#same goes for second fiddle

[soundcrusher]

Birds of a Feather Au Part 1

I was thinking about my 'Birds of a Feather' Au at work and decided to try my luck on writing something for it.

I hope it's good. ^^'

Snow = Sg!Phoenix Phoenix/Red = Reg!Phoenix

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Up, up, down, down, left, right, and another left, or was it up, up, left, left, right, down? No, it was probably down, up, left, left, right and through that weirdly shaped vent opening that looked like the gaping maws of a monster ready to chew on a delicious Cybertronian.

Yes! That was the correct way, but considering Phoenix was a little bit lost at the moment, he couldn’t make out the right way to the engine room, let alone find the way back to where he first entered the vents. But, considering the way the right wall was bent and the small dried smear of pink paint next to him, Phoenix was on the right way back to his and his brother’s room. Which wasn’t ‘bad’, per say, but it would mean that he couldn’t get to the showers without alerting his brother. Something Phoenix really didn’t want to do. His brother was already on edge ever since Second Fiddle told them about his next ‘hunt’, and it only grew worse with each day. He doesn’t want to imagine how worried his brother must be right now…

“Maybe I really should go to our room…” Muttered the youngling, before letting out a sigh and making his way down the vent leading to his and his brothers room. Although, you couldn’t really call it a room. It’s way too small for two growing fliers to comfortably live in, let alone stretch their wings. And then there was the problem with the door… but at least they had a comfortable berth. That was something, right? It must be something, because that was the only comfortable thing they had.

Either way, with one last turn, a swift kick against the vent cover and a small drop, Phoenix was back in their room. Startling his brother, who was studying some of the data-pads Fools Shot gave them.

“Why don’t you ever use the door?” Muttered the blue and white youngling, as he placed his data-pad down and got up. Grabbing two boxes, each one labeled with ‘First-Aid-Kit’ and ‘Bait-Paint-Removing-Kit’. “Is it because of the door? I told you not to booby-trap it. Runningway nearly blew a fuse yesterday…”

“And that’s WHY we need a booby-trapped door Snow. It keeps mechs like Runningway, well, away. Remember last time he barged in? He forcefully dragged you out by your feet and when you tried to resist, he did what exactly?” The only answer Phoenix got from his brother was a quiet mumble, which was even more uninterpretable because Snow refused to look at him. “Hm? What did you say? I didn’t catch that.”

“He… He hit me…”

“Yes, he hit you hard enough that it left dents!” Exclaimed Phoenix angrily, as he carefully placed both of his servos against Snow’s cheeks, turning his head, so that he could look into his brother’s red optics. “Snow, why do you think I booby-trap the door? It’s to keep you safe.” He said with a softer tone and expression as the one he had a second ago. “And if it means I have to use the vents to enter my own room, then so be it.” Phoenix smiled at his brother, before softly bonking their heads together. “Come on now. How about a smile? I bet one of those idiots decided to be a boob and set off my genius trap. I bet they couldn’t escape the paint bucket, or the feathers. And I bet they didn’t expect the trip wire, which would set off the glitter bomb I made.”

“They… didn’t really see it coming…” Muttered Snow quietly while taking a step back to get his brother’s hands away from his face. “But I can tell you, while we’re getting off that awful paint job. Yellow isn’t really your color…”

“I know! And this ugly light red. Ugh, I hate it! It’s too tacky! Like, what kind of mech willingly has these colors? They surely must have something wrong with their processor if they think this looks good.” Phoenix said, before pointing to his wings. “ALSO! Really, yellow wings? Why not paint a target on my back and call it a day? Do you know how hard it is to hide, when your wings are as yellow as these?!” The complaints kept on coming, even when the two brothers were on their way towards the showers. But Phoenix mostly said them, because it got him a chuckle from Snow. And seeing his brother smile or laugh was one of the only things that made Phoenix happy on this Primus forsaken ship. That, and getting to hang out with Old Man or Fools Shot. Or getting Fix It to agree to some target practice. Other than that, there wasn’t much that made Phoenix happy. Not anymore, at least.

The second they were in the showers though, Snow’s smile dropped and he got that same look their mother would have, whenever it was time for them to take a shower, or clean their room. It got a chuckle from Phoenix as both of them moved towards the back of the showers, and as soon as they were in and the shower was on, Snow opened the cleaning kit and handed his brother one of the rags. Grabbing one himself afterwards and started cleaning Phoenix’s wings, while Phoenix himself started with his arms. Sending a small ‘thank you’ to Primus, because Second Fiddle actually listened to his suggestion and didn’t use the hard to clean paint this time.

And while they worked on getting even the smallest trace of tacky paint from Phoenix’s body, the two brothers were quiet. With Snow being too engrossed in his work, while Phoenix was lost in his thoughts. How long will it take, until Fools Shot notices that his co-captain and some of his crew were going against his back? How long until he found out about the Autobot hunts? And how long until Second Fiddle grew tired and got rid of them? Well, he wouldn’t make both of them ‘disappear’, that’s for sure. He needed bait after all, which means that one of them would always be safe… or at least safe enough so that they wouldn’t try too much… Phoenix just hoped that it would be Snow.

Despite everything Second Fiddle and Runningway have done to them, and the treatment of the crew that are complete afts, Phoenix still hoped they wouldn’t get rid of Snow. His brother still had his whole life ahead of him. His dream of becoming a medic and helping others is still there, and it’s not like Phoenix had any. Yes, he was learning things he found interesting, but ever since they started their ‘adventure’, as Second Fiddle called it, Phoenix learned that dreams don’t get you far. They only slow you down, or disappear as soon as they come.

There was a time when Phoenix wanted to become a medic too. Snow and him even made jokes about how they would work together one day, but now? Now those dreams have long gone down the drain, and no new one has come after them. It’s why Phoenix has become so protective of Snow. His brother hasn’t had his dreams shattered, despite everything. He’s still hopeful, innocent and naive, while he has become the complete opposite. One of them had to grow up after all. And with Snow being, well, Snow, and him being the older twin, it was clear who had to look out for the other.

Sometimes though, Phoenix wished things would go back to how they were. When both of them were still younglings running around in their homes and pretending to be adventurers with their father, or helping their mother in her bakery. Those were the times neither of them knew how cruel life truly was, and even now, Snow was still holding onto the belief that life wasn’t all that bad and that there was good in everyone… And that made Phoenix’s blood boil, because it made it easier for mechs like Second Fiddle to take advantage of his brother.

“You’re angry.” It wasn’t a question, Snow could feel the anger in his brother’s field and see him clench his fists. “I… I don’t know why you would be angry… but… but if it’s because of me, I’m sorry… I don’t know what I’ve done, but I’m sorry.” Phoenix only gave a shake of the head as an answer, before they went back to cleaning. Finishing off rather quickly, before storing everything back into the kit and exciting the shower. And after that, and drying off, Snow started to give Phoenix a small look over, in case there were any wounds. But all he found were small scratches, which he still took care of, because you can never know if they wouldn’t cause more damage in the future.

And after that was taken care of, the two gathered their belongings before exiting the showers. Taking the quick route back to their room, because Phoenix didn’t want anyone from the ‘hunting party’ to bother them. Something Snow could understand, but at the same time, he was hoping to see Fools Shot. Maybe even visit Old Man in the engine room and bring him some of the energon cookies he made.

Although, as soon as they were close to their room, Snow was stopped in his tracks by Phoenix’s arm holding him back and a low, threatening, rumbling coming from his brother.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Phoenixes running around and having fun.” Said none other than the ship’s very own aft, Runningway. “And look at you Red, already gotten rid of your new paint job? And here I thought you would like it.”

“Piss off Runningway, we don’t want to see your sorry face around here!” Growled Phoenix in return. Which only got a laugh from Runningway, and his two friends that came up behind the two younglings.

“Oh Red, you know how much Second Fiddle hates your potty mouth. It’s not becoming of a youngling like you to use such words…” Runningways’s smile grew more sinister with each step he took towards the two brothers, but as Phoenix made an attempt to grab Snow and make a run for their room, the other two mechs bounced. Grabbing the thrashing youngling and holding him back, while Runningway grabbed Snow. Slinging an arm around the younger mech with a grin, as Snow froze up in fear. “Also, you really shouldn’t push your luck. We’re already mad at you for ruining our hunt, and I’m sure that you wouldn’t want a punishment for that. And even if, I’m sure Snow would LOVE to help out with it.”

While Snow was frozen just a moment ago, his whole frame started to shake as Runningway’s arm was no-longer slung around his shoulders, but rather his neck. Which might have looked like a playful gesture, but Phoenix and Snow knew what it truly was. A threat, a promise and it took all of Phoenix’s willpower not to start screaming bloody murder as Runningway started to choke Snow. And he didn’t even stop as the younger twin started to claw and scratch at his arm.

No, Runningway only squeezed harder, while smiling as if he wasn’t currently harming Snow. And Phoenix tried hard to get out of the other two mech’s grip to claw Runningway’s optics out, or bite him until he bled, maybe both. Yes, definitely both. But even if he wanted to harm the racer, he couldn’t. Not when it meant Snow would be harmed. So, Phoenix stopped struggling and lowered his head down to look at the ground. Mumbling a small ‘Sorry’, which he didn’t mean one bit.

And Runningway could tell that, but he made no attempt to call Phoenix out on it. Instead, he tightened his grip on Snow, until the youngling was close to passing out. Only then did he let go, watching Snow drop down like a sack of galaxy potatoes, before motioning his friends to do the same. “Remember this Red when you think about insulting me next time.” Was all the racer said, before walking off. Followed by his friends.

Phoenix watched them leave, and as soon as he was sure they wouldn’t come back, he quickly scooted over to Snow. Checking if he was okay, before carefully helping his brother back up on his feet, and together they quickly entered their room. And while Phoenix made sure that the door was prepped to chase off anyone trying to get in, Snow made his way over to their berth and curled up underneath their blankets. Only then, when he was under the safety of their blankets, did Snow start to cry.

And as soon as Phoenix was done, he was quick to rush over to his brother. Getting under the covers and wrapping his arms around Snow. Pulling him as close as he could, while muttering calming words in the hopes that they would help his brother. And it seemed to work. Snow grew calmer, until his cries were nothing more than quiet sobs, until they stopped completely.

“Snow?” Asked Phoenix, as he looked down at his brother, before letting out a soft laugh. "Seriously? Falling asleep?… I can’t blame you… Dealing with that aft leaves me even exhausted…” Muttered the black and red youngling, as he softly ran a servo over his brother’s head. Watching Snow snuggle closer to him, before closing his own optics. A little nap doesn’t sound all that bad, not after a day like this.

Let’s just hope tomorrow will be better.

#birds of a feather au #transformer ocs #transformers #sg/phoenix #reg/phoenix #runningway #I really should do more with this au; if I'm being honest #I think them being brothers is interesting #also; no matter what; runningway will always be an aft #there's no exception #same goes for second fiddle

[lost-in-lamentation]

he never imagined he'd show anyone this side of himself. but when it's you, he can't help but show you everything.

a/n: starting the side character writing off with a bang! this is part two of the first sign of affection.

content: what do the side characters do when they want to show you they appreciate you?

warnings: once again, if physical touch isn't your thing, neither is this post. also, solomon is a sad boi.

diavolo; he falls asleep around you.

the future king of devildom takes everything in stride. from RAD problems to royal affairs, diavolo has it all covered. but sometimes, even the ruler himself finds himself on the panicked side. he begins to seek you out when he finds himself standing on anxiety's edge; your presence relaxes him to the point where he can't fight off the tiredness that clings. as the papers get signed, diavolo's eyes start to droop, and he doesn't notice the way you shift yourself closer to catch him. he falls asleep on your shoulder before he knows it, and you allow him to rest as long as he needs.

later, when he stirs and lifts his head to look at you, you quickly coax it back to where it was, sending his heart racing. "go back to sleep, you need it."

"... thank you." diavolo relishes in the way your hand combs through his hair, taking a moment to breathe a sigh of relief.

═  ˎˊ˗

barbatos; he fiddles with your hands.

as diavolo's right hand man, barbatos barely ever has a second to spare. so when he extends you an invite to come and have a tea tasting session with him, you absolutely cannot decline. throughout the day, he hands you flavours upon flavours of tea, each time never failing to ask if you'd like to take some of the leaves back home for yourself. the two of you eventually sit in a comfortable silence, fingertips brushing when you reach for the tea pot at the same time. without a word, barbatos slips his gloves off and reaches for your hands, beginning to idly play with your fingers.

your eyes widen in surprise, but you allow him to continue. "you... you okay?"

barbatos doesn't take his eyes away from your hands. "please, indulge me for just a moment," he says softly, placing his palm on top of yours.

═  ˎˊ˗

simeon; he plays with your hair.

simeon is often a man of few words. after all, he can never get his d.d.d. to work when he wants to call or even text you. so instead, he goes the old-fashioned way and comes knocking on your door instead. his heart skips a beat when you usher him in, and time flies by without much effort. the two of you sit pressed into each other's sides, and simeon takes his chance when he notices how your head bobs up and down sleepily. his hand reaches up and begins to tenderly card his hand through your hair, chuckling at the wobbly grin you began making.

"that feels nice," you murmur, settling even further into his side.

simeon lightly nuzzles his face on the top of your head in return. "i'm glad."

═  ˎˊ˗

solomon; he cries in front of you.

for someone to have lived as long as solomon, emotions begin to blend together. he's long forgotten where the line between sadness and anger lies, and it shows when the sorcerer smiles at a situation that calls for a frown. you recall the story he told you long ago, remembering the way his expression wavered as he recounted his memories. you stand by his side now in silence; his voice falters as he tries to say anything to you. in response, you turn his face towards you, telling him to do what he has never done in front of anyone.

you bring him closer, wrapping your arms around him. "stop holding back. you're safe with me."

"safe with you," solomon whispers back. the dam breaks, and in your presence, solomon allows tears to fall for the first time in centuries.

a/n: i love cat, if you couldn't tell.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #simeon × reader #solomon x reader #obey me nightbringer #aris writes 🐈‍⬛

[randomshyperson]

Favorite Star - Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Summary: During halftime at the Golden Globes, two guests find an empty room. Or the one where Lizzie's dress is driving you crazy.

Warnings; (+18), semi-public smut, bottom!Lizzie, dirty talking, implied secret relationship, just sinful. | Words: 1.437k

A/N-> This is actually fluff because I'm a sweetheart and Lizzie's face after losing another award made me very upset. And as the saying goes, the devil works fast but fanfic writers work faster.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

-&-

You've been teasing her.

All day, even before the awards began, you filled her cell phone with selfies and short videos of getting dressed in your attire - A dark green suit that hugged your body just right and was chosen to match her eyes, giving plenty of material for every rumor that has been circling about the two of you. Then on the red carpet, with intense stares and hidden smirks in her direction that your Agent probably wouldn't approve of. When you finally greeted her, you even dared to whisper how breathtaking she looked next to her ear and Lizzie should have won an acting award right there for covering the way her body shook at the compliment. 

The Golden Globes party was as full as usual, and it was blistering hot and tedious. She still had to deal with an annoying host, and when the break finally happened, Elizabeth wasn't the only one who breathed a sigh of relief that the performance had been interrupted.

She made her way through the crowd towards the toilets, offering polite smiles to any of the known guests she crossed glances with and somehow, perhaps because she caught your eye before standing up, Lizzie knew you were following her.

Her heart leaped in her chest when she felt her wrist being gently grabbed. She caught a glimpse of your dilated pupils before you took the lead, holding her hand and guiding her into the first empty room you could find.

You let go of her hand to wrap your arms around her waist, a gentle push to have her against the closed door. Lizzie was still blushing because she was sure Meryl Streep had seen the whole thing.

Your lips were on hers in the blink of an eye, and all she could do was sigh, her eyes closing on instinct. Fuck, she missed this. It seemed like forever since you last kissed, Lizzie was almost beginning to think she'd imagined it.

When you broke apart, you were a little breathless, your eyes shining in her direction filled her stomach with butterflies.

"Hello, gorgeous." You greeted her with a smile, your hands stroking her sides. "Lizzie, this dress is... fuck."

She blushed at your affected tone of voice, smiling shyly. Her hands went to the collar of your dress shirt, and she stared back at you with the same intensity.

"I'm glad you like it." She whispers even though the room is empty and the noise of the party outside is enough to drown out the sounds inside. "Do you know what the best part is? How easy it comes off..." She teases naughty an inch away from your lips, pleased with the shaky sigh that escapes you. Your hands tighten a little more firmly around her waist and Lizzie bites her lip before instinctively thrusting her hips towards you. The cue is answered immediately - You grab her dress to put up a little so your thigh can fit between her legs, giving her something to grind against. But instead of giving in completely, she’s all too aware of where she is and the short time you both have before the end of the break. So Lizzie fiddles with your tie. "We can't. Not here."

You pout, the hands on her hips giving a tentative pull, forcing her to grind down into your flexing thigh, and her determined gaze falters into an aroused expression, the blood flowing not only to her cheeks but down her body, at a speed that makes her gasp for air. The hot knot on her lower belly making her dizzier by the second.

"Why wait, when you want it so badly?" You challenge back as if you knew how about the ache between her legs. You lean in to attack her collarbone with kisses that turn her into a panting mess, struggling to keep her eyes open. You gently bite the most sensitive spot behind her ear that you have learned to memorize and Lizzie lets out a soft whimper, her hips thrusting forward on instinct.

But there's movement outside. Footsteps and a soft bell. Break time is about to be over. Lizzie grumbles, the firm hands on your shoulder pushing you gently.

"We have to go." She says, but you don't let go, you pull her face to yours and kiss her hard. Your tongue makes her knees go weak and the only support is your thigh between her legs. She whines again, wishing she wasn’t wearing a dress at all. "Baby, they'll notice-" She manages to pant between your firm kisses, but she's grinding against you with a little more frenzy in the next second. Your hands move under her dress and Lizzie lets her face fall into the space of your neck, unable to care about the lipstick staining the collar of your shirt.

She choked on a moan when suddenly, your fingers reached forward - you just pushed the fabric of her already ruined panties aside and sank them inside her without warning. The throaty moan that escapes her is muffled on your skin.

It's ridiculous how helpless she is; riding your fingers in chase of her climax in near despair. And you're not gentle either, your thrusts are deep and quick inside her because you can't afford to prolong this and the second warning bell will ring soon. The cameras will be turned on again, your chairs will be empty, and more gossip about a possible relationship between the Marvel stars will surface in the media.

But Lizzie is coming hard against your hand, so she can't care about any of that right now.

It's one of the quickest orgasms she's ever had in her life, but she doesn't have time to feel embarrassed about it. You remove your hand to suck your fingers clean as she tries to breathe normally again, her hands gripping your shoulders so she doesn't slip to the floor due to her shaky legs.

You turn your face to her next, kissing her intensely and Lizzie moans at the taste of herself on your tongue. You smile as you break away.

"I kinda wanna skip the party and take you home, Miss Olsen." You let her know sweetly, and Lizzie lets out a short, breathy chuckle. 

But the second bell rings, and the cameras have been turned on. She curses quietly, and you help her to stand up properly.

"Come on, let me help you with this." You ask, your hands pulling her face to lessen the mess that has become her lipstick as she tries to do the same with you. 

But she knows, she knows for sure that her worn-out dreamy expression, the mess in her hair, will give away what she’s been up to. And that not only the other guests, but the fans will know too.

She swallows dryly, tugging at your hand. "They'll know."

You hesitate before giving her a small smile. "Is that so bad, Lizzie?"

She takes a deep breath, her lips cracking into a small smile. "I just... hoped to share the news in a different way."

You absorb her words for a moment, trying to ignore the warm happiness blossoming in your chest. Lizzie wants to go public. You steal a glance at the door before looking back at her and sighing. "Okay, I have an idea."

The whole thing goes very quickly; you pull your cell phone out of your pocket and take a picture of your lipstick-stained shirt collar. She looks at you with a frown.

"What...?"

"Well, you're not on Instagram so this is as good as it gets." You explain, letting her see the photo and the small caption that simply read “a good-luck kiss from my favorite star”. Lizzie felt her face burn, and she giggled nervously. This would cause some commotion, she could already imagine Twitter going insane trying to guess who you were talking to. Knowing her fans, they probably already knew.

She stares at you to say; "Your agent is going to kill you. Not only that, they'll drown you with questions when we are out of here."

You chuckled, offering her a wink. "It was totally worth it."

She approaches again, stealing a short kiss before touching the door handle. "I'll fix my makeup, you go ahead."

You pout. "But my picture was so nice..."

Lizzie rolls her eyes with a laugh. "I never said you couldn't post it." She teases, and it's her turn to give you a wink before walking out the door.

This woman is still going to be the death of you. Honestly.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #marvel imagines #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen fics

[inkdrinkerworld]

Talk Too Much

Pairing: Remus Lupin x loud but shy!reader

Cw: college!au, fluff, kind of friends to lovers, obliviousness by Remus for a while, drinking (mentioned), smoking (cigarettes), I think that’s it

Wc: 2.2k

You’re a loudmouth. Through and through. Of all your friends, you honestly think you and James would be the ones to never shut up or run out of words.

That is until Remus transfers into the school and infiltrates your friend group and suddenly you find the words can run out.

It’s not on purpose.

It seems to take you over purely by coincidence- the way your throat gets dry and your tongue seems too heavy to form the words you want to get out when Remus seems to be paying attention to only you. His gaze isn’t unwelcome- that’s the entire problem.

You like the feeling of being what he looks at, but it feels too good, too natural.

His honey eyes that are just lightly flecked with green, and his sharp jawline that’s adorned with silvery scar tissue that somehow makes him even more handsome.

He’s also always got a cigarette to fiddle with.

You’ve only seen him smoke twice, and had been mesmerised by the way his cheeks hollow and how he blows the smoke out and it seems to curl around him like it’s unable to obey his exhales in the opposite direction.

He reminds you in a way of Charlie Dalton and Stephen Meeks.

Fctional characters who Remus seems to emulate in his confidence (from Charlie) and a sort of confidence that’s self-assured yet mild at the same time (a mix of the two) and that in itself makes you fall a little more for him.

It’s overwhelming- this attraction to him. It confuses you and has you tripping over words in your head, far less for if you voiced them and all that was heard were clunky excuses for sentences.

What makes your sudden bouts of silence obvious is the fact that your friends have caught onto you.

It’s not like it’s exceptionally hard to decipher either- you’re not really good at being subtle.

You suspect James and Sirius are taking bets on when it’ll all be too obvious for everyone to walk around it and you desperately hope that it takes months while simultaneously hoping it takes only weeks.

Remus notices the way your body freezes when you realise you’ve caught his attention in your storytelling. In his mind, it’s because you don’t like him.

The way you shrink down and suddenly go silent the moment his eyes set upon you, the way you remain quiet even though he sees the way the corners of your mouth twitch with something to say.

He thinks he’s put you off somehow, especially when the second he’s gone a little ways away to get a drink or get his lunch, you seem to perk right back up and dive into storytelling once more.

It bothers him so much he asks Sirius about it- a mistake in itself, because Sirius only pokes fun at his friend.

“If you can’t realise why she goes silent the moment you stare at her Lupin, I can’t help you.” Sirius walks off leaving Remus even more perplexed, moreso when he hears Sirius says, “How’s he so thick for someone doing so many higher classes?”

It bewilders Remus for weeks, your always sudden vows of silence and then your equally sudden broken vows.

You’re all at a house party when it comes to an almost end.

You’re dressed pretty like always, a skirt that hugs all the places Remus longs to touch and a top that shows a sliver of your stomach and Remus catches a glimpse of jewellery hanging in your navel.

Your ears have a pair of hanging bat earrings, and your necklace is your standard one- he’s sure he’s never seen you without it.

You’re smiling and laughing with Marlene and Mary as you walk in. Remus wants to figure out why you dislike him so, he desperately wants to change your sour opinion of him. He’s going to at least try to do so tonight, if you can stomach looking at him.

“C’mon losers,” James’ loud voice is unmistakable, “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven.”

Remus is only approaching when he hears your teasing,

“Are we taking a blast back to Year 9 Jamie?”

James nods, “Yeah we are, and would you look at that you and Lupin are up first.” You’re sure there’s an evil little grin on James’ face when you look up and find Remus standing there in his soft brown sweater and jeans.

You can smell a little of the cigarette he’d smoked before coming in, but mostly you smell his citrus, pepper and amber cologne.

It’s heady and you swear your brain gets a little drunk on it.

“Get going you two,” Sirius teases and you sigh standing.

Remus’ mind is reeling, wondering how he’s going to get back at Sirius and James and the rest of your friends that he knows are in on this too.

Out of ear shot of your friends as you both go to the nearest room, Remus says lowly, “You don’t have to come in. I’ll just tell them we talked.”

You look up at him, eyes wide and Remus takes your surprise as a moment to admire you up close. He counts three beauty marks near your right eye, another on your neck just under your chin, and one on your nose. He’s distracted by you for a good long while that he doesn’t register you’ve spoken till he sees you walk into the room and gesture for him to follow.

It’s tense, a silence neither of you are sure how to break.

You think Remus is the most gorgeous man to be placed on the Earth, and Remus thinks you find him repulsive.

You watch Remus climb onto the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles as his back presses against the headboard.

His casualness makes him look even more attractive and while you’re aware that you’re staring at him, you can’t make yourself stop.

‘Now or never,’ he thinks to himself before asking, “Have I offended you somehow?”

There it is, laid open and bare. The question hangs in the air, like the most tantalising yet foreign fruit you’ve ever seen.

“No?” It comes out like a question. One Remus takes as a chance to explain.

“It’s just that you’re always talking or telling a story with the others, and as soon as I’m near earshot you go silent and you can’t meet my eyes. So I’ve been thinking that maybe I’ve offended you, and I just wanted to say sorry for if I did- directly or indirectly.”

Remus’ attractiveness has been upped by a thousand- you’re sure all the love deities are having a laugh at your hopelessness.

You can’t meet his eyes now, even as you sit on the bed, so close to him that your biceps brush each other’s. “You haven’t offended me.”

Your voice is much softer than he’s ever heard it. Remus thinks this must be the softest you’ve ever spoken in your whole life.

“I haven’t?” he asks and you shake your head. Hazarding a glance at him, you find Remus leaning his shoulder down, his chin tucked as his eyes roam your frame.

“N-no,” your stutter gives you away slowly. “You’re just different from the others.” It’s not a clearer explanation, but the gears are turning in Remus’ head all the same and you can tell.

“Different how?” Remus doesn’t want to assume anything and that’s what causes the gears to come to a screeching halt.

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. Remus has never seen you this unsure. Everything you do is with confidence and ease, like you were just made to walk, talk and move the way that you do. Like it was as easy as breathing.

Maybe it’s the way you take your time to consider your words, or the way you fiddle with your clothes or even the way your breathing changes as he leans just a bit closer that makes Remus smile a little.

“Will you look at me for a second, darling gwerthfawr?” The softness of his tone and the way his accent changes to something a little more melodic makes you more jelly-like than you usually are in his presence.

“Hm?” you hum and Remus smirks. Silvery slithers of scar tissue moving with his mouth and making him look wicked in a way that has you falling a little more in love with him.

“Why don’t you like looking or speaking to me?”

Remus doesn’t let you turn away, doesn’t let you tuck your cheek to your shoulder as you deliberate what you want to say. No, instead, the menace holds your chin and stares at you, holding your gaze and making your brain cloud even more as his cologne and attention wash over you.

“I like looking at you,” you admit shyly, the confession coming from your lips with hesitation. Like Remus will be repulsed by the fact that you like looking at him. “But you make me nervous.”

The words are suspended in the quiet of the room. All there is the muffled sounds of the party going on in the living room, and then yours and Remus’ breathing.

“I make you nervous?”

Sirius and James burst through the door, wide smiles that turn into shocked smirks at your positions.

“Well love birds, sorry but your seven minutes are up.” Remus staggers in letting your chin go, but when his fingers slacken, you leave the room, belly in knots in the almost wordy confession.

“So, how’d that go?” James asks him as you bend the corner- he’s sure that Lily and the other girls will be doing the same with you.

Remus flops on the bed, “Nothing that concerns you two gits.” His mind is racing with possibilities of finishing this conversation.

Sirius boos, “After all that planning to get you two in here and snogging each other’s faces off, that’s the thanks we get?” Walking out with James who’s shaking his head.

-

“But you make me nervous,” repeats in his head for days. He’s not dense by a mile, but Remus has a hard time figuring out what about him makes you nervous.

Sure he’s tall and a little serious, but he’s not as intimidating as he’d first thought Sirius was. Remus doesn’t want to turn to his friends, sure they’d tease him endlessly for being ‘thick,’ and then more than likely tell you and that would just make you even more nervous to look or speak to him at the very least.

What Remus does do, is consult the best person he knows that will give him impartial advice; books.

There’s always a book for any occasion, so he delves deep. Behavioural analysis books, books on people with social anxiety (which he doesn’t think you have because it’s just him that gets the selective mutism) and even at the end of it, he turns to romance novels. Something must stand out.

It comes to a head when Remus comes to the library when you’re busy typing away at your essay. You feel the presence, the warmth of his pepper and amber cologne as he pulls the seat out beside you.

Remus doesn’t say a word as he sits down. Instead, he pulls out his laptop and begins typing at the same essay prompt you’re working on.

You’re hyper aware of everything he’s doing- every breath, every sigh, every harsh backspace and enter.

Remus doesn’t seem to be half as affected as you are and it has you whispering, “What are you doing here, Remus?”

He hums, tapping his forefinger near the touchpad. He finishes his sentence and then turns to you. “Working on that essay due tomorrow.”

You frown, lips pulled downwards as you think of your next words. “You know what I mean, why are you sitting beside me?”

Remus sighs, head hanging off the back of the chair. “I want you to not be nervous around me anymore. I also want to know why I make you nervous.”

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry.

Remus turns to look at you and the amber lighting of the library makes his skin look sunkissed and supple. His honey and sage eyes blink owlishly at you, no sign of rushing you along for an answer.

That was something you had learnt while silently watching Remus. He’s always actually listening- not just listening to respond.

“Because,” you start, eyes darting all over his face in search of any insecurity in it. “You always seem so hyper focused on what it is I’m going to say next and it flusters me.”

Remus’ face morphs into a smile, his lazy expression from before melting away as his eyes warm to your embarrassed whisper.

“So it’s not dislike?” He asks, hands itching to tip your chin up like he had the other night.

“Are you going to make me say it out loud?”

“Poor girl,” he feels much more confident now. Now that he knows for sure that you don’t hate him and that you might actually like him as much as he likes you, he can be a little more flirty.

His hand reaches for your wrist, thumb running back and forth around your pulse.

You scowl, more than a little bashful to have exposed your feelings to Remus. He doesn’t mind.

No, Remus feels over the moon. Enough so that his hand moves from your wrist and his forefinger hooks under your chin so you’re making eye contact again.

“I like you too. Just as much,” it’s his turn for a whispered confession and you hope to all hell that he can’t feel the thundering of your pulse. “Maybe more.”

You feel your body buzz under his attention. Remus leans in closer, “Let me take you out after this? We can go somewhere quiet and have a proper ‘first’ conversation.”

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x loud but shy!reader

[elioslover]

Routines (Harry Styles x reader) dadrry!

Premise: Harry is stirred from his sleep by the best little surprise.

[I could not help myself!]

Word count: 1.4k.

Warnings: . Other writing / More dad!harry

🧸

The sun is bright-even brighter than the curtains shielding it from the sleepy owners tucked away under soft and fluffy white sheets. Speaking of, Harry has been in a deep sleep, swimming across dreamland with gills and a tail. An extremely enticing activity that only has him lulling further into unconsciousness. 

But it doesn’t take long for his dreams to start turning foggy, a soft and cute voice cooing out to him, coming from the sky above him, demanding his attention. He knows the voice well- knows he will be awake in a few moments. And how could he resist when the voice is so loving, a mumble of half-formed words and little giggles. 

He can feel someone starts to stir beside him, a soft grumble threatening to roll over and tend to the little voice calling for your attention from the other side of the bed. Harry needs to stop you before you are fully awake and can't convince yourself to fall asleep, well aware that letting you rest will be one of the only graces he can still give you. 

Blindingly reaching his arm out, Harry gently rubs his palm along your back, swirling circles along your skin, signalling your nearing return to slumber. Sighing out with relief, you shift and snuggle back into the plush sheets. 

The giggling goes on, closer to his face now and Harry can't stop the sleepy smile that creeps along his feature, excitement for his eyes to flutter open so he can greet the needy little one who is only moments away from wrapping their chubby little fingers around his nearest curls, threatening to tug if he waits much longer. 

This is a guarantee after a repeat of the same wake-up routine for weeks in a row- a tiny tot, reaching no taller than his knees, the perfect place to wrap around him to stay as close as humanly possible. A little baby, well rested, waking up with the sun and ready to sing their little songs for mummy and daddy. 

She had stayed snuggled beneath her lilac and unicorn duvet for as long as her little thoughts could keep her company, but after a good moment of fiddling with her fingers- raised above her and aimed for the ceiling, creating wonky hand puppets- she is determined for only one thing; the company of the tall, all-knowing parent. 

Her soft feet, devoid of creases, new to the whole living thing, pad along the hardwood floor, navigating from the safety of her bed in search of the main bedroom. The journey from one room to another is hardly existent- less than five footsteps away, and with the door already slanted, she is welcome to wander and waddle along to the king-sized mattress. 

A smile turns to a little grin, baby teeth peaking past her gums as she makes her way over before coming to a clumsy halt at the foot of the bed. Both parents are buried between a mountain of sheets, heads pressed into the pillows, soft snores emitted in intervals, and she frowns with little furrowed brows, longing for them to wake up and smother her with lovies. 

Harry obliges with another little smile, sending it her way from behind closed lids, taking a last second to enjoy the feeling of darkness before slowly squinting his eyes to open, slowly separating and embracing the harsh shining of the sun, peaking through a sliver of the crumpled curtain, bouncing along and illuminating the bedroom. 

With one eye more open than the other, his vision blurs to clarity, he is met with the wide and gleeful gaze of his favourite little gremlin. She has him grinning from her mere presence, partially satisfied that she has managed to persuade Harry to escape slumber, giddy for the gush of greetings she is guaranteed to receive. 

His voice is gravelly as a toothy grin spreads along his cheeks, shiny teeth cheesing up at the little lady looking over at him with the widest most innocent green eyes, thick black lashes fanning and framing her stark, fiery gaze,

“Good morning princess.” 

He can hear you shuffle with surety and satisfaction, digging deep into the mattress and delving back to sleep with the reassurance that your little one is taken care of- for the moment, at least. Satisfied with his success, Harry turns all of his attention to the little girl currently clapping her hands together with anticipation as she answers, 

“Hello, dada.” 

Each time she chooses to verbalise her thoughts, Harry feels like it’s the first time- the first time he’s heard her little voice. Even if she’s only been absent for a couple hours, he cannot help the surprise that stirs in his heart, butterflies batting against the walls of his stomach, filled with excitement over his little creation beaming up at him with such pure adoration. 

Harry rolls over fully, resting on his hip, one arm raising to cradle his head and the other reaching out in an attempt to reel her in closer. She obliges in an instant, bouncing up and down on the balls of her chubby little feet, bounding over to him, her hand wrapping around his own extended palm. 

With her hand in his, Harry is always amused at how tiny she really is- with such a rambunctious and animated personality, it's hard to believe her third birthday is yet to pass- fitting in his palm like that of a petit flower, her half-scrunched fist sitting right in the middle of his hand like blooming petals. 

“Did you have a nice sleep?” Harry ponders, a warm feeling melting his heart as she begins nodding avidly. She had no dreams, despondent to the world, wholesomely welcoming the darkness, and Harry longs for the days when his sleep was the same. 

She is inching closer, clambering over in an attempt to settle into his custody, and Harry is more than willing to comply as he gently guides her closer with his grip, encouraging her to continue her climb up onto the mattress, 

“Wanna snuggle with mummy and daddy for a little?” He already knows the answer, but he loves the way her eyes light up with excitement. 

“Absolutely.” That’s a new one for her, replacing the repetitive answer of yes, Harry is reeling with amusement, in awe of her apparent skill in picking up and copying the words she has heard both you and Harry saying at some point or another. This is absolutely his contribution- he had said it a couple times just the day before. 

“C’mere, clever little one.” He helps her crawl up, the mattress dipping so minimally as she cuddles closer into his hold. 

Harry shifts further back, careful not to bump your body, but soothed as one of your hands sluggishly holds onto his shoulder, your own body squeezing closer to his until there is no space and Harry is being spooned by his sweetest companion, back slotted between your chest. 

He provides enough space for his little one to snuggle over into him, her entirety curled into a half-moon, legs curled up and little arms scrunched against her chest. As soon as her head hits the pillow, she is starting to settle, little eyes struggling to keep from swelling shut with the promise of extra sleep. Harry knows it will be mere moments until she slips away with melatonin, leaving him with the promise that he will soon join her. 

His eyes flutter shut as she snuggles in even closer- if possible- and his arms curls around her with comfort and security, making certain she knows she is always safe in his company. And it seems like seconds before her body stills, and relaxes into the bundle of sheets, little breaths evening out until Harry is sure she is asleep. 

With sleepy eyes and a wholesomely swollen heart, Harry is wrapped up and warm, surrounded by the most important loves in his life, wondering how he got so lucky as slumber slowly seduces him back into darkness.  

#harry styles x reader #elioslover #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #dadrry #dad!harry #harry styles fluff #fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic rec #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

go for it! ; yuuta okkotsu

synopsis; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!

word count; 7.4k

contents; yuuta okkotsu/reader, gn!reader, university au, yuuta majors in creative writing and writes poetry in his spare time <3, no curses au, yuuta is a cutiepie, he’s also a loserboy, pining and longing, one-sided love, maki inumaki and panda are wingmen (but not very good ones), fluffy vibes, gojo makes a guest appearance (stay safe), literally just yuuta being whipped for like 7k words straight

a/n; im gonna have to edit this a lot i think….. but for now it should be fine :3 i love the boy!!

”you’re staring. again.”

yuuta flinches. a jolt overtakes him, running through his body, and the pen he’d been absently writing with slips from his fingers. it tumbles down to the ground with a soft thunk. 

gazing up at the shadow towering over him, his eyes are wide, a little flustered; like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. like he’s expecting a smack on the head from the person in front of him.

— it’s maki. 

and she looks displeased, lips pursed and a single eyebrow raised. unimpressed, as she stares him down — the same way he’d been looking at you just a second ago.

”they’re gonna think you’re a creep if they catch you, you know,” she sighs, shifting from one foot to another. carrying her bass in a case on her back.

”maki, c’mon,” comes from behind her, an even larger figure strolling up to the pair. grinning brightly, fluffy hair tousled by the afternoon breeze. ”cut him some slack!” 

”salmon,” a third voice joins in. inumaki’s got some green paint staining the sleeve of his hoodie, and his fingers are dirtied with charcoal.

his closest friends, all joining him on the table they usually frequent on campus. right next to a giant tree, casting a pleasantly cool shade and obscuring the irritating brightness of the sun.

maki, headstrong and resilient. infamously rude. a music major, primarily, though yuuta knows she has more than a couple minors. if you pay attention, you can see her almost everywhere on campus, and she always does well on exams. confident, enough so that just being around her makes yuuta feel a little more secure in himself.

panda, a big kid with a big heart, always wearing monochrome clothes. ‘panda’ can’t possibly be his real name, though yuuta’s never found the courage to ask. truthfully, he isn’t sure panda even has a major, or goes to this university at all — but nobody’s mentioned it yet, and he doubts they ever will.

and then inumaki, the quiet kid, always helpful and kind. a little teasing, too. selectively mute, speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients, but yuuta has already begun adjusting to the thought behind his phrases. an art student with remarkable talent, from sculptures to comics to paintings. he mostly spends his lectures playing games on his phone, though. and he's the kindest guy yuuta knows.

his beloved friends. the reason he can smile through each day, even when it’s a little difficult.

and maki’s right, he knows she is. if you were to lock eyes with him, and realize he’d been glancing over at you for the past ten minutes… god, he doesn’t even want to think about it. you’d be weirded out for sure, wouldn’t you?

but yuuta just can’t help it. you’re far too radiant to ever look away from, smile much too pretty.

you’re just sitting there, laughing and talking with your friends, the same as any other day. comparing hand sizes with miwa, or leaning over to whisper in mai’s ear. snorting over something momo said, or trying to understand the code kokochi’s fiddling with on his laptop. just being yourself, with people you’re close to.

and yuuta desperately wishes he could be among them. wishes he could see your honeyed smile up close, hear the melodic lilt of your laughter, breathe in the lingering scent of your shampoo. he wishes he could speak to you without stuttering, without tripping over his feet — hang out with you outside of class. just something small, like studying together, or grabbing a bite to eat.

he wishes he could get to know you. 

yuuta thinks he must seem like a fool, to be so affected by your mere presence. everything comes to him so easily, when he looks at you; the pitter patter of his heart, his sweaty hands, the whirlwind of butterflies swirling in his chest. even just the way you twirl your hair or chew on your pencil is so mesmerizing. 

so all he can do is stare, hopeless, a moth to a flame. basking in the warmth of your gaze, directed at your friends.

hoping one day, maybe… that warmth will fall upon him, as well.

(maybe one day.)

”hellooo? earth to yuuta!”

”see? he’s hopeless.”

”mentaiko…”

”inumaki’s right. he’s a man in love!”

”he’s a boy with a stupid crush,” maki scoffs, picking at a piece of lint on her tank top. ”and we have a study session we need to get done. the exam’s next week, remember?”

exam.

yuuta shoots up, wasting no time in grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. the ring hanging around his neck dangles with the sudden movement, and he clutches onto it.

”ah — right!” he squeaks, apologetic. ”sorry, it completely slipped my mind —”

before his mind can begin to overthink every action he’s taken these past few hours, a hand reaches out to pat his shoulder. pat, pat. reassuring and stabilizing.

inumaki smiles at him. yuuta can’t see his mouth, from behind the fabric of his hoodie, but his eyes crinkle softly; and it’s enough to put yuuta’s heart at ease.

”don’t apologize,” maki says. simple, straightforward. ”let’s just get going. i need to do better than naoya did last time.”

”you’re still mad about that, huh?”

”he only got a higher score because i wasn’t on top of my game,” she grumbles, digging her nails into the pockets of her baseball jacket. ”he doesn’t even like music. he’s just taking the course to piss me off. grown ass man.”

a chuckle slips from yuuta’s lips. the warm breeze ruffles his hair, and he holds onto the strap of his backpack, following closely behind as his friends begin to leave. sending one final glance at your figure, over by a table near the apricot trees.

and that’s when it happens.

— he looks over at you, and finds that your eyes are already on him. 

a moment passes.

while yuuta struggles to find his breathing, your lips curl up into a soft smile. then you raise your hand, waving to him cheerily, teeth peeking out from between your lips. he can see it clearly, even with the distance between you. 

a smile that glimmers like a jewel, in the light of the sun. 

yuuta feels his lips part, mouth falling open ever so slightly. but he waves back, afraid to take too long, unable to stop the pounding of his heartbeat — smiling giddily, like a schoolgirl tripping over her feet. 

his friends just watch, wholly unimpressed.

”do you think he’d notice if i threw a rock at him?”

”maki!”

”what do you like about them, anyway?”

the question is unexpected. yuuta has to do a double take, eyes straying from his excerpt of sappho 31 up to the person seated across from him. tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, resting her sharp jaw on the heel of her palm. 

”huh?”

”them. your crush,” maki reiterates. ”what caught your attention? there’s got to be something, yeah?”

”oh?” panda chirps, leaning back in his chair. a teasing grin playing at his lips. “i thought you didn’t care about his silly little crush.”

”i don’t.” a huff pushes past her lips, hands reaching to fix her lazy ponytail, hair tie dangling from between her teeth. ”i’m just bored. i already know all this, anyway.”

”tuna mayo.”

”oh, are you curious too, inumaki?”

”well, out with it. why them?”

yuuta blinks. once, then twice — mind spinning in circles, as his friends await his answer.

and, truthfully, yuuta can’t pinpoint the exact moment he felt it. that burst of joy, that tinge of excitement — the puppy love that rika always spoke of. she was always good at verbalizing her emotions, in a way yuuta never could.

(he always knew he loved her, but he could never put it into words.)

and he knows that he likes you. he knows because every word you speak has him stumbling over what to say, because even a single smile sent his way makes the world feel so gentle. he knows because he’d probably throw himself into incoming traffic, if you just asked him to.

but he can’t put it into words. not spoken ones, anyhow — putting them on paper is one thing, the one thing he can do. writing out his love for you in similes and metaphors, sonettes and alexandrines. it’s how he copes with everything; writing and writing, til his fingers start to hurt. he can compare you to a dandelion, to the way cicadas buzz in the light of the sun. the scent of childhood. but it’s harder to speak it out loud, to turn the feelings into sounds — that’s maki’s specialty, not his.

why does yuuta like you?

he remembers it clear as day, but still can’t pinpoint the exact second he fell headfirst into love. it was more of a creeping realization, something soft and sweet trickling through his veins. that sinking feeling, how helplessly he fell for you.

it all started with a pencil.

in hindsight, it’s a little silly. but yuuta can’t bring himself to think back to that moment with anything other than fondness.

(your smile was just so bright.)

that day had been a disaster. he was nervous, painfully so, afraid of every single new thing he came across during his first week of uni. scatterbrained, running on almost no sleep, unsure of where to put his feet as he walked.

honestly — what kind of trainwreck forgets their pen and notebook during their very first workshop?

all that anxiety, all those hours spent overthinking, and he still couldn’t manage something so small. in the moment, he almost panicked; sitting with you, a total stranger, wholly unprepared for such a simple assignment. read a couple excerpts, analyze them on paper. all yuuta could do was stare blankly at his lap, frozen, throat dry. hands cold with sweat.

but then you smiled.

”did you forget your notebook?” you had asked, voice set to a soothing tilt. calm, not angry or impatient.

”ah — yeah, i, um…” yuuta could only swallow thickly, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. ”i’m sorry. i haven't been sleeping well, so —”

”hey, hey, it’s fine!” you chuckled, teeth peeking out from between your lips. ”i totally get it. i almost forgot my laptop at yesterday’s lecture. we can just share!”

then you pushed your notebook closer to him, inviting him in. moving your chair a little, angling it towards him. but all yuuta could think of was how pretty your smile looked, how kind your presence felt.

”here you go,” you grinned, snapping him out of his trance. ”you can use this.”

a pencil. yuuta took it from your opened palm, gazing at it in wonder. an orange-coloured, halloween-themed pumpkin design. completely out of season. the tiny pumpkin was cute, though.

such a casual kindness. but maybe that's exactly why it made his heart flutter so deeply; as if you did it without even really thinking. as if kindness comes easy, to you.

that’s probably how it began. by the time the workshop ended, yuuta knew that he liked you, and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be your friend.

(subconsciously, his fingers tap at the zipper of his backpack. the pumpkin pen is still with him, after you waved him off with a smooth you can keep it, if you want. yuuta has found that he always writes best when he uses it.)

”well?”

maki’s voice snaps him out of his trip down memory lane, and he stumbles for something to say. what does he like about you?

squirming, yuuta feels his face heat up, as he thinks of you. all he can see is your smile, the kindness in the tilt of your voice. the brightness of the grin you sent his way. warm and saccharine, like the sun peeking out after a downpour — when the streets smell like honeydew and rain.

”they’re just… so cool,” he finally sighs, a dreamy look smoothing over his face. ”they’re so nice. and their smile is so beautiful. they’re so smart, too — god, you should see the way they write — everything about them is just…”

yuuta blushes a deep red, smiling even still. lovesick. ”.. so, so wonderful.”

maki freezes in the midst of the tapping of her pencil. panda stops kicking at the foot of the table. and inumaki looks away from his phone, messing up his full combo.

a moment of silence passes. the study hall grows quiet, and yuuta looks down at his lap; suddenly embarrassed. sipping from his little carton of apple juice.

”hey…” panda starts, delicate. somehow, yuuta dreads the teasing edge to his voice. ”have you thought about confessing to them, yuuta?”

”what?” the boy in question squeaks, choking on his juice. ”no, of course not!”

”why?” maki deadpans. popping a chip into her mouth. ”you’re head over heels, right? might as well do something about it.”

inumaki hums. affirmative.

”i… don’t know,” yuuta sighs. a heavy breath, a little wobbly. meek. ”they’d just reject me, wouldn’t they? i mean…”

(you’re totally out of his league. right?)

maki scoffs, sitting up a little straighter. there’s an angered kind of affection in her eyes. ”you’re just deciding that all on your own. how would you know how they feel?”

the gaze she sends his way is intense. it always has been. there’s a kindness to it, though, something that makes yuuta want to look her in the eye — but he can’t, eyes still locked on his hands, resting in his lap. ”… still,” he manages a weak smile, somewhat sheepish. ”even if i wanted to, there’s no way i could. i’m too much of a coward.”

…

maki slams her textbook shut. the sound is sudden, loud. yuuta flinches, and a wince leaves inumaki’s lips. panda just watches her, snacking on some chips, a mild curiousity simmering in his eyes.

the girl in question gets up from her seat, grabbing her bass case and throwing it over her shoulder. then she looks at yuuta, eyes full of decision.

”— well, lucky for you, we’ve got some time to spare.”

a blink. yuuta gazes up at the girl in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.

maki sighs. exasperated. ”i’m saying we’ll help you. don’t look so resigned, dumbass.”

at that, panda gets up too — suddenly excited. ”are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

she just huffs, smiling even still. ”probably not. but let’s hear it.”

the grin on his face widens. he scribbles something down in his notebook, showing off the writing proudly. ”operation: get yuuta to confess is about to commence!”

inumaki turns off his phone. sitting up straight, arms decisively crossed, a strangely serious expression on his face. completely invested.

”wait — wait!” yuuta stutters, eyes wide with flustered shock. ”don’t i get a say in this?”

”of course not.”

”nope!”

”bonito flakes.”

”b… but —”

”alright, so here’s what i’m thinking,” panda begins, writing down unintelligible notes on the pages of his tattered notebook. ”we need to start small. we don’t want yuuta getting heart palpitations and fainting in the middle of campus, so —”

”tuna mayo?”

”yeah, that’s perfect! hang on, lemme just…”

”let me see. i don’t want you messing this up.”

yuuta’s voice comes out tiny, as it falls from his lips. more of a squeaky breath. ”guys, i really — you don’t need to —”

panda continues to scribble in the notebook, engrossed, arm hanging off maki’s shoulder as they go over the contents. inumaki nods along, walking over to them with lazy steps. yuuta’s protests go unnoticed, and all he can do is watch them mutter under their breaths.

”— okay. listen up, yuuta.”

he raises his head, and meets maki’s sharp eyes. she’s smiling, strolling over to place the notebook right in front of him. ”here’s how this is gonna go.”

yuuta looks down. 

everything is written out with a pink sharpie, glittery and pretty. there are little hearts doodled out across the pages, and he can tell exactly which ones were drawn by who. all of them look messy, with the exception of inumaki’s perfect little shapes. 

and there, right in the middle, lies a line of text.

panda reads it out, voice loud and cheery, while maki and inumaki stick close. all smiling, as a chill crawls down yuuta’s spine.

”step 1: ask for their number!”

plan a

”okay, so… what am i supposed to do, exactly?”

panda throws an arm over yuuta’s shoulder, and he’s enveloped by the scent of fresh sunlight. the weight is heavy, a comfort. ”we’re going with my plan first! it’s the best one, so don’t worry.”

”i don’t know about that,” maki scoffs. ”we can’t ask mai. best case scenario, she’ll laugh at us a little and say no.”

inumaki hums. he rips out a part of the notebook he’s been tasked with carrying, doodling a little face and showing it to the rest of his friends.

yuuta leans in close. it’s a cute doodle, charming. and he can tell who it’s supposed to depict. miwa kasumi.

”yeah, she’s our best bet,” maki sighs, brushing some specks of dust off her jeans. ”she seems like the nicest one in that group.”

yuuta tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. he plays with the ring hanging around his neck, a nervous tick he’s never managed to get rid of. ”wait, so…” he trails off, unsure. ”what are we doing, exactly?”

panda tugs him closer, a friendly smile on his face. ”we’re going to their friends for help!” he beams. ”that’ll be easier for you, right?”

a blink. yuuta gazes into the eyes of his friend, something soft blooming in his eyes.

they can be a chaotic bunch — but they’re still so considerate. considerate enough to know asking for your number straight out would be too much for him. considerate enough to think of his comfort, in a way no one else has bothered to before.

(faced with such immense understanding, such genuine friendship, how could he ever bear to let them down?)

”… alright,” yuuta gulps, clutching his ring as if to give him courage. managing a smile. ”let’s do this, then!”

with newfound determination, the four of them seek out miwa kasumi. it doesn’t take too long — she’s studying, going over legal codes in the library, eyes narrowed in concentration. and she isn’t alone.

”hey, miwa. muta.”

the pair look up from their respective textbooks and laptop, meeting the gaze of a certain maki zenin, waltzing over to their table. miwa smiles, but kokichi doesn’t say anything.

”hi, maki! how are you?”

”i’m good,” she answers, straight to the point; but her eyes soften a little. then she gestures towards yuuta with a tilt of her head. ”sorry, but this guy needs your help.” 

”hm?” miwa shifts in her seat, meeting yuuta’s nervous gaze, as he steps forward. ”ah, you’re… okkotsu, right?”

”ah, yeah! sorry for interrupting you two…”

”no, no! please, don’t worry about it,” she grins. sweet and soft, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. ”we don't mind. right?”

kokichi still doesn’t say anything. but he nods, when miwa meets his eyes — and yuuta notices that they seem a lot softer when she does.

”so, here’s how it is…”

panda explains the situation to the pair. yuuta looks down at the floor, face flushed as he shifts from foot to foot. by the time he’s finished, miwa looks wholly invested, and kokichi looks a little less like all he wants is for them to leave him and miwa be.

”awww, that’s so sweet!!” she gushes, clasping her hands together. eyes glimmering with excitement.

”right,” maki hums. already a little impatient. ”so, basically — we need their number.”

”… ah. well, um —” miwa trails off, averting her gaze. she looks over at kokichi, but he only shrugs, going back to his coding. ”see, here’s the thing…”

with an apologetic look in her eyes, she turns to yuuta. ”i support you 100% — but i dunno if it’d feel right to just… give away their number like that, you know?” she mumbles, sheepishly. ”i think you should ask them, yourself. that’d be way more romantic!”

”yeah, but that’s a tall hurdle for a socially anxious guy…” panda mutters, patting yuuta’s back.

”still! i’m sure they’d appreciate you being direct.” miwa closes her eyes, a dreamy expression painted on her face. ”i’d be elated if someone asked for my number like that!! all stuttering and shy… it’d be so cute!”

(if anyone notices kokichi stiffening beside her, they don’t mention it.)

maki sighs, resigned. ”well, i don’t think we’re getting any numbers here. good. what kind of creep just texts someone out of nowhere, anyway?”

”i thought it was a good plan!” panda protests, pouting a little. maki shoots him a look.

”it was an awful plan. what were you planning to say? hey, i forced your friend to give me your number, but would you want to hang out sometime?” she crosses her arms with a sharp scoff. ”i’d beat your ass!”

panda grumbles a little under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. 

”sorry i couldn’t be of more help,” miwa mumbles, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. ”good luck, though! i hope they say yes!”

”thanks, miwa,” yuuta smiles, already in the process of being tugged away by his friends. ”i really appreciate it!”

plan a

plan b

”alright, inumaki’s turn. what’s your take on the situation, mister?”

the boy in question sits up straight, back resting against a tree trunk. he writes something down, and yuuta waits, patiently — absentmindedly staring at the white petals of the apricot trees on campus. pure, fleeting, sweet blossoms unfurling before him.

when he’s finished, inumaki presents the page to yuuta, and everyone gathers round. reading the writing, eyes trailing over his little doodles. panda grins, and maki strokes her chin in contemplation.

”you’re a genius, inu!”

”well, it’s probably the easiest way to go about it…”

yuuta purses his lips. it’s a good plan, he thinks; writing out a note, and passing it to you in the middle of class. that way, he won’t have to turn his feelings into sounds, won’t have to speak them out loud. there’s a safety to it, the trickling of ink across blank papers. one that’s never failed him.

”… that should work,” he mumbles, and inumaki visibly brightens. ”what am i supposed to write, though?”

”just be straightforward.”

”not seconded!” panda huffs, crossing his legs. ”you need to be dramatic. heartfelt. that’ll catch their attention!” he stops to think for a moment, a hum buzzing loudly in his throat. ”hey — why not write them a love poem? put those skills to good use!”

”a love poem?” yuuta squeaks, a slight heat rising to the tips of his ears. ”there’s no way i could do that! and i’m not skilled, i —”

a pause. yuuta bites his lip.

”… it’d just be embarrassing,” he finally mutters, playing with his ring.

(he wonders what rika would think, if she were here. what she’d advise him to do — would she like the love poem idea? probably.)

”well, you could at least try. who knows, maybe they’ll like it,” maki attempts to reassure him, chewing at a piece of gum. ”if they’re anything like miwa, it’ll be easy.”

gnawing at his bottom lip, yuuta emits an anxious hum. deep in thought. maybe you would like it, but… what if you just think it’s cheesy?

maki observes him, intently. listening to the emotions behind his silence. tapping the pads of her fingers on her knee, in a rhythmic motion. ”… at least try writing something out,” she says. ”if you can’t think of anything, then just copy some random old guy. what was his name, uh — catallas? or something?”

yuuta’s gaze snaps up, eyes gone wide. ”catullus?” he gapes, in disbelief. ”are you insane? do you even know what kind of poems he wrote?”

maki shoots him a confused look, and a tilt of her head. ”isn’t he the ’give me a thousand kisses’ guy?”

”he is, but that’s —” a sigh, exasperated. flustered, as it flows from his parted lips. then he shakes his head. ”nevermind. it doesn’t matter.”

”tuna…” inumaki mumbles, nudging yuuta’s shoulder with his head. a silent encouragement. and even with no words, yuuta knows what he’s trying to say.

just be yourself. this is your specialty, right? 

write from your heart.

”inumaki…” yuuta meets his gaze, and is met with a pair of warm eyes. a friendly punch meets his shoulder, soft and delicate. kind.

”… alright. i’ll write it!”

”that’s the spirit!” panda grins. ”just give it to them during tomorrow’s lecture.”

”yeah,” yuuta nods, mustering the courage to smile. ”i will!”

when yuuta gets home that night, he makes himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar, and gets ready to write.

he listens to maki’s acoustic guitar covers through his headphones, curled up with the fluffy blanket panda gave him, and munches on a hastily made onigiri to give himself much-needed energy.

(writing with a certain pumpkin-themed pencil, basking in the scratching of lead against blank pages.)

his hands are shaking.

it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of his bones, the rattling of his skeleton. you’re sitting right next to him, so close he can smell the shampoo you use, the mint off your breath —

and yuuta can’t seem to hand you the note.

he spent all last night writing it. putting every single little drop of his love into every single little word. but that fear of rejection still remains, rendering him useless, unable to act.

you’re listening to the lecture, but only halfheartedly, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook. out of boredom, he assumes.

it’s the perfect moment to strike.

yuuta’s hands are shaking, and his heartbeat is stuttering, crawling up his throat. he takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll make the dry sensation go away, but it doesn’t work.

(just be yourself.)

with a deep intake of breath, he pushes the note over to you — not daring to look your way.

his eyes remain glued on the laptop screen in front of him, but he hears you pick it up, hears the rustling of paper as you unfold it. his heart echoes with a similar rhythm, unstable, borderline erratic. the rest of the lecture passes by slowly, minute by minute, at an agonizing pace.

when it finally ends, yuuta has to restrain the urge to run away — turning towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if just the sight of you could blind him if he isn’t careful. but you’re already looking at him. and you’re smiling.

”that was so good, yuuta!”

….

huh?

”sorry, but i honestly don’t have any feedback,” you mumble, eyes trailing over the note again. ”i like it a lot. i didn’t know you wrote poetry!”

”… ah.”  yuuta stumbles for something to say. staring into your eyes, blankly. dumbly. ”t.. thank you! i’m glad you liked it.”

with a brief shake of your head, you smile, and something sickly sweet unfurls in his chest. ”not at all. thanks for letting me read it! i’m sorry i can’t really help you improve…”

mentally, yuuta falls to his knees. places his palms on the floor and dry heaves, clutching his heart. did you not get it? was he not clear enough? he wrote it with you in mind, so —

”maybe you could show it to professor nanami?” you suggest, unaware of the turmoil within the boy to your right. ”i'm sure he’ll be a great help! he can seem a bit intimidating, but he’s nice.”

”.. yeah,” yuuta smiles, weakly. ”i’ll do that. thanks again.”

for a moment, he isn’t even upset. because you flash him another bright smile, and suddenly, even the frustration of yet another setback doesn’t feel so awful.

(maybe it’s fine, he thinks. maybe this is enough; speaking to you, getting to see your smile up close. maybe he doesn’t need anything else, after all.)

”so?” maki questions, waiting for him outside of class with his other two friends. ”how’d it go?”

shoulders slumped, but still wearing a smile on his face, yuuta chuckles. it comes out sounding a little strangled. ”they… thought i wanted their feedback on my poetry.”

….

”what.”

panda attempt to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t really work. inumaki elbows him gently, but yuuta sees his eyes crinkle, too. he breathes out a low chuckle. ”they liked the poem, at least. so i’m happy.”

a sigh falls from maki’s lips, and she waltzes over to him, a hand on her hip. the other reaches out for the note in his palm. ”let me see.”

quickly unfolding it, her eyes trail across the words on the pages, the flowery lines of writing —

and then she shoots him an unimpressed look.

”.. yuuta,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. ”what the hell is this? you didn’t even mention their number.”

panda leans over her shoulder, peeking at the text. eyes glancing over a couple lines, riddled with sugarsweet metaphors. ”uh, wow. you… really got into it, huh?”

a groan leaves yuuta’s lips, the sound muffled as he cradles his head in his hands. ”please don’t say anything else. i just wanna crawl into a hole and die…”

inumaki shakes his head, erratic, pointing at the poem with shining eyes. ”mentaiko!”

”ah, you liked it? thanks, inumaki…”

the boy in question smiles, shooting yuuta a thumbs up. he returns it with a small smile of his own.

surrounded by his friends, all he can do is bask in their warmth — and the memory of the smile you gave him.

plan a plan b

plan c

a groan fills the air, as yuuta slumps over the table. cheek pressed against the cold wood, absently kicking his legs, voice meek and defeated.

”this is never gonna work,” he mutters under his breath. eyes devoid of hope. ” i’m just not cut out for this, guys…”

”aw, c’mon….” panda reaches over to ruffle his hair, palm big and warm. ”don’t give up hope! you want to grow closer to them, don’t you?”

”i do, but…” he sighs. ”this isn’t going very well, is it…?”

inumaki frowns, sending yuuta a sympathetic glance.

”oh, quit moping already!” maki grumbles. ”we just need to keep brainstorming. isn’t it time for my plan, yet?”

”should we really even keep going…?” another sigh, heavy with fatigue. yuuta’s mind spins in circles, tiring him out. rendering him a bit cynical. ”i mean… maybe it’s fine if things stay this way.”

a moment passes. maki looks at him, emitting a soft scoff. ”what, so you’re just gonna keep pining for the rest of the term?”

”that’s the plan.”

”yuuta…” panda pouts, shoes bumping against his beneath the table. ”be more positive! just think about it; with every step you take, you get closer to confessing!”

yet another groan. this one is deep, riddled with exhaustion. muffled into the table. ”that’s the scariest part…”

before either of his friends can begin to persuade him otherwise, encourage him further, a sing-songy voice echoes throughout the air. loud, cheery — a little bit obnoxious.

”oh? did someone just say confess?”

at the same instant the sound reaches their ears, a chill runs down the youths’ spines. in tandem with each other, they raise their heads; gazes falling on a certain satoru gojo.

panda and maki are the first to act, speaking simultaneously as the white haired man inches closer. 

”— no.”

maki closes the notebook containing operation: get yuuta to confess, right before their professor can get close enough to see it. then she turns towards him, shooting him a cold look.

”your hearing’s getting bad,” she hums. ”maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.”

a pout. gojo takes a seat right beside her, uncomfortably long legs bumping against every single other pair of shoes beneath the table.

”oh, c’mon. you know i heard you.” his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks it away. ”you’re starting to sound just like megumi, y’know that?”

maki grits her teeth. ”guess it’s a genetic thing,” she huffs. ”now can you leave? don’t you have papers to grade?”

”don’t you have papers to write?” gojo smirks, a teasing mirth in his eyes. hidden behind his sunglasses. maki ignores him. 

placing his palms on the table, he leans a little closer, lips curled up into a cheshire grin. foreboding. ”sooo… yuuta’s got himself a little crush, huh?” he teases. ”tell your favorite professor allll about it. maybe i can help!”

”professor geto is our favorite,” maki shoots back, instantaneous.

a soft huff. there’s something sour in gojo’s expression, now. ”that guy? really?”

before the two can argue further, yuuta takes the opportunity to to speak. smiling apologetically, polite and sweet. ”thanks, mr. gojo, but…”

”he doesn't need your help,” maki cuts in. so much for diffusing the tension. ”and do you really expect us to believe you get girls?”

”wha — rude!” gojo scoffs. ”for your information, i’m a natural charmer!”

… 

a moment passes. then another.

”… tough crowd,” he clicks his tongue, met only with four blank stares. ”but, really — let me help! i'm your professor, you know?”

and this time, yuuta thinks that gojo’s smile looks just a little more sincere. something kind and gentle in the way his lips curl up, like a father’s affection for their children. something that makes yuuta falter.

(maki might like mr. geto more — but when it comes to yuuta, his favorite professor is a no-brainer.)

so he speaks up, again. ”we can at least hear him out, right…?” maki shoots him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t back down. ”we’re stuck, anyway…”

and just like that, gojo brightens. it’s obvious, in the way he sits up, more alert. in the way his grin grows wider. ”right? what you need is the perspective of someone more experienced.”

”have you even talked to a girl before?”

”i see him at ieiri’s office, sometimes.”

”salmon.”

”isn’t she a lesbian? that doesn’t count. i mean, like, in a romantic context.”

”i thought mr. gojo was gay, too?”

”what? no way. have you seen the way he’s dressed —?”

gojo clears his throat, voice loud and grating. demanding attention, cutting his eager students off. ”anyway,” he chirps. ”gather round, children! i’ll tell you exactly how to ask the person you like for their number.”

”wh —” yuuta blinks. ”how’d you…?”

”operation ’get yuuta to confess!’, step 1: ask for their number!” gojo repeats, grinning ear to ear. voice rich with amusement. ”i like the glitter. it’s a nice touch.”

maki huffs. looks like she didn’t close it fast enough.

begrudgingly, the youths quiet down, finally willing to hear their professor out. and gojo seems satisfied, at last, speaking in a hushed whisper; eerily serious all of a sudden. ”ok, so here’s what you do…”

everything goes silent. yuuta strains his ears, and gojo parts his lips. 

”— just ask them! easy, right?

….

”let’s go, yuuta.”

”mentaiko.”

”i heard they're serving those sandwiches you like at the cafeteria today! let's hurry before they run out.”

”ah — i was just kidding!” gojo laughs, as his students get up from their seats. ”i have an actual answer!”

maki grabs her bass, inumaki takes the notebook, and panda ushers yuuta away. they begin to walk down the hall, ignoring the pleas of the man behind them. pouting, as his shout echoes throughout the hallway. 

”kids! come back!”

plan a plan b plan c

plan d

”okay, so this is going absolutely nowhere.”

relishing in the shadow cast by the giant campus tree, the four friends sit on their usual table, sandwiches in hand. yuuta takes a bite of his, tentative. a little disheartened.

”really, guys… i appreciate it a lot, but maybe we should stop here.”

maki huffs. reaching across the table, she gently smacks him over the head with her can of sprite. ”no way. we still haven’t tried my plan.”

he leans back, a little further, a hesitant look in his eyes. the sun shines down, relentless, but the air smells like rain. in the distance he sees clouds, dark, approaching at a slow pace.

an omen, he thinks. a reason not to speak out.

rika always liked the rain. she liked the scent that came with it, the puddles she could jump in. she liked shaking the branches of tiny trees, just to see him jolt and squeak as the raindrops hit him.

the ring around his neck weighs heavy on his heart. the promise of it, the oath within the silver.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!)

”earth to yuuta!”

his eyes flutter open.

the sun shines down, embracing the contours of his face. painting his world yellow. from this angle, staring up at the tree, he can see it breaking through; between the gaps of the green leaves, the white blossoms. forcing its way into his line of vision.

a flicker of hope.

”do you want to hear the plan or not?” maki scoffs, crossing her arms and tapping at her elbow. impatient.

yuuta meets her gaze, finding it in him to muster up just a little more determination. ”yeah,” he breathes. ”i do.”

a smile blooms on her face. ”good. alright.”

panda and inumaki inch closer to the pair, careful not to knock over the cans of soda resting on the table. in a mess of limbs and tousled hair, they gather round.

this is it, yuuta thinks — the final plan. if it fails, he’ll just have to keep pining from afar. memorizing your smile, over and over, until you graduate and part ways. 

this is it.

maki parts her lips.

”— just ask them,” she says. ”straight out.”

silence. 

a moment passes. a soft, pleasant breeze flits by, caressing yuuta’s skin. his ring sways with the wind, gently. 

”… huh?!”

panda furrow his brows, leaning closer with his palms on his knees. ”i thought we agreed that was stupid!” inumaki huffs out a low affirmative noise, holding his sketchbook tightly to his chest. but maki only puffs out her chest.

yuuta tilts his head, with a soft furrow of his brows. ”didn’t you just cuss out mr. gojo for suggesting that…?”

”well, it’s dumb when he says it…” she mutters, under her breath. then her gaze turns firm. ”look — yuuta.”

when the two lock eyes, he notices a steadfast determination, glimmering in her irises. something almost burning.

”you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re too cowardly to even look them in the eye,” she tells him, not allowing him to squirm away from the eye contact. ”you guys can come up with those convoluted plans all you want, but there’s no way you’ll grow closer if you can’t face them.”

tousling her hair, softly, maki lets out a sigh. there’s a kindness to it, distinct. he can tell she’s trying to be tactful. 

”if you really want to get to know them, then you have to be direct. and you have to believe in yourself. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that they’ll say no — but that’s just dumb.”

panda winces, under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. maybe this is exactly what yuuta needs to hear.

the boy in question listens, the eyes of his friend boring into his own. determined, confident, sincere — everything he isn’t. everything he wants to be.

”even if you don’t believe it, you’re a charming guy. we all think so,” she continues, matter-of-factly. angered affection overflowing in her voice.

”have some confidence, dammit!”

a moment passes. yuuta feels his lips part, ever so slightly. a little speechless.

panda and inumaki sit shoulder to shoulder, hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sight in front of them. comically, as if it’s too bright to look at directly. 

”this… overflowing tough love…!”

”salmon roe…!”

maki grins, all teeth, a little wolfish. but kind. ”the worst thing they can say is no, right? 

yuuta blinks. ”maki…” he mumbles, looking into her eyes, a certain sensation running through his chest. a kind of confidence. passed on from her to him — one friend to another. the most natural exchange in the world.

then he smiles. a little meek, somewhat awkward — but bright. ”yeah. yeah, you’re right!”

the lazy grin on her lips only deepens, as she gets up to her feet, dusting non-existent dirt off her jeans. reaching a hand out for yuuta to take. ”c’mon, loser. shape up. you’re gonna steal their heart, aren’t you?”

a moment passes.

yuuta takes her hand in his. ”i am,” he swallows down a gulp. willing his voice to sound even a little bit self-assured.

and she pulls him up, effortlessly, overflowing with a natural resilience. still grinning cheekily. encouraging him. ”you’re gonna go out there and do your best, right?”

”i — i am!”

another voice chimes in. ”you’re gonna finish my essay for me this week, right?”

”i am!”

…

”wait —”

maki hits panda over the head with a soft thwack. a wince leaves his lips, and inumaki giggles, quieting down when maki sends him a warning glance.

”don’t throw him off his game,” she huffs. then she turns to yuuta once more. ”let’s go find them. alright, loverboy?”

a smile blooms on his lips. grateful, to be surrounded by such sunny people. ones that make it a little easier to smile each day. ”right.”

— but before either of them can take a step forward, a warm voice spills into the open air.

”um, yuuta?”

the boy in question stops in his tracks. he feels his eyes widen, spinning on his heels, hair ruffled by the breeze — turning to look at the source of the sound. 

it’s you.

you, with your sunkissed smile, that inviting voice. that soothing, soothing presence. one that has his heartbeat picking up in speed, hands growing sweaty, throat running dry. one that makes him feel a little bit feverish. and you’re looking right at him, into his eyes.

”hey!” he sputters, blinking rapidly to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating. but you just keep smiling, answering his awkward greeting without skipping a beat.

”hi! sorry, could i just… talk to you, for a second?” 

he blinks. the world stops spinning.

(you… want to talk….

to him?)

attempting to find the words, any words, he opens his mouth — but nothing comes out. not a single syllable, no vowels, not even a sound. nothing at all.

he can only stare, star-struck.

it’s not until his friends push him forward that he’s snapped out of it; they surround him, on all sides, wearing matching grins. teasing and excited.

”don’t worry, he’s all yours!”

”have fun, you two!”

”salmon!”

— then they’re off. 

yuuta tries to reach for their sleeves, in a weak attempt to keep them from leaving, but they’re gone before he can even blink. leaving him all alone, with someone he can’t talk to without experiencing intense symptoms of heart failure. 

he stumbles for something to say, again, but thankfully you beat him to it.

”sorry for interrupting you guys,” you say, voice set to a low tilt. apologetic. and his throat unclogs, a little.

”ah, no, it’s fine!” he smiles, maybe a little too giddy. wanting so badly to reassure you, to put you at ease. ”i’m happy to speak to you!”

…

(oh god oh no why did i say that —)

your smile widens, blooming like a flower in the sunlight. unfurling in front of his very eyes. ”me too!” you say, excitedly. ”i feel like you and i have been talking more, recently… it’s nice.”

eyes crinkling, you wringle your hands together, and look at him fondly. yuuta’s surprised he manages to keep his knees from buckling.

”i think so too!” he grins, ears pink and dimples showing. 

both of you smile. the breeze curls around your hair, illuminating the colour of your eyes. yuuta stops breathing, for a moment — just taking it all in.

”so — anyway…” you murmur, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. ”um… haha. sorry, i’m — a little nervous…”

yuuta blinks.

(he knows where this is going. all the signs are there, right in front of him; the flush of your cheeks, the nervous tapping of your fingers, the hesitance in your eyes. he’s read enough shoujo manga — he knows what this means.)

and he almost can’t believe it.

all he can do is keep smiling, hoping it’ll give you even a fraction of the peace that your smile brings him. ”don’t be,” he says, voice soothing. scratching the back of his head. ”whatever it is, i’ll — um. i’ll listen, so…”

he clears his throat. swallowing thickly.

”just — whenever you're ready.”

there’s no mistaking it. your ears are painted pink, and you’re gnawing at your bottom lip. fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his gaze, with a soft inhale, clear air filling your lungs. he wonders if your throat feels as dry as his, if your heart is beating even half as fast.

”um… okay, so…” you mumble, eyes unable to stay in one place for too long. a soft bout of laughter escapes you, and he can tell you’re trying to stave off your own nervosity; it sends a pang of ache running through his chest.

he wants to tell you that there’s no need to be nervous. that he’d listen to anything you have say, absolutely anything, no matter what it is.

he wants to tell you that he’d never let you down, that he’d have to be foolish to even think the thought.

he wants to tell you that he’ll hear you out. whenever, wherever. for as long as you need.

”do you, um…”

a gulp. your eyes find his, and there’s a soft kind of decisiveness in them. 

here it comes, he thinks. here it comes.

yuuta feels the heat on his cheeks, ears burning. and he hears the patter of his heartbeat, loud and heavy, echoing in his muddled mind like a mantra. but his chest feels light; fluttery, butterflies dancing around uncontrollably. 

clutching the ring around his neck, subconsciously, he looks you in the eye.

they’re bright, glimmering like little galaxies — or maybe more like summer skies. painted over with a warm hue, something nostalgic and sweet, so pretty it hurts. if he strains his eyes enough, he’s almost sure he can see the swirling of fluffy clouds in the depths of your irises.

a smile rests on your lips. it's almost overwhelmingly sweet, albeit a little shy, as you part your pretty lips. voice soaked in nervosity, tingly and shaky, and something he knows to be puppy love.

a shallow, dry intake of breath. yuuta braces himself.

here it comes. 

your voice spills out into the air, dripping with honey and magnolias. he thinks to himself that he’d like to hear the melodic lilt of it every single day; before going to bed, right after waking up. walking to campus together, heading back to the dorms when the sky gets dark.

just the sound alone would be enough.

subconsciously, he tugs on the strap of his backpack. thinking of the pencil inside it. his lucky charm, along with the ring around his neck — ordinary objects, both too precious for words.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!

you can keep it, if you want.)

here it comes, yuuta thinks.

a new beginning.

he strains his ears, and purses his lips, and watches your lips move as you finally ask —

”do you have maki’s number?”

(somewhere in the distance, from an inconspicuous bush, the muffled screams of three students and one professor resounds.)

#sorry yuuta T_T #I LOVE THIS BOY!! W MY WHOLE CHEST!!! (i just happen to also love maki oops) #dont worry abt it guys the obvious solution here is yutamaki x reader🥳 #i love college yuuta sm aaa…. hes so sweet…. i wanna pick him up n throw him against a wall #sorry. im sorry #he gives me cuteness aggression ok😥😥 #writing for inumaki makes me feel so goofy... why am i out here going “salmon salmon mentaiko”.......... #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta x you #yuuta x reader #jjk yuuta #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta fluff #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jjk college au

[inuyashaluver]

i love your lessi fics so much<3 could you do a j flex x non footballer reader where they are both really shy and r goes to a chelsea match and sees jessie after the match but the other tease them and they both get flustered or smthn? thank you!!!

a couple of shy guys - jessie fleming

jessie fleming x reader

description: in which being your girlfriend’s wag still makes her extremely shy

warnings: swearing, suggestive

a/n: hiya, lovely! thanks so much for the love request, enjoy!! ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, jessie are both incredibly shy people. it wasn’t uncommon for both of you support pink cheeks around each other when the other merely glances your way. it took a long time for either of you to make a move.

—

in 2020, you were studying in a cafe. you were currently a medical student studying to be a doctor while working at a small pub. the icy chill in england prompting you to bundle up and stay in the warm cafe as you tiredly read over your notes.

this cafe was your second home, it was extremely close to your house, as well as your uni, comforting and convenient all at the same time.

“to go please” the cafe was mainly filled with locals, so you couldn’t help but lift your head when you heard the unfamiliar canadian accent filling the atmosphere.

she was gorgeous, dressed in a training kit as she waited near the counter for her drink, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. ironically, your name was called, you hesitate but walk over to the counter.

“excuse me” you say softly, moving past the brunette quickly to retrieve your warm drink. she lifts her head from her phone and moves over, looking at one of the most beautiful girls in front of her.

“oh, uh, y-you’re all good” jessie breathes out, internally cursing herself for stuttering. you look up at her and make eye contact, nearly dropping your drink in the process but smiling at her shyly nonetheless, taking in her pink cheeks and chelsea jacket adorning her body. “thanks” you smile, when you turn away from her, you scrunch up your face, why were you so awkward?

jessie glances at you longingly before she walks out, desperately wanting to go up to you but shutting herself down, she needs to go to training, she can’t afford to miss her first day. you watch as she leaves, shaking your head at yourself for not having the guts to even talk to her.

—

a few days go by and you’re returning to your flat from uni, struggling to hold all your textbooks in your arms as your bag was too full. your hands were fumbling with your keys when you hear footsteps approaching making you nervous and prompting you to speed up, you just couldn’t find the right key.

it was when you dropped one of the books from the top of the pile that you lost all your patience.

“oh for fucks sake” you groan, leaning down to pick up the book before dropping all of them in the process. you huff out in frustration, about to pick them up before two hands beat you to it.

you stare at the hands carefully collecting your books before looking up to see the girl from the cafe. you look at her absolutely starstruck.

“hi, (y/n)” she says nervously, holding the pile of books in her arms, you swallow the lump in your throat when she remembers your name from the cafe. “hello” you breathe out, fiddling with your keys for a second just looking at each other.

“you live here?” jessie questions, nodding her head to the door you were standing in front of. “oh, yeah! sorry” you laugh nervously, hands shakily unlocking the door before turning around to her with a bashful expression.

she smiles at you, her cheeks pink, she gently hands you the stack of books and you look at her appreciatively.

“thank you so much..” you pause, she smiles, “jessie” filling in the blank, you nod repeating her name in your head, “jessie, thank you, really” you say relieved, she smiles sympathetically, “rough day?” she guessed, you looked exhausted and you were. one of your final exams for your third year at uni was fast approaching and it was taking a huge toll on your body.

“yeah, you could say that” you say with a little laugh, “i’ll let you go” she says reluctantly, moving to unlock her door which was coincidentally across from yours. you smile and give her a little wave, closing your door and immediately thumping your head on the back of it. it was a perfect opportunity to ask for her number and you didn’t do it. little did you know, jessie was doing the same thing in the back of her door.

—

it was a saturday, you were working your regular shift at the local pub. you were pouring a beer for one of your regulars until you heard a loud chatter of female voices coming in. you look up from the tap to see none other than jessie with a couple of other girls behind her.

your eyes widen and the beer overflows, “fuck, sorry, george, i’ll pour you a new one” you say apologetically, quickly grabbing another glass and getting rid of the old one. “don’t stress, love” you were alone, as it was a usually a quiet pub but not anymore.

you give him the new one and he thanks you, moving to another table while you wipe down the bar.

that’s when a familiar brunette makes her way, laughing loudly with a taller girl. “excuse me?” jessie asks politely, eyes widening in shock when you turn around. she looks down at your work uniform, a tight pair of black shorts with a black shirt making her heart pound out of her chest.

the taller looks at her with a knowing smirk, nudging the girl forward when she ogles over you.

“hi, (y/n)? you work here?” she asked a little too excitedly, you nod shyly, “hey, jessie, can i get you girls anything?” you ask sweetly, jessie swears she melted into a puddle right there.

“i’m niamh” the taller girl points out, sticking her hand out for a handshake which you gladly take, “niamh, nice to meet you” you laugh, “nice to meet you too” she smiles, giving another shove to jessie when she looks at you bewildered.

“can i just have a beer, please?” niamh smirks, you nod and grab a glass to pour her one. “jess?” you question, her breath hitches at the nickname she’s heard thousands of times but never from your pretty voice. “oh! um, i’ll just get a beer too” she rushes out, “please” she adds, her cheeks crimson when you giggle.

you get them both their drinks and smile, telling them it was on the house despite the refusal from the two girls, you sent them on their way to the rest of their friends.

after a short time of you and jessie stealing glances at each other, you anxiously walk up to their table to clear the glasses, hearing little “thank you”’s as you clear each person’s glass. when you approach jessie, you smile shyly, pointing to her glass.

“can i get that for you?” she nods and smiles back at you, your eyes suddenly fall to a medal hanging on her neck that you didn’t see at the bar.

you mindlessly pick it up off her chest and look over it. you hear jessie stop breathing and you look up to see how close you were in proximity. “sorry!” you blurted, taking a little step back. jessie just shakes her head and looks at you, both of you have the pinkest cheeks, it was painfully obvious you had something there.

you suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder, looking up to see niamh smiling at you sweetly. “we just won a championship, we’re here to celebrate” niamh informed, quickly glancing at jessie, “this one over here got us the winning goal” you look at jessie impressed, trying not to laugh at the glare she sent to niamh.

“well, congratulations!” you emphasised, “you didn’t tell me you were a footballer?” you tease, jessie coughs, “it’s not a big deal” she shrugs, completely embarrassed for some reason. you shake your head, “of course it’s a big deal” you assure, taking her glass and throwing her another smile,

“you should come and watch us!” niamh teases, throwing you a wink that you laugh at. “maybe i will” you shrug before walking back to the bar. you didn’t miss the harsh slap jessie gave niamh as you walked away, chuckling to yourself in the process.

the bar was emptying, and you were close to closing. niamh waves at you before walking out with some other girls, leaving jessie alone at the table. she looks nervous but she walks up to you anyway. “did you want to walk home together?” she offers with a shy smile, you look at her surprised, “sure!” you say a little too excitedly, causing you to cringe when she giggles at you.

you close up and walk alongside jessie, sharing shy giggles and small talk to the short walks to both of your places. when you walk on the busy streets with cars zooming past, jessie subconsciously places a hand on your waist to move you to the inside of the sidewalk. your cheeks were burning and you tried to avoid eye contact as much as possible.

when you both got inside, you wave, sharing quick bye’s before heading inside. you both touch your warm cheeks behind closed doors, smiling at the thought of all the interactions you had with each other that night.

—

you and jessie continuously ran into each other almost everyday, both of you questioning whether it was truly coincidental or not.

it took another shift at the pub for jessie to finally ask you out, the newfound confidence coming from niamh teasing the girl that she would ask you out if jessie didn’t.

“hi” she says shakily as she approaches you, you smile lazily at the girl, absolutely exhausted but seeing her perks you up. “hello” you smile, “another one?” you question, she shakes her head and swallows. “no, uh, i wanted to ask you something” she says nervously, you smile and cross your arms on the bar, leaning forward to be closer to her.

she visibly tenses but shakes it off at seeing your encouraging smile.

“would you maybe want to go on a date with me sometime?” she fiddles with the rings on her fingers as she rests her hands on the bar, yours were close to hers. at seeing her fidgeting, you don’t know what happened but your hand moved on its own, moving to rest over the top of hers. “i’d love to jessie” you give her hand a reassuring squeeze, her face fills with relief, a big smile making way to her features.

“great!” she smiles, you smile shyly at her, “could i get your number to text you?” you ask, hand still tingling on top of hers. “yeah sure!” she expressed, fishing her phone out of her pocket and handing it over to hers, you take your hand off hers to get your own out, handing it over to her.

you exchange numbers and she grins happily at you, “i’ll wait for you?” jessie offered, you shake your head at her, she wanted to walk you home and you’re not sure if your heart could take it at the moment.

“no, no, you don’t have to” you promised but she didn’t care, “i want to,” she reassured, you smile sheepishly, moving to grab her hand again and giving it a thankful squeeze, you watch as the blood rushes to her cheeks when you part, awkwardly waving at you before walking away.

you watch as she walks away, niamh throws you a smirk, mouthing, “you’re welcome” as she sends you a big thumbs up, you nod and throw her one back, shaking your head amusingly as you clean up.

—

you and jessie met up for your date, going extremely well and turning into 4 dates until she finally asked you to be her girlfriend. the first time you came to jessie’s game, she had a heart attack seeing you in the bleachers in her jersey. running over and giving you a shy hug and a kiss to your cheek.

—

in present times, you and jessie moved into a whole new place with each other, dating for over 2.5 years. you’re both incredibly in love with each other, anything but shy in the privacy in your home. it was until you were in public that you and jessie returned to being a couple of shy guys. something you’re teased about relentlessly.

you’ve completed your 5 years of university and are now completing your foundational program. jessie was so proud of you, bragging about how her gorgeous girlfriend was a doctor. not saying that you didn’t have your fair share of bragging, frequently gushing over your extremely talented, footballer girlfriend to anyone who would listen.

—

one day, jessie was set to play a match for chelsea, you had time off work and uni, deciding to surprise your girlfriend at her match. you smile when she dozes on your chest, stirring when you card a hand through her hair to wake her up. “happy game day” you say softly, making the girl smile tiredly and bury her face into your chest, giving you a little kiss on your sternum as she nuzzles into you.

“wish you were coming” she mumbles into your shirt, lifting her face up and puckering her lips. you giggle and pull her down to you, kissing her lips tenderly as she squeezes your hips gently, her thumbs dipping under your shirt to graze your skin.

you hum into her mouth, making her smirk against your lips, she pulls away with a peck, peppering kisses on your cheeks before kissing you longingly one more time on the lips.

you smile as you watch her get changed into her kit, winking as she catches you shamelessly checking her out. “bye, baby” she whispers against your lips as she kisses you goodbye and goes to the grounds. as soon as she pulls out of the driveway, you rush off to get ready yourself.

putting on her jersey always has you pink in the cheeks, proud to be representing the name of the girl you loved so much.

once you were ready, you head over to the grounds and sit down, you were early but you didn’t mind, rocking up in the friends and family section with an excited smile.

when the girls come out for warm ups, jessie out of instinct looks at the section you were in, hoping you’d be there and being shocked when you were. her face lights up, waving at you excitedly when you wave at her shyly. you blow her a quick kiss and she smiles brightly, immediately getting teased for her pink cheeks.

“you’ve already got her and you’re still the same” niamh coos and laughs, getting a little shove from jessie before they warm up.

—

the game concludes, chelsea winning and jessie getting a goal. you smile as she bounds over to you, holding your arms out for a hug. she wraps you in her arms tightly, you let out a little yelp of surprise when she lifts you over the barrier, still hugging her tightly, your legs now around her waist.

“baby!” you say proudly, pulling back and cupping her face in between your hands, “my superstar” you kiss her cheek, “my goal scorer” another kiss, “my girl” you conclude, giving her a longer kiss on her cheek. her cheek grows warm at your contact, hands gripping you tightly.

“i’m so happy you’re here,” she says earnestly, placing you on the ground and tugging you into another tight hug.

she kisses you sweetly and briefly, immediately hearing the cheers and wolf whistling from her teammates around her. she rolls her eyes, tucking her head into the crook of your neck, her lips grazing your skin.

“you’re so cute” you coo, scratching the back of her neck gently and holding her close. she groans in embarrassment, walking you backwards towards the change rooms, her face still tucked away.

she sits you in her cubby, kissing your lips sweetly before running off to the shower, rushing to get you home.

“hello, doctor (y/n)” niamh teases, both of you small talking until your girlfriend comes back to you puffed out. “i’m ready, let’s go” she breathes out, you both bid goodbye to everyone and make your way to her car.

she opens your door for you and you kiss her quickly to show your appreciation. as soon as she gets in, her hand seeks refuge on her regular spot on your thigh, squeezing it gently when you hold it in your hands.

“thank you for coming today, baby” she says appreciatively, grabbing one of your hands and pulling it up to her mouth to place a kiss on the back of it. “of course, babe, gotta be a faithful wag” you say cheekily, making her laugh and look at you lovingly.

you both cuddled when you got home, she showed you her appreciation for you coming to the match and you were both extremely blissful.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by niamhcharles17 and 44,232 others

_jessflem: when she’s a doctor, absolutely gorgeous and is unbelievably a bonus as my girlfriend ❤️

view all comments

yourname: my pretty baby, absolute superstar

↳ _jessflem: my pretty wag

↳ yourname: better achievement than my degree honestly

niamhcharles17: you’re so welcome guys!!

↳ yourname: niamhy for the win

↳ niamhcharles17: never forget i’m here when your little girlfriend is gone

↳ _jessflem: watch it.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming

[celesteleoves]

“I’M ADDICTED TO YOUR LOVE, that’s the issue.”

itadori yuji x fem!reader.

summary: in which, itadori never gets shy, not unless he’s around you.

warnings: swearing, teasing (from the first and second years), fluff! reader and itadori are already in a relationship but it’s fairly new. this is rlly short!!!

-

itadori was a loud, energetic, and bubbly person. everybody had only ever seen him being loud, they never saw him acting shy, genuinely sad, or quiet (unless something serious had happened).

so, today would be the first time they would see him act differently. aka, be around you.

itadori, megumi, and nobara along with the second years all sat on the grass as they decided to have a little picnic for lunch.

everyone chattered and made conversation about random things that were irrelevant in itadori’s opinion. you were the only thing he was paying attention to.

he currently sat in between you and megumi. you were having an interesting conversation with panda but itadori was not focusing on that.

he was focusing on the soft thrum of your fingers against his hand as you fiddled with his fingers. your hand occasionally slipping when you moved but immediately finding its place right back into his hand a second later.

his cheeks were flushed at the small gesture, your relationship was fairly new, of course he was going to be flustered by small things like holding your hand!

“itadori.” megumi mumbled, his head tilted as he stared at the boy who looked like he was on cloud nine.

“y-yeah?” itadori shook his thoughts away and turned to the boy beside him who was smiling slightly at how flustered he looked.

“you good?”

“me?! what! of course i’m good, that’s such a weird question to ask fushiguro.” itadori awkwardly laughed, earning the attention of the rest of the group (including you as you looked at your sweating boyfriend in concern).

“itadori, you’re sweating.” nobara looked at him in confusion, it wasn’t even hot outside!

itadori turned to look at you as you looked at him in concern and holy shit, he wished he didn’t.

the breeze made your hair slightly sway as you smiled at itadori, your eyes shining as the sun hit them. you looked perfect, his dream girl. he was in shock that he managed to get a girlfriend like you, a perfect one.

“holy fuck-” itadori gasped and maki immediately went to tease him as she realized why he was acting like this.

“he’s nervous because of y/n!” she yelped, letting out a string of laughter as nobara did the same.

“salmon.” inumaki said, his eyes almost closed shut because of how hard he was laughing.

“hey! stop, it’s hot outside.” itadori nervously tried to defend himself, his voice wavering when he felt you move closer to him to the point your hips were touching.

his face immediately flushed and even megumi began laughing at him. itadori covered his face in defeat and embarrassment that he was acting like this in public. but, you just had that effect on him! he can’t help it.

“yuji.” your soft voice caught his attention over the loud laughter around him and teasing comments.

“huh?” itadori’s voice wavered once more as he made eye contact with you.

“you’re cute when you’re shy.”

and there we go, yuji itadori has died. his face immediately goes beet red and he covers it with his hands as you laugh and lean into his side, wrapping an arm around his back as he placed one behind you.

he was so obsessed with you, there was not doubt. yet, he doesn’t like he’ll ever be able to stop being shy around you.

-

a/n: hope you enjoyed! i’m posting a sukuna work after this that is also just a tester to see how i like writing his character and things i have to improve on!

SEND REQUESTS!

#itadori x reader #itadori yuji #itadori yuji x reader #yuji itadori #yuji x reader #yuji itadori x reader #itadori x you #jjk fluff #jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #itadori fluff #itadori yuji fluff #yuji fluff

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: To Make me Fret or Make Me Frown [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Title: To Make Me Fret or Make Me Frown [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: You bought a life-size puppet in terrible condition and restored it. But now it doesn't want to let you go.

For Horrorfest request:

Might be cheesy, but Scaramouche haunted puppet for horrorfest? Maybe reader inherits an uncannily lifelike doll, or finds him as an antique?

Word count: 1156

notes: yandere, puppet shenanigans

“He’s creepy,” your friend says. Her nose crinkles and she puts a hand up as if she can ward away whatever haunting abominations she imagines must be inside the doll, waiting to slither through her nostrils. “And weird,” she continues. “And broken.” 

The doll has colorful blue hair and most of his strings are missing; one of his eyes is missing its pupil and an arm is cracked, a jagged wound that goes all the way to the fingers. If the doll were to be lifted, the damaged pinky on that arm would probably come right off--maybe the forefinger, too. He’s dirty and wearing only some cast-off shirt, itself probably too damaged to be sold by the secondhand store. 

Your friend moves on, eager to head to the second floor where all the nice, expensive secondhand goods are kept, often behind glass cases so they don’t get damaged by looky-loos.

But you stay where you are.

Because the moment you took one look at the damaged life-size puppet propped up at the back of the store, in the same pricetag-less limbo as piles of tupperware with no lid, ripped books and ugly dolls missing arms, and your heart swelled. 

“He’s perfect.” 

--

The pinky on the damaged arm did come off before you even left the store, but you were able to salvage the original forefinger. The pinky, sadly, couldn’t be repaired--but you made a new one using the original as a mold and unless you’re staring quite intensely (which to be fair, you often do, when working on the puppet) you wouldn't be able to tell that it’s not original to the hand. 

“I’d like to keep all your original parts as much as I can,” you murmur in the direction of the puppet, currently propped up on a chair you’d dragged into your workroom for the sole purpose of letting him have somewhere to sit while you worked. “You really are exquisite, you know? I can’t believe someone let you get into such rough shape.” 

You sigh, lamenting the treatment of such  a unique piece of craftsmanship, and place the finishing touches on the puppet’s repaired eye. The pupil needed to be filled in with new material but you went ahead and refreshed the iris of both eyes to make them look newer. 

“Good as new, see?” You hold up both repaired eyes to the puppet, but realize your mistake when you’re greeted with a prim looking puppet with two black holes where his eyes should be. 

“Oops.” You carefully slide the eyes back into the socket, fiddling with your finger until they slot right into place. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking. There!” You grab the magnifying mirror from your desk and hold it up in front of the puppet. “Now, see? Much better.”

It took a few months of work, but the puppet was just about restored, in your view. You’d even bought a new outfit for him, a simple white blouse with ruffles and plain trousers. It wasn’t exactly what you imagined he might have worn originally, but that was fine. 

“I’m glad I found you,” you say, to the puppet--and to yourself. “I’ve had a really nice time working on you!” You hum to yourself and start tidying up your work bench. “Now all that’s left is attaching your new strings, and I can have you picked up.” You smile, to yourself, to the puppet, to no one in particular. “I can’t believe that antique shop gave you away for free--they had no idea they were sitting on such a rare item!” 

But you, who repaired dolls and the like for a living, immediately knew what the puppet was worth; and who to contact as soon as you were able to get it home, as you knew a friend with an antique shop that took special requests, and he had a particularly wealthy customer who was dying for one of these rare life-sized pieces. 

The puppet with freshly painted eyes stares back at you and says nothing.

--

Something is sitting on your chest. Something heavy and cool to the touch. 

Sleep paralysis?  It wouldn’t be the first time. You did sleep on your back, after all, and your nights were sometimes restless. 

But you open your eyes without trouble, and the sensation does not go away. It takes a few moments, blinking in the dark, to realize who (no--what) is sitting on you.

It’s the puppet. 

Freshly painted eyes stare down at you, a face framed by the carefully sewn-in hair. In the dark, you can’t see the wood grains of his skin or the repair marks that you’d buffed until smooth. All you can see is his human shape, the gleam of glass eyes. 

“What--” you say, before a wooden finger presses to your lips.

“You were going to sell me.” It’s the puppet--the puppet is speaking.

You nod, terrified, every nerve in your body inflamed.

This can’t be happening, and yet it is. 

“Why?”

Your lips are dry and you stutter out an answer, hoping to wake up from this dream at any moment. But the more time goes on, the more you realize that you’re living in reality. An awful one, but reality all the same.

“I-I needed the money, you… you’re worth a lot.”

There’s a sound that comes from the puppet’s wooden throat, but you can’t quite place it. 

“You can’t sell me,” he says, simply. If you weren’t sure that you’d lost your mind, you might say that he sounds upset. Not just angry, but--hurt. 

“I-I won’t.” You swallow. “Just um. Get off me and I can…”

“No.” The glass eyes bore down on you, and you wish your eyes weren’t becoming accustomed to the dark. It was better not to see the cool stillness in them, unmoving, unblinking.

It’s then that you notice the strings.

Not on the puppet--but on you. 

The strings are wrapped around your wrists, tight, pinching into the skin. When you look up you see he’s attached them not to a marionette control bar, but to his own fingers. To himself. 

He raises his repaired pinky and your wrist goes along with it--too fast and harsh, nearly flopping over your face.

”Ah.” He regards your flopped appendage with curiosity, before simply lifting it himself and placing it back on your chest. “Well. I’ll have plenty of time to figure that out.” 

He leans forward, pressing his weight down on you, until his face was close enough that you could spot your own work; spot the little fine details in the paint, the grooves of his wooden flesh, the way his hair fell in a certain manner thanks to the placement of your carefully created knots. 

Oh, you thought, as his face came closer to yours, as he kissed you with puppet eyes wide open and wooden lips stiff. 

The paint on his lips needed to be touched up. 

#yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin impact #yandere #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest #scaramouche with abandonment issues but in puppet form! dun dun dun

[fillinforlater]

Hii! Could you do a smut of Minnie x Yuqi x Miyeon please? I don't really have any specific things I want in it other than scissoring and all of them just all over each other lol

Sorry im in a mood-🤪

To Glide

Minnie x Yuqi x Miyeon

Length: 2.000 words

Tags: lesbian sex, lesbian threesome, LOT'S OF LUBE, annoyed sex, fingering, clit play, scissoring, lesbian missionary, fold in half (Yuqi), pretty and submissive (Miyeon), has had fucking enough (Minnie)

(A/N: Here is a random drop to start of the new year lol. This is what happens when you send the right ideas to me. Have fun and stay healthy!)

“This is such a not-good-idea.”

Minnie sighs and pinches her forehead. To say that she has doubts about this new ‘project’ of Yuqi would be an understatement. She hates that this obnoxiously loud girl always pushes onward with her ideas without ever thinking of the consequences. Like last week, when she threw this party at Miyeon’s house—Minnie expected a handful of people—and suddenly hundreds of people turned up and trashed the whole thing. For some reason, Miyeon didn’t even care all that much.

Guess Yuqi’s tongue kept her busy all night, Minnie thinks, an envious blush on her cheeks. That’s the curse of Yuqi, she might at times be a bad friend, but in the end, she is just irresistible. In the end, Minnie can only blame herself for not rejecting Yuqi’s plans of filling a small pool with lube—in the middle of Minnie’s own living room. 

Your house is the biggest, Yuqi argued, and with a few adorable blinks, she got what she wanted. And now Miyeon is already ready to dump in over ten bottles of lube into the small plastic construction, definitely not made to withstand whatever crazy games Yuqi will come up with. Minnie can still say no, still send them home, hell, they can have enough fun with each other in Yuqi’s—

“Aw, why not, Nicha?” Yuqi complains cutely and wraps a sly arm around Minnie’s waist. “It will be so much fun, don’t you think? I can’t see how it can go wrong.”

“It’ll be such a mess,” Minnie argues, but it’s fragile, because Yuqi’s magic goes beyond puppy eyes and that deadly voice: she is already fiddling with the buttons of Minnie’s jeans, easily able to pop them open and dig her hand onto Minnie’s sex. The thought alone arouses her. “I-I don’t want to clean up afterwards.”

“Then I will clean up, okay? Pinky promise?”

“O-okay.” Dammit, she couldn’t resist again. Minnie is just too weak for Yuqi.

“Perfect. Miyeon, pour in the lube! Let’s have some fun.”

“Okay, babe~” Miyeon shouts back and gleefully squeezes out bottle after bottle until the clear liquid has thoroughly covered the entire plastic surface. “Should we get our bikinis?”

“Nah, screw those. Bikinis are for public pools.” Yuqi starts to unzip her top and jumps out of her pants. “At home, with my girls, I don’t want to wear clothes!”

“Oh~” Miyeon coos and Minnie can see that horny glint in her eyes. “I love that! Let me get undressed too.”

Minnie looks at them for a second, their bodies being revealed piece by piece, bare and completely spotless. Yuqi is a perfectionist when it comes to her own nude body, but at the same time, she does not give a single fuck about other people’s short comings. She just loves nudity, and so Minnie isn’t the only one starring when Miyeon gracefully removes her tight crop-top and moves her hips in quick circles until her black shorts fall down. 

“I see you came prepared,” Yuqi says in excitement, because of the lack of underwear on Miyeon’s stunning frame.

“I still have the bikini in my bag, but—

“I kinda knew you wouldn’t want to see it.”

A heat is rising up inside Minnie. No anger or annoyance can keep it down anymore; the arousal is too great, irresistible, like the sight of Miyeon and Yuqi flopping into the pool. The lube flies everywhere, most importantly on their legs, their chests, their hair, their bellies, their feet—Minnie does not notice the mess being made. 

She is depraved and horny, the way she tears off her jeans and top is chaotic, unplanned. Minnie has become a mess by just looking at her friends. Luckily, Yuqi does not notice. She's too busy with Miyeon and getting her fingers all over the elder’s skin. That is until Minnie bursts in and disrupts them, putting real strain on the edges of the plastic pool.

“Hey, watch out,” both Yuqi and Miyeon laugh. “You’re about to break it.”

“I- I don’t care! You two are being too loud, I need to shut you up a bit.” Minnie’s rebuttal is weak, because Yuqi gets a hand on her hairy cunt and starts to rub all over it.

“Oh, you want to shut us up by destroying this pool? Makes sense, makes sense.” Miyeon giggles and adds. “I think our friend here is tripping a bit. Tell us, Mi~nnie~

“How do you want to make us shut up?”

Minnie has never felt this ferocious, it’s like the spirit of a savage, unchained animal has overcome her. She wraps her entire arm around Yuqi’s tiny waist and spins her around. The small woman is still laughing, but with two lube-drenched fingers straight into her tight cunt, she is now Minnie’s prisoner. A happy prisoner, who quietly moans and hums with every curl the digits in her pussy make.

“Oh my~” Miyeon gasps and intently watches on as Minnie squeezes Yuqi tightly and makes sure to never stop pumping into that wet cavern. Yuqi still thinks this is all fun and games and tries to kiss Minnie, but the Thai girl goes straight for Yuqi’s neck and marks it with a frantic bite.

“Mi-Minnie, what the—I never knew you liked—”

“How about you shut your pretty mouth up and get on all fours? 

“Now.”

Yuqi twitches around Minnie’s fingers when she hears this command. After a bit of slipping and falling she finds herself in the suggested position with Minnie’s hand cupping her labia and slowly rubbing lube across it. Yuqi arches her back, eyes closed to intensely feel every touch on her folds, then inside her pussy when Minnie decides to penetrate her once more. Miyeon gasps again.

“How about you lay down too, pretty?” Minnies suggest to Miyeon who needs a few seconds to wake up from her slumber and lay down into the slippery mess. She instinctively opens up her beautiful legs when Minnie’s hand approaches her, then the girliest of moans leaves her lips when her cunt gets filled. 

Minnie’s heart is pumping up to her head, knocking on her brain and she loses all her senses except for touch on her fingertips, which become drenched in arousal. Every thrust, it doesn’t matter if they are hard or soft, makes her greedy, as if this scenario wasn’t enough. She has everything a girl could ever want, but now she needs more. 

Minnie needs Yuqi to ruin herself—which happens sooner than she could’ve ever dreamed of. Yuqi’s ass moves on its own, her hips slam backwards and swallow every inch of Minnie’s flicking fingers and when three of them finally pierce her pussy open, she cums. Face buried in ridiculous amounts of lube, Yuqi groans and trembles and falls over, eyes rolled into the back of her head—that’s what Minnie wanted. But her greed doesn’t stop.

She looks at Miyeon, her pout, her need for release in this slippery mess right in the middle of this living room—Yuqi will have to clean it meticulously afterwards, because Minnie plants her puffy pussy right on Miyeon’s and starts to wildly rub it over her. Minnie knows that Miyeon is quite familiar with scissoring, this is definitely no first for her, but she nonetheless reacts to it like a virgin. She desperately holds onto Minnie’s hip and through a voice broken by moans begs her to go slower. 

“Should I really go slower?” Minnie teases when Miyeon starts to grab her waist and bite her lip. Her face is so eerily perfect with all the wet lube and sweat on it, the blush that isn’t faint but blunt and bright. “Don’t you want to cum with your pussy, pretty princess?”

And then Minnie just continues, her hips slam down, against those aroused folds. She also makes use of her hands, spreading lube all over Miyeon’s boobs, midriff, down to the hard nub that looks like it’s about to explode if just—

Someone would—

“Not there, not there, Mi-Minnie, I’m about to—”

Minnie plays with it, rubs the clit side to side and Miyeon bursts into a loud and wet orgasm that has the pool suddenly filled with lube and girl juice. Minnie still doesn’t stop, instead she squeezes out every last second of Miyeon’s high by squeezing her breasts and squeezing more lube over her feet, which Yuqi is already eagerly playing with, in trance at the taste of Miyeon’s soles.

“Gosh, she looks so hot,” Yuqi whispers at the sight of Miyeon, who cannot escape the overstimulation. There is just no grip on anything, it’s like the entire universe wants her to glide back to Minnie and her pervy hands. Hands that can’t stop groping her, covering her in so much lube, she feels too heavy to fight back. 

“You’re one to talke,” Minnie responds and raises an eyebrow when Yuqi dares to look back at her. “She went down fairly easily, but I know I need more with you.”

Yuqi smirks and like the angelic devil on Minnie’s shoulder leans in and hums:

“Then give me more.”

It’s hard to tell if Yuqi regrets her witty remark or if this was the actual reaction she wanted. In the blink of an eye, she finds herself below Minnie, in the deepest mix of cum, sweat and lube she has ever been in. Minnie immediately goes for her limits, grabbing her ankles and folding her in half while looking absolutely unamused.

“I know you can fold like a lawn chair,” she snarks and Yuqi gasps when her heels are almost level with her eyes. “So you better keep this up, because I won’t stop.”

“Wha-what are you trying—?”

“You’ve never had it like this, huh?”

Minnie crashes her hairy cunt right on Yuqi’s perfect slit. The slap is loud, the sting is painful at first, but Yuqi gets no time to scream because Minnie just continues. She rides her fat lips all over Yuqi’s shaven crotch, spreads her arousal to add more wetness, to glide better.

Glide she does. Yuqi has to take deep breaths that quickly turn to moans every time Minnie glides over her clit. Back and forth is great, left and right is excellent, Yuqi’s mind starts to spin in the same rhythm that Minnie’s pussy spins. That is until she goes up and back down. That’s too much to handle. Yuqi’s nails dig into Minnie’s elbows and she can see the Thai girl only through tear filled orbs.

Hottest of all: Minnie shows no reaction to this athletic feat. She just leans down, lips right on Yuqi’s, but instead of kissing her, she spouts dumb, dirty bullshit that has Yuqi in an ultimate frenzy.

“You never had a girl take you missionary. I fucking know, because I always hear them moan, not you. You think you’re such a player, Yuqi, the girl that gets all the bitches—that’s over now. Now you’re my bitch and I will fuck you like it. You will cum on this hairy pussy and then I’ll make you clean it up.

“Do you understand?”

“Y-yesh, Ma’am!”

Yuqi whines, Minnie smirks.

“Good. That was easy, didn’t know you could be so submissive. I think you should get an orgasm, slut.”

As predicted, the final thrust starts of Yuqi’s climax, one that lasts for a while. While not as messy as Miyeon’s, Minnie can see how intense it was for the smaller woman below her. Yuqi is a fucked mess, messy hair, messy pussy, messy face, something that can surely be a seat in the future—nah, fuck the future. Yuqi won’t always be her bitch, might as well—

“I think you’re learning your place.” Minnie gives Yuqi some time to adjust her posture, time Minnie spends on a quick look at Miyeon, who is busy stimulating her nipples to the sight of what happened in front of her. Minnie has no clue how and if to include her; an issue for later. “Now eat me.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #idol x idol smut #gidle smut #minnie smut #yuqi smut #miyeon smut

[libraford]

Sometimes, I forget how good of a photographer I am.

I'm doing sports candids at a high school. School is in the middle of nowhere. There is no cell reception. Its homecoming. Theres a million cameras.

Its middle of the second period and I see a professional looking photographer struggling with her camera. There are two dudes nearby also struggling, same uniform. But I know that look of desperation because I've been there. Guy 1 is fussing with video camera. Guy 2 is on the phone, but like I said- theres no cell service here.

"Are you having trouble?"

"Oh my god, do you know cameras?"

"Take a picture, show me what it looks like."

She takes a picture, shows it to me. Its blown out and blurry.

"It has to be on the sports setting because I'm shooting sports. But I cant get it to work right. This thing is old and busted."

"Shutter speed too low, looks like 1/60."

"What?"

"Can I fiddle with it?"

Mind you, theres a whole football game happening in front of us. The videographer and the guy on the phone are watching me very closely.

It's a different camera than mine, but it's the same brand.

"I'm putting you on manual, but you have to trust me."

"I... dont have a choice. Everything is malfunctioning."

I put it on manual, fast shutter speed, high ISO. Take a shot, dont like it, fiddle with it again. Take a shot, hand it back.

"Try it."

She takes a shot. "Its a little blurry."

"Bump up the shutter speed to 1/300. It will be darker, so the ISO goes up, too."

She does this. "Holy shit, I've never taken photos like this before! These are better than anything I've ever done! Thank you! You just saved all our asses."

"Congrats, you're now shooting in manual- you have full control of how light enters the sensor in your camera. And that makes you a pro."

She starts catching back up with photos. Her dudes come over to me and say "seriously, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you so so much. Our video equipment went down and we can't get ahold if anyone."

"No problem. But out of curiosity, who are yall with?"

They give the name of the news section that covers local sports.

I just taught a photojournalist manual mode in less than a minute.

...I'm pretty sure they just give a camera to whoever is on staff and dont tell them how to work it.

That's frustrating to me.

[luveline]

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary steve likes you, eddie munson's best friend, to the point of heart palpitations. you feel the same way about him [6k]

warnings fluff, getting together, mutual pining, first kiss, first date, eddie munson is a good friend, steve is hopeless, fem!reader, reader is hellfire club adjacent, reader is an overthinker and steve is a softie, pre-s4 post-s3, no s4 spoilers besides eddie + hellfire club existing

𓆩❤︎𓆪

The first time Steve sees you he's smitten.

You're sitting on the stoop of Eddie Munson's trailer. Coolest girl he's ever seen – and Steve doesn't go for the edgy type. Crazy cool clothes, hair all messy pretty and your eyes edged in dark makeup, you're fiddling with the cassette player in your lap, brows pinched in frustration.

Steve can't look long. He's dropping the lunch club off for some impromptu Hellfire gathering. The kids pile out, eager to see their new (no, Steve isn't bitter) friend with a chorus of rushed, half-hearted thank you's.

You push the headphones off of your ears as his kids approach.

"Hey, Y/N," they say, one by one as they enter the trailer and disappear from sight.

Steve is two seconds from leaving, swears, when he hears Lucas ask how you are.

"You know," you say, voice quiet and immediately intoxicating. Steve watches as you slowly push two fingers between your shiny lips and pretend to blow your brains out. You drop on your back and lie there for a moment, chest rising with easy, breezy laughter. The sound draws heat to his cheeks, worse the sight of your naked thighs.

He's hooked. He has to leave quickly, before you sit back up and indoctrinate him with your looks alone.

The next time he sees you is similar and not. You're sitting on the ground outside the movie theatre. Again, Steve is playing taxi cab for his doofuses, though this time the thank you's are slightly kinder, louder - he'd blown off a girl he didn't stand much chance with in the first place to bring them.

"Love you!" Dustin calls, slamming the passenger door.

You drop the cassette player in your hands and lean your head back against Eddie's thigh. Steve takes a few seconds to realise you're looking at him, head tilting this way and that to catch a glance at him through people's legs.

"Who's your friend?" he hears you ask Mike.

Mike doesn't even look. "Who? Steve? He's my sister's ex-boyfriend."

You smile at him. Steve, hating to be caught but not stupid enough to blush, nods at you through the window before turning the key. It's the suavest thing he's ever done and he's still applauding himself when you approach his window. He hadn't noticed you get up, distracted by triumph.

You knock the window. He rolls it down.

"Hi," you say.

"Hey," he says back. Then, cautiously, "You need something?"

You smell like a lot of things as you duck your head into his car. Mica and perfume and, softer, talc. Hairspray. Something else, wet like ink. He can't help looking at your make up, the rhinestones under your lower lashes, the shiny sticky pink on your lips.

"Steve," you say. He likes the way you say his name, confident, like you've always known it. You smile softly, at ends with your Joan Jett-esque levels of cool. "Do you wanna come see the movie?" Then, in what marks the beginning of the end, "With me?"

He knows he should play it out. Plus, he's startled. "I don't know, I'm just here to drop them off."

"It's okay if you have plans," you say. He catches a sneak of your tongue pressed behind - what he perhaps insanely thinks of as - cute teeth. You're talking to him in this lilting cadence that has him pinned. "But you drove all the way here, so if you're not busy…"

He pretends to consider.

"What movie?" he asks.

You bring a hand to your neck and secure a small silver pendant between your neatly lacquered nails. "Uh, it's called Day of the Dead. S'about zombies," you tell him. The way you say zombies - your voice goes high and airy, your lips move slow like they're catching up to the word, your eyebrows raised up. Eyes wide. He wants to play it back.

"Please?" you ask when he fails to reply.

He thinks he has to be dreaming. Or drugged again. Definitely drugged.

"Sure," he hears himself say, though he can't remember thinking about it.

You don't smile like he expects. You make a sound, a happy inhale, your eyes light up but your lips stay straight.

Steve thinks you might be nervous.

And sure, he can be a jerk but he's not a total douchebag. He gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile and gets out of his car, locking the doors to follow you to the ticket stand. Closer now, Steve can't work you out: half dreamy, half fidgeting.

Your boots thud up carpeted stairs into the auditorium, the lights already down, previews blaring.

There's two empty seats next to Eddie. In the dark you catch the hem of his jacket between your fingers and pull him behind you.

His heart skips.

Eddie, in what Steve thinks of as his most mature greeting to date, nods at him and then turns to you curiously. "You okay?" he asks seriously.

"I'm perfect, Eds. Did we miss any good previews?" you ask, sitting heavily beside your friend and stealing a big handful of popcorn out of his lap.

Eddie only chuckles. "Nothing you'd like."

You nod and then turn to Steve shyly. "Sorry we didn't get snacks," you whisper. You offer your hand to him, full of popcorn.

He shakes his head. You look embarrassed but not surprised, tipping your head back to polish off your handful.

"You went to Hawkins High?" you ask with your hand over your mouth.

"I did. You didn't?"

"I did," you correct gently, wiping your hand on your thigh. "I graduated two years ago. When Eddie should have."

That makes more sense, though Steve's sorry he doesn't remember you. He was a little obsessed with Nance at the time.

"Do you work?" he asks.

You smile like you're about tell him a big secret, edging forward. Your arms brushes his arm on the rest between chairs. "You can't tell anyone."

"On my honour," he says, eyes wide, terrified you're a mercenary or worse, a cold caller.

"I desk at the library," you say.

He blinks. You giggle and Eddie shushes you, already sounding defeated. Chastened, you drop your voice to a barely perceptible level.

"I know, I don't look the type."

"No," he says, too loud, receiving several disgruntled glares. "No, you- Well, maybe you don't. But I don't look like I worked at Scoops Ahoy all summer, so…"

You slap a ring-laden hand over your shiny pout and try to smother a laugh. Bracelets slide down your wrist. "You do! You do look like you worked there," you say joyfully.

He can't find it in him to be offended.

You're milder as you settle back into your seat. A preview passes. You clear your throat.

"I'm sorry," you say, sounding worried, "if that was cruel. I get mixed up. I know- I mean, I don't know, but the Starcourt thing. That must've been awful."

Your words stick together like taffy. He releases you as quickly as he can.

"Hey, don't be sorry," he says, scoffing lighty. He readjusted where he's sitting, crossing his arms over his chest. "Doesn't matter." It's not like you'd meant anything by it.

You look less peaky but still hesitant.

"Would you believe me if I told you the worst part of my job was the uniform?" he jokes, wanting to put you at ease again.

"Was it really so bad?" you murmur, your lips slowly curving up into a smile.

"There was a mandated hat."

You laugh. People shush you aggressively. Steve feels something close to magnetism at the sound, and wants to make you do it again.

"Where do you work now?" you whisper as the movie begins.

"Video store by the arcade."

"Family Video?" you ask. He nods, looking down at your hands in your lap, your fingers. Your legs are shaking, minute trembling. You twist one of your rings around your fingers and he wonders what's making you nervous.

"That's the one."

You bend in close, so close he thinks he can smell your shampoo. Dusky, rosewater. Sweet.

"Maybe I can come see you. You can recommend me something."

"Sure," he says, too loud. Somebody coughs, though the cough sounds suspiciously like dickwad.

You watch Day of the Dead, stealing popcorn all the while. You pop the lid off of Eddie's drink and take sneaky sips, and your friend flicks your upper arm when you get greedy. In response, your bashful, peeling laughter.

"Fine, I'll get my own drink. You want one?" you ask Steve, standing with your back bent, necklace dipping down in the space between you. He follows it, looks accidentally straight at your chest and then back up, guilty and blushing. "Steve?" you ask.

"I'll come with you," he says, desperate to escape the dark, the warmth.

Steve follows you down the red, trodden carpet and back into the main body of the theatre, an atrium with high glass windows and wooden beams. It smells old, like dust. The sky is dark now, night eating up every bit of natural light. White cat eyes beam from the movie theatre's floors to guide you to the snack station, a brighter, well stocked haven of greasy foods and cold drinks.

You stand in front of the popcorn machine. It paints your skin with a golden yellow shine, like the sun. You're very quiet as you open your clutch, pulling out hair pins and chapstick and a lone cotton pad before you find your purse, a battered leather pouch embossed with hearts. He tries not to fill the silence, digging for his wallet in his pocket. He gets a too big coke and you deliberate over slurpee flavours, eventually asking for a mix.

"It's so quiet out here," you murmur around your straw.

"Like Family Video on a Friday," he agrees.

"Isn't Friday, like, one of your busiest nights?"

"Yep."

A burst of surprised giggles. Steve hides his smile with a cough, 'cos he's cool.

You pull the straw from your cup and lick it clean, digging for a certain flavour though he's not sure which, still laughing to yourself. Steve takes the initiative and leads you back up the stairs and to your seat, catching your jacket in his hand before you can walk down the wrong row.

You smile gratefully, your lips stained blue and red.

-

You're sitting on the pavement outside of Family Video. Steve can see your back, your hair.

He wonders why you're here, if it's to see him, and then if you're okay, and feels bad for thinking in that order.

"Robin," he says loudly, reluctant to tear his eyes from you lest you disappear like a shoddy apparition.

"Steven."

"Not correct."

"What, idiot?" Robin asks, picking her head up from the book stretched open in her lap. She sits up and her back clicks loudly.

Steve sighs in disgust. "That's gross, you know? You'll get, like, arthritis."

"You think arthritis is gross? Not cool, Steven."

"No, I meant them as two separate things. Gross to hear you click, and that the clicking will give you arthritis," he explains, exasperated. He runs a hand through his hair.

"That's a myth."

A long pause where Steve watches your back moving, how you're leaning forward towards the sun bleached tarmac.

"What?" he asks suddenly, turning from you finally to stare in disbelief at his best friend.

Robin is more than prepared to fight her cause, the leaves of her book closed around her hand like she'd been waiting for him to ask. She probably had been.

"It's a myth. Clicking your bones doesn't give you arthritis. The clicking sound is fluid moving- Are you even listening to me?"

Steve has dropped his head into his hands. He spreads his fingers wide so Robin can see his eyes. "Robin, we have more important things at hand."

"Like what? Keith's laundry?"

"Like Y/N is sitting outside right now!" he shouts, and then cringes. You don't show any sign of having heard him. He continues in a strangled whisper, "She's been out there for like, five minutes!"

Robin kicks up off of her stool to stand at Steve's side, up on tiptoes to see over the vinyl on the windows. She's listened to his inane rambling and insecure, badly disguised yearning all week, but hasn't had a face to a name until now. She makes a sound of approval like she can understand why Steve has been so wound up about you.

"Why's she on the floor?"

"She does that."

"Oh," Robin says, chin jutting up. "Are you gonna go talk to her?"

He wants to. Dreadfully. Intensely wants to.

"Or I could go talk to her," Robin offers, wrists touching. She rubs them together. Steve ignores her mischievous, shit-eating grin.

"Sure, Robs, you talk to her. Stun her with your stellar people skills."

Robin's lips push, as close as she's ever come to pouting. "Cruel."

"Yet accurate."

"If you're so amazing, why don't you go talk to her, hot shot? Woo her! Chop-chop."

Steve steels his nerves because even if he is about to make a huge fool of himself he's slightly worried about your on-the-ground position. Not unusual for you, but still.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he emerges.

You turn to Steve like you're unsurprised that he's there and offer your headphones to him. "Put these on?"

"Are you okay?" he asks again, voice not dissimilar to when he's bossing around the kids.

You hold the headphones to your chest and dip your chin. "Steve, I'm fine. Please?" you ask, offering them to him.

He puts on the headphones, bent at the waist for the wire to reach your cassette player. He quickly discovers the source of your unhappiness – the tape sounds bloated. Distorted.

"The tapes messed up," he says.

You shake your head with patience, though he can tell from your expression this isn't the first time you've explained it. "It's not the tape, it's the player."

Steve's back gives a twinge. I'm an old man, he thinks in horror, standing up straight with your headphones back in his hands.

"You drop it?" he asks expectantly.

You only frown more, looking generally put out. "No, I took great care of her. Scout's honor."

Steve sighs and decides to take the leap, sitting down beside you on the sidewalk. There's a small dip where the parking lot starts and he stretches one leg out across it, hand on his knee, the other across his abdomen.

"Can't one of your nerd club fix it?" he asks.

"I'm not actually in Hellfire Club, you know."

He didn't. "You can't ask? Eddie must've learned something at school after this many years. By accident. Like… osmosis."

"Eddie's on his third try for a reason," you say, picking at a small ladder in your tights on the side of your calf. You're wearing socks, too, peeking up just over the edge of your thick bottomed boots.

"You know Dustin?" he asks after a patch of silence he would find awkward with anyone who wasn't you. You make it peaceful, in a way. "He could take a look. He went to science camp and built, like, the world's strongest radio."

He can't tell if you're listening. Your eyes are trained on the sidewalk, its crack, and the weeds growing between them. There's a wet snapping sound.

You hold a small yellow flower between your fingers.

"A creeping buttercup," you tell him. You push your palm flat in the space between you both and lean towards him. "Do you like butter?"

"Do I- Yeah, sure, I like butter. Who doesn't?"

You lick your lips. "Mind if I check?" you ask him.

"Is that a trick question?"

"Steve," you say, chiding. You tilt your head to your shoulder and the breeze kisses your hair, ruffling soft strands as you hold the flower under his chin intently. He feels frozen.

"You love butter," you say, nodding like what you just said makes sense.

"Are you sure you're okay? Didn't hit your head on the way here?"

"Here. Hold it under my chin," you tell him, offering him the flower. You twirl its stem, though you stop when he moves to take it.

Steve feels like an idiot as he holds it by your neck.

"Closer," you say softly, lifting your head.

Steve raises his eyebrows but keeps his skepticism to himself. To his surprise, when the flower is close enough to your skin, a small patch of yellow light appears, gauzy around the edges.

"What the fuck…"

You lower your chin, your faces closer than Steve had realised. You look straight into his eyes. "It's a reflection of the light. 'Cos it's clear out."

He feels out of his element no matter how captivating he finds you – he can't get to grips with it. His silence quickly deters you; you look away from his face and your lips pull into a pout as you bite your bottom lip. You bend at the waist and mess with your shoelaces.

"Did you wanna come inside?" he asks, trying to fix whatever it is he did. Girls are complicated.

You cheer up a bit.

"Do you have anything like Day of the Dead?"

He has no clue.

"Sure we do," he says confidently.

He stands up fast and offers his hand. You take it, your palm smooth and cool in his, admittedly warmer and slightly calloused. He hopes the ease with which he pulls you up is impressive, then feels stupid for thinking that. You squeeze his fingers before you let go and follow him into Family Video.

-

"So, what? You like him?" Eddie asks you from above, cross-legged on his bed. Denim jacket nowhere to be seen, he sits in a t-shirt with the sleeves hacked off, tattoos on clear display, stark against his pale skin.

"Don't be jealous, Eds," you say mildly.

He crawls to the edge of the bed to look down at you where you lie on his floor. His hair tickles your nose and you hold in a sneeze.

"Nice face," he says.

"I think he likes me."

"Why wouldn't he? You're cool."

You stare at your best friend's earnest face. "You know why."

"No, I don't."

You close your eyes, head dipping to your shoulder. You can't hide from him, though you've tried. Your arms cross over your tummy in a self-hug.

The ground is cold. His uncle's trailer is always cold, frigid in the winter. Minimal insulation and no A/C. You rub your face into the scratchy rug beneath you and sigh morosely, suddenly overcome with a pinching misery.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Eddie says seriously.

"I don't think I can do it." It hurts to say, though you know Eddie won't judge you.

"What? Have a boyfriend?"

You nod. The mattress creaks as he moves. You're expecting his touch, though his cold finger flicking you square in the forehead startles you anyway. Your eyes jump open. You flinch up into a sitting position and rub your head.

"Shithead."

"Stop doubting yourself."

"I get so messed up. I'm a bad friend, I wouldn't- I wouldn't be a good girlfriend," you mutter, bringing your knees to your chest. You hide in them.

"You don't get messed up," he says.

"I'm stupid."

"Y/N," he says, dragging your name out sternly. "Here, come sit with me. I won't flick you again, promise."

You rub your eyes, smudging your makeup and stand reluctantly to flop onto his bed, his rumpled sheets a lump under your back. Eddie pulls your necklace from where it has ridden up your neck and drops it down the valley of your chest absent-mindedly.

"You're not stupid," he says gently. "And you don't get 'messed up'. You're overthinking things."

"I'm not," you argue. "I'm an idiot, and I say the wrong things, and maybe he does like me but it won't last long."

You didn't have an easy time in school. Eddie knows this, lived it with you, and he's blamed it a thousand times for your low self-esteem. Ever understanding, he hums to himself skeptically and grabs your shoulder, giving you a good shake. He doesn't stop until you're laughing.

"I'm trying to shake some sense into you," he confides. "You're really fucking cool. And I'm not just saying that because you've been copying me since middle school, you're really cool."

"Cool," you repeat.

"Awesome."

You run the chain of your necklace through your fingers and feel the links skip over your skin, frowning.

"I thought for sure he'd ask me out by now."

"Maybe you should ask him."

"He probably thinks I'm, like, a creepy stalker."

"Creepy, maybe. Stalker? For what? Visiting him at work? That's friendly." You're overthinking things, he doesn't say.

"I left him my phone number," you admit, whispering. "But he hasn't called me."

"Babe, you're always fucking here. Did you check your machine?"

Obsessively. "Yeah."

Eddie throws himself down and kicks his legs over your tummy, to your annoyance. He ponders and you sulk, the rough sounds of Black Sabbath playing in the background.

"You've only met him a few times, right?"

Right. The movies, the video store, once when you'd bumped into him at the arcade and a couple of times when he'd checked out books at the library.

Eddie smiles as you tell him. "The library?"

"Yeah."

"He's visiting you at work?"

You think back to the last time you'd seen him, all of ten minutes across the desk with your clean library uniform and your neat hair. You finally cracked and asked him if he thought it suited you better.

"You look great," Steve had said, smiling lopsided, "but I miss your pretty gems. Oh, we have Friday the 13th back in. I kept it for you..."

"No, he's visiting the library," you say.

Eddie chuckles, his deep, teasing laugh. "And before you met, you saw him in there a lot, huh?"

"Well, no."

"So it's a coincidence that he found out where you work and he's suddenly an academic?"

"Shut up, Eddie," you plead, covering your face with your hands.

"Fine, whatever, we'll stop talking about it. Wanna paint my nails?"

"No."  

You get up and paint his nails. You've done one hand pretty well when there's the sound of a car parking outside. Eddie turns down the stereo and you stare at each other curiously, listening for clues.

"Your uncle?"

"No. Probably for someone else."

Instantly disproved, there's a knock at the door, breaking up the silence. Eddie sighs dramatically and climbs over your legs to answer, his footsteps clumsy. "Yeah, coming," he calls. You stand and peer around the doorway, waiting to see who it is.

Eddie opens the door. "Harrington," he says, surprised, vaguely disgusted. "The munchkins aren't here."

"No, I know. I'm looking for Y/N."

You feel a stab of excitement right to your heart and scramble for Eddie's mirror, looking over your face and outfit with something close to terror looming – you're in an old band t-shirt covered in hair-dye from Eddie's red and pink phase and a skirt that's too short. You pull it down to make sure everything is properly covered.

"Yeah, she's here," Eddie says, though the door creaks as he closes it slightly, his voice a fraction from intimidating as he asks, "Who's asking?"

"Me?" Steve asks.

Your socks slide over linoleum in your rush to stop Eddie from being a total dick, edging him out of the way with your hip. He doesn't budge. You shove him with a huff and smile at Steve, trying to calm your pounding heart.

"Steve, hi."

"Hey," he looks over your shoulder. You turn, see Eddie standing there looking unimpressed. He waves. You glare at him fiercely and step over the threshold, shutting the door behind you.

You don't second guess as you take Steve's wrist into your hand, pulling him down the steps and into the short grass to make sure Eddie can't eavesdrop. It's damp under your socks.

Steve looks hot. You're a simple girl, you won't deny that. His hair looks more windblown than usual, lazy strands falling into his face. His eyes are serious, light brown and edged in straight lashes you would count if he let you, brows slightly lifted. You realise he's taking you in as you do the same and feel self conscious, shifting from foot to foot.

"Sorry, I look weird. I didn't-" you bite your tongue. I didn't know you were coming, you'd almost said, but of course you didn't, and telling him you would've dressed up if he was coming might scare him off.

Any anxiety you'd had is soothed as he takes your hand, still loosely clasped around his wrist, and squeezes the centre of your palm with his thumb.

"Are you kidding?" he asks, hand moving down, thumb rubbing over your pulse point. "You look beautiful. Don't worry about it."

His nonchalance trips you up. You can feel your heart in your mouth, like a hummingbird on your tongue.

"What did… what did you wanna ask me?" you stammer.

Steve drops your hand. "I tried calling, but I figured you'd be here. Uh, so-" he laughs, pulling a hand through his hair before dipping into the pocket of his jacket. You watch his arms then his hands.

"I got these," he says, pulling two tickets from his pocket. White and a third red, he offers them to you. You take them, enough adrenaline running through you that your hands are shaking and you struggle to read what they say.

Steve jumps in. "I know you really liked Day of the Dead. They're doing a showing in Indianapolis, one of those fancy theatre's where everyone dresses up as zombies, and like, they throw fake guts on you. Or something."

"Oh," you murmur. Awesome, you think. Oh my god. "That's sick."

"Right?"

"And you…"

"I want you to go with me. I want to take you," he says firmly. "On a date."

"A date."

"It's Friday. I'll pick you up, we'll drive there in the morning. Hang around, we can go wherever you want for dinner, see the sights."

"This is before or after we dress up like zombies?" you ask, hiding a huge smile.

Steve blushes, let it be written, his cheeks red. He sounds frustrated as he says, "Right, not my best idea. Before? We can get ready in the car," his voice fades before he finishes. "That's not a good idea."

He starts on a self deprecating waffle that you can't allow. You press the tickets to your chest, way too happy. "This is pretty cool."

"You think so?" he asks quickly, strung out.

"Yeah," you say fondly.

"Oh."

You almost step on his toes as you kiss his hot cheek. He smells nice. You set back on your heels and linger, trying to work out what his cologne smells like. Something fresh, not quite lemony.

You get a bit dizzy and carried away, stroking the curve of his arm with the back of your hand. Steve makes a sound like a hiccup and you remember yourself, stepping away bashfully, afraid to meet his eyes.

"So," Steve says, sounding relieved. Excited. "You'll go?"

"Yeah. It sounds awesome."

"It's a date," he says.

You tell him your address and he promises to call you to smooth out all the details but he really has to go to work. You climb back up the stairs and close the door almost all the way, watching as Steve gets in his car through the crack. He sits motionless for a bit before he fist pumps the air, says, "Yes! Ugh, yes. Still got it. Still got it, Hawkins."

You close the door.

"Ew, you look happy. Harrington cop a feel?" Eddie says.

"Something like that."

-

You're running down a dark alleyway with Steve's hand in yours. He's almost dragging you. Dude runs fast.

"I ran track!" he tells you helpfully.

You can't help the breathless laughing as you go, nervous and humming with energy. You'd both been having a great time at dinner and lost track of time, and now it's twenty minutes until doors open for Day of the Dead and neither of you look particularly lifeless.

You almost slam into the back door of his BMW, scrambling inside. Steve is quick behind you, upending the bag with your change of clothes onto the back seat. Your makeup and fake blood tumble out after it. He reaches up to turn on the overhead light.

"Fuck," Steve says, face carved in shadow. "Fuck. We don't have time."

"Sure we do," you say, tugging your shirt off quickly. Steve looks pointedly away once he notices your predicament. You chuckle. "Steve, just get changed. I don't care if you look."

"I'm a gentleman," he insists, rushing, the two of you folding and bumping into each other in a hurry to get dressed into your old clothes.

You catch flashes of his bare chest as he buttons down then buttons up, his legs, his thighs. You feel heat lick every stretch of skin you have at the sight. Oh, he's hairy, you think, and then have to slam your eyes shut to stop from thinking sick (completely normal, dirty) thoughts.

You pull your tights off of your ankles, blush at the idea of being sequestered in a car with him in your underwear, and leap to replace them with a pair of tight, pinstriped trousers, shrugging into them with great difficulty. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly as you pull on your blouse, white for the best fake blood effect, buttoning up just enough to hide your bra.

Make up next. You want to look scary and, importantly, believable. You fish for the make up you'd brought and have managed to suitably brush up your dark eyes with purples to look bruised and sickly by the time Steve has finished redressing. He tightens the tie around his neck.

"You next," you say.

Steve hesitates. "I've never done any makeup before."

You don't blink. "That's okay. I'll do it for you, if you want me to."

Steve climbs closer over your discarded clothes, close enough to hear his breathing, still fast. You brush the hair out of his eyes and they find yours, the two of you sharing a private smile, though there's no one else around.

"Will you ruin my good looks?"

"You'll be a very handsome zombie," you promise.

You reach for his face.

"You need to get closer," you tell him, fingers hooked under his ear. You tilt his head to the light.

"I can't," he says.

You steel your nerves and grab onto his shoulder gently, anchoring yourself as you climb up into his lap. If he's surprised he doesn't show it, his big hands coming up to your waist. You can feel the heat of each finger clearly on your skin where he grips you and the heat of his thighs like a furnace underneath yours. You try not to brush against him, standing up on your knees.

You use your fingers, rubbing them gently in the powder shadows and then over his silky skin. Big stripes of purple, a wash of yellow around his pretty eyes. He closes them as you dab a dark red under his eyelashes. You grow closer still, your breath fanning over his face. His hand skips respectably over your back and down to your thigh, holding you up. It's helpful. It's torture. You try not to breathe too loudly.

"You have really soft skin," you say, using your thumb to spread dark contour under his cheekbone, one side of his face gaunt.

You cover your work with your hand as his eyes open.

"Yeah?" he asks.

This closeness. Suddenly, abruptly, the feelings you're trying to push down rear their heads, and the heat becomes hard to ignore.

"Yeah," you murmur, thumb under his eye. He looks ridiculous. You know you look the same.

"Am I done?" he asks. His hand squeezes your thigh as he adjusts his hold.

"Not quite," you say.

You finish his makeup in silence. Time slows. You forget that you're late, content to feel his features under your hands, to learn the planes and dips of his face for the first time like this. You tuck his hair behind his ears carefully, smoothing back his hairline.

He's looking up at you. You sit down in his lap and he moves his hands to behind your back, his head following you down intently. He looks serious.

You draw your hand from his face and drop it onto his thigh, your rings brushing over starchy slacks.

It's his turn to touch you. Steve's hand comes to your face, his broad palm over the entirety of your cheek. You wait for something though you're not sure what, frozen with apprehension, simply watching him take you in.

"Do I look scary?" you ask, eyes on his lips.

They part before he answers, like he knows what he's going to say before he says it. "Horrifying," he murmurs wryly, hand gently pulling your face towards his.

You lift your chin to meet his lips, the muscles of his forearms shifting against your chest as he cups your face in both hands, guiding you to him. Your lips touch, tentative at first, one small kiss that feels more than warm, a homely, perfect fit. He pulls back and you don't, tapping the tip of his nose with yours until he opens his mouth.

You sneak in as his hand runs down your neck, your arm, slow and sleek. He makes a small sound as he takes the lead, opening you up, and it tickles your lips with its vibrations. He sounds content. You're feeling similarly happy, grabbing at his hand where it holds your face, squeezing his wrist to hold it in place as you push yourself into his arms. He takes you eagerly, pulling you chest to chest.

His head bumps the window. You pull apart, panting and happy and giggling, your lips damp and tingling. Steve rubs the back of his head, looking at you with an expression you can't describe.

"What?" you ask, wiping at his bottom lip with your thumb where your lipstick has stained him.

"How come you're so pretty, even like this?"

"Like this, a zombie?" Steve nods slowly. "Let me know when you find out, Harrington."

He pulls you back in with a smirk that sets your tummy aflame. "You think I'm pretty?" he asks, lips a millimetre from yours.

"Super pretty," you say, and kiss him. He loves on your top lip like you've got all the time in the world, kisses warm and slick. "Almost as pretty as me," you say between them.

He slows your kisses, gives you one last peck over your burning mouth. "No one's as pretty as you," he says agreeably.

You beam. Steve beams back though it quickly fades as he brings his arm up to check his watch.

"We're so late," he says, manhandling you off of his lap with an apologetic grimace. "C'mon, we still gotta cover you in blood."

You both get out and Steve sprays you down with fake blood. You laugh as he does, the cold liquid tickling your skin as it trickles down your face and your chest and your tummy.

Steve takes his own bloodying with far less laughter  though he smiles at your glee. He's so handsome you can't help it, stepping into his space for another kiss. There's blood on your lips, evidently, as it transfers to his.

"We need to go," you say, like it's his fault.

"Wait. I have something for you."

Steve opens the driver's side and takes a small object from under the seat. He hands it to you.

"I called in a favour. Dustin and Lucas fixed it up, I checked, like, ten tapes. It works."

In your hands the bane of your existence, your faulty Walkman. There's a fake blood mark in the shape of his thumbprint on the side and you decide you're going to leave it there forever, looking to him with a completely uncool amount of affection.

"Steve," you say happily, a heat behind your eyes.

"I got sick of seeing you pouting, that's all," he says hotly, crossing his arm over his chest. "Now you can stop sulking."

You throw your hands around his neck to hug him tightly, the Walkman pressed to his neck. He oomphs, hands flying to your sides. Your face against his shoulder, you curl a strand of his brown hair around one of your fingers. "Thank you." You dot a corn syrup kiss against his throat. "You're the coolest," you say as you pull away.

His hands move from around your back to your shoulders, holding you at arms length. "People have said that about me."

"I bet."

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thanks for reading! | my masterlist

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader blurb #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things #steve harrington one shot #eddie munson x reader platonic

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen act with their clingy s/o

requested by @cinnamoroxie: aaaa your writing is so cute <33 what ab svt w a pretty clingy / touchy reader? take care of yourself lovie and ty for writing this if u do!! 💓💓

notes: i hope you enjoy!

masterlist

seungcheol:

this man is the father of 12 children and a dog. do you think he'd hate clingy people???? loves it when you randomly reach over to take his hand, or play with his hair, or poke his cheeks. is totally okay with you needing to be squished up against him whenever you're in the same space, bc tbh he really wants that too

jeonghan:

pretends to hate it whenever you practically fall on top of him whenever you see him, but wraps his arms around you so tightly so you can't move away. has a hairband permanently on his wrist, partly so he can tie his hair and partly so you can fiddle with something while his hand is in the space between you. his favourite act of clinginess is when you put his head into your lap and pet his hair

joshua:

have you seen this man? he adores affection, but also becomes so awkward in the face of it. basically shuts down if you kiss his cheek more than 5 times in ten minutes. lets out those beautiful laughs whenever you basically tackle hug him every time your eyes meet. would let you put the world on pause to hug him even if the world was trying to end all around you

junhui:

clingy back with you. you have competitions w him about who is more clingy in your relationship. junhui once spent the entire day hanging like a baby bear draped over your back, and you in turn spent the next day Refusing to let go of your arm linked in his. he starts fake-crying if you're in the same room as him for more than five seconds and yet Have Not come over to immediately crush him in a hug

hoshi:

either cannot get enough of it or is a blushing mess the entire time. you pecked him on the lips one time while he was with the rest of the 96z and he went such a bright pink that it was all they talked about for a year. he pouts The Most if you suddenly let go of his hand while you're walking, but is rendered flusteredly silent if you bend down to kiss his knuckles on a whim

wonwoo:

doesn't mind it, as long as it's not too public. however, he still absolutely loves how your touchiness means that your hand is intertwined with his basically 24/7. will politely tell you if it gets too much, but you being so open with your affection helps him relax too and has definitely been the one to lie in your lap a few times when he's had a tiring day

woozi:

he's resigned himself to essentially forever being your hug toy. used to dislike it if you were attached to him for a little too long, but now he visibly pouts if you're not huddled up next to him on the couch while you're together. goes rlly red if your clinginess manifests itself in kisses, and can barely talk for a minute straight afterwards

minghao:

if you flop into his lap the minute you see him, he'll look down at you in mild panic bc he thinks that something terrible has happened to you to make you clingy. soon gets used to it tho and realises it's just your love language, and is way more relaxed when you unexpectedly put your head in his lap. lets you play with his fingers. and his rings. and his nail polish, which keeps getting chipped bc of you

mingyu:

have you seen this man's arms? i'm betting he gives the best hugs. probably works out for that exact reason. if you suddenly hug him then he's not letting go for at least half an hour. looks like a kicked puppy if you try to leave his arms even if "mingyu seriously i need to pee so badly let me go—" "no, you initiated this, you're not escaping so soon"

dokyeom:

it never even occurs to him that your behaviour could be classified as 'clingy' because he. he is the exact same as you. loves to boop your nose and will giggle so hard if you do it back to him. the idea of you two Not being touching in some way is a concept that just doesn't exist. jeonghan jokes you must have a string connecting you two or something bc you're always together

seungkwan:

he's a hyper person, can barely sit still due to his urge to kick hoshi or argue with dino. however, if you're next to him and link an arm with his or lay your head on his shoulder, he's instantly ceasing his frantic bouncing so you can comfortably touch him. if he gets too worked up tho, then he'll grab your hand instead n drag you around while telling everyone off bc even when mad he'll let you touch him for however long you need

vernon:

totally cool with it. you wanna tug on the hair on the back of his neck while you're bored? he'll tilt his head downwards slightly to give you better access. if you're wearing face paint or makeup tho, pls don't lean your head on him bc he'll get yelled at by seungkwan yet again if he goes to the guy for help in removing makeup stains from his clothes

chan:

loves when your clinginess turns into you just babying him. pinch his cheeks, play with his hair, coo all over him and he's grinning so hard and his serotonin levels are through the roof. vv chill when it comes to your affection, goes about his day super normally even if you're basically hanging off his back like a koala

request guidelines

#fairyhaos.works #seventeen #svt #seventeen fic #seventeen drabble #seventeen headcanons #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #scoups #seungcheol #jeonghan #joshua hong #hong jisoo #junhui #hoshi #wonwoo #woozi #jihoon #minghao #the8 #mingyu #dokyeom #seokmin #seungkwan #hansol #vernon #dino

[harrysmimi]

Fangirl

Synopsis: One where Harry's got yet another concert crush and she's got a sign for him

Ps. . This is sort of a shoutout to my fellow long hair girlies xx

More of my work

Wembley night one.

Harry was excited, nervous, jittery, happy and hyper at th same time. Playing three nights there was surreal enough.

All three of his shows are sold out. They sold put within seconds!

Night one, he got the sound check done, He worked out, took a shower, had some soup and got ready to rock the stage all whilst his opener, Wetleg band went first.

The show was amazing!

The next day he woke up, and did all of it all over again. He enjoyed it every single time. But somehow he was more nervous today. He didn't know why, he had this weird feeling in his gut there.

But it was his turn and the butterflies in his tummy never went away. He stalled for five whole minutes before he had to really go up and get on with the show.

After Late Night Talking, they stopped for a quick instrument change. And during that time it was Harry's sole job to keep the crowd entertained. He had maximum five to six minutes.

"If you've got any signs now is the right time to get them up." He announced as the music came to a halt. As he was going down the catwalk he noticed someone fiddling with a sign frantically in the sea of signs which was now the pit. It was a sketch book to be specific. "You alright there?" He asked catching the girls attention in all white and her hair tied up in a sleek bun. Her head shot up to look at him when the girl next to elbowed her. She had red heart glasses on. "You've got a sign for me?"

"Yes!" She said as loudly as she could.

Harry walked to the edge as he waited for her to show him her sign. He chuckled walking away but he walked back to her. "Can I read it out loud?" With her agreement he proceeded to read, "your sign says, 'if your answer was only "Yes" to question, I want to ask you one. Ps. I came all the way from India and worked my arse off for this night'." He giggled again, turning red from nervousness.

"Okay, first of all, What is your name, love?" He asked, his mic rested on his chin as he spoke.

"YN!"

"YN?" He got it wrong.

"YN!" She corrected him.

"Oh, YN." He got it right this time. "Well, I really appreciate you traveling all the way too for the show and working your arse for it, YN. Really appreciate it." He blew her a little kiss making her gasp, "and to your sign again. Can my answer only be yes?"

"Yeah!" She nodded.

"Okay..." He hesitated, bht what can really go wrong from here? "What is your question, YN? But keep in mind this is a family show." He smiled a cheeky dimply smile, "or is it?" And the crowd went feral.

"No, no, it is actually a family show. My mum and sister are here today." He added, "yeah, your sign YN."

Harry waited as she flipped her sign to the next page. He turned red like a tomato as he walked away again, making the crowd scream and laugh. "It says, 'Will you go on a Coffee date with me, please?' and in parentheses it says, 'You choose Romantic or Platonic'."

He couldn't help but blush, "it says please. Please!" He was impressed. "I guess I'm gonna have to say Yes." He shrugged still laughing, "at least I have a choice. Can it be not a coffee date?"

"It can be a Chai date?"

"It can be a Chai date?" He asked just to be sure, "yeah! Yeah, why not!" He agreed.

"It's a date!" She yelled.

"It's a date!" He announced dramatically.

"Pinky promise?" She yelled again (so he can hear her) holding up her pinky finger.

"Pinky promise!" He went along with it.

"Yeah, I'm here in my wedding dress if the date goes well." She said, making Harry blush and laugh hardee.

"Yeah, if it goes well." He giggled, "YN, you stay right there we're gonna get back to you after the show. We have disco medley to dance on!"

And the crowd roared at that as he started singing Cinema. And through the middle interlude he made up new lyrics.

"Everybody put your hands in the air, everybody put your hands in the air, put your hands in the air. Everybody put your in the air, everybody I've got a date after here, put your hands in the air." He joked as he continued on with his show there.

Sometime in the show, Harry walked back to the catwalk towards the girl with the sign. She seemed to be having a great time. But he stopped and handed her a rose he picked up from the front stage thrown at him during Grapejuice.

And sometime ahead in the show when he got back to the same catwalk, he saw she had tucked the rose on her ear as she danced.

Harry had a blast!

And he was smitten like a little kitten whole night!

......................................................................

It was the next day after the show.

Harry still have four days left until his next show. So he was going to stay back in London and spend time with his mum and sister, and even go visit his dad later sometime.

His sister hasn't stopped pulling his leg over the girl with the sign on night two.

But today he got a call from his dear friend Pauli, who was also his band member. Pauli never calls him, but he haven't checked his Instagram DMs yet.

"Mate!" Pauli exclaimed, "check your DMs on Instagram."

"Oh gosh, you scared me." He sighed, "I will check them in a minute, yeah?"

"Yep, yep, yep. Have a great day mate." Pauli said before they hung up the call.

Harry sat down on his bed. He had to anyway to put his shoes on, so he opened up Pauli's DM. It was a reel video he shared. It was a video of a girl's silhouette dancing to an Indian song, it was beautiful least to say. He went back see what his friend had to say. They asked him to check the profile out.

It was the girl from the girl with the sign, her bio said she's a dance teacher and of course a choreographer. Her account was verified with well over seven hundred fifty thousand followers. He picked the first post to check. It was a series of ten photos.

First one was a video of her being dramatic, with her dress scarf over her head. It also gave the full picture of her outfit, it was a pretty traditional outfit. It was very short and cut of after her and her friend started laughing. The second one was a cute picture of her and her friend. Then a short video of their interaction, when he gave her the rose. Then another of her Sarah giving her a one of the drum stick. And then a few from the dance studio session, he believed they were.

The last video was of her being woken up by her friend, jt was hilarious. "YN wake up, you just told Harry Styles you're getting married if the first date goes well." The voice behind the camera said. He believed it was the friend.

The girl woke up in surprise. "What the fuck?" She exclaimed still half asleep.

"You even showed him the wedding dress."

"No, I didn't?"

"Yes you did. You have a date with him."

"Shut up. Why does my head hurt."

"Because you drank straight up vodka last night."

"What? No!" She whined and the video cut off there.

Harry laughed watching that. He saw a bit of the comment she replied to hust underneath her caption which he did not understand. The comment said, "No, I don't drink and I drank about 100-150 ml of straight vodka my friend snuck into the venue in a Fiji fucking water bottle." Harry had a great laugh with that, and he saw another one of her replied. "My sober self would have NEVER let my intricate thoughts win. But yes, I asked him out. I had to have my shot (pun intended)." He laughed even more.

There were a few more replies. He saw a comment which explained why she was replying to comments was because she couldn't get out of her bed. A bad hangover it was.

There was a little translate button which he pressed to see what her caption was about because he saw a few more comments with laughing faces regarding captions. It said, "My husband's house." To which he laughed even more. His fans are crazy and they crazier stuff than this. He rather found this wholesome and adorable.

Harry almost had a heartattack when his phone slipped out of his hand. Not because he thought it broke, because he might accidentally like the post. He doesn't want to look creepy. He didn't liked it so he let out a sigh of relief and closed the app and locked his phone.

He remembered he was hungry and in need of a breakfast. So he headed out.

His chef was on off, because well he's on tour. And he can't cook to even save his life there. Though he might argue he can bake, just because he worked in a bakery.

He went to his favourite breakfast place. It was small and quiet and no one bothered him there. He also wore his cap, and his hoodie with a pair of sweats this time, a little bit of change in outfit so he have a quiet day by himself.

"Can I please have a get a large iced Matcha Latte and one of the Chocolate croissants to go?" The guy in front of him ordered as he checked of the menu on the side wall mean while. It was his turn to order.

Just as he turned around he saw a familiar face with glasses on, sat at a corner table.

Wait, is he hallucinating or something here?

She wore a beige cardigan paired with a white tshirt, and what looked like to be a pair of baggy jeans, black heeled boots with red bottoms. Her hair was left loose behind her back, and Subway sandwich as she sketched in her sketch pad.

"One Mocha Latte for YN!"

It was her!

He waited by the side where she'd go over and pick her drink.

Harry was in awe. He wasn't sure if her hair were real or she wore extentions, but he was smitten all over again. She stood almost as tall as him which sort of intimidated him there. She checked her cup as she picked it up and almost bumped into him there with a hot drink in her hand.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" She gasped. "Oh my god!" And this was a different gasp of emotion.

"Hello there." He smiled sheepishly.

"This is going to be awkward." She chuckled, seemingly more embarrassed than he was. She looked down at her clothes to make sure nothing was split. Her shirt was his merch. "See! I'm so sorry."

"No, it's alright." He shrugged and watched as his order was ready.

"Just... I am sorry about what I said at the concert." Her cheeks have turned red, "that was so stupid of me."

"Yeah?" Harry gathered up all his courage to say, "why don't you tell me this with coffee then?"

Her eyes went wide as behind her glasses, "sur--sure!" And she agreed. They walked upto the table she was sat at. There was a paper bag from Selfridges and her bag which had a scarf spilling out of it by the side, as if it was shoved in theere in hurry. She closed her sketch pad (which thought he saw a glimpse of a pretty sketch of a dancer she was drawing) and kept it aside and her phone.

"I never drink, and I accidentally drank like I don't know how many shots of vodka." She started explaining it anxiously. "Before you ask how I didn't know it was vodka. I am a dancer and you know after you've been working out for so long and you drink some water and tour throat burn a little? Wait, that sounded so wrong but you know what I mean! I literally did not meant to say what I said apart from the sign!"

"Calm down, love calm down." He smirked trying to hold back his his laugh. "It's alright, I promise it's alright."

He's just having a happy and giggly day!

"Thank you." She sighed and sunk into her seat.

"Hope you at least enjoyed the show?"

"Oh yes, I did." She nodded sitting up straight again and reached for her sandwich. "I remember everything, except for after I accidentally got shit faced, as you all say it here."

"Understandable." He commented.

"How's your day going so far?" She asked.

Oh boy how YN hated small talks. But she doesn't want this to be an awkward encounter with the celebrity love of her life!

"It's been amazing." He admitted, "what about you? Are you here on a vacation?"

Okay, he's bringing something along to chat. Okay, YN calm down!

"Oh, no I'm not here on a vacation." She shared, "as I said I'm a dancer so I'm here for the semi finals and finals for this compitition I entered in."

"Oh, that's interesting." He was amused, "did you win? Oh wait, you had your finals yet?"

"Yeah. I got the second place." She smiled proudly. "It was just yesterday."

"That's amazing, congratulations!" He gasped. He's genuinely happy for her.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" She now beamed at him with excitement. Or you can say quiet excitement, as she took a sip from her coffee.

He liked the way she talked and how she carried herself. Especially now she's all sober and not drunk dancing like she was at his concert. Both those situations show her personality. But he liked how she talked. Something about her felt so delicate. Her posture was way too perfect, it made him feel insecure about his as he sat up straight.

"You're in town for longer?" He asked hesitantly.

"No," she let out a sad sigh, "I am going back home this evening actually."

Now he didn't know what to say further and it looked she had nothing to say either. And neither of them had touched their breakfast. Which was going to be awkward to leave. YN took a bite of her sandwich.

"You know what, I am so bad at small talk." She admitted making him giggle.

"So am I." He admitted too, "what's that?" He pointed at her sketch pad. It made her go red again.

"I draw a little." She admitted and picked up her book. She flipped rhe cover to show him a pretty little sketch of a bunch of roses. And she carefully skipped five pages to the one he saw a glimpse of earlier. It was half done sketch of a ballerina, it looked like she was drawing it with her own imagination.

"That's very pretty." He commented, "why'd you skip those five pages?"

Okay, Stage Harry making an appearance with the confidence there!

"Those are not done yet!" She got defensive. And he just squinted his eyes at her, "I'm already so embarrassed Harry, honestly." She held back a sheepish smile.

It was indeed a smiley and giggly and happy day today!

"Are you gonna show me?"

She sighed and turned the page for him. It was a sketch of rhe grumpy bear from his Gucci collection and the next one was his sketch. The one he posted after his San Jose, Live On Tour show. And the next was his Madison Square Garden pose sketch. And next was from the Coachella show with extremely detailed drawing of his tattoos, and a cowboy hat.

"Oh I love this one!" He is really mesmerises by it.

"Thank you." Her cheeks hurt from smiling and blushing so much in that moment. "You can keep it."

"It's alright." He felt bad now. He doesn't want to take what looks to be hours and hours of work. "Looks like it took many hours to draw."

His accent was sending her to heaven, but she managed to keep her cool. "It's alright." She proceeded to tear off the page carefully.

"Thank you." He's going to get it framed and hung up at his home. Yup, that's the first thing he's going to do!

Harry carefully placed the thick paper in the book he was reading. And it got super silent between both of them, as he sipped his coffee and she ate her sandwich. The chatter became just a background noise. It was comfortable and not awkward. Until her phone dinged with five messages back to back.

"Excuse me." She picked up her phone to check the message. She typed a quick message, with a looks of upset and disappointment on her face.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah." She nodded, "it was my friend asking when I have to leave." Her friend was going to drop her off to the airport today. She's got to go back and pack up and all. She placed the last bite of her sandwich down on the wrapper not knowing how to tell him she has to go now. It felt wrong. "I should go now? Have to pack and stuff."

"Mhmm." He nodded.

"I'm really sorry about this." She felt bad, because they didn't get to talk much.

"It's alright, love, you got a flight to catch I understand." He nodded as he watched in awe and she placed her scarf around over her neck and gather her stuff.

"Please take care of that for me, it took me fourteen hours to make." She said as she got up and hung her bag on her shoulder.

"I promise." He smiled a dimply grin as he glanced at the little sketch. "Hey, YN?"

"Hmm?" She looked at him as she picked up the trash to throw it in the bin on her way out.

"I, uhhh, can I have your number?" He asked. It had YN's heart almost burst open in her chest cavity.

Harry Freaking Styles is asking for her number?!

"You want my number?" YN couldn't believe what she heard.

She was only joking when she took that sign with her. She sat back down on her seat giving him her fully undivided attention.

"Mhmm." Harry nodded, with curiosity behind his bight green eyes and lips pursed in a thin line. He pulled out his phone to unlocked it to open the dial pad and placed it on the table facing her.

He noticed how she didn't even pick up the device as she typed her number with shaky number. She typed in her name with her pointer finger as she saved it and slide his phone back towards him. Her cheeks had turned a visible shade of rosy tint. He immediately sent her a dot so she could have his number and not think he's a creep when he decides to text her.

That's when he also noticed she's got an Android. He'll definitely have to download WhatsApp now!

"Okay, Harry I really have to run now." She shared, "I broke my shoes and I can't walk fast in heels."

"Yeah." He nodded a beaming smile, "talk to you soon."

"Hmm." She nodded and sped walked out. As she walked past the glass window she waved at him before she jogging out of his sight.

He spent next hour and half with his earphones in, stalking her page. The reels side. Videos of her dancing with a crowd of people. Effortlessly beautiful. Different studios and different locations.

There was a video of her dancing for who looked to be her grandma and mother. The older lady looked very impressed as she sat there in her chair. And the next video was of her dancing with her mum and the next was her recreating old and black and white pictures of her grandma.

It looked like she comes from family of dancers.

He's obsessing over her now. He stopped and noticed he's run out of coffee and that way too much screen time for him. So he went home grinning like a little boy.

......................................................................

It had been a good few months. Harry felt way too awkward to message her. Nothing about their interaction at the cafe was shared by her or anyone really.

It was nearing December. He's framed the piece of art she gave him and hung it where it is in plain sight. He was also hosting a quiet little surprised birthday party for his elder sister.

He's been in deep conflict and he hasn't shared it with anyone else. His interaction with her at the cafe.

But he saw on her WhatsApp stories that she's back in London for work again. He was in London so he texted her to check on if she's up for a little meet up. But his message unfortunately went unseen for a day and half. But he recieved a call from her instead.

He'd just woken up from his impromptu afternoon nap after his intense workout session, which was supposed to be just half an hour long but it's almost seven in the evening. He hadn't even changed yet.

"Hello?" Her voice rang through the speaker phone which was enough to break his sleep there.

"Hello!" He woke up abruptly, "Hi!"

"Were you off to bed already? I'm so sorry to wake you up." Her voice was full of sympathy thinking she woke him up.

"No, I was, I was taking a nap. What's up?"

"I just called to apologise, I saw your message on my notifications but I literally forgot to reply. I've just been so busy. I don't know how to say this over message..." Her voice trailed off with a hint of sheepishness.

"It's alright, I understand." And he really does understand. "I texted you to see if you're up for a meal, and uhhhh, to catch up...?" And he's nervous now.

"I am sorry, I am really busy tomorrow. I have rehearsals for the tour— fuck!" She cut off herself, "I am not supposed to speak about it. I, I am busy tomorrow as well."

He chuckled, "we can meet up now or whenever you're free today."

"Wouldn't it be too late?" Now she sounds nervous.

"I slept for five hours now, don't think I'll be able to sleep again." He shrugged as if she can see him through a voice call, feeling his cheeks grow warmer and tired with a realisation that he's been grinning like a totally idiot.

"Okay. Uhhh, yeah, okay. I'll just have to go back to my hotel, take a shower, and get ready, and, and, I don't know..." She panicked and talked to herself, "okay, we can meet at around ten...ish... If you're fine with that?"

"Send me your location I'll pick you up at ten-thirty." He chuckled again, her little ramble was so adorable to him.

"Okay!" She squeaked.

Harry heard someone calling her name, that was the queue for him to get off the call and get ready. And so he did. He bid her bye and ran to shower. Get out of his dirty and sweaty clothes. He spent three hours getting ready, as if he's going on an actual date.

At exactly ten he recieved her location. He was dressed in a pair of jeans, his white 'Enjoy your health. Eat your honey' shirt and a black coat to keep himself warm. With a pair of black sneakers he reached first. He didn't had much time so picked the first black pair he saw and ran with it.

With traffic it's take him forty minutes to get to her location. He dropped her a text once he reached to the hotel she was staying that.

It was a luxurious and fancy to say the least.

He saw her getting out of the entrance as she bid her friends bye and walked towards the direction he had told her to. It took a few moments to see him. But he saw her.

She wore exactly same outfit as him, but with a black tshirt and her beige coat and white comfy sneaker. Her heels were missing. Her hair left loose this time. Her staple pair lf priscription glasses were placed on the bridge of her nose. A silver necklace shined over the black fabric of her shirt.

"Harry!" She gasped once she noticed him and sped walked towards him. "I am still going to fangirl, please excuse me!"

He chuckled as he approached for a hug, "no worries." He snaked his arms around her middle pulling her in a tight and warm hug, just to get one right back.

He'd hugged her just a couple lf times but she gives the best hugs.

Yup!

"I have something for you!" She got all giddy and giggly as she pulled away from their hug.

"What is it?" Obviously he's curious.

"Not now," she wiggled her brows cheekily. "Where are we going?"

"Well, if you haven't had your dinner yet, I hope to take you somewhere for dinner." He already opened the car door for her.

"Oh yes please!" She sighed, "I am starving." And got into his car.

"As you say." He closed the door and jogged to the drivers side. "What do you want to eat?"

"Hmm, let me think." She put in a thought into it as she put on her seat belt and he'd already pulled out of the car park, "I want to try fish and chips... Is that too touristy to say?"

"Not at all!" He defended, "we can have fish and chips." He drove to a location just fifteen minutes away. And she followed him in there, it was not very crowded given it was around the closing time. Clearly, it was a pub she saw as she headed upstairs.

"You know I don't drink, right?" She whispered, following him closely behind.

"I know, but this place has the best fish and chips." He led her to an empty table, "you want me to take your coat?"

"No, it's okay I'm cold." She shrugged. They ordered their food and sat in a cosy little corner.

"So you're going on a tour?" He squinted his eyes at her.

"Stop, I wasn't supposed to talk about that. I'll get in serious trouble!" She gasped making him laugh.

"I promise, your secret is safe with me." He pushed for the last time, if she denies he wouldn't talk about jt ever again. But she looked around to see the people already engaged in their own time there as she leaned forward.

"I am going to be a part of The Eras Tour now!" She whispered before she was kicking her feet like a baby in excitement.

"What!? That's amazing!" He was surprised to hear that to say the least.

"Yes!" She grinned, "we start off in Tokyo. You're going to any of the shows?"

"I am definitely going now." He nodded feeling bold, "on one condition."

"What is that?" She looked at him confused.

"Maybe we can call this a date?" He shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible and watched her face go pale.

"You are serious?" She countered instead of answering his query first.

He leaned in closer over the table too, "I think I've made it pretty clear, I like you." A sheepish chuckle left his mouth, "like a lot!"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on. I wasn't expecting this!" She announced with a gasp. "You're pranking me?"

Harry squinted his eyes, " why would I joke about this?"

"You're joking!" Now this was a surprised accusation on him which sent him laughing.

"I am not." He cleared his throat after he was done laughing.

"I, uhhhh," she stuttered, "I need time to think..."

"No worries." He said but before he could say anything further, their food was served.

Harry switched to another topic to make the situation less awkward. She definitely felt awkward and he's rather have her be comfortable than be adamant in getting his way.

"You're not drinking right?" She asked.

"No, I gotta drive." He answered, "why so?"

"No, 'cause I paid like two hundred pound fee for driving without a licence and going over the speed limit here last night." She shared sheepishly, "in my defence all of my friends were drunk their ass off and I had no idea how the uber thing works here. They definitely would have arrested me but they let me go, I don't want to risk that. I still don't know how the uber thing works. That's like my entire month salary gone..."

She's got a job which pays ber better now so she was fine with paying the fine. Or she wouldn't have mind spending a night behind bars. Yeah, she'd do that.

He giggled, "don't worry that won't happen." He understands, it's a new place for her and it can be difficult to figure out addresses and stuff. Especially when it comes to have some stranger drive you around when you don't know the area so well. "You want Icecream?"

"Always down for Icecream!" She announced.

Harry took her to his favourite ice cream place before he drove her back to her hotel. Now, he didn't wanted the night to come to come an end with her. He could spend hours and hours talking and listening her talk. He got put of his car just so he can make the moments linger more. He hugged her but held onto her hand as he wished her a good night.

"Thank you for, uhhhh, taking me out." YN stuttered as she spoke with a sheepish smile, "and about, ummm, your question... I, uhhhh, I don't want things to get you know sour between me and uhhh..." She was trying to find words in language he understands but he already had idea where she was going with this. "With uhhh, me and Taylor. Please don't get me wrong. She's my employer and now she's become a good friend of mine during the rehearsals and stuff. Given you two were together, even though it was a decade ago. I still want to talk to her."

"Mhmm." Harry nodded, because that meant hope was still hanging in there. His heart is still intact in his chest with these new growing feelings.

"But if you're still going to any of the show let me know, okay?" He squeezed his hand slightly.

"I will."

"Promise?"

"I promise!" He squeezed her hand back.

It just means he get to be fancy and take her out on a proper date!

......................................................................

That was last year.

Harry was in Tokyo for the first show which YN was part of. He was there with his friends and even his sister joined along with her boyfriend.

YN had sent a bouquet of flowers and a card at his place his birthday, which undoubtedly made his entire year. It was a nice gesture given she said she's so bad at gift giving, especially for birthdays. He kept the card safe.

He has also been waiting for her answer eagerly. Even though it should be pretty evident it's a yes, they talk a lot more now given she's so freaking busy, they're both always texting or sending each other snaps of highlights of their days.

Harry bought a bouquet of flowers for her before he was off to see her. They were meeting up at this little cafe he picked out, but it was going to be her treat in celebration of her new project beginning. It was so special because Japan is his most favourite place to be. And YN have also been so excited to show him something in particular she wouldn't tell him over text or their usual phone calls.

Just as he was about to text her to see if she was there as he walked up the street, he saw her jogging looking at her phone screen. Probably at the google maps. Her face framing hair bounced around her features, as she tried to be as fast as she can in a pair of sandals. A baggy hoodie and her favourite paor of jeans. Her usual glasses missing.

Harry remembered her saying she got contact lenses as she can't really perform with her glasses on. And she needs to see the stage for that.

"Harry!" She squealed omce she saw him.

"Hello love!" He greeted her with his usual warm hug, and recieved one right back. YN just squeezed him tight, like her life depends on it. "I got you flowers." He quietly whispered in her ear there.

"I know!" Her face buried in the fabric of his Bode button down shirt.

Now both of them spent their entire day together, had all three meals and snacks out, walked around seeing all they could see in a day, hand in hand. Before Harry was walking her back to her hotel, which was barely five minutes away from hers.

"I'll take you to see more places later, now please take some rest you've got a big day tomorrow." They both stopped just outside her hotel.

"I know!" YN nodded excitedly with her tired eyes moving closer to him. She works for next four days straight then she's got five days off before she's got to go to Australia for next shows. "You'll be there right?"

"Of course, came all the way here for it." He assured her, feeling his heart flutter in his chest.

"If your answer was yes, I want to ask you a question.' She spoke with a subtle cheeky smile on her face.

"Go for it." He said.

"You want today to be a date?" Now he completely forgot about his question he asked months and months ago. He was just pulled back to senses when she moved even closer to him, making his heart thump in his ears.

YN has had plenty of time to think, work on herself and talk to her new friends/ employer about this. Of course, Taylor is not a kid anymore. She was in fact so happy for YN, when she approached her one random day at the dinner after rehearsals. They both sat down seperately and had a nice thoughtful chat.

YN of course told her mother and grandmother, who she is the closest to about this. They obviously support her because she's so happy. Her missed her mum and grandmother, one of them couldn't travel because of their age and the other couldn't come because they had to take care of the other. She misses her family, being away isn't as romantic as she thought it would be.

But today was amazing. She felt like she had someone known with her for the first time in months and months, in flesh next to her.

YN just wanted to kiss him then and there. In the middle of the street. But she didn't know how to approach with it.

"Hands down, it was the best date I've ever been on." He shared with a beaming smile on his face. "We should do this again, yeah?" He snaked his arms around her waist sure that she's figured everything out by now and that she's finally willing to give them a chance.

"Yeah!" She nodded. He went in for a kiss as the same time as her, bumping into her nose they both ended up in a fit of giggle. "I am sorry!" She laughed, "I've never kissed anyone."

Harry giggled again but assured her, "it's okay." He leaned in again, his time taking the charge he placed his mouth on hers in a delicate kiss. Once he pulled away he had her blushing her forehead pressed on his chest. "It's just a kiss, you're gonna get a lot of those now!" He laughed hugging her again. She groaned before lifting her head up to look at him with a red face.

"I was just a fangirl!" She couldn't believe her life in that moment.

"Now I'll be a fangirl tomorrow." He pointed out, "cheering especially for you."

......................................................................

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[shrugs-a-lot]

More VBS things

Few headcanons under the cut

Kohane has little hampter hands, she also has a unconscious tendency to try to constantly keep them occupied. This means she likes grabbing things which includes but is not limited to her squadmates clothes or fingers. This can happen while walking or mid conversation:

- An is the one it happens to most often: She places a hand on Kohane’s shoulder? Kohane’s fingers will come up to tangle with hers if she leaves it there long enough. They’re walking side by side? You guessed it, Kohane’s intertwining pinkies or grabbing the bottom of her sleeve until An initiates actual proper hand holding, which somehow manages to make Kohane bashful 9 times out of 10. Kohane will even fiddle with An’s fingers at times instead of her own when nervous. An always ensures Kohane understands just how adorable her habit is, Kohane is never not mortified when she does so.

- Toya just silently goes out of his way to accommodate Kohane whenever it happens to him, it’s in the same way a person will find themselves stuck when a cute animal sleeps on their lap. No matter the activity, he’ll switch to doing it one handed: drinking coffee, awkwardly flipping the pages of a book he’s reading with his fingers, writing while his notebook keeps slipping away while Kohane obliviously plays with his other hand. Kohane will usually eventually realize and profusely apologize, releasing his hand, Toya will always reply that he doesn’t mind.

- Akito just… stared, the very first time she grabbed his sleeve while they were walking together. When Kohane noticed what she was doing Akito could have created an uncrackable password from the horrified noises that came out of her. He cut through it all to just gruffly say it’s fine and that she could do what she wants. He says nothing more about it when she starts regularly grabbing at his jacket and after a similar song and dance, his fingers. Internally though, Akito never stops finding it funny just how small Kohane’s hands are.

An, at a certain moment, discovers she likes giving nicknames, like, a lot:

- Toya is the very first subject, though it was initially on accident. After seeing how much he enjoyed his first nickname, An openly calls him by it for a good week until, on a random whim, she calls him something slightly different. Tono equally loved the second one as much as the first, so An goes by it for a few days more until she switches it up again. Ton Ton also really liked it. Henceforth, a cycle started, An would call him something new depending on her mood, and Toya would be delighted each time, like a joke that never gets old. Though there is a point where the names devolve into something that, no matter how much you squint, do not resemble the original name at all, much to the confusion of anyone who is not Transformer Truck.

- Akito is next to fall victim to An’s nicknaming, he does not take to it as well as Toya does. An gets a kick out of how unamused he gets when he hears one. Akito has threatened multiple times that he will stop responding to An unless she uses his actual name, he has yet to actually act on it. An has fun looping through the select names that tick Akito off the most while he loops between asking her to stop, groaning, or glaring. One day though, he retaliates by giving her a dumb nickname to see how she likes it, safe to say An found it hysterical and a sort of competition began between them to find the most creative insult to call the other. Potato face will never admit out loud that he finds it entertaining.

- Kohane’s kind of a special case, because while An does occasionally shorten her name of call her some variation of it, she takes more enjoyment in adding adjectives to the word partner as if it was a sort of game. An’s highest score is a 7 adjective chain that drove Kohane to try to sink under the table they were sitting at in sheer embarrassment. When An realized after a while that she can get away with using pet names or terms of endearment, Kohane was introduced to the wonderful world of being called a little cabbage in french after An decided to go worldwide with her names. Kohane, after a lot of thinking and hyping herself up, goes out and calls An her melody as a gesture of reciprocation, she only barely makes it through the overjoyed squeal and crushing hug that followed.

#project sekai #vivid bad squad #vbs #an shiraishi #kohane azusawa #akito shinonome #toya aoyagi #doodle doo #vivids #anhane

[french-goodbye]

If you want it good, downright iconic

Summary: your third date with Eddie goes even better than expected.

Warnings: kissing, masturbating. 18+, MINORS DNI.

Notes: title from Gibson Girls by Ethel Cain bc Eddie would’ve loved preacher’s daughter.

The first time Eddie asked you out, you were honestly surprised.

He now had been regularly dropping by the record store where you work, all smiles and fleeting touches, usually backed by silly teasing jokes. At the beginning you thought he might’ve liked you, but then two months went by and you thought to yourself that if he was interested, he would’ve definitely asked you out by now… right?

Turns out you were wrong and he was just bidding his time to make sure you were interest before he made a move. That happened a month ago, when he stopped by the store in his usual leather jacket and a pretty wildflower bouquet in his hands, and nervously asked if you wanted to hang out sometime.

“Like a date?” you’d asked hopefully, considering the huge crush you’d been nursing on him ever since he first walked into the store, chains hanging from his black jeans and chunky silver rings.

“If you want it to be” was all he said, fiddling with those same rings on his fingers.

Now after two official dates and many non official hang outs, he was taking you on your third one. The two of you had decided on watching the movie Halloween on the drive in by the edge of town and he had picked you up at your house earlier that night, a beaming smile on his face and a bag full of your favorite snacks on the passenger seat. Then, you couldn’t be bothered to hide your desire to squish his cheeks together and press kisses to his face until he was flushing red and pushing you away, claiming you’d be late for the movie.

After the movie, he had invited you to his trailer claiming his his uncle was on the night shift at work once more and that “he needed you to hold his hand because of how scary the movie was”. Of course you said yes, and that’s how you found yourself being led to his trailer, his hand clasped in yours swinging between your bodies.

You’re not stupid. You know what the third date usually entails, and the fact that Eddie invited you to his house when his uncle isn’t home just all but guarantees he’s thinking the same thing. It’s not like you can reprimand him for that either, since he took the first step and asked you out, you haven’t been exactly shy on telling him how attracted to him you are.

You’ve kissed enough times by now to know what he likes and what he doesn’t, but tonight was the farthest you’ve ever gone. The darkness of the drive in and the privacy of his van making it so, so easy for you to climb over the gear shift of his van and onto his lap and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him, until his van’s windows were foggy and your lips were red and spit slicked and you could feel his hardness poking your thigh for a second, before he readjusted you on his lap as Michael Myers killed Laurie’s friends behind you.

“I really don’t understand why people always die after having sex in horror movies” you complain as you take off our shoes by the front door, his hand on your elbow so you don’t loose your balance. “It’s such a puritanical take.”

“It’s the satanic panic, sweetheart. Can’t have teenagers having pre marital sex” he answers as he toes off his own sneakers and guides you to his now familiar room, that you came to know at your other non official dates, when he had forced you to come over to listen to the new Metallica album and to watch him play guitar for you.

“It’s stupid, it’s what it is” you complain, walking into his room like you own the place. You start removing your jewelry and putting it on top of his dresser.

“Oh, so you are having pre marital sex, sweetheart?” His eyes are almost dancing and he’s wiggling his brows suggestively, teasing you.

Despite his teasing jokes, you can’t help the knot that tightens in your stomach just by thinking of sex and Eddie Munson in the same sentence. You want so bad to find out everything that makes him tick, how he likes to be touched and how he’d sound if you touched him. Tonight had been the farthest you ever got together, as you sat on his lap and felt his half hard cock almost burn a whole through your dress and felt him give you a particularly nasty hickey on your neck.

You throw him a bored glance over your shoulder, trying to smother the fire in your belly as he walks closer, cornering you against his desk as his chest presses to yours.

“Is that your way of asking if I’m gonna have sex with you?” you ask boldly, but smiling and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Since it’s our third date and all.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t wanna do that” he shakes his head vehemently and you raise your brows. “I mean, you just said people who have sex in horror movies die. I’d never risk my life like that.”

“So you’d risk mine?” You scoff indignantly.

He shrugs, “yeah, sure. Why not?”

“You wouldn’t survive even if you didn’t have sex anyway” you sulk playfully, feeling his hands reach for your waist and pull you closer.

“Excuse me? I resent that statement.”

“You’re the town’s satanist, remember? You’re the first suspect,” you explain as he walks backwards towards his bed, turning you around when he’s close enough and pushing you around until the mattress hits your knees. “You gotta die so people can be sure you aren’t really the killer.”

“What about you? Are you the pretty girl who survives despite it all?” He asks, his nose rubbing against yours and his lips so, so close.

“It depends…” you begin. “Are you gonna make a move on me or are we just talking about horror movie tropes all night?”

He laughs loudly, gently pushing you backwards until you fall and bounce on his bed, squealing loudly as you do. He immediately throws himself on the bed and crawls after you.

“Oh, we’re feeling feisty today, aren’t we?” He asks, kneeling as you your legs spread wider so he can slot himself in the space between them.

“I’ve been waiting long enough for you, Munson” you tease.

“Excuse me? You could’ve made a move! What about feminism?” He complains, lowering himself until he’s on top of you and his hips are pressed between your legs and you can feel his half hard cock from your time at the drive in probing your inner thigh.

“I’m a lady!” you protest, your hands climbing up his back to pull him impossibly closer. “We don’t do that”

He smiles but leans closer and closer, until his lips brush yours, but still doesn’t kiss you. You try to kiss him but he dodges you, one of his hands sinking into the hair at nape of your neck to tug it and pull you away as he holds himself up with his other hand.

“Beg for it then, little lady”

“Eddie-“ you whine, trying to kiss him again as he grips your hair to stop you almost forcefully.

“Say please for me?” He asks pressing a wet kiss to each of your cheeks gently, a stark contrast to his hand on your hair.

“Please, Eddie. Please kiss me.” You beg, scrunching your brows almost a little desperately.

He smirks smugly but obliges, leaning down to kiss you and releasing the hold he has on your hair. You brush your tongue against his bottom lip and he lets you in, making your nails dig on his back and your legs spread open even wider so you can feel more of him.

His hand slips under your skirt and he grabs your ass, squeezing one of your butt cheeks hard. You whine underneath him, grinding your hips against his.

“Wanted you like this for so long.” He whispers when he breaks the kiss, rolling his hips to meet yours and finding you so hot and warm he can feel it through his jeans.

“Not longer than me.” You answer, wrapping your legs around his hips. “I’ve wanted to do this since you walked into the store.”

“Why do you think I walked in in the first place?” He murmurs against your lips, guiding your hips to meet his through layers of underwear and denim.

You feel infinitely more attracted to him at his admission and tug on his hair so you can kiss him again, again and again for what feels like hours, until you’re soaking through your underwear and his cock is rubbing a spectacularly good place around your clit.

He breaks the kiss to mouth on your neck, going lower until he’s reaching the neckline of your dress and sucking a mark bellow your collarbone.

“Thought so much about this,” you babble, your fingers sinking into his hair to keep his mouth on your cleavage, not really thinking about anything else but him. “Touched myself thinking about this.”

He immediately freezes on top of you and you regret your words as he pulls his mouth from your neck to see your face.

“Did you really?” He asks breathlessly.

“Yeah… is that- is that weird?” You ask self consciously and his hand shift from your ass to rub on your hip soothingly.

“Did you forget who you’re talking to? I’m the town freak,” he scoffs, squeezing your hip reassuringly. “That’s actually really fucking hot”

“You think so?” You ask, fiddling with his hair.

“Definitely” he nods rapidly, making his hair fly all over his face. You’re laughing quietly when he kisses you forcefully, but quickly. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What did you think about when you touched yourself?”

“Eddieee-“ you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“No, come on. Don’t hide from me.” He begs, pulling your hands away and holding them between his own.

“That’s embarrassing” you complain, playing with the rings still on his fingers.

“Why?” He shrugs. “I’ve done the same thing.”

You still, your brows raising in interest “you did?”

“Yeah,” he stammers, suddenly shy himself. “Is that weird?”

“No” you answer honestly, a hot star burning in your belly thinking about it. Thinking about him all alone in his room, getting hard and fisting his cock just at the mere thought of you, trying to keep quiet so his uncle can’t hear him. “What did you think about?”

“You,” he shrugs. You look at him curiously and he shrugs again. “What you’d sound like, what you’d look like if I got my hands on you… you know.”

“What else?”

“Why I am the only one baring my soul here?” He asks suddenly, his cheeks red and looking at you accusatorially.

“Sorry,” you say, scrunching your face in thought. “That’s not fair, is it?”

He shakes his head in no, “why don’t we make it a game? I tell you something and you tell me something?”

That sounds fair, you think to yourself. You do wanna know more, curiosity gnawing at your stomach to find out what he thought about you, if they’re the same things you did, if your fantasies match his.

“Fine” you agree, finally.

“So…” he teases, booping your nose playfully. “What did you think about?”

You look at him for a second, his bright brown eyes and flushed cheeks and his earnest expression. And you know in your heart Eddie would never betray you or shame you for whatever you’re about to say or do here in his room. Everything that happens in the private space between you is staying where it should be.

“Okay…” you begin, not sure where to start. “I thought about your fingers rubbing my clit, about how you’d feel with your head between my thighs.”

He looks like you’ve just told him Christmas came earlier, his hips unconsciously jerking against yours and the pressure of his grip on your hips increasing. You sigh and your hands climb up his arms to his back, rubbing your hands between his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking hot” he splutters, his hips still moving slowly on top of yours and his hand digging, tightening his hold on your bare hips. “I thought about that too…how you’d like it, what you’d sound like. Thought about how you’d look with my cock in your mouth, with my cum on your tits.”

“I bet you looked so fucking good jerking off”

He suddenly leans down to kiss you again, all tongue and teeth, his hips still driving against yours. He roughly pulls away when you’re both breathless and you’re almost feeling dazed.

“Why don’t you show me what you look like when you touch yourself, pretty girl?” He murmurs, his lips still brushing against yours and tucking some loose hair behind your ear.

You nod avidly, wanting nothing but to relieve the pressure building in your lower stomach and to put on a show for him, show him what you could’ve been doing all this time if either of you had just made a move sooner. He leans away to be able to see all of you, his hands spreading your thighs when he kneels between them.

You slide your hand down your belly, lifting your dress up to your waist so your lower half is exposed. He watches avidly, following your fingers as you slip them under your underwear and find yourself wet and swollen, a moan leaving your lips at the feeling of finally being touched.

“The first time I touched myself thinking about you,” you begin, your previous shame turning into hot liquid licking down your spine at the way he’s looking at you right now. “Was after you told me you were in a band. You know what they say about guitarists, right? I kept thinking if that was true”

He exhales a laugh through his nose, pushing his hair away from his face. He squeezes your thigh meanly, like molding bread underneath his fingertips.

“You’ll find out” he promises.

“Can I take these off?” You complain, already pushing your underwear down your legs with his help and quickly getting rid of your dress too, baring yourself completely to him since you’re not wearing a bra. He casually throws your clothes over his shoulder, not caring where or how they land, his whole focus on you as he sprawls you open, forcing your thighs against his sheets so he can see your bare pussy, his hands spreading your legs so wide it almost aches.

You smear your wetness around your entrance to your clit and start rubbing it under your fingertips, slowly building a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Such a pretty pussy, why’d keep it away from me for so long?”

He swiftly pulls his shirt over the back of his head, exposing miles of pale and inked skin. You barely have time admire him as he comes closer, so close you can feel his hard cock against the back of your hand over denim, one of his hands shifting up your thigh to brush his thumb over your ribs.

“Can I…?” He starts, looking intently at your breasts and you interrupt him.

“Yes, yes” you breathe out and increase the speed of your fingers over your clit, as he slides his hands up to experimentally brush his thumb over your nipple.

“Fuck, have been dying to get my hands on them” he admits, cupping the weight of your breast on his hands and then pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Looked so pretty with those tank tops, almost couldn’t stop looking”

You mewl underneath him, the feeling of his body so close, his fingers pulling and twisting your nipples and the knowledge of what you’re doing to him making you climb to your peak faster than usual. He takes notice of the way your hips are moving in time with your hand and squeezes your nipple harder, leaning down until you’re face to face.

“You’re gonna cum, sweet thing? Come on, show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.”

Your free hand pulls him closer by the neck so you can kiss him, exhaling into his mouth as you furiously rub your clit. Nothing but thoughts of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie echoing through your mind. He guides you through your high, whispering sweet nothings against your mouth, pressing his lips to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead as his hips grinding against your thigh.

When you’re finally done, your fingers moving away from your clit because of the sensitivity and his arms thrown over you as he lays on the spot next you, watching you in awe like you just played the sickest guitar riff ever.

“I knew you incredible before,” he says, his fingers stroking the skin of your ribs, tracing the bone underneath. “But damn, sweetheart.”

“Shut up” you complain laughingly, turning on your side to see him. His face is bright red, like he just came back from a run and his hair’s incredibly messy, more than usual and his brown eyes are so, so bright and happy.

You can’t help but lean over to press a kiss to his lips, a lingering one that goes on for a long time. The previously put out embers in your belly lighting up a fire again. You’re starting to slip your hand down his body to cup his erection when he stops you. You pull away to look at him questioning until you notice how shifty he is, and you look at his crotch only to find a wet spot there.

“Did you just…?” You begin.

“Y-yeah… listen, sweetheart, I’m sorry-” you interrupt before he can continue apologizing, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“That’s so fucking hot.” you claim matter-of-factly, still suffocating him with quick kisses on his lips.

“There’s no way you think that, you don’t have to spare my feelings-“

“Excuse me? I think the fact you were so turned on over me touching myself you came in your pants so incredibly fucking hot, thank you very much” you climb over him, straddling his body in all your naked glory and his eyes can’t seem to be able to stop roaming your body, his eyes constantly shifting from your tits, to your belly, to your hips and to your mound.

“Okay, okay. If you think so, sweetheart” he says appeasingly, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. You lean down again until you’re face to face and you can kiss his lips wetly.

“When does your uncle get home again?” You ask between kisses.

“Around 7am… why?”

You pull away to see his face and you can’t contain the beaming smile taking over yours.

“How long until you can get going again?” You question, slowly moving your hips on top of him. He watches you eagerly.

“Not long,” he answer and you can feel the damp patch of denim underneath you getting wetter as you grind against him. You also can distinctly feel his cock twitching through his underwear. “With the way you’re all over me”

You throw your head back in laughter and he digs his fingers on your hips painfully.

“Then maybe you can show me what exactly you were thinking about when you jerked off… something about my mouth on your cock and your cum on my tits?”

“You’re fucking perfect” he states seriously, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. He pulls you down until he’s hungrily kissing you, all tongue and teeth and way too wet, but you can’t really complain.

Turns out, he doesn’t really need that long to get hard again. Who would’ve thought?

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