#i forgot the point of this rant I’m just tired and fucking furious

[uh0paque]

ranting

#{opie} but tmi #anyways #that straight girl I fell in love with like three years ago and still love today reminded me once again that she is straight #she was just fawning over ryujin (as you should) and then just went ‘I don’t swing that way but-‘ and like #yes I know angel #I can’t have you #anyways villain background story I havent known peace since I was thirteen yada yada #your general rant shit ‘you’re allowed to be made you’re allowed to feel things’ I’ve fucking heard it all #what id love is for one time in my god fucking forsaken life is for things to go my way #for something to not be my fault #for someone to just think of me and say hello #but that’s not how it goes is it #I’ll just watch everyone leave again and again and again #i forgot the point of this rant I’m just tired and fucking furious #I swear to christ if someone tries to console me I won’t even reply

[beccascribbles]

Can i ask for a suna x reader request where the reader is the team’s manager and swear she wouldn’t date another volleyball player after her ex, but suna changes her mind? 👀👀

a/n - this ended up way longer than i intended. whoops. honestly as i wrote this, i forgot all about the original plot. he does still change her mind though! it just became more of a best friends to lovers au (which i’m a big fat lover of). anyway, hope you enjoy :)

You swore off dating volleyball players the night you turned up at his house, tears rolling down your cheeks and red eyes. Your voice was hoarse when you told him, when you told Suna you would never date another volleyball player. The tears dampened his shirt as he held you, as he listened to you rant.

Suna hated to admit it, but a part of him was glad when he saw you on his doorstep that night. It meant you had finally realised what a piece of shit you had been dating and also opened up an avenue that had been previously shut for him. However, none of that mattered when you were in front of him. Any part of him that rejoiced at your broken expression disgusted him.

"All volleyball players are shit," you sobbed, pressing your face into his chest, choosing to forget that you were currently seeking comfort in the arms of one. "Can you believe he cheated on me?"

"I always told you he was a piece of shit," drawled Suna, rubbing soothing circles into your back. You bit back another sob, landing a light smack to his shoulder.

"And you're suddenly Mr Perfect?"

"I wouldn't cheat on you."

"Well, it doesn't really matter anyway," you sighed, curling into the warmth Suna provided, arms wrapping around his waist. "A volleyball player and me will never be a thing again. Fuck that. I'm not going through that pain again."

That whole night Suna was there to offer you comfort. He let you wash in his bathroom, giving you one of his favourite t-shirts and a pair of boxers to wear to bed. He even gave you his bed to sleep in, saying he would sleep on the floor. You couldn't let him do that, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him into the bed beside you. Suna was also the one who called your mother, explaining that you were staying at his house tonight.

And, the next morning, you were awoken to the smell of breakfast wafting through the house, walking down the stairs to be greeted by Suna on a video call with Osamu. It was clear Osamu was instructing him on how to cook, something that Suna struggled with.

"Morning, Rin, Samu," you greeted, waving at the phone screen as you stepped into view. Osamu eyes widened slightly at the sight of your clothing. You were still dressed in Suna's clothes, and, if you didn't know why, you would admit your reaction likely would have been the same.

"Ooh, y/n," sang Atsumu's voice, his head appearing at the top of the frame as Osamu pushed him away. "What have ya -"

He was cut off by Suna's barked 'shut up'. In a quiet voice, you stated simply, "My boyfriend, ex now I suppose, cheated on me."

"Did Suna make ya forget all about that loser?" asked Atsumu, his head now back in frame and pushing against Osamu's as he tried to claim the centre of the screen.

"Sumu!" snapped Osamu, shooting him a glare as he gave him a hard slap to the back of the head.

"If letting me cry and rant to him counts, then yes," you sighed, turning away from them and heading to the cupboard to grab a glass.

"Samu," called Suna, looking up from the pan helplessly, "what do I do now?"

He held up the food to show that it was burnt, charred to the point that it was disintegrating. Osamu let out a sigh. "I can come over and cook for ya if you want."

You nodded enthusiastically in the background, letting out an enthused shout. "Yes please!"

"Okay," he nodded, standing up from where he rested on his bed. "I'll be there in a bit."

"Don't bring Atsumu," pleaded Suna.

"I'm comin’," said Atsumu, poking his tongue out at the camera before Osamu hung up. Suna let out a sigh, looking over at you apologetically. His plan for a quiet morning with you to let you recuperate and prepare to face the world again was coming to an end. Instead, you would be thrust back into it with the presence of the twins, especially Atsumu.

You stepped towards him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Wordlessly, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. Head pressed against his chest, you mumbled, "I really don't mind you know. I love hanging out with the twins. You know that."

"I just wanted everything to be good for you, you know?" he admitted, resting his cheek on the top of your head. "Are you feeling better this morning?"

"Like you said, he was a piece of shit. I supposed it was about time I realised that."

"Yeah," he sighed, brushing a kiss to the top of your head. "It would've been better if you hadn't been hurt in the process."

"Well hey," you said, looking up at him with a small smile playing on your lips, "at least I know who not to date so don't worry. I won't go running into the arms of anyone on the team to make me feel better."

"You can come to me though," he murmured, voice low. You looked up at him, eyebrows raising in confusion.

"What did you say?" you asked, pulling away and moving across the kitchen to grab a glass from the cupboard.

"Um...," he hesitated, running a hand through his sleep mussed hair. He refused to meet your gaze, focusing instead on a point above your head. "Just that you can run to the twins if you need, preferably Osamu but I suppose Atsumu is good for a hookup. I guess it depends on whose hair you prefer. You've always had a thing for blondes..."

"Rin, I'm going to stop you there," you laughed, holding up a hand and cutting off his tangent. "You don't need to worry. Also, where'd you get the idea that I'm into blondes?"

"Well, your last few boyfriends..."

"Personally, I've always preferred brunettes," you shrugged, heading over to the sink to fill up your glass. You let out a light giggle. "Now that I think about it, it is weird that I always end up dating blondes."

“Evidence of your horrible taste,” he teased, forever thankful that you could take any awkward comment in your stride and put him at ease. It was something so natural to you. In fact, you had grown used to his occasional odd remarks, brushing them under the rug. There were times when you would tease Suna for it, but, most of the time, you let it slide. It was a part of your best friend.

You let out a gasp, holding a hand to your heart in fake shock. But then, you shook your head, face splitting into a grin. “You’re not wrong. Maybe you’ll have to teach me how to find a nice guy.”

“I don’t know if I’m the best choice for that.”

“You don’t know that. You’re always right about how horrible anyone I show an interest in is.”

Suna might always be right, but he was always searching for the bad points of those you dated. Jealousy drove him to overlook any of the good things, like how happy they usually made you the first few weeks you were together.

“Yeah, well,” he admitted, “I’m not necessarily looking for the good things when I judge your boyfriends.”

“You’re so overprotective,” you snorted, dancing around him to take a seat at the kitchen table. He didn’t reply to that, and you glanced upwards, taking note of his furrowed brow. You decided to change the topic of conversation, taking a sip of your water. Before you could, there was a furious knocking at the front door. Suna rolled his eyes as you stated, “The twins.”

“Well done, Captain Obvious,” he teased, ruffling your hair as he walked past you and headed towards the front door. He glanced back over at you. “Are you going to change?”

“Nah, it’s fine. They’ve seen me in worse states.”

That was true, and the fact annoyed Suna whenever he dwelled on it. 

Atsumu, thinking he was being funny, had snuck into the bathroom while you were showering and stole your clothing, leaving your underwear. To be fair to Atsumu, he hadn’t attempted to peek at you in your naked state. It would’ve been difficult if he had tired considering the shower curtain was drawn. If he had attempted to look, he would have been subject to Suna’s wrath, and he had a number of photos of Atsumu in compromising positions that he could release. Suna wished you had just walked to his room and taken some of his clothes. Instead, you had strode downstairs in your underwear, ignoring the looks from the team that Suna had invited over and stood over Atsumu.

“Clothes, now,” you commanded, hands resting on your hips. Suna had been quick to leap up from his position on the sofa, pulling his sweatshirt over his head and tugging it over your own, moving you like a doll as he shoved your arms into the sleeves and pulled it down to cover your lower half. Then, Suna had also fixed a glare on Atsumu.

“You’d better fucking hurry,” he said, the set of his face threatening some kind of consequence. Atsumu hadn’t wanted to find out, getting up from his seat and jogging towards the kitchen, where he thought it would be wise to hide your clothes in a cupboard.

“You’re so irritating,” you grumbled, pulling on the leggings and then removing Suna’s sweatshirt, and throwing your t-shirt on. You held the sweatshirt out to Suna. “Thanks for the cover up.”

“Did you really need to strip again?” he spluttered, blushing furiously as he took his sweatshirt back from you.

“So dramatic,” you sighed, rolling your eyes at Suna’s embarrassment. Atsumu, meanwhile, had looked like a child in a candy store.

“I always knew ya were hot, but damn,” said Atsumu, letting out a low whistle. Though you appreciated the compliment, you didn’t hesitate to give him a hard slap to the back of the head.

“Don’t steal my clothes,” you said, before your lips tugged upwards in a teasing smirk. You leant in. “If you wanted to see, all you had to do was ask.”

It was Atsumu’s turn to blush then, looking away and avoiding your gaze. Both of you were aware your statement was a lie, but he couldn’t help his reaction. Suna watched with his arms crossed, quietly seething. His chest felt tight. Then, you had looked over at him with a bright smile and asked, “You picked out the film yet?”

Suna was jerked from the memory by an increase in the knocking and a loud shout through the door. “Open the fuck up, ya idiot. I’m hungry too.”

“Shut up, Sumu,” he grumbled, swinging open the door. He nodded towards Osamu. “There should be enough food in the fridge but, if you need more, just give me a list and I’ll nip to the shop.”

“I’ll go, too,” you piped up, appearing in the corridor behind him. Atsumu sprinted forward, pulling you into a tight hug which you returned. “Okay, you big oaf. You can let go of me now.”

“If you cry, he’ll let go of ya in an instant,” said Osamu, giving your head a pat as he walked past you and into the kitchen.

“It was one time, Samu,” whined Atsumu, releasing you and following his brother into the kitchen. “I’m great at comforting girls, better than you.”

“I can cook.”

“Yeah, well,” spluttered Atsumu, “I’m hotter than you.”

“We’re identical.”

“Still hotter.”

“Identical. Twins.”

“Just like normal,” you said, grinning over at Suna as he held his head in his hands. Any plans for a quiet morning went down the drain, but, when he glanced over at you to see your smile, he couldn’t deny that he was glad the twins had come over.

That happiness dissipated when Atsumu had been kicked out of the kitchen by Osamu and sent out with you to get the rest of the ingredients. Osamu had insisted that only Suna could be trusted in the kitchen, despite burning what he tried to make earlier. Ultimately, though, Osamu wasn’t going to trust him with cooking. He had simply wanted to talk to his friend, find out what was going through his head.

“So,” Osamu said, taking a sip from the cup of tea Suna had made before continuing, “how is y/n after last night? How are you?”

“I think she’ll be fine,” Suna said, trying to decide how much he was comfortable with sharing. Letting out an exhale, he decided he might as well take the chance to explain how he was feeling. Nothing good came from bottling it up, something that had become all too clear to him when he had almost taken advantage of the alcohol to finally kiss you.

It had been on your eighteenth birthday. Using the excuse that you only turn eighteen once, you had downed drink after drink, slowly growing steadily more drunk, evidenced by the way you had zero inhibitions to jumping up onto a table and swaying your hips enticingly for all to see. Suna had frozen at the sight, the alcohol he had also drunk making him feel slightly braver. He had walked over to you, offering you his hand as he helped you jump down from the table. He leaned in, yelling to be heard over the music.

“You want to go somewhere else?”

You looked at him in confusion, your drunken mind not being able to fully process his request. All you could really concentrate on was the party, the happy buzz lighting your nerves. “Why?”

Suna had drawn in a breath, steeling himself. “I have something to give you. In private.”

The promise of a gift had caused you to loop your arm through his, letting him guide you somewhere else. It barely even registered that he had already given you his present, a beautiful necklace, an ornate and delicate star as the one charm on it. He had pressed a kiss to your cheek after being the one to place it around your neck. In fact, you were wearing it at that moment, the lights glinting off the silver.

“So, what did you want to give me?” you asked under the light of the moon. He reached forward, tracing a finger along the curve of your face. Suna’s hand stopped its movement, cupping your cheek. “Suna?”

He let out a breath that tickled your face. Slowly, carefully, he leaned in, his lips a whisper away before a shout broke through the relative peace of the garden.

“y/n!”

Your head turned in the direction, pulling out of Suna’s grip in the process. Atsumu stumbled towards you, slinging his arm over your shoulder. “Come on. I convinced Kita to play ‘Never Have I Ever’ and he’s usually no fun at parties. You too, Suna.”

That moment between the two of you in the garden had been forgotten by you, but it replayed regularly in Suna’s mind. He buried his face into his hands, Osamu’s quiet support enough to prompt him to continue with what he was saying. “I don’t know if I will be though.”

When he looked up, his eyes were unusually vulnerable. There was a hesitation in his gaze, and Osamu waited a moment before prompting, “Why?”

As Osamu began to chop up some of the ingredients, Suna began to speak again. “She swore off dating volleyball players, and I think that extends to me. To be honest, she’s probably only ever seen me as a friend. Pathetic, right? I invest all this time into our relationship. Don’t get me wrong, I love her friendship. I’ll never take it for granted. It’s just frustrating. Do I act too friendly with her? Am I not flirty enough? Why was I friend-zoned?”

Osamu continued cutting, choosing his next words carefully. “She’s probably never thought to look at you in another way. It would make sense she doesn’t want to risk your friendship, Rin.”

“I understand that,” he sighed, “but, what can I do?”

“All you can do is try to show her how you feel and hope she realises you’re the one for her,” advised Osamu. Suna made note of this, though a part of him wondered if it was the best option. In his opinion, Suna was already showing that he had feelings for you. How could he make that more known? Seeing the uncertainty on his face, Osamu continued. “You could always ask Sumu for advice but I doubt it would be more useful than mine.”

It was some time before Suna was able to broach the topic with Atsumu, though this time with more hypotheticals than outright admissions. Your head was resting in his lap, your breathing steady as one of his hands rubbed absentminded circles into your back. You would be the first to admit you hadn’t had the best of sleep that night, falling asleep as soon as the film Osamu had chosen was playing.

“It must have been really boring if y/n’s already asleep,” teased Atsumu, giving his brother a playful shove which Osamu ignored. “She usually stays up out of pity.”

“Whatever, Sumu,” sighed Osamu, hugging a cushion to his chest as he became fully engrossed in what was unfolding on screen. It was hard to rile Osamu up when he was in his element, and, frankly, this film was one of his favourites. It made him dream of running his own chain of restaurants, though without the mafia using it as a front for drug trades.

“Hey, Atsumu,” began Suna awkwardly, immediately getting the other twin’s attention. Osamu was too focused on the film to care what was being talked about around him, something he would regret when Atsumu bragged about Suna confiding in him the whole way home. “Say you liked this girl, but she was your best friend, and swore off dating volleyball players. How would you change her mind and show her how you feel?”

“I’d just tell y/n how I feel,” he replied. “It is y/n we’re talkin’ about, yeah?”

Suna nodded, though the slight frown that twisted his face told Atsumu he wasn’t happy that he had figured it out. Atsumu simply shrugged, giving his friend’s shoulder a squeeze.

“It’s kind of obvious,” Atsumu said, glancing down at the way Suna gently brushed your hair away from your face, his other hands resting against the curve of your waist. “Anyway, she’d appreciate the honesty. No need to show her. You show her how much ya care everyday anyway. It might not change her mind straight away but havin’ it out in the open might help her come around to the idea.”

“Thanks, Sumu,” said Suna, genuinely meaning the words.

“They don’t call me the Love Maestro for nothin’,” he bragged.

“No one calls you that,” shot Osamu, tuning in for that part of the conversation. Atsumu turned to him, scandalised.

“Do too.”

“Name one person.”

“...”

“Exactly.”

Later that day, Suna walked you home, slinging an arm around your shoulder and leaning a bit of his weight on you as you walked. Your own arm wrapped around his waist instinctively to keep your balance. It felt so natural to walk along with him like this, something you genuinely missed when you were dating someone. It just felt disrespectful to the other person to act as you did with Suna while with them. A part of you recognised that the way you acted around each other could be construed as a relationship, but you had never thought to entertain the idea. He was just Suna, your best friend.

You came to a stop in front of your front door, and he released your shoulder in favour of wrapping both of his arms around your waist to pull you into a hug. Instantly, you relaxed against him, arms winding around his neck. When he pulled away, your hands still rested on his shoulders and you smiled up at him.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said, eyes unusually soft as he stared at you. His eyes landed on the necklace around your neck, the star shining up at him from where it rested just above the neckline of your top. “I’ll see you tomorrow but if you need anything, if you just want to chat, call me, okay?”

You nodded, giving his shoulder a pat before releasing him. However, you made no move to step away and open your front door. Suna leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek. At that, he stepped off your porch, turning away from you. “Goodnight.” I love you.

“Night, Rin.”

When his phone rang at two in the morning, he couldn’t say he hadn’t been expecting it. He was. It was normal for you to call him at random times of the night, particularly when you couldn’t get to sleep or had been awoken by a nightmare.

“Rin?” you breathed, voice quiet to avoid waking anyone up in your house. “Um, hi.”

“Morning, y/n,” he mumbled, switching you onto speaker and placing the phone down beside his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I was just having trouble sleeping. Um, can you tell me a story?”

“Don’t you think we’re too old for bedtime stories?” he chuckled, though he was already shifting through his brain for a tale he could tell you that had not already been shared.

“We’re still in high school,” you protested, and he could hear the pout in your voice. “We’re not adults yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Are you ready?”

He heard the sound of movement through the speaker, the sound of you getting into bed and placing the phone on the pillow beside you.

“Ready.”

So, Suna began, telling the story of a foolish knight who had fallen for the beautiful princess, a princess who was at home when she was sparring with the knights, when she could forget about all the eligible bachelors from other kingdoms. She was a princess who ate with the Royal Guard, prepared the roster for their training sessions, and offered her support whenever she was needed.

His voice lulled you to sleep, and, before you could question what had inspired such a tale, your eyes had slipped shut and sleep had pulled you under. Suna heard your change in breathing, your soft inhales and exhales slowing until they reached a steady rhythm. He trailed off, reaching for his phone, finger hovering over the button that would end the call. He pulled his finger away, letting his hand fall back down onto the mattress. Suna fell asleep to the sound of your breathing. He could almost pretend that you were beside him.

Your phone was flat when you woke up, and you cursed, hurriedly plugging yours into the charger. You hated being late, hated not knowing what the time was as soon as you woke up. You jogged down the stairs, reading the time on the clock in the kitchen and releasing the tension in one exhale. There was plenty of time. At a more relaxed pace, you continued to prepare for the day.

It was a busy day for you as manager of the volleyball club, something that you were thankful for as it meant you couldn’t dwell on your break up. Even if you weren’t busy with your club duties, the team would provide a distraction. Atsumu and Osamu argued more as third years, the influences of Kita, Aran and the others no longer there to calm them down. Suna was no help, urging them on whenever he could and then documenting the whole affair on his phone to send photos and videos to Kita and Aran later. To be fair, you did little to break it up either, preferring to let them work out their anger. It worked, though Kita insisted there was a better way. If he wanted to come back to Inarizaki and deal with them, he could.

The sound of your phone ringing sent you running back up the stairs, dodging out of the way of a parent that had just emerged from the bathroom. Suna’s name flashed on the screen, and you accepted the call, perching on the edge of the bed.

“I guess we fell asleep on call,” he laughed, his voice rough from having just woken up. “Your phone died, didn’t it?”

“Of course it did, idiot,” you sighed. “Why didn’t you hang up once I’d fallen asleep? You usually do.”

“You sounded cute,” he admitted, glad you could not see the flush that dusted his cheeks. “Plus, I figured you would be smart enough to have it plugged in if I was.”

“Not a valid excuse,” you quipped, resting your head in the palm of your hand. With a laugh, you said, “I panicked this morning thinking I would be late. The coaches wanted me to meet with them before class. You don’t know how pleased I was when I walked down the stairs to see I still had a while before I had to leave the house.”

“Sorry about that,” he muttered sheepishly before clearing his throat. “Is it charged now?”

You glanced down at your phone screen. “It’s at about 20% so it’s probably not going to last the whole day.”

“You can use mine if you need to. It is kind of my fault after all.”

“Kind of?” you questioned, humour in your tone. “Don’t worry though. It should be fine if I leave it off until I need to use it.”

“Just let me know if you need to borrow it, okay?” he insisted. “We have late practice.”

“Yeah, I know, got to make sure you lot are prepared for nationals. No losing to Karasuno this year.”

“Mmhm,” he hummed. “I’ll walk you home, alright?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rin,” you said. “My phone will last till then. Plus, you’ll be tired after practice. I’d be a bad manager if I didn’t make you go straight home to eat.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he argued. “Besides, I can just eat at your house. Your parents say that I’m always welcome.”

“But then you’ll be going home too late. Won’t your mum be worried?”

“She’ll be fine. I usually stay out late, or are you forgetting the nights I’ve snuck over to yours and we’ve gone on midnight walks?”

“Fine,” you sighed, letting him win this time. “Don’t complain to me if you’re tired at school tomorrow.”

“When am I not half-asleep?”

“I’ll see you at school, Rin.”

“See you.”

There was no arguing with Suna over things like this. He was stubborn to a fault when it came to your safety. You might have been able to convince him to head straight home if your phone was fully charged. When that was the case, he insisted on staying on the phone with you the whole way, not feeling comfortable at the thought of you walking home alone in the dark. Suna wasn’t overbearing. If you honestly didn’t want him walking you home or calling you, he wouldn’t so long as you messaged him when you got home. But, you liked talking to him. That was the simple truth. You enjoyed spending time with Suna, and enjoyed talking to him. It was only Suna who wanted something more.

“So,” asked Atsumu, slinging an arm over Suna’s shoulder yanking him closer, “when are ya goin' to tell her?”

“Tell who?” asked Osamu. The look Suna shot him made him nod his head in realisation. “Ah, y/n… Wait, tell her? What happened to just showin’ her how you feel?”

“If that was going to work, it would’ve already,” said Atsumu, puffing out his chest proudly. “As Suna and I discussed, comin' clean and confessing is the best way forward.”

“I hate to say it, but he had a point Samu,” agreed Suna, sliding out from under Atsumu’s arm. “Anyway, I’m not going to tell her anytime soon. She’s had enough to deal with. She doesn’t need her best friend confessing to her straight after a rough break up. It’s almost nationals time as well. Confessing might throw off the team dynamic and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“I think you’re just being a pussy,” declared Atsumu, lips quirking upwards in a teasing smirk.

“I think you’re being smart,” said Osamu. “Wait until the best time.”

All Suna had done, was continuing to do, was wait. However, he made a concerted effort to be there for you more often, being the shoulder you would lean on for support. Unknown to you consciously, a part of you had begun to reciprocate Suna’s feelings. On occasion, it would be you who would reach out for him, locking your pinkies together and sharing a secret smile across the lunch table.

Over the course of the next few months, there were many late night phone calls, which quickly transformed into video chats. He listened to you, helped you work through the residual feelings from your break up. Being cheated on had left you feeling inferior, and Suna had been there to build you back up.

One day, you turned to face your friend Reo, hardly believing the words that fell from your lips. “Tell me honestly. Do you think I’m falling for another volleyball player?”

“Another one?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow. Then, the realisation finally seemed to hit her and she let out a gasp. “Suna?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, resting your chin on top of your open palm. “Am I just projecting? Do I really have feelings for him or am I just craving that kind of emotional connection with someone? Plus, it’s Suna. He’s my best friend.”

“Is that all he is to you, though?” she questioned, studying you. “I know he’s your best friend, but I am too. Who did you seek comfort from after your break up? Who do you fall asleep with over the phone every night? Did you ever act the same with people you were in a relationship with that you do with Suna? I mean, I know you haven’t kissed him or anything but you are more physically affectionate and open with him than people you’ve been in a relationship with. I know you’re going to be stubborn about this, say that’s just how you’ve always been, but I want you to think about how you treat each other. If you want my honest opinion, I’d say the feelings have always been there, especially on Suna’s part.”

You blinked at Reo, taking in what she was saying. It made you contemplate, think back on specific moments in your friendship with Suna where it was possible you had crossed some invisible line that you weren’t supposed to. But every moment with Suna felt so natural you couldn’t pinpoint where the line would be, let alone when you would have crossed it. It became clear to you then. You had feelings for Suna Rintaro. There went your vow to never date another volleyball player again.

If only Suna had realised you had made this realisation already. He could have stopped planning out how to confess to you with Osamu and Atsumu, their idea involving him reducing his contact with you until everything was prepared. That fact itself was easier said than done, and they couldn’t control what he did in the quiet of his home (which was find any excuse to phone you and talk to you).

That night, he asked you, “Can you be ready for one in the afternoon tomorrow? I have something planned that I hope you’ll like.”

“Sure,” you agreed. “I have something I want to say to you as well.”

He felt anxiety grip him at your statement, fearing the worst. His fingers tightened around the phone, his breath catching in his throat. You could hear his struggle through the phone and reassured, “Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you don’t think it is. I’ve just finally realised something and want to tell you in person.”

"Okay," he breathed, though the knot of anxiety in his chest didn't loosen. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good sleep. Love you."

"Night, Rin," you replied, feeling your heart flutter slightly at his words. The words had been said before in passing, but always with Suna firmly placed as a friend. "Love you too."

At one the next day, you were sat waiting for him on your front step, fiddling with your phone in your hands. You had just spoken to Reo for advice, her words soothing your nerves. She had told you it was clear that Suna wanted to admit something too, and, for some reason, having that knowledge outlined for you by another put you at ease.

Seeing him approaching, you rose from your seated position, gesturing for him to wait for you on the pavement. Suna came to a stop, holding out his arms for a hug. You were quick to relax into his hold, arms giving his own waist a squeeze before letting go. Smiling up at him with unusual silence, you asked, “Can I tell you something before we go? I just think you deserve to know.”

He hesitated. A part of him was curious, wanted to know, but the rest of him feared that your news would ruin what he had planned. Suna wanted to confess to you before you revealed whatever you had realised. “Um, can I show you what I planned first? It’s kind of important.”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering how it could be so important that he didn’t want to hear what you said. At the nervous look in his eyes, you took his hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Still holding his hand, you pulled him after you, moving with confidence though you had no idea what direction Suna wanted to take you in. He pulled you to a stop, shooting you a smirk. “Wrong way, idiot.”

“It’s not like I can read your mind,” you sighed, throwing your arms up in exasperation. You gave him a grin. “Want to take the lead?”

“With pleasure,” he said, choosing to release his hold on your hand and drape his arm over your shoulder. In response, your own wrapped around his waist and you fell into step beside him.

The sight that greeted you was unexpected and took your breath away. It was oddly beautiful in a simple way, something no one had ever thought to put together for you before, despite its relative simplicity. You looked up at him, mouth dropping open in shock and disbelief. “You really went through the trouble of setting up a picnic for me?”

“Well, yeah,” he replied. “You said you always wanted to go on a picnic with someone you love. I figured I counted at least a little bit.”

“You definitely count,” you said, giving him a slight nudge with your elbow. “I’d probably rather do this with you anyway. On another note, who made the food? Because you can’t cook for shit.”

“Osamu might have helped a little bit.”

“Just a little bit?” you teased, smirking up at him.

“Maybe more than a little bit, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Whatever you say, Rin,” you grinned, wandering over to sit on the blanket. He sank onto the floor beside you, leaning his side against your own. You relaxed against his warmth, letting your head drop against his shoulder. His own head dropped to rest against yours, his hand reaching out to hold yours, tangling your fingers together.

For a moment, you sat in silence, cherishing just being together. Suna cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Before we eat, I have something to say to you. Can you promise whatever I say to you won’t change what we have right now?”

You looked up at him with concern. “I promise.”

Suna drew in a deep breath, releasing your hand and moving to sit in front of you. You let yourself miss the warmth of his body pressed against you, knotting your fingers together as you allowed your eyes to meet his. The hesitation in his face was clear, and you reached forward, resting a hand on his knee.

“Just tell me,” you reassured, smiling at him softly. “Nothing can change how I feel about you.”

“Okay,” he sighed, reaching forward, and clasping the hand you had rested on your knee. In that moment, he went for the bluntest approach. “I have feelings for you.”

You blinked over at him in shock, your grip on his hand tightening. That hadn’t been what you were expecting to hear, but hearing the words made your heart flutter. It made it so much easier to admit what you had finally realised. “I have feelings for you too.”

“Wait, you do?” said Suna, eyes widening in shock. This was far more than he could have hoped for. You nodded slowly, unable to help the own smile that pulled at your lips in response to his own.

Suna moved closer to you, letting his hand come up to rest against your face. He cupped it carefully, his thumb brushing against your cheek. Slowly, giving you the option to pull away he leaned in, only to let out a small gasp in shock when your hands gripped his top and pulled him towards you, pressing your lips against his. His hands slipped into your hair, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, letting out a low groan of satisfaction at the feel of your hands slipping under the material of his top and rest against his bare skin.

“Fuck,” he breathed, pulling away to rest his forehead against your own. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that for.”

“Hope it was worth it,” you giggled, leaning forward to brush your lips against his. He captured your lips once again, kissing you softly, delicately.

“More than worth it,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap. You fell into his chest, ear pressed against his beating heart. It was still racing now, even though you had accepted his advances. You lifted your head up, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Want to eat the food Samu made now?” you questioned, turning in his hold and resting your back against his chest. His stomach let out a low grumble. You leaned forward, grabbing a plate of food and letting out a giggle. “I suppose I’ll take that as an answer then.”

#hq requests #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x manager reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #inarizaki x reader #suna x y/n #suna x you #suna x reader #suna angst #suna fluff #suna rintarō #friends to more #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #hq drabbles #haikyuu angst #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintaro x reader #miya twins x reader

[aceass1n]

TW: homophobia, drinking

It’d been four months since Aimeric’s parents decided that he was of no use to them gay and cut him off from any finances. Aimeric would like to say he didn’t give a shit. He did. It hurt. Like a break that healed just enough that you forgot about it until the pain came back, full force, on rainy days. 

He’d been juggling two jobs as well as a full course-load, he was exhausted, this party was not what he wanted to do with his night, but Laurent had looked him dead in the eye and said, “Either you come with me or you go with Ancel to that shitty club they always go to.”

Aimeric had chosen the party. 

Now, he was too many drinks in, right up in some arsehole’s face. The guy had made some bigoted comment about being gay, or about women, or about being trans, or about all of the above. Aimeric couldn’t remember anymore. All that mattered was kicking his arse. 

An arm wrapped around his middle, lifting him clean off his feet. “Back off,” a deep voice warned. Aimeric kicked out, punching blindly at the sneering, hulking brute in front of him. The arm tightened around his waist. “Let’s get you some air.”

Aimeric squirmed, trying to get free. “COME AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE, YOU BASTARD—”

Whoever was half-dragging him out of the room sighed. 

Before Aimeric could get his bearings back, he was deposited in a room on the second floor. He spun around, furious at whoever had intervened, to find a dark-haired man opening the window. He was average height, with broad shoulders and friendly, but tired, eyes. 

“Not that I don’t want to see Govart taken down a couple pegs,” he said lightly, “but he’d probably crush you like a bug.”

Aimeric sniffed, swaying slightly. “Don’t underestimate me! I can hold my own.”

The man leaned back against the wall, hands in his pockets. “Look, are you here with anyone? Is there someone I can call?”

“Laurent made me come. Laurent de fucking Vere. And then he ditched me for his boyfriend—”

“Oh, you came with Laurent?” The man exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair and giving Aimeric a sympathetic look. “That’s rough.”

“Hey, fuck off. That’s my best friend you’re talking about!” Aimeric pointed a finger at the man. Tried to, anyways. Coordination had gone to hell around the third drink. He stalked towards the man, figuring closing the distance might give his words a bit more power. “And he buys me shit!” He gestured wildly, trying to punctuate his points with his usual precision. “He’s a bitch, but I love him to death.”

He was vaguely aware that he was slurring, but he didn’t think it was too bad. Besides, the man hadn’t tried to do anything yet. He figured he was safe. 

Confusion flitted across the man’s face. “Why does he need to buy you things?”

“Because I’m broke. Like, crazy broke. My parents cut me the hell off, cuz I’m gay and they’re bigots and—” He pinched his shirt between his fingers, tugging on it slightly. He was sure he was scowling, which he also hated, because beauty was one thing he could rely on and scowling gave you wrinkles. “All of this is charity. Ugh. I hate charity.”

The man’s expression was torn between amusement and concern. I’m probably oversharing, Aimeric thought as he launched into a rant about his father, who’d cut off his fucking credit cards and now he was stuck taking loan after loan to get through school and he was just so. tired. 

And, alright. It wasn’t wholly necessary for him to lean on the man. Or play with his close-cropped hair. But he was there, and he was hot, and Aimeric was so ridiculously sloshed. 

The man inhaled sharply as Aimeric leaned fully against him, head against his shoulder. He was shorter than Aimeric by a few inches. It was awkward, but Aimeric made it work. 

“You know,” Aimeric said, cutting his own tirade off, “you’re really cute.”

The man’s face went red. “Um.”

This close, he could see that the man’s eyes were grey, not the blue he’d assumed from first glance. Beautiful, Aimeric thought. 

“You’re, uh, you’re really cute, too.”

A smile spread over Aimeric’s face, preening at the compliment. “You think I’m cute?” The man nodded, looking cornered. “I mean, I’m not really looking for a relationship right now, but if you’re down—” he leaned in, mouth near the man’s ear as he lowered his voice—”wanna get out of here?”

The man leaned back, putting a bit of space between them. “Maybe—maybe tomorrow.”

Aimeric pouted. “But you won’t know how to find me tomorrow!”

“I’ll...I’ll think of something.”

Aimeric opened his mouth to argue—

And the door slammed open. 

“WE GOTTA GO!” Laurent burst into the room, hair dishevelled and shirt half-buttoned. “AUGUSTE WALKED IN ON DAMEN AND I, HE’S ON A WARPATH—”

Damen burst in after Laurent, hastily buttoning his own shirt back up. He took one look around them and groaned. 

“This isn’t the exit.”

“No, this is the guest bedroom,” the man pointed out. “Bloody hell, Damen, you live here. How are you lost?”

“How is any of this my problem?” Aimeric demanded, making a shooing motion. “Go away. I’m busy.” He’d have to at least get the man’s number. 

Laurent gasped. He must also be drunk. At least a little. Sober Laurent was never this obviously dramatic. 

“I thought we were friends.”

“I’m busy!” Aimeric gave the man a significant look. 

“Well, Laurent’s not wrong,” the man said amiably. “You should go. Auguste’s gonna kill you.”

Damen’s face went white. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “We have to go. Like, right now.” From the first floor, Auguste bellowed Damen’s name like a battle cry. Damen looked moments from melting into a puddle. “Oh god, I’m too young to die—”

Aimeric shifted out of their way, leaving the path to the window (their best escape route) open. It put him with his back against the man. It might’ve been intentional. Who could say?

Behind him, the man seemed to be having a crisis about where to put his hands. They settled lightly on Aimeric’s waist before flitting away again. Finally, they settled on his shoulders, warm and steady. Aimeric burned at the touch. He wanted those hands elsewhere. 

(He didn’t notice Laurent narrowing his eyes at the man. Didn’t notice Laurent mouthing, with cold eyes, we’ll talk later.)

“Jord,” Laurent said. His hair had returned to its usual braid. “Take my friend home.”

“I—uh—” the man spluttered. He moved his hands. Aimeric fought back his disappointment. “Take him home?”

Yes, Aimeric thought. Take me home, take me apart—

“Not like that,” Laurent said, disdain clear in his voice. He was enunciating his words clearly, another sign that he was at least mildly inebriated. “Make sure he gets home safely. That’s all. And if anything happens to him—and I do mean anything—” he added with a terrifying grin, “I will know, and I will tear you apart limb from limb, and feed you to the dogs while you scream for mercy.”

Aimeric said, “Jesus Christ, Laurent. He’s cool, he wouldn’t try anything.” He smiled up at the man—at Jord—sweetly. “Right, babe?”

“DAMIANOS.” Auguste’s voice was closer now. “YOU BETTER HAVE BEEN WRAPPED WHEN YOU WERE FUCKING MY BROTHER, YOU FUCKING TRAITOR—”

Damen flattened himself against the far wall as Auguste stormed into the room. “I swear I was gonna tell you—”

Auguste advanced, pointing an accusatory finger at Damen, face splotchy. “I TRUSTED YOU!”

Damen jumped out the window.

Laurent gasped, hands flying to his mouth. Aimeric glanced out the window, almost overbalancing. Jord steadied him with a gentle touch. Damen stood under the window, using the wall to steady himself. He was wincing. 

Auguste swore, sticking his head out the window. “You fucking idiot, what’d you do that for?”

“I think I broke my ankle!” Damen called back up, voice faint. Laurent swore. Auguste looked torn between irritation and concern. 

Stalking towards the door, he gave Laurent’s sleeve a slight tug. “Come on. We need to get him to the hospital.” Laurent followed him, still doing his shirt up. “And don’t think we’re done talking about this,” Aimeric heard him say, voice terse, as the brothers disappeared down the hall. 

For a moment, there was nothing but awkward silence in the room. Aimeric turned back to Jord. 

“Well,” Jord said, smiling slightly. His face was still flushed. It must’ve been the heat. “Guess I’d better walk you home.”

Aimeric held out an arm, the full effects of how much he drank finally hitting him. The floor was swaying, and his feet weren’t cooperating very well. Maybe he had a point about that guy crushing me, he thought. Jord, thankfully, got the hint, looping Aimeric’s arm around his shoulders and draping his own around Aimeric’s waist. The contact was more than welcome. 

It was a short walk back to the apartment Aimeric shared with Ancel. Jord kept a bit of distance between them. Aimeric didn’t understand. He knew he was an attractive man, all auburn curls and wide green eyes and full lips. And Jord didn’t seem to have noticed at all. Maybe he’s straight, his mind supplied. He discarded that idea right away. Jord was definitely not straight. And he’d said maybe tomorrow, not no. 

“Why won’t you fuck me?” Aimeric had meant for it to come out curious, maybe a little coy. Instead, it came out as a whine. 

Jord snorted. “Please. You’re so drunk, you couldn’t even get it up.”

“Shut uuuuupppp, you don’t know shit!”

Jord looked at him, grey eyes bright with amusement. “Look, how about if you’re still interested tomorrow, you give me a call?”

“But I don’t have your number!” Aimeric considered. “What about a kiss? Just one kiss.”

Jord gave him a considering look. Aimeric widened his eyes. He knew it worked. Growing up, the servants always gave in whenever he gave them this particular look. Ancel said he looked ridiculous, but results were results. 

After a moment, Jord pulled him closer and kissed his cheek. He had to stretch up a bit to do so. Aimeric found it hopelessly endearing. 

“Happy?”

Aimeric pouted at him. 

Aimeric’s apartment building rose in front of them. They stumbled inside, Aimeric leaning heavily on Jord. 

“Elevators out of—Fuck.” Jord glanced over at Aimeric. “Don’t s’pose there’s another set of elevators for us to use?”

Aimeric scoffed. “What kind of fancy place do you think this is? I told you, I’m broke as fuck. Stairs are that way.” He gestured in the direction of the stairwell, arm limp. “I’m on the third floor.”

Jord looked from him to the stairwell, as if debating something. After a moment, he sighed. 

“Climb on,” he said, putting his back to Aimeric and holding his arms out. Aimeric looked at him, uncomprehending. Jord looked over his shoulder. “Look, this’ll go faster if I give you a piggyback, c’mon.”

That...made a lot of sense, actually. Jord was solid in Aimeric’s arms. Steady. Aimeric melted against Jord’s back, cheek pressed to his shoulder. He smells nice, Aimeric thought, a little distractedly. He let his eyes drift closed, dizziness making him drowsy. 

It seemed like no time at all before they were in front of his shitty apartment door. “Keys?”

Aimeric looked at him blankly. Keys. He tried to remember if he’d brought them to the party. Jord raised his eyebrows at Aimeric. 

Aimeric, quite eloquently, said, “Fuck.”

Jord huffed a laugh, shifting most of Aimeric’s weight onto one arm. Aimeric marvelled at the strength, unconsciously pressing closer to him. 

“Let’s hope your roommate’s home, then.”

“They’re always home,” Aimeric said. His eyes were drifting shut again. “Studying. Or at the club.” He squinted at the door as Jord knocked. “Thhey might be at the club.”

Jord shifted again. He glanced back at Aimeric, like he wanted to say something. Aimeric held his gaze, cheek against Jord’s shoulder.

The door opened.

Ancel stood in the doorway in an open silk bath robe, makeup half-removed. Old French jazz warbled from behind them. Shock flitted across their expression as they took in the scene before them. 

“Aimeric? Who—” They put their hands on their hips, glaring at Jord. “And who the hell are you?”

Jord gave a little wave after setting Aimeric down. “Jord. Laurent told me to get him home?”

“Ancel!” Aimeric leaned forwards, taking Ancel’s arms. “You missed the party! Auguste caught Laurent and Damen, and then they went to the hospital, and some fucker was fighting me and then this guy made me leave and now he won’t fuck me.”

“Hmm.” Ancel braced Aimeric’s waist so he wouldn’t fall over, giving Jord a sly look. “How inconsiderate.” As Jord spluttered, brain clearly stalling, Ancel patted Jord on the chest. “I’ll take it from here, darling.”

Aimeric tried not to be hurt when Jord nodded. “Thanks. I—” He looked back at Aimeric, biting his lip. “Um. I’ll see you around?”

Aimeric swayed slightly, propping himself up on the kitchen counter. “You better.”

It didn’t come out as threatening as Aimeric had hoped. Jord grinned, a little awkward, shooting him finger guns. Behind him, Ancel coughed delicately. 

Ancel shut the door. Gave Aimeric a pointed look. 

“I’m in love,” Aimeric informed him. 

Ancel snorted. “Sure you are. Come along, you.” They draped one of Aimeric’s arms around their shoulders, leading him to his bedroom. “You’d better not die in your sleep. I’m not paying rent alone.”

Aimeric rested his head against Ancel’s shoulder. “You won’t let me die. You like me too much.”

Ancel deposited him on the bed. Knelt down so they were eye level. They booped Aimeric’s nose. 

“I’m going to tell you this, and only because I highly doubt you’ll remember it in the morning.” Their green eyes were unusually serious. “I do like you. A lot. You’re one of my best friends.” They straightened up. “Now go the fuck to sleep before I say something else that ruins my boss bitch reputation.”

(Part two)

#jord x aimeric #jord #aimeric #damen x laurent #laurent de vere #damen of akielos #lamen #auguste de vere #captive prince #modern au #university au

[cle1024]

i could be the one for you | cs

member: choi san 

genre: angst, fluff  bad boy!au, fake dating!au, high school!au, enemies to lovers!au 

summary: all your parents wanted from you was perfection, overwhelmingly so. as the pressure consumes you, you decide to give them one big ‘fuck you’ in the form of claiming choi san, the snarky rebel from your school, is your boyfriend. 

warnings: homelessness (kicked out), verbal abuse, violence (nothing extreme), swearing 

a/n: a lovely anon requested an angst to fluff scenario with san and it perfectly fit a prompt i saw. i hope you enjoy, i’m sorry it took so long! 

In life, there would always be people you didn’t see eye-to-eye with. Whether it be the result of differing lifestyles, beliefs or values, it would always be a part of life. In a way, such dysfunction was fundamental to society. You typically forgot people you clashed against, such memories weren’t very valuable as you slowly progressed toward adulthood. Though, for many years, there was always a specific cocky smirk, raised eyebrow and sassy tone that always remained fresh in your memory. It was probably because he was still present in your life, every week day to be exact, and infuriated you immensely at every opportunity. At this point, you were sure he was doing it on purpose. You knew your lifestyles were different—he was the stereotypical bad boy. Disrupting class, sporting slicked blonde hair and refusing to adhere to the school uniform requirements. You were the supposed ‘golden student’, a hard worker with high grades and no detentions under your belt. The ‘golden student’, what a crock of shit. If only people knew how much pressure was placed on you to get those grades, the amount of screaming in your household when you got less than ninety-five percent. All you wanted in life was to give them one last ‘fuck you’, a reason to really be disappointed in you. 

Everyday at school seemed to drag on slowly, information filled your brain to the brim, yet would inevitably be forgotten after a few hours of sleep under the moonlight. The shrill bell rang, urging you to walk to your math classroom before your teacher could become snappy. That old bat was always kind until two minutes had ticked by since she strutted into the room. You knew you’d hear her seething tone scolding the slower classmates, but you preferred not to have it directed at you. Quite frankly, you wanted to avoid her accidentally spitting on your face in the midst of her rant. You only seemed to make it to the classroom a minute before she could, her frustrated and impatient voice rising for those who nervously hobbled in after she had. Most people had learnt by now that they didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her stern lecture about punctuality, though some were yet to learn that lesson—or yet to care, you supposed. Fifteen minutes of silence, excluding her enthusiastic teaching of trigonometry, had ticked by before the classroom door busted open with the entrance of another student. Evidently, he didn’t care about her punctuality lectures, he’d heard them a hundred times already. 

“Mr Choi, nice of you to join us,” the teacher spoke dryly. In return she received a cocky, almost proud, smirk and silence, the boy making his way to the empty spot at the very back of the classroom. How typical, you rolled your eyes. As he sauntered his way through rows of desks, his eyes wandered around the blushing or anxious faces of his classmates—he always had that effect on people, being charming yet intimidating. Most people, at least. His dark orbs scanned your face as he passed your row, stoic as always. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something about teasing you was highly entertaining. Of course he'd never take it far enough to genuinely hurt you, he wasn’t that kind of person, and you always had a snarky retort of your own—perhaps that’s what made it fun, he could always expect a new jeer and another eye roll. It was kind of cute, sometimes, because the second he offhandedly dropped a ‘pet name’ a light blush would tint your cheeks. He never commented on it, nor did you, but you both knew it was there. You found it humiliating, he found it rather charming. 

At last, the day had come to an end, students rushing from the gates of the school to start the adventure home and, presumably, participate in some after school study or activities. Unfortunately, you found yourself lumped in with the group of after school studies, being obligated to attend daily tutoring sessions that, truthfully, you didn’t need but your parents insisted on you having. It was tiring and pointless to say the least. A hand came in contact with your head, ruffling the strands of your hair in an, in the perspective of an outsider, act of affection. Though, you knew better. That was a feeling you’d had to deal with whenever Choi San caught up with you on your walk to or from school. He knew it infuriated you, that’s why he never stopped doing it. You could vividly remember the fury you felt when he messed up your hair—the hair your mother spent far too long ‘perfecting’—right before school pictures, going home to cry at the end of the day. You’d never fully forgive him for that, especially because of the amount of anger your perfectionist parents emitted once they got their hands on your disheveled school picture. ‘Overdramatic’ was an understatement, in hindsight. 

“Hey, Y/N,” San greeted, dragging out the words in a manner that can only be described as an attempt to seduce you—of course that wasn’t his intention, he just liked pissing you off, “going home to waste away studying?” 

San never knew about the difficulty your parents gave you, the pressure they put on you to study non-stop. His comment almost made you want to laugh, he spoke as if you hadn’t wasted away already. 

“You know your business, San? Why don’t you mind it?” You retorted pointedly, speeding up your steps to indicate the conversation was over. His cocky chuckle sounded from behind you, a smirk on his lips as he strolled at a slower pace than you. 

Exhaustion rippled your features, dark circles shadowing your eyes as you finished another night of study. It would’ve been around ten o'clock, a time that usually wouldn’t see you this tired, but the endless pressure and workload was dragging you down dramatically. At this point, sleep was almost for nothing. Your mind wandered to the fast-approaching exams and subsequent school reports, how likely was it your parents would be disappointed? Unless you got between ninety-five and one-hundred percent for each subject, there would be a flurry of furious disappointment from them—and avoiding it seemed unlikely considering trigonometry was melting your brain. Then they’d call into question your priorities, what could be distracting you. Perhaps they’d go with the classic “are you dating someone?”, typically in reference to someone of the opposite sex, or “you’re spending too much time on that phone.” A huff passed your lips as you dragged yourself towards your bed, too tired to brush your teeth or change into a comfortable set of pyjamas, the exhaustion swiftly consuming you as your head rested against the pillow. 

The paper shook slightly in your trembling hands. The exam schedule stared up at you, taunting you as it inflicted waves of anxiety upon you. There was so much riding on these exams — your school report and the reaction of your parents especially — that the mere possibility of ‘failing’ would keep you up at night, studying until your head ached from a migraine. Your first one was tomorrow, nine o’clock, the rest spread out across the remainder of the week and early next week. Gosh, you wish time could just speed up and get you through the torturous days leading up to your school report. Then you’d listen to your parents’ yells of disappointment, something you’d learnt to drown out by now, continue to work hard on the remaining days of school and suffer through a break from school that would, inevitably, be filled with studies and extracurricular activities. Wasn’t much of a break after all. A huff passed your lip at the realisation you’d spend the afternoon, evening, and likely next morning, studying for that stupid first exam. Unknowingly, you started to count the hours left until you’d be obligated to open the freshly printed exam paper. 

The hours until the exam officially started quickly ticked away to seconds, your eyes scanning the clock anxiously as it ticked towards nine-thirty. One final tick, it had officially begun. Judging by the contents of the page, the questions that didn’t seem to flow in a coherent manner, you’d be sweating your way through the rest of your exams with shaky hands and barely legible handwriting, only to be thoroughly disappointed by the reaction of your parents, regardless of whether you achieved a grade deemed ‘good enough’. The time ticked away quickly, the announcement of thirty minutes left ringing in your ears as you forced yourself to answer every question, even if you weren’t entirely sure. An answer was better than no answer, right? Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a throbbing pain in your head as you shifted your eyes away from the test paper, scanning the other students surrounding you. Some were writing quickly, some were chewing pens anxiously, others were reading over their answers with boredom—of course San was one of them, you doubted he even read the questions before answering. A soundless sigh released from your lips as you turned your focus back to the questions, prepared to put all your effort in and still disappoint your parents. 

Time seemed to pass faster since your exams ended, soon enough you were handing over your school report to your expectant parents. You weren’t sure why or how it happened, but your parents had built the tradition of reviewing your report privately before ‘calmly’ discussing it over dinner, which always progressed into a screaming match where you so desperately wanted to beg them to be proud of you, just once. You were highly doubtful that tonight would be any different. Although some of the exams, namely those of the subjects you were most confident in, seemed to pass like a breeze without convoluted questions or vague answers, the others seemed to harbour every possible way to fault or confuse you. When the time came to walk out of the exam, you’d always left with a mix of disappointment and befuddlement on your features. You tried not to let it get to you so much, but you couldn’t help it, especially not with your parents breathing down your neck. Gosh, you’d give anything to escape that, even just for a day. Now, you sat around a rectangular table with your parents situated across from you. There was a second seat beside you, empty as per usual, making you their sole focus and unable to escape their iron gazes. 

“So,” your mother started as you mentally prepared to be scolded, “you’ve been slacking off with studying lately, haven’t you?” No, you hadn’t. 

The voice of your father chimed in, “we’re paying top dollar for extra tutoring and you’re still barely getting ninety-fives!” Ninety-five was above average for your classes, “we’ve told you how important this is for you, for your future, have you not listened to us?” 

“Your father’s right, Y/N, you’re not taking this seriously enough! Something’s distracting you from reaching your full potential,” the conversation made you want to shove your fists into your nostrils in frustration; after all this time they still failed to realise that you’d either already reached your full potential or would peak when they stopped setting standards for you that seemed unattainable. 

“Mum, there’s nothing distracting me, I’m just tire-” 

“We should stop letting them use that phone so often, that’s for sure,” your father cut you off, conversing with your mother as if you weren’t sat across from them. The urge to roll your eyes was almost impossible to suppress, here we go, “seriously, dad? I hardly ever use it!” 

“Don’t use that tone with your father!” Your mother’s eyes sharpened as she scolded you firmly, “what is it then? Are you in a relationship?” 

“Don’t be a fool, they couldn’t hide that from anyone.” 

The patronising words of your father set you off, you’d finally snapped. You had a life of your own, you were so tired of them living vicariously through you, trying to make up for any mistakes they made in their youth. 

“Actually,” both adults snapped their attention towards you at the contradicting word, “yes, I am.” 

A pregnant silence fell over the three of you, your parents evidently taken aback at your brazen and unexpected statement. You were almost certain they were questioning why they didn’t try harder to keep you locked away from any potential love interest, why they didn’t completely suck all the potential out of you. With a clear of her throat, an effort to regain her usually unshaken composure, your mother spoke curtly. 

“Well, if that;s the case,” it wasn’t, “then they’ll need our approval. We can’t have some… lowlife derailing you, now, can we?” 

A sickly sweet smile stretched across your lips at the statement, voicing a calm reassurance, “don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll get it.” 

A plan had already begun to formulate in your head, and there didn’t seem to be any potential back up plan. If he didn’t agree to this, everything would come crashing down, even more so than it would if he did. 

There was determination on your face, in your strides, fueling your whole being as you made your way to the bus stop down the street from school. It was past the time school ended and he always ditched last period for cheap ramen on Wednesdays, you knew he’d be the only one sat at the bus stop in that moment. A sliver of you worried he wasn’t, considered the possibility of having to awkwardly walk right past the bus stop and find your way home. The dirty blonde strands of hair came into view, sharp features turned downward to focus on the screen of his phone, unkempt and incorrect uniform crinkled; he was alone. Your footsteps came to a halt in front of the male, shading the sunlight that previously glared on the back of his phone and skin. The sudden darkness and presence caused him to look up, unable to speak a word before you blurted out the words “date me.” There was definitely a better way to say that. 

His eyebrows quirked in confusion, the cocky demeanor momentarily dropped as he responded, “excuse me?” 

You huffed in embarrassment, glancing away awkwardly, “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend…” you trailed off. 

“Why should I help you?” Of course it wouldn’t be that easy with Choi San, it never was. 

“Because it’s the only way to get my parents off my ass for good.” 

Confusion glazed his features once more. He was incapable of understanding the situation, “by pretending to date me?” Though, you couldn’t exactly blame him considering the lack of context and opening statement of ‘date me’. 

“Yes, you’re the exact opposite of what my parents want me to be,” San stared at you thoughtfully as you waited for a reply. You spoke gently, almost with solemn desperation, “please, San.” 

Something in him shifted. He didn’t know the full context of your situation, but judging by the fact you just said the word ‘please’ when asking something of him meant it wasn’t something you wanted to deal with any longer. Turning his head to the side momentarily, he gave in, “fine, but you owe me, Y/N.” 

“Obviously, just come to my house at six o’clock tomorrow- no, actually, don’t. Don’t be on time. Just… be yourself.” 

“Myself?” 

“Yeah, you know, cocky, arrogant, smartass, irri-” 

“Alright, I get it. I’ll be there, late, and be an asshole—which I am not, by the way.” 

You rolled your eyes, “whatever, greaser. Just pretend my parents are the math teacher or something,” the male smirked at the thought, nodding with satisfaction as you turned to walk away. 

“Will do, princess,” San teased, watching you with a soft smile as you gently shook your head. 

The clock had ticked well past six o’clock and your parents were getting antsy, as were you, butterflies swirling in your stomach as you scrunched the layers of your perfectly ironed clothes. You knew you told him to show up late, past six o’clock, but what if he’d decided to not show up at all? Just leave you to be consumed in the web of lies you’d spun and attempted to drag him into. At six thirty-four, the doorbell rang, and your anxiety was momentarily put to ease, “I’ll get it,” you quickly voiced as you pushed your chair out noisily. Pulling open the front door, you were met with the sight of San in a leather jacket, ripped jeans and white t-shirt. Your lips turned upwards slightly and spoke quietly, “you look perfect.” 

San scoffed with a smirk, “don’t go catching feelings for me now,” your eyebrows furrowed at his words. 

“What? No, I wasn’t- I didn’t mean-” San raised his eyebrow teasingly, you groaned in frustration, “just come in and piss my parents off.” The male chuckled to himself, eyeing you as you closed the door and turned in the direction of, at least he assumed, the dining room. 

“You, too, look perfect,” he voiced from behind you. You pretended not to hear him, brushed off his teasing and obviously dishonest comment, though the apples of your cheeks reddened slightly at the softness of his voice. You’d never heard him speak like that before—but then again, he was usually quite boisterous. It was nothing more than teasing. 

“Mum, Dad, this is my... boyfriend,” it felt weird to give him such a title, “San.” The colour seemed to drain from your mother’s face, a crease almost settling between your father’s eyebrows as he fought off an expression of disappointment and dissatisfaction. The blonde smiled smugly at the adults, eyes squinting slightly as his face tightened, making it quite obvious he was faking the friendly greeting—you were glad, you wanted your parents to know he ‘hated them’. Your parents smiled politely, fakely, and gestured for the two of you to sit across from them, the two of you obliging to do so. As far as you were concerned, San would be interrogated during this dinner and your parents would get a mouthful in return, while you sat quietly and prayed everything went well. 

“So, San,” your mother initiated the interrogation, as you expected, “how long have you been dating Y/N? They only mentioned you a few days ago!” She chuckled lightly after the comment, but you were almost certain it was meant to be a dig at your relationship. 

He pondered slightly, “hm, few months, not very long. Definitely long enough to know there’s too much pressure on them,” the boy only smiled politely at your parents’ stunned silence, shoveling a piece of meat into his mouth. Of course they said nothing, always wanting to appear as the ideal, respectful parents. Gosh, could you even consider them parents? Your mother cleared her throat awkwardly, a habit she seemed to have picked up when she was losing control of a conversation. 

“Yes, well, Y/N’s always been a perfectionist,” another fake laugh was spat, the statement earning a snort from San. You repressed the smile playing on your lips, he was good at playing the part of a boyfriend concerned for your well-being, disapproving of the way your parents treated you. It almost made you wish he wasn’t pretending. Almost. 

“What do you do outside of school?” Your father shifted the conversation, maintaining a facade of politeness and genuine interest, saving your mother from more criticism in doing so. 

“Work, mostly. I live with a couple of friends so we have to do what we can to get by,” you didn’t know that. 

“Oh, what about your parents?” 

The boy shrugged nonchalantly as he poked at another piece of meat, “don’t like ‘em. They were always pushing me to be something I’m not,” he shot a knowing look at your parents, one that had your mother flinch slightly at the sudden icy stare, “too uptight and pressuring. You know how it is,” he smiled once more before chowing down on the piece of meat. Your parents shared a look, as if they were communicating telepathically about his indirect criticism of their parenting, you were suppressing a smirk. 

Everything you wanted from him, every nightmare of your parents, was embodied in San for the rest of the night. His almost-kind smile and sarcastic tone, dressed in his typical bad boy attire with strands of hair tickling his eyelashes from where it had fallen out of its slicked back style. An occasional smirk, or half-smirk, would stretch his pink lips after a particularly passive-aggressive remark. You couldn’t even feel bad about the shock it must’ve given your parents, it was far less than they truly deserved. Soon enough, your parents couldn’t take the brazen words of San any longer, insisting that it was getting late and they wouldn’t want you to be too tired in the morning. San opened his mouth to interject, fully intending to enlighten them as to the real reason you were always tired, but the sound of your chair scraping against the floorboards didn’t give him the chance, “I’ll see him out,” the words passed your lips with a polite smile. The male stared at your parents silently for a moment before obnoxiously scraping his chair against the ground and following your lead back to the door. You could already here the not-so-discrete mumbling of your parents, but you didn’t have it in you to care, not anymore at least. As San stepped onto the porch, he turned to stare you in the eye momentarily. 

“You owe me, Y/N,” his reminder was quiet, as to not alert your parents, but still with an edge of sterness. 

“I know. Thank you, again,” there was a moment of hesitance, “y-you don’t know how much it means to me.” 

San only nodded his head slightly in response while you offered a small smile before closing the door, watching him stroll down your front yard through the glass panel of the door. The moment you appeared in your parents’ vision, you were the target of disapproving yells. As San took the beginning strides on his journey back home, he heard the disappointed shrieks of your parents float from your open bedroom window. Silence in response, the slam of a door, and then your face in the window. Sullen, but contorting to false pride when you met his gaze. It was obvious you didn’t him, of all people, to see you in a weakened state, but San already knew too much just by being there. 

It was quite obvious that you owed San a heartfelt thank you, something more than a swiftly spoken exchange as you saw him out of your house. There was a twisting feeling in your gut, something that warned you to walk straight past the male and not stick to your initial plan. You didn’t listen. Pacing towards him, surrounded by friends and crushing students whom you didn’t know the name of, you went over what you’d say in your head. He mustn't have seen you coming, otherwise he’d stand up and meet you halfway so you didn’t make his friends and ‘admirers’ realise he actually harboured an ounce of compassion for people; he wasn’t always a stone cold prick. By the time he’d noticed you, it was too late. You stood in front of him, you knew asking him to talk in private would look even more suspicious, or he’d say something stupid like “whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of them,” referring to his few real friends and the others surrounding him. Your fingers picked at the loose skin around your nails in nervousness, just spit it out, Y/N. 

“Uh, I just wanted to thank you for… you know. And, just, let me know how I can make it up to you, I guess.” 

Truthfully, San didn’t want anything from you. He didn’t want to make it seem like he was holding something over your head unless you repaid him. In fact, all he wanted was for the two of you to move on and, hopefully, have you less pressured from your parents. But in that moment, San was a coward. San was too fixated on his image, too focused on ignoring the fluttering feelings blooming in his chest, to give you a genuine answer. He didn’t tell you that all he wanted out of the deal — whether that was an appropriate word or not, he wasn’t sure — was for you to be okay. No, instead, he maintained that stupid ice prince facade he’d hidden behind for years. With a mocking half-smirk half-smile, he speaks as if he’s talking to a child, “you can make it up to me by not bothering me.” 

There weren’t words that could pass your lips in that moment. All you could hear was the sound of other students laughing at his words, your own breathing becoming muted in the humiliation. You couldn’t see the disingenuous tint in San’s brown eyes, or the guilty crease of his eyebrows, and you didn’t care to stay to notice it. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked as far from that group, from that fucking prick, as possible. The fact you even thought he’d respond differently disgusted you, how naive could you get? One night of faking it didn’t mean he’d be nice forever. You were a fool to think so, and you were a fool to start catching feelings for him based on such a blind assumption. Gosh, you were such a fucking fool; one night of acting and suddenly you’re unaware of his true nature. Everything was a game to that boy, you were just another level to beat. 

You didn’t see San around school much after that day, and you certainly couldn’t complain. Sometimes you’d hear the teacher scold him for being late to class, but you never dared to meet his eyes. You refused to let him see how much he’d hurt you. In doing so, it made you unaware of how desperately he tried to meet your eyes, how he’d stare at you all through class waiting for you to turn around and see the concern lacing his features, the guilt. It would be his unspoken apology. San would shake his head at such a thought, that wouldn’t be enough. You deserved more than some puppy dog eyes and upturned eyebrows. Almost everyday, you regretted walking up to San and thanking him that day. Sometimes you were thankful it happened, because it brought you crashing down to reality again, saved you from led on and heartbroken when it would hurt the most. San couldn’t say the same. There wasn’t a single day where he wasn’t regretful of his words, he always beat himself up for being such a coward, caring more about a stupid image instead of your feelings. How he’d fucked up so royally was beyond him, what was wrong with him? It left him lying awake in bed at night, punching his own reflection until his hands were on the verge of breaking. All he could hope was that you didn’t hate him. A scoff passed his lips at the thought, who was he kidding? You had every right to hate him, he hated him too. 

Saying your parents were appalled by the thought of San being your boyfriend was an understatement. They refused to talk to you unless it was in the form of screaming criticism and insults that left you crying yourself to sleep. Sometimes, when their day had been especially shit, they wouldn’t bother to make you dinner and leave you to munch on a piece of burnt toast instead. It seemed to reach a boiling point, though. They were sick of you coming home, dragging your feet as you made your way up to your room to study—they were sick of you feeling anything other than motivated. It was a Tuesday when it happened. You’d only just placed your school bag on your bed and collapsed against the springy mattress when your mother swung the door open, almost with enough force to take the door off the hinges. Initially, you couldn’t even make out the words she was saying. She was yelling, that was certain, but it was almost so loud that you couldn’t process it—that and the fact you were exhausted. Then she started opening your wardrobe, dumping clothes on the floor. That’s when you started to understand her. 

“What?” It was the only word you could utter in that moment. You had no clue how to respond, the shock coursing through your body seemed to eliminate all of your vocabulary aside from questioning words. 

“You heard me!” You weren’t sure if you had, “I’m sick of you putting no work in—we’re both sick of it. Now you’re running off with this… this hooligan, so you can throw your life away?” The distant sound of your father making his way to your room didn’t even register in your brain, “we gave you everything, and this is how you repay us?” Your mother was screaming, flushed and furious. You were blank, numb with ringing ears. This couldn’t be happening. It was a joke, right? The trance was broken when your father slammed a duffle bag on the floor in front of you. 

“If you want to throw your life away, then don’t let us stop you!” He was always terrifying when he yelled, they both were, “you better be gone by tonight. We don’t want to see you here again, not after what you’ve done to us,” they left with a slam of the door. You wanted to scream, cry, kick the wall, anything. You had nowhere to go, no family or friends to turn to. At this point, you might as well die; it would certainly be easier, but the thought was frightening. With glossy eyes and jagged breaths, you stuffed some belongings into the duffle bag. Clothing, sanitary and hygiene products, spare cash, whatever would help you survive out there. Any school supplies went into your school bag; you didn’t stop to think about how you’d manage it all, you didn’t want to. It wasn’t safe for you to be on the streets, you knew that, but what else were you to do? You’d forged a routine in the three days you’d been kicked out; you couldn’t come to terms with your situation, refusing to acknowledge you were homeless. The word harboured too much finality, fragility, fear, it would only make you more panicked than you already were. Sleeping in the park, locking your belongings in the last stall in the bathroom at said park, occasionally taking the bus to the beach so you could take a proper shower, then juggling school on top of that. It was awful, but you didn’t know what else to do. 

“Turn the radio down and lay you down too, I could be the one for you,” San tapped his thumbs against the black steering wheel as he murmured the lyrics — it reminded him of the missed opportunity to present your parents with a dozen dead roses, and he didn’t really like thinking about that night. Truthfully, he didn’t really know where he was going. Hopefully somewhere quiet, somewhere he could clear his mind from all the current thoughts swarming around. Part of him regret taking you up on your offer of fake-dating—even if it was just one night—because how was he supposed to act now? He couldn’t look at you without seeing the proud smile you tried to conceal when he was passive-aggressive, or the glum expression you wore when you peeked out the window, or how he wished he was actually dating you so he could make sure you were never unhappy again. He shook his head sharply, eyebrows furrowed in an effort to jar the thoughts from his head. There was no reason for him to be thinking that way. You were the golden child, intelligent and passionate, hardworking, respectful. Who was he? Some no-good delinquent who did you a favour and then made a fool out of you, dismissed you so carelessly. Of course San knew you weren’t actually that person, but in that moment he managed to re-convince himself you were. 

The noise shut off as San turned off the ignition, the silence deafening as he stared out the windshield. Glancing briefly at his surroundings, he recognised the environment as the neighbourhood park—or rather, the surrounding greenery and field nearby. The grass was dewy and littered with raindrops; he couldn’t remember it raining but droplets were scattered across the windshield. Odd, he supposed he was so deep in thought to notice the poor weather conditions. With a slight sigh, he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door, allowing the chilled air to brush against his hoodie-clad abdomen. A beep sounded from the vehicle as he locked it with disinterest. He’d reached a point of absent-mindedness, carelessness even, that he no longer really cared if someone carjacked him; all he could think about was where he currently stood with you and where he wanted to stand. How did it reach that point so fast? One dinner with your parents and suddenly he’s whipped. Though, he supposed it was more than that. There was no denying that the two of you hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, but even back then San couldn’t deny you were unfairly attractive. He saw the way your eyes gleamed when you laughed at something your, now former, friend said, the smile that seemed to brighten the whole room when you beamed with glee, the way you were genuinely relieved and thankful when he fake-dated you. Gosh, he’d been whipped for so long, hadn’t he? The moment he laid eyes on you in his preteen years, perhaps. Shoes scuffed against the concrete as he wandered the area, a scoff exiting his mouth as his melancholy thoughts progressed—they only filled him with disappointment. Because he finally realised the very moment he had a chance to make you his, he fucked it up. 

“Y/N?” 

The voice vaguely called out to you, stirring your consciousness as you wondered whether it was part of your dream or reality. Eyebrows furrowed as you searched for more sleep, approaching footsteps along the dewy grass. 

“Y/N.” 

It wasn’t a question anymore, the voice knew it was you. There was familiarity to it, but you didn’t know a voice that soft. It was a male voice, soft and laced with genuine concern. That was something you hadn’t encountered in a while. Opening your eyes groggily, you squinted at your surroundings. The uncomfortable park bench, the midnight blue-black sky and moon beaming upon you, casting a glow around the boy bent in front of you. The very, very familiar boy crouched down to your level. You shot up, waking up as recognition hit you—recognition and humiliation to be exact. He would use this against you, wouldn’t he? He’d let everyone at school laugh at you in the hallways for being kicked out by your parents. He’d let you drown in a sea of mortification while everyone cheered your demise on. 

“Hey, careful there,” his hands flew out to support you as you nearly slipped off the bench you haphazardly sat on, “what are you doing out here?” 

Eyes downcast towards your cold hands as you fiddled with the soft, yet thin, blue material of your blanket, you pondered your words momentarily. 

“Y-you told me to stop bothering you,” as much as you wanted to sound strong and unbothered, you couldn’t hide the croakiness of your voice or the tsunami of misery seconds from drowning you. You wanted him to leave, stop pretending that he cared and left you to take care of yourself, but you knew it wasn’t that simple. It was easy for San to see your pain. 

“Did they kick you out?” He ignored your reminder, his voice had somehow grown even softer as he spoke that phrase. Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to acknowledge him again. Acknowledging him meant breaking down your walls, letting him see how tired you truly were. You were beyond fucking exhausted. 

“Talk to me, Y/N!” The voice loudened, almost shouting and causing you to flinch as his hands held your wrists. He soothed his thumbs over your skin, whispering out a desperate “please.” 

In that moment, everything seemed to fall into place. You could tell him, you could trust him. He showed you his vulnerability, his concern and anguish, he trusted you enough to break the cool facade he maintained through school hours—and confrontational dinners with your parents—there was no reason not to trust him. No, Choi San was the only person you could trust. 

Words couldn’t pass your lips, you knew they’d fall out as choked sobs and pathetic whimpers. So you simply nodded, eyes squeezing shut as salty tears slithered down your cheeks. Yet, your simple nod seemed to be enough confirmation for San, releasing your wrists and moving to side beside you on the bench. His arms wrapped around you, voice murmuring a soft “come here” as he left you sob into his chest, even if it left dark splotches on his hoodie. For all your life, you’d never been very certain about anything. Yet, somehow, as San lay his head on yours and spoke comforting words into the dark night, you were absolutely certain he was the one for you. 

It took a little bit to adjust to your new situation—living with San, that is. There were moments where your trust in him faltered, or where you felt guilty for becoming such a heavy burden in his life, and his friend’s life. His friend, Wooyoung, was nice. You didn’t talk to him often — mainly because you wanted to stay out of the way and, in the rare occasion you didn’t, you weren’t entirely sure of what to say — but you could tell he was trying his best to make sure you were comfortable. You appreciated it, more than you could express, but it also made you feel an immense guilt. The kind that you carried around until your back physically hurt from the unseen weight, until you broke down one night and blurted everything to San. He was always so willing to listen to you, comforting and soothing as he reassured you your worries were valid, that everything would be okay. From that night on, things were a little easier. You helped around the house so the boys could focus more on working, there was less crushing guilt as you came to terms with your situation and began to realise that San didn’t invite you to stay with him because he was forced to. Rather, it was because he wanted you to. 

There were rare moments where San couldn’t hold it anymore, and crumbled under the weight of his own worries and frustrations. You’d heard the distant sniffling at night, sounding from the closed bathroom. You’d knocked once, quietly asking if everything was okay—at that point you were unaware it was San, not until you opened the door at least. He was hunched over the counter, head in his hands and knuckles bloodied, cracks and droplets of blood dented in the mirror from the impact of his fist. The crimson colour decorated the white counter too, in small droplets that filled you with panic. You rushed to his side, asked him if he was okay, asked him what happened. You’d gently taken his hands, aiming to inspect the torn skin on his busted knuckles. The boy didn’t stand there like you expected him to, instead, he fell into you, resting his head on your shoulder as he sobbed. You’d put your hand on top of his head, stroking the locks of blonde hair as you whispered that everything was okay, it was going to be okay. San didn’t make eye contact while he was telling you his troubles, how much he hated himself for choosing some ‘bad boy’ facade over your feelings, how he hated the assumptions people made about him, how he hated the fact that it was his fault people made such assumptions. You listened, quietly, until he shook his head and told you it was stupid, to forget about it. He went to get up, but you refused, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your head on his shoulder. 

“You’re not a bad person, San. You’re forcing yourself to be someone you’re not.” 

It wasn’t a revelation he was unfamiliar with, just one he couldn’t accept until you reminded him. Maybe it became ingrained in his memory because that was when he finally broke down and told someone, maybe it was because that was the night you stayed beside him until the sun rose, or maybe it’s because that was the night he realised you felt the same way. 

Choi San was an outspoken, cocky, rebellious, hooligan—people would tell you that for as long as you lived. But, Choi San was also generous and kind. He was adventurous and comforting. He’d take you for drives when the moon shone brightly and watch the stars with you on the hood of his car, show you the beautiful places hiding within the city. He was so much more than a boy in a leather jacket. 

Choi San was everything your parents hated, he was the one they wanted you to stay away from. 

He was blunt, brazen, bold, protective, obstinate, hard-working. He was your saviour, your roommate, your friend, your classmate, the one to take you places you’d never seen before, the one to calm you down when you were overwhelmed or stressed. 

He was the boy who kissed your lips with pure delicacy, sincerity, unadulterated love—the kind of love you’d never felt before. He was the boy who treated your heart as if it were his own. 

Choi San was everything you wanted, he was the only one for you.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez scenario #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez san #ateez choi san #choi san #san fluff #san angst #san scenarios #san scenario #kpop #choi san imagine #san imagine #angst #fluff #angst to fluff #san angst to fluff #this straight up took longer than it should have #choi san angst to fluff

[turtle-steverogers]

Tell Me Why Again?

here’s some of our disaster boyfriends spot and race who are bad at feelings and relationships tbh but they’re trying.  sorry if its kinda shit.  it takes place in the binge baking universe kinda...like medda has cancer in this too

warnings: fighting

ship: sprace

editing: no

Race couldn’t even remember why they were fighting at this point.  Some trivial thing no doubt, that escalated into a screaming match.  Typical.  If they went to a psychologist, or talked to Albert, who was a psychology major, they would probably come up with some fancy explanation as to why they always fought like this.  Probably something about repressed childhood anger and bad coping skills and all that Freudian bullshit.

The reasoning didn’t matter as Spot shouted at him, spit flying from his mouth as he gestured wildly and without purpose.  Anger thrummed loudly through every vein in Race’s body and his ears were ringing as he let Spot’s words bleed back into his consciousness.

“And I’m so sick of always being the bad guy!  Of always taking the blame!” He seethed, eyes glinting furiously.

“I do not put all the fucking blame on you!” Race shouted back, adrenaline driving his voice to a higher octave.

“Bullshit,” Spot spat, “You always play the fucking victim, Antonio.”

Race froze, livid and horrified.  They crossed all kinds of lines while fighting, but his name was an entirely new boundary.  Spot knew his association with that god forbidden title his father had given him.  He knew how much it fucked him up to hear it- especially in an angry atmosphere much like the one they were creating now.

He clenched his fists at his sides, driving his fingernails into his palms, “Don’t you dare fucking call me that!  You know how much I-”

“Oh!” Spot exclaimed, a manic laugh intermixing with his wavering tone of anger, “There he goes again!  Playing victim!  Feeling all bad for himself!”

Race huffed out a disbelieving laugh, stunned that Spot was taking it this far, “Well, you ain’t a saint either, Sean!  You’re so fucking bent on playing tough guy all the time!  You drag down everyone around you, you realize that, right?  You and your toxic masculinity.  Afraid to be seen holding your fucking boyfriend’s hand in public!” his voice was bordering shrill by the time he was finished with his rant.

Spot set his jaw, his voice dangerously low as he answered, “You know why I don’t like to hold hands when we’re out.  You fucking forced it out of me during one of your hissy fits, do you remember, Tonio?”

Race flinched and Spot scoffed.  Race did remember.  It was after their group had gone bowling and Race had tried to intertwine their fingers between games.  Spot had pulled back abruptly, busying himself with his soda.  Race had finally snapped that night, furious that his then boyfriend of nearly six months still had refused to display the fact that they were dating.  He had accused him of being ashamed and yelled at him for nearly an hour about how little he was putting into the relationship.  It was then that Spot had broken down, finally admitting to having a homophobic father, that had instilled an ever-present fear of being outed into him after so many years of mental and physical torment, before finally being put in foster care.  Race had apologized, but neither of them had completely come back from that incident.  It probably wasn’t healthy.  This probably wasn’t healthy.  No, this definitely wasn’t healthy.

He loved Spot more than anything.  He wanted to protect him, to show him that.  But both men had so much trouble communicating their issues with both themselves and one another that by the time it had all piled up, it was too late and they were taking out their anger on one another.  It was a habit that needed to be broken.  

“You can’t even do me the courtesy of answering?” Spot sneered.

Race flicked his eyes back to Spot’s, growing angry once more, “Shut up, Conlon.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” Spot punctuated his statement by hitting his thigh with his fist.  Race could tell he wanted to punch something else, the wall probably, but he had learned a while back that that was not going to fly with their rental bills, “You should at least-”

He was cut off abruptly by Race surging forward and connecting their lips, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling back.

They stared, breathless at one another.  Spot’s eyes were swimming with leftover anger, confusion, and pain, and Race softened.

“We need to stop this,” Race said, a note of finality in his voice, “We can’t keep doing this.  We’re going to crash.”

Spot averted his eyes to somewhere just to the left of Race’s shoulder, “I know,” he murmured.

“We always do this.  We let things bottle up until we’re testy and annoyed at everything and then the littlest thing sets us off and we blow up.  It’s bad for us and it’s bad for the relationship.  Do you even remember what we were mad about?”

Spot hesitated, “Uh, I got mad because you didn’t get the mail.”

Race ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath, “Case and point.  It was a tiny fucking thing and yet we spiraled until we were throwing toxic waste at each other.  Boyfriends don’t do that.”

“No, they don’t,” Spot said, then whipped his head up, a new fear in his eyes, “You don’t wanna break up, do you?”

Race shook his head, “No, I don’t.  But I do think we need to seriously reevaluate how we handle things.”

Spot nodded, pacing over to the couch and sitting down.  Race followed, sitting next to him and resting his forearms on his knees.

“How do we do that?” Spot asked, voice tired.

“We needa start talking to each other,” Race said, “Were you really mad at me for not getting the mail, or was something else bothering you?”

Spot paused for a moment, eyes hard and focused on the rug underneath his feet, “I dunno, I think I’ve just been stressed about everything that’s happening with Medda and her cancer and Jack kinda got mad at me on Saturday because I forgot to pick up Smalls from her kindergarten and yeah, I don’t know, like you said.  It kinda piled up.”

Race reached out a hand, allowing Spot to take it in his own time, “Thank you for telling me.  I’m sorry you’ve been stressed and I’m here for you.”

Spot started to run his thumb over Race’s knuckles subconsciously, “I’m sorry I called you by your, uh, yeah.  And I’m sorry for everything else I said.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Race said, sincerely, “I shouldn’t have brought up the PDA thing when I know why you react the way you do.  And I shouldn’t have thrown any of the other shit I said at you, either.”

Spot shifted, looking at Race for the first time, “I, uh, are we good?”

Race nodded, “I think we are if you do?”

“I think so, too.”

“Okay, I’m glad,” Race said, “But, next time, we need to talk to each other.  I need to do better about it, too, not just you.  So if one of us is starting to feel stressed, or something’s bothering us about the other person, we need to bring it up, okay?”

Spot squeezed his hand, a ghost of a smile on his face, “Okay.”

Race smiled, “I love you, Spot.”

“I love you too, Race, really,” Spot brought Race’s hand up to his face and kissed his knuckles.  Race pulled him in and hugged him in return.

“Look at us,” Race praised, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Being mature and talking about our feelings.”

Spot snorted, “Don’t push it, Higgins.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, asshole.”

“Numbnuts.”

“Asswipe.”

“Cornfucker.”

“Oo, that’s a new one.”

“I know.  I was proud of it.”

Both boys laughed, the tightness that previously plagued both their chests loosening.  They were going to be okay.

-

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST: @bencookisagod @we-dont-sell-papes @aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @thatpoorguysheadisspinning @labert-dasilver

@andthewoildwillknow @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @sunshine-e-cigarettes @have-we-got-news-for-you @musical-shitposts @thebroadwayaesthetic

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#newsies fic #newsies #spot conlon #sprace #racetrack higgins #our boys fight alot #poor race #poor spot #rip oop

[that-whatever]

so i found this in my drafts

i was gonna flush it out but now i think ill just post it as is, its my thought of how each of the vox machina gang reacted to the quote from bard lament (or at least one of that set) where vax said “He's family, and family leaves’  idk it just hit me hard in that moment how each one of the vm group could really relate to that, it gets longer with each member (as this was me sort of in character ranting at 3am) and its missing pike, again i planned on flushing this out but its been ages now, so, 

Keylet - her mom, left without a proper goodbye, on bad days hopes shes dead, at least that way it wasn't her choice, on better days that shes kidnapped and tortured, if she's alive out there shell have to exp a pain she doesn't want of abandonment and rejection she knows its wrong she does but if she finds out she's been out there all these years, never returning on her own volition, she doesn't know what she’d do

Percy - lost enough ppl to make him feel sick at night, a large family of parents, siblings, children god they were children he’s surrounded by loss but what hurts more than anything is that he left he left his sister to the fucking wolves to die even unknowingly he abandoned her, left her. the emotions he's plagued with and he consciously does it every day, she's breaking at the seam overloaded and overwhelmed with work, running a city he should be carrying, its the least he could do he tells himself she has more preparation for this, but he's not too sure that helps him feel better shes stopped asking him to come back to help her after his constant rejections, but he can see the pleading in her dark circles and graying hair he left her then, and he's done it every day since. out with his friends while his sister lies trapped in her castle with no knight in sight

Grog was never one for emotions, he's really only ever felt three, in his whole life, happy, angry and hungry, that's an emotion, right? Hell ask pike later. He hears vax and knows immediatley that its true, his herd left him bleeding out to die they walked away with his blood on their hands with not even a shred of doubt on their minds hes told keyleth once, and vax too at one point, that the herd isnt his family anymore, vox mochina is, and he believes that but he cant help but think its not all true, half of it is, he knows that much, vox mochina is his family, he fights harder hearing their war cries and strives to be better knowing they have his back, their blood runs through his viens, but he cant help thinking the other half isnt all true, no doubt its not all false either, but, part of him is still hung up on the herd leaving him all those years ago, when he fought kevdak, a large part of him wanted to knock him to the ground, to scream this is for all those years ago, look how ive grown see what ive become, better than I ever could be with you lot, the need to prove himself so inherent around the herd he almost forgot where he was, and no, they arent his family anymore, sometimes he thinks they never were, not family in the sense of what he knows it to be now, but it nags at him, they arent his family anymore but its still the tiniest bit painful, to look back on his old memories

Vax says it with an amount of resentment that surprises even him. when they went to live with their dad, vax was prepared to hate him, to push him away in favor of sticking by vex, so when they saw, truly, how despicable of a man he really was, vax couldn't help his apathy towards the situation grow, sure he was angry, but he found himself more angry that his father was so idiotic as to reject the love they had for him, that he wasn't even willing to open his arms to them, than anything else, it was him and vex against the world, always has been, what was the point of being bitter about some douchebag father. He's always known he was an emotional man though, far more than anyone else in his group, beyond Percy's brooding eyes and grogs dreadful lack of knowledge, he swears he heard him ask pike if hungry was an emotion the other day, and anyone who would dare call him cynical was just doing so based on stereotype, its not his fault he's inclined to wear all black and have a scorn on his face half the time, he's a hopeful guy, and he knows a lot of his dreams come from a place of hurt, he sits often and thinks of what he can hopefully have one day, the type of father he wants to be, to have kids who don't doubt for a second of his love for them, sick of hearing him say it all the time, supporting them through thick and thin growing a family so wonderful his heart is heavy with his contentment, waking up every day with a smile and tiny puffs of red hair tickling his chin,

Vex couldn't help the tears that fell at vax’s words, she's angry at Scanlan shes furious, he left them he knew what they've all been through and with a wound still fresh shes brought back to her pitiful excuse of a childhood, of a father she greeted with hope, who struck her down almost immediately, sparing no time to crush it down every chance he got, and even when her love for him depleted it never left, she wanted to prove herself to him, to gain his love pride and respect, never truly gaining it but always trying nonetheless. Anytime vax told her pleadingly to give it up she begged for one more day I can change his mind vax I'm sure of it. when they left she felt like a tree fell on her, she was drained exhausted from trying so hard and tired from having her emotions toyed with every waking minute, when they arrived back to their rightful home, to only be met with the smell of smoke, she cried harder than she ever thought possible, her entire childhood, every essense of her home, her mother her memories of being young all nothing but ash, she held vaxs hand as tight as she could, as if she could hold onto him so tight that the wretched rock of a planet they were standing on would stop spinning so fast for a few moments, let her catch her breath for a little while, that if she held on tight enough, he would squeeze back and neither would ever let go, this was it they were it, it was them two alone in the world they were all they had, their last hope an empty lot in a burned down town, she wondered how scanlan, who had lost people himself, could do this to them, put them through this, later she told herself if she truly believed that he knew what it was like to be abandoned, to do that to kaylie would be far worse than what he did, to give someone else the fatherless childhood he had, she and vax had, that would be far worse

Scanlan cant help but over hear him, he was only steps away from the door when vax opened his mouth, and scanlan cant help but smile a little looking over at kaylie, at his daughter, yes family leaves, god doesnt he know, but sometimes, sometimes they come back, they return and they love, he grips his daughters hand and they walk and he knows in his heart hes doing the right thing, months later, eating at a table far too big in a room far too small hes laughing with kaylie mouth wide and eyes streaming, for a second he listens as the table next to him goes into a story detailing the fight they saw at emon, his name comes up a few times but hes more innterested in the others, for the slightest of moments his smile falters and he leans farther down in his chair, but family returns, and maybe one day he will, on worse days when hes feeling more bitter he tells himself he shouldnt, its what they deserve, but he knows thats not true, in that moment he looks back up at kaylie, still reeling from his joke, rightfully so it was hilarious as all his jokes are, and his smile return full force, it was just the right thing to do, and he cant help feeling justified,

#vox machina #critical role #bards lament #campaign one spoilers #critrole spoilers #literally ! what !do ! ppl !blacklist!! #ill never know #cr vm #that girl yo #long post #also this is sad #and VERY hc #not ooc especially just a lot of how i imagine their backgrounds

[ausblack]

The fox’s little kitten | Taehyung

Summary: No one knew how you and Taehyung met, but they knew how attached you two were. Even if you were completely different, everything worked just right. He was your strong fox and you were his little kitten. Nothing could change that; until Taehyung found out that someone was trying to take away his little kitten from him.

Pairing: Fox!Taehyung x Cat!Reader.

Genre: fluff (maybe a little bit of angst but really not that much.); Shifter/Hybrid!au; smut?

You and Taehyung met in your first year of elementary school, when he saved you from a couple of bullies who were making fun of you for being a cat.

Humans weren’t always that nice to hybrids and it was something that your mom repeated constantly as you grew up.

He was 7 years old at the time and the sight of the little girl, with small ears on her head and a white tail around her waist, made him a weird sensation in his stomach.

That feeling was what drove him to stay by your side for more than twelve years.

You found comfort in him and you felt protected by the cheery red fox who always spent his time with you, you believed that the two of you were made for each other because, even if you two were completely different, you could compliment each other perfectly.

He was a cheerful fox, who loved to have fun, to meet new people and to look at the positive side of things. You on the other hand were a ragdoll cat. More indipendent and introverted, reserved and quiet. A bit mysterious but extremely cuddly towards who you loved, especially Taehyung.

You were now 20 years old and he was 23.

He convinced you to start the same college as him and you were now living in the same building, but separated in different dorms.

He stayed with two of his friends, a bunny shifter and dog shifter, while you were in a dorm by yourself.

You weren’t bothered by the fact that you didn’t have any roommate, because you spent most of your time with Tae and his friends, who soon became yours as well.

Apart from Jungkook and Jimin, he also had others friends who you grew extremely attached to.

They all knew how you and Taehyung met, but you always told everyone else that you didn’t remember when or why you became friends, because you wanted to keep that story for yourself like a secret.

-Y/n I swear to god, if you don’t confess to him..-

Your friends ranted to you as you walked with her into class.

-We’re just friends.-

-I don’t think so. He’s always all over you and you always have his scent on your body.-

She said as she sniffed you with her tiger-like sense of smell.

-Maybe that’s why every guy watch you without making a move, he basically already marked you as his.-

You thought in silent about what she had said.

She wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t exactly against the idea of being his.

You’ve been in love with him since the two of you were kids but, after he had his first girlfriend, you decided to move on and see other people.

-Look at you, you can’t even lie.-

She pointed at your tail that was moving quickly against the chair.

-All I Did was naming Taehyung and your already excited.-

You could hide your tail and your ears if you wanted, but you loved your half-shifted form and you felt more free like this.

-The last boyfriend You’ve had was that human that dumped you after Taehyung left a dead bird in front of his door. You need to do something!-

-I mean, he was an asshole so he did the right thing.-

You said, defending him.

-Y/N what I’m trying to say it’s that you’re not only friends and you know it better than me.-

She told you quietly as your teacher came inside the class.

-Didn’t that wolf hybrid from your chem class asked you out yesterday? What did you say to him?-

-That I’ll let him know.-

She smirked and you looked at her.

She had something in mind.

Your either ears twitched in curiosity and she laughed at the act.

-Listen, What about trying to make Taehyung jealous? His heat is around the corner, I overheard him talking to Namjoon yesterday while I was waiting for you sitting on the bench outside. C’mon, you’re head over heels for him. Aren’t you tired of being just friends?-

You looked up at her.

-What should I do?-

-Just tell him that you have a date with that dude and see how it goes. I’m pretty sure that Tae won’t even let you go out on a date with him.-

You stayed silent for a while before answering with an insicure tone.

-All right.-

~

-How’s my little kitty doing today?-

Taehyung welcomes you with a hug as you came in his room with a bunch of food for him and the boys.

He leaves a kiss on your cheek and you smile, hitting lightly his tail with yours.

Little kitten was a nickname that he gave you when you two were little and he stuck with it for a really long time.

You were younger than him, so he thought that it was perfect for you.

The others 6 boys were sitting on the couch, watching a movie on the tv.

-I brought food.-

You said, getting the attention of everyone.

-What would we do without you Y/N.-

Hoseok said giving you a a quick hug.

Taehyung kept his tail around your waist, smelling you every now and then. Your perfume was driving him crazy and he could feel his heat coming early by your presence in the room. He always tried not to talk to you while he was in heat because he didn’t want to ruin your friendship by trying to fuck you senseless, but that was the only thing he wanted to do. You were the only girl he wanted to have when he was in heat and, since he knew that he couldn’t have you, he just locked himself in his room with a bunch of pills for the heat. He was always so protective and dominant during that time and you knew it, because he had been like that for a long time. The guys were aware of the feelings that Taehyung and you felt for each other, but they never tried to push you both because they knew that eventually you would realize by yourself that you were in love.

-How did your class go today?-

Yoongi asked as you took a seat in the couch between him and Tae.

Yoongi was a cat hybrid as well so you felt really comfortable around him, before no one except for the two of you was a cat.

-Pretty good, I spent most of the time talking with Lize.-

You said, with Taehyung’s hand on your hair, feeling his fingers stroke your ears.

-The tiger shifter?-

Jin asked, eating the food that you brought.-

-Yeah.-

A light purr escaped from you at the amazing feeling of Taehyung’s scratches and he smiled widely at the sound. He was hugging you from behind, with an arm around your wais and an arm on your head, that was resting against his chest.

Everyone was silent and only your purrs could be hear apart from the soundtrack of the movie, but Jungkook decided to speak.

-What do you guys want to do tomorrow? I heard that they’re opening a new game room..-

That was your occasion.

-Oh I can’t. I have a date tomorrow.-

You said out of the blue, making everyone froze.

You felt Taehyung’s hands leave your hair and he stayed still. His body was tense and you felt nervous, maybe you should’ve said it when he was in his right state of mind, and not almost in heat.

The boys turned around to look at you in shock.

-What?-

Namjoon was the first to talk.

-The wolf from my Cham class asked me out.-

-What the fuck are you talking about?!-

Now it was Tae’s turn to speak as he got up from the couch, looking at you with a dark gaze. His ears were up and his tail was wagging nervously. You flatten your ears because you felt intimidated by the whole situation and the boys noticed. His body was hot and he felt like he was about to catch on fire. The fact that the color of his ears and tail changed, becoming dark red was an alarm bell.

He was in heat.

Foxes could be too playful and aggressive sometimes while in heat and you had to act cautiously around him.

You should’ve thought better before trying to provoke him, now you have to pay the consequences.

Namjoon got up, placing himself in front of you.

-Fuck. Dude, calm down. You’re heat arrived earlier than usual.-

He said holding his shoulders.

Taehyung was furious and you felt a bit scared because he had never yelled at you.

Jimin tried to comfort you, caressing your back but as he touched you a low growl made you jump in your seat.

-Don’t fucking touch her.-

He hissed as Jimin backed off. You tried to get closer to him but namjoon stopped you.

-Tae Just lock yourself into your room.-

He said, dragging Taehyung into his bedroom, closing the door with a key before speaking to you with a comforting tone.

You could hear his whines and angry growles. That never happened before and you felt your heart ache at the sound of him hurting.

-Don’t mind him, he forgot to take the pills for his heat. He should just stay here in case he hurts someone on accident.

He explained and you nodded, biting down on your lip and wagging nervously your tail.

-I think I should talk to him.-

You said and everyone looked at you cautiously.

-Are you sure? You know how he is when he’s in heat.-

Jungkook told you but you just nodded, walking towards the door. You could smell his strong scent even if he was in another room.

-I think I should help him this time.-

PART 2

#bts bangtan boys #bts scenarios #scenario #reactions #reaction #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #park jimin #jeon jungkook #masterlist #smut #fluff #angst #hybrid!bts #hybrid!au #shifter!bts #shifter!au #au #headcanon #ff #kpop #korean pop #one shot

[burlybanner]

molecular gastronomy born from astronomy

Bruce is back from space - but is he whole? An angsty, science bros gainer fic answering complicated questions from Thor: Ragnarok. 

(Ignore the title - I just had fun with it. And yes, Thor:Ragnaork spoilers ahead).

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Tony/Bruce

Warnings: Weight gain, some kink related elements, stuffing and cooking elements.

Word count: 2035

***

Tony awoke and broke into a sleepy grin as absolutely heavenly, delectable scents wafted through the penthouse bedroom.  Bruce, he thought as a lazy grin spread across his lips. But Tony would’ve known without the mouth-watering smells anyway; their bed was uncomfortably cold without the big guy warming it up.

“Friday,” Tony yawned. “What’s the time?”

“Seven-oh-five, Boss.”

Tony’s brow wrinkled. 

“A.M.?”

**

He silently watched Bruce at work from the far left kitchen corner and it felt like old times, except today Bruce used the main kitchen for his creative outlets, instead of his cozy chem lab. He zoomed from pot to pot, clearly in the zone since he hadn’t noticed Tony’s watchful eye and careful grin.

Tony gentled his gaze while leaning casually against a doorjamb. He folded his arms as Bruce worked like a master chef, shuffling a plate here, turning off a burner there, grabbing some spices from a rack or a plucking a sprig from an actual plant and dumping it into a boiling pot. It made him think that somewhere, in an alternate universe, Bruce must’ve been a sous chef in a burgeoning restaurant. Imagining him as a fat-bellied chef with a staff of his own didn’t seem too far off the mark. Especially in recent days.

His eyes roamed over the physicist’s jiggling torso as he stirred the gravy, or sauce like a mad man - Bruce’s body had morphed considerably after returning from Sakaar, or Asgard, or wherever the hell they’d been, but Tony didn’t mind. He did have his own theories regarding Bruce’s creeping weight, stemming from the night he returned to New York, but he was waiting for the right time to discuss all of it.

“Two years?”

Tony’s breath had hitched the night Bruce explained, although it may have been the pounding he’d just received.  He was restless and sweaty and alive, because all night long they’d been jumping each other like alley cats in heat. Bruce’s sex drive had run off the charts, when before it’d been just a whenever the mood struck kind of thing.

“Uh, huh,” Bruce panted, licking his lips. His matted curls had fanned wildly across his brow, both from sweat and from Tony’s constant fingering, but he didn’t appear fazed. In fact he scanned Tony up and down like a piece of choice chuck, which Tony loved, and Bruce deserved.

“Kept me like a captive in a locked car trunk. Not again, though. Never again. He’s gonna goddamn listen now, whether he likes it or not.” He pawed Tony, covering his face with deep, sensual kisses, and Tony responded in kind. They took another hour reacquainting their bodies before Bruce honest to God rolled up and declared--

“Fuck, I’m starving. Are you?”

Bewildered, Tony flipped the covers off their bodies and shot Bruce a double-take “Now?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bruce slung a robe over his shoulders and tromped across the bedroom. “I’ll be...I’ll be right back. Promise.”

He was, but like forty minutes later, which - okay, fine - it took a while for Tony to relieve himself in the bathroom, and wipe up. But he glared at Bruce when he returned smelling of deep fried something and cake, apparently stuffed to the gills, and maybe, finally tuckered out.

“What’s gotten into you?” He demanded.

“Mm, nothin’,” Bruce mumbled, tumbling into the bed. He had mashed potatoes in his hair while crumbs flaked off into their bed. “Kinda tired.”

“Seriously--? So we’re just going to ignore the fact that you left me high and dry to grab a midnight snack? And - goddamn it, what the hell did you eat? It’s all over the bedsheets.”

“Asked if you were hungry, Tones.”

“That’s not the point, Banner...hey, are you listening to me?”

No, Bruce wasn’t, because a loud, honking snore erased his sentence.

“Son of a bitch...”

Although irked, he didn’t bring up Bruce’s weird reaction the following day, chalking it up to space-lag. Maybe he should’ve considered it more; he was as much a scientist in his own right, and the situation called for an answer. Each time he tried though, Bruce fucked him until he couldn’t remember his name.

And that’s how it went for the first few months - incredible fuck sessions, followed by Bruce’s insatiable need to stuff himself. Until Tony admitted they couldn’t keep it up forever - well, he couldn’t, Viagra be damned. He didn’t like explaining why to Bruce because it meant having to admit his virility had limits, but they discussed their sex life like rational adults, which honestly Tony never expected to see in his lifetime.

So, although Bruce agreed to tone down the sex, he swapped his ramped up sexual urges with even more food.

Tony wasn’t averse to it, though. Seeing Bruce’s body swell and soften was more pleasurable than expected; maybe, Tony thought distantly, Bruce/Hulk had experimented with carbo loading for gladiatorial fights on Sakaar. If he really tested those waters, Tony figured the answer lay somewhere between Bruce reorienting himself to his human body’s needs, and making peace with Hulk. You don’t just cut off a being like Hulk without some after effects. You can’t.

Bruce tapped a metal mixing bowl with a slotted spoon, waking Tony from his wandering thoughts. It was Thanksgiving and they could’ve ordered in, but Banner wanted to cook a Thanksgiving meal for the team so caterers be damned.

“You look hot in that chef’s apron,” Tony finally said, and Bruce jumped a foot.

“Dammit.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He couldn’t stop the chuckle tumbling from his lips, though Bruce looked angry enough to skewer him with his spoon.

“No worries,” Bruce muttered, grabbing a bowl. “Just...don’t do it again. And what are you doing up this early?”

“The delightful kitchen smells. And missing your warm, hot bod.”

Bruce hid a smirk in some cooking steam, but Tony saw it. Sighing, he came over and wrapped his arms beneath the apron to tease Bruce’s middle, feeling how much his partner’s gut had grown over the months; it wobbled seductively over his beltline and Tony couldn’t help prodding and pinching the doughy softness.

“Mm.” Bruce shook his head. “Can’t now. Gotta finish prepping.”

Tony didn’t let go. Instead he made a low noise in his throat and gently swayed back and forth with Bruce in his arms. Bruce swayed with him, allowing it for a few seconds, but then broke free.

At least he offered a deep kiss, as an apology.

“You taste like spice cake,” Tony murmured, licking his lips, and Bruce laughed while turning down a burner and checking the contents.

“Probably because I ate some.”

“That bundt cake from your cousin?”

“Uh, huh.” Bruce checked something else, and a sweet flavor wafted over. “I...ah. I finished it off an hour ago, though. Sorry.”

“That’s ok,” Tony smiled. “I had a slice yesterday, when you unwrapped it. It really was good.”

“Yeah.” He sighed softly and checked the oven. “I also had a full breakfast cooked for both of us, but--”

“You ate it,” Tony said, but he wasn’t mad. He searched for a Power Bar in one of the cabinets, and grabbed a coffee mug. “It’s no big deal.”

“Isn’t it?”

Bruce meant it as a throwaway mutter as he reached for the flour and sugar, but Tony refused to downplay it. “Not to me, it isn’t.” He filled his mug, added a few teaspoons of sugar, and unwrapped the energy bar. “I suspect being back in your old body after being out of it for two years is pretty disorienting.”

Bruce huffed and shook his head in that little self-deprecating way Tony had missed. “Oh, you don’t know the half.” Bruce violently dumped flour, salt, and vanilla into the bowl and kept his expression everywhere but Tony’s face. “He’s upset. He’s furious. He wants out all the time, and staying calm isn’t enough. But satisfying our physical needs pacifies him temporarily, food and sex especially. F...flooding my body with endorphins without overly kicking up my heart rate--I...I think the natural endorphins are helping.”

Tony swallowed and approached carefully as Bruce dumped cut up nuggets of butter into his mix and pounded the dough with a bit more strength than called for. “You know, Bruce,” Tony murmured. “You could try some of the newer drugs--”

The unexpected laugh bubbling from Bruce’s throat bordered on manic. “Oh, yeah, get addicted to drugs on top of everything else. Which ones? Pills? Or opioids? Or maybe your and dear old Dad’s favorite, bourbon--” He cut the remaining rant with a hiss between his teeth. “I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry. That was unconscionable and out of line. I...I--”

“Shh.” Tony wrapped him in his arms again, swaying as he did before, and Bruce relaxed in his arms. “Look. It took two years for you to come back, so it may take that long to renegotiate the boundaries. But we can, and we will. You restored balance before, and you have me now. We can do it together.”

“ ‘We,’ huh?” Bruce forgot his fingers were covered in flour and sugar as he thumbed Tony’s fingers. Then he briefly shook his head, nervously pawing at Tony’s arm. “I’m getting fat,” he finally sighed.

“You sure are,” Tony said, kissing Bruce’s cheek when he stiffened. “But so what? You’re still you. I still love you.”

And Tony froze, realizing those actual words had exited his lips. But Bruce heard, and he suddenly squeezed Tony’s hand. “Same,” he murmured. “Didn’t know how to say it.”

“Well, we’re both rotten in the ‘saying the right thing at the right time’ department.”

Bruce half-laughed, half-shuddered. “True. But I’m...I’m telling you, the only acceptable ‘drugs’ for me right now are food and sex. So I’ll probably become pretty massive before we reason out the solution. You...ah. Are you okay with that?”

Tony squeezed Bruce tight before relaxing. “I’m kinda digging it, to be honest. More of you to love, and all. What’s another hundred pounds here or there?”

Bruce nearly choked. “A hundred--?”

“Or whatever.” Tony’s hands snuck under Bruce’s apron, searching for the squishy gut he’d grown accustomed to. “It won’t matter to me. Even if I have to reinforce everything in the tower to accommodate you, I’d do it.”

“You’re an ass,” Bruce said, but Tony could hear the waiver in his voice.

“But you love me?”

“But I love you,” Bruce murmured back, and Tony released a held breath, knowing it was the truth.

“All right, then.” Tony rubbed his hands together. He made a face at the stickiness and ran his hands under the tap. “You need me to help with anything?”

“No, not yet.” He went back to the dough and began gently kneading instead of pounding. “The prep work is almost done, and the turkeys are cooking in the other ovens. The pies will be ready to cook in a few minutes, and once the sauces cool I’ll put them away until later. Then it’s waiting until around noon, to finish up the biscuits and potatoes and the rest. If anyone from the team starts bugging you, tell them dinner begins at three. On the dot.”

“Okay. Perfect.” Tony’s smile sharpened. “So when you’re done with this and waiting to begin the second round, let’s do some stuff.”

Bruce wasn’t watching, preferring to roll out his dough on cutting board. “Hm? Science stuff?”

“No, not science.”

“Wh...oh.” Bruce got it, and paused to blink up at him. “You sure? It’s not...not too much? We did a lot last night--”

Tony laughed. “I think my libido can handle it. Promise, I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Bruce chewed his bottom lip, attempting not to grin like a schoolboy. “Ten minutes. I’ll be done in ten.”

“Sounds good. See you.”

“See you.”

Tony’s dark chuckle followed him down the hall. Talking had helped them both, and he felt lighter than air as he did an impromptu dance step back to their bedroom. He meant what he said; Bruce could double or even triple his weight, and he could suddenly become chief stockholder of Viagra, Inc. But whatever, because it didn’t matter and they’d figure it out. Together.

#bruce banner #tony stark #chubby bruce banner #science bros #science boyfriends #chubby kink #thor ragnarok spoilers #post thor ragnarok #medium angst #angst #chubby!bruce #chubby bruce minific #chubby science boyfriends #molecular gastronomy born from astronomy #bhm

[tonystarktogo]

Could I convince you to write FrostIronWinter? All three trauma babies snuggled up together, drinking tea under a fuzzy blanket because none of them like to be cold and ever since Tony informed Loki that his accent was vaguely English; Loki has been obsessed with English culture.

You don’t have to convince me! I like WinterIron with pretty much anyone added and I’ve been a fan of those three since I read a series about them a couple of months back. (Also not sure this is what you had in mind but I tried.)

Tony wasn’t tired. Fine, maybe he was a little tired. Maybe.

Tired enough not to have heard FRIDAY announcing his visitor at least, to let out a startled “Eeeeep!” when the soldering iron is suddenly taken from his hands, set down carefully, before he’s lifted in a strong grip. Tony flails, would have called for the suit already if not for how intimately familiar the hands holding him feel.

That one of them is made of metal is a decent clue as well.

“Buuucky!“ Tony whines, squirms in an attempt to reach for his soldering iron, but the grip doesn’t let up. Instead he’s being lifted, carried away from his workstation.

It takes Tony’s brain a full two seconds to process this, which is a warning sign all on its own. But that’s besides the point.

“Bucky!” Tony calls again, sharper this time. “Let me down! I’m not a child! I don’t need you to drag me out of my workshop, I’m perfectly capable–”

Bucky doesn’t slow down, doesn’t even acknowledge Tony’s rant until they’re in the elevator and the door is closing behind them with a soft wooshing noise. Tony likes that noise. He’s had it installed into every door possible (and even a few empty doorways) just so he gets to listen to it every day.

He doesn’t like it very much right now.

“What the fuck, Bucky?!”

He’s past annoyed and gone straight to furious. He doesn’t need anyone to babysit-kidnap him and really, Bucky should know better, what the ever loving fuck–

“Loki is sad,” Bucky finally says, voice devoid of any inflection.

Yeah. Sure. Tony scowls. Like he is gonna fall for that I-was-brainwashed-by-HYDRA-now-I-can’t-talk-and-explain-my-actions-like-a-normal-person bullshit. Tony happens to know that Bucky can talk just fine. 

It’s a struggle to find the right words sometimes, but just last week when the room caved into itself around Tony, Bucky was there by his side, talking about the pros and cons of Stelena vs Delena for half an hour, just to distract him.

(Which worked fine, in case anyone is wondering. Bucky dared to suggest Stelena would be a decent option and Tony just couldn’t let that stand.)

“And what does that have to do with you kidnapping me from my workstation?” Tony snaps impatiently. Or exhausted. At this point, it’s hard to tell the difference.

A small frown curls around Bucky’s upper lip, but otherwise he remains unmoved, much to Tony’s frustration. 

“You’re the best cuddler,” is all Bucky has to say in his defence, like that is a reasonable explanation. Tony hates that he can already feel his (justified) annoyance crumbling.

Then the elevator stops, prompting Bucky to carry him towards the common living room. And–okay. As soon as Tony catches sight of Loki, he gets why Bucky interrupted workshop time.

Loki is sitting hunched over on the couch, green eyes dark with something that isn’t quite sorrow, a frown on his face that remind Tony of the day the demigod tried to brainwash him with a glow stick. Good times.

Before Tony has time to fully catalogue the signs of Loki’s distress, Bucky drops him in Loki’s lap. Literally drops him. 

Tony groans because that hurt, alright, it’s not like Loki is made of pillows and plush. Loki on the other hand seems to barely notice the sudden weight, save a quiet huff of breath. There’s no mocking, no insults, just hands clinging to Tony’s waist, and that’s how Tony knows how bad this is.

Whatever it is.

He shifts–to find a comfortable position as well as ease the dull ache in his bottom from his less than comfortable landing–curls one arm around Loki’s neck, the other one around his back. The position allows him to rest his chin on Loki’s shoulder and glare at Bucky’s blank face while simultaneously rubbing slow circles across Loki’s back.

How come Tony, who is the least mature person he has ever met, has to be the functional adult in this–whatever it is that they have?

After a long moment of glaring, Bucky finally cracks, begins to fidget restlessly. It’s better than the creepy motionlessness though. He still falls into that mask too often for Tony’s comfort.

“I don’t–” Bucky gestures helplessly, a wounded look in his eyes that conveys how much he’s struggling with the situation just fine.

“Loki is sad, Bucky,” Tony says in the calmest voice he can manage, never once breaking his (hopefully) soothing ministrations. Breaks the emotional mess down into simple words, to help Bucky regain his footing. The last thing he needs is Bucky to lash out again because being, feeling, thinking becomes too much. Simple protocols are easier for him still, sometimes.

“What do we do when people are said?”

“Make them tea,” Bucky repeats automatically, then turns towards the kitchen to do exactly that.

Really, whoever thought Tony would be the right person to help a brainwashed prisoner of war to become a human being again should be shot. Or at the very least subjected to Bucky’s When-people-are-happy-we-bake-them-something-sweet cakes. Baking was still on the To Be Improved list, and for good reason.

“You alright, Mr Evil Overlord?” Tony murmurs once he’s certain Bucky doesn’t try to go off and kidnap a clown to lift the mood. Again.

Loki huffs a laugh under his breath but stays otherwise quiet, which is so unlike him that Tony feels a twinge of genuine worry in his chest. Which sucks. Tony doesn’t approve of genuine emotions at all.

“I am fine,” Loki murmurs after another moment, his grip on Tony tightening momentarily before easing into what an uninformed bystander might call ‘affectionate’.

Tony doesn’t know what he’s supposed to call it. He buries his face in Loki’s chest instead.

He waits for Loki to continue, but he doesn’t say anything. Tony finds himself listening to the sounds of Bucky moving around in the kitchen, the steady beat of Loki’s heart, their breathing. It’s…

Nice.

Then Bucky joins them with three steaming mugs of tea. Tony wrinkles his nose, eyes the cups suspiciously. Everyone knows he prefers coffee.

Honestly, he’d suspect the two of them were just trying to lure him out of his workshop, if not for how upset Bucky was. As much as Loki likes messing with them, he’d never take it so far. Not over something as silly as cuddling.

“You’re not gonna talk about it, are you?” Tony mumbles around a careful sip of tea–though Bucky knows better by now than to hand him anything hot enough to burn his tongue.

Loki blinks, the picture of clueless innocence. He arches an eyebrow at Tony and really, how the demigod can hold a cup of tea that regally while Tony is stretched out over his lap is a mystery.

“I have no idea what you are referring to, Anthony,” Loki says with a masterfully added edge of curiosity. As though he hadn’t sunken back into that strange state of utter stillness, so similar to Bucky’s own behaviour from time to time, that never fails to freak Bucky and Tony out. 

“Of course you don’t.” Tony makes no effort to hide his eye-roll. “Now come on, Winter Boy, cuddle me!” he demands when Bucky doesn’t join them, remains standing instead. “I need at least two cuddle buddies at all times!”

Sometimes the closeness is too much for Bucky, sometimes he’s just insecure. Tony can never tell what it is, so as always he pushes and waits to be told to back off. 

It doesn’t happen this time.

Instead Bucky carefully sets his tea down on the small coffee table and sits down next to Loki, so close that their shoulders are brushing against each other. Pulls Tony’s feet into his lap until he lies sprawled across them (thankfully Loki’s quick reflexes save Tony’s cup of tea).

Then Loki’s slender fingers sneak into Tony’s hair, skilfully card through the curls–he needs a hair cut–and massage the skin beneath. Tony can feel himself melting into the gentle touches, turns until his face is buried in Loki’s stomach, Bucky’s hand resting on his hip, anchoring him. And with a sigh of pure bliss Tony closes his eyes and relaxes. Lets go of a tension he hadn’t even realised he has been holding in him.

Sleep comes easily after that. It always does, with Loki and Bucky close to him. Steady and dangerous and maddeningly complex and safe.

Okay, that’s it for now. I hope you all like it, especially of course @agenderraskel! Basically (because I’m not sure I conveyed that very well) Loki had some sort of panic attack/flashback/terrible mood and Bucky doesn’t know how to cheer him up so he places a Tony in his lap. I thought it was kinda cute but I also was ready to go to sleep an hour ago so I might not be the best judge right now.

Also Stelena/Delena is a Vampire Diaries reference I won’t apologise for. It was the first show that came to mind *shrug* I don’t mind either pairing by the way, so in case anyone has strong opinions, I’m not trying to bash Stelena. Bucky just needed to distract Tony for a while.

Added: I JUST REALISED I FORGOT TO MENTION THEIR ISSUES WITH BEING COLD DAMN IT. HOW ABOUT I WRITE A SECOND PART THAT MENTIONS IT? I’M SO SORRY!!!

#ReRe writes #FrostWinterIron #Tony Stark #Loki #Bucky Barnes #AU #WinterIron #FrostIron #technically the relationship isn't fully defined yet #because nobody is an adult in this relationship #except sometimes Tony #comfort #fluff #cuddling #everyone gets a hug #Loki gets a hug #Tony gets a hug #Bucky gets a hug #fic #ficlet #drabble #I have no idea what's happening here or if any of it makes sense #The Winter Soldier isn't a separate personality here #hurt/comfort #polyamorous relationship #could also be read as platonic #agenderraskel #ReRe answers

[cheryllclayton]

Sometimes It's Not What It Seems - Chapter 6

Farewells

Chapter Notes

Sorry this took me a bit, I hit some writers block :(. Anyway, it ended up being different than what I had originally planned but I think some people will be happy, this one is for you Brianne ;)

Also I forgot to spell check so if you notice mistakes please let me know :). Comments welcome!

********************************************

FP had just gotten out of the shower when he heard his door slam, “FP are you here?” Betty’s voice rang out.

“Yeah just a minute, I’ll be right out” he called back.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he opened the door to the bathroom stepping into the hallway and ran right into Betty.

He grabbed her arm to keep her from falling back, almost losing his grip on the towel with his other hand.

“Woah! Sorry about that, I wasn’t expecting you to be here, well I don’t mean here as in my place because I was hoping you’d still be by tonight but like here as in the hallway” FP rambled, flustered by the fact that her hands were on his bare chest having put them there to steady herself from the hit.

“It’s okay, totally my fault” she blushed, dropping her hands once she realized where they still were.

FP missed the warmth of her hands on his chest immediately and bunched his towel to hide the reaction that her touch had sent all the way to his groin, Calm down he chastised himself.

He was relieved she came tonight, given the context of the argument him and the rest of the crew had witnessed earlier he wasn’t sure that she would.

She still looked off though he thought, almost vibrating with emotions. He had been waiting to talk to her about what happened today, he wanted to make sure she was okay.

“Let me throw some clothes on and I’ll be right out” he told her and headed to his room.

He hurriedly threw on a grey pair of sweats forgoing underwear in his rush, grabbed a black ribbed tank and walked down the hallway while finger combing his hair.

He found Betty pacing the small living room, chewing her bottom lip, a habit that he noticed was brought on by any sort of strong emotion. Her hands were clenched tightly at her sides and he could practically feel the steam radiating off of her.

Betty stopped when she saw him, her eyes wild, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her so angry and even wearing a scowl, the fiery blonde was a sight to behold.

He stopped a foot from her, reaching out to cup both her hands in his, gently loosening her grip.

“Talk to me Lizzie, is this still about Archie?” he asked carefully.

She grimaced, “No, it’s not about Archie, well not just about him, I mean yes I’m still mad at him but my current fury is thanks to the one and only Alice Cooper”

FP bit his tongue, figuring this was probably not the best time to point out that there was actually another Alice Cooper on this planet, he wisely chose to stay silent while he waited for her to elaborate.

She pulled away from him and started pacing again.

“She’s un-fucking-believable FP! Do you know what she did? She applied, on my behalf, for a scholarship program abroad, and when I got chosen, she sent in my acceptance for me. She said I needed to get away from all this, from you, from the Southside and I’m assuming even Archie as he was still part of the puzzle until earlier today” she steamed ahead, walking pathways into the carpet.

“She said people are talking and that it’s embarrassing for her and dad and that it’s not good for my image, she even agreed with what Archie had said today! Well screw her and screw the gossip! I’m tired of people telling me what to do and how to act, I don’t care what others think! You know Journalism isn’t my dream, I was only taking it because my parents wanted me to and I happened to be good at it, plus it made sense to have a degree of some sort under my belt” she took a breath, “I was decently happy at NYU but I’ve always been happier here, spending time with you, being a mechanic, that’s where my passion is.”

She stopped pacing and looked at him, “I’m not going FP, and I guess I’m not going back to NYU this year either because apparently my enrollment into the program in turn cancelled my enrollment to their New York campus. But I don’t care, I’ll take a year off, maybe get a job at Pop’s full time because God knows my mother wouldn’t allow me to work at the Register if I didn’t go. Maybe take a class or two at the community college like you did and then apply to NYU again for next year to finish my degree” she nodded with determination.

FP listened to her rant, stomach tightening the more she talked. As much as he didn’t want her to go, he knew he couldn’t be selfish about this.

“Elizabeth, sit down” he said once she had finished, grabbing her hand and pulling her to sit on the couch with him.

“I know you’re furious and feeling betrayed but do you honestly think that’s the best decision for you? Is that really what you want?” he prodded.

He held up a hand to silence her before she could object and continued. “Answer me this, is this program beneficial? Would it open doors if you needed?”

She huffed still aggravated, “Well, yeah, I guess so, it’s pretty prestigious, only the best students get in. It would also look great on a resume as you would get hands on experience in the journalism field, plus you get to travel to different cities around Europe which would be an experience in itself, but all that doesn’t matter because I’m not interested” she insisted

“I find it hard to believe that someone as driven and intelligent as you would have no interest in this type of thing? Hell I would of killed for a chance like this when I was your age. Trust me, I am well versed in the realm of regrets and I learned first hand what happens when you settle. And it’s even worse when it happens to someone who has the potential for greatness, and you Elizabeth Cooper were meant for great things” he encouraged, “So what’s stopping you?”

“I…I’m scared I guess” she shrugged not quite meeting his eyes, “scared of being alone, being all by myself in a different country with a bunch of people I don’t know. Scared that I’ll fail or that I’ll get out there and I’ll hate it” she paused, “but I’m also scared that while I was away, things would change.”

“How do you mean?”

Betty harnessed her courage as her green eyes met his gaze.

“With you…with us” she said softly, “I don’t want to lose you FP, to lose this. You have been there for me in so many ways and it’s scary how much I’ve come to depend on this, on you. You’re the one person that I feel like I can be completely real with and now we could be oceans away from each other. I’m terrified that I’ll come back and things will be different or awkward” she admitted, words tumbling out.

“And what about you? You have all these things happening right now, trying to get a business going and your sobriety. I want to be able to support you, to be there for you whenever you need me…..” she took a breath and paused before quietly adding, “that is, unless, you don’t need me” she looked down at her lap biting her lip nervously.

FP brushed the back of his knuckles across her cheek, moving his hand to cup the side of her neck before running his thumb along her jaw until he reached her mouth, pulling her bottom lip from the grasp she had on it.

He tilted her face so she was looking at him again, “Of course I need you Lizzie” he breathed out, “I shouldn’t but I do” his fingers played with the hair at the nape of her neck, “without you, none of these things would be happening and my life would still be shit. You have no idea just how much I need you, you are so important to me” he emphasized, “And honestly lately, that need has surpassed the levels of friendship” he flushed, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, “but I can’t be the reason that you stay, as much as I want to be selfish with you, I can’t let you pass up an opportunity like this.”

His hand was still cupping the back of her neck and he gave it a reassuring squeeze, “This decision isn’t about me or anyone else for that matter, it’s all you, it’s time you asked yourself what you want, what does Elizabeth Cooper want?” he pushed.

Betty’s eyes searched his, trying to find the answers within the flecks of gold as they bore into her. What does she want she thought, there are so many responses to that question but right then and there she only thought of one as she wet her lips with her tongue.

“You” she whispered softly as she brought her hands up to his face.

FP’s heart fluttered and he didn’t even have time to register what was happening before Betty’s lips were on his.

They were even softer than he had imagined, he slipped his hand further into her hair and tilted her head to have better access to her mouth, his tongue slid across her lips asking for entrance, which she eagerly granted, she tasted like strawberries and sin and it was intoxicating.

He twirled his tongue around hers and she moaned into his mouth while pulling at his hair which sent a wave of heat straight to his already throbbing groin.

He was losing himself in the essence that was Elizabeth Cooper and regardless of how amazing it felt, he knew they shouldn’t be doing this, his own mind scolding him, ‘this isn’t what she needs, you’re not right for her’.

He broke the kiss, leaning his forehead on hers, both gasping.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, out of breath from their lip lock.

FP moved swiftly off the couch, he had to put some space in between them. He stood back with his hand on his mouth, obviously conflicted, “We can’t do this Lizzie, it’s not right.”

“What do you mean?” she questioned, “Is it the age difference, is that what you’re worried about? You know I don’t care about that!” she demanded, now standing up herself.

“No!” he said quickly, “Okay, well maybe that’s part of it, but it has to do more with me” he insisted his hand on his chest.

“Are you….are you not attracted to me?” she asked in barely a whisper, “Do you not want me?”

“Dammit Lizzie, don’t do that, don’t self depricate, attraction is not the issue here! You are the most beautiful person to have ever walked into my life and you can see for yourself the want I have for you” he stated dropping his gaze pointedly to the evident hard on straining against his thin sweat pants.

Betty swallowed her desire at the sight of him, “So I don’t understand, what’s stopping this?” she hummed, taking a step closer to him.

FP took another step back, he didn’t trust himself to be any closer yet.

“There are so many reasons why we shouldn’t do this Elizabeth, our age, our history, the fact that you just got out of a relationship…like today. You’re still emotional over this whole thing with Archie and school and your mother and I feel like I would be taking advantage of the situation and of you.”

“That’s bullshit FP and you know it, this has nothing to do with any of that or any of them, this has been building for a while now, haven’t you felt it?” she pushed.

He exhaled in frustration, “Of course I have! But I’ve pushed it down because you deserve better than this, better than me! I can’t be the reason that you give things up, I can’t be the reason that you stay! As much as I wish I could be, I’d hate myself for taking that from you and trust me, you would grow to resent me too.”

He ran a hand over his face before going on, “And if I have to choose between you hating me for pushing you to go and being the person who holds you back, then I have to let you go” he finished with resignation.

FP could see the anger building up in her eyes, “You know, I’m getting really tired of every person in my life deciding what’s best for me! Deciding what I deserve and what I don’t deserve!” her voice raising as she spoke, “So what if I chose to stay FP, what then, would you just act like this never happened? Pretend that there isn’t this built up sexual tension between us?”

“I think I’d have to” he replied softly “Because it wouldn’t matter what other reasons you’d give yourself for not going, I would still know deep down that I was a part of that reason.”

He risked moving closer to her then, reaching out to grasp her finger tips, “Your life was already turned upside down and broken by one Jones man, I can’t be the second one to hurt you.”

Betty could feel the tears start to prickle her eyes, “You just did” she whispered before brushing passed him, hurrying down the trailer to the spare room and slamming the door.

FP felt his own eyes burn, the taste of Betty still lingering on his mouth. He knew he was doing the right thing, even if she didn’t see it yet, but that didn’t make it any god damn easier.

He sunk down on the couch, leaning forward with his head in his hands, fisting at his hair as he tried to forget the feel of her lips and rid the hurt expression on her face from his mind.

Fuck he could use a beer right about now, he thought.

Betty didn’t come out of her room for the rest of the night. Even when he had knocked asking her if she was hungry, he only got a quiet 'No’ before silence again.

He wanted to give her time to process, so he tried to lose his thoughts in the dribble of some movie playing on TV but when it failed to help, he gave up and decided to try and get some sleep.

He placed her bag in the hall outside of her bedroom in case she needed it and then collapsed into bed falling into a restless sleep littered with flashes of blonde and emerald and strawberries.

***

FP woke to an empty trailer. There was no wafting smell of coffee and breakfast like their usually was on the mornings when Betty stayed over.

He panicked slightly as he peeked in the few rooms of the trailer searching for her, his stomach dropping, thinking that she had left without saying good-bye and that he may have caused irrepairable damage to their friendship.

He was trying to choke down the empty feeling left by his findings when he heard a loud hissing sound followed by a cursing female voice floating in from outside.

He quickly threw a pair of jeans on and grabbed a flannel to cover his tank then headed outside.

Rounding the trailer he stopped when he spotted Betty, who was leaning into a truck he didn’t recognize, that currently had steam billowing out from under the hood. But that wasn’t why he stopped, no, what halted him was the shirtless guy, who was currently pressed up against her side with one arm snaked around her waist holding on to her hip for support as he leaned in with her, acting interested in what she was saying.

The guy laughed and FP ground his teeth with recognition….Ferret….What the hell? Why was he here and where the fuck was his shirt?

FP’s scowl deepened as the memory of what Betty had said about Ferrett’s 'hot bod’ came floating back, joking or not the comment didn’t sit well with him.

The pair emerged from the belly of the truck, still in conversation. Betty was dressed in the same clothes from last night but she had pulled her long hair into a loose ponytail, lost tendrils framing her face and much to his dislike, Ferrett was currently pushing one of those tendrils behind her ear smiling as he said something to her. She laughed in response and jealousy punched FP in the gut at the sound, and it didn’t help that Ferrett had yet to relinquish his hold on her waist.

The younger serpent was the first to notice him walking up, “Hey man, how’s it going?” he said cheerfully, ignoring the scowl on the older man’s face.

“Where’s your shirt?” came FP’s not so cheery response.

Ferrett just smirked as Betty turned around wiping off her hands on rag, she raised a brow at him, his jealousy evident, “It’s right here” she said handing it back to Ferrett, “the engine was hot and I needed to open a valve, so he kindly offered me his shirt to use so I wouldn’t burn my hands” she looked at him sweetly, “unfortunately the steam got me anyway” she went on, showing an angry red mark on her forearm, “And sorry about your shirt, between the grease and the steam, I’m pretty sure it’s currently unwearable” she apologized, placing a hand on his bicep which made him grin even wider and FP frown deeper.

“It’s okay, I can just go without for now, if you don’t mind that is” he teased running his tongue along his toothy grin as he shoved a portion of the shirt into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Not at all” she answered, running her eyes over his chest as she heard FP emit a low growl.

What the fuck! They were openly flirting right in front of his face and she knew damn well what it was doing to him. She was torturing him for last night and regardless of her wholesome look, Elizabeth Cooper played dirty.

FP cleared his throat, “I think you should probably go inside and put something on that burn, don’t you Elizabeth? It looks pretty bad”

“Yeah, you’re probably right” she started walking to the trailer “Thanks Dad” she threw over her should emphasizing the word.

Ferrett snorted, then choked trying to hold in his laugh as FP sent him daggers.

Both men’s gaze lingered on her form as she walked back towards the trailer, the younger of the two releasing a low whistle.

Once she was out of view FP turned towards the other man, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well hello to you too, do you greet all your customers with same warm welcome” he joked.

FP just stared at him with arms crossed waiting for an answer.

“Wow, no sense of humor today then” he stated before explaining, “My Uncle is in town and his truck here started acting up and he asked if I knew any mechanics, so I told him I could bring it to you. I was pretty surprised when Betty answered the door, not that I’m complaining” he pointed out, “she said you were sleeping but she could come out and have a look and who am I to deny the help of a pretty lady” he finished with a grin.

“What about all that other shit?” he demanded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he replied smugly.

“You know damn well what I mean, the flirting, the touching, the shirt” FP pointed out with a flourish towards his chest.

“What’s it to you man? I’m just having fun, enjoying her company. Besides Betty being a total smoke show, she’s pretty amazing you know” he commented wistfully, “It’s too bad she’s got that preppy boyfriend of hers or I wouldn’t think twice about throwing my hat in the ring.”

FP narrowed his eyes at his remark before deciding to be honest with him, “They broke up actually.”

“Seriously?! When?” he spouted out excitedly.

“Just yesterday.”

“Well shit, it might just be my lucky day” he exclaimed.

“No” FP said bluntly.

“What do you mean no? You guys have a thing going now or something?”

“No, not that it’s any of your business, but she doesn’t need some guy trying to get in her pants, especially right now. She has a lot going on, plus she deserves something better then some one night fuck”

“That’s not my intention man, not with her, if by some miracle she’d have me I would keep her for however long she allowed, only an idiot would say no to Betty Cooper in his bed every night” he said with conviction.

Ferrett’s cell buzzed and he took it out reading the screen, “Anyway, I got a few things I have to do, if it’s cool with you, I’ll just leave the truck here if you have time today.”

He just nodded, deep in thought, so Ferrett tossed him a “Later” and took off down the road.

FP didn’t know what was worse, the knowledge that Ferrett genuinely wanted Betty or the fact that he was the idiot that had just turned her down.

***

Betty was fixing lunch when he came back inside.

“Do you want a sandwich” she asked, not bothering to turn around.

“Sure, if it’s not any trouble, how’s your arm?”

“It’s okay, I put some salve I found on it and wrapped it for now but it’s not as bad as I thought.”

She put a sandwich on a plate with a couple slices of pickle and slid it across the counter towards him, still not turning around to look at him.

FP put a hand on her shoulder, “Lizzie, please look at me” he pleaded softly.

She let out a breathe, shoulders slumping slightly before turning around and meeting his eyes, “I don’t know what you want from me FP” she sighed, “I’m embarrassed and hurt and I feel like a fool for kissing you and I’m still angry at you for trying to decide what’s best for me.”

“I want you to talk to me, I want to be there for you. I’m sorry if I hurt you last night, that was not my intention but I meant what I said, I can’t be what holds you back” he reaffirmed.

“Well you’ll be happy to know that I thought about it last night and a lot of what you said made sense, so I’ve decided to go” she took her plate to the table and sat.

“Really?” He asked surprised.

“Yeah, you were right, it is an amazing opportunity and I’ve always wanted to travel so it kind of kills two birds with one stone. And I looked up the program details last night and I would spend the first semester in Paris so that’s pretty cool. The more I read about it the more interesting it sounded, which makes me feel better knowing that I’d be going because I want to and not because my mother said I had to” she admitted.

“That’s great” he told her, “so how long would you be gone?” he asked taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Well the whole program is two years but I would be in Paris until December, so I wouldn’t be back until the week of Christmas” she stated.

His heart dropped causing him to frown and his brow to furrow which he could tell didn’t go unnoticed. Four months he thought as he did the math, he wouldn’t see her for four months.

Betty watched the reaction that was clearly written all over his face. It made her feel better knowing that this wasn’t as easy for him as he was making it sound.

He swallowed the remainder of the food in his mouth before responding, “I’m happy for you Elizabeth, this will be good for you and I can’t wait to hear all about it” he smiled at her but she could see his heart wasn’t completely in it. “I hope you’ll still text and Skype when you have the chance, as I imagine the phone calls probably aren’t cheap.”

“Of course I will” she promised while setting her plate in the sink, “but right now I think I should go talk to my mom, get things ready to go, even though I’m not looking forward to the gloating I know I’m about to endure” she cringed. “And since I’m leaving soon I should probably go see Archie, get it all sorted out. He’s still one of my best friends and I don’t want to leave it like this until Christmas, I need to talk to him in person.”

She grabbed her bag and walked to the door, “Thanks for letting me stay again, and you should know, as much as I don’t necessarily agree with everything you said last night, I understand where you’re coming from. You’re trying to do what you think is best and I respect that and I don’t want to leave things weird between us either” she said with a smile of truce.

“I don’t want that either” his voice croaked, “Will I see you again before you leave?” his gaze held hers, begging her to say the answer he wanted to hear.

“Definitely, I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye FP. I’m not sure what day I’ll be by yet though, I’ll have to see how everything else goes but I promise I’ll see you before I go.”

“Okay, I’ll be around, good luck with everything and I’ll see you sometime soon” he said holding the door open for her as she stepped out.

She stood up on her tippy toes and dropped a quick kiss to his cheek, “See you later FP.”

“Bye” was all he managed to get out as he watched her get into her car and drive away, his cheek ablaze from the touch of her lips.

***

The next few days flew by for Betty, the talk went very well with her mother, she was ecstatic with Betty’s change in attitude and like she expected, there was no lack of gloating.

The two of them spent hours going through itineraries and schedules and lists of what she’d need and then packed accordingly. By Tuesday evening she was all ready to go, she spent the night with her parents. Her dad was also excited for her and used a lot of the evening to reinforce travel dos and don’ts like ‘Make sure to travel in groups’, ‘Don’t take rides from strangers’, ‘Don’t go out alone with strange men’ and the list went on and on.

Her mother however, alternated between hugging her while trying not to cry and lecturing her about things like ‘Don’t eat too many of those French pastries’ and ‘Make sure to get enough sleep”.

The whole evening was like something out of a made for TV family drama.

It was now Wednesday and Betty had just gotten back from next door. Her and Archie had talked through everything and as she suspected he felt like an ass and apologized profusely, even asked her to consider taking him back to which she politely declined, especially with the new changes in her life on top of all the other issues they had had before. He was disappointed but he understood. She told him about the program and he was happy for her. He told her that he would miss her and she promised to keep in touch, telling him she would see him at Christmas before giving him a farewell hug and heading back across the way.

She was set to leave tomorrow morning and had one more goodbye to go, she left it for last as she was nervous about this one. She had butterflies in her stomach as she made her way to the trailer as she hadn’t been able to get their kiss out of her mind. She knew he was right about the program but the reasons he said about them not being right for each other she didn’t buy.

Betty wasn’t sure what she expected to come away with tonight, was it closure, confirmation of attraction, an ease of the awkwardness that had been between them since last Friday, maybe somethng more. Only the evening would tell but she didn’t want to leave for Paris with this weirdness still between them.

Betty knocked then let herself in. She found FP sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped across his abdomen and the other behind his head. He was facing away from her but the slow rise and fall of his chest and the light snoring told her that he was asleep.

Her eyes took him in as she made her way over to his sleeping form, he was dressed in sweats and nothing else and it caused a stirring low in her stomach.

She sat carefully on the edge of the couch by his hip, he still hadn’t stirred so she took advantage of the moment to appraise the man before her. The muscle lines that flowed across his shoulders, chest and abdomen, the light smattering of hair that trailed down his chest then grew thicker as it trailed from his belly button to disappear below his waist band between the distinct V of his hips.

She found herself imagining what it would be like to hold onto his strong shoulders or run her hands over his prominent abs and chest as he moved above her. The thoughts had her squeezing her thighs together trying to dull the ache her imagination had caused.

She lifted her hand, tracing his cheek and jaw with her finger tips. He really was handsome, not movie star handsome but the rugged kind of handsome that people write about in romance novels.

She honestly didn’t understand how there weren’t women knocking down his door. Maybe it had something to do with the way he made himself appear unapproachable when really he was one of the sweetest men she had ever known.

She let her fingers trail over his neck along his collar bone then jumped, pulling her hand back when he stirred, a low hum coming from his throat.

He opened one eye and looked at her before closing it again, “Am I dreaming?” He asked groggily.

“No, this is real” Betty laughed softly, placing a hand on the arm that was draped over his abdomen as further confirmation.

He opened his eyes again, drinking in the blonde sitting in front of him, framed in the colors of the setting sun streaming through the window, “Are you sure? You’re too beautiful to be real” he relished lazily. He started to sink back into sleep when suddenly his eyes shot open, he blushed and stuttered, realizing what he had just said out loud.

“Ughh, can we pretend I didn’t just say that? Just chalk it up to minor sleep induced insanity” he pleaded.

“We seem to be ignoring a lot of things lately and I for one, don’t want to forget what you just said” she told him with a smile that could melt the strongest of hearts.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asked trying to ease his embarrassment.

“Uh no, not since lunch” he sat up rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands.

“Do you want to order Chinese? I’m starved” she exclaimed.

“Sure, would you mind ordering while I have a quick shower?” he asked yawning.

“No of course not, go ahead” she waved him away grabbing her phone to make the order.

Once FP was showered and the food had arrived, they sat side by side on the couch, feet up, making small talk, she asked about his week and he asked about the program and how the talks went with Archie and her parents. Both ignoring the real elephant in the room.

Betty got up and collected all the cartons when they were finished, “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Yeah sure” he said sinking further into the comfort of the couch.

“How about The Breakfast Club?” she asked.

“Whatever you want is fine, I’ve never actually seen it”

“What?!?! It’s classic! Oh my friend you are in for an experience!” she grinned putting the DVD in and he chuckled at her excitement.

She grabbed a throw pillow and put it in his lap, then proceeded to lie down with her head on the pillow making herself comfortable.

“Is this okay?” she asked, shuffling her body back against the couch and his body.

“Yeah” he breathed out quietly adjusting his position gently to make them both more comfortable.

He slid down further and settled Betty against him, putting one hand on the pillow and one on her hip.

They fell into a comfortable silence as the movie played but as much as FP should’ve of been enjoying the film he had a hard time concentrating on it with the beautiful blonde in his lap.

About halfway through he found himself rubbing small circles with his thumb on the exposed piece of skin above her hip bone while his other hand combed softly through her hair. He knew their current position was pushing the limits and contradicted everything that he had said last night but he was drawn to her like a magnetic and he was finding it extremely hard to fight it.

Just one night he told himself, you have to be strong for one more night and then you’ll have four months to try and put a cap on this insane pull he felt around her. It was just lust he reasoned, the kind that happens when you spend a lot of time with one person. It hadn’t always felt this way between them, yeah they enjoyed each other’s company, they still do, but now there’s this underlying want or need simmering beneath the surface waiting to burst through.

Surely months apart would make it dissipate and have them back to normal by Christmas. He had told himself this many times over the last few days and he thought it would make him feel better but instead it seemed to leave a knot in his gut. A knot in which he continued to push down further as he was in no way ready to pick apart what it could mean.

FP’s eyes roamed over her face, her chest, the curve of her waist, her ample behind, then down her long tan legs and back up again.

God she was beautiful, how could she look so sexy by just laying there, he baffled. She hadn’t even touched him and yet his body was reacting like a teenage boy and he was very thankful for the pillow currently sitting over his lap.

He was still admiring her face, especially her lips when a soft voice broke him out of his spell.

“Watch the movie FP” Betty said with a hint of amusement.

He was glad she couldn’t see him turning red from the embarrassment of being caught staring.

Not long after that Betty paused the movie to make popcorn. Coming back she set the bowl on top of the pillow on his lap and snuggled herself deep into his side forcing him to put his arm around her which eventually slid back down to her waist again

They sat like that, relaxed, sharing the popcorn as they watched the remainder of the movie. When the bowl was empty and John Bender had strut across the football field throwing his fist in the air, Betty sat up moving the bowl and pressed stop on the remote.

“So, what did you think?” she asked biting her bottom lip, waiting for his response.

He built up her anticipation a bit pretending to think about it, “You were right” he said finally, “it was pretty great…and as for the experience, it was….stimulating” he teased, eyes darkening as he eyed her lip still caught between her teeth.

“Are we still talking about the movie FP?” she inquired in a whisper, moving her hand to his chest and playing with the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

His eyes flicked to her hand and then back to her face again and she could see the conflict that was running through his mind.

He broke their gaze, leaning his head back on the couch, sighing as he closed his eyes. He needed to remove her from his vision for a minute so that he could collect himself. But her hand on his chest wasn’t helping and he had to think unsexy thoughts to try and slow his racing heart.

After a minute he felt her shift away from him, he opened his eyes and she was now sitting with her legs pulled up and body turned towards him, head tilted to the side watching his struggle.

“Why do you fight this so hard?” she questioned boldly.

He scraped a palm over his face roughly before answering her, “We went over this, it’s not right, I’m not right for you” he reminded her.

“What if it feels right?” she pushed.

“It’s just lust Elizabeth” he insisted, “a mutual attraction between two people who spend time together, I’m sure it’ll disappear once we are apart for a while.”

“And what if it doesn't”

“It will” he volleyed, trying to make himself believe the words he was saying.

“So if it’s just 'lust’ that’s causing the weirdness, why don’t we just give in? Get it out of our system then have some time apart and be back to normal by the time I come home again” she proposed.

FP’s eyes widened at her suggestion, “Lizzie, we can’t do that, that would be playing with fire” he choked out. “What if it wrecked our friendship all together? What if it only intensified things? You’re leaving tomorrow, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t get hurt, it’s just lust between two consenting adults remember? And if it ends up being more than that” she shrugged, “then I’ll deal with it. I’m tired of letting people make my decisions for me and I’m tired of doing what is 'right’ and 'proper’ all the time instead of going for what I want. How will we know for sure what it is if we don’t explore it, even if it’s just once?”

FP visibly swallowed, not sure what to say to that, he could feel his resolve weakening as she stared at him with big sparkling green eyes, “Lizzie….I…we…we shouldn't” he whispered shaking his head.

“Be completely honest, what do you want FP? What do you need?”

“I think you already know” his voice deepening.

“So take it” she pressed while running one hand up his arm while the finger tips on her other drew designs into the top of his thigh.

“Lizzie….” he warned, he was spiraling, his will power falling fast.

“Kiss me FP” she whispered.

He felt himself harden at her words, was he really considering this, it was crazy, wasn’t it? He looked at her, eyes heavy lidded with want, her bottom lip was between her teeth again and it was sexy as hell.

He ran a thumb over her lip, releasing it with a 'pop’ from her grip. Betty’s tongue darted out, licking her lips and grazing the end of his thumb before she uttered a needy “ Please ” shattering his walls to pieces.

“Fuck it!” he growled, grabbing her face between his hands and pressing his lips to hers with hunger.

She eagerly returned his kiss, running her tongue along his lip asking him to let her in, which he instantly granted. She mewled into his mouth as one hand slide into her hair, pulling gently, tilting her head back to get a better angle on her mouth to deepen the kiss.

Her hands were running up his body now, landing on either side of his neck taking hold to steady herself as she threw one leg over his lap straddling him. He ran both hands down her back, pressing her closer to him before gripping her hips tightly.

He could feel the heat of her core against his arousal as they continued to swallow each other with fevour. She moaned as he nipped her bottom lip, the sound causing his erection to twitch and making Betty grind herself forward against him.

“Jesus Elizabeth!” he groaned dropping his head back eyes rolling, his reaction spurred her on to do it again this time running kisses along his jaw and nipping his ear as she did.

She drug her nails over his chest and down his stomach, she could feel his muscles responding to her touch and his abs clenching trying to keep control. She grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and whipped it over his head tossing it to the side.

She leaned back taking a moment to enjoy the half naked man beneath her, God he was beautiful she thought as she ran her fingers back up his torso and chest to his neck, she tilted his head back again as she leaned forward attacking his neck with her mouth, he tasted purely masculine which only spurred her on.

She trailed her lips further down his neck, stopping to suck and tease at the pulse point causing him to buck against her as she rolled her hips in response.

A throaty moan escaped him as he wrapped one arm around her waist encouraging her to keep moving while he slid his other hand around and placed it between her shoulder blades supporting her.

Betty continued to lick and kiss him wherever she could reach, her hips picking up pace as her need became greater, pulling a low “ Shit ” from FP’s lips.

He moved his hands back to her waist and gripped them hard, stilling their movements, she pulled back pouting, eyes blown wide with lust, silently asking why he stopped her.

“If you continue like that Sunshine, this will be over real fast and I want to make it last” he smirked, his own eyes darkening.

He fingered the hem of her top asking for permission, she bit her lip shyly and nodded lifting her arms as he slowly removed the garment from her body and tossed it on top of his discarded shirt.

The want on his face deepened as he took her in, sunkissed skin, flushed with desire, her ample chest rising and falling in front of him, just about spilling out from lacy white cups. He lifted a hand and trailed his fingers along her cheek, down her jaw to her collar bone pausing before running them along the swell of her breast.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous” he awed before wrapping his arms around her again and pulling her to him capturing her lips in a slow heated kiss. He broke away, placing wet open mouth kisses down her jaw and neck, Betty arched her back offering him better access and allowing FP to wrap his arms tighter around her middle, pulling their bodies impossibly close.

She smelled like vanilla and tasted like honey and he was getting drunk off it.

He latched on to where her collar bone met her neck, sucking gently then increasing the pressure, while bringing a hand back around to cup her breast. He kneeded her gently then ran a thumb over her already perky nipple, a gasp escaped her lips and she could feel him grin against her skin, smug that he was the one eliciting this reaction from her.

He dropped a light kiss to her tender flesh where there was sure to be a mark tomorrow and then she cried out in pleasure and pain as he took the skin between his teeth nipping at her before soothing the spot gently with his tongue.

The sensation was like nothing she had ever felt, it sent a shock straight to her center causing dampness to pool between her thighs.

She grabbed his face in her hands slamming her mouth into his in a hot wet kiss while thrusting her hips against him again, trying to find some relief.

She pulled back panting, “I need you FP” she whined feeling him get even harder at her confession.

“Patience love, we have all night” he soothed her, stroking her cheek.

“I…I….can’t….I want you now” she begged.

A primal sound flowed from his chest and into her mouth as he took her lips again, reaching around her to find the opening to her bra.

The shrill sound of a phone cut through the thickness of the room making them pause, “Ignore it, let the machine get it” FP said dismissively in between kisses.

They blocked out the remainder of the ringing and the sound of the answering machine picking up, FP grasped at her bra clasp again to remove the offending article, Betty still holding his face not breaking their kiss when suddenly a voice came over the machine causing them both to freeze.

“Hey Dad, it’s me, Jug”

***

End Chapter

#riverdale fanfiction #fanfic #betty cooper #fp jones