#i just. sigh. i need to stop advertising that i write shit like this then wailing about it afterwards when i write it. but. yeah !

[gcdhoods]

PROMPT 008

YELLOWJACKETS AU — for @nourflage

in which the murder™ is caught in a horrific plane crash and left to their own devices to survive a harsh canadian winter with nothing but the power of teamwork, girlbossing, and cannibalism.  

tw: graphic depictions of murder, cannibalism, blood, gore, & body horror. please read at your own caution! 

i know of a girl who is a doe in the woods, wide-eyed innocence with the kind of smile that makes hunters stop in their tracks, finger paused just above the trigger —

she reminds them of their hunger. desire to consume what they do not have. a stomach growls regardless of the beauty your eyes feast on in the forest she calls her home; animal-hunger, animal-grief when you stand over her dead body. you wear her doe-antlers that you gouge into the side of your skull in her memory, a twisted taxidermy of your body. an arching of bone like hands to the sky, reaching for a heaven you will not get into. murderer. you swallowed her whole so there was no body to bury, only a licking of fingers. they ask you how you survived the winter.

turn her corpse over in your memory. did you steal her face or were you born twin reflections? do her antlers weigh heavy on your head when the snow dusts the bone-curve of the new crown your wear like a lover’s hands on thighs, caressing?

don’t worry, dear reader. the butchering is mostly metaphorical.

the hunger is always real.

✢

“i’m fucking freezing. there’s no way we’re going to make it past october at this rate — which of us has the most meat on them?” there’s a curl in javi’s voice that indicates a turn of his lips, a permanent fixture to his features now; old humour turned cruel if not completely drained of him. “badr, you’re looking scrumptious, plus there’s enough of your stupid body for all of us to gnaw on for a few weeks. be a real one, yeah?”

last night, i saw you in a dream. in it, you were covered in the blood of a murdered city, but smiling. free. the night before, i dreamt of another one of us floating in the lakeside as it froze; summer to winter in a matter of seconds, trapping her like a butterfly in resin. the night before that, he —

in the bible, people had visions, right? like prophets and stuff?

in every dream, i wake up hungry.

winter is coming and there are twenty-four birds sit-sitting on a tree. point to them with your rifle, shoot in quick succession. more bone to add to your antler-crown, gore still dripping off the points. wear you like a memory, moment of silence before you reload with a sharp tug, one eye closed and the other squinting into the scope.

they did not make you a bird of prey so you learn to grow teeth, start from the belly until it ripples into every inch of skin. bone-god, death-eater. that will come later.

“there’ll be enough to eat.” you say it and no one believes you; body already too-thin and on the precipice of death. vulture-picked even before all this. they think this makes you weak when all it does is give you more space for a filling.

“we won’t have to worry about food again.”

in the back, javi: “what the fuck do they mean? what the fuck?”

✢

it occurs where most nightmares do: at a school dance.

we will make makeshift normalcies in the wild where we do not belong — ( where we return to, always, always ) — homes out of foraged cabins and skinny calves brushing at night, learn to fall asleep despite the spiders crawling on temples, despite the thump-thump of something coming, of hearts sending out morse-code warnings none of us know how to read. weeks, now, and it’s almost sweet how we’ve tamed survival into a kind of domesticity as the changing of seasons sits patiently on the horizon, us willfully ignoring it and winter on its hind legs, licking its lips as it looks at our warm bodies.

“you ought to wear your hair more, like this — doesn’t it frame your face so lovely?” isabele’s practiced beauty is something from an old life unfitting for this old world, glitter carefully smeared over behiye’s eyelids. none of the roughness of delilah’s palms, wariness of warden’s shoulders; signs of nature’s erosion of civility on our bodies but none on your once, almost lover.

behiye’s eyes are wide, expectant as they look at you. there’s a smile as you lean to her, thumb swiping across lips to spread the gloss gathered, gazes locking. despite the gentle grace you still carry, there is a forewarning in blackened hazels that only she will know.

we will ruin this too, won’t we?

“perfect.” whispered, slow curl of mouths around the word. turn it into a melody. isabele smiles so proudly, hands clapping as she bustles to here and there to fuss over decorations and dresses, blissfully naïve. how you love her. how she reminds you of —

homecoming would have been today, if everything was as normal as it should have been. in this nothing wilderness, you will make a normalcy out of anything: flat beer you rationed into old mason jars to sip slowly, dresses smoothed with pressing hands over wrinkles, bonfires you dance around to top 40 songs we try to remember the words to. laughter echoes into sunset, into darkness. the flames still flicker but your eyes stay pitch-black no matter how close you sit to the fire, hands outstretched.

winter waiting. hungry for the warmth of bodies, of innocence.

✢

the blade is eight inches long, enough to run him through twice over.

you hold the knife high over your head, all the skull-crowns you wear laughing at his writhing. in this version of the story, he does not get the peace of death after decades of running from your grasp.

you want his dead fucking body now.

body meet blade in holy matrimony, tender as a kiss when it pushes through skin, organ, bone, spine, skin again. bowstring across violins with the repetition of our body’s anatomy like a melismatic run across notes waiting for a crescendo ending, with the sawing that comes afterwards.

is there screaming or laughing? there is so much blood and for once, none of it is yours. you lick your lips and you taste metal, taste him.

you can hear the rest of them coming, know the sound of bare feet against the dead leaves of the forest you’ve made a home out of, hear their whoops and screams of laughter. joyous. when was the last time we were this happy? you gave them this.

those who are here to witness the first of many touch your arms lightly, remind you to rise over the body, as you should. chins hooked to shoulders, giggling soft in your ears, cheeks nuzzled to necks. babbled praises, more sounds and sighs than anything. nonsensical prayers. good enough for now, but later you will have to teach them of proper worship.

“eat. feast.”

you are a benevolent god, aren’t you? you meet their eyes one by one and they hold your gaze, ready. waiting. winter is coming. winter is coming. winter has lived in our bones for years and years now. no one moves.

“you first.” behiye’s voice rings clear, sweet as church bells on a sunday morning. there are murmurs of agreement surrounding her, you.

you smile wide enough to split your lips, your blood mixing with his. what is a god without their believers, so lovely in their listening? you stain your skirts red when you kneel before him in respect, head bowed for a moment of silence.

i wrote of cannibal-lambs once. did you catch it? did you see this coming?

when i said i was hungry, i never said it was for meat.

✢

winter comes and never goes. the heart in your hands is heavy, slit throats gathering snow in the gaping hole you left in her. this is all for love, i promise. this was always a love story. i don’t know how to write anything else.

you rest the stilled organ in the middle of drawn futures in blood against the frozen dirt, candles flickering and animal-bone, human-skull gathered and placed carefully. the others are circled perfectly around the sacred space we’ve made, humming harmonies from the throat. you let your eyes close, thankful. you love them so.

we thank you for your gracious offering. you will find immortality in us. we will carry you safe back home. tell heaven we will return one day.

you hold it high for them to see, hoods draping off heads as you tilt your head to the sky. one moment, two —

teeth meet flesh. were you waiting for poetry? there is only this: incisors digging into the soft meat of a once-friend, now-memory, now-ghost. you tear the organ, blood dribbling down chins. greedy devourings, breaths of frost red-tinged. can you see it? can you taste the fear under your tongue?

they ask you how you survived the winter. you tell them it was easy.

✢

#blood tw #murder tw #gore tw #body horror tw #cannibalism tw #i just. sigh. i need to stop advertising that i write shit like this then wailing about it afterwards when i write it. but. yeah ! #[ exhausted kazoo noises ] #anyways thank you all for giving me a safe space to write the most atrocious shit ! i'm sure there'll be more to come !!! #and i'm excited for more horrific tws !!! #ty to claudia to helping me sus out the cast and mori j and marie for listening to me go insane all of last night + today finishing this hee #and del ! sorry i was pretty insane last night. you can see the aftermath of it :) #who's the cast ? who was eaten ? it's open to interpretation <3

[smuthospital]

⭐️Yandere Gojo x reader⭐️

Premise: You're so lonely, and your boyfriend isn't paying any attention to you, so you download an app to make friends. You meet the wrong guy (Gojo), and bad things happen.

Content warning: NON CON, Cheating, gn reader

MINORS DNI

"I'm busy right now and you know that. I told you not to call me!" The phone beeps and the call ends, leaving you alone in deafening silence. Your boyfriend has always been rough around the edges, but you love him despite his flaws. He has his moments that remind you why you like him so much. Lately, he's been busy with all sorts of things. Work, family, his hobbies. You live together, but he's always out. He doesn't even return at night sometimes. You understand he needs his alone time, but it's been so long since you've seen him. You called to ask if you could visit him at work and give him a little surprise. You baked him chocolate chip cookies! They're delicious and made with love. Tears prick your eyes as you toss your phone to the side. You're so lonely. You've never had many friends, just your boyfriend. Too many people just make you tired.

You pick up your phone and almost call him again out of reflex. You just wish you had someone to talk to again. You saw an advertisement for a popular friend making app awhile ago. You decide to download it because you don't have much to lose. search it up. You write a few things about yourself, add your favorite song as well as a few pictures of yourself. You cross your fingers, hoping not to match any creeps. You swipe right on a lot of girls aswell as guys. You stated in your bio that you're in a commited relationship to ward off any horny guys. Girls don't reply to you, much to your disappointment. You end up getting quite a lot of messages from flirty guys. The relationship warning seemed to have no affect at all.

Toji: How much for a pair of pantys?

Sukuna: (Sent a photo) *Blocked*

Todo: I know it grips. Please lemme hit

25 new messages!

Geez. It's only been an hour. These guys are like hungry raccoons and you feel like a can of cat food. You scroll through and see one that looks relatively innocent

Gojo: Hey :)

You: Hello!

Gojo: What's up? I saw that you have a cat! They're so cute! Also, you're gorgeous

You: Thank you! That's my lil baby right there

You and him quickly get along. Still no word from your boyfriend, you sigh, defeated. The cookies can wait. You tell him about your boyfriend and how you never see him that much anymore. Be seems to take interest in this and becomes quite upset that you're not treated with the love you deserve. You friendship goes on for a few days. He occasionally trys to flirt with you, but you quickly shut it down each time, politely asking him to respect your boundaries. His nickname for you is gorgeous and although it makes you a bit uncomfortable, it feels too good to hear for you to ask him to stop. He's your only friend at the moment so you really don't want to make him go away.

You: Still no reply from my boyfriend. I hope he's okay.

Gojo: What the fuck. If I had a girl like you, I'd never leave her alone. He's probably cheating

You: What? He'd never. He's not like that!

Gojo: Trust me, I'm a guy, I know. Just look at the way he treats you. You're such a sweet and polite doll and he's making you feel this way, neglecting you. He makes you feel like shit. This is abuse😡

You: Oh it's really not like that, he's really sweet!

Gojo: There you go again...I can treat you better. Just give me one chance. Nobody has to know. You can leave this abusive relationship.

You: We talked about this, I'm have a boyfriend and I love him. Don't say stuff like that, please

Gojo: I'm just sayin

You: Thank you tho, it's sweet that you care. Do you like cookies? I was saving these for my boyfriend, but he's too busy to receive them. They'll go to waste if they're not eaten

Gojo: YES. SEND THE COOKIES. You wanna come over tomorrow? I know you're free. Come to my place, we can watch movies and cuddle with cookies!

You: What!? I can't go over to a guy's house! That's weird! And cuddle!?

Gojo: Nono it's not. We're just friends. And your boyfriend doesn't have to know. It's not a big deal. I have some old wine we can drink. Pretty please

You: I don't drink tho. I'm not sure. I haven't known you for too long. What if you try to take my kidneys! :0

Gojo: Common..would I do that!?? Ridiculous. Don't over think it. Let's watch a scary movie. It'll be real scary. I can't watch it alone! Pleeeeaaase!!!

You: ...Ok...as long as its scary. I wouldn't want you to get too scared

You've never seen Gojo in person, but you're sort of desperate to keep him around as a friend. In his photos, his eyes are covered. You don't question why. You step off the bus at the address he texted you, cookie basket in hand. It's a tall, expensive looking condo. You walk into the nice building and spot him leaning against a wall you in the lobby. He's not what you expected at all. You've seen a pictures of him before, but he didn't look so large and intimidating. He's stupid tall and He practically towers over your frame. He crouches slightly and wraps his arms around you in a tight hug, surprising you with the sudden contact.

"Hey, (y/n)! It's nice to see you in person! You're so much more sexy up close." His voice as soft satin sheets and deep and melodic as a cat purring. He eyes you up and down, his eyes half lidded. He's snapped out of his trance when you stutter a confused thank you. You're gonna brush that flirt off as nothing. "Common, let's go." He takes your soft, smaller hand in his ridiculously big hand and leads you to a fancy elevator and sticks a key into a key hole, confusing you. Since when do elevators do that? "The 21sr floor is mine." The whole floor is his? Is he loaded?

The whole time, you're blushing and stuttering, overly shy and nervous. 'Play it cool,(y/n)!' Your mind is over heating and he thinks it's absolutely adorable. When you get to his floor, he closes the door and silently locks it behind him. He plops on the couch, spreads his long legs out and patts the spot next to him. "Common! Take a seat!" You gingerly take a seat a little too far for his liking so he loops an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. You jump a bit. "Oh don't be shy! I don't bite." The last part of his sentence stood out to you a bit, but you're not sure why.

He offers you a drink and you accept. He hands you a cup of soda. "The conjuring is a classic. I actually haven't seen it before so I thought we could watch it." With that, he presses play and the movie starts. You're both eating the cookies you made. "These are so fucking good. You made these?" He whispers and you nod. Your blushing cheeks are so cute. He's already eaten three. It's heartwarming. Halfway into the movie, he shuffles in his seat and surprises you by picking you up and placing you on his lap with ease. "Hey! What are you doing!?" You try to slide off, but he holds you in place. "Hey hey calm down, I'm not doing anything!" You stop thrashing, but don't stop struggling. "Oh yeah!? Let me off, you said no funny buissness!" You feel slightly tired for some reason. "I'm only trying to cuddle you better! If not for me, then for you. I bet you miss being cuddled. I know you already have a boyfriend so don't worry, there's nothing weird about it!" With that, you stop struggling, too worn out to argue. "...Mm ok." Near the end of the movie, he shifts slightly under you. "Gojo?" No response. You feel somthing hard under your ass. He starts to shift you back and fourth a bit. "Huh? Gojo?" He just keeps shifting you, holding your hips tightly. "Ow! You're squeezing me too tight. What are you doin-"

One of his hands snake up to your chest and cup your breast. The motion freezes you in place.

"I'm better than your stupid boyfriend. He's so ungreatful. I bet you also miss getting fucked, don't you?" It was more of a statement rather than a question.I can make you feel good, better than he ever did. God, you're so hot. This guy is such a loser for passing you up. I'd never be like him. I've been wanting for this since I first saw you. I know you think I'm attractive too. I see the way you eye me"

The hand holding down your hip moves between your thighs to cup your clit. You heart sinks into your stomach as the weight of the situation falls upon you. You have never felt more stupid in your entire life. Just as you suck in a breath to scream, the hand on your breast shoots up to cover your mouth, muffling any sound. You try to slsp his hands off, but your arms are a little weaker than before. All you could do was patt his arms and wiggle around, which he completely ignores.

"Ah ah-be good. I couldn't stop thinking of you. I've only known you for a bit, but that's enough for me." He grinds his clothed cock against your ass and groans in pleasure.

After a few minutes, he stands up with you in his arms and walks with you to his bedroom. He tosses you on his bed and immediately gets on top, holding you down with his hips as he removs his shirt. He looks down at your horrified face and licks his lips. He wastes no time in literally ripping your shirt and bra off. You hear the tear as it leaves you. With one hand, he roughly palms your chest and tweaks a nipple. He unzips his dark purple pants with his other hand, his swollen cock practically flying out and slamming down above your belly button. You gasp at the sight of it, the weight alone is hefty. Much like his entire self, it's big and scary.

Your eyes fill with tears and you do the only think you could. Your body can't possibly struggle and even if you could, he could easily over power you. "Please-please don't hurt me. Please don't do this to me!" He looks at you with sympathy in his eyes. "Shh it's ok. I'd never hurt you. I'm not like your stupid boyfriend. I'm gonna make you feel good. Then you'll be mine..I see that drug I have you fully kicked in." You pail at his words. It's over. You're not getting out of this one. You're going to be raped by this psychopath. You think of your poor boyfriend. You wish he could burst through the door and save you. His name bubbles from your mouth pathetically.

"Speaking of him." Gojo slides your phone out of your pocket and clicks around. First, he disables your location, then he raises your phone and takes a photo of you. He quickly sends it to himself and your boyfriend.

You: We're having a good time. Bet you're jealous

A few minutes of groping later, your boyfriend responds.

❤️Geto❤️: Absolutely not. You're both disgusting. I fucking knew you were whoring yourself. You got a big head because you think you're pretty. I was wondering why you were trying to look nice recently.

❤️Geto❤️: You're like a bitch in heat. You're just an easy, worthless whore. Glad I didn't waste too much on you.

❤️Geto❤️: Go fuck yourself. Or better yet, have some guy do it for free. Get aids and die, bitch. You have a day to pick up all your shit before I toss it.

(You've been blocked by this number)

Gojo turns the screen towards you and your eyes tear up as you read the texts. You have no idea how your boyfriend could have possibly interpreted your situation as consentual. It could be that you're not tied up and gagged, nor unconscious. As he said, he expected this from you. Either way, he obviously doesn't love you anymore. Tears pour down your cheeks. How could he? After all this time? To do this to you. You'd never cheat! Your heart shatters in your chest, suddenly feeling hollow.

Gojo chuckles and sets the phone to the side. He wipes your tears away with his thumb. "See? What did I tell you? He was never the one for you. I'd never say that to you, sweety. I'd never treat you like that. I just exposed him for what he is; a scum bag." He tugs your pants down and off your legs with ease, despite your light kicking. A large grin on his face as he does so

"You ready?" He positions his cock at your dry entrance and laughs. "Because I am." He shoves himself in, but only makes it three inches in before he hits a barrier and you gasp in pain and start thrashing your body. "P-please take it out. It-it hurts!" He's genuinely shocked. "Y-you're a virgin? Didn't you say you have a boyfriend?"

You wiggle a bit, trying to elevate some pain yourself before answering him.

"We never...you..know.." Your face burns with shame. His cock only seems to swell with more blood at the news.

He bursts out laughing. "This makes so much sense now! No wonder why you looked elsewhere to fulfill your needs. He doesn't want to fuck. Is he gay?Does his dick even work? Maybe he's not cheating. He didn't even fuck you once. I could tell how bad you wanted it, but your limp dick boyfriend wouldn't give you any. I'm glad to be the one to have your first time."

Your bloodshot eyes drift to the side. You don't want to admit that he was right. Every time you would try to start something with your boyfriend, he'd push you away. Your boyfriend really didn't have much of a labido, but you didn't look for friends to have sex with other men.

"I know it hurts, but you can take it. It'll go away. Just hold still...or struggle. I like a challenge." His words are evil, but his smile is so charming. He's like the devil. He pulls his cock out and thrusts in again, deeper than before, breaking your hymen and forcing the air to leave your body. He then pulls out and slams into you again, bottoming out. His cock is so big, you swear you could feel it in your stomach. You look down, eyes blown wide as you see an imprint of his cock in your lower abdomen. He lets out a loud moan and throws his head back. "You're so fucking tight." You put your hands on his chest, hoping that would be enough to keep him still. Wishful thinking. He just takes your smaller wrists in his large hands and leans over you, lodging himself deeper than he was before, cock assaulting your cervix, making your body jolt. You accidentally let out a pained cry that could be mistaken as a moan.

Gojo smiles, perfect white teeth on display "Oh, you like that?" He slams into that spot again and again, making your eyes roll into the back of your head, and your tongue rolls out of your mouth. Lewd sounds spill from your mouth with the occasional "No." "Please." and "Stop." Your sobbing dies down, not having any more tears to cry. You feel a tightening in your lower belly and curl your toes. "Nng G-Gojo!"

"Fuck yeah, say my name!" He pounds into your poor pussy with astonishing speed and strength. "Say you'll be my girlfriend. I can take care of you, I can love you. You'll never feel alone again."

Your face flushes red at his words. Those words are all you need to tip over the edge. You aren't sure if he meant it or not, but just the thought of being so loved takes you to cloud nine. A warm feeling washes over you and you cry out in pleasure. You want what he promised more than anything in the world. With your last braincell, you weigh your options. Nobody loves you, you have nowhere to go, no one to turn to and Your boyfriend kicked you out. "I...I'll be with you." What choice did you have? Be homeless?

The bashful look you give him sends shivers down his spine. He leanes down and gives you a tender kiss on the lips which you very hesitantly return, much to his enjoyment. His hot breath tickles your face as his hips hammer into you, forcing cute music from your mouth for him. Your cunt tightening impossibly around his thick mass. His pace becoming sloppy and before you could ask him to pull out, he shoves himself deep within you one last time. With a lewd moan he fills your tummy up with his seed. Your eyes cross at the warm, pleasurable sensation. The feeling of being filled up like a puff pastry, his hot creamy cum temporarly stupifying you. Your tummy now bloated by the sheer volume. He takes another picture.

He wasn't looking for a girlfriend, but how could he possibly deny himself such a sweet little thing. A sweet, doting, cookie baking girlfriend as cute as you comes as often as a shooting star. You'd do anything for the man you loved. Too wifey to pass up. Finders keepers. He's going to make sure that no one ever does to you what he just did to you. You're his now.

He rolls the two of you so he's spooning your back, your ass pressed against him, his cock still firmy lodged into your weeping cunt. He pulls the blanket up and the two of you fall asleep together. You pretty much pass out from the exhaustion.

The next morning, he drives you to your now x boyfriends appartment to collect your things. You and Gojo take the elevator to the apartment. He stays out of sight, but stays where he can hear you. You knock on the door and your Geto opens up. The smell of alcohol hits you and you gag. "Well if it isn't the slut. Get your shit."

He turns his back and begins to walk away, but you grab his arm and gently tug him toward you. "Please listen to me...he raped me...I didn't want to.. do any-" You were cut off by him shoving you to the ground roughly, your head knocking against the wall on your way down. You grunt in pain. "Don't you use that shit on me!" He shouts.

Tears fill your eyes as you scramble to collect your things and run out. Gojo is at the front door now, having heard the commotion. He steps in the apartment and grabs your shoulders.

"What's wrong? Did he touch you?"

"...I..hit my head." Your tiny voice is unconvincing.

"Take your things to the car. I'm just gonna have a quick chat with him." He pays your butt and you walk off with your things. Geto has been watching the interaction with clenched fists.

"You're the fuck that stole my girl. You can fucking have her and pass her around to whoever the fuck you want. For your information, that cunt tried to tell me you raped her, using you as her scape goat." Gojo can just barley understand the drunken shouting of your x boyfriend. Gojo smiles, the smugest of grins crossing his face.

"...That's because I did"

Geto froze in place, not believing his ears. His girlfriend..was actually just raped? And not only did he do absolutely nothing, but he kicked her out and hurt her?

"...What?" It wasn't really a question.

"Finders keepers. I have no clue why you're so upset. You didn't love her. She was so lonely when I found her. I wanted her so I took her. Make no mistake, she said no. Cried for you. You should feel like shit. Not believing your own sweet little girlfriend and then laying your hand on her in her time of need. I'm not even going to beat you for that, you'd treat yourself like a victim. Better luck next time though. Try satisfying your bitch before they're stolen. Thanks for the girlfriend." Gojo says, walking back to the car, Geto still too frozen in shock to react. He falls to his knees, clinching his head. Gojo meets you in the car, your things already in the back. He leans over to your side and gives you a passionate kiss on the lips, tongue diving into your mouth. Your face burns brightly and you cant help but kiss him back. You disconnect, a string of saliva connecting you to him. "So what do you want to eat, baby?"

The car drives off and you don't feel so bad about the situation anymore.

Fun fact: I got the idea to make this when I was lonely and my boyfriend (now x) wasn't paying attention to me so I downloaded an app to make friends and a guy I thought was my friend started being really pushy and I found out men are stupid dogs.

#yandere x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #x reader #lemon #non con #yandere #dead dove do not eat

[simping-overload]

sampos tango

commission for @pickingpixel

First time writing smut! I like how it turned out.

summary: sampo manages to drag you into a naked wrestling tournament.

tags: dom/sub understones, naked wrestling, gay, male reader, bottom reader, top sampo, reader is not trailblazer.

word count: 2,759 | ao3 link

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem alligened, please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

You stare at the wrinkled flyer in your hand, rereading the headline for the 15th time. It an advertisement for a naked wrestling tournament? The contesents were allowed to do whatever they wanted with the opponent. Whoever wins gets a grand prize of 10,000 credits.

You look up at Sampo with a disgruntled look, "There is no way in hell I am doing this."

Sampo chuckles, slinging an arm around your shoulder, ignoring the way you sqirum under his touch. "Well, my dear, you don't have much of a choice. After all, you did lose the bet, and I have your agreement to it in writing." He says, wrapping himself further around you, pinning you to his chest. "We both know the things I can do to you if you try and back out."

He uses his other hand to tilt your head up towards him, the devious glint his eyes make the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall. You simply nodded your head to the forced agreement. His signature grin returns, and he realses you from his death grip of a hold.

Sampo clasps his hands together, "Wonderfull, my dear! Just make sure to be early. We wouldn't want you to be late after all." He turns on his heel, slipping back into the shadows, disappearing from view.

You stood there for a few more moments thinking things over. You didn't think that single simple piece of paper would have such a control over you. However, it would've been far worse if Sampo wanted it to be. You really need to stop associating yourself with him, even your colleagues, disprove of him.

They say you shouldn't trust him. He's a con artist, and he has so many enemies that probably will become yours one day. Although there's just something about him... probably just the charm of a con artist. He just seems like someone you want to keep close for whatever reason that may be.

You turn on your heel, heading into the direction of your home. Preparing for whatever shit shows you just got yourself into.

-

The place was swarming with over and underworlders alike, some you even recognized, but thankfully, none has recognized you yet. You make your way through the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of the blue hair con. For such a tall man, he is difficult to spot.

You approach the check-in desk, and there are two identical looking workers who seem to be nothing but tight boxer briefs and a name tag stuck to their muscled chest. They greet you in synch.

"Hi, I think I'm supposed to check in here? My names (Y/N) and I'm supposed to be one of the uh contestants." You managed to stammer out, trying not to get caught having your eyes anywhere but theirs.

The one on the left, Jax, begins scanning through the list while the other, Max, eyes you up and down.

"So, who dragged you into this? You don't look like you'd sign up for yourself willingly."

You sigh, shifting your weight, "I lost a bet, and I was wondering if a man named Sampo checked in? He's tall with blue hair."

Max nods and points behind you, "I think that's your guy."

Jax holds out a pen and paper out towards you, "Before you run off, we need you to sign this. It's just a consent form of what could happen during the matches."

You sign the papers quickly, thanking both of them before going to Sampo, who is leaning against a pillar scrollling in his phone. He seemed to notice your approach, making his way to you.

"Good to see you, my friend! Hope you're ready. " He grins, grabbing your hand and tugging you along with him. He brings you to what looks like to be a dressing room that only has empty hanging racks and a few of body oils spread along the counter.

Sampo clasps hands together, sly grin etched onto his face, "Well, for the first order of business, Strip."

This makes you choke on your own spit in surprise, "Can we at least go over how these rounds are gonna go and general rules too before you see me naked?"

"It's simple. It's elimination based. You defeat your opponents and climb your way up to victory. The matches are timed, so whoever is on the ground at the end loses." Sampo starts to explain and gestures to you to start removing your clothing.

You start with your shirt, shivering when the cold hair hits your skin. You slip off your shoes and socks, shivering more as your feet touch the cold tiles. While you're undoing your pants, you ignore how Sampos gaze falls on your crotch.

"I won't be participating in these matches. I won't be able to stop anyone from doing certain... things to you. So you need to make sure you dont allow anyone to get the upper hand." He places your shirt and pants on the counter, sliding your shoes and socks under.

You stop on the waist band of your boxers, nervous. You've never been naked in front of someone you knew personally. The only people that'd seen you naked are random hook-ups.

Sampo notices your hesitation, "If you're worried about being judged. Don't be. I've seen my fare share of dicks. I highly doubt yours will disappoint."

The comment made the blush on your face grow brighter. With a shakey breath, you slip out of your boxers.

"Well, that wasn't so bad. Was it? You're pretty decant size, too...nothing to be ashamed about."

"It's more embarrassing than bad, honestly. This is the first time I'll be naked in front of such a large crowd."

Sampo turns for a moment, grabbing a random bottle of body oil. "You'll be fine~ Most of the contesents are new to this too. No ones gonna judge you."

"Now, we have to smother this all over you, aside from your hands and feet, of course. Do you want to do it or me?" Sampo asks, leaning back in his chair, his eyes not so stubly trailing up your body.

"I'll do it, thanks, but you'll have to get my back. Also... I saw on the waver that people would try and have sex with their opponents? How would that even work. I thought these matches were timed." You ask, taking the bottle from his hand as you turn away from him. You put the oil on your hand, giving it a sniff. It was a subtle semll of coconut. At least you'll smell good.

"Yes, though, that matches are timed, 3 minutes each. If the pair starts to do the deed, they'll extend it to 5 so the audience can have a good show. You might even be able to see the audience getting off to it themselves. But if you're not going to do it, the matches stay the same, and as long as you have the person pinned down for a few seconds, you'll win."

You hummed, listening to him talk as you spread the oils on you. You start with the legs, making your way to your dick, quickly going over before pulling away and grabbing more oil.

You move to your torso and sides, lathering them up generously. You reach your shoulders when you feel bare hands lay themselves on your hips.

You freeze up for a moment, leaving your hands to rest on your tense shoulders. You don't even try to look up at Sampo as he begins to run his hands on your sides.

He rubs the oils into the skin even more, moving to drag the access on your lower back, dangerously close to your rear. He pulls his hand away for a meer second before pouring the oil on his hand and spreading it along your back.

The way his hands glide along your back, spreading the oils into every nook and cranny it can reach. You resist the urge to fall putty under his skilled hands.

It's a few more seconds before his hands leave your back. You nearly whined at the loss of contact.

A voice suddenly came over the rooms speakers, "All contestants, please make your way to the rink. You have 5 minutes."

You look at Sampo, who's just finished drying off his hand with an old rag. He makes his way to the door and beckons you to follow.

You follow him silently, keeping your gaze to the ground as you walk by the other naked contesents. You'd rather not get a face full of someone's junk.

You narrowly miss bumping into Sampo when he stops. Peaking out behind his large frame, you set your eyes on the wrestling ring. Stars, it was huge. So was the crowd.

If they were closer, you could've sworn they'd blown out your eardrums.

"Well, it's game time. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Make sure to show them who they're dealing with. The most important thing to do is win. Just do that, and those credits are ours." Sampo grins, pushing your forward into the arena.

You go to stand next to the line of contesents. Head up tall, not letting your gaze leave the crowd.

With a few announcements from the host you couldn't bother focusing on, the matches has begun. You tap your foot in anticipation, snapping out of your trance when your name is called.

"(Y/N) and Kody, please come to the stage!"

You and a very burly man make your way up the ring. You shake hand before the match begins. He gets the first hit on you, making you quickly learn that he is top heavy. You dodge the next attempt to tackle you. Moving out of the way fats enough to grip the back of his neck and slam him on the ground, making sure to force your entire body weight onto him.

The referee calls it before you send off the ring, waiting for your turn again. Sampo was right about those who tried and sometimes succeeded in having sex. They even still had cum dripping out of their holes and dicks.

Your matches didn't last long, not long enough for someone to successfully grab your dick anyway.

You reach the end smoothly, standing on the back of your last opponent as the crowd chants your name.

The chant slowly dies down when a certain blue hair con artist makes his way to the rink, the spot light shining on his naked body.

The announcers cackle over the speakers, "You guys couldn't have thought that we weren't gonna end this without a bang. Now give it up for Sampo, one of our longest running contesents! Let's see if our new hotshot can win."

You step off of the man under you, staring at the blue-eyed bastard in front of you.

He grins mischievously, "I knew you'd make it this far. Now, let's see if you can make it past me."

You don't know what to say, thoughts getting interrupted as the referee begins the match. Sampo is quick to advance, throwing you against the borders of the ring, nearly making you fall through the ropes. He grabs you in a choke hold, pressing himself against you.

You claw and scratch at his arm, freezing for a split second when he rubs himself against you. You lean forward before quickly reversing and slamming into Sampo.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!"

You managed to get Sampo off his feet and back on the ground. Slipping out of the hold, you move to pin his arms down and attempt to pin his long legs with yours.

"Just having a little fun, of course. Plus, it looks like I'm not the only one getting excited." Sampo chuckles, looking down at your harden dick.

Your head snaps down, checking to see if it was true. By the time you processed the truth, you were flipped over by Sampo.

He pins your arms with one hand, using his other to hold your hip down. He rubs himself against your, agonizingly slow.

"Sampo..." You whimper, already getting worked up. You internally curse yourself for becoming undone so quickly. You attempt to create more friction by rubbing yourself against him but fail as the hand on your hips doesn't allow you to move.

Sampo grin doesn't falter, if anything it judt grows. He leans towards you, noses almost touching.

"Yes, my dear?" Sampo asks with a teasing tone.

"Please..." You whimper out, desprate for his touch.

"Please, what? You'll have to use your words. C'mon now .." Sampo uses his thumb to rub at the dips of your hips. As if trying to be encouraging.

Sampo gazes down at you, his eyes feel like they can see your soul.

"Please fuck me, Sampo."

Sampo chuckles, taking his hand off your hip, not minding the way you start grinding your dick against his. He cups your face and gives you a soft pat before slipping two of his fingers into your mouth.

"Be a good boy and get those all nice and wet. Don't leave it dry."

You obliged, eagerly sucking off his fingers. Some of your saliva dripped its way out of your mouth and onto the floor. Sampo moves to rub himself against you again. Instead of your dick he chooses to run himself underneath your balls, having a hunch that's one of the places that you're sensitive.

Indeed, your were, the muffled moan around his fingers made it clear. This causes a tiny bit of your precum to start to drip out of your tip.

Sampo gives his hand a slight tug, a small warning before pulling his drenched fingers away from your mouth.

He moves his hand downward towards your hole. He lines his finger up with it, looking up at you for confirmation. You nod quickly.

Throwing your head back when he pushes inside, your walls tighten around him. He thrusts it in and out, letting you get used to the feeling before adding the other.

He adds the second in, despite the tightness he manages to scissor and curl his fingers. At this point, you're a drooling mess. Not at all used to his heavenly feeling. You can feel that certain knot in your stomach tighten.

You look up at Sampo, pleading eyes displaying how desprate you are for him. "Sampo, please... I need you in me so bad."

Sampo is glad he deemed you stretched out enough to take him and the way you say his name makes him want to pound you into the ground.

He slips his fingers out, admiring your the way your hole clenches around nothing. He lines his dick up, pushing in slowly. Enjoying the way you tighten around him.

You moan loudly, fuck... he felt huge, making you feel so full and good already.

He bottoms you out, balls slapping against your ass. He relases your wrists from his hold, placing his hands on either side of your head as he looks at the stomach bulge and back up at you.

You press one of your hands down on the bulge, liking the way it shapes into your skin. Sampo takes this as the queue to begin moving.

He starts out slow and hard before gradually going faster. Soon, the only thing you can focus on is the way he keeps hitting your prostate perfectly.

He moves your legs, putting them into a matting press as he thrusts deeper. He dives down, catching his lips with yours. Swallowing the sound of the beautiful sounds you let out.

His thrusts start to become erratic and sloppy as he fucks you, a sign that he's reaching his peak. You are as well.

You wrap your arms around Sampo, pressing your forehead against his, your last clouded eyes lock with his. "Fuck, Sampo I gotta cum so bad."

"Yeah I do too, let's cum together yeah?"

You nod eagerly.

"1,2,3...fuck. Baby, you feel so good." Sampo groans out, realsesing his load into you, pressing right against your protaste as he does so. You cum in long spurts, it landing mostly on your chest but some on his aswell.

He slowly takes his dick out of you once he's finished. Letting your shakey legs back onto the mat. He kisses you once more, mumbling sweet praises as he rubs your thigh.

He looks up at the referee proud and carefree look on his face.

"The winner is: Sampo!"

#x male reader #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #honkai x you #sampo koski #sampo koski x reader #sampo koski x male reader #sampo x reader #sampo x you #sampo x male reader #smut #hsr smut #sampo smut #dom/sub #dom sampo #sub reader #hsr x reader #hsr x male reader

[alchemic-writings]

A Welcome Distraction Ch.2

This Story Is 18+ You can find Ch.1 here

My eye twitches as I look at the message in front of me. 

[1:14 am] (MOD) StarRaven:

Are you stupid?

What a great way to welcome someone to your community! I hear Ais and Vere both groan behind me as they stare at the same message. “God, I recognize that profile picture. This moderator is such a bore,”  Vere flips his hair over his shoulder as he continues, “I once made a post advertising my cam show and they banned me for a month!” Ais nods his head in recognition of the memory, “Mn, their kink must be having a stick up their ass or something. I don’t get how they can ever meet anyone here when they’re such a buzzkill.” 

I sigh as my fingers hover over the keyboard. “It makes sense for them to be suspicious of my thread. They probably think I’m a bot or a scammer or something.” 

[1:14 am] (MOD) StarRaven:

Are you stupid?

[1:17 am] Dreadful Hands:

Hi! I’m so sorry, my friend wrote that post as a joke. 

If you could delete that for me and let me write

 a PROPER introduction I promise it’ll be less like a bot lol.

I lean back and cross my arms, “See guys? Sometimes the best thing to do is to not be constantly antagonistic! Just apologizing can get you a long way instead of being an ass,” my lecture is paused as a new message notification pops up. 

[1:19 am] (MOD) StarRaven:

I’ve deleted your post, but I’m going to need

 to approve of your new introduction before I can let you send it. 

You obviously have no idea what you’re doing and neither does your friend. 

Laughter fills the air behind me as Ais and Vere read over my shoulder. Ais puts his head on my shoulder as he pats my head, “Does little sparrow need to get permission from their teacher before they can post on the bdsm website?” I shake him off as I turn to point at the two of them, “You two are the reason I’m in this situation!” Vere covers his grin with a hand, “Well what kind of response did you expect from a dom?” I pause. This moderator is a dom? I click on their username which leads me to their profile. I can now see their profile picture larger now and I can’t stop my jaw from dropping. It’s a simple picture of their back, but it is covered with beautiful black ink to form raven wings from the nape of their neck all the way down to their cute dimples on their lower back. Under the layer of dark ink is beautiful pale skin that lets me see the way their muscles are toned but not bulky. They could easy manhandle someone while still keeping a lithe figure that would be delicious to dig my nails into- 

“Hellooooo? Earth to dumbass?” I am snapped out by the motion of Vere’s hand waving in front of my face. I sent a glare his way, “What?” Ais responds for him with a shit eating grin, “We just didn’t want you drooling all over the keyboard is all.” My face begins to flush as I scramble for a response, “Wha- I was not- I did not drool.” One of Ais’s eyebrows quirk as he points to the corner of his lip. I raise my hand to my own before gasping when my fingers make contact with wetness. The two begin laughing as I quickly wipe the liquid from my mouth, “Okay, maybe I just appreciate a nice tattoo!” Ais flexes his arm, causing the inked tentacles on him to bludge. I roll my eyes at the action and return my eyes to StarRaven’s profile. 

Their only picture is the one they have as their profile image, but they do have a description in their bio

[(MOD) StarRaven: 26, Dom, Masters Student at Senobium University] 

Short and simple, all the necessary information someone might need about them. I sigh as I look over the rest of their completely blank profile. They’ve never made their own forum thread unless it was to remind others of community guidelines or to respond to any questions or to give advice to others posts. Based on their responses they’re extremely knowledgeable in bdsm and willing to answer reasonable questions. I bite my lip as I close the laptop. I absolutely cannot let these two know what I’m planning lest they bully me into oblivion. “I’m too tired to bother typing out an intro post now. I’m going to get changed and crash on the couch,” I sit up and pick up my clothes that I left unceremoniously on the floor in the closet before heading to the bathroom. 

As soon as the door is locked I quickly pull out my phone. I download the app and enter my login information. Adrenaline causes my fingers to shake as I open the private messages icon and begin typing.

[1:32 am] Dreadful Hands:

I totally have no idea what I’m getting into with bdsm…

But I really want to!!

Would you be willing to answer my questions?

I promise no stupid ones!   

I quickly turn off my phone and set it on the counter before beginning to change back into my original clothes. There was no turning back and if I get rejected, who cares? They’re just a random stranger, it’s not like there aren’t hundreds of doms I can ask for advice from, that I can get dominated by. A shiver still runs down my back at the thought of running my nails down those black wings regardless… 

When I finish changing, I immediately make my way out of the bathroom and enter the darkness of Vere’s room. The two have already decided to turn in for the night, Ais holding onto Vere and playing with the latter's hair when his eyes flit up to meet mine. A soft smile rests on Vere’s face as he hums in his sleep. I send Ais a sympathetic look but he shakes his head in response. He blames himself for catching romantic feelings for Vere, but I can’t help but feel my heart break for him as I see him literally hold what he wants but also not be close enough. I quietly step out of the bedroom and close the door behind me, giving the two privacy that I am sure Ais appreciates. 

I settle onto the sofa in the living room and wrap myself in the blanket hanging off of it as I pull out my phone again and see I have received new messages on Collared. With bated breath I open the app, fully prepared to be rejected.   

[1:38 am] (MOD) StarRaven:

You really must be desperate.

Asking a stranger to explain bdsm to you…

But if I say no you’ll just ask someone else and get hurt.

Fine. Ask away. 

My feet kick under the blanket at my success as I quickly respond back.

[1:56 am] Dreadful Hands:

Thank you Thank you!!

I promise not to let you down >:3

Ok first question:

What do you do if someone is all tied up 

But they need to use the restroom??

[1:57am] (MOD) StarRaven:

You’re going to make me regret agreeing to this. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A yawn leaves my mouth as I rub my eyes; I ended up texting with StarRaven until 4 am when they logged off saying they needed to head into work. Despite them insisting that they cannot be on their phone at their job, they continue responding to my messages within an hour. I suppose I’m no better, though. Hiding in the corner of the front counter while I look down at my phone in glee as I type my next message.

 [10:17 am] DreadfulHands:

I feel like I’ve just spilled my heart

out for you to dissect lol.

When are you gonna share your kinks??

[10:17 am] (MOD) StarRaven:

I’m not going to. 

[10:18 am] DreadfulHands:

Whhhaaatt why not??

I feel like I’m being taken advantage of now ;A;

Aren’t we supposed to trust each other and share

this stuff with each other?? You said yourself that

communication is the most important part of bdsm.

[10:18 am] (MOD) StarRaven:

 We’re not each other’s dom/sub.

Unlike some I don’t want to share that

with every person I come across online. 

I only share that when I meet someone in person 

for a session zero.

My eyes flit over to the room around me after I read their message. The cafe had already finished its brunch rush and we won’t expect more customers for at least another hour. When my eyes find my screen again I begin typing out my response before I can even process what I’m asking for. 

[10:20 am] DreadfulHands:

What if we had a session zero, then?

I watch as the typing bubble pops up, attention completely focused on their response. It’s true that I haven’t known Raven for even twelve hours but dammit I wanted them! I haven't felt this drawn to someone since Quinn, and having the ability to explore something I’ve always been interested in pulling me towards them even more. 

A cough from behind me startles me out of my thoughts so much that I jump, nearly dropping my phone. I scramble to catch it midair as I hear the same voice chuckle at my reaction. I confirm the cause of my mini heart attack when I turn around and find my boss, Leander, standing in front of me with his arms crossed and a carefree smile on his face. 

Once he has my attention he begins to walk towards me before stopping an arms length away, “Had a fun night last night?” A blush forms on my face as I look towards him. “W-what do you mean by that?” He hums as he eyes me up and down, “Well your clothes are wrinkled, you look like you didn’t get a second of sleep, and you’ve been on your phone your entire shift.” I cringe at how observant Leander is. His care for others can be both a blessing and a curse. A blessing when he noticed how miserable I was after breaking up with Quinn and giving me an entire week off, and a curse as he eyes me right now, waiting for a response. 

I finally got the courage to look him in the eyes, “Not in that way I’m afraid, I spent the night with Vere and Ais,” Leander gives a nod in understanding. Those two have visited me at my job before, but they never stay for long and it’s very brief. But even a brief encounter with them can reveal their attitudes. “It���s good to hangout with your friends, a distraction is needed every once in a while. Just try to focus while you’re on the floor, okay?” I nod, “Yes’sir! I won’t let it happen again.” A soft smile forms on Leander’s lips before he sighs, “I know that It’s a Sunday, but seriously between you and Mhin it seems like everyone is distracted today.”

The mood in the front of the store immediately sours at the mention of our coworker. Mhin, our baker and resident sourpuss. They come in at 5 am every morning to get everything ready for the day and prepare the foods that will be sold tomorrow. I only see them for at most an hour every shift before they clock out at 10 am to head home. Every attempt I have made to be friendly towards them has been met with rejection. It's a mystery how someone is so bitter and creates pastries that are so sweet. Maybe it’s because they pour any sweetness they have into their baked goods. Based on the time it seems that Leander’s statement is true, it’s already thirty minutes past when Mhin would usually clock out for the day. The image of Mhin being glued to their phone seems like an oxymoron. As far as I’m aware they only have one friend, a doctor named Kuras, that has only shown up to visit Mhin once since I’ve worked here. I find it hard to believe there would be anyone they could be excited enough to text throughout their shift. 

I can feel my phone buzz in my pocket as my heart tightens. That must be Raven’s response to my suggestion. They took such a long time to respond to it that my blood pressure begins to rise at the thought of what they have said. Buzz. Buzz. They’re sending multiple messages. My heart begins to pound as I excuse myself to use the restroom, but as I turn the corner I slam myself into someone else. Strong hands find my waist to push me back from the person I just ran into.

 As I step back to apologize I am met with a harsh voice instead, “God, can’t you watch where you’re going?” Any thought of an apology is lost in anger as I snap back, “Watch where I’m going? You’re the one on your fucking phone!” My eyes flit down to the black cellphone in their hands. Their eyes squint at me and a blush begins to form on their cheeks as they pull up the hood of their jacket to hide it and push past me instead of responding. I don’t breathe until I hear the bell of the front of the store signaling their departure. I sigh as I begin to walk slowly to the bathroom. 

Once the lock clicks into place on the door I slide against it while pulling out my phone. I unlocked it and finally read the messages from Raven.

[10:31 am] (MOD) StarRaven:

God, you really are desperate. 

Fuck.

Fine, yeah. We can have a session zero.

Just don’t… Don’t have any high expectations, ok?

My heart begins to skip again but this time out of excitement rather than anxiety. Raven actually wants to meet me, and based on their texts they’re just as desperate as I am. I bite my lip as I hold my phone to my chest while proceeding to do exactly what they told me not to do. But how could I not hold high expectations? My first time meeting with a dom to have sessions with. Even though they haven’t brought up their previous relationships I can tell that they’re knowledgeable in a way that you don’t get from just being in a forum. 

A dull ache begins to form between my legs as I rub my thighs together to try to relieve it. I don’t even know what they look like or if they’d want to have sex with me but I’m already imagining them tying me down to the bed to do whatever they want to me. A shiver runs down my spine just like when Ais put that collar on my neck last night. This… This is what submission is like. And I can already tell this isn’t something I’ll be able to live without now that I’m finally getting a taste of it. I snap out of my thoughts and look back to the open messages on my screen. 

[10:38 am] Dreadful Hands:

When can we meet?

#touchstarved game #touchstarved mhin x reader #touchstarved mhin #touchstarved x reader #touchstarvedgame #touchstarved mc #my writings #mhin x reader

[sugarcakeworld]

Dethbears

Dethbears

Prompt: “skiwstok weed date now”

Say less. They also go to BAB cause there’s Dethklok bears. They go to BAB and get high. There you go. 

Disclaimer: I can’t write with the accents. I don’t own Gerald. Or Metalocalypse. Or Build-a-Bear.

Deathbears

Pickles was sitting at the table in the kitchen clutching his phone in his hand. “Oh, hey, Skwiwsgaar,” Pickles lifted his Dethphone up, flashing the screen to show an advertisement for Build-a-Bear. “Did you see this? They’re making Dethklok Build-a-Bears. You should take Toki there. He’ll totally want to make a little Skwisgaar bear.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Skiwsgaar replied. Despite sounding uninterested, Pickles caught on that he was serious.

“Okay, and when you do, don’t just leave him there to pick up chicks. I know we all do it, but seriously-don’t forget Toki and leave your bandmate behind.” Pickles always felt the need to mother them. 

“Don’t you think you’re asking a little too much of me?” Skwisgaar wanted Pickles to take a moment and think about it.

“Hmmm, I guess that’s true. I am. Okay, well, have a good day either way. And Skwisgaar? Have fun.”  Pickles was genuine. 

Walking away with his coffee, Skwisgaar said, “Uh-huh.” He turned around the corner and walked down the hallway of Mordhaus, stopping outside of Toki’s room. He knocked on it a few times before Toki finally answered. He only had his pants on, looking like he’d love nothing more than to lay back down on his bed and sleep.

“What?” He asked. “It’s early.”

“No, it’s not. It’s noon. What did you even do last night?” Skwisgaar asked. “Up all night texting me that weird shit- “ Something at the edge of Toki’s desk caught his eye and he walked right into the room, grabbing it off his desk. “Ah ha! I knew it. You smoked all my weed. But what you didn’t know is that I filled my stash box with Cheesmaster.” As one of the Dethklok strains, it was infamous for making people feel like they were inside of a bubble or see sacred geometry.

Toki dragged a hand over his face. “Wolf. You left that there for days. You weren’t smoking it. As a trap? That’s kinda weird.”

“Serves you right,” Skiwsgaar said, narrowing his eyes. “Always smoking all my weed.”

Toki shrugged. “Whatever. Why’d you come in here?”

“Oh, right,” Skiwsgaar straightened up, carrying the stash box under his arm. “I thought I’d take you to Build-a-Bear and we can get totally high.”

“Ha!” Toki pointed at him. “You just want to pick up sluts!” He still seemed excited. 

“I don’t know how many women will even be there, besides the ones taking their kids.” It’s not like he just wanted to spend time with Toki. “You gonna go or what?”

“Of course. Gonna get high at Build-a-Bear with my pal Skwisgaar. Just let me grab a shirt. Gotta eat breakfast too.” He bent down and rifled through his dresser.

“I’m gonna go put this in my room,” Skiwsgaar said, smiling and walking off to find someone to drive them.

Since neither one of them would drive, they rode in the back of a car with the klokateers who would be their bodyguards sitting up front. Toki filled a then emptied pre rolled Swisher Sweet up with a Deathstrain called Explosion Tits. Well practiced and in synchronization, he held out the blunt and Skiwsgaar waved a flame from a lighter over the bottom, before they took turns smoking the finished product. It really did seem like Skwisgaar just wanted to hang out with him and smoke weed and take him somewhere just to make him happy, which did in fact make Toki happy. Even if the Swede would inevitably ruin it by forgetting him.

“We got to make all the pals for the whole band,” Toki was saying, eyes scanning the whole advertisement for Dethklok Build-a-Bears on his Dethphone. “They’ll say they don’t want them. But come on! They’re all so cute.”

“Won’t that take forever?” Skiwsgaar asked. “Just make the one you want and have fun with it.”

Disappointed, Toki sighed. “Yeah, ok. I’ll order the others online. Are you gonna make one?”

“Pfft, no.” He made a face.

“I want to have matching bears.” Toki’s blue eyes were kind of unsettling when he put up that intense puppy eye stare.

“Vafan, fine.” 

Toki couldn’t imagine in a million years Skiwsgaar agreeing to take him to Build-a-Bear, never mind watching some employee boss him around and make him jump up and down. Skiwsgaar had no idea what he was in for.

They sat in the parking lot for the better part of twenty minutes smoking. Skwisgaar kept trying to get a candid photo of Toki looking hideous and Toki kept ruining his plans by successfully posing for each shot. “How are you doing this? You always take terrible photos of us and you can’t take a bad shot? Should be criminal, the way you’re always tagging us in fucking awful photos.”

“You can’t pose for shit.” Toki thought it was obvious.

“Yeah, it’s true,” Skiwsgaar said. “Not that you warn us.”

“Nathan is just not photogenic. Always needing the photo shop touch ups. Rag-mags having a field day anytime they get a paparazzi photo that looks like hot shit.”

“Me too,” Skwisgaar admitted.

“Yes, me too.”

After a beat, Skwisgaar knocked on the window, signaling they were ready to get out of the car. It didn’t take long before a few people noticed the presence of Klokateers and the two members of Dethklok, but for the most part everyone seemed too busy with their own shopping to bother them. Getting carried away, Toki grabbed Skiwsgaar by the wrist and pulled him towards the store, excited by the display out front.

“Oh, wowee, it’s like a million Deaddybears!” He let go of Skiwsgaar to walk past the rows of displays and barrels of accessories. “Look at the tiny shoes! So cool!”

“Yeah,” Skwisgaar said. An employee stepped out from behind the counter to help them, a name tag with the name “Gerald” written on the front in sharpie. The name tag had a puffy sticker of a bird on it. Gerald had long hair and a slightly blemished complexion, with thick glasses hanging half-way down his nose. 

“Oh my god, it’s Dethklok,” Gerald said under his breath. Then slightly louder, he addressed them. “Welcome to Build-a-Bear, can I help you?”

“We’re here for the Dethklok bears,” Toki said. “You didn’t sell out, did you?”

“Oof. I’m sorry. We did sell out. But I actually have a hold from Pickles the Drummer. And I’m sure you’ll get promotional bears and gifts at Mordhaus for the collaboration. There was a live event with Toki bear. It was so cute.”

Toki blew a raspberry. “Totally missed it. Too many collaborations to keep up with. Sad I missed it. Pickle held some for us?” He pointed at all of the Murderface leftovers. “Why didn’t these sell?”

“I don’t know!“ Gerald said. “Look at him. So grumpy. Yeah, he wants to stab something.” He stopped messing with the Murderface on display and stepped back behind the counter. “Lemme check on that hold.”

Looking around, Skwisgaar saw that there were some families milling around with young children out of school, as well as a few customers who would wander in and out. Grandparents just looking and getting ideas for gifts. Young women lingering in front of displays of Hello Kitty. Skwisgaar was oddly stuck to his side, bending down to inspect an unstuffed Toothless. 

“You should get one of those,” He encouraged the Swede. Skwisgaar stood up. 

“I have way too many deaddybears. Fans always throw them at you, right in the face while we’re on stage. And you give them to me, and I never get rid of gifts. Too many deaddybears.” Skwisgaar reasoned. “Just way too many to get even one more.” He was somewhat of a sentimental hoarder. A big softy, like Deaddybear. Even if he always had resting bitch face.

“You said you’d make one,” Toki reminded him.

“Yeah, OK,” Skwisgaar said. “Let’s see what Pickles put on hold.”

Gerald came back with a few plastic bags full of unstuffed Skwisgaar and Toki bears, as well as the clothes and accessories that came with them. “Aw, look at these friends,” he held them up for Skiwsgaar and Toki to see. 

Skwisgaar’s Build-a-Bear was a generic white polar bear with blue eyes. A polar bear? How did that even make sense? It looked crazy without stuffing. In a separate plastic bag Gerald opened was his signature and more recent Thunderhorse Gibson Explorer. Toki’s Build-a-Bear was a generic brown bear with a little Manchu over its smile. A blue shirt, boots, and his Snow Falcon Flying V were in separate plastic bags. 

“Toki should come with tiny little blunts from when he smokes all of Skwisgaar’s weed,” Skwisgaar said under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Toki ignored him, taking all of the little plastic bags with Skwisgaar bear’s clothes and boots and guitar. “Gonna make a Skwisgaar bear. Han er veldig keeg.”

Dead quiet, a slightly flushed Skwisgaar accepted the Toki Build-a-Bear plastic bags and watched as Gerald stuffed the bears, not saying a damn thing and trying and failing not to laugh. Toki definitely laughed.

“Oh, my god, no, don’t stuff them too much!” He exclaimed. “Make them soft!”

Gerald just smiled, fully aware of how hard it was to watch this part without losing it, despite the family friendly atmosphere. “Uh-huh, no worries.”  He handed both Skwisgaar and Toki little red hearts as requested. All he made them do was put them above their heads and shake them, before warming them up in their hands. Toki made Skwisgaar say something into the voice recording machine, despite there being a pre-recorded option from some promotional material for the band. 

“Knulla dig,” Skwisgaar said towards the screen, enjoying this way too much. Toki rolled his eyes but let it slide. Oblivious, Gerald stitched up their bears and handed them over. 

Toki held up his finished Skwisgaar bear, who did have a decent head of felt blonde hair, because he probably looked too ugly for words bald headed and wearing a black tank top. All that white fur. “He does look pretty awesome.” He stuffed him into the little blue and white box. 

The klokateers that had come with them appeared with boxes and boxes of Build-a-Bears that Toki had ordered online ahead of time. It was comical how they skillfully managed to carry all of them as well as the two additional boxes back to the car. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t leave me there to go hang out with some sluts,” Toki said.

“I haven’t been that bad about it, recently.” Skwisgaar said, though not defensively.

“No, you haven’t,” Toki agreed. “Want to smoke and do hand stuff on the way back?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Skwisgaar said as the car door closed next to him. There were so many blue and white boxes they were crammed in pretty close together. It also effectively blocked them off from view of the klokateers sitting up front or any onlookers.

-

Ending notes:

*What the fuck.

*He looks really cool.

*Fuck me.

I don’t know I just feel like whatever is wrong with Toki, it could be fixed if someone would just take him to Build-a-Bear. And I know that goofball would want the Hello Kitty releases. Also, Skwisgaar been taking it easy on the body count in Army of the Doomstar. By the way, if you even care.

#skwisgaar x toki #skwistok

[rosettasirens]

Enemies By Choice, Lovers by Chance: The New Leaf

CEOofLawFirm!Kuroo x fem!Reader

summary: You finally got a good job at a law firm in Tokyo, but it holds lots of secrets, with the most about the CEO, Kuroo Tetsuro, who always knows how to get on your nerves

wordcount!: 543(chapters will be longer in the future)

TW!: none(lot of creative freedom)

*♥🎲🎴🏮✂🃏💋🧧🎡🍙🍣🍓🍉🍁🌹🍀🏴‍☠️💞🖤❤💖🔳❌*

“Tokyo!” You exclaimed as you stepped off the plane. It was a bit of a chilly day, but you didn’t care. This was your chance to start your new life. After continuous persuasion from your friends, you just had to leave, knowing that if the pestering went on, you’d punch them in the face. Tokyo is a vibrant city with amazing jobs and incredibly sexy looking people. What could possibly go wrong in a place like this?

    You had no idea where to go. You were standing outside the airport like a fish out of water. People can just tell I don't belong can they,  she thought, as several people looked your way with questioning stares. It didn’t really matter, though. You were gonna have the perfect life here(cap but ok-)

    And it started in a taxi.

“Excuse me! Hey!” You yelled to a neighboring taxi. The driver gave you an annoyed look. Great, they’re one of those people, you grimaced. You hesitantly, but quickly, walked to the taxi.

    “Um, excuse me sir-”

    “Ma’am.” she responded.

Shit.

“I need a ride to the ________ Hotel, do you know where that is?” you asked. The driver simply scoffed.

“Foreigners,” she replied. “No problem, I can get you there. For 30 bucks.” You stopped. You’d think a girl with a bachelor degree in Harvard Law, intern for one of the best law firms in America, would have thirty dollars. No.

“Do you take gift cards?”

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

    “A room on the 27th floor huh?” You sighed as she pushed her brunette hair out of her face. If this is what it means to start a life in Tokyo, so be it.

    The room was very simple, yet spacious, containing a large bathroom, a living room, a kitchen with granite countertops, and a mini fridge. What more could she ask for? “Decor…” you mutter as she reaches inside your endless boxes and suitcase. You pulled out posters of your favorite bands. While doing so, a wave of relief washed over you. I'm finally here, you thought. You began to put the posters near the wall of the bed, then placed several succulents(small fake plants) and plushies in the bedroom. She finished it off with a throw blanket and threw it somewhere in her room. She stepped back and got a full view of her room. It looked decent, like she didn't spend an hour and a half in the room. Your cat purred on your bed as you drifted off to sleep.

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

9 P.M., and you were up on her computer looking for jobs for a law firm. All the ones you looked at were sus as hell, and you could barely find anything acceptable. She came across a law firm, ________, with a picture of a handsome young man in the advertisement. He had alluring hazel eyes with messy jet black hair. You weren’t one to judge a book by its cover, but you just HAD to apply for this firm. Two hours passed and you had only applied for THREE law firms, including _______. You closed her computer and went out like a light.

And when you woke up, only _______ had asked for an interview with you.

*♥🎲🎴🏮✂🃏💋🧧🎡🍙🍣🍓🍉🍁🌹🍀🏴‍☠️💞🖤❤💖🔳❌*

idk if this blows up in anyway i may write more-

#haikyuu!! #haikyu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #help why is this so bad #haikyuu kuroo

[arrowflier]

i wish you would write them househunting 😏 🍅 🐕

"Don't see why we gotta move anyway, man," Mickey complains again as they hop off the L near their destination. He shoulders past a woman staring at her phone who doesn't move fast enough, flipping her off when she shouts after him. It's hard enough keeping up with Ian's long damn legs without people getting in his way.

"You're the one that doesn't like our place, Mick," Ian reminds him, and Mickey scowls. There's no way Ian can see it, still being a step ahead, but somehow he knows.

"And don't scowl about it, you big baby, you know it's true," Ian adds. They're separated again before Mickey can respond, a gaggle of teenagers wandering obliviously between them.

When the space clears again, Ian is there waiting for him, hand outstretched with an expectant look in his eyes. Mickey sighs.

"I'm not a fuckin' toddler, man," he grumbles, but he takes his husband's hand all the same. "And I like our place just fine."

Ian snorts as he starts walking again, pulling Mickey along at a pace more friendly to his shorter stride.

"Sure," he agrees, "You love it. And I definitely didn't catch you throwing pebbles off the balcony at our neighbors the other day."

"Ey, that was one time!" Mickey protests. "And that douche moved out, so we're cool now."

"Uh huh," Ian says knowingly. "Totally cool, Mick. But hey, I think you'll like this place a little more."

"Why's that?" Mickey asks suspiciously. He looks around, notes some familiar houses. He hadn't been paying attention to where they were going, too preoccupied with trying to convince Ian that they didn't need to move; really, he was just getting used to the Westside, he didn't want to end up somewhere he didn't know the streets again already.

But it didn't look like that was going to be much of a problem.

"Whoa, wait," he voices, coming to a halt. Ian stops just ahead of him, still connected by their clasped hands, and watches him realize what's happening.

"You're bringin' us back Southside?" Mickey asks. He knows he sounds a bit awed, but he can't help it. "Thought you wanted out, man. Wasn't that the whole point?"

But when he looks at Ian, all he sees is his smile.

"The point was us being happy, dipshit," Ian says, and okay. Mickey can give him that one.

--

The first place they see isn't quite what either of them expected. It's a new development on an old plot, and apparently the pictures Ian had seen online weren't quite so...trendy?...as it came off in person.

"The yard is nice," Ian offers as they stand in the middle of the wide open space that serves as kitchen, living room, office, and guest space. Strangers milled around them, other couples and even a few students that showed up for the free food advertised in the open house flyers, all raving about the 'open concept' style.

"You mean that tiny patch of astroturf out there?" Mickey replies to Ian's attempt at optimism. He laughs. "Yeah, good luck transplanting your fucking tomatoes in that, moron."

"Wait, that's not grass?" Ian asks, peering harder out the floor-to-ceiling windows that were letting in way too much heat.

"You ever seen grass that green around here?" Mickey asks back, and Ian grimaces.

"Come on, man," Mickey prompts him, walking back toward the front door. He grabs a doughnut from the kitchen counter on the way, taking a bite and calling back to Ian with his mouth full.

"Not enough walls in here anyway, nothin' for you to hold me against while we fuck."

He ignores the shocked gasp of the realtor and a few muffled snickers from the younger members of the crowd, but Ian turns bright red and rushes over to usher him out.

--

The second place they see has the opposite problem. It's in decent shape for as old as it is, probably one of the last original houses in the area, but it's...a lot.

"How many fucking rooms are there in this place?" Mickey wonders as they wander through. They're the only ones there this time, having let themselves in with the key from the lock box on the front door, and Mickey can see why. The house is like a labyrinth, doors everywhere, and none of it makes any fucking sense.

"Thought you wanted lots of rooms to fuck in, remember?" Ian says from behind him. A second later, Mickey finds himself shoved up against the wall of the tiny third bedroom, Ian's hands on his sides and mouth nipping just behind his ear.

He groans and tries to push back into it, but then Ian is cursing and pulling back. Mickey turns to see him rubbing his elbow where he obviously hit it on the edge of the door, which sticks way too far into the room.

"Lots of room, yeah," Mickey snickers as Ian glares at him for the lack of sympathy. "This place just feels like lots of closets, and I've had enough of those."

--

The third place is better. It's something in between, a spruced up two-story with decent yard space and, if not grass, at least some real dirt to work with.

"Hey Mickey, come up here!" Ian calls from the second floor, and Mickey stops poking through the kitchen cabinets to search him out.

He finds him in what must be the master bedroom, laying on a huge pillowtop bed.

"Hey, check this out," Ian says when he sees him enter, and Mickey rolls his eyes.

"The bed doesn't come with the place, Ian," he points out. "Or did you forget what we learned last time?"

Ian laughs. "Nah, not the bed Mick. Just come here."

Mickey gives in to his beckoning and sits next to him on the high mattress, and Ian abruptly pulled him down to lay beside him.

"Up there," Ian says softly, pointing to the ceiling with one pale hand.

Mickey looks. Then he looks harder, because painted on the ceiling above the bed is a mural of silver stars against the dark blue of a night sky, weaving between faint white clouds and a bright crescent moon.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Ian remarks, rolling over to watch Mickey's reaction. He strokes Mickey's arm where it lies on the silky duvet.

"Yeah," Mickey manages. "Real pretty. A little gay though."

Ian laughs. "Think we're that gay yet?" he questions. It sounds like a joke, but Mickey is pretty sure there's nothing joking about it.

That assumption is confirmed when Ian continues.

"I like this place, Mickey," he whispers. "It's got good bones, a nice yard for Basil--"

"We can't pick a fucking house for the dog, Ian," Mickey interjects, but Ian ignores him.

"And I think it would be a big step, for us." He sounds so earnest, and something in Mickey's heart twinges.

"Yeah? You sign the lease already?" Mickey asks, just to be a little shit.

"Fuck off," Ian answers immediately, but without heat.

"I'm serious, Mickey," he says after a moment. "I think we'd be good here." He reaches over to place a hand on Mickey's face, turning it toward himself. "But I want you to agree with me this time. No more doing things on my own. If we're gonna do this, we decide together."

Mickey isn't sure what's brighter--the stars on the ceiling or the love in Ian's eyes.

"Yeah, okay, you soft fucker," he murmurs, relishing the grin that lifts Ian's lips and stretches across his whole face. "Let's do this."

"Yeah?" Ian breathes, leaning in closer.

"Yeah," Mickey confirms. Ian goes in for a kiss, and Mickey let him get in a soft peck before pulling back and swinging his legs off the bed.

"But you get to mow our new yard and pick up all the dog shit, Gallagher, nobody's gonna do it for ya here!"

Mickey grins as he takes off to finish exploring the rest of the house, Ian shouting "Hey, not fair!" from behind him.

#fic request #daily speedwrite #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #fluff #thank you for prompting me! #this got away from me as usual

[hawks-supremacy]

Rubik's Cube of Emotions

Summary: You, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi used to be great friends but then one day it stopped. You and Tsuki are forced to confront each other when your new friend Yachi convinces you to be the new co-managers of the Karasuno volleyball team. (angst, fluff)

warnings: eating disorder, swearing, bullying?

genre: angst to fluff

word count: 2.2k

a/n: day 1 of attempting to write everyday until my birthday. Fun fact: I don't even like Tsukishima that much but my cousin hates him so I wrote it out of spite? Idk I don't like him but I see the appeal.

You were sitting in the library after school trying to do some research when your friend Yachi approached the table you were at. “Hey Y/n I need a favor.” She said sliding into the chair next to you. You closed your books and sighed, “Who is it this time?” You asked, looking at her. She looked at you shocked and started sputtering, “Yachi ninety percent of the favors you need from me are because someone was mean to you and you can’t confront them yourself. I mean last week Rei took your favorite pen and refused to give it back so you had to come get me.”

“Fine, it’s not that anyone was mean but this super pretty girl came up to me and asked me if I wanted to be the new volleyball manager because she graduates next year.” You held your hand up effectively pausing Yachi’s rambling, “Let me pause you right there and let me guess. You panicked, both because a pretty girl was talking to you and because she was your upperclassman and said yes.”

Yachi nodded, “Yes but that’s not all of it.” She said sheepishly, you raised your eyebrows and motioned for her to continue. “I also asked if you could be like a co-manager and she said that that was okay. I know you probably don’t want to but I cannot do this alone. Please come with me, the first practice I’m supposed to attend starts soon.” You rolled your eyes and started packing all of your stuff before starting to walk out of the library. You turned and saw Yachi looking like a kicked puppy, “Yach are you coming or not, you are the one who dragged me into this you big ball of anxiety.” She smiled and grabbed her bag running to catch up to you.

You were near the gym when you saw Kiyoko Shimizu. You assumed she was the pretty 3rd year that Yachi was intimidated by and walked up to her, “Hey Kiyoko? I’m Y/n, the person Yachi volunteered to be the co-manager I guess?” Kiyoko turned after hearing her name and saw you walking up to her with Yachi hiding behind you, “Yes, follow me. I’ll introduce you to the team.” You both followed her into the gym, you walking beside her and Yachi cowering behind you, gripping the sleeve of your jacket.

As Kiyoko opened the doors three boys approached one spouting compliments at her the other asking who you and Yachi were. “Guys these are your potential new managers.” Yachi took a step out from behind you before yelling, “Uhm, my name is Yachi!” You waved at everyone who was gathering around briefly telling them your name. As people were greeting you, you glanced around the gym, stopping at two people, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. You looked at them for a few seconds before moving on to the third year wearing a bun.

He bent down slightly, asking Yachi if she was a first year. You tried no to laugh as she screamed and politely and panicky told him that she was a first year addressing him as if he was more than a third year and then freaking out when the two second years were staring at her. “Forgive her, she's not good with new people, she’s hardly good with people she knows. She’s still scared of me sometimes.” As you finished your sentence Yachi mumbled that she was scared of you because you’re scary.

The third year with the bun turned to Hinata telling him, “This is great now you have managers for next year.” Before Hinata could really say anything Kiyoko stepped in saying nothing was set in stone and that you too just wanted to meet the team. As Yachi said it was nice to meet the team everyone bowed and said “Hello” at the same time, effectively freaking Yachi out. As Kiyoko was telling them to back up and not crowd you both you didn’t notice as Yachi slipped outside, “Sorry for bothering you.” She said and closed the door. “Again sorry, she’ll get used to you I promise. I’ll let you get back to practice.” Everyone said goodbye and dispersed to go do their own thing until practice officially started. As you turned to leave you heard the annoying voice that seemed to follow you everywhere, “Are you really that obsessed with me that you would join the volleyball team somehow. If you really had that big of a crush on me you could just say so.” Turning you saw Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, the latter looking at you apologetically. You rolled your eyes, “Yes Tsuki I'm oh so obsessed with you that you consume every waking thought I have. Get over yourself.”

Walking out of the gym you saw Yachi crawling on the ground. You were about to ask her what she was doing when someone interrupted you, “You alright?” He asked. She turned around looking at him for a few seconds before yelling, “Please don’t kill me!” and sprinting away. “Kill you?” He asked mostly to himself. “Sorry about her.” You said to him, you seemed to be apologizing for her a lot today. He jumped, turning around to see you, “Jesus kid you scared the shit out of me don’t do that, nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“We’re the possible new managers for the team. She takes a while to warm up to new people. Also you shouldn’t be worried about a heart attack at your age. Lung failure seems more like it.” You pat him on the shoulder as you went to go find Yachi to sternly talk to her about Tsukishima and Yamaguchi being on the team. Yamaguchi you don’t mind as much, it’s Tsukishima that's the thorn in your ass. It’s not that you hated him, you just well, hated him. He sat behind you in your classes and constantly picked on you. Needed to always tell you that he scored higher on the test or his paper was better than yours. He was just annoying.

You found Yachi by her locker gathering the rest of her things, “Hey Yachi! I need to talk to you.” You said as you jogged up to her, “I don’t think I can do this man, Tsuki is on the team and he is not going to leave me alone if i do this with you.” She put on her jacket and picked up her bag and you two began to walk out of the school to go home, “Please, I can’t do this alone. You said you wanted to spend more time with me anyway. What happened between you two? Weren’t you really good friends with him and Yamaguchi before this year?”

You shrugged looking down at your feet, “He got a stick up his ass I don’t know what you want me to say.” You looked over and her and saw her giving you a disapproving look and you sighed, “Yeah we used to be great friends, best friends even. Then this summer he just started being cold to me. I honestly don’t know what happened and I don’t know if I want to know.” She nodded and was quiet for a few seconds before speaking up, “I get it, I do. But I really need you to do this with me. I might die if you don’t.” You sighed dramatically, throwing your head back, “Fine but you owe me. I may have only known you since the beginning of this year but even I know that you probably would’ve survived.”

It had been a while since you agreed to help Yachi with being the volleyball team manager and so far it had been hell. You ignored Tsukishima when you could but one of his perks and your downfalls of being childhood friends was he knew what buttons to press. Now here you were at some training camp in Tokyo and ignoring him could only do so much. It was the last day and so far you’ve had to deal with him treating you like you had to do everything he said, him loudly and obviously talking about you to Yams, and snide comments about the way you looked or something you did.

The last straw was when you sat down to eat and he made a comment about your weight. You and Yachi were sitting down to eat when Tsukishima walked over with Yamaguchi, “Gee Y/n do you really need all that food?” You didn’t say anything as you looked down at your plate. You didn’t think you got a lot, you got as much as Yachi. You weren’t necessarily insecure but your weight was always something your family commented on, eventually it made you cut back on eating, some days not eating at all in hopes of maybe trying to lose some weight to appease your family. Lately it hasn’t been so bad, Yachi has been helping with it, you were eating more regularly and getting back to normal. But now you feel like you’re back to square one. “Not gonna say anything? That’s a first.”

You set your plate down on the step you were sitting on and told Yachi that you really weren’t that hungry before walking away. As you walked into the gym you were all eating outside of you heard Yachi talking to Tsuki and Yams, nearly yelling. It’s honestly the first time you’ve heard her raise her voice for the first time that wasn’t out of nervousness or anxiety.

You were tossing a stray volleyball in the air when you heard the door open and close. “Yachi I told you I’m not hungry honestly.” You said focusing on the ball not looking at her. “I’m not Yachi and you should eat something.” You sighed as you heard the one voice you probably didn’t want to hear right now, “Do I need to stop eating or do I need to eat? Make up your mind Tsuki.” You caught the ball and turned to face him. He was holding your plate of food and scratching the back of his neck avoiding eye contact, “I uh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

You scoffed, “Is The Tsukishima apologizing? I didn’t know you knew how. You’ve been an ass since this summer and now that you know you hit a soft spot you change? Not happening. Besides, it's not something I go around advertising.” You sat down on the bench and he followed suit setting the plate in between you both. You sat there for a few minutes not saying anything before he cleared his throat, “I really am sorry. You look fine. I’m sorry about being an ass to you this whole time, please eat.”

Narrowing your eyes you looked between him and the food, “If you’re so sorry then why? Huh? Why are you being an ass? I mean one minute we’re all friends and the next you’re rude and dismissive.” He sighed, rubbing his face muttering that it was stupid. “Tsuki it’s not stupid to me, I lost two of my closest friends seemingly overnight with no reason at all. I’ll eat if you tell me what the hell changed.”

He thought for a second leaning on his knees before speaking, “Yamaguchi and I were hanging out one night this summer and you came up in the conversation. After a while Yams made me realize that I maybe like you. I didn’t know how to deal with that so I pushed you away instead and I may have pushed it too far. I’m sorry for everything I just didn’t know how to tell you so I probably handled it in the worst way.”

You paused for a second thinking about what he said before laughing and picking up the plate to start eating. “You aren’t gonna say anything just laugh? See this is why I didn’t want to tell you.” He said standing up. You finished chewing your bite, “Sit down, god you’re so dramatic. I laughed because this all happened because you’re emotionally constipated. Yanno if you told me this once you figured out your rubik's cube of emotions we probably could’ve been dating this whole time.” You didn’t say anything else and finished eating what was on your plate as he sat down with his mouth open gaping at you. “Wait so you like me too?”

You covered your mouth as you tried not to laugh at him, “For someone who constantly pointed out how they were smarter than me for the majority of this school year, you’re pretty fuckin dumb aren’t you.” He pushed you over and told you to shut up. “Oh come on Tsuki, is that anyway to talk to your girlfriend?” You watched as his ears began to turn red and he repeated the word girlfriend in a questioning form. “Unless of course you don’t want me too, then this was all for nothing and we can walk out of the gym like none of this happened.”

“Fine I guess, you’re uh, my girlfriend.” He said, coughing and looking away. You raised your eyebrows and laughed, “God Tsuki don’t sound like I held you at gunpoint. You’re such a tsundere. I guess I’ll deal with it though.” You said as you sighed deeply. He looked offended and pushed you off the bench as you both laughed at each other taking turns making stupid insults about the other person.

Outside the gym Yams and Yachi were all but pressing their ears against the door listening to your conversation, “They definitely confessed.”

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagine #haikyū!! #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #tsukishima oneshot #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima drabbles #tsukishima angst #haikyuu angst #tsukishima scenarios

[hermannsthumb]

possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.

earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students

----

Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.

Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.

Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.

Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.

"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"

Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.

That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.

The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"

Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.

Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.

No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.

Or if Newt left the door unlocked.

More footsteps. Closer now.

Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)

Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?

Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.

The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—

Oh, fuck.

The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.

Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.

It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.

Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.

Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.

"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"

"Hold that thought," Newt says.

He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.

Hermann is still yelling at him.

"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"

Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.

Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"

"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."

Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."

"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"

"Well, obviously," Hermann says.

Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?

Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.

"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"

Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."

Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.

Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.

But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."

"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"

"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."

For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"

"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.

From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

[90spumkin]

A Dash of Truth

Summary: Reader is a witch but doesn’t want everyone to know, especially Spencer.

A/N: This is a fantasy AU which is a new concept for me. I hope you all like it. Thank you @the-queen-of-moons​ for helping me! Also the amazing graphic is by @spencers-beanbag ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Witch! Reader

Warnings: swearing, details of spell casting, mentions of a case, reader is a little rude at times

Word Count: 1.9K

Paperwork days were most of the time quite except when Derek Morgan had worked for the BAU, there was never a moment of silence. Today however there was a different sound filling the office.

“I swear on everything good and cuddly, if this headache doesn’t go away, I may get one of you badass agents just to shoot me.”

I looked up from my work to make eye contact with my curly haired coworker, Spencer, across our desks. Then a groan brought our attention to the blonde walking towards her ‘bat cave’ holding her head. I looked back towards Spencer who only shrugged and returned to his files. I glanced back towards the way Penelope had gone and hoped she felt better soon.

It wasn’t long till my hopes were crushed. “I swear if I could name this headache, it would be called Luke Alvez.” This exclamation of pain brought out a “Hey!” from Luke himself and giggles from everyone else. Penelope just winced at the loud sounds, finished making her coffee, and made her way back into her office. I contemplated offering her help and sharing my secret before deciding helping a friend was more important.

When I reached the entrance to the dark corner of the building I gave the door a light knock, not wanting to cause Penelope anymore pain. A faint permission to enter was the only sign of life I was given. The room wasn’t filled with the normal luminous light of computer screens. Instead, the human embodiment of sunshine was submerged in darkness.

“Penelope? I brought something that may help?” I kept my voice slightly above a whisper. The poor women turned on her desk lamp and turned to look at me. “Hi buttercup, what do you have for me?” I smiled at her attempt to still be cheery even though she wasn’t feeling quite so cheery herself.

I laid a crystal and a vial on her desk and explained, “This is a clear quartz crystal it helps in healing and pain relief. I also brought you some peppermint oil, apply a small amount to your temples and it should help sooth the headache as well.”

“Oh honey, you are a life saver. I will definitely give this a go! Thank you!” Penelope gave my hand a squeeze and I bent down to give her a gentle hug and a soft kiss to her head. “I hope it helps.”

When I returned to my desk, I found Spencer there leaning against it, waiting for me. I blushed a little when he gave me a smile. I couldn’t help the fact his presence made the butterflies in my stomach erupt.

“Where did you disappear to?” Spencer questioned as I took my seat. I looked towards the way I had just come, “I tried to help Penelope with her headache. I was getting worried.” I looked back at Spencer who was staring at me with a small smile playing on his lips, “Y/n you’re ama- a good friend.” I could feel my blush deepening as I mumbled a “thank you”. With a nod, Spencer returned to his desk.

It wasn’t but a few hours before Penelope was returning the crystal and oil I had given her. She leaned against my desk and asked, “So spill. How’d you know that stuff would work?”” I couldn’t help but to look away from her piercing eyes shyly before replying, “I- I practice modern witchcraft, nothing extreme just charms, crystals, oils, excreta.” I looked back at her before adding, “I don’t really advertise it so please don’t say anything.”

Penelope smiled at me and grabbed my hand and gave it a light squeeze, “Oh honey, I won’t say a word, but only on one condition.” I gave her a questioning look in which she responded, “You have to teach me your witchy ways.”

Over the course of a few weeks Penelope and I had spent countless hours together after work and between cases. It was mostly nights filled with small castings and gossip. Penelope was a fast learner, so it left plenty of time for the two of us to talk and catch up.

On one particular night we were in the middle of brewing a few healing oils when my phone rung. It was Spencer. Penelope may not be a profiler, but anyone would notice the way my whole body froze up and a smile grew across my face. Penelope giggle and nudged my shoulder reminding me I actually have to answer the phone.

The phone call didn’t last long it was just Spencer letting me know I had left my jacket at my desk and that he put it in his to go bag for safe keeping. Of course, this only excited Penelope and she unleashes a sea of questions: “He totally likes you. Do you like him? Are you going to tell him? You should totally tell him.”

My response to her was simply, “I could never tell him. It would ruin everything.” My best friend gave me a pointed look as she said, “You have to be honest with him, you never know what magic could unfold between the two of you.” I couldn’t help but snort at her choice of words.

The same night as the random phone call from Spencer, there was a Phone call from JJ. We had a case. This case took almost a week to solve, and it was particularly hard. Our prime suspect was good with his words and was constantly trying to lead us in the wrong direction. Lucky for us we have a genius who’s good at solving riddles.

On the way home a thought kept running through my mind: What if I made an oil and cast a truth spell over it. I finally decided I was going to do it and started writing down what I would need: 4 ounces of grape seed or jojoba oil and one ounce of sandalwood oil.

I was missing an ingredient and couldn’t think of what it could be. That’s when someone to my right cleared their throat and said, “One ounce of pure vanilla extract.” When I looked up to see who helped me, I was met with a small smile and a wink from Emily.

As soon as the jet landed, I rushed home only slowing down to tell Spencer goodnight. Luckily, he didn’t ask why I was in a hurry, which I am grateful for.

Once I was home it didn’t take long for me to gather all my ingredients and begin my spell. While swirling the blended oils and extract gently in a clockwise motion I chanted, “Truth be told, no more lies. Now it’s time for honesty. Telling the truth will set you free.” I carefully poured the oil into a bottle, concentrating on not getting any on my skin which would activate it.

The next morning everything seemed fine until I got to work. It wasn’t strange of me to greet my coworkers in the mornings. What was strange was the thing I said after my greetings.

When I walked in I saw Tara first and my greeting to her went something a little like, “Good morning. You look tired.” Tara only laughed and responded with, “Well thanks y/n so do you.”

I was lucky that Tara didn’t take offense, but I didn’t mean to say that. I rushed to Penelope’s office and was blessed to fine Emily there as well. My intensions where to say, “Hi guys. I have a problem.” And then explain but what actually came out was, “Why is it always so fucking dark in here.”

Penelope and Emily both just looked at me and then giggled. Emily however seemed to know why I was saying these out of character things, “Y/n I think you may have gotten some of that truth serum on you.”

My response was, “Well shit.”, while Penelope’s was, “What truth serum? Emily how do you know the witchy ways? Wait you told her and not me?”

I took Penelope’s gasp for breath as a chance to explain what happened. This took a little longer than necessary because every time I would talk about one thing what I really thought would pour out like word vomit. Especially when I started explaining the whole situation with the suspect and why I wanted to do the spell.

When I finally stopped talking the door opened right on cue and Matt stuck his head in to let us know it was five minutes till briefing. He looked a little confused when a panicked looked crossed my face and I said, “Do you not know how to knock.” I instantly apologized and looked to Emily and Penelope for help.

Emily nicely dismissed Matt and turned to me, “We need you on this case since Rossi took personal time. The spell will most likely take 24 hours to run through your system. Until then we’re going to have to come up with a good excuse on why you’re being mean.”

Penelope chuckled when I started to pout, “This isn’t fair. Stupid Rossi, stupid psychopaths.” Emily shook her hand as she led me to what was going to be the longest day of my life.

I had never been more right in my life. The whole time we were on the case every thought that ran through my mind escaped through my lips. I was never one to challenge anything about a profile or standup to local cops who were being pigs. Until now. The team never really got upset just more concerned and any time anyone asked if I was okay my response was always, “No I’m a fucking idiot and can’t do anything right.” And would walk away.

It wasn’t until we had made it back to the BAU that Spencer asked what was going on. “Y/n what has gotten into you? You’ve been acting out of character all day.” It was like Spencer talking to me was all it took for every thought I had about him and my situation to come spilling out.

I told him about the suspect and the spell, I even went into detail about my lessons with Penelope which led to me confessing my feelings because of course I had to say something about that damn phone call. When I realized everything, I had said to him I practically started sprinting away from him, ignoring his calls for to wait.

It wasn’t long after I had gotten home that my phone started to ring. Penelope’s name lit up across the screen and when I answered she instantly began to interrogate me. When I didn’t instantly tell her what happened or what I was thinking, I knew the spell had worn off.

I sighed into the phone the same time there was a knock on the door. I looked through the peep hole and was met with the sight of curly brown hair. All I said to Penelope was “I have to call you back” and hung up while she was still asking questions a mile a minute.

When I opened the door I was greeted with a small smile. Instead of a proper greeting I asked, “Spencer, what are you doing here?” Spencer took a step closer as he said, “I don’t need a truth spell to tell you I love you too, y/n.”

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid au #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #criminal minds

[bopbopstyles]

CROWDED PLACES

RATING: R/smut (sex, cursing, some handcuffs)

WORD COUNT: 7.8k

CATEGORIES: roommate!harry, bi!y/n

MASTERLIST |  TALK TO ME | REST OF THE BIFICATHON

a/n: here is my entry for @harrysclementines​​ and i’s bificathon (view them all here)!!!!!! i had prompts 18 and 19 (”Y/N brings home girls and guys (roommate!harry)” and “Harry asks her about the differences in sex between guys and girls”) and here’s what happened. as a bi person i had SUCH a fun time writing this, and i hope you enjoy. named for the BANKS song of the same name. xoxo, love u all my bi angels!

“Are you saying I can just have sex in your bed without you there?”

You grimaced. “Actually on second thought, please don’t do that.”

“Only with you present, I promise.” The words were out of his mouth before he had even processed them, the unabashed flirtation so sexual and clear. It made your eyes widen and you stop midway through the sip of wine you were about to take. He didn’t even know what to say after that—did he apologize? He couldn’t read your face, couldn’t see if you were okay with his words or made you uncomfortable.

“H, are you trying to get me into bed with you?”

The nickname you had for him fell differently in this moment, the sexual context sending blood straight to his pants. “What if I was?”

or

Y/N is bi, Harry’s her roommate and curious

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

Harry found out you were bi by walking into your shared kitchen and finding a girl struggling to figure out your shared intricate coffee maker dressed in your clothes, her hair tangled around her shoulders.

“Need help?” He asked, walking toward the stranger in his kitchen.

The girl’s head bounced up at the sound of his voice and sighed. “Fuck, you scared me. Uh, yeah, thanks. I was trying to make coffee for Y/N but…”

He chuckled to himself and nodded for the girl to move to the side. “Nice of you.”

“I’m Emily, by the way,” the girl told him. “You’re Harry, right? Y/N mentioned she had a roommate last night.”

Harry flicked some buttons on the machine, fiddled with the coffee filter, and then the machine whirred to life. “Yeah, I’m Harry. Y/N mentioned she was going to some club last night—that where you two met?”

The girl nodded, leaning against the counter. “Yeah.”

Harry paused, not really knowing what else to say over the sound of the coffee dropping into the cup situated below the spout. He had come in for some breakfast and coffee, but he didn’t really want to make small talk with your hookup of the week, if he was being honest. So he decided to table coffee, and instead grabbed a box of cereal from the cabinet and the milk from the fridge and made himself some cereal.

“Nice meeting you,” he said to the girl before turning around and heading back to his room.

“Bye,” Emily replied and with that he left the kitchen, beelining for the safety of his own space.

Settling down into his bed, he thought about the girl in his kitchen and you, obviously still tucked into your bed. You two had never really had the conversation about your sexualities—you’d become roommates last year through an advertisement you placed on Craigslist and had spent most of the year just figuring one another out and becoming friends. The topic had never really come up and he had just assumed—wrongly, apparently—that you were straight, since he only really saw you with guys. Although, to be fair, there were nights that you didn’t come home and he didn’t know where you ended up on those nights.

He didn’t care in the slightest, just intrigued by this new piece of information he had discovered. He was curious, if he was being honest, but he didn’t really know if it was his place to ask you about it. Was that rude? He didn’t really know. He’d never just…found out about his friends’ sexuality like this, usually they told him outright at some point, so he was in uncharted territory.

Perhaps he’d just let you bring it up. Or he’d mention that he had met Emily in the kitchen, and see where the conversation went. He settled on the latter, deciding that would open the discussion up but not be too aggressive. More than anything, he wanted you to feel comfortable talking to him about these kinds of things, and also know that he didn’t mind who you brought home or dated.

So, he settled into his pillows and turned on Netflix, starting up a crime documentary he hadn’t seen yet, and ate his cereal.

When he resurfaced two hours later, you were in the kitchen with a skillet of eggs cooking, scrolling through something on your phone and sipping on a cup of coffee. You greeted him with a quiet “good morning” and he responded with the same, before going to the sink to rinse out his bowl and place it in the dishwasher next to him. Then he grabbed himself a cup of coffee, adding a dash of milk, and settled in at the breakfast bar.

“So,” he said, making you turn and look at him. “I met Emily this morning.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but then you nodded. “She told me. Said you helped her with the coffee maker.”

“I did.” He took a sip of his coffee and paused, unsure of what to say next. “She seemed nice.”

You stood up and fully turned so you were facing him, your phone forgotten on the counter. “Yeah, she is.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

You seemed a bit shocked by the question, but shook your head. “I’m not really looking to date anyone right now.”

There was the confirmation he’d been seeking—that Emily had in fact been a hook up. “So all the people you’ve brought back…?”

“Are just some fun,” you finished. “Where’s this all coming from? We don’t usually talk about this stuff.”

“I was just trying to figure out if I needed to prepare to have another roommate,” he quipped, and you snorted before turning back around to where your eggs were sizzling in the pan.

“What about you?” You asked him, using the spatula next to the stove to lift the eggs out of the pan and placed them on a light blue glazed plate, one of the ones you’d bought when you moved in and adored. Harry was banned from using them, relegated to the white porcelain ones he’d purchased.

“Sorry?”

You grabbed the salt and pepper and sprinkled a bit on your eggs, then grabbed your slices of toast from the toaster where they were waiting. “Are you looking to date right now?”

He hadn’t been expecting you to throw the question back at him, but he figured you had every right to. He’d asked you, why not share himself? “I mean, if I met the right person I would be. But I’m not like, actively seeking a relationship.”

With a set of silverware in one hand and your plate in the other, you walked towards him, setting your food on the counter on the other side of the bar so you could face him as you ate. For some reason, you loved to eat standing up  and it had never made sense to him. “So you’re not on dating apps and all that? Hinge and that shit?”

He shook his head as you swiveled to grab the jam from the fridge and began to spread it on your toast. “I can never figure out how to talk to people on them. They’re just so awkward.”

You nodded in agreement before taking a bite of your toast. “Meeting people in person is way better. I tried one once and it was so unpleasant. Felt like so much work, you know? Like finding someone shouldn’t feel like a part-time job.”

He chuckled to himself at your observation. “Right? I’d rather just meet someone through friends or something and talk to them, be able to figure out in person if there’s something there.”

“One time I’d been talking to this girl on Bumble for two weeks, we met up, and I immediately was like, ‘fuck I have no sexual interest in her.’ You know? Like there was no chemistry. We would’ve been great friends, but the other stuff? Nada.” You always talked with your hands and even did in this moment, you slice of toast in one hand and a fork in the other.

“What’d you tell her?” He asked, taking another sip of his coffee as you took a bite of egg.

“The truth,” you said, covering your mouth as you spoke and chewed at the same time. He loved how comfortable you two had become with each other, the natural result of sharing an 800-square foot apartment with another person. “And then she texted me like a month later saying she thought ‘We had really good energy’ and wanted to see if I was interested. So I had to tell her again that I wasn’t interested.”

“Shit,” he said. “That’s brutal.”

“Yep,” you replied, popping the p of the word as you took another bite of your breakfast. “So, what are you up to today?”

He shrugged. “Nothing, really.”

“I was planning to go to IKEA to look at a new bed frame and look at all the room set-ups—want to come with?”

It was one of your favorite shared activities, which you had discovered when he had moved in and needed to buy a whole host of new furniture. You’d tagged along since you knew the apartment better, and you’d ended up spending practically the whole day inside. Since then, it was your rainy day activity.

“What’s wrong with your current bed frame?”

You shrugged, picking up your toast and taking a final bite. “It creaks too much. I think it’s just old, so I want something different.”

Harry tried not to think about why your bed creaked so much, and instead told you he’d come with.

Harry was pushing you around IKEA and frankly you were having the time of your life. Just to piss him off you’d gotten into the cart, folding up your body and leaning against the front of the cart, and he’d just rolled his eyes at you and called you a child before rolling the cart towards the entrance to the store.

You had made it through the bathroom section without much incident, but when you had reached the living rooms you had decided that you simply had to try out all of the couches, even though neither of you needed to buy one. Together you developed a rating scale—firmness of cushions, bounce level, and ability to lay down comfortably. A couple ranked high on all three scales, but none just blew you away, so you jointly decided you definitely didn’t need to invest in another couch for no reason.

In the kitchen department, you both oohed and ahhed over countertops and backsplashes, pointing out appliances you desperately wanted. You tried to convince Harry that you really needed new bar stools, but he wasn’t swayed. However, he did relent and allow you to buy some new spatulas and other kitchen utensils after you told him they were replacements for the current ones, which were two years old at least.

Finally, you reached the beds. Bed after bed laid out in front of you, just waiting for you to try them out and see which one was both sturdy and sleek. You beelined for the first one, sitting down on the mattress and looking up at Harry, who was leaning on his elbows on the handlebar of the cart and watching you.

“Come test it out with me,” you said, patting the bed next to you. “I need to see how the weight of two people feels on it.”

His eyebrows furrowed, but he left the cart and moved towards you. He was dressed in one of his favorite sweatshirt, a black one he’d gotten in Tokyo at a DJ Harvey and Keb Darge party, and a pair of blue jeans with a frayed hem, and white Vans with the pink and blue laces you’d given him for his birthday threaded through each one of the shoes, a beanie covering his curls and his black sunglasses tucked into the neck of the sweatshirt. You adored Harry’s clothes, frequently stealing them which he found aggravating and you loved doing for that very reason.

He settled on to the bed next to you, his knee knocking against yours as he settled back on his hands. “So? Thoughts?”

His eyes flickered over to you. “Seems sturdy enough, but I hate the headboard.”

You turned to look at the headboard, which was just one long piece of skinny blond wood. Upon investigation, you also hated it. “Agreed. Next one!” You scampered over to the next one, which had a wrought iron headboard in black and you quite liked the look of it. The rest of your furniture was black and your duvet was a light blue, so it would fit in perfectly. “What do you think of this one?”

Harry moved to sit next to you and shrugged. “Seems good.”

“The headboard up to par for you?”

“I like it. You?”

You nodded and then looked at him, deadpanning, “You could hook handcuffs through it.”

Harry choked on air, before bursting into laughter at your comment. “Is that a priority for you? The ability to handcuff someone to your headboard?”

“Honestly, yeah. Otherwise what good is it?”

He bit back a smile, and then turned to look at the other beds around you. “Well on that basis, we can cut out most of the beds here. Ones like these are the best, nothing that’s wood.”

“Know from personal experience, do you?” Harry blushed and you poked his side. “Didn’t know you were so kinky, Styles.”

“Right back at you,” he replied. “So what other tests are involved in the purchase of a bed?”

“Well,” you began, pushing yourself higher on the bed. “Mine creaks a ton, so I need to know how much this one does.”

He glanced between you and the bed, and then the number of people around. “What’s your plan? Jump on the bed or something?”

You shrugged. “Maybe. Got a better idea?”

“You could like, try and push it forward and back?”

“Go for it.”

Harry stood up and walked to the head of the bed, grabbing onto the frame and pulled it forward and back—or tried to. The headboard didn’t budge and you watched with a quirked smile. “It’s not moving,” he mumbled. “Maybe that’s good? Means it’s strong and all that?”

For being two 26-year-olds, you realized, the two of you still didn’t know much about furniture. “Probably. But I still think we should do the jump test.”

“I am not jumping on that bed with you.”

“Harry…”

“No, Y/N, we’re in the middle of a store!”

You huffed out a breath. “Fine.” Then, you turned over and got up on your hands and knees and pushed all of your weight into the mattress and moved backward and forth, trying to see if it would creak or sway as you moved. You could feel Harry’s eyes on your form but you paid him no mind, your focus on the task at hand.

Harry, meanwhile, swallowed thickly as he watched you, the sway of your body sending thoughts he really shouldn’t have been having through his head. Did you realize what you were doing? The position you were in and what it made him think of? Probably not.

“I think this one’s actually pretty good,” you informed him, turning over and lying down on the mattress. “Should I get the mattress too? I’ve had mine for like five years. What’s the lifespan on a mattress?”

“Dunno,” Harry answered, leaning his arm against the wrought iron headboard. “Can you afford both?”

You groaned and sat up. “Why on earth did you have to bring up money? I was having so much fun until you got all responsible on me.”

“Hey, someone’s got to have some sense in our apartment.”

“And that someone is you?”

“You’re the one who wanted to jump on beds in the middle of IKEA on a Saturday, not me.”

You huffed out a sigh and pushed yourself off the bed, coming to standing. “Come on, let’s go look at desks.”

“So you’re getting this one?”

You nodded. “It’s the best one for the handcuffs, isn’t it?” He blushed and you walked ahead of him, letting him push the cart after you.

You spent the rest of Saturday deconstructing your old bed frame and building your new one with Harry’s help. It was definitely a two person job—screwing together the support pieces to the headboard and placing the slats properly, lifting your mattress onto your new bed. By the end of the whole process you were tired, hungry, and a bit cranky, but you had a new bed that you adored. Harry ordered you both pizza, and you opened a bottle of red wine once you’d finished your food, pouring you both a glass.

Harry was sitting on the couch, his sweatshirt long gone, in just his jeans and a black t-shirt stretched across his muscular upper body. In the year he’d lived with you, he’d gained a significant amount of muscle mass, transforming from the more ropey guy who moved in, into this man who looked like a fucking Greek God after a day in the sun. You carried over the wine, handing him his glass and setting the bottle on the table for refills that would definitely occur.

You picked up the remote, anticipating a night of re-watching each of your favorite trashy teen dramas from the early 2000s (yours was What a Girl Wants or the Lizzie McGuire Movie, depending on your mood) when Harry spoke.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” you answered, taking a sip of your wine and opening the Netflix app on your TV.

“It might be a bit too personal, so if you don’t want to answer, just don’t—“

“Harry, just spit it out,” you said, cutting him off.

“What’s the difference in sex between guys and girls?” His question was rushed, but you made out every word and it made you choke on your wine a bit.

You set down your wine glass and turned to fully face him. “Like…generally?”

The blush that crept across his cheeks was endearing, obviously regretting the question once it was out of his mouth. “I don’t know. Fuck, forget I asked—“

“It’s fine,” you told him. You considered his question, mulling over the experiences you’d had with both sexes and comparing the two. To be honest, you didn’t spend much time comparing them because they were different in so many ways. “The most glaring thing,” you began, “is that sex with women can just keep on going until one of you like…can’t anymore. There’s no waiting or anything like there is with guys. So it means that it’s really intense for like a long period of time.”

He was listening intently, fingers tight around his wine glass as you spoke. To be frank, you couldn’t really believe you were having this conversation with Harry of all people. “I guess it’s also different because you don’t have penetration with girls—at least, not in the same way. I’ve never used a strap-on with anyone, just like oral and hands, so it means those things are more intense, in my opinion. Also, girls are really fucking good at oral—not that guys aren’t—but it’s just so good.”

“What makes them better?”

“Not better,” you said, “just different. Softer, in my opinion—like their fingers and hands are softer. And they also can figure out what you need faster, or maybe that’s just the people I’ve been with. There’s definitely something to be said for being a woman and knowing what other women need.”

If it wasn’t for the wine in his hand, Harry might not have had the courage to have this conversation. It had been sitting in the back of his mind for ages, before he even found out you were bi, but now that he knew you were you were one of the few people he could talk to about something like this. You were also one of the few people he trusted to have this conversation with and it to not become too awkward. He felt more comfortable around you than he did with most other people, that was for sure. He considered what you had said, mulling the words over in his head. Softer. He understood that—he loved the softness of women when they touched him, their longer fingernails and the kitten licks they spread over his body.

“Why do you ask?” You tucked your legs up, hooking your arm around your knees as you took another sip of your wine.

He chewed on his lip for a minute, rubbing his finger across the exterior of his glass. “I was just curious, I guess. I didn’t know you were bi until you brought Emily back, so I just started thinking about it a bit. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” you told him. “I guess I didn’t even realize you didn’t know, to be honest. I don’t really feel the need to constantly be coming out to people, if that makes sense. Especially if I trust that they won’t care either way.”

“It does.” He shifted forward, taking another sip of his wine and mirroring your position. “And I don’t care either way, just so you know.”

You gave him a smile. “I appreciate that.” You fiddled with the hem of your pajama shorts, the old ratty blue ones from Target you’d had since college, before asking the question floating around in your head. “Now that you’ve asked me a sexual question, it’s my turn.” His eyebrows jumped, but he nodded his okay. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to try?”

“Are you asking me about my kinks?” He asked, a playful grin on his face, and your eyes fluttered down in embarrassment. “To be honest, I haven’t really tried all that much—haven’t been in that many relationships where I feel comfortable trying stuff out, you know?”

“You’ve obviously tried handcuffs,” you quipped, and he blushed.

“I haven’t, actually. Just…thought about it, I guess.”

“Well,” you said, the wine emboldening you, “you’re always welcome to try it with my bed.”

He laughed, one of his full body ones that made you smile widely at him. “Are you saying I can just have sex in your bed without you there?”

You grimaced. “Actually on second thought, please don’t do that.”

“Only with you present, I promise.” The words were out of his mouth before he had even processed them, the unabashed flirtation so sexual and clear. It made your eyes widen and stop midway through the sip of wine you were about to take. He didn’t even know what to say after that—did he apologize? He couldn’t read your face, couldn’t see if you were okay with his words or made you uncomfortable.

But then you saved him, giving him a small and flirtatious smile, one he’d only seen you give others, never him. The one where your eyes had a fire to the edges, a slight curve to your pink lips, your tongue dart out to wet them. “H, are you trying to get me into bed with you?”

The nickname you had for him fell differently in this moment, the sexual context sending blood straight to his pants. “What if I was?”

The conversation had taken a rapid turn and it had your skin warming, your brain abuzz. What if he was? You had to admit, you’d always found Harry attractive, from that first moment you met him in a coffee shop after he responded to your Craigslist ad. You had always told yourself it was just normal attraction, the same attraction you had to that boy you’d known your entire life and knew was attractive but never actually considered anything more with. It was platonic. You lived with the guy, for Pete’s sake—you witnessed his messy room and how he struggled to cook fish properly and when he had vomited after a night out with his friends. You’d seen him at his worst and at his best, but so had he.

Living with Harry had brought you close in a way you didn’t expect—you didn’t necessarily share everything with him, but he knew you in a way few others did. He could read you well, know how your day was by the way you entered the apartment. You liked the same type of movies, you had routines, you shared about your families over pasta dinners and a bottle of wine when the power was out and you had nowhere else to be. More than anything, you felt safe with him, comfortable, valued. He had always gone out of his way to make sure you felt comfortable with living with him and you thought he was honestly the best roommate you had ever had. You were endlessly grateful he responded to the ad and you’d ended up living with him.

But sex with him? Would it change everything? Probably. Would it change it for the worst, though? You weren’t sure. “Would it change anything?” You asked hesitantly.

He paused, the tension between you thick in your small living room, the soft light from the lamp in the corner basking you both in a warm yellow glow. “Not unless we wanted it to.”

You swallowed thickly. “Then I wouldn’t say no,” you said, voice soft.

Harry’s eyes were boring a hole in yours, his breaths shallow and frequent, panting as you both stared at each other, trying to figure out if what you thought was going to happen would actually occur. “Are you sure?” He asked, leaning slightly towards you.

You lowered your legs so that your knees weren’t up to your chest, and pushed your body closer to his in answer. He reached out and hesitantly brought his hand up to your cheek, his palm warm against your skin, finding your gaze before leaning in to close the distance between you.

The second his lips brushed yours you wondered why you hadn’t done this earlier. With his hand cupping your cheek, he pulled you in closer, his free arm wrapping around your lower back and tugging you into his body. He tasted like pizza and red wine and you thought that you probably did too. Your hands reached up to grip the back of his neck, holding him closer to you and shifting towards him. It felt electric, kissing him, and you were falling into it faster than you could think, craving more and more from him, desperate for his touch and the way he prodded open your lips and touched your tongue with his own.

He was grabbing at your hips, squeezing your skin through your pajamas shorts and the oversized band t-shirt you wore, the pads of his fingers digging into you and his rings heavy against your clothes. Fuck it you decided, and pushed back on his shoulders a bit, unwinding your legs, and swinging them onto either side of his hips, settling firmly into his lap. He looked surprised at your movement, but not mad, especially whenever you adjusted and brushed over his hard-on.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips when you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as you kissed him. Pushing up the hem of your shirt, his fingers danced across your back, sliding up your bare skin. You never wore a bra at home, something he’d long ago gotten used to, but to have you pressed to his front, your nipples peaking out, and feeling your bare back under his hand was a completely different experience.

You tugged on the ends of his hair and he groaned into your mouth, a smile spreading across your lips that were between his. With your teeth you tugged on his bottom lip, pulling it away from his mouth and watching as his eyes fell to your mouth, his chest rising and falling as you let go of his lip and sat an inch away from him. Then, he was surging forward again, holding your head in one of his hands and pulling your mouth back to his, chasing you.

Everything about the moment felt good—from the way his hands felt on you to the smell of his cologne and the shower gel you both used, the shared laundry detergent on his clothes. His lips on yours, the prod of his tongue against yours, the way the sounds that left him rang in your ears. Your chest was crushed against his, knees tight against his hips, pushing him back into the pillow behind his head so that you were both horizontal on the couch, your body hovering over his.

The two of you lingered in that position, letting the swivel of your hips over his pelvis draw moans from you both, soft and breathy sounds that filled your living room. Harry’s hands ran under your shirt and then back down to your hips to guide you, a path he repeated over and over again and you weren’t complaining. You loved the feeling of his hands on your body. You were resting fully on his chest, your nipples hard under your shirt as you ground yourself against him, your forearms resting on the pillow behind his head for leverage.

When his hips bucked up into yours, you couldn’t help but rasp his name, a “Harry,” falling from your lips with ease. You trailed your lips down his neck in response, pushing at the neck of his shirt to find the spot at the base of his neck where you sucked harshly. His fingers pressed tighter on your hips and you smiled against his skin. “Like that?” You asked, licking over the mark you’d made.

“Yeah,” he said, rolling your hips over his. You could feel how hard he was through your pajama shorts and his jeans and you were curious. Living with him you’d seen him in just his briefs and the occasional swimsuit when he was heading to the pool with friends, but you’d never seen him fully nude. However, you had a pretty good idea of his size and you couldn’t say you weren’t eager.

Slowly, you inched your hand down his chest, digging your nails into his skin through his shirt, loving the noises that spilled from his mouth at the feeling. When your hand reached his jeans, though, he pulled at your wrist, ripping you away. “What?”

“I wanna do you,” he said. “You were talking earlier about oral and now I’m curious where I fall on the scale.”

He was going to kill you, wasn’t he? “Okay,” you told him, pressing your palm into his torso. “Where do you want to be?”

“Bed,” he replied, nudging at your nose. “Let’s see how much that new bed creaks.”

You pushed up off of him, and he followed you to your bed with his hands on your hips, tugging you back into his chest mid-way through the way to kiss you again, pulling a gasp from your throat when he surprised you. When you pushed open your door, for the first time there was no point in closing it behind you because the only other person who could have seen what was happening was already in the room with you. Harry’s body mirrored yours as you stepped backwards towards your bed, following you as you fell onto the duvet that you had placed there only a matter of hours earlier.

You wanted his skin, to see him and feel him in this way, and so you pushed at the hem of his shirt, the word, “Off,” sticking in your throat when he pulled it up and off of his body, tossing it to the side without consequence. Bare skin stretched in front of you, covered in swirlings of black ink that you had seen before, but never like this. Never when it was yours to see, to touch, to feel. So you took full advantage, sliding your palms up his chest as he leaned back down.

“Your turn,” he mumbled, sucking on your nipple through your shirt, your back arching towards his mouth in a silent beg for more. Fingers pressed into the sliver of your stomach that was exposed, and you raised your arms as if to tell he could push it off, which he did, creeping the fabric up your body and leaving kisses in the wake of the hem. Once it was over your head, he licked over your bare nipple and your a wet mewl left your lips.

“H,” you rasped, tugging on the locks of his hair, the strands threading between your fingers.

His head bounced up, the forest green of his irises barely visible, his pupils blown out with desire. “What?”

You opened your legs wider, and Harry smiled devilishly at you, giving your cleavage on final pull with his lips before creeping down your body. You didn’t stop him when he went to tug off your shorts, nor did you stop him when he laid between your legs, or when he licked and sucked and pulled at your inner thighs, making your chest shudder with desperation.

Nor did you stop him when his tongue touched your clit, licking a straight line up from your slit to your bud. Instead, you gasped his name, a curse mixed in falling from your lips, and tugged his head closer to you. He’d collected saliva on his tongue without you realizing it and the wetness of it was running all over your hot skin, a distinct slurping noise filling the air that only made it hotter. You picked up your head and watched in rapture as he licked into you, his curls falling into his face as he moved between your legs.

He alternated between sucking on your clit and swiping at your slit, nudging his tongue into you just to drive you crazy. Which he succeeded in doing, based on how your hips picked up when he did it, chasing the pressure he left in his wake. He was turning you into a mess, a mess only for him, desire and your orgasm falling through you faster than usual. For some reason he had been concerned about how good he was, but now he was between your legs and you didn’t know how you had gone twenty-six years without him. How you had lived with him for a year and never felt him like this, seen him like this—his head tilting up and the sight of your juices on coating his lips and chin, his tongue darting out to taste them.

“So?” He asked, pressing into your plush thighs, his rings leaving an indentation in their wake. “Where do I fit on the scale?”

“You haven’t made me come,” you responded, voice rough, breath catching in your lungs as you tried to inhale properly.

A wicked smile flashed onto his face, and then he brushed his tongue in a circle around your clit, your fingers tightening in his hair. “I’m not done yet.” Then he was back between your legs, drawing mewls and moans from you like it was his job, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. Your eyes fluttered shut and your head fell back against the mattress, back arching as you tried to grind down on his face. You could feel your walls tightening around nothing and you needed something there, a little bit more.

“Your fingers,” you said, picking up your head to look at him. “I need your fingers.”

Harry glanced up at you, before he answered your plea with his touch, not his words. Not being a man for warning, the tips of his forefinger and middle finger brushed at your entrance just once before pushing inside of you, a deep and unrelenting moan flowing from you with ease. “Yeah? That feel good?”

You could tell he liked praise and so you tightened your hold on his hair and muttered a Yes, bringing his lips back to your center as he drove his fingers inside of you at a brutal pace. The sound of his fingers and your wetness echoed in your ears, but the louder sound was Harry’s grunts and moans and curses below you whenever he brought his head up for air. Somehow, he seemed to be enjoying this as much as you, which definitely gave him some bonus points in your book.

“Gonna come for me, Y/N?” His words were rough and deep, a lower octave to his voice you hadn’t heard before, and it made you desperate for him. Your hips pushed down against his hand, craving more inside of you, and that was when the cold metal of his rings brushed your entrance. The coldness against the warmth of your skin felt heavenly and you mewled at the touch, Harry chuckling lightly from where he laid.

You could feel your belly tightening, the tell tale sign of an orgasm quickly approaching, but you needed just barely more from him. You didn’t know what it was, but you needed more. So you asked, a “More, please,” leaving your mouth in a chant.

He was unfazed, doubling his pace inside of you and suckling on your clit repeatedly before letting his lips fall to your entrance, slipping around the taught skin with his tongue to add to the sensation. It had your back arching and you knew you were mere seconds away. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you called into the room, your grip on his hair lethal as he licked you into your orgasm.

It crashed into you and he fucked you through it with his fingers, sucking and pulling on your bud as you rode his fingers, back arched and a series of curses circling around you. “Beautiful,” you barely heard him mumble into your skin, the low rumble of his voice sending vibrations through you.

Once you’d regained your breath he was crawling up the length of your body, kisses littered across your bare skin. “Fuck,” you said, a chuckle leaving you as you were reacquainted with the sight of his face hovering above you.

“So?” He asked, hands coming to rest on either side of your head. “What’s my rating?”

You tugged at his neck and dropped his body to yours, his lips meeting yours in a cruel fire. You rolled your hips up and wrapped your legs around his waist, shoving him to the side that he rotated, falling to his back and you above him. “You know exactly how good you are,” you told him, licking and pulling at his neck. “You arrogant asshole.”

A laugh rumbled in his chest, his hands coming to sit on your waist as you brushed back and forth on his jeans. “I distinctly remember you asking me not to stop, so I’m going to go with a high rating? Perhaps the best of all the men who have come before me?”

You knew his ego was big enough that you didn’t need to inflate it, but for some reason you did anyways. “You’d be right about that,” you told him, shoving his legs apart so you could sit between them and popping the button on his jeans. “Now, can I fuck you?”

Harry laughed one of his full body laughs, his head raising off the bed at your words. “Yeah, go ahead, sweetheart,” he said once he’d calmed, a smile stretched across his face at the sight of you between his knees.

With a roll of your eyes, you tugged on the denim, pulling it down his legs. “Do you ever wear underwear?” You asked him, pushing the material off the bed and gazing at his erect pink cock resting on his belly.

“Why?”

“Just trying to figure out how you manage to walk around with that thing and no underwear.”

“Oi!” He said, a frown fixing onto his lips at your laughter. “It’s not a thing, it’s my dick and it’s about to be fucking you, so no mean words, hmm?”

When your fingers wrapped around him all of his laughter and complaints were gone with a string of curse words, his hips bucking up at your touch. You pumped him a few times, nosing at his thigh just to rile him up a bit more. He was warm and heavy in your grip. For the most part, you found dicks the same as all body parts, but Harry’s was beautiful in a way few were. It made you even wetter than he had left you and gathered saliva on your tongue, and when you pushed on the tip delicately with your thumbpad and heard him groan, you knew you couldn’t wait any longer.

You pushed up off of the bed and he whined at your absence, but you ignored him. You had a mission. Rifling through your bedside table, you finally landed on the item you were searching for—the handcuffs you’d purchased a few months ago and had been waiting to try out.

Harry’s eyes widened at the clink of the metal and watched as you swung them on your finger, a coy smile on your face. “Remember these?” You asked, moving to the headboard where you threaded through the wrought iron. “Didn’t think I’d forgotten, did you?”

“No,” he said, gulping and raising his wrists to you, pliant as ever.

“Good,” you answered, a kiss to each of his wrists before securing them in the handcuffs, tugging on the chain to make sure it would hold. “Now then.” You re-positioned yourself over his hips, one knee on either side, and trailed your fingers down his chest. “You look so pretty laid out for me like this.”

Harry’s mind was spinning as he gazed up at you. He’d never felt quite like this—so powerless, but so desperate for someone. You’d turned him to mush with just a few touches and he wanted you in a way he had needed few. The handcuffs weren’t what did it, either, it was the way you touched him, the quirk of your smile and your laughter, how you had bucked into his face, how your fingers touched his skin. He didn’t realize until he was underneath you how long he had been waiting to be there at your mercy, willing to take any shred you’d give him.

“You okay?” You asked, voice soft as you touched his cheek.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “I’m okay.”

You leaned down and kissed his chest, before snatching the condom you’d laid out on the duvet. Rolling it down his length he hissed at the touch, but you tried to be gentle, knowing that the handcuffs were probably a lot. Then, you rose up onto your knees, positioning yourself over him, and raised his cock, brushing the tip against your entrance. Your eyes found his as you lowered onto him, a groan leaving both of your chests as you took him.

“Holy shit,” he said as your hips met him, his length fully inside of you. “Shit, Y/N.”

You rocked back and forth on him, your fingernails digging into his chest at the feeling of him fitting so snugly inside of you. “Feels so good,” you mumbled, your words long gone from making sense. It always happened—you lost the ability to think about what you were saying, words becoming a string of consciousness. “So deep, H.”

“Yeah?” You could hear the handcuffs rattling against your headboard as you moved over him, but the bed wasn’t creaking yet, just shifting back and forth. His hips raised up to yours, pushing him deeper inside of you somehow and it made you both moan, deep and unrestrained.

Not having to censor your sounds was a completely different experience and you loved it. Your eyes flickered up to where his wrists were clasped in the handcuffs, his nails digging into his palms, the cross tattoo on his thumb shining in the light of your bedroom. “How do they feel?” You asked, bouncing up and down on him.

He couldn’t answer at first, mind swimming from the tight metal on his wrists and the way you held him inside of you so snugly. His whole body was warm, from his sweat and your touch and just the overwhelming desire rolling through him. “Like them,” he finally got out, because he did. Something about the restraints made it more intense, the fact that he couldn’t touch you, the fact that you were just fucking him like you wanted to. It was making his orgasm rush towards him, a twitching throughout his body he was barely staving off.

“They’re hot,” you said, using your knees you speed up your tempo, needing him faster inside of you. “Like seeing you all tied up.”

Usually you didn’t feel this comfortable this quickly with someone you were hooking up with, but with Harry you knew he would never judge him. You trusted him fully and here, in this room, was no different. “I’m close,” he rasped when you swiveled your hips, brushing him against your g-spot and whining out his name.

“Yeah?” Your fingernails crept down his torso leaving long red marks in their wake. “Wanna see you come, H,” you mumbled, splaying your palms out on his abdomen, which was taut from the pleasure he was trying to hold off.

“Fuck,” he yelled when you clenched down on him, his hips bouncing up immediately, slamming against yours. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” then he was coming, the combination of the cold metal on his wrists leaving him at your mercy and the tightness you held around him combining to send him toppling over the edge.

You bent over, your torso resting on his and fucked yourself on him as best you could, not wanting to overwhelm him but also chasing your own release. The sound of your name on his tongue, a raw and unhinged moan ripping through him from his own sensitivity. “Close,” you said, kissing across his collarbone and blowing softly on the mark you’d left earlier.

The sight of his eyes screwed shut and the panting of his breath, the way his chest heaved as he tried to calm down, mixed with him begging for you to find your release left you squirming above him, body rattling with your orgasm. You clenched down on him as you came and he grunted at the feeling, but you couldn’t stop it, a call of his name leaving your mouth.

It left you worn-out and desperate for cuddles, so you reached up, unfastening the handcuffs and releasing his wrists. His hands found your skin immediately, hooking them around your back and pulling you flush. You lifted up off of him so that he could pull the condom off and you whimpered at the loss. “Tired,” you mumbled into his chest.

“S’okay,” he replied, kissing the top of your forehead. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you answered, shutting your eyes against his skin. “How was that?”

He let out a breath, taut and tight in the room. “Fucking insane,” he answered, and you giggled next to him as he pinched your ass lightly. “You’ve been hiding that from me for all this time, huh?”

“Guess so.”

He chuckled, nudging your forehead with his chin. “Think you might want to do that again sometime?”

You picked up your head, opening your eyes to look at him. “Sure I didn’t scare you off with the handcuffs?”

“Fuck no,” he replied in a rush. “Blew my mind.”

“Then yeah,” you told him. “As long as it’s my turn next.”

One of his eyebrows quirked up, and then a grin spread across his face. “Your turn, eh?”

His red-tinged wrists wrapped around you and smothered you in kisses, your hands batting at his body in a fit of laughter, but he didn’t quit. Instead, he pulled you close, a final press of his lips to your cheek, and you settled in against his body, knowing he’d be there in the morning.

He was your roommate, after all—where else did he have to be?

thank you for reading!!!! please go check out the other writers in the bificathon here, reblog this fic, and come chat with me in my inbox about this fic if you liked it. xoxo love you all!

#harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x mc #harry styles smut #harry styles bi fic #bi reader #bi fic #bisexual fic #harry styles bisexual reader #harry styles roommate #harry styles x roommate #roommate!harry styles

[raibebe]

Genre: Fluff Words: 6.879 Prompt: best friend Yangyang x female reader + “Stop hogging all the blankets!” Warnings: MC is an oblivious idiot, Yangyang is a sweetheart, mentions of injury

A/N: What do you mean Valentine’s Day was on the 14th and not on the 24th? Seems fake. AnYwAys: This was written for the Candy hearts collab hosted by @127-mile. Thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write for my precious brezel baby. Thank you @ncteaxhoe for the lovely header after I went almost crazy...

Taglist: @byunniebaekhyunnie​

“You’re going on vacation with Yangyang?” “Yes.” “Your best friend?” “Yes.” “To an abandoned cabin in the woods.” “First it’s not abandoned, just very far out and second I don’t see where you’re going with this.” “Well are you?” You sighed loudly, rolling your eyes at Donghyuck who was sat in front of you in the library where you had met to have a little study session before you were leaving for the weekend. “Yes I am.” “On Valentine’s Day.” “It’s just because it’s on a weekend and it was cheap.” “You do see where I am going with this, right?” “I am not Donghyuck,” you rolled your eyes. “You’re literally the most stupid person I have ever met and I am friends with a bunch of idiots,” your friend whined, throwing the straw wrapper from his iced americano at you. “Hyuck what’s your problem? We’re literally just both stressed out from classes already and he found that offer that’s within both of our budgets. Nothing wrong about two friends chilling in a secluded cabin.” “Have you seen the freaking cabin?” Donghyuck whisper screamed, earning him a hiss from one of the students sitting on the table next to you. “I have, Hyuck.” “Then you might have missed the fact that this cabin coincidentally has a hot tub but only one bedroom?” He went on, waving his phone in front of your face where he had pulled up the website advertising the cabin. Groaning, you faceplanted into the books that were scattered around you. “Do you see what I mean now?” Donghyuck hissed, scrolling through the pictures on the website. “Hyuck listen. Yangyang and I are both kind of short on cash so the bigger cabins just weren’t going to make it if we wanted that hot tub. So we agreed that we could sleep in the same bed for a couple of nights, no big deal. Pretty sure you’ve done that with Mark, Jaemin and Jeno as well when you four went on spring break vacation.” “Don’t distract from the topic, that was entirely different,” Donghyuck mused but the slight blush covering his cheeks was betraying him. “Is it though?” You asked, a shit eating grin on your face. “When did this conversation turn into you commenting on my poor live choices?”

“Discussing Hyuck’s poor live choices? My favorite part time activity,” another voice joined into your conversation and Renjun plopped down next to his friend on the bench. “Can you smell my misery or something?” Donghyuck groaned, slumping back into his seat, dramatically staring at the high ceiling. “I wish I could,” the Chinese laughed, loudly slurping his iced drink of choice despite the chilly weather outside while completely ignoring the glares some of the students were shooting him, “No, I was supposed to meet Yangyang to give him my car keys but you’ll do.” With that he threw his keys onto the table. “It’s parked by the student center, should fit all of your stuff.” “Thank you Renjun,” you smiled, pocketing his keys. “There is a chance though that I am out of gas,” he grinned. “I knew there would be a catch,” the familiar voice of your best friend groaned before he plopped down next to you, loudly dropping his backpack onto the floor which again had people to glare at your little group. “I swear to god you’re going to get us kicked out,” Hyuck hissed, throwing Yangyang and Renjun disappointed glares. “Not like you were studying anyways,” Renjun rolled his eyes. “What were you doing?” Yangyang asked, flipping through the pages of one of your books. “Well I was trying to get a head start on my essay,” you groaned, “But Hyuck had other plans.”

“Exactly. Which brings me back to my point,” Donghyuck grinned, turning towards Yangyang, “Yang, so did you, by any chance notice that the cabin you’re staying at this weekend with your best friend on freaking Valentine’s Day conveniently only has one bed but features a hot tub?” “Oooooh,” Renjun mused, leaning forward into his elbows. “Well... We were short on money but wanted a hot tub?” Yangyang slowly answered, blushing under the intense gazes of both of his friends. “See Hyuck it’s exactly what I told you,” you groaned, “No big deal.” “Sure, just two friends sitting in a hot tub, five feet apart because they’re not in love,” Renjun sang. “The original sounds better,” Donhyuck said flatly. “Yeah but the both of them are disgustingly straight,” Renjun shrugged. “You make that sound like an insult,” Yangyang snorted and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Anyways!” Donghyuck interrupted a little too loud, causing one of the students working in the library to actually walk over to your table to ask you to leave.

“Well great,” you groaned when you snuggled into your thick winter jacket once you were outside while Renjun and Yangyang couldn’t hold in their laughter anymore. “You guys are the worst,” you said and rolled your eyes even though you couldn’t stop the smile on your face from spreading. “You love us,” Donghyuck laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “We weren’t gonna get anything done anyways.” “And we still need to pack,” Yangyang added, “Also I still need the keys to the car.” “Catch,” you called and quickly threw the keys over to your best friend that Renjun had given you earlier, laughing as he struggled to catch them. “Treat her gently,” Renjun laughed, “Oh and she needs gas.” “Why did I expect anything else,” Yangyang groaned but pocketed the keys, “I’ll pick you up after your morning classes?” “Sure,” you smiled. “You’re leaving me alone in our literature class?” Donghyuck gasped, dramatically holding his heart. “Listen, it’s either listening to professor Quian all afternoon or drive to the cabin early, Hyuck. What would you do?” You giggled. “Fair,” he shrugged, “But I still feel betrayed.” “Yesterday you felt betrayed by that pizza place because you found one stray piece of pineapple on your pizza,” Renjun helpfully added. “That was an attack on my health,” he hissed, pointing his finger at his friend and roommate, “Pineapples do not belong on pizza.” “I am not having this discussion again,” you groaned and slipped out of Donghyuck’s grip, “I gotta pack my stuff.” “Yeah, have fun on your totally not couple’s vacation,” Renjun laughed. “It’s not a couple’s vacation,” you and Yangyang immediately shouted, giggling at each other afterwards. “You’re all disgusting, I am leaving,” Donghyuck declared, dragging Renjun with him in the direction of their dorm.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you smiled at Yangyang. “Yeah, I’ll pick up Renjun’s car and get all the stuff inside. Be at your dorm at like 12.” “Sure, I’m really looking forward to this.” “Yeah, me too,” Yangyang said softly, a soft blush on his cheeks that must have been from the cold air. He quickly wrapped you up in a hug before waving goodbye to head over to the student’s center. Sighing you turned in the opposite direction to your own shoebox of a dorm room, skidding along excitedly. You really were looking forward to this vacation with your best friend.

The next day found you buzzing with excitement, quickly throwing the last things that had been missing into your bag before speeding to your morning classes that went by in a blur. In what felt like no time at all, you were rushing down the steps of your dorm to throw yourself into Renjun’s car and your arms around your best friend’s neck to squeeze him in a tight hug. “I’m so excited,” you squeaked once you let him go to heave in a couple of breaths. “I can tell,” Yangyang laughed, handing you his phone that was already connected to the AUX cord, “I spend two hours yesterday to make the perfect road trip playlist, so you better appreciate that.” “This better not suck,” you laughed as he started the car to start your journey.

The way up to the mountains found you and Yangyang singing along to his actually good playlist that included some of your favorite songs, your singing getting progressively worse and louder the higher up you got and the more snow was falling. After you had gotten lost just once or twice on the way to pick up the keys from a lady at the reception who handed you a big basket with rose petals, champagne and what seemed like condoms and lube. Heat had immediately risen to both of your faces and you had stumbled over your words for the rest of the conversation, relieved when you could finally leave and head over back to your car to drive up to where your small cabin was.

“This is so cozy,” you cooed once you had made it inside the cabin, dropping your bag right next to the door to race through the rooms that included a small but clean bathroom and small kitchen with the cutest old school curtains in front of the snowy windows and a door lead outside to where the hot tub was already steaming. The main room that you had come into had a small two-seater couch with a bunch of cozy blankets thrown over it standing in front of a little fireplace that both you and Yangyang were kind of scared to light but you had to eventually because that was all the heat you were going to get. “The bed is huge,” Yangyang exclaimed and the next thing you heard was a loud thump as he had faceplanted right into the mattress, currently starfishing out, his fingertips not reaching the ends of the bed. “But we only have one blanket,” you laughed, flipping up through the layers your best friend was laying on top. “Wait for real?” He asked, eyes wide and scrambling to take a look for himself. “I hope you like cuddling,” you giggled, tackling your best friend onto the bed who just screeched before he tried to get the upper hand in the tickle fight that had broken out.

“Okay, okay, I surrender,” you laughed with tears in your eyes and lifted your arms in defeat when he had you pinned beneath you, his fingers tickling your sides until you couldn’t breathe anymore. “You’re admitting defeat?” Yangyang laughed, all his teeth showing with how bright he was smiling, digging his fingers between your ribs one last time before he fell to the mattress next to you, you both panting heavily between giggles. When you turned your head to look at your best friend, he was already looking right back at you, something unreadable in his expression. For a while you just stared into each other’s eyes, the occasional noise of the wood of the cabin creaking the only sound you could hear. Had Yangyang’s eyes always sparkled like that in the low light? Or was it just more apparent now that he had dyed his hair back to his natural dark brown? You found your hand itching to push his too long bangs from his eyes so you could see them properly, captivated by how the edges crinkled up with how he was softly smiling.

The serene silence was very rudely interrupted by Yangyang’s stomach growling loudly which caused both of you to burst out into another fit of giggles. “I think that’s out cue to put the pizzas in the oven and to unpack,” you laughed, slapping your best friend’s shoulder when he made no move to get up, instead wrapping himself up in the throw blanket. “You’re so annoying,” you groaned and climbed off of the bed. “You love me,” he argued, sticking out his tongue at you. For some reason the easy answer of ‘Yes, I do’ got stuck in your throat and you just hummed before walking over to where you had unceremoniously dropped your bags by the door to get the half frozen pizzas and turned on the oven. What was wrong with you all of a sudden? You two always bickered like that. Screw Donghyuck for getting all up in your head before this trip. Nothing had changed. It was just you and your best friend spending a weekend together. Nothing unusual. That’s what friends did. It’s what Donghyuck did with his friends.

Staring blankly into the oven once you had put the pizzas in, you were lost in your thoughts that twisted and turned inside your head but didn’t seem to make any sense at all. “Are you mad at me?” Yangyang spoke and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, causing you to let out a high pitched screech from how surprised you were. “Don’t scare me like that,” you scolded him, trying to calm down your furiously beating heart. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, hooking his head over your shoulder to look into the oven as well, just wordlessly holding you close. “I’m not mad,” you eventually said, letting the tension seep from your muscles and melting into his hold. Smiling you let your weight sag against him, knowing he would have the strength to hold you up. “Sleepy?” You just hummed nonchalantly even though you weren’t particularly tired but somehow your body felt exhausted. “The drive took longer than expected,” Yangyang agreed, “Let’s just eat and then try to get the fire going. I brought my laptop and downloaded all the episodes of our next season.” “You’re an angel,” you giggled, “I didn’t even think about that.” “I’m not,” he mumbled, hiding his face in your neck. “My angel,” you laughed, squirming in his grip to turn around and pinch his sensitive sides. What you hadn’t expected was him not backing off, so you found yourself pinned between his body and the oven, your faces dangerously close together. For a second or two you just stayed like that before Yangyang’s brain seemed to realize just how close you were, causing heat to rise to his cheeks and him nervously spluttering about how he’d set the table and unpack everything. Something was definitely off between you two but you chose to put it aside for now, not quiet daring to think about it.

Once you both had two steaming plates of pizza in front of you, everything seemed to be back to normal and conversation flew easily just how it always did between the two of you. You would complain about being swarmed with essays and Yangyang would complain about his two roommates who couldn’t be more different from each other which made for a lot of potential for arguments or about how his mother would continuously call him every week to bog him about how school was going, if he was taking his vitamins, if he was still practicing playing his violin, if he had found a girlfriend yet or if he had finally given up on his stupid dancing classes. You were always quick to tell him that he should not feel pressured to drop his dancing to take violin lessons again if he wasn’t passionate about it anymore, no matter how much his mom would nag him about it. You knew that he loved dancing way too much and had made so many good friends in his dance crew to just give it up. So just like every time you gently took his hand in yours to squeeze it reassuringly when you promised him he could live with you if his mother decided to disown him over this. But this time he didn’t let your hand go once he moved on to tell a story on how his roommates had started arguing in the middle of the night because one of them had started to eat snacks which had woken the other one up, this thumb mindlessly caressing the back of your hand.

“Do you really trust me with the fire?” Yangyang asked with a frown on his face as he read through the instructions that were hung up next to the fireplace. “I don’t,” you laughed from where you were washing the dishes in the kitchen, “But if they leave it for us to light, it can’t be too dangerous or difficult.” “I appreciate this incredible amount of confidence you have in me,” your best friend snorted before getting to work to pile up wood and paper and carefully lighting the latter. “I made fire!” He exclaimed excitedly, a bright grin on his lips which immediately made you smile as well. “Now just don’t let it go out,” you smiled, “I’ll go change into comfy clothes real quick.” Yangyang just hummed, carefully adding more wood to his fire so it wouldn’t go out again.

“Yo, I think I got the hang of it,” he announced once you came back to the warmed up living room with snacks and clad in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. “Is that my hoodie?” Yanyang asked when you sat down the bags next to his laptop where he had already pulled up the first episode. “Not a chance,” you replied and plopped down onto the couch to snuggle into the hoodie you definitely hadn’t stolen from your best friend. “It seems oddly familiar though,” he mused but sat down next to you anyways, your thighs touching because the sofa wasn’t particularly big. “I’ve had it for a while,” you grinned innocently, throwing one of the blankets over your legs to keep them warm. “Sure,” Yangyang laughed and threw up the large hood before pressing play on the first episode.

Throughout the episodes you seemed to gravitate towards Yangyang more and more the later it got: First only leaning your head on his shoulder, then he wrapped an arm around you to pull you even closer, followed by you pulling your legs up on the sofa, leaning even further into him until you were basically lying on his chest until it became too uncomfortable and you two shuffled around until he had both of his legs outstretched on the sofa with you sat in between them: your back pressed against his chest and his arms around you. “I could fall asleep like this,” you mumbled when you felt your lids getting heavy, the soft melody of the outro lulling you in. “Don’t though, we’ll be sore tomorrow,” Yangyang laughed, poking your cheek. “Is this your only concern?” “We’ve cuddled like this before,” he just shrugged it off. You just hummed and cuddled closer to his heartbeat, fully closing your eyes. “Yah. Don’t fall asleep on me like that,” your best friend protested, “There is a perfectly fine bed waiting with plenty of space.” “Not my problem your body is like 80 percent stupidly lanky legs.” “Come on, get up.” “But the bed is going to be all cold and it’s nice and warm in here,” you argued. “It’s not going to warm up if you keep clinging to me like that,” Yangyang giggled. “I’m not clinging,” you pouted. “Pretty sure you are,” he laughed, finger flicking your forehead, “Come on, lazy. Let’s get ready for bed.”

Grumbling, you agreed and followed your best friend into the small bathroom with the blanket still wrapped around your body where you two quickly washed up. You had been right, the air in the bedroom was icy to say the least. “We’re going to freeze to death and no one will ever find us, Yangyang,” you groaned dramatically. “They literally have to clean up before the next guests come here, so our corpses would be here for a week tops.” “You’re so good at this reassuring thing,” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help to smile. “I know,” he grinned, “Turn around.” “What for?” “I’m changing,” he simply stated, already unbuckling his belt. “Oooh.” With burning cheeks, you quickly turned around, clutching the blanket tightly in your hands. In quick succession you heard first his belt and then his pants and shirt hit the floor before he rummaged through his bag and stepped into new clothes. “Done,” he announced and immediately jumped onto the bed to shuffle beneath the layers of blankets. Still feeling shy you carefully dropped the blanket from the living room and crawled into bed as well, leaving a respectable distance to your best friend which was fairly easy with how big the bed was.

“If you’re going to hog all the blankets, I will scream,” Yangyang spoke into the sudden silence that had draped over you. “I bet you’re the blanket hogger,” you snorted and playfully tugged at the blankets to roll them tightly around you. “I swear to god,” your best friend groaned, his feet kicking the mattress in frustration, “I won one tickle fight and I will win again.” Giggling, you let go of your grip so Yangyang could easily pull the blankets back. “Good night, Yangyang,” you whispered. “Sweet dreams,” he whispered back and you could hear him twist and turn for a couple of moments before he found a comfortable spot to sleep in. Smiling you also settled in, pulling the blankets tight around you to not let the cold of the room seep into your cocoon. While thinking of what you would do tomorrow, you slowly drifted off to sleep.

The next morning the unforgiving light of the sun reflected by the snow outside tickled your nose to slowly wake you up from your dreamless sleep but you really weren’t ready to let go of the comfort that a good night’s sleep had given you. It was just too cozy beneath the layers of blankets, the warmth of another person seeping into your bones while outside the cocoon it was cold. Wait. Warmth of another person? That had you wake up way faster than you would have liked, your own body going rigid in the hold Yangyang had on you. “Finally woke up?” He asked, his voice deeper than usual and raspy from sleep. “Y... Yeah,” you hummed, scared to turn around to look at your best friend. “Why are we cuddling?” “Because someone wouldn’t stop hogging all the blankets, leaving me out in the cold to sleep,” Yangyang said matter-of-factly, his breath hitting your neck. Looking around you, you couldn’t help but chuckle, you really had balled up so much of the blanket on your side of the bed in your sleep that part of it had dropped to the floor on your side. “You laugh but I was freezing my ass off half the night,” your best friend nagged. “I’ll make it up to you with breakfast?” “Omelets?” “You’re going to help cutting veggies?” “Nope,” Yangyang said, popping the p-sound out loud. “You’re terrible.” “You left me to freeze!” “Fine,” you groaned and wiggled yourself free from his grip, leaving the warmth of his embrace and the blankets, “But you’re doing the dishes after.” “Sure.”

For the first time today, you turned around to look at Yangyang and you really weren’t prepared for his tousled hair and lazy smile. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest before it made a couple of summersaults. “Morning,” he grinned, burying himself back into the blankets. “Yeah... Good morning...” “Take your time, I’ll shower in a bit,” Yangyang yawned and you couldn’t hold back your own which in turn made him laugh. “Don’t take too long, lazy,” you smiled before quickly freshening up in the bathroom and starting to prepare the breakfast you hast promised.

Somewhere between filling two pans with the eggs and adding the cut up vegetables, your best friend joined you in the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower and your heart yet again did acrobatics in your chest. What was wrong with you? This was just Yangyang. Your best friend. You had slept in the same room countless of times. You had made him breakfast even more times because he was not to be trusted in the kitchen. So why was your heart all jumpy around him now? Had Donghyuck been right? But nothing between Yangyang and you had changed. You always cuddled up together when you binge watched shows together or had movie nights with your other friends.

“What’s up with you today?” Yangyang asked once you had slid the omelets on two plates and put down a steaming mug of coffee for each of you. “Nothing,” you quickly tried to reassure him but the way he raised up one of his brows was sign enough that he didn’t believe you. “It’s really nothing,” you tried again, forcing a smile onto your face that really wasn’t all that hard to maintain when looking at Yangyang, “I was just thinking about where we should go for our walk.” Your friend just hummed around a mouthful of eggs and pulled out his phone. “I looked something up,” he slurred before swallowing down what he had been chewing, “If we follow this trail, it will take us around the lake which should be frozen and eventually to a little town. If the ice is solid enough, there’s a shop where we can rent skates. And if it’s not we can just stroll around town. To go back, we can take the shorter way back along the road we came with the car.” “I like that,” you admitted as you scrolled through the website Yangyang had pulled up on his phone. The prices weren’t so bad and the scenery looked breathtaking. “Let’s do that,” you concluded, giving your best fried a bright smile.

Even bundled up in your thickest jacket and with a big scarf wrapped around your throat, the cold air outside of the cabin was unforgiving. But somehow you really liked how clean the air was as it prickled through your lungs before you exhaled again, your breath coming out in a little white huff. “I didn’t think it would be so cold, wow,” Yangyang mused as he locked the cabin before walking over to you. “I like it,” you smiled, “Which way?” But instead of an answer all you got from your best friend was a snowball thrown at you, hitting you square in the chest as you turned around to him. “Oh you’re so on,” you grinned, immediately ducking down to scoop some snow up yourself to fire right back. Your loud giggles and shouts filled the otherwise quite air of the forest and you didn’t even feel the cold of the snow and the air seeping into your bones and clothes, all you focused on was to get Yangyang back for knocking your hat off of your head when the face definitely should be off limits. “You little shit,” you yelled, running over to him to dunk his face into the big pile of snow that had gathered in front of the cabin when suddenly you stepped onto a plate of ice, making you lose your footing and the world quickly turned sideways.

You heard Yangyang yell your name before his worried face came back into your field of vision. “Shit, are you okay?” “Yeah, fine,” you crooked out. The fall really had knocked all air out of your lungs and who were you kidding, you would probably get a nasty bruise on your leg from where you had fallen on the unforgiving ice. “Hey, careful,” Yangyang said, taking your hands in his to pull you back to your feet. “Fuck,” you cursed when you put weight on your left leg, pain shooting up all the way up to your back, “I don’t think I can stand.” “Shit, left foot?” You simply nodded and gritted your teeth together as he tried to help you up again, immediately stabilizing you, so you didn’t have to put weight on your injured leg. “I’m sorry,” you muttered as he helped you to waddle back over to the cabin. Great. Now you had not only ruined your day but maybe even your whole short holidays. Yangyang for sure hadn’t wanted to be stuck inside this cabin with you for two more days. “Don’t be. Let’s take a look at that, might be broken or something,” your best friend reassured you.

With awkward little hops, he guided you over to the little sofa in the living room where you had been cuddling all evening yesterday. “Let me take a look.” After shedding your jackets and other gear you had worn to shield yourselves from the cold, Yangyang carefully unlaced your boots with nimble fingers, apologizing every time you winced in pain. “Well fuck. This thing is so swollen,” he announced once boot and sock were off of your foot. “How bad?” You asked with your eyes squeezed shut, not daring to take a look at it. “Hold still,” he instructed you, gently touching the swollen ankle to rotate it carefully which tore a whimper from your lips. “I don’t think it’s broken,” Yangyang eventually announced, “Ten has sprained his ankle during practice before and it looked similar, so I don’t think we need to get you to a hospital right now.” Thank god that your best friend was taking those dancing classes. “On a scale from when you burned your hand while trying to cook ramyeon in milk to whatever your roommate once left in that pot for too long, how gross does it look?” “It’s really not that bad yet,” Yangyang giggled before he let out a fake gag, “Please do not remind me of that pot, it’s a wonder that whatever that was had not grown legs and left the pot on its own accord.”

“Hold my hand,” you demanded, making grabby hands at your best friend where he was sat in front of you on the floor. “You big baby, it’s really not that bad. It’s not even bruised yet,” he laughed but took your hand in his anyways, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Finally opening your eyes, you took in the picture: You ankle was definitely fucked. If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess that it had already swollen to at least three times of its usual size and pulsating with the blood that was rushing to the surface. “Disgusting.” “If we cool it enough and keep it still, everything should be fine,” Yangyang reassured you, giving your hand another squeeze and rubbing your leg with his other hand, “You’re all tensed up. Does anything else hurt?” “My whole leg?” You slowly said but it came out more as a question than anything else. “Let me see.” “What do you mean let me see?” You all but screeched, pulling back your hand to clutch them at your chest instead where your heart was beating in quick succession. “Come on, it’s not like I haven’t seen you in a bathing suit or anything. I just want to make sure it’s just the ankle,” he calmed you down. Why was your heart beating so fast anyways? Yangyang was right. You had seen each other in different states of undress over all the years you had already been friends. But for some reason everything felt different in this secluded little cabin in the middle of nowhere. It was like you were seeing Yangyang in a completely different light. He was not just the funny guy who only cared about hanging out with his friends and having fun; he suddenly seemed a lot more mature here. Weird. The clean air must have already gotten to your head.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Yangyang spoke again, kneading soothing circles into your still very much tensed calf muscles. “Okay,” you whispered, slowly unbuttoning you jeans, thanking whoever was listening that you had packed and worn nice panties. With combined effort, you wrestled the damp fabric of your jeans from your legs to reveal that your whole left side had already started to bruise up, dark colors bleeding into your skin. “Oh fuck,” you cursed, throwing your head back, “That looks so bad.” You couldn’t help but giggle. “I look like I have been fucking mauled.” “Or like you have a very unhealthy skin condition,” your best friend joined your laughter. But what you couldn’t see was how his eyes darted over the exposed skin, not knowing where he should look first. “I’ll check your knee,” he mumbled once you both had stopped laughing, gently touching your skin. You couldn’t help but hiss when his fingers met your flesh even though he was being gentle. It felt like his fingers left little flames in their wake, leaving your skin tingling. You saw his Adam's apple bob in his throat before he spoke: “Your knee seems fine, but those bruises will turn nasty in an hour or two.” “G-great,” you stuttered, avoiding Yangyang’s eyes while looking down to where his hand was still resting on your knee. “I think I still have some ointment from dance class in my bag that could help,” he mumbled, “I could get that and massage the muscles for a bit in case you pulled something as well.” “Massage,” you repeated, starstruck. “Not if you don’t want to but it might get worse if you’ve pulled a muscle or something if it keeps being this tense.”   “I- Yeah. Ok,” you stuttered. “Don’t move.” “Funny,” you grumbled as Yangyang went to fetch his ointment from the bedroom.

“It’s going to be cold,” he warned you when he sat back down in front of you again, lathering up his hands with the strong smelling ointment before he gently pressed down on the muscles of your calf, his fingers working on the knots in your muscle before slowly making their way upwards. You had to bite your lip in order to keep any noise from slipping once his fingers had reached the skin just above your knee. “You’re really tense,” Yangyang mumbled after a while, his fingers itching almost dangerously high on your thigh by now, kneading your sensitive flesh. “Yeah, you’re just. I’m- yeah,” you really didn’t know where you were going with this answer, hyper aware of his fingers on your skin. “Should I stop?” “No, it feels good. It’s just...” “Weird?” “A little,” you admitted, making both of you chuckle awkwardly. “Maybe a little heat would be good as well.” “Y... Yeah.” You really weren’t sure if even less clothes between Yangyang and you would help with whatever this atmosphere between you two was right now. “Let’s get you up and going then,” your best friend smiled and if it was a little less vibrant than it usually was, you chose to ignore it.

Once you were submerged in the warm water, a blissful sound slipped past your lips and you felt all tension that was left in your body leave you, the jets and the warm water effectively relaxing your body and mind.   “You good?” Yangyang quietly asked as he submerged himself right next to you, gently pulling your injured leg onto hip lap to prod at the muscles again. “Yeah,” you sighed and closed your eyes, willing your mind to shut up about how he was just your best friend and it should definitively not feel this good when he was innocently kneading your muscles. As all the tenseness seeped from your body, his fingers got more and more gentle until they all but caressed the soft skin of your thigh.  

“Yangyang?” You quietly asked after a while when the only sounds between you came from the bubbling of the water and the occasional sound of a bird. Your best friend just hummed to indicate that he had heard you, his fingers stopping to draw random shapes onto your thigh. “Is it weird that I really want to kiss you right now?” At that your friend seemed to freeze, his thigh muscles tensing up where your leg was thrown onto his lap. “N... No, I don’t think so,” he eventually mumbled. “No?” “No. Because I kind of really want to kiss you as well,” he confessed, his dark eyes finding yours and the amount of trust and openness in his eyes momentarily took your breath away. “Then kiss me,” you breathed. “I- I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” he replied but inched closer to you anyways. “It won’t,” you promised, gently cupping your best friend’s jaw and stroking your thumb along his cheekbone. “Promise?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Promise,” you whispered back before you let your eyes flutter closed when your lips finally met in a delicate kiss, barely more than a gently press of lips.

When you separated again, you sighed gently against his lips before pressing another quick peck to them which made your best friend chuckle. “This feels nice,” he whispered. “Not weird?” You asked just to confirm, gently tracing his features with your fingers. “It feels just right.” “Yeah,” you sighed. “More?” Smiling you nodded and connected your lips again, firmer this time but still gently exploring this new territory. Slowly Yangyang seemed to grow more confident and he let his hands settle on your waist to pull you a little closer to him, causing you to softly gasp. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, pressing little kisses to your cheeks and the corners of your mouth until you giggled. “Kiss me,” you demanded, wrapping your arms around his neck so your hands could play with the long strands of his hair before kissing him again. By now you almost sat in his lap, the angle a little weird because of how your leg was still thrown over his lap. But none of you seemed to mind as you took all the time of the world to explore each other’s lips.

After a little while Yangyang broke the kiss to lean his forehead against yours. You couldn’t fight your smile, basking in the feeling of being close to him. This close you could count his eyelashes that were stuck together from the water and admire the blush that sat high on his cheekbones. “I really like you,” Yangyang suddenly confessed, pulling your bodies flush together to hide his face in your neck. “I really like you too,” you giggled, running your hands through his damp hair. “No I mean I like like you. I- I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time,” he mumbled against your skin. With how close you were pushed together, Yangyang must definitely feel how hard and fast your heart was hammering in your chest. What he couldn’t see was the big smile that spread on your lips while you were trying to find the right words to tell him that you felt the same, that he was a very special person to you. “You don’t have to like me back,” he suddenly said, tightening his grip on you, “I know you probably only see me as a friend and nothing else. But if I keep this to myself any longer, I might burst. I just- Please don’t hate me. You’re all I have.”

“Yangyang,” you gently spoke, trying to pry his head from your neck. “I don’t have any courage left to look you in the face as you reject me,” he whined when he wasn’t budging, this grip he had on your waist tightening just a little. “I’m not going to reject you.” “You’re not?” Your best friend immediately straightened up, his face full of surprise. “No,” you chuckled and couldn’t resist to press a quick kiss to his lips, “I think I’m in love with you as well.”

For a while Yangyang didn’t say anything, his mouth just wordlessly hanging open and eyes wide. “I mean it,” you giggled, playfully hitting his shoulder, “Say something, idiot.” “I- I was full on prepared for heartbreak. I didn’t mean to confess until Sunday to not make it awkward. It just. Yeah…” “Why would I reject you?” “You never said anything and whenever I would try to take you out or do something alone with you, you kept inviting the others and simply played my flirting off as a joke.”

Thinking back, you felt like there were scales falling from your eyes when you remembered all the times Yangyang had asked you out to the movies and you had dragged Donghyuck or Renjun with you. Or when you had invited him for movie night and his face fell when he saw Jaemin and Jeno already sitting on your sofa. Or when he had invited you to one of his dance shows and you had marveled about how graceful Ten could dance and he had become all grumpy.

“Holy fuck, I’ve been so oblivious,” you groaned, pillowing your head on his chest that shook with laughter. “I’ll forgive you if you become my girlfriend,” Yangyang gently spoke, combing his hands through your hair. “Yes,” you breathed, your heart fluttering wildly. “Seal it with a kiss?” He didn’t need to say anything else because you quickly pressed your lips together again, hoping Yangyang could feel all your love and you could at least make up for the pain you had caused him.

“Me too,” he whispered against your lips in between kisses, “I love you too, idiot.” “Your idiot,” you grinned. “All mine,” Yangyang smiled brightly. And if you two shared more kisses and sweet giggles beneath the sky in the hot tub next to your cabin, only Mother Nature would know about it.

#yangyang #liu yangyang #wayv #nct #kafenetwork #yangyang fluff #wayv fluff #nct fluff #yangyang imagines #yangyang scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios

[cinnaminsvga]

Sweeter than Strawberries | Jungkook

→ summary: at euphoria bakery, seasonal changes also bring seasonal menu items. when you find out that your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake was phased out after the end of summer, it takes only one puppy eyed look from you for jeon jungkook to make it for you anyway—just don’t tell his boss about it, alright?

→ genre: bakery!au, s2l, fluff → warnings: none unless you count the fact that i’m writing shy!jungkook again :^D, we love mutual pining in this house ex dee → words: 4.5K → a/n: this was commissioned by @ihatemathanal​!! i was super stoked to write this bc it’s really cute and sometimes it’s nice to just write happy fluffy things every once in a while (aka zee is turning into a fluff writer jfc) it got a lil longer than it was supposed to, but that’s bc i got carried away lol anyway i hope you guys enjoy!! (ps: this also works for the bgw bingo so... tyg for s2l fics!! let’s get it!!)

For the most part, the beginning of autumn is usually your favorite time of the year. When the tree leaves begin to yellow and the air gains a significantly colder bite, this signifies the end of pit stains and sweaty thighs and the start of sweater paws and chapped lips. Above all, you are most excited, of course, for an excuse to gorge yourself on steaming mugs of hot chocolate, paired with delicious mountains of warm gooey brownies.

For the most part, these are all things that often get you excited for the coming chill. What you do not think to remember, however, is that while these seasonal changes bring more good than bad, there still remains a little snag: a small oversight, if you will. As businesses all over the world begin the annual transition to the colder months, so does your favorite bakery across the street from your university. After all, summer ingredients grow scarcer as the year nears its end, so it’s understandable for bakeries to switch up their menu to keep up with both the supply and demand.

What does any of this have to do with anything? Well, long story short—

Your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake is about to get phased out. No, scratch that—it’s already been phased out, right from under your very nose, no less!

You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. You have always known it was a specialty drink; your best friend had even been the one to introduce it to you just near the end of your summer classes:

“This is Euphoria Bakery,” Namjoon had said with a smile, waving cheerily at the two boys manning the till. You heard him chuckle in amusement when your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, staring longingly at the sweet treats and baked goods lining the display case.

Namjoon had stolen your attention away, however, when he pointed to the chalkboard menu on the wall. As it turned out, the bakery also doubled as a cafe, serving the usual coffees and teas while also making the occasional specialty drink for different seasons or holidays. The chalkboard was decorated beautifully, the menu items written out in neat cursive with tiny little doodles littering its margins. On one of the boards, there was a new drink item being advertised in bold pink letters—a great summer treat!—or so it said.

“Jungkook-ssi, can you get me and Y/N a strawberry shortcake milkshake? Extra whipped cream for me, please!” Namjoon called out to one of the boys, startling the younger of the two. The boy, Jungkook, must have been busy fiddling with the cash register that he hadn’t noticed your arrival.

“N-Namjoon-hyung? Sorry, I was just busy counting the money—” Jungkook stopped short in his speech, his tongue getting caught in his mouth when his eyes landed directly on you. He had made a strangled sound, like he had swallowed his spit too quickly and was struggling to regain his composure. “H-Hello?”

You realized belatedly that he must have been greeting you, as you had been distracted by his fidgetiness. His nervousness was cute, if a little bit contagious; you couldn’t help feeling anxious too, like your heart was missing every other beat, even though you had no reason to be. “Hello! My name is Y/N. It’s my first time coming here, but Namjoon says your new summer menu item is really good? I wanted to try it out for myself.”

Jungkook nodded, still staring wide-eyed at you as if in a trance. You expected him to start... well. You weren’t an expert on how bakeries or cafes are run, but you were pretty sure he should’ve started doing something after you had spoken, perhaps ring up your order on the register, or start working on your drinks. Instead, he’s still frozen in place, like he’d somehow short-circuited within the last two minutes.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed his odd behavior because the man working with him suddenly pushed Jungkook to the side, a brief smirk flashing across his face before it was quickly replaced by a more subdued, professional smile.

“Sorry about him. He’s usually my best baker, but sometimes he can get a little... distracted when he’s confronted with sweet things,” the man said nonchalantly, but it seemed that his innocent-sounding comment had embarrassed Jungkook greatly.

“Jimin-hyung!” Jungkook whined, stomping his foot not unlike a bunny. If you squinted a little bit, you could definitely see the resemblance.

Namjoon, who had been quietly watching everything unfold, chose that moment to pipe up. “Oh, I see. I didn’t know you had a type, but after thinking about it—” Namjoon shot a surreptitious glance at you, before turning back to Jungkook with a teasing grin, “—I can definitely see why.”

At the time, you had no idea what was going on, mostly confused as to why Jungkook had suddenly become so red-faced while Namjoon and Jimin giggled like a couple of high school girls. It seemed like you were somehow the main reason for his embarrassment, so you were quick to poke Namjoon in the stomach, effectively silencing him.

“Hey! Stop teasing the poor boy. He’s just being nice,” you said, pointing a soft smile back at Jungkook. “Sorry about him. I’m sure you’re an excellent baker, judging from how wonderful and cute all these cakes on the display look.” Somehow, your praise had only made Jungkook’s cheeks brighten even further. He cleared his throat as if to say something in response, before changing his mind and scuttling away to the back room instead.

“I’m going to start making your milkshake! D-don’t mind me!” He called out from behind the door, causing Jimin to finally break down into raucous giggles, nearly doubling over from his own mirth.

“Aish, that kid. He never learns, huh…” Jimin sighed, but the smile on his face is kind—the sort of fond look an older brother might have for his kid brother. He turned back to you and Namjoon with that lingering softness as he rang the two of you up, before chatting idly with you as you waited for Jungkook to finish making your drinks.

“I’ve never seen you around, Y/N-ssi. Jungkook—sorry, I meant I definitely would’ve noticed you if I did. You go to the same university as Namjoon-ssi, right?” Jimin asked, flipping a pen between his fingers with incredible dexterity. You were slightly distracted by that, faintly jealous of how his short fingers could somehow manage such a feat.

“I—yeah, I do. I’m assuming you’re also a student?”

“Yep. I actually met Namjoon-ssi when we took that one music theory class together. I was handing out flyers for this bakery after class and he happened to be one of the first people to actually come,” he said, winking at Namjoon. You watched with much interest when your friend turned a faint shade of pink, his hand coming up behind his neck—a signature tick of his whenever he was feeling shy or nervous.

“I-It was nothing… I mean, your seasonal drinks are always so good! I remember your old snowman-shaped donuts with the raspberry filling? I still dream of it sometimes,” Namjoon sighed, eyes going glassy for a moment.

Jimin laughed, his eyes crinkling into cute little crescents. “Oh, stop it! I remember how you’d come here even after we stopped serving that donut and you’d beg us to make them again.”

“And yet you never did, even though I know you have the ingredients to make them,” Namjoon pouted, but there’s endearment dancing in his expression.

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “I never pegged Namjoon as a sweet-tooth guy, so this is honestly all a very big surprise to me. I should be pumped for this milkshake then, huh? Hopefully, you aren’t just hyping it up and I’ll end up disappointed.”

Before either Namjoon or Jimin could retort, Jungkook had reappeared from the back room with two large cups in hand, almost tripping over his untied apron string but managing to get to the counter in one piece.

“Here you go. I hope you won’t be disappointed when you try it,” he said, gaze averted downwards when he hands you your cup. Your fingers grazed each other for a second, nearly causing both of you to drop the drink like it was on fire.

“S-sorry,” you laughed it off, feeling your ears get a little red from your blunder. You pointedly ignored Namjoon’s arched brow, no doubt enjoying your sudden shyness. Without waiting for him to get his own cup, you casually tear off the straw wrapper and take your first sip of the drink.

“So?” Jungkook asked after a while, watching with bated breath as you take a good gulp of the milkshake. “How is it? Is it worth the hype?” You don’t speak for a moment, further aggravating the two bakers as you carefully chewed on the bits of strawberry in the drink.

“This—” you said, speaking slowly for increased dramatic effect. You could hear Namjoon groan beside you, used to your need for unnecessary anticipation. Even as you paused for a moment longer, you could already feel the smile creeping up your face, unable to completely hide your giddiness. “—is fantastic. Show-stopping. Best thing since sliced bread! I could live on this shit alone.”

Jungkook released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, chuckling in relief as you began to completely devour the treat in mere minutes. “I’m… really glad you like it,” he said with a wide, toothy grin. You were so immersed in your drink that you missed the way he sighed softly, hand gently cradling his chest where his heart would be.

Namjoon had taken his own sip as well, sighing dreamily as the creamy and sweet flavor overtook his palate. “Truly the best drink in existence. If I was a Twitch streamer or some shit, I’d promote this regularly for free.”

His comment made Jimin giggle softly, but his gaze is trained on something else entirely. “I’m flattered, but maybe don’t promote Y/N’s cup, over here. We don’t typically have strawberries and hearts doodled all over our cups,” he said, smirking slyly.

Lo and behold, your cup did have small doodles littering its sides whereas Namjoon’s was just a plain white paper cup. “Oh,” you said, blushing furiously when you finally noticed. Your flush was nothing compared to the one on Jungkook’s cheeks, however. The two of you refused to make eye contact after that, both of you trying (and failing) to silence the amused snickers of your respective friends.

Despite that slightly embarrassing (and heartwarming) experience, that had marked the start of your love for the tiny bakery and their special strawberry shortcake milkshake. You returned to Euphoria Bakery as often as you could throughout the summer, even going to visit it without Namjoon most of the time. You would even occasionally go out of your way to visit the bakery, even after your summer classes had ended and there was really no reason for you to be around the area.

It also didn’t hurt that the boy behind the counter was especially cute, with his big doe eyes and melodic laughter that always got your heart beating erratically in your chest. It hadn’t taken long for you to admit to yourself that you had a not-so-tiny crush and every visit to the bakery only made you fall deeper for him.

Namjoon has assured you that Jungkook clearly has a crush on you too, but you’re quick to shut him down. It is one thing to be shy and awkward around a girl and another to have a crush on the aforementioned girl. As you visited the bakery more and more, you do notice that Jungkook is more reserved when it comes to other female clientele, although, dare you hope? He does seem a little bit more… nervous, when he talks to you, but that could be your lovesick eyes playing tricks on you.

Never mind the fact that he only ever seems to leave cute doodles on your cups alone, but that could just be a coincidence, right? After all, he can hardly hold a conversation with you when you try to speak with him, always eager to rush to the backroom to make your drink.

Your visits usually consist of making idle chit chat with Jimin after greeting both him and Jungkook. The younger boy often dips the moment he sees you through the glass door, automatically going to prepare your favorite summer treat without even having to ask for your order. He never stays to stick around long enough to make conversation, as he eventually excuses himself to do some chore or another. During one of your trips, you tentatively asked Jimin if Jungkook was avoiding you, to which the blonde boy just laughed heartily at your query.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. He’ll come around eventually; he’s just nervous. Don’t tell him I told you this, but…” he trails off, peeking over his shoulder to make sure Jungkook wouldn’t accidentally overhear him. When he turns back to you, the smirk on his face is equal parts amused and mischievous. He looks a little impish, though you aren’t sure if he’d take that too kindly. “Jungkook always stares out the door, waiting for you to arrive. I’ve caught him red-handed far too many times for it to be a coincidence.”

Your cheeks flush warmly at his words but don’t say anything after that. You suppose all you can do is wait for him to start warming up to you eventually, and you hope the day comes sooner as the summer days grow shorter and shorter.

Of course, that day does come eventually, but probably not on the day you wished it would happen.

Like all good things, summer comes to its close and so does the summer menu options offered at Euphoria Bakery. Jimin had already told you a week beforehand that your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake would get phased out as soon as July hit, but you refused to listen. You had hoped that as his regular customer and friend, perhaps Jimin would make an exception and prolong the milkshake’s lifetime for your sake, but it seems that Jimin has made it clear that friendship and business are two separate entities that he will not allow to coincide.

“Please Jimin? Just one more time? I’ll even settle for a small size,” you beg, your entire body draped over the cashier counter like the pathetic plebeian that you are. Thankfully, since you have made it a habit to pass by the bakery when it’s close to closing time, there aren’t any other patrons left to judge your pitiful display. Unthankfully, that also means Jimin is free to flick you on the forehead with no holds barred, leaving a large red welt where his finger hits.

“I already told you that I won’t budge, not even if you licked my Balenciagas. Besides, we’re out of strawberries anyway.” Jimin huffs, rolling his eyes at your pained whines as you grasp your head in agony. “Oh stop it, will you? I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

“I beg to differ, hyung.” Jungkook pipes up, startling both you and Jimin. Jungkook is usually content to wiping down the glass displays or tables while he passively listens to the two of you bicker, humming occasionally to indicate that he’s still listening, so it comes as a small surprise whenever he does decide to speak up. He must have noticed this too, as his ears quickly begin to redden as he scrambles to finish his sentence. “I-I mean, hyung might have small hands, but his finger flicks are no joke. You could break someone’s skull with that thing.”

“Who are you calling small, huh?” Jimin growls, but the playful smirk on his face tells you that he’s just teasing. He pulls Jungkook in a headlock, who surprisingly doesn’t seem all that bothered by the fact that Jimin is actively trying to block his windpipe with his strong forearms. “Take it back!”

“Never,” Jungkook wheezes, effortlessly removing himself from Jimin’s grip. He dusts himself off, not even breathless. “Also, why’d you lie to Y/N like that? We still have strawberries in the back. How else would we make our strawberry jam tarts?”

Jimin squawks indignantly, folding his arms. “How dare you sell out our company secrets! I could fire you for that!”

Jungkook scoffs, bumping Jimin with his hip. Jungkook must also not know his own strength, because he accidentally causes Jimin to stumble a few steps back, nearly toppling over one of their bread racks. “You’re joking. If you fired me, no one would be able to make the bagels in the morning because you never know how to proof them correctly.”

“Slander!” Jimin hisses, pinching Jungkook’s side in retaliation. You and Jungkook laugh at his childish pouts, but the older boy can’t hide his own mirth for too long. “Fine. You can stay. But you,” he points at you this time, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You better not seduce my boy over here to make your strawberry shortcake milkshake. I have eyes and ears everywhere.” He drags his finger to the corner of the walls, where there is—

“There’s nothing there?” You follow where he’s pointing, but all you can see is a stray cobweb that Jungkook must have missed while dusting this morning. “Am I supposed to be looking at something?”

“Jimin is thinking of installing surveillance cameras soon. He’s convinced that someone is trying to steal his banana cream pie recipe.” Jungkook shrugs. He slings an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, glaringly delighted when their height difference becomes even more apparent while he stands close to him. “Anyway, I promise I won’t get ‘seduced’ by her, or whatever you want to call it. Why don’t you head home early for tonight? I’ll close up and I’ll try to convince Y/N to try our other pastries as a replacement.”

You open your mouth to try and protest, but Jungkook sends you a cheeky wink, making sure that his boss doesn’t catch him in the act. Bemused but interested to see what he’s up to, you decide to keep quiet and wait for him to continue.

“Don’t try and think you’re being slick here, buddy,” Jimin says, closing in on Jungkook’s personal space by pressing his chest against his. “If I see that you break the bakery code and serve her that drink… There will be consequences.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically as he gently pries the smaller man away from him. “Yeah, yeah. I got you. No funny business, I promise. Now get out of here, hyung. Leave the rest to me.”

Jimin gives him one last firm look before squinting warily at you, lips pursed tightly. “No seducing,” he repeats, wagging his finger at you. He unties the apron around his neck, throwing it haphazardly at the coat hanger on the back door where his jacket was hanging. He folds it over his arm and points at the corner of the ceiling with his free hand once more before exiting through the front entrance, the soft bells hanging above the doorway tinkling in his wake.

When he’s gone, you release a breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. “Well, that was easier than expected. I didn’t think you’d be able to get him to leave. He must trust you a lot, huh?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Nah. He’s just lazy. He hates closing the bakery and will jump at any opportunity to go home early.”

You nod. “Seems like him.” There’s a beat of silence. “So… How much seducing am I gonna have to do to get my milkshake, huh?”

Like you guessed, Jungkook immediately turns red at your words, spluttering and stammering over his spit for a few seconds before managing to come up with a reply. “O-oh, there’s no need for that. I was gonna make the drink for you anyway.”

“But what about the quote-unquote consequences?” you ask, still worried that you might be getting Jungkook in trouble. You’d rather have your arm cut off than have him get punished, no matter how small it might be.

“No need to worry about that. Jimin might pretend to be a prickly old man sometimes, but he’s mostly just full of hot air,” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head in amusement. “He’ll just make me treat him to some skewers or something. He’s just teasing.”

“If… If you say so? I just really don’t want him to get angry with you…” you say, voice turning small as you tried to reign your embarrassment in. “I know I made a fool of myself just moments ago and begged like a baby for the milkshake, but I was just exaggerating…”

“Something tells me that you aren’t, but let’s pretend for your sake that you are,” Jungkook says. You huff indignantly at his teasing, but you’re more overjoyed by the sight of his cute bunny smile. You had only seen it in passing a few times in the past, but seeing it directed at you is an entirely different experience. Because of you, your mind helpfully supplies.

He heads over to the backroom to begin preparing your drink, but he keeps the door open this time so you can see him even from behind the counter. You can mostly only see the large industrial ovens and bread racks filled to the brim with all sorts of pastries proofing for the night, but you do catch a glimpse of the sole blender near the back. Jungkook grabs the glass jar first and then walks over to the fridge just out of your sight, most likely to grab the ingredients needed for your milkshake.

The bakery is mostly silent, save for the sound of Jungkook moving and assembling everything. You rack your brain for some sort of conversation starter, as the atmosphere between the two of you has begun to return to its usual awkward state as you skirt around each other, unsure of where either of you stands. You might have known him for a while now, but today is the most you’ve ever spoken to him and the tension is palpable.

“So.” You clear your throat, heart beating a mile a minute in your chest. “I… guess this is going to be the last time I have this drink, huh?”

The sound of Jungkook chopping on the cutting board pauses for a second. You can only see his left shoulder from where you’re standing, but you can see it tense even then. “I… I mean, will you stop coming over to the bakery if it is the last time?”

There are so many things you want to say all at once, but the words somehow get caught in your throat. You want to say that you love coming to the bakery to see them (though it’s mostly Jungkook if you’re being honest) and that the strawberry shortcake milkshake had just been an excuse to visit for a while now. You want to keep visiting for as long as they’ll have you—but you don’t know how to say it without hot humiliation running down your spine. You don’t want to weird him out by confessing to him all of a sudden. And so, you clam up, not knowing how to respond.

When Jungkook throws in all the ingredients in the blender, he doesn’t turn it on immediately. He tilts his head to the side, not fully looking at you but giving you a view of his beautiful side profile. You see his Adam’s apple bob for a moment, his tongue poking out to wet his lips before he speaks. “Because… If that’s how it’s going to be, then maybe… buying a couple of skewers for Jimin won’t be so bad.”

You freeze. “What? Are you saying that...”

“I’ll keep making the drink for you, even if it’s not on the menu anymore?” Jungkook finishes, turning fully to face you. There’s a shy grin on his face, coupled with the ever-present pink flush high on his cheekbones. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We’ll have to be sneaky about it, though. You’ll have to come to the bakery only when I’m closing so that he doesn’t catch us but otherwise…” He scratches the tip of his nose, looking embarrassed. “If… If you’re fine doing that, I mean.”

It feels like an eternity before you can remember how to function like a regular human being again. Your insides feel like molten lava and you’re certain that your internal organs have begun to self-destruct right after that super-effective hit from Jeon Jungkook, super baker boy extraordinaire. It’s mind-blowing how effortlessly cute he can be, making you realize belatedly that his quiet demeanor over the past few weeks had been a blessing and not a curse. If he had been this sweet with you from the get-go, you’d surely be melted butter on a sidewalk by now.

“I would love you—I mean, I would love it if you did that for me, actually.” You stammer, resisting the urge to punch yourself in the tit. You’re thankful for the lack of mirrors at the bakery, for you are positive that you must look like the devil’s blazing red testicles at this point.

“Great,” Jungkook smiles softly. He turns the blender off, pouring your drink into a paper cup. “Oh, before I forget…” He grabs a marker from the small tin can near the cash register, and you watch as he quickly scribbles a few hearts around the circumference of the cup. “There we go. Now it’s done.”

As Jungkook hands your drink to you, you’re hit with a moment of déjà vu when your fingers brush just like the first time you had met. You sense the same familiar shock of electricity when you touch, but instead of pulling away like before, Jungkook surprises you for the third time that day.

When he’s sure that you have a secure grip on your cup, he grabs your free hand with his, unfurling your fingers until he can get a hold of your pinky. He curls his pinky into yours, linking them together with a bashful smile on his lips. “There. Now we pinky promised to each other.”

“Y-yes. Of course,” you mumble, giggling lightly when he still refuses to let go. “I pinky promise.”

.

.

.

Five minutes away from Euphoria Bakery, Jimin sits quietly in his parked car, his figure hunched over the small screen of his phone as he chuckles loudly to himself. There is a tiny video of two people, a boy and a girl, with their hands held together. Despite the quality being grainy and warped, Jimin needs no confirmation as to who those people are; he’s always known, after all.

“All according to keikaku.” He whistles happily, already salivating at the thought of all the skewers Jungkook will have to buy for him.

#yoonkooknetwork #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff #bakery!au #jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #bts fanfic #bangtan #beebeebooboo... hello world i am a fluff writer now :D #haha... not suspicious at all... owo #anyway pls tell me what u think!! yay for commissions ^q^

[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.” 

#jungkook fic #btsghostiebingo #goldenclosetnet #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts fic #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

I wrote this the other idea. And then a thought happened.

Enjoy.

Gender Neutral Reader Insert

_____________________

“I’m going to take you out.”

You hum in response, pulling at the last part of the cardboard box. The tape snaps, a soft pfft echoing. You bought new curtains for the kitchen. It was premature given that the curtains would only really go once the backsplash was done and the cabinets repainted. Your delay for both of those was Calum. Though you had painted cabinets before while helping a friend move into their place, Calum insisted that the two of you be the ones that redid the kitchen. Not just you.

The project inevitably got delayed. Calum dragged his feet on nonessential things and with things slowly moving back to normal, he was busier than ever with the band. So you understood--that took priority over cosmetic changes to the house. And you know that you couldn’t nag him into doing anything. So you poked him in a different way, buying the kitchen curtains that would only sort of match with the rest of the kitchen. It wouldn’t bother him at first. It would take a couple of weeks before he sighed, pulled out his old t-shirts and the sandpaper and paint that you had already bought.

Calum hums in your ear. “What do you say? We dressed up fancy too.” He punctuates the end of his sentence with a kiss on your neck.

“Fancy? And go where?”

“Oh, that’s for you to decide.” He rests his chin on your shoulder, but you don’t miss the way his arms snake around your torso.

“When did you want to go? This evening?”

“No,” he says and then drags his lips up your skin. “Right now.”

You chuckle, though the end of it is interrupted by a sigh, the tingles running down your spine. “There’s nowhere fancy to go in the middle of the afternoon. And why fancy?”

“Because you have that outfit in the back of the closet and I think it’s time to break it out.”

You originally bought it for your anniversary with Calum two years ago. But the pandemic through a major wrench into the plan. That one passed and so did another and you weren’t sure when you’d be able to wear it ever. But couldn’t return it because you adored it too much.

His lips are hardly touching your skin, but you feel electric. “You know, we could just make this easy,” you return, pushing your hips back into his. “Besides, you said you were waiting on a call.”

His teeth nip at your skin and the heat of his breathe trails up to your ear. It doesn’t shock you when his tongue teases the shell of your ear, but it does make a warmth spread through your stomach. “I can take the call anywhere.”

“Then take it from the bedroom.”

Calum laughs before pulling away completely. “Oh, I absolutely could. But I want to take you out. Because I know this week I’ve been holed up with writing and you deserve more of my time. And we’re dressing up. And you’re going to think of the place right now.”

Without the pressure of his weight holding you to the counter and the warmth of his kisses, you can think a bit clearer. Somewhere fancy to go in the middle of the afternoon felt insane. You turn, using the completely deconstructed box as a shield. “You’re a dangerous man when you wanna be,” you tease.

He smiles, a bit of a blush taking over his cheeks as he leans into the counter next to you. He makes a show of holding his arms to his chest. “I can behave. When I wanna.”

“When you want is so important. But I don’t feel like I’m getting less time. I know this record’s taking some extra TLC.”

“And my darlin’ deserves some TLC too. So c’mon. It can be anywhere. We’re just getting fancy is all I’m asking.”

“The only thing I can think of is a museum? Contemporary Art?”

Gently taking one of your hands, Calum presses a chaste kiss to the back of it. “I’d be honored. I’ll hang these curtains and then get ready.”

“Thank you. I’ll take Duke out.”

He nods and watches you, eyes taking in the length of you. “And I know the curtains are you trying to get me moving faster about the rest of the kitchen.”

“The only thing about the kitchen I want to hear is if it’s on fire or if you’re planning a day to remodel it.”

Calum shakes his head with a hiccup of laughter coming from him. Of course, you would. Of course. He grabs the stepstool you keep between the fridge. It’s not long before he gets the curtains switched out--thankfully the ones you bought fit on the rod already installed. The scratch of Duke’s paws coming closer to the kitchen alert Calum that you’ve gotten back inside.

“What if we do the cabinets on Saturday?” he asks, hearing the fridge crack open. He shakes out some of the creases in the last curtain.

“I’ll be disturbing you bright and early then.”

“Sounds lovely,” he returns, stretching up just a little to get the first part of the curtain onto the rod. Just as he steps down, a cup settles onto the counter in front of him. Water by the looks of it in the glass and then your feet shuffle down the hardwood floors.

You and Calum manage to get finished at about the same time getting dressed. But it doesn’t get past you that a few buttons on his dress shirt are not all the way done as he moves to pass you to grab shoes from the closet. “Sir, I don’t know what you’re playing, but those few buttons are playing with fire,” you tease getting the last of your outfit into place.

“Look who’s talking,” he laughs but steps back over to you. “Hmm, everyone warned me about you.”

“Warned you about me?” This is the first time you’re earring of anyone having a problem with you.

He nods. “They told me I’d fall in love.” The rapid rate of your heart starts to slow.

“Well, did you?”

“Do you not see me dressed to the nines just to take you out? I am whipped.”

Cupping his jaw, you press several chaste kisses to his lips. “Good. I ordered our tickets--so we don’t have to wait in any line.”

“Ah, I knew I found a good one. Thank you.”

“Uh-huh. You’re welcome.”

With Calum’s shoes on, and the tickets saved on your phone, the two of you head out. The drive to the museum feels much too short--between you belting out the songs on the radio and the laughter--you’re not even thinking about the fact that you’re about to head to an art museum dressed like you’d go to an award show with Calum. You hadn’t been to many of those, opting at the beginning of your relationship to hang back from that world.

“Why do this?” you ask softly right as the songs change. The radio host advertises something, you’re not sure what, but you can hear their voice excited as they talk.

Calum takes a brief second to glance at you. “What do you mean? I thought I answered that.”

“No, no, you did. But I don’t know. I’m just shocked.”

It goes silent for a moment. You hear the soft squeal of the tires and you know Calum should’ve taken his car to the shop a month ago, but again, he dragged his feet on some things. But you don’t think to say anything, not now at least.

“You mentioned it,” Calum starts, turning his gaze away from the red light. “When we first started dating, you mentioned that you wanted to get dressed up one day and just go somewhere--it didn’t matter where. But you wanted to go on a date and get fancy and go to a random place in the middle of the afternoon like it was a movie. And I thought and I thought and I even asked the guys where to take you but none of them knew. And then I had this whole plan for our anniversary to get dressed up and go the park. But I got scared and changed it to dinner because I didn’t want to ruin your fantasy. We have lists of them and we make them up all the time. But this one mattered.”

“They all matter. That’s why we create them, that’s why we write them down.”

“But this one mattered to you. There are plenty that we do together. But this one mattered specifically to you and I knew I couldn’t just give up on it.”

Your mouth hangs open for a second and then the car lurches forward, you fall back into the cushion of the seat just a hair but then regain your balance. “You told me once that you missed when you and your sister would sneak these biscuits after dinner. And your mother always knew you two were doing it. So I bought some and put them on the highest shelf. Because that’s where your stash is and I never wanted you to run out so every couple of weeks I do a second trip to the grocery store to buy them. And I’m not sure when you realized I was buying them because at one point there were two and three packages on that shelf, which I knew meant you didn’t know I was buying them. But now there’s only ever the package that I buy.”

“I’ve known for months now, love. I didn’t say anything but honestly, I liked it. But I will admit I’m shocked you didn’t stop once you realized it.”

“I kept doing it because I wanted to give you a tiny piece of home. It’s crazy I know. But I try.”

“I am home. With you.”

“I know, but like your childhood. The things that no one really knows but you and what you’ve decided to share with me. I want to bring that to you.”

“Baby, I-I don’t need that. I appreciate it. I know you feeding me until I become round is your love language but I am more than satisfied to create new things with you.”

“Your trainer cancels out all my attempts. You, sir, will keep your toned abs and biceps for at least another twenty years.”

“Only twenty?”

You laugh, leaning over the console to kiss his cheek. “Once you marry me, baby, you’re getting happy weight and I won’t stop.” The sentiment is punctuated with a pat to his stomach. The only thing Calum can do is laugh.

“I look forward to it.”

“Oh, so you agree, you are going to marry me?”

Calum never thought he’d get here. Not pulling into the parking lot of a museum with the love of his life, dressed in clothes he only really reserved for the stage, a heartbeat away from admitting, “Yes. I am agreeing that I am going to marry you.”

The moment lingers for a beat, then two and Calum’s heart is racing because this isn’t how he had planned on asking. Shit, he thought he’d need another six months before he’d have the guts to even admit it to the boys. But right now, it just feels so right to admit. Your arms are winding around his neck and he’s leaning as far as his still buckled seatbelt will allow him. And you’re kissing him and he’s inhaling your laughter. And somehow the most backward-ass things feel the best.

“You-I need to get you a ring. I was going to do this all differently,” Calum rushes out, holding onto your cheeks. His head shakes, eyes wide. “I swear I was going to do this all differently.”

Your smile is blurry in his vision. But he hears your laughter. “I don’t need it any other way.”

You wipe the tears from his cheeks. “Now, can we please go look at the pretty art with my soon-to-be husband on my arm?”

“Of course.”

The air of the museum is cold and it chills you for a second but it’s coupled with the fact that Calum’s thumb is stroking the back of your hand. The two of you glance at each other, wide grins and giggles falling from your lips. It’s a wonder, as the two of you stroll through the museum. You in front, gravitating towards the brighter works and Calum follows, your pinkies hooked together to keep you two from getting too separated from each other.

All he can do is stare, watch you and your ever-shifting gaze. You float over the floor of the museum as if your feet could never really fully touch the ground. And he’s powerless to it, the following the visible string pulling him to you. At your pause, Calum slides up behind you. His hands settle at your hips first briefly before he catches himself. “Yes, Cal?”

“Nothing.”

You cock your head to the side and then ever so slightly push back against his hips. “Just as I suspected. A lot of something. Approximately several inches in length.”

Calum barely holds the howl of his laughter in before spinning you around. “Do not ever--”

“Or what?” you ask.

“You know I’m not going ever taking you out in public again.”

You take a glance to the left and right, before slipping your hand between your bodies. You palm his length through his dress pants. “Oh what a shame,” you state and then step away to a sculpture.

Calum exhales hard at the action and takes a moment to steel himself before following after you. The teasing continues on back and forth, him passing in front of you and feeling you over the material of your clothes, gently brushing his hands on the back of your neck.

Calum moves to another room and you watch him go for a minute before following behind him. The shivers of his still nibbles on his ears rocked you more than you anticipated. Sliding up behind him, you encase your arms around his torso. “You sir, are just begging for us to get kicked out.”

His small chuckle is interrupted by the buzz of his phone. Calum reaches into his pocket and sees the numbers. He glances around and slides to answer the call. “Calum speaking,” he whispers. You step away and point out a sign pointing to some restrooms. Calum smiles at you, kissing your forehead, and then heads over that way.

You wait in the same area, not wanting to go too far in case the call is quick. You take your time looking at each piece in the room. It feels long but then you can hear the clack of dress shoes on the floor and turn to the sound of it. Calum returns, his face a little pensive.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just--uh.”

“We can go if you need to. Is it work?”

“It’s just bullshit. Something bout a demo needing to be recorded. And I don’t--this is important to you. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“One more room and then we can go back home.”

He takes your hands. “If we do one more room, I won’t have time to take you back home. I’m sorry.”

“Well, our fridge magnet collection needs another one. And I don’t mind if you have to drive to the studio and then I’ll take an Uber or something back home.”

“Or you could stay with me?”

“I’m not about to make life harder. C’mon. We got a fridge magnet to obtain.”

The gift shop is hardly busy. Calum takes a second to text the guys that he’ll be over to the studio soon. It’s not hard for you to pick a magnet. But you look at the postcards, all the colors. “Grab a handful, love. I see you eyeing them.”

You pick up a few and then head to the register. Calum seems to be distracted by something, but you don’t think too much of it as you pay. Especially since he seems to slide up right behind you. At the front of the shop, Calum warns it’ll be a bit of a drive so you scurry to the restroom.

The sun’s brighter than you anticipated and you squint against the sun as you walk back out into the parking lot. As you slide into the truck, you toss the magnet and card onto the back seats, on the blanket Duke lays on. And then another small bag lands on your lap. “What’s this?”

Calum says nothing as he buckles in.

“Oh don’t get all silent on me. Don’t you fucking dare.” You turn the back upside down and a box lands into your lap. Your heart races and then you realize it’s too small to be a ring box though it could be the right size. “Calum,” you sigh and crack it open. A small enamel pin stares back up at you. You laugh.

“You got me good that time.”

“I’ll do one better when it’s an actual ring.”

“I like gold,” you tell him, taking his hand gently and kisses the back of it.

“Trust, I am well aware.”

#calum hood fic #5sos #calum hood #5 seconds of summer #h writes #5sos fanfic #calum hood fanfic #5sos fic #calum hood 5sos #calum hood x reader

[bakugotrashpanda]

» Kirishima x Fem!Reader » Word Count: 1025

» Pro Hero Kiri, Reporter Reader

You run into someone, literally, on your way to a conference.

If you are late to another press conference, your boss will have you out on your ass before you can even make an excuse. Why do these meetings have to happen in buildings where the hallways are a goddamn maze and you always take the wrong turn? Every door looks the same, and even the giant auditoriums blend in with normal offices.

Room 308… 308…  A placard advertising room 310 and room 306 pass by you. Not that those rooms should be beside each other at all. At the end of the hall, you see the bathroom signs against the beige wall. Only the men’s bathroom though. If you find out the architect of this building, they would surely get an earful from you.

Room 314 passes by you and you freeze in your tracks. Now you were getting further away from it, right? Turning around, you crash into the solid, broad chest of another person clearly running late - hopefully for the same conference so you could follow them.

“Shit!” you shout as you fall on your ass. The papers and notebooks in your arms clatter against the floor. An unopened water bottle and some papers from the man you ran into fall as well. Thankfully, the water bottle doesn’t burst and spill everywhere.

“I’m so sorry!” the man apologizes and starts separating the mix of documents on the floor into your pile and his. Ignoring the inevitable bruise on your tailbone, you help him sort everything.

“It’s my fault!” Nervous laughter pours out of your mouth. “I’m just trying to find room 308. You wouldn’t happen to know where that is, do you?”

The man adjusts his beanie and sits back on his heels for a moment. Garnet eyes stare at the ceiling as he tries to recall his route.

“I think it’s behind us, hallway on the left… Third door down?” he says, “That’s for the Red Riot and Dynamight conference, right?”

“Yeah,” you gush and grab your stack of papers, “I had to convince my boss to let me take this assignment, but it’s going to be worth it!”

“You think so?” the man chuckles. You stand and anxiously look for the hallway you need to take.

“Yeah, I think so,” you nod, “Red Riot is my favorite hero and I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Thanks for the help. If you’re looking for the men’s bathroom, it’s just down there. No clue where the women’s restroom is though.” Not wanting to miss the start, you dash off in search of room 308.

The room is packed, but you spot your friend in the middle with a saved seat for you. He waves you down and you slip past cameras and other reporters standing shoulder to shoulder.

“You’re late,” he hisses. 

“I know,” you snap back, “I couldn’t find the room.” The two of you went through uni together and even though you ended up working for different companies, you both try to help each other out.

“Don’t worry, I heard they’re both running behind too,” he rolls his eyes.

“Who can blame them,” you sigh and fan yourself with your notebook. How many people do they plan on shoving in here? This has to be against fire code. “This building is a freaking maze and we’re the silly mice that can’t find our way out.

There’s a murmur of excitement near the front, and before you know it, Red Riot and Dynamight take center stage. The easygoing grin on Red Riot’s face has your heart melting. Meanwhile, your friend has eyes only for Dynamight. Flipping open your notebook and pen poised over paper, you prepare to write like your life depends on it.

Behind the table covered in a simple table cloth and two microphones, the heroes take a seat. Red Riot organizes his notes while an announcer needlessly announces him and Dynamight and the topic of the conference.

“Thank you all for being here,” Red Riot grins, light glinting off his sharp teeth, “My partner and I are glad to be here discussing the-” He stops and stares at his notes for a moment, a slight crimson tinge that rivals his hair creeping onto his cheeks. He flips a couple pages in his notebook before busting out laughing. Dynamight leans over and smirks. Not sure what’s happening, you look around, hoping someone else is in on the joke. He leans back and signals one of the volunteers over.

“This is room 308, right?” the mic barely picks up his voice. When he gets confirmation, he grabs a pen and scribbles something in his notebook before leaning into the microphone. “Would the gorgeous reporter I literally ran into in the hall please come up and collect her notebook? The one who told me where the bathroom was before running off?” Murmurs rise in the audience like a wave. Hand frozen above your notebook, you slowly look down at your book and turn back a page. Handwriting that is definitely not your own messily covers the lined page. Horrified, you stand. Garnet eyes light up when they meet yours. You make your way to the aisle and walk up to the stage.

This is worse than a walk of shame. All eyes are on you as you make your way up to the stage and retrieve your notebook. Heat claws up your face, and if you didn’t know better, you’d bet that you could cook a three-course meal with the energy radiating off you. Dynamight with his arms crossed, snorts and shakes his head, a cocky grin on his lips. Red Riot covers the mic and leans forward.

“Glad you found the room,” he winks and trades you notebooks. You mutely nod, horrified that this is happening. You scurry back to your seat and wish you could melt into a puddle. The heroes continue their introductions and, when you remember that you’re here for work, you flip open to your notes page. There, on the top of the page next to your handwriting that reads ‘Mrs. Red Riot’ is a phone number. Maybe we can get coffee some time ;)  -Kirishima

A/N: Me? Writing? It’s more likely than you think! Editing? Not so much. Thanks @katsukikitten​ for this spark of inspiration

#bnha imagines #kirishima #kirishima x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia