#yes I’m romanticizing my life what about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mysterystarz · 8 days

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kiss me maybe:

summary: finding a flier for the volleyball's kissing booth was surprising for two reasons. a) kuroo had created one of the worst fliers known to mankind and b) oikawa tooru, the school's resident pretty boy was capitalizing off the rumors surrounding him. still, you couldn't deny your attraction to the setter, and he couldn't hide that you were the only one he wanted to kiss

pairing: oikawa tooru x g!n reader

word count: 12.6k (please give this a chance)

genres + themes: college!au, sort of friends to lovers(?), fluff, angst, kuroo being an occasional menace, iwaizumi being the sexiest friend you can have, kiyoko being an icon, romanticized college experience, oikawa being an idiot but yours

warnings: cursing, a tad suggestive in some parts, absolutely not proofread

a/n: hi there i am back with a long fic. anyways this thing is my lovechild and probs the most fanfic thing ive written. its really just a fluff monster (lol) and i hope you give this a chance <3 also dedicated to @chimielie because her stuff gave me the inspo to write ily lia thank you for being so talented

It was said that Oikawa Tooru’s kisses were mythical.

Some claimed that one press of lips from the kingly setter was like a hit of a drug, sudden in a way that sent you reeling.

To some, his kisses tasted like the finest candy, hand served on an ornate dish.

Most magically, it was claimed that a kiss from Oikawa Tooru could heal even the most broken of hearts. Just one thread through sun bronzed hair could make you forget about the most painful memories.

And of course, like any celebrity would, he knew about each and every rumor.

Naturally, you reckoned you were bound to see the dreaded flier sooner or later. It sat there still, taped onto the tiny bulletin board outside of the Organic Chemistry I room. It was the worst godawful flier you’d ever seen in your life. In front of you was a myriad of colorful borders, and even more whimsical fonts atop of a cardstock page. It seemed to call out to you with its boldness, as if to say “kiss me” with its scrawling typography.

Mystic Kissbooth, it read in an infuriatingly ornate font. Come and kiss your woes away (and kiss ours away too – a mutually beneficial fundraiser!)

“I see you’ve seen our handiwork,” chuckled a voice. You didn’t have to turn around to recognize Kuroo, who simply leaned against the bulletin board in an attempt to catch your expression.

Not that he would. You weren’t going to give him that luxury.

“No wonder it’s such shit,” you laughed, gesturing to the list of names at the bottom, “I’m honestly ashamed to even know you.”

“Hey,” he frowned playfully, ruffling your hair as he began his signature large strides. Curse him and his stupidly long legs. “That was heavily inspired by your Canva templates…..you know….the bad ones.”

You let out a long and dragged out sigh while you followed your best friend (unfortunately) to one of the secluded benches on campus. Beneath the hustle and bustle of students as they sprinted to class, it was almost peaceful to rest your legs for just a moment.

Relaxing onto the bench, you placed your backpack at your side, creating a wedge between you and Kuroo, who’d taken the seat right next to you. He didn’t seem to mind, simply casting a grin in your direction.

For starters, you weren’t sure how to feel about the Canva invasion. Yes, it was a design platform, and yes, you’d tried (and failed sometimes) to create infographics whenever Kuroo needed a helping hand. It was just a tad surprising to discover that Kuroo had drawn his inspiration from your least successful works.

“What’s this whole thing about?” You decided on asking after a lengthy pause. Kuroo cast his gaze to meet your own, his grin almost glued into place.

“Well, not that we’re in any trouble, but the volleyball club could use some funds. We’ve been trying to set up some pretty competitive matches and practice games, but we need the fuel to do it. Oikawa thought this was a great way to make use of all the attention we have.”

“No wonder. He’s probably the most popular one on the team….though Iwaizumi is honestly the one to be looking at.”

“Rude,” Kuroo huffed, “There’s a lot of other people to be interested in, you know.”

“Hopefully you don’t mean yourself,” you chuckled, dodging a playful hit on the arm from Kuroo. “But in all seriousness, a kissing booth?” Kuroo paused for a moment, seemingly mulling over a proper response, when Iwaizumi entered your frame of vision.

There were times you wondered why Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t consider a career in modeling. From where he stood, the sunlight almost seemed to caress his skin, tanned and sun bronzed from a summer spent playing volleyball on the beach. Upon seeing you and Kuroo on the bench, he extended a quick wave before jogging over, arms flexing as he got closer.

“Stop ogling him,” Kuroo smirked, “You could stand to be a bit less obvious.” “Shut up,” you muttered just as Iwaizumi ended his jog to stand in front of you.

“Nice to see you here,” he beamed, his eyes meeting your own, “I barely see you around these days. Did Kuroo scare you away from the club?” “No not at all,” you smiled, moving your backpack to make space for the handsome spiker. Some of the students on the nearby path stopped to turn at the three of you, and Iwaizumi, none-the-wiser, took a swig from his water bottle.

He was never aware of the effect he had on people. That was exactly what contributed to his charm.

“Y/N wanted to know a bit more about the booth,” Kuroo started. “I think you’d explain it better than I could.”

Iwaizumi raised a brow, “It’s just a club fundraiser. I mean, it's the only decent idea that Oikawa’s had in a while.”

“So he really was involved, huh.” You said (more to yourself than anyone else). The two men looked at you confusedly, before Kuroo finally spoke.

“You know, you always seem to get a bit fidgety whenever someone mentions Oikawa. And you always try to be away from him when you come to our practices…were the two of you involved or something? Because if you were, I am honestly offended you didn’t tell me.”

You aggressively shook your head no, warranting a chuckle from Iwaizumi. “Well, if they were, I think it’s had an impact. You start to see him for who he really is.”

The three of you laughed, choosing to enjoy the fresh breeze.

However, even despite the simple beauty of this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about the booth.

Oikawa stood at the front of the lecture hall, spinning his pen while meeting the eyes of his teammates. At his side was Kuroo’s flier, whimsically colorful in all the ways a magical kissing booth (like this one) was supposed to be. Iwaizumi sat in the front, close enough for Oikawa to catch the teasingly judgy stares of his best friend while he waited for everyone to settle down.

Finding a free lecture hall had been no problem. All he’d had to do is smile nicely at a few eager students, verify with a few professors, and send a frantic “MEET NOW” to the club group chat.

The real problem was convincing the rest of the team of this idea in the first place.

“Hey guys,” he beamed, putting the flier down on the desk closest to him, “Thanks for showing up on such short notice. You guys are the best.”

“We didn’t come for you,” Makki snickered. “We’re just here to see what crazy justification you have for this.” “Well,” he began, “We’ve been in the spotlight for quite some time now. A lot of us have been featured in the campus newspaper, we’ve made it onto our university’s podcast, and have you even seen the instagram fanpages for us? They’re absolutely insane. So, what better time to take advantage of this?”

“And this has nothing to do at all with the rumors?” A voice asked. Oikawa turned to meet the eyes of Semi Eita, who sat on the left corner closest to the door.

The team laughed as Oikawa shook his head in faux denial. “Absolutely not. Why would I ever do such a thing?”

“Because you're smart!” Oikawa was almost surprised to hear the remark from Bokuto, who sat near Kuroo with his own flier. “And it’s a lot of fun.”

The team murmured their respective agreements before the room fell silent again. Oikawa, ever the opportunist, slid into the silence with an explanation.

“I was thinking we set it up as sort of a de-stress day after midterms. We could get the other clubs to join in their own mini fundraisers…like a carnival of sorts. We’ll set up the booth with colorful signs and posters, and we kiss based on the cash. We can take shifts to make sure the two of us aren’t running the whole show. All proceeds are for our matches and practice games. Sounds good?” “A question. Are you going to make people line up to kiss you?” Matsukawa asked casually.

“You mean us Mattsun. And yeah, a line works just fine.” Oikawa stopped for a moment to admire the unanimous cooperation of his team. “I’ll talk to the other club leaders and see if we can come up with a date. If that’s all the questions you’ve got, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow!”

With this, his team filed out the door. He caught Kuroo animatedly discussing a design to attract customers to their booth with Bokuto, mentioning that he had a friend who’d know just what to do about it. In the midst of his rant, he’d mentioned a name.

Yours. A name he hadn’t realized he missed hearing.

A faint smile crept onto his face at the thought.

Kuroo was a menace. From the minute he’d found you at the library, he’d been nagging you the entire day, practically begging for you to come to their practice.

“Y/N please,” he whined, attempting his own version of a pout, “If you see us, you could help design the poster to attract customers.” “I don’t think you need help with that.” That much was true. Especially with Oikawa headlining the event. They were guaranteed strong profits.

Somehow in the midst of all this pleading, you’d ended up right outside the gym. The sounds of volleyballs hitting the wooden floors resonated off the walls, the sound so clear that you could hear it from your spot near the door.

“You planned this,” you glared, watching Kuroo’s smile twist into one of faux innocence. Bastard.

“What can I say? I am the master of distraction.” He opened the door, swapping his shoes out at the front and walking into the gym to the greetings of his team. You followed closely behind him, carefully striding across the polished wood and shutting the door behind you.

The gym had always been grand. Your university’s colors were plastered onto the bleachers, with a wide curtain separating the different sides of the gym. There was space – so much of it – and the team spread out to practice various skills.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself the childish awe of standing in a space so big.

“I forgot how long it’s been since you’ve been here,” a voice greeted, “But it’s good to see you Y/N.” You knew that voice. You’d know that voice like the moon knew the stars. You’d know it anywhere.

“Oikawa,” you said, turning to acknowledge the brown-haired setter. “Long time no see.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you drank him in. He seemed to be in high spirits this afternoon, hair artfully tousled in the way he always did, and lips so perfectly smooth that they seemed out of a Chapstick ad.

“You don’t really come around anymore,” He said, taking to walking with you around the gym (much to your own surprise). “I was getting a bit worried actually.”

“What do you mean?” You stared at a spot a bit beyond the setter, watching Bokuto’s cross court spike slam into the floor with dizzying speed.

“Well….we talked a bunch. And you came here at the beginning of the year. You suddenly stopped though….so I wondered if something happened.”

“You noticed?” You scoffed. “I’m surprised you paid attention.”

“Why wouldn’t I pay attention?” Oikawa raised a brow in confusion before suddenly, the answer seemed to smack him in the face. “You’re petty about that?”

“You barely paid me any mind,” was all you said, meeting Oikawa’s warm gaze, “It was like we’d never met at all.”

You’d met Oikawa Tooru on the flight to university. You’d waved your family goodbye at the gate, hugging them tight to your chest and memorizing the feel of them against you.

You walked steadily, pulling your suitcase along as you made your way to the security check in.

“Everything goes in a bag! Belts, shoes, phones! Take off your shoes and step aside. Laptops can stay in your bags! Move along!”

You hauled your suitcase into the bin, placed your phone and wallet beside it and sent it over to the TSA associate, taking a minute to place your jacket and shoes into another bin and sending that over too.

The gray bins were plain, old and rackety and classic, comparable to a washed out 1930’s movie. You trodded through the metal detector, feeling the cold floor through your socks.

When you finally made it through check in, you were met with a TSA associate over your bag, looking straight at you as if you’d committed some heinous crime.

“Excuse me,” the TSA officer asked, gesturing to your bags, “Are these your bags?”

“Yes,” you affirmed, almost nervously. “Is there an issue?”

“You seem to have some liquid above the restricted amount. I’m going to have to take a look.”

For a moment, you were startled. What did you even bring? You’d diligently packed your belongings and made sure everything was secure….surely there had to be some mistake.

Your breath wavered the minute the officer pulled out your favorite body wash.

In the midst of your packing, you’d forgotten you’d slipped it into your carry on.

“Oh.” Your voice shook as you meant the TSA officer’s eyes, “I’m sorry. That’s my favorite one.”

“I’m sorry.” For a moment, it almost seemed like the man had sympathy for you, “But I’m going to have to ask you to pour half of it out. If you refuse that, you’re going to have to give it away.”

Every step towards the outside garbage felt like a punch to the chest. While you kept composed on the outside, pouring away half of your prized wash felt miserable.

A dying rose. A dying star. Something dying slowly and surely inside.

Now you’d have to get another one. Brand new packaging lost to your honest mistake.

This sucked ass.

You meandered through the security area again, more ghost than person and collected the rest of your belongings. While your voice wavered, you didn’t shed a tear, and simply walked along.

Somehow, in the midst of all your wandering, you ended up in the departure lounge. In front of you were an array of connected seats with their generic cushioning and the customary TV screens telling you what flight was taking off when.

The glass paneled windows to your right showcased the hangar, and from your spot, you could see planes parked out in front. The sun set down in the distance, leaving a watercolor blend of pinks and oranges in its wake.

You could almost call it picturesque.

You leaned your suitcase against a wall for a moment, scanning the lounge for an available corner. Unfortunately, your plane was packed.

The chatter of students was overwhelming, and without a choice, you settled into a seat at the far corner of the lounge next to a pretty-boy who you were certain wouldn't speak to you.

They normally never did. Why should it be any different now? And honestly, you didn’t want to talk.

“This plane is probably fully booked.” A voice (the perfect blend of warm and deep) said. You turned to meet the eyes of said pretty boy, a surprisingly lovely shade of brown. Light and bright and inviting. Almost like a mocha. Or a latte.

“Tell me about it,” you laughed, slightly amused by the novelty of the situation. It wasn’t common for pretty boys to talk to you. Even less common for you to entertain any conversation, especially when you felt the way you did. “When I waved ‘goodbye’ to my family, I wasn’t expecting this much of a crowd to tell them about.”

“Yeah?” Oikawa smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards invitingly. “I was more surprised at the lack of seats.”

“You’d think they’d anticipate a college student stampede.”

Oikawa laughed, the amusement lighting up his whole face. It was a simple laugh — chiming and lovely in the way that all laughs were, but you were certain you’d do anything to hear that again.

His presence had a way of putting you at ease.

The two of you coincidentally had seats right next to each other on the flight. As the plane lifted off, you snapped a picture of the city lights, twinkling their tiny goodbyes as they faded from view.

The cabin’s lights were dimmed, yet even in the haziness, you could make out the features of the boy next to you.

High cheekbones. A defined cupid’s bow. Lips that seemed even softer than the lather of that soap you loved so much.

You’d mourn your soap later. Even if it was an object, your attachment to it simply showed a care for your belongings.

What could be more human than that?

Oikawa turned to you, gaze friendly as the plane began its mounting ascent.

“You know, the TSA can be real dicks sometimes.”

What the fuck. Who was he? A psychic?

“What did they do to you?”

“They made me pour out half my expensive hair gel. I insisted it fit the requirements but they refused to accommodate me. So mean.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the pout he wore. It seemed even someone as vivacious as Oikawa couldn’t charm himself out of aviation regulations.

Somehow the whole thing made you feel a lot better.

You and Oikawa (Tooru as he later insisted) shared many conversations throughout the flight. Some revolved around human existentialism (with him quoting the “we were infinite” from The Perks of Being a Wallflower). Some revolved around space.

Some even revolved around clubs, with him sharing high school volleyball stories and pledging your university’s team to greatness.

When fatigue finally claimed you, the comfort of his shoulder was unmatched by anything you’d ever felt. He’d extended an invite for you to come and see them practice anytime, and laid his own head atop of yours.

Of course, when you showed up for said practice, so had a bunch of other fans. He’d barely spared you a glance, let alone spoke to you when you’d tried to seek him out.

A grand gym and an even grander boy.

You just avoided him after that.

“Im really sorry about that,” Oikawa said. While his expressions were genuine, you weren’t sure how much you were going to trust it. Certainly, in all the time you’d spent apart, he must have changed at least a bit.

To think he was the exact same boy who you met on the plane would be foolish.

“Yeah, water under the bridge.”

“No, not really.” Oikawa paused to study your expression. Beneath all of your nonchalance was something fragile. Admiration? Loathing? He doubted it. “How long did you plan on avoiding me?”

“As long as I needed to.” You answered matter-of-factly. “Then again, that was when I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“How could I ever do that?” Oikawa’s expression morphed into a worried one, eyebrows knitted together and mouth downturned as if to say damn that’s an accusation.

“Well-“

“Look I meant to seek you out after that day. I saw you there, wanted to come over, but at that point you’d gone off to continue chatting with Kuroo and met Iwa. And classes exist.”

“Okay. Water under the bridge for real.”

His eyes lit up. “You mean it?”

You nodded in approval, only to be dragged away by Kuroo, who’d suddenly appeared behind you.

“What the fuck?” You yelled, not caring much for your use of profanities. Some of the nearby team members snickered as you were pulled to the corner of the gym, in front of an array of poster boards.

“What?” Kuroo asked, “You and Oikawa seem to be fine now, so I thought I could ask you some questions about stuff that really matters. Namely posters.”

You were met with various shapes and sizes of poster boards. Some were Elmers Tri-Folds. Some were the cheap foam boards you sometimes saw while grocery shopping.

“If you want a design for your freaking booth,” you began, looking at Kuroo, “Give me some time.”

Oikawa was in the podcast studio. The room was secluded, plastered with posters and heart decals of all shapes and colors. Right beside the door was a framed picture of the volleyball team, with their silly faces frozen in motion.

Shimizu Kiyoko walked out from behind the desk, nonchalantly acknowledging Oikawa with a nod. “Oikawa, what can I do for you?”

“Hey,” he winked, unaffected by her lack of reaction, “Have any idea where I can find your host. I’d like her to do me a favor.”

“Advertising.” Kiyoko said bluntly. “I don’t think your booth needs any more attention. Our socials have covered it already.”

“We always love the extra coverage.”

“Doesn’t your friend help with all the designs? I think they’d be the perfect candidate to help with all this.”

“Y/N?” He asked, almost dumbfounded by how obvious that answer was.

“Yes,” Kiyoko smiled. “They’re very nice. I’ve seen you talk a few times, though it honestly seems like they don’t like you very much.”

“Not true.” He huffed.

“Well it makes sense. Especially if the rumors are true.”

People saw Kiyoko’s beauty and shyness and mistook her for a soft and innocent podcast manager.

Anyone who’d dealt with her enough knew she was actually a force to be reckoned with.

“The rumors are whatever you make of them. I’m simply an opportunist.”

Kiyoko chuckled and for a moment, Oikawa felt accomplished. “You don’t need to tell me this. I already know.”

He leaned against the door, and stretched out his arms in front of him before resting them at his sides again. “Would you at least consider telling the main host to help us out?”

Kiyoko shuffled the papers in her hands, before meeting his eyes. “I won’t give any guarantees, but something tells me that if you do set up a de-stress carnival, your club will be the central focus of our broadcast.”

“Thank you!” He beamed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. “I could kiss you for that.”

“No thank you,” Kiyoko declined, “I’m not interested in confirming the rumors.”

As Oikawa left the studio, Kiyoko walked into the recording room, a tiny smile on her lips.

Your Canva page lay woefully blank before you.

You’d promised Kuroo a design if he gave you time and Kuroo, ever the considerate friend, actually stopped bothering you about the poster. He seemed to trust in Oikawa’s judgment, and it seemed that the rest of the volleyball club did too.

As a token of thanks, you’d come to the library, your brain and Pinterest providing you at least a vague idea of what it was you wanted to do. However, when it came time to put pen to paper (or more fittingly, hand to mousepad), it seemed that your ideas had been wiped clean.

Your disappointment felt like a leaky faucet. Despite the minuteness of the feeling, it seemed to pool the more you thought about the situation. While designing was never an obligation, you owed it to your friends.

You sighed, placing your bag onto the hardwood library table and casting your eyes outside. A slowly setting sun was what greeted you, a medley of pinks and oranges appearing onto a slowly disappearing blue sky.

How cliche. Considering one's disappointments next to a sunset.

“Y/N?” A voice called, almost saccharine in the silence of your surroundings.

And there he was. Draped in the setting sun like a painted figure, cloaked in a veil of sunlight that skimmed his skin like silk. Oikawa’s eyes were almost honey colored in that lighting, and beneath the darkened shelves, he was almost a mystical apparition.

“Oikawa,” was all you said, cursing every possible force for him appearing now, looking like that, when you barely had anything to show for it.

“Kuroo told me you’d offered to help us put together some signs for the de-stress carnival.” Oikawa walked over, stepping away from the sunlight and placing his bag down at your table, opting for a seat across from you. “Which, in case you were wondering, I got approval for. A lot of the other clubs are going to be there.”

“That’s good.” You allowed yourself a glance at him. Your pettiness had all but dissipated, but you were still wary of looking at him for too long. He was like the sun, golden and lustrous and magnetic. You weren’t quite ready to be pulled into his orbit.

“So,” Oikawa said, taking a glance at your computer screen, “Rough designing?”

“Yeah. Inspiration has been hard to find and your club is counting on me.”

“If it means anything to you, we wouldn’t have asked for you to do it if we didn’t believe in you.” You looked up to see Oikawa’s gaze set firmly on your own, as if tracking your expressions. Under his stare, you felt raw. Vulnerable. If you were a cake, and he was cutting you open.

You weren’t sure what to say.

A beat of silence permeated the space between you, and the two of you made no effort to stop it. It was somewhat comforting. Unsaid words of yours were understood by him.

“It feels like a lot of pressure,” you finally admitted, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I want it to be worth your while.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Oikawa was closer. His breath was soft, fanning over the side of your cheek like a secret.

“I’m not sure.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Oikawa paused for a moment, as if contemplating something before decisively placing his hand on top of yours.

For a moment, you were startled by the warmth of his palm, grounding you in some way that didn’t quite make sense to you yet. Something about this was intimate in all the ways it shouldn’t be. Amidst a darkening sky and a slowly dimming library, you could almost consider this clandestine.

You waited for the rustle of a book’s pages or the resounding footsteps of the librarian to break down the moment, but they never came.

Oikawa looked at you, seemingly memorizing your features. He said nothing, but a slight smile appeared on his face the second he spotted a stray lock of hair by your ear. You could feel your face progressively heating with every moment spent in this proximity.

Damn celebrity setters. Damn stupid stupid beautiful men who do this. Damn that Oikawa Tooru.

Gently, as if touching something fragile, Oikawa smoothed down your hair, brushing the tip of your ear with his fingertips. He held your gaze fondly before suddenly, making an incredulous face.

“What the-“ He said, looking at your hair again. “It’s back up again.” He looked at his hands in horror, as if their magic didn’t work. “Damn it, that’s not how that goes.”

You couldn’t stop the laughter from erupting out of you at his antics, You swiftly flattened that pesky strand and looked back at him, feeling the amusement pool in your chest at his dismayed expression.

“Sorry man,” you laughed, syllables coming out breathless, “Sometimes stuff doesn’t go to plan.”

Oikawa seemed like he wanted to melt into the floor, and feeling the need for some fresh air, you dragged him out of the library. Upon leaving the double doors (and air conditioning), you were met by the lit sidewalk and found the wooden benches by the line of trees.

You sat down, gesturing for him to join you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before,” Oikawa mentioned off-handedly, “I mean I’m here a lot, but I’m not sure when this was put here.”

“It’s been here…?”

Oikawa sighed, tilting his gaze to the now dark sky. “You do have an eye for good things.”

You raised a brow. “What does that even mean?”

“The stuff you make is adorable. And Kuroo’s always said that everywhere he brings us are all places you found.”

“Really?” You leaned your upper body onto the bench. “I didn’t expect credit from him.”

“He cares about you,” Oikawa said. “He gave a lot of shit when he realized that we’d talked on our plane and then not again. But I deserved that.”

“I was petty. But it’s not like I can actually walk up to you.”

“What?” Oikawa seemed puzzled, as if this was something impossible for him to fathom. “Why not? I don’t think I’m that bad.”

“Iwaizumi says otherwise.”

“Mean. But seriously, why?”

You’d forgotten how refreshing Oikawa was. Even though you were sitting on a bench, you felt practically weightless.

“Rumors,” was all you said, gesturing to him.

Understanding seemed to flash into his eyes, and slowly, like connecting pieces of a puzzle, it all fell into place. He paused for a moment before meeting your eyes with a grin.

“You know they’re just rumors right?” He smirked, “I went to a party a while back to kick off club season. There was this one girl who really wasn’t leaving me alone, so I ended up leaving. Turns out she’d told her friends that she and I made out at the party and gave me a whole lot more credit than I was expecting. Not that I mind making out, but I’m picky.”

“Picky how?” You asked, words leaving your mouth before you even had the chance to think them over.

“Picky as in there’s really only one person I’ve even wanted to kiss since I got here but haven’t got the chance to. I’m hoping they come to the booth. Just so I’ll get to know what that’s like.”

You felt a subtle twist of something in your chest, though you weren’t sure what to make of it. Of course he had his eye on somebody. It was bound to happen eventually.

“Why are you making a booth to do mass kissing then?” A valid follow up question. A guy like him could successfully pull whenever he wanted to.

“Because I’m an opportunist,” he sighed, “And I’m not even sure if I can make a move properly. I don’t function like I normally do when they’re around.”

“Of course you can. Anybody would say yes to you, Tooru.”

With this, something in him seemed to snap and he immediately pulled you closer, your faces just an inch apart. His hands were firm around your waist, and the sensation was nearly searing. You could feel everything, from his hands to his breath to even the way his eyes seemed to scan your face.

The way he looked at you now was like worship.

“What are you doing?” You whispered shakily. With him all around you you could barely breathe, let alone think.

“Making a move.” His eyes were on your lips. His hand gently left your waist to skim your arm before placing a hand on your cheek. “May I?”

Your nod was nearly imperceptible before he captured your lips in yours.

Soft, was your first thought as you felt his lips brush yours ever so lightly. You leaned into him, relishing the vaguely sweet taste of strawberry Chapstick on his lips as you swiped your tongue over his lips.

Oikawa Tooru was a mystic. His fingers tangled in your hair and his lips searched for yours as if he was a lost man and you were his savior. He traced the curve of your waist and kissed you passionately, nibbling your lips when you pulled at his shirt.

You could kiss him forever. You moved to nip at the tip of his ear, and his shaky breath had you considering if you should bite down harder. He pulled you back in and you melted into the feel of his lips and hands and the way his touch seemed to awaken something inside you.

The way he held you was reverent.

When you finally split for air, Oikawa held you close, his smile never wavering. He rubbed a thumb across your cheek, and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“That was magical,” you murmured into his shirt, and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit happy to hear the laugh you liked so much.

You reckoned you’d be able to put together a solid design after tonight.

Oikawa had a skip in his step the following morning. He’d aced every assessment, finished all his homework, and made major breakthroughs at practice. His sets to Bokuto were so flawless that Bokuto could hardly believe he’d made those shots.

Everyone on the volleyball team was certain that something had happened, but Oikawa refused to let up.

He didn’t kiss and tell after all.

“What is up with you?” Iwaizumi asked good-naturedly, tipping back a water bottle. “You’ve been in a surprisingly good mood all morning.”

“It’s been a good day,” Oikawa smiled, offering no other details while picking up a few stray balls on the court. The gym floor seemed exceptionally shiny today. He’d be sure to thank whoever waxed the floor for their services when he could.

“Something definitely happened.” Kuroo chimed in, scrutinizing Oikawa like he was something under a microscope. “The question is what.”

“Am I not allowed to have good days?”

“No you are,” Kuroo smirked, “But a day this good only happens after a sudden surge in popularity which —last time I checked— didn’t happen, or……did you make some breakthrough?”

“With my sets, yes.”

“No,” Kuroo smiled knowingly. “I’m gonna curse them out for not telling me anything.”

Oikawa hid his surprise with a flash of indifference, though internally he cursed the middle blocker. It seemed that he was just as good at reading people as he was at read blocking.

Iwaizumi caught on almost immediately, casting his eyes to his longtime friend, who all of a sudden, was acting like a deer in headlights. He found it odd that the nature of your relationship with Oikawa had transformed seemingly overnight.

It seemed that you never truly harbored any resentment against him.

Still, he resolved to approach you about it as soon as he could.

The minute that you walked through the gym’s double doors, the entire team thought that they’d summoned you with all the prying they were doing. You hauled something large through the door and placed it against the wall, proud of yourself for the herculean effort it took to bring it through.

The minute he registered your presence, Oikawa’s face looked like a puff of cotton candy. His cheeks were rosy with all the teasing and the memories of last night, and when he saw what it was that you’d leaned against the wall, he thought he should run over and kiss you out of pride.

“Good morning guys,” you beamed, a smile so radiant that Oikawa had suddenly lost all the focus he’d had all morning.

“Morning Y/N,” Iwaizumi greeted, walking over to greet you with a hug and a slight gesture to the object that was now leaning against the wall. “Is this it?”

You nodded excitedly. “I got the inspiration to put it together last night. I think it captures the magic of the booth.”

Iwaizumi leaned to flip over the posterboard and decided that he’d never seen anything more fitting in his entire life.

The sign was a pastel wonder, a pale blue at the bottom and moving to a light pink at the top. Across the poster were small and light volleyballs, somewhat transparent against the background as if the pattern was a part of it. The borders of the poster were filled with various lip prints (and even funnier, some hidden Chapsticks).

The font at the center was a far cry from the scrawling archaic font that Kuroo had used on their initial flyers. It was a simple block font, a shade of pink with a glow filter and a pattern that made it look like a light-up sign on the part that really mattered.

The Volleyball Club presents, the poster read, written in a smaller font. Right below that, the light up letters spelled out The Mystic Kissbooth. Help kiss us to greatness.

The team crowded around the board, marveling at both its quality and its thoughtfulness.

“Y/N….” Bokuto trailed off, his eyes nearly bursting with amazement, “This is crazy!”

“Yeah,” Semi added, “This is ridiculously good. Kuroo, where the hell have you been keeping them.”

Kuroo simply crossed his arms and smiled with pride. He’d always believed in you.

Oikawa stood shell-shocked at your work, feeling all the days of preparation finally coming together. He looked at you and smiled a smile so genuine, you were glad you’d finally pulled through.

You looked to the floor bashfully for a moment before meeting the team’s eyes with renewed confidence. “Thank you. I’m glad to help.”

Iwaizumi stood at your side, smiling fondly at you before turning his gaze to Oikawa. “Hey. Oikawa. What is the deal with the de-stress carnival? When is it, where is it, and where are we setting up?”

Oikawa, still elated, looked around the gym at the team. “If you want details, I think we should call another meeting.”

”That is a great idea,” you chimed in.

“Wanna join?” Oikawa asked (hopefully).

”I’m sorry, I don’t think I can. I’ve got a date with Kiyoko.”

The team went silent. “You have a what?!”

The evening hues only made Kiyoko more beautiful. She was dressed casually, wearing classic blue jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan that only accentuated her figure. When she saw you approaching her, a smile appeared on her face instantaneously.

“Y/N!” She greeted, “It’s good to see you.”

You jogged up to her and pulled her into a friendly hug. “It’s good to see you too!”

You and Kiyoko fell into step naturally, opting to have dinner at one of your favorite places outside of campus. It was a quick walk from where you’d chosen to meet up, and in such good weather, it was a crime not to spend more time together.

“I have a lot to tell you about,” Kiyoko began, “Starting with Oikawa Tooru. He showed up in my room and asked for the host. He’s got to know it’s me right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I know you use a modulator to stay under wraps so people take the podcast seriously, but he’s had a very good track record for being perceptive.”

“That’s a pain” she sighed, “I hope he’s not going to spread it around.”

“He won’t,” you assured her, “Oikawa can understand rumors better than anyone.”

Kiyoko smiled relievedly, though she raised a brow at the mention of rumors. “Are those true?”

You fought the heat that seemed to emerge onto your face the minute she mentioned that. You just hoped it would go unnoticed by her.

Her blue eyes, unfortunately, were just as perceptive as they were pretty.

She smirked, crossing her arms and stopping on the sidewalk path. “When did that happen?”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s keep walking.” You wish your voice had come out more strongly than a murmur.

“When?”

“Last night.” Damn Kiyoko for getting answers out of you.

“And…?” She raised her brows expectantly.

“Rumors are baseless but I confirm them. He is magical.”

“I ought to say something about that,” she giggled, and you wanted to bury yourself into your hands to avoid her teasing.

“Shush.”

The two of you had a lovely dinner and opted to grab a quick drink from the speciality beverage store next door. Kiyoko grabbed a strawberry milkshake and you opted for a tropical fruit floater that they’d just created. Thanks to Kiyoko, both drinks were on the house.

She nursed the straw between her lips and took a drag of her milkshake before meeting your eyes. “I have some information on the de-stress carnival.”

You urged her to continue, and Kiyoko did.

“Looks like Oikawa and the other members of clubs decided to officially name it the Cool Down Carnival. They’re just going to refer to it as Cool Down for ease. They’re planning to organize it the Saturday after midterms and they’ve been working on concessions like cotton candy, caramel apples, popcorn, and a whole boatload of stuff. Administration is also totally fine with this.”

“Wow,” was all you could say as a response. You were honestly impressed with Oikawa. He put so much thought and care into a silly rumor that had transformed into one of the school’s biggest upcoming events. He was an alchemist of opportunities, taking a rumor of lead and transforming it to gold.

“Yeah,” Kiyoko nodded, “I’ll get social media to cover it for me. So far, nobody doubts that I’m the manager of the ‘Cast, so it should be fairly reasonable for me to do.”

“Out of curiosity, do you know anything about how they’re planning to do the shifts of the booth?”

“All I know for certain is that Oikawa said he probably wasn’t gonna do a headlining shift…or a shift at all. A lot of the other members were perfectly fine with taking this on, but there has been some backlash.”

He was planning on not headlining the booth?

Your heart was suddenly very warm and fuzzy in your chest.

Kiyoko knowingly smiled at you before tipping at the front register and dragging you outside. The breeze was oddly pleasant, something a bit uncommon for this time of year. It was approaching colder weather, but it felt nearly spring-like.

“The weather isn’t making sense,” you said, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with nighttime out.

“It hasn’t been making sense,” Kiyoko smiled, “We’re anticipating a fresh fair.”

Springs and falls blended together. You found a beautiful leaf on the sidewalk and pressed it to your palm, preserving the feel and look in your memory.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you’d finally tell Kiyoko as you parted ways, meaning each and every word.

When Oikawa had showed up at your doorstep in the morning, your sleep-addled brain could barely fathom the reason as to why he would do such a thing.

That was, until he walked into your room carrying breakfast in a brown bag.

“Good morning Y/N.” He said, voice still slightly raspy from a good night of sleep. (You weren’t going to forget how that sounded forever).

You greeted him with a morning greeting of your own and sat on your bed, stretching your limbs and analyzing the boy who—at this present moment—seemed like the happiest guy on earth.

“Feel free to help yourself,” Oikawa grinned, grabbing a bagel and a pack of cream cheese from the bag. “I have some updates for you.”

“Does it have to do with the Cool Down?” You walked over to the bag and grabbed something you liked from the inside.

“Wow. How did you know about the name?”

“I have my sources,” you winked.

Oikawa simply laughed. “I know it’s Kiyoko dumbass. She’s one of the sneakiest podcast hosts of all time.”

“So you do know.”

“Obviously.” Oikawa lounged on the chair in your corner. “Nobody else is ever working in that office. She should get some people to join her.”

You nodded and shifted to sit next to him on the couch. His warmth was a surprisingly pleasant addition into the morning, and you found yourself leaning into him. He didn’t make any move to stop it, opting to pull you in and place his arm over you.

“We have classes soon,” you said groggily, “But I don’t want to move.”

“We don’t have to right now.”

“Thanks Tooru.”

“Of course, Y/N.” He smiled. “Though we do have an afternoon meeting on how to divide the shifts. I’m not sure what we’re going to be doing about me.”

You suddenly felt a lot more awake. You shifted your weight onto your unsupported arm and looked up at Oikawa. “Are you planning to take a shift?”

Oikawa shifted nervously in his seat. “I’m not sure. I may have to for the sake of demand. Everyone is expecting me to live up to the expectation. I think we would be less successful without my involvement.”

You felt a twist of something. Not jealously, but not comfort either. Something between the two. You rose away from Oikawa, walking over to the opposite side of the room where your bed was and met his eyes.

“Do you really have to?” you asked, feeling partially unfair. There was nothing official between the two of you at the moment, but you’d thought after the kiss two nights ago…..you thought you had a chance.

“I might,” he gulped, “But you know you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to kiss.”

You sighed exasperatedly. “I know that you came up with this as a business opportunity and because you thought we’d never…get anywhere, but a long shift is going to be a lot of people.”

“I know,” he sighed, meeting your eyes with an expression in his own that looked a lot like sadness. “But the fundraiser might just have to come first for now— no that’s not what I—“

“Please leave,” you said, voice wavering a bit, “I don’t want to deal with the whole priorities thing right now. We can say we kissed once for fun. Headline it if you must. Later Oikawa.”

You turned away from him and walked towards your closet to find appropriate clothes for the day. You couldn’t even stand to look at him right now. Things would become too complicated for you to handle.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry.” Oikawa said from behind you, “That is genuinely not what I meant.”

You turned to face him again, not even able to meet his eyes. “There’s got to be some semblance of truth in what you said earlier. You love your team Oikawa. They are important. I don’t expect you to throw away opportunities for me. We’re not even dating.” You laughed dryly. “I’d like a bit of space. We can talk a bit later.”

Oikawa seemed like he had a lot more to say, but he wordlessly slipped out of the door, leaving your room noticeably empty.

Once he’d left for certain, you collapsed onto the floor and let loose the dam of tears you’d held in for so long.

When Iwaizumi found you in the library, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Your eyes were reddened ever so slightly, covered over by a splash of cold water to the face (most likely), and your usual cheerfulness when you greeted him was a lot less lively.

He took the seat beside you, surprised by your lack of response.

”Hajime,” you said softly, turning over to smile sadly at him, “Good to see you here.”

Correction: something was horrifically wrong.

“What happened?” He asked softly, wondering what was enough to dampen your normally resilient spirit.

“Fucking Oikawa,” you laughed sarcastically, “Look at me saying I’d never get caught up in his web, and then doing exactly that.”

Iwaizumi wrinkled his brow. That day on the bench, he’d known enough to discern that you and Oikawa had some sort of history. That much continued to be made obvious by Oikawa’s constant urge to see you and include you in everything that he and Kuroo didn’t think was important enough to invite you to.

However, he wasn’t sure when you and Oikawa became more than a past set of acquaintances….and that stung a little. He understood your reasoning though. Especially if it was as complicated as you seemed to feel at the moment.

“Were you guys dating?”

“No.” You turned to face him in full, and he was struck by the magnitude of just how magnetic you were. Iwaizumi was guilty of being stuck in your orbit. “Just a kiss. Because he sweet talked me into thinking he wanted something.”

“Knowing him, he probably did.” Iwaizumi said, “Oikawa has a tendency to be obsessive to get what he wants, but also be blinded by obligations. This was definitely about him headlining the booth, right?”

You nodded, feeling a sudden tightness in your throat at the thought. You weren’t ready to confront the morning’s events quite yet.

“That dumbass,” Iwaizumi groaned, “If he’d told us that he liked you and had actually managed to make a move we would’ve gladly taken his shift! Who gives a fuck about what the college body wants? Half of them thirst over everyone!” You laughed a bit at the truth of that statement. “Yeah, and Kiyoko told me she was also planning on making a little appearance.”

At this Iwaizumi raised his brow. “Oh that’s about to be carnage.”

“Absolutely,” you giggled, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the lucky person.” Iwaizumi laughed, a sound that was low and sweet and comforting. “I think I’ll leave it to some of the other boys. They deserve a chance after all.”

The two of you grinned at the mental imagery of the team fighting for a chance to interact with your beautiful friend, and suddenly, Oikawa’s shittiness seemed like something far less relevant.

Still, even with the humor of the situation came the very uncomfortable realization that you and Oikawa–-whatever you were–-were done if you didn’t come to some consensus.

You shoved your hands into your face, wondering how the hell you’d managed to go from avoidant and unattached to too attached. Maybe the rumors had some merit. A kiss from Oikawa was all that it took to get so jumbled.

Iwaizumi’s warm palm on your back was what brought you back to your senses. He rubbed his slow circles and sat there patiently until you emerged from your cover of shame.

“What am I going to do?” you asked, voice raw and vulnerable and everything you’d rather it not have been.

“Whatever you want to do.” Iwaizumi’s gaze was genuine, soft eyes studying you. “You’re entitled to your own decisions. Kuroo and I would never ditch you for Shitty you know.”

“It’s for the team,” you whispered, feeling tears threatening to spill over your cheeks. Your vision was hazy, and you blinked slowly to clear the water from your eyes. “So then why do I feel like this?”

“Because you care about him, Y/N.” Iwaizumi squeezed your shoulder affectionately, “You and him clearly bonded on some intergalactic level, so having that be suddenly shattered in favor of something seemingly less important is going to feel like shit. In fact, he is the real piece of crap here.” “The team matters.” “The team is all about relationships.” Iwaizumi said firmly. “I have a hunch there’s someone in this tournament that he needs to beat. That’s why he’s been obsessively orchestrating the perfect way to raise money to have a practice match beforehand. Still, I won’t deny it. Oikawa is an idiot for doing this to you. You have all the rights to move on with your life.”

“I think I’m gonna take my space from him for a few days,” you eventually responded. “I think I’ll also not visit the booth. I’ll give Kuroo the sign in advance so he can help with setting up?”

Iwaizumi nodded solemnly. “If that’s what you need to do, I’ll be your number one supporter. I’d still love it if you could stop by though. We love having you around.”

You nodded at him. “I’ll be there for you and Kuroo. Always. And you guys can hang out with me at the Cool Down when you’re off shift.”

“Of course,” Iwaizumi smiled, “For you? Anything.”

“How do you say, ‘I’m angry’ in French?” The ping of the recording microphone tapped on as Oikawa paced quickly around his room.

“Je suis fâché.”

“How do you say, ‘I like to go out with my friends’ in French?” “J’aime sortir avec mes amis.”

“How do you say, ‘I went to my friend’s house’ in French?”

“Je ne veux pas continuer.”

“Oui Monsieur. À Bientôt!” His phone’s recording feature switched off, leaving him in a silent room once again.

He was regretful, so much so that he paced around in his room in the hopes that it would give him some sort of clarity. As much as he wanted to approach you, he knew you weren’t ready to talk to him right now.

“Shittykawa,” he heard from his door, opening with a subtlety and closing with a bang. Classic Iwa move.

He turned to face his best friend, who at this moment, seemed to be quite irritated with him. He could feel the lecture as certain as one could feel a thunderstorm in the air.

Iwaizumi stood, arms crossed in Oikawa’s room, leaning against the wall and pinning him with a look so strong it might as well have been a thumbtack. Oikawa felt rooted in place, and all the words he initially planned on saying left his mouth.

“So Ushijima Wakatoshi happens to be at a school just a bit over,” Iwa started, “I did my research. Why not play a practice match with them to start to see their setting style? Break down their setter, practice receiving from a left-handed person, and maybe we can beat him, right?”

Oikawa sighed, feeling all the fight leave his body. He made his way over to his pale blue rug and sat down. “I know. It’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is what you did to Y/N.” Iwaizumi glared at him. “If you’d said something about liking them and actually successfully getting them to like you, then we would’ve been perfectly capable of handling the shifts. Hell, even Kiyoko is coming. That alone will give people incentive to come and kiss us.”

“I made a mistake,” Oikawa cringed. He didn’t even want to think about the morning. What was intended to be a romantic gesture ended up being a horrible memory. His attempts to distract himself were futile, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Iwaizumi had found you. “But they probably don’t want to talk to me.”

Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa sadly. “They’re planning on skipping the booth. They’ve already decided to give their poster to Kuroo so he can help us with set-up. So don’t plan on seeing them.”

He grimaced. “Not coming? Really?”

Iwaizumi nodded. “I was pretty unhappy about it, but we’ve got to give them space to process everything.” The minute you’d smiled at him in the airport, talking about “college stampedes,” Oikawa knew he wanted nothing more but to know you better. He’d thanked every lucky star for the seats you had next to each other and relished every moment spent with you.

He wondered why you avoided him for the next months, always daydreaming about what he’d say to you when you finally reappeared at practices. He’d searched for you in your classes, but he always missed you.

When you walked into the gym on that fateful day, he thought he had a genuine chance. You were perfect. Your thoughts were exquisite, your smile radiant, and everything about you felt right. When he kissed you, he could’ve screamed to the heavens that his heart was yours.

Perhaps that was why his heart seemed to tear a bit at Iwaizumi’s declaration. You wanted to move on from this.

“Oikawa…you can still fix this you know?” Iwaizumi pulled him up from the rug, noting the reignited spark in his eyes. “You should probably get the fair set up, find Y/N, and explain yourself. I’m certain they’ll understand.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he said solemnly, “And if they still decide they want nothing to do with me, at least I did my part.”

You found him at Kuroo’s place at night when you’d stepped through his door uninvited (like you did at times). In your hands was your laptop, a few pencils, and the sign you’d made for the booth. The last thing you’d expected was to see the person you’d been trying so desperately to avoid.

Oikawa, for a moment, looked like he’d seen a ghost. He looked at the door, brown eyes concerned and scanning you as if you’d just walked in through the wall.

Nobody said anything. You stood still, too shell-shocked to process the fact that a night before the Cool Down, Oikawa was spending time with Kuroo. In fact, you could barely believe Kuroo had ever allowed Oikawa into his place in the first place, especially when he knew that you were planning on popping in at some point.

Kuroo’s eyes followed your gaze, finding it landing right on the floor next to Oikawa (as opposed to straight at him).

“Well,” Kuroo began softly, “I didn’t warn either of you.”

“You could have,” you said, looking back at Kuroo, “I would’ve liked to know before I got here.” “But then you would have never showed up.” Oikawa’s voice was clear, slicing through the silence of the room with a blade of decisiveness that you hadn’t heard from him. He looked you over, seemingly analyzing your health since the day he’d fucked up.

“I wasn’t planning on running into you,” you admitted, finding the courage to meet his eyes. “In fact, I was literally just coming to drop off the sign for your booth, talk to my best friend, and then go to bed.”

“Please let me explain myself.” Everything about Oikawa seemed pleading. His face harbored an expression of guilt so boundless that you weren’t sure how to react.

You wordlessly sat down in the corner chair closest to Kuroo’s door, setting your stuff down on the surface closest to it.

“I’m sure Iwaizumi must have told you what it was that we were raising money for.”

You nodded.

“I never had the chance to tell you more about what I struggled with in high school," Oikawa said quietly. “I was surrounded by talented players. Some of them are so talented that I thought I never even stood a chance. I realized at the end of my matches that I deserved to be on the court just as much as anyone else.”

“You’re a damn good setter Oikawa,” Kuroo interjected, “And even Semi admires your sets. He’s from the same school as Ushijima too.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa laughed softly, but even the sound was sad. He turned to meet your eyes. “I was out of line trying to say the volleyball club mattered more to me than what we were getting to be. I was worried they’d be weird at me for flaking, but they’re my team. Iwa told me they’d always have my back. Happy setter happy tosses right?”

You took a moment to process everything that he was saying, ultimately coming to one conclusion. He really did feel bad.

“Why are you so obsessed with having a chance to beat someone you had a rivalry with in highschool?”

Oikawa paused, contemplating your question. His brow was furrowed, and his hands clutched anxiously around nothing, seemingly finding the best words to phrase—whatever it was—that he was feeling.

“It was to give myself the confidence to know I can still beat tough opponents,” he said quietly. “But it was never worth losing you.”

You gently moved onto the floor, kneeling your way over to where Oikawa sat. When your fingertips skimmed his cheek, cool from the fall time air, he seemed fragile.

You gently curved your fingers to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you sure you mean it?”

“Every last word.” Oikawa whispers, and maybe against your better instincts, you pull him into an embrace.

As far as Oikawa was concerned, you weren’t coming to the booth today.

Cool Down’s set up began bright and early, and despite last night’s emotional clarity, Kuroo was still the one who showed up with the sign.

The booth was placed in a central location, but deep enough into the carnival so that after a sweet kiss, everyone could go and support the other clubs. He hadn’t been able to spot Kiyoko quite yet, but he was certain they were bound to cross paths eventually.

He walked across the grassy area where the carnival was being set up, watching the glorious “Cool Down” sign being placed at the front of the admit area. Many sports teams and board members of academic clubs were helping organize their own booths.

“Hey Oikawa! I can put up the banner!” Bokuto shouted from across the field, jogging up to their area with a rolled up “Mystic Kissbooth” backdrop.

“Be careful!” He yelled back, “We can’t have one of our best spikers getting hurt. I need those cross court and straight shots in perfect condition!”

Bokuto grinned so widely that Oikawa couldn’t help but grin back. “You can count on me!”

He took a moment to slouch against the now filled bouncy castle by their stand, clutching his clipboard to his chest. He could practically sense the excitement seeping into the space as the nearby club members set up their stands.

He’d had the opportunity to survey the space beforehand, and was quite pleased with the nearby stations.

The art club created a paint gun bullseye game to win handmade trinkets and jewelry. The president stood proudly at the set up side, excitedly loading up paint into the guns. He could already predict the boyfriends who’d attempt to win there.

To the other side of them was the statistics club’s probability stand. They’d set up numerous games: cards, a wheel, and even ring toss for the chance to win huge prizes. At the present moment, Kuroo was inquiring about the legitimacy of the airpods in one of the member’s hands (and yes—they were legit).

“This is pretty amazing, huh?”

Oikawa snapped out of his reverie, only to see Mattsun sporting his classic smirk. He looked around for Makki, but didn’t find him.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I’m honestly surprised our little flier accomplished this much.”

“I’m not,” Mattsun chuckled, “You’ve been like this since high school Oikawa. Everyone here is really grateful for the rumors. Speaking of which…think the culprit is going to show up today?”

Oikawa snorted, momentarily horrified at the sound

that escaped him. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not planning on being a headliner. Iwa’s got that covered.”

Makki walked into view just a few moments later, looking thoroughly confused. “Where’s the rest of the team?”

Kuroo walked over at the exact moment, clapping Makki on the back. “We decided to give them a little break, considering they’re going to be doing all the kissing later.”

The group gathered together, and Mattsun pointed to the castle. “Who’s running this thing?”

“Oh it’s just a free fun thing the school is putting up.” Oikawa smacked it for good measure.

“How did midterms even go for you guys?” Kuroo laughed, “I pulled what I wanted in all my classes. Somehow. Orgo was a fucking miracle though. I genuinely thought I failed.”

“I was mostly fine,” Mattsun chuckled, “Though we won’t talk about history. Freaking liberal arts.”

Oikawa’s midterms had gone more or less to plan, but the added emotional stress had made it much more difficult to keep cool.

Standing there in that grassy field, he felt more at peace than he did the rest of the week.

Maybe today would be okay after all.

You and Iwaizumi were in your room trying to devise a plan on how to attend the carnival. The cool wood of your desk hit your wrist as you spread out the makeshift blueprint of the event that Kiyoko had so graciously given you.

Iwaizumi paced along the floor, inspecting outfits that you picked out while you devised a mental list of everywhere you wanted to go to maximize your enjoyment. Economic principles were literally designed off of utility, and you wanted to make sure all your contributions would have the best outcome for the clubs and yourself.

Midterms had been stressful, and while last night’s talk had fixed most of what had contributed to that stress, you still wondered about Oikawa.

Iwaizumi was the event’s new headliner, so what did that mean for Oikawa?

You weren’t sure.

The Saturday morning filled your room with sunshine that was comforting. From your window you were greeted with the multicolored leaves of campus, some floating down leisurely to hit the grass.

Iwaizumi, it seemed, had finally picked your outfit.

“Here,” he gestured, pointing to one of your favorites. “You rock this one.”

“Why thank you,” you smiled, tossing him the blueprint. “I’ve finally figured out the order I’m going to tour the Cool Down.”

Iwaizumi caught the paper in one arm, muscles flexing ever so slightly as he did. You nodded appreciatively. He was going to generate a shit ton of money.

He put a pen between his lips ever so slightly as he read the marks on the page. “Cotton candy. Art booth. Bouncy castle. Stats games. Chemistry lab. Apple dunk to win candy apples. Physics coaster.” He handed the page back. “That’s a pretty solid list. I think you’re missing something though.”

You pulled the pen out of Iwa’s mouth (surprised at your boldness) and smiled gently at him. “I’ll be sure to pop in at some point or be nearby to support you.”

Iwaizumi nodded, “Of course. I just need to beat you at any and all games we visit after my shift.”

You snickered. “Not a chance.”

Iwaizumi simply smirked in response.

“Hey, I need two tickets!” A student hollered to her assistant, who at the present moment, was working on acquiring more admit tickets from the roll they’d customized for the event. “We have quite the line here.”

“I’m working on it!” The assistant hollered back, jogging over with the entire row.

The line for the Cool Down was large, and you were thankful you’d had the foresight to arrive early enough to avoid a majority of the crowd. Being friends with Iwa had its perks too–the minute that the admitting team had spotted him, they’d immediately ushered you to the front so you were in a position to visit him later.

Soon enough, you were at the front of the line.

“Well hello there friend of Iwaizumi,” the girl at the front smiled, “How many tickets do you need?” “Just one,” you said, surprised at the lack of prompt to pay the entrance fee. “What about the entrance fee?”

“Oh, Iwaizumi took care of that already,” the assistant grinned, handing you a beautifully designed cardstock ticket and tying a wristband around your wrist. “So you can walk straight in.”

You smiled graciously at the duo. “Wow. I’ll go find him and pay him back. Thank you guys.”

Stepping around the ticket distribution center, you walked straight through the decorated entrance area and walked in.

For a moment, you were awestruck. The usually empty grass fields were filled to the brim with activity. All around you were the booths of various clubs, all with lines to try them out. You could smell the sweet and tart scent of caramel apples in the distance, and saw a couple trying out the physics club’s make-shift coaster with a cotton candy in their hands.

The late afternoon was brisk and fresh, and you felt the possibilities of the evening unfurl around you. As the sky darkened its hues, the fair would begin to light up from the fixtures that trimmed everyone’s areas. Everything, from the food areas, to even the Mystic Kissbooth would create a movie-like scene.

You decided right there and then that the Cool Down was the best fair you’d ever attended. You’d never seen anything as well thought out as what you saw today.

You made your way to the popcorn area, finding new booths that you hadn’t seen on the blueprint. In front of you was a simple dart-throw, with the guarantee of winning a special edition Cool Down shirt if you hit within a certain range.

This was intriguing.

“Hi there,” you said quietly, walking up to the booth. “Can I give this a whirl?” The booth’s president looked up at you shocked for a moment before nodding.

“Of course!” He said excitedly, elbowing his shift mate. “Y/L/N Y/N, right? We are huge fans of your work. Kuroo has told us so so much about you!”

“My work?” You asked curiously as they pressed a dart into your palm. “Like my fliers?” “Hell yeah,” the president grinned. “Pay if you win okay? I honestly want you to get our design out of it. We were inspired a bit by your Mystic Kissbooth sign.”

In the spirit of good fun, you aimed the dart as best as you could, so surprised when you hit a spot very close to the bulls-eye.

“Hey!” you shouted excitedly, “I actually got in range!” The president smiled excitedly. “Amazing! What’s your shirt size?” You told him your size, tucking a good amount of money into the jar. As soon as the soft shirt fabric hit your hands, you were immediately overcome with a sense of pride. The design was beautiful and simple, capturing the essence in the fair in just an image.

“You’re the design club?” You grinned, “This is amazing!” “Ah thank you,” the president said bashfully, “It’s an honor to get a compliment from you. You’re more than welcome to join us. Canva art is still art we love.”

“I’ll be sure to consider it!” You waved goodbye to the design booth as you made your way deeper into the fair, a t-shirt in hand.

“Hey there! Want a chance to win a cool plushie? Come right over!” You turned your head to be met with the sewing club with something that looked a lot like “Bop-It” set up with sheets of papers next to them. Out of sheer curiosity you made your way to the booth, finding a larger crowd than you anticipated. “Okay,” one of the members began, “Here is how this works. You and your competitor will receive a pre-programmed Bop-It machine. Follow the color scheme as closely as you can and note the last color in each sequence on your sheet. If you don’t mess up before your partner, you win ANY handmade plush of your choice!” In front of you, you spotted a couple tucking money into the jar and competing against one another. The round was quick, ending when someone clicked the wrong color. The handmade plushie of the winner was adorable.

Somehow, all your observations had led you to the front of the line.

“Hello,” a student smiled, “Do you have a competitor with you?” You were about to share a response when you heard a voice behind you. “Yeah, they do. I’d like to play please.” You were pleasantly surprised to find Kiyoko grinning as she tucked a hefty amount into the jar. The student at the front seemed enamored, and so did the entire line.

“Shimizu Kiyoko is here…” they all whispered.

“Hey Kiyoko,” you smiled, placing your own money in the jar. “Planning to beat me?”

“Of course.” She grinned mischievously, “I ran a volleyball team. I am competitive enough to beat you.”

The game began as soon as the students got a grip of themselves. You frantically hit the colors and noted them down, only to tie with Kiyoko. You’d both walked away with adorable plushies, though Kiyoko had forcibly had to ensure that they didn’t hand her an extra.

“I’m glad to run into you,” you smiled, walking with her further into the grass. “I had no idea what time you were planning to get here.”

“I’m glad I found you.” Her smile was infectious, and soon enough, you stood in front of a candy apple stand.

“Are you planning to visit the booth?” You asked her, watching her pay for her apple.

“Yeah,” she smiled, “Oikawa begged me to cover, so I was feeling nice. Though he’s been sulking lately.” You raised a brow. When you saw him last night, you could feel his fatigue. You felt the stress melt out of him when you pulled him in for a hug, but you hadn’t realized the extent of his distress.

“He hasn’t kissed today at all,” she smiled knowingly, “I think he’s saving an appearance for a special someone.” “He’s….not headlining?” You were shocked. After everything, it seemed that he really meant what he said.

“Nope,” Kiyoko wiped some caramel from her lips. “And the booth’s sales have been spectacular.”

Standing there in the field, you were hit with the intense urge to see him. “Go,” Kiyoko smiled, “They’ve been waiting for you to show up.” “We’ll catch up.” You smiled as you took off in a jog towards the booth. The wind swept your cheeks as you ran, and you could see the evening sun dip into different colors. Beautiful, you thought, feeling the adrenaline pump through your veins.

He really had meant everything. You needed to see him.

When you arrived at the booth, you were shocked at the line. So many students lined up, money in hand as they waited for their chance to kiss a volleyball player. You were shocked to see the crowd, watching someone hand Semi a particularly large bill before leaning in for a kiss.

You surveyed the booth for Oikawa, but you couldn’t find him anywhere. You couldn’t stop the thrum of your heart in your chest from overpowering your senses. Where was he? What if you were too late? At that particular moment, Oikawa walked out from behind the stand, putting some Chapstick onto his lips. And then, he saw you.

You stood in line, a large bill in hand and an expression that seemed almost desperate. Oikawa has never seen anyone look more perfect than you did right now. You held a handmade plushie and a shirt, lips flushed from biting them.

You met his eyes, feeling your heart shock at the sensation. There he was.

Before you even had a chance to think about what you were doing, you ran out of line to him, shoving the bill into his hands.

“Tooru,” you said breathlessly, looking at him with an expression he’d never seen before. “Kiyoko told me you weren’t headlining. I was afraid I wasn’t going to find you. I’m sorry for not trusting you.” Oikawa could hardly hide his shock as the words tumbled from your lips. He studied your cheeks, and smoothed out your wind mused hair with a soft smile. “Hey, it’s alright.” You exhaled, looking at him like he strung the stars. “I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.” Oikawa simply grinned before pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

This was different from the last time you kissed. He cupped your face softly and wrapped his other arm around your waist, tracing a small heart into your back. You could feel the curve of his lips as he kissed you softly, pulling you deeper when you smiled back into it. Everything about this was soft, almost loving. It felt like a truce. It felt like a confession.

It felt better than both of those things. When you finally split for air, his smile was nearly blinding. He looked at you like you were a poet and he was your poetry, a product of your purest affections.

“Go out with me sometime?” He looked nervous, standing there like he hadn’t just kissed you like you were the most special person in the universe.

“Of course,” you grinned, pulling him down for another kiss.

if you got this far, thank you for reading <3!!

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rununcal · 18 days

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Honestly I did not know it was Trans Visibility Day but now that I do know, I made something for the occasion! I heart this insane middle-aged guy and headcannon his trans-ness as basically just an evil and fucked up version of his previous male identity. He’s a guy but goopy and scary now.!!

(Image ID: Ink Sammy Lawrence stands over the corpse of human Sammy Lawrence. His human form is laying in a lake of black ink with various compositions scattered around him. His hair is unkept and falls into the pools. His ink form seems to have emerged from this human corpse, and stands confidently with his hands crossed as if in a coffin. His mask is tilted to the side of his head and he grins a large toothy smile. Behind him is a dripping trans flag in the shape of Bendy, and behind that is a small room with the shadows of outstretched hands all over the wooden walls. End ID.)

Very unorganized rang about how he relates to gender identity (cause I thought it would be fun) under the cut!

SAMMY LAWRENCE GENDER RANT WEE

This artwork is related to Sammy and whatever I headcannon his identity to be, yes, but it is also related to me! Sammy’s definitely one of the guys that falls under the gender umbrella for me, and so I’m using him here as a sort of expression of how I feel about my own transness. A big part of my identity is body horror and metamorphosis. What is horrific to most is still horrific, but also beautiful, to me. I would love nothing better than to literally crawl out of my own skin sometimes and live life as some freaky creature. I don’t really understand it, with me just beginning my journey and all, but I can’t deny it permeates a lot of my dreams and ambitions.

Sammy reflects a lot of that for me, as you could probably figure out. I know he hates his body in cannon, but to me it just feels so much more logical that he’d love his new body as it was given to him by Bendy himself.

Keeping that change in-mind, and also keeping in mind the undertones I’m giving him, I really like how his change into his new identity is handled. It’s no smooth sailing. I mean, he gains the new identity by hitting bedrock and going insane. But somehow, it leads him to a place filled with more fervor for life than before. Despite how low a place he’s in now, he has never felt more alive. (I’m not trying to romanticize this type of sadness by the way, I just mean that a big realization about my identity came in a dark time). I think that relates to a lot of feelings I have personally about my identity, though I cannot say for others. I just think it’s real neat.

Anyways, rant over. I just wanted to try and get my thoughts out on paper besides just saying that he’s gender. Ty for reading!

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tinycurlyfry · 1 year

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Thinking about how Buggy and Shanks parallel Zoro and Luffy but if Luffy dropped his ambitions. The agreement between Zoro and Luffy was that Zoro would follow Luffy, be his first mate, be his swordsman, the first member to join his crew and set sail to achieve Luffy’s dream of being Pirate King IF Luffy never got in the way of Zoro’s dream of being the Strongest Swordsman in the world.

Buggy and Shanks were “apprentices” to Roger (and really more or less they were his sons). They were learning from Roger and learning what being a pirate SHOULD BE. So as apprentices, it would go without saying (at least as far as Buggy is concerned) that that means they need to be the ones to carry Roger’s Legacy. That they should be the ones to get their captain’s treasure and carry out what he wanted for the world. We see it in what Buggy is CURRENTLY doing. That he wants to inspire people to achieve their dreams. Crocodile sees piracy as a business, and Mihawk sees his position as a power pirate as a means to live a peaceful, lazy life where no one would dare bother him. But they don’t have the ROMANTICISM of a dream anymore. And all those years ago Buggy heard Shanks say he was no longer throwing himself into the romanticism of pirating and adventuring anymore. He’d be a pirate sure, but there was no drive, no DREAM behind it anymore.

And then he asks Buggy to still be a part of his crew. I can only imagine what that request must have felt like to Buggy. For Shanks to tell him “I won’t be the pirate king you saw me as. I’m not seeking any dream. But come be a part of my mediocracy. Just settle for less, Buggy.”

Now of course, Shanks still went and became a HUGE big name pirate. One that achieved Emperor level. But in that moment? In that moment it felt like Shanks was asking Buggy to give up on his dream, settle for being a pirate simply to be a pirate, and betray what they had learned from Roger.

Luffy was never going to get in the way of Zoro’s dream. Zoro’s desire was Luffy’s desire and vice versa, because as they said themselves in the show- the pirate king shouldn’t have anything less than the best swordsman on his crew. But Buggy’s desire was not Shank’s desire. I’d argue it probably still isn’t! I know Shanks is now making his move for the One Piece, but I honestly don’t know that that is his true objective. I think he thinks his place is to BE THERE when the battle for the One Piece happens. He placed a bet on the new generation and he is going to be there to see that bet come to fruition.

And I think part of that conversation between Shanks and Buggy was how they were each grieving. They had both lost a captain, but also a father.

But Buggy has not given up. His own dream was rekindled this most recent chapter (yes partially because he believes Shanks finally wants to be pirate king too), but partially because he finds himself SURROUNDED by people who know longer believe in the child-like wonder of adventure and treasure and the DREAM of becoming PIRATE KING. I think Buggy HAD also given up down the line. I think we saw a Buggy who’d lost his way at the beginning of the series. I do think Buggy doesn’t have the... best morals... But whether it’s intentional or not Buggy is not who we saw at the beginning of the series and he’s rallying so many people under him, and giving them sanctuary, and honestly? Reaching a king’s status to so many people.

But honestly? If Luffy suddenly went “You know what? I’m happy with what I’ve got here. I don’t need to be pirate king anymore. We don’t need to get the One Piece.” The Straw Hats would be SO LOST. Sure maybe they wouldn’t all get immediately angry or upset as Buggy had and asked “Well, what DO you want then?” But they are a crew made from the collection of DREAMS. And everyone’s dream is their own dreams. Zoro’s ambition became Luffy’s ambition, but that would never had happened if there was even a small chance that Luffy would be satisfied with anything that fell lower than reaching their dreams.

All this to say I’m proud of Buggy and support him as Leader of Cross Guild LMAO I hope he continues to fail upwards.

#One Piece #Buggy the Clown #Shanks #Zoro #Luffy #FryTalks #Cross Guild #Mihawk #Sir Crocodile #Gol D Roger #The funniest thing about all of this is that I did not like Buggy before this chapter #I was one of the people who would chuckle at the fun people were having liking Buggy so much after Impel Down/Marineford #but I did not care about the clown #I care about the clown now #I hope he shows up and pulls a fast one on Shanks and Shanks just beams at him with a big ol smile #OP Spoilers #One Piece Spoilers #Egghead Arc #One Piece 1082

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ovaryacted · 5 months

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Alright, I’m gonna be brutally honest and I don’t want other people to take offense to what I have to say or to take it personally. If I get jumped, I get jumped, it is what it is, and to my mutuals, I still care for y’all and want you all to succeed so no hard feelings. I just have a genuine question and I’d like someone to answer. But what is the appeal in the psuedo-incest/incest fics I keep seeing?

There’s been like a huge uptick of the frequency of these fics and I just kind of want to know why? I get it’s all fictional, I can’t control what other people write and that’s not what I’m trying to do, but I just want to ask why it’s suddenly so popular. It’s everywhere, and yeah it’s not my cup of tea I’ll admit that, but I want to know why it’s inescapable right now. We skipped the daddy kink phase and hit a hard left and drove into a ditch.

It’s that, plus the rape fics (I’m not talking about cnc, I’m talking about actual rape), and now I’m seeing literal pedophilia (yes in the tags). Listen guys, yes Leon is a set of pixels, he is not real, so anyone can do what they want with him. But these things you’re writing happen in real life. I don’t want this fandom or a character to be destroyed because people are writing these things and calling it dark content as an excuse to let this kind of stuff slide. It is dark content, but some of these things are literal crimes too that shouldn’t be romanticized no matter how fictional it is.

There is a big difference between having kinks that assumes two consenting people of age are engaging in them (because minors can’t consent and shouldn’t be practicing kinks), and literal SA and pedophilia. That’s not okay.

I’ve mentioned it before when I saw people sexualizing Miles & Gwen in their fics from ATSV when they are still minors in the canon, and I’m seeing the same thing happening with Leon in certain dynamics. It’s just very ironic when you have “minors dni” as a warning on your page yet you write out a scenario involving a minor or alluding to a situation like that. It shouldn’t be the only thing you write either, like genuinely as an adult that’s concerning. Grooming, rape, SA, and pedophilia are not things to just write and talk about casually, these are things that are very triggering to a lot of people, and seeing them floating around tumblr under the smut tag with minimal warnings is dangerous.

This happens in every fandom, believe me I know, but I want to know why it’s happening at the rate it is right now. It’s okay to write your favorite character outside of the canon, it’s okay to explore the out of character dynamics you want, and it’s okay to explore the taboo I’m not telling you not to because I plan on doing the same. But only writing fics like this is kind of crazy no?

So please be careful and mindful, especially if you’re an adult, especially when you know minors will read your stuff regardless of the warnings and they can think things like this are normal when they’re not. Adults are the last type of people I’d expect to see this stuff from. It’s getting concerning, so please just be careful seriously. I just hope some of you understand where I’m coming from.

(I also just wanted to add that I’m not shitting on people who use these fics as a coping mechanism to intense trauma. I get it, I’ve studied this, I also use my writing as a coping mechanism to my own trauma and the kinks I have in real life are in response to that. I’m not talking about them directly so I want to make that clear.)

#ཐི♡ཋྀ nic’s nonsense #I don’t want problems #I’m actually getting concerned only as someone who studies this stuff and as an adult in a fandom space #and tbh I just don’t like the route the fandom is going rn #it’s kind of discouraging and makes me want to hide lowkey

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mikareo · 7 months

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⌗ ROMANTICISM ₊ ˖ ་. rin itoshi x fem reader (4k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ there are so many words he wishes he could take back, and he realizes now that he loves you. he loves your colorful laugh, beauty, and passion - all he needs now, is to tell you...and say those three little words. (part two of rationalism - must must read first!!!)

contains; colorblind!rin, painter!reader, rin’s mom is reader’s art mentor, rin hates art, strangers to friends to lovers, swearing, immense fluff, , kissing, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness, happy ending!!! author's note; this was originally supposed to end with reader getting into a car accident and d-wording the day of her art gallery...but i changed my mind :D

He misses you. He can’t help it, but he does.

The memories he has with you are a cassette tape on autoplay - constantly running through his mind on repeat, and always ending with the awful confrontation that you’d left each other with. Rin wishes he hadn’t raised his voice. He wishes that he would’ve been honest with you from the very beginning, but he hadn’t, and there’s no changing the past. All he has now are two empty hands that would much rather be interlaced with your paint-covered fingers.

“How much longer do you think you’re going to be moping?” Sae’s call is distant from the turning gears within Rin’s brain. He’s sure that his brother has grown tired of his constant state of melancholy - having been forced to be his support system after you walked out the door - and Rin feels awful about it. If he could, he’d rip his heart from his chest and allow you to step on it. To stomp and tear through the organs just as you’d done to those poor bystanding cherry blossoms on the sidewalk.

“As long as she’s still upset with me.” He groans as his forehead hits the marble of the island counter. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well we already knew that.” The dim-eyed boy beside him scoffs while taking yet another drink of his apple juice - which he has unfortunately had to drink for the past hour and a half since Rin had somehow consumed his small supply of alcohol within the past few weeks that the two of you hadn’t been speaking. “I was really rooting for you, man. I thought she was the one to break your cycle.”

“Cycle?”

What the hell does he mean by ‘cycle’?

“Oh, you know,” Sae continues without even taking a breath, “The cycle of life you’ve got going on with your inability to actually attract girls.”

Rin hates him.

“You’re an asshole.” He grumbles, taking his own swig of the pint of orange juice he found in the back of his fridge. Is it expired? Likely yes. Does Rin care, at all? Definitely not. Is he even more pissed off that he doesn’t understand the irony of why it’s called orange juice? He doesn’t want to answer that question. “An unhelpful asshole who should definitely stay over and cook dinner for me since he wants to make up for being said ‘unhelpful asshole’.”

Sae scoffs, shaking his head whilst the thin, soft strands of his hair flit back and forth. His right eyebrow raises in a mocking expression, “You need to get yourself back out there, man. You’ll be old and grey if you keep waiting for the perfect girl to come knocking on your door, so just talk to her. Just fucking talk to her and put me out of my misery.”

“Are you trying to make this about you, right now?” Rin stares at his best friend in utter disbelief, but he’s not truly upset. He knows that Sae holds good wishes for him in all manners of life - this being no exception - and takes his words to heart. He’s right. Of course, he’s going to lose you if he doesn’t even try to get you back. “The sun must be falling out of the sky because I’m actually considering following your advice.”

“That’s a pretty picture to imagine,” his older brother chuckles, causing Rin to roll his eyes. What’s the sensation that everyone has with mentioning imagery every five seconds? “Just talk to her, man.” Sae continues, “Please, I’m all out of advice.”

Rin takes his brother’s pleas to heart. It is quite ridiculous that he’s spending his time depressed and lonesome when he could be reconciling with you. Perhaps it’s his fragile masculinity acting out and refusing to take blame for the situation, although he’s fully aware it’s completely his fault that you’re upset with him.

It’s difficult for the gears to begin turning in Rin’s head. They’re covered in brittle rust that’s been creeping deep into the crevices of his mind for his entire life - slithering down his spine towards his blackened heart that you had only just begun to breathe life into. He misses the feeling of spring that came when you called. The freshwater rain of your laughter and budding blossoms of your smile that washed away his loneliness and replaced the awful emotion with an overgrown garden of bliss. He still doesn’t understand how he managed to mow that garden down with one sentence. He might as well have taken a chainsaw and brutally hacked into every connection that he’d managed to make with you in your time of knowing each other.

Now he’s going to be on his knees begging for forgiveness with his hands stained by the minced grass. Does grass stain green or yellow? Hopefully not brown, dear lord. He’ll be buried deep into apologies that should definitely be rehearsed, but he knows he’s not an artist with words and he won’t bother to waste your time with crumpled-up ‘I’m sorry’ notes and improvised tears.

You deserve nothing but the best - so much more than he’s been giving you and he needs you to hear those words come straight from his mouth.

When did you begin to mean so much to him? Rin doesn’t even know.

It could’ve been when you showed up to his game unannounced, with first row seats and a booming cheer that he never knew he desired. ‘C’mon number ten! I know you can do better than that! Beat their asses, Rin!’ He nearly tripped at the sound of your voice, and falling on his face was the last thing he wanted to do in front of Isagi - but to be completely honest, he doesn’t remember much of his qualms with his rival from that day. Rin was solely focused on playing well for you. The world stopped and he was given all the time needed to impress you. You give him a reason to be better, a selfless reason to do good.

Perhaps it was when you’d shown him around your homey apartment, with maple art easels and splattered canvases lining the walls, and watched with glee as he made his best attempt at a finger painting (which may or may not have ended up looking like two worms kissing). ‘It’s abstract’, you’d say every time he found something new that was wrong with the art piece, ‘All it needs is a home. See?’ You hung his shitty little sketchbook paper on your living room wall, right next to your TV for the whole world to see. The way you stood there staring in awe still rattles his brain. You’ve always been able to find beauty in even the smallest things.

Or maybe his heart had begun to beat a little faster that Saturday night on the way out of the theater. The romance of the film the two of you just witnessed was still on Rin’s mind, provoking his alcohol-induced body to make a pathetic attempt at holding your hand - which resulted in him accidentally knocking you over into a street puddle that swallowed the heel of your shoe. ‘I needed to take a shower anyway, Rin, it’s fine!’ Your smile continued to be bright despite the low temperature and sprinkling rain, and he can recall wondering how you managed to stay so positive in such a dreary situation. As you discarded your soggy heels into a nearby trashcan and skipped barefoot on the pavement, you called, ‘Come on! Dance with me!’ The shared laughter between the two of you echoed through the seemingly empty streets that surrounded you - hands connected as you swung in circles around each other and fell over one too many times, until he carried your sleeping body home. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever been able to make him laugh as hard.

The way the corners of your eyes crinkle amidst fits of giggles is his favorite image to replay. He doesn’t need to know the color to be able to see how beautiful they are - to appreciate the blinding sparkle that overwhelms your irises when he accidentally trips over the uneven sidewalk or knocks over your painting station - or even when he unintentionally makes a sexual innuendo that you just so happen to pick up on. ‘That’s a love hotel, Rin! Why would I have stayed there before?’ It was almost as if you were conducting a symphony of glorious laughter that night. The violins played the tune of your voice in a higher octave and the cellos added a punch everytime you’d bite your lip in an attempt to calm down. He hadn’t known what a love hotel was intended for before that night, but he’d also made the mistake to say, ‘I wouldn’t mind going to my first one with you, it could be a first for both of us.’ and you still haven’t let him live it down. Rin’s honest with himself for the most part. He’s awkward, insufferable, and a bore to be around - yet, for some odd and unknown reason, those are your favorite things about him. Why?

Why is it that he can’t function like a normal person when your eyes meet his?

Why do his words rearrange themselves and become complete gibberish when he attempts to woo you with his charm?

What is it that keeps him coming back to you, despite holding such deep hatred for the things that you love most?

“I need to text her.” Rin feels his chest vibrate as he finally makes a decision, the words pouring from his mouth in a short word vomit - forcing Sae to piece together the jumbled mess and attempt to comprehend whatever it was that his big brother was trying to say, to which he jumps up from his seat at the island and aggressively pats Rin on the back.

“That’s what I’ve been saying, dumbass! Get those fingers movin’!”

His phone falls into his hands in a millisecond, with Sae eagerly awaiting to hear his poetry. He’s grateful to have such a supportive friend. Rin knows that there aren’t many people who would be willing to put up with him for so long - having been moping around and complaining day-and-night of relationship problems that were solely caused by him - and he can’t imagine not having his support. Hopefully he’ll be able to introduce you, one day. You’ll both give him so much shit for his attitude. Oh well. It’ll all be worth it having two people he loves get along.

…

Did he just…

What did—

There’s no way.

Did he really just use that word? That godforsaken word?

He’s trembling. Rin’s phone is shaking in his hands as he finally comes to the realization that he does, with his entire heart and being, love you. In an instant, his entire world scrambles together with rapid dashes and line art that he can’t even comprehend. There’s no rules to follow with these types of feelings - this insistent need to see you. Hold you. Kiss you.

Fuck, he wants to kiss you. He can’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing.

Like tapping raindrops that never cease their fall, his fingertips move against the keypad in a rhythmic motion - singing a song of love that can’t be contained into a simple lullaby. His heart pours out into the message, apology after apology being pasted in paragraphs, and hopes with his whole soul that you’ll find it in yourself to at least see him in person. There’s no way you won’t. Rin knows you well enough now that he’s certain he’ll be seeing you again. All he needed to do was take the first step towards forgiveness, and he’s finally willing to be vulnerable and own up to his inability to be honest about his feelings, because he loves you. He loves you and he wants to tell you a hundred times, a thousand times, and a million times until you beg him to shut the hell up and kiss you.

‘I’ll be at the studio tonight. I miss you, ______, and I’m sorry.’

He ends the message with a final apology, begging fate that you’ll read it in time to meet him while he still has courage - and with that, he’s on his way to the place he hates most, awaiting the person whom he loves most.

An hour has passed - well technically it’s been fifty-seven minutes, but who’s counting?

He’s counting.

The sun went into hiding ages ago and the moon now stalks him as he sits in his chair, lonely with two vacant eyes that wish they were gazing at yours. Rin can’t even tell if you’ve read the text or not - the grey speech bubbles look the same as they always have, and the delivered sign is posted at the bottom with no response. He wants to send a follow-up message, just a little ‘hey, you there?’ but he knows that’s a little bit much. If you want to see him, you’ll see him and he’ll confess his feelings once-and-for-all - though, he’s feeling much less confident than he was an hour ago. Ahem, sorry. Fifty-nine minutes ago.

Rin has a plan of what he’s going to say to you, and hopefully it makes sense when the words begin to fall from his lips. He’s said it many times before, but he’ll say it again, he’s never been good with words or feelings or anything of the sort. He wants to get better, though - to become more emotionally aware for your sake, because he knows that’s a priority for you. You have an image of your dream guy that’s been in your wishes since primary school - tall, handsome, daring, dashing, yada, yada, yada - and he’s trying to be that guy. He needs to be that guy. He’ll be anything for you.

Anything and everything…even the desperate guy who can’t get a text back.

Y’know, for a moment - a brief and fleeting moment - the world seemed a little more beautiful in his self-realization of love. The stars glistened brighter and the street lights sparkled in their reflections. Before tonight, Rin hasn’t ever been able to appreciate the natural beauty of what surrounded him. He never understood your fascination with replicating real life into paintings and sketches, but he seems to have digested the concept - at least a little bit. The only thing that could undoubtedly make his world more dazzling would be the sight of you, and holy shit there you are. There you are opening the front door - and your gorgeous, perfect reflection in the glass is looking straight at him.

He doesn’t need the ability to see color to know that you’re the most fascinating and jaw-dropping sight in the entire universe - and that the rainbow should be rearranged in the letters of your name in honor of your ability to captivate attention and inflict a multitude of emotions on him that he’s never felt before.

“Rin?” Your melodious voice is the remedy that his ears have been yearning for. “Rin, is that you? Why’re you in the dark?”

This means you haven’t read his text, right? Otherwise, why would you be confused as to why he’s here? Wait, why’re you even here?

You begin to explain yourself without him needing to ask, “I left my phone in here earlier like an idiot and I’ve been looking for it all day. Isn’t that so dumb?” You let out a little laugh, amused at your inability to keep track of your personal belongings. Why aren’t you acting like you’re upset with him? The last time you talked, you could barely look him in the eye - yet now, you’re so casual, almost as if nothing happened. “Here I am looking for my lost phone, but instead I find a lost Rin Itoshi.”

“What are you doing here? Sitting in the dark?”

The repeated question is met with a pregnant silence as Rin fails to piece together the rehearsed words he had come up with earlier, settling on a bear hug that nearly suffocates you.

He’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of touching you again that he barely notices how stiff your posture is. You’re practically a piece of rock in the midst of being carved by its maker, frozen and unable to formulate an action in response - which, in this case, means that he’s your artist. Rin relaxes his hold, urging you to reciprocate his warmth by nestling his face in your neck. Your right arm finds its place wrapped around his waist and your left around his neck, allowing him to engulf you further into his hold. You smell so nice. He notices the lavender perfume that he bought you is still rubbed into your skin, and he’s glad that you’re finally using it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Rin’s fingers run through your hair in smooth waves, gently kneading out the small knots and helping you relax - and he can tell that your full attention is on him. For the first time in knowing you, there aren’t any distractions or excuses to avoid this conversation. It’s just you, him, and the bare truth. He just hopes he can execute this right.

“There aren’t enough words to explain how sorry I am, genuinely. I shouldn’t have ever belittled you like that, ______.” He takes a deep breath, one of many, and closes his eyes. The scene of you stomping away from him has no end in his mind. It constantly plays at every hour of the day, re-run after re-run, to torment him and remind him how horribly he screwed up with you. Please, please forgive him. “You’re not just my mom’s student. You’re not just a friend that I get coffee with. You’re so much more than that and I’ve been such a fucking chicken and haven’t been able to be honest with you.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known about my condition and it was wrong of me to take my frustration out on you.” Rin can feel himself begin to cry, his tears raining down his cheeks in cascades of pent up anger and hatred for how he made you feel that day. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by him. “Your work is important to you and I know it should be appreciated. What’s important to you is important to me, okay?”

“You love your art, and I love you.”

He says it over and over again. Those three special words rapidly become six words, nine words, eighteen, forty-two, and onwards as you look at him with an empty expression. Please, please say something. For every second of no response, he confesses his love to you. He confesses as if it’s his source of air - the only way that he’ll be able to survive this encounter is if he bares his emotions with no regrets. If this were a movie, he’d be the desperate protagonist in the climax of the story who fucked up his love life and is begging for a second chance - hell, this is real life and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Just, please, have a happy ending.

You open your mouth, yet nothing comes out. No words. No statements. No confessions. You’re simply staring at him like he’s just told you the most absurd news in the existence of the universe…

…and then a tear falls.

One tear slips from your eyes, followed by another, and another…until your face is drenched in salty rain with black mascara creasing your eyes. You look like a raccoon. Rin almost starts laughing. No. He is laughing; laughing because your false lashes have fallen into your hands as the glue refused to be waterproof - and now you’re standing before him in a puddled mess of makeup and disheveled hair. You’ve never looked more beautiful.

Rin brushes his fingers across your cheek, attempting to wipe away your tears like an artist covering up a beautiful mistake. If he were a painter, he’d paint you a million times and more - hanging every portrait on every single wall of his apartment, until there was literally no space left for a scrap of paper. You’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, and the smile that suddenly bursts from your sobs confirms it.

“What’s going on? I’m so confused, are you happy or are you sad?” He’s so concerned and his inability to read emotions correctly only makes him more helpless. “Talk to me, beautiful. C’mon.”

You lean into his touch and he instantly knows that everything is going to be okay.

“I just never thought I’d hear you say that.” Your smile is directed at him now, and he feels a warmth that is so familiar yet unfamiliar and he can’t get enough of it. It’s similar to the feeling of being showered in sunlight or snuggling beneath a comforter in the winter - an overwhelming comfort that’s a gift from you to him. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Fuck you for that.”

Now you’re both laughing, giggling, and beaming at each other. His heart feels so at peace. The civil war between his divided emotions, love and loneliness, has finally ceased.

“I love you.”

Neither of you can stop the flow of confessions that slip from your tongues and in an instant your lips are on his - clashing and colliding in a furious kiss that rivals the strength of a hurricane. It’s almost as if he can physically feel your love pouring into him and warming his heart into a heated flame, stoked by the embers of your touch. God, he missed your touch. The feeling of it is addicting. It’s his personal heroin and he’ll never get enough of it.

Your lips are just as soft as he imagined them to be, perhaps they're a rosy pink color with the slightest touch of strawberry lip balm that he keeps getting a fleeting hint of taste from. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d love him too. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. He silently repeats over and over - grateful that he’s been so blessed to know you…feel you…and love you in the awful world that he hated living on his own - the world void of color that you’ve somehow brightened by simply breathing beside him.

His hands are everywhere. Your hips. Your waist. Your breasts. Your neck. He can’t get enough of the feeling of you. With every passing second he’s falling deeper and deeper in love. You’re utterly perfect, he would kiss you for years if that was an option—

Aw shit, he knocked over an easel.

“Goddammit,” he mumbles while briefly pulling away from you. Of course he had to interrupt the moment he’s been waiting months for with his clumsiness. He’s such a dumbass. If he could punch himself in the gut, he would - but that would be way too embarrassing in front of you - hold up, this painting is familiar!

“Well I'll be damned.” He chuckles and turns the canvas towards you, to which you burst out laughing. “I thought you’d have thrown this out.”

“No,” you gaze at the painting with love in your eyes. “I could never, that’s how we met.”

The painted streak he accidentally inflicted upon your artwork remains in the same position. It seems that you never even bothered covering it up and embraced the imperfection. While Rin cannot decipher the magnitude of colors on the canvas, he’s sure that the various strokes look gorgeous and masterful. You’ve always been so talented. He’s so lucky.

As he places the painting upon a now-standing easel, you rest your forehead against his. He loves you. He loves you so much. So much so that he can’t help but take a step closer, not just one but many, and embrace the overwhelming love and passion he holds for you. There are so many words he wants to say, confessions that can carry on for an infinite number of lines, but there’s no need for that now. You have forever - and he decides to start that forever with his favorite thing…

…a kiss.

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you more.” He replies.

read the final part here. THANK UUUU

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sohnric · 7 months

Text

sweet like candy – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: summer au, strangers to something more ?? fluff, suggestive. very much stargazing by the neighbourgood and fantasize by the boyz capsuled into a fic. eric is a simp and a hopeless romantic because i said so. a girl romanticizes sharing a lollipop (its me im girl)

warnings: alcohol, maybe some minimal swearing, a heated make out session that hints onto a hookup (no smut mentioned!). the use of a cheesy nickname babydoll (dont @ me or i will deactivate), reader has hair long enough for a claw clip

word count: 6.9k

a/n: almost cried while trying to name this fic somebody send help. Also this doesn't feel like my best work its kinda rushed imo but 🤠 yolo

part of the @deoboyznet summer on you event! cant believe i made it on time

a summer tradition of renting out a cabin every year invented by a couple of friends takes a turn for eric when a new addition to the circle brings him to his knees - in other words, he never knew tequila could taste so sweet.

If anyone ever asked Eric Sohn if he believed in love at first sight, he would, without a doubt, say yes.

What was the proof he had? Well, absolutely nothing. All he ever knew about love at first sight was from romance movies he watched during lonely nights with his roommate Juyeon, never having the experience of the whole world stopping and zooming in on one particular person, taking his breath away– but to put it simply, Eric Sohn is a true romantic. Call him cheesy if you want– he wouldn’t like it, but he also wouldn’t disagree.

On one summer afternoon, though, his world tilts in its axis– the moment comes, and he is finally able to test out his theory.

You walk out of the passenger’s side of a red 2008 Toyota Auris, hair put up into a claw clip, jean shorts showing off your long legs and a pearl white button-up opened and lazily thrown over your outfit, and suddenly, Eric Sohn finds his knees buckling and his palms sweating with affection. He was aware that Juyeon’s girlfriend was bringing her best friend to tag along to their little summer retreat (more like a trip to a cabin in the middle of the woods), but he sure as hell didn’t expect the stranger to make him feel this type of way.

Sure, it might just be him being incredibly attracted to you. But with how fast his heart was beating when you smiled at everyone after introducing yourself to the group, he was sure he was slowly, but surely falling for you. And he was falling hard.

He feels like the world is moving in slow motion as he watches the group go and unload the car– you and your best friend Yeri were the last ones to arrive– and what wakes him up from the haze is when he watches you struggle to carry a cooler out of the trunk into the cabin, his legs dragging him closer to the vehicle and near to your body.

Now is his time to shine. “Let me help!” he hurries out, sneakers crunching on the gravel. His hands firmly grab onto the handle of the blue cooler, muscles flexing under the weight (making him wonder why you would willingly want to carry the thing and not ask him or any of the guys for help in the first place), and when your eyes look up at come in contact with his, he presses a smile to his lips. “I’m Eric, by the way.”

“Ah,” you gasp, a grateful expression breezing over your features, “thanks. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Eric hums, watching your every move. Your figure walks over to the front of the car, your head popping in close to the window to look inside, and when a satisfied look overtakes your features, Eric finds himself asking. “Is that everything?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “we can head inside, I think.”

The boy tries hard to keep his cool, he really does. But with how he’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy, attempting to find a topic that would engage him in a conversation with you, he feels like a boy that is just experiencing a crush for the first time in his life. Everything about you is enchanting– and sure, you could say he was just painfully attracted to you and this had nothing to do with love– but he was also convinced that if you asked him to jump off the Empire State Building, he would do it without giving it a second thought (which is kind of worrying, but again– it says a lot).

You open the door to the cabin for him, and he finds himself speechless at the action. Once your eyes meet again and you offer him another subtle smile, he finds himself gasping at the sentence that comes out of your mouth.

“Hey! We’re matching, kinda,” you note, pointing towards his outfit.

And you’re right– Eric didn’t even notice at first, too enchanted with your sheer existence– but you two were indeed wearing the same thing. Jean shorts, and a white button-up– in your case, thrown over a white tank top, in Eric’s, closed (although he did leave it a bit open at the top, revealing his tanned skin). Suddenly, the boy is glad he’s wearing a red cap to cover up his hair, since he foolishly thinks the hat provides him enough shade in the face to not reveal his burning cheeks as he utters out a weak response.

“It looks so much better on you, though.”

With that, he walks into the cabin– escaping the situation, not really paying a single thought to chivalry and letting you go through the door first– and as he reaches the crowd of people in the kitchen, he prays for all high sources to find him, get to him and wipe his brain clean of all thoughts, because

even though you are basically matching (and he does think you look so much better in the outfit than he does), all he can think about is just how much more he’d like your outfit if the white button-up enveloping your body was the one he’s wearing right now instead.

The next time Eric finds courage to talk to you is when it seems like you’re not finding it to talk to anyone else yourself– the big group is currently sitting around a fire, marshmallows and sausages slowly burning in the blazing flames– and while everyone around was either talking to each other or singing along to the songs Jacob was playing on the guitar, you were sitting alone in the middle of two commotions: Chanhee and Changmin arguing about something seemingly important, and Yeri and Juyeon making out right in front of everyone’s eyes.

And Eric was supposed to listen to Sunwoo talk about his latest heartbreak– how the man still gets no girls despite having such an objectively handsome face, Eric truly doesn’t know– but the topic of the conversation was too boring for him to engage with it. That, and he was also painfully aware of your every move– you didn’t even move much– and word– you weren’t talking to anybody– and that was slowly driving him insane.

You looked a little out of place. Eric supposes it was because you didn’t really know anyone here– except from your best friend and her awfully sappy boyfriend– but even though it was logical and a little expected for you to be a bit excluded in such a foreign circle, the man took it as his mission to make you feel as welcome and as included as he physically could.

Completely ignoring Sunwoo’s blabbering (like he was doing for the last few minutes anyway), Eric confidently (and a bit shakily– hands sweating and breath hitching in his throat) walks to the other side of the bonfire, from where he’s been watching your stone expression through the flames, and sits down in the small place between you and Changmin. Changmin wasn’t even facing you, too engrossed in the debate he was having with Chanhee, and so it was Eric’s job to wobble his bottom into the place, efficiently making the older boy move away with a light elbow jab sent into his lower back.

“Hi,” he clears his throat, “are you having fun?” he asks, but mentally curses at himself right as the question escapes his mouth– does she look like she's having fun? Of course she doesn't, you stupid idiot.

You smile at the question, though, nodding. “Yeah,” you hum, “having lots of fun listening to your friends argue and my friends making out next to my ear.”

“You seemed like it too, y’know,” Eric laughs, “they’re always like this, by the way. They’ll forget about the fight in the morning.”

“Oh, that could never be me,” you sigh, shaking your head at the sentiment.

“No?”

“No,” you shrug, “I get too petty. If we have a fight, I’m not speaking to you for at least two weeks.”

Eric finds himself laughing at your comment. “I’ll remember that for future reference.”

Straightening your back and looking at your companion– as if you were going to call him out on his subtle hint of there being any future meeting between the two of you– you suddenly gasp and swiftly turn towards the bonfire, an honest mourn escaping your lips.

“Oh fuck!” you curse under your breath as your hand reaches towards a stick that’s had its end in the flame, the device efficiently resting against a rock in a position where you didn’t have to pay any attention to the snack you were cooking– more like burning– for yourself. With a quick move for the stick, you pull the tip of it out of the scorching red of the bonfire and look at it in an examining way, as if the result would be different and the marshmallow would unburn itself if you stared at it long enough. “I completely forgot about this!”

Eric takes a glance at the burnt piece of fluff, letting out a laugh at the black marshmallow in front of your face. “That’s not how you make a good s’more,” he notes, poking fun at your annoyed face.

“Oh, no shit, Sherlock…” you mutter under your breath, but your face looks a bit sad to see the piece go to waste. “I don’t know why I even tried, I’m bad at this stuff.”

There comes his moment, Eric thinks. “Well, you’re lucky, ‘cause you just met an expert at making s’mores.”

“Does a thing like that even exist?” you chuckle, rolling your eyes at the male in disbelief.

“Of course it does! You’re looking at one now,” he grins, leaning over you to take a brand new marshmallow out of the bag to your right– sandwiched between your thigh and the couple in love– before he reaches over to your hand and takes the roasting stick out of your hand, slides the white fluffy cloud through the sharp tip and hovers it above the flame.

“The key is to hold it above the flame, and not in the flame,” Eric chuckles as he looks at you from the corner of his eye, watching your expression change.

“Oh, but I thought the key is to burn the thing,” you ironically gasp, shaking your head at his teasing. “Where did you even learn all of this?”

“I grew up in the States,” Eric hums, “they would deport me if I didn’t know how to make s’mores.”

The comment gets a giggle out of you– a sound Eric almost folds at and falls into the open fire (thankfully, he held his composure– he doesn’t think 3rd degree burns would suit his look) – and it takes everything in him to not scream like a teenage girl at the thought of making you laugh. Yes, that’s how down bad you managed to get the male.

“Do you have a special recipe?”

“Just the basic one,” he shrugs, turning the skewer in his hand to make the marshmallow equally glazed on each side, “I will make it extra good for you, though.”

“I thought a master always does their best?” you tease, watching as the boy crumbles under your gaze.

“Not always. I don’t like to put effort into things that aren’t worth it,” Eric hums as he takes the marshmallow out of the burning fire, examining it, and after deeming it worthy, taking the skewer and holding it up in between his knees. The male takes a graham cracker and tears it in half, before adding chocolate to one of the sides. After he’s done, he carefully places the golden fluff ball onto the cracker and closes it, offering the sweet sandwich to you with a subtle smile.

“For you,” he winks as he turns back towards the fire, putting another marshmallow onto the stick to make himself a s’more as well (and also mentally kicking himself at the sudden burst of courage). He hears you take a bite out of the snack, his knee bouncing up and down nervously as he awaits the verdict.

“Man,” you hum, “this is so good.”

“Told you,” he says, “if there’s something I’m confident in, it’s making s’mores.”

“That’s a very unuseful skill to have,” you note, but continue to eat. The comment has him chuckle and shrug.

“Well, I used it now, so I’d argue it’s actually very useful.”

A hum cuts out of your throat at this, finishing the s’more he made for you with a satisfied sigh. “Is this how you got girls back in the States?” you ask, making the male choke on his spit.

Eric was too young to get girls when he learned how to make the greatest s’mores. He went camping with his dad and his older sister and he burned a couple before he got it right. He was in middle school and before what the kids call a glow-up these days (back in the days, you just called it overcoming puberty), but still– he decides to test the waters with another lazy, half-assed flirty comment. “Only the pretty ones.”

He hears a chuckle out of you– a reaction he decides to not pay much attention to or overthink, for he doesn’t really remember what a good reaction to flirting is anymore– but then, you sigh and nod. “Well, I give your s’more a 5 star review, so I’d find that believable.”

The comment has Eric press his tongue into the inside of his cheek, battling a victorious smile that wants to oh so desperately appear on his lips. Turning his attention fully to you, he looks at you with confidence coating his insides– it only grows when he notices you staring at the side of his face, the flame of the fire twinkling in your eye and making your features sharper and twice as attractive to the poor boy.

His eyes scan you over for a few seconds before he notices a glimmer of something on the side of your lip– a chocolate stain that has him cautiously lean in and swipe a thumb over the sweetness, not even thinking twice before smoothing his finger over your skin.

“You had a little… something there,” he hums as he licks the chocolate off his thumb. Your eyes still trained on him force him to avert his gaze back to the fire– for it was unbearable, as if sparks were flying and burning his skin, everything about the interaction making goosebumps appear over his body; even though he felt hot in his cheeks and not at all cold– when the sight of his marshmallow in flames suddenly comes to him, startling him awake.

Hurriedly dragging out the burnt snack out of the fire, he hears you chuckle at him from the side– so much for not ruining the moment. (It’s okay, though. As long as you’re entertained.)

“I thought you were a master at s’mores,” you poke fun at him, “got distracted?”

Meeting eyes with you, Eric shrugs, a lazy grin settling to his lips. “I guess you could say that.”

The night progresses quickly– with Sunwoo getting so drunk he borrows Jacob’s guitar and clumsily strums the strings, freestyle rapping about the most random topics with flushed cheeks and eyes dramatically glued to the fire; Hyunjae wanting to have a competition of who can jump over the flames and Sangyeon having to stop his drunk friend with the force of his own body– and Eric finds his eyes lacking the candy he’s been occupying himself with the whole evening. You disappeared somewhere into the house a few minutes ago, and although he didn’t want to be clingy, he walked up to the cabin with a nervous pep in his step– that’s it, he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Eric walks through the doorway, having his body immediately be met with the joined common room slash kitchen area. The cabin is kind of small (too small for the amount of people currently occupying it) and kind of old, but it’s a tradition to rent it every year during the summer, so no one ever questioned the decision or made the move to rent out a bigger one, no matter the growing friend group.

Your figure finally appears in the dimly lit kitchen area, your back turned to the doorway. Standing at the kitchen sink, it seems like you were doing the dishes– tons of plates used to carry grilled meat and sausages dumped carelessly into the sink, forgotten in a minute and leaving the last remains of food dry up on them and get hard to scrape off, a couple of glasses and mugs with their ears broken off from their age waiting with coffee stains at the bottom– and Eric immediately feels his heart fall down to his stomach, because why would one do the dishes in the middle of the night? Those usually get left there until the morning, when the least hungover person will take mercy on the rest and take care of them. Were you feeling excluded from the conversation? Did you feel bored?

“What are you doing here so alone?” he asks, making you turn your head over your shoulder and smile at him– a stone falling off his heart at the action– before you shrug at him.

“Washing the dishes,” you say, as if it wasn’t clear already.

“I see that,” Eric chuckles, “what I meant to say was, why are you washing the dishes in the first place?”

“Well, somebody’s gotta do it.”

Eric huffs– and he doesn’t even know why he’s so defensive about it. “That someone didn’t have to be you, y’know.”

He’s standing next to you now– your eyes meeting as you stare at the boy for a heartbeat– a smile spreading on your face at his furrowed brows. The action has him visibly relax, watching as you shrug and get back to the dish washing. “I just wanted some alone time for a bit,” you muse, “outside was getting too loud for a second, I’m not used to crowds.”

“Ah… once Sunwoo drinks, he can’t shut up, so I kinda get that it was starting to feel insufferable,” Eric notes, nodding at you in acknowledgement before the realization hits him. “Wait– you said you wanted to be alone, so I should probably-”

You halt him with a soft laugh– the one Eric finds his heart liking a little too much, with how it jumps up and down and makes all of him feel warm inside– a soapy hand reaching out in his direction. “It’s okay, you can stay,” you muse, “I enjoy your company.”

“O-okay,” Eric stutters– so much for the smooth lines he had prepared in his head before coming in here, all of them flying out of his head straight out of the window– and to not seem so silly, he gets his hands occupied and reaches for the clean dishes you started stacking on the counter next to the sink, deciding to dry them and put them away. The kitchen falls into a comfortable silence that only gets broken by an occasional scream landing through the walls from outside, and Eric can’t help but indulge himself in the domesticity of the act.

He can almost imagine you two washing the dishes like this in your shared apartment after you two cook dinner together and eat it in your cozy living room. That scenario sounds almost too good for the boy, having warmth slowly ooze into his cheeks, and that, he finds to be the hint that he should probably stop thinking about you in that way now or else he’ll get too distracted and break the glasses he is currently putting away. (God forbid– there were not enough of them for the entire friend group in the first place.)

“Are you having a good time, though?” Eric finds himself asking through his weird delirium.

You smile– oh god you smile, you should stop doing that if you want him to survive the night– and nod at the boy, calmness overtaking your aura and slipping into his cracks as well. “I am. It’s nice meeting new people and everyone’s very nice,” you say.

“That’s good to hear. How long have you and Yeri been friends?”

“A couple of years,” you note, “we met during high school. We always dreamt of moving away to college and living together at dorms or something, so it’s… it’s nice that it worked out for us,” you say, having Eric nod at your words with a sweet smile.

“That’s great to hear,” he muses, “I met Juyeon and Sunwoo in my freshman year of college, and the rest just… came along after a while.”

“Your friend group is pretty big,” you point out, having the boy shrug.

“I guess so,” Eric mumbles, never really thinking of it this way– in his eyes, this was normal. This was how he operated, how he lived. A lot of people around him, always close– one would think such a large friend group wouldn’t be as close with each other, but it’s quite the opposite in his case, he thinks. Maybe he was just blessed.

“How do you do that?” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I dunno,” he snickers, “guess you could say I’m quite the social butterfly.”

“I can see that,” you laugh. Eric watches you, his hands now empty of any dish– he’s been drying them quicker than you manage to clean (and rightfully so, the food is stuck on there) – he starts noticing the details of your sheer presence. How you have a slight smile playing with your lips even when your eyes are glued to the sink, how your hair slightly slips out of the claw clip and frames your face, how close you’re standing– his eyes slip towards your hands, noticing the water running down your forearms and dangerously close to the sleeves of your shirt.

Acting on reflex, mostly, the boy reaches towards your sleeves and gently tugs them up, the contact of your skin that he initiates and should realistically be prepared for making the tips of his fingers tingle, the action having you stop in your movements and glance up at him through your eyelashes– a sight he wishes he could engrave into the back of his eyelids so he could stare at it forever and always.

“Thank you,” you hum, voice barely louder than a whisper when he retracts away from you, taking his previous stance against the kitchen counter.

Eric hangs his head low for a second, clearing his throat to ease his own tension. Now is your turn to start up the conversation, a casual question falling off your lips as you get back to washing the last remains of dishes. “Yeri said you come here often?”

The boy nods enthusiastically to your sentence. “We do. We started in freshman year, because Juyeon was going to this exchange program to Paris for a couple of months, so we threw him a goodbye party. Then he came back, so we threw a welcome back party here. And then we celebrated Younghoon hyung’s birthday here, and it kind of stuck, I guess? We go here at least once a year during summer.”

“That’s a nice tradition to have,” you sigh, turning the faucet off as you finish rinsing off the last dish– a big bowl that Sangyeon used to marinate the meat a few hours ago.

“It is,” Eric nods, smiling fondly at the sentiment. He reaches for the bowl and dries it with the now damp rag (there were a lot of dishes to dry, after all), and moves to put it back to its place under the sink. With your figure still in its previous spot, the boy puts away the towel onto the kitchen counter and gently grabs your waist with his free hand, moving you away a few inches to the left. He crouches and opens the cabinet under the sink and puts the bowl into the pyramid of other ones, straightening his back when he goes back into a standing position, catching you staring at him from above, watching his every move. Your body is leaning against the counter, having Eric mirror your stance only a few inches away from you before speaking up again.

“You’re welcome to join us when we come back next time.”

The time reads 3AM– or at least that’s what his circadian rhythm tells him, because he doesn't bother to check as he twists and turns in the bed, too hot and too alert to fall asleep– when Eric decides to walk down the steep stairs and try to get some fresh air. The cabin is hot inside, but he still takes his lost button-up that he had thrown over one of the kitchen chairs and puts it on before he makes his way outside, knowing that the forest will make his bones get cold with the crisp breeze.

He opens the door and moves to sit on the little patio– the silence of outside is overwhelming even after the cabin has quieted down and everyone has gone to sleep (each one on a different level of tipsy ranging from completely chill Sangyeon to doesn’t know where he is Sunwoo– with Eric somewhere in the middle of the spectrum). His legs drag a little tiredly as he scans his surroundings– god forbid there’s a bear out waiting for him– when the sight of a figure sitting on the floor takes him by surprise, their head already turned to him after hearing the sound of the door opening.

“What are you doing here?” he asks as he walks over to you, noticing your frame dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, hinting that you at least tried to get some sleep before coming out here, just like he has.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrug, confirming his suspicions.

“Same here,” the man sighs, “mind if I sit with you?”

“You’re welcome to join me,” you smile at him, patting the floor next to you and watching as Eric crouches down before taking a seat on the wood, ignoring the sunbeds and old rattan chairs situated all over the patio. (If you’re on the floor, he’s on the floor– it’s as simple as that.)

You’re holding a lollipop in between your fingers, your other hand occupied with a half-empty bottle of tequila that was previously passed around the circle at the bonfire. Eric raises his brows at the sight, having you shamefully avert your gaze from him.

“I thought it would be a waste to not finish this,” you say, snickering, “and I also… kind of hoped that it would put me to sleep…”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures?”

“I guess you could say that,” you laugh. Taking a sip from the bottle, you gulp the alcohol down before putting the lollipop inside of your mouth, sucking on it and licking your lips after. This is not the way you’re supposed to drink tequila, but Eric figures that gathering salt and a lime would be too much work anyways.

“Are you really using that lollipop as a chaser?” he giggles, making you hum.

“Yeah,” you stare at him, a grin overtaking your features, “this girl taught me to do that at a party last year. It’s not as good as literally anything else, but it gets the job done. Wanna try?” you ask, offering him the sweetness on the stick and the bottle.

The truth is, you were only a bit tipsy when the group slowly started to scatter into their beds. Eric didn’t drink as much either– only enough to make him laugh at everything that was said and make his staring at you twice as obvious as it was before– so he thinks he can take some more. As you said, it would be a shame if the bottle went to waste– and also, something about the idea of drinking with you alone on the patio was making his hopeless heart hammer against his chest in dangerous measures.

“Sure,” he agrees, taking the bottle first. The boy takes a sip, feeling the alcohol burn down his throat, and when he moves the dark brown glass away from his lips, he is met with the image of you leaning closer to him, offering him the lollipop. His hand instinctively grabs the plastic stick, thinking you’re letting go of it, when he’s met with the feeling of your flesh under his fingertips. You put the lollipop against his lips, making him open up on instinct and suck on the strawberry flavored candy, a million different sensations (all unrelated to the alcohol) swimming through his brain– you’re so close, you smell so good, he’s holding your hand, he’s sucking on the lollipop you previously had in between your lips and it’s driving him crazy– before you take the candy out from between his lips and put it back into your mouth, tongue swirling around the sweet ball.

The lollipop had an aftertaste of tequila on it, but it was enough to chase down the faint bitterness– Eric finds himself wanting to taste more of the sweet strawberry, but foolishly desiring to get the sensation off your lips instead. His eyes stay locked with yours throughout the whole exchange, sparks flying in between the two of you even though the bonfire has long gone out, his fingers lazily dropping from the candy.

“How was it?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper– goosebumps appearing all over Eric’s skin when he swears your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second.

“Good,” he admits. It’s silly how he feels so breathless at the action.

The sound of the wind playing with the leaves of the forest is the only thing accompanying you two. It’s as if you two were thinking of the same thing when you pull out the lollipop out of your mouth and offer it back to Eric, watching with utmost interest as the boy leans closer to capture it in between his lips, never breaking eye contact. The action feels a little too electrifying to him, a little too intimate, but he can't stop– can't even imagine wanting to.

Taking a sip of the tequila, but not chasing it down with the candy, you speak up again, lazy eyes practically glued to him. “This would be a perfect moment for a kiss…” you mumble, licking your bottom lip for a split second before biting down on it.

“Are you flirting with me?” Eric foolishly asks, tone of voice a bit weak, a little unsure, the candy still in his mouth, making his words come out a little jambled.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning to yourself– Eric wonders how much of your behavior and how much of his raging heartbeat is due to the effect of alcohol in both of your veins.

His fingers pull at yours as he takes the candy out of his mouth, voice dropping as he answers you. “Then we probably shouldn’t waste the moment.”

Even though the intentions are clear, the boy can’t bring himself to make the first move– he’s completely enchanted with your presence, staring at you with tension in his shoulders and eyes trained onto your face, watching and examining it for any shift or change. Focused on the way you move, he thinks you must have realized you were going to have to be the one to take the first step– your lazily smile before you lean closer, impossibly close– making Eric’s eyes flutter shut with anticipation, your breath fanning his face making goosebumps appear all over his body.

When your lips finally touch his, he feels like he’s being kissed for the first time again, with the amount of fuzziness in his stomach and buzzing in his ears. He regains his composure quite quickly, though, as he positions his head in a way that makes you two even closer to each other, lips pressing firmer against yours now. His hand instinctively reaches out to hold your jaw, fingertips glazing the soft skin under them, your lips retracting only to go in for more.

Blindly placing the bottle onto the floor next to your bodies, you peck his lips and sigh into the kiss. “Damn, you’re good at this…”

“We’re only getting started,” he muses, making you chuckle.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nods, watching as you once again lean in and suck on his upper lip, making his eyes flutter close again. A weight appears over him as you shift in your place and move to straddle his lap, your hand moving to cup his cheek and tilt him upwards, everything about the kisses getting more hurried– less gentle, less hesitant– when you tug on his bottom lip with your teeth and grant your tongue entry into his mouth.

Sweetness mixes in between you, your hands moving around his neck, heavy breaths shared across the patio. Eric feels like he’s levitating, his body having an out of body experience, yet being awfully present– every little shift pushing him to overdrive, the slightest touch making his skin burn and heart drum against his ribcage.

You shift in his lap, making him huff under the pressure, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck. Teeth glazing the jointure of your shoulder, kitten licking the place and sucking in a bruise that will eventually be visible to everyone when you two wake up in the morning, Eric feels your hands tugging down the sleeves of his shirt, fingers feeling up his biceps. The action makes him chuckle into your neck, but the smile fades quickly as he feels your nails scratching gently at his flaming skin.

“Take this off,” you mutter, and Eric finds it endearing– helping you take him out of the button-up, sitting under you in just a white tank top and black basketball shorts.

“Why?”

“Your arms looked good in this,” you hiss before you hide your face into his neck, leaning down to give him your fair share of kisses and love bites, having the male teasingly joke as his hands run up under your tank top, painfully aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra anymore.

He moves his head to the side to give you more access before speaking out, tone of voice husky and coated in lust. “What if I get cold now?”

“Then I’m more than happy to move this to your room,” you purr into his ear.

Eric sighs, fingers playing with the hem of your top before he lets his palms drift towards your exposed stomach, roaming across naked skin. Goosebumps appear all over your body at the action, making the boy victoriously grin. “It looks like you’re the one that's cold, though, babydoll.”

Rolling your eyes at the male, you shut him up by latching yourself onto his lips before you speak against his mouth. “I’ll take that as an invitation, then?”

“Wake up Eric! The girls are leaving, you should at least go say goodbye!” Sangyeon roars into the boy's room, making the male turn over in the bed and huff out in frustration. He drags his arm up to shield his eyes from the sunlight hitting his face, the intention of just rolling over and sleeping more written very clearly in his face.

“Come on man, we’re leaving in an hour too, so you should go send them off and then pack your shit so we can load the cars,” Sangyeon says when he gets no reaction from the youngest. It’s to no use, apparently, and so as the oldest and most observant out of the group, Sangyeon decides to use physical force– he knows Eric would hate to have you go without saying goodbye. He’s not stupid. Or blind.

A strong hold on his calves drags Eric out of the bed and makes his half-naked body fall to the floor, a yelp coming out of his throat finally making Eric’s body fully alert and awake.

“Yo! What the fuck–”

“Put a shirt on and go say goodbye to Y/N before she goes, would you, sleeping beauty?” Sangyeon huffs before rolling his eyes at his younger friend, escaping the room and shutting the door close after himself with a loud thud (to add more effect to the scolding, Eric thinks).

The mention of your name has Eric quickly scrambling out of the bed. His heart hammers at the adrenaline rush, pulling a clean shirt out of his bag and dragging it over his head, the basketball shorts from yesterday’s night found on the floor being pulled over his lower frame in approximately 0.5 seconds. Eric takes the stairs 3 at a time– with how steep they are, he questions how exactly does he not trip and break his spine on his way down– and puts on a pair of slippers he finds at the door (that are not his, or his size, for the matter, making his heels comically stick out from the back).

Without checking his appearance in the mirror anywhere, he swings the door open and walks out of the cabin, watching as the group settles in a half-circle around your car, Yeri loading the trunk with her duffle bag before she closes it shut and smiles at her boyfriend Juyeon on the side. Eric joins the crowd, clearing his throat when his eyes fall onto your figure, the sight in front of him freezing him in his spot.

You’re standing there, in your jean shorts from the day before, an oversized white button-up enveloping your frame. A clueless stranger might not tell the difference, but he does– you put the shirt onto your bare skin and buttoned it just enough to reveal a bit of your cleavage– and it’s so similar to the outfit you had on yesterday, just with one difference.

You’re wearing Eric’s shirt. You’re wearing his shirt and your neck is scattered with red and purple-ish bruises, and no, Eric wasn’t that drunk and he remembers everything, but the events of last night suddenly play out right in front of his eyes like a movie, still nailing him to his spot and wiping out all of his vocabulary.

The boy feels hot in his cheeks as he watches you and your best friend pay your goodbyes to the rest of the boys, the men pulling you into side-hugs and fist bumps, shared ‘It was nice meeting you’s and ‘You should come by next time too’s resonating through the place. Soon enough, you reach the end of the make-shift half circle and lock your eyes with Eric, a playful smile softly appearing on your face.

“It was nice meeting you, Eric,” you hum, “I had fun,” you note, shooting him a knowing look.

“Me too,” he nods, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. He doesn’t know where the confidence of last night went, but he suddenly feels unarmed and lost. What does one do now?

The sight of you in his shirt makes him feel like his biggest (wet) dream has come true– call him cheesy, but it also wakes up a sense of déja vu in him from the day before– you with sunlight in your eyes, hair messed up in a claw clip. He feels like he just fell in love at first sight again. Is that even possible?

It’s good you have a sense in you that makes you take the initiative and be in charge when you see him faltering. A giggle cuts out of your throat as you lean in and hug the boy around his neck, your lips dangerously close to his ear as you speak in a hushed whisper, not wanting to be heard by the men around you.

“I stole your shirt from you, by the way. You should text me if you want it back, so we can meet up, or something,” you mouth, lips gently glazing the sensitive skin of Eric’s ear, and god does he feel like he's going to suffocate from the lack of oxygen this causes in his lungs.

“You look amazing in my clothes, so I won’t ask for it back,” Eric hums, “but I’ll text you just in case you ever wanna bless my eyes with the sight again.”

“Deal. I’ll make Juyeon text me your number,” you say before you pull away from him, shooting him a wink that almost has his knees buckling like a school boy in love for the first time.

You walk backwards and wave at the group, sending Eric one last look before you join the passenger’s side and close the car door behind you, the sound of Yeri starting the engine resonating through the quiet forest. The men wave at you until the Toyota disappears out of sight, only scattering inside when it does to gather their things and load up their cars as well.

Eric is woken up from his trance by a teasing whistle coming out of Sunwoo’s mouth and a father-like slap to his back from Sangyeon.

He wonders if he’s truly being so obvious. (He's unaware of the fact that you two had very visible matching love bites on your necks. It doesn’t take much effort to put two and two together– don't tell him that, though.)

Still, Eric shrugs and goes inside with a different kind of pep to his step.

When he licks his lips, he swears he can still taste the strawberries.

#dbn: summer on you #deoboyznet #the boyz #eric sohn #tbz #eric sohn x reader #eric sohn fluff #eric sohn angst #eric sohn scenario #eric fluff #eric angst #sohn youngjae #tbz fic #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #the boyz x reader #the boyz fluff

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babydollmarauders · 1 year

Text

YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN, KID — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n spent her high school years changing herself to become what she thought was Jack’s type, but when they meet again a few years later, she learns that she never needed to change in order for him to like her.

warnings: eating disorder mentioned and lightly described, weed mention/use, alcohol mention/use, light profanity, changing yourself for a guy (yes, that is a warning), this is mostly angst.

notes: one of my most relatable Taylor songs to my favorite guy <3 this was proofread but if you see anything insensitive, please let me know so i can change it. for timeline purposes, i should mention that i wrote this with a summer birthday in mind for y/n.

important: THIS FIC IS NOT ROMANTICIZING ED’S. if you’re struggling with an ED, please know that you can message me any time! i understand the pain and frustration and i will always be there to help in any way possible.

14 YEARS OLD

it was in my freshman year of high school that i noticed i was a bit different than other girls my age. with them having middle school relationships under their belt, and most being in sports rather than chorus like me. i didn’t really think much of it, as boys played no part in my life besides as defacto muses for my songs. but i still felt out of place.

16 YEARS OLD

it was in the summer before my junior year that i met Jack Hughes. a USNTDP hockey player and my first official crush. my family had rented a lake house and the Hughes’ ended up being our neighbors for the summer. My parents quickly befriended Ellen and Jim, and when they realized they had children the same age, all four of them tried for weeks to get Jack and i to hang out. but to no avail, because i was shutting myself in my room for some quiet writing time, and Jack was always busy with his brothers. but when i had slipped away from my parents to go for an evening swim one night, apparently Jack had the same idea. we saw each other at the lake and got to talking, becoming friends pretty quickly after that. it was 2 weeks into the friendship that i realized he made me feel things that my other guy friends didn’t.

when we split up at the end of the summer, we promised to text, but a couple weeks later i was pleasantly surprised when i was called into the school office to show him around. with pretty similar schedules, we were seeing each other in school quite a bit, and from that our friendship only grew. i sat with him and his friends at lunch, he would pick me up for school on the mornings that my car wouldn’t start, and he would even walk me to my classes sometimes.

but because of that, my feelings grew too. i did a full one-eighty, changing my entire personality. i stopped spending my weekends at home, instead opting to attend parties, just in hopes of seeing Jack there. and i found any excuse to talk to him, for even just a minute.

i’m sitting in my room, struggling with my math homework when my phone starts ringing. i peel my eyes away from the worksheet to glance over at it, and my heart flutters when i see Jack’s name, his picture lighting up the screen. i quickly press the answer button, holding the phone up to my ear.

“hey” i say.

“hey! you texted saying you have a question?” his voice is raspy, words coming out slow and slightly slurred, and i can hear Trevor, Alex, and Cole talking in the background. he’s smoking weed.

“uh, yeah. i had a question about the Algebra 2 homework, but i can just ask you tomorrow when you’re in a better state of mind.” i laugh.

“how’d you know?” i can hear his grin through the phone, and it makes me smile.

“call it best friend’s intuition. i’ll let you get back to the guys.” i tell him. we say our goodbyes and i hang up, taking another second to stare at my phone with a goofy smile before i turn back to my math homework.

during the school year, i listened to him talk about each girl he was seeing throughout the year. each of them pretty, skinny, and blonde. and eventually, i wondered if he would like me as more than his annoying best friend, if i looked like those girls. so i would stare in my mirror for hours some nights, pinpointing things i should change about myself. as like most teenage girls, i had always been insecure, wishing to change myself. but now i learned to use Jack as an excuse for it. and from there, things started developing.

i begged my mom for weeks to let me dye my hair, and when she finally caved, i went to the salon and went blonde. but my hair wasn’t the only thing that changed. my eating habits were altered. slowly at first, just cutting out certain foods, and then all at once. i started skipping meals, excusing myself from dinner by saying i had a large lunch, leaving the house quickly in order to avoid breakfast, and only eating at lunch when Jack expressed concern about my lack of food. like now.

“good afternoon, hockey knuckleheads. your favorite person has arrived.” i announce my arrival at the lunch table while dropping my book bag by my seat, interrupting the boys current conversation. they all look at me, quickly saying their hello’s.

“y/n, you’d give me an autograph, right?” Trevor asks, and my face pinches in confusion.

“uh, what?” i ask.

“like, if you knew you were gonna be famous one day. you’d give me an autograph right now, right?” he clarifies.

“ignore him.” Jack laughs, pushing Trevor’s face away from he and i. he turns back to look at me, eyeing the empty tabletop in front of me. his smile drops and he turns to his backpack, pulling out a protein bar. he throws it over on the table in front of me, it landing with a smack, making me flinch.

“eat.” he tells me. my eyes bounce between the snack and him, studying his serious expression.

“i’m fine, Jack. i ate a big breakfast this morning, so i’m not hungry. keep this for when you need it at practice.” i tell him, sliding the snack back towards him. but of course my stomach speaks volumes, deciding right then to grumble loudly. Jack raises an eyebrow at me and slides the bar back over to me. i sigh, opening it up and taking a bite. he smiles at the sight, and it makes my heart skip a beat.

“good girl.”

17 YEARS OLD

it’s the end of senior year now, and i’ve gotten no closer to dating Jack than i was before. i’ve spent countless nights alone in my room, writing songs about him and crying over snapchat stories of him with other girls.

it’s another friday night, and that means another party in hopes of Jack seeing me dressed up. this time, my own party. with my parents out of town for the weekend, i took the chance to throw a party, inviting what felt like my entire grade in a mass text.

i walk around the house, my blonde hair curled and in a half-up-half-down do. i’m decked out in a tight fit black mini dress with black ballet flats to match, and i did a full glam makeup look. i scan the living room for Jack, but when i finally find him, i immediately feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes.

he’s sat on the couch, a pretty blonde draped across his lap, whispering in his ear as he nods, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her steady, and a grin on his face. our friends were sat around him, some having their own discussions, and some singing along to the music playing on the surround sound speakers.

i go to spin back around, fully planning on going upstairs to my room for a quick cry, but before i can fully turn, i lock eyes with Jack. he raises his hand in a wave and beckons me over and i offer a weak smile in return. i look around the party once more and feel something snap inside of me.

i feel so stupid. i’ve spent the last almost two years of my life changing myself to try and get his attention and to have him look at me in a new light. spent almost two years overanalyzing his every move and i let my final two years of high school slip by me. instead of living in the moment and enjoying my rapidly declining time with my friends, i was wondering if Jack had seen my snapchat story, or if he did then why didn’t he slide up? amongst various other things to do with him.

i was done revolving my entire life and every decision i make around a guy who obviously doesn’t like me the way i like him.

21 YEARS OLD

it’s been four years since i started living for myself. in that time, i went to a treatment center for my eating disorder, graduated college, moved to New Jersey for a new job, and made new friends. i haven’t talked to Jack in three of those years. not because i didn’t want to, but because after high school, our friendship fizzled out. he went on to play in the NHL, and i went to college. we both lived busy lives, and it became too much to handle. i still talk to the other guys, Trevor the most, but not nearly as much as i used to.

now i’m sat in a club. it’s a saturday night, and my friend Yaz wanted to go do her favorite hobby. seeing how many men she can get to buy her free drinks. currently, she’s chatting up a cute brunette with an accent out on the dance floor, and i’m sat by myself at the bar. drinking an almost gone shirley temple and wondering why i agreed to go out when i would much rather be snuggled on my couch with a blanket and a movie. i’m debating telling Yaz that i’m gonna leave, when a guy sidles up next to me, taking the seat on my right and throwing me a smile.

“hi, i’m Dawson.” he holds his hand out and i slip mine in it, shaking.

“hi, i’m y/n.” he nods before turning back to a table of guys.

“IT’S HER!” he yells over, and my brows furrow, face pinching in confusion. he turns back to me and smiles again. “sorry. my friend said he thought he knew you, but he didn’t wanna come over and then be wrong.”

it’s at that moment that a shadow encases us, and i glance over my shoulder to see the one person i wasn’t expecting.

“hey!” Jack takes a seat on Dawson’s abandoned chair. i didn’t even notice he had slipped away. “it’s been so long!”

i blink a few times, just taking in the man in front of me. he looks good. like, really good. i wasn’t naive enough to think that the love i held for him had been snuffed out, i’m just comfortable with myself enough now, that i know that changing myself for him won’t do anything except hurt me.

“hey.” i breathe out. “wow. uh, i wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“yeah, i wasn’t really expecting to see you either. what are you doing in New Jersey?” he asks. okay, it’s not like i’m stupid. i knew Jack lived in New Jersey. i just also know it’s a big state and the possibility of us running into each other was slim. but apparently the universe likes to laugh in my face.

“i live here.” i tell him. “i moved here a few months ago, for a job.”

“and you didn’t call me? i thought we were friends!” he jokes, and i stiffen at the word. friends. yeah, that’s all we’ve ever been. “can we go somewhere? to talk?”

i nod and he leads me out of the club. i send a quick text to Yaz that i went outside for a few minutes, and she responds with a thumbs up emoji. Jack and i stop outside the entrance. the club stopped letting people in about half an hour ago, so there’s no line, just us and a bouncer standing about fifteen feet away at the entrance.

“well, you look good! you went back to your natural hair color, i like it. it suits you better than the blonde.” Jack starts off, and his words strike a nerve in my heart. he didn’t like me blonde? i knew it didn’t change anything with how he felt about me, but i didn’t know he disliked it in general.

“you look healthier too. that makes me really happy, y/n. my mom told me a couple years ago that your mom said you got treatment for your…disorder. i’m really proud of you.” my heart breaks a little more at his soft tone, he seems genuine. “i saw you earlier, with your friend. you have the spark in your eye back. i’m really glad you seem happy again. i’m just sorry i didn’t do anything before, to help you with anything you were going through. i was a naive kid, i just thought you’d come to me if you were struggling. but looking back, i realize that i should’ve reached out to help you regardless.”

“Jack, you shouldn’t blame yourself. you were a kid. i was a kid too, i didn’t understand the full extent of what i was doing.” i tell him. tears prick at my eyes and i blink them away.

“can i ask you a question?” he asks.

“of course.” i nod.

“why did you do it? was there a reason? i mean, at the time, it felt like you completely just changed overnight. but maybe it was a gradual thing and i just didn’t realize it back then.” i lose hope in keeping my tears at bay, letting one roll freely down my cheek. “you don’t have to tell me. obviously. it’s your business. i just- i’ve been wondering.”

i take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to explain.

“i was a naive kid, Jack. i liked a guy and i thought if i changed myself, maybe he would like me too. but it didn’t work, and instead i realized that i was just harming myself by not eating, doing things i hated, going to parties just to try and get his attention. looking back at it now, it was stupid. but back then, it seemed like the best idea i had ever had.”

“you did all that for a guy?” he asks. but his tone isn’t the usual one i get from people when i tell them about my past. it’s not incredulous, or judgmental, or even pitiful. he just sounds, sad. i just nod my head. “well, whoever he was, he wasn’t worth it. if a guy doesn’t like you for you, then he’s an idiot, and he doesn’t deserve you. i’m really glad you see that now. although, i wish you would’ve known it before.”

if only he knew.

“switching the topic.” i say, and he lets out a small breathy chuckle. “how have you been?”

“i’ve been good. just, trying not to get injured on ice, ya know?” i nod along.

“oh yeah, i remember. i still don’t understand why you would put yourself through that barbaric game.” i joke and he laughs. the sound causes butterflies to erupt in my stomach, and it almost feels no time has gone by at all. i still feel like a lovesick teenager.

before either of us can speak again, my drunk friend stumbles out of the club, an arm looped through Dawson’s.

“hey, i thought i’d bring this one back to you. she kinda seems like she might need to sober up some.” Dawson tells me, and i thank him. Yaz lays her head on my shoulder, and Dawson says his goodbye to me and Yaz before slipping back inside.

“who’s this?” Yaz stage whispers, studying Jack who still stands in front of me. Jack and i laugh at her drunken attempt at being quiet.

“this is Jack.” i tell her. “Jack this is my friend, Yaz.”

“Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack.” Yaz repeats, and it’s like i can see the gears turning in her head. “that name sounds so familiar. Jack.”

“hey, wait! isn’t that the name of that guy you told me about? the one you were madly in love with in high school?” she blurts out, and my eyes turn as wide as saucers. i can feel my face heating up. i turn to look at my friend, who apparently has absolutely no filter when she’s had too much to drink. before any of us can say another word, a blue car pulls up and Yaz’s sister, Cara, steps out. “Yay! my ride!”

Yaz stumbles over to her, only stopping to turn and blow me a kiss before letting her sister help her in the car. Cara throws me a smile and a goodnight before getting in herself and driving away. leaving only me and the guy Yaz just exposed my love for.

i turn back to Jack, finding him wide eyed and repeatedly blinking. i open my mouth, but nothing comes out. i’m not sure what to say. but apparently Jack does.

“it was me?” he asks, pointing to his chest. “i was the guy?”

i feel like i might be sick. i never meant for him to know. i thought i would take that secret to my grave. i manage a weak nod, not able to physically speak.

“why- i mean- why did you think you had to do those things to yourself, y/n? i- i’m just— i’m so confused.”

“you had a type.” i shrug. “you dated all these girls, in high school. and they all had the same things in common. blonde, skinny, pretty, outgoing. you liked all those girls romantically so i thought maybe if i was more like them, you would like me like that too.”

“but i did like you like that!” he exclaims. i furrow my brows and my nose scrunches in confusion.

“what?” i whisper.

“i did like you romantically! i just thought i never had a chance with you. so, i busied myself with other girls. why do you think none of them ever lasted long?” he asks.

“i don’t know, i never really thought about that.” my head swarms with all this new information.

“because, they weren’t you.” he pleads. “i tried to forget those feelings for you by dating other girls, girls that before i met you, were my type. but they weren’t you. none of them were you.”

he steps forward, taking my face in his hands.

“i can’t believe you thought you had to change for me. fuck, i’m so stupid. i should’ve just told you i liked you when i first realized my feelings.” he breathes out.

“you can tell me now if you want?” i offer meekly, my head spinning. i want to kiss him. i’ve waited almost six years for this moment, and dear god i want to kiss him. now quite possibly more than ever.

“i love you, y/n.” he whispers. “i’ve loved you since the summer we were sixteen and you tried to push me off the dock into the lake, and i pulled you in with me. i still remember when you popped back up in front of me in the water. my first thought was ‘she’s so beautiful.’”

i inhale a shaky breath before tilting my head up to cover his lips with mine. kissing him with desperation and need. need to not waste another second that i could spend being with him. Jack is frozen for a second before his lips start moving against mine. his hands trail down my body to grip my hips, pulling me towards him. we fit together like a puzzle piece. my own hands grip the hair at the nape of his neck. we pull away from each other, and i look into his eyes.

“i love you too.” i whisper. “if that wasn’t obvious yet.”

“yeah? i don’t know, i think you might need to show me again.” he smirks and leans back down capturing my lips in a kiss once more.

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #midnights fic list #faithlynn’s writings <3 #babydollmarauders #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nj devils #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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lurkingshan · 10 months

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La Pluie Meta Round-up

Since many of us have decided to stop being normal about this show, I wanted to get a little more organized about tracking the great meta inspired by the episodes every week. Some of y’all are putting in work to write these amazing essays digging into the text and subtext of this show, and I want to make sure I’m not missing any of it, as well as have a central place to track my own. I thought this might also be a useful resource to others, especially anyone coming to the show late (please join us, this is the perfect moment to get into La Pluie).

So without further ado, a round up of my favorite essays and posts to come out of the fandom on this excellent show. I will plan to update this each Saturday with the previous week’s meta as we go through the final four episodes. I tried my best to find everything but y'all know how faulty tumblr’s search and tag functions are, so if you think I missed something important, let me know!

First, the most crucial essay about La Pluie that everyone must read

We Must All Get Gayer and Louder About La Pluie Immediately (@bengiyo)

Second, a round up of some of the essays exploring the structure and intent of the story

Note: these may contain random spoilers for some episodes but are not specifically about any given episode

Four schools of thought on soulmates (@shortpplfedup)

Intentional subversion of the soulmate trope

Interrogating the romance genre (@chickenstrangers)

La Pluie and the subversion of second lead syndrome

La Pluie and the subversion of the faen fatale

La Pluie: On the Lore

Locations of La Pluie (@colourme-feral)

Name meanings in La Pluie (@recentadultburnout)

Narrative determinism versus genre determinism (@ginnymoonbeam)

On the subject of consent in recent bls (@williamrikers)

Romance tropes don’t work in real life (@heretherebedork) NEW

Romantic idealism in La Pluie (@ginnymoonbeam)

And finally, episode specific reactions and predictions

Note: These are spoilerific, starting at episode 4 aka when we all started really losing our minds over this show

Episode 4

Defying destiny (me and @bengiyo)

La Pluie Ep 4 And My Love Of Emotionally Available Characters (@bengiyo)

You (Yes, You!) Should be Watching La Pluie

Episode 5

La Pluie Ep 5 Stray Thoughts (aka birth of the Tai’s Dad is queer theory) (@bengiyo)

What we know about Patts (plus Shan and Ben’s vindication)

Working out the colors in La Pluie (@respectthepetty)

Episode 6

Hands in La Pluie Ep 6 (@wen-kexing-apologist)

La Pluie meets Nora Roberts (@syrena-del-mar)

On suspicion of Patts (@ginnymoonbeam)

Patts Was Going to Blow Tai. Tai Wanted It. Why That Matters. (@bengiyo)

You need to be watching La Pluie

Episode 7

Hands in La Pluie Ep 7 (@wen-kexing-apologist)

La Pluie: Maybe we will get a happy ending after all (@neuroticbookworm)

On the bed scene in Ep 7 (@ginnymoonbeam)

On the make out session in Ep 7 (@shouldiusemyname)

Episode 8

La Pluie and the Exploration of Romance, Competence, and Queerness (@bengiyo)

La Pluie: Do you still believe in soulmates?

La Pluie: The most important thing is that we really love each other

The Language of Love in La Pluie Ep 8 (@wen-kexing-apologist)

Third Child Syndrome: Birth Order Theory in La Pluie (@syrena-del-mar)

Episode 9

La Pluie and The Kind One (@sunshinechay)

Soulmate Skepticism vs Romanticism in La Pluie (@neuroticbookworm)

the divine in me; the divine in you (@liyazaki)

The Kindness is the Point (@bengiyo)

The ultimate message of La Pluie

To love is a choice (@heretherebedork)

What matters is CHOICE (@shortpplfedup)

Episode 10

A Jungian Perspective on La Pluie (@syrena-del-mar)

A Logical Love Doesn’t Exist (@fadelikeclouds)

break your own chains (@liyazaki)

Diving into Tai’s mind: Actions do not speak louder than words (@fadelikeclouds)

La Pluie: A Masterclass in Conflict Writing in Romance

La Pluie Breaks the Soulmate Bond

La Pluie: Not All Gays Are Great (@bengiyo)

La Pluie the Soundtrack (@shouldiusemyname)

Lomfon thoughts (@rocketturtle4)

On Tai’s isolation (@sunshinechay)

On villainising Patts (@shortpplfedup)

Pee Peerawich Can Fucking Act (@wen-kexing-apologist)

Revisiting episode 8

Similarities between Lomfon and Tai (@iguessitsjustme)

Tai and Patt’s incompatible conflict styles and Tais’ conflict avoidance (@ginnymoonbeam)

The Depths of Inner Turmoil (@syrena-del-mar)

The Soulmate Label (@indigostarfire)

Understanding the Core Four of La Pluie (@neuroticbookworm)

Episode 11

Balancing Self-Absorption and Love in La Pluie (@syrena-del-mar)

Checking in on the colors (@respectthepetty)

Connection (@wen-kexing-apologist)

Communication (@shouldiusemyname)

Even though they’ve separated it doesn’t mean they’ve failed (@chinzhilla)

It isn’t destiny- it’s freedom (@liyazaki)

La Pluie and the Aftermath

La Pluie: Thoughts on the Queer Subtext and More Patts Reflections (@bengiyo)

On Tai as a middle child of divorced parents (@slayerkitty)

On Tai’s special treatment within the family (@shortpplfedup)

Parenting in La Pluie, Episode 11 (@neuroticbookworm)

The narrative is letting Tai be unlikeable (@sunshinechay)

#la pluie #la pluie meta #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

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earthry · 9 months

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Mafia Papas (Mafia AU Headcanons)

I couldn’t stop thinking about what if the papas were mafia bosses and maybe the Emeritus family’s territory is so big that they had to split it into four, one for each papa.

tw: mentions of violence and murder, sexual themes and content— just a little spicy, f!reader.

disclaimer: this is all fictional and romanticized, not at all reflective of what actual mafia life/people are like. plus my knowledge is absolutely not accurate this is all just for fun!

Primo

He’s not as hands on as he used to be in his youth— these days his ghouls do more of the work with him controlling the puppet strings behind the scene. You spend your days with him in a lavish estate with a beautiful growing garden that you both tend to.

The area you live in is known to be difficult to grow things, so you often get comments wondering how you managed to make the soil fertile enough. It’s probably all the bodies rotting in the backyard but you don’t tell them that.

Sometimes Primo hosts parties in the courtyard just to watch you flourish, fluttering around as others orbit around you. The life of the party. At the end of the day however he always makes sure everyone knows who you belong to.

“Dolcezza, would you like another glass of wine? Mm, yes you look very beautiful today. Beautiful and all mine, si? Good girl.”

Secondo

More hands on then Primo, works out of a night club as a front. You started as a dancer but now, as Secondo’s lover and beloved, you needn’t worry about anything else. Most nights are spent at Secondo’s side as he chats with business associates and plays cards, either curled against him or nestled in his lap. No one pays any mind to you— they’ve already learned long ago the danger of doing so.

Has a possessive streak and loves to have you wear things of his. Whether it be his jacket or shirt or even a watch, as long as you have something of his he’s usually satisfied. You bring up the subject of maybe getting a tattoo with his name or crest and he’s immediately chubbed up to full mast (good thing it was just the two of you in his office).

You move in to his large condo with large windows and a beautiful view of the cityscape and learn that he has a weakness for making love with you pinned against the windowpane. Whining with need and pleasure as the the neon lights of bustling city below illuminate your form. Laid bare for anyone who might happen to look up.

“Do you like that, tesoro? Do you like knowing the whole world can see you like this for me? I’m the only one who can reduce you to this, cara. No one else.”

Terzo

Loves to flex his power through dramatic appearances and is definitely the kind of monologue for a good hour to his victims before finally getting to business. He often has Omega stand beside him because of how intimidating the ghoul is.

When you first meet him at the coffee shop you work at, you are not impressed and he is immediately smitten. He visits almost every morning and orders drinks for both him and his ghouls for two months straight until you finally agree to a date.

For your first year anniversary Terzo goes all out, booking a cruise to the most exotic places he could think of. Of course you don’t know that 90% of the crew and passengers are linked directly to the mafia. He’d never put you on a cruise full of mostly strangers, it’d be too dangerous.

Loves dressing you in jewels and expensive gowns and showing you off. The two of you definitely have a few matching sets of suits and dresses that compliment each other perfectly.

“Let me help you with that zipper, amore mio. Fuck you’re gorgeous. Can’t wait to take this off you later.”

Copia

Out of all the brothers, he’s definitely seen the most fights. To him, it doesn’t feel right to have his ghouls go out to do the dirty work while he sits behind a desk or goes have fun somewhere else. To him, the mafia is family. While he may be the boss, he treats his members fairly and like equals. He’s earned a lot of loyalty as a result, even from those that may not have been on their side at first.

Out of all his brothers, everyone had expected him to fail because of how timid and anxious he was growing up. He can still be awkward and anxious but when his family’s lives are on the line? When your life is on the line? He’ll show no mercy, no remorse.

He worships you, absolutely adores you. Buys the cutest little house because he knows you’ll love it. There’s plenty of extra room for your rats and for a mafia boss you’ve never seen anyone coo or baby talk animals quite like him.

Nothing gets Copia harder than the idea of you being his little housewife waiting at home for him. It’s the dream he never thought he’d have. Of course, you’re way more than that to him; you have your own job and career too. But whenever he comes home to a home cooked meal and open arms, you’d better expect to eat the food cold cause the first thing he’ll wanna do is rail you again the kitchen counter.

“Fuck that smells good, dolcezza. You’re so good to me, how about you let me be good to you? Let me show you my thanks, si?”

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youn9racha · 2 years

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URMUSE.COM

pairing: sex worker!chan x afab client!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: your friends pity you for your lack of sex life and constant sexual frustration, so one of them offered a program where one could possibly make your fantasy a reality.

warning/disclaimer: chan is referred to as chris/christopher, mentions of sex work, "anonymous"/masked sex, piv, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), whiny and shy sub!chan, insecure dom!reader, slight auralism/voice kink, oral sex, restraints, slight cum play, mentions of dacryphilia and cnc, edging, discussions of safe words (but not used), mentions of poly!minho and open relationships, labels (mistress/pup/good boy/etc.), praise, some cock slapping, felix being a flirt, reader goes by she/her, straight up porn with a little bit of a plot (but not really).

words: 5.5k

a/n: heavily inspired by that one thought i had and also @h0neydewmoon encouraged me with this filth so that’s that. i haven’t written straight up pwp in a bit, i didn’t really intend to make another chan smut (especially since most my work is chan related) but here we are once again. also, i'm sorry if there are some inaccuracies to anything when it comes to subjects of sex work. i tried my best to research, but if there's any inaccuracy, please respectfully call me out on it and i'll fix it up, but otherwise this is fictional so hope thats okay🙏🙏

taglist: @ethereallino, @h0neydewmoon, @lix-ables, @nightlychans

This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised.

The nightlife was soaring outside your apartment complex, you could almost hear the techno music blaring outside as the active night parties illuminates the futuristic city you live in. Skyscrapers project exciting ads and trailers mixing with the sounds of laughs and singing livened the city. It wasn’t like there was a holiday or anything of that sort, it was a regular weekend for everyone—it’s commonly known as the nights of the youngs as proclaimed by the party locals.

but you couldn’t be bothered to participate the night, unfortunately, as you sigh away your misery on Hyunjin’s thighs as you vent about your sex life, while your other friend, Minho, and Hyunjin just nod at your frustration as they listen attentively to you. You weren’t necessarily a prude or a virgin; you just happened to have bad luck when it comes to hooking up. It is ironic how you live in the city of parties yet have no game in the hooking up scene.

It wasn’t that you were against it, or afraid of people; you were merely scared of your fantasies and the judgments you would get. You never really had the safest concept in terms of what happens in the bedrooms, and you almost always happen to stay behind the rails to not scare away whoever your sex partner is. While you acknowledge that you don’t live in an era where expressing yourself was a sin, you still must be cautious about certain triggers one could have.

Minho and Hyunjin were very understanding and often try to let you know that there’s nothing with expressing yourself, but you were still very shy and maintained a shell tough to crack.

“How about we do it for you? I’m sure Hyunjin’s down for a threesome,” Minho once commented making you cringe at his statement and Hyunjin just widened his eyes at him shocked at the abrupt comment. You could never see yourself in that situation. Yes, the two men are good-looking and are—in your humble opinion—fuckable men for a lack of a better word, but you still can’t put yourself in friends with benefits situation with either.

And even if you didn’t care for that situation and the offer was up, it wasn’t like it’s going to do you any solid because Minho was in a committed relationship, and you weren’t about to be a homewrecker of a friend, meanwhile, Hyunjin was sort of “holding himself back” or whatever that meant. Either way, you wouldn’t take either in a heartbeat, no matter how desperate you may be; like how you are right now.

“(y/n), there is many fish in the sea who are willing to go through whatever kinks you’re into,” Minho said, speaking as if he was stating a common fact, while Hyunjin agrees as he twirls your hair, “yeah, you’re also really attractive, I feel like anyone would give you a pass,” Hyunjin adds.

You shook your head, “no, I can’t, I’m scared to make one freak out from my elaborate fantasies.”

“C’mon, I bet they’re not bad,” Hyunjin said, you got up and looked up at Hyunjin, “would you fuck someone to the point they’d start tearing up and telling you to stop but you still carry on either way because their helpless cries turn you on?”

Hyunjin just widened his eyes, attempting to process your questions as he stumbles and huffs out an answer.

“I would,” Minho affirms.

“You have a partner, Lino.” You grumbled, throwing your head back.

“So?” Minho crosses his arms, “we don’t mind having a plus one if you get my drift.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll find someone.” Hyunjin side-eyed Minho, before proceeding to comfort you. Minho could only knit his eyebrows at the two of you as he sits there uncertain before rolling his eyes, “alright fine, I actually have something that could help you two, but since you two—”

“Minho, no one’s interested in joining your open relationship,” Hyunjin argued back, while you face palmed yourself, knowing the headache that may come with the upcoming altercation that will ensue. Minho retorted back at Hyunjin and insisted that it wasn’t about his relationship, and this time he sounded more serious than previously.

“It’s this place called URMUSE. It’s where you basically fill out a form and you tell them what you like and then they book a room for you there to live out your fantasy with your desired ‘muse’. It’s like Disney world but for grown-ups.”

Hyunjin’s cringed-out expression deepened, thinking you’d react the same, but unbeknownst to him, you were slightly intrigued, hoping he’d carry further on with information. You never would have thought you’d resort to that level, but desperate calls call for desperate measures as one would say.

“Really, Minho? First off, never call a place like that ‘Disney world’ again. And second, you really think (y/n) would actually—”

“How do I get the reservation?” You interrupted Hyunjin, making the man astonished by your choice of interest.

Hyunjin knew you longer than Minho did, but to say you’d be down to go to a sex worker was a surprise to him, even Minho was slightly taken aback by your excitement—although he didn’t mind it. Hyunjin however was rather baffled by your abruption. It wasn’t that you were against the whole sex work thing, it was just not something you don’t about often, and you three knew this. But you were really desperate to let your demons, and what better way to take out your sexual frustration is on someone who’s an expert with these things?

“(y/n), are you serious?” Hyunjin asked, and you nodded at him, “yes, Hyunjin, I’m grown, I can make my decision.” With that, Hyunjin closed his open mouth, as if he wanted to say something but went against it before turning to his other friend.

“Now can you tell me more about the site?”

It had been a week since that encounter with Minho and Hyunjin and your mind is still at war on whether going to the site and getting a ‘muse’ was a good idea or not. While you were excited and up for it at first, you still drew yourself back as your self-doubts began acting up again. What if this place didn’t provide what you asked? What if it was a time and money waster and didn’t live up to your expectation? What if Minho is actually dragging you into a sex cult and you didn’t know?

The last question was farfetched, sure, but you wouldn’t know. You hate how you had to question everything and place yourself in a shell when it comes to sexual expression. You knew you weren’t going to get judged, but your mind constantly plays with your head with topics like this, by convincing you that you were a freak and a maniac for enjoying what you’re enjoying.

“Why would anyone like to get tied up or tying someone up? That’s some kidnapper shit,” your brain constantly teases you. But you knew you weren’t, you hear Minho’s experience with his partner—or partners—and Hyunjin’s past sexual experiences, and you couldn’t help but secretly get jealous of your friends for being carefree about their needs. Sure, they’re both men, and oftentimes nobody will bat an eyelash if a man expresses any sexual needs, but there is no time for commentary on this matter—you want to be railed or rail someone.

You sighed as you opened your computer and started to type away on your search engine, you muttered to yourself what you were typing and opened the first link that popped up.

“URMUSE—THE PLACE WHERE ALL YOUR FANTASIES COME TRUE!”

What an eerie welcome, you thought to yourself as you read the slogan. You scrolled away and inspected their whole site. You thought that the site was legit; it had easy-to-read sections, provides information about the muses and important guidelines, and the site seemed like it was like you were reserving for paradise rather than an organized brothel—it even carried reviews.

You seemed convinced enough to hover your mouse down to the “find your muse” option and clicked and the link opened to a form; just like how Minho described it. Minho knew about this site because he used to be an active member and was even offered to work there as their muse only for him to reject as he wasn’t interested, which adds to the authenticity of this place. Now you were staring at the form in front of you, waiting for it to be filled.

“This is more intimidating than college application… guess here goes nothing.” You sighed before typing away your information and your preferences.

After filling out the form, you received an email from the place in the most eerily warming with an exciting letter that was graphically designed from them which says;

Hey there, (y/n)

We’re so excited for your first time at URMUSE, we welcome you full of joy and excitement. Based on your application and the preference you have given to us, we have booked you a session with our popular muse, Christopher, to help you fulfill your fantasy. If you’re interested in changing your muse or would like to make a change, just contact us at xx-xxx-xxxx.

You practically stopped reading as you were not interested in any change, you have paid your price and the date was given from when you go and have your time there. You have told the news to both of your best friends, only for you to get mixed reactions.

Minho was ecstatic, he was glad that you took his advice, and followed through with what he said, hoping you have the time of your life, “yay! I can’t wait for the stories, oh and make sure you tip them well if they did a good job, they’ll highly appreciate it!”

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was apprehensive. It wasn’t that he was against you doing this, he was just unsure if this is the right way to do it. He is no angel; he himself did go to brothels similar to URMUSE but he just thought you’d be overwhelmed by the environment and was worried you were going to regret it, “I’m not telling you to not go, especially since you’ve paid, but I’m telling you to watch yourself…”

While responses were different, still you sensed their caring nature, especially since both were adamant about calling them if someone tried to hurt you or something, but either way, you reassured them and you appreciated their thoughtfulness.

Fast forward to the date, it was finally that time to meet up with your muse and hopefully not be disappointed or judged by him. From the time you got the email, you wanted to research this Christopher guy, you knew he was popular but you didn’t want to see his face as you didn’t want it to tamper with your fantasy that you may embark in. You asked Minho if he can do it for you without showing you what he looks like, and he gladly accepted to help.

While in a facetime call, you see Minho creating a bunch of facial expressions, mainly an impressed expression based on his smirk, his raised eyebrows, and the way he pushed out his bottom lips.

“What?” You asked, brows knitted as Minho chuckles at the screen he was seeing and shakes his head, “oh boy, (y/n), you’re one lucky bitch.”

“What?!” you dragged out as you repeated

“Well, you said you don’t want details, but from what I can see, your boy Christopher? He’s—he’s a good one,” Minho said, trying to make it as vague as he can, which made you regret asking him to do the research in front of you as now your curiosity was practically pushing you further on going against your plans.

However, thankfully you eased yourself with it and didn’t let temptation win you over, especially since the date wasn’t far from the email you have gotten. Now you were on your way to the place for your session. Minho and his partner suggested that you should wear lingerie, be minimal with the make-up, and most importantly have fun. They also mentioned that the place also offers safe names so make sure you mention it at some point. You just had to keep a lot of mental notes before going in there.

Your taxi was driving you there, but not exactly at the place, but rather somewhere close. Once again, you let your insecurity eat you up when it comes to sex, shaming yourself for going to such a place, and being scared to be judged. It was too late to back down anyway, so you just accepted it, but you still hoped the ride would be done and over with, so you wouldn’t have to look at the poor taxi man in the face.

Once arriving, you paid your driver, and you were out of the car. Once you were sure the driver was gone, you walked in the direction of the place until you found the sign that made you eye up at it. The red cursive logo sign made it seem like it was a nightclub rather than what you thought would be a kin to a love hotel, however you didn’t let it drive you away and walked in there. You walked in and you saw a beautiful, blonde boy standing behind the counter, he maintained the prettiest smile as well as had the most radiant aura you have ever seen on a boy, you weren’t sure whether to feel small and intimidated or thirst over him just right where you stand.

“Hi, welcome to URMUSE, this is Felix, how am I help you?” The pretty boy behind the counter, Felix, spoke. You thought his cute presence was very contradicting to the vulgar environment he is in, but you can’t really judge him as you don’t know him well enough to confirm.

“Uh, hi, um,” you stammered nervously, “I have an appoint—I mean a reservation with my muse—I mean Christopher! Under the name (y/n).” you mentally face palmed yourself for what you thought was being an idiot, but Felix seems to think otherwise as he chuckles lightly.

“This is your first time right?” He asked, with a smile, however, the warmth in his smile contradicts the eyes he had as he examined your nervous being before going back to the computer to check for your name.

“Uh, yeah, y’know, just trying out new things and expanding my horizons and stuff,” you nervously rambled, once again mentally slapping yourself for making a fool of yourself, which amuses Felix rather than turns him off. “You’re so cute, you know that?” he comments. Which made you blush at the sudden comment, unsure whether he was being genuine or not, but either way, it was a confidence booster, and you took it anyway.

“Ugh, what a shame,” Felix pouted, making you frown, “you do have an appointment with Chris, ugh, he’s so lucky, can’t help but be jealous.”

To say Felix’s comment made your heart drop would be an understatement, but you weren’t sure if it was him leaving you off guard by pretending that the reservation was not there, or him telling you that he wanted to be in Christopher’s place, either way, so far, you were glad you’ve spent your money on this.

“Oh well, how about you follow me right this way, yeah?” Felix raised his hand in the direction of the hallway. You only smiled back at him politely as you two walked into the bright red hallway that had wooden maroon doors on each side with numbers written on the side with red or green lights radiating out of the panel, presumably to indicate the availability of the rooms.

“Are the walls soundproof?” You randomly asked as you two continued to walk down the quiet hallway. Felix smirked as he turned his head to you, “would you like the walls to be soundproof?” his deep voice was sultry when the question escaped his lips, you couldn’t help but feel weak at the response. Christopher has some serious competition, and Felix hasn’t even done anything remotely sexual.

“Umm…”

“Here we are,” Felix announced as he stops his footsteps and you bump into him, making you apologize profusely to him. “Don’t worry, this is probably the only time I’ll be this close to you,” he softly spoke, as he held your face and dragged his finger across your jaw, making you gulp at the physical and eye contact.

Felix turned as he opens the door by pressing the keypad on the handle and takes your hand inside the room. The door opened to a room with an interesting yet organized interior design. The room was big for what it seemed; silk black bedsheets in a queen-sized bed, a dark auburn wall-to-ceiling closet, a soothing yet arousing shade of red painted on the wall along with simple yet aesthetically appealing accessories and paintings on the wall.

Felix held your shoulders to help you take off your coat and hung it up for you before he sat you down in the bed. He held up your face as a farewell before speaking, “it has been nice chatting with you, I wish I could have you for myself but I guess we can’t have what we want,” he smirks as he looks up and your face, “hopefully you’ll love it here, so I could see you again, but for now, I have to go. Have fun…”

“Chris, she’s all yours!” Felix looked up as he announces and he walks out of the room. You were now sitting at the bed, unsure of what to do right now, and just awaiting Christopher to come in.

“Hello?”

You jumped up as you looked around to find the source but you cannot find who it is, so you assumed it was just your voice playing around with you until you hear the voice again.

“Are you (y/n)? Can you hear me?”

The voice had a similar accent to that of Felix, while his voice wasn’t deep as his, it was still a pleasant voice. it had this gentle yet masculine voice that was soothing to listen to and you were in for it. But still, you couldn’t see the source of the voice, and confusion increased by the second.

“Y-yes, this is me, is this Christopher?” you called out still looking around the room.

You hear his soft laughter emanating in the room, making you knit your brows, “oh gosh, (y/n), you’re so cute, are you sure you want me to call you mistress?”

As soon as he mentioned mistress, everything started to connect the dot. You remembered when you filled out the form, you stated that you enjoyed the whole anonymity that comes with it along with wanting to try out to dominate someone who may seem physically virile and muscular, so you’d hope to see what they can offer, and so far you’re intrigued seeing how he has yet to reveal himself and is speaking into a microphone that blares beautifully in the room you’re staying in.

Your demeanor seemed to change, especially since Christopher didn’t seem bothered by your request, as you place your arms behind you and smirked, “Christopher, are you about to act up on me already?” You responded, now leveling yourself on his.

He laughs, gosh his laugh was too attractive you thought to yourself, “just wanted to make sure if I’m talking to the same mistress, and also…”

He paused his words and then you hear the door open from your right side and you looked at whoever walked in, and your jaw dropped, “You can call me, Chris or Chan… or baby, or pup, or whatever you want to call me,” he proceeded, you can make out that he was smiling as he was speaking.

Your eyes panned at the robbed yet evidently well-built masked man. The lower half of his face was covered by a balaclava, showcasing only his onyx brown eyes and his chestnut curly hair. Even though he hasn’t shown his full face, you can still clearly tell he was attractive just based on his eyes and his facial structure, which was simultaneously concealing and accentuating his cheekbones and jaw.

You admired him, as he walked up to you and got down on his knees, and got his large and veiny hands on your exposed legs, lightly gripping and massaging your thighs underneath your skirt, his fingers barely touching your core. Your breath hitched at the sensation, while Chris just eyes you up with glimmering puppy eyes.

“I’m all yours, mistress… please take me.”

It felt like it was more than an hour since you and Chris had interacted when in actuality it had been less than twenty minutes. You two briefly talked about rules and precautions, deciding to follow the traffic light system if anything were to happen to either of you, mainly you. After that discussion has ended your insecure, overthinking self has been completely replaced with a self-righteous, domme who has already in just panties and tied up a naked Chris, who was whimpering at the lack of touch from you after you stopped stroking his cock after he told you that he was close.

“Aw, what a good boy, being vocal to mistress,” you praised as you pushed his hair back, his whines were loud but slightly muffled by the mask on his lips. He nodded as he croaks, “anything for you,” his high-pitched whines were brought back up as you started to fist his cock but this time you got closer to his cock, the smirk on your face painted with villainy, “hey.”

Chris let out a closed whimper as he looks down on you, despite his hand being tied. You made eye contact with his eyes as you continued to move your hand, “you better keep your eyes on me, got it, pup?”

He nods through his sobs, and one thing led to another, your mouth was wrapped around his precum-slicked cock, making him let out a broken moan as the feeling of your mouth around him was so warm and so pleasant. His stomach sinks at the sensation as he cries about how good you feel, all the while he tries his best to keep eye contact with you.

“Oh my fucking go—mistress, your mouth feels so—ah, fuck,” his words were broken by his moans, to the point he accidentally broke eye contact when he threw back his head to moan out loud. He suddenly lost the warm feeling of your mouth and instead, he felt a sharp slap to his sensitive organ, making him yelp and wince, his hand gripped the rope, that was tied to his wrist, tightened.

“I told you to not lose contact,” you sternly spoke as you began pinching his thighs, making him jump and arch his back while crying out strings of apologies.

“I’m sorry, mistress, I’m sorry,” he sobs out, “please, just please, pup needs your mouth, please.”

You wanted to punish him but you found his pleadings so adorable, the way his eyes were getting glossy by your edging and the way you were pinching and slapping him. While you enjoyed the masked face and wanted him to keep it on, seeing how cute he sounds and how his eyes were mesmerizing to you, you can’t help but wanna pull down the balaclava and see his face fully.

“pup, is it okay if I took your mask down and ride your face?”

His skin reddened, and you could tell he was nervous and apprehensive, so you thought he didn’t want to and wanted to carry on with the mask. “It’s okay if you don’t—”

“No! No! it’s not that, I’m just… shy,” he revealed, and you couldn’t help but find him even more adorable than before. You’re unsure if he was acting or being genuine, but either way, his sex appeal grew to the sky in your opinion. You grabbed the lower part of his balaclava, him lifting his head to help you remove it from his head, and when his face was fully revealed, you couldn’t be even more enamored by his face even more. His lips were red and plump, his cheeks were speckled with freckles and red flushness, and his nose protruded out attractively.

“Wow,” you breathed out as you threw his mask away, making him sink down into the mattress of the bed and look away shyly. You pulled his face by his chin to make him look at you, “if I knew you had this face, I definitely would never have made the masked request… You are so pretty, Chris.”

Your compliment made Chris smile shyly and giggle, “thank you, mistress…”

You chuckled through your breath as you got off, making Chris wander your eyes silently pleading to get back on him only to see you remove your panties. You crawled back into Chris and placed your thighs between his head and looked back down at him, “Want to taste, mistress?”

He didn’t say anything aside from excitedly nodding at your question and licking his lips. You smirked at his excitement before slowly sliding yourself down until Chris began devouring you from below making you gasp at how active his tongue was. You were taken aback by the pleasant feeling of his tongue and the way it touched all the spots you wanted to touch, especially when your grinding away at his face. His nose would make contact with your clit, especially when he moves his head along with your hips, trying to catch every flavor of you.

You gripped his hair as you were moaning at the good feeling Chris was giving you, so much so, that you felt your lower belly heating up. “God, pup, you love making mistress feel good, right?” you sighed out your words before moaning.

Chris just moaned as a response along with tasting the nectar you’re giving him like he was thirsty for it. You threw your head back as your hip movements were becoming more sloppy and messy as you felt the heat bubbling up, and as much as you wanna come all over the pretty boy’s face, you decide against it, so you pulled his hair as you got off his face, making him chase for your juices before gasping for air and looking at you.

“You did so well for mistress… I think pup’s ready for me, is that right?” you asked as you were creating anticipation and Chris did a good job at pretending to be desperate, especially with the way he excitedly nodded and just chanted “yes, yes,” with a bunch of whines. You were so deep in, that you completely forgot that you were dealing with a professional, but you didn’t care, you want to relish in the whole experience no matter what way.

You gasped at the feeling of his cock stretching you, bringing you to utmost bliss. He whined at the feeling of your velvet and warming walls being filled and your hips moving around it. The movement was intense when it comes to the pace and depth of this session was getting, with you two praising each other based on your respective roles.

While this wasn’t the first Chris has ever been in the submissive role in his taboo career, he wasn’t really into most of the roleplays and positions he was given, but he had to do it as this was his job either way, but either way, he doesn’t seek submissive roles often. However, when your application came in and was offered to him, he was at first against it as he doesn’t want to do another submissive role, but for some reason, he had a change of heart and decided to do it—especially since you had paid extra more than asked for the hour, who would say no to that? Chris thought to himself.

He was glad that you failed his expectation, as the way of delivery, albeit a rocky start, was phenomenal in his opinion. You absolutely were one of the few doms and dommes he seemed to enjoy being with thus far, he was highly impressed by you if anything.

He looked up at you, heavy breathing as her movements began speeding up, his knuckles turning white with the way he’s pulling on the ropes, and her fingernails scratches on his defined pectorals. Your combined moans were echoing loudly in the room, had it not for Felix telling you that the walls were not soundproof, you would have brought your insecure self back. But even so, you wouldn’t have cared at the moment as you and Chris felt good about being around each other.

“oh, fuck! Chris—pup, I’m so fucking close,” you shuddered your words as the heat in your lower belly was getting overwhelming. You assume Chris was not far behind either due to the whine he just slipped out, so you encouraged him to come with her.

“You can come with, pup, it’s okay, you ready?”

Chris nodded before he mewled as you moved faster so you could reach high. And long after, you came around him, cursing out at how good you felt, but you sensed that Chris hasn’t orgasmed yet so you slipped yourself out and began stroking him instead. While your hands were incomparable, Chris couldn’t deny how good he felt, and with the pace you were going and the pressure you exerted, you wounded out milking him as he came all over his stomach and chest while sobbing and shaking at his orgasm, especially when you overstimulated him.

“Mmm—mistress,” his whines were so high-pitched as he teared up and hiccuped at how overpowering the extra strokes you gave him. His silent pleads to stop were answered as you saw how much he covered himself with his white cum and you couldn’t help just licking some of it off, while Chris was trying to catch his breath. He tasted salty but not too overpowering where it was gross, you couldn’t help but wonder if he has drunk enough pineapple or something, but either way, you couldn’t get enough.

However, you got to your senses and stopped licking him, as you looked at him wide-eyed. You couldn’t believe you just tired the poor tied-up man, you thought.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you asked, concern laced as you tapped his shoulders, making him laugh as a response.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” He responded back with a smile as he looked at the restraints, hoping you would untie him, which you instantly did. He groaned in glee once again as he freed his wrists out of the ropes, stretching them out.

You didn’t know why but you felt like apologizing only for him to shake his head, “there is nothing to be sorry for, after all my job was to help you fulfill your fantasy… which I hope I did.”

“Oh yeah you definitely did a good job, and I would definitely rate you a five star and tip you!”

Chris’s face lit up with a smile, “I’m so glad to hear that, I also had really fun, I don’t often do submissive roles, but I’m glad I got to do with it you.” His words seemed genuine and you didn’t know how to react so you ended up feeling flustered once again.

“Well, I tried…” You mumbled making both of you laugh.

After cleaning up and tipping, you two left outside the door, stating your farewells.

“Well, it’s been fun, I’m really glad you enjoyed your experience, you already know me, so don’t be shy to drop by to y’know… destress,” Chris cheerfully spoke with a smile. He was too charming and you couldn’t help but admire him once again, especially when he was back in his robe with his chest revealed. He extended his arms for an embrace, which took you by surprise, but you were far from uncomfortable. Despite the previous activities, he smelled oddly good, like musk for some reason, you couldn’t get away from it.

He pulled away from you, and he rubbed your arms with a smile before letting them go, “I’ll see you, yeah?”

You nodded back and there you two went your separate ways. You saw Felix still standing behind the counter, his eyes still on you, and he asked about your experience. You raved everything to him and told him that this won’t be the last time he’ll be seeing you for sure.

“Well, I’m glad you liked it here, and I wish to see you,” he says as he leans closer to your ears to whisper, “but ask for me next time, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but be stunned at his last phrase, while he leans back and smiles at you. “Hope we can see you again, (y/n).”

Yeah, definitely… You’ll see me here again… I have to call Minho and Hyunjin.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids fics #stray kids fanfic #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #skz fanfic #skz fics #skz imagines #skz oneshots #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #bang chan imagine #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fics #bang chan fanfic

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stuckinapril · 7 months

Note

do you ever fear ending up alone?

yes but very specifically in the context of passing time and what that entails. sometimes i look around me and i see that i’m blessed w so much—a family that adores me, amazing friends, a great living situation, a fuck ton of luck to be in the position i’m currently in—and i get really fucking sad because i don’t think the future’s all that. i’ve never been the kind of person to fantasize about a romance / someone to settle down with. genuinely. i’ll have crushes as much as the next girl, but ultimately my love has always been fed through friends and family.

and to put it bluntly?? those connections tend to dwindle with age. some family members die (my heart is aching even typing this), some friends get married and move away. from what i see a lot of people start giving less of a fuck about friendships in their 30s and more of a fuck about their families (not really my area of interest).

the future is fun to look forward to—i’m not saying it’s not. it’s just the paradox of “my life is perfect now, i don’t know if i want anything to change” and so desperately wanting to press pause on the passage of time (but time stops for no one). i have a lot of goals i’m working towards & i’m excited to see how an older, more refined version of me is. but honestly no amount of romanticization can overshadow how scared i am of the grief that comes w the death of a lot of bonds i hold close to my heart (whether literal or metaphorical death). and i know when that happens i’ll feel very incredibly alone.

#the passage of time sucks basically <3 #ask

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musings-ofthe-unamused · 5 months

Text

First Snow (BNHA)

Pairing: Various pro heroes x GN!reader

A/N: Yesterday was the first snow for me, so I wanted to do some romance headcanons! And since I haven’t done BNHA, I decided this was the perfect time!

I’m also gonna try a new format where I just write little blurbs instead of using bullet points!

Characters: Endeavor, All Might, Hawks, Mirko, Fat Gum, Aizawa, Present Mic

Endeavor:

He’s not the type to care about things like the first snow. He doesn’t romanticize small moments in life, and that includes the first snow of winter. You’re in his office looking out the large windows as the snow falls. He glances over from his desk and sees your attention focused on seemingly nothing. Enji would then walk over to see what you’re looking at.

“What is it?”

“Snow.” Your eyes are sparkling.

He’s never seen someone so enamored with it before. But it’s…surprisingly endearing. He’ll wrap his arm around you, a rare show of affection.

“It’s beautiful.”

All Might:

I think he would be shy about loving the first snow. He doesn’t want to show his excitement or the warm feeling that spreads through him when he realizes that it’s snowing. But you notice.

“Yagi, it’s snowing!”

“I see that, my dear.”

“Come on!!”

Hawks:

Totally uses the romantic connotations to bring the charisma. You two are out on a date. The third date. The butterflies of a new relationship are fresh in your stomach and causing quite the commotion. After going to a cafe, you now roam the streets for something else to do. You feel something wet on your nose. Then the wind picks up. A blizzard.

“Woah, there.”

Hawks uses his wings to shield you from the sudden onslaught of snow. You’re pressed between his wings and chest. You look up and he stares down at you.

“Are you cold?” He whispers.

You nod slightly. “A little.”

“Let me help.”

He leans in and kisses you gently. It’s warm and tastes of hot chocolate. You want to pull him closer and melt into his warmth. He pulls away and smiles.

Mirko:

She’s sooo excited! It snowed over night, and the ground is covered in a thick layer of soft powdery snow. It’s practically blinding, with how glittery and white it is. Mirko is bouncing around, leaving footprints (paw prints??) all over. You watch with love in your eyes. It’s always so comforting to see your love happy.

Until you get hit in the chest. By a snowball. That she threw. Your eyes narrow as she stands there, snickering with a devilish smirk.

“Are you challenging me, Mirko?”

“Are you going to accept?”

Fat Gum:

Winter!! His favorite time of year. I think this is the season he feels most helpful to people. You watch as he gives a kid a hug, the kid sinking into your boyfriend. You giggle as Fatgum digs him out and gives him a pat on the head.

“Make sure to dress warmer next time, ok?”

“Yes sir!”

The kid bounds off. Fatgum pulls you to his side and kisses the top of your head. You look up at him with a pout.

“What is it, dumpling?”

“I’m a little jealous.” You poke his side. “Everyone gets to hug you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Well…you get parts of me no one else does. And we get to do things no one else can do with me.”

“Like?”

He pulls you in for a kiss. You were just playing, but it’s nice to feel reassured that he still loves you. Sometimes dating a pro hero can be hard. When he pulls away, the two of you notice it’s snowing.

“Look! No one else can kiss me under the first snow!”

“Alright, alright. Let’s go warm up with some food.”

Aizawa:

Hates the cold. Hates it! He doesn’t go out in the first place, but now he wants to go out even less. The two of you are sitting on the couch, his head in your lap as you idly brush your fingers through his hair. The two of you often spent your time like this. Silence, comfort from each other’s presence. It was much needed for the stressful lives you both lived.

“Cold.” He murmured and lifted his head.

You shifted and wrapped your arms around him. “Better?”

He let out a sigh. “Yeah.” There was a small pause before he spoke again. “It’s snowing.”

You look outside. “Huh. It is.”

Present Mic:

God, this goof. He makes a big deal out of everything. It’s cute, in all honesty.

“And today I am joined by my lovely partner! Say hi!”

“Hello listeners!!”

“Aren’t they the cutest?”

It wasn’t often you were on his radio show. You preferred listening to it (and most of the time you weren’t awake). However, he had invited you to be a special co host just for today. “My love! Do you know why I called you here today?”

“I do not.”

“Listeners, if you look outside you’ll see that it’s snowing. The first snow of winter!”

You smile. You still didn’t understand, but it was endearing seeing him work.

He continued talking into the mic. “First snow can signify a lot of things. For me, it signifies my first love and how precious they are to me. Every moment, every word, everything about them is important. So, I want you to tell the person who you love how much they mean to you. And here’s our first song of the night…”

The song started playing as you stared at your partner with tears in your eyes. He muted his mic and gave you a goofy smile.

“Did you like it?”

You push his shoulder. “Hizashi, you big goof! You could’ve told me to just tune in!”

“But I wanted to see your reaction in real time!”

“I love you, idiot.”

“I love you too.”

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f4iryyuiirz · 2 months

Text

༊*·˚ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ᴼⁿᵉ ⁻ ᴰᵉᵃᵈ ᴰᵒᵛᵉ: ᴰᵒ ᴺᵒᵗ ᴱᵃᵗ .ೃ࿐

masterlist

Word Count: 3k

Date Written: 16/02/24

Disclaimer: I do not condone any of the acts that happen in the story in real life. Please do not romanticize any behaviors or actions described in this story in the real world.

Warnings: Death, Mentioned attempted murder.

— — — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — — —

: ̗̀➛ “Why don’t you talk to me? I’m your mother. I’m here to help you.” You didn’t even bother looking at the woman sitting on the edge of your bed. How could she say that? Yes, she biologically gave birth to you, but she wasn’t the one to take care of you when you’re sick, comfort you when you feel upset, or even help you around the house. No, she was too busy out getting drunk with her friends to do that. “Maybe because I don’t trust you?” Your voice came out a bit coarse as you just laid on your bed. You hadn’t talked in a while—since the last night, to be exact.

: ̗̀➛ You were already an hour late for school; usually around this time you would have met with Evie or something. But you just couldn’t get out of bed. Luckily, someone knocked at the front door. Or, more like, banged. “You see? Even your friends are looking for you.” Your mother, Kelly, would say as she went down stairs to let whoever was knocking in. It was probably Michael or Henrietta. As the door opened, you would realize none of your guesses were correct as you heard your mother say, “Strange. No one’s here.”

: ̗̀➛ She would then walk upstairs, back to you again, before sitting next to you and opening her arms. You, to her surprise, would actually take the offer. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I swear, I’m trying to get better. And so is your dad. Please, you just have to trust us once. I promise.” She would say this as she hugged you and kissed the crown of your head. “Just a few weeks, we’ll be better. Maybe not back to normal, but normal enough. Okay?” You would just nod as you let a few tears escape.

: ̗̀➛ “Now, come on, baby. You need to go to school and be the star I know you can be, okay? First day of tenth grade!” She would kiss your forehead. But as soon as she backed away, she saw you start feeling nervous. “Hey.. It’s okay. I know it’s a bit scary, but you’ve done it before, right?” She said this as you nodded against her neck. She then finally let you go. “Now come on. My baby girl needs to get ready. You’re already thirty minutes late for orientation.” She would say this as she went down the stairs.

: ̗̀➛ You took the cup of water your mom left you before you went to sleep and drank it. It was warm, but nothing to stop your throat from being so sore. Once you finished, you stood up and wrapped yourself in a gown before going into the bathroom. Quickly taking a shower—more like just letting the water run down you without really doing anything—and brushing your teeth. You then picked out the first things you saw. Long jeans, a black long-sleeved tee, and short black uggs. You didn’t really do much with your hair; you just put earmuffs on top.

: ̗̀➛ Then you went downstairs, you were about to see your dad but remembered that he had already gone to work. Since you were already late, you just took an energy bar and got your phone. You texted Henri since she was the only person you knew who could drive and had a car. A few minutes later, she texted you back say ‘see u in 3’ you then placed your phone in your pocket and sat on the porch chairs. Almost exactly three minutes later, you see a bright red car pull up with someone wearing all black inside.

: ̗̀➛ “Get in.” She would yell, since she was pretty far from you. You took your bookbag that you left at the side of your chair and got into the car. “What’s with all the color?” You ask as you put on your seatbelt. “It’s my dad’s car. Mine had to go for repairs. God, it’s so bright. I feel like I want to claw my eyes out with my nails.” She said this as she started the engine. She then made a U-turn before driving back to the main street leading to South Park High. “Thanks for the ride.” You whispered as you leaned on the closed window, trying to relax because you barely got any sleep the night before. “No problem. It’s better than riding back seat with that little brat I have to call my brother.” She would, in her usually gloomy tone.

: ̗̀➛ After fifteen minutes, you were shook awake by Henri. “We’re here.” She said this as she parked the car near where the goths usually hang out. You unbuckled your seatbelt and got out of the car. You saw Michael and Pete. Firkle was probably at sixth grade meet-and-greets. Pete was on his phone as he complained about something, and Michael would just smoke a cigarette. “What’s up, guys?” You asked them as you sat next to them. “Nothing. I just thought you wouldn’t make it.” Michael would as well keep smoking his cigarette, not looking directly at you.

: ̗̀➛ “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you actually cared about me.” You said this as he rolled his eyes. “Well, you thought wrong.” You would scoff before reaching out your hand to him. He would take the hint and bring out his pack. He placed one in your hand and handed you the lighter as well. You lit your cigarette and handed him the light before smoking a puff of your own. “There’s a party at Wendy’s tonight. Think we should go?” Henri asked as she went through her texts. “Why would we want to hang out with a bunch of conformists?” Pete would ask.

: ̗̀➛ “I mean, if we went, we could make fun of how fake they are.” You responded as you rubbed your cigarette onto the pavement next to you because you were finished. Michael just shrugged, and Pete would just nod slightly. “Fair point.” He said before you all stopped talking all together before the bell rang a few minutes later. “So, it’s settled? We’re all going to the party later.” Henrietta nodded as Michael would just shrug again and Pete would say “Whatever.” as you all parted ways.

: ̗̀➛ You only had one class left until you were free to do whatever. You walked through the halls; it felt like it was becoming smaller and smaller. ‘First-day jitters’ your mom would call them. Your mom… You remembered the first day of elementary school in South Park. You moved when you were eight. You remember meeting Cartman and his mom. She was nice-ish. Well, she did spoil her son, but not exactly in a good way. You were interrupted in your thoughts by someone bumping into you. Right. You were still walking to class; you needed to focus. You walked in before the bell finished ringing, sitting at your assigned desk.

: ̗̀➛ Ah, here comes your desk partner now. Craig Tucker. The second most popular boy at school. The pitcher of the baseball team. “Sorry for your loss, man. I didn’t think he’d die like that.” One of Craig’s fanboys would say this before heading back to his seat. Craig just ignored the boy as he wrote the date at the top of his notes. “Hey.. Conformist. What happened?” Craig would just sigh as he stopped writing and placed his pencil down. He then turned to you and stared at you without saying anything before you tried to go back to what the teacher wrote on the chalk. He decided to finally speak.

: ̗̀➛ “Tweek tried to kill me when I broke up with him. I called the cops, and he went to jail. A few days ago, I found out he got beat up. He didn’t make it.” He would say he was emotionless, but it wasn’t like he was really full of emotion. Tweek was alive. “Chirst. Sorry.” You would say. Strangely—not really strangely, but for you, it was strange—you felt a bit bad for him. His ex just died, and he has to go back to school as if nothing even happened. But at least he wasn’t letting it get to him. When he finished talking, he just turned back to his desk and kept writing. So did you.

: ̗̀➛ After class, you figured you’d just go home and try to take a nap until the party. You grabbed your bookbag and waved Henri and them goodbye before walking home. It helped waste time, and it got you tired enough to actually want to sleep. When you got home, no one was there. Of course not. At least you knew they were out working instead of doing other things. When you went to the kitchen, you saw cut-up fried potatoes, which had to have been fried in an air fryer, brown rice, zucchini and green beans on the side, and grilled chicken breasts. You took a bite out of the chicken. And of course, it was vegan.

: ̗̀➛ You sighed slightly before getting a text. You grab your phone and check while trying to sit on the tall fancy stools your mom bought when she got the house. It was still too big for you. When you finally got on, you saw the message from Pete. ‘b at wendy’s by 10pm. it’s starting early.’ The text read. You would just send a thumbs up before you put your phone down and eat in silence. Once you were done, you placed the dishes in the sink, still feeling too tired to wash them. You went up the stairs to take a nap and placed a timer for nine. It wasn’t like you had much prep to do for yourself. You would just change your outfit to something more slutty.

: ̗̀➛ Once you got to your room, you would plop onto your bed face first. You then turned into a more comfortable position and fell asleep within a few minutes. You woke up hours later feeling a bit groggy, but shook it off. You got out of bed before going to the bathroom and brushing your teeth before washing your face. You would also think about adding make-up, but that would cause too many break-outs. Your mom only bought the non-allergic kind, and it was only lip gloss. So you just add that and some eyeliner.

: ̗̀➛ Once you were done there, you put on a black tight-fitting crop top with noodle straps, and it was loose around the clevage. It was slutty enough for me to get into the party without becoming one of them. You also wore the same jeans you wore in the morning with black platform boots. You decide to just put your hair in a low ponytail. When you finished, you took out your phone and texted Henri to come pick you up. You went down the stairs and waited on the couch for her text. You would just watch TV; it was just some crappy reboot of a crappy old show, but it’s not like you had much else to do. A few minutes later, you heard the sound of aggressive honking coming from outside before getting a text.

: ̗̀➛ You walked outside to find Henri, Pete, and Michael in the same bright red car you rode in before. “Get in, frontseat.” Henri would yell because she was pretty far away. You got into the front seat and tied your seatbelt. “So, everyone is ready?” You asked as you checked your phone for the time. It was almost ten o’clock. Everyone would just groan, but you knew it meant everything was fine. Henri would start the car and start driving to Wendy’s house. Like you, Wendy was one of the richest girls at school. Unlike you, however, she actually knew how to use her riches to her advantage. She is now known as the most popular girl at school. It’s not like you cared about your family’s money, but it wasn’t that you weren’t grateful either. You just felt empty. Numb. Sure, you could try to ‘fill the void’ with money, clothes, and diamonds, but what’s the point in that? You would just end up just as shallow and superficial as the ‘popular girls’.

: ̗̀➛ While you went on that tangent in your head, the car finally came to a stop. There you were. At the party. You got out with everyone and walked in. Immediately, you’re met with booze, people making out, and ear-bleedingly loud music. “God, I regret coming here.” Michael would groan as he just decided to go outside, near the pool. The music wasn’t as loud there. Henri followed the booze, and Pete... He just kind of stood there. Maybe he was overwhelmed. You decided to just follow Michael’s lead and go near the pool. You decided to stand next to him so you wouldn’t be close to anyone. “You’re in my personal bubble.” He said this as he sipped a bit of beer from his can. “Sorry." “It’s fine. I don’t really mind.” He would say this before turning to you. “Are we going to talk about what happened last week?” He asked.

: ̗̀➛ You kind of froze up. You didn’t think he would actually bring it up. Even if you were alone. “Um, I thought you didn’t want to talk about it. We were both just really drunk. You said this, stiffly holding your drink. You were kind of hoping this whole thing would blow over. “Whatever. If you don’t want to talk about it, It’s fine. But when you do, Text me.” He said as he was about to leave. “Wait.. Meet me in the closet in five.” You said that as you left to go to the closet. When you got there, you locked the door as you waited for Michael to come back. After around fifteen minutes, someone finally knocked on the door. You opened it and dragged him in. “God, what took you so long? I said in five, not in five hours.” You complained as you leaned on the wall.

: ̗̀➛ “Well, be more specific. There’s like fifteen closets in this whole house... So… What did you want to say?” He asked. “I don’t want.. It will ruin our sort of friendship." You whispered, hoping no one would hear. You started feeling overwhelmed by the whole situation and felt like you needed to be alone. “I have to go. I’ll text you.” You said this as you went out of the closet and went upstairs. You doubted anyone would be on the balcony, and you could barely hear the music because you were so high up. And as weird as you might find it, you actually wanted to be able to hear your own thoughts again. You quickly came up with a can of beer and some weed. What? Something to help you relax.

: ̗̀➛ You sat in one of the fancy chairs and placed your can on the table with the marijuana brownies that were in the plastic. You then saw the famous redhead. Red Tucker. Basically, Wendy's a bitch. She seemed pretty drunk, but you still didn’t expect her to sit next to you. “Hi. You new here?” She would say this as she wobbled in her chair. She could barely even keep her eyes open. “No. I went here since elementary school. I literally grew up with you.” You said, slightly offended, that someone with whom you spent so much time didn’t remember you, but it could also be because she was wasted.

: ̗̀➛ “Oh.. I didn’t recognize you because you looked so different. In a good way. Like, you somehow look hot." What a backhanded compliment! “Uh… Thanks?”, “No prob. You know, if you dressed better and acted normal, you would be pretty good to hang out with.” She said she reached for a brownie. “Could I have one? I’m hella stressed.” You would just nod your head as she took one and bit into it. “Mm, this is really good. You know, you should give the recipe some time. And maybe we could hang out or something.” She mumbled as she finished the brownie. “You should eat one. You look constipated.” She said as she took another one, but this time she moved it in the font of your face, like a parent with their child when feeding them. “Open up.” You did as she asked you to and bit into the brownie.

: ̗̀➛ Being the lightweight you were, you immediately get higher than clouds at even one bite. A few minutes later, you were on Red’s lap as she fed you brownies. “You know, Wendy’s a whore. She acts like I’m just her servant who’ll do anything she wants just because she asks me to. It’s totally unfair.” She would hick in the middle of her sentence before she lifted you off. “You know what we should do? Truth or dare. And since you’re the highest, You go first. Truth or dare?" She asked you. “Dare.” “Good, I dare you to sit on the railings.” She dared you as she drank your beer. “What? I’ll fall.” “No, you won’t. If you want people to stop thinking you’re a pussy, Do it.” She told you. It’s not like you could argue with her. So you just did it.

: ̗̀➛ You used your chair to get onto the railing, and Red took the chair from under you while still helping you balance until you were okay. “Now, let go. Trust me, you'll feel better.” She said this as she backed away from you a bit. “Okay.” You whimpered, as you didn’t exactly want to die. You removed your hands from the railing. And nothing happened. You stayed still, barely moving an inch. “There, see how easy that was. Now, I’ll be back. I’m getting us some more booze.” She said this before she left. You were now relaxing at the edge of a 4-story building. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel scared anymore. You were at peace. For the most part, anyway.

: ̗̀➛ Red was still busy getting drinks while she bumped into a cute guy. “Shit. You look hot.” The guy would say, ‘Hot.’ Was all Red thought as she forgot about the drinks and made out with him? Which led to... other things. As much as it was pretty annoying that she just left like that, you were finally alone with your thoughts. Until you felt your jeans slip on the sliver rod. You were about to fall, but you caught yourself with your hand just in time. You climbed up to the rod again, but this time, your platforms would slip and...

SPLAT!

And just like that, you were gone. Dead, at sixteen.

─── ⋆⋅☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆⋅⋆ ───

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