#based so loosely on slides from my first year of college. so loosely. i started talking about tuning to e flat and transposition and then

[lemuel-apologist]

Cody keeps calling me autistic

[yoongiseesawmp3]

just about perfect - seonghwa

howdy folks, back with another fic but i’m switching it up on ya! i might start writing regularly for ateez as well so y’all are cool with that right? right.

summary: this is NOT inspired by seonghwa saying he watches nevertheless. why would you even think that.

warnings: not the kind of warning u were expecting but there’s no smut (i know its based off a show abt friends with benefits so that’s why i’m warning u. do not get ur hopes up) a little cussing, a lotta me waxing poetic abt the perfect man park seonghwa. also slight tomfoolery from the teezers

word count: 10.6k

the bookstore just off campus is your current go-to study spot, mostly because the cafe inside has a drink special where you buy one coffee and get a voucher for the new bakery next door. so, let’s just say the past few days you’ve been well caffeinated and well fed. you’re on the way there now, already planning out what your treats are going to be. 

today you were supposed to meet your “study group” after your last class of the day, but it looks like you’re the only one here so far. and you say “study group” loosely, the professor for your music theory elective encouraged everyone to make a study group for the upcoming final and your group of friends chose to work together. there’s been no studying going on, though.

especially not when hongjoong’s new friend seonghwa has been flirting with you literally nonstop. he’s apparently friends with everyone else in your group too. san knows him from an art class they took together last semester, meanwhile wooyoung and yeosang claim they lived on seonghwa’s floor freshman year and he always bought them booze. seonghwa denies it, only because hongjoong would slap him if he admitted to buying alcohol for underage kids. 

tasteful delinquency aside, seonghwa is a fine person. you mean personality fine, not like, fine fine even though san would beg to differ. he knows you’ve developed a thing for seonghwa despite trying not to, and he’s secretly trying to get you two together. 

which is why san suddenly texts you and says he can’t make it, and neither can yeosang or wooyoung. they decided to ditch studying to practice for the final in their dance class instead, so it’ll be just you, seonghwa and hongjoong. and little did you know, hongjoong was trying to do the same thing as san. so we’ll see how this goes. 

- 

“y/n, you can’t do that,” hongjoong warns you, referring to the scale you were trying to fill out. 

“why not?” you ask, looking down at your work and wondering what’s wrong.

“because it’ll sound like shit,” seonghwa replies before sipping his coffee. 

“what he said,” hongjoong agrees, grabbing your paper and erasing some of the notes you had scribbled out. “it should look more like this.”

you glance over at what he’s done on top of your old work and sigh. you took this class because you like music, and you thought learning about how it works would be interesting, but it’s hard. 

“can’t you just do all my work for me?” you plead. at this rate, you don’t think you’ll be able to pass the final. 

“no, i don’t want you dragging me down in this class,” hongjoong replies. “my grades are great.” 

“i hate you.”

“what are you struggling with, y/n?” seonghwa asks as he finally looks up from his laptop. he had been working on an assignment for another class this whole time because he, like hongjoong, is great with music theory. so maybe this study group was a good thing. 

“here, you can switch seats with me,” hongjoong says as he clears the spot next to you on the weathered loveseat. “i’m going to look for a book i should’ve started reading two weeks ago.” 

before you can protest, seonghwa is sliding his laptop across the coffeetable and slides himself into the spot next to you. when he sits you notice your thighs are touching, which is weird because there was plenty of space when hongjoong was here. you don’t know that seonghwa is doing this on purpose, that hongjoon really left so he could flirt with the cute cashier in the cafe to give you and seonghwa some alone time. 

“so,” seonghwa starts once he’s settled. “what are you struggling with?” 

“hmm, all of it?” you reply. your answer makes seonghwa smile, and you like the way his eyes sparkle when he does.

“then i guess we’ll be here a while.”

-

about an hour later, seonghwa has walked you through all the major and minor scales you need to know for the test and you’re starting to understand a little more. you’re still having problems with the back of the study guide where you have to come up with note combinations that can apply to those scales, but you have time to work on that since the final is two weeks out. right now, your brain is fried and you need a break. 

“do you mind if i go get a coffee?” you ask seonghwa, who was in the middle of sending you the minor scale cheat sheet he made. he looks up from his laptop and shakes his head before he speaks.

“i would only mind if i can’t come with you.”

“it’s literally right over there, why do you need to come with me?” you question.

“i think i would just miss you too much,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes. seonghwa shuts his laptop and stands up. “what if i need coffee too?”

“you already had one,” you remind him as you stand.

“yeah,” he nods. “but teaching you is exhausting, so i need another. c’mon.”

he walks ahead of you to the counter, and you’re too busy searching for your wallet to notice he took his jacket off, revealing a sneaky tattoo on the back of his neck. it isn’t until you’re behind him in line that you get a look at the hand drawn star right on the nape of his neck, and you have to refrain from reaching out to trace the lines.

“i didn’t know you had a tattoo,” you decide to say. he turns around and instinctively rubs his hand across the tattoo, smiling at you with those sparkly eyes again.

“yeah, i have a couple,” he replies. “but this one is my favorite.”

“why?”

“because my name means ‘to become a star’, so i like knowing that i have a reminder with me all the time,” he explains.

“nice. it’s really pretty.”

“thanks, so are you.”

“sir?” the barista calls, pulling seonghwa’s attention from you. he steps up to give his order as you stare at the tattoo again, noticing alongside it a couple of freckles that almost make it look like a constellation.

“y/n?” seonghwa’s voice draws you out of your thoughts and you realize he’s finished ordering. “what do you want?”

“oh, i can get it,” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“no, my treat,” he insists, and you sheepishly walk up to the counter to give your order. seonghwa makes a mental note of what you get, and he also snatches the bakery voucher from you before you can put it in your pocket. you make a confused sound and seonghwa laughs. 

“why’d you do that?” you whine.

“you only get to use it if you come with me to the bakery later,” he teases. “say yes or i’m drinking your coffee and getting myself an extra cupcake.”

“fine,” you huff. “but i have an assignment due at midnight, so i can’t stay long.”

“it’s 4pm, that’s not enough time for you to finish it?” he asks while you step out of the way for the next customers.

“i haven’t started yet,” you admit. 

“you like saving things until the last minute, don’t you?”

“what makes you say that?”

“well, it looks like you haven’t been studying music theory at all, and now this,” he shrugs. 

“not everybody can be perfect like you, park seonghwa,” you grumble as the barista places two coffee cups on the bar. you hear seonghwa giggle shortly, and you give him a questioning look.

“so you think i’m perfect?” he smirks.

-

it’s the next day, almost midnight, and you really need spray paint. 

why? well, you’re stressed because you have so much to study for your finals and you don’t know where to start. yes, seonghwa helped yesterday, but he’s not in all your other classes, so you’ve decided you need a break from tearing your hair out over the material you can’t comprehend. the best way to distract yourself from that is to finally paint that dresser you got from a garage sale a few months ago, hence the spray paint. 

thankfully, san is still awake, and he has a car, so you ask him to pick you up for a quick run to the art supply store that’s surprisingly still open. a bonus of going to college in the city, you can get anything almost whenever you need it. 

“thanks for coming to get me,” you tell san as you hop into his car. 

“no problem,” he replies. “i was bored and hongjoong said he needed paint pens so this is a win-win situation. plus, i get to hear about your date with seonghwa yesterday.”

“it was not a date,” you groan, choosing to ignore the suggestive way san is looking at you right now. 

“but you spent the whole afternoon together,” san starts. “he bought you coffee and you went to the bakery together and talked about, like, your favorite colors and stuff. sounds like a date to me.”

“how do you know all that?”

“seonghwa told hongjoong and then hongjoong told me,” he explains as he turns onto the street that’ll take you to the art store. 

“well tell hongjoong that i’m still mad at him for ditching us,” you reply. “and i’m still kinda mad at you and the other two for bailing in the first place.”

“hey, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had your first date with seonghwa,” san points out.

“it was not a date!” you cry. “we studied most of the time we were together, then he bought my coffee and bullied me into going to the bakery. i couldn’t stay long because i had a paper to write, so we talked about stupid shit until i had to leave.”

“it sounds like the beginning of true love to me,” san sing-songs. 

“stop the car, i’ve decided to walk.”

-

when you get to the store, san separates from you quickly because he sees his friend mingi behind the counter. they’re busy talking while you search the store for the paints, and you’re so busy looking up at the aisle names that you don’t notice you’re about to run into someone. 

“hey-” you start to complain, but you recognize the man you almost bumped into. “oh, seonghwa.”

“y/n,” he smiles at you. “what are you doing out so late?” 

“uh, distracting myself from how small my brain is,” you explain. “what are you doing here?”

“hongjoong needed paint pens,” he says, and you’re about two seconds away from finding san and slapping him. did they really plan this too? 

“why didn’t he come get them?” you ask as you remember what you’re here to find. your eyes scan the aisle behind seonghwa and you spot the paint cans at the end, but he’s in your way.

“i offered,” he says with a shrug.

“you must be a really good friend, then.”

“well you did call me perfect yesterday, so...” he trails off, smirking. you roll your eyes at him but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. he interrupts his new favorite activity of staring deeply into your eyes (just to fluster you, of course) and he sees that you’re looking past him at the shelves of paint. “you need something down here?” 

“um, yeah, the spray paint,” you reply, awkwardly trying to skirt around him to get into the aisle. he steps aside to let you through, but still follows you as you search for the color you want.

“what are you making?” 

“i’m painting a scuffed up dresser i’ve had for a while, so i want something simple that’ll go with the rest of the things in my room,” you explain as you stop walking and crane your neck to scan the bottles on the top shelf. seonghwa stops behind you and places his hand on the small of your back as he reaches for a can just out of your reach.

“what about this one?” he offers, handing you a can of light blue paint. it’s really pretty, and it’ll stand out with the white furniture you already have, but you really like it.

“oh, that’s perfect!” you say as you take the can from his hands.

“there you go again,” seonghwa teases, and you shoot him a questioning look. he smiles as he responds. “calling me perfect?”

“i said the paint was perfect, weirdo,” you snap. “but thank you for finding this.”

“anytime,” he tells you. “you said your favorite color was blue right?”

“right...” you mumble, thinking back to the conversation you had at the bakery yesterday. “how’d you remember?”

“ugh, i’m hurt!” he exclaims, hand flying to his chest in mock surprise. “i can’t believe you already forgot that it’s my favorite color too.”

“hm, guess i was too distracted by how perfect you are,” you joke. seonghwa laughs at that, a sharp sound that seemed to catch him off guard. he covers his mouth to stifle the sound, but you’re close enough to the cash register now that it draws attention from san and mingi.

“find what you need?” san asks with a shit eating grin.

“hm, just about,” you say as you place the paint on the counter. “couldn’t find a hammer big enough to drop on your head, though.”

“wow, harsh,” san scoffs. “and to think i brought you here out of the goodness of my heart.”

you’re too busy half-bickering with san to notice that seonghwa has paid for your paint and the pens he promised hongjoong. he mumbles something to mingi, who then hands him a piece of paper. he scribbles his number down for you before handing you the can and his number. 

“i gotta go, but i’ll see you later for study group, right?” he confirms. you’re still processing the fact that he keeps buying things for you and you can’t respond in time, so san steps in.

“yeah, y/n will be there,” san assures seonghwa. he nods and shoots you one last smile before he excuses himself and leaves. you’re stuck with san and that stupid grin again. he looks at you and then checks the paper with seonghwa’s number on it. “yep, i think you got what you needed.”

-

even though seonghwa very willingly gave you his number, you’re still afraid to text him. it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s into you the way you’re into him, so you’re fine with just seeing him for study dates. or, uh, not study dates. study gatherings. with just the two of you. because the other guys have bailed, again.

this time, though, you’re not working on music theory. you have an assignemnt due for your ethics class, and you need family and friends to read about your results from this morals test. you wanted san to do it, but he’s currently “chasing a sweet piece of ass,” whatever that means. he’s probably bothering his lab partner that he claims descended from greek gods. you would usually tease him for saying something like that, but it’s a thought you’ve had about seonghwa, so you kept your mouth shut.

anyway, you know you need someone to answer these questions for you, but you can’t bring yourself to ask seonghwa. he kept up his “perfect” demeanor again today, showing up at the bookstore before you so he could get you the coffee you like. you would ask why he keeps doing things like this for you, remembering your favorite color and your coffee order, but you’re afraid he’ll stop if you bring it up. little do you know, every time he learns something new about you, he writes it down in his notes app, keeping a running tab of the things you like.

“y/n?” you hear him ask. his voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring at him this whole time. the smirk you’ve become so familiar with makes another appearance as he gets ready to tease you. “something on your mind?”

“no, i...no,” you stutter. “i’m just thinking.”

“about what?” he questions as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips. you watch the way he slightly pouts them before taking a sip and you have to stop yourself from staring again.

“just this ethics assignment i want to finish,” you explain. “sorry, i didn’t realize i was staring at you.”

“must be an important assignment,” he nods, leaning forward to put his cup back on the table in front of you. you get another glimpse at the star tattoo on his neck as he does. “because i was definitely staring at you too, and you didn’t even notice.”

“oh?” 

“yep,” he confirms. “i was giving you my best puppy dog eyes and everything.”

“puppy dog eyes?” you ask, unsure of what’s coming. “do you need something?”

“eh, not really,” he shrugs. “i’m just worried.”

“why?”

“you never texted me the other night.”

“after the art store?” you ask incredulously. 

“isn’t that when i gave you my number?” he smirks. 

“i didn’t think you wanted me to text you immediately...”

“well, it’s been three days and i still don’t have your number,” he pouts. 

“hold on a second,” you mumble, reaching for your bag. you fumble around in there, searching for the piece of paper with seonghwa’s number on it as he watches you fondly.

“what are you doing?”

“looking for your number,” you reply like it’s obvious. seonghwa laughs a little and places his hand on your arm to stop you. 

“you do know i’m right next to you, and i could just put my number in myself?” he asks, eyes sparkling as he half-smiles at you. you blush, because no, you weren’t thinking about that. you sheepishly hand him your phone and watch as he adds his number and then texts himself. he gives your phone back and replaces it with his own before asking, “what’s your favorite emoji?”

“um, the smiling cowboy?” you offer, not sure why he’s asking. he laughs again, like he did in the art store, but this time it’s harder for him to quiet the breathy giggles coming from his chest.

“why that one?” he asks, typing something quickly.

“it’s funny,” you shrug. “why?”

“needed something cute to put next to your name, but you’re a weirdo, so it’s not as cute as i was imagining,” he explains, showing you the contact card in his phone. your number is saved as “y/n 🥰🤠” and you can’t help but laugh. you look up at seonghwa, warmth in your eyes, and he starts laughing too.

“see?” you giggle. “it is funny.”

“whatever, at least now i have your number.”

-

after exchanging numbers with seonghwa, you’re starting to let yourself believe little by little that he might feel the same way you do. it’s not anything serious, but there’s definitely something there. the texts he sends are always flirtatious, and it has your heart beating faster every time you get a notification, hoping that it’s him. you’re in the middle of studying for your spanish final when you feel your phone vibrate on the bed next to you, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

seonghwa 🥺💫, 6:28pm: are you busy rn?

you, 6:28pm: not really, just studying

seonghwa 🥺💫: can’t be studying too much if you replied that quickly 🥸

you: what do u want

seonghwa 🥺💫: be nice :-(

you: sorry

you: hi seonghwa, how are you? what do you want.

seonghwa 🥺💫: come get dinner with me? 

you: right now?

seonghwa 🥺💫: no, in 30 years. yes right now 

you: but i’m studying ://

seonghwa 🥺💫: liar!

you: fine, when and where?

seonghwa 🥺💫: i’ll pick you up in ten 🤠

- 

“you sure like staying close to campus, huh?” you ask seonghwa as he walks you about a block from your usual hangout and to a little hole in the wall restaurant that looks like it could seat maybe 20 people, uncomfortably. 

“i know what i like,” he responds with a shrug. “speaking of things i like, you look nice.”

“oh, thank you,” you semi-laugh. you’d been close to panic trying to figure out what to wear (because you’re not sure if this is a date) so you went with something simple, but you’re glad seonghwa likes it. not that you wanted to impress him. but you did, a little. anyway, he looks...well, perfect, wearing black ripped jeans and a velvet-y navy shirt. you continually have to stop yourself from reaching out and stroking his arm just to feel the soft fabric (and maybe his muscles). 

“so i take it you’ve never been here before?” he asks as he hands you a menu. you shake your head no in response. you can’t tell if he’s doing it intentionally, but seonghwa leans closer into your side as he explains. “you pick a main entree, but each dish comes with these sides. they say no substitutes, but i know the guy behind the counter so you can ask for more of something else if you don’t like one of them.”

“i might do that,” you say. “i don’t really want dumplings, so could i get extra sweet potatoes?”

“of course,” he nods, noting the way you smile slightly. it makes your eyes light up, and his heart does a little backflip knowing that he’s the reason for it. well, the sweet potatoes probably are, but he’s the one getting the sweet potatoes, so he’s taking that win for himself. once you both confirm what you want, he places his hand on your back and guides you to the counter.

“hey seonghwa!” the tall guy with a lopsided smile behind the register greets. “long time no see. who’s your friend?”

“hey yunho,” seonghwa smiles back. “this is y/n, a vip, so make sure you give us the good stuff.”

“extra sweet potatoes?” yunho laughs. you and seonghwa both nod as yunho continues taking your order, and you find yourself comfortably leaning into seonghwa as you wait for yunho to calculate the price. before seonghwa can even think about taking his wallet out, you’re handing yunho cash for the food, which makes seonghwa sputter.

“what? y/n, i was going to pay,” he whines, and you simply shake your head.

“nope, my turn,” you tell him. “you’ve bought me coffee too many times.”

“but i asked you out! i don’t want you to pay on our first date if i’m the one who brought you here,” he continues to complain.

“so this is a date?” you confirm, right as yunho asks suggestively “oh, this is a date?”

“yunho, give y/n’s money back,” seonghwa says, ignoring the two of you. “i’m paying.”

“yunho, if you give me that money i’ll be forced to leave and stand seonghwa up for our date,” you say, emphasizing the last word. now you’re glad you wore clean pants.

“seonghwa, why don’t you let y/n pay for this, and then you can get the next one?” yunho suggests, sending you a wink before he turns to the kitchen to share your order with the chef. you’re left with a flustered seonghwa, which is a sight you’re not used to, and it makes you laugh.

“c’mon,” you say as you pull on his arm. “let’s go find a table.”

you’re the only ones in the restaurant, so the food comes out pretty quick, and you have to stifle a laugh when you see that someone has arranged the sweet potatoes on a separate plate in the shape of a heart. seonghwa blushes at this, and you’re taken aback by how shy he’s suddenly become.

for some reason, seonghwa showing signs of nervousness puts you at ease, and you lead the conversation to something stupid san told you about the boys and their shenanigans at their dorm. the story has seonghwa laughing, and he confirms that yes, yeosang does have a sword by the tv, and yes, hongjoong did threaten to use it on him after he lost an intense match of fifa. 

“in hongjoong’s defense,” seonghwa begins, “i do think yeosang cheated. wooyoung was definitely helping him.”

“it still sounds ridiculous,” you tell him. “why does anybody need a sword?”

“yeosang is just...yeosang,” seonghwa replies. “he’s weird but he won’t admit that to anyone.”

“i’m just saying, if i went to someone’s house and there was a katana by the tv, i’d haul my ass outta there.” seonghwa giggles at how serious you look, but this conversation reminds him...

“you never showed me your room,” he says bluntly. you pause for a moment, spoon halfway to your mouth, and seonghwa realizes how that must sound. “i mean, the paint, your dresser. you never showed me a picture once you fixed it up.”

“oh,” you breathe out. “let me grab my phone, i can show you.”

“show him what?” a familiar voice suddenly asks from the seat next to you. when you notice that san, and some of your other friends, have snuck their way into the restaurant, you have to keep yourself from groaning.

“why are you here.”

“i’m hungry,” san replies, then turns to seonghwa. “you didn’t tell us you were getting dinner.”

“i didn’t want to,” seonghwa deadpans. “ i wanted it to be just me and y/n.”

“too late for that, pal,” honjoong says as he slides into the seat across from you. “hi y/n.”

“hey hongjoong,” you grumble. “please tell me you’re getting your food to go.”

“we were, but then we saw our good friends eating all by themselves and thought we should join them,” hongjoong teases. by now, the rest of the boys have sat down around you, some at other tables, and one of them you don’t recognize. that must be jongho, their younger “roommate” who technically lives in first year housing but doesn’t get along with the other guy in his room. you’ve heard seonghwa complain that jongho eats all of his snacks. 

“well, i hope you enjoy your food, but seonghwa and i were just about to leave,” you lie, looking at seonghwa with a stare that pleads ‘please go along with this.’

“where are you going?” wooyoung asks, one table over.

“my apartment,” you respond quickly, standing up as seonghwa follows your cue with a stupidly adorable look on his face.

“oh, perfect!” san chirps. “we’ll come with you!”

- 

so much for your date with seonghwa. it was hard to stop the boys from insisting they all join you at your apartment, especially after yunho said his shift was over and he could really use some destressing. and by destressing he meant booze, so you currently have 8 tipsy boys scattered across your living room. if you thought they were loud before...it’s amazing that your neighbors haven’t complained yet. 

it started off innocent enough, you were just playing card games at first and the loser of each round had to drink. then it turned into never have i ever, and each time you put a finger down you had to drink. then yeosang suggested shots, and it really went downhill from there. san tried convincing everyone to play a round of spin the bottle just for the chance of making you and seonghwa kiss, but mingi and wooyoung were the only ones down, so majority ruled there. 

“san, stop pouting,” you laugh, noticing that he’s upset over his evil plan not working out.

“it’s fine,” he lies, duck lips on full display. 

“spin the bottle is such a tween-y game too,” jongho pipes in. “and we’re adults, so it would be kinda stupid to play it anyway.”

“says the baby of the group,” yeosang scoffs. 

“what about truth or dare?” hongjoong suggests. “still immature, but we can make it fun.”

“yes!” san shouts, suddenly back in a positive mood. 

“i’ll start,” mingi volunteers. he takes a deep breath as he looks around the room, eyes narrowing when he looks at you and seonghwa. you’re currently smushed into your armchair together, not really by choice, because the couch is completely full and neither of you wanted to sit on the floor (you know how dirty it is, and seonghwa has a bad hip). thankfully, mingi has mercy on you and directs his gaze to his best friend. “yunho, truth or dare?”

“truth,” yunho slurs out. you’d say he’s the opposite of stressed by now.

“did you sleep with that girl you met at the party last week?”

“no,” yunho replies quickly, cheeks turning a knowing shade of red. “i just walked her home.”

“and went missing until the next morning?” yeosang asks. he gets a few snickers, and you laugh a little too because you remember san and wooyoung talking about their friend who disappeared for a few hours last weekend.

“whatever,” yunho groans. “yeosang. truth or dare.”

“dare,” yeosang chooses confidently. 

“kiss wooyoung on the cheek.”

“no,” he replies, just as confidently. 

“then take another shot,” yunho concedes, waving his hand at the stubborn boy. wooyoung mumbles something about how kissable he is as yeosang downs what looks like more than just a regular shot.

“this is boring,” jongho whines, which makes him the next target. he chooses dare, and you have to detach yourself from seonghwa so you can go into your kitchen and find the lemon juice in your fridge so jongho can chug what’s left. he’s sputtering after a few sips and gives up, grumbling up to you, “ i hate you for that.”

“hey, it wasn’t my dare,” you defend yourself. “you owe me lemon juice.”

“i’ll give it to you if you choose dare,” jongho challenges. you roll your eyes and take the bait, earning a round of ooo’s from the boys around you. 

“make her kiss seonghwa,” someone hisses.

“or me!” wooyoung chirps. jongho looks over at him with a death glare, and wooyoung shrugs. “i just want someone to want to kiss me.”

“i think you’re cut off,” hongjoong says as he leans across your coffee table to move the bottle away from wooyoung.

“everyone be quiet!” san shouts. “jongho has to give y/n a dare.”

“hmmm,” jongho starts, tapping his finger on his chin. “what should i do?”

“for someone who said this was boring, you’re really milking this,” seonghwa says under his breath. you’re perched on the arm of the chair, close enough to hear him, but thankfully no one else does.

“what’s that other childish game called?” jongho wonders aloud. “seven minutes in heaven? i think you should do that with seonghwa.”

“do i have to?” you pout, and your reluctance makes seonghwa stiffen. he thinks you said that because you’re uncomfortable, and not because you don’t want the boys pressing their ear up to the door while the two of you make out.

“rules are rules,” hongjoong concludes, nodding his head toward your room. “go have fun. i’ll keep the kids from bothering you.”

you look to seonghwa, who isn’t looking directly at you. you tentatively take his hand, giving it a squeeze before you stand up and lead him to your room. there are so many catcalls, whistles and cheers coming from your friends that you barely hear san say “take your time! it doesn’t have to be just seven minutes!”

once you get to your room, you let seonghwa go in first and then you lock the door behind you. he quirks an eyebrow at that, and you shrug shyly. 

“don’t want one of them bursting in,” you explain. seonghwa nods, and you both fall silent. it’s not necessarily awkward, just tense. you both want to do what seven minutes in heaven is meant for, but you’re not gonna make the first move and seonghwa still isn’t sure you even want to be in this situation. so he takes this time to turn around and take your room in, pointing to your dresser.

“is this it?” he asks. you hum out a yes in response, and he runs his hand over the freshly painted wood. “it looks nice. whoever picked out the color sure knows what he’s doing.”

“eh, he’s just lucky,” you joke, and you both laugh. you move to stand next to him and place your hand on top of his. “sorry we couldn’t finish our date.” 

“sorry my friends are so annoying,” seonghwa adds. 

“sorry san pushed me into your lap earlier,” you continue, and seonghwa smirks.

“well, i didn’t mind that,” he says. “i wanted you to sit with me, but i didn’t want to draw attention.”

“oh,” you squeak, feeling a blush on its way to your cheeks. a heavy silence falls over you, and seonghwa is the first to break it.

“listen, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s cool,” he begins. “i kinda got the vibe earlier that you didn’t want to do this, and that’s cool. if you don’t want to do this we’re still cool.”

“you don’t sound very cool about it,” you chuckle, and seonghwa’s face flushes. “but i was only nervous because i didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me.”

“oh i want to kiss you,” he says firmly. “have for a while.”

“why don’t you do it then?” you challenge. seonghwa takes a step closer to you, and before you know it he’s pinned you against your dresser. you balance your hands on it and the cool wood helps you ground yourself as your body heats up from having seonghwa so close.

“are you sure?” he asks, only a few inches from your face. you nod and whisper out “i’m sure” and seonghwa quickly cups your face and smothers you in a kiss. it starts off slow, and your face warms at his touch. once you relax into it you move your lips against his, nipping at his bottom lip slightly and earning a groan from the man before you. you take the chance to slip your tongue past his lips as you bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, slowly brushing through his soft hair. his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly but not too hard, and he leans in to get as close to you as possible. you keep kissing for a few moments, but eventually you need to breathe so you lightly tap on his neck. he pulls back, breathing heavy, and his smile shines like the most beautiful stars in the sky. “so?”

“so?” you repeat, equally out of breath.

“that was nice.”

“it was.”

“the boys are gonna know we made out.”

“of course they are,” you laugh. “your lips look swollen.”

“so do yours,” he counters. 

“but wasn’t that the whole point of us coming in here?” you ask. your hands have fallen to his chest, and you finally get a chance to smooth out the soft velvet of his shirt. and you notice his chest is very, uh, firm, too.

“we didn’t have to kiss,” he says with a shrug. “we could’ve just talked.”

“about what?” you ask with a smile.

“my keen eye for interior design,” he replies. “how sexy you look in low lighting.”

“so you think i’m sexy?” you tease, and seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“i just had my tongue in your mouth, does that answer your question?”

another silence comes over you both, but this one is lighter than before. you’re subconsciously rubbing your hands over his shirt, and seonghwa brings a hand up to cover yours, stopping it right over his heart.

“we don’t have to tell them,” you offer. “i mean, they kept it a secret from us that they were trying to get us together this whole time.”

“oh no, i was fully aware of that,” seonghwa tells you, and you scoff. “do you think i really wanted to get out past midnight just to buy hongjoong some expensive markers? he never even paid me for them.”

“well now i really don’t want to tell them we kissed,” you whine. “how could everyone be in on this except me?”

“it was more fun that way,” seonghwa teases before pecking your lips. “but we can keep this between us, for now.”

“i think we should,” you say with a nod of finality. “it’s more fun that way.”

“c’mon, let’s go back out there before they send a search party.”

you return to the living room before seonghwa (so he can sneak into the bathroom and fix his hair) and you find most of the boys asleep on the floor. you sigh as your eyes meet hongjoong’s, and he shrugs.

“at least they didn’t bother you,” he says. 

“can you help me find pillows and blankets for them, please?” you ask, and he nods before jumping into action. he throws one of the couch pillows down to yeosang, who takes it and hugs it to his chest. you have a couple extras in your hall closet and you pass them to yunho, who’s sitting up when you come back. he places one under mingi and another under jongho and keeps the last one for himself. san and wooyoung are on the couch, and hongjoong tells you he’s fine with the armchair. seonghwa is out of the bathroom by now, and, like the perfect man he is, he’s carrying blankets in his arms. the three of you work on getting all the boys covered before you realize that seonghwa doesn’t have a place to sleep.

“i can take another spot on the floor,” he assures you. “do you have another pillow i can use?”

“let him sleep in your room, y/n,” san mumbles from underneath wooyoung. you pause and look at seonghwa, who’s looking back at you with something you can’t read in his eyes. 

“it’s not a bad idea,” hongjoong pipes in from somewhere within the blanket cocoon he made for himself. “he was just there. you can put him on the floor.”

“y/n?” seonghwa asks, pulling your attention back to him. “i don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.” 

you would try to fight it, so you could hopefully ignore taunts from the boys in the morning, but you’re suddenly really tired and you just want to lay down.

“i’m ok with it if you are,” you yawn. “take the rest of those blankets, we can use those for your bed.”

“make good choices,” honjoong mumbles as seonghwa leads you back to your room, and you hear san going “oooooo” as you close your door a second time tonight. this time you don’t lock it though, and when you turn around you see the blankets on the floor and seonghwa sprawled out on your usual side of the bed, so you tell him.

“well why don’t you come join me then?” he teases with a grin. you blush and shake your head.

“scoot over.”

he does, but only by an inch. he still looks at you with that flirty glint in his eyes, and you can only shake your head again as you crawl into the tiny space next to him. he immediately wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a tight hug, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“thank you,” he whispers into your back.

“for what?” you reply.

“for not putting me on the floor. and for liking me.”

-

you just woke up from maybe the best night of sleep you’ve ever had. seonghwa’s arms and legs are draped over yours, so you can’t get up without waking him, but having him so close is a welcome source of warmth. your apartment is quiet, and the sun is peacefully filtering into your room through your curtain. it’s the perfect moment, with your perfect boy, until- 

“i think they’re still asleep,” you hear someone whisper from the hallway.

“wooyoung, leave them alone!” another voice hisses. there’s silence for a moment, and then a smack, followed by someone jiggling the doorknob to your room. you quickly untangle yourself from seonghwa before you watch as the door cracks open a bit, revealing wooyoung in all his bed-headed glory. you close your eyes as much as you can while still peeking at who’s sneaking into your room, and you see jongho close behind him. he must’ve been the one who got smacked. or did the smacking. either way, they’re both staring at you and seonghwa in your bed, but you notice wooyoung smile and pause.

“i knew it! they definitely got together last night.”

“how do you know?” jongho asks. “maybe y/n let seonghwa sleep on the bed because of his old man hips.”

“whatever. they’re in the same bed, so that’s at least something,” wooyoung replies. “lame, but still something.”

“what did you expect?” jongho asks incredulously. “you thought we would catch them doing it?”

“i mean, not exactly, but couldn’t i get a little cuddling maybe?”

“you want me to cuddle you hyung?” jongho deadpans.

“yes, actually-”

“hey!” a third voice whisper shouts. you hear footsteps and then you see hongjoong pulling wooyoung out of your room by the neck of his shirt. “leave them alone. and you, jongho, i’m surprised you’re playing along with this.”

“well...” jongho mumbles.

“well what?” hongjoong asks, sounding like the mom-est mom to ever mom.

“they’re the only ones that know how to make breakfast.”

“both of you, out! now!” hongjoong semi-shouts, and you feel seonghwa stirring behind you. hongjoong doesn’t realize you’re both awake and closes the door as he leaves.

“what time is it?” seonghwa grumbles out, and your heart skips a beat hearing how deep his voice is when he wakes up.

“early,” you reply, turning around to be face to face with him. his arms slowly snake around you as you look up at him and share a sleepy smile. “how can you look this good when you first wake up?”

“weird, i wanted to ask you the same thing,” seonghwa replies, leaning in to kiss you but you touch your fingers to his lips and stop him, so he pouts. 

“uh uh, not until i brush my teeth,” you say as you try to get up, but seonghwa’s grip on your waist keeps you down.

“please,” he pouts again, sparkly eyes on full display as he pleads with you. it takes about half a second for you to cave and kiss him quickly, catching him off guard. he shifts to pull you on top of him and deepen the kiss, but he loses his grip on you and you’re able to slip out of bed before he can stop you. a noise comes from deep in his chest that almost sounds like a growl, and you shoot him a glare.

“hey, you got your kiss,” you warn. “now i’m going to make breakfast for the gremlins. do you want to help me?”

-

after the intrusion into your bedroom, wooyoung obviously told the boys what he saw. but, like jongho said, most of them thought it was just because of seonghwa’s hips that made you share a bed with him. there wasn’t enough evidence otherwise, and none of them really expected either of you to make a move despite their efforts. but they’re starting to get suspicious.

little do they know, after the set up fell into place, seonghwa wanted to take you on a real date. the only way to do that without your friends knowing was to sneak around without them, which was kind of fun. it was nice having this bubble with seonghwa, just the two of you, but it was getting harder to avoid your friends. seonghwa lived with them after all, so they pestered him about how often he was out and who he might be out with. 

“san keeps asking if you’re a good kisser. i told him i didn’t know, and then he asked if he could find out for me. should i be concerned about that?”

“we need to be more careful, yeosang said he saw us at the taco place yesterday, and he said we hold hands weird.”

“hongjoong has been saving seats for us at the bookstore, and each time we don’t show up i think he steals something from me.”

you have been ditching study group lately, but that’s more because you need to do some deep studying for your other finals and your friends are too much of a distraction. seonghwa can be distracting too, but at least he can take a hint and back down when you really need to focus. it’s been nice actually, just spending time in his presence. you were so nervous around him just a few weeks ago, and now you feel like you could trust him with just about anything.

today, you don’t get any personal study time, though. your music theory final is coming up and seonghwa wants you to get all the terms memorized before the review session in class tomorrow. he’s motivating you with a kiss for each right answer and the promise of him making dinner once you’re done. you’re currently cruising on five wrong in a row, and you’re getting frustrated. 

“c’mon y/n, you know this,” seonghwa encourages you, but you just whine in response. “we did this like four minutes ago, and i told you the answer so you could remember it.”

“yeah, well i obviously didn’t,” you snap, and seonghwa fakes being hurt. “sorry. can we skip this and come back to it?”

“sure,” he agrees quickly. “but first you need to write down the circle of fifths for me.” 

“i hate you.”

“hm, wrong answer,” he hums. “but kiss anyway. maybe that’ll keep you from getting so grumpy.”

“i am not grumpy,” you defend after kissing him gently. “i’m stressed.”

“you know what you need?”

“hm?”

“you need to go on another date,” he begins. “with me, obviously.”

“damn, i wanted to know if yunho was free,” you tease, and seonghwa doesn’t think it’s funny. “now who’s grumpy?”

“ignoring that,” he scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile. 

“when would we go? i’m really busy the next few days.”

“what about after class? we could both clean up and do something nice before we get some dinner?” seonghwa suggests. “why don’t we go to that art exhibit you told me about?”

“ugh,” you groan as you learn your head on his shoulder. “that sounds amazing, but we both said we’d be at study group tomorrow, remember? hongjoong practically begged me to be there, and i said i would ask you to come.”

“what about not letting them know we’re a thing?” he pouts. you don’t tell him about the youngest two that saw you all cuddled up, but instead you assure him that you inviting him to study group wouldn’t look unusual to the boys.

“plus, if we both cancel last minute, they’d know for sure we were up to something together,” you continue. “so yes, we need to go on another date, but just not tomorrow.”

“fine,” he mumbles. “now i am grumpy.”

“would something from the cafe make it better, my little boba ball?” you ask in a baby voice.

“ooh, actually, boba sounds good,” seonghwa smiles. “let’s go.”

-

the next day you get to the bookstore late because your professor gave a pop quiz at the end of class and you’ve been so busy studying music theory you forgot to study for anything else, so you needed all the time you could get. when you finally arrive, all of the boys are there, surprisingly. since you’ve never seen yunho, mingi and jongho here before you’re a little confused, but happy to see them nonetheless. 

as you walk up to the usual spot, you notice a coffee cup sitting in front of an empty chair, and you point to it as the boys greet you.

“is this for me?” you ask, placing your bag on the ground before grabbing the warm mug. “thank you, coffee angel.”

“you’re welcome, actual angel,” seonghwa replies, and you almost choke on your first sip. what is he doing?? you’re supposed to be sneaky sneaks and keep your relationship quiet, but here he is flirting with you in front of everyone!

except, that’s what he did before you started dating too, so it’s not out of the ordinary. in fact, no one pays any mind to it, so you’re left with a burnt tongue and blushy cheeks while seonghwa looks at you with a stare that only you would understand. you quickly shoot him a wink before you put your mug down and reach for your notes.

“um, hello? what are you guys doing?” you ask yeosang next to you, who’s rabidly tapping at his phone, just like everyone else. if they weren’t distracted they might have picked up on the vibes between you and seonghwa, but thankfully they’re the oblivious ones now.

“playing a game,” half of them respond, just as hongjoong says “writing lyrics” and jongho mumbles “texting my mom.”

“aren’t we supposed to study?” you ask. “or did you already learn everything in the world while i was gone?”

“well you’ve missed a lot of study sessions, y/n,” san begins. “so yes, we have learned everything. now we just come here to hang out.”

“so then why did you insist on me being here, joong?” you ask newly orange-haired hongjoong. it’s been a while since you’ve seen him, he must’ve dyed it recently. 

“we missed hanging out with you,” he says simply, eyes peeking up from his phone. your heart constricts at this, and you catch seonghwa’s eyes again. you might have to rethink the whole sneaking around thing if they really do miss you.

“yeah, we missed you AND we had to make sure you and seonghwa are still spending time together,” wooyoung adds, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“where have you been anyway?” yeosang asks. “you don’t have other friends.”

“yes i do,” you scoff.”

“give me names and numbers.”

“ignore him,” yunho tells you, and you nod.

“i always do. but i’ve been really stressed about finals, so i had to do some soul searching on my own to decide if i need to graduate or not.”

“seems fair,” mingi agrees. “i almost had to drop a class.”

“because he forgot he was even enrolled in it,” jongho clarifies, and you laugh.

“but seonghwa has been missing a lot lately too,” san starts. “i wonder what he’s been doing.”

“or who,” wooyoung snickers, and hongjoong reaches over mingi to slap him.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” seonghwa says with a shrug. “i’ve mostly been in my room, or at the pharmacy to get medicine.”

“oh, so you could’ve bought new paper towels for the dorm then, huh?” hongjoong asks, and as the two of them start to bicker, yeosang nudges your arm.

“i saw you two,” he says quietly. “at the mexican restaurant.”

“i know,” you whisper back. 

“so i know you’re dating.”

“are you gonna say anything?”

“hmmm, no,” he thinks. “but you have to buy my silence.”

“with coffee?” you offer, and yeosang smiles. he stands up and puts his phone away before speaking, looking directly at seonghwa.

“my best friend y/n is gonna buy me coffee, we’ll be back,” he says as he loops his arm around your shoulders. seonghwa watches as you walk away (and stares at your ass) but he’s mostly thinking about how he’s a little jealous right now. like, he knows you wouldn’t do anything, he trusts you, but he doesn’t want his friends thinking you have a thing for anyone but him. so while you’re gone, he talks.

“i haven’t been sick,” he admits. “i’ve been seeing y/n.”

“we all knew, dude,” hongjoong says casually, and everyone agrees.

“then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“because YOU weren’t saying anything,” jongho replies.

“yeah, we figured that we did enough trying to get the two of you together, so if you didn’t end up dating then that was your fault. we were just waiting on you to make a move,” san explains. 

“then why did you let us lie to you like that?”

“it was fun,” wooyoung shrugs. “by the way, did y/n let you sleep in the bed because of your hips, or because you wanted to cuddle?”

the red tint on seonghwa’s cheeks gives him away, and the boys start laughing and ooo’ing so loud he’s afraid you’ll hear it over by the coffee counter.

“ok, ok, just. keep this quiet for now,” he says. “y/n may still want this to be private.”

“but you just told us about it,” yunho says. “why would you do that if you knew y/n wouldn’t want you to?”

“well,” seonghwa begins. “i need your help with a date.”

-

seemingly by an act of god, you have time this weekend to go on a date with seonghwa. little did you know, he’s the reason your plans suddenly freed up. san said you could critique him and wooyoung for their dance final another day, hongjoong said he would send you his music theory notes from the review and save you hours of studying and then yeosang found the exact spanish book you needed to finish your performance final ahead of time. it was the perfect circumstances, orchestrated by your perfect boy and his perfect-adjacent friends, who all agreed to help him with this (hopefully) perfect date. 

it starts with seonghwa picking you up from your apartment, coffee in hand. 

“you’re the man of my dreams, you know that?” you say in passing as you grab the warm to-go cup. even if you were only saying it lightly, it made seonghwa’s heart soar. you notice he hasn’t said anything to you, so you meet his eyes to find them full of stars like always, but this time there’s something scheme-y in there. he’s up to something.

“are you ready for the best date of your life?” he asks with a smile that puts the stars in his eyes to shame.

“yes, i think,” you respond, grabbing your keys and locking your door. “but i don’t know what we’re doing.”

“and it will stay that way until we get there,” seonghwa says firmly as he laces his hand into yours. you squeeze his hand and sigh.

“i guess i just have to trust you then.”

“but that won’t be hard right?”

“wait, didn’t you say something earlier about going to that art exhibit? is that it?” you question, even though you know he won’t budge. seonghwa just shakes his head no and punches the button for the elevator. a moment of silence passes before you guess again. “a movie? you rented out a movie theater, like you said you wanted to?”

“i tried, but it was expensive,” he admits and you have to laugh. “funds are tight right now.”

“i watched you buy a couple hundred dollars worth of legos the other day babe. maybe that’s why the date fund is lacking.”

“you’re not coming between me and my collectables, y/n,” seonghwa scolds. the elevator pings to open to the parking garage under your building, and you’re confused for a moment before he explains. “i want this to be a nice date, so yunho let me borrow his car. it would be no fun if we show up all sweaty because we were walking.”

yunho’s car, which is actually pretty nice thanks to all the tips he gets from flirting with clientele, is parked by the elevator. seonghwa leads you to your door and opens it for you, revealing a basket of flowers and candies in the seat. you coo as you pick it up, and seonghwa looks on proudly. you lean over to give him a kiss, and you whisper your thanks as you pull away.

“that was mingi’s idea,” seonghwa tells you, smiling brightly “i got all your favorites.”

“i see that.”

“but look around the flowers,” he guides you. “there’s something else.”

you hold the basket up to eye level, noticing the silver sparkle around the stems of the flowers. is it glitter? you tug at a flower and realize it’s a chain, and attached is a hand drawn star charm to match the tattoo on the back of seonghwa’s neck. 

“seonghwa, this is beautiful,” you say breathlessly. “we’re gonna match! that’s so cute. who’s idea was this?”

“would you believe me if i said it was mine?”

“no.”

“that’s what jongho said too,” seonghwa laughs. “it was his idea.”

“tell him thank you,” you say as you play with the charm. “mingi and yunho too. it’s a good date so far.”

“oh baby, it hasn’t officially started yet.”

-

in the car, seonghwa plays a mix of songs that he really likes, and he’s mixed in some of your favorites too. he has to keep convincing you that the songs aren’t clues, because you ask every time a new song plays.

“so are the songs just distractions?” you ask, finally giving up on getting any information out of him. 

“why do you ask that?” he smirks as he turns down a familiar road.

“because i can tell you just took the long way to the record store,” you explain. “are you stalling?”

“me, what? why?” his response does nothing to manage your suspicions, and suddenly you remember how your friends have helped with the date so far. are they all in on this? you need answers.

“seonghwa, i swear to god, if san or wooyoung jumps out to surprise me wherever we’re going-”

“that won’t happen,” seonghwa laughs while he parks the car. “we’re here anyway, and i promise this is the last surprise of the night.”

“the record store?” you question, looking up at the shop you’ve been to countless times to shop and to bother hongjoong while he works. 

“yeah, you said there was a new album out you wanted to get, right?”

“yeah,” you blush. “but i just said that in passing, i didn’t expect you to remember.”

“y/n, i want to know everything about you,” seonghwa says seriously. “so of course i remembered. wait, don’t get out yet. i’ll open the door for you.”

as seonghwa helps you out of the car, you quiz him on the other things you’ve said around him that you didn’t think he remembered. sadly, he does remember you saying your favorite disney movie is ratatouille and you’ve always wanted to try the mushroom/cheese concoction remy makes in the first scene.

“that’s a little embarrassing,” you sigh as you reach for the door. you’re going to complain some more about how seonghwa doesn’t need to remember everything about you, but the sight in front of you makes you stop mid-breath.

the record store has been decorated from floor to ceiling in fairy lights, and there’s more flowers all over the place. as you look around, you notice the flowers are tucked in the shelves next to your favorite artists. next to the door is the album you were talking about, and a little further down you see your favorite album of all time with a few extra flowers next to it. you’re still taking everything in when you notice hongjoong behind the counter.

“did you help him with this?” you ask breathlessly, and hongjoong nods. 

“yeah, but the flowers next to the albums was my idea,” hongjoong explains. “we’re running a new special called “y’n’s favorites” so everything that’s marked with a flower is yours, if you want it. everything is on the house.” 

“i...i don’t know what to say,” you start. you turn to seonghwa and there are those starry eyes that you love to see. you reach out to cup his face and smile. “thank you. this is...perfect.”

“it’s even more perfect now that i’m here!” wooyoung shouts from the front door of the shop, followed by san and yeosang. you look at seonghwa and all he does is laugh.

“what? at least he didn’t jump out and scare you,” seonghwa teases.

“oh, i would never,” wooyoung nods with a half-serious look on his face. “but i definitely wouldn’t do that when i have your dinner in my hands, i can’t let all this hard work spill.”

“especially not on my clean floor,” hongjoong warns. 

“you made dinner for us?” you ask wooyoung, but you’re looking at seonghwa, who simply shrugs.

“yep, i made one of your favorites and then threw in a couple recipes i thought you’d both like,” wooyoung says as he and the two other boys place food down on the counter by the register.

“and what did you two help with?” you ask san and yeosang.

“who do you think made this place so beautiful?” yeosang asks incredulously.

“yeosang did the lights and i bought all the flowers,” san explains with a smile that makes his eyes turn into happy half moons. “you’d be surprised how many places i had to go to get all your favorites.”

“i really don’t know what to say,” you whisper in disbelief. “i can’t believe you all did this for me.”

“it was all seonghwa’s idea,” san tells you. “we did it for both of you.”

“yeah, we’re just his little minions,” yeosang jokes, and wooyoung giggles. 

“you tell me how that food tastes, got it?” he asks as he backs out of the store. “don’t say anything mean though. i only accept compliments.”

“wooyoung,” seonghwa smiles tightly. “please leave.”

wooyoung holds the door open for san and yeosang as he gives seonghwa a thumbs up. san waves goodbye sweetly and yeosang gives you a knowing smile before the door closes behind them.

“well, i think that’s my cue to go,” hongjoong says, handing the keys to seonghwa. “don’t make a mess. if i get fired, i’m selling all the stuff i stole from you when you were sneaking around with y/n and not telling us about it.”

“i’ll keep him under control,” you assure hongjoong, who nods as heads to the door. you don’t see him leave because seonghwa has stepped in front of you, and he places his hands on your waist to pull you closer.

“so,” he begins.

“so.”

“what do you want to listen to while we eat?” he asks, pulling you by the waist over to a row of records. you stand there quietly, looking over the albums hongjoong pulled to the front for you, and you just can’t believe how much work went into this date. you can’t believe how sweet it is that each of your friends helped, and you put your hand on seonghwa’s and give it a squeeze.

“hwa,” you whisper. he hums in response, but you place your hand on his cheek and guide his gaze to yours.

“thank you,” you tell him. “thank you for this.”

he smiles at you with a look in his eyes that can’t be anything else but love, and you smile back with that much love, if not more, in your own face. you use the hand on seonghwa’s chin to guide his lips to yours, and you lose yourself in the kiss, in seonghwa, for who knows how long.

“mm, y/n,” he mumbles against your lips before detaching. “the food will get cold.”

“you’re right,” you sigh. “but we didn’t pick any music.”

“how about this?” he asks, pulling an album out from the top shelf. you smile at the cover, knowing exactly what song seonghwa wants you to hear. 

“perfect,” you agree. “i’ll put it on while you get the food?”

and that’s how you end up eating the perfect meal, on your perfect date, with all of your favorite things around you, sitting right next to your perfect boy.

[some-kindofgnome]

meet me in the afterglow

After college graduation, you took an all-summer backpacking trip around Europe with your best friend. Now you've got one last night together before coming home as lovers.

characters: eijirou kirishima x f!reader

wc: 2.4k

tags: smut (18+ please!), aged-up characters, quirkless au, implied friends-to-lovers, fluff, mentions of drinking/the sliiiiightest bit of tipsiness, swedish condoms, no beta we die like that bottle of wine

notes: @the-moons-raes and I discussed travelling with BNHA boys at some length a lil while ago, so I wrote this sweet lil scene for her! Consider it a (very) belated birthday present my dear. 💖 xoxoo

MASTERLIST

The sky’s faded from powder-blue to apricot by the time you stumble together into the bedroom.

“Oh my god,” you giggle. You’ve been grinning all night, so hard it’s starting to hurt your wine-warmed cheeks. But this is the happiest you’ve been in a very long time.

“That was,” Eijirou starts, “one of the- no, the best meal I’ve ever had.”

“We should’ve ordered another bottle of that wine,” you muse. He’s got his hands on your hips and you twist in his grip, curling your fingers around his palms. His face has gone pink, but his eyes are sparkling and you’ve already decided you want to preserve this feeling for the rest of your life.

“I don’t think you need anything else to drink tonight,” he teases smoothly, pulling you close with his fingertips digging into the gauzy fabric of your dress. He leans down and pushes his lips against yours, the last tartness of the strawberry gelato you finished on the boardwalk still lingering in the tender flick of his tongue.

Tonight falls at the tail end of a long backpacking trip across Europe that you’ve been wanting to take for as long as you can remember. You’d never planned to take anybody with you at all, let alone the man you’d wind up falling for.

But Eiji’s always been pretty good at defying your expectations.

The rest of the summer hasn’t been this glamorous. You’d spent most nights shacked up in rickety little hostel beds, bunking together in rooms of six or camping out in the backseat of a tiny rental car. But the sleepless nights and sore backs and restricted luggage hadn’t changed a thing. You’ve been in heaven all summer long.

To celebrate your last couple of nights in this hemisphere, you checked into one of Naples’ top-rated hotels. It’s still not the most luxurious room on the market, but compared to the military-issue bunk beds you’ve been sleeping on for the past eight weeks, it might as well be paradise.

Especially now, given the changed nature of your relationship.

You got on the plane together two months ago nursing a deep, intense crush on your best friend. You’ve been close with Eijirou since your first year in college together, when he was assigned to the dorm room beside yours. And for as long as you’d known him, you assumed you’d be loving him from a distance.

But somewhere between Brussels and Berlin, the line between friend and lover started to blur. Since then, it’s been completely erased.

“Come on,” you protest, flinging your arms around his neck and clasping them together behind his head. “I can hardly feel a thing.”

He ran out of hair gel two weeks ago and he’s been wearing his hair down ever since, tied into a loose little ponytail at the nape of his neck. The dark roots of his natural colour are starting to show at his crown after going nearly two months without so much as a haircut.

To you, he’s never looked sweeter.

“That’s my point,” he insists, descending into tipsy, cheerful laughter. “You’re so drunk y’can’t feel a thing. C’mere, it’s time to get you to bed.”

His euphoric grin twists around the edges with mischief as he stoops, sweeping you off your feet with a quiet little grunt of effort. You burst out laughing, letting one arm drop around his neck as your head falls back in deepening mirth.

“Take me to bed,” you swoon, dropping purposely limp in his arms. You haven’t been able to do any of this since that night in Athens a couple of weeks ago where you miraculously had an entire hostel bunkroom to yourselves.

Even then, those cots didn’t make it easy.

Tonight you’ve got a king bed all to yourselves, which Kirishima plants you on before crossing to the window and throwing it open. The night air is velvety and sweet, rolling in like heady steam and waking your senses as you watch him ditch his shoes and crawl across the plush bedspread to settle down beside you.

“You are insanely beautiful,” he croons, propping one head on his arm and smoothing his fingers affectionately down your temple. “I can’t believe I get to tell you that.”

He leans in to kiss you after that, tasting you carefully as his hand drifts from your cheek to your neck to your side. He’s a careful kisser, tasting of the last hints of that sweet summer wine that’s filled both your heads.

Picking up on your eagerness, he breaks from your lips to push attentive little kisses down the side of your neck. But as he reaches the hem of the floaty little dress you wear, he pauses and finds your eye.

“Can I?”

He’s already sliding one palm down over the curve of your hip, but it pauses at your thigh, and the earnest little quirk in his brow is so cute you can’t help but giggle.

“Do you really need to ask?” you quip.

He hums thoughtfully against your skin, already mouthing at your collarbone. “Just making sure.”

There are oversized buttons lining the center front of your dress, and he takes his time popping open every single one. He opens the dress far enough that he could have easily pulled it down over your hips, but he doesn’t stop there. Instead, you get to watch as he works open the last button with quiet, deep concentration, and when he finally does, he pushes the folds open around your body with a loving little triumphant smile.

“There’s my girl,” he croons as he crawls atop you once more, shedding his sweaty t-shirt in the process. You’re chest-to-chest when he catches your lips again, and his skin is still a little warm from the afternoon you’d spent at the beach before dinner.

He kisses you long and low and slow, giving you plenty of time to let your thighs fall open around the slope of his hips. Eiji presses naturally forward, pushing the ridge of his pelvis and the stiff denim of his shorts against your flimsy underwear. He huffs quietly into your mouth, and as you shift and squirm beneath him you can feel his cock stirring against you.

“Eiji,” you whimper, turning your face sharply to one side. “Don’t make me wait.”

In the absence of your mouth, he noses attentively down the column of your throat. His eyelashes flutter at your jaw and you feel it when he purses his lips and swallows hard.

“Okay,” he rasps. “Okay, I gotcha.” He rears back, sitting up on his haunches to unbutton his shorts. Before he gets up to shed them, he rests a hand on the plane of your belly, smiling so innocently down at you it shouldn’t make you throb.

But it does.

“Ready for me already, pretty girl?” Eiji muses, and you have to bite your lip hard to keep from rolling over and screaming into your pillow as loudly as possible.

“Been ready for you since the beach,” you tease back, and it works, since his ears are turning red as he slips out of bed. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his undershorts and shucks both garments in one smooth motion, hunching over to let them drop to the floor while he steps unceremoniously out of them.

His cock’s half-hard already, sitting full and heavy between his thighs and swelling self-consciously under your gaze. He’s exactly as big as you always sort of knew he was. He’s not shy about it, either. He can’t afford to be.

But he doesn’t know how beautiful he is, sunburned and sweating in the fading golden-hour light of your last sunset in Italy. You want to pet the soft little bristle of dark hair that dusts his chest, follow the taper of it all the way down to that perfect trail that always used to disappear under his shorts.

Not anymore. You get to see him at his most vulnerable now.

And you will not misuse that trust.

“Come here,” you purr, pushing yourself onto your elbows so he can see the desire burning in your gaze for him.

He leans instinctively toward you, hands twitching by his sides. He snaps out of a little reverie with a hard blink, stooping in front of his shorts and fishing out his slim little travel wallet.

“Hang on.”

He flips through the creased euros and museum tickets, carding out a wrapped condom. He climbs back onto the bed and passes it to you with a shy little grin.

“I know you like to do the honours.”

The condom comes from a packet you bought in the wee hours at some twenty-four hour roadside convenience store before bedding down in a rented car together. The instructions are in Swedish, but you know what you’re doing.

By the time you get the condom unwrapped, Eiji’s on his knees in front of you and his cock is fully hard out of sheer anticipation. You reach between his thighs and wrap your fingers around his warm flesh, making him shudder. And you drop one sweet, warm kiss to his mouth before you focus.

He rolls his hips quietly into your touch as you handle the job with delicate precision, unrolling the condom all the way to his base.

“Ready?” He asks you, but you’re already laying back against the pillows and thumbing off your underwear, slick and aching for him.

“Get over here before I start without you,” you tease, and he is powerless to resist you. He anchors himself on his knees, hooking each of your legs over one of his powerful thighs. He reaches for you and his cock sweeps the inside of your thigh as it bobs between you. You’ve been wanting this from the moment you saw this room, the perfect ending to a life-changing trip.

Eiji sinks lower, letting the barrel of his chest rise and fall with a deep, steadying breath. He reaches between you to line himself up with you, casting his eyes up to yours when he feels you.

“Ready?” He repeats himself, and this time the humor’s gone. You nod quietly against the pillow and reach for his free hand, lacing your fingers together tightly.

You squeeze hard as he starts to slot himself inside you. He stretches you deeply, especially without any preparation. But he knows how to keep you comfortable, moving slowly and smoothly. He braces a hand on your belly as he bottoms out, but he does not pause there. Instead, he starts to ease into a lazy rhythm, sweeping his thumb between your folds to find the swelling nub of your clit.

“Fuck,” you whine, and he flinches a little inside you.

“God,” he gasps, bending over to press his forehead- sticky with sweat- into yours. “Tell me I’m not dreaming, yeah?”

You reach up and lightly pinch his chest with your free hand, and he grins above you.

“You’re good,” you confirm, hearing the breathlessness echo in your own voice.

“I’m not gonna last long like this,” he brushes. You shake your head.

“Don’t care. Just fuck me.”

His brow lifts against yours. After a chuckle of disbelief, he sits up.

“Aye aye, captain.”

He squeezes your fingers tightly and begins to thrust.

He does not hold back with you, keeping the pad of his thumb winding tight circles into your clit as he fucks you with eager diligence. You revel in the slap of your bodies, the fact that you can spread out and make noise, moan for him like you’ve always wanted to. Finally alone together for real. No stolen moments of privacy here. You can take as much as you want.

“Eiji,” you beg, beginning to clench around him as you feel the first twinges of your climax approaching.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he huffs, borderline incoherent as the flush spreads down his neck and chest. “Let go for me, I gotcha.”

In a dozen thrusts he’s got you falling, letting high whimpers escape your throat as your pussy clenches and flutters around his thick shaft. He rubs you diligently through your climax, fucking you steadily until you whine and paw his hand away, overstimulated and sensitive.

“I’m there,” he promises. “I’m there, I’m there, I’m….. f-fuck!” His jaw falls slack as he throws his head back, thrusting headlong into a tight climax that has him trembling against you. His hips go still, but you can feel the way his cock twitches inside your spent walls as he fills the condom.

When he’s finished he stays there for a moment, shoulders dropping while the rest of his body goes slack. He reaches up, scraping sweaty strands of hair off his forehead before he grins sleepily down at you.

“Did you…” He starts, eyes turning inquisitive. Someday he’ll be able to tell, but for now you’re just glad he’s asking.

“Yeah,” you hum, eyes bright despite the weight setting quickly into your limbs. It’s worth it for the pride that surges visibly through him, and he pulls out of you with a triumphant grin spreading his lips.

“Good,” he gushes, slipping quietly away to dispose of the condom. He’s hardly gone for a handful of seconds, and when he comes back he crawls eagerly up to your side and pulls you into his arms, curling his body attentively around yours.

“This is nice,” you confess, drifting pleasantly in the wine-and-sex-induced fog that rests heavy in your brain.

“Hmm?” Eiji’s already half-asleep above you, eyelids drooping as the light fades from the window beside the bed.

“This,” you prompt again. “Not having to get dressed again right away. We should do this more often.”

“I sure hope we do,” he enthuses. “When we get back, I’m not letting you unpack until we consummate our relationship on the right hemisphere.”

That was the longest you’d gone around him without laughing in a while. Even half-asleep, though, his wisecracks are enough to make you snort.

“Deal,” you hum, letting your eyes fall shut as the world bleeds out of focus around you. It’s not even eight o’clock and you’re sure you’ll have him again before nightfall. But for now, you’re more than happy to bask in the afterglow with the one person in the world you never thought you’d make it there with.

[simpleserendipity]

Drive Safely then | Calum Hood | Mature

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader (friends with benefits, college calum)

Warning: smut, talk about sex, blow job

Word count: 2,301 words

You sit, clicking your pen, again and again, waiting for the bell to ring in your last period class, History. Your history teacher drones on about something, a war maybe? You couldn’t help but let your mind drift to thinking about Calum, you kept thinking of the feeling of his hands sliding up your skirt slowly or his mouth trailing your body. You shake your head, turning your attention back to reality. You pull out your phone and start a text to Calum. It's been a full year since your arrangement with Calum started. You were a junior and he was a senior when it started. Now he’s in university and you’re finishing your senior year. He's a well-known soccer player at the local university and you're what you would call a slut at the local high school. You decided that it's beneficial for both of you, instead of sleeping around, you can just call each other for a hookup anytime. You could avoid the high school boys with their gossip and he could avoid the drama of girls wanting to be the girlfriend of the star player. It was exciting seeing an older boy with his own apartment because it wasn’t just hooking up in cars or bedrooms with families downstairs.

ME: What are you doing after school?

You set your phone on your thigh waiting for a response. You feel your phone vibrate quickly after.

CAL: Want me to pick you up?

You smiled.

ME: I hoped you would say that.

CAL: I'll be outside.

You set your phone down on your thigh and start to pack up your things. You had two minutes till class was over, it was the longest two minutes of your life, knowing that you could see Calum after this. It’s been two weeks since you last saw each other, you had gone longer without seeing him but recently you’ve been itching to see him. You just wanted to go see Calum. The bell rang and you got up as fast as you could. You were the first out of the classroom and you went storming down the hallway.

"Oooh ______ is practically running, she never does that," Your best friend says as he follows me down the hall, "Unless ______ is on her way to hook up with a certain someone..." He laughs. It wasn’t like it was a total secret but you didn’t want anyone to start talking about your relationship with Calum.

You flip him off, "Maybe I am," You laugh with an eye roll, "I'll talk to you later, Love you."

"Alright, love you." He laughs and goes in a different direction.

You get out the front of the school and down the steps. You had to hold yourself back from skipping to his car because of how excited you are. You head straight into the parking lot not stopping for anyone even after you hear people calling your name, waving hands at you. You see Calum's black truck, parked in the front row with the engine running. Calum sat in the driver's seat, on his phone. You get to the car and hop in. You throw your backpack on the floor and get buckled. You look over and see he’s wearing his soccer warm-ups with a beaning on his head, he must have come from practice this morning. Calum often picks you up from school since it’s the easiest place to meet him without getting questions from your parents.

"Took you fucking long enough," He leans over and kisses you slowly, just enough to tease you a bit he breaks apart and starts the car, “I was about to leave you here.” He snaps, you knew he didn’t mean it but you loved when he was like this and he knew that.

"Sorry Calum," You hummed lightly, shifting to press your thighs together, embarrassed of how turned on his simple words could make you, "I was on the opposite side of the school."

“Of course you were.” He rolls his eyes.

“I was,” You defend yourself quickly, “How was your day?”

Calum laughs, “Fine, boring as hell.” His hand finds a place on your knee, 

“How was your day?”

“It was alright,” You shift lightly so the denim skirt you had worn today slid up, 

“Pretty boring. I was thinking about you in class today.” You leaned closer to the center console.

“What did you think about?” Calum’s thumb traces circles around your knee.

“You want to know?” You giggled.

“Tell me what you were thinking about, baby girl.”

“Well,” You leaned across the console, pressing your chest against his arm, “I was thinking about how your hands would feel going up my skirt and the things your fingers can do to me or how your mouth feels on my skin or the way you taste.” You sit back in your seat as he backs out of the parking spot.

"Fuck," he mutters and moves a hand right to your inner thigh, fingers tracing circles around the soft flesh, "I can't wait to get out of here."

"Me either," You move his hand off of you.

"What the hell?" He turns and looks at me with shock, not used to you rejecting his advances in a moment like this.

"Shut up." You tell him, pulling your hair out of your face.

“What the hell do you mean ‘shut up’?” He snaps, looking around at the cars surrounding us as we wait in the afterschool traffic.

“I said shut up.” You repeat yourself as you unbuckle and move your hands over to his jeans. You move your hand over to palm him for a moment and he lets out a slight groan. You move to the waistband of his sweats.

You pull his dick out of the sweats slowly, "______, we’re literally still in the school parking lot..." He laughs, “You’re so eager today aren’t you?”

"I can't help yourself, it’s been two weeks," You said before you leaned down to kitten lick the tip, "I just want you now." You continued to lick slowly around the tip.

"Fuck," he groans as you took him in your mouth, "You're gonna get it later, baby girl." He takes one hand from the steering wheel and tugs at your hair. You moan as his grip on your hair tightens. You bob your head up and down at a tantalizing pace as he exits the parking lot. Finally moving at a regular speed compared to the way the car crawled through the parking lot earlier.

Calum drove very fast, probably going way above the speed limit, "Cal?" You pull off all the way and his hand comes away from your hair.

“Yes, baby?” He asks, turning to look at you before turning back to the road.

"You're going way over the speed limit aren't you?" You look up through your eyelashes.

"The faster you get to your house the faster I’ll get to feel that sweet body of yours on mine, baby girl." He shrugs and smirks. You smile and push your thighs further together at his words. Calum’s hand comes back into your hair and you go back to sucking him off. You feel his grip on your hair tighten, a sign that he is close, “I’m so fucking close.” He groans, “You’re gonna fucking kill us if you continue.”

You popped up for a minute, “Drive safely then.” You leaned back down before you giggled against his cock, the vibrations made him lose it. He finishes in your mouth. You pull up and look at him while swallowing. You carefully put his dick back in his pants for him, leaning back into your seat.

"You're so gonna get it..." You giggle and he pulls up in front of his apartment building. He parked in the spot next to one of his roommates, Ashton. It seems like Ashton is the only roommate here right now since Michael and Luke’s cars are missing.

You hop out of the car and leave your backpack in the car. You meet Calum at the front of the car. His arm wraps around your waist, hand resting loosely on your hip as he guides you up the stairs to your apartment. You get up the stairs and you get to the door and he unlocks the door with his free hand. Calum pushes the door open and you go in first with him following you. You get inside and head down the familiar hall, landing on the very last bedroom. You throw the door open, Calum coming in right after. You get into his room and toss off your shirt and shuck your shoes to the side before he even closes the door. He shuts the door, tosses his shirt to the side, and comes behind you. Calum puts his hands on your hips as his lips find your neck softly peppering around before finding the sweet spot below your ear. As soon as his lips touched that spot, you leaned your head back into his chest with a moan. He sucks on that spot a bit, sure to leave a purple mark behind which made you groan in annoyance. Your hands are busy unbuttoning your skirt, once the skirt is unbuttoned, you peel it off leaving you in a black lace bralette and red lace underwear. You mentally kicked yourself for not wearing a matching set today. His hands and lips detach from your body momentarily as he pulls his shirt off. Calum’s hands returned to your hips and moved around to get your underwear off. His lips moving to the base of your neck, definitely marking you up again.

Calum pulls back to look at you, “What is it with you and always wearing lace?” He eyed you up and down before returning to your neck, not waiting for an answer.

“I like it.” That was all you said between broken moans.

Calum pulls off of you, spinning you around to look you in the eye. You pull his sweats down slowly, you lean in and start kissing his neck. Calum pulls you off and walks you back, your knees hitting the bed before your back hits the mattress. He lies you on your back before he leans back in and begins kissing your neck as he hovers over you. You tangle your hands in his hair, biting your lip to suppress your moans, not wanting to be so loud since Ashton was still there. After a moment you pushed Calum over so that he lied on his back. You swung one leg over his hips so that you were straddling him with your hands resting on his chest.

He bites his lip and looks at you, "God I love this," He puts his hands on your hips, fingers digging into your hips, enough to leave bruises tomorrow. You didn’t understand his need to mark you up every time he touched you and it annoyed the hell out of you but no matter what you said, he would always claim it was an accident. You should’ve stopped to chastise him right then but you were more excited to get onto it. You kiss his lips quickly, then you move down his jaw, neck, and down his chest, to the hem of his boxers. You put your fingers on the edge and stop to look at him, "You are desperate to please today aren’t you?” He teases.

“It’s been too long.” You huffed.

“Well then,” He crosses his hands behind his head, “Don't let me stop you then." Calum shoots you a shit-eating grin.

"I won't," You smile as you begin to pull the hem down slowly, you're interrupted by a knock on the door. The knock startles both of you and you scramble off of Calum. You pull a pillow in front of your chest to hide from the person at the door and sit on your knees as he gets up angrily.

He cracks the door slightly, "What?" He spits through his teeth, you peek around him to see Ashton standing there.

"Dude don't yell at me," Ashton scoffs, "I just came to tell you that coach just called a mandatory meeting tonight so I would get dressed."

"Fuck," Calum turns to look at you, you worldlessly get up, scrambling to get dressed, "Thank you, Ash." Ashton nods before leaving. You pulled your shirt over your head again. Then you wrap your skirt around you, buttoning it quickly.

“This bites.” You groaned as you turned back to see him buttoning his pants. You finished buttoning your skirt. He slipped his t-shirt back on.

You bent over to slide your shoes on as he comes over behind you and puts his hands on your hips, "I’m sorry we got interrupted, I'll call you tonight?”

“Yeah, whatever.” You groaned as you knew that he wouldn’t call and it might be another week before you see him again.

“I’m sorry,” Calum rolls his eyes, “I didn’t think that coach would call a meeting this late.”

“It’s fine,” You huff and try to roll it off, only Calum can tell how irritated you are, “Don’t worry about it.” You turned to walk out only for Calum’s hand to catch yours.

“Actually baby,” He pulls you chest to chest with him, “How about you stay and I’ll make the meeting quick?” He says with his lips ghosting yours, “Or maybe I won’t go at all.”

You leaned forward and locked your lips moving softly, “You should go,” You said as you pulled off, “But I’ll definitely be here when you get back if you can make it quick.” You leaned in kissing his lips again before he pulled away with a smirk on his lips, heading for the door.

[dalishthunder]

Imagine....dualscar being tense and grumpy from a nights work on the ship...sitting down in his chair and reader comes out behind him to start rubbing at his shoulders....he has appearances to keep and doesn't like loosening his posture much but it's so hard not to melt under those warm hands

I actually wrote something that went down like that.... let me find it for you. It's between a servant reader and dualscar.... if that is your cup of tea (I'll put it under the cut in case it's not).

But just the thought of him melting..........

“Would you like me to go…?” You asked him, hoping beyond hope that he would say yes. It had been a while since you’d gotten a good sleep in. His first mate always had a task for you to do. Always. Without fail, something else. But if you slipped out now, maybe you could sneak back to your hammock before the sun rose.

He didn’t even turn his head to look at you as he spoke into his pillow.“I need your tiny little hands, there’s a knot in my shoulders. Work it out.” He unclasped his cloak and tossed it to the ground. Lovely.

You sighed, standing up and walking over to the bed. His armor was still on of course, but you weren’t going to mention that, no need to doff that if you didn’t need to. You just wanted this over as soon as possible… and with any luck he’d fall straight to sleep. You really, really hoped he was sleepy drunk.

Your fingers began to rub little circles at first at the top of the shoulders first.

“Harder.”

You applied more pressure.

“No. No, angles off. You should know by now how I like it.” He snipped, voice muffled by his pillow.

You ground your teeth, but hopped up onto the bed and straddled his back, kneading the base of his shoulder blades. He allowed it for a few minutes before speaking again.

“You’re going to have to take off the armor, sweetheart. I can barely feel you.”

“Of course.”

“’Of course’ what?”

“Of course, sir.” Your nostrils flared as you found the buckles on the side, working the stiff leather until it finally came loose. He shifted so you could slide it off of him leaving him only in a lavender silk chemise and pants.

Your palms pressed firmly into his back and you dragged up, eliciting a deep moan from the man below you.

“That’s the ticket.” The troll hissed, arching his back into your touch. You worked your fingers into his muscles, another shameless moan escaping his lips. “Just like that.”

Dualscar The Orphaner, Feeder of the Deep One wasn’t usually so… vocal.

“Mindfang is just so infuriating.”He moped. “That’s the third trade ship this sweep that she’s raided… the third fuckin’ one! That ship had off-world product on it! Four hundred and thirteen kilos of Timoorian steel just gone. She’s probably selling it off to the rebellion for a killing. It'd be endearing were she not such a piss poor kismesis…. She does this all the time. Wind me up with enough hatred to turn my bloodpump black then just fuck off to glub knows where doing glub knows what just leaving me stewing in my own concupiscent rage.”

Ah. He was chatty drunk tonight….

He went on and on as you worked his muscles, babbling like a brook. Mindfang this. The Condesce and Gl'Bgolyb that. You wanted nothing more than to zone out, but a talkative drunk could slip up information that could be used against him. So you listened, giving a thoughtful hum whenever the situation demanded, learning more and more about the intergalactic price of raw dafad wool against your will.

His monologue began to peter off after what felt like hours.

“Do you know why I chose you to be my personal attendant?” He asked suddenly, propping himself up just a bit.

“Because you’re not threatened by me.” You replied without hesitation. “And even if I tried anything an ocean surrounds us so there’s nowhere for me to go.”

“Well don’t we have a smarty pants here… Didn’t realize you could talk so much.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” You muttered under your breath.

Dualscar turned his head to grin at you cheekily, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you under him. “So small.” He murmured. “With such a smart little mouth.”

He was intimidating even on the best of days, but pinned by his weight with his face only inches from your own…. You couldn’t help but swallow thickly as you caught a glimpse of his shark-like teeth.

“Such fragile skin.” His grin widened, teeth so sharp…. So sharp, you could swear you saw serration on the edges. Not the uneven rows of a bull or mako shark… but the perfect even triangles of a great white. The troll bent his head down, tracing his lips along your jaw and down your neck. “I could kill you right now.” His breath was cool against your skin, the bristly hair on his chin scratching against you. “It would be so easy….” He dragged his teeth along the length of your throat, just hard enough for you to feel it.

“… To rip your windpipe right out with my teeth.”

It was all you could do to keep still as he gently bit down, cold sweat covering your skin. No self defense class had prepared you for this. You could feel your limbs trembling as you stared up at the ceiling, view obscured by his bright orange horns.

“Not that I would of course,” He murmured into your neck, chuckling as he pulled back just enough to plant a soft kiss where his teeth had been a moment ago.

You exhaled shakily, and he pressed his lips against your throat again, laughing. “There’s nothing to be scared of… I’m not actually going to hurt you.”

You gave a nervous chuckle, hyper-aware as the prickle of his stubble left your skin as he brought his face back up, pupils blown wide as his eyes met yours, cheeks flushed a deep lilac hue. Your breath hitched in your chest….

Dualscar was a handsome man, Probably one of the most handsome men you had met; Troll or human. High cheekbones, thick black hair, violet eyes framed by golden sclera and long dark lashes… even the thin jagged lines that scarred his otherwise perfect face gave him character.

He loomed over you, his weight on your arms was almost unbearably uncomfortable at this point, pins and needles prickling along your veins, as his eyes bored into your own. Until he closed them, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours gently as though testing the waters. You melted against him faster than you would ever care to admit, and you could feel the smile on his lips. His fingers lit fires under your skin as they slid down your arm to your waist and up against the small of your back. How long had it been since you’d felt the comfort of an embrace…?

Passionate. Insistent. Desperate.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer. You could taste sea salt and his drink, bitter and slightly citrusy, on his lips… So different from what you were used to.

His cool skin was a balm to the heated way he kissed you. You gasped as he groped your ass, claws pricking through the fabric of your pants, taking the opportunity to unceremoniously shove his tongue in your mouth. He absolutely reeked of alcohol but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, getting lost in the cold, foreign feeling as he explored your mouth.

You followed as he retreated, nipping his lower lip before running your tongue along it. He moaned, breath ragged as you dragged your nails along his scalp and behind his fins. You kissed him deeply, hands curling around his horns.

He gabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, Dualscar’s voice just a low growl in your ear.

“No.”

You whined as he nipped your jaw, lathing over the spot with his cool tongue. His free hand slipping under your shirt, blunted claws scraping against your skin as he kissed along your jawline and back up to your mouth. It was hot and needy, grinding his groin against your leg.

You pulled back, ducking your head to kiss his neck. He moaned, hand exploring your chest, thumb rubbing over a nipple, sending a shiver down your spine.

After a few more minutes, of licking and sucking his neck, careful to avoid the sharp plates in his gills, he finally sat up, breath ragged as he looked at you. Nudging you off the bed.

It was unexpected… and you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done something wrong before he spoke once more.

“Now strip.” He was looking at you with a lazy smile, sitting upright, legs crossed.

You flushed, pausing for a moment, mouth slightly agape. The kissing, the groping, the humping… you had figured it would lead up to this, but you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Sure, plenty of people had seen you naked before, but this was far from your forte. It wasn’t that you were a prude or anything… but it had been longer than you’d like to admit. In your younger years you had been so focused on excelling in school, and completing college that romance hadn’t been your primary concern. You’d had a couple of datemates, but it usually didn’t last very long anyways. And since you’d landed on Alternia it wasn’t like you even really thought about romance… probably something about too busy trying to survive to really care.

You must have been taking too long because Dualscar reached out and took your hand in his, pressing his lips to your palm, dragging his sharp teeth along your skin. Giving you an altogether disarmingly charming smile.

[heliotropehotch]

Wasteland, Baby - Hotch x fem!Reader

A/N: This is my first criminal minds fic I’m putting out! Im not really sure what this is but I was in need of more hotch fics i’m not gonna lie. tagging @writefasttalkevenfaster​ cause she let me ask her for ideas - also happy birthday Sabina!! This fic is kinda based on a mixture of wasteland, baby by hozier and separate ways by journey. Italics are flashbacks

Warnings: mentions of passed abusive relationship, kidnapping, torture, chained up, arguments, pining, cussing, mentions of sex

Words: 4134

Genre: Angst with fluffy ending

The bullpen of the BAU was quiet but bustling with the soft shuffling of papers and dull thuds of various coffee mugs meeting the hardwood desks. Aaron Hotchner slowly shuffled up the stairs to his office, sighing with the deeper aches of his body. His door shut behind him softly, feeling the weight of the long week catching up with him as his shoulders dropped. He looked over towards the clock on his desk before he trudged to his chair and sat down. 

Strauss had sent over details of a new team member coming to join the BAU for the indefinite future, but Hotch had yet to look over the information before now. Whoever they were, they were expected to arrive at any minute now. He sighed once again, running a calloused palm over his face, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. A knock echoed through the room. “Come in,” his voice called out. 

“Uh,” Dave began. “The new one’s here. Garcia’s smothering her with questions.” He chuckled. 

Hotch gave a small smile. “Of course she is.” 

He grabbed the file off of his desk as he made his way to the door of his office. I should at least know their name, he thought, opening the manila folder as he stepped out of the door. 

- - New addition to Behavioral Analysis Unit: Y/N Y/L/N - -

His eyebrows furrowed before his eyes shot up to find the face he hadn’t seen in over a decade. In the flesh, there you were, smiling sweetly at Spencer as he prattled off facts about pathogens of hand shaking. Hotch felt the folder slide from his loose grip and land on the floor with scattered papers and the sharp sound of it hitting the floor. 

Your ears caught the sound, causing you to look around just as his eyes had. Hotch was staring at you, his eyebrows still furrowed with what looked like concern, his mouth slightly agape. 

You met his eyes, and gave a nervous and small grin, raising your hand up in a tentative wave. 

“Aaron, I have to go,” you mumbled, stuffing your clothes into a suitcase. “Y/N, what are you talking about?” Hotch’s panicked voice rang out. He reached for your wrist. “Will you please just tell me what’s going on?” You yanked your hand away from his grasp, taking a hesitant step away. 

“When were you going to tell me about Haley?” you asked softly, staring at your hands. His veins run cold. “Y/N-”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” You looked up at him with angry eyes. “Aaron, I know who she is to you. I know she’s all you’ve wanted since highschool. Was I even given a chance?”

“Y/N, I love you,” his shaky voice rang out as he took a step forward. 

“Don’t do that,” you shook your head, taking another step back, tears well past the point of being held back. “Don’t say it back to me now. You love her more. You always will. I just wish you could’ve told me instead of-”

Your voice choked, “Instead of sleeping with her. That would’ve hurt a lot less.”

“Y/N, please don’t go.” His own face wet with tears. She continues packing her things, with more intention. 

“And why shouldn’t I?” 

He stared at her silently, thinking of words, any words that would make you stay. He knew what they were, but his mouth couldn’t get them out. You had stopped to look at him now, heart hurting as the room fell silent. 

“Right,” you sighed, pulling the suitcase to your feet. “Go get her back Aaron, don’t lose her like you did me.” 

The door to his apartment clicked closed behind you. His hands wiped away his stray tears. 

“God, Hotchner. You’re such a fucking idiot,” as he picks up the photo of the both of you and throws it against the wall. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the space. 

Hotch looked down at his now empty hands and moved to pick up the folder before heading down the steps. He tried to shake the initial shock of seeing you again off but his mind couldn’t help but think, this is gonna hurt like a goddamn bitch. 

“Y/N,” his voice sounded more confident than he was. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” you spoke out, voice somewhat cold and disconnected. “I look forward to working with you.”

Garcia spoke up, eyeing the tension between the two of you. “Well, Hotch, I was about to come get you with a new case. It’s local.”

“Okay, just head to the briefing room. Agent Y/L/N and I will be there in a second.” Garcia mock saluted as the rest of the team headed up the stairs. 

“Y/N-” Hotch began, but you didn’t give him a chance. 

“Sir,” your bitter voice spoke. “Working under your command will not be an issue for me. If it is an issue for you, I understand.”

“Of course, it’s not,” his voice is soft. “I just think we should eventually have a conversation. I haven’t had a chance to look over your file-”

“You haven’t?” you looked at him with fear. “Sir, there are some things you will read, but it will in no way affect the way I work. Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe we have a briefing.”

Hotch sighed, looking at the file in his hands. His brows scrunched up in confusion, before his natural frown took over his features. Whatever was in there could wait. 

He straightened his back, pushing his shoulders back before quickly walking into the briefing room. “Garcia, what have we got?”

She clicks the remote, herself going a bit rigid at the images on screen. “Starting two weeks ago, six women have gone missing from the DC area. Local police have recovered at least 4 of the bodies in local bodies of water. The victims have large bruises and impressions around their wrists and ankles.”

“Like chains?” You spoke up. “How long between the time the first victim was kidnapped and her estimated time of death?”

“Five days,” Garcia’s sad voice answered. “And it’s been the same with the other bodies. The last victims reported missing were both taken 3 days ago.”

“So we have two days to work with local police before we can expect there to be two more bodies,” Hotch said, sighing at the time limit. “Everyone grab your stuff and we’ll head to the precinct.” 

~~~~

The next day, all of their information gathering, all of their leads, all of their information came to a screeching halt when a woman, with bruises around her ankles and wrists stumbled into the precinct. Her dirt covered clothes and disheveled hair screamed for help as her weak knees fell to the ground. 

Derek ran over to her and kneeled. “Someone get a medic over here!” he shouted. 

Anna Sawyer, 32, a bartender at a local pub had freed herself from chains of the unsub. After walking for hours, she finally got the precinct where she could find someone, anyone to help her. 

“Morgan and Reid are on their way to the hospital to get information about her captor and where she escaped from,” Hotch clicked his cellphone off. 

“What about the other girl? Do we think she’s kept in a separate space?” Prentiss asked. 

“Possibly,” you sighed, making notes on a notepad. “We can’t rule out anything until the boys get answers back.”

“In the meantime,” Hotch huffed out. “Everyone go get some food and meet back in an hour.”

“Y/N,” Emily grabbed your attention. “Wanna go grab a bite with me and JJ? I know a local place with good coffee and sandwiches.” She smiled

“Yeah sure that sounds good!” Grabbing her notepad and cellphone before giving Hotch a brief glance and a curt nod and following them out the door.

Hotch continued to stare, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth and thinking back to the unread personnel file he had on his temporary desk. Dave moved into his line of sight, with a knowing smirk gracing his face. 

“So you gonna tell me what that’s about?” Aaron huffed, moving towards the desk. 

“I knew her in college,” he said, short and sweet. Dave rolled his eyes. 

“And just how well did you know her in college?”

“We were together,” he sighed, gaining a shocked looked on Rossi’s face. “For about a year when Haley and I were on a break.”

“Aaron,” he called for eye contact. “You left her for Haley didn’t you?”

“It’s not like I was given a choice. She found out that I-” he cut himself off, clearing his throat as guilt flooded his veins. “She found out. And she left.” 

“You didn’t go after her?” 

“I couldn’t, Dave,” he sighed, shaking his head. “It was Haley. Everyone just expected me to marry her and I had to become someone I wasn’t.” He looked at the file on his desk. 

“Y/N wasn’t like anyone else. She was good for me, I loved her with so much, but when I saw Haley after so long, I just fell back into the routine.”

Dave sighed, patting his shoulder. “Haley loved you, but you can love more than one person. It’s been almost 3 years since-”

“I know, Dave,” his fingers pressed into the bridge of his nose. “But I don’t know if I can handle losing her too. Although, it feels like I already have. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe you should start by seeing what she’s been up to for the last decade,” Dave pointed to the file. “And then you should talk to her.” Then he walked to the coffee machine.

Hotch let out a sharp exhale of air, sitting down. He stared at the file a few seconds more, before thumbing the folder open. 

~~~~

At the cafe with Emily and JJ, you felt yourself relaxing into the friendships that were to come. You laughed at a joke Emily made about some of the more intense cops you were working with. 

“Thank you guys,” you sighed, taking a sip of your coffee. “You’ve been so nice to me.”

“Of course, Y/N,” JJ smiled. “You’re a part of this team now.”

“Exactly,” Emily agreed. “I do have a question though.”

“Working with a bunch of profilers, I should’ve expected that,” you chuckled. “What do you wanna know?”

JJ and Emily shared a look. “How do you know Hotch?”

You cleared your throat. “We, uh, kinda dated in college,” you admitted with a scrunch of your face. 

“Really? I thought he was only with Haley,” JJ commented, softly with bitter and sad tones. You cringed slightly, knowing of her passing. 

“They were on a break for a while when we were still studying. But we didn’t last longer than maybe a year,” you smiled sadly. “Haley came back and I just didn’t want to compete with his highschool sweetheart. It would’ve been a lost battle.”

Emily smiled sadly. “You still love him don’t you.”

A cold chuckle escaped your mouth. “It’s impossible for me not to. I thought that I’d be fine, ya know working with him. But then he had to go at look at me with those stupid eyes.”

“Aaron!” Your voice laughed out, as his fingers dug into your sides. “Aar- stop!” you giggled out between breaths. Finally his relentless torture stopped, him chuckling at your wild hair and flushed cheeks. 

He leaned down to kiss you, pulling his weight on you and pressing you into the couch. His face cradled your cheeks. He leaned back with a sweet grin, you still pinned underneath him. Your fingers reached up to brush some of his hair out of his face. 

“I love you,” you smiled. His breath hitched, a brief amount of panic flickering in his chocolate eyes. Cradling his face, you continue, “You don’t have to say it back, I know you’re still-”

You sigh, searching his eyes. “I just had to let you know.” 

You try to break eye contact, but his hand brings your eyes back. Without saying a word, he leans down to kiss you again, with more fire, and hands drifting down to your waist to pull you closer to him. 

“You should talk to him,” JJ said, reaching for your hand and interrupting your recollection. “I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Haley included.”

“You’re sweet JJ,” patting her hand. “I just don’t know if I can do that again. We’ve both been through so much in the last ten years.” 

A sad silence fell over the small table you had been seated at. “Sorry to be such a downer girls,” you chuckled, trying to alleviate the tension. “I’m gonna get another coffee.”

Standing in line you twiddled with your fingers, thinking about the words JJ had said. Aaron had been through so much, it wasn’t fair to want him again. But if he had been looking at you like that- 

“Excuse me,” a gravelly voice spoke up from behind you. “Don’t turn around.” You felt the barrel of a gun pressed into the slope of your lower back. 

“You’re going to come with me and get in my car,” he huffed into your ear. 

“And if I don’t?” you questioned. 

“Then I’m going to shoot the two women you came in with right here and right now between their pretty little eyes. 

“Okay,” your voice shook. “Just don’t hurt them.”

~~~

Aaron leaned back against the desk chair he was seated at, hands covering his face. The guilt that trembled through his body now had new reasons. He would give anything to not be around these people right now. His skin crawled with remorse.

“Aaron?” Rossi called out in question. “What’s in that file?” 

He quickly stood up and pressed the file to Dave’s chest, storming into the nearest room with a door. Rossi followed him, folder open, closing the door behind him. “He fucking hit her, Dave. Her choked her, he slapped her, he-”

Aaron was shaking now. “Hotch, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“It was her ex!” he shouted. “The one before me! She went back to him because I couldn’t be who she needed and I couldn’t get past expectations well enough to tell her I loved her.”

“Aaron,” Dave spoke calmly. “This was years ago. He’s locked up, and she is as strong as ever. Have you seen the way she’s worked this case? It’s only been two days and she has the fire of any of us. She’s okay now.”

“If it wasn’t for me,” he breathed out, his hands trembling. “Then she wouldn’t have had to go through it in the first place.”

“There is absolutely nothing we can do about that now, Hotch,” his voice tried to sooth, but was interrupted by a phone call. 

“Yeah Prentiss,” he said. Aaron watched as his back straightened, shoulders tensing. “For how long?”

“Right,” his eyes, full of sorrow, reached Aaron’s. “I’ll tell him. Get back to the precinct as soon as you can.” Then he ended the phone call.

“Dave?” Aaron’s worried voice rang out. “Tell me what Dave?” 

“Aaron,” he sighed, looking down at his hands. “She’s gone, Aaron.” 

Hotch stumbled back, all air leaving his body. “He took Y/N.”

~~~~

“Alright what do we know?” Hotch asked sternly, walking into the conference room with the rest of the team. “How did he take her?”

“We were just talking about-” JJ coughed, interrupting Emily. “Things…. And she said she was going to get another cup of coffee. We didn’t see her for a while, so JJ and I started looking around the cafe when we saw her outside being forced into a dark van. By the time we got outside she was gone. I’m sorry, Hotch-” 

“Reid, what did you get from Anna?” Hotch moved on, voice angry. Worried looks darted across the room. 

“It was a similar case, Anna was talking to her friends about trying to get over a guy who liked someone else, on her break and went to get a round of drinks,” he said. “When about 30 minutes went by and she hadn’t come back, her friends assumed she just went home. They didn’t realize she was missing until the next day. Anna said she remembers him holding a gun to her back and saying he would kill her friends if she didn’t go with him.”

“Wait,” JJ stopped. “I think I know how he’s choosing his victims. We need to contact all of the victim’s friends again and find out what they were talking about the night they went missing.”

She looked at the group with a sad, but nervous look. “They were all talking about men they were in love with but couldn’t have.” Hotch coughed as he choked on air. 

“Did Anna remember anything about where she was kept?” Hotch rushed out, urgency taking over. 

“She remembers that she was underground for the most part,” Morgan answered. “When we tried to get her to remember details, she remembers hearing the sounds of cars going over a bridge over water.” 

Emily called Garcia, putting her on speaker. “Garcia, we need you to cross-reference any receipts from the places the victims were last seen. Run any names you find against property with basements near water bridges. Get back to us when you have something.”

“You got it, my goddess divine,” She ended the call. 

“Hotch-” JJ started, but he was already sauntering out of the room. The team looked at each other. “What are we gonna do if we can’t-”

“Then we just have to figure out how to,” Rossi said. 

In the file room down the hall, Hotch was having trouble breathing. He clutched at his tie, ripping it off his neck. Fuck.

~~~~~

“Pet, I don’t know why you’re fighting me so much,” the man taunted as you struggled against the chain and shackles. 

“Maybe because you fucking kidnapped me,” you huffed. He clicked his tongue. 

“Wouldn’t you much rather be with me than a man who doesn’t love you?” He said, hand wrapping around your throat. “Isn’t this better than nothing?”

“Isn’t this better than nothing?” Lucas, your ex said, handing you an ice pack for the bruise blooming across your face. “At least, I love you. I picked you off the floor of your house after he broke your heart.” He wrapped his hand around your throat, your heart rate pulsing. “You could at least say thank you.” 

“Thank you, Lucas,” your voice shook. 

“You’re welcome, babydoll,” he said smugly. “Now go to our room, I need to get off.”

“Nothing is better than being with you,” you spit into his face. He chuckled darkly, wiping his face.

“Little bitch,” he muttered, before punching you in the stomach. “I’ll make you wish you had nothing.”

He walked over to a table nearby, picking up a long blade. You strained against the wall, trying to get away from him. “Normally, I’d wait a couple of days before starting with you. But your time’s a little short,” he chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind scars, my pet. I’ll start small.” He winked. 

The tip of the blade dragged across your chest, stinging with red marks as blood began to surface, before disappearing behind the buttons of your blouse. Your breathing picked up, causing him to chuckle again. “Don’t worry my pet, we’re not there yet.” 

“You motherfucker,” you hissed. “Is that what does it for you? Getting off with girls who would never even look your way?” 

His face became angry. “You women are stuck loving someone who could never love you back,” he hissed. “No one could ever love you back. I’m just here to end your misery.” He smiled wickedly, cutting deeping into your side of your stomach. 

“I get to mark you up with these, with my hands, making the pain stay with you,” he said, tracing your arm with the blade, a long angry line blossoming. “And then when I’m tired of you, I get to watch you die with your last vision being me.” He set down the blade, grabbing a set of brass knuckles. “I’ll make you feel this for weeks, my pet,” he taunted, before landing a hit on your jaw. “Not like you’ll live that long anyways.” 

“The pain I give you will be the only thing you think about until I get to kill you,” his fist landing on your stomach again making it hard to breath. Your vision became spotty and you found it hard to stay awake. 

“Aww poor thing. Too much to handle already?” he teased, holding your lolled head up to look him in the eyes. “Good thing I’m killing you soon, cause nobody’s gonna love you after this.” 

A loud crash came from upstairs. He dropped his grasp on your now sore jaw. “What the fuck,” he said, climbing up the steps. 

“Thomas Wayne! Come out with your hands up!” You heard Hotch’s voice echo from upstairs. You smiled to yourself. 

Aaron aimed the gun right at the head of the unsub, anger and fear vibrated through his body, his skin on fire. Even with the man’s hands in the air, he adjusted his grip, finger tensed to stop himself from shooting him anyways. 

“Aaron,” Rossi grabbed his attention, causing him to turn his head to make eye contact. “Go find her. I’ve got him.”

He quickly dropped his aim and holstered his gun before moving towards the basement door. Thundering of rushed feet resonated through the walls of the dark rooms. “Y/N!” he called out.

“Aaron,” you scratched out, barely audible to his ears. Quickly, he found you, rushing over to get the shackles off your wrists and ankles. You collapsed against his chest, huffing out a sob. His arms held you tightly, trying to avoid any visible wounds. You gasped, pain shooting through your ribs, but that didn’t matter to you right now. You focused on the hands soothing your back.

“Hey, shh,” he cooed. “It’s okay, Y/N, I’ve got you.” His own tears flowing over his face. 

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you choked out. “I thought he was gonna-”

“I’m never gonna desert you, honey,” he pressed his face into your neck. “I’m so sorry. But he’s gone, okay? I’ve got you. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Aaron,” you started, knowing he knew. 

“Hey, it doesn’t matter,” he moved your hair out of your face. “It doesn’t matter cause I’ve got you.” 

~~~~ 

Soon after, you were moved to a hospital to get treated for the cuts and cracked ribs you suffered. Aaron hadn’t left your side the whole time, causing some issues for hospital staff but he really didn’t give to shits. Now as you slept, system full of pain meds, he sat resting his arms next to you, one hand tangled with yours. 

Slowly you woke up, looking around the room before your eyes landed on his. You released your hand from his and rested it on his head, combing through his hair like you used to in college. The sensations startled him into sitting up. 

“You’re awake,” he smiled, grabbing your hand again. 

“You’re still here,” you replied, only kind of surprised. 

“I told you, Y/N,” he said, sitting on your bed. “I’m not leaving you again.”

“Aaron-” you started, squeezing his hand. 

“I love you,” he rushed out, your eyes widening at his confession. “I always have. I lost you once before because I didn’t know how to say it to someone who needed so much more than I could offer. Reading your file-” his voice choked up. 

“So I’m not leaving again. And I’m not letting you leave again. Cause no matter how long I have you, no matter how long my love for you lasts, I’m gonna make sure I don’t fuck it up like I have before. You’re never going to have to go through anything without me by your side. Letting you walk out that door was my biggest mistake, and I’ve regretted not doing something for 10 years. And I’ll live everyday trying to make sure you never feel that way again.”

You sniffled, letting your heart open for the first time in years. Your knuckles were white from gripping his hand. “Aaron, I love you,” you laughed through your tears. His lips met yours slowly, giving you time and space to be comfortable against your healing injuries. His forehead rested against yours, smiles filled both of your faces. 

And suddenly, the end of the world didn’t seem as scary with him by your side. 

[btsficsforthehumble]

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

A/N: Small s/o to Fae from sope-and-shine for giving me great inspiration for this chapter!

Part Three

Warnings: none in this chapter

Word count: 1.8k

You continue down the street, noticing yourself hold a faint smile from your time with Jimin. You have a feeling Intro to Comp will be more fun than you anticipated with him to keep you company. You really appreciated his easy-going nature that allowed playful digs to seem second nature between you two, even if you had just met.

You glance up at the sun, now starting to feel more intense as it approaches midday. Noticing, you slip your sunglasses out of your backpack and look at your phone to double check directions --- you weren’t too confident getting around campus quite yet. As you are looking at your GPS app, you see a text pop up from an unknown number.

*Hi y/nnnnn it’s your favorite seat partner from intro to comp!! Hehe*

You roll your eyes at Jimin’s text, and save his number.

*You are my only seat partner from intro to comp, Jimin. It’s been one day.*

*:( Don’t be a meanie, y/n. You know I’d be your favorite no matter what :DD*

*Who's to say? Maybe next time I’ll sit closer to Yoongi*

*GASP. You wouldn’t dare*

*Are you willing to put money on that?*

As you text Jimin, you follow the directions on your phone and end up at a cute little grocery store, with a built in cafe off to the side. When you notice it, you get some spring in your step. After seeing the coffee that the other students had in class you were yearning for a cup of your own, especially after your hectic morning.

The barista sent you a smile as you read the menu. Deciding on a nice warm cappuccino, you tell her your order and walk over to the side to receive your drink when she finishes.

She rings you out, and as you wait for your drink you begin running though your mental grocery list. Thankfully your apartment had a decent kitchen, which you knew you’d get good use of as you enjoyed cooking when you had a chance. Not to mention, your parents owned a small bakery in your hometown which meant you were well versed in the art of baking, and often found yourself baking during stressful moments in your life as a distraction. Maybe while you were here you’d pick up some basic supplies for baking… sugar, flour, baking soda, vanilla extract….

Your train of thought was quickly cut off by the barista, sliding your drink across the counter with a smile. You give her one back as you thank her, and stroll over to where you think the baking aisle would be. You take your time, checking out the products in each section to make sure you got everything you needed, beyond just your baking supplies.

As you near the paper goods aisle, you barely see a figure swing around the corner and run smack-dab into a paper towel display, which happened to be less than a meter from you. Unfortunately, the collision caused several of the rolls to go flying --- and one flying hard enough to knock the fresh coffee right out of your hand.

The chaos of the moment causes you to stand a little open mouthed while you stare at the now half-empty cardboard coffee cup rolling on it’s side away from you.

Toward the top of your field of vision you see a pair of men’s sneakers, which causes you to scan up towards his face. He is looking at you with the widest doe-eyed shocked expression you have possibly ever seen. His arms are half reached out, as if he wants to help, but can’t as he already caused the damage. One of the arms reaching out at you has a patchwork of black ink, trailing down over his toned muscles to his knuckles. His oversized grey t-shirt and loose jeans seem to swallow him a bit, which only adds to the almost child-like innocence of his wide eyes. Wavy brown hair frames his face, accentuating his masculine jawline.

Once your eyes connect for a few seconds, surely both wide in shock, he makes a squeaking noise and bends down to collect the scattered rolls.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going and I took the turn too fast, I’ll go buy you another coffee as soon as I pick these up---” His voice, while speaking rapidly, remained soft and delicate, obviously embarrassed at his mistake. When you bend down to join him in collecting the runaway towels, he cuts himself off to again look at you with a wide-eyed expression.

You smile at him, the surprise from the situation fading as you stretch your upper body as far as you can to grab one that rolled particularly far. “It’s okay, we all can be clumsy sometimes. I promise it’s not that big of a deal, it was just a coffee.” You give him a warm smile in reassurance, wanting to ease his obvious anxiety.

You both stand up, having collected the spilled display and him grabbing your abandoned coffee cup. “Um, what were you drinking? I’ll get you a new one, it’s the least I could do.” His blush deepens with his question, and he nervously glances off to the side as he grabs his elbow of the hand holding the empty cup to make himself smaller.

“It was a cappuccino… but honestly, you really don’t need to, it’s okay.” Sending him another warm smile, you hope to convey your ease at the situation.

“No, I want to. I’ll be right back, okay?” He holds your gaze for a second, seeming to double check that you weren’t going to run away on him.

“Okay.” Once you let out your reply, he sends you a quick smile as he turns around and lightly jogs away from you, back the direction you came from.

You can't help but notice the subtle ripple of his muscles across his shoulder blades as he does so. For being so meek, he sure had quite the muscular build under those baggy clothes. He definitely was “yummy” to use the word Jimin so aptly applied to Yoongi earlier. At the memory, you couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle under your breath.

You scan the area quickly, making sure your run in with the boy didn’t leave a mess anywhere in the store. After seeing it clear, you glance back over your shoulder to watch him talking to the same barista. You could tell, even from this distance, that he seemed slightly embarrassed and had a pink tinge to his cheeks. The duality of this guy honestly is blowing your mind… his tattoos and muscular physique would give the impression that he would be super intimidating and confident, but by the way he blushed at attention so easily and was so timid when he apologized to you showed that he was was really a big sweetheart.

As he was now waiting for the barista to remake your drink, standing in the same spot you occupied a few minutes ago, you felt awkward hovering in the spot of the incident. After a quick glance back at him, you thought he would be able to find you pretty easily if you ventured down the aisle further. An aisle down from the paper goods, you found yourself in the exact aisle you were looking for.

Your mind quickly abandoned any prior thought as you took stock of the baking supplies the store had to offer. It looks like you’d be spending more on groceries today than you had anticipated.

“Um, here’s your coffee…” The boy from earlier had returned before you realized any time had passed. Caught, you looked at him, now looking at you, with a hesitant look on his face, as he saw the almost comical amount of stuff you had balanced in your arms. Now embarrassed a tad, you realize you have no hand to take the coffee from him, and it seems like it had just occurred to him too. He looked back and forth between the coffee in his hand and your ridiculously full arms and quickly offered, “I’ll be right back. I’ll get you a basket.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much. I’m sorry, I guess I got carried away!” You sheepishly respond to his kind offer. It was above what a normal person would do. He nodded his head quickly and did his half-jog thing again to go back to the front of the store. You weren’t getting tired of the view, to be honest.

Before you even knew it, he was back and gently removing items from the tetris you created in your arms of baking supplies. “Thank you so much, you really don't have to do any of this…” you feel slightly guilty for the boy’s kindness.

“No, it’s really okay, I shouldn’t have thrown paper towels at you.” As he speaks, he catches your eye and gives you a smile you could only compare to a cute bunny or other small adorable creature. You couldn’t help but fall just a little in love with him right there in the aisle. Now comfortable enough to joke with you, you left out a surprised laugh in response. You tip your head back slightly and feel your cheeks squish up without warning.

“I suppose you got me there. Maybe try to lower the aggression levels on your next grocery store run,” you egg him on slightly, a teasing smile remaining on his face.

“What would be the fun in that?” His eyes hold contact just a millisecond longer than normal, and you swear you see a glint of mischief in them. Ah, so bunny-boy knows at least a little how much of a hunk he is.

“Do you flirt with pretty girls at the store by knocking the coffee out of their hands for fun then?” Your eyebrow is raised slightly, and your tone stays as a teasing lilt.

Apparently at his banter limit, he blushes and gapes for a second. “Just teasing you. Thank you again for the coffee,” you reassure. Full basket and fresh coffee in hand, you flash him one last grin before you make your way around him to head towards the register.

As you leave the store, re-entering the street, you can’t help but hope you run into that guy again. He seemed like a genuinely sweet person that you’d love to be friends with. Starting towards the direction of your apartment, you ponder the chances.

You also ponder what baked treat you were going to throw the rest of your afternoon into. After some mental deliberation, you settled on muffins. Easy to take with you for that pesky morning calculus class. Ugh, at the thought of calculus you groaned inside a little. Not only did you have to grapple with the boring math, but you now have to grapple with the decidedly not so boring boys in your class.

[witchwithapen]

The Road to California

Summary: Juice was only meant to be passing through this little town on his way to California. He never expected to catch the attention of the preacher’s daughter, and he sure as hell never meant to fall in love with her.  Pairing: Juice Ortiz x Reader Word Count: 2,261 Warnings: swearing, derogatory insults (the word whore), slight angst (just oh so barely imo), loosely edited A/N: Loosely based on ‘God Love Her’ by Toby Keith. In the beginning reader is 18 and Juice is 19/20. Text divider by: @firefly-graphics

She was walking out of the church after her father’s sermon when she saw him. He looked at least a few years or maybe only a year older than her and was by far the most attractive man she had ever seen. He was the perfect embodiment of the bad boy stereotype. Tan skin pulled over lean muscle, a spattering of tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of his shirt, and his lips wrapped around a cigarette. Y/N began to imagine all the things her could do to her before she noticed his eyes. His eyes that were a beautiful shade of brown and held a mischievous and seemingly childish glint. Y/N could not tear her gaze away from him and eventually that was her downfall, for he finally looked across the street and met hers after a few minutes. Y/N wanted to look away when she noticed he had caught her, but something about him pulled her in and before she knew it, he was walking towards her.

“You were staring pretty hard sweetheart. Did you need something?” He asked, his silky-sweet voice nearly reducing her to a puddle in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Not really.” She stated once she had regained her composure. “Just wondering why, you decided to stop in my little town. I’ve never seen you around before.”

He eyed her up and down, taking in everything from her wide e/c eyes to the curves hidden under her pale pink dress, white cardigan and leather bible clutched in her hand. She did not look like the type of girl he would usually go for, but he could not deny that she was beautiful and definitely had the body of someone he could let himself get lost in. Even if it was only for a night.

“Just passing through.” He finally replied. “Though I’d love it if someone could show me where I can get something to eat.”

Y/N saw the same mischievous glint in his eyes that she had seen from earlier. “I might know a place, but I’m going to need to know your name.” she replied, arching an eyebrow at the man in front of her.

“Juan Ortiz. Yours?”

“Y/N L/N.”

Juan smiled and seemed to think it over. Y/N was expecting him to come back with some cheesy pick up line. But he did not. He simply continued to smile and offered her his arm, willing her to link hers with his.

“Well Y/N, show me your little Podunk town.”

Months passed and the relationship between Juan, well Juice as he had told her to call him, and Y/N continued to grow. He had stayed in town for her, getting a job at the local body shop, helping her through the final months of school, and simply being there for her when she needed it. He was becoming her rock, her confident and in return Y/N was his happy place, his haven, and the one he trusted the most. They had learned everything about each other during that time. Juice had told Y/N about everything from his life in Queens to his desire to go to California. Y/N in turn had told him how it was growing up as the only daughter of the town’s most well-known preacher. She had also told him that she had never left the state and that had driven her to apply for colleges around the country in hopes of getting out of the town she grew up in.

“We could go together.” Juice had declared one Saturday afternoon as the two of them sat on Y/N’s bed. They had been talking all day about leaving town after her graduation and running to California or wherever else she decided to go.

“We could leave right after you get your diploma.” Juice continued. “We could hop on my bike and never look back.”

Y/N did not say anything in response, but she leaned closer to Juice closing the gap between them to capture his lips in a kiss.

“I would love nothing more than to run away with you.” She teased, pulling away for only a moment.

Juice kissed her back, sliding his hands up her body stopping at her waist and using the leverage he had to lay her down, never breaking their kiss. Juice settled between her thighs as he placed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Y/N basked in the feeling of his lips and hands traveling over her body. She was confident that nothing had felt as good as this.

“Are you okay with where this could go?” Juice questioned, looking into her bright e/c eyes, and seeing so many emotions swirling in them. He was terrified that she was going to push him away and tell him everything was a mistake.

But her rejection never came. Instead she pulled him closer by his belt loops and smiled up at him. “Yes, because I love you Juan.”

“I love you too.” Juice grinned his eyes sparkling as he went to kiss her again.

He groaned when he felt her tongue slide against his lips and her hands against his stomach. It was obvious to him that she was trying to remove his shirt and he saw no reason to argue with his girl, quickly pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it behind him. After reconnecting their lips Y/N slid her hands up the smooth expanse of his back, digging her nails into his shoulder blades as Juice’s tongue tangled with hers. He had begun to unbutton her blouse when Y/N’s bedroom door burst open revealing her father, red faced with anger, and her mother with tears in her eyes. The two lovers jumped apart, Y/N was blushing, and Juice stood there looking at the carpet under his feet.

“Oh sweetheart.” Her mother sobbed, covering her face with her hands as her daughter looked towards Juice.

“I cannot believe you Y/N!” Her father bellowed. “You allowed this criminal into our home and allowed him to defile you. I am not only disappointed in you, but I am also disgusted by your actions.”

Y/N gasped as her father’s words settled in the air, her eyes filled with tears as they settled in her heart. As much as she hated the expectations, they forced upon her, Y/N did not want to disappoint her parents.

“I raised you better than this Y/N, I didn’t raise you to be a whore” her father continued to bellow, no doubt gaining the attention of some of their neighbors. “look at what you’ve done to your mother!”

Y/N turned her gaze to her mother and saw tears still streaming down her cheeks, messing up the makeup that she spent so much time on. It ripped out Y/N’s heart to see her mother in such a state, and to know that it was all her fault only made it that much worse. Y/N began to sniffle, holding back her tears as her father finally turned his attention to the other man in the room.

“And you,” Y/N’s father took two larger steps closer to Juice, gabbing his shoulder tightly. “I want you to get out of my house and stay away from my daughter. Because if I catch you again I will call the cops and have you arrested.”

Juice nodded, casting a quick glance towards Y/N before grabbing his shirt off the floor and bolting out of her room.

It would be weeks later when she finally saw Juice again. He was standing on the same street corner across from the church, the same place he’d been the first time they met. He was leaning against his bike, his arms crossed over his chest and stretching the fabric of his white t-shirt over the muscles of his arms. His eyes seemed to bore into her, taking in every feature, every curve, and every emotion in her face from across the street.

Y/N looked at him one time, meeting his eye. And that was all it took for her to cross the street and come stand in front of him.

“Hi baby girl,” he said softly, avoiding her gaze now that she was so close.

Y/N shook her head, blinking the tears away before she could speak, “You left me, you missed my graduation, where did you go?”

Juice snapped his eyes closed, the pain in her voice almost too much for him to handle. He didn’t want to; he had wanted to stay but he knew that his job at the body shop in town wasn’t going to allow him to save up enough for the two of them. So, he went to the next town over. He found a cheap, rundown apartment and another job at the larger shop in the next town over as well as picking up shifts as a bartender on the weekends. Between the two jobs he had been able to save up enough to take them all the way to California.

“I’m sorry sweets, I was doing what was best for us,” he pulled a small box for the saddle bag next to his knee. He handed it over to Y/N who opened it and gasped.

Inside the box was multiple large wads of cash rubber banded together. Each rubber band looked like it was ready to snap and Y/N was sure that if there was any more in the box it would not shut. Y/N looked up from the box, shock written across her face as her eyes connected with Juice’s.

“Where did all of this come from.” She said, fear bubbling in her chest as she waited for an answer.

“It’s not what you think,” Juice replied, taking the box from her hands. “I’ve been busting my ass to make enough money to get us, to get you out of here.”

Her shock increased; she was not expecting that answer from him. Y/N didn’t know what to say, afraid that if she opened her mouth she would start to cry.

“So, what do you say,” Juice said, a small smile on his face, “you ready to get out of here?”

Y/N looked back at the church across the street knowing her parents where still inside. Nothing had been the same between them after that day they caught her with Juice. They seemed to resent her, which tore at Y/N’s heart. But she was beginning to understand that their views were not going to change, they were always going to hate the idea of their little girl with the big, bad biker even if that big, bad biker was the kindest man Y/N had ever met. Knowing this in her heart made the decision that much easier.

Y/N turned back to face Juice as a small smile formed on her lips. “Let’s get out of this Podunk town.”

*10 Years Later*

Gemma could hear someone’s cell phone ringing all the way from the office and it was beginning to piss her off. So, like anything that pisses Gemma off she was going to take care of it. She followed the sound all the way to the clubhouse, to the box where the guys kept their phones during meetings. Gemma dug around in the box for a moment before finding the phone that was making the noise, Juice’s phone. Upon picking it up Gemma noticed a slew of missed calls and texts from Y/N, the last text that came through trying to inform him that her water had just broken while on her way to the hospital. After reading that Gemma decided that she had to interrupt the meeting in progress, Clay could kiss her ass if he wanted to raise hell about it.

“What the fu-,” Clay began when the large wooden doors flew open to reveal his wife.

“Y/N’s gone into labor,” she announced as she held out Juice’s phone to him.

The man in question hopped up from his seat, ran around the table and out the door before another word could be said. The rest of the men in the room looked at each other and back to Gemma before each of them ran out of the room as well. Each wanting to get to the hospital before their friend could give birth.

“You’re doing to good baby,” Juice whispered into his wife’s ear, letting her grip his hand as tight as she needed while he brushed hair away from her face. “Just one more push, one more.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, crushing his fingers but Juice didn’t seem to mind. She pushed, giving it her all until she felt like she couldn’t anymore. Again, and again, she did that until she finally felt the pressure release and she could finally breath again without the pain. But Y/N held her breath until tiny wails sounded throughout the room. Her and Juice letting out a collective breath at the noise.  

“You did so, so good,” Juice said, kissing her forehead as the nurses took their daughter and placed her on Y/N’s chest.

Y/N took a moment to stare at the child in her arms before looking up at her husband. A smile stretched across her face as she did so. She couldn’t believe that the two of them had made it this far. It seemed like just yesterday they were leaving her little town behind to come to California, and now here they were ten years later and a hundred times stronger. And neither of them would trade it for the world.

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt. 2 (Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5)

-----

Peter will admit that during he took an extended moment during his journey home to grieve the loss of his free afternoon, and indeed the impending headaches.

And the rest of his future, if he was honest.

Not that Peter was prone to melancholy by any means, but with this assignment his fate was officially sealed, there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fail this assignment. He was going to, for the first time in his academic career, be forced to submit garbage of a caliber worthy of Tony Stark. It will forever be a black mark on his academic record.

No respectable college is going to accept him after this. In fact, he might as well drop out of school now and hit up Mr Delmar for a job. All of his prep for his MIT application is as good as useless after this. Extracurriculars? Goodbye.

Because it’s confirmed.

He’s doomed.

Swaying with the motions of the train, Peter types a text to Ned, the only person who might provide him with some much needed sympathy.

>  I’m doomed >  paired w/stark for an assignment lollllllllll.  >  help

Maybe Peter could trade with Ned. Maybe he could plead with their teacher, for honest fear of his life and scholastic integrity. He wasn’t even exaggerating. In no known iteration of this universe could Peter amicably work with Tony Stark. It would be like Harry Potter sitting down for tea with Voldemort, or Frodo and Sauron chilling with a pint and a pipe in Bag End. 

It was unthinkable. Implausible. Laughable.

And Peter would laugh, were it anyone but him in this situation.

The feeling is unusual. Never had he found reason in his life to truly dislike anybody before, everyone could be redeemed or given the opportunity for penance. Natasha has said more than once that Peter would offer the devil himself a sandwich if he appeared. 

Tony Stark on the other hand? No sandwich for him.

Well, maybe a slice of bread. A stale one.

While he waits for Ned to responds he catches sight of his injured reflection in the train window, which is admittedly pretty gnarly. Even with his hood drawn up, there was a noticeable berth allocated to him in the busy carriage between himself and the other passengers.

< sux. can I have ur lego hogwarts if u die?

> dude :( pity me.

< lol. so, can i?

Peter sighs.

> sure. Look after May for me, bro. delete my internet history.

< deal. godspeed

Pocketing his phone, Peter wonders if it’s too late to take up praying.

---

By the time he’s back in his apartment his mood has managed to swing back up.

Tony Stark is not going to be the arbiter of Peter’s fate. Hell no. He’s smart, he’s creative and hardworking - it isn’t up to anybody but Peter to determine his outcomes. If he has to do the assignment with Stark then he will. And he will work his hardest. 

If he has to do it sharing the credit with Stark, well, Peter knows a concession when he sees one.

No matter how reluctant he is.

But he powers through it, like ripping off a bandaid. It’s fine! He’s a Parker and he’s come this far in life already against ill, Parker-like odds. What was being paired for one assignment with someone who escaped the nearest hellmouth? 

It’ll be fine. 

Probably.

Not letting himself linger on his fears, Peter clears out his previous plans of going on a YouTube spiral and eating sour gummies until his teeth stick, instead utilising the time to get his foot in and and begins prepping for the assignment. Cursory, preliminary research at first, before the inevitable deep dive begins.

Neanderthal, Peter scoffs, mad all over again. Who is Stark to call Peter a neanderthal? He’s second in his class. He’s a straight A student. He likes school.

And as much as he is moderately skilled in, and enjoys JV, it’s not like he received his scholarship to study at Midtown based on his physical prowess.

The graze on his cheek that stings every time he yawns is proof of that.

Stark can eat his entire ass and choke on it, he thinks darkly, as he continues his research. He doesn’t know the first thing about Peter.

The data is sobering as he delves into job listings and statistics of his projected salary in a three year margin. This is really what his teachers earn? Wow. Depressing.

The contrast of expected salary versus the forecast of steep student loans is disheartening further still.

Teaching quietly slips from second to third on his list of ideal occupations.

Turning on a playlist on his phone, Peter continues to compile notes, amassing a truly gargantuan amount of tabs on his browser. His computer, old enough to be on its’ last teeth, whirrs loudly in protest.

It’s not until his room goes dark that he thinks to check the time.

Ah, shit. It’s nearly six.

Peter pauses. Should he tidy up the apartment?

...Nah, no point in breaking a sweat for Stark.

He continues typing. Then he hesitates, fingers suspended in mid-air. 

But what if Stark sees his unfolded laundry out on the dining table and publicly shames him for his old-but-comfortable Bulbasaur themed boxer shorts?

Goddamnit.

---

A quick, cursory clean ensues and leaves a relatively orderly Parker apartment. No freshly laundered underwear is in sight.

Peter wraps up just a few minutes before six. Right on time.

Taking a seat at the now clear dining table Peter drums his fingers on the surface and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

---

He knows when Tony finally arrives when he hears the sound of a car pulling up outside his apartment block. The riffs of a Roxette remix can be heard playing loudly  from the ground to the seventh floor of his apartment, the bass so thunderous it reverberates the windows all the way up to his floor.

Drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, Peter checks the wall clock again. It’s nearly seven.

Tony’s late.

Not that Peter is particularly affected with surprise that Tony is incapable of following basic instructions, but still. Really? Really?

By the time there is a knock on his door, Peter is already before it, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Every second between Tony pulling up and his ascent to Peter’s floor has him positively fuming. He can’t believe how this day played out. It started with such promise. He had such innocuous, but high hopes.

Clearly, he miscalculated.

Feeling a touch petty, he waits to answer, listening to Stark knock a second and then a third, more insistent time before he rouses enough calm to open the door.

He instantly regrets it when he does. 

Tony’s expression is curious one as he breezes right passed Peter without waiting for further invitation. There’s a smudge of something dark on his brow, his otherwise white undershirt smeared in dark stains.

Peter watches incredulously as the other boy drops his backpack by the door with a thump.

“You’re late.”

He closes the door behind Tony and scowls at the other boys easy posture, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes taking in the apartment.

“I didn’t realise you lived all the way out in fucking Queens. Do you have any idea how bad traffic is at this time of day? Also, your elevator doesn’t work. I just climbed seven flights of stairs, where’s the hospitality?”

“Try earning it.”

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Like it’s worth my time.” He breezes past Peter and slides his leather jacket off his arms, tossing it atop of his backpack in the corner. “Look, I’m here now. Okay? You can unclench now. So, do I get a tour or what?”

“Or what. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we had just started straight after class like I said.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tony clutches his hands to his heart before gesturing to the room. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your busy Friday night, Parker. You got a keg and the rest of the meatheads stashed away somewhere?”

Without waiting for a response, Tony wanders around the living room like a curious child in a new play room. His gaze inspects everything all at once, from peering at up close at the wall mounted photos and hovering his grubby hands over the oddments and knick-knacks speckled throughout the space.

Apprehensive, Peter can’t help but shadow him, afraid he just let loose a hurricane in a china shop.

Without asking, Tony picks up May’s old Magic 8-Ball and gives it a good shake. Peter’s fingers itch to reach over and stop him, but stops himself because then that would require actually making direct skin contact the other boy.

Not worth it.

“Cannot predict now. Huh,” Tony says to himself before placing the ball back in the wrong spot. 

They both watch silently as it rolls precariously close to the edge. 

“Anyways,” Tony helps himself to an armchair, lounging back and spreading his legs wide. “I know your long-term memory is probably as defective as the rest of you, so don’t strain yourself recalling that I had other priorities.”

“Like what?”

“Like literally anything that isn’t being around you,” the other boy grins. “Now, are we doing this thing, or did you invite me over so you could bitch at me?”

“I didn’t invite you,” Peter grumbles, swiping his notebook from the dining table before sitting on the sofa, as far away from Stark as possible. Shifting, he takes his phone from his pocket and opens the notes he’d taken earlier.

“So, I cross referenced some websites and current job listings,” Peter scrolls through his research, adjusting his glasses as they slip down his nose. “Assuming you have no savings, we’re looking at an average of sixty-thousand per annum based on my salary alone. The average rent in --”

“-- Uh, why are we assuming I have no savings?”

"Because... we’re being realistic?”

Tony springs to his feet and paces across the living room.

“Well,” he says, gesturing to Peter, “if we’re being realistic, does having no savings also that mean I have no debt -- or are you paying off two student loans on your salary?”

“I don’t --”

“Do we have car loans? Health insurance?”

“Wait, slow your roll, Stark. I haven’t yet --”

“-- Of course you haven’t. I mean really, Parker, do you ever think ahead? You should try it, we do have a baby on the way, you know.” Tony clicks his fingers and points at Peter. “Oh, names! I want to call it Molly.”

“As in the drug?” 

“No, as in Ringwald. Anyhoo, seeing as only one of us has the intellectual capacity to construct a budget,” Tony gestures to himself, “that would be me, consider maybe that I spent my savings paying off my student loans and bought a car for me and Miss Molly, leaving you with just your own stagnant debt. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling utterly steamrolled. “But we’re not calling the baby Molly.”

“Yes, we are. Think of all the great nicknames. Hey wait,” Tony pauses in his pacing, “are your parents going to be home soon?”

It was in that moment Peters world narrows down to one, botched cosmic joke.

Turning his gaze heavenwards, Peter prays silently for mercy. What did he do to deserve this. This is all his bad karma come at once. This is the bad place.

“Ah, no,” he replies, eyes widening. “No, my parents are not going to be home soon.”

“Cool. Lucky you.”

Oblivious to Peter’s existential turmoil, Tony resumes his patrol through the living room, picking up a frame on the mantle. It houses an old photo of Ben, May and a young, bespectacled Peter. 

It is one of the more embarrassing immortalisations of his younger self, eleven-years old and grinning widely, bearing his silver braces to the camera as he holds up a science fair trophy, curls wild and untamed.

Oh god. That was exactly what Peter needed on this unholy day - Tony Stark in his living room, witnessing Peter in his prepubescent glory. 

Quick, create a diversion.

“So, as I was saying,” he says loudly, “rent is reasonably affordable with a sixty-thousand budget in --”

“Who’s the babe?” Tony points to a younger Aunt May in the photo.

Peter gets to his feet and removes the frame from Tony’s grasp. He glowers as he places it back on the mantle. 

“No one you would have a chance with. Can you stay focused? Like, are you physically capable of it?”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ve got a lot of anger for someone so vertically challenged, you know that, shortstack?” 

“Focus, dumbass.”

“I’m focused! Let’s see, we’ve established that I am excellent at managing my money. You have a shitty job and a shitty salary, and apparently my imaginary future self has terrible taste in men. So. Have I got that right? Where are we living?”

“Queens. LIC has some one bed, one baths that could be affordable.”

“Uh, rewind. Going to have to eighty-six that - I am not living in Queens.”

Peter stares at him.

Tony rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Fine, whatever. But I want a Pontiac Firebird in this imaginary life if I have to deal with you.”

“For someone so keen on getting away you’re doing your best to prolong this experience. It’s literally painful.”

“Well, I just like to see you get all riled up, Princess,” Tony grins, leaning back against the mantle and folding his arms over his chest. “You have this vein that bulges on your forehead when you’re mad. Makes you look like a pitbull.”

Peter swallows the particularly acidic retort sitting on his tongue and tries not to let Tony’s words sting. Be the bigger man, Ben used to say. As difficult as it is to channel even a modicum of the mans’ eternal patience, Peter takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay focused. The less he gets sidetracked by Tony’s fuckery, the sooner it’s over.

He mentions the next part with unease. 

“...Miss Ahn said that we need references and should do field research. Speak to realtors. Ask people who have a similar lifestyle and budget.”

The look that comes over the other boys face is one of unequivocal revulsion. Peter can relate. The thought of having to spend more time with this guy makes his stomach turn.

“Well, Parker, any bright ideas who we can ask?”

The hinges of the front door squeaks before Peter can respond.

Moments after, Aunt May walks into the living room, placing her bag down on the dining table. She looks between the two boys curiously.

“Hey, Pete,” she comes to his side to squeezes his shoulder. “Who do we have here?”

Tony rushes over with his hand outstretched, an eager grin on his face. 

“Tony Stark, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, ah, okay, well,” May laughs as he enthusiastically shakes her hand. Her eyes are soft as Tony smiles brightly at her. “Nice to meet you too, Tony. I’m May, Peter’s aunt. Are you... friends with Peter?”

Peter snorts. 

“Definitely not. We just have an assignment --”

“-- Great friends, actually,” Tony talks over him, taking a seat beside Peter on the sofa. To Peter’s utter disgust, the other boy puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep encouragingly. “Aren’t we, Pete? Hmm? Best buds. We go way back.”

Peter freezes, feeling the line of heat from Tony’s against his side, the weight of his arm on his body. 

Eyes widening, he feels his skin crawl. 

“That’s sweet,” May smiles, putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m starving. I’m ordering pizza, Friday special. You should stay for dinner, Tony.”

Tony places his free hand on his chest.

“I would be honoured.”

May looks at Tony strangely before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve the menus.

As soon as she’s out of sight Tony takes his arm off Peter and quickly shifts away from him like he’s been burned. 

“Dude,” Peter whispers, bewildered. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Tony whispers, shuddering as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I’m going to have to pour scalding hot water on all the places your skin just touched me. Ugh, I feel like I just touched toe fungus.”

Peter slaps his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tony backhands Peter’s arm in retaliation and then shudders all over again.

“Your aunt is crazy hot, okay, I couldn’t help myself. It was an instinctual reaction. Is she taken? C’mon. Vindicate me.” 

“I’ll eviscerate you --”

“-- I mean, clearly she married into the family, she doesn’t share your unfortunate phenotype, but I didn’t see a ring on her finger. So? Yes or no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter hisses as his aunt comes back in. “She’s not available to you. Not now, not ever.”

“But she is available?”

“Don’t even, Stark. You’re like, sixteen. Don’t you have any shame?”

Tony smiles, as she nears. “Not a shred.”

“So,” May waves a menu at them. “You boys happy with pepperoni?”

Closing his eyes, Peter wishes for death.

As fate would have it, he gets pepperoni instead.

-----

If you had ever told Peter that he would be sitting down for dinner with his Aunt and a dirt-streaked Tony Stark, he would have laughed.

And if Peter were outside himself he would probably find the sharing of pizza and soda over their plastic, chequered table-cloth comical -- in that uncanny, Dogs Playing Poker kind of way. But in reality there was nothing funny about the discomfort of having Tony in his personal space or the heavy, suffocating tension that has removed the air from the room. 

The entire time Tony has been hamming it up, cracking jokes with his aunt, complimenting her on the decor, asking what she does for work. Peter doesn’t know if he’s being sweet to May for the purpose of buttering her up, or, given the wealth of his family in contrast to the Parkers, if he’s being cruelly facetious. 

Nonetheless, Peter has felt on edge. It’s disconcerting, is what it is. Every single movement Tony makes, every time he opens his mouth -- frequently to sweet-talk his aunt -- has Peter’s anxiety standing at attention, hyperaware of everything the other boy does.

He’s beginning to feel like a meerkat whose den has been invaded by a lion.

Through the course of a single meal Peter’s attention moves from the sky to the floor. There is no grace or higher power that is coming to save him from this profound, unusual torture. 

So he focuses his hopes to the south, seeing through their tiny, cramped, dinner table, past bargaining. He’s willing to trade his soul to end it all. Surely some wayward being from hell would come to his rescue. 

May has Peter’s chin between her fingers. She turns it this way and that, inspecting his injuries.

“What happened this time, bubby?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “You look like you got beat up.”

Peter, very aware of Tony’s amused gaze on them, gently pulls away from her grasp. He smiles placatingly and picks at his pizza slice. God he’s never going to live this down.

“Training accident. It’s okay, I feel fine. ‘Tis but a scratch,” he brings himself to joke.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek, carefully avoiding the fresh scabs and injured flesh. “God, you bruise like a peach. Be careful, baby, you’re our money maker,” she laughs. “What about you Tony, do you play football?”

Tony, who is mid way through chewing on a mouthful of pizza, momentarily chokes, beating his chest with his fist to swallow down the obstruction.

“Uh, no,” Tony gulps, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Nope. No recreational sports for me. Can’t.” He gestures to his chest and sighs heavily. “Asthma.”

Peter sips his coke and rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s a half-empty pack of Marlboro Light’s in the pocket of Tony’s jeans. Asthma. What a schmuck.

“That’s a shame. Do you boys have classes together?”

Unfortunately, Peter thinks.

The other boy seems to have the same thought, as he glares at Peter from over the table. When he picks up his can of coke, he gives Peter the finger outside of May’s eye-line.

“That’s why Tony’s here,” Peter twists his napkin in his grip. “We have an econ assignment together on microeconomics. Teach says Tony’s destined to be on welfare.”

Tony leans in, chin rested on his hand. He addresses May but his stare, dark and odious, rests on Peter.

“Not accurate. Stay-at-home parent, actually. One might say that is the most important job of all. Wouldn’t you agree, May?”

She raises her Coke.

“Hear, hear.”

Tony grins roguishly, the same grin he gave the girls at the lockers earlier. “Petey here was just saying that we should ask you about your experience running a household on a single salary. We’d love to have you as a reference.”

“Was I saying that?” Peter narrows his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Tony kicks him under the table. The hit lands right in his knee cap.

Wincing, Peter kicks back, satisfied when the other boy bites his lip to hold back a pained groan.

“Yeah, well, not surprising,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “Hit your head today, didn’t you? Maybe you should get all that damage looked into.”

The napkin rips in Peter’s grasp.

“Maybe you should go f--”

“I’d be more than happy to help with your assignment, boys,” May cuts in.

Whatever snide reply he has in his mouth instantly wilts when he looks over to his Aunt. She looks...pleased. Delighted, almost. Her eyes under the dull, yellow kitchen light seem to get warmer, and her smile is small but softens around the edges.

Instantly, Peter feels like the worst person in the world. Of course May would be the best person to ask. She does so much for him, the least he can do is set his pride aside for one moment to make her feel good about how hard she works for their life.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, smiling as gratitude swells unexpectedly in his chest.

“Thanks, May. That would be great.”

Across the table, a smug Tony looks like the cat who got the cream. 

Without warning, Peter’s chest goes hot with contempt, his fingernails dig into his palm. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone he couldn’t like, until now.

I hate you, Peter mouths while May busies herself with rounding up the pizza boxes.

Kiss my ass, Tony mouths back. 

In an instant his expression flips from contemptuous to angelic when he stands and offers to help May clean up.

Peter stands too, sparing a disdainful glance to the floor. Turns out not even the devil was willing to give him a hand.

Natasha was right. It’s going to end in murder.

---

Peter walks Tony to the door after dinner to say goodbye to his ‘friend’. Following him into the hall, Peter closes the door behind them.

“What do you want, Parker?” Tony asks wearily, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m trying to make a getaway here.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that with my aunt. I’m not joking, asshole. It’s not cool.”

“Relax, princess,” Tony rolls his eyes, fishing for his lighter in his backpack. “I’m not actually interested. Just trying to get under your skin. Worked, see? You’re easy like that. Hey, why do you live with your aunt anyways?”

“None of your business,” he frowns as Tony holds one hand up in surrender and lights his cigarette with the other. “Dude, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Can’t, shouldn’t, gonna. By the way, you’ve got sauce on your chin, it’s very distracting.”

Peter wipes at it without thinking. When he pulls it away there is indeed a smear of red sauce on his hand.

Tony walks backwards down the hall and exhales a cloud of smoke, waving in a sardonic imitation of a farewell.

“See you Monday, bubby.”

Peter doesn’t bother with a response, too tired from the week, exhausted by this whole darn day, and it’s not like the other boy cares what he has to say anyway. He takes a moment to swallow his anger before he heads back inside, sighing. 

Well, at least he has an entire weekend free of Stark to look forward to.

May looks at him curiously when he reemerges, but says nothing. He considers for a moment about heading to his bedroom and playing a video game to disassociate - but then, suddenly, remembers her smile earlier, and how alone she looks now. A surge of affection hits him right beneath his breastbone.

He checks his watch and then catches her eye.  Tilting his head towards the living room, he says, “Hey. You wanna eat some ice cream and watch some Colbert before bed?”

She smiles just like she did earlier and kisses his cheek. “Sounds nice, Pete.”

Maybe the whole day wasn’t lost.

As May heads to the sofa and switches the TV on, Peter catches sight of the Magic 8-Ball from the corner of his eye. He walks over and gives it a shake.

Outlook good.

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @muse-of-gods

[moldisgoodforyou]

Charlie visiting JJ in Charleston while they are doing long distance??

 warnings: cursing, smut, insecure JJ

wordcount: 2.4k

“I’m miserable.” JJ announced to the room as he flopped back on the couch, Thursday night. He hadn’t seen Charlie in two months and it was beginning to take a real toll on him, making him mope around the house the second he was free from the distraction of work.

“Suck it up.” Elliott kicked his leg from the other end of the couch. “You talk to her, like, every day.”

“Not enough. She’s too busy with work.” JJ complained. He lived in what Charlie liked to call ‘frat house 2.0’ with five of his former fraternity brothers. They were fun, and the house always had some form of chaos. For some reason, Thomas had taken it upon himself to organize a trip to Savannah and not invite JJ. (Even when JJ had Friday off work. The audacity.)

JJ was thoroughly offended, of course, and protested when Thomas told him he had to stay behind to ‘watch the house.’ He moped around and complained when the boys packed, and was complaining again as they were about to leave. “This is fucked up. I’ll sleep on the floor or something, I wanna go.”

“Can’t, buddy, no room for you in the car now.” Thomas told him, shaking his head. “Besides, you said you’d pick my cousin up from the airport, remember?”

“Reminder me again why I’m doing your dirty work?”

Another roommate, Leo, snorted from the other room. He was the worst liar of them all and had almost let the secret slip, having to leave the room every time the Savannah trip was brought up.

The rest of the boys sent him a glare, including JJ for solidarity, though he wasn’t sure exactly why. “Because you owe me. I got you from the airport last week for work.” Thomas tossed JJ’s car keys at him, shaking his head. “And go. You’re gonna be late.”

JJ grumbled but hauled himself off the couch. “I hope you guys have zero fun without me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go.” Elliott waved him off. JJ drove to the airport, waited in line for longer than he’d like, and had a permanent sour mood by the time he was in the pick up zone at the terminal. He was zoned out completely when someone knocked on his window from the driver’s side and he jumped, startled.

A familiar someone.

It took him two seconds to register Charlie’s face before he was scrambling to turn off the car and throw open the door. She waited with a grin, giggling when JJ threw his arms around her and spun her in a circle. “Charlie!”

“Hi! Did they pull it off?” She asked, meeting him in a quick kiss. “Wait they - oh! You planned this with them?” He nodded in recognition, his hands not leaving her hips for a moment. “Yeah, I mainly let Thomas figure out the details. He said he’d plan something so we have the house to ourselves for a night.”

“The whole weekend.” JJ corrected her with a grin, then grabbed her bag and put it in the back. He led her to the passenger side with a hand on the small of her back, kissing her again once she was in the seat. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Believe it, baby.” She grinned and he beamed, hopping back in the car. He kept a hand on her knee the whole ride home (occasionally sliding higher up on her thigh til she nudged him away) and was excited to point out his favorite spots in the city on the way home. Charlie hardly paid attention, her eyes tracing over every feature of his she’d missed so much when they were apart.

“Stop ogling me.” JJ teased halfway through the drive, leaning over to kiss her at a stoplight. “I’m not.” She protested but kissed him back anyways, moaning quietly when he bit her bottom lip teasingly. He pulled back right away, shaking his head. “No teasing. Not in the car.”

“Not teasing.” She laughed.

“You are, moaning like that. And I’ve waited two and a half months to take my time with you, so don’t.”

Charlie raised her eyebrows, trying to ignore the chills she got from his words. “Yeah? Wanna tell me exactly how you’ll take your time?”

His grip tightened on her thigh, just slightly. “I’d rather show you.”

She reached over and curled her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, smiling to herself when he leaned into her touch. “Missed you so much, J.” He beamed. “Missed you too, pretty girl. The longest two months of my life.”

“So dramatic.” Charlie teased. He grinned over at her, cheeky. “My hand just isn’t the same as your -”

“JJ!” She pulled her hand away from his hair. “Don’t tell me that’s all you missed me for.”

He laughed at her blush, smirking. “Never. I missed your pretty eyes, and your gorgeous hair, and seeing your smile and hearing your laugh in person, and -”

“Okay, okay, quit.” She swatted his arm, shaking her head. “And I’m pretty sure you’re speeding.”

“Damn straight.” JJ ghosted his fingers up her thigh until she nudged them away again. “How far away are we?” Charlie asked, glancing out the window before focusing her gaze back on him. He pulled onto his street in the college neighborhood, gesturing grandly. “Welcome home.”

Charlie frowned, just slightly. “Wish you could say that for real.”

“I know.” JJ nodded and pulled into his driveway, jogging around to get her door. “Soon. C’mon, I gotta show you the house.” He slung her bag over his shoulder and took her hand, leading her in. The house was your typical college house - at least 70 years old, run down, paint peeling and chipped countertops. By some miracle, Thomas had demanded they all clean the night before, so the place didn’t have the normal beer bottles perched around the house or clothes hanging off the staircase. (With Elliott’s arguing, the ‘vintage’ poster of Farrah Fawcett in a bikini stayed up as classic decor.)

“What do you think?” He asked, rocking back on his heels. “I love it. It’s nice!” Charlie exclaimed, starting to back him up against the counter. He grinned and dropped her bag, hands finding her waist immediately. 

He kissed her hard and she responded equally, letting out a small squeak of surprise when he flipped them around and swiftly moved her to the counter. She hooked her ankles behind his back, legs around his waist, and whined a little when he pulled away for a second to breathe, his forehead resting on hers. “They’re never gonna forgive me if we have sex on the kitchen counter.”

“How would they find out?” She teased, tugging up on his shirt. His eyebrows shot up and he let her pull his shirt off and over her head, tossing it aside. “You’re seriously considering this?”

Charlie shrugged, tugging him closer for more kisses. “The angle could be good. So I’ve heard. And I’ve missed you.”

“So you’ve heard.” JJ repeated dumbly, not really processing what she was saying as he kissed her back. She shook her head as she laughed, sliding her hands over his shoulders. “Do I need to spell it out for you, Maybank?”

“Probably.” He mumbled against her skin, pushing aside her loose shirt to suck at the base of her neck. She moaned louder than usual, letting her head fall back. At the sound of the garage opening, JJ cursed lowly, digging his fingers into her hips. “Thought you said we had the house for the weekend?” Charlie teased, combing her fingers through his hair.

“Thought we did too.” He grumbled, but refused to step back out of her touch. She unhooked her ankles from his waist but kept her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently just so his head wasn’t resting on her neck.

Elliott strolled in with a grin, swinging his keys on his finger. “Sup, Charlie?” He greeted her like it was totally normal for her to be there, taking note of JJ’s shirtless state. “Hi Elliott.” She responded dryly, nodding her head in acknowledgment. JJ turned just slightly but kept his hips toward Charlie. “Get the fuck out.”

Elliott laughed. “Just grabbing the cooler we forgot. Thomas is gonna kill you if you have sex on the counter, by the way.”

“What is taking you so long?” Thomas barged in, then stopped as he took in the scene. “Oh. Didn’t think you’d be back so soon, JJ. Hi Charlie.”

JJ groaned, letting his head fall to Charlie’s shoulder but refused to turn around. “Both of you. Leave.” Charlie giggled. “Hi Thomas.”

“Aw, come on, how come you’re nice to him?” Elliott complained, picking up the cooler from the kitchen floor.

“If you have sex on the kitchen counter, I swear -” Thomas started and JJ practically growled, hooking his hands under Charlie’s thighs and lifted her off the counter. “Get out or you’ll have to hear what I sound like in bed. I’m not holding back.”

Elliott smirked. “We hear that after your nightly facetimes with Charlie anyways, you’re not quiet.”

Charlie just grinned and rested her arms around JJ’s neck as he began to carry her upstairs, yelling out behind him. “I don’t want to see your asses til Sunday night!”

“No promises, chief!” Elliott yelled back, then they heard the door shut after a moment and the garage door going down.

JJ had made it to the top of the stairs and easily carried her into his room, settling down onto the bed with her still wrapped around him. She rocked her hips against his, grinning. “What do you do after we facetime?” She teased. He tugged her shirt off hurriedly and traced his hands over her chest, making her shudder. “I’m about to show you.” JJ replied, deftly unclasping her bra and tossing it to the floor. She moaned as he ducked his head down, taking a nipple into his mouth. “Promise you’ll be loud for me?” She asked, rolling her hips again.

He barely suppressed a growl, lips pulling off her breast with a pop. “I will do literally anything you ask me to right now.” Charlie laughed and he pushed her up the bed, tugging her pants off. “I’m not fucking kidding, Charlie.” She grinned, raking her nails against his scalp and tugged gently at his messy hair. “Thought you were gonna take your time.” 

“Mm. Figured I’d fuck you first, then I can take my time.” He grinned up at her as he pressed kisses up her inner thigh and she sucked in a breath, used to having to stay quiet. “Fuck, JJ.” She murmured, thighs flexing in anticipation. He nipped along her leg, soothing the spots with his tongue right after. “God, I missed you so fucking much.” 

She gasped as he traced one finger over her soaked panties. “No teasing, J.” He smirked as he placed a kiss over her heat, holding her hips down. “Yes teasing.” 

“You said you were going to fuck me.” 

“Yeah. With my fingers and my tongue, then I’ll -” 

“I need you.” Charlie interrupted him meaningfully, tugging on his hair to bring him up. That was enough for him and he scrambled to kick off his pants, then rummaged through his drawer for a condom, groaning when he came up empty-handed. “I don’t - I think I gave Leo my last one when you left.” He told her, apologetic. She rolled her eyes, though she appreciated the sentiment. “Back pocket of my pants.” 

He grinned and pulled out the foil packet from her pants, waving it around. “Came prepared, hm?” 

She couldn’t help her blush as she sat up and reached out for him, needy. “Packed more in my bag because this seems to be a theme with you. Come here, stop teasing.” 

“I’m not, I’m just standing here.” 

“Your cock is in my face and I know you won’t last if I even breathe on it. Fuck me already.” 

He laughed and rolled the condom on hurriedly, then pushed her back on the bed. “So romantic, sweetheart.” 

Charlie grinned up at him, pulling him down to her. “Anything for you.” 

_

A couple hours later, they laid in bed together, Charlie’s head on his chest and JJ tracing a pattern on her back. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.” He admitted quietly. She glanced up. “What is?” 

“Being so far away from you.” 

She frowned and moved up to kiss his cheek. “I know. I thought it would be easier too.” He tucked his arm around her shoulders, pulling the sheet up over them to cover her up. “Think you’ll come back any time soon?” He asked hopefully, but braced himself for a disappointing answer. 

“I don’t know, J...I got an offer to stay once I finish my program, remember? It’s a pretty big deal.” She hated telling him that, seeing the way he exhaled slowly in dismay. “But you can always come to me, you know. When your internship is over? There’s lots of opportunities out by me.” 

“Yeah.” He agreed, pressing a kiss to her head. “I’ve thought about it. Just.”  

“Just what?” She peered up at him, running her thumb along his jawline tenderly. 

“I don’t know, it’s stupid.” 

“Nothing’s stupid with you. Tell me.”  

He scrunched his nose slightly, the way he did when he didn’t like admitting vulnerability. “I’ve never been so far from home before. Not sure if I’m meant to leave the Carolinas, you know?”  

Charlie frowned and nudged his chin so he had to made eye contact with her. “JJ, hon, how many times do I have to tell you that you deserve the world?” She pressed her forehead to his, not letting him look away. “You’re smart and creative, J, any agency would be lucky to have you. You know that.” 

“Do I?” He mumbled, a small blush tinting his cheeks at her praise. 

“I do, anyways.” She kissed him, firm. “If you want to stay here, that’s okay. But don’t shoot yourself down just because you won’t give yourself a chance to try.” 

“Charlie.”  

“No arguing.” 

He laughed and pulled her close, pressing another kiss to the top of her head. “I love you so fucking much. Not sure what I did to deserve you.” 

“Everything and more, J. Love you too.”  

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #7: Anytime: Mirio Togata

In which you give Mirio something that he really, really deserves. 

Characters: Mirio Togata x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) oral sex (m-receiving, mentions of f-receiving), fluff (FLUFF), aged up characters, public showers, strong language, mirio being absolutely adorable, offensively early visits to the gym

Notes: We’ve made it to the end of the first week of Kinktober! Thank you to everyone who’s been following, liking, and reading my work! I’ve had a lot of fun creating and sharing these stories for you so far.

I’ve got a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it college au coming atcha! Today’s prompt was ‘Blowjob,’ and I’m not gonna lie- I’m excited to put this one into the world. 😂 It’s cuuuuuute, okay?

Kinktober Masterlist

“The coast is clear.”

“Good. Close the door.”

You’re in stealth mode as you creep into the showers, sticking close enough to Mirio that your nose is practically buried between his shoulder blades. Even if the locker room doors are only twenty feet from where you’d been standing, you’ve got your fingers laced through his.

You’re not quite ready to break contact with him, considering what you’ve got planned.

It was his idea to start working out in the mornings again. You used to come in the evenings, after both of you were finished with class and schoolwork. But the only problem was that everybody else on the entire goddamned college campus- students, profs, anyone with a heartbeat- had the same idea.

Sick of crowded treadmills and waiting in line for weight benches, you came when the doors opened at six-thirty every morning. Some other gyms might be crowded at that time. But this was a college gym. And no college student in their right mind got out of bed before nine.

Needless to say, you almost always have the place to yourselves. You love working out with Mirio. Not only is he the best coach- encouraging, challenging, but never judgemental- but you get to watch him, too.

Something tells you that he’s clued into the fact that you like a little eye candy with your early morning workout, since he’s started showing up with less clothing every time. He’s got a habit of wearing those loose-fitting athletic shorts these days that don’t hide a damned thing.

And you’re pretty fucking sure he’s not wearing anything underneath them, either.

Your friends like to tease you about the sunny disposition your boyfriend always carries. They seem to think that the ability to seem happy all the time and a tendency toward dirty thoughts are mutually exclusive traits.

You don’t like to kiss and tell. But as soon as both of you had been dating long enough to get over yourselves, you’d discovered that Mirio Togata was a shameless- no, ruthless- flirt.

He closes the door softly behind him. His reflexes are still on high alert from sneaking past the desk attendant, even though she’d looked about as close to sleeping with her eyes open as one can possibly get. Apparently, she doesn’t get paid enough to stop you.

That doesn’t stop either of you from wanting the door locked, though. With deft fingers, Mirio slips the latch into place.

Then you’re on him.

“W-wait, babe, I-I thought we were gonna shower first-“

He stutters between peals of laughter as you grab him by the arms and hustle him toward the tile wall, pushing his shoulders up against it and kissing your way down his neck.

“Can’t wait,” you mumble, sliding unabashedly onto your knees in front of him. “Wanna taste you.”

You’ve been thinking about doing this all morning. It all started over at the bench press when, instead of spotting him, you were spotting the half-mast he’d been sporting through his basketball shorts. Apparently, exertion did that to a guy.

Exertion. Arousal. You don’t care, as long as it’s in your mouth.

Mirio’s definitely caught off guard by your forwardness, but he’s not stopping you as you shove his shorts down. You’re right, by the way- he’s not wearing anything underneath. Goddamn tease. He knows what he’s getting himself into.

He’s only half-hard but you can’t wait to get your mouth on him, flushed and salty. You wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and his hips stutter.

“P-princess,” he grunts as hard lines of muscle stand out along the ridges of his tensing thighs. You can’t wait any longer, leaning in and licking a stripe up the underside of his cock before you swallow him down.

You’ve never felt a reaction like his before.

The urgency of this entire situation was born out of a conversation that came last night. The two of you had been curled in his bed, spent and breathless. He’d gone down on you, eating you out until you were numb and boneless, and you’d mentioned something after the fact about returning the favour.

“I’d never make you,” he’d chuckled bashfully, “but if you ever wanted to, I’d love to know what it feels like.”

You sprang out of bed so fast that you bashed your shin against the frame. The bruise is getting nasty now, almost ten hours later.

Nobody in the history of Mirio Togata had ever thought that he had a cock worth sucking. When you’d tried to ask him why, he’d just blushed and insisted that none of the girls he’d ever dated seemed interested. And he wasn’t interested in making them do something they didn’t enjoy, so… here he was. Twenty years old and he’s never had his cock sucked.

You’d promised to rectify the issue. At a later date, when the two of you had regained feeling in your limbs again.

Cue early morning workout. Scandalously underdressed boyfriend. Conveniently abandoned locker room. Delightfully cool tile wall.

Now it’s Mirio’s turn to go boneless with his back to it. One of his hands crawls into the base of your ponytail as his hips jerk hesitantly into your mouth.

“Ah! Nngh, I’m sorry,” he pants, but you’re prepared for this. You purse your lips and groan around him, letting him shiver through the vibrations before you pull your mouth off him with a wet little pop.

“I can take you, baby,” you promise breathlessly, casting your eyes up just long enough to see what a brilliant shade of scarlet his ears and cheeks are turning. For a man with so much confidence in bed, it’s nice to see him fall apart every so often. He’s not afraid to give up his composure to you.

Just another thing you love so much about him.

You take him again- only this time, you draw it out, suckling playfully at the head until he’s whimpering and flexing his hand in your hair. And when you’re almost certain he can’t handle any more you start into a rhythm, bobbing back and forth while your tongue works him and your hand picks up the slack.

He’s too big to swallow completely, but… it’s not like he’ll have anything to compare this feeling to.

“Oh god, Princess, I- your mouth…”

You suck and lick and slurp away, letting it get sloppy. Loving the way he seems overstimulated already, giving tender little cries as his body shakes and shudders with every purse of your lips.

“Look at you,” he gasps, and you realize that he’s looking down at you for the first time. That seems to double the tension in his body, and you slide your free hand up the front of one bare thigh, finding the weight of his balls and giving them a gentle tug.

He shouts, throwing his head into the tiles with a dull little thud. You feel his knees give a little.

“Oh god,” comes his voice again, pinched and desperate. “Aw, hell, oh, man, oh, fu-huck, I-I’m…”

He doesn’t give you too much warning, but you’re ready for him anyway as his body seizes. He jerks involuntarily at your hair and his hips buck forward, fucking your face as his cock twitches.

He cries out and tries to pull back, but you grab his ass, pulling his hips forcefully forward and holding him there. He takes the hint and leans into it, giving a cry of your name as he empties himself down your throat.

When he’s finished and going limp in your mouth you pull away and he collapses against the wall, sliding down it until his bare ass is on the floor with his shorts still around his knees.

“So?” You hum, sliding up next to him. You help him tug his shorts up and get himself situated again, and he runs a hand over the back of his neck, which has also gone crimson.

“You’re…” he starts, then trails off. When he looks up at you it’s with the most bashful, loving grin you’ve ever seen. If he could have hearts in his eyes, he would.

“You’re incredible.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. You lean in and kiss his cheek, then nuzzle your nose against the corner of his jaw.

“Nah,” you reply. “You just really, really deserved that.”

He doesn’t say anything right away. A thoughtful expression crosses his face for a moment. Then he speaks up.

“So you’ll do it again sometime?”

You’re still giggling, but it’s only because you’re falling in love with him all over again. You put your arms around him and squeeze.

“Any time.”

He leans over and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair.

“Good.”

In a single, sweeping motion, he grabs you by the thighs and hauls you into his arms, hoisting himself into his feet. He’s making for one of the benches, and you can tell by the look in his eye- not hearts anymore, something else- that you’re in for it now.

He lays you out on the narrow bench and gets down on his knees beside you. Bashful, overstimulated Mirio is nowhere to be found as he smirks, bringing his mouth to your ear and giving you a tender growl.

“My turn.”

[yoon-kooks]

Love Note | jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, College!AU, a touch of mystery

Summary: When a stray pink notebook falls into your possession, you’re mildly disturbed to find the pages filled with a long list of popular students, their significant others, and how they got together. You can’t imagine what kind of twisted person would keep track of other people’s love affairs to the point of obsession, but you have one clue. The only person listed without a significant other is the campus heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. It isn’t until after an unlikely conversation is initiated that you begin to piece together the truth behind the boy and the notebook.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: none

A/N: this is loosely based off the manga, death note 🤪

-

Love.

Sometimes you wonder what it takes to catch someone’s attention, to capture the fluttering hearts of those around you, to be loved without trying. You don’t understand. Why is it that average folks like you struggle to have even a single classmate ask for your number while the popular kids have a whole flock of fans vying for their attention? The divide between the popular crowd and everyone else almost feels unfair. The only logical explanation you’ve come to is that some people are blessed and others are cursed.

Cursed. That’s exactly how you feel after picking up an ominous stray notebook in the hallway outside of your psych classroom.

You had found it funny how everyone seemed to step over the notebook as not to trip, but no one thought to pick it up and return it to the owner. So after the rush of students emptied out of the halls, you scooped it up and examined the pink cover for the name of the owner. Instead of a name, you found the phrase “Love Note” written across the cover in black sharpie. You didn’t think anything of it until you flipped the notebook open and saw what you saw.

You should’ve never opened the book. Because now you’re stuck with it.

Your jaw falls until it’s dragging on the floor as you flip through the pages. The pages are all practically fill with the same thing, and it has nothing to do with the lecture you just came out of. In fact, it has nothing to do with school aside from the names of students listed in it.

Kim Seokjin & Park Jiyeon – a serenade with a guitar and cheesy lyrics

Im Nayeon & Kim Taehyung – bonded while failing chem together

Lee Hyeri & Kim Namjoon – partnered up during a marine biology seminar on crustaceans

Jung Hoseok & Min Yoongi – opposites attract

Written in messy columns and rows, you recognize a majority of the names as the popular faces on campus, some of which are in your class. You assume the name paired next to theirs is their significant other because the column after that alludes to how they got together.

You get the feeling you’ve picked up the belonging of some creep and seen something you shouldn’t have seen. Because who the hell would bother keeping tabs on other people’s love affairs. It’s none of their business and it’s certainly none of yours.

Just as you’re about to head toward the lost-and-found, the name at the very bottom of the list catches your eye. Jeon Jungkook. You wouldn’t have even spotted his name amongst the hundreds of others if it weren’t for the blank space next to his. In fact, his name is the only one written without another name next to it. But now that you’ve seen it, you can’t unsee it.

You’ve never spoken to the boy personally, but everyone seems to know him. Many of your classmates signed up for your psych class just to be in the same vicinity as him. He’s handsome, funny, smart, and even quite kind from what you’ve heard. He’s the total package that everyone aspires to get a piece of. Even you are a tad curious to know what kind of witchcraft he uses to draw people in so effortlessly.

At the same time, you know your place. He’s popular, and you’re average at best. You’re not the type to approach him like all the other girls begging for his affection. And you know he’d never approach you either. That’s the curse that was bestowed upon you.

If you knew the boy or at least had the guts to talk to him, you’d surely bring the notebook to his attention. Because if your name were written and singled-out in someone’s creepy notebook, you’d want to know, too. You’d want someone to have your back.

That’s the only reason why you’re still holding onto the notebook and not freeing yourself of the burden. If you were to leave it lying around or at the lost-and-found, who’s to say someone else would be willing to do the deed in your stead. From what you witnessed earlier, no one was even willing to pick the notebook up.

So you’ve decided what you’ll do. At the next lecture, you’ll find Jungkook and slip the notebook into his bag without him noticing. In that way, you can rid yourself of the notebook once and for all while also giving the boy a subtle heads-up with what’s being written about him and his popular crowd.

The plan is fool-proof.

-

The next morning, you feel it in your stomach. The feeling of stressing way too much over something so stupid. But you can’t help but fear the thought of getting caught. You’d hate for Jungkook or any classmate to catch you sticking something so suspicious in his bag. What if they get the wrong idea and think you’re the creepy owner of the notebook? You can’t have that.

Still, you do have a sense of duty to uphold. Clutching the notebook in your arms, you walk into the lecture hall with the intention of going through with the plan. You’ll still try to sit behind him or somewhere in his vicinity, and if it seems to risky, you can always do what you do best: chicken out.

Glancing around the lecture hall, you realize you’ve made one fatal mistake. You arrived before Jungkook. Feeling like a goof, you slump into a random aisle seat and toss the pink notebook on the desk. You can’t believe you were worrying so much about getting caught when you couldn’t even execute the first part of the plan.

“Is this seat taken?”

You glance up at a finger pointing to the seat next to yours. The one pointing is none other than the boy you’ve been stressing over for the past 24 hours. How fucking convenient. But you know something’s up. There are plenty of other seats still up for grabs, and yet, he chose to sit right next to you? Unheard of. You figure it must be some sort of joke or bet, but you’ll take it. “No.”

“Cool,” he says, sliding his thighs through the walkway that’s always been too narrow for your liking. His duffle bag surely would have smacked you in the face if you hadn’t leaned back. When he finally settles into his seat, he deadass looks at your desk. “Cute notebook.”

Oh, you suppose that’s code for when a popular guy wants to take a picture of your lecture notes. But that’s too bad for him. “Thanks, but it’s not actually my notebook. I found it in the hallway yesterday and I’m looking for the owner.”

“Why not just bring it to the lost-and-found?” he chuckles. Now that you think about it, it does sound pretty weird, considering you don’t have the slightest clue as to who the notebook belongs to. “Do you at least know who the name of the person you’re looking for?”

“Not exactly,” you shrug. “But I figure it must belong to someone in this class.”

He gestures for you to hand it to him. So you do. All according to plan.

You watch as the boy’s eyes widen at the long list of names in the notebook. It’s only a matter of time before he sees a pattern and finds his own name written there.

“Is your name here too?” He continues to scan the list, page by page.

You shake your head.

“Does that mean you’re available?” The boy pulls out a pen from his backpack and clicks it.

“How’d you come to that conclusion?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Isn’t this like a list of all the couples at our school?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“Right, right,” he nods, twirling his pen. “By the way, what’s your name?”

“If I tell you, you’re going to write my name in there, aren’t you…?”

“Not necessarily.” He sets the pen down and chuckles at you with a smile. “Sometimes it’s just nice to get acquainted with the people around you. You might be surprised with the kinds of people you’ll meet in that way.”

Ah, there it is. There’s the charm that has everyone swooned.

“It’s Y/N,” you say softly. Half a second later, the boy picks up his pen and starts jotting shit down. “Hey, I thought you weren’t going to write my name down.”

You watch as Jungkook writes your name out next to his along with the description, “had a cute conversation during psych lecture.”

“I’m testing a theory,” he says.

“What theory?”

“What if this isn’t a just a weird kid’s record of couples at our school?”

“What is it then…?”

“A matchmaking machine? Like, if we write down the names of two people and an explanation of how they got together, maybe they’ll suddenly become a couple? Like magic,” he nods. You nod along, though you’re starting to think the boy has a screw loose. “I saw something like this in an anime once.”

“You mean… Death Note…?” Aka the anime where a smartass finds a death god’s notebook that can give people a death sentence just by writing their name down.

“Oh, so you’ve seen it too?”

You nod.

“I guess I’ll let you in on a little secret then.” He gestures for you to come closer. He whispers into your ear, “I’m the one who started the Love Note.”

“You’re the creep who wrote all of this?” you whisper-shout in his ear.

“No, no, no.” He waves his hands in defense. “I just helped get the ball rolling.”

“Please elaborate.” Because you don’t believe him yet.

“A few years back, my friend wanted to get back into dating after a tough breakup. But he didn’t know what kind of a girl he was looking for.” Jungkook flips back to the first page and points to Kim Seokjin’s name right at the very top. “So I took a notebook, wrote Love Note on the cover, wrote Seokjin’s name inside it, hid it somewhere around campus, and left the rest up to fate.”

“Are you saying the girl, Jiyeon, was the one who found the notebook and brought it back to Seokjin?”

“The same way you returned it to me, Y/N,” he nods. “After they got together, they filled out their section of the notebook, tagged another friend, and hid it again for someone else to find. The tradition continued amongst my friends, friends of friends, people I didn’t even know, until it finally found its way back to me.”

You get it now. It isn’t one creepy person’s notebook. It’s not witchcraft or a curse. It’s a curious object passed from person to person to spark a conversation and a potential relationship.

“So who wrote your name in it? And why?” You’d like to think someone like Jungkook doesn’t need a silly notebook to help him find a lover.

“My pal, Jung Hoseok. He said I’ve been looking lonely lately,” the boy says, glancing back at the list of presumably happy couples.

“Lonely despite always being surround by people who adore you?” Sounds ironic, but you think you know what he means.

“They don’t adore me. Just my face,” he sighs. Damn, what a struggle it must be to have a face as handsome as his. “I was hoping whoever found the notebook might adore more than what they see.”

“Sorry, can’t say that I do at the moment.” You use a teasing tone, but you aren’t lying either. What do you know about Jungkook other than the fact that he’s popular with a pretty face? That’s all you’ve ever judged him by. “I’m probably not the person you were hoping for.”

“You are who I was hoping for, Y/N,” he tilts his head when he speaks. “Adoring me is a bonus, but more importantly, I just wanted to meet someone I wouldn’t have otherwise met.”

Someone he wouldn’t have otherwise met? It’s true. The two of you probably wouldn’t be talking if it weren’t for the notebook. “I guess I fit that part of the criteria,” you say.

“Exactly.” He smiles at you as the lecture begins. You suppose only time will tell if you’ll come to also adore the boy as he so hopes.

-

As days, weeks, and even a month pass, you still have the Love Note in your possession. Recently, however, you get the feeling as though that’s about to change.

“Hey, Y/N,” says a familiar voice as a duffle bag claims the seat two spaces down from yours. The owner of the duffle bag follows, stepping into the seat right next to you from the row behind.

“Hello, Mr. I’m-too-cool-to-squeeze-through-the-aisle-like-a-normal-person,” you snicker at your psych buddy. Ever since you discovered Jungkook’s association to the Love Note, he’s made it a point to come find you during lecture. A month ago, you’d been sitting alone, and you’d still be sitting alone if you hadn’t stumbled upon the boy’s pink notebook. So you can’t say you aren’t enraptured by the gesture.

He chuckles at your fancy nickname for him before throwing an arm around your seat. You feel his eyes on you as you casually open the Love Note and scan the list.

“How many of these couples do you think are still together?” you ask, looking up and accidentally catching him staring at your lips. The new lip gloss you bought must be working.

“I’m sure not all of them are,” Jungkook strokes his wise man beard. “But all the people I personally know from the list are still going strong.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“It’s the fate of the Love Note, duh Y/N,” he gives you a cute little pinch on your cheek. “Our names are written there, and we’re still together, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, but we’re not together together… yet.” You try your best to get the boy to take a hint.

“Well, if anything, the Love Note has the power to bring two people together who wouldn’t otherwise be together, right?” he says. “Because of it, I learned I like being around someone who’s honest, open-minded, and adores me for more than just my face.”

You can’t help but smile at his compliment. He’s too sweet for you to handle. “How can you be so sure that I adore more than just your face?”

“Because you’ve put up with me for a whole month,” he chuckles. “And because you sent me a drunk text the other night, confessing your heart out to me.”

“I did what?” You fumble to get your phone out of your bag and check your messages. Was it possible to get so drunk that you don’t even remember getting drunk in the first place?

“I’m kidding, Y/N.” If there’s one thing you learned in the past month, it’s that Jungkook loves to tease you. But if it gets him to smile like that all the time, you don’t mind being a little gullible. “I’m still waiting for a proper confession.”

You look into the boy’s big eyes and then back at the bottom of the list where both of your names are written. “Should we make it official then?”

“I’m already ahead of you.” Clicking his pen, Jungkook adds a tiny little heart to the end of the foreshadowing he had written a month ago. He then writes the name of his single friend Park Jimin on the line below, shuts the notebook, and hands it back to you.

After lecture, Jungkook pulls you by the hand and leads you to the building where Jimin’s class should be ending. As the two of you wait for him to walk out, you feel yourself gravitating more and more to the boy until both of your arms are latched around his. You never realized how much you love the feeling of having someone so close to you.

“Is this the one you’ve been smitten over?” The boy you assume to be Jimin points in your direction. You look to Jungkook for an answer.

“Yes, this is the one,” he says, giving your hand a good squeeze. “Now we just need to find someone special for you.”

“Like who?” Jimin asks. “I can’t seem to keep a relationship for over a week.”

“We might have a solution for you,” Jungkook says as you show the other boy the Love Note. And despite his initial hesitance, Jimin eventually agrees to partake in the tradition after seeing the effect it had on you and his pal.

“Should we leave it here?” you ask Jungkook after saying farewell to Jimin and finding a cozy bench to sit on.

“Are you sure you’re ready to let it go?” He smirks at how you’ve held onto what you had initially thought of as a creepy ass notebook. You nod. “Okay, we’ll leave it here.”

He helps you set it down off to the side, leaning in for what you anticipate to be the first of many kisses between you and him. Just before giving you a taste, however, he stops to examine the sheen over your lips. “Is that new lip gloss?”

You nod, prompting the boy to lean back. “It’s cute,” he says.

For a second, you just blink at him and he blinks back as though he wasn’t about to kiss you. Oh, you get it. He’s teasing you again.

Taking the boy’s hand, you make the bold move yourself, pressing your lips ever so softly against his. Just enough to give him a taste of the gloss you’d picked out with him in mind.

After teasing you some more for being so bold, Jungkook helps you up from the bench as the two of you head home. Leaving the Love Note behind, you understand now that the divide between popular boys like him and average folks like you was never a curse bestowed upon you by fate. Rather, it was up to you to take fate into your own hands and spin it in your favor.

That all began the moment you picked up that pink notebook.

[19tozier]

polaroid boy (richie tozier)

request:if/when requests are open (if this is okay bc idk your request rules) could you write an angst fic for reddie based on the song polaroid boy by nicole zefanya, it can be from either persons pov i think that decision is more of a personal one based on who you think fits the song better

warnings: angst, swearing, allusions to sexual things, i tried out some stuff w tense so hopefully it still makes sense lol

[losers + reader are college aged (20/21)]

there is an exquisite beauty in falling in love. in feeling your heart quicken at the sight of their smile, or feeling your cheeks blush at the sound of their laugh. in letting yourself tumble off the edge of the cliff because you are certain they will be there to catch you.

there is an exquisite pain in hitting the ground after they fail to do so.

you want to curse yourself for having stepped off the edge. you aren’t sure you’d have been able to stop yourself from falling anyways, but you did it with no hesitation. you didn’t just trip over the cliff, you leapt off of it. no parachute, no net, no caution. and now you’re the one paying the price for it.

it started, innocently enough, in your first lecture fall semester of your sophomore year. you were still drudging through your gen eds, doing your best to stay motivated through endless classes that weren’t at all related to your major. the lectures made your eyes glaze and your head pound, but you were getting through them. nothing exciting ever happened in them but that was fine with you.

until, of course, richie tozier sat next to you in the middle of a half-empty history lecture, fashionably late and a devil’s smirk on his pretty face.

you’d done your best to ignore him at first, furiously writing down anything and everything the professor said. just because a beautiful boy had sat beside you didn’t mean you would compromise your education. class first, dick later, you thought.

but richie, still wearing that gorgeous smirk, had leaned into your side and murmured, “you look a little tense there, doll. want some help with that?” and his left eye had dropped in a wink that sent prickles down your spine.

fuck, had you wanted to slap him for such a suggestive comment. did he always go around propositioning random girls? you were certain the answer was yes, and yet... part of you loved the attention, and another part of you wanted to keep those blue eyes on you at all times.

you’d scowled, glaring at him, refusing to rise to his bait and give him the response he so obviously wanted. you’d pointedly turned back to your professor, ignoring richie for the remainder of the class.

you’d expected him to give up the chase, maybe find another girl who’d take kindly to his attempts at seduction, but he’d stayed by your side while you packed up your bag and walked out beside you, body in a long loose sprawl as he asked—no, begged—you to let him take you to lunch. and were you really going to turn down a free meal? he may be irritating, but you weren’t stupid.

and oh, had he irritated you. it felt like he had been drawn straight from your own personal hell to drive you crazy, but there was something charming about him. something that drew you in despite your earlier reluctance.

he’d leaned across the table at lunch, smirk softened into something sweeter, and brushed his thumb along your cheek. “you’ve got somethin’ here, love,” he’d murmured, his eyes smoky.

“thanks,” you'd rasped, subtly crossing your legs and praying he didn’t notice your blush.

you’d caved and given him your number at the end of your maybe-date. you were still operating under the idea that he wouldn’t want to see you again, so hey, you’d figured, what the hell?

but he had. he’d texted you that night, a simple hey there sugar ;), and against your will your heart had started pounding. your hands shook as you carefully typed out we’ve known each other for a day and you’ve called me how many nicknames?

you’d laughed, irritation be damned, when he had responded almost immediately: i can add on a few more. put it on my tab, toots.

you found, slowly but surely, that richie was charming and funny and obnoxious in a way that made you want more. he was crass, yes, and sometimes he made you want to gouge your own eyes out, but he was softer and sweeter than you’d ever have thought to give him credit for. and it was horrible for you, really, because there was nothing to stop you from developing feelings.

but there were nights where you curled up with richie in your dorm room, squished together on your too-small bed, your roommate blessedly gone for the night, watching shitty movies on your laptop with takeout scattered around you. nights where you were certain that everything you felt for him was reciprocated.

he had pressed his lips into your hair, his glasses digging into the top of your head. “this movie is something else, doll,” he’d murmured to you, tilting his chin towards where you were forcing him to watch the room with you. “not sure i know what’s going on anymore.”

you’d laughed, twisting your head to kiss his jaw. “that’s the point,” you had grinned. “this movie is so bad that it’s fantastic.”

he’d snorted, the tips of his fingers sliding under your t-shirt and tracing circles into the bare skin of your back. “not quite the word i’d use but sure, toots. i’ve definitely lost the plot though.”

you’d frowned, reaching to pause it to look up at him. “i can rewind it if you want?”

he’d smirked, reaching gentle fingers to cradle the curve of your jaw, turning your face towards him. “i can think of something better to do,” he’d purred, and his lips and his body had silenced any objection you could’ve had. not that you did, really.

he’d had that effect on you. time and time again, he had turned you into a bumbling idiot, a lovesick fool, a damned clown. you were the court jester in his kingly eyes, the puppet beneath his talented hand, the doll to sit high on his shelf. people thought it was he that was the bozo, but no; he played you like it was his job and you were too stupid to ever realize how masterful he was.

you’d giggled to him, stretched out in the quad with your head in his lap. he’d been leaning against a tree, one hand absently stroking through your hair, the other holding up a book for class. you had been fucking around with the polaroid camera your friend had bought you for your birthday, taking pictures of the trees and the students around you but mostly of richie himself.

“what’s up, sugar?” he’d murmured, glancing down from his book. his glasses had nearly slid off of his nose.

you’d reached up to correct them, smiling at him. “nothing, nothing. you just look cute. very photogenic.”

he’d rolled his eyes, bookmarking the page he was on and setting the book aside to fully give you his attention. “cute? me? damn baby, maybe you need these glasses more than i do.”

you’d scowled at him, as annoyed as ever that he never seemed to understand how gorgeous he was. “you take that back right now, asshole.”

he had laughed, grinning down at you. his palm had slid along your stomach, warm and secure against your skin, and his eyes had shone in the sunlight. “you always say the sweetest things, doll,” he’d teased.

he’d ducked to kiss you before you could respond, slow and deep and searching, and you had melted back against the grass. it was rare for him to initiate something like this in public, enough that you had kissed him back and not had a single other thought. when he walked you to class, he didn’t reach for your hand; when you met him for lunch, he didn’t kiss you hello or goodbye; when you studied together in the library, he never sat close enough to touch. at the time, you had simply thought he was reserved with his affections.

those polaroids you had taken were the first of many, proudly hung up on the wall of your dorm next to your bed. they weren’t all of richie: some of you and your roommate, some of your friends from your classes, some of the friends of richie’s you had met only once. but most of them had been of richie, because you were smitten and you couldn’t do anything about it.

every time he came over, every time he saw them, his face had done something complicated that you had never understood—a frown to a grimace to a smile that he forced on.

looking back, you wonder about every sign that you had missed. could you have saved yourself the heartbreak if you had simply paid attention? could you have gotten yourself out with your dignity?

it had never even occurred to you to define what you and richie were. you were stupid and young and content to just be able to love him, even if you hadn’t known him long. you never thought to ask him if you were dating, or if he was your boyfriend or not. you really fucking wish you had.

it came to a head not long after. richie had come over like usual, a spring to his step and a bite to his words that had been there for weeks now. he’d been a ghost of himself, eyes flickering around to see who was watching whenever you saw him on campus, not responding to your messages for hours, jumping whenever he saw you. you had just wanted him to relax for a bit.

you’d curled into his chest, laughing along with him to the stupid horror movie you were watching. “it doesn’t even look real,” you’d giggled, pointing to the spray of blood from on-screen.

richie had snorted. “‘cause it’s not real, it’s probably chocolate syrup.”

you had rolled your eyes, poking at his chest. “i know that, smartass. i’m talking about the effects.”

“i’m talking about the effects,” he had mimicked you, pitching his voice higher and sticking his tongue out at you.

you’d scowled, pinching his side. “you’re annoying and one of these days i’ll murder you.”

“oh, is that a promise?” he’d grinned, lopsided and too damn sexy for his own good. “not one of my kinks, i’ll admit, but damn, what a way to go.”

“oh, for the love of—” you’d lunged forward, knocking him onto his back and almost pitching the two of you off the side of the bed. he’d grabbed onto your waist to hold you steady. “i want to strangle you! with my bare hands!”

“that’s hot.” and he’d laughed, the motherfucker, like the sound of it didn't live inside of your ribcage and swim through your bloodstream. every inch of him was something specially designed to get under your skin and make a home there.

it still has a home there.

you’d growled, whaling on him with gentle fists that he did absolutely nothing to combat. he’d just kept laughing, holding your wrists in his big hands, glasses skewed. “you’re awful and i really fucking wish i didn’t love you.”

all at once, it had gone silent and he had gone tense. the expression on his face had not been the elation you had been hoping for; it was horror, plain and simple, and the shock of it had pitched you sideways off of his lap.

“you love me?” he’d asked through trembling lips, looking anywhere but you.

slowly, you had nodded. your voice had disappeared. and he’d nodded back, one short frantic movement, and then vaulted himself off of the bed.

“richie—”

“i didn’t think we were that serious,” he’d said, yanking his shoes on. “i thought we were just having fun.” like it was nothing. like you were nothing.

tears had welled in your eyes and your chest had ached with the force of it. your heart, which you had thought was safe in richie’s hands, was being crushed and ripped to shreds and you could do nothing but watch.

“richie, wait—”

but he had shrugged you off, forceful in the way he had pushed you back. the look in his eyes was wild and terrified and you didn’t recognize him anymore.

he hadn’t looked back at you, in the end. he had just shouldered his backpack and grabbed his phone and disappeared out the door. he hadn’t paused when you sobbed out his name one more time. he hadn’t even faltered.

foolishly, oh so foolishly, you’d held on to hope that that wasn’t the end. that you’d simply overwhelmed him and he just needed time. but as the days stretched into weeks and your texts and calls had remained unanswered, your hope had died the same way your heart had.

you had taken that fatal plunge; the ground was hard when you’d hit it.

you still have the polaroids. you’d taken them down after a few weeks, too hurt to see yours and richie’s smiling faces when he had disappeared from your life. but you still have them, in the shoebox you keep under your bed. and there are nights like tonight where you pull them out to stare at them.

your chest aches, the tears in your throat choking you. you should be all cried out by now but you aren’t that lucky. it seems every reminder of him is destined to detonate something inside of you.

you can still feel his smile on your lips. you can still taste his laughter. you can still hear the stupid voices he’d do to make you giggle. you can still feel him in your heart.

richie hurt you. god, had he hurt you. he’d hurt you so badly you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to smile again. but you’re still in love with him and you don’t think it’ll ever go away.

he’ll forever be the boy in your polaroids, the one that made you feel on top of the world and the one that made you feel like you were six feet under. you won’t ever be able to hear his favorite song without hearing it in his voice. you won’t ever be able to love again without feeling his imprint in your heart.

there’s something magical about falling in love. you won’t take that back. but on nights like this, you wish you never fell.

[saturnznct]

previous / next

series masterlist

part 11 - 6 weeks

word count - 2164 words

I’m sorry if any of this is inaccurate. I tried my best to make it as accurate as possible to I apologise if I have gotten any details wrong. I’m also not sure how the medical systems work in other countries, however I’m from England so I loosely based it off of how it works over here. Thank you so much for being such loyal readers - again, I do see you all, and I hope this doesn’t suck too much :(

The sound of Jaemin’s phone alarm - you know, the really cursed iPhone one - wakes you up. With the flurries of hormones you’ve been experiencing due to pregnancy, it, quite frankly, pisses you off far more than usual. Jaemin doesn’t stir at all.

‘Oi,’ you say, tapping his arm, ‘turn that the fuck off.’

He doesn’t respond.

You already feel a headache coming on, the sound of the alarm making your head prick with pain. You feel as though your brain is spinning. You sit up, Jaemin still flat out. You feel your insides rushing up to your throat. Before anything happens, you grab the bucket Jaemin has been keeping down the side of your bed and you empty yourself into it. This wakes him up.

‘Oh shit,’ he whispers, turns over to turn his alarm off, and then turns back over to you.

You cough and splutter as he rubs your back.

‘That’s it gorgeous, get it all out,’ he says.

‘Sorry for waking you,’ you manage to say, suddenly feeling awful, even though 2 minutes ago you were livid he wouldn’t wake.

‘It’s okay, don’t even say that.’

You feel tears fill your eyes.

‘Me throwing up all the time has probably been so irritating, I’m so sorry,’ you cry.

‘No, no, no,’ he says softly.

He sits himself up from where he’s been propped up by his elbows and pulls you towards him. He takes the bucket away from you and places it down on the floor.

‘You haven’t irritated me at all. I don’t mind doing it if it means I’m taking care of you and making you feel better. It’s all for Cletus.’

Your mood swings have been consuming you recently. The other day back at your shared apartment with the girls’, you dropped a spoon on the floor, which scared Mina. You cried for about 30 minutes, profusely apologising because you felt as though you’d upset her in some way. Usually, you would’ve laughed at how she reacted, but not now you were pregnant.

‘I don’t know how I’m gonna deal with this for another 9 months,’ you sobbed.

‘I know, I know,’ Jaemin murmured into your hair, ‘it’s ok, I know you can do it. It’s just early days yeah?’

You nodded.

‘I’m gonna go make breakfast. Do you want anything or not?’ He asks a few minutes later.

‘Just an apple or something. That’s pretty much tasteless so it won’t make me want to projectile vomit everywhere,’ you say, pulling a tight smile.

‘Ok, I’ll be 5 minutes,’ he kisses your cheek, ‘and I’m really looking forward to later.’

Today was the day you were going to have your 6-week scan. Your doctor thought it would be a good idea considering that you’re younger, so you could need more attention than older women.

You were feeling nervous, considering they do earlier scans a bit differently. Instead of a ‘traditional’ ultrasound where they would put gel on your stomach and move a wand around, they will be putting it inside you, due to the fact the baby is probably too small to see without doing it that way. You were worried about many things. You were worried whether or not this would hurt, even though you know you’re going to have to go through a lot worse pain later on. You were also worried about the welfare of your baby. You hoped everything was going well, that they were growing correctly and that everything was fine.

Jaemin renters the room, apple and glass of water in tow, and then climbs back into your bed with you. You begin eating.

‘How’re you feeling?’ He asks you.

‘Nervous is an understatement,’ you say between bites.

‘Me too,’ he says, ‘but it’s gonna be ok. Cletus will pull through, I know it.’

‘I feel like this is going to make everything feel a bit real.’

He nods.

‘I mean, everything’s gonna change for us now,’ you continue, ‘it’s not just us anymore.’

He smiles but doesn’t say anything. He rolls over to grab his phone and then rolls back over to face you. He starts scrolling, presumably checking his notifications. Once you finish eating, he pulls you into his chest, and you just lie there for a while.

‘We better get dressed,’ Jaemin says after about half an hour.

You hum in agreement, before rolling out of his arms and walking towards Jaemin’s drawers, pulling some stuff you’ve left here over the years out to wear. He follows. You both go about your routines, and eventually, you meet each other at the front door, where you put your shoes on.

‘Wait,’ he says before you open the door. He grabs his car keys, and you both head out.

Only 20 minutes later, you’re sitting in the waiting room. You’re leaning your head on his shoulder. You’re petrified, and as your comfort you’re preferring to be close to him. He holds your hand, drawing circles with his thumb. It’s his way of telling you everything’s gonna be ok. The bright lights of the doctor's office feel overwhelming. You decide to focus your gaze onto Jaemin’s face, at least from the angle you can currently see it from. He’s not looking at you, he’s staring off into the distance, probably due to nerves. You think to yourself how pretty he is. You admire the shape of his lips and his nose, the colour of his hair, and the way his eyelashes curl upwards. You can feel the way his chest moves up and down in time with his breathing, and warmth fills your heart at the thought of how much you love him.

‘I love you,’ you mumble before you can even stop yourself.

His eyes flick towards you.

‘I love you too,’ he mumbles back, and squeezes your hand, ‘everything is going to be ok.’

The sound of a door loudly opening bursts your little bubble - ‘Y/N L/N?’

The two of you stand up, still holding hands and walk towards the room.

‘Hi, I’m Doctor Nam,’ she smiles, ‘I understand that you’ve been referred to me by your normal doctor because you’re pregnant?’

You nod.

‘Right well, we’ll have a chat first, eh?’

You nod again. Your hands are clammy and you feel incredibly overwhelmed. You feel lightheaded, but not sick.

‘Just sit right up there for me.’

You sit yourself up onto the bed, and Jaemin moves to be next to you. You place both of your hands on your front, but before they’re fully settled there, Jaemin grabs one and holds it.

Doctor Nam moves around for a minute, pulling up pages on her computer, and rapidly turning pages in her notebook.

‘Right ok,’ she begins.

She looks up at Jaemin.

‘I take it you’re dad?’

Jaemin smiles, ‘Yeah I am.’

She then turns to you, ‘so, how have you been feeling since you last saw your usual doctor?’

You then detail all of the physical symptoms you’ve been experiencing over the last 3 weeks. The morning sickness, nausea, mood swings, tiredness, the likes. Jaemin nods along.

‘That all sounds pretty normal to me,’ Doctor Nam says, smiling, ‘sounding like a healthy pregnancy so far. If any of the morning sickness gets too much then we can prescribe you some pills, if you just ring up and let us know if you ever want them.’

‘I will.’

‘How old are you Y/N?’

‘I’m 19. We both are.’

‘So you’re in college?’

‘Yeah, we both go to the same one.’

‘Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I take it this wasn’t planned?’ She asks.

‘It wasn’t, no,’ Jaemin says.

‘How are you guys feeling mentally right now?’

‘We’re, um, terrified naturally,’ he says, ‘but we’re trying our best to remain positive.’

‘I mean everyone’s terrified at any age,’ Doctor Nam says, ‘I had my first at 28 and I was terrified. It’s good that you’re remaining positive and trying to see the good things. That’s always a good mentality to have.’

You both nod. He squeezes your hand again.

‘Right,’ she says, standing up, ‘I know what you’re here for. Let’s see that baby.’

You and Jaemin exchange a glance. Doctor Nam explains the process, even though you’ve already religiously read up on it. She shows you the ‘transducer’ that she’s going to use to have a look at your baby, and you try to swallow the nerves.

You decide to just stare at the ceiling while she prepares everything, not wanting to freak yourself out. You hear her pull a screen around, so you and Jaemin can see everything that’s going on.

‘Ok Y/N, I’m going to put the transducer in now.’

You nod, still not looking. You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel it slide in, trying to get used to the foreign feeling. Jaemin rubs the back of your hand while telling you that it’s fine and it’s going to be over soon.

‘You’re doing really well Y/N,’ Doctor Nam tells you, ‘I’ve had women way older than you in tears at this point, so you’re doing pretty good.’

You laugh at this. And relax your body.

‘That’s it,’ she says.

After a few seconds, you see shapes starting to appear on the screen.

‘Ok, there it all is,’ Doctor Nam narrates.

You can feel her moving the probe around a bit.

After about 30 seconds, you see a certain shape come into view.

‘And there’s your baby.’

You resist the urge to sit up for a closer look. You see it, the unmistakable shape of what’s living inside you.

‘Wow,’ you hear Jaemin say.

You don’t say anything. You feel tears rolling down your face.

‘That’s ours,’ you whisper.

You both sit in stunned silence while the Doctor speaks.

‘Everything looks great, they seem to be measuring just right for 6 weeks. Let me see if I can get a heartbeat going for you guys.’

You don’t see what she does because you’re too fixated on the screen, but after a few seconds silence, you hear a rush of a pulsing sound echo around the room.

‘And there’s the heartbeat.’

You’re full-on crying now. You can’t tear your eyes away from the screen to see what Jaemin is doing. He’s still holding your hand.

‘Holy shit,’ you hear him mumble.

‘I’ll record it for you,’ Doctor Nam says.

‘Thank you so much,’ you say softly.

She presses a few buttons.

‘I’ll take some photos for you guys as well.’

She moves the probe around a bit more, taking screenshots of the baby from different angles.

‘Everything alright up there?’ she asks.

‘Everything’s great,’ you say, ‘it’s just kind of hitting me now.’

You finally force yourself to look at Jaemin. There are lone tears streaming down his face. The second he sees you staring, he laughs lightly and pulls his free hand up to his face to wipe them away.

‘I wasn’t crying,’ he says, causing you and Doctor Nam to laugh, ‘I was just sweating through my eyes.’

For what feels like the millionth time today, your heart fills with love for him.

‘I’m going to take this out now Y/N, if that’s ok,’ Doctor Nam says.

‘That’s fine,’ you reply. You almost tell her no, you want to stay in this moment forever.

After handling that situation, she hands you back your clothes and lets you put them back on. As you do that, she’s printing out photos and emails you the heartbeat and video recordings.

‘Thank you so much,’ you say, as she hands you copies of the photos.

‘It’s my pleasure Y/N,’ she smiles, ‘if anything happens, just call me, and I’ll do my best to help. I hope everything goes a bit more smoothly over the next few weeks.’

You both thank her again and leave the office.

You’re getting back in the car when Jaemin turns to you.

‘That was the most surreal experience of my life.’

‘Mine too,’ you smile.

‘I’m really happy you know,’ he says, ‘and I’m so glad I’m going through this with you.’

‘I feel exactly the same,’ you say.

He leans over to give you a kiss and then starts the car.

You’re at your apartment later that night, where Doyeon is busy making pasta for everyone.

Chaeryeong suddenly races into the room, still wearing her shoes and holding her handbag, having just come home from her shift at work.

You look at each other for a few seconds.

‘Well!’ She says loudly.

You produce the set of photos from your pocket, and she grabs them eagerly.

‘Oh my god, this is so exciting,’ she gasps, gushing over the photos.

She files through them, pointing out little things in each photo, like about the shape of the baby and how she can kind of see the outline of its head. You play the heartbeat recordings and see how she wells up.

‘Woah,’ she whispers.

‘Yeah,’ you laugh.

[maybe-your-left]

A Case In Need: Tall, Dark and Dangerous

TW/CW: NSFW, sexual encounters, dirty talk, slapping, good old Kylo Ren being mean to you 

You had always been a hard worker. 

Never waste time on a project. You fought fearlessly for friends, family, and now your clients. Spending years trying to understand what you wanted most out of your life you settled on practicing the law. You had been a paralegal for some time after college and you had spent your time working at a smaller law firm in New York. It was homey and you didn’t deal with dangerous clients, nor were you subject to scrutiny if you lost a case since the firm was small enough to fly under the radar. 

Perhaps that should’ve been a red flag for you. Although nothing seemed out of the ordinary until you walked into your office building and saw Rose packing up boxes. 

“What are you doing Rose, spring cleaning happened months ago?” 

Rose didn’t meet your stare, just continuing to pack away her personal items from her desk. Clearing your throat you spoke again, “Rose, what’s going on?”. Glancing behind her desk you saw all the lights off in the hallway. Even the head lawyer you had been working with for 8 years wasn’t in yet. 

“Where is he, Rose?” you tried to keep your tone stern but the cracks were starting to show. 

Shifting and looking up you were met with Rose’s glassy eyes, rimmed with red-stained tears. Before she could speak someone came in behind you. Turning around you were met with your boss's face.

You had met Finn back in college, you both were such close friends. After he became a lawyer he tried working with a bigger corporate office but he got overwhelmed when he saw how rough they were and what types of clients they represented. He just wanted to help real people, not those who had more money than morals. You had agreed to work with him when he started his firm, both of you just taking on the world. But now it seemed like the world had taken him for a ride. “(Y/N)” he began to say, raising your hand you stopped him before he could continue. Finn stared down at the floor and handed you a pink piece of paper. 

——-

Clutching your freshly printed resume you approached a mirrored skyscraper. You had only been unemployed for a week and were shocked that the First Order Firm was wanting an interview with you. You knew their reputation for high turnovers in the paralegal department. Those who couldn’t handle the demand of the job were quickly cast aside. Finn was one of the lawyers who worked here almost a decade ago, he was always hesitant to speak of them with you other than sharing information about the terrifying lawyers he worked with. You felt ill prepared for the role you were interviewing for, but kept your fingers crossed because along with a mean reputation, the First Order was known to give lucrative salaries and hey New York ain’t cheap. 

The elevator doors shuffled open to the 37th floor and you were in awe of the sterile beauty. The floors were a crisp black marble with white inlays, each piece of furniture was something out of an architectural magazine. Harsh lines and monochromatic color palette swallowed all the life from the city outside. Stepping up to the front desk you cleared your throat. 

“Good morning, I’m (Y/F/N) and I’m here for an interview.” 

The receptionist didn’t look up, just began scrolling on her computer until she found your name. 

“Excellent Miss (Y/L/N), if you would follow me I’ll take you to the conference room.” 

You nodded and followed her down a series of hallways. You took account of all the offices on the level, each one with a name plaque holding the First Order symbol. A symbol of power, dominance, and wealth. Each person who worked here oozed with an unwavering aura of darkness. Almost like they were all in a trance of whoever was in charge. The receptionist stopped short and you almost bumped into her as she ushered you to the room. 

Inside was a long glass table surrounded by empty black chairs. Each one pushed in so straight and precise it seemed like a robot set the place up. The far wall to your left had a mirror atop a fully stocked banquet bar and the right wall had a television. The rest of the walls were bare, save the floor to ceiling windows looking out at the city. 

“Mr. Ren will be here shortly, so make yourself comfortable.” she let out a small smile but then excused herself quickly. After taking stock of the room you waltzed to the mirror, carefully fixing the curls around your face and adjusting your red lipstick. You thought you had dressed smartly for an upscale interview, your hair was in loose yet tame waves, a pearl necklace hiding under your white blouse, tucked into a form fitting black pencil skirt. Topping it off with some black sheer tights and your most expensive red bottom heels, you looked like you belonged here. Before you could turn around the door flew open and you had to keep your jaw from dropping. 

In walked the most stunning man you had ever laid eyes on. He was tall, dark and exuded power, danger and sex. His long black hair had effortless waves that framed his long pale face. Two mysterious eyes looked straight at you, almost through your soul. The most delicious shade of brown and gold danced around his pupils. “You must be (Y/N).” 

Still entranced by his looks you stood there dumbfounded. “Uh yes, I am, so nice to meet you Mr. Ren” you walked over and reached out to shake his hand. He did not take it. Instead using the moment to study you, glancing up and down, seeming to try to commit you to his memory. He pushed past you and took a seat at the head of the table. Motioning for you to be seated to his left. 

“I am Kylo Ren, you may call me Mr. Ren unless I state otherwise. You are here because I am in need of a paralegal to help my workload, I assume you have a resume?” 

“Yes, here it is sir.” sliding him your resume he snatched it and began browsing your experiences. 

“I see you’ve been working for a firm not far from here, why the change in employment?” 

“My friend was the owner there and he unfortunately had to close down after some personal issues…” Rens eyebrows short upward at the admission. 

“You mean to tell me you were let go?” 

“Well yes sir, but not because I wasn’t good at my job. Finn just couldn’t keep the business anymore.” 

“That has everything to do with how good you are at your job.” he snapped back at you. You didn’t have anything to say back, it is true that firms that win cases are better off, and you could’ve done better to win more for Finn, maybe you wouldn’t be sitting in front of this terrifying man if you had. “Just because a lawyer was unable to keep his business afloat does not mean I am bad at my job. I work very hard and my resume proves that. Why else would you have called me for an interview?” 

“I am not the one who calls in people for an interview. If it were me you would not have set foot in this firm based on your subpar experience and your self righteous attitude.” 

“Attitude? I am simply trying to defend myself sir.” 

“Yes, attitude” he narrowed his eyes and took in a long breath. “Your attitude does not reflect what I want in a paralegal, but I’m sure that will change.” A dark chuckle sounded from his chest as he leaned back in his chair. Placing his large hands on his lap he eyed you again. Swallowing loudly you crossed your legs to try and cover yourself from his penetrating gaze. 

“Do you have any other questions for me, or are we done here?” 

A small smirk played at his lips and suddenly he was on his feet circling you. His large hands came to rest on the sides of your chair before he pulled back roughly and spun you around. 

“I do Miss (Y/N).” He lowered his face to be level with yours, his hands not leaving the sides of the chair. His plump pink lips were just inches from yours. Just ripe for the picking, all you had to do was lean in. But no, he was being mean to you, he was just trying to rile you up proving you didn’t have the gall to work here. Just because you came from a small firm didn’t mean you could handle their workload. 

“How are you under pressure? Can you handle the stress that comes from working under a man like me?” 

“You don’t scare me Mr. Ren, I’m not going to be intimidated by you to back out of this job” 

He licked his lips before speaking again. They looked so kissable and soft, if it weren’t for his harsh tone you would’ve enjoyed him being this close to you. 

“I suggest you get your attitude in order or else I’ll have to do it myself.” 

The floodgates of your psyche were filled to the brim with lust and anger. How dare this man talk down to you, and how dare you let him get to you. The gentle breathing you had prior to the interview was long gone, replaced with short shallow breaths seeming to prolong the inevitable tears that were forming. He saw them gather in your eyes and with a smirk he dug the knife deeper. 

“Are you going to cry little one?” he taunted at you. 

“N-n-no” you said and choked back a sob. 

“I bet you look so pretty when you do, why don’t you let me see?” his smirk grew into a wicked smile. “I can make you, you know. Is that what you want? For me to make you cry?” 

One look into his eyes and you knew you were a goner. You nodded your head and he shot up and cracked his hand across your face. Tears poured down your cheeks and you let out a pained scream. Rough hands gripping your cheeks he brought his face closer to yours again. 

“Are you going to be a good girl and listen to me or are you going to be a crybaby?”

His hand was holding your jaw tight, your lips pursed in a small ‘o’ unable to respond to him. Another breath and he slapped the other side of your face and gripped it again. Your chest was heaving with tears, your makeup smudged and snot running from your nose from the violent treatment he was giving you. 

“Your cries really are music to my ears little one…” he began drawing circles with his thumb on your cheekbones. The soothing motion caused your tears to slow and a whimper escaped your mouth. 

“You like it when I hit you don’t you?” he cooed into your ears before lifting your chin up to meet him. His soft lips slowly trailed on your ear, bringing his hot breath right across it. He placed a one kiss on your earlobe. Then another, and another, the fourth one he dragged his teeth along the flesh causing a moan from your lips. 

“Tell me what you want, I can see it in your eyes even after I hit you. I see it in your breath, you don't want me to stop. All you have to do is say it.” 

Your hands reached out and clutched to his hand that was still gripping your cheeks. More tears came out as you tried to process what was going on. Did you really want this? Or were you so frightened about what would happen if you said no? You couldn’t lie to yourself about your attraction to him. He was so strong and handsome, with a devilish smile that made you puddy in his hands. You wanted him. There was no denying it, as foolish as it was, you swallowed your pride and opened your mouth. 

“Please. Please don’t stop.” 

A deep inhale.

“Good girl.” 

Faster than you could blink he had lifted you from your chair and thrown you on the glass conference table. Hands grasping to undo your blouse while you reached for his hair. Carding fingers throughout its length, each time you tugged you earned a grunt from him. Once the blouse was unbuttoned he threw it off you and dove in. Lavishing your tits with hot wet kisses, his hands kneading the soft flesh. Each roll was bruising, he seemed determined to mark you. He reached around and ripped your bra clean off so he could see you bare. In a swift movement he encased your lips with his own as he harshly played with your nipples. Each moan you gave him was like water, he was starving for your juices. Tongue searching your mouth for more and more as his hands dropped to your skirt. 

Pulling back he ordered you to take off the rest of your clothes. Obeying you watched him rub his erection through his trousers. Beginning to unbuckle his belt he held up one hand to halt you. 

“Take that necklace off, I’ll be giving you my own pearl necklace.” 

You removed the necklace and held it out and he quickly snatched and threw it into a pocket. You sat there breasts heaving, allowing your legs to open slightly as a hand wandered down to your core. 

“Did I say you could do that? Or are you looking for another slap?” 

Letting out an annoyed huff you dropped your hand. He approached you and gripped the inside of your tights. He easily ripped them in two right above your entrance. 

“Hey I could’ve taken those off!” 

Ripping the garment completely off you he took the remains and shoved them into your mouth along with two fingers. 

“I suggest you keep that tone to yourself.” 

“Mmhff.” Fuck. 

His left hand shoved your panties to the side and he slid two fingers in. 

“Oh you're so wet for me, have you been wanting this since I walked in? For me to ruin your little pussy?” 

All you could get out was a moan. His fingers were so thick and long, you were already about to cum from the sensation alone. His eyes snapped back to your core as he thrust in over and over again. Your slick was gushing out on the glass table below you, allowing his fingers to stretch you into any shape he desired. 

Suddenly he pulled out his hands from your holes and pulled out his cock. Fuck it was huge, veiny and angry. Dripping with precum, he spread the arousal left over from his fingers along the length. 

“I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to take it like the good girl I know you are.” 

The tip of his cock prodded your entrance and you gripped onto his shoulders in anticipation. In one swift and painful thrust he was inside you. Hissing he brought his mouth to your ear again and licked the length. 

“You feel sooo good. Like this pussy was sent from the heavens just for me.” 

He pulled out until the tip was just inside before plunging in again. His pace was brutal, each thrust was ripping your pussy apart. Your moans were filling the room along with the wet slapping of his balls against you. You could feel yourself getting close to cumming, clenching around him the closer you got. You fisted the lower end of his shirt and lifted it just enough so you could catch a better glimpse of his cock punishing your tight pussy. 

“You're close aren’t you, I can feel it around my cock. You want to cum.” You moaned into him in response. “Do it angel, cum on my cock.” His permission caused you to tip over the edge. Clenching around him even tighter than before you came until you felt like you had died and gone to heaven. 

“Oh my god…” he breathed after you came down from your high, drawing your attention down to his cock still impaling you. He looked up at you with lust blown eyes and looked down at his soaked undershirt. You had squirted all over him when you came. Soaking his shirt and the upper portions of his boxers, leaving the table and your panties sopping wet. 

“You really are an angel,” he huffed and then harshly pulled out and shoved you to the floor “Close your eyes.” warning before he came all over your face and neck giving you a brand new “pearl necklace”. Sitting back on your heels you closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath. The sounds coming from in front of you were Ren zipping his soiled pants back up and tucking in his shirt. Moving across the room you heard him grab what you hoped was a towel for you. 

“Here.” he shoved napkins into your hands and ordered you to clean your face from his load. After wiping yourself you quickly attempted to get dressed, sans the tights he had ruined, and looked at him again. 

He reached out his right hand before speaking again. 

“Welcome to the First Order, I expect you in my office tomorrow at 8am, make sure to leave the tights at home next time.”

TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads​

Another new fanfic! 

[felicia-cat-hardy]

My 'Pretty Little Liars' Obsession Led Me To My Best Friend

“Got a secret, can you keep it?” Well, I’ve got one: Though Pretty Little Liars ended in 2017, the seven-season mystery thriller schemed its way into being an integral part of my life for the long haul, so much so that the opening credits live in my head rent-free. To this day, each time I hear the sinister theme song — “Secret” by The Pierces — I’m brought right back to my childhood comfort show (ahem, obsession). The visuals begin with a swipe of mascara, the smear of red lipstick, and a clasp of a heel onto a porcelain doll, which makes me feel like I’m watching someone get pampered for prom. Until, of course, it cuts to four girls standing in front of a casket. It's a chilling moment, one that, until Season 6B, ended with Aria Montgomery (Lucy Hale) delivering her iconic “shh.” I got cast under the show’s spell the first time I saw it, and I wasn’t the only one: Pretty Little Liars led me to my best friend.

Ironically, plotlines about deceit and betrayal actually helped ignite a long-lasting friendship. In 2011, the only other person I knew to be watching PLL was my now-BFF, Taylor, who’s been by my side for over a decade. We were only about 11 and 12 when it premiered, so shout out to our parents for letting us watch a show that dealt with very adult themes like substance use disorder, assault, and grief. Unlike our classmates, who watched tween-appropriate hits like iCarly and Victorious, we became PLL stans.

As fans know, the show is loosely based on the Sara Shepard YA series of the same name, and the first book was my entry point into the PLL universe. I loved reading about blackmailers and murderers navigating high school, but I thought I was the only one who was into it. (Was this my ~I’m different~ complex showing, or were my peers just naturally more inclined to recap Dance Moms? I’ll never know.) So, Taylor first struck up a conversation with me at school because she spotted the first PLL book on my desk — you know, the one painted with porcelain wax dolls warning to “never trust a pretty girl with an ugly secret” in a Gothic script. She asked if I’d watched the TV adaptation yet and we immediately exchanged phone numbers to text about upcoming episodes. We then fell into the fandom. Fast.

I’d never talked to Taylor before this interaction — we had only been in a few classes together — but I always saw her as approachable and friendly. Universally, the beginning of middle school is a big and terrifying year when kids from different elementary schools unite. Eager to meet new people, I reached for friendship at any chance I could get. Taylor made it easy. Aside from being a genuinely kind person (a rare trait for a middle schooler!), she was fangirling over the same thing as me.

Fast forward over a decade later, and the show still feels timeless, especially in its accurate depictions of how dramatic high school can get. It’s no surprise there’s a PLL HBO Max reboot on the way along with the remakes of other buzzy shows from that era (hello, 2010s nostalgia). Ah. It was a simpler time. Back then, Freeform was still ABC Family and for me, Tuesdays meant one thing: PLL is on. What first started as a solo viewing experience soon became a designated hangout time, a time slot reserved for me and Taylor to gush over how much we loved Ashley Benson. (We still do!)

The series had a vibe similar to Gossip Girl or Bridgerton in that a mysterious, unidentifiable pot-stirrer keeps fans guessing each episode, but it was arguably so much better since “A,” the anonymous villain, is out for, you know, murder. Ultimately, it was the type of whodunit that made me and Taylor (and millions of viewers) go down a couple of Reddit rabbit holes — remember the “Aria is A” suspicion? — and this is where my and Taylor’s experience with fan theories began.

Oh, and let’s not forget the location. PLL takes place in the fictional suburb of Rosewood, Pennsylvania, and for two girls from Bucks Country — aka the Philadelphia ‘burbs — we ate it up. The beloved “Welcome to the Dollhouse” episode was exceptionally creepy not only because the Liars get locked into a life-size replica of their bedrooms, but also because our real neighborhood looks extremely similar to their hometown. It operates like Rosewood, too, in that small-town gossip travels at lightning speed.

The Pennsylvania-based plotline also made it easier for us to identify with the characters, who felt like extensions of ourselves. In many ways, we got to know each other through their personalities. Taylor is studious and high-achieving, obviously a Spencer. And I owned feather earrings because I saw Lucy Hale sport them in Season 1, so obviously an Aria. Asking “Are you more of a Hanna or an Emily?” held as much weight in 2012 as asking someone their rising sign in 2021. While it might not say much, it also tells you everything you need to know about a person.

PLL got its start right before live-tweeting shows became popularized, so when we weren’t together, I used to text Taylor on my slide-out keyboard phone (only Zillennials will remember) to compare notes without stumbling upon many spoilers. They read something like this: “Caleb and Hanna are soul mates, TBH.” Like every other fan, we theorized about why A had to be Ian… and Melissa… and Jenna… and Mona… and, you get the point. When our elaborate speculations ran cold, we’d pause DVR’d episodes to gather more clues, like glimpses of Red Coat’s face in her second season introduction, or inspections of those eerie-gloved hands assembling dolls and sharpening knives at the end of each episode.

This game of Clue made room for conversations about all the things. We were in high school during the show’s peak, so it felt like the Liars had laid the groundwork for how to operate our school’s halls. Rosewood High was not traditional — uh, multiple students came back from the dead (*cough* Mona and Alison) — but it did prepare us for the stressors of college applications and first romantic relationships. In fact, Benson’s Hanna Marin would be proud of my matchmaking skills because back then, I introduced Taylor to the boyfriend she’s still with today.

As we both grew up with the show, our friendship got even deeper. The Liars weren’t the only ones to share secrets, and I found it incredibly easy to confide in Taylor. She’s trustworthy, level-headed, compassionate, and an excellent listener. She’s someone I know will always pick up on the second ring and is the type of friend to be there with advice, reassurance, and a quick-witted one-liner. She once joked about never needing a diary because we’ve transcribed the past 10 years of our lives via text.

Our bond has remained strong, especially because the most outrageous PLL-esque plotlines of our lives are ones we’ve experienced together. I love Taylor because I don’t have to provide background for my stories. I’m even so familiar with the cast of characters in her life that when someone re-enters after a long period, I like to say they Alison DiLaurentis’ed her.

And on the off-chance she’s not there to witness something meaningful happen to me IRL, she’s always ready to decipher what went down over texts or dinner and drinks — just like we did when we were teens trying to figure out who A was (minus the wine, of course).

The way she can reconstruct my way of thinking and offer up a perspective I hadn’t seen before is almost paranormal. Whether these are Taylor’s naturally given talents or traits learned from peeling back all the layers of the series, I’m not sure. But she’s always there to decode situations with me — whether they relate to a TV show or during moments when I feel lost.

I couldn’t be more thankful that Taylor entered my life and that PLL played a role in our friendship. I feel so incredibly lucky to know someone like her. Plus, now I have someone who is obligated to watch the reboot with me. Ali was right: Friends do share secrets. And she’s ~quite literally~ the reason Taylor’s got all of mine. Spencer and Aria, you’ve got some competition.

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