but—” Ugh, he’s not going to take it. “I was jealous. And I know I— I have no right to be.”

Aw. It’s kinda cute, though you wish he’d stop with the self-flagellation.

“It’s all good,” you find yourself whispering, tone soft, genuinely trying to comfort him rather than just wanting to get it over with. “I didn’t mind.”

The kiss that follows is sweet, soft. When his tongue brushes against yours, it sends shivers all the way down your spine. You’ve long known that Chan has that kind of effect on you.

You’re just not quite ready to grapple with that right now.

“I mean, we both know we can fuck whoever we want,” you add with a vague shrug. “Doesn’t mean I like seeing you being around Mido all the time either.”

“Um,” Chan says, “I don’t— I mean I’m not—”

Fuck it. He’s just too cute. The way he blushes, the way his ears turn red… You just cannot resist the urge to push yourself on your toes to bite gently at the lobe, enjoying the way his whole body shakes at the sensation, before pressing a kiss against his temple.

“Right,” you purr. “You’re only fucking me.”

You might take a little too much pleasure when you say it, if you’re being honest. It’s not purely sexual, too, but you’re choosing not to unpack that right now either. Instead, you find Chan’s mouth, press yourself closer to him, let your tongue run over his lips before he eagerly meets it with his. His left hand comes up to tilt your head back, calloused fingers pushing against your jaw. Despite yourself — because the gesture’s too gentle, too intimate — you raise a hand to cover his, entangling your fingers with his.

His following exhale sounds ragged, painful maybe.

Then he’s grabbing strongly at your waist and suddenly you’re the one with your back against the wall, and he’s pushing his thigh between your legs, spreading them open.

“Fuck,” you hiss.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Gosh, you need him to worry a little less and to start taking responsibility for what he’s doing to you.

“Need you inside me,” is your answer. “Now.”

And that asshole has the gall to shoot you a grin, lifting only one corner of his mouth.

“I might as well make this last, right? Since I’m only fucking you.”

You want to pout, but it’s really fucking hard to keep control over your facial features when he flexes his thigh and it takes all of your willpower to resist rolling your hips and starting to ride him. You will not be giving him the satisfaction.

…not just yet anyway.

Since two can play that game, however, you trace your fingers up his muscular thigh, watch his expression shift from amusement to anticipation as you get closer and closer to his hard cock, now clearly outlined through his pants.

“C’mon, Chan,” you plead, something you’re not above doing, as you easily unbutton his jeans, “you know you want it too.”

Your lips ghost over his neck as your hand makes its way past the band of his boxers and wraps around him, with a little satisfaction coming from the fact that he’s not just hard, he’s also already dripping precum. He groans at your touch, and you grin — though, if you were thinking about previous encounters with him right now, you’d know it’s still too early to claim victory. Your grip remains light, your hand movement slow, tantalizing but nowhere near enough to bring him release.

“I really, really,” you press your thumb against the tip of his cock, rubbing it gently, with more intensity, just so he knows what you could do if he just let himself give in, “want you inside me.” This time it’s more of a whine that he lets out, his breath coming out in tense huffs as he rests his head on your shoulder, and you think you’ve got him right where you want him.

But then he lifts his head and meets your eyes, and you immediately know you’re going to have to wait.

“Where would the fun be in that now, love?”

It’s not the pet name that sets your heart in a frenzy. It’s not. It’s his tone, how warm his eyes are, the anticipation of the pleasure that’s to come.

It’s not the pet name.

“Think you keep standing for me?” he asks you, voice low and rumbling. You blink at him.

“What—”

Then he drops to his knees.

“C’mon, love. When have I ever let you down?”

Ohhh. You think you’re going to really, really enjoy what he’s planning for you.

He takes his sweet time getting on with the program, though. His hands start on your calves, slowly making their way up your legs, and it takes everything for you not to plead with him, again, to get moving. You’re dripping wet for him by now. Your legs are starting to feel weak under you, but it’s too early to give in.

Chan’s large hands reach your thighs, his touch setting your skin on fire with every brush. When he presses a wet kiss against the inside of your thigh, so close to where you actually need him, you let out a whine. You feel him grin against you, but he keeps going, slow and steady, inching closer and closer. He easily lifts your dress up, pushing it up over your stomach so it’s out of the way. By then, you can actually feel his breath against your pussy, and you’re so fucking sensitive in that area right now, you think you’d kill to feel his tongue on you.

But he’s not done yet, no, that would be too easy. He slides your ruined panties down your legs, even when you whine for him to just leave it, it’s fine, and wraps a hand around your ankle to make you step out of them.

Then he kisses the inside of your thigh, again, and your patience runs out. Threading your fingers through his hair, you pull on it, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind him of where his attention should be.

That asshole has the nerve to laugh at that.

He gives you what you want right after that, though. He closes his mouth around your clit, and you throw your head back, loud moans spilling from your lips. You’ve never been one to believe in restraint, and if anything, Chan loves how vocal you get. You’re rewarded by the feeling of his warm, wet tongue on you, and all you can do is hold on to him for dear life, your other hand trying to find something to brace yourself on and coming up empty.

“Fuck, Chan,” you whimper.

“If that’s too much for you,” he says, pulling away, “I can always—”

You guide him right back between your legs. And he gets back to work.

If there’s one thing you have to give to him, it’s that he never half-asses anything. His tongue dances sinfully on your skin, his teeth graze against your folds, tantalizing, and you’re reduced to moans, whines, and desperate pleas for more — you have no idea what it is you want, but Chan knows exactly what you need. He’s already got you crying out his name in a broken litany when he pushes two fingers into you. They slide right in, and you gasp for air, briefly falling quiet at the pleasure.

Your knees give in under you, and Chan catches you just in time.

“You’re all good, love,” he praises you as he lifts one of your legs. “Just hold on a little longer for me, alright?”

There’s something about him talking to you like that, about the kind warmth of his words, that turns your insides into jelly. So all you do is nod as he helps you hook your leg over his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks you, still taking the time to check up on you even though he should know by now that he’s the best lay you’ve ever had.

As an answer, you use your heel to push him back into you. Once you’ve got his mouth and his fingers back on you and in you, you let yourself drown into the pleasure. Because, fuck, having Chan’s undivided attention, having him eating you out like a starved man while his fingers curl inside of you, sliding in and out with a slow rhythm — if this isn’t what heaven feels like, you don’t think you want it.

Your legs start to shake as your orgasm approaches. By the time you cum, with a loud, high-pitched cry, Chan’s hand under your ass and the leg you have over his shoulder are really the only things keeping you upright. He doesn’t let you go for one second, allowing you to move your hips to ride the wave of your orgasm, even if it’s just little jerks of your hips, because you have zero control of your body right now.

You’d hate that on any other occasion.

Right now, you don’t mind.

You feel yourself slide to the floor as you slowly regain your brain cells. Chan’s still all around you, his heat, his arms, cradling you while you come back to your senses. He rubs your back, mumbling praises into your ear, and it’s good, it’s so fucking perfect, but you need— you can’t let this go that route, not just yet. He already knows you get a little cheesy towards the end of the night, so that’s fine, but it’s too early to succumb to that.

“Wanna move this to the room, or do you also want to fuck me against the wall?” you ask him, turning your head so you’re facing him.

His nose brushes against yours. It’s funny, after everything he’s just done to you, that this still gets him to blush.

“R—” He clears his throat. “Room. I’ve got— I’ve got condoms in there.”

He gets up and pulls you back up to your feet with ease, which, damn, you know he lifts, but it’s still impressive. You let yourself fall into his arms, enjoying a nice squeeze of his biceps while you get the chance. You need to get him out of his shirt, you remind yourself, and you immediately get to work on the buttons, tracing his skin with every inch you uncover. Goosebumps form under your nails, and a jerk of his hips when you brush over his nipple reminds you that he has yet to be taken care of.

Aw. You just can’t have that now, can you?

“Hm, I’ve been thinking we could try without that,” you say. Your voice comes out light, but you know that it’s not as nonchalant as you’re trying to make it sound. Chan tenses against you. Clearly, he realizes it as well.

“I mean I— I’d love to, but it’s—” His eyes are wide as he searches yours. You wonder if he thinks that was a throwaway line, something you said just to say something. Surely he knows that’s not the case. You’ve always been adamant about protection.

“I’m on the pill, I’m clean, I’ve gotten tested,” you shrug. “Are you clean?”

“Yeah, I am,” he nods, and it’s adorable how eager he is, “just— when— have you—”

It’s so obvious that he’s trying not to hurt your feelings. He should know that these conversations would never do that. That doesn’t stop a pit from forming in your stomach. What you’ll say next will change things. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but it’s been a long time coming. Maybe since the first time Chan gave in to his desires against his better judgment, maybe since the first time your eyes met.

“It’s all good, I haven’t been with anyone else for a couple months,” you say.

Chan freezes. You can only imagine what’s going on through his mind right now, but you— can’t have that. Not right now. So, of course, you have to defuse the situation. You grab his chin, smile seductively at him.

“Why would I when I have the best right here?”

All you know is that after that, you crash through the door to Chan’s room, and he throws you onto his bed while he practically rips off his shirt and pants. You push yourself up on your elbows, but you don’t have the time to take off your heels or your dress before he’s kneeling between your legs, spreading them open. He’s not playing games anymore, there’s no playfulness in his eyes, just hunger — and maybe the tiniest speck of uncertainty.

So you reach for his face to kiss it away, soft and gentle, and for a second, he melts into you. As you move away, you keep your forehead pressed against his, and he exhales a trembling breath.

Neither of you says a word. The moment passes.

A second later, he plunges into you with one harsh movement of the hips and you fall onto your back with a cry, arching against him. Feeling him for the first time without anything between you is… different, for sure, but it’s a good different, fuck, it’s so perfect that you don't think you’ll be able to go back on that. You have no way of knowing what’s going on in his mind, but you do hear him moan once, loud and without restraint, before he falls into your arms as his hips start moving with an animalistic pace. You grab onto him, nails digging into his back — this is going to leave a mark for sure, but you kind of like the idea, so. Now you regret not having taken off your dress, because you’d love to feel him against you. There isn't much space in your brain for those thoughts though, not when the pleasure is so overwhelming.

You’re still all sensitive from your orgasm, and Chan’s fast thrusts into you only heighten the sensations. Soon, warmth is building up into you again, but Chan’s showing no signs of slowing down. His head’s buried in your neck, his hands clutching the sheets on either side of you. When your legs start shaking with a second orgasm, all you can do is let out desperate moans while he keeps fucking into you.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moans again, which is uncharacteristically vocal of him — and fucking hot, by the way. “So good for me.”

“All for you,” you whimper in response. “Just for you.”

You reach for his face, kiss him, tongue messily intertwining with him.

He comes inside of you without a warning, just with a long, low groan, before collapsing on top of you without even pulling out.

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbles after long, blissful seconds. “Did you not want me to—”

“You’re good,” you interrupt him before he can start freaking out. “Just— Think you can carry me to the bathroom?”

“Of course,” he replies. Then, voice lower, barely above a whisper, “Anything for you.”

You used to have this rule against staying the night after sleeping with a guy. Felt it made them act all territorial, and you liked doing the walk of shame in the middle of the night better than at dawn, if you had to choose. But it’s different with Chan. It’s always been different with him, no matter how hard you try to deny it.

You slip back into the bed after cleaning yourself up, and he wraps himself around you, body slotted together perfectly.

“That my shirt?” he asks as he presses a kiss against your neck.

“And your boxers,” you inform him. “You mind?”

“Nah. It’s kinda hot, that’s all.”

You grin, twisting yourself around so you can get another kiss from him, and he indulges you, not leaving you to wait for even a second. Neither of you adds anything, and you settle yourself comfortably for sleep.

It’s obvious what’s going on between the two of you, what this is all leading up to, even with you not putting words on it just yet.

All in due time, as long as you’re by his side.

Last part of this, and another one where the couple is one I've had in mind for a while lol. I'd headcanon that in the morning, the reader joins the commity that's organizing the festival and is weirdly good at it bc she actually goes to a lot of festivals (she's mostly doing it to ensure that Chan isn't overworked tho). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the series, if you want to give feedback, reblog or comment, I'd be super grateful, and I'll see you for future works!

Taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard

#skz smut #bang chan smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz x reader #candywrites

[ao3commentoftheday]

Hello! First of all, thank you for this blog. I’ve read some of the asks you’ve answered so far and they’ve been incredibly fun and to go through and very useful <3

The problem I have is very… specific. But I figured why not share it here, you know?

A few months ago, I started leaving rants and analyses in one of my favorite AO3 writer’s tumblr ask box, regarding their fics. That kind of evolved and long story short, they’ve been following my tumblr blog for a while.

Now this obviously makes me incredibly happy. They’re not exactly popular in the whole wide fandom, per se, but they’ve kind of created a smaller fandom within the original fandom through their fics and art (which are mostly AU longfics, and art for said AUs), so this basically feels like being tumblr mutuals with someone like Neil Gaiman to me.

The problem arises in the fact that I feel like I’m being watched now. This person I look up to follows my tumblr, and knows my AO3 handle, and I have only posted a single fic so far, but I have so many other fics I want to write, and I’m always so anxious to write because I keep thinking “When I post this, are they going to see it? Read it, maybe? Are they gonna hate it? Are they gonna unfollow me because they don’t like my characterization or writing?” and I keep trying to reason with myself that part of the reason I look up to them so much is that they promote a “No judgement” policy, and part of the reason they followed me is because they liked my analysis of their work, but now I’m realizing that… I want them to read my fics. And I want them to like them and maybe I want us to be friends and not just mutuals, and I want us to freak out about each other’s fics, you know?

That is worsened by the fact that… My tumblr account is fairly new. And I have a total of 3 followers including said fanfic writer, so I feel the pressure to post fics in order to grow my tumblr circle and build a community, but that directly clashes with my desire to write something absolutely perfect so they’ll like it, which then both clash with what makes writing fic enjoyable, AKA doing it for myself and writing what I want to and how I want to.

I’m aware that I can’t control what another person likes, dislikes, or does. And that I have all the time in the world to write the fics I want and those that will make me happy without regarding what other people might think. But also… fandom are communities. And I want my tumblr and AO3 to be places where I can talk about my fics with people who like them, so that desire to grow my account as soon as I can is very strong simply because I have no one else to talk to. I don’t want to talk to the void and post rants that no one will see (except… y’know, maybe my favorite fanfic writer, which is a whole other level of pressure) about fics that don’t exist yet. Another part of this is the fact that, unless I get fics out, I’m relying on the fanfic writer liking my ideas and interacting to build a community.

As much as I try to convince myself to just write without care and to stop trying to control what this person does because that is completely out of my control and kind of dehumanizing on their behalf, the anxiety doesn’t subside. I don’t know what to do.

This ask was a bit of a journey for me, anon, and it took a little bit of untangling to see where you were going with it. I think this might be the central issue you're facing though:

I want my tumblr and AO3 to be places where I can talk about my fics with people who like them ... because I have no one else to talk to. I don’t want to talk to the void and post rants that no one will see ... about fics that don’t exist yet.

You're looking for fandom friends, and you're at the start of that journey - and I think you're doing well already by reaching out to an author you like and sending them asks about their work. Being willing to reach out and talk to people is an amazing quality, anon, and I encourage you to keep doing that. Follow more people who post things that you're interested in. Drop asks in their inbox and start a conversation.

The other half of that is giving other people and opportunity to reach out to you. You can do this by posting your thoughts about the canon your fandom is tied to. You can see a ton of examples here on tumblr where folks discuss a particular moment or scene that meant something to them.

You can also reblog asks memes, like the AO3 wrapped ones I reblogged the other day. Sometimes I see people just answer all of the questions in their own reblog, but if you want people to have an opening, just leave your ask box open and see what comes through.

If you want to talk about your own work, you can post something for WIP Wednesday or Six Sentence Sunday - or just post a scene that you've been working on and ask what people think.

Everyone starts off with a handful of followers, anon. You won't dive into a lively community overnight. You also don't have to create tons of popular fics in order to make one. Join a community that already exists. Find the people you vibe with within it. This author friend of yours might be the perfect place to start.

Even our favourite people, the ones we look up to most, are still just people when it comes down to it. If this author is as chill as you say they are, I think friendship is totally possible.

I'll open it up to the blog now. Did I read this one wrong? Do you have advice for anon? Have you been in a situation like theirs?

#asks and answers #long post

[iridecsense]

 Lip Smacker - m.

⤷ summary: in which izuku, katsuki, and shouto make a bet about what flavor chapstick you wear.

word count: 4.8k   pairing: tdbkdk | fem!reader   warnings: none ♡   genre: crack, smut | lime author’s note: This is a COLLEGE AU, meaning all characters are aged up to 18+ consenting adults—more specifically all characters are in their 20s.

If there was one thing about you that everyone knew, it was that you were not one to shy away from PDA with anyone. And by anyone, that means anyone. It was no secret you were overly-affectionate, especially with your friends. It wasn't a bad thing, just a little jarring at times. 

You were a big cuddler. It was absolutely normal to embrace one of your friends and hold them hostage on the common room couch. It was practically routine. Holding hands was another habit of yours. You hated walking to class alone, and whoever you convinced to go with you would have your hand tightly wrapped around theirs the entire time.

There were other ticks too, like how you’d sit on the nearest person’s lap even if there was space for you elsewhere, or when you essentially tackle your friends into a hug when you got too excited, which was surprisingly quite often. It’s just how you were, and your friends had long since accepted that. 

There was one thing, however, that a certain group of testosterone-heavy someones couldn't wrap their heads around. As harmless and simple as it may have seemed to you, it really stirred up tensions with your guy friends. Out of all your little ticks, there was one tick you loved to do the most, and that was kiss.

It wasn’t a sexual thing. In fact it was far from it. You kissed everyone, including your girl friends. Truthfully, you kissed your girl friends more often than your guy friends, but it didn't change the fact that you kissed a lot. Like... a lot. So much so that the guys of your dorm have a bit of a competition around it. 

You see, you were a very pretty girl. You were sweet and kind, and adorable, and all the things guys fawn over in a spritely young woman such as yourself. Having someone like you around the dorms was a blessing for them. A pretty girl who isn’t afraid of some platonic touching with the opposite sex? What an absolute win!

“I’m telling you guys, y/n totally wants me!” Denki burst into the common room.

“Did you take the stairs? Why are you sweating?” Mina asked, turning around on the couch to face him.

“Yeah, the elevator was too slow,” he huffed, throwing his bag on the floor and jumping onto an empty chair.

Jirou scrunched her nose. “We live on the third floor why are you sweating that much?” 

“Oh my GOD, did you guys not hear what I said?” Denki groaned, changing the subject. “y/n wants me! She wants my plug in her outlet, and she wants me to stick it in and out all night long!” 

The room erupted into a sea of disgusted groans. A rogue pillow found itself impacted in Denki’s face, courtesy of Mina. 

“Ew, dude?!” Jirou cringed. 

Kirishima shook his head disapprovingly. “Come on, man. Not cool.” 

“That’s just gross,” said Sero.

“Trust me, the last thing y/n wants is any of...” Mina gestured to Denki. “that.”

“I know I am going to regret asking you this, but what happened to make you think that she wants you.” Kirishima curiously asked. 

Denki smiled and excitedly made his way to sit on the open seat between Mina and Kirishima. 

“I was walking back from class, right? And I saw y/n walking to class on her own. So, I ran up and offered to walk with her there. She smiles all big, bats her eyes and goes ‘Oh Denki, thank you so much! I’m so happy you’re here! Why don’t you just take me already, oh-hoo-hoo-hoo~!’”

Jirou rolled her eyes. “She did not say that.” 

“She might as well have!” He countered rather defensively. “Anyway, she takes my hand and––dude, she’s so close to me I can smell her shampoo—she's brushing against my arm, laughing at all my jokes; and when we get to the science building she’s all big-eyes and pouty lips, ‘Thank’s again Denki, you are such a good friend,’ and then, boom! She lays one on me, right here!” He points to his left cheek where there was a faint pink glossy mark. 

“Oh, so like, what she’s like with literally everyone else,” Sero bleats. 

“Nah man, you weren't there, you didn’t see the way she looked at me! Those were fuck me eyes, I’m telling you.”

Jirou suddenly stood from her seat in the lounge chair. “Seriously, guys? If you’re gonna keep talking about y/n like that, I’m leaving. You guys are gross. Animals.”

“Yeah, I’m out too.” Mina followed Jirou to their room leaving the boys to themselves.

“I don’t know what they’re so mad about. They get to room with her. If I got to share a room with y/n I'd be the happiest man on earth,” Denki swoons.

“Yeah because you’d be the last man on earth, dipshit,” Sero snickers, causing the others to laugh. 

Denki’s cheeks turn red. “Whatever! You guys are just jealous because y/n likes me the most.”

“What, because she kissed you once on the cheek? Please, she’s kissed me at least three times,” Sero not-so-humbly brags.

Denki shoots up from his seat. “No way!”

“Yeah, and even then, it’s obvious who her favorites are, and—newsflash—it's not you or me.”

Just as Sero was picking apart the last bricks of hope Denki had left, the elevator dinged, revealing the other occupants of the floor. 

Kirishima smiled. “Sero’s right. Your little science building peck ain’t got nothing on whatever the fuck those three got going on with her.” He gestured to the three boys who leisurely walked in.

“What are you guys talking about?” Izuku asked as he stepped from the elevator with Katsuki and Shouto following behind. 

“We were just trying to see which one of us is y/n kisses the most to figure out who her favorite among the guys is,” Sero answered.

Katsuki sucked his teeth, his already permanent frown deepening. “Do you idiots really have nothing better to talk about?”

“It’s easy for you to not care when she’s all over you 24/7,” Denki pouts. “‘Katsuki can you open this for me please? Katsuki can you walk with me to psych? Katsuki can I lay on your lap while you play overwatch?’” Denki offensively mimics the sound of your voice. 

The common room erupted into snickers, turning the hot-headed blond’s neck red. “Watch it, dumbass,” he warns.

“Well, if you’re really that curious, I believe it's me,” said Shouto confidently, earning everyones attention. 

Katsuki’s brow twitched. “Oh, yeah? What makes you think that Icy-hot?”

“I can think of many occasions when y/n has kissed me and most of them were on the mouth. I think that would make me the favorite,” he stated as if it were fact.

It was this revelation that captured the attention of everyone in the room with great surprise. 

“You’ve kissed y/n on the mouth multiple times?” Sero gawked.

“She kissed me,” he clarified cooly.

“No way Shouto kissed y/n on the mouth before me!” Cried Denki dramatically, causing Shoji to comfort him. “That sneaky bastard preyed on our sweet, innocent girl and took advantage of her!” 

“I told you, she kissed me,” Shouto reiterated once more, becoming increasingly irritated.

Kirishima gave a heavy-handed pat to his back. “Congratulations, dude! I didn’t know you had it in you,” he smiled encouragingly.

Katsuki scoffed and crossed his arms. “So what? y/n’s kissed me on the lips too, and some of them weren't just innocent pecks neither.”

A strangled cry muffled by Shoji’s chest escaped Denki’s lips. 

“Guys should we really be talking about this?” Izuku shifted nervously. 

“Don’t go acting all high and mighty, Deku!” Yelled Katsuki. “I saw you and y/n kissing at the culture festival last month!”

“Stalk much?” Sero muttered snarkily under his breath.  Izuku’s cheeks went red and a coy smile spread across his lips. “Well...”

Denki broke free from Shoji’s strong arms and rushed towards Izuku, taking him by the collar. His reddened cheeks were stained with tears and nostrils flared. “Is this true Midoriya? Please, tell me it isn't true!”

“It is,” Izuku admitted, completely flustered and somewhat scared of his passionate, but clearly deranged friend. 

Denki fell to his knees. “You have to tell me what it was like! Was there tongue? How soft were her lips? What did she taste like? Tell me, I need to know!”

“This is getting sad,” Kirishima frowned, genuinely concerned, and Sero nodded in agreement. 

“I-I don’t know,” Izuku stuttered. “It was nice, I guess...” His mind went back to the day she kissed him at the festival by the taiyaki booth, and all the other times she’d placed her lips on his. He smiled softly. “Her chapstick tastes like watermelon.”

Denki smiled. “Watermelon,” he hummed. “Why didn't I think of that, that’s perfect for her! Fresh and sweet, just like her!”

“It’s not watermelon, idiot,” Katsuki spoke up. “It’s vanilla. It's always been vanilla.”

Izuku furrowed his brows. “Vanilla?” 

“Now that I think about it vanilla does suit her style better,” Denki muttered to himself. “I think Bakugou might be right on this one!”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s watermelon,” Izuku asserted. 

“Strawberry.”

Everyone turned to Shouto, who all of the sudden looked very serious. “Her chapstick is strawberry flavored.”

The three boys locked eyes in an intense stare-off. Kirishima and Sero shared a look and identical smirks, hatching the same idea. 

“Why don’t we make this interesting,” Sero cut in, his mischievous grin glinting. “Why don't we make it a bet? Watermelon vs. Vanilla vs. Strawberry. Whoever is right can claim that they’ve kissed y/n the most, and therefore is her favorite.”

“I’ll take that bet,” says Izuku confidently. 

Katsuki scoffed. “You seem pretty confident for a jackass that’s about to lose!” 

“The same could be said about you too, Bakugou” Shouto quipped, poking the blond’s already short-temper. 

While the three fought, the rest of the boys that still littered the room placed their educated bets, spreading the word to the others in a group chat. Soon all of class 1-A and some of class 1-B had placed their bets on what flavor chapstick you wore. 

All of this, of course, was unbeknownst to you as you were conveniently left out of the betting chat, along with Mina and Jirou as were your closest friends and would undoubtedly blab to you about the whole thing. You had to be kept in the dark, which made the events of the following week rather...interesting.

It started the next day, after bets had been placed and the tension between Shouto, Katsuki, and Izuku manifested in their sudden desperate efforts to cater to your every need. You didn't suspect anything at first. You’d just assumed that the boys were being kind. 

You woke up early, two hours earlier than when you needed to be up in preparation for your first class. It was sunrise and despite you still being tired, you couldn't fall back asleep no matter how hard you tried. Giving up, you slipped from your bed and into your robe and slippers. Groggily, you made your way to the kitchen to make yourself a mug of coffee to sip on while you watched TV in the common room until you decided to start your day. 

It was there that you ran into Shouto, standing in his pajamas over a hot stove cooking a fried egg. His back was turned to you and you debated announcing your presence. However, you should have known the son of the number one hero was always incredibly keen on his surroundings. 

“Would you like some?” His question hung in the air, waiting for you to catch it.

“You don’t have to,” you sputter, suddenly flustered. “It looks like you’re almost done. I was just getting some coffee.” You said as you stood at the kitchen island. 

Without saying a word, he grabbed the bowl full of fried rice at his side and slid the fried egg on top, drizzling a demi-glace sauce on top before turning around and placing it in front of you. He took your mug from your hands and replaced it with a spoon. You watched him, almost starry-eyed, as he placed your mug under the coffee machine and pressed the button to make it brew with coffee. He said nothing, and made himself another bowl. 

You smiled softly and took a seat on a stool at the island, deciding to watch him cook instead of another episode of Too Hot To Handle. 

“Thank you, Shouto,” you said as you scooped a spoon full of rice into your mouth. You hummed in delight. 

Shouto’s lips twitched into a barely-noticeable smile, not that you could notice it with his back facing you. “Do you like it?” He asked. 

“I love it!” You praise. “I didn’t know you could cook so well!”

Shouto did the same as he did before, taking his bowl of fried rice and covering it with a hot egg and demi-glace sauce. He found himself a spoon and walked over to the coffee machine, which had filled your mug with hot, black coffee. He grabbed it too, and came over to take a seat at your side. Reaching his long arms to the center of the isle he brought closer the sugar and creamer for your brew. You thanked him again. 

“My sister Fuyumi is the better cook,” he told you. “She taught me how to make a few things for myself while I am away at university. Quick, simple meals, like rice and ramen. Nothing special.”

“Thank goodness for your sister then,” you said. “Maybe I should wake up this early everyday so I can steal more of your delicious breakfast, simple or not.”

You giggled to yourself and took another bite. Shouto watched you from the corner of his eye. He’d never seen you like this, in the morning with a fresh face and your hair tied back, dressed in your pajamas and a robe that hung loosely off one shoulder. 

It is in moments like these, when Shouto finds himself alone with you that he is reminded of your magnetic attraction. Even he could not resist it, the thing about you that cast a spell upon all those you meet, rendering them your adoring subjects. He ate silently beside you, only occasionally engaging in small talk when you incited it. When you had finished, he reached for your empty bowl, prepared to clear it for you, but your hand gripped his wrist. You stood from your stool. 

“The least I can do is clean the dishes. You should go. I know you’re only up this early to train before class.”

Though it was your hand that encased his left wrist, it was he that felt burnt by your touch. You took the bowl from his hand and collected his from the isle counter to wash, but not before you stood on the tips of your toes to plant a soft peck to his lips on your way to the sink. It was sweet, innocent even, perhaps only lingering a half-a-second longer than it should’ve. But unlike the many previous kisses you’ve shared before, he licked his lips and could not help the smirk that appeared in response to the taste of candied strawberries that lingered on his tongue. 

“I was right,” he muttered to himself. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Right about what?” 

Shouto cleared his throat, his cheeks tinted pink. You’d never seen him do that before.  

“I mean, you were right,” he corrected himself.  “I should go. I’ll see you later, y/n.”

You nodded your head. “Oh, alright. See you later!” You called after him as he left to return to his room. 

The rest of the day went on rather normally. You had gotten ready and got to class on time (something that was rare) feeling particularly spritely and energized. You assumed it had something to do with having an actual breakfast instead of a singular mug of coffee. You reminded yourself to thank him properly the next time you saw him. 

Around lunchtime was when you encountered Katsuki. You had just gotten yourself lunch from one of the dining halls to eat at one of your favorite spots outside. It was a particularly nice day, especially for the dead of winter, so you decided to not let it go to waste. On your way there you saw a familiar mess of blond hair ahead of you. 

“Katsuki!” You yelled excitedly, quickening your pace to catch up to him.

His shoulders tensed and he stopped in his tracks, craning his neck to look behind him and expected to find someone annoying headed his way. He relaxed only a little when he saw it was you. Still someone annoying, but a lot less annoying than all of the people he knew. Once you reached him you gave a bright grin. The sun shone down on you, igniting the highlights of your hair and the color in your eyes, imitating an almost heavenly glow; the kind that even he couldn't deny made you look perfect. It was one of the many things about you that pissed him off. 

“Where ya goin’?” You asked in an almost sing-song voice. 

“Back to the room to take a nap, why?” He grumbled.

You held up your plastic bag of food. “Want to have lunch with me? I have extra.”

“No.” He said simply and began walking towards the dorm. 

You pouted, a small whine came from your chest and you chased after him. “Please, Katsuki?” You begged. “I don’t want to eat alone today. Besides, who else is going to help me eat all this spicy pork curry?”

He sighed, once again stopping his journey to his comfortable bed that had been calling his name since his 8 AM class. You smiled triumphantly, knowing you had won. He looked down at your heavy plastic bag full of what he now knows is spicy pork curry and other side dishes. Sucking his teeth he grabbed the food from your hand. “You’re lucky I’m fucking starving. Why buy so much if you weren't going to eat all of it?” 

He nagged you all the way to the campus arboretum, where you had a special place among the grass and trees you liked to sit and eat at. He was only giving you a hard time because it kept him from thinking about how pretty you looked in your dress, or how cute you had sounded begging him to come eat with you. He didn't want to think about how your arm often bumped his because you had an awkward, lop-sided gait, or about the smell of your perfume. All he wanted to do was get to your picnic spot and eat. So he did. 

The two of you ate together on a blanket you had brought. You’d gotten on the topic of final exams which turned into a shit-talking fest about who you both felt in your class would pass and who would fail. He found it very easy to talk to you and you never made him feel bad about the things he said, unlike most people who spend most of their energy scolding him instead of just talking. Not you though. You always let him talk. 

It was when he said something that made you laugh that you accidentally spilled your soda on your dress. You cursed and fumbled for napkins to dab it clean, but the stain was evident. 

“Dammit!” You groaned. “I have class in fifteen minutes I don't have time to change.”

You were so busy cleaning your mess, it wasn't until you felt the weight of Katsuki’s thick hoodie plop over your head that you knew he had even taken it off. You snorted a chuckle and pulled your head threw the neck hole to see him left in his black compression shirt. 

“Take it dumbass,” he told you. 

“You won’t be cold?” You asked. 

“I’m done for the day. Just bring it to my room later.” He said. 

You smiled and pushed your arms through the sleeves, pulling the oversized hoodie over you to cover the stain. It was...toasty, you think is the correct word, and it smelled like his cologne. You closed your eyes and held the fabric to your nose, inhaling his scent deeply. Katsuki furrowed his brows as he watched you.

“It smells so good!” You practically moan. “And it’s so warm. It’s like I’m getting the best hug in the world. A Kaachan hug!” You teased, snickering to yourself. 

Katsuki’s face grew hot, and he pinched your cheek, tugging with his fingers, making you yelp and whine from the minuscule pain. “Who told you to call me that, huh? Can’t you just say thank you like a normal person? I can take my hoodie back and let you walk around with a shitty stain on your dress.”

Your hand gripped his arm, attempting to pry him off. “Okay, okay!” You yell, half laughing, half hissing in pain. “I’m sorry! Thank you!”

Satisfied he let your cheek go, and you soothed the spot by rubbing it in circles with your hand. You pouted while he cleaned the blanket of your mess and threw the trash away while you folded it back up. He decided to walk you to class since he had nothing better to do and he knew you wanted him to (certainly not because he wanted to). When you made it to the entrance of your building you stopped and turned towards him. 

“Thanks for walking me and for the hoodie,” you smiled. “I’ll see you back in the dorms.”

You started to turn around when you felt his hand wrap around your arm, keeping you in place. Confused, you stood still. You might have been imagining things, but from where you stood, it looked as though his cheeks were flushed red. 

“What’s wrong, Katsuki?” You asked, concerned. 

“Don’t I...get a kiss?” He couldn't believe what he was saying. 

“A kiss?” You repeated, also not believing what he was saying.

“As a thank you,” he explained.

Your lips twitched into a teasing smile. “I thought you didn't like it when I did that in public.”

“When has that ever stopped you before!” He countered, his cheeks growing redder. 

You laughed and took a step closer, closing the gap between you. You craned your neck up to place a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. Unsatisfied, Katsuki sucked his teeth and reached his hand up to your chin, turning your head in a position for him to press his lips against yours, and kissed you. It was unexpected, but after a few seconds, the shock drifted away, and you closed your eyes, returning the kiss. It was longer than the kiss you shared with Shouto earlier that day, but not by much; and once it was over, he licked his lips. 

‘Vanilla...’ He thought as he pulled away. 

His hand fell from your chin and he sighed. “Hurry before you’re late,” was all he said before turning around and walking back towards the dorm, leaving you in a post-kiss daze. 

You made it to your class, albeit, late because your mind kept trying to make sense of the kiss that you’d accidentally passed the door to your classroom...twice. Of course, you had kissed Katsuki before. Kissing him on the lips wasn't necessarily a rare occurrence either. But never had he incited a kiss on his own—and in public? Well, that wasn't even in the realm of possibility before. No matter how many times you tried to convince yourself it wasn't strange, you couldn't help but feel suspicious. 

As you dissociated from your lecture your brain kept replaying the kiss, searching for a reason to why the kiss felt different. No, it didn't feel different. It felt strange. But it only felt strange because something about it felt familiar. It shouldn't have felt familiar. If a guy initiates a kiss with you for the first time it shouldn't feel familiar. Why did it feel familiar? 

And then it hit you. He licked his lips. 

He licked his lips!

Your brain switched to your kiss with Shouto earlier in the day. After you kissed him he had licked his lips too. You thought it was weird then, but didn't think twice about it. Now you were thinking twice.

‘I’m just being crazy,’ you thought. 

In what way could the kisses be related? What? Because they both happened to lick their lips afterwards? So what? That didn’t mean anything. It meant nothing. You were sure of it... 

Almost. 

You shook the thoughts from your head, refocusing your attention back to your professor at the front of the room. After class, you made your way back to the dorms to get started on your studies while Mina and Jiro were out. The sun had long since set, and you were two hours deep in frustration preparing for your Hero Physics midterm when a knock came from the door. 

You welcomed the distraction, considering you were about to re-read the same question for the fifth time with no progress of understanding it anytime soon, and if you read it again without a miraculous conclusion, you were going to bash your brains in with your laptop.

Needless to say, when you opened the door to see Izuku standing in the hall, you welcomed him with open arms. 

“Hey!” You smiled. 

Izuku looked you up and down. You were still wearing Katsuki’s hoodie, but you had switched out your dress for pajama pants and fuzzy socks. It was subtle, practically unnoticeable, but the slightest crease formed in-between his eyebrows when he noticed. 

“Is that Kaachan’s hoodie?” He asked. 

You looked down at your torso, as if you had forgotten you were wearing anything at all. “Oh, yeah,” you said. “I spilled soda all over my dress earlier while I was with him and he let me borrow it. Honestly, I’m thinking about keeping it at this point. I was supposed to return it as soon as I got back but it’s freezing in here because the thermostat is stuck at sixty-nine degrees and this hoodie is so much warmer than any of mine.”

“You should really call maintenance to fix that.” He brushed past you, entering your room and plopping his backpack on the floor by your desk. You closed the door behind him and crossed your arms.

“What's this?” He asked, picking up your notebook. 

“My suicide note.”

Izuku chuckled, looking over your notes and at the assignment on your computer. “I took Hero Physics last semester,” he told you. “I can help you if you want.” 

“If you want to dedicate your time to a hopeless cause, be my guest.”

And he did. He took a seat next to you at your desk and spent the next hour tutoring you on Hero Physics by walking you through questions like ‘Find the velocity of this speed-type hero’ and what-not. Surprisingly, it wasn't long into your session that you began to understand the words on your screen. You didn't suddenly become Einstein or anything, but at some point you started to work your way through them on your own with few mistakes. The assignment you had spent two hours slowly killing yourself over was completed in one with the help of your freckled friend. 

“I think you’re aiming for the wrong profession, Izuku,” you tell him. “Schools need more teachers.”

“Then schools should pay them more.”

You tried to snort back your laughter, ultimately failing, causing  Izuku to laugh along with you. 

“Want a drink?” You asked, standing to your feet. 

“Sure.” He nodded. You left him at your desk and came back with two Arizona teas from your mini fridge to share with him. 

“You never mentioned why you stopped by unannounced,” you said as you took a sip. “Not that you’re ever unwelcome.”

“Oh,” he smiled. “I guess I just wanted to see you.”

You looked down at your hands wrapped around the can, unable to meet his eyes. Izuku always managed to make you blush. You weren't sure if he meant to or not. Either way, he was completely oblivious to the effect he had on you. 

“Well thank you. It’s always nice to see you.”

Similarly, Izuku blushed as well, his cheeks turning pale red. His eyes shifted to the clock on your desk. “I should probably go,” he said, not really wanting to go. “It’s getting late.”

“Oh, right.” You both stood to your feet and Izuku gathered his things. You walked him to the door, leisurely leaning against the doorframe as he exited into the hall. “Think you can keep tutoring me?”

Izuku turned around. 

“I still need to pass finals,” you said. 

He nodded. “Then I'll make sure you pass finals.”

Grinning, you closed the space between you, mindlessly reaching to place a kiss on his cheek when you were reminded of the other kisses you'd shared with Shouto and Katsuki. A thought in the back of your mind spurred from your suspicions—a thought that quickly turned into an idea. At the last second, you acted on your impulse to b-line for his lips, catching you both off guard. You stuck with it, pressing your lips against his harder than you intended. The action stunned him, but it didn't take him longer than a second to embrace it.

It was just a kiss. Not unlike the many kisses you often shared with the others. Not unlike the kisses you've given him before. It was just a simple peck...until it wasn't. 

You pulled away, prepared to give him your thanks for helping you with your studies. But, you never got the chance. Your words were silenced by his lips chasing after yours. Your breath hitched in your throat as your back pressed against the door frame. His hands cupped your cheeks and your lips moved in sync, his tongue daring to swipe across your lips. In the heat of the moment, your mouth nearly opened for him, but he pulled away just as your lips began to part, and you opened your eyes to meet dark green irises peering down at your flushen face. 

Your eyes flickered down to his pink lips, now reddened and somewhat swollen. You watched in disbelief as—just like the others—he, too, licked his lips. 

“Watermelon,” he said lowly. Your chest heaved, your words escaping you. Izuku stepped back, his usual sickeningly sweet smile staring back at you as if nothing happened. 

“We should split some watermelon,” he said. “The next time we study together. That’s my asking rate.”

You nodded hazily. “Okay.”

With that, he said goodbye and left you standing in the doorway to your room dumbfounded. 

.

.

.

Yeah.

Something definitely was up. 

#todobakudeku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #mha x reader #mha smut #deku smut #todoroki smut #bakugou smut #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #boku no hero acedamia #izuku midoryia smut #izuku midoryia x you #todobaku #tododeku #katsudeku #todobakudeku #katsuki bakugo mha #shouto todoroki #izuku midoriya #mha deku #mha x black female reader #mha x black reader #poc reader #mha bakugo smut #mha bakugou #mha todoroki

[97-liners]

out of the frying pan and into your heart

jeon wonwoo x female reader

tags: college au, fraternities, fake dating, misunderstandings, childhood friends to lovers, this all could have been resolved with some proper communication, lots of pining specifically for em, fluff, rom com, best friend minghao, y/n is oblivious!!!

warnings: alcohol, weed, frats, american college setting

words: 9.3k

synopsis:

it starts, as it always does with this particular collection of friends, with shenanigans and cahoots.

well, more specifically, for wonwoo it starts with shenanigans, when soonyoung and junhui somehow manage to collide brain cells and write in to the school newspaper's love advice columnist about his crush on his childhood best friend.

and for you, the aforementioned childhood best friend and, in secret, also the aforementioned love advice columnist, it starts with cahoots when kim mingyu manages to convince you to fake date him so he can win some popularity contest for his frat.

for @notesof-mh

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It starts, as it always does with this particular collection of friends, with shenanigans and cahoots. 

Well, more specifically, for Wonwoo it starts with shenanigans, when Soonyoung and Junhui somehow manage to collide brain cells. 

He had barely been awake for 15 seconds when they had barged into his room, laptop in hands, just to show him the text in a pink-colored submission box surrounded by heart emojis. Wonwoo squints, the blurry words coming into just enough focus for him to make out what they say. “Dear Cherry, I’m a third year computer science student and I’m in love with my best friend, except I’m— what the hell is this?” 

He glares at Soonyoung who grins cheerfully and points again at the screen. “Read the rest, Wonwoo!”

Wonwoo sighs and continues reading. “Except I’m a huge awkward loser and she’s so cool and pretty, and I don’t know how to tell her I like her. What should I do?”

“Alright, hit send,” Junhui instructs, tilting the laptop away and laughing maniacally. 

Wonwoo pushes his hand across his face, trying his best to wipe away the last vestiges of sleep-addled confusion, and then he realizes what’s happening.

“Wait, you can’t do that,” he tries to protest, but Soonyoung giggles and clicks a button.

“No, this will be good,” Junhui says, plopping down on the edge of Wonwoo’s bed. “Minghao told me that whoever runs the advice column in the school paper is, like, a love guru, and she has four thousand followers on instagram. And she’s never shown her face, but she’s probably also really pretty.”

Wonwoo groans. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Just trust us,” Soonyoung pats Wonwoo’s knee through the blanket, “this is a good idea.”

And for you, it starts with kahoots, when your chemistry lab partner, Mingyu, pulls your stool closer to his side and whispers a proposition to you.

“Do you want to be my fake girlfriend?”

You narrow your eyes at him through your fogged up department-issued safety goggles. “Are you insane? What kind of fumes are you on?”

“None,” Mingyu replies. “I’m Sigma’s nominee for the Greek God award at the inter-fraternity tournament this year and I’m the only nominee who’s single.”

“And so I’m your pick,” you respond flatly. 

Mingyu nods eagerly. His safety glasses slide down his nose, and he has to push them back up. “Yeah, you’re so pretty and cool, I think it’d be really impressive if I somehow managed to pull you.”

“Huh.”

“And,” he adds on, lowering his voice even more, “Jeonghan thinks my only real competition this year is going to be Jung Jaehyun from Nu Kappa Tau, and rumor has it you rejected him in high school. Twice. So I think it’d be pretty funny if we ended up together.”

You scoff and turn back toward the titration in front of you. “You can’t go up to people and ask for things like this.”

“C’mon, you know the winner gets free parking for an entire semester,” he whines. “Ok, how’s this? If you’ll pretend to be my girlfriend for the Greek God award, I’ll write our lab reports for the rest of the semester.” 

His offer makes you pause, and he jumps on that pause, wedging his way in there. 

“I’ll give you executive editing power, but I’ll do all the work,” he wheedles, “and I’ll give you a perfect peer eval at the end of the semester. I promise,” he puts a big meaty hand on your lab notebook and smears the ink under his fingers. “Kim Mingyu isn’t a liar.”

“I’ll conveniently ignore the fact that you’re lying about having a girlfriend to win this award, then,” you roll your eyes.

“That’s different, though,” he protests, “the award is dumb and meaningless and I really want it. But a promise made between buddies is important.”

He looks earnest, so you decide to lay off on him just a little. “When we’re fake-dating,” you sigh, “you can’t call us buddies anymore.”

“So that’s a…”

You groan, hating yourself for being so indulgent. “Yes. That’s a yes.”

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“Hold on Y/N, have you seen this?”

“Seen what?” You look over the top of your laptop screen, where you’re halfway through a paper on the Cuban Missile Crisis. 

Minghao, your co-admin of the school newspaper’s (infamous) advice column turns his screen towards you. “Someone wrote in calling themselves a huge awkward loser.”

“Huh,” you grin to yourself as you read over the message quickly. “That’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Of course you think it’s cute,” Minghao rolls his eyes. “I’m going to assign this one over to you.”

“Yeah, sure, but please,” you mutter, “can you be a bit more discreet about it?”

Minghao looks at you over the top of his glasses. “What, about us being Ask Cherry? It’s not as embarrassing as you make it out to be.”

“Be quiet,” you hiss, looking around, “someone could overhear!” You frown, and then quietly, you add on, “and it is embarrassing. I’m supposed to be a journalism major, and I’m here making up horoscopes and giving fake relationship advice three days a week.”

This is an overstatement, and Minghao rolls his eyes. You only make up horoscopes and give fake relationship advice one day a week (Mondays are for Matters Of The Heart, your schedule says). There’s also Am I The Asshole Wednesdays, a campus favorite, and Friday Free-for-alls, when you field confessions of all types. Dear Cherry, I need to get this off my chest. I’ve been using my roommate’s shampoo this whole semester, and today I found out that our two other roommates have also been using this roommate’s shampoo. He doesn’t suspect a thing. 

You hadn’t meant to end up in this position. You write serious pieces for the school newspaper too, reporting on the Student Government’s legislative sessions and the university’s semesterly budget for grants to culturally-centered student organizations. Those articles, you have your name attached to. But at the end of last year, the new editor-in-chief Jeonghan had approached you and convinced (strong-armed) you into becoming the new writer for the infamous advice column, Ask Cherry, since Cherry himself was quitting to make more time for other priorities.

(“And the kicker is,” you had complained to Minghao, “nobody will ever believe me.” Choi Seungcheol, fraternity president, football player, gym rat, jock, fuckboy extraordinaire— relationship advice columnist? No, it’s simply not realistic. 

“I’m sitting on the juiciest piece of gossip to cross my path in my entire life, and I can’t do anything about it,” you say dejectedly.

“Hmm.” Minghao doesn’t even pretend to be interested.)

But, despite your disastrous real-world love life, your clumsily dispensed life advice, and the completely made up horoscopes, Ask Cherry readership skyrocketed under your intrepid watch. Once, you told a reader that the albino squirrel that lives in the tree next to the physics building was a good omen, and the next day, rumor spread that an albino squirrel sighting would grant you an A on your next exam. For weeks after, people would scatter peanuts and pieces of toast by the base of the tree next to the physics building, until campus facilities had to fence the area off because raccoons were starting to show up instead. 

Minghao finding out had been a complete accident, after you had lent him your laptop to print out a paper that was due the next hour, but you had forgotten to minimize the window with your Ask Chrery submissions. Minghao, being someone who loves giving advice, both solicited and unsolicited, naturally joined in on this scheme of yours. 

“Anyways,” you shrug. You look up as Junhui steps into the public study area of the library and scans the tables twice before making eye contact with you, and then waving. “Minghao, did you invite the others over to study with us?”

“Yeah,” Minghao responds, raising an eyebrow at you. “You got a problem with that?”

“No, it’s just—“ you’re about to complain about never being able to focus on your work with the rest of them around, but the words die on your lips when you spot Wonwoo trailing behind Junhui with a bemused expression on his face and a cardboard tray holding bubble teas in his hands. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “Hey guys,” you wave over to them, clearing off the table space next to you to make room for them. 

“I brought you a taro milk tea,” Junhui announces, gesturing behind him, “and a Wonwoo to boot.”

“He made me walk with him because he didn’t know your favorite drink,” Wonwoo explains quietly as he slides the drinks onto the table and takes his seat next to you. “Are you working on that international relations paper?”

“Yeah.” You take your taro milk tea. No ice, 50% sweet, tapioca pearls and grass jelly, just the way you like it. 

“Do you think you’ll be done by Friday?”

“I will be free by then,” you promise him, punctuating your statement by stabbing your boba straw through the film covering the cup. You’d rather suffer through an all nighter on Sunday than miss your regular Friday night gaming sessions with Wonwoo, a tradition the two of you have kept up since both of you were in middle school and still playing Starcraft.

“Anyway,” Junhui leans over the table, resting his chin on top of his interlaced fingers. “I have a funny story.”

You tear your gaze away from Wonwoo. “Hm?”

“So, you know that advice columnist for the school paper? Wonwoo submitted a question the other day. Well, Soonyoung and I did, but for Wonwoo.”

You feel your blood run cold. It’s not that you’re ashamed of running a love advice column, but it’s more that you’re… embarrassed. And you’ve been running it in secret for so long that at this point, you can’t even fathom anyone outside of Minghao knowing. Maybe when you graduate, you’ll do an identity reveal, but you’re not quite there now.

“Can we talk about literally anything else,” Wonwoo grouses, somewhat to your relief. he glares at Junhui, but the effect is somewhat dampened when he lifts his bubble tea to his mouth and loudly slurps up some tapioca pearls.

“Yeah,” you quickly agree, not eager to have your secret identity exposed.

Junhui steamrolls on ahead, however. “So. If you’re reading the column and there’s a question from someone who has a big stupid crush, you know who it’s from.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Wonwoo? A crush?

“Junhui,” Wonwoo groans, digging his fingers into the bridge of his nose, brows furrowed in an expression of exquisite pain. 

Minghao, however, leans forward and lets his glasses slide down his nose. He laces his fingers together. “A crush? On who?”

Junhui and Minghao both turn to stare at Wonwoo, who flushes beet red. 

“Oh, hey guys!”

You feel a heavy arm around your shoulder and turn to see, to your abject horror, Mingyu, who scoots his way onto the bench to squeeze in next to you. “What are you doing here,” you hiss at your oversized interloper, but Mingyu just glances pointedly at the spot two tables down where a bunch of upperclassmen are sitting and chatting. You recognize Choi Seungcheol, the president of Mingyu’s frat, and you sigh and deflate. Fine. A promise is a promise.

You smile weakly at the other three guys sitting at your table. “Surprise,” you say flatly,” Mingyu is my boyfriend now.”

You’re momentarily distracted by a loud honking noise as Junhui narrowly avoids choking on his bubble tea and spraying the table through his nose. 

“Mingyu?!” Minghao sounds simultaneously dismayed and slightly judgemental.

“C’mon, dude,” Mingyu whines, slumping like a kicked puppy. You pat his bicep soothingly. “You don’t have to make it sound that bad.”

Minghao and Junhui share a conspicuous glance. Mingyu isn’t the type of guy you’d usually go for, but you think this reaction is a bit uncalled for. “He’s not that bad,” you find yourself defending your fake boyfriend. “Mingyu is nice, and he’s really tall.”

You blink. Mingyu turns his pout on you now. “Nice and really tall? Are you for real?”

“It’s true,” you scowl at him. “Are you here to study, or did you just come by to get on my nerves?”

“Okay, well,” Junhui interjects sharply, “Wonwoo and I should get going.”

“Wait, but you two just got here,” you attempt to protest, but Wonwoo, who had been quiet this whole time, stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N,” he says to you, before leaving along with Junhui. 

(It’s not until later, when you’re lounging with Minghao in the living room of your shared apartment, that it hits you, again, but this time with its full weight.

“Wonwoo likes someone,” you say out loud. It’s not a question.

Minghao glances up form his book at you with a frown plastered across his face, his brows creased with irritation. He evaluates you carefully over the silver rims of his glasses, which you know aren’t prescription but are mainly there to make him look elegant and intellectual.

“...yes,” he finally acknowledges.

You frown despite yourself. “I wonder who it is.”

“What does it matter to you,” Minghao scoffs, “you’re dating Mingyu, remember?”

“You can pretend to hate Gyu, but I know you like him better than any of the rest of us.” You really hadn’t been expecting to defend Mingyu twice in a day, but you suppose that’s life as Kim Mingyu’s girlfriend. “And anyways, Wonwoo and I have been friends since we were kids. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me earlier.”

“Yeah, he probably can’t believe it either,” Minghao mutters under his breath so quietly, you almost miss it. Then, in a louder voice, he chides, “don’t think too much about it, yeah? You still have to reply professionally to his advice request. His anonymous advice request.”

“Right,” you sigh dejectedly, frowning at your laptop balanced across your knees. “How do I tell him that he’s not a nerd and a loser without giving away that I know who he is?”

Minghao shrugs. “Maybe tell him to be patient. Or maybe tell him to try to start getting over his crush.”

You consider his suggestion for a moment. It’s appealing, but then the thought of Wonwoo wasting away in his dark bedroom, sighing as he pines over his unrequited love, flashes across your mind. “I just don’t want him to be sad.”)

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“C’mon, he was right on top of you,” Wonwoo complains. You can hear the creaking of his gaming chair in the background, undoubtedly as he rises from his reclined position to gulp down more of whatever energy drink he has in his mini fridge this week. You groan and dig your fingers into the junction between your neck and shoulder, trying with little success to work out the knot that’s developed over this last round of PUBG.

“Wonwoo, that’s the problem, I suck at close range,” you huff in response, “you know I get panicky and forget to turn off auto-fire.”

It’s game night, and you and Wonwoo have been at it for the past two hours. Your paper isn’t done yet, but it can wait. It’s been over a decade since the years when the two of you would spend your summers together playing video games and walking aimlessly around the neighborhood with half-melted popsicles, talking for hours. But even as your social circles diverted from his, it’s always been something of an unspoken agreement that for this, you’d always make time for Wonwoo, and he’d always make time for you.

“Another round?” You and Wonwoo both ask the question at the same time. There’s a pause, and then you’re both laughing. Even over the headset mic, Wonwoo’s laugh is loud and unrestrained. It feels like a secret, a side of Wonwoo that he saves just for you and for Friday nights spent on opposite sides of the monitor.

“So.” You’re still waiting for the next match to start when Wonwoo breaks the comfortable silence. “Mingyu?”

You fidget at the ties of your hoodie. It’s stolen from Wonwoo, and you’ve had it since middle school at least. “Yeah?”

“Interesting choice.”

“What does that mean?”

He makes a casual, noncommittal noise. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t see it coming, and you didn’t tell me about it.”

You open your mouth to tell him that it’s actually all a ruse, to explain the whole situation, but the hard, petulant edge to his voice makes you pause. Wonwoo sounds… upset. But not quite upset. Jealous?

“Wonwoo,” you laugh. Onscreen, the timer counting down to the start of the match appears, and you jam on the space bar to make your character jump over his character’s prone body. “Wonwoo, are you jealous?”

Over your headphones, you hear the sound of his gaming chair squeaking. “I’m not jealous,” he says, in a tone of voice that sounds exactly like Wonwoo when he’s jealous. 

“You are. Where are we landing?” You toggle to the map in the game and zoom in on the path that the plane is taking. The player count in the bottom starts dropping as other players jump out. 

“Blue marker, does that look good to you? There’s a few houses we can loot, and it’s not close to the flight path. If we get bad circle placement, you can shoot me in the foot, if you want. As a treat.”

“Yeah, fine. Lead the way, boss. Anyways, why are you jealous?” You suppress the flutter in your chest. There’s no reason for you to get your hopes up. 

“You’re my friend,” Wonwoo says simply. It feels like a heavy towel being thrown over you. “You used to tell me everything. Mingyu is… fine,” he admits reluctantly. “He’s a good guy. I’m happy for you.”

Your heart clenches. You want to say something soft and sincere, but instead, you return with a jab. “You can’t be upset at me for keeping secrets, Wonwoo. What was Junhui saying about you liking someone?”

“Junhui just says stuff sometimes,” he replies curtly. 

You frown. “Junhui isn’t a liar, though. Who is it?” You ask, despite everything in you telling yourself that you don’t want to know the answer. “Who are they? Maybe I can talk to them for you.”

He laughs humorlessly. “It doesn’t matter. She’s in a relationship with someone else.”

You almost sigh in relief, but you stop yourself just in time. Why are you relieved? “Oh, Wonwoo. That sucks. She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.”

Wonwoo makes a noise that tells you he’s shrugging. “She deserves better than me.”

“Hey!” You sit up, straightening your spine in indignation. “Don’t say that. You’re great, Wonwoo. You’re criminally underappreciated. You’re smart and you’re so sincere and kind, and maybe other people don’t acknowledge it, but you’re really funny and interesting.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and the only thing you hear is the game audio as your character collects supplies and clears the building the two of you are in. “Let me know if you find any gun that’s not a pistol, by the way. I have a 2x scope on me.”

“Thank you,” Wonwoo replies. You know he’s not talking about the scope.

Even though the two of you are gaming individually in your own rooms, you want nothing more than to tug off your headphones and go down the two flights of stairs to Wonwoo’s apartment and give him a hug.

“I have an AKM and a bunch of healing items on me,” Wonwoo says, “come to me and you can have whatever you want.”

.

.

.

It would have been much less embarrassing if you had realized it last week when you were walking to class and Wonwoo had stopped you in the middle of the sidewalk to pluck a fallen leaf from your hair with that stupidly fond expression plastered on his face; or maybe when you accidentally fell asleep in his bed during an afternoon study session and woke up later with your head on his shoulder, legs tangled together, the sound of his soft snoring puffing in your ear, his hand held loosely in yours. Maybe in another life, it would have been one of those soft, romantic moments, like something out of a coming of age anime. But no, because you’re you and your life is the way it is, the moment you realize you’re in love with Wonwoo goes like this:

It’s Sunday, noon already, and you’re in Wonwoo’s shared apartment. Junhui had let you in earlier when you had knocked at their door until your knuckles were sore. When you burst unceremoniously into Wonwoo’s bedroom, he’s still asleep with his glasses on, smudged and crooked, and his phone on his chest. You frown. “Wake up, Wonwoo. Did you fall asleep while watching dramas again?”

Wonwoo jumps slightly and lifts his head, brows furrowing. “Huh?”

“You said you’d go to lunch with me.” You extend your arms and spin to show off your cute, perfectly coordinated outfit, picked out specifically to match the instagram trap you’re going to. You even broke out the eyeliner and glitter eyeshadow to match the cute knit cardigan and wool miniskirt you put on. “What hat should I wear? The fuzzy bucket hat,” you hold up option one, “or the beret,” you hold up option two, looking down at Wonwoo expectantly.

Your best friend groans and collapses back onto the bed, eyes sliding shut. “Um. The beret.”

“Okay great, now get out of bed. Our reservation is soon and you still need to wash your face and get dressed.” You poke at his cheek, which is greasy from sleep and still bears the imprint of his pillow. 

“Can you get Minghao to go with you instead?” He doesn’t bother opening his eyes.

“Nope,” you respond, popping the ‘p’, “he has dance practice.”

“Mingyu?”

“He said he had a textile arts club meeting?” You frown. “I’m not sure what it is, but he’s been crocheting like crazy for it this week.”

“Um,” Wonwoo smacks his hand over his face, clearly trying to think of other options. He forgets, however, that he fell asleep with his glasses on, and ends up jamming the frames against this cheek. “Ow. Ok, what about, uh, Seokmin?”

You pout at him even though he can’t see it. “Wonu,” you whine, sitting down on his bed, “I want to go to lunch with you, though.”

At that, he finally cracks his eyes open. “Why?”

Because, you want to say, I don’t want to do this with anybody other than you. You briefly try to imagine doing this whole thing– dressing up, making a reservation, taking pictures and walking around town, huddling together in a cafe in the afternoon to watch the latest Nintendo Direct together– with anybody else, but you just quite settle on it comfortably. No. It has to be Wonwoo. Because Wonwoo is your best friend, because Wonwoo has always been there for you, because Wonwoo just gets you, better than anybody ever has, and every moment you spend with Wonwoo, you feel your mood lifting and relaxing. Because you trust Wonwoo and he trusts you, and because you know him, and you love him–

You love him.

Oh.

Oh.

You’ll have to process that later. “Because you have a car and you can drive me,” you tell Wonwoo instead, shoving the revelation down to the back of your mind and putting it in a box labeled problems for future me.

“Fine,” Wonwoo acquiesces, sitting up with enormous effort. His hair is still sticking up in all directions, making him look like a big dark dandelion. A part of you expects to see him in a different light, now that you think you love him, like there’s supposed to be cherubs singing and starlight in his eyes or something, but instead, you just see regular old Wonwoo. Your best friend. He doesn’t suddenly look like a vision sent from heaven, he just looks sleepy and crusty and a little greasy.

“Hurry up and brush your teeth,” you tell him, slapping him lightly on his belly and laughing at the resulting ouuff that jerks out of him, “you have morning breath and I can smell it from here.”

.

.

.

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Re: advice

Dear Cherry, my friend is in love with his childhood friend but she doesn’t love him back :( how do we make her fall in love with him? from anonymous

“Hm,” you sigh out loud, “I wonder if Soonyoung knows that the anonymous signoff is made moot by the fact that he emailed this one in instead of using the anonymous submission box.” You’re draped on the couch with your legs propped all the way up and your laptop on your chest as you scroll through this week’s Am I The Asshole Wednesday submissions.

“You can ignore him,” Minghao says, passing by with a full bottle of wine in each hand on his way to put them away in the kitchen. “I don’t think you should be giving any love advice when your own love life is a mess,” he sniffs. 

“You’re the asshole,” you announce, not looking up from your screen. “That was for you, Minghao.” Clearly, he’s still mad at you after you had revealed the whole Mingyu situation to him a few nights ago. You still remember the blistering look that Minghao had thrown at you, like you’re the dumbest human he’s ever had the supreme displeasure of knowing.

“I guess you don’t want to go to the dance team party with me, then,” your roommate responds smoothly, returning from the kitchen. It’s only 6pm, but Minghao is already dressed in a silk pajama set with a matching robe, lenseless glasses frames perched on the tip of his nose, smelling of strawberry-scented lotion as he pours himself a glass of wine.

You scowl at him.  “Fine. I don’t care.” Turning back to your laptop, you scroll past a few more boring submissions on your hunt for the truly salacious stuff your classmates get up to. “I wonder what Soonyoung is even talking about, though,” you mumble, half to yourself, as you click on the next interesting subject line.

.

.

.

In retrospect, Mingyu was definitely going to win that Greek God competition, even if Jaehyun from Nu Kapp put up a good fight.

Mingyu’s physique is certainly impressive, and the audience erupted when he won the (shirtless and oiled-up, for some reason) pushup contest, but his clumsiness eventually led him to lose at every other physical challenge. It was his overwhelming victory in the popularity vote and personality contest that got him to first place. It’s probably all because of his unwavering friendliness and his constant need for affirmation manifesting into an overwhelming desire to be helpful, but you like to think that maybe you helped too.

That’s why you’re here, in the kitchen of the Sigma house, absolutely wasted at the celebration party the frat is throwing in honor of Mingyu being crowned the best frat star on campus. Between the blunt that you, Mingyu, Minghao, and Seokmin, another friend in your year, had passed around upstairs, and all the shots that Mingyu had plied you with, you’re feeling weirdly bouncy and giggly and not entirely sure if you’ll remember this the next morning.

“Okay, so,” Mingyu mumbles, pulling you closer as the two of you nestle in a corner, away from whatever is going on at the beer pong table, “we should stage a breakup, right?”

You giggle against the hollow of his throat, arms looped over his shoulders. “Can we make it your fault?”

He whines like a kicked puppy. “Why can’t we make it mutual? Jeonghan would kick my ass.”

“Fine, fine,” you huff, not at all reluctant. “We should give it some time so it’s not suspicious, right?”

“Yeah.” Mingyu nods, accidentally knocking his chin against your forehead. “You’re so smart.”

“Which means I’m still on girlfriend duty tonight,” you conclude.

“Oh, come on.” Mingyu’s hands come down to rest at your waist, his fingertips skimming along the waistband of your skirt, eliciting a shiver from you when you feel his rough, warm skin against yours. “You make it sound like a chore.”

You sigh. Oh well, you could do much worse than Mingyu.

You’re not sure if it’s the weed or the alcohol, or maybe just jealousy at this fake version of yourself that’s happy with a boyfriend and not moping over an unrequited crush on your childhood best friend, but you find it strangely easy to lean up and attach your lips to Mingyu’s, feel the wet heat of his tongue in your mouth. and Mingyu, pliant under your grip as always, kisses you back, going along with it without a second thought.

“No offense,” he pants as he parts from you, “but I don’t think I want to hook up with you.”

You blink at him. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no,” he clarifies quickly, “you’re a good kisser, I just don’t want things to be weird between us, which I think might happen if we hook up.”

“If fake dating didn’t make things weird, I’m not sure that hooking up would,” you laugh, more of a giggle than anything. You attach your lips to his jaw, pulling him down towards you so you don’t have to crane your neck. 

“And also,” he nudges at the hair behind your ear with his nose, “you’re like, totally wasted right now.”

“You’re not sober either,” you shoot back, accusatory.

“More sober than you,” he shoots back. He’s right, though. His large stature means that he can hold his liquor much better than you. “It wouldn’t be fair,” he pouts, stubborn, “and I’m not a creep.”

“Fine.” You tug lightly at the short hairs on the back of his head. 

“Are… are you okay?”

Mingyu’s question makes you hesitate for a moment. You lean your flushed cheek against the jut of his collarbone. “I’m drunk,” you respond flatly.

“No, not that, you’re just usually not this…” you feel Mingyu gulp, “clingy.”

You wonder if you should tell him about Wonwoo and your stupid pointless crush that’s starting to feel less like a crush every time you’re with him and more like… something deeper. Something frightening, like a yawning chasm, just waiting for you to fall in.

You’re saved the effort of further deliberation, however, when Mingyu suddenly raises his head and interrupts your thoughts. “Hey, isn’t that Wonwoo?”

You lift yourself off of Mingyu’s chest and look behind you. True to his word, it really is Wonwoo, standing by the door, jacket on, looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Huh, he doesn’t usually come to these,” Mingyu observes, tugging idly at the bottom of your shirt. “I wonder why he’s here.”

You think you know why he’s here, though. Earlier, back upstairs, you had excused yourself to the bathroom to take a quick breather. Through an alcohol and weed induced haze, you had belatedly realized that it’s Friday night, and you’re late.

you: cn you come pick me u you: at sigma wonu: are you ok? i’ll be there in a few you: sry im drunk you: wanna go home w u

Now, staring Wonwoo dead in the eyes, you realize with a jolt that you had never told him why you asked him to pick you up. You peel yourself off your fake boyfriend and stumble, clumsily, towards Wonwoo, trying your best to ignore the way the room spins around you.

“Wonu,” you whine reaching out to him.

He frowns. “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“I’m drunk,” you tell him.

“I know.” He extends his arm and lets you cling on to him as you stumble into his torso.

“And it’s Friday night,” you look up at him.

“Yes.”

“We’re supposed to be playing Overwatch together.” You give him the best puppy eyes you can muster, and he blinks at you, looking flustered.

“Huh?”

“Overwatch,” you insist, tugging him towards the door. “Friday night. It’s Wonwoo and Y/N night.”

“Is… is this what you called me over here for?”

You nod and begin dragging Wonwoo out by the wrist. 

The cool air outside hits your flushed skin like a wave, like you’re jumping into a pool. Wonwoo is silent and lets you continue to cling onto him as he walks you to where he had parked on the side of the street, directly under a streetlight.

You slide into the passenger seat. Wonwoo hands you a bottle of water, cap already removed for you. “Hydrate,” he orders. 

“Sorry,” you whimper, somewhat pathetically.

He frowns. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I must be so annoying,” you mumble, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

“No,” Wonwoo reaches out and takes your hand over the center console. “You’re not annoying.”

You watch him as he drives. He’s so handsome, your alcohol-addled mind supplies. 

“You don’t think I’m annoying?”

“Never.”

Wonwoo says it like a promise.

Silence falls over the two of you as he drives through campus, all the way back to the student housing unit that both of you live in. He turns off the engine, leaving a silence that feels even more all-encompassing. He looks over at you, face half hidden in the shadows and half illuminated by the orange lamplight outside. “Is Minghao home?”

“N…no, he’s back at the party.”

“Okay, we’re going back to my apartment, then,” he decides.

You blink. “Huh?” But you’re already stumbling out of his car and spilling onto the sidewalk, all wobbly legs and loose limbs. 

“I’m taking you back to my place,” Wonwoo repeats. “You need someone to watch you and make sure you don’t wander off and get lost in the city,” he explains drily.

“‘M okay,” you whine futilely. It’s especially unconvincing, since you’re still stumbling over your own feet and leaning against him. 

Wonwoo lets you rest your cheek on his shoulder and cling onto him as he lets you into his apartment, gets you a glass of water, and digs up a pack of makeup wipes from out of nowhere and sits you on his bed and starts to get to work. 

A small (very drunk) part of you bristles at the appearance of the makeup wipes, and you try to scowl, even as Wonwoo gently wipes at your smudged eyeliner. “Whose are these? Do you have a lot of girls over here or something?”

“They’re Junhui’s, he uses them,” Wonwoo explains. He dabs at one last spot in the corner of your right eye, then announces, “there, you’re all done.”

You open your eyes to see Wonwoo grinning dopily at you. “You’re cute,” you poke at his cheek, and he laughs quietly. Seokmin used to be afraid of him, he had confessed to you, and you wonder why, because the Wonwoo you know is so soft, so loveable, so goofy and cute. 

The Wonwoo you know is shy and awkward and doesn’t quite know how to fit himself into social situations. He’s clumsy and absentminded and needs someone to take care of him, to dote on him and give him attention.

The Wonwoo that you know, you’ve known since you were in second grade, standing over the boy you had knocked over with a rubber kickball, staring at him as he sniffled on the woodchips and glared at you through big watery eyes. That day, you decided right then and there that this boy would be yours, and now…

“Wonwoo,” you blurt out without thinking, “I’m in love with you.”

His breath catches. Wonwoo pauses, digesting your clumsily delivered confession, and then he makes the most awful expression you have ever seen on him.

It’s raw hurt, sharp, painful. His mouth twists and his brows furrow and he looks at you like you’re something to be afraid of. You hate it. You hate that you’re the cause of it, that he’s feeling this, whatever it is, because of you, even though you’re not sure why.

“Really,” you insist. You reach out to grab his hand, but he pulls away from you. “It’s true. I’m in love with you.”

You hear a sharp intake of breath. “You’re not,” he says. “You’re in love with Mingyu. You’re happy with him.”

“I’m not… I’m not in love with him,” you try to explain, but your liquor-numbed lips are clumsy and you trip over your words. You lean towards him, slanting your face up, because you want to kiss him so badly it’s all you can think of. Wonwoo shoves you back, hard. 

“Don’t,” he bites, voice sharp and tense.

“I’m in love with you,” you repeat, reaching out to him, but he pushes your hand back and steps away. Like he’s afraid of you.

“Don’t do it. You’re drunk.” His voice wavers slightly. “Don’t do something you’ll regret tomorrow.”

You shake your head, but Wonwoo looks at you with so much hurt and confusion in his eyes, you can’t bring yourself to argue. “Wonu,” you whisper, reaching out to rest your fingertips on his wrist, “please don’t cry.”

He takes a long, shuddering breath, eyes closed, and then when he exhales and opens his eyes again, his expression is impassive. Unreadable.

“Go to sleep,” he says flatly. “Tomorrow you’ll wake up and go back to your boyfriend, and you’ll be happy that nothing happened tonight.”

He closes the door to his bedroom, leaving you in the darkness.

(Wonwoo is cold.

He’s always a little cold, but in his haste to escape earlier, he hadn’t gotten a blanket or even changed into sweats before closing the door behind him, and now Wonwoo lays on the couch, his feet hanging over the armrest, staring at the ceiling. 

I’m in love with you, your voice rings in his head. Wonwoo’s cheek still burns where you had gently rested your hand earlier. If he hadn’t known any better, Wonwoo might have believed you and given in to his most guilty, far-off fantasy, the one where you love him back.

But Wonwoo does know better. He saw the way you were draped all over Mingyu at the party, the way you giggled into his neck when Mingyu slipped his fingertips under the him of your shirt. Mingyu is good for you, Wonwoo decides. Like you, Mingyu is bright and out-going, popular, well-liked, good at receiving love and gives it readily in return. 

Wonwoo closes his eyes, tries to push away the memory of your body curled into his, and wills his mind into silence so that maybe he can get some sleep tonight.)

You wake up, nauseous and hung over and feeling not at all rested, in Wonwoo’s bed.

Groaning, you swipe at your face, expecting to see a gloopy mess on your fingers, but your makeup has already been removed. You squint at the dim sunlight streaming in through the closed blinds, and you reach around blindly until your fingers close around your phone. 

There’s a smattering of random social media notifications and updates from group chats, but one notification in particular catches your eye.

wonu: i’m outside wonu: where are you? are you ok? wonu: i’m gonna head inside to look for you

You feel your cheeks flush as the memories come trickling back– your drunk texts, insisting that your best friend picks you up, kissing Mingyu, leaving the party with Wonwoo, clinging on to him like a koala…

Gathering your courage and steeling your woozy stomach, you stumble out of bed and throw open the door, poking your head out. Wonwoo is sprawled across the couch, undoubtedly playing some kind of mobile game, when he looks up at you. His hair is sticking up in every possible direction and his shirt is crumpled. “Hi,” he says, expression impossibly neutral.

“Hi,” you grin, waving lamely. “I feel like shit. I didn’t say anything weird or embarrassing last night, did I?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You don’t remember?”

You shake your head. “I remember you picking me up from the frat, I think.”

For a split second, he looks relieved. Then, he puts his phone down and laughs at you. “You didn’t do anything embarrassing,” he grins, “except for abandoning your boyfriend at the party because you wanted to play Overwatch with me. C’mon, do you want to get brunch?”

You press your palms against your throbbing forehead. Your brain hurts, and you’re almost sure you half-remember telling Wonwoo that you’re in love with him, but Wonwoo is looking at you expectantly and you’d like nothing more than some french toast and a hot coffee right now, so you shrug. “Sure, lemme wash up and get changed in my apartment first.”

.

.

.

“Dear Cherry, my friend is hopelessly in love with his childhood best friend, who is currently dating a hot frat dude. Should he just give up? The moping is starting to bum me out and I’m worried my hair is going to fall out. Love, Wen Junhui.”

You wrinkle your nose at the message. “And has anybody ever told Junhui that the whole point of anonymous submissions is defeated when he signs his messages with his full name?”

Minghao looks up from the canvas he’s busy splattering paint on. It’s his semester final project, and you had promised to accompany him in the basement of the fine arts building as he works.

Instead of answering, he looks at you like you’re the densest human he’s ever had the misfortune of meeting. “Maybe he’s not trying to be anonymous. Maybe he’s trying to complain about someone we know.”

You squint at your laptop screen. “Who is this supposed to be about, anyways?”

This time, Minghao actually rolls his eyes at you. “Whatever. Have you broken up with Mingyu yet?”

“Yeah, we broke up two days ago. It was mutual, because Mingyu was genuinely afraid that Jeonghan would kick his ass if we said we broke up with me.”

The two of you had made a whole show of deleting all your carefully staged couple photos off your social media accounts, and then unfollowing and refollowing each other within the span of two days, because as the story goes, you and Mingyu had talked it over and are better as friends than as a couple.

“That’s nice,” Minghao says. He unscrews a jar of turpentine and starts to clean off his brushes. “Maybe you should respond to Junhui’s advice submission.”

You groan. “I’ll just tell him to tell his friend to get over it,” you scowl.

“By the way, what’s wrong with Wonwoo?”

“What do you mean?” You look up. Minghao is now attacking the canvas with a palette knife, carving some dramatic impasto into the paint.

“The last two times all of us hung out together, he’s been all…weird.” Minghao wrinkles his nose. “It’s like he’s some kind of guilty dog. He stares at you when you’re not looking, and then he looks away when you are.”

You chew on your lip, work now long forgotten on your idle laptop. Minghao is right. Wonwoo has been different, but not… different. He’s as unwaveringly weird as always, and he’s been texting you links to youtube cat videos and starting arguments on video game theories as always, but it feels like Wonwoo has been aggressively normal. Like how best friends are supposed to be. Light and easy.

“I don’t know. I feel like he’s been acting weird these days too, but I can’t figure out how.”

“You should talk to him,” Minghao says, like talking to Wonwoo about his feelings is easy or something. Or like talking about your own feelings is easy.  

“Or maybe I shouldn’t,” you sigh. Whatever is going on with Wonwoo, you’re just glad he still wants to hang out with you. You’re not entirely sure what you even did wrong, but you’d be willing to beg on your hands and knees for him to forgive you and to stick by your side. “Whatever. We’re gaming together this Friday, I’ll think about it then, I guess.”

.

.

.

“Wonu, I’m scared,” you whine into the mic. It’s another Friday night and the two of you are playing PUBG again. You’re in the endgame now– the original 100 has been whittled down to just 5 players remaining, including you but not including Wonwoo, who had been killed earlier and is now spectating you in-game like some sort of ghost. 

“Just sit tight,” he instructs. In your mind’s eye, he’s leaning back in his gaming chair, arms crossed as he observes your gameplay. 

“There’s gunshots,” you complain, “North? I think they’re hiding by those rocks. It sounds like they’ve got a good sniper rifle, too.”

“They don’t know you’re there. Just let the other teams fight it out. You have enough ammo?”

You huff. “I have like, twelve shotgun shells.”

“And you have the location advantage. Just sit and wait for now.”

You sigh, aimlessly panning the camera back and forth in your anxiety. “Fine,” you agree, because despite it all, Wonwoo is still better at this game than you are, and because you trust him. 

Seconds pass. The audio of distant gunfire in crisp surround sound keeps you on edge and tense, so that when you hear Soonyoung, one of Wonwoo’s roommates, you nearly jump out of your skin. 

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replies. His voice is tinny and quiet, but still clear, like he’s slipped his headset off and mic is pushed away. “I’m gaming with Y/N. I’m muted, don’t worry.”

You’re about to shout and let him know that he’s not actually muted, but your curiosity gets the better of you when you hear Soonyoung’s next words:

“Right, speaking of Y/N, that reminds me. Did you hear that Y/N and Mingyu broke up?”

“Oh.” There’s a pause, and then you hear Wonwoo ask, “why?”

“Dunno. Mingyu wouldn’t give me any details. He said something lame, like that they’re better off as friends, or something.”

“Oh. When did this happen?”

“I think on Wednesday? At least that’s what Seungkwan told me.”

“Hm.”

“Anyways, isn’t that great? You can finally shoot your shot!”

“Are you insane, Soonyoung? It’s been less than a week!”

“Well, okay, fair. But next week? She didn’t seem too sad about it in class today.”

“That’s because she was in class. And anyways, this doesn’t change anything between us, so I’m not going to do anything either.”

“Are you kidding me? So you’re just going to keep it a secret forever?”

“Yeah. I’ll die before I tell Y/N that I’m in love with her.”

Oh.

You sit at your desk, staring at your monitor but not seeing anything. Very quietly, you press your fingers against your lips, as hard as you can, and feel the blood rushing past your ears. 

“I’m not going to ruin our friendship over nothing,” Wonwoo continues.

“It’s not nothing,” Soonyoung replies with a pout in his voice. “You’ve been in love with her for years. Since high school, at least.”

“She just sees me as a friend, that’s all,” Wonwoo sighs. 

Since high school. He’s loved you since high school.

You remember the way he looked at you after prom when he was dropping you back off at home. You had gone with him because the boy you wanted to ask you, some boring soccer player, had asked your friend instead, and Jaehyun had already asked (and been rejected by you) twice, and nobody else had asked you to be their prom date. And Wonwoo, awkward and quiet as he was, had fully expected to skip prom completely, but three days before you had shown up at his locker after school, desperate because you already had a dress and a group to go with and tickets but no date, practically begging him to go to prom with you. And without even thinking, Wonwoo had agreed.

That night, when he drive you home, you leaned your head against the car door with the windows rolled down and felt the wind on your face. At the end, when he parked his car on the side of the street in front of your childhood home, you looked over at him and told him. “I’m so glad we’re going to college together, Wonwoo. I want to be with you forever.”

And he had watched you as you said it, quiet, like he was breathless. Like you had said something terrible and incredible at the same time. 

It’s always been Wonwoo beside you, lazy summers spent playing video games, late night phone calls where you’d talk and he’d listen, after class in his car listening to the radio and eating junk food. Had he loved you then? With ketchup on your shirt and acne across your face and poorly box-dyed hair? And had you loved him then too? Before you even knew what love is?

The weight of it is heavy, settling in your stomach like a hot stone. It almost hurts, how much you feel.

You’re interrupted by a very loud spate of gunfire piercing your eardrums and making you jump,  shrieking loudly as you’re killed in-game. Onscreen, your bloodied character rolls limply down the hill as “Better luck next time! #2/48” flashes on top of your game stats.

“Aw, second place, so close,” you hear Wonwoo say. Then he pauses. “Wait. Was I not muted just now?”

“Wonwoo, I’m going downstairs,” you tell him.

“Wait–” his voice is tight and panicked, but you’re already tugging your headset off and grabbing your keys.

You nearly avoid tripping over your feet as you run to the stairwell at the end of the hall and fly down the two flights of stairs, to where Wonwoo is. By the time you’re banging at their door, you’re out of breath and flushed. You’re not sure if the pounding of your heart is from the exertion or if it’s from something else. Anxiety, maybe. Fear. Exhilaration.

Wonwoo answers the door. He looks exactly like you’d expect, with his rumpled tee shirt and sweatpants and bare feet, his glasses on and his bangs pushed back with the bunny shower headband you bought for him last year.

“Hi,” you grin breathlessly at him.

“Hi,” he replies.

“Can I come in?”

He takes a deep breath, like he’s steeling his nerves. “Yeah.” He opens the door wider and steps aside to let you in, and you follow Wonwoo to his room.

It’s dimly lit with the rainbow glow of his gaming setup and the ready screen for PUBG still up on one of his monitors. Wonwoo flicks on the overhead light, which throws the room into sharp relief. The sudden brightness makes everything feel more real, somehow. 

You sit on the edge of Wonwoo’s bed and pat the spot net to you, which he takes. “Wonwoo,” you say.

Wonwoo purses his lips. “How much of that did you hear earlier?”

“All of it,” you chew the inside of your cheek, drumming your fingers against the bedspread. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “You can pretend I didn’t say any of that.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Huh?” He stares at you with wide eyes.

“What you said earlier.” You pick at a loose thread poking from the hem of your shirt. “Did you mean it when you said you’re in love with me?”

He hesitates, frowning as a conflicted expression briefly flashes across his face, eyebrows drawing together. 

“Wonwoo?” You call his name gently to get his attention. “I’m in love with you too, Wonwoo.”

“I–what?” Wonwoo looks at you like you’ve brown another head. “But, you...  Mingyu?”

You furrow your brows at him. “Mingyu? Didn’t I tell you? We were just faking so he could win that Greek God competition and get free parking next semester.”

“Wait,” he sputters, “so all of that was fake? You were just pretending to be in a relationship?”

“Yeah. I don’t care about Mingyu, I have feelings for you, Wonwoo.”

“You.” Wonwoo takes a deep breath. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I did!” You widen your eyes, adamant. “At karaoke back in October. You, me, Minghao, and Junhui?” It had been after a particularly grueling set of midterms, and the four of you had gone out for some korean barbeque, followed by boba and an extended noraebang session. While Junhui was crooning to an old Cantonese ballad, you were squished on a couch with Minghao and Wonwoo, and the three of you were talking idly about Junhui’s most recent date.

It’s funny, you remember turning and mumbling to Wonwoo, did I ever tell you that Mingyu and I are faking our whole relationship for clout? But Wonwoo hadn’t responded, so you assumed that he didn’t care. Now, it’s looking more like he didn’t even hear you.

“I was asleep,” Wonwoo states in flat disbelief.

“You were asleep,” you repeat slowly.

“It was dark and I was tired. You didn’t notice that I passed out as soon as we dimmed the lights?” He raises his eyebrows as he defends himself, and you bury your face in your hands.

Click. The pieces are all falling in place.

“Wonwoo. I’m so dumb,” you moan. “I run the Ask Cherry column. All those messages from Junhui and Soonyoung. They were about you, weren’t they?”

“Messages? There were more after the first one?!”

“And they were about you being in love with me,” you recall. “This whole time, I thought you liked someone else. Someone who isn’t me.”

There’s a pause. You can hear the sound of Wonwoo’s PC whirring in the background. And then, Wonwoo starts laughing, choked and quiet at first, and then loud, incredulous, almost.

“God,” he gasps between laughs, “we’re both so, so stupid.” And then you’re laughing too.

In retrospect, it’s all ridiculous, this entire situation. You collapse back onto Wonwoo’s bed and laugh until your ribs hurt, and when you turn your head to the side, there’s Wonwoo laying beside you, glasses askew, grinning.

You giggle and reach out to straighten his glasses. “Hi,” you say to him.

“Hi,” he says back, getting up to lean on one elbow. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

You feel your smile widen so much, your cheeks hurt. “I’m in love with you, Jeon Wonwoo.”

He looks at you with so much fondness, it takes your breath away. It’s the way he’s always looked at you, you realize, since the two of you weren’t much more than a pair of kids.

“So, now what?”

“Hmm.” You pretend to think. “Can you kiss me about it, then?”

Wonwoo nods, and his hair flops over the bunny headband as he moves his head. “Yeah,” he says, “I think I can do that.”

.

.

.

(Afterwards, a lot less changes with your relationship with Wonwoo than you thought. After all, he was your best friend for much, much longer than he’s been your boyfriend. He still sends you cat videos at strange hours of the night, and he still sticks sullenly by your side during social outings. Friday nights are still game nights, of course, but now it’s mostly spent on your shared Stardew Valley co-op or cuddling in bed while playing Pokemon together. 

But one thing that changes is the kisses. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you can, because you have so much love to give him and not enough time in the day to tell him all the ways you love him. You try, though, to tell him every moment you can that he’s the cutest, smartest, sweetest, kindest, funniest boy in the world, and that he’s the best friend and boyfriend you could ever ask for.

Wonwoo has a harder time with his feelings, but you know, even without saying. It’s in the way that his fingers linger over your hand when he drops you off in front of your classroom, and the way he gives you first pick on all the best loot when you’re gaming together. And when it’s really late at night and the two of you are huddled under the blankets together, listening to the way your heartbeats collide, he whispers it too. “I love you.”

And, Minghao finally admits it. “Fine,” he grumbles reluctantly while the two of you are preparing the upcoming edition of Ask Cherry, “maybe you’re qualified to give love advice after all.”)

#2022svtgiftexchange #wonwoo #seventeen #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fluff #97.yn #97.writings

[coralinnii]

❋ If you are a villain, then let me be your accomplice ❋ feat: Jamil genre: mild hurt/comfort, budding romance note: sequel to reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy AU Jamil ver, not gender specific reader, no pronouns used, villainess!reader gets sulky, 1.7k word count 

I liivvveee! For now, anyway. I still have my job projects and midterms are upon me but I finally found some time to myself so I hope you enjoy another addition to the Villain/ess!series. Jamil is such an intriguing character with such complex emotions.

series index

Be it luck or the universe finally giving you a break but you noticed that Jamil is starting to like you…or at least tolerates you a bit more than before. 

Since that fateful incident, the competent boy was more willing to be on your side and a lot more comfortable with you, even if it’s mostly reprimanding you. 

“You shouldn’t run in the hallways, you could trip and get hurt!” “Don’t touch those flowers, they have thorns! If you wanted some, just ask me” 

Jamil’s tone was harsh, but he always offered his hand to you to help you walk with your heavy garbs on and would give you the most beautiful bouquet of flowers that you keep in your personal guest room, one that the Asim family provided considering how often you come over. 

Because of your frequent visits, you have the blessing to see the hidden sides of Jamil that you never considered even with your knowledge of this fictional world. 

Like how his voice gets higher when he gets frustrated or surprised, or how animated he gets with his arms whenever Kalim does something spontaneous (which is pretty much all of the time). You especially like how he tries to hide his face whenever he gets embarrassed, especially after finding out how weak he actually was to sincere compliments. 

“Will you teach me to dance, Jamil? You look so cool when I see you” 

“I’m sure you can find someone much more capable than me” 

“Please? You’re so beautiful when you do it” 

“…If I have the time, then” 

“Yay!~”

In your bliss, you’ve forgotten all about your previous plans to leave this kingdom if not for your father asking you about your thoughts on some academies that were recommended to him by the Asim head. 

You wondered about that now. You wanted to leave this land in hopes of avoiding your bad ending with Jamil but with your growing friendship with both Jamil and Kalim, you feel more reluctant to leave them. You asked your father to give you some time and postpone your applications, just so you can rearrange your thoughts. 

Despite your predestined future, you were reincarnated into a luxurious life. Being a second-born in an established and rich family, you were not bound by responsibilities or expectations aside from noble standards. Your only job was apparently to marry well which could be stifling to some but you choose to ignore that in favor of enjoying your youth. Marriage talk is still far for you to consider and you have better things to worry about. 

Like wondering why Jamil is avoiding you again!

“Kalim, tell me the truth. Does Jamil hate me?” You asked your fair-haired friend who had a sudden feeling of deja vu. 

“There’s no way! Jamil really cares about you, I can tell” Kalim reassured you, pressing a fist to his chest in honesty. He had seen how much you matter to his dear friend. 

Kalim saw how meticulous Jamil was when arranging the bouquet with your favorite flowers, just because you wanted a singular one from the garden, and he was there when Jamil was trying to hide his smile when you were adamant to learn how to dance from him because you love how he looked when he danced. 

Jamil hating you? That’s crazy. 

“He won’t even be in the same room as me anymore” you rebutted, pouting as you were sure Jamil didn’t want it to be obvious that he was avoiding you, but you definitely noticed with how much you miss his company. 

“Then we’ll just make sure he will be!” Kalim yelled out, his expression screaming ‘I have a great idea!’. This worries you. 

Jamil was huffing, running through the hallways with as much caution as he could. A servant told him that Kalim requested him to come over to his room as soon as he could. Even if he knew the Kalim wouldn’t care if he was a little slow, as a servant of the esteemed Asim family he can’t ignore the supposed urgency for his assistance. 

Finally reaching Kalim’s room, Jamil took a few seconds to adjust his appearance before knocking on the door, announcing his presence. But Kalim did not respond from the other side of the door. 

“Young master Kalim, it’s Jamil” Jamil announced his presence again. Still no answer. 

Jamil let out a small sigh. Kalim must have fallen asleep while waiting, he assumed. Used to this situation, Jamil slowly opened the door and inspected the room. The room was quiet with no sign of the Asim heir. He looked over to the large bed that had its canopy curtains loose, covering the bed. 

“So I was right, Kalim did fall asleep” Jamil suppressed his exasperation as he walked towards the bed, pulling the curtains aside. 

“Young master Kalim, what did you need from me that was-“ 

To Jamil’s surprise, it was not Kalim but you sitting on his master’s bed, looking somewhat angry. The dark-haired servant started looking around the room presumably in search of Kalim and for him to explain this situation. But since he wasn’t here, you volunteer to explain yourself. 

“Kalim is currently in the village partaking in the weekly market,” you raised your hand when you saw the look of panic on Jamil’s face “He didn’t go alone, he has someone with him. That newly assigned tutor of his, I believe” 

Jamil looked visibly calmer but you could tell that he still had some questions swirling in his head. It’s strange but you don’t feel surprised by how much you could tell about Jamil, that’s just how close you felt to him. But apparently, that isn’t mutual. 

“I asked Kalim to call you on my behalf since you seem to be avoiding me.” 

“I assure you, I could never be so rude as to avoid you-“ 

“But it feels like it! You don’t talk to me anymore, and I haven’t been able to see you as often as we used to” you knew that you sounded very childish, in fact this whole conversation is childish but you didn’t want whatever was going on between you and Jamil to continue and maybe even someday break apart this new bond. 

“I just don’t want to drift apart from you” you whispered to yourself but Jamil with how keen he was, overheard your thoughts. 

The truth was, he was avoiding you. Some time ago, he overheard the conversation between your father and Kalim’s father about recommendations for oversea studies and found out that you wanted to leave this kingdom. Jamil felt a pain in his chest he didn’t expect. To his surprise, he found himself feeling sad over the idea that he may not see you again for a long time, maybe even forever. Unlike him, you were free to travel with nobody to chain you down or obligations to come back. You could walk out of his life and never return. 

Jamil didn’t like that feeling, so he decided he should nip this new friendship in the bud before it hurts even more. 

But there he was, second-guessing his choice as he watches the look of sadness on your face, confessing that the mere few days without him left you upset. But still, he crushed that doubt (and hidden glee in the shared sadness) and chose to put on a face of professional indifference. 

“I apologize for upsetting you but I’m sure there are more capable companions than I for you” Jamil spoke to you so formally, just like the days of your first meeting. “When you start your oversea studies, there will be a great diversity of people that will be worthy of your time” 

“Wait, when did you hear about my plans to go overseas?” 

Jamil's face paled as he realized his mistake. That was apparently not common knowledge amongst the servants and he just admitted that he knows because he heard something he had no right to as a worker of the esteemed Asim family. 

Quickly, Jamil fell to his knees and dropped his gaze to the floor. This shocked you and quickly rushed to the floor to pull Jamil to his feet when he spoke again. 

“I committed a crime. I overheard something that was not meant for my ears, therefore I will accept any punishment.” Jamil's tone was unwavering which scared you. A young teen like him speaking about punishment over a mere accident was a terrifying sight. What's more, he treated you less like a friend and more like an authoritative figure of his, which broke your heart.

“Jamil, I’m not going to punish you. And I never will!” You assured your friend, glancing to the door to make sure no one heard the two of you. “And Jamil, I haven’t decided if I want to study overseas” 

You just kept on surprising Jamil. 

“I thought about traveling to study but now…I don’t think I want to travel when I’m just going to miss you too much” you confessed your reasons before panicking slightly “and Kalim, of course! And my family!” 

To anyone else, they’d think you were being foolish. Who wouldn’t want to travel and experience the world? Even Jamil dreamt about it, where he wasn’t bound by his obligations and was free to go wherever he pleases, maybe make a name for himself rather than simply Kalim’s shadow. If he was honest, he envied you for being someone unbounded or shadowed by anything or anyone. 

Even with your embarrassing confession, you can tell that Jamil was unconvinced which left you exasperated before continuing on. “You and I finally got closer and I didn’t want to just suddenly leave like that. I know I’m being childish but that’s how I feel.” 

You were being childish, Jamil thought. There you go again being foolish and nonsensical as Kalim with your emotions controlling your thoughts instead of being level-headed. To refuse a chance to see the world just to keep a superficial friendship with a mere servant like him is crazy, ridiculous, absolutely stupid…

But why does he feel so warm inside? This bubbly feeling of happiness growing in his chest? 

“How irrational can you be? To forgo an opportunity like this for a mere servant like me…” 

“But you’re not some ‘mere servant’,” you puff out your cheeks over that self-deprecating comment, grabbing your friend’s hands and encasing them tightly in yours. “You are the one and only Jamil Viper, someone very important to me.” 

Without any way to hide his face, you got a glimpse of something rare. An embarrassed Jamil.

Bonus

"Hey Jamil..."

"Yes?"

"If I do think about traveling, would you like to come with me?"

"What would you need me for?"

"Just be there with me, enjoy the world together with me...like equals"

"...If I have the time, then...I would like that"

"Yay!~"

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #twst jamil #jamil viper #jamil x reader #villainess au

[pinkroseblooms]

Options

Arajin Tomoshibi/f!Reader/Marito Jin

Summary: A misunderstanding leads Arajin to realizing he's not quite over his crush on you; it's even harder ignoring his own feelings when you also manage to peak his volatile boyfriend's interest. A/N: This takes place in a AU without magic and honki people. Suggestive language, but no smut: part 2 coming soon! Enjoy! wc: 2.3k

“Let Arajin go!”

Marito felt something smack the back of his head, right dead center of his bun; he slowly turns enough to see you holding a ladle high above your head. You flinched, but held the utensil higher. Arajin shrugged off Marito’s arm; his soul might have ascended from his body, seeing you standing in the middle of the street.

“What are you doing?!”

“It’s okay; you start running, I’ll hold this jerk off!” Your knees shake, threatening to buckle under you at the glare Marito is casting your way. “Run!”

“Wa-wait! It’s not what you think!” Arajin sputters, hands raised as he gets between you and Marito. “What are you even doing here? Mom said you were on serving duty today; just go back to the restaurant-”

“Ara-teen, do you know this little beast?” Marito’s lips form a slow, cold smile. “That must be it; otherwise, I sure hope she has a good reason for attacking me so rudely on our date.”

“Date?” You blink, lowering the ladle to your chest. “Arajin, you…know this guy? So, he’s not bullying you?”

About ten minutes prior, you, a server at the Chu Chu Chinese Restaurant, had been tossing a couple of trash bags out in the dumpster when your eyes spied Arajin walking past with someone you didn’t know. The taller boy’s arm was slung over Arajin’s shoulders and he was talking animatedly, but your immediate assumption was that this stranger was shaking down Arajin for money or favors. You didn’t know at the time Marito Jin was in fact a gang leader, but currently you’re apologizing profusely for your “attack”; Arajin and Marito sat across from each other at an empty table as you explained to them what was going through your mind.

“I feel so dumb.” You bow your head in Marito’s direction specifically. “I really am sorry, I jumped to conclusions; I’ve been worried about Arajin having a tough time at school and I guess…I assumed the worst. I’m so sorry, Jin-san.”

“I’ll let it go this time.” Marito says coolly, barely glancing your way. “I wouldn’t normally let you live after such an offense, but for Ara-teen’s sake, I’ll excuse your rudeness.”

Arajin gulped: there’s no way he can tell you Marito is actually not only a juvenile delinquent but a dangerous psycho. No, it’s better you don’t get involved in any of this; Arajin’s known you most of his life. His mother and yours had been friends forever and when your mother passed, you had been all but adopted. You made ends meet working at Chu Chu; you were earnest and hard working but something of a worry wart, at least when it came to Arajin.

“You really don’t have to worry about me,” Arajin tries to sound casual and breezy as you set down two cups of hot tea. “Marito might seem scary but he is a…well, he’s very…he would never, uh…” 

Okay, maybe it’s dishonest to try and tell you Marito is a “good” person but Arajin really doesn’t want you to be concerned; if anything, he knows Marito is going to be the first person to throw down on his behalf should anyone even try to hurt him. Now, whether or not Marito will be inflicting any of that pain himself, that’s something Arajin can’t quite say for sure. 

“Is your head okay?” You look around Marito’s head; you lightly touch the spot you made contact with. “I can get you some ice.”

“Wow, you are wound up tight.” Marito slaps your hand away, but it’s more of a light swat than anything. “Ara-teen, tell her to calm down and bring us food; it’s bad enough our date got interrupted, I’m starving.” he whined as you left to fetch them some appetizers. “Also, you didn’t ask how my head was…”

“You said it didn’t hurt though,” Arajin grumbles under his breath, blowing on his tea. “I can’t believe this. What on earth was she thinking?”

“Is she your guard dog? A little beast like her couldn’t hurt a fly.” Marito snickers, teeth baring wolfishly. “Don’t tell me she thinks you need her to protect you.”

“It’s more like…she’d step in to help anyone.” Arajin smiles a little himself; he remembers how hard you were shaking, the real fear behind your bold glare. “She’s crazy, that girl.”

“Hey, who are we talking about here?” You come back to their table with two plates loaded up with food. “Arajin, so mean.”

“No, I didn’t mean it how it sounded!” Arajin scrambles to explain himself. “You were really cool back there actually.”

“Aw, come on, you and I both know I’m useless in a fight; that was all a bluff.” You address Marito. “Besides, he’s the one who looks cool. I really like your hair and piercings.”

“Flattery won’t get you on my good side.” 

“No, I’m serious.” You tell him with some surprise. “I’m sure you get this a lot, but you could be a model or something; of course, Arajin’s still the cutest. He’s off the charts when it comes to being a cutie pie.”

“Ugh, don’t make fun of me.” 

“Come on, no need to be modest in front of your date.” You tease. “He knows what I’m talking about, right Jin-san?”

“I’m an expert.” Marito agrees, fixing Arajin with a knowing look. “You should see how cute he looks when-”

“KNOCK IT OFF!”

“Soooo scary!” Marito cackles. “Is your face red from anger? Or something else?”

“You’re both awful.”

Arajin scoffs but inwardly he’s getting…tingly. It’s almost like both you and Marito are flirting with him, giving him all this attention. He has to remind himself you’re just being nice.

Marito takes a chicken skewer and tears a bite of juicy meat off with a satisfied hum. “Hm, these are different.”

“Oh that one is my recipe.” You grin. “Arajin, do you like it?”

“It’s delicious.” 

“Yay!”

Arajin feels his chest swell at the look of pride on your face; honestly he would happily swallow unseasoned glass shards by the spoonful if you asked him to. You were wrong: if anyone’s cute it’s you. God, he’s only been back for a few months; Arajin thought by now you wouldn’t have the same effect on him, especially now he’s seeing someone. To be fair, with Marito he wasn’t exactly given a choice, but still. 

“Feed me, Ara-teen!” Marito leans over the table and points to his open mouth. “I want a dumpling.”

“You have hands!” 

Arajin’s cheeks flush and he hopes you don’t notice. He uses his chopsticks to take a dumpling and pops it into his mouth, ignoring Marito’s whimper, but hunger wins out and he takes a dumpling for himself. 

“Here, don’t forget the sauce.” Arajin slides the bottle over to Marito. “You always eat too fast and forget to use it.”

“Aw, thanks honey~”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

“Yum!” Marito licks his lips eagerly. “These really hit the spot.”

“I hope you like them; I still feel bad about earlier, so I doubled the portion.” You smile sweetly, hands clasped to your chest. “I made them with lots and lots of love, just for you two!”

Arajin almost chokes when your hands form a heart shape; Marito pauses mid bite as you shoot them with a “love beam” and giggle childishly. 

“Chu!” You blow them a kiss. “Please let me know if you want anything else; have fun on your date, Arajin-it was nice to meet you, Jin-san.”

Arajin can barely stop himself from staring as the skirt of your uniform flounces around your thighs and your hips sway with every step.

“I see how it is.” Marito leans over the table with a sly smile. “Ara-teen, bad boy. You’re practically family, aren’t ya? Does she know about your little crush? Or were you childhood sweethearts? Don’t say it’s so, I’ll be jealous.”

“No, no, no! We’re barely friends, my mom knew her mom, she’s just…”

But Arajin can tell Marito isn’t buying his excuses; of course he’s thought about you that way. 

“I liked her.” Arajin confesses quietly. “She’s cute and she's a good person: I admire her, that's all."

Cute, brave, sweet, and only the most perfect girl and Arajin knows he doesn’t have a chance in hell. Besides, you don’t see him that way; he might as well be your kid brother, the way you fuss and act so protectively. 

“I can see it now: two love birds who grew up together, getting married and running this place, a few kids maybe, real domestic. Blegh.” Marito rolls his eyes. “I bet your mom would be thrilled; is she planning the wedding? You're not just playing with me to pass the time, are ya?”

“You know mom likes you; you shocked her maybe, but she thinks you're funny and cool.” Arajin replies with a small smile. "Not that she wouldn't be happy with anyone as long as they treat me well. The only thing that would make the old hag happier is maybe if you and I and-”

“We all got together? You, me, and that little beast?” Marito picks up a dumpling, almost gingerly with his chopsticks, inspecting it with an odd half smile. “Nah, more like…a nervous little kitten who doesn’t know how to use her claws yet. She needs training.” 

Arajin watches Marito carefully; he’s been acting off all afternoon. More so, at least. 

"You heard what she said: besides, she hates fighting." Arajin remarks, passing Marito the whole plate of skewers. "Go on, these are your favorite right?"

"They're best when you make 'em though." Marito winks, basically salivating as he picks up another stick. "I bet you've had a lot of her cooking, huh?"

"Why do you keep bringing the conversation back to her?" Arajin sighs; his teas gone cold but he's too anxious to call you back over to bring more. "My mom teaches her and she has me for a guinea pig. Actually when she started cooking it was awful."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, always over salted or undercooked or burned, you name it." Arajin recalls various failed dishes he had been assigned to taste test. "She'd do it over and over again though. It was important to her. Mom would tell her food can be an expression of personality; I guess that's why she put so much effort into doing better."

Every time, you would go to him with a hopeful spark in your eyes; even now you're self conscious about how your food tastes. Arajin would say the practice paid off, but considering he would consume poison made with your painstaking care, maybe he's not the one you should've been going to for critiques.

"Her food tastes like her." Marito smacks his lips in satisfaction. "I taste it."

"The saying isn't really literal." Arajin smiles in exasperation. "What are you even tasting?"

Marito leans his chin on his hand; he has a much more subdued expression and the abrupt change on his demeanor isn't lost on Arajin. Marito is being serious.

"Filling warmth."

"Filling...warmth?"

"It's kinda like," Marito drawls. "There's heat in my belly; I already ate so much, I know I shouldn't eat more, but I can't get enough. Don't ya taste it?"

"Yeah, well," Arajin scratches his cheek. "I'd say it's comforting? Something like that."

“So, you do have a crush."

"Marito, lower your voice please!"

"Says the one squealing like a little girl; gotta say, I’m a bit disappointed in you, Ara-teen. All this time and you never tried to claim her? Normally you woulda been kissin' her ass and the ground she walks on, but you're holding back?” Marito asks, almost as if he’s genuinely curious. “You’re so odd: fiery and bold one minute and all shy and timid the next.”

“I mean, we’re…together now, so what does it matter? Come on, it's not funny, Marito. We're on a date but you keep trying to-to goad me into flirting or something.” Arajin glances around, but no one seems to be paying them any mind. “You act like you want me to make a move on her.”

“Maybe I do.”

Arajin watches, gaping as Marito sinks his teeth into the last dumpling; he’s staring towards where you’re speaking with his mother behind the bar counter. You’re nodding, looking fairly serious now, at the ready and eager to help. Arajin can feel his heart fluttering again and he jumps when Marito’s foot slides to tap his own under the table; Arajin looks up but Marito’s eyes are still on you, a strained smile playing on his lips, as if he's trying to not laugh. 

Although everything on the table has been devoured already, Arajin wouldn't know it from the hungry way Marito scans your face, the way his tongue darts out as if to savor any trace left of the meal you had brought them. He looks ready to lick the empty plate clean: except, his eyes are still on you.

Arajin squirms in his seat and at the same moment, you seem to have noticed them staring. You wave sweetly, smiling at them; Arajin could dissolve into a puddle as Marito reaches under the table to grasp at his knee.

"Hey, ya know what we oughta do? Let's adopt a kitten."

"What?!" Arajin gasps, words cut off as Marito slides his wandering hand further to his thigh. "Stop teasing, this really, really, isn't funny..."

“I thought you liked when I teased you?" Marito giggles maniacally. "Anyway, she did say with lots and lots of love for us. Or are you so worked up you can't remember?"

"I don't think she meant..I-I couldn't-"

"Please, Ara-teen? Pretty, pretty please?" Marito coos and simpers; there's a hint of pink rising in his pale cheeks. “I wanna play with that kitten.”

#bucchigiri?! #marito jin #arajin tomoshibi #marito x arajin #fem reader #x reader #reader insert #alternate universe #marito x arajin x reader #marito jin x reader #arajin tomoshibi x reader