#while also avoiding the label of friend

[gumy-shark]

not gonna lie the idea of aplatonic teru has been rotating in my head all day. varis you did this to me

[strwbyoons]

NO ONE ELSE

STARRING ... BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER!M. YOONGI X READER

WORD COUNT ... 10.4K

SUMMARY ... yoongi doesn’t know what you want from him, but he knows he wants you.

NOTES/WARNINGS ... slight angst. smut (18+/MDNI). i needed these two to fuck so bad. making them official because they mean the world to me <33 taehyung flirting with reader. jealous!yoongi. basically-lovers-but-not-really to lovers. fingering, p in v sex, protected sex. if i forgot anything let me know.

playlist : still into you (paramore), snooze (sza), kiss me (sixpence none the richer), so american (olivia rodrigo), pink + white (frank ocean), still the one (shania twain), runaway (the corrs), kiss from a rose (seal), are you bored yet? (wallows), here with me (d4vd)

you wake up to the sound of yoongi’s alarm vibrating against the nightstand.

it’s early. too early. the sky outside is still a soft shade of orange, and the only reason you’re even awake is because yoongi, in his infinite wisdom, forgot to turn off his alarm before rolling out of bed to use the bathroom.

and now it’s going off, loud and persistent.

with a groan, you shove your face deeper into his pillow, blindly reaching out to slap at his phone until it stops.

silence. finally.

except, now you’re awake. and now you’re aware. of the lingering warmth beside you, the faint scent of his shampoo clinging to the pillowcase, the way his blanket is still wrapped around you, heavy and comforting.

yoongi’s bed is dangerously comfortable.

it always has been, which is probably why you keep ending up here, despite all the logical reasons why you shouldn’t.

there’s an unspoken understanding between you. whatever this is, whatever you’ve let it become, doesn’t get talked about. doesn’t get labeled. doesn’t change anything outside the walls of his room.

the bathroom door creaks open, and you barely lift your head as yoongi walks back in, hair a mess, hoodie slung loosely over his shoulders, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"your alarm is annoying," you mumble, voice heavy with sleep.

"your face is annoying," he mutters back, dropping onto the bed with zero grace, exhaling sharply when his head hits the pillow beside yours. for a second, neither of you move.

then, yoongi shifts, turning onto his side, gaze flicking over your face like he’s searching for something. he must find it, because his lips twitch, just slightly.

"go back to sleep," he murmurs, tugging the blanket higher over your shoulders.

it should be weird. it should be so weird. but it’s not, so you do.

next time you wake up, yoongi’s side of the bed is cold and empty, and his bedroom door is open.

the house is quiet, save for the faint sound of the tv murmuring from the living room. you stretch, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, before finally dragging yourself out of bed, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders as you shuffle out into the hall.

yoongi’s mom is in the kitchen, flipping through a newspaper with a cup of tea in hand. she looks up when she hears you, barely fazed by the fact that you just crawled out of her son’s bedroom like it’s the most normal thing in the world because, at this point, it is.

“morning, sweetheart,” she hums, setting her mug down.

you blink, still half-asleep. “morning.”

her lips twitch slightly, and then she gives you the look.

the same knowing glance she’s been giving you for months now, the one that says you’re not as sneaky as you think you are but also i’ll let you keep pretending anyway.

heat creeps up the back of your neck, but you don’t acknowledge it, just tug the blanket tighter around yourself and step toward the fridge.

“yoongi up?” you ask, peering inside.

“mm,” she hums. “went out a while ago. said something about needing a new lighter.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing a carton of juice. of course. because god forbid he go a full twenty-four hours without replacing one of the dozen lighters he somehow loses in his own room.

you pour yourself a glass, avoiding his mom’s eyes, but you can feel her looking. assessing. thinking about whether or not she should say whatever’s sitting on the tip of her tongue.

and then, “just make sure you're using protection.”

you nearly choke on your juice. “what?”

she shrugs, oh-so-casual, turning a page in her newspaper. “just making sure.”

you gape at her. yoongi’s mom, the same woman who once scolded you and his sister for sneaking out at sixteen, now just casually suggesting that you and yoongi have been fucking each other in his room—which you've thought about, but in any which case is hardly any of her business.

before you can even think of a response, the front door swings open.

yoongi steps inside, looking obnoxiously unbothered, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a new lighter tucked between his fingers. he glances between you and his mom, brows furrowing slightly at your expression.

“what’s with you?”

you shake your head, gulping down the rest of your juice before setting the glass in the sink. “nothing.”

he narrows his eyes, clearly not believing you, but doesn’t push it. just tosses his lighter onto the counter and leans against it, watching as you continue standing there, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders, looking way too much like you belong here.

his mom, still smirking, picks up her tea again. “you kids hungry?”

yoongi shrugs. “i could eat.”

you exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair. “yeah. me too.”

his mom just hums, standing up and patting your cheek on the way to the stove.

yoongi steps up beside you soon after, close enough that you catch the faint scent of his shampoo, something fruity and familiar. he doesn’t say anything at first, just watches as you rinse out your glass, the weight of his gaze settling over you like a second blanket.

then an arm loops around your waist. it’s lazy, effortless. like it’s second nature to him now, the way he pulls you in, his fingers resting against the curve of your hip, thumb brushing slow, absentminded circles against your shirt.

you freeze, because his mom is still standing by the stove, very much aware and very much watching. yoongi doesn’t seem to care. instead, he dips his head, pressing a kiss to your temple, soft and fleeting, barely there at all.

he lingers for a second longer, like maybe he wants to say something. maybe he’s thinking about it. but then his mom clears her throat.

not pointedly, not in a hey get your hands off that girl kind of way, but in a so are you two finally gonna get your shit together, or? kind of way.

yoongi ignores her completely. just tugs you closer, resting his chin on top of your head, and sighs. “did you finish all the juice?”

“no,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “there’s more.”

“good,” he murmurs, and that’s it. no teasing, no biting remarks. just this. his voice low and steady, his fingers still tracing idle circles against your side, holding you there like it’s nothing. like it’s everything.

his mom watches for a moment longer, sipping her tea. then, with a shake of her head, she turns back to the stove, muttering something about how she didn’t sign up for this bullshit but is too old to care anymore.

you should pull away. you really, really should. instead, you lean into him just a little more.

yoongi hums against your hair, the sound deep and quiet. “heading to the skate park later,” he murmurs. “gonna meet up with the others.” his fingers tap lightly against your hip, a slow, absent rhythm. “wanna come?”

you’ve been struggling to make friends in his sister’s absence. it’s not like you haven’t been trying. you’ve put yourself out there, made conversation, said yes to plans. but whatever you had going on with yoongi weighed enough guilt on your shoulders to sink you.

because replacing your best friend wouldn’t make you feel any better. wouldn’t fix the fact that she wasn’t here anymore and you had whatever you had going on with her brother.

but then again, if you had other friends, maybe you wouldn’t need to rely on yoongi’s presence so heavily. maybe you wouldn’t be here so much.

you were practically living with the mins at this point, rotating between yoongi’s room and his sister's, burrowing into the space she left behind like a stray cat that refused to be shooed away. as much as you loved being here, you also kind of hated it. hated feeling like a burden, like you were pushing too hard against the edges of a home that wasn’t really yours.

you’d only vanished for dinners with your own family after text after text about how they never see you anymore.

oops.

you shift, exhaling slowly, pressing your fingers into the warmth of yoongi’s hoodie. “who’s going?”

he shrugs against you. “jungkook, tae. maybe joon.”

you think about it. think about how nice it would be to get out of the house for a while. but mostly, you think about how you’re already too tangled up in yoongi’s orbit.

still, you murmur, “okay.”

yoongi doesn’t say anything right away. just tugs you in a little closer, fingers tightening at your hip, and presses another kiss to your forehead. lingering this time, sealing something in place. then, softly, “okay.”

he pulls back first, but only just. his hand stays at your waist, warm and grounding, making sure you don’t change your mind. “eat first,” he murmurs, gaze flicking toward the stove where his mom is flipping eggs. “then shower.”

you blink up at him. “are you calling me dirty?”

his lips twitch. “i’m saying you should shower.”

“sounds fake.”

he huffs, amused but unimpressed. “fine. smell like sleep and my hoodies forever. see if i care.”

you roll your eyes, finally stepping away from him, though you hate the way the absence of his touch feels so immediately wrong. still, you school your features into something appropriately annoyed as you grab a plate from the cabinet.

“can’t believe you’re bullying me first thing in the morning,” you mutter, grabbing a piece of toast.

yoongi snorts, swiping a slice of bacon off the stove before his mom can slap his hand away. “can’t believe you’re still talking.”

his mom groans. “i knew letting you two coexist was a mistake.”

you flash her a grin. “too late now.”

she just shakes her head, turning back to the stove.

yoongi bumps your hip with his before plopping down at the table, stretching his legs out obnoxiously under it. “shower,” he reminds you, mouth half-full of bacon.

you flip him off. he grins.

you roll your eyes, filling your plate with toast and bacon before sliding into the chair across from him. yoongi watches you with that lazy, knowing look, already knowing you’re going to stall as long as possible just to be a menace.

his mom sets a plate down in front of him, shaking her head. “if i hear either of you bickering before i finish my tea, i’m kicking you both out.”

“you love us,” you say, because it’s true.

she sighs, taking a sip. “unfortunately.”

yoongi snickers, stealing another piece of bacon. you don’t miss the way his mom flicks her gaze between the two of you, trying to decide if it’s worth saying anything else. but she just shakes her head again tbefore flipping open the newspaper.

you eat in comfortable silence, nudging at yoongi’s foot under the table just to be annoying. he nudges back. neither of you acknowledge it.

when you finally push your plate away, yoongi lifts a brow. “shower.”

you groan, slumping dramatically against the table. “why do you care so much?”

he chews, swallows, and says, “because you smell like my bed.”

your face heats instantly. “so?”

yoongi shrugs, reaching for his drink. “so people will think i’m obsessed with you or something.”

your heart stumbles over itself, trips and falls flat on its face.

“you are obsessed with me,” you blurt out, pointing at him. “admit it.”

he snorts, taking a sip of his juice. “nah.”

“liar.”

he just shrugs again. “go shower,” he says, pushing back from the table. “we’re leaving in twenty.”

you glare at him, but you still stand up, dragging your feet toward the hallway, making a show of how annoying this whole thing is.

right before you disappear into the bathroom, yoongi calls after you, voice laced with amusement. “don’t use my shampoo.”

you slam the door.

you knew yoongi liked to skate. it's been one of his most defining characteristics since the three of you were kids. along with his habit of being annoying and his penchant to get into trouble.

he'd showed you his collection of skateboards that day on his birthday, explaining how much he'd bought them for, showing you the designs he'd painted onto them himself, and telling you the tricks he'd done on them.

his hair had been blonde then. six months later, it’s a more minty color, faded at the roots. it suits him, you think. even if you’d never tell him that.

the walk to the skate park is quiet. comfortable. the late morning sun filters through the trees, casting warm patches of light onto the pavement, and the air still carries the crispness of early spring.

the path slopes downward, and you hesitate before saying, “i’ve been thinking about applying for an art course.”

“yeah,” yoongi says, kicking a loose rock down the path. “i heard you talking to my sister about it.”

you blink. “you eavesdropped on my call?”

he snorts. “you were in my room.”

fair point.

you nudge him with your elbow, ignoring the way your stomach twists at the idea of him remembering something so small. “so?”

he side-eyes you. “so what?”

you huff. “so, what do you think?”

yoongi rolls his shoulders like it’s obvious. “i think you should do it.”

it’s so simple. so straightforward. like there isn’t even a question in his mind about it.

you chew your lip, staring down at the pavement. “i dunno,” you mumble. “feels kind of stupid.”

yoongi stops walking. you get two more steps ahead before you realize and turn back, watching as he lifts a brow, expression flat.

“what?” you say.

his eyes flick over your face, unimpressed. “what’s stupid about it?”

you shift on your feet. “i don’t know. just... feels kind of late to be figuring out what i wanna do, i guess.”

yoongi stares at you for another long moment. then, without a word, he starts walking again. you fall into step beside him.

“you know namjoon didn’t start writing music until he was almost twenty?” he says eventually.

you frown. “that’s different.”

“not really.”

you glance at him, but he’s still looking ahead, expression unreadable.

“do it,” he says again, voice a little quieter this time. a little less teasing. “stop thinking about it and just do it.”

you exhale slowly, dragging your fingers along the strap of your bag. it’s so easy for him to say. but then again, yoongi has always done whatever he wanted, no matter how much trouble it got him into. maybe you should try it, too.

with that thought, your eyes linger on the side of yoongi’s face.

he’s always been like this. steady, sure of himself in a way that makes you envious. not in a loud, look-at-me way, but in a way that just is. like he’s figured out how to move through life without getting caught up in the little things that keep you stuck in place.

his gaze is focused ahead, brows drawn slightly, thinking about something but not saying what. the sharp line of his jaw softens when he chews at the inside of his cheek, something he does when he’s lost in thought.

you wonder what he’s thinking about. if it’s you, or if you’re just making it about you.

either way, you don’t look away.

maybe he feels your stare, or maybe he just knows, because after another few steps, he turns his head, catching your gaze like he was expecting it.

you don’t get the chance to glance away, to play it off.

his lips twitch slightly, the barest hint of amusement. “what?”

you shake your head, shrugging. “nothing.”

yoongi lifts a brow but doesn’t push. just keeps walking, hands still shoved deep into his pockets, that same small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knows something you don’t.

and maybe he does.

you're familiar with some of yoongi’s friends. not in a close way, but enough that their names and faces aren’t completely foreign.

namjoon’s the oldest of his skater friends, the one who’s always been around in some capacity, showing up at the min’s house just as much as you used to. taehyung is newer, though still familiar. he’s got one of those personalities that makes you feel like you’ve known him forever, even if you’ve only spoken a handful of times.

and then there’s jungkook.

he was a year above you in school, and if that wasn’t enough to cement him in your memory, yoongi’s sister having the fattest crush on him definitely was.

you remember the way she used to sigh dramatically about him, how she’d make you wait outside the gym after basketball practice just to happen to be there when he walked out.

it was embarrassing.

the skate park is already busy when you arrive, full of guys who look like they’ve been here since sunrise, boards tucked under their arms, half-drunk bottles of gatorade left forgotten on the ledges.

yoongi barely glances around before spotting his friends near the bowl, plopping down on a nearby bench.

“you wanna sit and watch?” he asks, looking at you expectantly.

you hesitate, toeing at a crack in the pavement. jungkook, who’s already mid-conversation with taehyung, spots you first.

“oh, shit,” he says, grin spreading. “yoongi actually brought someone?”

taehyung turns too, eyes widening slightly before recognition clicks. “oh, wait. i know you.”

jungkook’s brow furrows, scanning you again. “yeah, you were a grade below me, right?”

you nod. “yeah. and yoongi’s sister used to be obsessed with you.”

jungkook groans immediately, dragging a hand down his face. “please don’t remind me.”

yoongi snickers beside you. “it was painful to watch, man.”

taehyung laughs, draping an arm over jungkook’s shoulder. “so you do have rizz.”

jungkook shoves him off. “shut up.”

you snort, easing onto the bench next to yoongi, feeling the tension in your chest uncoil just a little. maybe this won’t be so bad.

jungkook shakes his head, still grumbling under his breath about why does everyone keep bringing that up, but the conversation moves on quickly. taehyung says something about a new trick he’s been trying to land, and jungkook immediately challenges him to prove it.

yoongi stretches out beside you, one arm draped across the back of the bench, fingers tapping idly against the wood. he doesn’t seem in a rush to get up, which means you’re not in a rush to either.

“so, you actually skate?” you ask, nodding toward where taehyung is already flipping his board into his hands, preparing for his turn.

yoongi scoffs. “do i skate?”

you lift a brow.

he exhales, sitting up straighter. “i’m not just some guy with a collection, you know.”

“i dunno,” you tease, tilting your head. “i’ve never actually seen you do anything.”

yoongi narrows his eyes. “i showed you my boards.”

“yeah, but that’s like—” you wave a hand, “—showing off a bunch of guitars and never playing one.”

yoongi clicks his tongue, shaking his head. then, without a word, he stands, rolling his shoulders as he grabs his board.

“stay here,” he murmurs before stepping toward the bowl.

taehyung and jungkook are already watching as yoongi drops in, casual as ever, carving the curve of the bowl like it’s second nature.

and okay. fine. maybe you underestimated him a little. because yoongi doesn’t just skate. he’s good.

like, really good. smooth and effortless in a way that looks instinctual. you don’t realize you’re staring until jungkook nudges your arm, smirking.

“damn,” he muses, watching yoongi flip his board before landing clean. “you got a crush or something?”

your stomach flips. “shut up.”

jungkook just laughs.

yoongi moves like he’s been doing this forever. he doesn’t hesitate before dropping in again, knees bending smoothly with the curve of the bowl, shifting his weight just right before pushing into his next trick.

your eyes stay locked on him, unable to look away as he kicks his board up into a perfect flip, landing clean, not even the slightest stumble. he’s completely in his element. focused, sharp, like nothing outside of this moment exists.

you exhale, dragging your fingers across the edge of your sleeve.

“you’re staring,” jungkook teases under his breath, leaning close.

you glare, shoving him away. “i’m watching.”

jungkook snorts, clearly unbothered. “sure. whatever helps you sleep at night.”

but you don’t take the bait. not when yoongi lands another trick, smooth and seamless, and something tightens in your chest.

because damn. you never doubted that he could skate, but you didn’t expect this. the precision. the ease. the way he moves.

taehyung whistles low, impressed. “he’s showing off.”

you blink. “what?”

taehyung nods toward yoongi, who’s gearing up for another drop-in, his hoodie pulled up over his head now, mint-colored strands falling into his eyes.

“he wasn’t doing all this last time we were here,” taehyung muses, tilting his head. “probably trying to impress someone.”

you roll your eyes, but your stomach does a weird little flip anyway.

jungkook smirks. “wonder who that could be.”

you elbow him in the ribs.

yoongi lands another clean trick, kicking his board up into his hands before finally stepping off, exhaling through his nose as he pushes his hoodie back.

his eyes scan the park once before landing on you, and—

oh. he’s smirking.

a knowing little thing, subtle but there.

your face heats instantly, and you hate the way jungkook and taehyung both make noises of confirmation at the same time.

yoongi strolls over, board tucked under one arm, sweat gathering at his hairline. he stops in front of you, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“so?” he says, tilting his head. “believe me now?”

you cross your arms, forcing your expression into something unimpressed. “eh,” you hum. “i guess you can skate.”

yoongi huffs, shaking his head like. he leans in slightly, gaze flicking over your face, voice quieter when he murmurs “you were watching pretty hard for someone who just guesses.”

"fuck off," you say with a scoff.

taehyung points a dramatic finger at you, his eyes wide with mock intensity. “my turn!” he announces, loud enough to catch the attention of a few other skaters nearby, “this is for you.”

you blink. “uh—”

before you can even ask what he means, taehyung grabs his board, squares his shoulders, and launches into what you assume is supposed to be an ollie.

except his timing is completely off. his foot misses the pop, his weight shifts too far forward, and then he’s face-planting straight into the pavement.

it happens so fast you barely have time to react. one second he’s in the air, the next he’s sprawled out on the ground, limbs tangled with his board, the dull slap of skin meeting concrete ringing through the air.

there’s a brief, stunned silence, and then jungkook wheezes. yoongi snorts so hard he has to clap a hand over his mouth, and you press your fingers to your lips, trying—and failing—to suppress your laugh.

taehyung groans, lifting his head just enough to glare at the three of you. “y’all suck.”

jungkook clutches his stomach, barely able to get words out. “bro, i can’t breathe—”

yoongi shakes his head, stepping toward you. his arm hooks around your waist, tugging you flush against his chest, your laughter cutting off with a small, surprised inhale.

his voice is lower, teasing but warm, as he murmurs, “that’s what he gets for trying to impress my girl.”

your stomach flips. the words settle heavy in your chest, something warm spreading from your ribs outward, curling into your fingers, making your breath hitch just slightly.

yoongi doesn't let go right away, his hold lingering, fingers flexing slightly at your hip like he’s perfectly comfortable keeping you there.

taehyung, still facedown on the pavement, mutters, “i hate all of you.”

yoongi hums, completely unbothered. “you’ll live.”

the skate park trip lasts another hour before the collective hunger settles in. someone suggests maccas, and there’s no argument. because really, there’s no better way to wrap up an afternoon of skating than cheap burgers and greasy fries, so you all walk.

yoongi’s close beside you, like he always is, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, shoulders relaxed. taehyung walks ahead, still rubbing at his scraped-up elbow, while jungkook pushes his board lazily along the sidewalk, rolling it forward with the tip of his shoe.

“so,” jungkook starts, voice full of something already obnoxious, “are you two, like… together or what?”

your reaction is immediate. “no,” you blurt, way too quickly, way too defensively.

yoongi huffs. it’s quiet, barely a breath, but you hear it. so does jungkook.

his brows shoot up, not expecting the level of urgency in your denial. yoongi, for his part, doesn’t say anything, but you feel the way his shoulders tense for a split second. the way his head tilts slightly, side-eyeing you.

you don’t look at him.

jungkook whistles low. “damn. that was fast.”

“right?” taehyung snickers.

your face heats. “because it’s not a thing.”

jungkook hums, unconvinced. “sure.”

taehyung nods. “yeah, totally. absolutely no thing happening here.”

you glare, shoving him as you walk past. yoongi stays quiet.

you don’t glance at him, but you feel his presence beside you, the weight of something tense hanging in the space between you. it doesn’t go away for the rest of the walk.

the mcdonald's is busy when you arrive, buzzing with the usual mix of skateboarders, students, and exhausted parents just trying to survive the afternoon rush.

the four of you shuffle into line, the overhead speaker crackling with some pop song that’s been playing on every radio station for months. jungkook and taehyung are still laughing about something behind you, but you don’t catch it. not when yoongi’s standing beside you, gaze straightforward.

you don’t know why you do it. maybe out of habit. maybe to see if he’ll react. but you nudge his arm, light, just a little bump against his sleeve.

he doesn’t move, doesn’t nudge back. doesn’t even look at you.

your stomach twists, something uncomfortably hot settling behind your ribs. yoongi doesn’t usually ignore you, at least not like this. not in a way that feels so intentional.

still, you don’t say anything.

the line moves forward. when you finally reach the counter, yoongi steps up first, rattling off his usual order without looking at the menu. and then he orders yours, too.

exactly how you like it. down to the make sure there's no pickles.

you blink, caught off guard, but before you can ask, yoongi beats you to it. “i know you don’t have money on you.”

you swallow, shifting on your feet. “oh.”

yoongi doesn’t glance at you. just hands the cashier a crumpled bill from his hoodie pocket.

“thanks,” you mumble, voice quieter than you mean it to be.

yoongi just hums. no teasing. no smug little comment. and that makes your chest ache even more.

you fidget with the hem of your sleeve, shifting closer before tilting your head up, peering up at him through your lashes. “… are you mad at me?”

yoongi exhales sharply through his nose. not annoyed, not exasperated. just something.

he tugs you against him. not rough, just a simple pull, his arm looping around your shoulder. his hoodie smells like faded detergent and cheap cigarette smoke and something unmistakably him.

“i’m not mad,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

you don’t know what to do with your hands, so you just shove them into your own pockets, fingers curling into the fabric. “… promise?”

yoongi sighs, his grip tightening slightly before his chin rests against the top of your head. “yeah,” he mutters. “promise.”

he presses a kiss to your forehead. a silent reassurance. a quiet see? i’m not mad. “don’t worry about it,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

and you nod, leaning into him.

the playground is quiet this time of day, mostly empty aside from the four of you and the occasional kid passing by with their parents.

jungkook lounges at the bottom of the slide, food balanced on his knees, absentmindedly sipping his coke. yoongi sits a little further off, at the edge of the sandpit, one leg stretched out, the other bent, balancing his burger in one hand.

you and taehyung are on the swings, feet planted in the sand, your bags resting on your laps. the metal creaks slightly as taehyung shifts, twisting just enough to face you, an amused glint in his eyes.

“yours any good?” he asks, nodding toward your milkshake.

you hum, taking another sip. “mm-hmm.”

he leans in, offering his cup, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “wanna try mine?”

you blink at him. “it’s the same flavor.”

he pauses, then laughs, shaking his head. “yeah, but maybe mine tastes better.”

you frown, taking his drink anyway, sipping through the straw before handing it back. “nope. exactly the same.”

taehyung snorts. “right. obviously.”

you don’t catch the way he watches you for a second longer than necessary, or the way yoongi’s gaze flicks over from where he’s sitting.

your fries are nearly gone when tragedy strikes. you shift a little too much, and what’s left of them topples straight into the sand.

you let out a groan, staring down at them in dismay.

taehyung doesn’t hesitate, nudging his own toward you. “here,” he says, tone light, almost teasing. “you can have some of mine. since i’m so generous.”

you smile, grabbing a handful. “thanks, taehyungie. you’re my favorite.”

taehyung blinks, not expecting that response, then recovers quickly, smirk returning. “oh, am i?”

you nod, popping a fry into your mouth. “mm-hmm.”

“better not let yoongi hear that,” he muses, leaning closer, voice dipping just a little lower. “he might get jealous.”

you glance over at yoongi, who hasn’t reacted at all. still sitting there, picking at the wrapper of his burger, expression unreadable. then you shrug, completely missing the way taehyung’s eyes narrow in amusement.

“he’ll live,” you say, reaching for another fry.

taehyung watches you for a moment, absently sipping his milkshake, before tilting his head. "so, you and yoongi," he starts, casual. too casual. "really not a thing?"

you pause. it’s a split-second hesitation, but it's there, and taehyung doesn’t miss it.

you glance over at yoongi before you can stop yourself, like your body reacts before your brain can catch up. he’s still sitting on the edge of the sandpit, half-focused on peeling the wrapper off his burger, but his jaw is tight, his fingers a little too still.

you swallow, forcing yourself to look back at taehyung.

"no," you say, a little slower this time. "we're not."

taehyung hums, he’s turning it over in his mind.

"so, hypothetically," he muses, stretching out his legs in the sand, "if someone, say, me, wanted to take you out—"

you blink.

"—you wouldn't be off limits or anything, right?"

your lips part slightly, confusion flickering across your face before you shake your head. "uh… no?"

taehyung grins, dragging a fry through his ketchup before popping it into his mouth. "good to know."

you don’t even have time to process that before he shifts again, leaning slightly into your space, his voice dipping just enough to make your ears warm.

he nods toward yoongi, then toward himself, smirking. "technically, you’re with me right now."

you scoff, rolling your eyes. "you wish, taehyung."

"oh, i do," he says smoothly, sipping his milkshake like it's nothing.

you shake your head, tossing a fry at him, and he catches it without missing a beat.

from the edge of the sandpit, yoongi exhales sharply through his nose.

the conversation drifts after that, slipping into something lighter. taehyung teasing jungkook about his tragic attempt at a kickflip earlier, jungkook firing back with a dig about taehyung eating dirt at the skate park.

you listen, half-engaged, but the weight of something still sits in your chest.

yoongi hasn’t said much. hasn’t looked at you much, either.

he finished eating a while ago, now idly toying with the straw in his drink, long fingers tapping a slow, absent rhythm against the plastic cup.

then, after a moment, “we should go.” his voice is even, casual, but something about it makes you straighten a little too quickly.

“yeah,” you say, standing, dusting sand off your jeans. “sounds good.”

taehyung flashes a grin, tilting his head up at you from his swing. “what, leaving me already?”

you roll your eyes. “yeh, i’m done with you losers.”

jungkook snickers from his spot at the slide, but doesn’t comment.

you move to fall in step beside yoongi like you always do, but when you do, he kind of shrugs past you. not harsh, not in an outright dismissive way, but pointed enough that you feel it.

your feet hesitate for a split second before moving again, catching up despite the slight hitch in your chest.

yoongi doesn’t look at you. doesn’t say anything else.

just walks, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, gaze fixed ahead like there’s nothing to talk about. but you feel it. something in the space between you feels different. feels off.

and you don’t know what to do about it.

the walk home is quiet.

it’s not an awkward silence, not exactly, but it’s not the usual kind either. not the comfortable kind that’s filled with shared looks and nudges and stupid little comments that don’t really mean anything but still feel like something.

this silence is… something else. something heavier.

yoongi walks ahead, hands still shoved into his hoodie pockets, his pace easy, unbothered. you trail behind him, dragging your feet just enough to make yourself feel pathetic.

you don’t want to feel like this. don’t want to care that he’s keeping just a little too much distance between you, or that he hasn’t looked at you once since you left the playground, or that your stomach still twists a little too tightly when you think about the way he brushed past you.

but you do care. you care a lot.

you bite the inside of your cheek, arms crossed as you stare down at the pavement, forcing yourself to keep moving, to pretend like this doesn’t feel like some kind of punishment for something you don’t even understand.

when you finally reach his house, yoongi steps inside first, toeing off his shoes without a word before heading toward his room.

you hesitate at the entrance, shifting your weight between your feet.

technically, you don’t live here. technically, you could just turn around and go home. but you don’t. you never do.

so, with a quiet sigh, you step inside, closing the door behind you.

you linger by the entryway for a second longer than necessary, watching yoongi’s back as he disappears down the hall. he doesn’t look back, doesn’t wait for you.

so you swallow hard, shoulders curling inward, and follow after him anyway.

by the time you make it up to his room, yoongi’s already in the bathroom. the door isn’t closed all the way. just slightly ajar, steam from the sink curling into the dimly lit hallway. you hesitate for a second, fingers grazing the edge of your sleeve, before stepping inside.

he doesn’t acknowledge you at first.

just stands there, leaning over the sink, brushing his teeth with slow, methodical strokes, his hoodie peeled off and discarded somewhere on the floor. his hair is slightly damp at the ends, probably from splashing his face, mint-colored strands curling just slightly.

you grab your own toothbrush from the cup beside the faucet, running it under the water before squeezing out too much toothpaste. yoongi doesn’t glance at you, so you don’t glance at him either.

the silence is thick.

your shoulders brush as you move, barely, a light little thing that normally wouldn’t mean anything. except tonight, it does. tonight, you notice.

tonight, it feels like yoongi not nudging you back in the maccas line. it feels like yoongi shrugging past you instead of waiting.

you stare at your reflection in the mirror, at the way your brows are slightly furrowed, the way your mouth presses into a thin line as you scrub your teeth a little too hard.

this isn’t normal. normally, this is easy.

normally, you’d be bumping into each other, making faces in the mirror, shoving at his arm when he spits toothpaste too aggressively into the sink.

but tonight, he just brushes his teeth, and you do the same, and neither of you say a word.

when you finish brushing, you hesitate. just for a second.

toothbrush still in hand, you glance at yoongi out of the corner of your eye, watching as he rinses his mouth, spits, and swipes his hand across his face. he doesn’t look at you, just flicks off the faucet with a sharp movement and reaches for his towel.

your stomach feels tight. you should say something, but you don’t.

instead, you put your toothbrush back in the cup and turn toward his room, stepping past him without a word.

but before you can take another step, yoongi grabs you by the shoulders. his touch isn’t rough, but it’s firm. fingers pressing into the fabric of your shirt, stopping you cold.

your breath catches, pulse stumbling.

“what do you want from me?”

his voice is low, but there’s something frayed at the edges. something not entirely calm.

you blink, caught completely off guard. “what?”

yoongi exhales sharply through his nose, hands tightening slightly.

“what do you want from me?” he repeats, slower this time.

your heart pounds against your ribs. his face is so close, eyes dark, searching, his jaw clenched like he’s trying to keep his voice even.

“because i—” he swallows hard, fingers flexing against your arms. “i want you. wholly. completely.”

your breath stutters. his grip doesn’t loosen.

“there’s no one else in the world i want more,” he says, voice rough. “but i need to know if i’m wasting my time.”

your throat goes dry, your mind races. the air is thick between you, heavy with something you don’t know how to name, something you don’t know if you can handle.

yoongi’s eyes flick over your face, searching for something, for anything. and you don’t know what to say.

you swallow hard.

yoongi’s fingers twitch against your shoulders, breath warm where it ghosts across your face. he’s so close, too close, looking at you like he’s begging for something—an answer, a reaction, anything.

“what do you see when you look at me?” he asks, voice low, rough around the edges.

your throat feels tight. “yoongi—”

“because when i look at you,” he continues, cutting you off, “i see the girl i kissed in the kitchen on my birthday. the girl i’ve been sharing a bed with for the past six months.”

the words settle heavy in your chest, pressing down, down, down.

“the girl i’m—” he exhales sharply, jaw clenching for a beat before forcing the words out. “the girl i’m hopelessly in love with.”

your breath stutters. his eyes flick over your face, searching, desperate.

he’s shaking now, just slightly. just enough that you feel it, just enough that you know this is costing him something.

“so tell me,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, like he’s scared of what comes next, “what do you see?”

he’s laid himself bare. no more room to dodge, no more room to pretend. it’s your turn.

but your mind is racing, spiraling too fast, trying to catch up.

before you can think, before you can second-guess, before you can talk yourself out of it, you kiss him.

it crashes into him, hands fisting into the fabric of his t-shirt, fingers curling tight like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.

yoongi freezes. just for a second, just long enough for you to think you’ve fucked up, but then he moves. his hands slide from your shoulders to your waist, gripping, pulling, needing, mouth pressing firm against yours, breath hot and uneven as he exhales into the kiss.

it’s messy and urgent. six months’ worth of unsaid things spilling out all at once.

yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between frustration and relief, like he’s wanted this for so long he can’t believe it’s finally happening.

and you don’t know why you ever tried to fight it.

yoongi’s hands are firm at your waist, fingers pressing into your sides, his body heat sinking into yours. he lifts you, hands gripping beneath your thighs, shifting you up until you’re perched on the bathroom counter, your knees falling open around him as he steps between them, slotting himself exactly where he belongs.

you gasp against his lips, hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself, but yoongi just smirks, a slow, teasing thing as he exhales sharply through his nose.

his fingers squeeze at your waist, holding you in place, keeping you trapped against him.

then, voice low, amused, “deja vu?”

your breath catches, stomach flipping. because fuck.

the birthday. the kitchen.

his hands on your thighs, his body between your legs, the first time you let him kiss you like this.

your mouth parts slightly, but nothing comes out. you don’t know what to say, don’t know how to respond to the way he’s looking at you. your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, gripping tight.

yoongi’s smirk softens just a little, but his eyes stay locked on yours, sharp and knowing. “got an excuse to stop this time?” he murmurs, tilting his head.

you shake your head. “no.”

yoongi hums, pleased, his fingers flexing against your skin. “good,” he murmurs, before pulling you into him, mouth crashing back against yours.

yoongi kisses you like he’s starving for it, like he’s been holding back for months, fingers digging into your waist as he tugs you impossibly closer.

his hands move without hesitation. skimming up your sides, brushing beneath your shirt, teasing at the waistband of your shorts, testing how far you’ll let him go.

when you don’t stop him, when you only tighten your grip on his shirt, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, he exhales sharply against your lips.

“yeah?” he murmurs, voice rough, barely holding back.

you nod, breathless. “yeah.”

that’s all he needs.

his hand slips past the elastic of your shorts, fingers pushing beneath the waistband of your underwear, pressing right there, just enough to make your stomach tighten, heat pooling deep in your core.

you gasp against his mouth, back arching slightly.

yoongi smirks, lips brushing against yours as he rubs slow, deliberate circles over your clit, teasing, barely enough pressure to satisfy.

“you’re already wet,” he murmurs, voice laced with something dark and pleased.

you bite your lip, hips shifting toward his hand, but he just hums, keeping the pace agonizingly slow.

“you like this?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know.

his fingers press down a little harder, circling just right, and you make a quiet, desperate noise. yoongi groans at that, his other hand gripping your thigh, keeping you open for him, his mouth brushing against your jaw.

“thought about this,” he mutters, lips ghosting over your skin, “so many times.”

his fingers move faster now, pressing, rubbing, teasing you to the edge, the heat between your legs burning beneath his touch.

“yoongi—” your voice breaks, head tipping back against the mirror.

his lips press against your throat, his breath heavy. he strokes over your clit again, pressing tight little circles that make your stomach twist, make your thighs tense around his waist, make your breath stutter out in sharp, quiet gasps.

yoongi groans against your skin, low and throaty, his mouth brushing along the curve of your jaw. he slides his fingers lower, pushing your underwear aside and teasing at your entrance, dragging them through your slick before pushing in.

a sharp inhale rips through you, your nails digging into his shoulders, his shirt fisting in your hands.

yoongi groans again, deep this time, his fingers sinking into your cunt nice and slow, stretching you open.

“fuck,” he mutters, mouth pressing against the corner of your lips, his breath hot.

his fingers curl, stroke, press into that soft, sensitive spot inside you, and your whole body tenses, a soft whimper slipping from your throat before you can stop it.

yoongi feels it, feels the way you tighten around his fingers, the way your hips jerk toward him, and groans, his forehead pressing to yours.

“yeah? you like that?” he murmurs, voice dark, rough.

you nod, breathless. “y-yeah.”

he exhales sharply, and his fingers keep moving. slow at first, dragging in and out, teasing you open, before pressing deeper, his thumb slipping up to rub your clit in slow, lazy circles. your thighs tremble around him.

“you always this wet, baby?” yoongi rasps, eyes flicking to yours, heavy-lidded, heated.

you don’t get the chance to answer, because then he’s crooking his fingers, pressing right fucking there, and all you can do is gasp, head falling back against the mirror with a quiet, breathless moan.

yoongi watches you. watches the way your body reacts to him, watches the way your lips part, the way your hands clutch at him, your whole body responding to him like you were made for his touch.

his breath shudders out.

“you’re gonna let me fuck you, aren’t you?” he murmurs, pressing his fingers deeper, harder, coaxing another whimper from your lips. his own brush against yours, not quite a kiss, almost. “tell me,” he breathes. “tell me you want it.”

your whole body reacts before your brain even catches up, hips rolling instinctively into yoongi’s hand, chasing the pleasure he’s pulling from you.

“i—” your breath shudders, voice barely above a whisper. “i want it.”

yoongi curses under his breath, his forehead pressing to yours for half a second before he drives his fingers into you again, pressing hard, and you squeal, the sound high-pitched and desperate. before it can fully escape, yoongi’s hand is covering your mouth, his fingers pressing against your cheek, his own breath coming out shaky.

“fuck,” he groans, voice thick with something dark.

his fingers don’t slow. they move fast and rough, pumping into you, curling deep, his thumb rubbing messy, urgent circles over your clit, dragging you closer and closer to the edge until your whole body is trembling, tightening around him, begging for it.

yoongi groans again, his hand still over your lips, muffling every soft, broken noise spilling from your throat.

“be quiet,” he breathes, voice strained, like he’s losing himself in the way you react to him, the way you feel around his fingers.

you can’t be quiet. not when he’s touching you like this, not when he’s looking at you like this. eyes heavy, jaw clenched, breathing ragged as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

you whimper into his palm, your hands clutching at his wrist, your whole body tightening as pleasure crashes through you, sending a sharp, blinding wave of heat down your spine.

yoongi groans, watching the way you come undone around his fingers, feeling the way you squeeze down, hips stuttering against his hand.

he doesn’t move his hand from your mouth until the tremors in your thighs start to fade. when he does, he presses his forehead against yours, exhaling sharply, his fingers slipping out of you just as slowly as they slid in.

“we’re not done,” he says, voice low, utterly wrecked.

his breath is still heavy, his forehead pressed to yours, hands sliding back down to your hips, gripping. yoongi grinds against you, his hips rolling forward just enough that you feel him. feel how hard he is through his jeans, the way he presses right up against you.

your breath stutters, fingers tightening in his shirt, and yoongi groans, voice rough, barely holding himself together. “fuck, doll.”

your stomach flips. the name isn’t new. he’s thrown it around before, teasing, casual, just part of the way he speaks. but this is different.

his lips brush over your cheek, jaw, down to your throat, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses between his words. “you feel that?” he murmurs, voice thick, almost shaky.

you nod, swallowing hard, and yoongi hums, dragging his mouth back up to your ear.

“this is what you do to me,” he breathes.

he grinds again. harder this time, pushing against you, making you feel him. letting you know exactly what you’ve done to him, exactly how much he wants you.

his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt, grazing the bare skin of your waist, warm and possessive, gripping like he’s making sure you don’t slip away.

“gonna make you feel so good, doll,” he murmurs, kissing just beneath your ear, smirking against your skin when he feels you shudder.

his hips roll forward again, pressing just right, sending a spark of heat straight through you, and a soft whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it.

yoongi groans at that, his grip tightening. “yeah?” he murmurs, teasing. “like that?”

you nod frantically, breathless.

yoongi smirks, lips grazing yours. “good,” he mutters.

then he kisses you hard, hands gripping your thighs, pulling you even closer as his hips roll into yours again, again, again.

your fingers move down fumble against the waistband of his jeans, your breathing uneven, hands barely able to keep up with the urgency buzzing through your veins.

yoongi feels it. feels your desperation, your need, the way your hands shake slightly as you try to pop the button.

he smirks. "impatient, huh?" his voice is low, teasing, lips brushing over yours as he exhales, the warmth of it sending a shiver straight down your spine.

"take these off," you whimper softly, frustrated, fingers tugging uselessly at the fabric, and yoongi chuckles.

“here, doll,” he murmurs, his own hands coming down to cover yours, moving with an effortless ease, his fingers brushing against yours as he pops the button open, then drags the zipper down, slow and deliberate.

he holds your gaze the entire time, watching the way your eyes flicker, the way your chest rises and falls too fast, too eager.

"there we go," he murmurs, voice thick with something almost fond.

his hands shift, moving to the waistband of your shorts now, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, grazing warm over your skin.

“lift your hips for me,” he mutters.

you do, without question, and yoongi chuckles at that, his lips curling just slightly, pleased, before he drags your shorts down, letting them drop to the floor.

his gaze dips, his fingers skimming over your bare thighs, and he hums, voice deep, teasing. "much better."

your breath is ragged, your body thrumming with anticipation, but somewhere in the back of your mind you manage to think just clearly enough to gasp out, “wait—do you have a condom?”

yoongi huffs, lips brushing against your jaw as he mutters, “yeah, yeah. hang on.”

then, before you can say anything else, he pulls away, stepping back with a sharp exhale, raking a hand through his messy, mint-tinted hair.

you watch as he disappears into his room, the absence of his warmth making you ache, leaving you cold in a way that has nothing to do with the air against your bare skin.

you hear the faint slide of a drawer opening, the sound of something shifting inside. then the drawer shuts, footsteps padding back toward the bathroom.

yoongi steps inside again, his gaze flicking over you. still perched on the counter, thighs spread, lips parted, chest rising and falling fast.

his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. then, without breaking eye contact, he lifts the foil packet to his mouth and tears it open with his teeth.

your stomach flips.

his eyes are dark, focused, his breath steady as he pulls the condom free. “gonna be good for me, doll?” he murmurs, voice thick, nearly a growl.

you nod, too breathless to speak, and yoongi smirks.

then he steps between your legs again, his hands warm and possessive at your waist, his mouth ghosting over yours as he mutters “good girl.”

yoongi doesn’t rush, doesn’t fumble.

his fingers move smoothly, easily, like he’s done this a million times before, even as his chest is rising a little too fast, his muscles tense beneath his skin.

he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, tugging them down in one slow, fluid motion, along with his boxers, just far enough to free himself, and your breath catches. he’s hard, aching and heavy, flushed at the tip, standing thick against his stomach.

yoongi exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders back, and then he’s sliding the condom over his cock, his fingers sure and steady, his gaze flicking up to yours through heavy-lidded eyes.

“you watching me, doll?”

your cheeks burn. “no....”

yoongi smirks, the corner of his lips curling, completely unbothered by your blatant lie. “sure you aren’t.”

his voice is amused, teasing, but there’s something darker beneath it. something satisfied at the way your thighs shift, the way your breath hitches when his fingers tighten at your waist.

the condom rolls into place, snug around the base, and yoongi gives himself a slow stroke, groaning under his breath before stepping closer, slotting himself between your legs once more.

his hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider, pulling you to the edge of the counter. his length presses against you, hot, throbbing right against your cunt, and you gasp, hands flying to his shoulders.

yoongi chuckes, but there’s something wrecked in his eyes now, barely holding it together. “still want this?” he murmurs, voice rough, hands squeezing at your skin.

your fingers curl into his shoulders. “yes,” you breathe.

yoongi groans, low and deep in his chest. “good,” he mutters. then he aligns himself and pushes in.

the stretch is intense. your breath stutters, nails digging into his skin as he pushes in slow but insistent, filling you inch by inch.

"fuck," yoongi groans through clenched teeth, his head dropping against your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.

you whimper, your walls clenching down around him, trying to adjust to the sheer size of him, the way he’s stretching you open, making space inside you that wasn’t there before.

"tight—" yoongi grits out, his hands squeezing your hips, forcing himself to take it slow. his arms tremble slightly as he holds himself still, his chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths. "so fucking tight, doll," he murmurs, voice strained, lips brushing against the curve of your neck.

you moan softly, head pressing against the side of his. yoongi shudders against you, his fingers twitching where they grip your thighs, his body tense like he’s barely holding on.

"shit," he exhales, his voice wrecked, his forehead still pressed to your shoulder, breath heavy.

you’re both completely still, bodies locked together, hearts pounding in sync. yoongi grits his teeth, exhaling hard through his nose. then, his lips brush against your ear, voice barely more than a breath. "tell me when, doll."

your fingers tighten in yoongi’s shirt, legs trembling around his waist, your whole body thrumming with need, stretched tight around him but craving more, needing him to move.

you tilt your head back against the mirror, breath coming out in quick, shallow gasps.

"please," you whisper, voice wrecked, barely able to get the word out.

yoongi groans, deep in his chest, his hands tightening at your hips. "yeah?" he rasps, his voice low and gravelly. before you can even nod he snaps his hips forward.

the force of it knocks the breath from your lungs, sends a sharp, blinding spark of pleasure through your spine. yoongi curses under his breath, pushes in deeper before pulling back and slamming into you again and again, fast and hard.

every thrust sharp, his grip bruising, his breath hot against your neck as he groans against your skin, completely losing himself in the way you squeeze around him, the way you take him so perfectly.

"fuck, doll," he grits out, voice shaking, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounds into you. "so fucking good."

your hands scramble for purchase, gripping at his shoulders, his hair, his arms, anything to ground yourself as he drives into you, his pace unrelenting.

"wanted this," he groans, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. "wanted you for so fucking long."

your breath hitches, your body tightening around him in response, and yoongi feels it.

"shit," he groans, slamming into you harder, faster, deeper. "say it," he demands, his forehead pressing to yours, his breath ragged. "tell me you wanted this too."

your breath stutters, pleasure coiling so tight in your stomach it’s almost painful.

"i—" your voice breaks, another moan slipping free as he fucks in deep, his cock kissing that sweet spot, his pace just a little too much, just enough to make your thighs shake.

yoongi smirks against your lips. "c’mon, doll."

you clutch at his shoulders, nails scraping down his back, legs tightening around his waist as you finally choke out, "i wanted this."

his body shudders against you, a sharp exhale leaving his lips, his rhythm faltering just slightly before he picks it up again, faster, harder, driving into you like he’s trying to make up for all the months of waiting, of wanting, of not having.

"good girl," he breathes, his hand sliding up your back, pulling you closer and pressing his forehead to yours, his lips hovering just over yours, his breath hot and uneven. "so fucking good for me."

your stomach flips, heat rolling through you like a tidal wave, and you don’t know how much longer you can hold on. yoongi feels it. feels the way your body tenses, the way your legs shake, the way your walls clamp down tight around him.

"you gonna cum for me, doll?" he murmurs, voice dark, teasing, but there’s something almost soft under it, something needy, something that says he wants this just as much as you do.

you nod, breathless, your body already so close. yoongi groans, his pace punishing, his hands holding you exactly where he wants you.

"then be good," he rasps, voice breaking. "cum for me."

your head tilts back, mouth falling open as a sharp, broken moan escapes your lips, and yoongi reacts on instinct. his hand slaps over your mouth again, muffling the sound, his palm hot against your skin.

"shhh, doll," he groans, his forehead dropping against yours, his own breath coming in ragged, uneven pants. "you gotta be quiet."

his words barely register over the sheer pleasure that slams through you, waves of heat rolling through your body as you gush around him. your whole body shakes, thighs trembling, walls fluttering around his cock, the pressure between your legs snapping so hard you see white.

yoongi grits his teeth, his pace stuttering, his hand still firm over your mouth as he groans deep in his chest. "fuck, baby," he rasps, his voice low, wrecked, almost pleading.

his hips don’t relent, driving into you through the aftershocks, his pace growing more erratic, more desperate, chasing his own high as you pulse around him, your body still milking him for everything he has.

"so fucking tight," he mutters, his lips brushing over your damp skin, his breath hot, ragged. "tou're gonna milk me dry, doll. gonna cum so fucking hard—"

his words send another sharp, overwhelming wave of heat through your already-sensitive body, another muffled whimper slipping past your lips against his palm.

yoongi groans, his movements turning sloppy, his body tensing. and then, with a sharp, wrecked moan, he breaks.

yoongi slams into you one last time, his whole body tensing, a deep, wrecked groan spilling from his lips as he cums, hips jerking against yours, fingers digging into your skin. his breath is shaky, uneven, his forehead pressing against yours, his body trembling slightly as he rides out his high.

his hand is still covering your mouth, his palm warm against your flushed skin, muffling the soft, breathless whimpers still slipping past your lips.

it takes a second. a long, heavy moment where the only sounds in the bathroom are your mingled breathing, the faint hum of the overhead light, the distant creak of the house settling.

and then yoongi exhales hard, his body relaxing against yours, his grip loosening as he finally lets his hand drop from your mouth.

your lips are swollen, your chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths, your whole body still reeling from the intensity of it all.

yoongi leans in, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of your mouth. so gentle, so tender, reminding you that even after everything, he’s still him. "you okay, doll?"

his fingers brush over your cheek, his touch light and his gaze flicking over your face, checking. making sure you’re here, with him. making sure he didn’t just wreck you beyond repair.

you swallow hard, blinking up at him, your fingers still gripping the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid to let go. "yeah," you whisper, voice hoarse, spent. "i’m okay."

yoongi hums, his lips twitching just slightly, a hint of something soft beneath the haze of pleasure still clouding his gaze. "good," he murmurs. "‘cause that was—" he exhales sharply, a small, breathy chuckle slipping past his lips, shaking his head like he can’t even find the words.

you laugh, quiet, breathless, your forehead tipping against his. "yeah," you murmur. "it was."

neither of you move right away. neither of you want to.

right now, it’s just you and him, breathing in the same air, existing in the same space, his hands still on your waist, your legs still wrapped around him, his lips still close enough that all it would take is the smallest movement to kiss him again.

and you want to. but before you can, yoongi snickers, shaking his head as he pulls back just enough to look at you, an amused smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

"well," he mutters, voice teasing, "guess we gotta shower now."

you groan, tilting your head back with an exhausted sigh, "can't we relax a bit first?"

but he just grins, leaning in to press another lazy, lingering kiss to your jaw. "c’mon, doll," he hums against your skin, lips curving as his hands squeeze at your hips.

"round two?"

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[aerina127]

Satoru Gojo isn't sure how he ended up in this situation. He's sitting on the couch in your apartament with you straddling his lap. His hands are gripping the soft flesh of your hips, while he desperately tries to avoid your gaze. But you wrap your arms around his neck and lean in closer. You start placing feather-like kisses on his neck which causes his breath to catch in his throat. Your lips slowly drive a path up to his ear.

"Satoru... What are we?"

You whisper the question right into his ear and he can feel his palms getting sweaty. He swallows, flexing his hands. What are they? He dreaded a question like that. He doesn't want to put a label on your relationship. It's comfortable as it is. You're everything he needs. You're always there for him where he needs you. You listen to him, you offer comfort, you understand when he needs to be alone, you devote your time to him. You're his friend.

You make him feel human.

In a way you're similar to him. Satoru knows it's wrong to think that. You're different. And as much as he misses his smile, his voice, his touch, his lips- He also knows he isn't coming back. Even if he beat himself up for it, even if he swore he would never love anyone - he has fallen for you.

He has fallen in love with the way your eyes sparkle when you're excited. With the way you laugh at his lame jokes. With the way that you say his name. With the way that you lean against him when you're tired. With the way that you trust him enough to cry around him. With the way that you smile, with the way that you smell, with the way your hands or lips feel on his bare skin...

God, he really can't lead you on longer, can he?

He takes a shaky breath and forces himself to lean back and look into your eyes.

"It's selfish to want for myself."

His words are quiet, unsure. You frown and tilt your head. He's scared that you'll just leave. He wouldn't blame you if you did.

"Then be selfish for once." Your hot breath once again carreses his sensitive neck. Your hand tangles into his hair. "Because I'm already yours. And I want as much of you as I can get. Isn't it selfish too?"

He's quiet, contemplating. He watches you, as you lean back again, waiting for his answer. How could he say no to those gorgeous eyes?

Satoru Gojo decides that it's okay to be selfish for once.

[run2ikeu]

confessions to make ; lee heeseung

college student!hee x college student!reader

word count : 2k

synopsis: you and heeseung are aware of the tension that lies between the two of you, it’s just a matter of acting on it. although it’s unspoken, you should know better than to let people touch what’s his.

authors note: hiii guys this is like my first fic in YEARS .. i haven’t written anything in so long so please be kind to me heh. this is also my first enha centered fic so yayyy. feedback is appreciated !

warnings!: smut (mdni), basically no plot, mild aftercare, jake sim mention (he’s too fine not to be a warning)

There’s something different about the way he looks at you. You’ve seen Heeseung interact with your shared friends, classmates and even strangers on the street. That's just who he is; a socialite. There’s something different about him with you, though

You thought you were imagining all of it at first. The lingering touches, whispers and secrets shared as you hangout with your friends, and the burning sensation of his eyes on you. ‘He’s like this with everyone’ you tell yourself, but you don’t know if that’s true. Your movements are always so calculated under his gaze, you liked knowing that he was watching. You were drawn to him, and he seemed to be drawn to you.

It was like he had an unspoken ownership over you. Watching you, stopping guys from getting too close. He knew what they wanted, because he wanted it too. Never going further than a hand on your thigh or a label more than ‘close friends’, you weren’t sure how he really felt about you.

You begin to let your thoughts drift, imagining those same eyes staring at you as you’re laying below him while he-

“Y/nnnnnnnnnn” Loud as ever, Jungwon snaps you out of your daydream. An exaggerated sigh of your name leaving his lips.

“Y/n, Are you even listening to me?” he sighs, “I’m sorry Won, I’m just thinking about this uh- presentation I have to do?” your face begins to heat up. You’re lying, and not very well at that.

“I’m not stupid y/n. You’re thinking about Heeseung, aren’t you?” he smiles at you, tilting his head. Jungwon is the only person who knows about your weird relationship with Heeseung, and he continues to tease you about it. Making you question why you told him about it in the first place.

“Wh- uh No?” you avoid eye contact. Your eyes drift to the rows of bookshelves, pretending to be interested in the genre sections to avoid embarrassment.

“You’re an awful liar,” he laughs, “Anyway, as I was saying before you tuned me out, there’s a party tonight. Sunoo and I were thinking of going, do you wanna come?” He begins packing up his books. He looks up at you expectantly, “Jake Sim is hosting, you know him right?”

You sigh, you hate parties. “I- I don’t know Won. I don’t really do well at parties and Jake and I aren’t really friends so I feel like it’d be kind of-”

“Heeseung will be there.” He cuts you off suddenly.

You stop, “So what time are you picking me up?” Jungwon smiles.

Immediately after your arrival, Jungwon and Sunoo left you to join a game of beer pong, leaving you in the living room by yourself. That’s when you saw him- saw them. Heeseung and some girl, they’re dancing. She has her arms around his neck and has his arms around her waist. Suddenly you feel stupid for how much time you spent getting ready and you realize how sober you are.

That’s how you ended up here, pushed up against the counter of Jake Sims' kitchen.

Jake’s sweet, he really is, but you just need a distraction. Although you spent hours getting ready with Heeseung in mind, you’re realizing how absolutely breathtaking Jake is up close.

“Fuck, you look so good tonight. Don’t think I can handle it,” Jake rasps, his breath warm on your neck and reeking of alcohol. The music is blaring in your ears and you feel your heart begin to beat faster.

“Don’t think you can handle me?” you whisper in his ear, a rush of confidence taking over.

Jake chuckles, he begins kissing a trail from your collarbone to your earlobe. He licks the shell of your ear, his breathing heavy and hot. He moves his lips to your jaw, sucking and kissing you as he begins to grind into you.

That’s when you feel it. You open your eyes, nearly against your own will, and you see him. The burning sensation of his eyes on you suddenly washing away your confidence. He looks angry. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are different. The admiration that’s normally directed your way is replaced by repulsion.

You suddenly push Jake off of you. Feeling overwhelmed, you rush upstairs in search of a bathroom.

“Y-Y/n I- fuck. Where are you going?!” He attempts to follow, but you’re gone before he knows it.

You need to breathe. The heat is consuming you and suddenly the clothes on your body are heavy. You stare in the mirror, “What the fuck just happened?”, you whisper.

The doorknob begins to shake. You open it and attempt to exit, “Sorry, you can-” suddenly you’re being pushed back in and you're moved to sit on the counter.

It’s Heeseung.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he’s pissed. “I’m not there and suddenly you’re basically fucking Jake in front of everyone?”. His stare is piercing, awaiting your response.

“I- I wasn’t fucking anyone. And what are you? My dad?” you scoff, rolling your eyes and looking away from him, “plus it's not like we’re dating or anything Heeseung, you don’t own me. And I.. I saw you with that girl so just f-fuck off” Your mind is cloudy and you feel anxious under his gaze.

Immediately he grabs your jaw, seeing a mark left by Jake. ‘Disgusting’, he thinks. “What? We were just dancing. Bold of you to be upset with me when Jake Sim was grinding on you for the world to see.” he moves to whisper in your ear, “I don’t like people touching what's mine. You’re mine, Y/n.” He pulls back, looking in your eyes for a moment. Before you can respond, he smashes his lips onto yours and you melt into the kiss.

The softness of it contrasts his rough grip on your jaw. His hand moves to the back of your head and the other moves to your chest. He stops and pulls back, “Do you want this? Do want me, Y/n?” You nod immediately, but that isn’t enough for him.

“Say it, say you want me to fuck you right here.” He moves both his hands to your waist and you panic, “I-I want you to fuck me, Heeseung.. Please” your face heats up even more, if that was possible. You feel small under his gaze. He smiles and pulls you into another kiss. You moan into it and he trails his hands down to your shorts, unbuttoning them and lifting you up a bit to pull them down harshly.

His hand cups your heat, feeling how wet you are. He breaks the kiss, “This for me, or did Jake get you this wet?” his breathing is heavy and he moves to bite your neck.

You whimper, “You- all you Heeseung, fuck, please.” You feel him smile on your neck, “Please what, baby? Use your words.”

“Touch me, please seung. Don’t be mean.” You attempt to grind into his hand and he smiles at your neediness.

“Whatever my girl wants, she gets” he says proudly, moving back and pulling your panties down.

He uses two fingers to spread your pussy open and his free hand to push your legs apart, admiring the wetness. He plunges a finger in, the stretch feeling almost foreign. You moan loudly, inspiring him to add a second. Immediately, his pace is relentless. His fingers are long, reaching places you’ve never explored. He moves his thumb to rub your clit and he continues his assault on your neck.

“Want you covered in my marks only. You’re only mine.” You breathlessly nod, you feel a tightening sensation in your core. Your moans get louder and he can tell you’re close.

Then suddenly, he stills his fingers and pulls his head back to stare at you.

You feel tears forming and your whole body burns again, “S-seung, why did you stop, please?” You whimper, attempting to grind your hips closer to his fingers that are now hovering over your core.

“Say you’re mine right now or I’ll leave you here like this. I’ll go fuck that bitch I was dancing with, I’m sure she knows how to listen.” His eyes are cold and he’s fighting back a smirk.

“I’m y-yours seung, please, I’ve always been yours,” you’re breathing heavily and whimpering in between your words, the sight is almost pathetic. At your words, he shoves his fingers back inside your dripping heat and your moans echo off the walls of the small bathroom. “Don’t want Jake, just you Hee- fuck- just y- you” Heeseung smirks and quickens his pace.

“That’s right, this pussys mine too, isn’t it?” You begin nodding aggressively, the heat in your lower belly is rising.

You’ve never seen Heeseung so jealous and possessive before, the sight turns you on even more.

He moves to kiss you again. It’s sloppy and a clashing of teeth and tongue, your mind is running wild and you feel the band in your stomach about to snap. “Close Heeseung, so close, please” The words come out rushed, in fear he might stop again.

He continues fingering you and uses his other hand to make quick work of his belt and jeans. “Hold it for me baby, want you to come on my cock,” He pulls down his boxers and you look down, ‘hes huge’ you think to yourself. You begin to wonder how it's supposed to fit.

He smirks at you knowingly, “It’ll fit, sweetheart. I’ll make it fit.” He takes his fingers out of you and uses the wetness from your core to lubricate his aching cock. “Fuck”, he moans, jerking himself off in preparation for your pussy.

He rubs the tip on your clit and you shudder. He moves his tip to your hole and begins pushing it in slowly, the stretch of his fingers were nothing compared to his cock. “Fuck, how’re you still so fucking tight?” he moans, pushing himself all the way in.

You feel your climax approaching almost instantly, your body feeling sensitive. You cling onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself and he pulls you closer, kissing your neck and finding a sensitive spot behind your ear.

“I-I’m gonna cum Hee, please I’m- Oh fuck” your head falls back and you feel yourself let go.

“Yeah that's right,” his thrusts become harder, the sound of slapping and your squelching pussy drowning out the sound of the music. “Let go baby, fuck, you feel so good” He fucks you through it and brings his thumb down to rub your clit. You come down from your high and your body is beyond sensitive, “Too much seung,” you whimper. Your head falls to rest on his chest.

“Just a little more baby, be good for me.” His thrusts are slow but hard, making your sensitive body jolt. He finally releases, pulling out to cum on your thigh.

He kisses your head, his breathing heavy and laboured. He pulls his jeans up and moves away to opens the top drawer, finding a face cloth. He turns on the sink to get it wet and he moves to clean you up. It’s silent, but it’s comfortable. He kneels on the floor, spreading your thighs slowly to clean the remnants of the events. It feels as if you’ve done this with him a million times.

He finally speaks up, “I’m sorry if i was too rough,” He looks up, looking at the marks he left on your neck. He feels a sense of pride, but he does feel a bit guilty. “I’ll be more gentle next time, and next time won’t be in Jake Sims' bathroom. I promise” you smile as he finishes wiping you off.

“Next time?” you look down at him, your smile widening.

“What? Did you think I was joking when I said you were mine?” he scoffs, almost offended.

He moves you off the counter and helps retrieve your panties and shorts. “Well, are you gonna ask me out on a date?” you button your shorts, avoiding his eyes.

He stands and lifts up your chin to look at him. “Y/n, will you please let me take you on a date?” he smiles, bringing both his hands to your waist.

“Of course,” you bring your hands to cup his face and kiss him slowly.

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

[cage-of-atonement]

Do things for your system offline.

Being a system affects life more than just online. (contrary to endo beliefs) While having some amazing resources online to help organize and track things, there are a million reasons to have your physical life have resources set up as well.

you'll never know if an alter might not even know what a phone is yet, and gods forbid if for some reason a new alter is alone without help. Trust me, we had a new alter try to just up and leave our fiance on a vacation. We have also had alters who definitely needed a picture guide on how to use the system discord lol.

Here are some ideas we do to help ensure our system is safe, but also helps alters feel more grounded and present with themselves!

Fronting Kandii bracelets, it can really help when you can't use your phone for switches, but also good for systems with significant barriers between alters and memory, so you can see who was here last!

a physical notebook labeled in bold for "if confused/lost read this" and inside keep important information; (what is a system, what the body name is, what your job is, and how to open and use a phone just in case, and also what to do to contact a gatekeeper or what to do if they can't, such as how to call out of work or avoid the family/friends asking what's wrong.)

another notebook might be helpful for alters to have fun decorating an 'about page' but also having your system journal individually as alters is REALLY IMPORTANT TO HAVE IN CASE YOU WANT TO TALK TO A DOCTOR ABOUT GETTING DIAGNOSED. It can really help the doctor see a track of things. We started our first journal in 2017, even outside of doctors, it's good for a physical medium for alters to express in.

these next ones are focused on alters having their own space and grounding in the real world!

having a small box or basket or something like that to keep their favorite or 'personal' items. our system likes having our own individual space and items, and for us it helps not only keep the peace, but also help us ground when we have our own things like clothes, comforts, snacks on hand, personal notebooks, etc.

remember kids, if your system is affecting you irl, when no one is looking then you are not faking! no sys doubting here pookies <3

[muli-wam]

Regency-era!Nanami who grew up in an extremely wealthy family, which in turn gifted him a fairly large amount of money as an inheritance after his father died.

Regency-era!Nanami who since being an only child, never had anyone to else to entertain him but himself, therefore developing a keen interest in exotic teas and flavored breads that the cook always prepared for him.

Regency-era!Nanami who finds himself in the bustling market of your small countryside town looking for a particular tea blend that's rumored to be the best in the region.

Regency-era!Nanami who avoids prying gazes of common folk wondering what such a stoic and wealthy man is doing in such a tiny village. In all honesty, Nanami was really here for tea, but also for his best friend who seemed to have a liking toward a certain lady he met at a ball recently.

He couldnt help but agree to travel the distance from his comfortable home since he would be getting tea out of it. Oh, not to mention the wild garlic that grows abundantly in your region, which is rumored to taste excellent when baked in bread.

Regency-era!Nanami who approaches a fruit stall adorned with colorful labels and price signs above the various fruits.

The sweet aroma of melons, berries, apples and a variety of different fruit fill his senses, and for a second, Nanami allows himself to drown in the heavenly scent before getting back to his original mission.

He needed directions on where to find his beloved tea, but just as he's about to ask, one of the apples you were inspecting rolls off the counter.

Quick to act, you dive to catch it, only to collide (ever so gracefully) with Nanami's arm as he too reaches for the same apple, believing he is helping.

Regency-era!Nanami who freezes, slightly flustered from the contact of both of your hands touching over the apple.

Regency-era!Nanami who's intrigued by your incessant apologies and sincerity. Your modest appearance captivated him, and he felt an unfamiliar sense of want toward your presence.

Regency-era!Nanami steps back, leaving you space while silently nodding along to your apologies—you haven't even taken the time to look at him yet, still scrambling to pick up runaway apples and shoving them into your basket.

Regency-era!Nanami who has an unexpected spark in his usually reserved expression. With slightly widened eyes Nanami studies your features when you finally look up at him.

The soft curve of your jaw, the way your eyebrows furrow in concern while you're internally cursing at yourself for being so clumsy. You were captivating, to say the least, and your mere presence seemed to make Nanami's words stuck in his throat.

Regency-era!Nanami who dismisses your apologies, insisting you're of no inconvenience to him. He raises a quizzical brow, questioning to himself as to why you're beating yourself up so much over this.

Regency-era!Nanami who comes up with a pathetic excuse when you ask him what a man like him was doing in your tiny village. He doesn't know why he didn't just say he needed directions and that he was visiting for a friend. No, instead he said he was here solely for apples.

So, to further prove his point, Nanami bought exactly one pound of apples. He doesnt even like apples.

But they reminded him of you.

What was this feeling? Nanami pondered this to himself for a brief second. Was it the longing for friendship? Yes, he had Haibara but he could be a bit much at times. Was it merely a small crush? Or God forbid...love?

Regency-era!Nanami didn't believe in love at first sight. He saw it in plays he attended, he read it in–barely tolerable–romantic novels, and had to endure his younger cousin gush about how positively in love she was with the officers that frequently passed through his hometown.

You were different though. You made Nanami's stomach feel ill, not in a bad way though. It was a pleasant yet uncomfortable feeling that he couldnt quite shake.

You were like a ray of sunshine in his dull life surrounded by money hungry people. You were the only tolerable thing to him, aside from his young cousin, Nobara.

Regency-era!Nanami who watches as you walk way while clutching your "rescued apples", a feeling of warmth you couldn't understand washes through you.

Regency-era!Nanami who longs to see you again, tea forgotten as he embarks on another mission: finding you.

Regency-era!Nanami who finds himself in God's favor when he spots you again, under less chaotic circumstances, talking with someone at a ball.

Regency-era!Nanami who finds himself and Haibara approaching you and your family. Nanami playfully scoffs when he sees a drop of sweat roll down Haibara's forehead. Nanami concluded that the girl he's been lovestruck about was your sister.

You and Nanami introduce yourselves (again), this time more calmer. Nanami seemed to be in a trance from you honeyed voice and the way you carried yourself. How effortlessly beautiful you were, and the way the glow of the ballroom lights casted the perfect shadows on your face, making you look like an angel.

At that moment Regency-era!Nanami considered that maybe, just maybe, he really is in love with you.

-

A/n: I've been obsessed with Pride and Prejudice recently and I thought nanami would fit so well as Mr. Darcy 😭 Nanami is so versatile I swear. Also I wrote this entire thing in a british accent 💀

[kristina100000]

ok so, the lait virginal mexican tuberose from buly. i have been wearing this for a couple of days ever since i picked it up, just dousing my neck and wrists in it like crazy after the gym and waiting for it to settle on for me.. before anything, i was biting my hand over how familiar this smelled to me until i remembered my mojave ghost sample from a while ago (i thought i’d never had anything with tuberose, but i was mistaken). it reallyyy reminded me of smoky shea butter and a big, lit-up vanilla candle when i first opened the bottle but it quickly became much more vanilla oriented, its true form. the smokiness definitely comes from the clove. i do wish it were more aromatic cos i looove kitchen/cupboard vanilla, like charred vanilla beans, grated nutmeg, toasted cinnamon... the potency of nutmeg or burnt cinnamon would've made this so much more poignant and preponderant, or even star anise to make the vanilla more liquorish, but i think that would be an overkill for the tuberose, possibly.

the tuberose on the other hand... there is a lot of wistful nostalgia around it. i so badly want to experience floral worship but this feels like a misguided pursuit; running after something that is clearly not there or chasing after something/someone in the dark but i feel like this is very in theme for tuberose as the flower blooms only at night (i was reading about this the other day, and in hindi it's known as "raat ki rani" which translates to "queen of the night". it is also known as "omixōchitl" in nahuatl, which from my findings translates to "bone flower" because the flower is so white. it is also associated with xōchiquetzal, a goddess of fertility in aztec mythology).

at times it does come through, almost crawling its way out of the musk and smoke. that one person who did not want to come to the night club with their friends and is being pushed around by sweaty and heavily perfumed people filling the space with 100+ different scents loool BUT when it does come through it's very delicate and jasmine-like (likely due to the jasmine lactone found in tuberose, this could also explain the creaminess). it is there, it's just not as present when it's applied to my skin but otherwise i can smell it. really wish it was more amplified simply because i love how different smells meld with your body chemistry.

i feel like this could be so much easier to wear during cold days, but it's been a breezy spring here so i think it fits just fine. even though lately i have been trying to avoid labelling any smell as either seasonal or out of season and i mean it is body milk/lotion after all so whatever. the projection is minimal due to the lack of oils, they do have a dry oil with the same breakdown (vanilla, tuberose, clove and musk). it wasn't available and still sadly isn't, so i went with this instead and i like it a lot. this is a new experience for me for sure and honestly i have a completely different perspective on lotions now, or rather the various approaches to them.

[justpeaxchy]

hi !so I love your hiccup x reader work, and I love the way you write . I was wondering if you could write one where the reader is a bit unsure /insecure when Hiccup confesses his feelings towards her . When you are not so busy, of course!

thank you ❤️

'I'll Be Yours In A Landslide.'

A/n: Hii! Thank you SOO much 🥹🫶🏼! I loved doing this one because, y'know ✨feelings✨ are so interesting to write. Also, I am also SO sorry this took a long time for me to publish! Been a little busy lately and experienced a bit of a writer's slump, but I'm coming back around!

Warnings: angst time!! Brief argument and descriptions of a (sort of?) panic attack [struggle to breathe, overwhelming emotions and such] (Also, denial, if that's one..)

Hiccup x !Fem! Reader

How could someone like him possibly return your feelings? No, it was impossible...right?

It took a while to accept it, to accept the faint flutter of your heart whenever his name was mentioned. Soon enough, that abstruse feeling wasn't so recondite anymore; you understood what it was.

You almost immediately scolded yourself for such a thing, for allowing yourself to fall in such a predicament. How could you? You were only a friend, one that didn't deserve the title of anything more than that.

And you were okay with it.

You told yourself to be okay with the fact that he would end up with someone else by his side, to watch as he fell in love with another, while still remaining as a close friend. That's how it was supposed to be. That's what you'd been planning inside of your wretched, fragile heart. For the longest time, it was a defensive wall you had built up against those feelings that were already locked inside that very same barrier, unbeknownst to you.

You tried, you really did.

You tried to fight against the continuous way in which your heart pined after him, even when he would simply talk on the recent ideas he had in mind. It was always in the simplest of things that seemed to catch your attention; he could be working on his map and you'd be enthralled to be there alongside him and merely observe him as he did so.

You were realizing it was starting to become a lot harder to contain these feelings to yourself.

It began to show when he eventually asked you if you were alright, having noticed your gloomy mood for the past couple of days, and you didn't know how to respond.

So, instead, you fled off to someplace else, avoiding the confrontation. Truthfully, it shouldn't have been labeled as such in your mind, but what were you to do when suddenly asked about your emotional well-being on a subject he could know nothing about? Run, obviously.

As always, though, he caught up to you. This time, however, it was much to your dismay.

"Hiccup, can't you just leave me alone for a couple of minutes? I already told you, I'm fine."

The Chief's son dismounted Toothless, watching you with tentative green eyes as he held out one of his hands, as if you were a dragon of some sorts. "No, I can't believe that when you've been acting like this for the past week. Will you please tell me--"

"No, I can't! You don't have to know everything I'm going through, Hiccup! End of story." You stomped off, desperately trying to make the sound of his footsteps mingled in alongside his prosthetic to fade away as he hurriedly walked after you.

Abruptly stopping in your tracks, you turned to face him, throwing out your arms in exasperation. "Will you quit following me!?"

"No, I don't think so." He firmly stated, standing in front of you as he tightly clenched his jaw. "You can't expect me to act as though everything's all fine and dandy when we both know you aren't." Softening his tone, he reached out for your hand, "Please, what's wrong..?"

You shook your head and stepped back, forcing yourself not to break in his presence. "I can't tell you. It'd be a waste of time."

Hiccup winced slightly at your claim, understanding you probably didn't want him to get closer. "You..can't tell me? Why is that?" He observed you from the short amount of distance put between you both, a remorseful tug snatching the reigns of his heart as you took another step away.

"See, you're doing it again.." Your voice came out as a grumble, dry with resentment like he did something wrong. It simultaneously stung the both of you, not that you would say it, of course.

"What? What am I doing..?" He muttered, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of everything that occurred so far.

You raised both of your hands towards him, gesturing at him in a manner that would've made him appear to be the one at fault. "You don't even know what you're doing..! Thor, Hiccup, you just—"

Your quiet groan interrupted your jumbled flow of words, rubbing your forehead in distress. This was not what you wanted. "Just go. You don't need to concern yourself with everything in my life. You're not my dad."

That comment, however, looked as though it sparked something in him that showed he didn't enjoy hearing the comparison you placed up on him. Hiccup nodded rigidly, glancing off elsewhere as he kept his tone low. "Right. I get that. But, apparently, a friend can't worry about you?"

Your stern gaze met his, hands balling into fists at your sides. "If it becomes too much, yeah." You waited, his reaction not what you were originally expecting. He partly sighed, keeping his demeanour together for both of your sakes.

"This isn't going to get any better if you keep these things to yourself. Let me help you." He subtly stepped forward, carefully observing your face for any signs on what else you may be feeling. He'd been with you enough to assign what emotion might be bothering you, something he took pride in since he was the only one who could do so.

Your eyes frantically scanned your surroundings, searching for an excuse in distraught. You needed to get away from him. Fast. "Hiccup, it's late. Just go home, you won't have to worry about me anymore." At least that in itself was true; the sun had already began to set, tinting the sky in mixing colors of orange and pink, obliquely telling you the day was near its end.

For once, when it came to the two of you, that didn't seem to matter to him.

"I can see that, but I'm not going to leave because of it." He became closer, cautiously examining as you appeared to give up for an instant.

"Why can't you leave..?" Your voice was fragile, earnestly trying to keep itself together as it shook underneath the weight of your emotions, crying out for relief from the overwhelming pressure of containing what you sincerely felt. It was torture. And he wasn't making it any better.

Hiccup gazed at you in complete solicitude, emerald eyes softened over in a gentleness that couldn't be found anywhere else – according to your standards. "You know why.." At last, he was in front of you again, carefully reaching for your hand as you weakly shook your head.

"No, I don't." You lifted your focus back onto his face, on the edge of tears as you faltered: "Why won't you leave? I need to understand now, Hiccup."

He appeared to hesitate, his expression vaguely showing the internal debate he had within himself about something – as if deciding to carry out an action he wasn't entirely brave enough to do. "..I've been unsure of whether or not I should've told you this sooner, but..." Pausing, he made it a point to keep the tenuous eye contact between you both, his words coated in a mellowness that quickly brought your guard down. "I can't let you do this to yourself again. I won't..sit back and watch it all happen... Not this time."

The future Chief delicately grasped your hand in his, enfolding them together in what could've only be described as an affectionate touch. "I can't stand by and see you suffer without anyone to be there for you." He exhaled, breath slightly trembling as he did so. "I can't let you go on like this when...when I love you too much to leave you alone in this condition."

Your whole body froze, everything around you becoming disoriented as breathing was now suddenly a struggle. "Wait...what?" You managed to mutter, your words barely escaping your lips as you felt as if the trees were closing in on you. Was your vision becoming hazy? Was it blurry from the inundation of tears that strained to pour out? Your heart pounded, feet making a quivering step back as you stared at him, shocked.

He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be.

No, it had to have been a joke to enlighten your mood, perhaps help you feel comforted, but that certainly wasn't happening to you. Hiccup was caring towards the ones around him, you already seized onto that knowledge when you both started to develop your friendship, but he shouldn't have chosen to be this kind in the moment when you were nearly about to break over the very thing he said.

"Now isn't the time, Hiccup... I get that you're trying to be nice and all, but—"

"It's so much more than me trying to be nice." His brows furrowed, worry evident on his face as he kept himself by your side, hand still holding your shuddering one. "I meant what I said."

Your breath came as a short, rigid wheeze, hopelessly attempting to deny his confession. "No, no, no. You can't be serious. Please, don't do this to me..!" Looking at the ground, you didn't register him standing exiguous inches from you, his other hand slowly reaching up. "If you want to help me, then stop joking! I-I can't—"

And then, Hiccup met your cheek with the palm of his hand, caressing your skin as though you were glass on the brink of shattering. He quietly spoke your name to bring you back to the present before continuing, "Hey, hey, hey...just breathe for me, okay? I'm not joking in any way...and I'm not leaving you, I'm here with you..and that's where I plan to stay."

He steadily inhaled, beckoning for you to copy his actions until it was followed by an exhale. You mirrored what he did, to the best of your abilities, the ringing in your ears not yet coming to a full halt. Thankfully, your lungs grabbed a hold of the air you needed, attention locked onto the tranquil hues of his eyes – the thing that constantly brought you solace.

After a few minutes of gathering yourself together, you came to terms with how short of a distance there was in-between you both, causing a dim pigmentation of scarlet to fill your complexion. "Hiccup, I—" You sighed, glancing away. "You can't be serious... You're so much better than I am, a-and you, you are such a great person, while I'm just...me."

Silence lingered in the air, leaving you to assume he probably agreed and had his senses revived to regret ever saying anything to you. That is, until he moved his hand underneath your chin, lifting it in a feather-like motion, allowing him to completely view your face. "That's exactly why. I love you because you're...you. The real you. And I wouldn't change one thing about you if it were up to me.."

Your eyes finally found relief as they poured out the gust of tears you'd been suppressing, sniffling as you tried to keep your posture. When Hiccup pulled you in for a warm embrace, you didn't resist him. You didn't resist his soothing words while he comfortingly rubbed your back. You didn't resist the need to cry,

And you didn't resist the love you buried deep inside of your heart for him.

"I love you too."

And then, the ringing in your ears diminished.

-------------

[cvnntagious]

♱ ⋮ 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐲!𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⸝⸝

all my fratboy!chris blurbs, fics, and wips : here

fuckboy!matt ver. here

⇢ SFW

✱ fratboy!chris who, of course, met you at a party his fraternity threw and instantly decided you were comin' up to his room at some point, even if it wasn't gonna happen that night

" y'look good "

" me? "

" yeah, you— wa's y'name? "

✱ fratboy!chris who's known all too well by girls at boston university, though, despite contrary belief, he doesn't actually entertain most of them... guess you got lucky?

✱ fratboy!chris who's BU's resident dealer, known by every fiend on campus and more

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't fuck with relationship labels whatsoever

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't mess with anyone else, and doesn't want you to either, even though you guys aren't really 'dating'

✱ fratboy!chris who has no problem letting everyone know you're his with pride

✱ fratboy!chris who would rather focus on his lacrosse career than "some shitty college romances", or at least that's how he explains it to you

" and why are you telling me this? "

" jus' thought y'should know... i'on want you gettin' any funny ideas about what we got goin' on here "

✱ fratboy!chris who avoids any conversations about the future, or anything that requires him to even think about committing

✱ fratboy!chris who constantly needs you with him, whether he's just lounging around, at practice/games, or out making moves. ironic, isn't it?

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't call you anything but mama, not even ma, no matter the occasion

" y'see how crazy you're bein' right now? mama, m'jus sittin' here, see? can't stand when y'do allat whinin' shit "

" don't call me mama right now, chris, i'm done with all your fake nonchalant ass games "

✱ fratboy!chris who, even with being admired for his outgoing and charming personality, has such a rotten temper, especially when things don't go his way

✱ fratboy!chris who always says what's on his mind - to you, his friends, random people, anyone - even if it's completely unnecessary

✱ fratboy!chris who absolutely relishes in the respect he has from not only his peers, but the staff as well. humble's simply not a word in his world

⇢ NSFW

✱ fratboy!chris who's big and knows how to use it

✱ fratboy!chris who favors doggy, but can also get down with some rough missionary

" nah, s'okay mama... we'll switch it up tonight, don't worry "

✱ fratboy!chris who likes giving, but loves receiving. the image of your lips wrapped around his length is what helps him to sleep at night

✱ fratboy!chris who's a huge hair puller and thigh slapper (as well as occasional cheek squeezer)

✱ fratboy!chris who will take any opportunity he possibly can to either roll up or puff his joints while you use him

✱ fratboy!chris who makes sure to leave marks. usually where only you two can see, but if he feels like a guy's paying too much attention to you, he'll mark you on your neck or something for him to see

" chris, it's so obvious. how am i even gonna cover this up? "

" don't cover it. i'd like to see m'try an' get in your pants again when he sees allat "

" he literally asked for the material in our class..? "

✱ fratboy!chris who's almost always down for trying something new, but isn't usually one to suggest it

✱ fratboy!chris who loves when you praise him, even if it's unintentional. simple things like "so big," or "so good," really get him going

" yeah, s'good? y'wan more of that good shit? "

✱ fratboy!chris who, to no surprise, is horrible at aftercare.

a/n : i fear this took a lot longer than i thought it would to make... but i'll be making at least one of these for each of my au's since a) i'm unmotivated/don't have time to actually write, and b) want to develop the characters (and some of their pairings) further

-love, grandma cvnty ☆!

[movingthisblogcelestialtarot11]

Synastry indicating obsession

Hi friends! Today we’re looking closely at synastry indicating obsession or infatuation with someone. Not necessarily only romantic! Please like reblog & comment to boost this blog 💕

Venus 1h— Infatuation with how the Venus person carries themselves. You want to know how they style themselves, how it looks like it’s made for them—the clothes they wear, hair, makeup, etc. they have what you want which makes you even more attracted to them. This can also turn into idolization for the Venus person. In your eyes the Venus person is talented—skilled and charming. Its as if the Venus person has no flaws. This can easily turn into self comparison with the Venus person which is unhealthy.

Moon 8h— First it feels fated. It feels as if ya’ll have known each other for a long time. Deep innate curiosity to learn more about each other, yet there is so much that remains hidden. Disillusionment within each other is common here, both people may not know who they really are and self sabotage comes up in the connection to be healed. This type of synastry is deep and reignited past pain and trauma. Old attachment styles come up—making it harder to leave the moon person. The moon person can shut off emotionally from the house person, leaving the house person craving more connection. Lack of boundaries—the house person may not leave until there is significant emotional hurt. The connection also struggles with being hidden or people cant know about it. An aspect will always remain hidden. Emotions or not wanting to put a label on the connection.

Saturn conj. Venus— Hot take—I know a lot of people see this as a marriage indicator. And maybe it is, I won’t deny that fact. From my observation, I’ve had this synastry twice and did not necessarily lead to marriage, just lessons to be learned. Usually the Venus persons old attachment style gets triggered. They feel alone and unfulfilled in themselves, not necessarily because of the saturn person. But their inner child is wounded & so they look to the saturn person for stability, strength and protection. Codependent behaviors can be enabled because the venus person does not know how to create internal balance. Father wounds come out in this type of synastry the most. Saturn person can also shut off emotionally from the venus person and be avoidant towards intimacy—feeling afraid to be “vulnerable.”

Venus-pluto— The venus person feels instantly attracted to the pluto person. Or vice versa—both people are affected. Chemistry, sexual tension. Yet underneath hides pain and trauma—which controls the two in the connection unless both heal from it. Very possible both carry pain regarding toxic masculinity & toxic femininity. But still feel drawn to each other because it replays their past—which the two got too comfortable with. It became easy to settle with what they knew than to find actual safety. Lots of transformation, personal power can result from this. Usually this connections ends in shambles, disgust, or never talking ever again. Usually the pluto person ends up hurting venus person—cheating, spreading rumors, jealousy, etc. so much more! Its as if they both cannot get enough of each other yet its “forbidden,” or “taboo” to be in the connection. There is an aspect that the connection has to remain hidden—until it becomes revealed.

Jupiter 8h, Jupiter 1h, and Jupiter 4h- Controversial, but Jupiter can indicate our indulgence. If Jupiter sits in these places especially the 4h its likely the house person will automatically crave a bond and connection with this person. While its sweet—this can turn sideways. The house person becomes comfortable in their old ways and habits, because the Jupiter person can enable their codependency. An indulgence of self victimization—learned helplessness. Jupiter 4h makes house person crave a family they didn’t have, so they cling to the fantasy of it all. Dismissing red flags from the Jupiter person. Jupiter 8h makes the house person want to be consumed by the idea of unveiling the Jupiter person. Wants to know all their secrets, and analyze everything of them. Too much to the point of neglecting themselves. If the Jupiter person leaves—house person will adopt their traits and such. Its a way of holding onto what they wish they had internally—they project their desires onto the Jupiter person.

Planets in the 12h— Immediate attraction & curiosity. The connection can feel fated, or meant to be. The two experience intense highs and lows in the connection because of the lessons. Almost always its a lesson of boundaries and saying no. Usually in these connections, there is a lack of commitment or unavailability—yet the house person craves the moon person for that “deep connection.” The house person feels understood in ways they never had before, so they cling hard to what they receive, even if its unhealthy. Periods of no contact—avoidance, shutting down emotionally is common. Usually the strength of the connection is also tested by people around them or external factors. Gossip, rumours are spread to distort both perceptions of each other in the connection. Eventually one person realizes someone is not being who they say they are—and leave.

Sun 1h— House person is drawn to the way sun person carries themselves. Idolized them, places them on a pedestal. Gives the sun person the privilege of being seen as “more,” even though we are all equal. The house person can strive to be as unique and talented as the sun person & can overdo it. Easy for the house person to compare themselves especially if they are struggling in an area where the sun person is great at. This has potential to become an amazing connection, however.

Mars—The house person can feel isolated or lonely simply because the mars person can come across aggressive. Yet the mars person is captivating, exuberant, and full of life to the house person despite the toxicity. There could be misogyny, sexism, manipulation tactics here. Lots of sexual undertones as well—since it represents action. The house person feels “alive” with the mars person because of their energy, and finds themselves being pulled in very fast. Instant attraction vibes. The two can play a game of “playing hard to get,” which makes it more thrilling—yet there was no commitment to stay in the connection at first. The house person is enamored and hooked onto the charisma of the mars person—willing to toss away their boundaries. The mars person can reenact a lot of toxic behaviors the house person experienced, finding themselves all over in the same position. Lots of competition between the two, to be better or higher than the other. But both are constantly on each other’s mind—which is where the obsession starts.

Thanks so much for reading ya’ll! Highly appreciated it. Hoping to hear y’all’s perspective kindly—I love listening! I love these flower pics. Ima use it again sometime lol.

Extra

Paid Readings 🤍

[sfznyxio]

-ˋˏ FLOW ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. with your auto workshop at risk of closing down, your best friend kira ryosuke offers to introduce you to people who are definitely in need of your high quality services: underground street racers of blue lock, whose obsessions are winning the races. however, your arrival at the track makes them think otherwise. 

CHARACTERS. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, barou shouei, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, yukimiya kenyu, otoya eita, karasu tabito, shidou ryusei, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

CONTENT. f!reader. street racer au. fluff. 1.3k wc. rewrite of flow at my old main blog @/verxsyon. reader is labeled as “kira (ryosuke’s) girl” because they are always seen together. possessive behavior (barou). mentions of violence (shidou & rin).

VERA. what’s better than egoist soccer players? egoist street racers. you know what could be better than egoist street racers? the reonagi divorce arc in hd— oops, lmao. you know what could be better than the reonagi divorce arc in hd? season 2 premiere this week and sae has more screen time! i also bought a reo figure in his high school soccer uniform to celebrate, and it was the last one too. lucky!

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ISAGI YOICHI

the heart. quickly becomes popular for his freshness to the arena. isagi is a good friend of kira, so there’s one more person you can trust. while in his care as kira meets up with his team, he gives you a tour of blue lock to keep you entertained. sweet and kind, he fetches you water and asks if you feel alright because the racers have been ogling at you since you arrived. interrupted by an uproar caused by a racer who is standing on his car with paint all over his body, isagi is beyond irritated.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. BACHIRA MEGURU

the monster. obsessed with spray paint and loves decorating his car with it. bachira is terrible at being an artist. playful and cheerful outside, he holds amateur art performances for the crowd before races to get them pumped up. his gaze makes isagi flinch when he is told by the latter to quiet down. you can still hear the warning of staying close to someone you trust. he emits a dangerous aura, a strong first impression. bachira feels the same when he’s up at your face, studying you intensely.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. CHIGIRI HYOMA

the surge. the fastest racer in blue lock, securing victories at the speed of light. as chigiri approaches bachira to scold him for scaring newcomers, his beauty is so unreal that you don’t even realize you’ve been staring at him. he apologizes for his friend’s antics, justifying that he acts like this before a highly anticipated race. unfortunately, chigiri is not in this one due to a leg injury but luckily has someone helping him to stay in shape: an orange-haired racer waiting at the garage in his car.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

the hero. kunigami has the highest endurance in blue lock, outlasting all racers in long-distance races. he acts like an older brother as he is very protective and solves issues in a civil manner, balancing out his friends’ hot-blooded personalities. kira trusts him enough to take you home as your best friend has matters to take care of. you thank kunigami for the ride and being nice to you. embarrassed, he says he’ll see you at the race and nothing else before zooming away.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. BAROU SHOUEI

the king. barou is the racer that kira complains about for as long as you can remember. he’s selfish and arrogant based on what you gathered so far from kira, claiming that the venue is his throne and the next race is his for the taking. his attitude fits your expectations; you already dislike him upon the first encounter. barou has the audacity to “claim” you as his prize when he wins this race. you’ll definitely follow kira’s advice to avoid him for sure when you see this guy again.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. MIKAGE REO

the heir. reo considers kira to be one of the best in the arena, besides his best friend, nagi, of course. a master of negotiations due to his status as the future chairman of a corporation, he hopes you will find his terms reasonable and collaborate with him as a business partner. but what he doesn’t expect is you playing hard to get. a pretty rich boy does deserve wild goose chase, making his pursuit exhilarating just like races at blue lock. nagi thinks that what he is doing is a waste of time.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. NAGI SEISHIRO

the genius. most people are happy with their achievements, but nagi does not care less as they’re essentially reo’s efforts. all he cares about are his video games and his cactus until you arrive to the arena with kira. all of a sudden, he attempts to impress you; “attempts” being the keyword. yet reo does the work once again by introducing him to you as his precious treasure and brags that you will see nagi’s full potential at the upcoming race. nagi doesn’t find you to be a bother, so he hopes to see you again. 

𝄞༉‧₊˚. YUKIMIYA KENYU

the model. his charm is the focal point of his character, which drives the audience nuts. curious by nature, yukimiya wonders about the qualities you possess other than being “kira ryosuke’s girl” and how you manage to get the likes of barou, who treats everyone like trash, and nagi, who thinks of only going home, at your whim. seeing you teach nagi about car anatomy allows him to introduce himself. he believes that there is something special about you, but a friend of his thinks so otherwise.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. OTOYA EITA

the ninja. otoya claims to be not like his fellow racers and prefers to stay in the shadows. he doesn’t see you as an angel sent by god in the form of a mechanic to fix their cars, not understanding why everyone is smitten by you. he isn’t interested in interacting with you at first, however, that is proven wrong when yukimiya makes you laugh at a silly joke. it’s rude to make you feel unwelcome, so he decides to give you a chance. a crow- like racer mocks him for thinking he doesn’t find you attractive one bit.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KARASU TABITO

the assassin. all about good vibes and good times, karasu does not want anyone to act “mediocre” around you. many newcomers are notorious for never setting foot in this place after their first round. he is relieved to hear that you came at your own volition thanks to kira. majority of racers you met so far are nice to you, so he doesn’t need to worry about making an impromptu spiel of why blue lock is great. if you think he’s too friendly for your taste, what about the guy stalking you right now.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. SHIDOU RYUSEI

the joker. unrestrained both in words and action, shidou goes about his day and does everything as he pleases. judging by how yukimiya, otoya, and karasu are quick to shield you, he’s bad news. the altercation grabs kunigami’s attention, who he has massive beef with. being “kira’s girl” doesn’t phase him, nor your best friend going after his head for being near you. one of his rivals isn’t amused by the ongoing circus act, as if he didn’t break his nose in the previous race.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ITOSHI RIN

the puppeteer. rin has a score to settle with his older brother, sae, who is betting on shidou for the next race. physical violence is a usual solution to settle arguments, and it’s worse for rin to be involved in another fight with shidou, especially before a race that determines his fate and prove to his brother that he’s the best of the best. he doesn’t spare a glance at you or ask if you’re alright, as sae walks into the garage to check out the commotion.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ITOSHI SAE

the prodigy. sae is one of the top eleven racers at the underground. you now know that he is betting on shidou for the upcoming race. rin does not seem pleased. even if it’s not obvious at face value, everyone can tell that there’s bad blood between the brothers by the intense atmosphere created from their staring contest. sae looks at you then at his brother, who he scoffs at for his lack of concern for you. for a girl to experience this in the first week, he’ll stop by your shop as reparation after the race.

[annlyticalarchive]

PROLOGUE: The Start of the Worst Day Ever

”You will be different, sometimes you’ll feel like an outcast, but you’ll never be alone”

Mark Grayson X Kryptonian/Clark Kent! Reader

Prologue (Here) | Chapter One

w/c: 1.9k

a/n: First proper fanfiction, so fingers crossed. Reader is heavily based on the My Adventure version of Clark/Superman, as I planned for this story to just be very lighthearted, it is very much tonally similar to MAWS.

Also: very much inspired to post this bcs of @batsovergotham and all of her amazing works-

Today could not get any worse.

You clocked in like usual. Nothing new. Totally accidentally avoiding your actual duties as an intern and skimming the news for anything remotely interesting to check out in the field.

Then your boss, the Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Planet, called you in. Not that that was unusual, either. Unfortunately, your closest friend at the Daily Planet seemed to have selective hearing and only tend to catch the parts that might get you all in trouble. Not her fault those were always the most interesting leads to chase for a story, she would alway say.

No, what made today the worst was that you got sent to the morgue.

Not an actual morgue full of dead bodies, you didn’t have the stomach for that. You got sent to the newspaper morgue. Endless rows of flimsy filing cabinets lined the walls, most taller than you, with boxes of film reels haphazardly stacked on top. Almost every daily edition, interesting clippings, all theoretically, filed away in its proper drawer, in its proper cabinet.

Or so you were told.

In reality, the morgue was a disaster. Faded labels. Years jumbled out of order. Some folders completely bare of any identification. Your job today? Organize it.

Which is exactly what you’d been doing. Since six o’clock this morning. Well, five fifty, actually. Like your Pa always said: if you’re not early, you’re late.

You were perched on a scarily flimsy plastic chair, an absurdly overstuffed manila file balanced in your hands. It held a whole month’s worth of papers from 1989.

The days were completely out of order, and you were doing your best to piece them together while making sure nothing disintegrated in your fingers. Because even though every one of these had already been scanned and archived digitally, Perry insisted on keeping the physical copies.

“Simpler this way,” he would say. “More reliable.”

So, with your headphones snug over your ears, you got to work. At least you didn’t get dragged into interviewing some B-list celebrity or photographing some college football practice like your friends had.

Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was the creeping sense of boredom. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t seen him in months, but you didn’t notice him sneaking up on you until it was too late.

A hand on your shoulder. A voice in your ear.

“So this is the morgue, huh?”

“Jesus—!” you yelped, jolting so hard that the stool beneath you cracked with protest due to you gripping it. However, if not for your instinctive grip on the seat, you might’ve shot straight into the ceiling.

Whipping around in the chair, you were met with a very welcome sight.

“Mark! Hey!” A grin split your face. You wrapped your arms around yourself, half to contain your excitement, half because you didn’t quite know what to do. “You’re back! And here! Why are you here?”

“You not happy to see me?” Mark asked easily as he straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest, as he smiled down at where you remained seating. That smile of his, the one with the dimples, spread across his face.

“Wha—of course I’m happy,” you said quickly, standing up and pushing your glasses higher on your nose. You spared a glance at the now-cracked chair and gently nudged it aside with your foot.

“Well, I thought about texting,” he said, rocking back on his heels, “but figured I’d surprise you. I know how much you love surprises.”

You squinted at him, unimpressed. Your hatred for surprises was well known and often ignored amongst your friends. Although some more than others.

Mark just grinned wider. “Besides, I’m here to rescue you from this glorified broom closet,” he added, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Hate to break it to you, but my shift isn’t over,” you said, gathering up the file you’d nearly forgotten. You carefully adjusted the papers inside, straightening the clippings like they hadn’t been abandoned for the last several minutes.

“What? But it’s four.”

A beat.

“It’s what?”

Mark laughed. “You seriously didn’t know what time it was?”

“There’s no clock in here!”

“You have your phone!”

“Yeah, for music,” you shot back, frowning at him. “I don’t exactly doom scroll like you do.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he said, waving you off. “Come on. I’m starving, and you look like you probably haven’t eaten since sunrise.”

You hesitated, eyeing the disorganized stack of folders still waiting for you. “I really should finish this.”

“Should,” he said, stepping into the room and gently prying the file from your hands, “isn’t the same as will.” He raised a brow. “You’ve probably been here since, what? Six? Perry can survive without you for one afternoon.”

You sighed. “Fine. But if I get chewed out—”

“I’ll take the blame,” he said instantly. “Heroic of me, I know.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not heroic. That’s just decent.”

Mark grinned again, handing the file back so you could tuck it away. “Then I’ll settle for ‘decent’ and the chance to split a pizza with you.”

You paused, one hand hovering over the filing cabinet. “Thin crust?”

“Obviously.”

“Half pineapple?”

He made a face. “Why do you always ruin perfectly good pizza?”

“Because I can.”

Leaving the closet, you grabbed your small brown messenger bag and tucked your headphones into their proper pocket. The walk to the front of the building was a maze: down a flight of stairs, through a maze of cubicles, around two corners, and finally, the elevator down to the lobby.

How Mark had managed to find you at all was a mystery.

With polite goodbyes and a short chat with the sweet older woman at the front desk, you stepped out of the Daily Planet into the golden light of late afternoon.

“So, where did you say you went again?” you asked, trailing just slightly behind as Mark walked upstream against the crowd on the sidewalk.

“Family emergency out of state,” he replied with a shrug, still facing forward. He didn’t glance at you, just kept walking, hands tucked in his pants pockets.

“Oh. That’s— Is everything okay?” you asked, stumbling a bit as you sidestepped someone walking a bit too close for comfort. You caught yourself quickly, but the moment passed awkwardly.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just took longer than I thought it would,” he said, brushing it off with another shrug. But there was something off, an air of distance he didn’t usually have. He turned toward you with a quick smile. “How’ve you been, though? How’s your dad?”

“Pa’s fine. His cough came back, so that’s been a thing. But he’s stubborn. Ma’s good too, back home.” You answered half-absently, still watching Mark out of the corner of your eye. He wasn’t limping. No bruises. No bandages. But something still felt… off.

Mark held the door to the pizza place open, and you murmured a quiet thanks as the warm smell of garlic and tomato sauce welcomed you inside.

Like always, always familiar voice called your name.

The old man who ran the place, Mister Rossi, stepped out from the back, his mustache twitching with his wide grin, eyes kind and crinkled. “It’s about time you came around, Kent! The missus was worried you weren’t eating enough when I told her you stopped visiting.”

You laughed, now more than a bit embarrassed, as he looked over you both before his gaze settled to you again, already waving you both toward your usual table. “The usual, yeah? I’m making it two, you look like you need it. You need someone to feed that appetite of yours.”

You and Mark exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging that there was no winning this argument. Mark reached for his wallet and handed over a twenty as you chimed, “Thanks, Mr. R.”

“Sit, sit! I’ll bring it out fresh,” Rossi said before disappearing into the kitchen with a wave.

You sank into your usual booth and watched Mark across the table. He was tapping a rhythmic pattern into the wood with his fingers, eyes drifting toward the window but not really looking outside.

“So,” you said carefully, “want to tell me what really took you so long?”

Mark glanced at you, a flicker of hesitation in his expression before he covered it up with another smile.

“What makes you think there’s more to it?” he asked, voice light, but not quite casual.

You gave him a look. “Because I know you. And you’re being weird.”

He huffed a quiet laugh and leaned back in the booth. “I’m not being weird. You’re just suspicious.”

You crossed your arms, eyebrows raised.

Mark looked at you for a long second. Then, softly: “Some stuff happened. I can’t talk about it here.”

Your posture straightened slightly as your voice lowered unintentionally. “Is it bad?”

He hesitated again, then smiled, more tired this time. “No. I don’t think so at least. But it’s big.”

The scent of fresh pizza cut the tension for a moment as Mr. Rossi reappeared with two fresh hot pizzas and a pair of Cokes.

“Eat first,” Mark said, nudging a plate toward you as he kicks you underneath the table. “Then I’ll tell you.”

The two of you slipped easily into casual conversation. You both catching up on the last few months. Well, mostly you catching up. Mark was seemingly dodging every question you threw his way about where he’d been or what he’d been doing.

It was only when you’d finally had enough and opened your mouth to call him out that the door to the pizzeria flew open with enough force to nearly knock the bell off its hook.

You and Mark both turned at the sudden noise, just in time to see two familiar figures burst in.

Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen. Both panting, red-faced, and out of breath. Although Lois still had enough steam to spot you instantly, march across the room, and grab your arm with a vice-like grip.

“We need to go. Now,” she said, already trying to pull you out of your seat.

You let yourself budge. Not right away. You stayed just seated enough to let her get some leeway.

“Wait, what? Why?” you asked, eyes flicking back toward Mark to see his reaction but before he could answer, his phone started to ring.

He checked the screen, smiled a little too casually, and gave you a short wave. “You can go ahead. I’ve actually got something to take care of too. We’ll catch up later.”

You let Lois and now Jimmy tug you fully out of the booth, but your eyes stayed on Mark. “You sure?”

“Positive,” he said, already backing toward the exit on the opposite side. “I’ll call you after.”

“Let’s go!” Lois cut in before you could say another word, yanking you toward the door.

“Sorry for stealing her!” Jimmy called cheerfully and completely unapologetic over his shoulder as he trailed behind you.

Once outside, you gingerly dug your heels in an attempt to stop them. “Okay, what was that all about?” you demanded, frowning as they both were determined to keep you moving down the street at a fast pace.

“Prison break,” Lois said, practically bouncing with excitement. “Big one. High-profile, powered inmates. We’re going to be the first on the scene.”

Of course she wanted to be front and center. It could be the story that finally earned the three of you real bylines. Real journalists, real photographer, not just interns.

But your stomach twisted anyway.

Because you weren’t just a journalist. You were also the only one of the three of you who could take a hit from a rocket launcher and keep moving. And Lois and Jimmy, well, they were brave. Brilliant, even. But not bulletproof.

You had a decision to make.

Play the good intern and follow Lois into danger with your small notepad and pen, and Jimmy with his camera?

Or do what you always did in moments like this.

Disappear just long enough to come back wearing a different name.

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 3 -

Prologue : Chapter 1 : Chapter 2 : Not edited : 4.3k words : M.List

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

A loud spark woke you up, a jolt coming from underneath you before you were pushed to the other side of the couch. Being violently pushed out of the dream you were in and into the land of the living. Katsuki was on the other side of the couch, where you just were, looking at his hands as small pops of his quirk went off. His face looks betrayed at his own body. Small pops until a bigger explosion rattled off his hands. Causing him to franticly wipe his hands off on his now torn-up shirt before he got to the sink and washed the sweat of his hands, and therefore the explosions.

All this happening within the minute you woke up was a lot. Watching him stand at the sink, defeated as he stared at his own hands. It was as if he murdered someone.

You remember waking up in the middle of the night, due to the bright screen of the TV. Quickly fumbling for a remote before you realized that you fell asleep in his arms. Cuddled together on the couch, his legs laying along the couch and you between them and laying on his chest. His arms holding you close. It was something you've never done before. It warmed your heart until you woke up to being pushed away.

"The fuck is happening Katsuki?" you pushed yourself from the couch, wearily walking closer to him. Trying to approach him as if he was an injured bird.

"Don't," he barked out, making you stop your approach.

"Kats?"

"I don't know," he felt defeated and it was obvious. His eyes alone spilled out his emotions. It was also obvious that he was lying about not knowing, something in the way he was looking at his hands told you that he knew. That he knew you couldn't be near. He stood there letting the water wash away his sweat.

You crossed your arms, frustrated that he didn't want to talk. "Is there anyway I can help?"

It was like watching a lightbulb go off in his head, "When can you get my watch done?"

"What?" you furrowed your brows, "How does tha-"

"How soon? Can you speed it up?" he cut you off.

It felt like he just wanted you gone, a chore to busy you while he figured this out himself. "Why? I can but why?"

"It's probably the only way you can help," his voice was honest.

You uncrossed your arms, wanting to take a step closer. "I can't get it done any faster than a week, and that's pushing it. I wouldn't be able to add the whole 'not letting people cancel your quirk,' I can get the password set though."

"Fuck it, I just want the watch as soon as possible at this point," only now did he let his hands out of the water, moving to dry them off.

Now you stood at the other-side of the counter than him, "Is your quirk acting up?"

He's been avoiding eye-contact till now, his hands sparking in response. "Something like that. I need a shower." He quickly pushed past the kitchen and went to the bathroom.

Without anymore guidance, and pure concern, you decided to get ready in order to head to the office and get his watch done sooner. Quickly getting dressed before knocking on the bathroom, a sharp explosion popping off at your knock. "Kats?" you called, getting a sharp grunt in reply, "I'm heading to the office, I'll get your watch done sooner if I pull later nights."

He said a goodbye and you headed out the door and to your office.

---

You still worked at Endeavor's agency, now Shoto's agency, with Endeavor retiring. He was still sitting on the name change for the company, not knowing how to go about it. His first actions were to hire Deku, Iida, Momo, Uraraka, and other classmates as pro heroes, keeping Endeavor's old employees as well. A surprise to you, and likely everyone else, was that he invited Katsuki as well. Giving him a rank alongside him, just like he offered Izuku. The biggest surprise was that Katsuki accepted it, alongside with a vow that he would leave the second he got a high enough rank to start building his own. Which he was slowly doing. He had a separate agency he worked out of with his other closest friends, but he was still coworking with Shoto. Only recently switching to actually work out of his own. He didn't want to leave his friends entirely just yet.

Shoto also promoted you, allowing you an entire floor for yourself and other techs that you hired. It was nice. Mei and you were the only ones of the floor currently. Leaving tons of empty space.

You each had your own office for paperwork and designing the sketch, an office for conferences, and a huge work room for actually making the support gear. It felt wasteful for only two technicians but the agency had four other floors of techs that were constantly working.

Made it a long elevator ride up to your floor through. Being on the 15th floor after all, closest to where the heroes worked.

A familiar voice calling your name cause you to look up from your phone, meeting Izuku's bright smile. "I thought you didn't work Sundays?" he said as he stepped in the elevator with you, pressing the button to his floor.

"Ah, I don't," you put your phone in your pocket, "Kats wanted me to get some gear done for him. His quirk is getting weird."

He tilted his head, "The watch?"

"Yeah, he wants it done as soon as possible," you nodded, remembering the meeting they had about it, "Has his quirk been doing this often?"

"I haven't seen it happen in a while, but I don't doubt that it's happening still," he nodded.

"It's scary, he won't talk to me about it," you expressed, worried about your boyfriend and hopeful his friend knew anything.

"He's fine, he's..he's just changing," Izuku struggled to put out. Pausing for the right words, "Don't stress over it."

You laughed at the idea, "Like that's possible? He almost blew my face off this morning with his quirk."

Izuku's face paled, "I'm sure it's fine. I bet it's something that'll go away with time."

"How can that be fine?"

The elevator dinged that it was at your floor.

"Kacchan will tell you eventually," he gave you a nervous smiled and pushed you from the elevator and closing the doors before you could yell at him.

"Asshat," you muttered, walking to your office.

Setting down your bag before you grabbed Katsuki's file. Flipping to the page of his watch. The drawings for the design were all worked out, just needed to plaster it together.

You had the materials to make the watch itself, just not the technology to make it disable his quirk. So you planned to get the framework done today so it would be ready for everything that was coming in the shipment tomorrow.

---

The transition into work was easy and fluent. Music pumping a steady beat into the air as you put each thing together. It was consuming the work you've been doing for the past six or so hours, making each step of the process more fluid then the last. A rhythm of the technique you've built over the years of working on gear.

You were sitting at your workbench, magnifying glasses covering your eyes, allowing you to see the smallest details that you were adding to the band. Quirk constantly activated so you wouldn't mess up in placements, needing the most practical design for the watch but wanting it to match him all the same.

After the framework was done in the watch, hollow for the functional aspects of the watch, you skipped to the details. Carving in a slight explosion outline, something you added on all his gear in the smallest parts. Showing it was his and only his.

It was well into the afternoon by the time you heard the elevator ding again. Music was blasting all throughout the room but you could still hear the faint steps of what sounded like metal coming towards you.

The brief thought of an intruder flashed through your mind. It wasn't uncommon for tech rooms to get raided, it was expected. Emergency procedures were added for the event though. A button was just needed to be pressed before heroes on the upper level were alerted.

That worry didn't last long, a quick check to your phone reminded you that Mei was coming in today. An idea hit her during 'breakfast', which was at 4pm, so she was coming into work.

Soon enough the doors opened, "Hey! Still working on blasty's stuff?"

You looked up at her, forgetting the glasses you were wearing. Letting out a gasp at her zoomed in face. To which she crackled out a laugh. You placed the glasses on the table, rubbing your eyes, "Yeah, I've finished all I can though, need tomorrow's shipment to do anything else."

"What's he having you do?" She made her way out of the door and towards your station. it was a huge room, used to make and test the supplies.

"He wanted me to make a watch for him, quirk proof and shit," you pushed the watch in her direction, letting her pick it up and look at it.

"Ah, lame, I was curious about his gauntlets. You always add cool shit to them every time," she placed the watch back down. Moving to her work station that was next to yours despite the amount of room. It was good company.

"I was probably going to start working on them, I finished everything on the watch, and I'm already in the flow state," you shrugged, pushing yourself up and off the chair. Grabbing the watch to put it in Katsuki's case. Grabbing his gauntlets instead. "I'll probably finish these and head out, been here since 9 this morning I think."

Mei hummed, "I won't be here for long either, want to go drink or something?"

You walked back to your station setting down the new materials you had to use, putting away the stuff you used on the watch. "Yeah, I'll have to ask Kats."

"Why?" Mei looked at you sideways.

"It's his only day off, I don't want to just ditch him. He is my boyfriend after all, I hardly seem him as is," you muttered.

"You're basically just roommates with a different label, I doubt he will care," Mei laughed out, "Come on, you deserve a drink just for dealing with his ass."

It strung, what she said. You already felt like you and Katsuki didn't pass for a couple, and Mei didn't fail to bring it up every time. You knew she was just teasing. So you hoped he would say no, just to prove that he wanted you around.

"Fine I'll ask," you brushed off her comments, grabbing your phone to text him

You Mei wants to go drinking, am I good to join her? I don't mind spending the night at home with you if you want. Kats Nah, do what you want. I'm probably going to go to the gym.

"He said yes," you breathed out, trying to mask the subtle unease with excitement. It felt like he's been pushing you away. Constantly bringing up how he didn't feel that you were happy enough. At this point you don't know if he was genuinely worried or if he was projecting.

"Fuck yeah! I've been wanting a beer, I know a good bar downtown," Mei cheered. You saw her setting up her station, prepared to weld some of her older protypes together.

"I got to ask though," you started, grabbing her attention, "So the other night, Nana texted me. Did she tell you why she needed my number?"

"Huh? No, why?" Mei set down her equipment and crossed her arms to look at you, curious.

"She asked if my boyfriend was hitting me," you breathed out, "Was hoping you didn't agree with her."

"Nah," she brushed off your worries, "I know Blasty isn't that type of guy, if I knew that's why she wanted your number I would of told her. I don't think she knew you were dating him."

"Good," you let out a breath of relief.

"Don't worry, I may make fun, but I know he's devoted to you," Mei reassured before clapping her hands together harshly, "Now I need to see if what I'm thinking works." She slapped her welding helmet down.

Mei was a good friend of yours, similar but different in many ways. She dug into your relationship but you knew she meant well. It was helpful that every once in a while she would confirm that too. Teasing that you guys were hardly a relationship while he was gone but teasing him for how he looked at you. Saying it was like a puppy that was trying to get a tennis ball from under the couch. Just out of reach.

She knew of the small aspects of your relationship, you've shared more to her than others, due to her not being in the primary circle of friends. She was your outlet, and she was also a good secret keeper. So you spilled to her the small things, after all it was easy to slip the details with how many night and days you've spent working alongside her. It was a way to fill the silence.

She knew how and why you and Katsuki got together. She knew about the crush you had on him from way before high school, and she knew of the odd first kiss you shared. And most surprisingly, she was the only one that you've told about not once getting intimate with Katsuki and in general. She knew how a kiss with him stayed a kiss and nothing more. How a hug was always just a hug. It was nice for her to know all the nitty gritty of it, it was refreshing.

You grabbed a welding helmet, putting it on and flicking it down to cover your eyes. Letting out a sigh as you prepared to work. Thankful that Mei was already wearing one, and got to work on the details to his gauntlets.

---

Before you knew it, you were seated at a bar, placed near the corner so Mei could people watch as much as possible. The bar was in a constant chatter, only some groups being overly loud. It wasn't anything like the bars that Mina or Uraraka went to. It was nice, the normal for you and Mei when you did go out.

You and Mei instantly ordered several rounds of shots, starting the night out strong. Letting the alcohol hit you fast and hard in order to stay drunk throughout the night rather than slowly get there. It was your routine together. Getting drunk then sipping on beers or mixed drinks the rest of the night to keep the buzz.

Mei took a long swig of her beer, "So," she smiled at you, roughly placing the bottle back down, "How ya been?"

"Normal I guess," you shrugged, picking up your drink as well, fighting slightly with the straw.

"Come on, there has to of been something. We haven't hung out solo in a week," she clasped your shoulder, as if she was shaking the information out of you.

You laughed, "I don't know, Mei."

"Really? Nothing?" Mei sighed. She tapped her fingers against the bar, looking around the room for some conversation. Her eyes landing on the TV above the bar, "Deku's getting quite buff, huh?"

"Huh?" you looked at the TV she was staring at. Sure enough, Deku was wearing a bright smile as he talked through an interview. It was a talk show, one he hated showing up on because the late hours, but it was good for hero ratings.

"He was cute during high-school but now he's a man," Mei emphasis with her tone, saying man more sharply than the rest.

"I guess? He's a lot taller now," you shrugged.

"I forgot you're lame," Mei groaned, "Only having eyes for Blasty."

A light went off in your head, "Oh, about Katsuki-"

"All I had to do was mention him? Couldn't of thought of this before I drooled over your best friend," Mei glared.

"Sorry," you shrugged, taking another sip of your drink, feeling the liquor flow through you. "He's been weird lately-"

"Weirder than normal?"

"Shut up, it's hard enough to think as is," you pushed her lightly, "He's been weirder more often. You know how he and I don't.. you know.. do that sort of stuff.." you were fumbling with your hands, not wanting to repeat the confession.

"Yeah?" Mei drawed out.

"Well he obviously heard us talking the other night, when I said that physical touch is my main love language. It's thrown him for a loop. He's constantly asking if I'm happy or if I want him," you rushed out.

"Makes sense, everyone kind of shit on the idea of not giving your partner your all," Mei sipped her beer, "I'd be worried too."

You groaned, "I know but I've told him many times that I want him regardless. And on top of that, his quirk has been acting up lately. To the point he wanted me to make a watch that turns it off."

Mei tilted her head, placing her beer down, "Acting up how?"

"Well this morning, we woke up cuddling and his quirk went off, almost burned the couch. Another when I hugged him, got closer to him, and even when I talked to him while he was showering. Which is odd cause the water should of washed anything away."

She sat on that for a while. Racing through different possibilities. "Doesn't his quirk go off with emotions?"

"It used to, I don't think so anymore."

"When you first kissed, wasn't his quirk off? Same with the next few?" Mei pointed out.

"Yeah? What does that have to do with anything?" you took another sip of your drink, waiting for her to get to the point.

"Didn't his hands spark whenever you tried to hold them?" you nodded. "You are so stupid," Mei laughed, "You'd think with your quirk that you would've known."

"Known what?"

"He's nervous around you! So his quirk pops off," she pushed your shoulder teasingly.

You shook your head, "No, cause why would it be worse lately?"

"Because he knows you want more! Simple," she clapped her hands together.

"I don't know Mei, that doesn't sound like him," you brushed past the idea, finishing off your drink. "It's more likely the opposite. I'm worried his quirk is just showing that he doesn't want me near in general, and that me having a different love language is his 'out' of the relationship."

"I mean, think what you want," she hummed, "But trust me, he is in love with you. He couldn't do that to you."

---

You stumbled through the door way. Fumbling with your keys and toeing your shoes off before fully entering. Trying to tip-toe through the kitchen, craving something sweet. All your drunk limbs cause do was make the ice-cream fall from the freezer and onto your toe, "Shit," you cursed hopping around for the pain to fade. Holding onto your hurt foot as you jumped the pain away. Hopping in the direction of the silverware before you fell.

Not letting the height effect you, you opened the drawer and barely grabbed a spoon. Sliding back to the ice cream container that was on the floor. Opening it and leaning against the fridge as you started to eat it away.

"The fuck did I just watch," Katsuki grumbled from the hallway, looking at you on the floor.

"I was hungry," you shrugged, scooping another bite.

He flicked the light on, making you hiss and cover your eyes till he turned it back off, "It's almost midnight, why are you home so late?"

Content that the light was back off, you continued eating, "I don't know."

"How drunk are you?" He crossed his arms.

"Very," you laughed, leaning your head back against the fridge.

"Mei is a horrible influence," Katsuki sighed, stepping towards you and lifting you off the floor.

"Nah, she makes some good decisions, and points," you argued, letting him guide you to your room.

"Like what?" he entertained.

"Well, I'm not sure about this one, but," you paused, "She says that you spark with your quirk because you're nervous around me."

His footing fumbled slightly, before letting himself stall for too long, he led you to your room, laying you on your bed and under the covers.

"Well?" you asked.

"Well what?"

"Is it true?"

"You're drunk," he dodged.

"Yeah, I told her it was dumb. You would of told me," you smiled at him, getting yourself cozy under the sheets. Glad that your touch didn't scare him away. Just left you concern what the actual reason was.

He flinched at how confidently you said that, guilt consuming his bones as he was doing the exact thing you thought he wouldn't. "Goodnight," you squeezed his hand.

"Night," he muttered.

---

A migraine was all you woke up with the next day, last nights events ruining through your brain. Main regret was how much you had to drink, cause you to puke in the bar bathroom, the men's bathroom at that. Mei went with you but it was still odd to rush into the wrong gender's bathroom and puke. Hearing their laughter while face down in the toilet.

The conversation with Katsuki also stung a little. Made you question what your relationship meant lately.

You turned to pick up your phone, blinding yourself with your screen. Rubbing your eyes awake before you could properly read the time.

It was just past noon, having slept in an extra four hours then normal. Your bedside table also had some water for you, with ice in a good water bottle that stayed cold. You already had medicine in your bedside table, so you fished that out to get rid of your migraine.

You smiled at the fact that Katsuki plugged your phone in and got you water, he might not say that he loves you, but he shows it. It shook away some worry that he was only with you due to not having a way out, but you were still worried at what it could be.

Before you could let the thought fester and ruin your day, you decided to go to the office. Wanting to start on Katsuki's watch again. The shipment came in around ten, so everything would be available to you.

After a shower and some breakfast, you decided to take a job to the office, wanting to get in a better mindspace so you were ready to jump straight into work. It was only a 20 minute walk as well.

---

Reaching the agency, out of breath and tired, you dragged your feet into the elevator. Grabbing supplies from the other tech floors before heading up to your own.

Walking into your office to meet Shoto.

"Hey?" you questioned, setting your stuff down on the table behind where he was standing.

"Sorry, Midoriya said that you'd be in," Shoto stood leaned against your work table, hands propping him up.

"Hope you haven't been waiting long," you apologized, walking around your table to grab stuff to start working, "how can I help you?"

"My suit has been off, the cooling facture broke, been having to do it myself mid fight," he went straight to the point.

You noted that he set down his briefcase, the one that held his hero suit. "That should be an easy fix, do you need it soon?" you pulled the case towards yourself, taking out his suit and looking for the cooler.

"I'm going to see my brother, but I'd need it after," his voice stayed monotone, but you knew Dabi-Touya was a sore subject.

You looked up from his suit, "I can get it done by then, is anyone else joining you?"

Shoto coughed, "I think Momo, she's been curious of his improvement."

"That's good," you smiled. The two of them have been close and she was a good pillar of support for him.

"Yes, I'll be back at three, will you be here after?" he looked at his watch.

"I'll be in office until at least seven, got a late start so i need to put in some hours," you confirmed.

"Thanks," he bowed a goodbye and went on his way.

He stayed formal with you despite knowing you since first year at UA, and working with you since second year. Having you do his minor support gear during school because his dad didn't let you touch his son's gear. Only the best for his trophy.

Shoto told him otherwise eventually, having you be head of design for his gear.

The two of you were never necessarily close, but would definitely consider the two of you friends. If you needed each other, you'd be there basically.

He's told you about his brother Touya one night over some cold soba. He wasn't able to fall asleep easily the month that Dabi revealed. So one night, you went to the kitchen hungry in the middle of night, finding him with his head in his hands at the island.

Your voice startled him at first, but after an offer of food, he started talking.

After that was when he started to let you work on his gear a little.

You looked over the small wiring in his suit, finding only a disconnected wire. Connecting it was easy enough, one of the fastest fixes you've had in awhile. You'd have him test the temperature when he was back.

Your phone buzzed from the corner of the table. Katsuki's contact flashing the screen.

"Are you in the office yet?" he asked once you answered.

"Yeah," you put Shoto's case off to the side. Recentering Katsuki's watch.

"Lunch?"

"Sure," you hummed.

"I'm meet you at your office," he started.

"Wait! I'll meet you at yours," you cut him off.

"Why?"

"I'm already in the elevator, I'll just go up an extra few floors. You're at Shoto's agency right?" you lied, quickly grabbing a few things before actually heading towards the elevator. You wanted to keep the watch design a surprise till you gave it to him.

"Yeah, it's Monday," he pointed out. He worked there every Monday.

"Anyway, I'll see you in a second," rather than letting you say a full goodbye, he hung up.

A sigh left your lips. He's been a constant off and on again with how he is around you. You wanted to stay glad he asked for lunch, but the abrupt goodbye was unusual, just like all his other behavior recently. Maybe the watch would help his quirk, and therefor the stress of the relationship.

Hopefully the relationship went back to normal.

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

@americasass1942 @ofcqdesi @atashiboba @juicyfingers @thescarletwallflower @keiva1000 @snxwflwr @kazuumii @mushroomsneedystuff @ivuriexo @supersecretsamm @kaboomkayla

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hi! do you know how to show the progression of a relationship (from strangers to friends to that awkward stage of not yet dating but mutual feelings)?

Writing Ideas: Relationship Progression

Create a Relationship Arc

Static characters produce static storylines.

Just as your main plot needs an arc from beginning to end, so do the relationships between your characters.

Readers respond to dynamic characters who change over the course of a story.

Examples of dynamic main characters include Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Charles Dickens’ Ebenezer Scrooge.

When a dynamic character changes, their relationships with the different characters in the story also change.

If you load your novel or screenplay with dynamic characters, you’ll find all sorts of occasions for both internal change and interpersonal arcs.

A character arc is how a character grows or changes through the story. And a relationship arc is how a relationship grows or changes through the story.

Kinds of Relationship Arcs

Two directions a relationship can grow:

Closer, through love and respect (Positive)

Apart, through dislike and disrespect (Negative)

Two ways this can happen:

The relationship changes

The relationship remains steadfast (strengthening in resolve)

While we can get more complicated and specific from there, at the most basic level, any relationship should, theoretically, fit into this breakdown.

Tip: Consider Specific Labels to Map the Arc

It's useful to look at generalities and the basics, but it can also be helpful to get more specific.

One of the influences of September C. Fawke's post, came from her running into people online who would identify tropes like this:

Enemies to lovers

Friends to lovers

Lovers to exes

. . . and she realized they were essentially describing relationship arcs.

She advises that it might be helpful to look at the relationship arc in your story, and map it out in a similar way:

Strangers -> best friends Enemies -> allies Allies -> rivals Brothers -> enemies Friend -> frienemy Classmates -> found family

Read the full article here with some examples.

The Relationship Trajectories Framework

A metatheoretical framework that conceptualizes how human mating relationships develop across their complete time span, from the moment two people meet until the relationship ends.

The framework depicts relationships as arc-shaped evaluative trajectories that vary on 5 dimensions:

shape (which includes ascent, peak, and descent),

fluctuation,

threshold,

composition, and

density.

Read the full article & some related articles here: 1 2 3 4

3 Basic Layers in a Relationship

Chemistry

Commonality

Compatibility

Read the full article here, which focuses on the creation and execution of a love story: two people meeting, discovering they really like each other, and deciding to stay together for the foreseeable future. They include common tropes for inspiration, some pitfalls you can avoid, and more helpful information.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hi, here are some tips and references that you may use as a guide to create your character's relationship progression. There are a variety of tips from different sources. Choose which ones you would prefer to use in your specific story, and find more details and examples in the links. Hope this helps with your writing!

[aettuddae]

business matter — 143. i choose you and me, religiously.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev

[written chapter]

23:57.

karina found herself running through the people who had attended that party.

end of the year. after a peculiar 2024, full of surprises and new people, of different emotions and discoveries, they were finally just 3 minutes away from a new year. as was customary, people all over the world were throwing parties to celebrate the beginning of 2025 with their family and friends, and for the celebrities in seoul there was also a selection to attend. among the options was the party that rosé from blackpink had organized on the top floor of a luxurious building whose terrace overlooked the center of the city.

the entire korean entertainment elite was there, from top actors to models to members of the biggest bands you could imagine. it was the party among parties. but at first, karina had other plans. she couldn't go back to her family because of work, but she still wanted to spend a quiet night at the apartment with her roommates. and that's what they were going to do,

until she found out that serim would be at rosé's party.

of course, serim would go wherever jennie kim told her to go. serim loved going to parties. she loved being around people, socializing, dancing. karina didn't dislike it when it came to her, but it certainly got her blood boiling with that quality of serim's. she didn't like her to be perceived. that's why when they talked about their plans for the end of the year, serim was hesitant to tell her. it's not that she wanted to hide things from her, she just wanted to avoid the eye rolling and sour comments for a couple more days until she eventually told the blackhaired about her plans.

listen, jimin is not crazy,

she just has serious jealousy issues,

and she's obsessed with jang serim.

when they decided to spend the night at the apartment and welcome the new year quietly and together, the aespa members already knew that the plan hung by a thread. that thread was whatever serim decided to do that night. as soon as jimin told them that jennie was taking jang to the rosé party, giselle was already texting the hostess to get her to put them on the guest list.

serim didn't mind at all. jimin was busy and every second they could spend together was gold to jang. she loved spending time with the younger girl. all night, they had been glued together like gum, drinking, chatting, flirting and dancing to the music. they were so into their own world that none of their friends thought it was weird that they disappeared for an hour and left them to make friends with each other while they had their make out session in a dark, secluded area of the terrace.

but as punishment for abandoning them, as soon as they returned with their companions, aeri, minjeong and yizhuo had forced jimin to go with them to get some air outside. winter was dizzy, while the rest were all sore and tired from dancing. they just wanted to take a break and get some fresh air, and the blackhaired had to accept it even though it was torture for her to be even two centimeters away from serim, who stayed on the dance floor with her friends.

but it was okay, jimin understood that part of forcing her members to follow her to a party when her plans were quite different had its requirements. she patiently stood there chatting with her bandmates and waiting for them to pull themselves together to go back inside, while minjeong downed a bottle of water to regain her five senses.

she was calm until she turned on her phone and saw the time.

23:57.

three minutes to new year's. she began to hurry the others back inside, where rosé's voice could already be heard through a microphone preparing to count down to midnight. they passed through the crowd quietly until they reached where serim was supposed to be with her friends, but no one was there.

23:58.

jimin turned on her phone. "we accompanied jennie to the bathroom." read a text from serim from 5 minutes ago.

the girl told her friends that she was going to look for the oldest and without waiting for an answer, she ran out, pushing through the people and making her way to the bathroom area. she entered the women's one, but there was no one there. they weren't there anymore.

she searched her phone for the woman's contact and called her. she could hear little because of the loudness of the hostess's voice over the speakers and the whispering of the large number of people at the party, but she finally managed to hear that they were on the terrace because they wanted to see the fireworks. when she hung up, she sent a quick message to giselle to tell them to go to the terrace and again, she hurried upstairs.

23:59.

she had to be serim's new year's kiss, she couldn't miss it. the elevator was busy so she took the stairs, which were not easy to climb as she was wearing heels and moving in such a hurry.

10.

everyone started shouting when they heard that the countdown had begun. jimin was on the terrace, but although she searched through the crowd, she couldn't find serim. she kept wandering around the area, her heart pounding and her breathing hectic. she looked worried and upset.

5.

she passed through a large group that was blocking her view and so she appeared at the front, almost at the edge where the wall that kept people from falling was located. as she was spat out from the crowd, she finally spotted the girl's back in the distance and hurried toward her.

3.

she ran towards serim.

2.

she reached where she was and hurriedly touched her waist, signaling her to turn towards her.

1.

serim turned to see who was pinned to her torso, turning in the arms of the younger who was visibly exhausted and trying to catch her breath as she looked up at her smiling. serim slipped her arm over the younger's body to wrap her in her hold and rest her hand on her waist while her other hand was busy with a drink.

"happy new year, baby." she said very close to her face so she could hear her amidst the shouts of congratulations from all around and the sound of fireworks.

"happy new year, my namu." she replied glad that she was able to get there in time to tell her.

jimin lifted her hands that were resting around serim's waist, sliding them up the older girl's body until she was holding her face between her fingers and pulling her close until they could connect their lips in their first kiss of the year under the moonlight in front of the fireworks show in the sky.

"it's the first year we've started together." serim observed as they pulled apart.

"it's the first of many." assured the younger girl as her hand caressed her opposite's cheek. "i thought i wouldn't get here in time to be your first kiss of the year." she stretched her neck slightly to reach up to leave a peck on the opposite's nose. "i'm always running back to you." she smiled sideways, accompanying her flirtatious comment.

"as you should." serim laughed softly and wrinkled her nose playfully to tease her. "come here." she indicated leaning down to kiss her again.

after the arrival of the new year and the end of the fireworks show the party continued, causing most of the people who were on the terrace waiting to see the colorful flames in the sky to start going down to the lower floor to return to the celebration. serim was leaning back against the edge with karina in her arms who had her hands glued to her face caressing and pampering her, so lost in each other and their conversation that they were practically alone on top of the building and that even their friends had returned downstairs.

"you know, yves wished ningie a happy new year." commented the blackhaired causing the older girl to grimace in surprise.

"what can i say." she looked up with mock pride. "she's a gentlewoman." she shrugged jokingly.

"yizhuo can do better." she refuted, shaking her head.

"better than sooyoung? impossible."

"she's a little weird." she furrowed her eyebrows pretending to be worried. "i hope she'll take care of my baby." she closed her eyes in grief.

"she'll take care of her." she assured her. "don't worry." she ran a lock of jimin's hair tucking it behind her ear. "she's a good girl."

"and you?" she looked at her expectantly.

"me?" she pointed her index finger at herself. "i'm awesome."

"no, idiot." she slapped her shoulder in embarrassment. "if you're going to take care of me." she elaborated.

"oh." she mumbled after understanding what she meant. "of course i'll take care of you." she affirmed, then leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"if you cheat on me i'll kill you." she looked into her eyes seriously.

"all right."

"i am serious, jang serim, i will kill you." she reiterated with a dark gaze, swearing every word.

"as if i have eyes for anyone else." she cocked her head to the side with narrowed eyes judging her, incredulous. "i would never hurt you." she promised.

"you better." she pointed her finger at her accusingly.

"either way," jimin turned her head abruptly, looking at her with eyes wide in surprise at the very idea that she might regret what she just promised. "you have to be my girlfriend for me to cheat on you." she raised her hands in the air innocently.

"no, sorry, serim." she pulled away, putting a hand between them, stopping her words. "your love life dies in me." she laughed sourly. "since we said 'i love you' to each other for the first time, you are doomed to me." she warned.

"what do you mean by that?" she folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "that you don't feel the need to be my girlfriend?"

"you're already my girlfriend." she copied the action of intertwining her arms over her chest, defiantly.

"no." she contradicted her. "we never established it, so we're not."

"are you saying you're single?" she clenched her fist.

"i'm saying you should ask me to be your girlfriend." she explained. "look." she turned and with her hand pointed toward the city. "we have the best view in seoul, the night is starry." she walked up to the younger girl and put her hands on her waist, trapping her in her arms. "it's new year." she murmured. "you look beautiful." she commented, earning a smile from jimin that came with a roll of her eyes at the compliment. "you love me and i love you." she added.

"and why don't you ask me?"

"no." she broke contact, pulling away and giving her a defensive look. "make amends for your mistakes." she claimed.

jimin sighed. serim was right. after so many months of doing things wrong here was her chance to have what she wanted most in the world, to have serim. the terrace was empty, it was a moment that belonged only to them. the sky was splendid, it was a beautiful night, a cool wind was blowing, but it wasn't cold, and it was a new year.

new year, new beginnings.

jimin smiled sideways, an idea popped into her head, and she approached serim. she took her hands in hers and looked into her eyes. "don't laugh at what i'm going to do." she took a breath of air.

"oh my god, you're going to sing?" the mere thought caused serim to be unable to contain a giggle that escaped her lips.

"namu!" she punched her arm gently, nagging at her.

"sorry, it's just that i imagined you asking me to be your girlfriend while you sing up." she shook her head trying to erase the idea.

"i write you a song and this is how you treat me." she bit her lower lip trying to contain the smitten grimace that was blossoming on her.

when the funny moment dissipated, they both looked seriously into each other's eyes again, to which jimin took the opportunity to clear her throat and catch her breath again to start singing a song.

"cause maybe, baby..." she began softly keeping the tenderness in the way she looked at serim. "i just wanna do you, do you..." she sang in the highest pitched voice. "do you wanna do me? do me?" she moved her shoulders up and down to the rhythm of the song and with her finger pointed at the older one. "underneath the moonlight, the moonlight." she pointed to the sky. "baby, maybe-" the girl sang excitedly, moving more and more with the song.

"stop, stop, stop." she interrupted her in horror. "stop it, dylan." she identified the modern family song she was singing. "i can't believe you ruined it like that." she covered her face in embarrassment.

jimin would have refuted her disappointment, but she was too busy choking on the laughter her own joke had generated, bending over her body trying to catch her breath. serim could only look at her skeptically, unable to understand how she had found it so funny.

"oh my god." the younger girl pulled herself together, straightening up and turning back to face her partner still letting out the occasional laugh. "how does it feel to love such a funny person?"

"i could leave you in this very moment."

"not true." she grabbed her face between her hands and pulled her to her to leave a chaste kiss on her lips. "you love me too much." she reminded as she broke apart. "this time for real." she positioned herself again, taking in puffs of air to calm her fit of laughter.

"no, i don't want to anymore." serim shook her head sideways in denial.

"yes, come on." she struggled to take her hands as the older one pulled them away from her grasp. "come here." she tugged on her grip to pull her into her personal space.

silence reigned again and though serim was unsure as to the direction the moment would take, this time jimin was solemn, focused, she was looking at her like someone looking at a shooting star while making a wish. it was that kind of tenderness, that kind of desire.

"so excuse me forgetting..." she mumbled, she wasn't intoning yet, but rather speaking the lyrics. "but these things i do," she let out shyly. "you see i've forgotten..." she raised her voice so the words could be heard more clearly. "if they're green or they're blue." a little more confidently, she began to sing the sentences. "anyway the thing is, what i really mean..." she released serim's hands to wrap herself around her torso. "yours are the sweetest eyes i've ever seen..."

now that she was singing decisively, serim had let her guard down and was lost in the way jimin was watching her. she could see in the way she was moving that she was nervous, that she was embarrassed to open up like that, and she appreciated knowing that she was still doing it to express her feelings for her in some way. she wasn't used to being sung to, so she didn't know how to react, but she understood, they were both artists and if there was anything they were in love with apart from each other, it was music. jimin's voice fascinated her, she could listen to it for hours.

"and you can tell everybody..." as the younger one sang, they both swayed to the beat. "this is your song." serim smiled tenderly at that part of the lyrics. "it may be quite simple, but," serim's hands rested on jimin's neck. "now that it's done." jimin raised her touch to the woman's nape to push it to bring their foreheads together. "i hope you don't mind... i hope you don't mind..." she lowered her voice so that if there was anyone else in the place they couldn't hear, only serim. "that i put down in words..."

"how wonderful life is..." serim joined in and now they were singing in unison. "while you're in the world." they finished together.

they both stayed in that intimate position, one against the other, holding themselves and dancing alone on the terrace in the new year for a moment, serim closed her eyes to enjoy the moment and jimin kept them open because she wanted to see her, she always wanted to see her, she wanted to be able to appreciate serim's beauty for the rest of her life.

"elton john?" serim inquired when they both stopped, lifting her eyelids so she could look at her, her forehead still pressed against the opposite one.

"moulin rouge." she corrected. "it's the only musical i know any songs from." she confessed. "and you know..." she put on a confident expression. "my girl likes musicals."

serim scoffed at her attitude. "yeah." she nodded in agreement. "your girl likes musicals."

"my girl?" she repeated. "so you agree to be my girlfriend?"

"you haven't asked me yet."

"jang serim." she called out to her and wrapped her arms around her neck, pulling her even closer, their bodies pressed against each other, their faces so close she wanted to kiss her as soon as possible. "will you be my girlfriend?" she asked, her eyes sparkling and her heart beating faster than she would have imagined.

"no."

"what?" she exclaimed offended and abruptly turned away from the oldest. "serim." she watched her as the named laughed frantically at her reaction. "serim, be my girlfriend." she commanded. "serim." she quickly approached her and began to push her arm repeatedly as if asking her to stop teasing. "namu." she herself couldn't hold back her laughter at seeing the contrary so amused, but still she kept hitting her gently to make her stop. "hey." she wanted to grab her arm to pull her closer, but serim wouldn't let her, so they started to struggle. "be my girlfriend." she reiterated exerting force trying to win serim over. "love me." she jumped on the spot anxiously because she couldn't stand the joke the older girl was playing on her. "namu!" she squealed shrilly.

"okay, okay." she raised her arms in the air, thus giving way for jimin to latch on to her waist. "i love you." she assured. "and i do want to be your girlfriend." she wrapped the girl in her grip.

"really?" she raised her eyebrow dubiously.

"really." she affirmed. "from now on i'm all yours."

jimin let out a little squeal of excitement and jumped repeatedly on the spot to then pounce on the older girl and catch her in their first kiss as an official couple.

"puppy!" a shout echoed through serim's apartment after the sound of the door closing.

it could have been just one person, other than that jang recognized the voice instantly, so she rushed out of her room to find her girlfriend in the living. she ran towards her catching her in a tight hug and lifting her slightly off the floor as she held her.

"hi, baby." she leaned forward with her eyes closed waiting patiently for jimin to give her a kiss and shaking her body slightly once she did.

"hello, namu." she replied after kissing her then continuing to fill her face with pecks.

"how are you, my love?" asked serim as she watched the girl arrange her things on the table.

"i'm fine." she answered in a good mood. "happy to see you." she gave her a smile and dropped forward being caught in serim's arms to kiss her lips again. "is sejeong here?" she straightened up and inspected the apartment looking for her girlfriend's roommate.

"no." she denied, rounding the kitchen island to face the younger girl. "she's in her apartment because she's starting the move back in there." she reported.

"is she leaving already?" she inquired arranging the things she had brought with her.

"she's been living here for a while." she recalled. "she thinks i'm better now, so she's leaving."

"that's good." she put her elbows on the table and leaned back on her arms. "i do think you are better too." she agreed. "it makes me happy to see you like this."

serim smiled shyly. she had been eating better, at first it was because of sejeong's help controlling her at meal times, but lately it was of her own free will. she was happier, she had even been smoking a little less and sleeping at reasonable times. jimin stretched her arm across the counter to give her cheek a caress.

"i brought you a present." she announced excitedly.

"presents!" she celebrated.

the younger girl took a bag and put it between both of them, opened it, reached inside and from it pulled out a small plant with heart-shaped leaves, lifted it in the air and showed it proudly, painting a big smile on her face.

"it's a plant!" happily introduced the blackhaired.

"i see!" she said wryly.

"don't you like it?" she pouted and set the plant down on the counter.

"no, love." jimin dropped her shoulders in disappointment. "i love it!" she exclaimed and then picked up the pot to begin to inspect it. her passion for gardening making kicking in instantly, making the girl pry at the soil and the state of the leaves.

"do you really like it?" she received no response and that was exactly what she needed because she understood that her hyperfixation was acting up and that was a sign that she was excited about the gift. "namu." she called out to her softly with a smile.

"what, my love?" she replied without looking up from the gift.

"do you like it?" she leaned over the counter looking at her with enamored eyes.

"it fascinates me." she raised her eyes to finally connect with hers. "i didn't have one of these." she lunged forward to press a kiss to her lips. "thank you."

"it's a hoya kerly." she reported trying to remember the plant's proper name.

"hoya kerrii." she corrected amused, looking at her tenderly at her mistake.

"that." she dropped her head. "i don't know anything about plants." she covered her face in embarrassment.

"my love." she laughed and took her hands to remove them from her face. "you don't need to know about plants just because i like them." she tried to calm her down. "i'll teach you and you'll learn."

"but i wanted to present it well because it has a special meaning." she explained frustrated.

"it's the plant of the heart." she deduced.

"yes." she confirmed. "it represents love and harmony." she added. "i bought it for us.

"really?"

"yes." she nodded. "i want us to take care of it together." she looked at the pot. "let it be like our love sapling." she finished, her cheeks turning red at the confession.

"how corny you are." a smile broke out on her face as she watched her blush. "i love you."

"i love you too."

"and we're going to be very careful with our baby." she pointed to the plant. "for a long time." she walked around the table back to where jimin was. "what shall we name it?" she took her face in her hands.

"i have a name in mind." she admitted. "but it's even cheesier." she hid her face in serim's chest.

"tell me." she encouraged. "we're in love and happy, we have permission to be cheesy." she reassured.

"canada." she announced without removing her face from the security provided by the older.

"how?"

"canada." she repeated, this time speaking to her face.

"why canada?"

"because so!yoon is our favorite artist." she explained, referring to the singer's song.

"i like it." she agreed. "i only want you close to me." she quoted the song's lyrics.

"you're the one for me, half of my body, half of my mind." the younger girl continued.

"canada." she assured.

"she's our love."

"and we're going to take care of it for a long time." guaranteed serim. "together."

"together."

— the end.

#

[a/n: thanks to everyone who read. this was one hell of a ride and it wouldn't have been possible without all of you. ♡]

(!)

— taglist [CLOSED]: @yoontoonwhs @cwpiqwon @aliceiwk @xen248 @gtfoiydlyj @rinapomu @aeriuchinarga @multiliker @somedaydream @impossiblesharkcashrebel @yjiminswallet @nwjnsloona @yerimbrit @73vyn @dni-unavailable @yizhuobberi @sewiouslyz @yeetaberry127 @masuowo @yallatalla @chaenniefirst @minfolio @starrynini05 @hotluvlet @wmnrhot @mineige @lisaswifey @brocoliisscared @fae-the-wanderer @vivilvr

[sonotpattismith]

while i'm here writing songs for you

pairing: musician!choso x childhood friend!reader word count: 10.6k content: childhood friends to lovers, everyone knows they're in love except them, jealousy, mentions of virginity loss, dying on the grunge choso hill, lil angst, fluff, smut, 18+ inspired by: bless the telephone by labi siffre

“Hah! Your old man’s gonna kill me.” 

Through shut eyes, a freshly eighteen-year-old Choso bit back an amused grin as best he could as to avoid disrupting his uncle’s work against his face. 

“Nah, he caught Yuji at a casino this week, so I’m the golden boy for the foreseeable future while he’s grounded.” The boy muttered with a small smirk. He did feel for his little brother, often sneaking into his room with his console to entertain him for at least a short while in the midst of his prison sentence. Still, he had to admit that his timing was impeccable— giving the older sibling the perfect cushion to fall back to when Jin sees what his son had done to celebrate his birthday. 

“Shit, yeah, I almost forgot.” Sukuna mumbled with a tickled shake of his head as he gripped at his nephew’s forehead in concentration. “Let the brat know I’ve still got his money whenever my boring ass brother lets him off house arrest.” 

“Choso!” 

The boy was eternally grateful that his uncle wasn’t as jumpy as he was, the man tightening his grip around his head in preparation for his jolt of surprise at the sudden shout. 

“Ohhh, I’d be more scared of your girl than your dad, punk.” 

You had burst through the doors of the tattoo parlor like a bat out of hell, your breath heaving slightly with the expended effort of hauling ass all the way over here from the restaurant you worked part time at. After receiving a cryptic picture from your best friend of him sat in his uncle’s tattoo chair with that deceivingly sheepish smile on his face, you could barely concentrate on taking orders correctly the remainder of your shift. Huffing out a sigh, you spotted those familiar, black combat boots hanging off the end of one of the leather seats. 

Choso didn’t bother to correct Sukuna’s labeling of you as his girl, as it was proven a wasted effort after years of telling him that wasn’t the case. It also didn’t hurt that the title made his stomach flip excitedly each time he heard it. 

“Oh my god.” You gaped once you finally reached the chair he was laid at. Half of the deep burgundy, nearly black mark that was being tattooed across his nose was already finished, and you could already picture the crash out Jin Itadori would have when he laid his eyes on his eldest son. 

Cracking one eye open, the birthday boy took in the sight of you, cheeks still red and puffing from the run you took to get to him. Underneath that first layer of shock though, he could see the barely disguised wonder in your eyes as you assessed the situation at hand. Sukuna paused his ministrations to give his nephew a break, and so that you could see the progress. 

“What the fuck! Your dad is gonna kill you.” You laughed incredulously, stepping closer to get a better look. Choso was just glad that his face was already tinged red from the irritation of the needle so you wouldn’t notice how he flushed insecurely under your gaze. 

It was his main reasoning behind the oddly placed tattoo, actually. Since he was little he could remember his face growing noticeably hot over the tiniest of compliments, looks, or touches. Maybe it was far-fetched, but he hoped the imposing mark across his nose and cheeks would draw the attention away from that little quirk of his. It also didn’t hurt that the stencil looked cool as fuck. 

“Not if you’re with me, he won’t.” Choso suggested with a sly, hopeful smile on his face, and you quickly shook your head at him. His face fell into that pout he had mastered to use specifically on you. “C’mon, he’ll take it easy on me if you’re there, please!”

“It was bad enough having to be your human shield when you got your nose pierced, Cho— no way.” 

“I’ll let you check my back for blackheads.” 

It fell silent for a moment as you contemplated his offer.

“You two are fuckin’ freaks.” Sukuna scoffed in disgust beside you before dragging his nephew’s chin back to face forward to continue working. You winced watching the needle begin to pierce at his already irritated skin, and you found yourself instinctively slipping your hand into his to squeeze it. 

“Does it hurt?” You grimaced, leaning a bit closer to watch. 

Choso almost said no, because, truthfully, he had gotten used to the pain about half an hour ago, but he took note of the way you clutched at his hand to comfort him. His lips twitched nervously at the feeling as he closed his eyes once again. 

“Uh— yeah, kind of.” He mumbled, taking the opportunity to lace his fingers through yours under the guise of having something to squeeze onto when he was in pain. His uncle watched the interaction with a deadpan expression, knowing full well that the kid hadn’t so much as flinched once since he’d sat down. Shaking his head with a quiet tut, he barely tried to conceal his amused smirk. 

“What about you, birthday girl, huh? You getting some celebratory ink too?” Sukuna questioned, wiping at the side of Choso’s nose that he’d just filled in. You cringed as you watched the tiniest amount of blood trickle at the bridge of his nose. 

“Don’t know, I think Cho took all the balls in this friendship.” You admitted with a defeated smile.

“Don’t be such a wimp.” Your best friend teased with a careful smile as he stretched his lower half against the stiff chair. The black sweater he was wearing rode up a bit, practically commanding the attention of your wandering eyes. There was a barely noticeable trail of dark hair leading down into the band of his joggers, and your lips parted as you tried to recall when the fuck that had happened.

The last couple of months in your friendship with Choso had been… getting a little difficult. You two had been practically joined at the hip since you were six years old and yelled at a group of first graders for not singing happy birthday to him as well after having overheard his dad wishing him a happy birthday that morning during drop off. For a while, the two of you would tell people at school that you were twins even though it was so clearly not the case, but six-year-old you and Cho were sure that you had everyone convinced. 

He had always been a bit of an introvert, so you had been the greatest birthday gift he could have ever hoped for. So, the awkward boy stuck to your side from that day on. Wherever one was, the other was never too far behind, and this would now be the twelfth birthday you two would be spending together. 

Choso had certainly been… changing though from that lanky little boy who would sniffle and cry each time you two parted for the day (as if you didn’t attend the same school). He had grown taller, his voice had dropped a few octaves, and these days you were finding yourself worrying about the timeline of your best friend’s happy trail. For a while you blamed it on the raging hormones that came along with puberty, but you were eighteen now and weren’t sure how much longer that excuse would hold up in your denial-filled brain. 

This was just one more way he was changing, you convinced yourself as you anxiously waited for him to unlock the front door of his house, his nose and cheeks still glistening with the antibiotic ointment Sukuna had slathered onto his fresh tattoo. He would have never had the courage to do something so bold even just a couple years ago. You had to admit though, the odd choice of tattoo did suit him, emphasizing those tired, chocolate eyes of his so nicely. 

It was silent in the Itadori house as you two crept in, scanning the area apprehensively with each step you took. You clutched at the back of his shirt, tugging him to lean down as you whispered into his black-studded ear. 

“I don’t think anyone’s—”

“Happy birthday you—” Poor, sweet Jin Itadori’s shout of celebration got stuck right in the back of his throat as his eyes fell upon his eldest son, a lit up birthday cake still clutched in his hands. He blinked a few times as though there was possibly just something in his eyes, but the wide-eyed expression of anxiety on the boy’s face gave him away. “What in god’s name did you do to your face? Was this your uncle? Did he tell you this was a good idea because I—”

“It was my idea.” Choso corrected, not-so-subtly attempting to nudge you forward as if you would soften the blow of his father’s wrath, who’s honey eyes fell frantically upon you. 

“Did you know about this? Please tell me you two are punking me or something.”

“She didn’t know.” He quickly defended despite the fact that it would have been a lot easier to share the blame. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he attempted a light-hearted smile. “C’mon, don’t I look—”

“You look like you’re about to be stuck working in that tattoo shop with your uncle the rest of your life because no one is going to hire you with that thing!” The man had begun pacing the length of the kitchen with the cake still in tow, shaking his head in disbelief before stopping to gape at his son in horror once again. “You couldn’t have at least waited until after prom? Graduation? All your photos— ruined! Oh god, I think I’m going to pass out—”

“Calm down, it’s not that big a deal— not like I did anything illegal, y’know like sneaking into a casino while underaged.” Choso attempted to distract him with a sheepish smile, stepping forward to take the cake out of his hands lest he really pass out. With his now free hands, Jin was tearing at the roots of his hair as he continued his frantic pacing, mumbling about not reminding him of Yuji’s recent run in with the law. “Besides, I’m not going to prom anyway.”

Now it was your turn to gape at the freshly-tattooed birthday boy. 

“You’re not?” You questioned, desperately trying not to sound as dejected as you felt. Though you two had never talked about it, you had just assumed that you’d be going to prom together given all the other important milestone events that you had completed hand in hand. Hell, you had even been putting off an offer from a fellow classmate of yours with the impression that Choso would be asking you to be his date— platonically, of course.

“You’re not?” Jin echoed in horror, finally looking up from where his face had been shoved into his hands. The man didn’t miss the disheartened expression that flashed across your face despite your best efforts to conceal it. “Why not? You’re only a high-schooler once, Choso, don’t be silly.”

Perhaps his nervous convincing was a bit overkill, but damn it how he was tired of watching his clearly love-sick son grow older and older without growing any wits about him on what was going on right under his nose. After hosting years worth of playdates for you two as mere children, to encouraging his son to be a little gentler with you as you began going through those awkward years that plagued every pre-teen girl, all the way to having to watch with barely concealed frustration at the way you two fell into one another’s ebb and flow so gracefully without any semblance of self-awareness— Jin was sure that he was more excited than the actual seniors for prom to come around, eager to force you two into the most obvious of couple’s poses for photos before sending you off for the night. 

“Why would I go to prom? You know I hate that kind of stuff.” He explained obviously before turning to see the settling shock lingering on your face. It made him blink a few times, brows furrowing in confusion. “I-I mean, are you going?”

“Um…” You stammered over your words, trying to suppress the flush of embarrassment that you felt creeping up your neck for having assumed that Choso would ask you to prom. He felt his heart in his throat, breath hitching in slight anticipation, because he was sure he wouldn’t have too terrible of a time if it was you he was going with, but the last thing he wanted to do was make things weird by asking you to be his date. “Y-Yeah, I was planning to go. Geto had asked me a few days ago, so—”

“You’re going with Geto?” It felt like his heart had fallen straight through his ass, and it took every inch of restraint in him to not begin banging his head against the dry-wall in a bitter rage, because why did he not think to ask you first? “I didn’t know you two talked like that.”

Jin wasn’t sure how much more of this he could stand to watch before he wrung his son’s neck out. He cleared his throat in an attempt to subtly get Choso’s attention and hopefully send some sort of telepathic communication to him, but he was far too focused on this Geto character that you had mentioned to get his head out of his own ass. 

“We don’t really, but… he asked me, and I wanted to go.”

My god, does she have to spell it out for him? Did I fail somewhere along the way as a father that my son turned out such an oblivious hard head? Just ask her— ask her!

“Oh. Well… that’s good, I guess.” 

Jin hoped to god that as Choso blew out half the candles on you two’s shared birthday cake that he was wishing for some common sense. 

You two did the best you could to shake off the sudden awkwardness following the conversation about prom. At the very least, you two still had to give each other your gifts, so you figured that would cushion the tension. You followed him up the familiar path to his room where you had had Yuji drop off his gift for you so it’d be here when you two got back, biting down an excited smile. 

“No way.” Choso gaped just seconds after opening the door. Stepping in to get a closer look, he quickly turned on his heels to stare incredulously at you. “No way— this is too much. I-I can’t take this.”

There leaned upon the side of his bed was a sleek black electric guitar— one he’d been keening over since the acoustic guitar his dad had gotten him damn near nine years ago now had mysteriously snapped at the neck. Okay, maybe it wasn’t so mysterious because you did tell Choso that climbing up onto his shoulders to get the spider that had been terrorizing his ceiling wasn’t a good idea, because sure enough as soon as the wretched thing moved an inch, you jolted back, sending both of you tumbling to the ground with only his poor guitar to break the fall. 

“After all the fake flirting I had to do to rack up enough tip money for it? You sure as hell can take it.” 

“Please, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will.” 

His face was burning with the guilt of how much you had spent on him, but the glimmering shine of the fresh guitar in his peripheral was helping to soften the blow a bit. The boy’s fingers were practically twitching with the anticipation of getting his hands on the thing, but he stopped himself. With a shy smile shot your way, he crouched down to pull out a box that had since been hiding under his bed. You smiled eagerly before sinking down to sit criss-crossed straight across from him, your present filling the small gap left between you. 

He laughed affectionately as he watched you struggle to pry the box open, deciding to put you out of your misery after a minute or so and tearing the cardboard apart for you. The first thing that caught your eye was a vinyl record— your favorite album that you had introduced Choso to a few years back. It held a tender spot in both of your hearts for that very reason, and its lead single had consequently been the first song he learned to play on his guitar all those years ago. 

Even all these years later he could still feel the sting in his fingers that had yet to callous protectively against the instrument’s strings as he stayed up until the sun rose that next morning trying to perfect each chord so that he could play it for you when you came over. It was choppy at best, what with all the scrapes on his irritated fingers and the lack of sleep, but the dewey eyed look on your face made him feel like he was Jimi fucking Hendrix, only fueling his motivation to get better— to impress you. So, despite how his fingers began to bleed, he played it for you over and over again until you were satisfied.

The sight of the nostalgic album nearly made you tear up pathetially, but you pulled yourself together to beam up at him with all the light of a thousand suns. He flushed under your gaze, quickly looking down to push the box toward you again with a jut of his chin. 

“There’s still something in there.”

Tearing your eyes from him, you pushed back the flaps of the box to get a better look, finding a far too expensive looking record player sitting at the bottom of the large box that he’d definitely been begging neighbors to let him clean their car or mow their lawn in order to afford. Gasping softly, an incredulous laugh bubbled up your chest as you shifted onto your knees. 

“Cho, this is so cool!” You guffawed, fingers struggling to wrangle the turntable out of the damned box to no avail. Unable to fight back his smile, he moved to brush your hands away and grab it for you, setting it down atop his black comforter. Running your fingers down the glossy box, you looked up at him with raised brows. “You’re gonna come back to my house to help me set it up, right?”

“You putting me to work on my birthday?” He quipped with a smirk as he fell back against the bed, hoisting up his new guitar to rest on his stomach. 

“I’ll give you the day.” You caved in mock resignation as you laid beside him, head shifted to observe the way he fiddled with the tuners. “New face tattoo, new guitar— your rockstar look is really coming together.”

“Yeah?”

“For sure— just missing some guyliner.”

His nimble fingers paused against the strings, lips pursing as he peered over at you. It was dead silent as a slow smile spread across your face— because you could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. It was only a mere five minutes later that you found yourself digging your fingers into his jaw to stop him from flinching away each time the eyeliner pencil drew a little too close to his iris. 

“Sit still, dude.” You grumbled, stepping closer between his spread legs as he sat impatiently in his desk chair. 

Huffing out a sigh, he tried not to squirm at your burning proximity. Your tongue was creeping out the corner of your mouth in concentration, and the hand that had since been on his jaw moved to brush the hair away from his forehead. He could feel the warm puffs of your breath fanning against his face, driving his legs to squirm against the floor, which seemed to be the final straw for your patience. 

Choso thought his heart would leap out of his chest when you planted yourself firmly on his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair. His arms quickly fell to his sides as though weighed down by bricks, dangling limply as his fingers flexed  apprehensively. Gulping anxiously, he tried not to focus on the way the fat of your thighs squished against him. 

“Close your eyes, Cho.” You murmured quietly as you began working on his lids. He did so swiftly, eager to not have to worry about where to place his gaze.

“So, um…” The boy cleared his throat, trying desperately to get his mind anywhere else before he created a problem that would be embarrassing for the both of you. “You’re really going to prom with Geto?”

“Mhm.” You hummed simply, chewing on your bottom lip as you smudged the freshly placed liner with the edge of your thumb. Perhaps you should have said more, but you weren’t sure that you trusted your voice if you were to speak right now. 

“Do you… I mean are you—” 

“Look up for me.” 

Cursing himself mentally to just get it the fuck together, he tried again as he did as he was told, warm eyes glancing up at the ceiling. 

“I just didn’t know you liked him is all.” He finally got out as his pulse pounded against the fingers you had pressed against his jaw and neck once again. “You’ve always told me about stuff like that.”

With a tickled smile, you leaned back in his lap to narrow your eyes knowingly at him. Upon noting your silence paired with the way you had stopped your work against his eyes, he finally looked back down, and you had to bite back the delighted gasp from seeing the way the smudged, dark liner paired so beautifully with the rest of him, making his already mysteriously dark eyes that much more sultry. 

“You’re jealous, Choso!” 

“What? N-No, I was just—”

“You are so jealous that I didn’t tell you about Geto.”

“I’m not jealous!”

“You are!”

“Am not!”

He was so jealous, Choso determined as he stared up at his ceiling the dreaded night of prom. His fingers idly strummed at the new guitar that laid across his stomach, trying to get his mind off of the fact that you hadn’t even bothered to send him a picture of your dress. It had always been him that was the first to see your new haircuts, fresh manicures, and imaginative outfits, and it was eating him alive that for the first time in twelve years, another guy was going to get to witness that little spin of display you did each time you wore something you felt particularly pretty in. 

It didn’t help that he’d already gotten an earful from his dad when he got home from school that day about the fact that he still hadn’t righted his wrong and asked you instead. Jin must have gone on for at least an hour about what a shame it was that of all the experiences you two had shared, one as important to you as this one would be hand in hand with someone else. For the first time since the start of your long-winded friendship, he was sharing you with someone, and Choso was quickly realizing that he was selfish— and unashamedly so. 

The event had already been going on for about two hours now, and he was coming to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t hear from you tonight. The familiar notes of that favorite song of yours that he had learned all those years ago filled his ears as he began absentmindedly plucking at the strings under his fingertips. Ever so slowly, the melody began shifting into one he’d never heard before, taking its own shape as it filled his melancholy room with feelings of you, and how much he’d taken it for granted all those times he had you laying beside him as he toyed with the notes, telling him what sounded nice and what he needed to work on.

The notes suddenly screeched awkwardly as his phone began buzzing in his back pocket, yanking him from his pensive sulking with its imposing tune. Blinking a few times, he frantically tossed his hips up to wrangle his phone out from behind him, the head of his guitar smacking him in the face with the sudden movements. 

He shot up out of bed pathetically upon seeing your name lighting up his screen along with a picture he’d taken of the two of you in the mirror a few months ago when you tried to give him red highlights. There was dye nearly everywhere except where it was supposed to be, yet you still beamed up at the mirror despite the red streaks covering your face and arms, gloved hands still tangled into his hair. 

Clearing his throat, he quickly swiped to answer the call before it went to voicemail. 

“Did someone spike the punch or—”

“Choso?” Your voice sounded hushed, but it still wavered ever-so-slightly against the sound of music blaring in the distance. The smile quickly fell from his face. “Do you think you could… come get me?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. What’s going on?” He was barrelling through his hectic room to find any pair of shoes to shove on, nearly tripping over himself as he hopped toward the front door on one foot. 

“Um… nothing, I just… really wanna go home.” 

There wasn’t even the tiniest part of him that was convinced, but that would just have to be a conversation for later because there was a timid vulnerability and tremor in your sweet voice that he’d never heard before. Snatching his dad’s keys from the hook by the door, he was requesting your location before racing down the street. There was a slight possibility that he had run more than a few red lights on his way to the hotel that was hosting your school’s prom in the banquet hall. The car had barely come to a stop when he was flinging the door open to rush toward the bench you were sitting at out front. 

“What are you doing out here by yourself? Where’s Geto?” 

But your eyes were fluttering around you cautiously, scoping the surrounding area with a shake of your head as your best friend pulled you up by your arm. 

“Please, can we just go? I don’t—”

“Right— yeah, okay, come on.”

It was silent on the ride home save for your hushed request that he take you back to his house for the night instead. Cautionary side long glances were continuously tossed your way throughout the drive, and you could practically feel the concerned curiosity eating alive at him as your body faced the passenger side door. You were eternally grateful for the fact that the other two residents of the Itadori household had already turned in for the night when you two arrived. 

Choso flipped the lights on in his room, carefully inching the door of his room closed so as not to wake anyone up. When he turned, he was finally able to get his first good look at you, and he was absolutely bursting at the seams to know what Geto must have done to fuck up a night with you as his date looking as ethereal as you did standing in the middle of his room. 

You were sighing dejectedly as you tugged open his drawers to fish out something to change into, but Choso was still stuck by the door, eyes taking in each detail of your glittering makeup and intricately lined lips. 

“You…” His words drifted as you turned your back toward him so he’d undo your zipper. “You look beautiful.”

You paused, head slowly turning to look over your shoulder at him with misty eyes. 

“Thanks, Cho.”

Quickly working your zipper down, he turned to face the door as you stepped out of your dress to shrug on a pair of his sweatpants and a crewneck. His leg swayed anxiously while he listened to the gentle rustling of clothes behind him. 

“Did… did something happen?”

Upon hearing the subtle creak of his bed as you sank down onto it, he carefully turned around. The bed dipped by your head where he sat himself, and you felt him absentmindedly begin pulling the myriad of pins from your hair. Flushing red, you covered your face with your hands as you recalled how your night had progressed, not caring how you were smudging your makeup against your hands. 

“He… he just wanted to have sex with me.”

Choso felt his heart crack at your shaky explanation, the guilt he had been experiencing for not having asked you to prom himself returning tenfold. The bobby pin in his grasp bent between his fingers as he thought about how Geto had ruined what was meant to be a special night for you. 

“That guy’s a loser, he’ll probably die a virgin anyway.” He attempted to lighten the mood with a hesitant, breathy laugh, but it died in his throat when you slowly sat up to look at him, your now loose hair falling messily in your face and tears brimming your eyes. His stomach dropped at the mortified expression scrunching up your typically cheerful face, and he gulped down the bile rising in his throat. “Oh.”

A sob racked your body as you moved to curl into a tight ball, your head resting against his tense thighs. His hands hovered over you uncertainly before slowly coming down to brush at the hair invading your face.

“So, you…” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

“I feel like an idiot.” You cried, fisting at his pajama pants. “I stopped him right after he— he put it… in, but—”

“It’s okay.” Choso cut off your embarrassed rambles, pulling you up to wrap you in a tight embrace. He wasn’t sure if he could handle listening to the details. “Did he stop when you asked him to?”

A heavy sigh of relief left him when you nodded against his shoulder. It was silent for a few minutes, your soft cries soaking into the fabric of his tattered, band t-shirt.  

“I’m sorry.” He whispered dejectedly, trying desperately to get the image out of his head of you underneath of Geto with your makeup done up so prettily for someone who didn’t deserve it. He thought about how none of it would have happened had he just grown a pair. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to prom. I should’ve taken you, none of this would have—”

“It’s not your fault.” You interrupted, finally lifting your head from where it had burrowed into his neck to look up at him, your lip still trembling as your once pristine makeup smeared down your red cheeks. 

As you stared into his dewey, warm eyes, you allowed your thoughts to wander to how your night might have ended had Choso been your date, how you had stopped Geto after the gruelling realization hit you that no hands felt as right against your skin without the gruffness of guitar-string callouses. Your stomach churned nervously, and you laid back down against his lap, unable to face him as the words came tumbling from your lips. 

“I wish it would have been you, Cho.”

Choso’s heart sputtered to an abrupt halt— at least that’s what it felt like as your words sunk in. Slowly, he laid back against his pillow, careful not to jostle you in your spot against his thighs. Staring up at the ceiling, his mouth opened and closed a few times. 

“Y-You mean as a prom date, right?” The question came out apprehensively, because, deep down, you both already knew the answer. You closed your eyes nonetheless, a final tear slipping down your cheek. 

“Yeah, as a prom date.” Your lie came out barely a whisper as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“I wish it would’ve been me too. Y’know, your… prom date.”

It was the first time both of you knew that something had shifted in your relationship, though neither of you were brave enough to mention it the next morning when you woke. 

That fateful night was two years ago now, and you had had ample time to come to the realization that perhaps you should have been more upfront with him, because Choso was now hundreds of miles away at an arts school with only a telephone keeping you two together. 

It had been a difficult conversation with shifting eyes and unnecessarily guilty frowns, but when your best friend had broken the news to you that he’d been accepted into a different university than the one you’d be attending, you couldn’t have been happier that he was pursuing his passion for music. When he dropped the bomb that it was nearly six hours away— that was a tougher pill to swallow.

You two had been doing the best you could though— calling each other every other night and texting in between to make sure to keep up to date on everything university life had to offer you. Still, things would get busy sometimes, what with Choso’s occasional shows that he’d been playing with a local band in his college town, and your downright diabolical class and exam schedule. Things certainly weren’t the same anymore, but you desperately tried to cling onto him.

Additionally, in your absence Choso was reminded of just how much of a clutch you had been for him. He had never been the best at talking to others, relating to the types of casual niceties that seemed to connect people, but he had never had to until now because you had always been just enough for him. Sure, he had warmed up enough to his bandmates, but it was never the same— not when he sat alone in his room at night strumming melodies he only wished he would have played for you earlier when he still had the chance to do something about these things he was feeling.

On your end of the world, it certainly didn’t help that his band had grown a modest following, and it seemed that for the first time, the rest of the world was also beginning to notice Choso. 

Choso, the one boys and girls alike used to veer away from in the halls at school because of his terrifyingly blunt, resting bitch face. 

Choso, the one who spent the majority of highschool with limbs that seemed too long for his body until he grew into his own. 

Choso, the one who, unless you were beside him, often took jokes too literally and ended up embarrassing himself each time he opened his mouth. 

Choso, the one who you had stuck beside throughout each awkward phase and experimental hairstyle until he landed on the shag cut that suited him so nicely. 

Choso, the one who had been receiving the nastiest of thirst comments under each of his band’s social media posts as the rest of the world caught onto what you had known all along.

And, god, how it stung to scroll through each one, but it was like you couldn’t look away, wondering with each username if he was enjoying all the new attention he was getting. You wondered how far he had leaned into this rockstar persona he had been dreaming of his whole life, if he snuck girls backstage and pocketed their bras as evidence of his conquests.

 I mean, the guy had gone damn near his entire life without so much as a second glance from any girl he’d come in contact with— except for you, of course, and you underestimated just how deep his loyalty ran and how much he remembered who it was that had been with him through it all.

So, to hell with every creatively intricate thirst comment under photos that even had you contemplating starting a burner account to appreciate with the masses, none of them mattered despite all the nights you’d spent chewing at your fingernails with thoughts of what he might be up to. Each fan account could burn in hell though—  because it was you he called as soon as he’d received the news that his band would be touring, opening for an indie band that you two had actually been fans of for quite some time. 

“I wanna fly you out.” Choso insisted breathlessly, still winded from the sheer velocity at which he raced for his phone upon hearing the news. It made your heart stutter, because it had been now going on three years since you last saw him, your schedules never having seemed to line up just right. There were a few times when you had contemplated flying out to surprise him at one of his local, bar shows, but with your building mountain of school work, you’d had little to no time to get a job that could afford you the extra change at the end of each month to buy a plane ticket. At your silence, he huffed, and you could practically hear that damned pout from over the phone. “C’mon, our birthday is coming up. We used to spend all our birthdays together.”

Smiling wistfully at the memories of how easy you two once had it, you shook your head. 

“Well that was before you became some heart-throb rock star, Cho.” You teased, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you wondered if he still blushed so easily at little comments like that, and, if so, what shade his cheeks were at the moment. 

“How am I supposed to be a rock star with no groupies? That’s just lame.” 

“Oh, trust me, I’m sure you have a long list of contenders waiting in line. Have you been checking your instagram comments lately?”

This made him pause, the tiniest of knowing smiles creeping onto his face. 

“No, but it sounds like you have.” 

For once, it was you flushing that burning shade of red that once graced his cheeks so frequently, and you wondered when he’d begun reciprocating your teasing banter instead of just stammering through his responses while trying not to look you in the eyes. Shaking his head with a nearly silent chuckle, he decided to put you out of your misery, clutching his phone tighter against his ears. 

“Let me fly you out, please? I know you’ve gotta break coming up. I wanna see you.” 

So just three months later, though truthfully it felt like a year as you and Choso counted down the days until you would see each other again, you were on a flight courtesy of his now modest earnings from his band. And sure, it was no fancy seat with the luxury accommodations he just knew you deserved, but he felt so proud to know that he was able to do something for you. He had been waiting at the airport nearly two hours before your flight was actually supposed to land, flowers clutched in his clammy hands as he checked the time repeatedly. 

Much to his frustration, your flight kept getting delayed, and, after the third push back, he had to begrudgingly resign himself to the fact that he wouldn’t get to be there when you landed, having to get back for sound check for the show tonight. After sending a long winded explanation text, he insisted that you text him as soon as you land as well as as soon as you got to the hotel and as soon as you made it to the venue, and— well, you got the point. 

With all the sudden delays, you only had time to drop your luggage off at the front desk of the hotel, who assured you they’d get it to your room for you before you had to haul ass to the venue before you missed any second of Choso’s band opening. He had given your name to security, who had your pass waiting for you when you arrived and quickly led you toward a less crowded section reserved for the talents’ guests. 

You were slightly winded from the nonstop moving you had been doing since you woke up this morning, but even with how spent you felt, you weren’t sure anything could have woken you up faster than the sight of your best friend on that stage after three years of not seeing him. Sure, the two of you had been keeping up with pictures and the occasional video call, but none of it did him justice— not with the way the boy you once knew had grown into such a… man.

The once lanky limbs that hung awkwardly at his sides had certainly filled out, emphasized nicely by the gaping muscle shirt he currently had on. His biceps flexed with each rip of his guitar as his grown out hair fell into his chiseled face. To your surprise, he had a mic situated in front of him and was occasionally offering back-up vocals that you were straining with everything in you to pinpoint amongst the rest of the music.

His eyes swept across the designated guest area, and you and your poor, weak heart nearly gave out upon realizing that he had begun lining them just as you did for him all those years ago, smudged out across his lids and adding a spine-tingling depth as they spotted you in the crowd. That earth-shattering smile lit up his face as he took in the sight of you looking up at him, because none of this success and fulfillment of lifelong dreams felt nearly as sweet without you being in the audience for him to impress.

Choso was breath-taking on that stage, commanding it with a confidence you had never seen on him before. It was a blur as the set went on, your shouting out the lyrics to the songs of theirs that you’d kept up with over the year, your already spent body expending the fumes of energy it had left to thrash around to the eardrum-crushing beat.

 You found yourself anxiously checking your phone when his band finished their set and disappeared backstage, not knowing if you were going to have to wait until the end of the show to see him. Thinking back to the phone conversation you two had had months prior, and how you really were starting to feel like his groupie. The thought made you smile in amusement, shoving your phone back into your pocket as the main band came out on stage. 

Your questions were answered just one song in when a pair of nearly steaming, sweat clung arms wrapped around your shoulders and chest from behind, squeezing you into an equally sweaty chest. 

“Ew, Cho, get off! You’re soaked!” You tried to sound disgusted, but your delighted laugh deceived you, because you were sure that he could have been covered head to toe in blood right now and you’d still allow him to latch onto you as he was doing so ardently.

“What happened to being my groupie?” He shouted over the blasting music, surprising you when his lips met your cheek in a sloppy kiss. Even he wasn’t sure where he’d worked up the gall to kiss you, but maybe it was the fact that he’d spent the last three years regretting his inaction, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you board that flight back home without at least trying. 

Hoping he didn’t see the way your cheeks flushed at the little stunt, you took note of the fact that he had yet to release you. 

“Your groupie is gonna need a few drinks if she has to deal with your stench for the next hour.”

In typical Choso fashion, he quickly obliged your request, planting yet another kiss against your temple before disappearing in the blur of security and venue workers to find you something to drink. You felt like your head was spinning with his sudden forward shift in behavior, but you chalked it up to the fact that you two hadn’t seen each other in so long.

 So, you didn’t question it when he came back with two vodka Red Bulls and continued to cling onto you the remainder of the show. He hoisted you up on his back when the crowd around you began to grow so you could get a better view of the band and didn’t care that you were screaming along to the songs right into his ear because you were finally here with him, and he could buy you drinks and give you front row seats to one of your favorite bands, and for once he thought that maybe he was brave enough to admit that he wanted something more with you after all these years of convincing himself that there was nothing he could offer you that’d be worth your while.

He was riding on the high of your giddy smile the entire taxi ride back to the hotel, unable to wipe that lovesick grin off of his face even when you asked him if there was something on your face that was warranting all the staring.

“I’m just gonna shower really quick, and then I’ll come to your room so we can order some food, ‘kay?” You explained while fishing out the room key that you’d received from the front desk earlier that day.

Choso’s brows furrowed as he pushed the respective button on the elevator and adjusted his guitar case over his shoulder. 

“What do you mean? We’re going to the same room.” 

Looking up from the inside of your bag, you stared at him with a slightly dumbfounded expression. 

“You only booked one room?” You questioned with a fluttering gaze. 

“We’ve always shared a room.” He explained obviously, making his way down the hall once the elevator doors opened. You could hardly argue with him on that logic, because you two had been sharing a room, hell— sharing a bed since you were kids. As you followed close behind him, butterflies churning in your stomach, you came to the conclusion that Choso had neglected to account for the fact that you two weren’t kids anymore.

Still, he had flown you all this way, and you had missed the endless nights you two would spend together watching horror movies until Jin would stumble into the room, exasperated as he asked you two to please turn down the volume or, better yet, watch anything else that didn’t have him jolting awake from the incessant sounds of blood-curdling screams emanating from his son’s room at ungodly hours of the night. Bonus points if you two had snuck Yuji in to watch them with you and had to shove him under the bed until their dad left the room lest he find out his youngest was watching movies far too mature for his age.

Yuji and Jin weren’t there to interrupt though, and you were currently hyping yourself up in the bathroom mirror to go out and spend the night with the man you’d known for fifteen years now. Looking down at yourself, you cursed at your choice of sleep wear that you’d clearly chosen before you knew Choso would be sleeping beside you. His old Metallica t-shirt had tiny holes in the shoulders and was discolored from so many years of wash cycles, but it was just so perfectly worn in, and it was a little reminder of him each time you went to sleep. 

The tattered hem fell just above your mid-thigh, and you were once again punching yourself in the leg because why would you not pack any pajama shorts? Pants? A longer shirt? Literally anything other than your fucking jeans that you’d rather bear the humiliation for than wear to bed? Huffing out a final sigh, you hung up your towel before exiting the steam-filled bathroom outwardly displaying far more confidence than was actually present in your muddled mind at the moment. 

“Shower’s open, Cho.” You informed with your eyes cast downward, shoving your dirty clothes into the respective section of your suitcase. 

He looked up from the room service menu he’d been studying for the past few minutes, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest at the sight of your bare thighs that still glistened from whatever lotion you had slathered on after your shower, and oh god was that his shirt? His brain was short-circuiting on the spot, and he was so grateful that he was jumping into the shower now, knowing that knob was about to be turned to the coldest setting he could manage. 

You sighed in quiet relief when the bathroom door shut behind him, thanking your lucky stars that he hadn’t mentioned anything about your choice of sleepwear— or lack thereof, hoping it meant that he didn’t notice.

 Finally allowing some of the tension to fall from your shoulders, you looked around the slightly bougie hotel room, smiling at the sight of his guitar leaning against the wall. Taking the opportunity to be a little nosy for nostalgia’s sake, you unzipped the case and carefully pulled the beloved instrument out. It was hardly recognizable now, what with all the decals and stickers he’d adorned it with over the years, but it was that same electric guitar you had scraped up all your tip money to buy for him.

Humming fondly, you sat crisscrossed in the middle of the plush bed to fiddle with the strings, recalling all the nights Choso had spent desperately trying to teach you how to play, but you never could make good on his diligent efforts. You could only vaguely recall the chords to that first song he’d ever learned to play, the one you’d watched him strum what must have been hundreds of times for you. Pursing your lip, you tried to angle your fingers just right along the neck as you dug into the far corners of your memory. 

“Your hand is too far up the neck.” 

In your fierce concentration, you hadn’t even heard Choso exiting the bathroom. Not looking up at him lest you break your focus, you shifted your hand as he’d instructed.

“Here?” 

He tutted softly, though you could practically hear the fond amusement oozing from him. After a moment, you felt the bed dip behind you, and your breath hitched as you felt his chest press against your back, and you suddenly didn’t feel as embarrassed at your lack of clothing since he hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on following his shower. His hands soon came up to close around yours, guiding them to the proper placement.

“Try now.” He instructed softly, tucking his chin over your shoulder to watch your movements. 

Trying to control the way your fingers trembled with the feeling of the muscles he never used to have pressed right up against you, you tried again. When he let out a quiet hum of disapproval, you didn’t have the chance to ask what you had done wrong before he was scooching you back to sit in his lap for better access to the instrument. 

“You’ve gotta spread out your fingers a little more.” Choso’s tips were falling on deaf ears, because his scent was enveloping you like a warm blanket, he was so warm pressed right up against you, and his cheek was brushing against yours as he adjusted your fingers. 

As he had been telling himself since he saw you in the audience earlier for the first time in three years, he wasn’t that awkward boy anymore who was too scared to be honest with himself, and he knew better than to believe that the flush in your cheeks right now was from your shower. Smiling softly, he eased up his hands as you began to get the hang of it, only occasionally reaching up to correct your placements. You gradually allowed yourself to relax against him, your shoulders drifting back to fall along his broad chest. 

“Do you ever think about that night of prom?” Out of all the ways he could have eased into this conversation, he wasn’t sure why that was what had come out of his mouth, but he was relieved when you scoffed out a light laugh. 

“You mean the night I lost my virginity to Suguru Geto?” You shook your head at the once damn near traumatic memory, a bitter smile gracing your lips. “I try not to.” 

It was silent for a moment, and just as he thought you had all but forgotten what you had said to him that night, you spoke up hesitantly.

“Do you? Y’know— think about it?”

“All the time.” 

Your fingers paused against the strings, but a hushed whisper in your ear to keep playing had you jolting back into action, but your subtle squirming against his lap gave you away. 

“Why the hell would you be thinking about that?” You mumbled, keeping your voice low as you desperately tried to maintain your composure.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if it was me instead.”

His hand came up to tighten your grip around the neck of the guitar that had loosened with the implications of his words, and you heard those familiar words falling from your lips just as they had from his three years ago. 

“You mean as my prom date, right, Cho?” 

His head shifted ever so slightly, and you shivered as his nose grazed against your temple. The hand that had been guiding your fingers over the strings drifted down to ghost over your bare thigh. 

“Yeah, as your prom date.” He lied, just as you had that night. The pads of his fingers dug into the fat of your thigh momentarily, giving you the opportunity to push him away should he have been reading all the signs wrong. You didn’t though, you only held back the softest of whimpers when the metaphorical green light prompted him to run his hand further up, brushing back your already maddeningly ridden up shirt. “I think about how much of an idiot he was, what I would’ve done different.” 

The way your comparably smaller frame was expanding and deflating against him in tandem with your labored breaths was making it hard for him to think, and he was sure his body was acting purely on autopilot. 

“Like what?” You dared to whisper, not even quite sure that you were ready to hear his answer, but oh was he willing to give it to you. 

“I would’ve told you how pretty you looked that night— because you did. You looked like an angel.” Choso rasped out against your ear, and his fingers were curling around the warmth of your inner thigh, just barely grazing against your rapidly heating core. Your fingers stuttered once again against the strings, and his other hand quickly came up to grip at the column of your neck, pressing you back against him. “Keep playing for me, angel.”

And you tried, hands trembling as they fumbled to find the right chords again. 

“Did he touch you like this before he ruined your night?”

“No!” You gasped out desperately, arching against him as he pushed your panties to the side to collect the pooling slick at your entrance, using it to aid in the tentative circles he began working against your clit. “H-He didn’t touch me at all— ah!”

With a vexed tut of disapproval, Choso’s fingers dipped down to plunge into your sopping heat. His movements were choppy, and it was clear that he wasn’t sure what exactly you would like, but his focused gaze on your side profile as he studied each of your reactions told you that he was going to figure it the fuck out.

“I would have taken the time for you— I would’ve made sure you were ready.” His regrets were spilling past his frantic lips in a manner teetering on a whine as your head fell back against his shoulder. “Keep playing.”

“I can’t— I can’t, Cho.” You cried deliriously as his fingers began curling up in response to your frantic reaction. You were soaking through the underwear that had been pushed haphazardly to the side, and if you were more lucid you would have been embarrassed at the way it pooled onto the sheets below you. 

At once, he had released the firm grip he had on your neck to push his guitar off the bed. 

“Then come up here and let me show you how I would have taken care of you.”

Choso, with his eagerness to please and this newfound Herculean strength of his, didn’t give you the chance to comply with his request, because he was ripping at your flimsy underwear and shifting you around to face him. It was enough to give you whiplash, but the bruising grip he had around your waist assured that your balance wouldn’t fail you as he laid back against the unsuspecting hotel sheets and yanked you up to hover over his crazed face. 

“Choso, y-you don’t have to—” 

“I want to.” He pleaded, his lips glistening with an anticipatory drool as those puppy-dog eyes of his locked onto your core, and he was once again reminded of the fact that Suguru Geto had to be the dumbest man on this fucking planet. Craning his neck up, he couldn’t help himself as he dragged his hot tongue up the length of your folds, his strangled moan vibrating against you. “Mmph, sit— please.”

Leave it to Choso to not forget about his manners as he begged you to suffocate him between your trembling thighs. You complied, moving ever-so-slowly to lower yourself against him before he dug his fingers into your thighs and made you sit. Hunching forward, your forehead fell against the plush headboard with a choked cry as he all but unhinged his jaw around your core. 

He watched through dazed eyes at the way your face crumpled with each symphony of pleasure that slipped past your bitten lips. There was no sense in dwelling on the past now, but he couldn’t help but feel so utterly idiotic for having been so blind all this time. It had always been there— in the lingering touches and the intimacy of trust that had forged between you two over fifteen years of falling back on one another.

Choso’s eyes rolled back as you rolled your hips against his tongue, momentarily blocking any passage of air through his mouth and nose, but, even with the clenching in his lungs that told him that he needed to breathe paired with the ringing in his ears, he thought he’d much rather have your weeping pleasure as the cause of death on his obituary, because any life where he hindered that impending high you were cravenly grinding toward wasn’t a life worth living.

His tongue dipped into your entrance for an exasperatingly brief tour before its pointed tip was dancing up to swoop under the hood of your already painfully sensitive clit. You squeaked out a pitched moan, nearly tumbling down if one of his hands hadn’t shot up to press against your sternum to keep you upright. A choked sob of pleasure shook your shoulders, and your hand flew down to tangle into the very haircut he maintained for so long just because you said it looked cute on him.

There was a sharp sting on his scalp as you yanked at the roots, the subtle pain at the hands of you nearly sending him to an early grave as his hips bucked up against the air. He was only met by the infuriatingly gentle friction of his sweatpants brushing against his leaking tip, but you were crying out his name and using him so sweetly with every craven thrust of your hips, and it was enough for him after all the sleepless nights he’d spent wishing he could have changed the past. 

Evidence of you was dripping grotesquely down his face, dragging as far up as his nose that glistened proudly in the wake of your sloppy thrusts against him. His eyes were barely open by the time you timidly glanced down at him, half-lidded to match the dopey smile you felt morphing against your folds. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” You murmured through burning cheeks as he leaned you back to sit on his chest. 

“I’ve waited fifteen years to look at you like this.” His words were damn near slurred, but the sentiment remained the same. Brushing the dishevled hair from his forehead, you slid down slowly to straddle his waist, gasping tenderly at the feeling of his abs brushing against your sensitive clit, though your eyes never once left his. 

With wanton eyes drifting down his pink-tinted face, his eyes drifted shut as he leaned up to meet the kiss he was sure he was finally about to get, but it instead landed tenderly on his forehead. A warmth spread down his spine, making his fingers curl tighter around your waist. 

“Put me out of my misery already.” Choso whispered, but his actions deceived him as he reached up to keep you pressed against his forehead. Just as you slipped out of his grasp, lips dragging down the bridge of his nose until they ghosted over his. With a clouded gaze, he whispered against your lips, “Did he tell you he loved you?”

With a delirious shake of your head, you crashed through the tiniest of barriers that had been left between you.  

“I love you.” He mumbled desperately against your kiss, hands sneaking up under your baggy shirt to graze along your spine. “More than just a— ah— a prom date. I love you.”

“I love you, too— more than just a friend.” You confirmed as you snuck your hand down between you to creep into his waistband. 

He flinched away from you with a quick, hissing breath, reaching down to grip at your hand in record timing. Pulling away from him with a start, you blinked down owlishly at him. 

“Oh— I-I’m sorry, I just thought you wanted to…”

“I do!” He sat up faster than you could blink to miss it. With that signature flush of his cheeks, he cast his gaze to the side. “Just… give me a little bit, okay?”

Raising a brow at his sudden timidness, you decided not to make it known that you had already felt the tacky wet splotch currently making a mess of his sweatpants. Saving him the wallowing self-pity you just knew he’d fall into for the rest of the night, you opted to lay beside him, tracing the tattoo that lined his nose absentmindedly as he looked anywhere but you. With a soft laugh, he finally turned his head to face you again after a moment of silence, smiling sheepishly down at you. 

“Happy birthday, angel.”

Glancing over at the bedside clock, you noted with a cacooning warmth that it read 12:02 AM.

“Happy birthday, Cho.”

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