#[[ I was torn between making this cute and awkward ]]

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time

G/N. 3.2k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

"How old are you?"

"20."

Press X for doubt, you think, and that's the exact meme you send over on chat.

"20 like 20 or 20 like you're mid 30s and planning your mid life crisis 20?"

You know you're being rude and making a terrible first impression. It's the first day of a new school year, of a new school in fact, and for some reason the class is held on video call and you're all forced to pair off with a classmate for an icebreaker introduction.

It’s already cringe worthy and awkward enough, icebreakers must have been created as a form of torture. To add insult to injury, you're sure this guy is bullshitting you.

"I'm 20." He deadpans.

Momentarily, you’re stunned into silence. It stretches almost a tad too long before you manage to choke out, “My bad. Sorry."

Wow. You're torn between thinking that's a rough 20, this guy has easily got 40 years under his belt and oh no, when is your puberty and hormones gonna kick in like that.

And that's also the exact moment this 20 year old Gun Park takes a drag on a cigarette and you decide that it's definitely a rough 20.

"So what do you do for fun?" You probe, and you have the distinct feeling he might say something like alimony, planning his third marriage, investing in the stock market - whatever someone in their 50s might say but-

To your surprise and glee, his body language turns shifty. 

He likes to game he says, like it's a dirty little secret. Amongst other things. Mentions something about training and martial arts and you fight to keep a straight face as it turns out you were also right about investing in shares and the stock market.

Gaming, however, is what you latch on to.

"Cute. I bet I could kick your ass."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yes."

And this is how you ended up at 4am on a school night, playing Tekken with your new classmate and getting your ass kicked.

"One more!" You screech down the mic, after the KO sign appears on screen, mumbling something about cheating and how if you can time this combo just right-

There's a huff of laughter coming through your tinny headphones and an amused "Fine."

.

.

Dark circles under your eyes grow. It's been a week of straight losses.

You blame the sleep deprivation on Gun Park, though really you have your own stubbornness to blame.

He never tends to say much during the gaming sessions apart from the odd expletive and you rant enough after each of your defeats for the both of you.

Sometimes this will earn you a chuckle and he will snidely add that you asked for this, you were the one who was supposed to kick his ass. This would piss you off enough for another game or three in the hopes of defeating him and getting to gloat.

Which unfortunately has not happened yet.

With a sigh, you hope your camera quality this morning is bad enough and pixelated enough that your poor sleep habits don't show.

You scan over your classmates, the few that have their camera turned on and find him.

Gun looks completely fine. He looks completely fine in what must be 4k and ugh, you scrunch your nose up in annoyance.

You keep an eye on him through the class. Observe how he's usually paying rapt attention, scribbling and typing up notes every now and then.

It's impressive how studious he is.

In comparison, you're daydreaming. Thinking about lunch, other combos or characters to play to counter his own when you catch on to the back end of a sentence as your teacher mentions ‘this’ is something to pay attention to as it will be on the pop quiz.

Huh? You blink a couple times. What is ‘this’? Unfortunately she swiftly moves onto another topic.

You type out a direct message to the only person you know.

You: I missed that, what did she just say?

Gun: You should have been paying attention.

You: Fuck you man!

You see his eyes dip to the bottom of the camera screen, briefly moving as he presumably reads your message.

He smirks.

That night he kicks your ass again.

Then as consolation, reveals what will be on the pop quiz.

.

.

If Gun looked like that in 4k, nothing could prepare you for how he looked in real life.

You're setting up your laptop and notepad in the classroom, the first actual in-person session, when someone takes a seat next to you.

Initially you feel a surge of irritation that they could have sat anywhere else and chose to sit next to you, then you look at the offender and-

Hold on.

You double, triple-take-

Is that?

It must be.

Shit.

It's fucking Gun Park.

You don't entirely regret your initial comments on his looks because this guy definitely does not look 20 but goddamn he looks-

He chooses that moment, when your jaw is on the floor, to turn to you and give you a nod of acknowledgement.

"Y/N."

"H-hi." You manage, and even to your ears it sounds like a simpering fool.

He must have thought so too if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by.

The cherry on top is that you expected this guy to smell like stale smoke, instead all you get is fresh laundry and something faintly dark and heady like leather and cedarwood.

Fuck.

Control yourself, a disapproving voice in your head says. Even that sounds vaguely like Gun.

It does nothing to stop your wandering gaze, peering at him in your periphery when you think he's not looking.

After you have taken your chance to not so discreetly run your eyes up and down his form, the only thing that makes you feel better is his hair. Because yeah he might be hot, but holy shit that must be a gallon of hair gel in there.

.

.

The other thing, as it turns out, that makes you feel a lot better is that he doodles.

It’s utterly charming.

Someone like Gun Park doesn't look like he doodles, but in between lines of his chicken scratch (seriously, who can even read that), there's little stick figures.

Maybe all the time you thought he was being studious he was just drawing-

Wait. You squint at the picture.

Is this guy for real?

"Are they fucking?" You whisper, using your pen to point at the page.

He doesn't answer straight away. There's a moment of surprise as he reacts like this is another secret of his he has unwittingly let you in on before his nostril flares and his eyes narrow and you grin in response.

Your grin grows when he grits out an answer. "No. Fighting."

He doesn't call you a dumbass but you can hear it loud and clear tacked on at the end.

"Whatever, pervert." You counter. You guess if you squint even harder then you suppose they could be fighting. Although the way one is lying on top of another is very suggestive. You don't hesitate to point that out to him.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

Even without a seating plan, one forms.

Places taken by chance on the first day becomes a regular arrangement.

You exchange a few words with your classmates, familiarise yourself somewhat with their names and faces. Pieces of their backstory, why they're here studying for a GED but take your spot next to Gun regardless.

No one really talks to him, you've heard them saying he's menacing and intimidating. Yet when your first encounter of him was mistaking him as someone about to hit mid life crisis, how intimidating can he really be.

Besides, he still doodles his lewd figures that he insists are not in any way shape or form comprising sexual positions. So no, you don't find him intimidating at all.

.

.

Gun, as you have come to know, is a man of few words. He is also unsurprisingly not great at literature.

What you don't yet know is he likes to say what he means and mean what he says. His patience only extends to The Art of War, so all the flowery prose and poetry only serves to irritate him.

If Gun glared at you the way he's currently glaring at the textbook, you think you may either burst into tears or burst into flames.

Luckily you do neither of those things but you do take pity on him. Leaning over, you ask him quietly if he needs help.

He doesn't respond but the pen he's clutching in his right hand snaps in half.

Alright then.

Half an hour later, when the class empties out you ask Gun to follow you to the library.

He hesitates, and you add "if you've got time" to give him an out. In the end he doesn't take it and trudges obediently after you.

You very quickly learn that he really doesn't like literature. You're explaining and working him through the analysis and also mildly offended at the bored look on his face.

"This is a waste of time," he interjects and there's a sullen undercurrent to his words.

"Just memorise the analysis then." Exasperation tinges your tone, "That's all you need to do to pass."

He arches a brow at your words.

"They're testing your memory. So just remember what our teacher says."

There's an angry air of resignation as Gun nods, and you slide your notes over for him to copy.

.

.

Not long after, you have your first minor evaluation on the literature material.

You notice during the test that while the vein in Gun’s temple is prominent and he’s clutching his (new) pen tighter, there’s barely any pause as he fills in the answers.

A few days later, the graded papers are handed back. There's a sigh of relief from Gun.

He gives you a smile, small and genuine, eyes crinkling at the corner.

"You owe me one," you tell him jokingly though he takes it to heart and gives you a stern nod.

.

.

Gun repays his debt, with a coffee.

He places the paper cup on the desk in front of you. Logo of the coffee house to the side but still visible. It's new, expensive, and there’s regular lines around the block.

Of course it would be from there.

The issue is, who repays a debt with an espresso. He didn’t even ask for your drink of choice!

"Thanks for this thimble of coffee," you remark as Gun sniffs in distaste at your comment, placing his own matching cup in front of him and saying something about how it's the best untainted way to drink it.

Of course he would also be a coffee snob.

You tell him you usually like it with a bit more cream and a lot more sugar and he mutters that you sound like Goo.

You think that's an insult.

"Well, at least Goo has good taste," you snipe back with a grin.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

You: Are you doodling or actually writing notes?

You: Cos on camera you look very studious but I’ve seen your notepad

Gun: None of your business

You: Still drawing your disgusting pornographic stick men then

Gun: They are not-

Gun: Whatever

.

.

You: Ok, maybe that espresso wasn’t terrible

Gun: I know

You: Who’s Goo anyway?

Gun: …

Gun: No-one

You: Suuuure

.

.

You: Tekken tonight?

Gun: Aren’t you tired of getting your ass kicked?

You: >:(

.

.

You: Do you wanna go over the new lit material in the library this week?

Gun: Ok

.

.

Gun: Thanks for your help

You: :) 

.

.

Gun: You’re tired. You should game less.

You: Spoken like a coward!

Gun: Dumbass

You: Hey!!

.

.

Gun: I’ll bring you an espresso tomorrow. You need it.

You: Does it have to be an espresso?

Gun: Yes

You: …Thanks

.

.

To anyone else, the figure standing in the doorway is just smoking. To you, it suspiciously looks like they’re waiting.

It's not a crime. Gun Park can wait for whatever or whoever he wants.

What really throws you off is his smoking. You've seen him casually take one single drag before throwing the whole cigarette away. Even to you, it seems like a waste.

However, this time he smokes one all the way to the filter before stubbing it out. Then does the same to a second, and third.

Strange, very strange.

You approach him. Taking gentle steps, in case he might get spooked and bolt which is really a ridiculous notion for someone like him. Nevertheless, you keep your footsteps light, yourself clearly in view and you wander over to him.

"Hey," you say, with a somewhat forced smile. He doesn't acknowledge your greeting apart from a brief nod.

"... Everything ok?"

It's a perfectly normal question to ask but a vastly bizarre one for Gun. He doesn't look like the type of person where people casually enquire about his well being.

He must have thought so too if the look he gives you is anything to go by.

In response, he stubs out his cigarette (his fourth!) then asks, stilted and stiffly, if you want to come back to his for a game of Tekken.

At least that's what you interpret as he seems to be crazy cryptic.

"Are you interested in Tekken?"

"...Yes." You wonder what on earth this question is because did you hallucinate all those games you played together?

"Then meet me. After class." 

"Where? Here?"

"No. At mine."

"Where's that?"

"..."

He gives you another look, as if you're the one trying to coax a secret out of him despite him offering.

Gun dips forward, murmurs quietly into your ear his address and some vague directions like it's highly confidential information.

You nod along, thinking what is with this guy. 

.

.

So firstly, what the fuck.

Then secondly, what the fuck.

Don't think you hadn't noticed the designer brands Gun wears. If they're fakes, they're very convincing fakes. But you're almost certain they have got to be counterfeit when he brought you over to a junkyard claiming this is where he lives.

You've seen films like this. Granted, it's less in a junkyard and more in the middle of nowhere in America where college kids meet their gruesome ends in fantastical ways.

You never thought this would happen to you. You have sorely miscalculated. 

Is this Gun Park (if that even is his real name) going to butcher you and leave your body on top of a pile of scrap metal in the corner?

Instead of a night of gaming where you’re the one KO-ing him, he’s actually the one that’s going to chase you around wearing a mask and wielding a knife or axe?

"You’re here. Come in," Gun says, opening his front door just as your inner monologue begins to truly spiral out of control and you're considering doing a runner.

"Eh?" You grunt like an idiot, not noticing when the shack appeared nor when you stepped onto his porch, or the side eyes Gun had been giving you.

He gives you another look, likely regretting inviting you at all, and leaves the door ajar for you to either enter or turn back and go home.

.

.

"This is... nice," you lie, through the skin of your teeth.

Gun sees cleanly through your white lie and exhales a huff of amusement.

It's sparse. Peeks of luxury here and there - the extensive PC gaming rig, the entertainment system and consoles, to name a few.

Apart from that, it's barely a home.

"Take a seat." He offers, and it sounds more like an order. Obediently you sit on his sofa, feeling very much a guest.

"You're not in danger," he says, bemused at how awkward you are in his domain, how tense you hold yourself.

'That's exactly what a killer would say,' you think and when you hear a low chuckle, you realise that you said it aloud.

"Don't worry," Gun reassures and it doesn’t really help before he strides off to somewhere in his house and leaves you sitting alone.

He returns back minutes later as you’re in the middle of admiring his entertainment set up and going through his vinyl collection (because obviously someone like Gun has vinyls) with a coffee for you that looks much more milky and to your taste than the usual ones he offers. 

“Thanks.” you take your drink and return back to your seat.

Taking the first sip, you finally manage to relax. Sinking into a sofa that is much more comfortable than at first glance and you take in your surroundings a bit more.

Sort of. You actually take in Gun Park more. 

He’s casual, in a way you have never seen or even considered. Dressed in a t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair floppy and the only styling is done with his hands running through his hair now and then to keep it back.

Even during the online classes, he is usually dressed up in an open collared shirt.

If you thought he was hot before, it’s nothing compared to now. There’s an air of domesticity, the drink he made for you cradled in your hands, and the distinct feeling that not many people have had the luxury to see Gun in his natural habitat, so intimate and vulnerable.

You wonder if this is how he looks all those nights you’ve been gaming together.

You catch his eyes, having been caught checking him out and he raises his eyebrows at your blatant staring. 

Blood rushes to your cheeks as he chuckles into his own espresso and takes a sip.

.

.

"Holy shit, I won!"

You're familiar with the KO screen. What you're not familiar with is being on the side of victory. You're usually a hair trigger away from rage quitting, from throwing a tantrum down the mic.

Finally. All your hard work has paid off. Time spent thinking of combos, attacks and defences (which would have been better spent studying) is coming to fruition.

You peer over to Gun, expect the controller he is clutching to maybe have been crushed into pieces with his freakish strength. Expected nothing except for a vein throbbing on his temple.

What you do find is-

Gun looking at you, fondness in his eyes. He's taking in your grin, letting your gloating slide.

Doesn't do more than roll his eyes when you perform a victory dance of sorts around him.

And when you get in his face to tell him that you're the winner, you're the best-

(More words are on the tip of your tongue but your gaze drops to his lip, drawn to the small smile he wears.

It sinks in.

The patience he has, the attention he gives, the way he has opened his home to you.

From the very first meeting, the even-handed way he has dealt with your insults, entertained you to the early hours of the morning on Tekken.)

Gun reaches out, tugs your hand and pulls you into his lap and agrees.

"Yes. The best."

You think it's a lie, an embellishment.

But the way he holds you - tender and precious, and the way he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours - soft, like you might break - can't be anything else but the whole truth.

[countlessrealities]

Kisses under the mistletoe

@advnterccs sent: 😍 : my muse places a mistletoe above your muse’s head { To your Morty from my Morty }

While he would have denied it even under torture because it would have made him sound lame, Morty had been planning this since the start of the month. The previous Christmas had been a very important moment for him and his counterpart, even if they hadn't officially gotten together until New Year's Eve, and he meant to make the day somewhat special this year too.

That was why he had offered, for once, to help his Dad decorating the house. Useless to say, Jerry had been surprised and overjoyed by it, oblivious to the fact that he would be just a mean to an end. The teen wanted to know exactly where every piece of decoration would be, especially the mistletoe bundles, so that he could choose the best place where to share a romantic kiss with his boyfriend.

He had also stolen one of thee bundles while his father wasn't watching, just in case none of the spots would work for them.

Oddly enough, Rick had let him do what he wanted without much of a fuss. Morty had been a little puzzled and a little worried at first, because he was expecting his grandfather to be planning something nasty to get back at him for having chosen to spend most of the day with Jerry instead of adventuring with him. However, his concerns had been quickly dissipated when he had caught the scientist smirking at him from above a glass of liquor right when he had embezzled the extra bundle of mistletoe.

He really should have been expected would have Rick had guessed what he was up to. What had been even more surprising was that the man had chosen to enable him, even if it meant taking time away from their adventures. It had filled Morty with gratitude and warmth, even if he hadn't dared to show it, knowing that he would have been dismissed, if not straight out mocked.

Once the gathering of the two families had started, Morty had waited for the right moment. He had quickly given up on using one of the mistletoes that had been hung in the doorways, because there was always someone else around. He wanted it to be a moment just between the two of them, without an audience or interferences of any kind.

So, as soon as he saw a chance for them both to sneak out unseen, he took his other self by the hand, tugging at his arm to coax him into following.

"C-Come with me for a minute?" He asked quietly, so that no one else could hear him. Despite his efforts to look calm, his shy nervousness still showed in the light trembling of his voice. "I-I want...Uh, t-there's something I want to..."

He cut himself off, realising that he didn't know how to word his request without revealing what he had in mind. It didn't necessarily have to be a surprise, but in his eyes it would have been more romantic if he had managed to keep it such. Was it worth making a fool of himself, though? He wasn't so sure about it.

"Y-You'll see!" He settled on saying, pulling his counterpart a little more firmly. The less he talked and the more he acted, the better would be.

He led them out of the living room, perhaps a little too rushedly, and then past the the dining room and into the hallway. Instead of heading for the stairs as one would think, however, he took another turn, not stopping until they were standing in the corridor between Rick's room and Jerry's man cave.

Only then he allowed himself to turn to face his boyfriend once again, not before having taken a deep breath in and out. It was now or never. He wanted to be smooth, to be as charming as his other self saw him at times. No matter how hard and fast his heart was beating in his chest and throat.

Swallowing quietly, he fished the bunch of mistletoe out of his pocket, and held it up above their heads, forcing the most flirtatious smile he could master on his face.

"Y-You know, since we've been together for a while," almost a year, but he would deal with that on New Year's Eve, "an-and things between us have been going well," or at least he truly hope so, "I-I thought that we deserved some time alone for this."

He glanced up at the mistletoe, both to back up his words and to have a moment to steady himself for what he was about to say next.

"An-And, if you're up for it, to get a little...naughty too."

[nereidprinc3ss]

slumber party

in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid

fluff! warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu

“Oh, there is no way.”

Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you. 

“What? Is it—”

You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?

But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before they’re back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough. 

Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.

But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.

One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.

Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bit… abrasive, sometimes. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just—I’ll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their room—”

Just then there’s a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement. 

“Oh my god! You guys too?”

“What?” You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesn’t comment. 

“Me and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.”

You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them. 

“What about Morgan and Garcia?”

Spencer snorts.

“Something tells me Penelope wouldn’t be too torn up about it if that's the case.”

“Hotch and Rossi?”

The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.

“I don’t even… I can’t picture that.”

“Can we please not try to picture it?”

“Great. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.”

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. “I’ll… I can take the floor—”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. We’re both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? It’ll be like a slumber party.”

“I’ve never had one,” he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up. 

“Then I’m happy to be your first,” you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, I’ll be gentle. “Do you want the shower first or can I?”

Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you. 

“You can have it first,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “Just don’t do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.”

“Aw. But I love doing that. It’s my favorite part,” you tease, scooping up your bag once more.

Twenty minutes later you’re emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie. 

“Nice outfit,” Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish you’d been prepared for. Really, you wish you’d known ahead of time you’d have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. “I had no idea you felt so passionately about… Scooby Doo?”

“Shut up right now,” you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can. 

“What?” He’s laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. “It’s a good look for you.”

Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks. 

From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up again—a cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if he’s almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long it’ll be before he’s out again. It’s ridiculous how impatient you're getting—and by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy. 

“I think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.”

The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamas—tonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneck—as well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft. 

“You were sitting here waiting for me?” He chuckles, and honestly you’d been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly. 

“Maybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Ha-ha.” He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. “You took the better side of the bed.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the woman. I get to do that.”

“Well you should know that if an intruder breaks in, I’m not fighting him off. You’d probably have a better chance than me.”

“And my chances will be even better if he’s distracted with you first.”

“So I’m just bait?” He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait. 

That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest. 

“I hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.”

It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back. 

“Call me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.”

“I just don’t see how you’re even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that you’re crepuscular?” Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow. 

“Obviously nobody has told me that.”

“It means y—”

“I’m most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?”

“I am,” he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. “I’m just… you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.”

You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly. 

“I’ve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.” 

You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you. 

“This is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.”

“Good thing we’re not going to sleep yet.”

Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features. 

“We’re not?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer,” you snort. “I’m not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?”

He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table. 

“But it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“At slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness. 

“I appreciate the effort,” he says, and your eyes haven’t adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, “but unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until you’re flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum. 

Spencer doesn’t respond. 

It’s silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesn’t slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy. 

In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.

The mattress squeaks. 

You do it again. 

Another squeak. 

A second goes by, and now you’re intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can. 

“Would you stop that?” Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but you’re already devolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to smother you with this pillow,” he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to rest.”

Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark. 

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks flatly, and you’ve won. 

“Tell me a secret,” you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. “None that you’d want to hear.”

“Oh, now that’s just not true. You’re an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.”

You’re only sort of kidding. 

“I… fascinate you?”

“Completely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what you’re thinking about. But you’re very… hard to read, sometimes. I think it’s because you’re a Scorpio.”

“The position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.”

“Fine,” you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t display the archetypal Scorpio traits. You’re all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowable…”

“Sexy?” He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. You’d hoped he would catch that one. 

“Hey,” you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I won’t let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.”

“When have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile. 

“Stop flirting and answer my question, Reid.”

With the amount of times you’ve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. It’s so pitch black in the room, you can’t see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when he’s tired and speaking this lowly, which you’ve never heard before.

“All the secrets I’ve never told anyone are just… depressing.”

Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you. 

“Not very good slumber party material, I think,” he laughs self-consciously. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than you’ve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and support—even if it doesn’t always seem that way when you’re teasing him. 

“Do you have any secrets you’ve never told anyone else?” He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you. 

And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those he’d elected not to share only a moment ago. 

But you don’t bring those up. 

Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. You’ve really never told anyone this, and it’s perhaps more vulnerable than you’d realized before the words were already leaving your mouth. 

“I, have…” You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. “I have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.”

“You do?” Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face. 

“Yes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. He’s an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?”

“Family annihilator from Houston?” 

“Correct. He’s in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the O’Hara and Diangelo families.”

“You have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?”

“He’s—I mean, I wasn’t expecting to share a room with someone.”

“So he’s in your bag.”

“Yes,” you seethe, “and I will not be introducing you to him. He doesn’t do well with men.”

“You are genuinely psychotic.”

You huff.

“Fine. I’m sorry I told you anything.”

You’re about to roll over onto your other side—but Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently. 

“You’re right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.” His tone is surprisingly teasing, and you’re so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you can’t muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. “I’m sorry I don’t have any secrets for you.”

The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimes—it’s like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He can’t control it. He can’t be anyone other than who he is. Maybe that’s a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. It’s not exactly a secret—anyone on the team would be able to tell as much. You’ve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that. 

“It’s okay,” you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll think of something. ’Cause, y’know—you’re stuck with me for at least a few more days.”

“Oh, god,” he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you don’t mind. You’ll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.

[aweina]

ᰔ. wrong package : mike schmidt — suggestive warning !! + ft. secondhand embarrassment.

next door neighbor mike who randomly appears in front of your doorstep, an unusual flushed look in his tired features. neither of you have been formally acquainted, if you don’t count the forced awkward exchanges when getting the mail outside.

although, mike was good looking despite his unkempt demeanor — the remnant memories of his stiff politeness and husk voice had you fawning over him for as long as you were made aware of his presence. but it seems like he’d rather get to work or rest at home than getting to know any of his neighbors.

but now, he stands in front of you shifting one foot over the other — his wavering eyes settling onto the torn box in his grasp rather than your face. there was a bob to his throat, swallowing down on his thickening saliva in anticipation.

“uh sorry to bother you, but i’ve actually gotten your package on accident and ummm … i opened it.” his fumbling words shot through his lips like he’s in a rush, but you still manage to make his statement coherent.

he directs your curious eyes over the beaten package and immediately, your polite smile turned into a silent scream. the rabbit vibrator that you ordered online was hastily covered in some old newspaper — what mike probably did beforehand out respect of your already invaded privacy. the hot pink color and obnoxious packaging taunting you. your name was bold and printed on the delivery sticker, sparing you no excuses for your erotic purchase.

your dilated pupils and now flushed complexion made mike feel apologetic, yet somewhat amused. his encounters with you were a rarity, but he made sure to remember those moments. like when you would focus on reading the mail beside the shared mailbox, the way your face looked so cute carefully squinting and mumbling each word. or even that time you mistaken his sister as his daughter, the same dust of pink settled onto your cheeks like it did now.

mike formed an impression that you’re put together and tooth achingly innocent, but after accidentally opening your package — his superficial thoughts about you has gone down south and into the depths of a more lustrous head space.

how would you look like using it? what would you sound like? crude and carnal ideas spilling over the mental image of your face, his senses clouded with this new epiphany.

he carefully hovers his hand over yours and guides them with a phantom touch, placing the package gently in your stiffened grasp. the furrow in your brows and lack of response made him worried you might pass out — but then you began to sputter a shy “thank you”, your quivering eyes never meeting his. it was a nice look, he couldn’t deny it.

“i won’t tell, promise.” his previous nervous manner completely melted away as he teases you for a bit, his pointer finger pressed against his friendly smile — like it could somehow permanently seal his lips from exposing your status on your sex life.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak — not when you heart feels like it’s about to explode while your body temperature is fighting between haunting chills or overwhelming heat. the gaze in his eyes was much more darker and relaxed than before. weirdly enough, you trust him like you’ve known him your whole life. mike gives you a friendly farewell before he makes his way back into his house.

slowly shutting the door with a solid click, you immediately pathetically fall to your knees and shriek in absolute horror — the box crashing down with you and revealing the one thing that made this rare exchange so humiliating, embarrassment settling so thick in your core. your hot neighbor knowing you’re sexually active? currently getting off to a dingy sex toy? you cannot go back outside again, not if you’re going to possibly see him. hell, you cannot even use the toy without thinking of mike. it’s like he cursed it with some spell, the whispers of his name draw closer each passing second whenever you gaze at the toy.

his ears perk at the bloodcurdling scream that pierced through your closed windows — one so loud and dramatic, it sounded like an active crime scene. he couldn’t help but helplessly laugh into his baggy sleeves, prickles of tears in the corners of his eyes. it’s been awhile since he’s laughed like that, it was needed. returning back home felt less eventful, your embarrassment still making him chuckle under his breath and somewhat eager to see it on you again.

of course, there’s no shame of getting yourself off, but if you needed a helping hand — mike would gladly come over and do his due diligence to be the perfect neighbor. with his new image of you carved into his mind and colorful second impression of you, maybe it’s time for him to make a more formal introduction of himself, once you actually start recovering from your eternal embarrassment.

[changbunnies]

Coy (18+)

♡ Pairing: Inexperienced!Bang Chan x Experienced Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: fluff and smut with a lil plot :)

♡ Word Count: 7.7k

♡ Summary: What occurs when joking about sex with your roommate leads to a shocking discovery about his lack of experience in the bedroom. 

♡ Smut Warnings: not intended to have overt dom/sub dynamics but you can infer vibes if you want lol, chan is rlly insecure but reader is here to help!!, nipple play, handjob, oral (m rec), fingering (f rec), protected piv

♡ Notes: hey yall, i wanted to write something small and fun before my next big fic so here we are :’) honestly i was torn between writing this for chan or bin and ended up choosing chan but lmk if you'd want to see a fic like this for binnie! i went super perfectionist mode and rewrote this several times…. like at least 7 fsdgdsfg but i don't want it in my drafts anymore !! just take it !!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

All you said was a lighthearted joke– something said in jest to make your roommate-turned-best friend’s face flush red and burn all the way to the tips of his ears.

That was always the reaction Chan had when you brought up having had sex, you noticed; cheeks flushed red, eyes darting away from yours to look anywhere else, thumbs nervously twiddling where his hands rested in his lap. You assumed he had plenty of experience, but was more of a “heat of the moment” kind of guy– where you imagined he’d be confident and sure of himself with his partner, but talking about sex outside of the moment turned him into a shy, stuttering mess. 

And it’s not that you purposely went out of your way to imagine what Chan was like during sex, but your mind would often wander there on its own. He was attractive, to put it lightly– devoted to fine-tuning his muscles with diligently followed routines and strictly maintained effort. You were witness to his toned body on more than one occasion, as he often wandered around the apartment shirtless while having just woken up or doing his laundry.

It was a treat for the eyes for sure, but you were respectful. You never drooled over him– at least not anywhere but in the privacy of your bedroom. But it wasn’t just his body that you adored; he had the absolute cutest smile you’d ever seen, eyes crinkling into the prettiest crescent moons as dimples showed on his cheeks. You loved his fluffy, natural hair, and the deep brown color of his eyes, and the way warmth radiated off him when he pulled you into a hug.

So maybe you have a crush on him– but you aren’t going to act on it. You live together in a careful balance, in which you are close enough to him to become good friends while also hiding your attraction to him to maintain the peace. God forbid he doesn't return your attraction, or he does and down the line it makes things complicated. The last thing you need is to scramble for a new place to live after things between you don’t work out– you’d never be able to afford it, and you’ll gladly swallow your feelings for home security. 

But just because you couldn’t have sex with Chan, didn’t mean you couldn’t talk about it with him.

Chan is shy– that much you knew for certain. And sex, while a natural and fun part of life, is something that some people are embarrassed to be open about despite the normality. That's what you saw Chan as; a shy, easily embarrassed person. You thought it was so cute, and just a teensy bit funny; and with all that in mind, it was fun to tease him– to watch his eyes widen in surprise before he let out an awkward cough and looked away, hoping to hide the red forming on his cheeks.

So today, after bringing up how your last date ended, and seeing how brightly Chan’s face burned when you talked about the way they touched you, you couldn’t help but joke around with him. “Oh, c’mon Channie, don’t be coy. I know you’re drowning in pussy when I’m not here,” you teased him with a smirk. Considering your crush on him, you didn’t like to think about it too hard, but you did believe it– surely he brings people back to the apartment while you’re out on your dates.

“O-Oh, no, I’m not– I don’t–” he started to stutter out, and you giggled, because really, how could you believe anything else? He’s perfect– intelligent, funny, talented, as adorable as he is devastatingly hot; obviously he can get whoever he wants, and you believe he does– because Chan is certainly a fucking catch. But still, he continues to stammer and shake his head, blush spreading down his neck as he refutes your statement.

He isn’t a virgin, you have that much right; but he also isn’t some smooth operator hitting hookups with the classic “my roommate isn’t home 👀” text like you seem to think. He doesn’t even know why you think he’s secretly so cool– he’s only ever shown you the most embarrassing version of himself, much to his own chagrin. He’d like to be the person you think he is, but that’s simply not reality.

And as your giggling comes to a stop, and you really look at Chan and take in his expression, you can tell– he's being serious. "Oh," you blink in surprise, smacked with the realization that all your assumptions about him may have been entirely off base.

You frown, wondering if you've actually been making him uncomfortable this entire time. It was always meant to be in good fun, as you thought his bashful reactions were incredibly cute and endearing; but now you realize the truth. Chan isn’t shy about sex because he’s a private person– he’s shy about sex because he isn't having any.

Suddenly, you feel really embarrassed about all the times you talked about yourself; maybe it's karma for all the times you've subtly teased him. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable or crossed a line or anything, I didn't mean to, really–" You start to apologize, but Chan interjects, quickly shaking his head.

"N-No, no, you're fine! I just, uh–" he nervously stumbles on his words again, not even sure what he’s doing at this point. He doesn't even know why he refuted your joke so strongly– sure, it wasn’t true, but wouldn’t it be better for him if you believed it? 

Chan likes you– like, really likes you; but he can't imagine someone as experienced and confident as you will go for a guy like him. Because while he isn't a virgin, his past experiences have been woefully cringe-inducing to even recall.

He was always so eager and clumsy, with trembling hands and face so red he was sure he looked like a tomato. He was embarrassingly sensitive, every touch feeling so overwhelmingly good that he could hardly contain all the noises threatening to leave his throat. He came so fast that he didn’t even know what to do with himself when it was all said and done, hiding his face beneath his arm while he muttered a string of low apologies. 

And subjecting you to all of that? No thanks, falling off the face of the earth would be more preferable. You're the most sex positive person he's ever met, and you won’t make fun of him, he logically knows, but there’s part of him that fears it anyways. On top of that, apparently you had an extremely positive perception of his skills, and now he's ruined it.

While he's unsure what about him led you to believe he's desirable enough to have people biting at the chance to be with him, that impression, for better or worse, will never come back. So should he just be honest? Admit that he's actually really down bad for you but nowhere near confident enough to think he's enough for you?

That sounds like a bad idea. Terrible, even. Chan swallows as he looks at you, doing his best to ignore the way anxiety builds from deep in his gut. You're looking at him so patiently, caringly, that it makes his heart squeeze in his chest. Fuck it– he doesn't have to be completely honest and bear his heart on his sleeve, but he can trust you enough to admit a little bit of what he feels, right? If he can't confide in you then who else can he confide in?

"I just, uhm, I'm not very confident, I guess," he says after a careful breath, nervously scratching at the back of his neck as he darts his eyes away, "like.. in myself, or.. my skills, you know. So I just, uh.. don't have sex." You don't respond right away, simply blinking as you process the information, and regret starts to flood over the anxiety as Chan begins to overthink everything he’s admitted to you.

Really, you’re just shocked; Chan is sexy– like, really sexy. So the revelation that he isn’t confident in himself enough to enjoy sex to its fullest extent is baffling. He has such effortless charisma in other aspects of his life despite his shy nature, and you always assumed it carried over into his sex life; where his bashful looks and timid grins would melt away into someone confident and assured once the moment kicked off. 

“I could help you,” you finally offer once the initial surprise wears off, and instantly his brain is short circuiting, not even realizing that his astounded “huh?” left him audibly. You didn't really plan on confessing your attraction to Chan this way, if ever, but well.. here you are.

"It's just– you're like, the hottest person I know. Seriously. And I don't care if you lack experience, I'd have sex with you regardless," you explain, a rare blush of your own beginning to heat your face, "So, yeah, you know– if you want me like I want you, then.." You start to trail off, but you think he gets what you were intending to say.

It's a bit embarrassing to be blushing yourself considering all the casual sex you have, but it's not your fault– Chan is the only person you've caught feelings for in years, so you can't help but blush a little. Chan, meanwhile, is still stunned; you're attracted to him? You want to have sex with him? Really?

On one hand, it's exciting– you want him, he wants you, and you don't care that he's inexperienced. But still, on the other hand.. With all the experience you have, don’t you want to sleep with someone who matches your energy? He can't imagine that you'd enjoy watching him fumble his way through your time together, or that he’d bring you any pleasure with his lackluster skills.

And what would your relationship be afterwards? Just friends and roommates who happened to fuck once, or something more? Will the mutual attraction die off the moment you realize his insecurities are way more than you signed on for?

“You don’t have to answer right now,” you assure him, offering all the time he may need to think about your proposition. Maybe it won’t be the most casual of your experiences considering your massive crush on him, but how could you pass up the chance to help him? Especially when helping means having sex with the guy of your dreams– because really, that’s what Chan is.

He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, swallows the lump in his throat, and takes a breath– because despite all his fears, he really likes you, and of course he wants to fuck you. Chan always figured he’d never have a chance with you unless you experienced a huge lapse in judgment; and maybe this is one and done, maybe it doesn't mean as much for you as it does for him, but he’ll still take that chance, insecurities be damned; he’d be a fool not to.

“I want to,” he tells you, soft and timid, but certain. You smile, equally as soft, as you inch closer to him on the sofa. “Can I kiss you?” you ask him, giggling when he quickly nods. It’s cute– equally as cute as the small, involuntary noise he makes from the back of his throat when your lips touch his. You start slow, pressing long, lingering kisses to his plush lips– as soft as you always imagined.

His breath hitches when you crawl onto his lap, pulling away to look at you with widened eyes. “Too much?” you ask, ready to pull yourself off of him but he quickly shakes his head. “You’re just–” he pauses, licks his lips as his face flushes a deeper pink, but continues “..so pretty. Really pretty. Can't believe this is really happening."

It feels a bit silly being so shy to tell you how pretty you are to him when you’ve been kissing him and are quite literally sitting on top of his dick, but he can’t help the way you make him feel. It’s a simple compliment too, one that normally wouldn’t affect you very much, but makes your heart pick up ever so slightly in speed regardless; you suppose because Chan is the one saying it.

You can tell he doesn’t know what to do with his hands when you kiss him again, keeping them clenched and firmly stuck to his side. You take them in your hands, guiding them to your body and resting them on your hips. “Touch me, Channie,” you breathe against his lips, “anywhere you want.” 

“Anywhere..?” he questions with a shaky exhale, hands trembling where they rest on your body. “Mhm, want to feel you,” you tell him sweetly, and God, he already feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest before he’s even really begun. But he listens, hands carefully traveling up and down your body as you lean back in to continue kissing him.

You let your own hands wander as well– over his arms, across his chest, down the toned abs you can distinctly feel even beneath his sweater. You lick his bottom lip, feeling his body shiver beneath the tips of your fingers as he opens his mouth for you, letting your tongue inside.

He brings his hands to your chest, palming your breasts before he carefully squeezes them. You bring one of your hands to hover over his, encouraging him to continue by squeezing your hand atop his. He’s only touching you over your clothes, but he already feels impossibly dizzy from the excitement– he can’t even focus on how pathetic that would normally make him feel either, because your tongue in his mouth fogs his brain. 

The next time you pull away, it’s to grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head so swiftly that Chan barely even has time to process what he’s about to see. He sucks in a breath as he looks at your tits; it doesn’t even matter that they’re still contained by a bra– it’s still more than enough to send him reeling. Pretty, pretty, pretty, is all he can think, his mind unable to conjure a thought any more complex than simple words.

You move your hands behind your back, ready to unhook your bra and expose yourself to him entirely, but he briefly stops you. “Can I– Can I try..?” he asks, clearly nervous but eager to try and prove himself in whatever way you’ll let him. “Course, Channie,” you smile at him as you let your arms fall back to your side, “go ahead.” You lean closer to him, bringing your hands to his shoulders as he brings his own to your back. 

You press kisses to his jaw as you wait for him to act, eventually trailing down to his neck. It makes him gasp and bite his lip, the skin of his neck evidently more sensitive than he ever even realized. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying his best not to get too distracted by the feeling of your lips on the sensitive spots of his neck before he continues.

His fingers fumble with the hooks of your bra, his trembling hands causing his grip to slip more than once. It’s embarrassing how badly he’s failing at this simple task, but you pay no mind to it, continuing to kiss him as he takes his time to figure it out. You caress his arms, pulling away to reassure him when his shaking fingers mess up for the third time.

“Relax, baby, you’ve got it,” you tell him, the affectionate term unintentionally slipping out– but Chan seems to welcome it, offering you a soft smile and nod as he timidly tries again. He lets out the breath he was unconsciously holding when he finally succeeds, watching attentively as you bring your hands to the now loose straps, sliding them down your arms.

You toss your bra aside when your arms are freed from the straps, and Chan can’t help but stare at your now bare chest. He can count on a single hand the amount of tits he’s seen, so his thoughts may be a bit biased in your favor, but he firmly believes yours are the prettiest he’s ever looked at. Chewing on his bottom lip, he looks to you for permission to touch them again, which you easily grant him. 

The soft noise you let out when his thumbs brush over your nipples both surprises him and makes his cock throb; he can still hardly even believe you’re really letting him touch you. “Is that good?” he asks as he does it again, intoxicated by the way you whimper and squirm. “Mhm, feels good. Feels better when they’re wet, though,” you tell him, watching as the gears turn in his brain. 

He licks his lips and leans down, bringing his face to your chest. He sticks out his tongue, slowly swiping it against one of your hardened nipples, eyes glued to your face as he does. “This what you want?” he asks, repeating the action when you gasp and nod. You thread your fingers through his hair, another whimper leaving you as he wraps his lips around your nipple and swirls his tongue around it.

You reach for his other hand and bring his fingers to your mouth, licking and coating them in your saliva. He whines at the feeling of your tongue sliding against his fingers, his imagination running wild with images of what it’d feel like on different parts of his body. Once satisfied with the wetness of his fingers, you take them from your mouth and bring them back down to the nipple currently not in his mouth. “Use them to touch me, please–” 

Chan wastes no time in doing what you ask, a soft whine escaping him when you gently tug on his hair. His cock is painfully hard and straining against his jeans that are now uncomfortably tight around him. You can feel it pressing against your ass, his eyes fluttering shut when his treatment of your nipples cause you to squirm and rub against his erection. The friction is overwhelming, your noises are intoxicating, the combination makes him dizzy with need for more. 

More of your touch on his skin, more of your pretty whimpers in his ear, more of anything and everything you’re willing to give him, he wants it all. Soon you’re reaching for the hem of Chan’s sweater, and he separates from you, allowing you to pull it up and over his head, discarding it to the floor with the rest of your clothing. You admire him, trace his pecs and his abs with your fingers, smiling at him sweetly when he shivers beneath your touch. 

“You’re so handsome, Channie,” you tell him as you continue to run your fingers along his torso, “so hot, you have no idea how bad I’ve wanted you.” He whines and turns his face away, a vain attempt to hide the heat that rises to it. “That’s– I-I.. didn’t know..” he mumbles shyly, hesitant to meet your gaze again– mostly because he thinks his heart will burst if he looks at you while you’re saying things like that to him.

He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to be able to look at you without going red in the face after this, or how he’s going to be able to hear your voice again without his cock getting hard. Better yet, how is he going to look at you without thinking about how bad he wants you to be his, or for him to be yours? Either way, that’s a problem for the future– because your hands and lips are all over him, and that’s what he wants to focus on now. 

Chan sucks in a breath when your hand brushes his erection over his jeans, bites his lip when you start to undo the button, lets out a shaky exhale as you begin to pull down the zipper. He’s not sure what you’ll think of his length, but he hopes you like it, prays that it’s enough to satisfy you. “You should have more confidence in yourself, Channie,” is the first thing you say as you take it in your hand, “you’ve got the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.” 

“W-What? No way, that’s– you’re just saying that,” he pouts, the blush covering his face and ears becoming unbearably hot. You can’t mean that– he almost refuses to believe it; because he simply can’t comprehend that you would prefer him to anyone else. “I’m not, baby. I mean it,” you tell him, and the way he throbs in your hand gives away that he likes the compliment, even if he doesn’t entirely believe it’s true. 

You really are being honest; it’s not the longest you’ve ever had, but it’s among the thickest, with pretty veins that accentuate it. You want to trace them– with your fingers, your lips, your tongue, everything. And then there’s the way his pre-cum leaks from the tip, steadily dripping and pooling where it falls-–all you can say is that it’s mouth-watering. The look in your eyes makes Chan feel impossibly shy, and it takes everything within him not to cover his face when your eyes meet again. 

He never imagined that look would be for him; that he would ever be deserving of your touch and affectionate words. And the sweet smile you offer him when you start to earnestly stroke his cock– he’s done for, absolutely done for. He’ll never be able to hide how bad he wants you after this– maybe he should listen to you and gain some confidence, ask you to be his before someone else steals you away. 

Chan quickly loses his ability to form coherent thought once you start picking up your pace however, your hand having quickly become slick from his pre-cum. His head falls back against the sofa, breaths growing more and more labored with each stroke of your soft, warm, wet hand. You can feel his thighs twitch beneath you, and the way his hips jolt up to try to seek further friction from your hand, though your weight atop his legs prevents him doing so. 

“Want you in my mouth,” you tell him, pleased with the way the words make him gasp and squirm, “You want that, Channie? Will you let me suck you off?” Fuck, do you even have to ask? As if there is any reality in which he would ever say no; you can have him, all of him, he doesn’t care as long as it’s you– he’ll never deny you any part of him. “Yeah, yeah, want that, please,” he breathes, an almost shameless plea for you to do whatever you want with him. 

You offer him a pretty smile, placing a quick but affectionate kiss to his lips before you remove yourself from his lap. Sinking to your knees, you pull Chan’s jeans and boxers down his legs and to his ankles, and wait for him to step out of them and spread his legs wide enough for you to fit between them. There’s an apprehensive look in his eye when you scoot closer to him, and you pause, looking up at him with concern. “Are you nervous?” you ask, ready to stop at a moment’s notice if he needs you to.

“Ah, yeah, sorry, I just–” he pauses, an awkward, nervous laugh leaving him as he averts his gaze away from yours, “I just.. ‘m worried I’m gonna cum too fast when you.. Uh, yeah, you know.” He feels a bit pathetic admitting it, and he keeps his eyes locked on a random corner of the room, still holding onto the irrational fear that you’ll judge or laugh at him. Of course, you do neither– you simply lean forward on your knees, reaching a hand up to touch his face and bring his eyes back to yours. 

“Don’t worry about that, I won’t mind if you cum fast, okay? It won’t bother me, and I won’t be mad. Just enjoy yourself,” you tell him earnestly, smiling sweetly at him when he slowly nods. You want to show him that you’re more than happy to take care of him until he gets the confidence in himself he needs, that there’s no shame in feeling so good that he can’t help but let go, that you’ll want him regardless. 

You settle back on your knees, rubbing your hands up and down his thighs until you feel like his nerves have settled. He nods to you when he’s ready, and you give him one last smile before you bring your face directly to his waiting cock. The kisses you place to the tip are already enough to have him gasping and squirming in his seat– soft, delicate, and wet. Your fingers hold him at the base, keeping it held in place even as it twitches in response to every kiss you leave behind. 

You stick out your tongue, let spit dribble down and further wet his leaking tip, and it’s positively the most erotic thing Chan has ever witnessed; he has to cover his face to stop himself from losing his mind. Head fallen back against the sofa with his arm thrown over his face, he gasps once more when he feels your tongue press against his skin. You lick slowly– whether to savor the taste or prolong the moment, Chan is unsure, but he welcomes it either way. 

He can’t suppress the throaty groan that leaves him when you drag your tongue across the entirety of his length, tracing the veins with it just as you wished to. “O-Oh my god, baby–” he gasps when you finally start to take his cock into your mouth, too far gone to realize that he too let the pet name slip out. You don’t seem to mind, at least; after all, despite this “casual” encounter, you’ve already done the same, and been more affectionate than he ever anticipated.

Chan wants to believe you’re affectionate just with him; that none of your other casual partners have ever been looked at the way you’ve looked at him, that you never called them sweet names or given them such caring glances. Maybe he’s feeding himself a delusion, but he wants to believe you want him as bad as he wants you– beyond just the physical. He wants to believe this isn’t just a one time thing, and most of all he wants to believe that you’ll fall in love with him. 

Is it normal to think about love when your cock is deep down your crush's throat? He doesn’t know– but all he can think about, apart from how amazing your mouth feels, is how much he loves and adores you. Letting his arm fall back to his side, he lifts his head from the sofa to look at you once more, and fuck, what a site you are. Eyes glassy and pretty as you gaze up at him through your lashes, cheeks flushed red, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

The sounds you make as you bob your head are so salacious it makes his head spin, his thighs tremble with each motion of your tongue on the underside of his length, and every time his tip touches the back of your throat he can’t help but let out a moan. His fingers struggle to find purchase on the sofa’s cushion, so instead he clenches his fist, knuckles quickly turning white. You notice, of course, so you bring one of your hands to his, intertwining your fingers and letting him squeeze your hand instead. 

God, that fucks with his heart– but he hardly has any time to dwell on it. He’s barely been holding back his orgasm, and he’s not sure how much longer he can last. “Babe, baby, feels so good, I can’t– o-oh, please, ‘m gonna cum–” he babbles his warning, whimpering when you hum in response and continue to take him as deep into your mouth as he can go. His eyes roll back, cock throbbing and entire body trembling– and one more swipe of your tongue and swallow around his length is all it takes to have him cumming.

“O-Oh my– fuck, fuck, sorry, ‘m cumming, baby–” he rambles, thankfully too far gone to be embarrassed by all the things he’s saying to you. You swallow all he has to give you, not pulling off him until he starts to come down from his high and cock begins to soften. He’s dazed and breathless as he looks at you, chest heaving as his brain tries to recalibrate itself after how good you just made him feel.

You rise from your knees and set yourself back on the sofa, leaning towards Chan to kiss him after he’s caught his breath. He can taste himself on your lips, but he doesn’t hate it; there’s a strange part of him that even enjoys it. “‘m sorry,” he mumbles with a nervous pout when you pull away, “I tried to hold it back, but..” 

“Channie, I told you not to worry about that. It felt good, right? That’s all that matters,” you tell him, directing him to look at you when he tries to avert his gaze again. He swallows the anxiety down, trying to look at you without feeling like disappearing into a void. But he can tell after just a moment how sincere you’re being, and it spreads relief through his veins. It’s not that he really doubted you, but his internal dialogue is far from rational.

You’ve been so good to him since the start, and though he’s incredibly shy and equally as nervous, there’s nothing more he wants now than to return the favor. He still doubts he’s good enough to give you what you deserve, to skillfully make you cum and cry out for him, but he’ll try– God, he’ll fucking try. 

It takes all the confidence he can muster to speak what he wants to say, but he thankfully manages alright. “I want, uh– ..w-want to make you cum too,” he admits, doing his best to hold your gaze despite the way shyness claws at him and his blush burns his face. “Yeah?” you smile, honestly pretty eager to let Chan touch you more. 

While you were more than ready to keep taking the lead, to guide him along and take care of him, you’re happy to see a surge of confidence in him– even if it’s a small one. “Touch me then, Channie. Make me cum,” you tell him as you beckon him closer, letting out a soft, content hum when he kisses you. You let him guide you back until your back is flat against the sofa, spreading your legs so that he can nestle between them. 

You can feel his hands trembling again as they travel your body, but Chan doesn’t let the nerves prevent him from hooking his fingers into your pants. He continues to kiss you as he slides them down your legs, along with your panties– not just because he loves kissing you, but also because he’s not quite ready to look at your bare pussy; he genuinely thinks his heart will give out if he doesn’t mentally prepare himself first.

Pretty soon though, he does have to separate from you so he can let you slip your feet out of your clothes, and subsequently toss them to the floor with all the rest of your discarded clothing. He tries to keep his eyes locked on your face, but he can’t help but let his eyes trail down and roam over the rest of your exposed body. He’s mesmerized in an instant; you’re so impossibly pretty, every inch of you breathtaking and beautiful and– God, just perfect.

He knows his words will fail him, so he hopes his lips on yours will do enough of the talking for him, hopes that he can show how bad he adores and desires you with actions alone. You intended initially to let him take his time, but you’ve been impossibly wet and worked up this entire time; and besides, doesn’t he need a little push? 

So you take one of his hands, guiding it to your dripping center. Chan lets out an involuntary whine from the back of his throat, body shivering in response. “Y-You’re so– oh my god, how are you so wet?” he asks, as in awe of you as he is surprised. “You, baby,” you answer, voice growing shakier now that he’s rubbing his fingers between your folds, “I told you, you– you’re so handsome, you know? Get me so hot, ‘ve wanted you so bad.” 

God, he still can’t believe it– how is it possible that you’ve wanted him as bad as he’s wanted you? And there’s no way his insecurities can make him believe you’re just saying it to make him feel good about himself anymore, because he can feel the proof of your words with his fingers. “Tell me– tell me what you like, what you want, please,” he softly pleads, “need to make you feel good.”

“Inside, want your pretty fingers inside me,” you tell him, shivering when you feel the tips of his fingers pressing against your hole. He starts slow and careful, gently pushing one of his fingers inside, alternating between watching his hand and looking up to your face. You’re so slick and warm, and the way you squeeze around even just one of his fingers makes his head spin– because he can’t help but imagine how you’d feel on his cock.

“Another, add another, please,” you all but beg once you’re adjusted to how one feels, and he wastes no time in obliging you, delighting in the way it makes your eyes flutter closed. You bite your lip when he starts to instinctively move his fingers faster, little whimpers escaping as your breaths become heavier. “You sound so pretty,” he says, gasping when he realizes it caused you to clench harder around his fingers. 

Do you like when he talks to you? He doesn’t know if it’s his voice you like, or what he said in particular, but if you like it then he won’t stop. “F-Feels so amazing, I can’t– can’t stop thinking about what you’d feel like around me, want it so bad, want to be inside you,” he starts to ramble, doing his best to voice everything that comes to his mind, anything he thinks you’ll like and will have you clenching again, even if it embarrasses him to say it.

He experiments with his fingers as he talks to you– changing angles and curling his fingers, trying to find what you like the best. You gasp when he finds your spot with the tips of his fingers, body trembling and back arching. “R-Right there, fuck, feels so good, Channie, your fingers feel so good,” you tell him breathlessly, and he can’t help the way he stiffens and throbs once more in response. 

And really, how is he supposed to look at the way you shake beneath him, hear your pretty voice praise the way he’s touching you, and not get hard again? He wants nothing more than to make you cum– to make you cry and writhe in pleasure for him, because of him; almost desperate for it, he hits your spot over and over again, hoping to bring you closer and closer to the release you both crave. 

He’s mesmerized by the way your eyes roll back, by the rise and fall of your chest and tremble of your thighs; addicted to the way your moans and whimpers grow higher in pitch, and the messy, wet sounds his fingers create between your legs. Chan glances down to your pussy, taking notice of your puffy, neglected clit. 

He wants to taste it, to wrap his lips around and let his tongue lavish it, but he doesn’t trust himself to be able to get down smoothly or without messing up his rhythm; so instead, he brings his thumb to it– something he’s seen done in porn that woman always seemed to like (and he desperately hopes you like it too.) Thankfully, he gets the effect he was hoping for– you let out a whimper and squirm, nails digging into his skin. 

Chan doesn’t let up even when his wrist begins to grow sore, running purely on desire and instinct. “F-Fuck, Channie, baby, ‘m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum,” you gasp out, voice whiny and strained, but still oh so pretty in his ears. He can’t believe he’s actually going to make you cum, can’t believe how lucky he is; and he's utterly transfixed on the way your body moves, drunk on the sounds that freely spill from you. 

He gasps when you reach out and unexpectedly pull him closer, letting out a soft, surprised whine when you eagerly crash your lips into his. It’s the messiest kiss he’s ever had, tongues dancing and drool falling from the corners of your mouth, hot and heavy breaths passed between each other. Your thighs squeeze his hand as your orgasm takes you, entire body shaking as your back arches off the sofa, arousal gushing and further coating his fingers.

Chan slowly slides his fingers out of you as you catch your breath, meeting your gaze shyly when you open your eyes to look at him once more. He’s so fucking hard, again, and you instantly notice, much to his embarrassment. He wants to fuck you, there’s no denying it– but he can’t help but continue to feel self-conscious, even now. 

You sit up and kiss him once more, as if to dispel all doubts and worries from his racing mind. “Want you, Channie,” you tell him, voice soft, sweet, and reassuring, “do you still want me? Wanna fuck me?” He whines from deep in his throat, knowing he’d never be able to deny it, even if he wanted to. 

“Yes, God, yes, wanna fuck you,” he answers honestly, nervously chewing on his bottom lip, “b-but I– I just.. don’t want to disappoint you.” He’ll never forgive himself if he fucks this up and leaves you wanting and unsatisfied; he wants to be nothing less than perfect for you and he already knows that he isn’t. 

“Channie, baby, look at me,” you say as you reach a hand to his cheek, urging him to meet your eyes again, “you won’t disappoint me, you could never.” You place soft, comforting pecks to his lips, holding his hands and rubbing soothing circles with your thumbs until you feel him start to lose his tension. “Remember what I said? Don’t worry about anything but feeling good. I want you to cum again,” you tell him, smiling as he nods, his face flushing a deeper red. 

Leaning towards the coffee table, you reach for where you dropped your purse before sitting down with Chan, digging around inside until you find one of the spare condoms you make sure to keep for your dates. He swallows as he watches you pull it out, beyond nervous but equally as excited to finally feel you wrapped around him. 

Even just watching you tear open the packaging is enough to have him trembling, and when you glance at him to make sure he’s ready, he ignores his insecurities the best he can to offer you a timid smile. You return the smile, taking his cock in your hand and giving it a few slow pumps to make sure he’s ready. He squirms and softly whines, still sensitive from his previous orgasm, but there’s no way he’s going to let that stop him from having this moment with you. 

He shivers when you easily roll the condom down his length, biting his lip as you crawl back onto his lap after you’ve finished. His heart is beating fast and erratic, and he wonders if you can hear how loudly it’s thumping against his chest. He lies half propped up by one of the sofa’s cushions, looking up at you with eyes akin to a puppy, watching your every move with bated breath. 

You reach between your bodies to hold his cock at the base, angling it with your still soaked entrance. You let go once you start to sink down on it, moving your hand to his chest to support yourself as his cock pushes inside. “Oh, fuck–” Chan lets out a choked gasp, already overwhelmed by the sensation even before you’re fully sat on his length. 

Even with a condom on, he can still feel how warm and wet you are, your walls squeezing him so tight it takes his breath away. “Fuck, baby, oh my god, it already feels so good, what the fuck–” he gasps again once your hips are flush together. He doesn’t remember it feeling this amazing the last time he had sex; is it because he’s more sensitive from before? Or is it because it’s you? 

No matter the answer, he’s certain of one thing– and that’s that he’s definitely going to cum fast; he just hopes you meant it when you said it’s okay. He lets out an obscenely loud moan when you start to lift and drop your hips– one that would normally make him extremely embarrassed, but he feels way too good to even focus on it; all he can think about is how fucking good you feel. 

His hands squeeze your hips, and he looks at you with stars in his eyes. How can you be so pretty, so beautiful? How can you feel this good? The way he’s looking at you makes your heart stutter and pussy clench, an act that makes Chan’s head fall back against the cushion as he moans. He’s so handsome, with the way his curly hair clings to his forehead with sweat, his bitten lips and flushed cheeks– it's insane that he can't see how crazy for him you are. 

You lean forward to kiss him, bringing one of your hands up to thread your fingers through his hair as your tongue slips past his parted lips. He feels dizzy with pleasure, each of his loud moans and whines muffled only by your lips on his. You’re both panting by the time you separate, with you falling forward and burying your face into his neck. 

Your legs and knees quickly begin to scream at you, but you ignore it as best you can in favor of chasing pleasure, bouncing on his cock with all the energy you can muster. You know he won’t last much longer– he was already sensitive to start, and you can feel him twitching and throbbing more and more with each additional motion of your hips. 

“Baby, ‘m so close–” Chan whimpers, eyes rolling back when you clench around him harder. “Yeah? Gonna cum again for me, Channie? Gonna cum with me?” you ask as you snake your hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit in quick circles so that you can cum together. He quickly nods and bites his lip, hands squeezing you tighter and hips rising to chase you every time you lift off him. 

It only takes a couple more rolls of your hips to have him cumming again, white, hot pleasure coursing through his veins and overwhelming every inch of his body, filling the condom with all he has to give. You follow quickly behind, hips stuttering and losing all sense of rhythm as you ride out your release. 

You collapse against his chest with a heavy sigh once you’re done, utterly exhausted from all the effort, but completely satisfied. You’re both breathless, eyes closed as you collect yourselves and racing hearts start to return to normal speed. Well, in Chan’s case it doesn’t completely return to normal; because you’re still naked on top of him, and even after having just had sex, he still can’t believe you’re here with him right now like this.

You lift your hips and let his softening cock slide out of you, laying on Chan’s side with his arm as support so you don’t fall off the sofa. You carefully remove the condom, tying it off and preparing it to be thrown away once you’re ready to get up– for now, you’re too tired to move, and you just want to stay next to Chan for as long as you can. 

You lay your leg across his body, cuddling close to him while he continues to support your weight with his arm. “How was it? Fun?” you ask him, smiling when he blushes and looks away, still unable to help being shy even after all you just did together. “Of course, you’re.. incredible,” he answers honestly, chewing on his lip before he continues, “But, were you– ..was I good enough for you..?”

“Channie, are you kidding? You were perfect, I promise,” you assure him, giggling softly when he breathes a sigh of relief. “You get stuck in your head too much, baby,” you continue, absentmindedly tracing circles in his skin as you speak, “I promise you, you could have anyone you want. I mean it when I say you’re perfect.” He still doesn’t quite believe what you’re saying is true, but he can at least accept that you believe it. 

But he wonders if you know– it’s not just anyone he wants, but you. He was only able to do this because it was you that offered-–anyone else, and he would’ve instantly turned them down, or wouldn't have been able to enjoy himself if he did accept. Looking at you now reaffirms what he’s long since thought– you’re the only one for him. 

“Baby, I want you to be mine-–want you to be my girlfriend,” is what he wants to say– but Chan is much too shy, and can’t bring himself to do it. “C-Can we– can we do this again sometime..?” is what he ends up saying insead. And you smile as you nod, sweetly running your fingers through his messy curls before you give him another kiss, “Course, baby. Anytime you want me, I’m yours.”

network tags: @skzstarnet @ksmutsociety

[engie-ivy]

1055 words

Gilderoy is convinced grocery store guy was flirting with him, but the truth is, the guy didn't even really notice him. His date on the other hand...

What Bad Dates Can Be Good For

“This is so embarrassing,” Gilderoy smiles, more smug than embarrassed, as he brushes back one of his blond curls. “I'm so sorry. I wish I could say it's an incident, but the truth is, this happens to me all the time. Even while I'm on a date with someone, guys just come up to me and start flirting with me. It's so awkward, but the story of my life, I'm afraid.”

Sirius frowns. “I don't think he was flirting with you.”

Gilderoy smirks. “There's no need to feel threatened, Siri. So far, my attention is still on you.”

Sirius cringes at the nickname. “I'm honestly not threatened,” he assures Gilderoy, and it's true. Their date isn't even halfway yet, but Sirius is already quite certain Gilderoy doesn't do it for him, and if his attention were to be on anyone else, Sirius couldn't care less.

It had started already while planning their date, and Gilderoy had insisted they could go to one of the fanciest restaurants in town without making a reservation, because ‘they know who I am’, of course leading to them not being able to get a table at that restaurant, or any other restaurant anymore on a busy Friday night. Gilderoy had pretended he preferred cooking himself anyways, but of course he didn't have anything edible in his kitchen, so they had to go to the grocery store first. Gilderoy then proceeded to fill their basket with unnecessary and expensive products like pistachio milk, gluten-free protein powder, hand-roasted kale chips and whatnot, probably trying to seem interesting, but only annoying Sirius, and letting him pay for everything on top of that.

Now, having just stepped out of the grocery store, Gilderoy is convinced the employee there had been flirting with him.

“I just truly don't think he was flirting with you,” Sirius says.

Gilderoy rolls his eyes. “Then why did he come up to talk to me?”

“He wanted to restock the shelves, and you were in the way,” Sirius replies matter of factly.

Gilderoy lets out a deep sigh, like he can't believe how dumb Sirius is being. “He was clearly only using that as an excuse to talk to me.” He then smiles at Sirius in a way that feels belittling. “You don't have to be so jealous, you know.”

Sirius doesn't know how to make it any more clear. “Not threatened, not jealous, just disagreeing, Gilderoy.”

“Let's ask him then.”

Sirius blinks. “What?”

“Grocery store guy. Let's go back and ask him, so he can confirm that he was in fact flirting with me.” Gilderoy turns around and starts walking back towards the store.

“Oh, for the love of-” Sirius walks after him. “Gilderoy, let him be! I believe you, okay? He was totally flirting with you! Just leave the poor guy alone!”

“Oh, hello.” Grocery store guy is now standing behind the counter and smiles at Sirius as they enter the store, and Sirius can't help but notice the sight of the soft smile in combination with his freckles. Oh, he thinks as realization dawns. He's cute.

“Hi,” Gilderoy says, before Sirius can say anything. “Would you mind clearing something up for us, and tell my date you were just flirting with me?”

Sirius cringes, torn between trying to look as apologetic as possible and attempting to be as invisible as possible.

“I…” The guy blinks at Gilderoy. “Am sorry?”

Gilderoy lets out a laugh. “No need to be embarrassed. You're not the first and you won't be the last.”

The guy frowns as he stares at Gilderoy. “Am I supposed to know you?”

Gilderoy’s arrogant persona falters for a moment as he looks taken aback. “Well, not know me, but you've seen me.”

The guy shakes his head. “I really don't recall having ever seen you before.”

“You… What… How…” Gilderoy sputters, as Sirius has to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh.

“Sorry, mate.” The guy shrugs.

"Bollocks!" Gilderoy bristles, his face turning red. “You're trying to mess with me!”

The guy tilts his head, calmly studying Gilderoy. “There's just a lot of people coming in and out of the store all day. Hard to remember who I've seen.”

“I am not hard to remember!” Gilderoy bites at him.

The guy holds up his hands, but his expression betrays his amusement with Gilderoy’s reaction, whose face is now bright red. “No offense.”

“Whatever,” Gilderoy snaps. “Keep telling that to yourself.” He turns on his heels and stalks out of the store.

“I am so sorry about him,” Sirius says, feeling like he has to say something.

“I'm sorry for you,” the guy replies. “You're the one who's dating him.” He almost shudders at the thought.

“It's a first date,” Sirius quickly replies. “I've literally only met him two hours ago.” He doesn't know why he feels the need to clear that up (okay, maybe he does know, and it has something to do with big, amber eyes staring up at him).

“Is that so?” The guy says, leaning forward over the counter. “And what are his chances of getting a second date?”

Sirius huffs. “Let me say it like this, if he were the last single gay guy in town, I would start dating women, and I'm actually very, very gay.”

The guy chuckles. “Well, not to worry. I happen to know for a fact that he's not the last single gay guy in town,” he says, looking up at Sirius through his lashes.

“That's…” Sirius scrapes his throat. “That's good to know.” Then he can't help but ask. “Did you really not remember him? Or were you just messing with his too-big-head?”

“I honestly did not,” The guy says, and then he gives Sirius a meaningful smile. “After all, how could I've noticed anyone else when you were right there?”

Sirius can feel himself blush, but before he can scramble his brain together enough to come up with an of course very smooth and witty reply, Gilderoy appears in the door.

“Are you done here? I'm hungry.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” the guy says, in a suddenly professional voice. “Here's your receipt.”

Sirius takes the receipt, and since he did not buy anything, he's not entirely surprised, yet entirely pleased, to see a phone number scribbled down on the piece of paper.

[pha55ed]

Everything I Know Abt Love || JMM21

type :: fluff tw/cw :: dumbass painfully oblivious!reader (their so me-coded) summary :: reader has been crushing on pepe since they were children, but is trying to get over their crush with a different driver. but that's impossible because it's fucking josep maria marti.

request :: can you write smth with pepe marti :D was thinkin something along the lines of the song “everything i know about love” by laufey. heavy mutual pining with an eventual confession and pure fluff <3 ur page is so nice and ur writing is so so so good 🫶 (AHH thank you so much! <3 you're so sweet!)

liked by jakcrawford, christianmansell, sebastianmontoya, and 82,000 others

yourusername : Alexa, play So American by Olivia Rodrigo

yourbestfriend : YOU GOT ICECREAM WITHOUT ME???

yourbestfriend : wait a minute... 🤨

yourbestfriend : IS THAT A MAN....???

yourbestfriend : IS THAT P...?

yourbestfriend : Noooo girl i need to update you so bad

jakcrawford : Your flavor looks like charcoal dust LMAO

yourusername : it looked purple under the store's lighting 😭😭

christianmansell : where's my thank you???

sebastianmontoya : what... 😀

pepemarti : same... 😀 sebastianmontoya : im coming over christianmansell : wait why??? sebastianmontoya : YOU CAUSED THIS YOU IDIOT

The date with Jak was sweet, almost perfect. He picked you up and called you beautiful, gifting you flowers. The entire time he was respectful, listening to you, and making you laugh. He was cute too, curly brown hair and an adorable smile. Everything should led to you liking him. Yet you couldn't.

The entire time you were still stuck on Pepe. Thinking about how Pepe would have gotten you flowers, but in your favorite color. How Pepe's hair was much softer despite being shorter. Not to mention that Pepe's smile is your favorite thing ever. It's not Jak's fault, he was lovely in every way possible. But you just couldn't imagine loving anyone else beside Pepe.

You grew up with Pepe, meeting at 11 year olds from watching your brother in karting. The rest is history. You met his friends and quickly formed a quad, with Pepe, you, Sebastian, and Christian. Throughout your entire childhood, you had a fat crush on him. But you could never tell if he liked you back or not.

But to Chris and Sebastian, it was painful to watch you both. They could tell that you both liked each other, maybe even loved each other. But you both were so awkward with each other that it seemed like you were friend-zoning each other.

Like for example, Chris and Sebastian tried to set you up both up by making a fake hangout. They planned a whole day of going to the beach and eating dinner, only for them both to get "sick" last minute. So it was just you and Pepe alone for the whole day, going to the beach and a fancy dinner.

Yet you guys still managed to turn one of the most romantic scenes into the most goofy and awkward. Collecting seashells, seeing who can hold their breathe longer underwater, and making a mess at dinner like you two were just clumsy and awkward best friends. When in reality, both of you were on the verge of a heart attack every time you accidentally touched.

So now you were stuck, alone in your room. Torn between either moving on or sticking with Pepe.

You barely had any time to think to yourself, because the very next day you were forced to attend the boys' Racing Sponsor party. Although you never liked going, it was fun with your friends and the food was always amazing. The only major cons was that the party was filled with business people trying to network and get new sponsors, but they usually left you alone once you just said you were a friend of the drivers.

So now instead of being alone in your room, with your thoughts eating away at your brain - you were alone at the large dining table. Seb promised to stay by your side, but he was pulled away by his engineers to try and talk to a fancy gasoline company so they could sponsor him. Chris also promised to stay besides you, but he was also forced away to go to a special engineering company. Pepe and Jak were also busy doing a ton of interviews and connections, they were very sought after.

You sighed, unable to help but just sit in your boredom as you picked at your food. Now you were wishing that those annoying business men would try to talk to you again just so you have something to do. Using your phone wasn't an option either, 1. because it's rude to do and 2. because your dress didn't have pockets so you stupidly gave it to Seb to hold onto.

But just as you were about to count the petals dead floral centerpiece in front of you, Jak sat next to you. Fuck, you thought.

"Hey!" He said, wearing a black tux just like everyone else in the room. "You look so bored haha"

His small chuckle was charming and cute, he was so "boy-next-door" coded. Jak's curls were a bit more defined and his suit had almost no imperfections on it. He obviously paid deep attention to his suit. You watched as he started to fiddle with his tie slightly as he sat next to you. It was clear he was a bit nervous around you, trying to put up a good first impression still.

"I can't lie, I am a bit bored." You say with a smile at his attentive nature. "I'm just waiting for it to be over so we can all go out and play games at Chris's house."

"We?" He asks, quoting you before connecting the dots as to who 'we' was. "Oh! You, Pepe, Chris, and Seb, right?" Jak tilts his head slightly, like a dog.

You simply nod, taking a mental note of how much of Jak resembles a golden doodle. One of the cute golden doodles, not the ones' with ugly human eyes. You wanted so badly to like him. It wasn't like you weren't aware of how cute and sweet he was. Yet your brain just wouldn't allow yourself to feel a spark between you two.

"Well uh, would it be okay if I joined?" Jak asked nervously, looking in your eyes.

Before you could answer, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Although you hated how embarrassing it was to admit, you could already tell who was touching you just by the fingertips and vein on the back of the hand: Pepe Marti.

"NnnnooOOO!" Pepe said, making you want to laugh but you knew it would hurt Jak's feelings. It was clear he had quite a few drinks, most likely due to the businessmen always pressuring the drivers to have a few shots. Mainly so they could take advantage of their drunken state and get them to sign any deal they wanted.

"Oh uh..." Jak sat their awkwardly, looking at how close Pepe's body was to yours despite him hovering above your chair. "Hi Pepe,,,"

"Hi JAK!!!" Pepe said, quite loudly, "Or should I say JAK - ASS!!! Hahaha,,, ha..."

Pepe's entire fucking head and neck turned to you, trying to see if you laughed at his awful joke. When he sees that you didn't laugh, his smile instantly died. You could tell that he was cringing at himself.

You knew you needed to get Pepe out of the room, before he does anything stupid. So you quietly excused yourself from Jak, apologizing for Pepe's lame joke. Although Pepe was perfectly able to walk over to you and Jak, all of the sudden he began to act as if he's never walked in his life. So he clung onto your waist, using that as support while you both exited the party.

It didn't make much sense for him to hold your waist for support. Holding onto your shoulders or even your head would make much more sense - but he insisted on holding your waist. But you weren't going to complain when he hand perfectly fitted there. And you definitely weren't going to complain when he was pulling you closer to his body on instinct, as if he was a magnet attracted to you.

You struggled to get his tall body into your small car. But you did it. Now you had to struggle with getting the buckle on him. Not that he's fat, far from it, he's quite lanky and lean. The struggle came from the fact that Pepe was insisting that he should drive. That the man should always drive the woman home. He even drunkenly giggled and said, "If I driveee, then we couldd kiss at red lightssss!"

He said that while looking up at you with a shit eating grin. As if he was trying to see if you would blush at his joke, which you did. And as if his cute giggle and smile weren't enough, he did a stupid little fist bump in the air after making you giggle, as if it was an accomplishment. He has never ever been this flirty with you, making you unsure of how to handle him.

You can't help but laugh even more at his stupid acts. And from your laughter, Pepe finally sat still for once. He was stuck in his seat, staring at you, completely star struck. His big dark eyes starring up at you while you giggled, he looked as if he's seen the Northern lights. His lips were slightly parted, mainly because he was tired from fighting you away from buckling him, but also because his breathe was genuinely taken away from his lungs.

And that's when you felt something click in you.

At that exact moment, when Pepe was looking up at you with big puppy eyes and kissable kips - you realized that you would never ever be able to replace Pepe. You would never be able to settle and date Jak just to move on from Pepe. Because in one single moment of Pepe barely saying anything, he made you feel more cherished than Jak did within your entire day. Because in one single moment of Pepe's eyes staring in yours, you felt your heart pound faster than it ever did when Jak gently held your hand at night.

You knew you needed to tell Jak soon. Although you knew that you and Pepe weren't an item yet, you were determined to get him to be yours. And for the first time within almost a decade - you felt as if you had a chance with him.

As you dragged Pepe behind you, you safely managed to get him up the stairs and into his apartment. It was a cozy place, with tan and beige furniture decorating the place. There were photos hung up of his friends and family, shelves filled with comic books and gifts from fans. It felt warm, homey despite it not being your home.

Due to Pepe's strong grip on you, as if he was glued to you, you were forced to throw him roughly onto his couch. You sighed out of relief from finally getting him to settle down. You were beat, ready to go sleep asap. Meanwhile Pepe was the exact opposite. He was still giggling and giddy despite there being nothing funny happening.

His smile was permanently on his face, but you weren't complaining. As you slumped down next to him, you could still smell the alcohol in his breathe. He lazily threw his hand on your thigh, looking at you before saying "You're so farrr".

The lazy grip he had on your thigh quickly turned into an overpowering grip, as he easily pulled you all the way close to him. Even though he got what he wanted, you being right beside him, his hand didn't leave your thigh. You were left in shock, never ever seeing this side of him. He's been drunk around you before, but never this drunk. You're lost on why he felt the need to get so drunk today, especially when he knew being drunk was a huge no-no at sponsor parties.

When Pepe saw your eyes widen, he instantly copied your expression. His hand left your thigh in a flash and he scooted away from you by a foot. "I'm sorry, did you not like that???" He asked, his words not slurring as much.

"No no, it's okay." You said as you looked at him, his shoulders relaxing at your words. You wish you could say the same, your shoulders were killing you now from having to bring Pepe up a whole flight of stairs.

Rolling your shoulders didn't help the ache, making you slightly wince at the soreness. Pepe, despite still being drunk, could tell it was because of him. He looked guilty, scooting a bit closer to you.

"I'm sorry," He said softly, the most gentle you've heard him all night. "I shou' have gone home on my own."

You shook your head, "Definitelyyy not, you would have crashed your car into a family of five or something."

"Better than hurting you," He said almost in a whisper. You watched his face scrunch up. He let out a light burp and threw his head back onto the couch. "God I feel awful already."

On instinct, you were about to get off the couch and get him some pain medication. But Pepe's arm shot out, blocking you from getting up.

"Not physically." He says, "But,,, mentally."

You tilt your head slightly, confused at what he meant. He looked into your eyes, able to tell that you had zero clue at all what he meant. A sigh left his lips, as if he was tired despite him being the one that got dragged up a flight of stairs and a ride home.

"I'm sure you'll feel awful physically soon." You say, "But why do you feel hurt, mentally?"

"I just," Pepe's voice was stuck, unsure of how to word himself. He let out a few murmurs but it wasn't actual words. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol making him unable to speak or if Pepe just didn't know how to word what he was thinking. You were assume it was both.

He knew he wouldn't be able to outright state what he was feeling, so instead he opted for questions. "(Y/N), be honest with me." You nodded, shifting in your seat to face him. His tone sounded serious. "How do you feel about Jak?"

You assume he must have felt awful mentally for his rude jokes to Jak. "Oh, Jak is cool. If you're worried about your joke to him, I'm sure he'll just brush it off."

"Are you close now?" Pepe asks, completely ignoring your answer to his question. "After that date you guys had, seemed like fun." He says, his eyes not looking at yours. As if he was too scared to make eye contact with you.

"Um, it was fun. But I mean, I didn't feel a spark or anything-"

"Don't lie."

You were frozen, unsure of what to say. "I'm not lying...?"

"I see how you laugh at his jokes, how he looks at you, how you smile at him." Pepe says slowly, "Do you think you like him?"

His tone was so serious that you were caught off guard. But you knew the answer to his question now, thankfully you realized it this night. "No, I think we're just gonna be friends. He seems super sweet and nice, but not for me-"

"Then who is for you?" Pepe asks, this time looking at you. There was no smile on his face, instead a look of investigation. A look that seemed as if he was trying to put a mask on, to protect his feelings from getting hurt.

You knew the answer to this question to. But you weren't able to say. All you were able to do was stare into Pepe's eyes, watching them soften as he looked at you. You swallowed and broke the eye contact, feeling too intimate to keep staring into his dark eyes.

While you were looking away, Pepe scooted back close to you. Your knees touching. Although your head was still turned away, too flustered to look at him and unwilling to give him an answer. Pepe was staring right at you, his entire torso turned towards you to examine your whole body and features.

You didn't want to turn your head around and face him. You could tell that if you did, your faces would be only a few inches away from each other. Close enough to make your breathes touch each other faces. Although you were trying to look away from him, his hand gently reached for your face. There was no pressure in his grip, instead it was lightly guiding your head to face him.

Now your faces were close, eyes locked in, and bodies only a few inches apart. You looked at him, holding your breathe in fear that it stank from eating. His eyes and face were no longer tense, it was soft and looked as if he was pleaded. It looked as if he about to beg you for something, which he did:

"Please, please say it's me." He said in a whisper.

[differenteagletragedy]

Two times you almost slept with Baxter and one time you did (hey-o)

Takes place during Step 3. As a Very Normal Person who thinks about this game in a normal way, I have been torn about how intimate MC and Baxter get if you do the romance route with him. Because our guy is such a flirt, but then no follow through? Suspicious.

So here's a possible scenario for all of that. Definitely not smut, but it's a little spicy!

The first time it almost happened was in Baxter's condo on a random Wednesday afternoon. You didn't have to work, Cove did and Baxter was, as he always liked to remind you, flexible, so you were sitting together on his couch, watching a movie.

The thing was that you'd never watched a movie with Baxter before, so you didn't know how bad he was at it. He was more concerned with making a cute little commentary than following the plot, and while it was cute -- it was Baxter, after all -- at a certain point you didn't know what was going on.

So you chose to pass the time in a different way.

Right after he cracked another lame joke and turned to give you a smirk, you met his lips with a kiss instead. It took him a moment to react as it usually did when you kissed him, but he got the hang of it before too long.

It started out a little slow and awkward -- you hadn't had had too many long kisses at this point, mostly more chaste pecks here and there -- but soon it was a full blown makeout session. You slipped your fingers through his hair and you felt a little sigh against your mouth. He was having fun.

Things got more intense, and you suddenly found his hand on the back of your thigh. Before you could say anything, he gripped it firmly and pulled you up so you were straddling his lap.

"This is new," you said, looking down at him nervously.

"It is," he agreed, the normal bravado in his voice replaced by a sort of excited uncertainty. "Is this all right?"

In response, you kissed him again and settled into the position. This way, you could feel just how much fun he was having. It was exciting.

Feeling a wave of boldness, you leaned back and took your shirt off. He gazed at your body openly, and with a tenderness you weren't expecting, his raised his hands off your hips to stroke your back.

You let out a low moan, and there it was -- that smirk that had been missing. Still with the same gentleness as before, he started placing soft kisses along your collarbone, moving lower down your chest.

While his mouth and hands were occupied elsewhere, you made quick work of the buttons of his shirt, and soon you slipped it off his shoulders and threw it behind you, then went in for another kiss, pressing your skin together.

After a nice little while of this, he leaned back again and found your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes," you told him plainly, not leaving anything up for interpretation.

You kissed for a while longer, then you felt his hand on your stomach. He held it there for just a moment, then started moving it lower. You felt his fingers move between the waistband of your shorts and your skin, and they worked their way lower and lower ...

All at once, you felt his body tense under yours, and he snatched his hand back like he'd been burnt. He gripped your shoulders and guided you off of him so you were sitting by his side again.

"Perhaps we should slow it down a bit, don't you agree?" he asked, an unmistakable shakiness to his voice.

"Sure, if that's what you want."

You both silently found the clothing you'd lost then started watching the movie again. He didn't have any cute comments this time around.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The second time was in your room. Your moms and Liz were out for the day, so you had the place to yourself. You'd been texting Baxter, spending a lazy day in your room, before finally just asking him to come over and hang out.

He'd only been in your room once or twice before, and he treated it like a museum exhibit. He was studying you.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing to a shelf.

He'd spotted your seashell collection, and you told him as much.

"I used to know all the scientific names and everything," you said, moving to stand beside him so you could look at your little display.

"Used to?" he questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

"Used to and still can," you corrected yourself, laughing.

"Tell me about them?"

You laughed more, then snuck a glance at him. He was smiling too, but it was a sincere request. So you did.

You told him not only the scientific facts you knew about your shells, but the memories you had of when you'd found them. You showed him the big orange one you'd found with Liz when you were little, and the pretty little pink one you and Cove had come across after he'd moved to town.

Maybe it was your impressive show of knowledge, or maybe the fondness in your voice as you spoke about all these people and places and things that were important to you, or maybe it was just that you cared enough to share any of it with him, but when you were done he wrapped his arms around you tightly and buried his face in the crook between your neck and shoulder.

You held him back, and then his lips found yours.

Usually you were the one who took the initiative for any sort of physical affection, but this time he led you to your bed, and you felt almost a sort of neediness in how he moved against you. After the back of your knees bumped against your mattress, he laid you down and climbed on top of you, situating his body between your legs and lowering himself to kiss you again.

This time, he let himself explore your body with his hands, and you gladly let him. Your shirts ended up tossed aside again, but this time he took your shorts off, too. Whether it was on your mouth, your neck, your chest or, for a few tantalizing moments, even lower, his never let his lips leave you for long.

It felt like he was desperate to be as close to you as he possibly could. Which was fine -- you were desperate too.

He looped his thumbs under the sides of your underwear, bunching them up in his hands and landing a kiss on your hip. You shuddered and moaned, saying his name, and that seemed to break whatever spell he'd let himself fall under.

Baxter sat up on his knees and looked off to the side, a mix of emotions clear on his face. You couldn't pick them all out, but you could tell he was cutting your encounter short again.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "It just seems like maybe this isn't the best venue for ... this," he gestured to your partially unclothed bodies.

"Nobody's going to be home for a while," you assured him. You grabbed his hands and tried to guide him back down to you, but he kissed yours and let them go. He climbed gracefully over your leg and sat beside you on your bed.

"Perhaps we --" he began, but you cut him off.

"Perhaps you can tell me why you're doing this again."

He finally met your eyes. He looked confused.

"This time and before, at your place," you told him. "We started fooling around and you stopped it both times. I thought you just weren't ready the first time, but this time you started it and then ... I don't get it. Is it something I'm doing?"

"No, not at all," he said, moving closer to you. You were upset, and he didn't like that it was because of something he'd done. "You're doing everything perfectly. Don't worry about that, please."

"Then what?"

He considered things for a moment, then looked at you again. Before he began speaking, he laid down beside you and placed a careful arm around you.

"It's just that I so deeply don't want you to regret this," Baxter said softly, absentmindedly making shapes with his fingers on your side. "Any of this. We haven't known each other for very long, and it won't be very much longer before I'm gone. I don't want you to move too quickly and then look back on our summer together and wish you'd done things differently. I'm afraid that would break my heart."

He didn't look at you through any of this, but when he was done he glanced up and gave you a tight smile.

"I wouldn't," you said firmly. "i won't. I promise."

You could tell that he wasn't convinced, but at least he let himself stay there with you like that for a while. He kept stroking idly along your stomach, moving his head to rest on your shoulder. Eventually you both fell asleep.

It wasn't the sort of intimacy you'd thought you'd get, but it certainly wasn't unwelcome.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The third time ... well, as they say, the third time's the charm.

It was nearly the end of summer, about a week after Miranda's birthday party and your impromptu Summer Soiree. You hadn't been able to stop thinking about how sweet Baxter's reaction to the whole thing was or how much he'd loved being able to have a proper dance, so you'd decided to set up another little party for him.

This time, the guest list was even smaller.

You'd asked Baxter if he could hang out that night, and he agreed -- he always put you above any and all other plans, and you knew it. So you gathered some supplies from your house and headed down to the beach.

As the sun set, you laid out a blanket on the sand, then pulled out your phone and set up a little speaker that went with it. You had a few candles you'd swiped from around the house that you lit, hoping the wind wouldn't blow them out at least until Baxter got the full effect. You'd also brought some snacks that you placed on the blanket as well, but you were pretty sure you knew what he would want to do when he got there.

And you were right.

You sent a text, asking Baxter to meet you at the beach, and he promptly let you know he was on his way. Then you pulled up a playlist you'd compiled -- some more traditional ballroom dancing tunes and some slow songs you just liked -- and began playing it. The sound quality wasn't great, but you didn't think it would matter. You smoothed out your clothes, a little fancier than what you'd normally wear here, and waited.

When you saw him approaching, you smiled at him. He paused, taking it all in, then gave you what may have been the most tender look you'd ever seen a person make.

"What's all this?" he asked when he got to you.

"Summer Soiree, Part Two, The Reckoning," you answered, gesturing to your little spread. His face was filled with wonder at the scene, and when you held your hand up in a wordless invitation to dance, he positively beamed.

You danced together as the moon appeared over the water. He held you close, your hand in his clasped firmly to his chest. You stayed like that for a while, swaying back and forth in a cozy little silence, before Baxter spoke.

"I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve such a marvelous dance partner this summer, but sincerely, thank you for this. It means a great deal, more than I can say," he said.

"You're worth it," you told him. You moved your hand off his shoulder to ruffle his hair, and he nearly purred.

"I won't forget a moment of this, any of this," he went on. "When I'm old and grey -- properly grey -- I'll look back on the summer I spent in Sunset Bird with the utmost fondness." He paused, looking at you deeply, and added, "I won't forget you. Not ever."

You rolled your eyes affectionately at the monochrome joke, then said, "Of course you won't forget me. How could you?"

You shared a smile, then you leaned in for a kiss.

By that point in the summer, you knew that you liked Baxter, so much, and that you wanted him. It didn't matter that this was essentially a fling and that he would be leaving soon -- he was here now, and after all you'd shared with each other over the past few months, you wanted him to know that someone cared for him, that he could be appreciated and doted on and even loved. You wanted to show him.

"Can we go back to your place?" you asked, willing him to understand what you meant and to trust that you knew what was best for yourself.

He searched your eyes for a moment, and you didn't look away. He swallowed, then nodded.

You packed up your things together and he carried your bag as you walked back to the neighborhood hand in hand. When you made it through the doorway of his condo, he put your things down carefully, then turned to you.

Personally, you were done with being careful.

You crashed into him, pulling him around you, and after just a short moment of hesitation, he met your intensity. He kissed you hard, your teeth almost clanking together, but you didn't mind -- you wanted him to finally let loose.

And he did.

Both of you were down to your underwear by the time he'd led you to his bedroom, and before you got in bed, he'd removed the final layers. You were naked together for the first time, but you couldn't stop kissing each other to get a proper look.

"You're absolutely sure?" he asked breathlessly, forcing his hands to stop roaming you body until he could get your answer.

"Absolutely," you answered.

This time, that was enough for him.

You spent the night together, wrapped up in each other. Baxter was sometimes sweet and gentle, sometimes a bit rougher, but for once, all his hesitation was gone. He wanted you just as badly as you'd wanted him, and he finally let himself have you.

The next morning, you woke up before him -- no surprise there. He had firmly attached himself to you in his sleep, and you felt a bit of dampness by your head that you thought may have been drool, but you didn't care. Not when he looked so cute.

When he finally opened his eyes and saw you beside him, he grinned and snuggled up closer.

"Morning," he said, nearly slurring.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm," he hummed happily. He didn't want to greet the day just yet, and that was fine by you.

For the next little while, Baxter dozed next to you, sometimes waking up enough to have a bit of conversation before it fell off again. In the times when you heard a light snoring, you let your mind wander.

You knew he'd made it clear that this relationship was temporary -- that had been established time and time again. You didn't think last night had changed that, you had never lied when you told him that you understood, but as he slept naked beside you, you let yourself think that maybe whatever this was that you'd built this summer was strong enough to last.

Maybe not now, but that was ok. Maybe later, when you'd both solidly found your footing in the adult world. Maybe you could build a closer friendship while he was across the country in college, then you could come back together.

You resolved to talk to him about it when he woke up, but for now, you shut your eyes too and cuddled closer to him, content to laze away the morning in his arms.

[murdrdocs]

ethan landry is perfect for romcoms.

ethan landry in a meet cute romcom. he spills coffee on your shirt when you have an interview for a job that would make your college experience tolerable. your shirt is white, pristine, perfect for the interview, and now it has a damp brown spot over your chest that you don't have time to fix. he apologizes profusely, and you let out a clenched "its fine" because you have to run back to your place and change. you're late for the interview, but it goes well, and you see ethan in a dining hall that afternoon and he looks like a deer in headlights when he sees you. he offers to buy you dinner, you accept, and the entire thing spirals from there.

ethan landry in a friends to lovers romcom. he's been your neighbor, and close friend, for years. you've always been closer to his sister, quinn, but the summer between your years of college when you're both home, a little more mature and willing to explore, changes things. through beach days, pool days, lake days, country club days, and movie nights, you grow closer and closer, emotionally and physically. and there's one night where you go to a party, and you're disrespected by some douche, leaving ethan to defend your honor, and suddenly you're kissing him in his car as a thank you before he drops you off next door. you're a little tipsy, he can taste it on your tongue, which brews a misunderstanding that isn't completely cleared up until the week before you're both due for move in. but there's always next summer. you both promise.

ethan landry in a hallmark romcom. your old friend from high school, the guy you hooked up with on the night of senior prom, and the guy you tried to forget as you went to college. now graduated and heading into the Real-Real World, you're back in your hometown for christmas after your december graduation and you just so happen to run into him at the place you both bonded over at 16. you share a coffee and a bite to eat, and can't help but notice how much he's filled out over the years. he helps you buy a tree, and helps you decorate. he goes gift shopping with you, and vents about how horrible he is at wrapping. he watches you as you teach him, and you start to notice just how he's looking at you. and it all comes to a head on new years eve when he finally kisses you just as the fireworks go off.

ethan in a "the bet" romcom. he went from the gapped tooth kid on the playground who used to do treasure hunts with you, to the jock who's best friends with the schools alpha, chad meeks-martin. you've stayed mostly the same, finding comfort with mindy meeks-martin, chad's twin sister. you're still in the same orbit, but far enough from each other to barely even give small smiles and waves. but suddenly he's really into you, asking you to homecoming, giving you his varsity jacket, taking you to sonic late at night to share oreo blasts with you. it's everything 8 year old you wanted, until you find out the truth after hanging out with his friends. they're laughing, 'ooo'ing, taunting you about being so dumb, and the only boys who look a little upset are chad and ethan. ethan's trying to apologize or explain, but you don't let him, reluctantly getting in the car with chad –– who you're also upset with because he knew –– who takes you to mindy, a shoulder you finally let yourself cry on.

ethan (and chad) in a love triangle romcom, the summer i turned pretty style. spending a summer on the island that your best friends have permanent homes on. you're torn between catching up with chad and ethan. your feelings are torn between chad and ethan. one a jock, everything young you ever dreamed of as you stared at posters of channing tatum during his modeling days. chad is suave, charming, experienced. and the other a little more nerdy. ethan is adorably awkward, a little timid, but he clearly cares about you so much. he's gotten so buff since the last time you visited, and his hair has gotten so curly and you just admire how pretty his teeth are without the braces you used to make fun of. late nights stargazing with ethan where he holds your cold hand up to point out constellations. nights at the local diner with chad where he tells you to order whatever you want and he gives you quarters to put into the jukebox. early mornings with ethan where he takes you with his dad to go fishing. early mornings with chad where he takes you surfing, giggling (and shirtless) as he teaches you the ins and outs. going to a kegger on the beach with both of their sisters, running into each boy separately, then together, all of the tension colliding in the moment where you stand far enough from the fire to not hear the chatter of teenagers. it's cold, the wind blows against you, they both offer their jackets, and you're left standing in the middle, trying to decide where to reach your hand.

[nostalgiccrystalic]

Can you write pen15 characters and their first kiss with the reader

Sure!! Im so sorry that this took so long to write, but i had school and christmas + new years eve preparations. I wrote it as a one shot (it also includes them already having a crush on you, because I never wrote anything similar and it's my first ever " x reader" that im publishing). I included Maya, Anna, Sam, Brandt, and Alex, I wanted to write for Dustin and Shuji but I completely didnt have an idea how to write it with them (but if I do I will also publish it someday).

Maya

You, Maya and Anna were friends since the beginning of seventh grade, so it's not really a long time, but you two quickly learned that you have crushes on each other. Anna was torn apart between you two, because you both kept telling her about eachother, she was silent, but eventually she revealed to you both at the same time that you two are crazy for eachother, and you definitely should be together. You started dating a couple of days before the big dance that everyone was so obsessed about, you two were once again separately telling Anna that you really wanted to kiss eachother at the dance. Well, Anna obviously kept her mouth shut about the kiss in front of you two, so that you could surprise eachother with it.

After the fight that Anna and Maya went through, you didnt left Maya for one second at the dance, so she wouldnt feel lonely and abandoned, and also you still wanted to accomplish your goal. When the music became less jumpy, and more romantic, you quickly pulled Maya on the dancefloor, and started slow dancing with her, hoping it would light up her mood a little. It was really awkward because it was your both first times dancing with someone like that. Halfway through the song, you started to lean in closer to Mayas face, you saw that she was kinda taken aback by that, but she didnt backed away from you. You took it as a perfect moment to kiss her, and you did.

You did it rather quickly and as a little peck, because of the embarassment that has taken over you. But it didnt stop Maya from also kissing you, she did it a lot better than you have imagined, she was slow and careful to not hurt you with her braces, after the kiss that felt like forever, she looked you in the eyes.

- You have no idea how much time I practiced this kiss on Anna's bed knob... - she said after a while and you both started to laugh at her comment, that made her smile goofily. You both now had a silly memory of your first kiss, and after Maya and Anna made up, you both told her about it with details.

Anna

You were friends with Anna and Maya since you were like 8 years old, so going into seventh grade with them, meant a lot to you. But what was more important to you was Anna. You were crushing on her a long time before seventh grade. Naturally, you started to get jealous when Brendan started to look at Anna during your school band practices, and when he started to pass her cute little notes. You didnt like it, you hated it. You told yourself that you had to do something, before Brendan asks Anna out. You were thinking really hard, and during final practice before the show, you got an idea. You will kiss Anna after the show.

You told Sam and Maya about it, they started to crack silly little jokes in front of Anna, but luckily she didnt really understand what they were talking about so you were safe. During Anna's opening solo, you looked a bit dreamy at her, that's what Sam and Maya will probably make fun of later but you didnt really care about it. After the show, you hurriedly jumped off the stage and went straight to Anna, she was talking with her dad, but when he saw you he immediately went somewhere else telling Anna that "he has to talk to someone". When he left, and you two were alone (well, not really because it was like half of your school in there), you looked up at Anna (she was taller than you, at least in this particular situation), and you kissed her tenderly but also really long on her lips, she started kissing you back, so right now you were sure that Brendan didnt stand a chance with you. After the kiss, she looked at you and smiled widely.

- I thought that I had to make my first move, but you finally did it. -

You smiled too, and took Anna by her hand, going straight to Maya and Sam to tell them that you're together now.

All of this happening in front of Brendan, who was now mad at himself that he didnt thought about doing something similar as you did.

Sam

You and Sam weren't really close with eachother, but that didnt stop you two from feeling something for one another.

You were almost always paired up with eachother for projects in different classes, so you were kinda forced to talk and spend time at yours or his house.

One time, while sitting in your garden and discussing something for your physics project, you two developed a strange conversation in the process.

- Do you have like, an eye on someone Y/N? - Sam asked while dribbling something in his notebook.

You were kinda taken aback by that, and you didnt really thought before saying your answer.

- Yeah, I do... - you told while looking down at a pile of dirt.

Sam got visibly surprised with your answer, but not visible to you, because you were looking down.

- Well, who is it? Is it someone that I know? - he got interested in your answer, and he was mentally chanting to himself, that you will call out his name.

When you were just about to lie to him, that he didnt know this person, you suddenly heard a car honking in front of your house, it was Sam's mom. You two said goodbye to eachother, but you saw Sam's cute smile while he was waving to you, driving away with his mom. After you closed the door, you sprinted to your room, and thought about something slightly absurd. Does Sam like you too? You were left alone with this thought for the night. The next day, you wanted to look extra pretty for Sam, you knew that it was dumb, because he probably wasnt talking about you, but you had nothing to lose. So you put on some light makeup, with the help of your mom, because she was better at putting it than you. After your mom drove you to school, you went to your first lesson, and you sat at your assigned seat, next to Sam.

- Hi, Sam - you said while looking at him, smiling lightly.

- Whoa, Hi Y/N, you look pretty today, I mean you always look pretty but today you look like... extra pretty - he got visibly embarassed, and Maya who was sitting before you and was laughing at Sam's attempt to compliment you, didnt help him out. You just smiled at him and directed your attention at your teacher, who was just about to start the lesson.

After some classes, you had some time for lunch, so you entered the cafeteria as always, and you saw Sam waving at you to come sit by him. It was weird for you that he was sitting afar from his friends.

You sat next to him.

- Why are you sitting alone? - you asked him, visibly confused.

- Oh, I just wanted to talk with you... - he looked at you, and got closer to you.

You were looking at eachother for what felt like eternity, but finally Sam kissed you by surprise. He kissed you really long, and kinda messily, probably because he didnt thought about it before actually doing it. After he backed away from you, he just looked at you, scared that you will run away from him.

- You know, yesterday I was talking about you, Sam... - you looked at him and smiled.

He smiled too, and took your hand in his.

- So are we like, boyfriend and girlfriend now?

- I guess so... - you both smiled and went to sit with Sam's friends who were howling at you both mockingly.

Brandt

You and Brandt were like totally opposite, he was one of the most popular guys in school, and you were just a normal student, almost invisible to others, but not to him. He secretly liked you, and behind every rude comment about you, in the back of his mind he thought about your pretty features, how you're so nice to everyone that are nice to you, and how you always replied to his rude comments with such creativity. So, when it came to the big dance, he decided that he will kiss you that night, and then he will see if you like him back, if not, then he can find another girl in a blink of an eye (at least, that's how he thought so). You were a loner, you didnt really had any close friends in school, of course you talked with some of them like for example; Sam, Gabe and even Dustin if he wasnt an ass to you, but you didnt had any close relationships with anyone, you were once again just there, just someone, not really outstanding.

You still wanted to look pretty, you picked your best outfit, you asked your mom to do your hair and help you with your makeup, maybe someone would dance with you? Of course you didnt want to exaggerate your look, so you kept it simple, just added some things that you normally wouldnt (like light lipstick, or colorful eyeshadow).

Your mom drove you to school, and told you to have fun. Brandt was standing in front of school with his friends, and Heather's "gang", you quickly walked past them, not paying attention to things they were saying (just Heather and her band gossiping about your outfit, but who are they to judge?). When you finally walked inside the school, and the hall that the dance was taking place, you were kinda impressed by how the place looks, and how everyone is dressed up (for example Brendan's new look), but you decided to just have fun and not really look at anyone else. You were chatting with anyone that wanted to talk to you, you had a great conversation with Sam, Gabe and Jafeer. After talking with them, you kinda stood under the wall next to the table with drinks and snacks, then you saw Brandt going up to you with his friends, but they stood a little far away from you. You looked at Brandt, who had his infamous smirk on his face.

- Nice look, wanna dance? - he asked with his bored tone in his voice, you were surprised that he didnt insult you in anyway. That made you think he was making fun of you, but his face right now was deadly serious.

- Is this some kind of trap? We'll go dance and one of your friends will pour something on me? - you asked cracking up a smile, but you were kinda nervous that you guessed it right, and he would make a fool of you as soon as you'll go dance with him.

- Promise it's not... - he said smiling a bit, it wasnt his smirk, it was a normal, sweet smile, you never saw him smiling like that and you thought that he was being serious. So you went to dance with him, as soon as you both stood on the dancefloor, the jumpy and fun music faded, and now the more slow and romantic one played in the background. Brandt took your hands and put them on the back of his neck, his arms went to your back, his grip was strong but also careful to not hurt you. You both started sway to the music, you desperately tried to avoid Brandt's gaze, but it was nearly impossible cause he was kinda burning a hole in you with his eyes.

- You know, I really like you Y/N... - He said while looking into your eyes, you were kinda confused by his words, but then he went straight for your lips with his, and started to kiss you really strongly and passionately. You didnt know what to do, you wanted to kiss him back but he was way more invented in it than you, so you just kinda stood there in shock, he finally backed away from your face, but still held you.

- You want to be my girlfriend? - he asked and looked at you, you didnt feel it but he was nervous that you will tell him "no". But luckily to him you didnt.

- Sure - you nodded lightly, and smiled.

You wouldnt thought this morning that you will suddenly be with Brandt, but now you were, and you liked it.

Alex

You and Heather were once inseparable, that was until she started dating Alex. Their relationship was rather awkward, because Heather was really jealous and posessive of Alex, their relationship was on and off. You stopped talking with Heather, because she also started accusing you of trying to steal her boyfriend (which was really dumb, because you rarely spoke with him). But anyway, after cutting off contacts with Heather, you started to notice something weird. Alex was always by your side, I mean like literally. He was always sitting close to you (not like directly next to you, but close enough for you to notice it). He was always looking at your direction (not saying he was looking directly at you, because you never caught him doing that, but it was still weird). Sometimes you thought that he was telling Brandt or Dustin about you, because they were whispering to eachother while you were walking past them, or when you were looking at them occasionally in class.

You always got that weird gut feeling while looking or thinking about Alex, that's when you realized you started to develop feelings for him. It was really infuriating for you, you felt uncomfortable in your own body while getting that feeling. You finally decided to talk to Alex of your assumptions (not that you love him, but you wanted to confront him about his sneaky glances at you and gosipping about you with his dumb friends). So you did, you lured him to janitors closet, and you stood before the door, so he wouldnt try to escape. You looked at him, and saw that he was kinda scared, I guess you couldnt really blame him, you would be scared too if someone locked you up with them in janitors closet.

- Alex, why are you like staring at me all the time? - you looked at him seriously, he looked at you with his big eyes.

- I dont know what are you talking about? - he started to get visibly nervous, something that you never thought you will see, because he was always calm and he sometimes looked really bored.

- I dont know if you are lying to me right now, or if im going crazy, because I always see you next to me, I always see you looking in my direction and I see you whispering to Brandt or Dustin while you're looking at me! - After you said this, a long silence came afterwards, you were looking directly into Alex's eyes, and almost as you were hypnotized you started to kiss him, which he almost immediately returned back, you were both kissing eachother messily, as if someone would pull one of you away from eachother. And that's how it all started with Alex And you, Heather wasnt pleased by that, but, who cares?

_________________________________________

I hope that you liked it! I tried to write gender neutral reader (which was easy to do with Maya and Anna), but with the guys i kinda forgot about it, but you can still imagine reader as a male or a female.

[thatgirlstrawberry]

Summer Sunkisses - Steve Harrington

In which Steve’s girlfriend meets the kids for the first time

Warnings:

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

not part of the upcoming Steve series

Y/N was beyond anxious. It would be her first time meeting Steve’s “children” that he claimed to be his own.

The school year had just ended for the high schoolers and he was throwing a pool party at his house. Pretty much everyone was invited. The kids, his friends who came home from college, he invited a few of Y/N’s friends too just in case she became too overwhelmed with all of the new people.

Now, she was standing in his room, a pink and orange floral bikini paired with her skin. She held one of Steve’s white buttons ups to use as a cover up between her fingers. The material was soft under her fingers but that feeling was ignored because of the stinging on her bottom lip. She’d torn off a piece of skin with her teeth. She was looking down at the pool where people sat along the edge with drinks and food. The younger kids all sat around two lawn chairs with their own food and drinks goofing off.

“Hey beautiful, you ready to go down?” Steve asked when he walked into the room.

She turned around and inhaled deeply. “Uh…” She bit her lip again.

Steve’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh, baby you’re just prettier than a rainbow.” She smiled and walked closer as he did. His arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her hips into him. “What’s the matter?” He asked after studying her face.

Y/N studied his right back, the freckles of summer dotting his cheeks. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

He gave her a bored look. “I know you, honey. C’mon spill it.”

She let out a breath and closed her eyes. “I’m nervous to meet them.” Steve tilted his head and kissed her cheek.

“My friends? Baby, there’s nothin’ to be worried about.” He sweeped a piece of hair behind her ear.

She nodded. “No, Steve. The kids! You said that a few of them are really hard to get on their good side and I don’t know if you noticed but I’m a very awkward person when it comes to new people and they’re not gonna like me too much and”Steve’s smile made her stop rambling. “What?”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.” He nodded. She rolled her eyes. “Listen, you’re perfect to me. And no doubt will the others think the same.”

The corners of her lips turned up as he softly grabbed her face and kissed her. He tasted like cherry popsicles and lemonade. “Now, come on. You’re awfully dry.” He chuckled. She smiled and let him take her hand to lead her out of the house.

When they got to the pool, the music was loud, the people were loud too. She smiled at the people who greeted Steve, they nodded at her, some introduced themselves.

Then they made there way over to where the kids were sitting. Her grip on Steve’s hand tightened and they all stopped what they were doing and looked up at the two. “Whoa.” The one who she assumed was Dustin breathed out.

Steve glared. “Henderson, I swear to God.” He shook his head. “Everyone this is my girlfriend, you’ve all heard—“

“Yeah, because you talk about her 25/8, Steve.” A girl with red hair, Max, spoke with a smile. She stood up and introduced herself. “I’m Max.” She held her hand out and Y/N shook it. She introduced herself properly.

The other girl smiled with her hand in Mike’s. “Hello, I’m El.” She looked at the boy next to her. “This is Mike, my boyfriend.”

She smiled and waved awkwardly. Will introduced himself with a soft smile. Lucas did too.

Dustin stood up, hands on his hips and a what he thought was charming smile. “I’m Dustin. I must say, I have no idea how Steve managed to woo you because you are gorgeous and look at him—“

“Yeah, you’re on paper thin ice, buddy.” Steve kissed his teeth. The girl next to him giggled and shook her head. “Anyway, you little shits have a good last day of school?” It was yesterday when they all became Sophomores.

They all nodded and they fell into a conversation and Steve mischievously looked around with a smirk on his face. His girlfriend was still talking to the kids. He noticed that she still had on his button up. He slowly took it off of her somehow without her noticing.

She then felt the burning heat of the sun on her shoulders and suddenly Steve’s arms wrapped around her waist and he lifted her off the ground. She squealed, a smile on her face as he neared the pool. “Oh, you’re gonna get it, Steve—“ She scream when he jumped into the pool with her held against him.

When she was submerged into the water, his grip never loosened. Once they stopped going down, she opened her eyes. The chlorine stung at first but she saw his blurry smile. In slow motion he leaned forward and kissed her. She didn’t care that her lungs were screaming for air.

Her legs wrapped around him as he swam up and broke the surface. The sound of the laughter and music started up again and she smoothed her wet hair back out of her face as she giggled. “You’re in trouble, mister.”

“What? I told you that you were awfully dry.” He shrugged with a sultry smirk. She rolled her eyes and gave him another kiss.

People all around whooped and hollered. Her face burned as she pulled away. “How hard was meeting the kids?” He asked.

She reluctantly shrugged. “It wasn’t.”

Steve nodded. “See, I told you. You’re perfect. They love you.”

She giggled. “Especially Dustin.”

“That little shit is gonna try to steal you from me before summer’s out I swear.”

—————————————————

Ahh okay something different! This is kinda nerve racking bc I haven’t ever written for Steve! I hope you liked this and let me know if you want more like this!

Also, the next chapter of Sick Surprise is in the works so don’t worry!

Taglist: @tuesday-yellowxx

@blue-willows

@montarella

@criminallymagic

@mermateyepmatewithte

@lipstixstain

@urlovelydarling

@dreatine

@f-me-reid

@fantastic-fans

@aleyda5

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@creativeuser101

@d0ntfeedaftermidnight

@jacksonms31

@scorpiofangirl1109

@perseuswaves

@baseballmama35

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@s-udaku-my-love

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@fairy-alix

@whompwhompbang

@callsignwidow

@regulus-black-223048

@mushy-mushroom04

@v-i-o-l-e-t

@livviex

@fudosl

@yuulina-vre

@oatmealisweird

@SteveHarringtonssidepiece

@ameliaxcriminalminds

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@honey-on-my-lips

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@sophiario

@cynbx

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@kenzi-woycehoski

[yakuzacanons]

howdy? your headcanons are awesome, really love reading them! could I ask for the reader falling asleep on yakuza guys? thanks a bunch!

Perfect pairing for my previous post, literally cheese n wine pairing right here lol. Here ya go and thanks for your patience.

Kazuma Kiryu

He'd just hazily wrap his arm around you and fall back asleep. He's pretty easy to fall asleep on, but it mostly only works if he's also already asleep or trying to sleep. Otherwise, he'd just pick you up and tuck you into bed.

Majima Goro

Don't fall asleep on him if he's also asleep, at some point he's going to flail around and you'll get kicked or something. If you fall asleep on him while he's awake, he'll just sit patiently. It's literally like a cat fell asleep on his lap. He cannot move now. It's illegal.

Akiyama Shun

Nap on him anytime. If he's asleep, if he's awake, if he's laying down or sitting up or at home or at work. Free cuddles. Do it. He wants it. Please?? He'll be so nice and stroke your hair and everything.

Saejima Taiga

A human pillow. A living breathing heated blanket. If you get cold easily, I would recommend falling asleep on Saejima. He's also one of the bigger guys so you can like full body lay on top of him.

Tanimura Masayoshi

Very gentle little baby and might even fall asleep while you're sleeping with your head in his lap or leaning on his shoulder. The two of you tend to just fall asleep wherever the other one does, it's almost comedic how much that happens.

Ryuji Goda

Also a human pillow, although he's kind of goofily prideful about it. If you fall asleep on him, he's internally like "Alright, I'll be the best pillow ya ever had then!".

Nishikiyama Akira

It kind of melts his heart. It makes him feel like you trust him and can depend on him and that means a lot to him. He can be a little protective or jealous sometimes, so moments like this make him feel genuinely close to you.

Daigo Dojima

On the rare occassion you're sleepier than he is, he'll just kind of engulf you in his arms and hold onto you until you either wake up or until he also falls asleep. Out of all the boys, it's most common for Daigo to either fall asleep on you or for you to fall asleep on him.

Mine Yoshitaka

Kind of feeds into his top/dom energy, I won't lie. He's secretly like "Oh HELL yea, fall asleep on me. Love that." even though he's not the most cuddly of the boys. He thinks it's cute that you just nodded off like that.

Tatsuo Shinada

Constantly torn between letting you just sleep that way or tucking you in more properly, especially if he's still wide awake. At the same time, he doesn't want to move you because you're basically cuddling now, right?

Ichiban Kasuga

First time it happens, he turns beet red and sits so still that you might mistake him for a statue. Over time, he just gets used to it and kind of pats your head. He might occupy his time by reading a book or watching a video very quietly if he's not sleepy. Kind of chuckles and says "Heh, you really were tired huh?"

Tianyou Zhao

Would let you sleep it off but might tease you when you wake up by saying something like "Ah, look who's awake!" or "Someone was a sleepyhead, eh?". If he's also sleepy, he'll kind of drape one arm over you and pass out.

Joon-Gi Han

Also operates off of cat logic. You are laying there and you will remain there for as long as you are comfortable. Would probably actually tell the others at HQ that he cannot come in because you're still asleep on his chest and therefore he cannot move. Honestly, this is one of his preferred forms of intimacy as he enjoys the quietness. He's a little bit of an awkward conversationalist so this is relaxing for him.

[suzukiblu]

ooooh i was gonna say tim + clonecest for wip wednesday bc i love that one but then i read the snippet for kons soulmark is real and now im like ‼️‼️‼️ im so torn 😭 dealers choice between the two i guess! (happy wip wednesday <3)

Then there’s like, a stupid disaster of a bunch of weirdly optimistic bank robbers trying to clean out Metropolis Mercantile over their lunch break, which is so embarrassingly poorly-organized that nobody but Superboy even bothers showing up to stop them. Steel’s probably literally on his lunch break and Superman probably just pities them, and who even knows where Supergirl is right now, Superboy actually doesn’t even know where she’s living these days, he thinks it’s actually somewhere in Virginia, go figure, but he also would not want to hang around Metropolis if he were her since the whole Lex Luthor incident went down, so–

Anyway. Bank robbers. Embarrassingly poorly-organized bank robbers. Which wouldn’t even be an issue, if they weren’t stupid enough to have bought a gun from some idiot black market weapons dealer who apparently deals in alien tech. 

TTK is still a freaking godsend, but the stupid gun is so complicated he has to get his hands on it before he can actually disassemble it properly, which means when he disassembles it and it blows up in his face, it very literally blows up in his face. 

So like, he's very tired now, and his sunglasses are half-melted and his jacket’s scorched, so that’s another set of both wrecked on the dumbest possible shit, and it’s a stupid lame bank robbery so it’s not like there’s even any cute girls around to be impressed by him. Well–a couple of the tellers, but they’re working, so it’s not really the time. 

Lame, Superboy thinks, resignedly eyeing his melted glasses before tossing them in the trash outside the bank and debating going downtown to pick up a slice of pizza or something. The cops are taking the robbers in and taking the tellers’ and customers’ statements, and he has zero percent interest in sticking around for any of that noise, so it’s whatever. Pizza sounds like a way better use of his afternoon. 

Especially because he took more than a few hits from that stupid gun covering civilians, and he’s really tired and really sore now. Like, too tired to even fly properly, at least not yet. 

He makes it down the front steps of the bank, thinking longingly of pineapple and bacon pizza and maybe some mozzarella sticks or something, and then the situation gets . . . awkward, kind of.

[vampcubus]

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍!𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐏

a/n: perhaps if i show this to somebody i'll be motivated to finish it lol.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : merman!kyojuro rengoku x reader

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : sfw, mermaid au, reader is a human navigator.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 : 0.8k+

But orders are orders. Or so that’s what you repeat to yourself in your head as you help the crew restrain it and drag it below the deck. All that’s available to keep it in is a small metal pool— more of a tub really, filled with seawater and hardly two feet deep.

You’re the last to leave the hold, and only you seem to hear the mournful cry the creature makes as you climb to the top deck again. You chew your nails off with worry in your quarters that night, guilt settling in your stomach like a heavy stone.

You force yourself to avoid that area of the ship to close your heart to the whole situation, and for two days that seems to work. You carry on with your duties; marking maps, scrubbing the deck, and tying knots. But try as you might, you just can’t get that awful, mournful cry out of your head. Can’t unsee the fear in those golden, catlike eyes. And it starts to show.

Upon seeing your uncharacteristically mopey demeanor, Akaza decides to saddle you with the task of feeding the creature, “Since you’re so broken up about it.”

You roll your eyes at that, all but snatching the bucket of fresh fish from his grasp. You can’t help but see your friend in a new light after this whole debacle, not that fishermen were generally the compassionate or trustworthy sort, you just… You liked Akaza. He was friendly from the start, and respectful, and pretty… You supposed you expected better of him.

As you make your way below the deck where the creature is being held, you can’t help but feel excited. Your giddiness melts into anxiety as soon as you reach the bottom of the stairs, however, hearing the splashing halt at your arrival.

You don’t see him at first, but as you approach, you notice two yellow eyes just peeking out from beneath the water. You fight the instinct to flee; your curiosity inspires you to march right up to it. Immediately it– he backs up to the farthest side of the pool away from you. The feeling is reminiscent of a stray cat running away when you pspspsps it.

“Hello there… you. Uh, you must be hungry, right?”

His finlike ears flick, but otherwise, he shows no signs that he even understands you. In fact, you’d be surprised if he did. He’s probably never even come across a human before. Awkwardness permeates the room. Should you even bother trying to communicate? Do you just throw the fish in and bolt? Risk hand-feeding it and likely losing some fingers?

“Food? Hungry? Ahh, you probably don’t understand a bloody word I’m saying.” 

You curse under your breath.

At this point, you’re just talking to fill the silence with something other than your shaky breathing.

You reach into the bucket barehanded, uncaring of the slimy texture of the fish after almost a lifetime at sea. You wave the fish in the air, which seems to snap his attention away from you, but only briefly.

“Looks good, right? Been a couple days since you’ve eaten, i bet.”

You set the bucket down on the floor, but it hardly registers when you take in the sight of his tail beneath the water. The disturbed surface of the pool distorts it slightly, but you can’t help but stare even still.

You hold out the fish by the tail and the creature’s molten gaze flickers nervously between you and the offering, oozing distrust. But somehow, torn? Cautiously, he dares to come closer, using his webbed hands to ‘walk’ himself across the pool. You’re mesmerized by his face as he approaches, even half-hidden beneath the water, he’s notably handsome.

A cute round face with even rounder eyes, wide and fixated on the fish in your grasp. His skin is bronzed by the sun, and the image of him lounging on a rock in the summer sun appears in your mind. But what really sticks out is the color of his hair. It looks like a flame; bright blond with crimson tips.

He stops a foot or so away, and no closer.

“It’s for you.”

Still nothing, and you have to admit you’d be mistrustful too if you were in his shoes— er, position, you supposed was a better word. He didn’t quite have feet. So you compromise and drop the fish into the pool, deciding you were satisfied with his willingness to come even this close. In an instant, he ducks under the water and snatches the fish between his pointed teeth, nearly swallowing it whole with two harsh chomps to soften it up.

“Good!” You can’t help but praise, and instantly you feel silly for it. “More fish where that came from, though try to chew the next one, yeah?”

And that’s when you’re completely soaked in seawater by a rather rude splash of his fluke.

[tallyica]

Hiiiii can I request a young Jason Newsted who just joined Metallica meeting a fan who thinks he’s super cute and loves the way he plays bass? Maybe at a bar after a show, and reader is super starstruck but Jason is just surprised that such a pretty girl is talking to him? Have fun with details of the story, go full on creative liberty mode!!! Fluff, smut, general Metallica, whatever! 💗

hihi!!

omg TYSM for my first req ilysm I love this I love jason this is amazing dhsajhdjasdjhsadjhaskd

im not crazy on how it turned out and its kinda short but its still cute and stuff so

(maybe make this into a series?? idkkk)

word count: 1,342

warnings: drinking and just fluff

anyways heres my first real fan fic

JASON “NEW-KID” NEWSTEAD (1986)

The loudspeakers blared in my ears, the electrifying performance of Metallica captivating me and the audience so strongly. Everyone was screaming, cheering, and having a great time.

Only a few months ago did Metallica's previous bass player, Cliff, pass away. Now, it was Jason on the stage. His technique was one I hadn't seen before, and his stage presence was so strong.

Not only that, he was absolutely gorgeous and totally cute. 

My eyes were glued to him, and I was so grateful I had floor tickets, being the closest to the stage, watching as he strummed the chords of the bass with his pic with incredible ease and talent.

The song, Creeping Death had begun, the familiar and heavy tune making me feel enchanted, hearing as James belts out the lyrics into the microphone, everyone else on stage thrashing as they rocked their instruments.

Then came the infamous breakdown, though, I had never heard it like this. Jason approached the backup mic, screaming “Die, Die, Die,” into it as James sang the main lyrics.

He had such a strong presence, so aweing and amazing.

As the band played the final half of their top song, Master of Puppets, I watched as they played the powerful chords, James yelling the lyrics into the mic until the final solo began, and Kirk played the familiar and wonderful notes of the solo.

After the show

After the show had ended, I decided to hit up the local bar with a few of my friends who had attended the show with me. 

We walked in, sitting down as we ordered our drinks, talking amongst each other, though I thought  I saw someone familiar out of the corner of my eye.

Was that? The band?

I nearly spit off my drink, seeing them drinking together towards the end of the bar, leaning on it. 

How could one pass down an opportunity like this? To meet their favorite band? And get a closer look at their beautiful new bassist?

I quickly excused myself from my group, though they didn't mind too much, continuing to drink, some breaking off to find guys to flirt with.

I slowly approached them, not wanting to be awkward or embarrassing, so I just stood near their group for a bit, Jason standing next to me. 

I tried to be causal, sipping on my drink, both hoping they would and wouldn't notice me as I hoped to speak with them, but I didn't want it to turn into anything odd or awkward.

Jason didn't look too intuned or impressed with the conversation with the band, just nodding and laughing a bit, occasionally adding to the conversation with his words.

I felt completely and utterly star-struck. I had to think of a way to act casual and not freak him out, or the rest of the band out. 

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves a bit.

I was skeptical at first if that was actually him, but now that I’m up close, it is him, and Metallica.

I took a final deep breath again before I finally built up the courage to try and talk to him until his elbow bumped my arm on the accident.

He quickly looked up at me, a slightly guilty expression he wore on his face.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to dump you like that.” He said quickly before averting back to his conversation. 

I was so torn between actually trying to talk to him or just leaving him and the band alone.

This is the first time I ever got to see him so up close. He truly was even more gorgeous in this close-up.

The way his curls flowed on his shoulders, his short bangs that covered his forehead, and his blue and greenish eyes, I'd never seen them in this beauty before.

I sighed, I was fangirling so much in my head, but I had to find a way to talk to him without coming across as a total creep.

Some others recognized the band, various men and women speaking with James, Lars, Jason, and KIrk, now averting his attention from me. 

I watched as the band moved from their position in the bar away from where I had moved just to be closer to them, watching as they moved to the other side, leaning against the wall in a corner, not really wanting to garner too much attention.

I took a final sip of my drink, finishing it before deciding that I should try and look for my friends, who were nowhere in the bar to be found, as they probably all left, or went home with other men.

Though, as I searched for them, I couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of my head, even though I tried to disregard the feeling, I couldn't help but try and figure out who was burning holes into my head with their eyes,

I turned my head over my shoulder, trying to glance at whoever the watcher might be.

And to my surprise, it was Jason.

I felt my face heat up slightly, he couldn't actually be looking at me, right?

Maybe he was looking at some other girl or person who just happened to be next to me.

But I couldn't find anyone else who was looking at me, so maybe I was right.

Maybe Jason Newstead was staring at me.

In a bar.

While talking to other, much prettier girls than myself.

I couldn't believe it.

I was at a loss for words as I met his gaze, a small smile on his face. I couldn't help but smile back.

I eventually got enough courage to try and talk to him, even though it seemed and felt crazy.

Probably because it is crazy.

I approached him cautiously, walking up to him.

I had a mini-speech in my mind, I couldn't blow this, I had to seem normal and not like a creepy, obsessed fan girl or something.

“Jason Newstead? Wow, I can't even go on to believe it, I saw your show tonight, and it was amazing! Your technique, and, and, your style, it's everything! You're a great addition to the band, I love it!” I blurted out at a fast rate.

Perfect, I blew it.

I quickly felt embarrassed at my insane fangirling, now I probably seemed like a weird creep.

Instead of shooing me away in disgust, he just gave a laugh, smiling wider, making my heart flutter.

“Well, thank you! It means a lot, especially with being new to the band in all. I love the support.” He added, glad to hear my comments.

I was shaking a bit, but who wouldn't? I'm talking in front of Metallica, and having a conversation with their bassist!

Jason took notice of my nervous and jittery, yet very excited mood.

“You alright? You're a bit. Shakey” He said with a laugh, to which I nodded with a laugh as well.

“Yeah, totally, just, starstruck, I guess.” I shrugged, looking back up to meet his eyes, making eye contact with him as I studied his features, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter a bit.

“You're, well, you're really pretty.” He added with a small, beautiful smile.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, he thought I was pretty.

Jason Newstead thought I was pretty.

I smiled back, feeling my face grow warm at his compliment.

I had to be dreaming.

I quickly mustered up a reply, “Wow, uh, thank you. That means a lot to me.” I said with a smile before glancing down at the floor and back up at him,

“I think you're pretty cute yourself,” I added with a smile, to which his grin widened.

“Thanks, I don't get it often, so it means a lot. Especially from someone as gorgeous as you.”

His words were enchanting almost, I couldn't believe any of this was real, as if the concert wasn't amazing enough already.

I smiled wider, “Thank you, Jason.”

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #19] Send To All

warnings: plot stuff!! no smut!!! another cw: jiyeong lol

a/n: this header not being square drives me insane and i could fix it but reuploads are laborious enough as it is lol

soundtrack: self-sabotage - waterparks (this is one of THE bd songs for me hehe)

wc: 3.5k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

If time flies when you're having fun, then you think it's fair to say you're having the worst day of your life.

Okay, so that's a little dramatic, but your shift has been excruciatingly slow; the hands of the clock above the door taunting you every time you glance in its direction. Admittedly, you are looking at it every 10 seconds or so,  which is making it a hell of a lot more disappointing than it really ought to be.

From the desk, Hoseok watches you with sympathetic intrigue. You've cleaned the same empty table four times now just for something to do. Work is quiet, so distractions are limited.

You had only picked up an extra shift so you that didn't have to spend the entire afternoon letting your imagination run wild thinking about Jeongguk's date - but apparently, your mind didn't get the memo.

The thoughts trundle around your boardgame brain; passing 'go', collecting £200. It skips over the chance card tiles, and opts out of buying anything other than Mayfair. It's the only property you want, and yet you never seem to land on it. Sucks, but such is life.

"You'll wear a hole through the table if you keep scrubbing at it," Hoseok says softly as he takes the cloth from you.

"Sorry," you hum. An awkward smile is offered, as loose hairs fall around your face, glitter caught in the strands that dance in the low evening light. You're even more haphazard than usual today, Hoseok thinks. You choose to explain it away. "Just nervous about Tae's show. That's all. Trying to get a head start on things."

"It's an art space," he says warmly, not wanting you to think he's being critical. The way he smiles is gentle; the creases in the corner of his eyes are even more so. "No one is expecting it to be free of paint. If anything, quite the opposite."

He's right. You know it. It's why you make no opposition when he encourages you back to the desk, and guides you into the chair by the till. There's only one couple in the far corner. Young. Teenagers, maybe. You wonder if they'll make it through university. Likely not.

Cynical bint, you berate yourself. Plenty of people stay with their high school sweethearts. You'd met potentially the best example you'd ever seen of the cliche last night, in the form of the Min's.

You understand entirely why Yoongi adores Seoyeon, so. There had been an ease to her acceptance of you; as if she was inherently meant to nurture those around her, no matter how unfamiliar they may be. By the time you had left the Min's - a little tipsy and with Jeongguk's arm around your shoulders - you'd felt a warm sense of belonging in her company.

There's quiet concern on Hoseok's face a little while later as he watches you dip your bagel into a pot of cream cheese.

The magnitude of his concern only increases when you sink your teeth into the bread and tear it apart.  You're like a tiger ripping apart raw flesh, he thinks.

The scowl that settles on your lips as you chew is only wiped away when you take a sip of your coffee - but there's still a frown polluting your expression.

It's sort of cute how your cheek bulges from the sheer amount of bagel your manage to stuff in there, but Hoseok's worried you'll choke.

"Want a knife?" he asks as you dip the bagel back into the pot.

You look at him - bagel clamped between your teeth, just about to be torn in two - and scowl. Yanking the bagel, you tear it even further apart. He gulps. Shouldn't have asked. Never interrupt a girl and her food. He knows this. Should have known better.

It's just a bad mood, you think. No need for Hoseok to look at you as if you have three heads.

Just a bad mood.

Across town, in a ceramic painting place you've been following on Instagram for ages now but have never visited, Jeongguk laughs.

There's a dimple sitting prettily in his cheek, his teeth on full display, nose a little bit scrunched. He's trying to be quiet - doesn't want to distract the rest of the people in the pottery studio - but there's something so damn funny about Jiyeong's inability to paint anything that even remotely resembles a frog.

She pouts, and lowers her brush. "Stop! I'm trying!"

But then she smiles, too.

No one else notices. They're all far too distracted by their own masterpieces.

It's annoying, because Jeongguk really has created a masterpiece.

Having both been totally clueless as to what to decorate their mugs with, the ceramics instructor suggested taking inspiration from their favourite childhood fairytales. Jeongguk had gone for Little Red Riding Hood - Jiyeong had taken great pleasure in telling him she'd been Little Red for Halloween - and Jiyeong had gone for the Princess and the Frog.

"I know," he grins, as he tries to pretend as if it's not the most god-awful frog he's ever seen. It's kinda cute. In a hideous, kind of way. "You're doing great - no! Really. You are it. It's like... an abstract version of the story."

"Look," she sighs, her pretty face all pouty and perfect despite her hardships. The smile on her face is genuine, and Jeongguk is sort of glad that she's not great at the whole 'art' thing. He doubts it would be half as much fun if she was any good. "Your friend never mentioned there'd be art involved - I fucking suck at arty things."

"Art is subjective-" he goes to reassure her, but she's having none of it. Shakes her head as she laughs. Makes him laugh too. It's easy. The flirting, the fooling around like kids in art class. Almost nostalgic. She's exactly the kind of girl he'd have gone for in his younger years - confident, a reckless tease, remarkably tactile. It makes him wonder why he ever strayed from his 'type'.

Hayun had been a bit of an anomaly. Different. She was a quiet one - cautious, but casual. Funny in a way that Jeongguk couldn't quite understand, but desperately wanted to. Reserved. His childishness had often been met with rolled eyes, and the lack of clear indication about her feelings made him insecure. Put him on edge. Even when they started hooking up. Actually, no. Especially when they had started hooking up.

His strangeness has been making a welcome comeback as of late, as noted by Yoongi a few months ago in Dionysus. You've helped in immeasurable ways. Ways you won't ever be able to understand.

It's Jiyeong's openness - the way she touches his arm, how she dabs at his fingers with her paintbrush - that lets him know she's interested. It stifles the fear. Fills him with confidence.

"You're allowed to say I suck," she grins, leaning into him a little bit. The scent of her perfume picks up in the electric heater, and he finds that he likes it. It's not his favourite, no, but it's pretty nice. Citrusy. He prefers things a little warmer, a little more vanilla. Toasted coconut. Sweet.

He momentarily loses his train of thought. Thinks about the way your hair had smelt in the bakery aisle of the supermarket. Thinks about the way he always lets his nose nestle into the crown of your head before you shower together. Thinks about your room, and how it smells like that - sweet, coconutty - and how the last time he'd been in your room, he'd been inside of-

NOPE.

That thought is very quickly pushed deep down into the darkness of his brain. He can't be thinking about that . Not now.

"Yeah, it's pretty fucking bad," he nods instead, turning his attention back to her mug.

It's impossible for her to take offence when he looks as sweet as he does. He's in a white shirt - bad choice, considering there are speckles of paint all over his arms and even a tiny bit on his cheek - and black slacks, but the look is pulled off so well.

In fact, his outfit is borderline identical to what he wore to the Min's. You'd said he'd looked good. Said that it would be a good date outfit.  And so he'd listened, and had been proven right when Jiyeong complimented his style choice within the first five minutes of the date.

Admittedly, he'd complimented her first. Said that she looked nice, after about a thousand awkward, bashful smiles and half a dozen 'this is so weird,' and just as many 'I'm so sorry she forced you into this.'

Jiyeong had smiled, and assured him it was okay. "I'm glad she did."

And as Jeongguk meets you outside the gym the following morning, he can't help but agree.

He's still got a glow about him; fresh-faced and unwavering despite the rigorous workout you know he must have had. Part of you is glad. Him being at the gym means she at least didn't stay over - which would have been totally fine! You absolutely wouldn't have minded. Wouldn't have bothered you in the slightest . In fact, maybe it would have been better if she had stayed-

Okay, you can't even convince yourself that you believe it, but that's not the point.

He walks with his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets, shoulders a little hunched from the cold air. He's missing a jacket, which is unlike him, you think. You can't tell if there's a blush on his cheeks or if it's just windburn. Maybe both.

"Hello, Casanova," you greet him, smile fond, eyes earnest. The words are lively and melodic as they dance from your lips to his ears, yet the strings of your heart seem to pluck a little out of tune. You just need to adjust them slightly. Tune them. That's all.

"Don't call me that," he shakes his head - but he's smiling. There's a shyness to him. It's not all too unfamiliar, but it's something you've not seen in a while.

"So?" You beam, pushing it aside as you both begin to walk in the direction of 'home'. "How did it go?"

Jeongguk nods as he tries to formulate words. There's a smile on his lips. You can hear it as he speaks. "Good. Yeah... yeah, no, good. Really fun, actually."

"Okay, no, stop being coy," you laugh. "Give me details!"

Jeongguk pauses for a second as he tries to get a read on your face. There's nothing outwardly wrong, he thinks, but he notices that you're avoidant. Your eyes don't linger on his. The smile that comes with your laughter doesn't last as long as it usually does. He doesn't like it.

So he gives you what you ask for, because he thinks that might help. Maybe you've been nervous for him. It's his fault - he forgot to text you back last night, having gone for drinks after the ceramics place. Time had slipped away from him.

He tells you everything - how bad she is at painting (you enjoy this, because you like being better than her at least at something), how she'd suggested a drink afterwards, and how he'd walked her home at 2 AM because apparently neither of them wanted to stop talking. He tells you how he hadn't been brave enough to do anything other than walk, but she'd moaned about the cold and so he'd given her his jacket.

Poor Jeongguk had been so warm from soju and giddy from a date gone well that he hadn't even realised he was jacketless until he was about halfway home.

It explains his lack of a jacket now. You've a heat pack in your pocket. Part of you tells you not to pass it over to him. Would serve him right for being so careless.

And as much as you enjoy being a bitch, you also don't enjoy hearing his teeth chatter together. You say nothing as you pass it over, and push him toward the alleyway that leads up to his favourite brunch spot. At least going there will get him out of the cold.

"I'm so happy for you," you smile. You don't think you're lying. "I told you that you could do it!"

Jeongguk is slow in his reply again, almost as if he's weary of saying the wrong thing. It comes from a place of fear; memories of Hayun, and her reaction the first time Jeongguk had started seeing someone during their friendship. It had been before anything had developed between the pair of them, but it was the first time he'd clued up to the fact maybe she'd have been interested in more.

If he were to explain this, you'd tell him to fuck off for associating you so closely with her. You've never met her, but have convinced yourself that you couldn't be less like her even if you tried. You're nothing like the girl who broke his heart, and you never intend on being anything like her, either.

Then again, can't break his heart if the pair of you never fall for each other - and given the giddy smile on his lips all thanks to Jiyeong, you highly doubt that would ever be an option, anyways.

Seeing him like this - hopeful - makes your heart swell. He deserves happiness. Deserves the world. Or at least, deserves someone who makes him feel like he has the whole world in his palm whenever he holds them close.

"I owe you," he beams, as he beelines for his favourite booth, passing a quick nod to the cashier as she welcomes your arrival. It's so warm in the cafe that Jeongguk thinks he might die. The sudden temperature change is torture. "She, uh - she actually asked if I wanted to hang out next weekend, too. Obviously, I said no-"

"NO?! Obviously?!" You almost shriek, the back of your hand gently smacking against his arm. "You said no?! I thought you said it went well?!"

"It did!"

You don't understand why he's shrieking too, when he's the one who's gone and fucked up all of your hard work.

"Then why the fuck would you say no?!"

"Because!" he interrupts before you go off on a tangent, without hearing him out. "Next weekend is Tae's art show. Show on Saturday, and Sunday is free in case we get fucked up afterwards."

He shakes his head towards you, eyes wide, brows lifted, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world - and now that he's mentioned it, you think he's right.

Good, old, dependable Jeongguk. Wouldn't forget his friend's important events for anything. Not even one of the hottest girls in the whole downtown area could make him forget.

Though if you said this out loud, he'd smirk, and tell you that one of the hottest girls in the downtown area is the reason he remembers.

But it's Tae's event, not yours. He knows that you'd tell him off for framing things in such a way. Plus, the date with Jiyeong really did go well. The idea of acting a little sleazy just for a cheap joke doesn't appeal to him. It would feel distasteful.

And yet it feels wrong not to make the joke. A week ago? He would have done. Your dynamic, though largely unchanged, is different now. There are boundaries that come with dating; ones that he knows damn well to respect, no matter how early on it is.

He never wanted things between you to change. He'd have happily kept things as they were.

Progress has been made, though; a purpose has been served.

He'd never describe your friendship as transactional, but it seems to have worked out that way.

Makes him feel guilty. The feeling simmers in his stomach as he sits beside you, nibbling at his bottom lip. His hands are stuffed into his trouser pockets as he reclines into his chair; a little closed off, but not enough to make you question it.

It's only when you reach over to nudge him - and say, 'hey?' - that he realises he's completely zoned out.

"Hmm?"

"Invite her," you say softly. "To Tae's event. Invite her along. We could do with more guaranteed attendees, and I'm gonna be schmoozing people all night with Tae, so at least you'll have someone to keep you company."

Plus Nabi's invited and you really don't fancy having to deal with her. If Jiyeong can win her over, that's one less thing you have to worry about.

"Invite her?"

"Yeah?"

"You sure?"

"No," you say with so much sarcasm Jeongguk can't help but smile. "I just said it for the fun of saying things."

"That is the kind of thing you'd do," he defends with a cheeky little grin as he sits up straighter. "I just don't wanna... I don't know. Move too fast?"

"It's not like you're inviting her to meet your parents - unless you've also invited them to Tae's?"

"No," he laughs. "Of course I haven't."

"Then you're golden," you assure him.

An extra attendee is an extra attendee at the end of the day. Hell, you think you'd even let Hayun through the door if it looked better for Tae.

"On the subject of golden," Jeongguk sighs as he gets to his feet. "French toast? Iced Americano?"

You nod. Smile a little bashfully. Hate that he knows you so well. Watch him as he walks away, and admire his ass a little (in a friendly way). He's just been at the gym working on it, so you tell yourself he'd appreciate the 'appreciation'.

Your eyes are drawn from his 'assets' when his phone vibrates on the table. You don't let them linger, but you see very clearly that it's an incoming message from Jiyeong. You're not sure it would be considered 'friendly' if you 'accidentally' dropped his phone into the coffee of the woman sitting behind you, but you consider it for a moment. An impulsive thought. That's all. Like when you're driving, and think about the fact you could swerve off the road, or like when Jeongguk gets too close and you think that maybe you could kiss him.

Not anymore, though. That ship has sailed. Lost at sea. Never to be found again. Maybe one day, many many years from now, explorers will find the lost treasure: gold-adorned artworks, swathes of origami birds and more glitter than any single ship could ever hold. Or maybe they won't.

Maybe you're romanticising something that never was for something it will never be.

Who knows? Best not to tempt fate with such mindless dillydallying.

Especially not when you know you're gonna spend the next half an hour convincing him to text her back and just bloody invite her to the show.

You're not sure if you should be pleased or disappointed when it only takes fifteen minutes to convince him. Pleased, you suppose. That's what you tell him you are, at least.

And pleased is also what he is when she replies immediately saying that she'd 'love' to come. Asks for a dress code and a ticket price. Wastes no time. Keen .

(If you were gonna be a bitch (which for some reason is coming naturally today) you'd think she was desperate (but then you remind yourself that you set up this date (with her (because you knew she was keen (can hardly be annoyed about it now, can you? (Stupid))))).

"Cocktail dress, and no ticket price," you smile, as if your brain isn't exhausting you. "She's your plus one. Mates rates."

He asks if you're sure. You tell him yes.

You don't tell him that you've already put the cost of two tickets - yours and his - in the kitty. Everyone else is paying. The pair of you were never going to be an exception - supporting Tae's show is more important than an extra 15,000won in your bank account. You'll just add a little extra for Jiyeong's ticket. No biggie.

Once brunch is done, and Jeongguk has just about finished teasing you for texting the details of Tae's show to Seokjin (you thought the 'send to all' function could be your friend, but forgot that your own inability to delete his number is your biggest flaw), you head in separate directions. Both heading home.

And yet as Jeongguk presses his bedroom door shut only to see a paper bird propped up by his pillows, he can't help but feel like home is across the other side of the city.

Strange.

Not really, though.

Not when you're flopping face-first onto your bed with a groan, and a mumble of an acknowledgement that you'd really rather Jeongguk not bring his new squeeze along.

"Wassup?" Danbi calls through from her room.

Rolling onto your back, you sigh. Look at your ceiling, that's void of birds, and ignore the message that comes through from Seokjin, finally responding to the show invite.

"We have any wine in the fridge?" You call back through to her.

"Always."

"Wanna get fucked up?"

Danbi laughs. You hear her head to the kitchen, and the clink of wine glasses gently knocking together as she opens up the fridge. "Always."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI