#“I only cared when we were both winners” well fuck you you’re still a loser

[cometzombie]

My fucking vampire spawn boyfriend just broke up with me!! Saying that all he wanted me for was protection from his vampire overlord?!? Like what the fuck! If you’re gonna fuck me at-least don’t make ME dinner first

[astralis01]

Rivalry (Isn’t it Bitter Sweet): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Your feud with Bakugou Katsuki only escalated throughout your years at Hogwarts; whether it was on the quidditch field or who would be the first to sit down in class, there always seemed to be some sort of raging competition between you two.

Read it here on AO3

You could feel his presence from across the dining hall, immediately dowsing you in a raging hatred that you only reserved for him. His arrogance mocked you as he basically danced into the Great Hall bathed in compliments.

The Slytherin quidditch team won against Ravenclaw the night before. You didn’t know why he had all of the glory… he wasn’t even the captain. Being a keeper had its perks, you guessed. You rolled your eyes and focused your attention on your food. You tried not to stab the plate as you heard the varying praises to the boy in green and silver.

And what annoyed you the most was the herd that he always seemed to have around the place he sat. Varying from girls to boys, from Slytherin itself to the other houses too.

Stab, you picked up a piece of broccoli from your plate as you heard, "Wow, Tsuki, the last save was so cool."

Pierce, “That last block was brilliant!”

And that was the last straw for you. Who had even given the very, obviously bright idea of making the Gryffindors and Slytherins almost sit together?

Katsuki Bakugou was simply not someone who deserved such compliments. He was vile, annoying, and did everything in his limited power to poke and prod at every single one of your nerves. You used to ignore the burning hatred that you harboured for him; but late in your second year, you had let it all out.

And, as it turned out, he wasn’t quite fond of you either.

It had been years since then, yet the feeling remained the same. It was just the start of your sixth year and you already wanted to gouge his eyes out with the pointy end of your fork.

Hanta Sero caught your eye from across the tables and gave you a cheeky smile in return and the rage which had simmered down a bit rose again with a vengeance. He was the captain of the other team and you wished you could hate him as much as him. But he was quite fun to be around when he wasn't hanging out with that loser.

Though before you could get up from your place in the hall, Shouto Todoroki stopped you, holding your hands and preventing you from getting off your seat.

You turned to look at him, with the most terrible glare you could offer but he just gave you the most unimpressed look and pulled you down to sit beside him again, still holding your hand and preventing you from charging at the Slytherin table.

Then a young Slytherin, probably a first-year piped out, "Next week at the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match, you guys are sure to win."

Shouto's grip faltered and you grinned. One thing that annoyed Shouto the most, perhaps, after his father was the fact when someone insulted the Gryffindor Quidditch team that he was a proud member of.

And that was the moment you needed to charge towards the Slytherin table before any of your other friends tried to put an intervention to your actions.

"I wouldn't be too sure, you know, we have a pretty good team this year," you said, casually leaning on the table.

"And why would that stop us from winning, Captain? We have a pretty good team this year, perhaps the best," Sero drawled out, almost stretching onto the table like a tabby cat and you just wanted to slap the smirk off his face.

And before you could put that thought into action, Izuku Midoriya, came and dragged you away back to the table, so you yelled back, "Next week, we'll surely be the winners.”

"We'll see," Bakugou said.

Perhaps five years ago, you wanted to be friends with Katsuki, but now Katsuki and you were bitter enemies.

It started in the first year when you met with Katsuki and Izuku on the train.

As soon as Katsuki entered the train cart you sat in, he dozed off and Izuku came rushing in, apologizing for 'Kachaan's' manners. You laughed it off and invited him to sit with you and you two spent the train ride talking to each other, making friends when suddenly the announcement to be ready to get off at the station sounded off.

"Kachaan, wake up. We're here. We're here at Hogwarts."

"Shut up Deku."

You frowned at the interaction but you forwarded a hand towards him and said, "Hello, I am-"

"No need to tell me you shitty extra," and he walked out on the both of you.

Izuku tried to apologize for his actions but you shushed him and dragged him out with you to climb aboard the boats.

And perhaps, that was the start of your bitter rivalry.

The ending of the second year was when you finally cracked the nut in the middle of Charms class and told him off in the middle of class, in front of everyone. This is why you were put in Gryffindor, a small part of your mind thought.

(another part of your mind had thought that you shouldn't have done that and perhaps you might be at the very least allies today.)

"For Merlin's sake, can you stop shouting for a moment? This," gesturing towards his mouth, "is getting super annoying. Don't you ever get tired of shouting so much, all the time?"

And an awkward silence blanketed the class as everyone quieted down to watch the fight between you two.

Bakugou slowly turned red and then shouted, "This is getting annoying? Well, your presence is getting annoying but do you see me screaming at you to fuck off all the time, you prissy prick?"

You turned at him with the vilest look and said, "If you are going to be an idiot, you should actually try to be subtle about it."

Katsuki froze and said, "Funny you should say it."

“You’re so ridiculous.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, I’m Katsuki Bakugou and I am a perfect student that can’t even properly pronounce a simple spell! But that doesn’t matter because guess who’s a keeper for the quidditch team when I’m only a second-year!! I am perfect!! Literally, no one likes you.”

“Trust me, no one likes you either.”

No one meaning, and translating to, I don’t.

Just to show off, you easily cast the charm that he had failed. Charms were your strong subject, so you only needed to say the spell and flick your wand before turning your attention back to him.

He was nearly smoking from his ears, he was both embarrassed and livid.

And you felt a satisfied smirk curl up on your face as you turned to Ochako to help her complete the spell.

You waved to Momo Yaoyorozu as you walked down the hallway to meet up with Shouto and Izuku. Even though she was a Ravenclaw, she was a close friend of yours through Shouto.

And you kinda owed it to your housemates for stopping you from embarrassing yourself multiple times to be nice to their friends.

“Hey, Yao-momo.” You said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until classes tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I’m waiting for Kyouka.” She turned his body to lean against the wall. “We’re going to Hogsmeade today.”

“No invitation?”

She smiled at you and asked, “Would you like to join us, Captain?”

“I was joking, no need to sound so enthusiastic.” You chuckled. As you started to speak again, Kyouka Jirou left the classroom the two of you stood outside of. She smiled at you, her violet eyes gleaming at you, reflecting the sun rays.

“Captain!” Kyouka greeted, putting an arm around your shoulder. “Are you coming to Hogsmeade with us?”

“Be careful, your mortal enemies are coming.” Momo interrupted and warned, motioning over your shoulder.

You turned around to find Sero and Bakugou walking next to each other, laughing about something only the two of them knew. You had to hold back from commenting.

“Yoohoo!” Hanta Sero caught your eye. You sighed and turned back to your friends, sharing a look.

“Hello, Hanta.” You felt him beside you before you looked.

You purposely didn’t look at Bakugou.

“We’re celebrating our win tonight, you guys should join!” Sero invited. You heard Bakugou’s exhale of frustration, but you only rolled your eyes in an attempt to ignore his presence.

“You want a group of your rivals, plus one from the team that you beat today hanging out with you, celebrating your win, when Gryffindor go against you in less than a week?” Momo spoke up. Shee moved off of the wall. “No thanks. Come, Kyouka. Let’s go.”

Kyouka waved goodbye and followed her best friend down the hall. You pivoted to fully face the two Slytherins.

"What about the mighty Lion's Captain?" Sero asked.

"No, thanks, I have better stuff to do," you said, turning on your heels and waving at Sero.

Bakugou glared at your retreating figure.

It was the time of year just before winter, where the air starts to cool but the sun still warms your skin. You took a breath and held your broom at your side.

It was near minutes before the anticipated game against Slytherin, the two fated rivals, and you could hear the crowds already. The rivalry between your houses was something that everyone enjoyed; the rivalry between you and their keeper was all you.

“Alright team.” You pivoted to the team behind you. “We’re playing Lion first; and if we don’t get any points within the first two minutes, I’ll hold up the signal for Golden. Got it?”

“Got it.”

You had pretty much the best team between all of the houses in your honest opinion.  was perfect as your keeper, he was never one to let anything get past him. Your chasers included you, Shouto, and Eijirou Kirishima. You had Leon and Leo for beaters. Two-third years that showed a huge amount of potential. And, rather recently, you gained a new seeker named Izuku Midoriya. And Izuku being one of your old friends made your teamwork with him, flawless in games

The Slytherin team was not one to mess with, they had a nice team too. Bakugou as the keeper, the Idiots Monoma and Tetsutetsu as beaters, their new seeker Aoyoma… but the problem was their chasers: Sero, Kyouka, Mina. They were so quick on their brooms, it was like working against the wind.

But your team was faster than theirs.

Today was no day to lose.

“It’s our first official match of the year.” You encouraged. “Let’s show them who not to mess with.”

“Let’s absolutely destroy them,” Leon added.

You grinned.

As you headed towards the field, you could feel the adrenaline creeping into your bones. Quidditch had become routine, simple muscle memory as you moved to your starting positions.

The Slytherin team appeared, and you felt the excitement enter you in a rush of air.

And as soon as the whistle sounded, you all flew off in the air, fully intent on kicking Slytherin's butts.

In the air, Bakugou Katsuki felt at peace. He was very good at what he did, and he knew that, and the game was something he was passionate about.

He was also passionate about beating you.

You were the bane of his existence. You had never once sent him anything other than something bitter or sarcastic. You were an annoying pest that he simply couldn’t get rid of.

And as you threw the Quaffle into the goal just above his head, Katsuki felt his eye twitch.

And what even irritated him, even more, was the small smile that you shot at him as you rushed back for a high-five at Todoroki.

Slytherin won, Izuku Midoriya’s hand high with the Snitch inside.

You watched in triumph as the teams descended on the brooms. From the skies down, you cheered.

“Congrats, Gryffindor,” Sero said, though his tone was bitter and sour.

And it did not feel as the statement was supposed to be at all but you ignored it in favour of the elation.

You knew that he hated losing, so you didn’t push it. He was a friend, after all. Sending him just a small “I’m sorry you didn’t win” smile, you headed to your team. You gathered them into a hug, or rather– a huddle, and ruffled the hair on Izuku’s head.

You peeked over your shoulder to catch sight of Bakugou. He was standing, hands at his sides, red face and eyes blank of any expression other than anger.

You smirked at him.

And he snarled back at you.

Katsuki Bakugou was on the other side of the victory this time, silently brooding as he picked at his food in the Great Hall. The Slytherin table emitted zero volume.

He was pissed off the second you entered the hall, Deku and Todoroki walking beside you. The gold and red seemed to glow, mocking him in the worst way imaginable.

Sero tried to bring his attention back to the food, but Bakugou was focused primarily on you. You were gloating, relishing in his loss, taking delight in the compliments from your house. A Hufflepuff appeared at your side, and you smiled as you thanked them for their congratulations.

He felt sick.

And a small part of him felt angry. But that was well deserved by you, he supposes.

You could not help but drown yourself in the triumph. You walked on air, the feeling of superiority tickling every inch of skin it could touch.

You waved goodbye to a couple of friends, heading directly to the Slytherin table. You placed your hands on Sero and Katsuki’s shoulders, leaning to place your head right between theirs.

“I suppose we beat you as I told you.” You sent a wink to Bakugou, knowing full well how it would provoke him.

“Fuck off.” Bakugou shoved your hand off of his shoulder.

“To receive your praise at the Gryffindor table.” Mina shooed, fork in hand. “You won’t find it here.”

“Sore losers.” You mocked just for fun. You stood straight. “I imagine that I would be the same, given it was the other way.”

You basically skipped back to your table for breakfast.

You were absolutely elated for the rest of the day. It was quite similar to being on cloud 9, winning your first game of the year against your rivals. The look on Katsuki Bakugou’s face only added to the feeling.

You were walking down the hall, talking to Denki who had his arm wrapped in yours. He was going on and on about how he wished he could have imprinted Izuku's snitch catch to his memory. Or made it into shirts so he could sell it to his fan club and you laughed at that idea.

That was when your shoulder collided directly into a firm body.

Your arm was ripped away from your classmates, along with your bag that fell onto the hard ground with a loud thud and wisp of parchment and ink. Everything in your bag is now scattered on the ground, covered in dark ink and dirt.

Your mood was too high to get too angry. It was an accident; you would bite your tongue and clean up the mess.

Until you realized just who’s the shoulder you ran into Bakugou Katsuki. Your greatest enemy and now the destruction of your contents.

“Watch where you’re going next time, Bakugou.” You grunted, kneeling to save some of your parchment before the ink could reach it.

“Perhaps if you had your head out of your ass, you wouldn’t have run into me,” Bakugou responded. He had turned to face you midway through your fall.

“As if you didn’t feel this way a week ago.” You told him, standing up. Nearly everything that was in your bag was soaked, including the bag itself. You inhaled deeply. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Now, why would I run my shoulder into you on purpose hoping to ruin your mood?” He asked. “You must be very arrogant to think that everything must be about you.”

You clenched your jaw and closed your eyes. “I will not let a piece of shit such as yourself bring my mood down today. Today is a good day.”

You knelt once again to find the essay that you had written for Aizawa, searching your documents. Only to find it one of the few that were directly under the ink, completely doused in black.

“Actually, fuck you.” You lifted the paper. Ink dripped off and onto the ground. “Do you know how long I worked on this?”

“I don’t know, a couple of minutes?” Bakugou shrugged. “You aren’t exactly the best at your schoolwork.”

“You wish you knew me well, but you don’t at all.” You felt anger boil in your chest. “I worked very hard on this essay. Days, even. And you destroyed it in less than five seconds..”

“There’s the Gryffindor in you.” He let out a humourless laugh. “You think everything has to be about you, and if it doesn’t then someone is out to get you. Your ego is so fucking enormous that you can’t even muster the idea that maybe something isn’t about you. And then you shout at me for that. You didn’t even win, Deku won the game for you. God, why don’t you go make a friend instead of standing here arguing with me about an accident?”

"Fuck you, I actually have friends, unlike you, who only has followers," you answered back to him.

"Well, you have everyone hanging over you. You're just a slut aren't you?"

Denki's eyes widened and the small groups of people who were conversing around you stopped and for a moment you thought that the whole school had heard with the silence that spread.

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Yes, both of you fought in front of each other. Both of you told each other to fuck off or even curse out a few times but none of you ever shouted such vulgar words at each other.

It was one thing to make comments, to be bitter and roll your eyes at each other’s presence. It was one thing to bicker, to fight, to joke to friends about the other’s incompetence and purposely pull on each other’s strings.

It was something else completely to call you a slut in front of everyone in the middle of a hallway after a thread of insults.

The overwhelming force to cry was still there but you would not allow yourself to cry in front of him.

Right after he called you that.

You would not let him have that satisfaction.

So, you turned on your heels and said, "You're more than an asshole Katsuki Bakugou."

And your prompts hurried away.

Denki, who was still frozen on the spot after the volley of insults had to be shot and the worse had been done, shoved Bakugou aside and said, "You shouldn't have said that Bakugou," and rushed behind you, calling out your name.

"You shouldn't call anyone a slut, Katsuki. Those words are not meant to be uttered in a civil society. It's like calling you a pussy publicly," Mitsuki Bakugou uttered, with the most strict voice she could offer while Masuru Bakugou spluttered at the usage of curse words in front of their son.

Katsuki Bakugou did not think often before speaking. He was just so used to people either bowing down and agreeing to his demands or just ignoring them that when he meet you, someone he could neither affect with both of his options, he always blew up.

Perhaps it was the fact that you had such a kind heart that you shook the Giant Squid's tentacle when it came on your boat during your first year because you thought it was lonely.

Or perhaps it was how easily you made friends with people. Just collecting the lonely bits of a big puzzle and joining it together, seemed to be your speciality.

But perhaps the most infuriating thing about you was the fact that you just refused to bow down to his screams and shouts and temper. You rose to receive the challenge he posed.

That is why his heart tore and clawed its way in his chest when you had turned around and run away from him.

He supposes you had stuck beside him long enough.

And he could not ignore the way that your friends glared at him while sitting in the Great Hall, Todoroki being the most vocal about it.

Or the way, Mina made excuses whenever he tried to talk to her.

Or, how Kirishima had stopped trying to drag his butt to Hogsmead for a friendly meet during the weekends.

Yes, he could not ignore all that.

"Maybe you should apologize," Sero suggested one day after catching the solemn look on his face.

"Do what now?" he screamed at him.

"You know, apologize to them," he repeated, slowly.

"Why should I apologize to them?"

"Because you know that you went too far. I know you still have feelings and stuff that you seem to everyone else for it."

For several days Katsuki Bakugou did not see you anywhere. Not in the classes, not in the Great Hall and the weight of his deed was still there.

So he did the next best thing.

He found out when you had booked the Quidditch pitch for practise of your team because he knew you wouldn't abandon them even in your worse days and planned to apologise to you there.

He had even practised it a few times in front of the mirror, "I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings by calling you a slut."  It was a small apology but he was hopeful that you would forgive him.

Yes. And you two could go back to the regular hating and biting remarks instead of the new empty kind of feeling that settled in his chest.

But the second he stepped onto the Quidditch, he was stopped by Shouto Todoroki and Izuku Midoriya from going any further.

"Kachaan, you should not be here," Izuku said with more force than he had ever talked to with Katsuki and he wondered, what had you done that so many people were standing in defence of you.

"I know. I just came to apologize to them. Just move out of my way Deku."

Todoroki stepped in front of Izuku and said as bluntly as ever, "They don't want to see you. And I don't think your apology will mean anything to them except for sending them into a bad mood."

Before he could say anything, you came and said, "Zuku, Shou, the break is over. Get your butts moving."

Katsuki felt himself freeze in surprise. You had been at the practice for about two hours yet your voice was not hoarse from shouting. Even your energy levels seemed to be at the ever high.

Though before he could unfreeze and say his apology, you had already flown into the sky with Izuku and Shouto behind, in tow, leaving him behind in the dust.

The loneliness that you left behind with ignoring him was cold.

And his heart broke a little.

And he finally understood, all those years he thought he had the vilest hatred for you was just his stupid emotions trying to tell him that he liked you.

But he was too late now, he supposed.

How could he be such an idiot, to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love him?

Hanta Sero took a place beside you. It would have been normal if it were not for your avid avoidance of anyone with a Slytherin robe on.

“Hello, Hanta.” You said without sparing him a glance.

The thing was, you weren’t angry with him. You didn’t hate him, you hated his closest friend. And by association, you didn’t want to talk to him just as much. Sero had always been the middle ground between the doom and gloom that was the sandy-haired boy you hated.

“I think you should talk to Kats,” Sero said. Plain and simple, to the point.

“I think you should mind your business.” You retorted. “I never talked to him to begin with, what’s different now?”

“Because now is different.” He grabbed his book as the professor walked in. “Now, you won’t even say your smart ass remarks or tell him how fucked up his hair looks. Now he is just… boring and sad. And he mopes all the time. He isn't even playing his best on the field”

“So you want me to talk to the guy I hate in order for him to not be sad?” You scoffed and collected your things. “No, thank you. I've been keeping my distance, just like he wanted and I am happy to keep it this way.”

You stood up from your seat and sat beside Izuku just as the professor started talking, receiving a few stares in the process. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to that.

You were walking with Ochako, laughing about the attempts everyone had tried to do to make Todoroki laugh when you committed the most horrific mistake of your life.

You caught the eye of Bakugou across the street who just had to look at you at the same moment.

You quickly averted your eyes but not before it caught his attention

It had been snowing, so most of the students were in their winter gear and warm clothes. You yourself had a hat and scarf on, gloves to cover your hands despite the hot to-go mug of cocoa in them.

Hogsmeade was quite busy with everyone getting last-minute holiday gifts and hurrying to hang out before the break. Yet, somehow, your eyes found the reds of Bakugou's.

You turned around, forcing Ochako to follow. The girl didn’t even have to ask about your change in demeanour, easily falling into place beside you.

You felt a hand on your wrist and heard your name being called. “Hey. Can I talk to you? I’ve been trying to apologize…”

You stopped dead in your tracks as if you were pulled on a leash. As if his bare hand touching your empty gloved one had scolded you. Bakugou stood before you, red cheeks from either the cold or from rushing after you. Either way, you wanted nothing to do with it.

He had spun you in his grasp, his jaw tight and eyes searching yours before falling to his hand around yours. His grip on your wrist was tight, and he swallowed as his eyes found yours again.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You snatched your arm away. “Have you ever considered that? I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to see you, and I don’t want to hear your half-ass apology! What gives you the right to just waltz back into my life after all the pain you’ve caused."

“I have been trying to talk to you.” He said. “I…” His eyes scanned yours. His tongue rolled in his mouth. “You mean to tell me that you don’t want my apologies?”

“You’ve made it very clear what you think of me, so I hope that I can make this very clear for you,” You took a deep breath. “I hate you. I don’t like you, I have never liked you, and I hope that whatever it is that is eating you up inside continues to do so.”

Katsuki Bakugou’s eyes twitched. He started to take a step towards you, but decided against it, falling back into the same step. “I don’t…” His voice was nothing as you had ever heard it. “You…” His eyes clouded with the emotions you were familiar with. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

Bakugou faltered for a moment, his eyes held remorse and you almost wanted to forgive him but you remembered what he called you.

He quickly shoved a box of chocolates into your hands and said, "I brought this for you as an apology gift but you didn't want my words. I hope my actions will speak louder. And I hope that someday you will find it in your heart to forgive me," and he promptly left, leaving you flabbergasted in the middle of the streets of Hogsmead, with Ochako by your side.

It was a sudden realization. It was not something you had even considered before, not something planned or reasoned. It was much like a tsunami, a build-up of unrelated activity that brought something else entirely.

Emotions were unfortunate things. If you feel extreme emotions for someone, no matter what… they are still very strong feelings.

Hate to love, what a strange concept.

You held the potion below your nose, inhaling the scent.

“What does it smell like?” Aizawa asked.

“It smells like… caramel.” You distinguished the varying smells. “Apple. And… burning wood?”

You stepped back and hoped no one could see you connecting the dots through your eyes.

Hanta Sero was an observant person. He was known to be the person who knew the best for his team, easily finding the perfect techniques for each on the field and as encouragement. He was one for connections and relationships. He was the one who handled the emotional part.

This is why he knew that you were masking feelings of something else with this burning hatred. This is why he knew why you felt so bad after Kats called you a terrible name in front of an audience. This is why he knew who it was when you listed your amortentia scents.

He tried to send you a look from his seat across from you, classes later. He wanted to tell you that he knew; that he knew there was something more to what’s going on, and that something was Katsuki.

You just sent him a middle finger, knowing full well what he was getting at.

Your feelings didn’t just suddenly arrive. And you were full of confusion, disorientation, and most of all… anger.

For as long as you could remember, Katsuki Bakugou was supposed to be your arch enemy. He was your nemesis on a daily basis. He was the reason for your annoyance. He was the reason for your hatred for the colours green and silver. He was the reason you became the quidditch captain. He was the reason for the breath leaving your lungs.

And he was the reason for the breath entering.

You were pissed. You were pissed that you had unrealized feelings for the man you were supposed to hate, have hated for years. You were pissed that your love had been in a game of chess, where the only outcome is to win or forfeit. You were pissed that the entire time you had spent a vast majority of your time hating, loathing, rolling your eyes at… the entire time you had reserved space for hate when it should have been quite the opposite.

The luck must have been exclusively for someone else because it seemed as though whoever created you had decided to have a fun game.

You had punched Bakugou Katsuki once.

It was something you thought of a lot, and it was the main reason Bakugou chose not to test you too close to that day.

He was rolling his eyes at something Denki was saying when you walked by. You were heading to your quidditch practice, the captain not one for latecomers. And he caught sight of you. He quickly jumped from his spot and stopped you from passing.

“Out of the way, Katsuki, I have practice.”

“Oh, right, because you’re on the quidditch team now.”

“I am, thank you very much.” It was the beginning of the third year, and you were not only annoyed but you were also a Growing Person going through puberty. You did not have time to deal with a teenage boy pissing you off. “You forget that not everyone got on the team their first year of trying out.”

“Because we’re better than the entire Gryffindor team.”

“Talk to me when you win a house cup.” You tried to push past him, but he stood directly in front of you in one step. “Move, or be moved.”

“What are you going to do? Punch me?”

So, you did. Your fist collided with his cheek before you could even register that it had happened. Denki gasped out loud, it quickly turned into a laugh.

“They punched you! That was superb.” Denki laughed, grasping at his sides. “Ah, man!”

While Bakugou touched his cheek to check that— ah yes, you really did punch him— you were already walking away to the practice field.

Katsuki started t missed you if he were being fully and completely honest with himself.

It was right, you only miss something that is completely removed from your life.

He found himself searching for you in classes or in common areas, prepared for your snide remarks and bitter taunts. He found himself waiting for you to roll your eyes at his presence; looking for you to quip about the next quidditch game.

But when none of it came, he felt out of place.

He actually missed your annoying banter. He missed you shoving your middle finger in his direction. He missed the redness on your cheeks when you would try to calm yourself down. He missed the silence that would escape you if he entered a room and you were anything other than angry.

He missed catching you smiling at someone and watching your face change. He missed the arguments in class. He missed the little comments during eating.

Confused, he pushed those feelings down as he watched you eat with some Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff that he had never talked to before.

And the empty space in his heart only grew larger in size.

It had been several weeks of silence from your end. You had thrown yourself back into quidditch before the break, happy to have a distraction from whatever the fuck you were feeling. You weren’t going home for the holidays, so you spent some time planning for the spring and classes.

You found yourself outside, sitting in the snow and writing a makeup essay for Aizawa. You had found a nice spot under a roofed area, so nothing smudged your writing (or, you know, covered it completely).

“Oh.” A voice said from above you.

You looked up to find Bakugou, hands in pockets and staring at you as if you had never existed and he was discovering you for the first time.

“I wasn’t expecting to find anyone here.” He said.

“Yeah, obviously neither was I.” You started to put your things away.

“No… no comment?”

“Hm?”

“No… snarky comment? No, you look terrible to me?”

You shook your head. Mainly because you didn’t have the energy. You were content, bored, and just overall exhausted. You had exhausted yourself in thinking of every possible outcome to your love for the boy in front of you, none of which made any sense.

None of it made any sense.

It was as if one moment, you were standing on the ground. And the next, you were swept away by a giant wave that you thought was only an earthquake. You hated to love.

“Then, can I finally say what I have been meaning to?”

“No.” You finally got the last of your things into your bag.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why can’t you just hear me out?” He stood in front of you, hoping to stall your leaving. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I shouldn’t have called you a slut, and I should have…”

“And I don’t want to hear it.”

You started to leave, but he jogged to jump in front of you again. Through the years, he had gained height compared to you. You weren’t necessarily kids anymore, you weren’t at eye level to just punch him in his cheek without reaching for it.

“God, you’re fucking annoying.” You shifted your bag on your shoulders. “You want me to call you a name so it can be even? Do you want me to tell you that everything is fine and we can go back to our constant fighting? What do you fucking want from me? Did it mean anything to you? Did I mean anything to you?”

“What do I want from you?” He asked, voice rising to match yours. “What do you want from me? I’ve been trying to get your attention for over a fucking month and you have given me every reason to just stop.”

“Then why don’t you!” You dropped your hands. “Why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

“Why?”

“Why what, Katsuki?”

“Why?” Katsuki let out a small breath, the grey cloud leaving his lungs. “Why won’t you just let me talk to you for five minutes?”

“Because I don’t want to! Because I don’t want to hear you make up excuses. Because I cannot listen to your voice for too long.”

Before you could stop yourself, before you could recognize your own voice, before any thoughts arrived, you said, “Because for some fucked up god awful reason, I’m in love with you!”

Everything froze all at once. The oxygen left your lungs, the snow stopped falling, and everything became so unbearably silent.

You stared at him, regret drenching you in an instant as if the tides of the ocean had risen and fell in one single motion. You couldn’t breathe, your heart seized in your chest and against your ribs. You couldn’t bring yourself to look into his face, fearing to find yourself lost and never found.

He let out a single breath. And you held yours.

He froze and then he leaned forward.

He remembered the last time he was too late to act.

His lips touched yours, gently and then suddenly was full of the fireworks that everyone had said about their first kisses. The fervent feelings that ran through your bodies, the anger and the misplaced love, all tumbling out in the biggest mess he'd ever seen.

But he continued. And then you broke apart.

Both of you had a lot of talking to do with each other but hopefully it would all turn out to be well.

"And so, we both are kinda dating now," you finished with an awkward look on your face, rubbing your neck.

A silence overtook your friends and Izuku whispered, "What the fuck?"

Shouto screamed at the both of you, "I fucking knew it." And then his voice slipped into his conspiracy theorist voice, "There was sexual tension between the two of you."

You facepalmed.

Katsuki turned red.

[calpalirwin]

Numbers

Summary: Sebastian doesn’t want to be another number to you, but little does he know he’s the only one.

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @jessalyn-jpeg​ for always being willing to cry over this man with me. 

Important distinction: Italics represent his thoughts, while bold italics represent hers

Word Count: 3.2k

And away, and away we go!

__

The sun was high and warm, and the sounds of wood cracking against leather grew louder as Y/N walked towards the baseball fields. “Yo, Number 1, lookin’ good!” she whistled, her fingers wrapping themselves in the chain link fence surrounding the field.

There was a loud laugh from the man playing shortstop, and he turned to either flip her off or stick out his tongue, but a baseball came flying in his direction, high and powerful. But not high enough. Almost lazily, Sebastian lifted his heels off the dirt, raising his left hand in the air, the ball coming to a stop in his glove.

“Right field, get ready!” Anthony, the pitcher shouted. “Stan’s lucky charm showed up!”

“I don’t need luck, Mackie,” Sebastian taunted, pulling at the sleeves of his jersey. “I’m Number 1 for a reason. Best shortstop in the state, right here, baby!”

“Mackie! Stan!” the coach barked in warning.

“Sorry!” both men laughed. And with his brief pause, Sebastian took off his hat, waving it at Y/N in greeting as she took a seat in the stands, before putting it back over his sweaty locks of brown hair.

As the practice continued, more girls made their way out to watch the team, and Y/N couldn’t blame them. Something about a guy’s ass in baseball pants, especially when that ass belonged to Sebastian Stan. And the college baseball team didn’t have any complaints about the attention they gathered, plays becoming more dramatic than they needed to be as a chance to show off, until the coaches finally called it quits.

“So,” Anthony asked Sebastian as they headed for the dugout. “Is today the day you ask out Y/N finally? Or should I try to shoot my shot? Like what's going on here, man? Cuz whatever it is between you, it’s gone on way too long, and I only got so much patience.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure how his face could grow warmer after being in the sun practicing for two hours, but it did. “I- We’re friends, ya know? And it’s not that I don’t wanna ask her out. It’s that I don’t know how. Or how she’ll react. It’s… a whole thing, ya get me?”

“Dude…” Anthony shook his head. “I say this because I care. But if you’re gonna make a move, make it fast. No one wants to be the one to cross you when we all know you got a thing for her. But if you’re not gonna shoot your shot…”

“Thanks…” Sebastian said, not sure if he appreciated the obvious advice or not. He knew he needed to ask Y/N sooner rather than later. But the idea that his teammates were lying in wait for him to either make a move, or step aside stirred up feelings of jealousy. But the only way of making sure they didn’t date her… He slung his bag over his shoulder, before squaring them and strutting out of the dugout, headed straight for Y/N. “Now or never, Stan,” he whispered to himself.

“Seb!” a girl called out and he turned to the sound, putting a smile on his face.

“Hey.” He offered a small wave, his eyes spotting Y/N, and kept walking, but then more girls were calling his name, batting their eyelashes, and touching his arm as they asked questions, and somehow Y/N got lost in the shuffle.

Y/N watched from her spot, the smile on her face dropping as she watched Sebastian get swarmed by girls who only wanted his attention so they could later brag to their friends that they’d gotten to talk to the star of the baseball team. And Sebastian wasn’t the type to be rude, even when he should.

Sighing, she shouldered her bag, heading down the bleachers, figuring she’d she go rescue him from his oh-so terrible prison of adoring girls.

“Hey, Y/N,” a shy voice called out as her feet hit concrete.

She lifted her gaze to find one of the newer players smiling at her. “Oh, hey, Tom,” she smiled back at him. “Good practice out there.”

“Heh, thanks,” he mumbled, his cleat digging into the ground. “So… you waiting for Seb?”

“I was yeah,” she admitted, looking over at Sebastian who was still under siege. And then a swell of anger bubbled inside her. If he couldn’t be bothered to pull himself away from them for her, then she didn’t have to wait for him. “But I’ll just catch him later. So, what’s up?”

Tom blinked in surprise. “Uh… I… Not much really. Was gonna head back to my dorm. Ya know, normal stuff I guess.”

“Well c’mon, I’m headed that way myself, I’ll walk with ya.”

Tom brightened as someone whistled from behind. “Damn! Kid’s got moves!” Anthony’s voice called out loudly. He jogged a few steps to join the couple, “Yo, Y/N, what about Seb?”

Y/N looked over her shoulder at Sebastian who still wasn’t even looking her way. “What about him?”

~~~

She mumbled airplane sounds under her breath, twisting her wrist to make the paper airplane fly around, before she really sent it flying across the living room. She watched as it glided through the air before nose-diving into the carpet as the front door opened.

“Apology food?” Sebastian asked with a hopeful smile, holding up a bag of takeout as he kicked the door shut.

“And what’s the apology for?” she asked, rising to her feet and crossing her arms.

“For being a dick after practice.”

“Chinese?”

“Your favorite,” he said, handing her the bag.

“Fine. Your transgressions against the crown are forgiven. This time.”

He tilted his head back as he laughed. “Thank you, your Highness. Although a little birdie told me that you ended up alright. Holland, huh?”

“Mackie is worse than girls with gossip, I swear…” Y/N said with an eye roll. “But yeah, Holland and I talked.”

“You know he’s a freshman, right?”

“Aw, is somebody jealous?” She flashed him a sardonic smile as they both plopped down on the couch and dug into the food.

Sebastian let out a scoff. “Me? Jealous of Holland? Pfft, yeah right.” Yes, insanely jealous, actually.

“Oh, so if I said he walked me all the way to the apartment, that wouldn’t make you mad?”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Y/N,” he said around a swallow of food. Despite how much I wish you were.  “If you wanna make baby Holland feel like a man for escorting you home, I really don’t give a shit. But you can do better than a freshman.” Like me.

Like you? “And you’d smell better with a shower,” was her retort as she knocked her shoulder into his.

“Mmm, you gonna join me?”

“Pfft! In your dreams, maybe.” And in mine.

Only in my dreams cuz once again, I fucked up.

~~~

Y/N figured one date would be enough to stir Sebastian into action. But one, the man had already made himself scarce by the time she left for her date. And two, the date sucked.

You’re not Sebastian was all she could think about throughout the dinner of cheesy one-liners, and bad jokes that bordered on offensive.

“So…” he asked suggestively as they walked out. “Wanna head back to my place?”

“No, I’m kinda tired,” she declined politely.

“Oh… well then I’ll call you sometime and we can do this again, maybe?”

“Yeah… no,” she said, shaking her head. “This was… nice. But no. You and I? Not gonna happen.”

“Right… I forgot you’re friends with Stan.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, c’mon. Dude obviously likes you. And he’s not the one anyone wants to have on their bad side.”

“Then why did you ask me out? If all of you are so scared of Seb?”

“Cuz you’re hot, and I’m not on the baseball team,” he shrugged.

“Yeah… I’m gonna go home now. And you… ugh… yeah, no. Not gonna happen.”

~~~

Sebastian turned his head as the door opened. “Back before curfew, huh? Whatta gentleman.”

“Fuck you,” she told him with a roll of her eyes before stalking off towards her bedroom.

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” he said, bolting up off the couch. “C’mon, what happened?”

He wasn’t you. “He’s a pig. Said all the wrong things.”

“That sucks. But hey, can’t all be winners, right?”

“I guess… Although he did say one thing that was somewhat interesting.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Apparently you scare people off from asking me out.”

He snorted. “That’s fuckin’ stupid. Will I be pissed if some jackoff makes you feel like shit? Yeah, and I’ll probably say something. But shit… I’m not your boyfriend, or your dad, or some shit. Sounds like a lame cop-out because they just don’t wanna admit they’re pussies.”

And what’s your lame cop-out? “Ugh… I need a drink.”

“Grab me one, yeah?” he asked, sinking back down into the couch as she changed directions to head into the kitchen instead.

“So, how was your night?” she asked, grabbing two beers from the fridge.

“Uneventful,” he shrugged. “There was a girl I was hoping to go out with, but it didn’t work.”

“Aw damn. That sucks,” she said, as she joined him on the couch and handed him one of the beers. 

“Eh, it was my fault for not asking sooner,” he shrugged again, clinking his beer against hers. “To shitty nights.”

“Here, here,” Y/N cheered half-heartedly as they both took a long drink. “Fuck it. Paper airplane contest?”

He snorted into his beer. “We’re not seven anymore.”

“Aw, afraid you’ll lose?”

He sat up straighter. “Loser buys next case of beer?”

“You better get your wallet out, now.”

~~~

Sebastian knew he should have taken his chance after that first date gone bad. And Y/N knew she should have pushed him harder in her confrontation. But for whatever reason, the friends stayed at their stubborn stalemate.

Without Sebastian willing to make a move, Y/N began to wonder if maybe everyone had it all wrong. Maybe Sebastian was simply protective of her without having an ulterior motive behind it. So, she continued to go on dates with other guys on campus to ease the ache, until she couldn’t pretend they weren’t Sebastian anymore.

For his part, Sebastian not only took careful notes of the reasons Y/N gave for each of her short-lived romances, he also stupidly pointed her in the direction of new interests. And then he tried not to drown in his jealousy, before learning to grow doubtful of wanting a romantic relationship with her at all. Why would he want to sacrifice a lifelong friendship just to become another nameless guy she tossed to the side once she had her fun with him?

~~~

“Sebastian!” she gasped at him when he came home one night as she nursed away the end of yet another short-lived romance that wasn’t him.

“You’re drunk,” was the observation as he dropped his duffle bag to the floor.

“Ooooohhhh yeah,” she giggled at him with a wide grin, eyes hazy. “You gonna join me?”

“So we can both be sick? Yeah… Not a chance.”

“Boo…” she pouted. “You never wanna do anything with me.”

“One night. One night I don’t wanna drink with you, and that equates to me not wanting to do anything with you ever? Make it make sense, Y/N.”

“Well, you don’t wanna date me, that’s for sure,” was the drunk scoff.

He balked. “When did I ever say that?”

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? Everyone keeps saying that you like me, but you don’t do anything about it. Are they all lying? Or are you?”

He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re drunk off your ass!”

“Just answer the question!”

“I don’t know!”

“What type of bullshit answer is that?! How do you not know if you wanna date someone?!”

“It’s the answer you give when you used to think you wanted to, but now you’re not sure anymore! Now… I gave you my answer. And I already told you once I’m not having this conversation. Not when you’re drunk. I’m going to bed. G’night Y/N.”

“COWARD!” she hurled the insult at his retreating back.

In his room, Sebastian didn’t sleep. He lay in bed watching his ceiling fan spin in slow hypnotic circles, cursing himself for letting it get this bad. If he had just asked her out after that one practice… If he could just rewind the clock…

In the living room, Y/N sobbed into her hands. The distractions never worked, even the promising ones. And Sebastian… If it turned out he didn’t want her…

Thoughts spiraled and time ticked by, Y/N growing more sober, and Sebastian more angry with himself.

“Seb?” she asked in a small whisper, knocking lightly on his door as she pushed it open, finding him still awake in bed, the little lamp on his nightstand illuminating the room.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he asked, more harshly than he meant to, as he pushed himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I- Nevermind… It’s stupid…”

“No, wait,” he called out to her as she turned to leave. “I didn’t mean it like that. I- What’s up? What did you wanna ask?”

She took a slow breath to steady herself as she turned back around to face him. “Do you like me? God, that sounds so juvenile…”

“Of course I like you, Y/N. You’re my best friend.”

“But you don’t like me enough to date me. Just enough to be protective about me dating anyone else.”

He sighed. Now, or never. “It’s not that I don’t wanna date you, Y/N. It’s that I’m scared to.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“To you, maybe. But to me, it’s perfectly valid.”

“How? How is that a valid reason? Sebastian Stan, scared of dating a girl? A girl who he’s known his whole life? Make it make sense.”

“You think I wanna be one of the guys you date? Maybe if you actually dated people, I wouldn’t have ever thought twice about dating you myself. But you don’t date, Y/N. You… God, I dunno what it is you do, but it’s not dating.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, feeling tears well up. “Fuck you! You don’t get to slut-shame me!”

“Slut-shame you?! How is it slut-shaming that I don’t wanna be another number to you?! That I don’t wanna be another source of entertainment for you until you get bored of me?!”

“Because you’re not a number, Sebastian!”

“Bullshit I’m not! You literally call me Number 1! You don’t love Y/N! You… you entertain yourself until someone better comes along!”

“That’s not true…” she whispered, heartbroken that he thought it was.

“It was for all the other guys! I don’t wanna be like them, Y/N! I don’t wanna be some random number to you! I wanna be the one! I don’t know how much clearer I can make that.”

“You know I only dated them to make you jealous, right?”

“Well congrats… you win. I’m insanely jealous of every guy that you parade through that goddamn door.” His mouth twisted and his vision started to swim.

“I didn’t wanna win, Seb. I wanted you.”

He hissed through his teeth. “Past tense… that, uh… Yeah, that hurts. Thanks for that… For this…” he twirled his finger about the room. “Awesome conversation. Glad we could have this talk.”

“You wanna know why it never worked with those guys?!” she yelled at him, her hands flying up in the air. “They weren’t you! God, I tried so hard to make it work with those guys! Any of them! But none of them made me feel the way you do. None of them get me the way you do. And… God! I wish they did! I wish at least one of them did, because then I could finally stop wasting my time on you when it’s obvious you don’t feel the same way about me!”

“I don’t feel the same?!” He grabbed a small notebook, hurling it at her. “If I never felt the same, explain that!” He pulled down the collar of his shirt, pointing at a small tattoo of a paper airplane on his chest “If I never felt the same, explain this!”

“Y-you got a tattoo? When?”

The sudden drop of her voice level took him a moment to realize what she’d asked. “When you started dating the guy with tattoos…” he told her.

“And this?” she asked, bending down to pick up the small notebook he’d thrown at her, thumbing through it. “Blue eyes, tattoos. Text back on time. Don’t say stupid shit,” she read aloud. “A-are these notes on how to date me?”

He shrugged. “I like to think they’re observations.”

“W-why would you need notes on how to date me?”

“To make sure you don’t get bored of me. To make sure you don’t forget me.”

“Seb-”

He shook his head fiercely, feeling his throat close up. “Don’t. Just don’t, okay? I know this is all my fault. I know if I had just stopped being a little bitch, and said something sooner like I wanted to, none of this would be happening right now. But I- Fuck… It’s always been me and you, and I dunno what I’d do if that stopped happening. You’re my best friend. And I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. And… I can’t risk losing you. I won’t lose you. Even if that means spending the rest of my life jealous of the guys you date.”

“And you never bothered to think that I had the same fears? That I’m just as in love with your stupid ass?”

“Why would you be? I’m just the idiot best friend.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I- God, did you really get a tattoo?” she asked. “What even is it?”

“It’s a paper airplane,” he mumbled, face turning red.

“Can I see it again?” she asked somewhat shyly.

He shrugged, taking off his shirt and tossing it to the side. “Happy now?”

“Oh, Seb,” she giggled, crossing the room to him. “You didn’t have to take your shirt off. You could have just tugged down your collar again.”

“Are you complaining?” he teased lightly, pulling her into his lap.

“God, no,” she said with another giggle. “Oh, Seb,” she sighed, her fingers tracing the ink on his skin. “God, we’re so fuckin’ stupid, aren’t we?”

“Oh, I’m definitely stupid,” he admitted. “Said and done so much stupid shit I shouldn’t have said or done.” His nose nudged against hers, his lips brushing against her cheek when he said, “God, I’m so sorry. I shoulda manned up sooner. And I shouldn’t have said those things about the guys you dated. I just- I fucked up. I let my insecurities get in the way, and I fucked up.”

“I fucked up too, Seb,” she whispered, carding her hands through his hair. “I was trying to fill a you-sized hole when I had you in front of me the whole time.”

“So you still want me? Even after I was the idiot coward that kept fucking up?” The blue eyes were big and watery with small traces of fear as they held her gaze steady, foreheads knocked together.

“Of course I still want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Seb.”

__

Tag List

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[machinegunbun]

UnConventional Bakers [Pete]

Requested? no

word count? 1.7k

TW? None

A/n: it’s like 80% dialogue bc it’s supposed to be a tv show. whadder ya gonna do

The props department did a wonderful job this season, comedy inspired props sprinkled about the set. Mic stands ended in lollipops, rice krispy stools covered in modeling chocolate, Comedians stood at every station, patiently awaiting directions. 

Conventional Bakers was finally ready for shooting its first season. It was a show about famous people coming together on a baking show and competing. It would have everyone from singers to actors or, in this case, comedians. Every season would be inspired by the careers of the people competing.

“On this season of UnConventional Bakers we are joined by,” the camera took turns panning to each comedian as you said their name. 

“Kevin Hart, Pete Davidson, Adam Sandler and…” you paused for dramatic effect “Fluffy!!!”

The comedians protest coming fast after 

Why’d he get all the excitement?” Adam asks

“Yeah, i’m literally your fiance what the fuck.” Pete adds, laughing “I don’t like that, i don’t like that shit. I got my eye on you Gabriel.”

“Don’t hate me cause I'm beautiful.” Fluffy replies

“Bakers! Comedians, whatever,” you call out, trying to regain their attention, Pete playfully mumbled but returned his attention “if you want a chance at winning you will have to pay attention.”

“Got it, go. No wait… yeah okay, go.” Adam interrupts, causing you to bite back a smile. This would be a long shoot

“For tonight's challenge, you’re in for a treat. Because it’s only the first round, we’ll take it easy on you and allow teams.” muted murmurs fell over the room as they decided who would be on whose team, “Tonight we will be making the one thing a comedian couldn’t live without.” Your co-star, Nicole Byers, continues.

“Weed.” Pete guesses,

“No, their audience.”

“Oh, speak for yourself.” 

“You will be making your very own audience cupcakes. When we say go you will head to your baking stations where you will find step by step instructions on how to make your audience, along with photo references and the clock will begin counting down.” You say

“Go, go, go! What are you waiting for?!” Nicole rushes, you take your seat as they make their way to the respective stations. The teams ended up being Pete and Kevin, Gabe and Adam.

Things were going pretty smoothly, the comedians racing back and forth from the ingredients to their stations as things began starting up. As you look around, you see Pete and Kevin looking confused as they stare at the instructions.

“Something wrong, sweety?” you ask

“No, all good over here. Thanks for asking.” Gabe pipes up, you laugh and make your way over to Pete

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I shouldn’t have dropped out of college.”

“How come? What's wrong?”

“I need ⅔   a cup, but there’s not a ⅔  measurement cup.” he says

“Well, if you need ⅔  but there's not one, you just take two--” 

“Don’t patronize me. I got it.” Kevin cuts you off in the middle of explaining, grabbing two handfuls of flour and throwing it in the mixer “There, that should work.” 

You sigh, making your way over to the other stations to check on how everyone else was doing. Adam was doing well, which wasn’t a surprise considering he’s a father and probably does some baking at home.

“Gabe, how are you doing?” 

“Not good, I’m used to eating cake and not making it.”

“Oh hush, you’re doing fine!” You encourage, leaning forward to whisper to him “Kevin just measured flour with his hands, so I think you’ll be okay.”

“Guys, I think they’re talking about you.” Adam yells

“Yeah, I know.” Pete laughs.

“That's okay, cause you know what? Haters gonna hate.” Kevin yells

After making your rounds you sat back down, turning to face a laughing Nicole.

“That wasn’t sugar, that was salt.” She barely squeaks out “They’re gonna be so gross” you nod and laugh along, all but excited for the dishes that would soon be in front of you.

“On that note, can we get some water?” You call out to the team behind you

“And a medic?” Nicole adds

“And a mathematician. You understand this shit?” Pete says

“What? Basic measurements? Yeah baby, I do.” 

Before you knew it the timer had gone off and the cupcakes were sat in front of you. 

“So, these are what your audience were supposed to look like, and this is what they do look like.” Nicole says, vaguely gesturing to the cupcakes

“We- we uh, we took some creative liberties.” Pete says through a laugh

“Well, let’s see what it tastes like.” you say, grabbing one from the crowd and cheersing it with Nicole’s

“Might as well get this over with.” she says, making a clink noise with her mouth, as she does there's another noise too. The rock hard exteriors made a clunk noise. Your jaw dropped as you made eye contact with Nicole, not believing what had just happened

“Wait.” you say, grabbing another and throwing it at the ground with all the force you could muster. It cracked directly in half, crumbs flying across the floor.

“Pete!” you yell, an amused smile painted across your face. Pete laughs, covering his face 

“I have no idea what happened.”he says, picking up the cupcake from the floor

“This is my passion, how did you fuck up this hard?!”

“I have no fucking idea.” he laughs, crumbling it up in his hand.

“I guess we still have to taste it.” you say, grabbing another and cracking a piece off on the table, handing one to Nicole. When you bite down there's an audible crunch that makes everyone in the room wince. You can’t help the expression that overcomes your face as the taste hits your tongue, looking over to Nicole to confirm it wasn’t just you. It wasn’t.

You attempt to open your water, your hand slipping again and again until Pete walks over and opens it for you, feeding you the water as he apologizes through his laughter. It took you a minute of held back gags to recompose yourself, but when you finally did you said,

“Your BLEEP is sweeter than this.” You say, deeply preferring it over the burnt, salty, crunchy thing in front of you.

“Really?” Pete asks, laughing and when you nod your head it only makes him laugh harder.

“Pete, you fucked up Pete.” Kevin says. 

“Dont throw this on him, you’re the one who wouldn’t listen.” You say, looking over to Nicole who had resorted to licking the icing off the cupcake

“Look at what you’ve done to this poor lady. You should be ashamed. It’s gotta be a zero from me” You laugh, more than ready to move on.

“You know what, the icing wasn’t bad,” They began to fight over who had made the icing. “I don’t care, just promise to never do that again. Adam, Gabe, before I take a bite you have to promise me it won’t be like that.” Nicole says, dead serious. They shake their head, letting out little reassurances while choking down their laughter. You take a deep breath before lifting the cupcake to your mouth and taking a small test bite, surely traumatized. 

To your delight, it was actually very good. You smiled and nodded, taking another bite as Kevin and Pete groaned, knowing they’d surely lost.

“I feel like theirs was so bad we can’t even celebrate.” Adam says.

“Yeah, i don’t think we need to add insult to injury by announcing the winners of this round. On to the next?!” You cheer, preparing to announce what would come next.

“For your next challenge, we will be making cupriphon- cupcakeriphones- Okay, the name hasn’t been completely sorted out yet, cupcake microphones!” You announce

“Yes! And because we felt bad for the loser, that’s just in the script so i had to say it, i don’t actually feel bad for you that was disgusting. Because we felt bad for the loser, we decided to give them a leg up. If you look at the stations, two of them have buttons. They’re called the happy heckler buttons and when you press them a timer will be set and either Y/N or myself will go yell encouragement to your teammates until it goes off.” Nicole says

“Awhh, so sweet. Ready? Set? Go!” You yell, watching them scatter to try to find a station.

“Ay, stay back this is mine.” Fluffy says to Adam, haphazardly wielding a knife, momentarily fighting over a station before Nicole reminds them the timer is counting down. They take a look at their ingredients before rushing over to the storage space and grabbing what they need.

You’d managed to get to the decorating stage with little to no issues when you hear Kevin yelling, “Pete! I need your help, I need those long legs pete.” straining to grab something from the top shelf

“Hold on, one second.” He says, glancing back momentarily as he tried to finish decorating.

“Oh shit, you’re already decorating?” Kevin asks as Pete hands him what he needed before walking back to his station.

“Yeah, catch up.” Pete says

“Okay, i’ll catch up, if that's what you want.” Kevin says, slamming his button down in a melodramatic act of sabotage.

Nicole yells in excitement, ready for some action, running over to distract Pete.

“You dick! I thought we were friends.” he says, slamming his own button. You run over, making sure to get in Kevins face as you encourage him, giving him slaps on the back and shaking his shoulders. Things had gotten very chaotic, very fast.

When the four minutes were over you left Kevin’s station for Pete’s, hanging out with him as his cupcakes cooked in the oven. He was bent over in a hug with you, small kisses being pressed to each others lips.

“Doing so good baby.” you mumble, fingers tangled in his hair. Usually you didn’t like PDA, but you had made an exception today because it had been a long shoot and you missed him.

“Way better than last time.” He confirms, remembering last time they had burnt and opting to check the oven.

“Look at that! This aint fair, Pete’s sleepin with the judges!” Kevin yells, making everyone laugh

“You could be too, Kevin.” Nicole winks

“Nicole, you’re both married.” You remind them

“Hey, that's show business baby.” Kevin jokes

When it all came to an end, Adam ended up winning and it was a surprise.. To no one. He was the only one even kind of equipped to win and he rode that all the way to the finish line.

[killmyluck]

Drarry #14

Prompt: Fake dating game AU where the loser is the person who falls in love first.

“Potter, I can’t do this anymore."

Draco watched as Harry stopped fiddling with his tie and frowned. “Huh?” Harry asked, bewildered.

Draco lifted his head and met Harry’s eyes in the mirror. “I can’t do it."

Harry tilted his head. He turned around and walked over to Draco, flopping down beside him on the bed. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He grabbed Draco’s hands, squeezing them softly. 

Draco felt his heart squeeze right with them. He pulled his hands back as if he’d been burned, almost regretting it as soon as he saw Harry look like a kicked puppy. Draco took a deep breath. “Potter, it’s over. The game. You won." 

Harry knitted his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“The game, Potter."

“What game-“ 

Draco watched as Harry’s mouth shifted into a small “o”. Was it possible that Harry had actually... forgotten? “Potter, don’t tell me you actually forgot about...”

Harry looked stunned. A silence stretched across them. “I- I did. I did forget. At some point."

Fuck. This was going to make it so much harder. Potter didn’t even care. “Well, you won the game. I lost. Congratulations. I suppose we can move on with our lives now." 

Draco startled as Harry suddenly grabbed Draco’s wrist, sitting up straight. “You don’t mean that... you..." Harry’s eyes widened and he smiled. He gave a disbelieving snort. “Merlin! You actually fell in-“ 

Draco interrupted him. Fuck his gloating. “Yes, Potter,” Draco spat. “I actually fell in love with you." And as he said the words, his heart ached. Ached such a deep and steady burn from knowing the person he loved would never love him back. “You’re the winner. I suppose you think of me as quite stupid."

Harry then frowned and his hands twitched, itching to reach out to Draco’s hands again. “I would never think of you as stupid, Draco."

Draco scoffed. “You knew you’d win all along." 

“Well... sure, I- I guess I thought I would, but-“

“Well there you go." Draco rolled his eyes, feigning cool indifference. He couldn’t bear it if Potter saw him lose his composure. “Congratulations again, Potter." 

“No, wait, Draco-“

Draco thought if he would stay here any moment longer, his heart would burn up his chest. He stood up to leave. “I’ll get going now. We had fun, didn’t we?”

“Draco-“

He forged on. “We fooled everyone. Honestly, that’s impressive in itself, isn’t it? But it’s over now." He was rambling. Shit. 

“Goodbye." Against his own will, he turned his head to give Harry a strained smile.

“WOULD YOU LISTEN TO ME?”

Draco leaped back, eyes wide with shock. His hands scrambled behind him, eventually clutching onto a nearby desk. 

“Shit, I’m sorry ba- I’m sorry, Draco. Shit! I’m sorry,” Harry babbled. “I’m so sorry, I just wanted you to hear what I had to say and it looked like you were gonna Apparate at any moment."

Well. Draco snorted internally. He wasn’t wrong. 

“Could you please just come back to the bed and listen to me? Just give me three minutes."

Draco glanced up at Harry’s pleading, desperate eyes. He looked away. “Fine."

Draco slowly trudged over to the bed and sat down, a good two feet away from Harry.

“Thank you." Harry sighed, running his hands through his disheveled hair. “I- Draco."

“Yes?” 

“Would you please look at me?”

Draco gritted his teeth. Ignoring his pounding heart, he shifted his body slightly towards Harry. Then moved his gaze up towards Harry’s imploring face. “Hurry up, Potter."

As Draco said the name, Harry winced. It was the first time in a long time that Draco had spat his last name out with such malice. “Okay. I- You’re right. I did forget we had started a game. But, if you think about it, isn’t that sort of a good thing? We had such..." Harry flushed as his mind flashed to the several occasions that Draco had slammed him up against the wall. “...nice moments together that I completely forgot what we were doing was a game. Isn’t it good? I’ve gotten so close to you, and our relationship wasn’t even about a competition anymore. To me. I don’t know if it was a competition for you." Harry frowned.

Draco had never wanted to strangle anyone more. “I don’t know if you forgot, Potter, but one of us is fucking in love with the other. The whole point of the game was for the loser to be the one to fall in love first! Do you think it was about the competition for me?” Draco closed his eyes, breathing heavily. “Do you think I fell in love with you and lost for the spirit of competition? Fuck you." Draco could see hurt flit across Harry’s face. Good. It would make it easier for him. For both of them.

Draco glared at Harry with all the venom he could muster. “Believe me when I say I never forgot about the game. You made sure to remind me of that. Every fucking day."

“What?” Harry gaped. “When did I-“

“Forget it, Potter." Draco waved away any response that Harry could make. “Are we done here?” His heart clenched again, nausea rolling in the pits of his stomach. 

Draco saw Harry scrunching his nose, thinking about how to proceed. Horribly endearing. “Okay, but don’t you see? That means at some point, neither of us were continuing our relationship for the sake of the game. We just enjoyed each other’s company. I don’t see why we can’t continue that now. I’m not really sure why you’re so worked up over this."

Draco stared at Harry. Was he pretending to be an idiot? His faint smile told Draco he was being dead serious. Draco stood up and crossed the distance between them. He grabbed Harry’s tie and pulled him in until their faces were mere millimeters apart. He could see every eyelash, every freckle, every brown fleck in Harry’s green eyes. Probably for the last time. 

Draco licked his lips. “In case you still haven’t gotten the message yet-“ He shoved Harry on the chest, landing him back flat on the bed with a soft thump. Harry looked both dazed and concerned. 

Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupid expression, fuck him. Draco grabbed Harry’s tie again and leaned over Harry’s body until their faces were close once more and he was almost touching Harry’s chest. 

Draco swallowed. “I am in love with you, Harry James Potter. Every second hurts. It hurts to be around you, the whole fucking fake relationship hurts. For someone in love, you don’t think that... this is going to hurt?” His hand clutched Harry’s tie even tighter. “I didn’t think I had to spell it out for you, but I can’t see you anymore. A gay man in love with a straight man who doesn’t love him back in a fake relationship- what kind of sick joke is that? Do you now see why we can’t continue this?” 

Suddenly, Draco felt drained. He released Harry’s tie and nearly staggered back onto his feet. Almost immediately, Harry sat up again. 

“Draco."

He was tired. “What, Potter."

“Who said only one of us is in love?”

Draco frowned. “What? What are you-“

“I’m in love with you too."

Draco actually did stagger back this time. I’m in love with you too. Weren’t they the words he had always wanted to hear? He had dreamed of hearing them for so long. And yet now, after actually hearing them, the words felt like a punch in the gut. 

Draco laughed mirthlessly. “No you’re not."

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yes I am."

“No, you’re not. Stop saying that." Draco shook his head. What a joke. A cruel one at that, too. “You can’t be." 

For the first time in the entire conversation, Draco saw Harry look angry. Furious, even. 

“Don’t fucking tell me what I’m feeling. I’m in love with you."

Draco swallowed, hard. “You- you..." He trailed off. His voice was trembling.

And he supposed Harry must have heard that, because his expression softened. “Draco, I’ve been in love with you for a while now. Why do you think I asked why we couldn’t continue the relationship? It would never have been to hurt you, to selfishly continue without any regards for how you felt. I’m in love with you, too."

Draco couldn’t think. “But- but you asked if I was actually in love with you. With that fucking smile. To mock me."

“To confirm, Draco. I didn’t think you were in love with me, but once you told me..." Harry looked down and smiled. “I mean, I thought it was so clear that I was in love with you. That’s why I was so confused why you didn’t want to continue. I wouldn’t have kept asking if I didn’t feel the same way."

Draco felt small. “Oh." 

“Yeah." Harry smiled. “Now we both know."

Draco still couldn’t believe it. And maybe it was sheer stupidity, or distrust, but the word tumbled amount of his mouth before he could stop it. “No."

“What?” Harry’s smile faltered.

“No." Draco’s hands flew to his temples, massaging furiously. “This is too sudden. I just... I need you to be sure. This feels like a dream, and I’m going to crash a thousand times higher if I let myself get hurt again."

“Draco." Harry sounded increasingly frustrated. “Draco." 

Draco refused to look up, afraid of seeing what Harry’s expression would tell. He heard a soft shuffling make its way across the bed to him, and he watched as Harry  took his hands. This time, Draco let him. Harry gave a gentle squeeze, and Draco gave a small squeeze back. 

“Look, Po- Harry. I just need you to be sure. Just... let’s be apart for a little while. For a week."

At Harry’s sound of protest, Draco looked up at him. “This isn’t just for you. It’s for me, too. To process everything. But I just need to be sure that by the end of that week, you’re still,” Draco gulped. “Still in love with me."

Harry frowned, staying silent and absentmindedly tracing a finger over Draco’s knuckles. Draco’s heart ached again. 

“Please, Harry. Just to make sure this isn’t a leftover effect of the fake relationship or... or just that you’re mistaking something else for love. Just for a week, and then we can talk again about this. Okay?” Draco squeezed Harry’s fingers experimentally, and immediately Harry squeezed back. 

“But Draco, I-“ Harry clenched his jaw. Silence dripped between the spaces, filling them up with a deafening quiet and Draco kept squeezing Harry’s hands tighter and tighter until at last Harry spoke.

“Okay." He didn’t look happy at all, but Draco was glad he agreed. 

“Alright. Thank you." Draco gently pried his fingers from Harry’s and stepped back. “I’ll see you later then."

Harry’s eyes widened. “What? Already?”

Draco bit his lips to hold back a smile. “Yes, already."

Harry looked crushed. “I- okay. Okay, see you."

Draco looked down. “Goodbye." He wished he had something else to say, but there really wasn’t much left. He closed his eyes, envisioned his bedroom in the Manor, and apparated with a pop. 

[blvejeanbaby]

My Mandu Man | Jung Yunho

Pairing: Yunho x reader, brief Seonghwa x reader Word count: 4.5k Warnings: mentions of sex, that’s all Summary: Seonghwa and y/n love to kiss while drunk, for some harmless fun, but Yunho gets jealous.

You were never the life of the party, not even when only surrounded by your best friends. You were always smiling and laughing and having fun, yes, but that was different than being the life of the party. The one to earn that title tonight was Wooyoung, who was even more hyper than he usually was and even more loud too. You looked at him as he bounced around the room, singing, dancing and drinking. You chuckled as he nearly slipped and fell, grabbing Hongjoong around the neck, who toppled over instantly because of the suddenly added weight.

“Is that funny to you?” Seonghwa sat down next to you on the floor, backs against the wall, and handed you the drink he had promised he would get you. “My friends hurting themselves?”

You rolled your eyes at him, taking the drink from his hands. “You’re right. I should probably get some water into Wooyoung so he won’t have a massive hangover tomorrow. And then I should tuck him into bed so he can’t hurt himself or Hongjoong again.”

Seonghwa laughed sarcastically. “Oh, you’re so funny, Y/N.” He took a sip from his drink. “You know, I’m kind of over this now.”

“What? Over your drink? I’ll gladly take it.” You stuck out your hand to him, but he quickly pulled his away. He was too fast, making the contents of the cup slosh over his hands.

He groaned, wiping his wet hand on his white shirt, leaving behind stains that he was too drunk to care about. “Over the party! I’m tired.” To illustrate how tired he was, he laid his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes.

You took your free hand and lightly patted his head. Seonghwa didn’t pull his head away, though, so you took use of the opportunity to thread your fingers through his hair. There was always this urge inside of you to do so, but when sober or awake enough, he would always be too careful. Your eyes scanned the room, trying to locate Wooyoung again. He was dancing with Yeosang in the middle of the room, who, despite the alcohol you had seen him consume, was still a little shy over the sexy moves Wooyoung whipped out. When your eyes travelled further across the room, you spotted Yunho. He was standing directly opposite you, lips attached to his cup but eyes focused on you.

You had caught him staring at you all throughout the night already. The first time was when you arrived at the door with your two best friends. Your one friend was dressed in a shirt that showed off her boobs, the other in shorts and knee high latex boots which were reminiscent of a dirty fantasy, both of which had instantly grabbed Mingi’s attention. But Yunho, who popped up behind Mingi in the hallway as if he had been wanting to answer the door instead, only had eyes for you and your simple velvet wrap top.

You smiled at Yunho, who smiled back widely. You were about to motion him to come over, but then Seonghwa’s head popped up again. Your attention was instantly pulled to him as he said: “You know what would make this party fun again? Your lips on mine.”

You laughed and set your drink down. “I’m starting to think that the only reason you offered me a drink was so you could get me to kiss you.”

“It’s been a while, don’t you think?”

You had to admit that he was right. Seonghwa and you were just best friends, nothing more than that. You could tell each other everything and were each others’ wingman if needed. You would give each other advice on friendships and relationships alike. About a year ago now, you two had drunkenly made out at a New Year’s Eve party, right at 12 AM. It had lead everyone to believe you were a couple, but even after you had spent a lot of time trying to convince everyone that wasn’t the case, you had not ceased to kiss each other. In fact, every opportunity you two got at parties - that is: whenever you two weren’t preoccupied with other people - your lips were locked together.

It was perfect, really. There were no feelings involved and you had long ago agreed to never have sex, so it wasn’t even really a friends with benefits situation. Or, maybe it was, considering kissing Seonghwa wasn’t exactly a punishment.

“You make it so romantic,” you said, wrapping your arms around Seonghwa’s neck. “I don’t know why I keep doing this.”

Seonghwa didn’t answer, instead placing a hand on your cheek to bring your lips closer to his. The kiss was sloppy, sloppier than usual. It truly showed how much Seonghwa had had to drink throughout the night, but you weren’t complaining. It was a nice change to how he usually kissed, which was a bit more held back, as though he was afraid to catch feelings.

What you didn’t know, as you were happily going up in the kiss, was that Yunho had now crumpled up his plastic cup and cast it aside, because he - in sharp contrast to you and Seonghwa - was not liking the amount of kissing you two were doing. He was one of the few of 50 people who had witnessed you and Seonghwa kiss for the first time on New Year’s Eve. He had been standing on the side of the room, near the door, arm slung around Hongjoong’s shoulders to wish him a happy new year, when his eyes had found you and Seonghwa in the middle of the crowd. You had been talking a lot all evening, nothing out of the ordinary, and then suddenly -

Yunho had been nailed to the ground, watching his crush make out with one of his closest friends. He had to be shaken out of his trance by Hongjoong, who hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, and was now handing him a flute of champagne. Yunho chugged the drink at once before finding himself something stronger.

He knew he had no real right to be upset. He didn’t have a claim to you, hadn’t ever properly expressed his feelings toward you to anyone. But that was the problem; he had feelings for you. If he had ever doubted it before, he did not now.

Yunho had been watching you all night long, sure that tonight was going to be the night he was confessing to you. But there was never a good opportunity to get you alone and besides, the longer the night went on, the drunker you both became. And even though Yunho was well aware that he was drunk, he remembered that he wanted to tell you when you were both sober, or tipsy at the most. Tonight was not the night.

You let go of Seonghwa, giggling as he tried to chase your lips. “You are so drunk,” you said, running a hand through his hair again.

“Drunk and horny,” he mumbled before kissing you again.

You allowed him to pull you closer until you were on his lap. It wasn’t a very comfortable position, with your knees on the hard floor. Seonghwa deepened the kiss, you felt his hands wander to your ass and - “Stop, stop,” you said, pulling back. “Remember what we promised?”

“No sex,” Seonghwa groaned, leaning his head back against the wall with his eyes closed. “Fuck, Y/N, I hate that rule.”

You laughed, placing a last kiss on his lips before moving off of him. “There are so many girls at this party that would want to have sex with you. Go seek them out.”

“Who do you suggest?” Seonghwa opened his eyes and looked around the room. “That one? What’s her name? Haseul?”

“Yes,” you said. “She’s been with Jongho before, but it was a one night stand. Or do you not want sloppy seconds?”

“She could never be a sloppy second.” Seonghwa stood up, taking his drink with him. He blew you a kiss before walking off in Haseul’s direction, leaving you on the floor by yourself. You chuckled as you watched him approach Haseul, who was happy to talk to him. You knew she had once had a crush on him. Even if she didn’t anymore, she would probably find him attractive enough for a one night stand.

You sat for a while by yourself until you thought you probably looked pathetic and got up, in search for better company. You eventually found San and Yunho in the kitchen, on end of a beerpong table. They were playing against two boys you had never met before. You waited until the game was finished before you went up to San and Yunho and wrapped your arms around both of them at the same time. “Anyone up for a game against me?”

“I’ll do it,” San said.

“No, I will.” Yunho exchanged a glance with San, one you didn’t notice.

“I’ll be referee then,” San said, understanding the look at once. He quickly started rearranging the cups on the table, adding beer to them again.

“Us against each other?” you looked up at Yunho excitedly. “What does the winner get?”

Yunho didn’t have to think about this for even a minute. “The loser pays for the next movie night.”

“Fine,” you said, before getting in place at the other end of the table. Movie night was a big deal for all eight boys and they often invited you and your two best friends to come as well. You usually split all costs between all eleven of you, so paying for everyone by yourself would be quite the expense. But you weren’t one to back down from a challenge.

There were ten cups, placed in a triangle and filled halfway with beer. The previous teams had all been 2-vs-2, played with two balls total, but San took out one ball considering it was now just you-vs-Yunho. “Good luck,” San said, handing you the remaining ball.

Even though you usually relied on a partner to make the shots, you would sometimes get lucky. That was not the case on your first throw, however. It would take you six throws to finally get one ball in, and by then Yunho had already managed to put two balls into your cups. You lined the empty cups on the side of the table before taking your position and throwing the ball. Finally, you managed to make it into the front cup.

Slowly but surely the cups in the triangle disappeared until you only had one cup left, while Yunho had two. Even though you ought to give up now and no longer have hope, you tried every last bit to distract Yunho, hoping to make him throw badly. For a second you thought it had worked but then -

“I won!” Yunho’s smile lit up the entire room and you found yourself biting your lip as you took the ball out of the cup. You couldn’t even be mad at him winning, his reaction was too adorable. He touched knuckles with San and then watched you down your beer before coming over to your side of the table. “So when is our movie night?”

“Our movie night?” You looked up at him confused. Was it the copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed tonight that made your brain fuzzy enough to misunderstand? Or had you heard perfectly fine?

“Yes,” Yunho said. “Just the two of us.”

That changes things. You nodded. “Okay. Well... how about we meet on Saturday?”

Saturday was fine with him, so you found yourself anxiously making your way over to Yunho’s dorms. He shared it with San and Hongjoong. You had wondered whether they would be at the house that evening, but while you were out at a café with Seonghwa, you had checked the boys’ group chat via his phone and found out that the boys were both going to be at Seonghwa’s place instead.

“Why did you guys all say no to movie night and then hang out at your place?” you asked him, your head spinning with all of the dots floating around that you didn’t seem to be able to connect.

Seonghwa shrugged, downing the last of his iced americano. “Yunho just said you two had made a bet and you lost. So we’re going out to Sinkhole tonight.”

“Sinkhole?” You had to laugh at that. Everyone in Seoul knew the club’s reputation; your friends did too. “So it’s that kind of a night?”

Seonghwa shrugged. “You won’t be missing out on much. You enjoy being with Yunho, don’t you?”

His words seemed to have a second layer to them and you didn’t want to spend time unpacking that. You made your way over to Yunho, San and Hongjoong’s apartment around 7 PM, hauling takeout and snacks with you. San and Hongjoong were just getting ready to leave when you arrived. “Y/N!” San said excitedly. He peeked into the takeout bag and licked his lips. “Ah, dakkochi! You know how to make my heart flutter.”

“It’s not for you.” You pulled the bag out of his reach and kicked off your shoes. “It’s not just your favourite.” You made eye contact with Yunho, who had come out of his room at the sound of your voice. You smiled widely and adopted the best aegyo voice you could muster. “Oppa, I brought you dakkochi! Now, are you going to make me the mandu you know I like?”

You ignored the expressions on San and Hongjoong’s faces - their jaws had gone slack, their mouths making an o-shape, as well as their eyes bulging out of their heads - knowing they were surprised by your aegyo. You hated the idea of purposely acting like a child if you didn’t have to, but you knew the effect it would have on Yunho. Bright red dots appeared on his cheeks; you saw a muscle in his face twitch before a smile appeared and he nodded.

“Yay!” You shot into the slippers that actually belonged to San; he had the smallest feet out of the three boys, meaning you could reasonably fit them. He didn’t comment on it, as he normally would, instead staring at you as you followed Yunho into the kitchen.

“I can’t believe it,” San whispered to Hongjoong as they zipped up their coats and stepped outside. “Y/N never does aegyo. She hates it! What is going on?”

“I think I get it,” Hongjoong said. He grabbed San's arm and gave him a push toward the elevators. "Let’s go.”

You waited until you heard the door shut before you gave Yunho a quick hug. It wasn’t usual for you to hug any of your male friends. You only gave into Seonghwa sometimes, because he could be a big teddybear if he wanted to be, but he was in many ways like your actual brother, obviously except for the drunk making out. But with Yunho, it was different.

“Thank you,” you said to him. He had already taken out the deep fryer and was now rummaging in his freezer for the frozen mandu. It was of a particular brand that you couldn’t find in any of the convenience stores in the area surrounding your apartment, and even if they had sold it near you, you didn’t have a deep fryer to prepare them the way Yunho does. He had made it for you a handful of times before, but this time you thought you’d treat him with dakkochi in exchange for it. “I know it takes a bit of time to heat up and all.”

“It’s okay,” Yunho said. “I don’t mind if we start the movie up a bit later.”

You nodded. “Let’s have the chicken before it gets cold,” you said. You started unpacking the takeout.

By the time you had finished the bulk of it, the oil was hot enough to fry the mandu in. You stayed by Yunho’s side as he fried the dumplings. You were still hungry, but you found yourself thinking that you could wait forever on these fricking dumplings if it meant you could look at Yunho the way he was right now. His face was slightly sweaty from the heat of the fryer and he was wearing a cringy apron that said ‘Kiss the cook.’ Hm, I might...

“What?”

“What?” You looked up, startled.

“What did you say?”

Suddenly you realized; you had spoken out loud. “Oh, nothing.” You quickly averted your gaze. “What movie do you want to watch? I’ll go ahead and set it up.”

You decided to watch a comedy film, but one that included some romance as well “because I know you like that,” Yunho said. You were just glad to have an excuse to leave the kitchen. You were confused by your own thoughts. Yes, you had a soft spot for Yunho, if that wasn’t clear by now. You had wondered many times about what it would be like to have a closer relationship with him. It didn’t have to be sexual or romantic, you had told yourself many times. You just wanted to get to know his personality...

But as you set up the TV and prepared the boys’ living room for you and Yunho’s movie night, you couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps there wasn’t more to this. You would never do aegyo for anyone; no matter how badly you wanted something from Seonghwa, you would never resort to that. You didn’t get why couples wanted to match, but when you and Yunho had accidentally worn complimenting outfits to dinner with your friend group one time, and Wooyoung had teased you, you had found yourself wishing that there was something to be teased about.

Yunho turned off the fryer. He had seen you staring at him for a while, eyes drifting down to the silly apron he was wearing. It was a gift for Hongjoong from a few years back, before they had moved in together. Now, Yunho was the only one wearing it on a regular basis. The green frog with the golden crown, the white letters saying ‘Kiss the cook’... Your eyes were glued to the letters when you said: “Hm, I might.” Yunho had heard it quite clearly, had seen your lips move as you said it. And then he also saw your panic.

You had collected yourself by the time Yunho came into the living room with the mandu on a plate. He also brought the bag of snacks and drinks and the remainders of your shared dinner to have with the side dish. “Ready?” he asked, before pressing play on the movie.

It started. It was not even that good, you had to admit. But nonetheless, you didn’t dare take your attention away from it, afraid your only other option was to start wondering if Yunho had actually heard what you said, if he knew what it meant... You sneaked a glance at him, right at a funny bit of the movie. Yunho laughed, and as he did, your heart contracted. What did he have to be so cute for?

You couldn’t rely on the buzz of alcohol now...

You also couldn’t say that you had actually watched the movie. You had been too preoccupied with your own thoughts, the food and Yunho, and then you had missed the ending because you fell asleep. You were startled from your sleep by Yunho, who was gently shaking you awake. “Good morning,” he said, smiling. “Do you want to sleep in my bed, instead of on the couch?”

For a second you thought you had heard him wrong and it was your sleep riddled brain playing tricks on you. But when he repeated his question, you couldn’t deny it. “Are you trying to get me into bed, oppa?” You let your voice raise in pitch at the term, knowing it would make him blush again. The combination of your puffy, sleepy face, the implication behind your words and its contrast with the innocence in your tone of voice, made Yunho feel shy. “I’m just joking,” you said. “Is it really morning? I should head home.”

“It’s late,” he said, quickly recovering. “The underground is out of service for another four hours at least. I thought maybe you’d like to sleep more comfortably.”

“Alright.” You nodded. “Let me freshen up a little.”

As you left for the bathroom, Yunho felt his heart thump wildly in his chest. He would do anything for you, really. If you had asked him to walk you home, he would’ve done it within a heartbeat, even if you lived halfway across Seoul. He knew he was treading dangerous waters now, especially now. Really, he ought to have had woken you up in time for you to catch the last train, but he was selfish. Yunho didn’t know when he would get you to himself again and he knew he would regret not doing anything now that he had the chance. Before Seonghwa actually managed in stealing you away from him. Or before anyone else could.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Yunho was waiting outside, leaned against the wall opposite. “If you don’t mind, I’ll sleep in the room with you. I’d rather be on my air mattress than on the couch for when San and Hongjoong come back from clubbing,” he said.

“Sure.” There was nothing wrong with sharing the same room, right? No, you decided. You helped Yunho get his air mattress and sleeping bag from the messy cupboard in the hallway and went to his room next. It was very tidy, almost as if he had planned to show it to someone. The only thing that was untidy, was his desk. It was obvious he had been sitting at it before you arrived, doing assignments for college. “Oh, you were studying earlier?” You sauntered over to the desk, examining the complicated mathematical formulas.

“Attempting to,” he said, spreading out his air mattress on the floor next to his bed, blocking him from opening his closet doors. The room was small, as was expected from a bedroom in Seoul, but it offered just enough space for him. “The module is quite hard.”

“I wish I could help you,” you said, turning back to look at Yunho as he spread out his sleeping bag on top of the mattress. “But I’m rubbish at anything mathematical or scientific. You know that.”

“I do.” Yunho smiled at you, sitting down on his makeshift bed. “But thanks for the offer anyway.” For a moment it was silent, then he patted his actual bed. “Come on, you can head in. You must be tired.”

“No,” you said, surprising even yourself. “I have never felt more awake, actually.” You sank down onto his air mattress. “Are you sure you’re going to be comfortable on the floor?”

“Better than the couch,” he said. “I will be fine. Promise.” He didn’t add that it would only be better because he would be able to be so close to you.

“I don’t believe you.” You leaned your back against Yunho’s bed behind you. “But alright. Thanks, by the way. For letting me stay here. And for the mandu.” You winked.

Yunho’s smile widened. “You know, I don’t do this for just anyone.”

“That, I can believe.” You smiled at him. And that’s when you thought: wait... “So, now that we’re both still up at this hour... maybe we can talk about something a bit more intimate?”

Yunho’s heart beat erratically at your words. “Intimate?”

“Yes,” you said, thoughtfully. “I mean, like...” Now it was your turn to be shy. “...relationships and such? Are you dating anyone at the moment?”

“No.” He spoke fast, too fast. “How about you? I’ve noticed you and Seonghwa...?”

He refused to look at you, but you didn’t know because you refused to look at him. “Seonghwa and I are just friends. I wouldn’t want to date him, he’s... difficult.”

“Difficult?”

“Yes. And I already like someone else,” you said. This was the first time you admitted it out loud, and as soon as you said it, your heart beat so loudly, you were sure Yunho would be able to tell and figure out exactly who it was you were in love with. But even though that would probably be your worst nightmare, it was also a scenario that you would welcome. It was much easier for him to connect the dots, than it was for you to come to a conclusion on what to do. You had your suspicions, though...

“Are you going to tell me who?” Yunho asked. He licked at his dry lips, sure he would have his heart stomped on by you right at this moment.

“I can give you a hint? You can guess?” You felt like a middle schooler. But perhaps middle schoolers were right in this department. Just beat around the bush, why don’t you, Y/N? your mind spoke to you angrily.

“Mmkay,” Yunho said.

He sounded unsure. “Well... He makes great mandu, like you. You know that’s my favourite side dish.” You sneaked a glance at Yunho. He was playing with the zipper of his sleeping bag, avoiding your eyes. “I liked it when he dyed his hair blonde, because he looked like a prince. He’s very tall and lately, he’s been getting quite muscular too. I don’t think he noticed me noticing that...”

Was he getting it? Ugh, you felt like you were 12 years old all over again! Why was confessing so hard?

“He uhm...” you continued, when Yunho didn’t answer, “He also has a really sweet personality. People often say he’s like a puppy. But what I really like about him, is how funny he is. Sometimes he doesn’t even try. But he can also be really serious and thoughtful. And he’s really patient, he lives with one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met in my life. Besides Wooyoung.”

You noticed you had slipped up the second you said his name. You looked up in panic. Yunho had also looked up at the sound of Wooyoung’s name. You often complained San and Wooyoung were the most annoying pair of boys you had ever met, even though you loved them dearly. It only dawned on Yunho then. All of those descriptions... He should’ve known the second you mentioned the dumplings. “Y-you like me?” He couldn’t keep the tremble out of his voice.

“I, uhm-” You were about to say that you guessed so, but really, you were more sure of yourself now than ever before. “Yes. I do.”

“Good,” Yunho said. He scooted closer to you. “Because I like you too. And it was torture, having to watch you and Seonghwa kiss over the past year. Torture.”

“Why did you never say anything?”

“Why did you never say anything?”

He had a fair point.

“Well, now that you know,” you said, “what are you going to do about it?”

Yunho smiled. “Something I have always wanted to do.”

[reinvent-and-believe]

Hi :) Dialogue prompt 44, Eskel + Geralt?

Dialogue prompt 44 - “I still remember the way you taste”

Wow anon. You get me. You really get me.

Firstly, what a perfect prompt. Secondly, sorry it took me 2+ months to actually write it! And thirdly...I added Jaskier. I’m sorry, I know you didn’t ask for that, I can’t keep him away. Geralt/Eskel is still the primary focus here, but in the context of established Geraskier and with Jaskier still very much involved. This accidentally turned into something like 7.5K of Jaskier and Eskel soft-domming the hell out of Geralt. So, uh...enjoy?

CW: rough sex/soft feelings, undernegotiated kink, nonexplicit references to teenage sexuality, brief discussions of internalized homophobia

—

“Really should be playing for coin.” Geralt grins as he clears his cards after his second victory of the night and shuffles his Nilfgaardian deck.

Eskel curses under his breath.

The witchers sit in a pair of ancient wingback chairs with worn, faded upholstery that might have been crimson in a former life, drawn close to the hearth, a small end table between them holding their Gwent cards and pints of mead. Jaskier sits perched on the arm of Geralt’s chair, his legs draped casually across his lover’s lap as he brushes soft white hair through his long fingers, humming softly to himself.

“Wiping the floor with me like that is its own reward.” It’s a grumble, but a good-natured one. Most everything Eskel does is good-natured, from what Jaskier’s seen. He appreciates that about the witcher.

It’s a fairly usual night at Kaer Morhen.

Well, as usual as a night at Kaer Morhen can be. After years of only vague, grunted acknowledgements of wintering in the mountains, Jaskier had been shocked and delighted at Geralt’s unexpected invitation when beset by an early first frost traveling through Kaedwen. “Winter’ll come before you reach Oxenfurt,” he’d justified brusquely, mindlessly tracing circles into the warm skin of Jaskier’s back as they huddled together on the inn’s musty straw pallet, but when the bard kissed him softly and told him he’d be delighted to see his home, the deep wrinkles on his forehead relaxed into something open, peaceful. They arrived a few weeks later, just before the snow drifts made the mountain pass nigh unbreachable.

Just being in these cold halls, rich with history and joy and pain, feels akin to the unsettling mystery of watching someone observe a religious sacrament, something Jaskier can only view from the outside, can never truly understand. But after upwards of a month sequestered in the remote keep, they’ve established something of a routine. Vesemir retires to the library after dinner most evenings. Every four or five days, Lambert gets restless and disappears into the surrounding mountains to hunt for a few nights.

(The first time Jaskier had been mortified, sure that he’d driven him away. “It’s just Lambert,” Geralt reassured him. “Bastard’s not well socialized.”

“And you know it’s bad, coming from Geralt,” Eskel added, but there’s nothing but fondness in his genial smirk.)

So most nights it’s the three of them whiling away the hours before retiring to their chambers. Jaskier finds he doesn’t mind; while Geralt clearly cares a great deal for Vesemir and Lambert, it’s only when they’re alone with Eskel that Geralt’s guard seems to vanish entirely. They catch up on jobs they worked throughout the year, drink together, occasionally reference shared history, although always briefly. In his years of friendship with Geralt and the years of something more, Jaskier has always been the one to keep the conversation going, an unending prattle that Geralt rarely interrupts, but here, Jaskier finds himself listening more often than not, observing the quiet, unassuming intimacy between the two witchers. Here within the walls of Kaer Morhen, here in Eskel’s warmth, Geralt is loose and comfortable and safe in a way Jaskier has rarely seen him in over a decade spent together on the Path.

Jaskier smiles at Eskel, a little too brightly, perhaps, but he doesn’t mind. He’s far from drunk, but between Geralt’s arm wrapped around his waist, the easy comfort of Eskel’s presence, the roaring fire before them and the honey-sweet mead, he feels pleasantly warm all over. “Eskel,” he starts as the witchers draw for another round, “you’ve known Geralt longer than anyone else in the world. Well, Vesemir excepted, of course.”

He hums in affirmation. “S’pose so. What about it?”

“That being the case, I think it only fair that you indulge me in some dirt.”

Eskel looks at him blankly.

“Come on, dirt! You must have plenty, you’ve known each other for, what, at least five hundred years now?”

“At least.” Geralt snorts at Jaskier’s obnoxious shit-eating grin at the exaggeration and plays a third spy card in a row, easily blocking the punch Eskel aims at his arm.

“Come now, Eskel, please? I’m sure you must have loads of dirt you’ve just been dying to, well, to unload! Let’s unlock those memories, boys, and tell me the greatest Kaer Morhen scoop of the past century.”

Eskel’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not sure you really want those memories unlocked, bard,” he says gently.

Jaskier’s breath catches. The last thing he wants is to spoil the relaxed evening with whatever cruelties spark the haunted looks he’s caught a few times during his stay. “No, no, of course not those kinds of memories,” he amends. “None of the witchery sort. The fun things, silly things! Come on, it can be anything. Embarrassing stories, charming anecdotes, stupid pranks you pulled on each other, youthful indiscretions—wait, no, what did I say?”

Both witchers suddenly seem preternaturally focused on their Gwent cards.

A delighted grin slowly creeps onto Jaskier’s face. “Youthful indiscretions?” he repeats, noting how Geralt looks almost sheepish. “I was joking about that one but by all means, I love a good scandal! I simply must have all the details, the tawdrier the better.”

“No scandal,” Eskel answers easily. “There’s nothing…”

“Oh ho ho no, my friend, I’m afraid I’m a bit too well acquainted with Geralt’s non-expressions to let this pass quite so easily.” He’s practically bouncing with excitement in Geralt’s lap, which earns him a glare, but not a very heartfelt one. The most delicate shade of pink has taken up residence in the tips of Geralt’s ears, the apples of his cheeks. Jaskier kisses him lightly on the nose. “What youthful indiscretions, Geralt?”

Geralt rolls his eyes, but his lips quirk upward. “Nothing as obscene as you’re dreaming up,” he mutters drily. “Dumb kid stuff.”

“Just a little healthy competition in the training yard.” Eskel’s smiling, but he’s watching Geralt carefully. “Everybody loves an incentive.”

Jaskier leans in conspiratorially. “Incentive?”

Eskel shrugs, placing a commander’s horn to double his ranged combat cards. “You know, loser jerks the winner off, that sort of thing. ‘Course, you dose up a bunch of horny teenagers with a couple times the regular helping of hormones, and, well, things tend to...escalate?”

“Of course.” Jaskier shifts and inadvertently rubs against the line of Geralt’s cock, which seems to have taken a distinct interest in the conversation, no matter how disinterested its owner tries to look behind his cards. “So, to the victor goes the handjob, eh? A noble endeavor.” He squirms again, very advertently rolling his hips in just the right place this time. The heavy arm around Jaskier’s waist slips down to stroke casually at his thigh. He stops himself from preening at the unexpected rift in Geralt’s composure, but only barely. “Was this all the young men in your—class? Cohort? Uh, battalion? What do you call it?”

“Hands caught on with some of them,” Eskel acknowledges. His eyes, all blown-wide black pupils rimmed with thin rings of gold, track every minute movement of Geralt’s hand on the bard’s thick thigh, straining beneath deep indigo satin. “But a few of us progressed to mouths. Thighs.”

“I’m sure that was delightful,” Jaskier breathes. He threads his fingers into Geralt’s hair, tugging gently on a lock. “So you partook in these escapades, did you, darling?”

Eskel snorts. “Partook,” he parrots, eyes flickering teasingly to Geralt. “Like he wasn’t the one casually suggesting it every time we hit the training yard.”

“Oh please, do tell.” The fire crackles in the hearth before them. By all the gods, there’s nowhere Jaskier would rather be than here, caught in this sparking current between the two witchers.

“Geralt’s the best fighter.” There’s a hint of a growl in Eskel’s gentle voice Jaskier’s never noticed before, low and hot and dangerous. “Always been the best with a sword since the first time he held one. But once we started messing around, didn’t take long to notice I was winning more than usual. After a few weeks I was beating him just about every time we fought.”

“Gods,” Jaskier breathes.

Eskel licks his lips. “Don’t act surprised, bard,” he says softly. There’s a new, intoxicating heat in his gaze. “The whole castle’s heard you two. You seem pretty familiar with Geralt’s taste for cock.”

Geralt’s arm slips tight around Jaskier’s waist, pulling him harder into the ever-more insistent press against the bard’s arse. He palms brazenly at Jaskier’s cock, but his eyes don’t leave Eskel, his face collected, calm. “Still remember the way you taste.”

“Fuck, Geralt.” Eskel’s hand drifts to mirror Geralt’s, grinding roughly against his codpiece.

Jaskier plants a hand on the chair’s back, twisting around enough to pull Geralt into a heated, messy kiss. “Gods, you’re stunning, you know that?” he moans against his lips, tangling a demanding hand into that long white hair. “Gorgeous, shameless thing, throwing fights you were perfectly capable of winning just to get a good dicking, was that the way of it, love?”

Geralt’s eyes flicker closed, accompanied by an aborted, keening noise in his throat.

“Which was all fine, until Vesemir called him out for holding back in the middle of the training yard.” Some of the teasing quality drains from Eskel’s voice. “You know Geralt. Being berated in front of the whole school by your mentor for your piss poor performance is devastating anyway, but for Geralt?”

“I’d forgotten about that,” he admits quietly. “That was a shit day. Halfway through his lecture I swore off sex forever. Nothing kills the mood quite like Vesemir’s disappointed face.”

Jaskier kisses his temple. “Glad that didn’t last, love.”

“Didn’t last long at all,” Eskel chuckles. “Pretty sure you had my dick down your throat in the back of the stables twenty minutes later.”

Geralt’s wry grin serves as confirmation. “It’d been a rough day. Sometimes you need a little consolation.”

Jaskier looks between the two, looks at the soft smiles on both of their faces. The sheer eroticism that was all-consuming a moment ago lingers, shifting into a background pulse as this gentle, familiar openness emerges.

They love each other.

Jaskier feels an overwhelming rush of relief, suddenly, of gratitude, to know that even with all the cruelties Geralt has faced over the past century, he’s had this easy warmth to come home to nearly every winter.

But love isn’t something readily acknowledged, let alone expressed, for Geralt—if anyone knows that, it’s Jaskier. So he smiles disarmingly and goes to work.

“How right you are, Geralt!” he says brightly. “Everyone needs a consoling touch now and then. What about after you left training? Any consolation during chance encounters on the Path? Or when you returned for the winter, perhaps?”

Jaskier doesn’t miss the way Geralt stares at the floor, nor the hunger that flashes in Eskel’s eyes before he looks away, too. When he speaks, it’s measured again. “It didn’t continue past training.”

“What a shame. Well, during training, then, what about fucking?” he asks blithely.

Geralt’s the first to find his voice, a defensive grunt. “Wasn’t like that.”

Eskel leans back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “Well, it was, of course,” he says slowly. “A hand or a mouth in the dark you can write off as just getting your rocks off. You start talk about fucking…” He shrugs stiffly. “It starts to mean something. Starts to say something about you.” He’s quiet for a moment, staring into the fire. “You get told a lot of things when you’re a kid. Think we all understood pretty clearly how it’d be if anybody found out. So you start coming up with reasons why it’s not like that, why you’re not like that. To make it easier.”

Geralt hasn’t spoken, but he clings a little closer, leaning his head on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Takes time to sort through it all,” Eskel muses. “I think most of the stuff they taught us, Vesemir and the others...most of it came from a good place. They wanted us to survive, and part of that means not making yourself any more of a target than you already are. Doesn’t mean it didn’t fuck us up even more, though.” He leans forward in his chair, elbows on his knees and eyes fixed on Geralt. “I’m proud of you, Wolf,” he murmurs, a little sad smile on his lips. “Never thought either of us’d get to have this.” He gestures briefly at Geralt and Jaskier entwined in the chair, a twinge of something that might be yearning flashing through his eyes before he looks away, taking a drink.

Geralt plants a small kiss on Jaskier’s shoulder, holds him a little tighter. He wants to comfort Eskel, the bard understands suddenly, showering Jaskier with all the tender physical assurances he doesn’t feel he can give Eskel. And Eskel, with his sweet, melancholy smiles, his gentle percipience, his quiet understanding...he deserves everything Geralt wants to give him and more.

“It seems to me,” Jaskier begins in a delicate singsong, “that we have some unfinished business here.”

“How do you figure?”

“I feel this competition has not been followed to its logical conclusion. Not reached its full potential. You’ve played for hands, mouths, thighs. It seems that the natural progression should be playing for arse next. Winner takes the loser, as it were.”

Silence.

Jaskier wonders, briefly, if he’s made a mistake; but, he reasons, nothing ventured, nothing gained. He barrels on. “I think that the two of you want each other, quite a lot. Now, now, we’re being honest, Eskel just made that lovely speech, so save your protests, both of you. I think you want each other but you don’t know how to have that without the competition.” Jaskier gesticulates widely to emphasize his conclusion. “So compete.”

Eskel’s quiet for a moment, taking a deep breath as he meets Jaskier’s gaze. “Wouldn’t ask that of you,” he says finally. “The pair of you’s got a good thing here. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.”

“Oh, darling.” A surge of affection rushes through him as he takes in the Witcher’s concerned eyes, the hesitant posture, the look of astonishment at the endearment directed towards him. “I don’t think Geralt will love me any less for having loved you,” he says softly, leaning forward and placing a steady hand on Eskel’s forearm.

“We fuck other people,” Geralt adds helpfully.

Jaskier squawks in indignation, and Geralt’s mouth twitches in silent laughter. “Yes, Geralt, thank you for that ever so romantic assessment. So there you have it, Eskel! We fuck other people, no conflict there.”

Eskel’s looking back and forth between them, a small, slow smile breaking through. “It’s a little late for a sparring match,” he says. It’s not much of a protest.

Geralt shrugs casually. “Up for another game of Gwent?”

Golden eyes lock, a challenge. Eskel wets his lip and reaches for his cards.

Geralt gently steers Jaskier back onto the arm of the chair with a quick kiss to his shoulder, reaching to pull the forgotten box of his various decks into his lap. He packs his Nilfgaardians away carefully, muses over the cards, then reaches for the forest green deck.

And Jaskier may be no expert when it comes to the intricacies of Gwent strategy, but he’s watched Geralt play enough to know that Scoia’tael is his most neglected deck, the one he’s least likely to use in tournaments, the one he’s spent the least time building up.

Fuck.

From the way that Eskel’s gaze trains on Geralt’s big hands shuffling the sparse deck, a hungry, wrecked gleam reflecting in his golden eyes, he’s noticed, too.

It doesn’t take long, this Gwent game.

Geralt isn’t playing poorly, not really, he isn’t blatantly throwing the match, but the low-powered deck can’t compete with Eskel’s Northern Kingdoms and its unstoppable siege cards, its seemingly endless supply of spies. Even after Eskel passes the second round in a show of sportsmanship, there’s no real suspense.

Anticipation, on the other hand…

Jaskier drapes himself over Geralt languidly, tucking his chin over his lover’s shoulder to watch the game. “Geralt,” he coos, “it’s looking as though you may lose this one.”

“Hmm.”

“What a shame, I know you must be dreadfully disappointed by the prospect of taking his cock.” He’s staring shamelessly now, eyes running over Eskel’s sinewy arms, wide shoulders, broad chest, muscular thighs. “Gods, I bet he’s proportional, isn’t he. Big all over.” His breath is a warm tickle on Geralt’s ear before he begins lightly kissing the sensitive skin of his neck. “I bet he’s bigger than you, isn’t he, love?”

Geralt looks up from his cards, considering. “Girthier,” he concedes lightly.

“I can only imagine.” He sighs, musing with the tiniest of pouts. “You know, if you’d told me when we arrived at Kaer Morhen that one of us would wind up in bed with the gorgeous Eskel before winter’s end, I never would have dreamed you would be the one with that honor. Actually, I’d have put good coin on it being me.”

Eskel drops a scorch card in surprise that knocks out his own 24-point ballista.

“That counts.” Geralt shoves the card towards Eskel’s discard pile. “And you’d’ve lost your coin, bard. He never would have fucked you.” He shrugs off Jaskier’s offended whine. “Would’ve seen it as betraying me, even if you’d explained.” He’s studying Eskel carefully. “He felt guilty enough already, and all he’s done is look.”

Jaskier follows Geralt’s gaze, taking in the deep flush, the heavy breathing, the slightly abashed expression. “Have you been looking, dear Eskel?”

Eskel wets his scarred lip. “Looking respectfully,” he clarifies with the smallest of grins.

Jaskier laughs, delighted. He’s been uncharacteristically modest in his dress since arriving at Kaer Morhen, adjusting the biting chill of the drafty halls, but between the fire, the inferno of Geralt beneath him, and the strong rush of arousal, he’s plenty warm now. He slips his doublet off casually, dove gray shirt open halfway to his navel. “Look to your heart’s content, darling. Respectfully or otherwise.”

Eskel obeys, eyes raking over the bard’s flushed neck, the dark curls on his chest, the taut trousers doing little to disguise his erection. When he speaks, his voice is husky, grating. “If I win, will you be joining us?”

The breath catches in Jaskier’s throat.

He glances down at Geralt. They’ve always been welcome to take other lovers; it’s only practical, since they sometimes travel apart for months at a time and both have a few long-standing arrangements they’re loath to renounce. But they’ve never welcomed someone else into their bed, explored another lover together. Shared.

Geralt’s staring up at him, eyes questioning, hopeful.

Jaskier flits out of his embrace to situate himself easily in Eskel’s lap. “I thought you’d never ask.” He brushes a dark lock of hair out of the witcher’s eyes, tilts that strong, square jaw toward him with a single clever finger. “May I?” he asks, and when Eskel nods wordlessly he draws him into a soft kiss.

Eskel’s lips are slow and gentle, his kiss courteous, restrained in a way that threatens to break Jaskier’s heart. “Relax,” Jaskier whispers against him, “you’re not the first big scary witcher I’ve encountered.” He plants a teasing peck on the corner of his mouth before pulling away and shifting to take stock of the cards in Eskel’s hand. “So how is it looking? Oh.” He giggles helplessly, glancing across the table at his lover’s somewhat dazed expression. “Oh, Geralt, you are fucked.”

Their matching groans at his word choice are nothing short of intoxicating.

“Finish him off, darling,” Jaskier purrs, a hand drifting down Eskel’s sturdy chest. “Then we can play.”

--

Jaskier drags Eskel unabashedly into the bedroom, kicking off his boots as he goes in a practiced maneuver that might have otherwise proven disastrous. He tugs off Eskel’s padded jerkin, leaving him in a thin cream-colored shirt that Jaskier balls his fist in, pulling the witcher towards him in a breathless, giggling kiss.

Geralt trails slightly behind them, taking off his boots in silence. Jaskier can feel his eyes on the two of them as they part, not jealous, not upset, but unsure. Never one to shy away from tension in the bedroom, Jaskier reaches a hand toward his lover, beckoning him close, close enough to touch, and then he steps back to watch the moment unfold.

As if by instinct, Eskel moves to the side in an evasion of Geralt’s approach, where a sword would glance off him, had one been swung. Golden eyes lock as they circle automatically. It’s a dance. A witcher’s dance, dangerous and calculated, each move precise, graceful, deadly. It’s the most arousing thing Jaskier’s ever seen in his life.

And then Geralt shoves Eskel.

It’s just a light push to one shoulder, no real weight behind it, but the effect is instantaneous. Eskel pins him to the cold stone wall, the full weight of his body pressed into him, his hands trapping Geralt’s wrists tight. They’re both panting, hard, and when Eskel shoves his leg roughly between Geralt’s thighs, he’s met with Geralt rocking savagely against him.

“Like a bitch in heat, huh, Wolf?” Somehow, the words aren’t demeaning in the warm gravel of Eskel’s voice; instead, they’re fond, appreciative. Reverent.

Geralt bucks against him again, a cut-off, desperate growl from the back of his throat, and Eskel buries his face at the juncture of the neck and shoulder and bites the scarred flesh.

Geralt immediately goes limp and compliant against him, capitulation written into every line of his body. He stays that way as Eskel releases his bite, nipping lightly then nuzzling into the skin.

Jaskier lets out a shuddering breath at the sight of his lover so docile, so malleable. They’ve certainly explored such games before, power dynamics and what have you, and he’s known Geralt to drift into a gentle haze of submission on a handful of occasions when he felt particularly safe, but he’s never seen this immediate, intentional surrender. It’s breathtaking.

Eskel releases Geralt’s wrists, still kissing at his neck as he slides his hands down his sides. “Good,” he murmurs against skin, “being so good for me, Wolf. Don’t worry, gonna take care of you.” He tugs the black shirt from Geralt’s trousers, slips a big hand to stroke the bare skin at the small of his back. “Gonna fuck you so good. That what you want, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, Eskel.”

“Tell me.”

“Fuck.” His eyes flutter shut as Eskel’s hand moves to pull him forward by the curve of his arse, grinding their hips together roughly. “Want you to fuck me.”

“Mmm.” Eskel pulls the shirt over Geralt’s head and tosses it aside. “What about your boyfriend? What do you want from him?”

Geralt’s eyes shoot open, casting about frantically for a moment as though disoriented. “Jaskier?”

“I’m here, love,” he says, rushing to his side and pulling him into a soothing kiss. Geralt relaxes again in Eskel’s arms.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Jaskier continues, running his thumb reassuringly against Geralt’s cheekbone. “Do you want us to take you to bed, love? Let us work you over between the two of us, wring out every drop of pleasure we can?”

Eskel still supports Geralt’s weight, but he’s shifting, opening towards Jaskier, creating a space for him. Geralt pulls the bard in, kissing him desperately and tugging off his shirt, and Jaskier clings to them both.

He drinks in the sight of Eskel in the firelight, lips red and parted, eyes hooded beneath dark lashes. He cradles his smooth cheek with a gentle hand. “My, but you are just unreasonably handsome, aren’t you?”

Eskel freezes for a split second before flinching away from the touch, turning his scarred face to the safety of the shadows.

Before Jaskier can react, Geralt places a hand on the back of Eskel’s neck, drawing him in and massaging the flesh lightly. “He’s not mocking you.” His voice is soft and steady. “Or lying.”

After a moment, Eskel meets Geralt’s gaze, holds it silently for a moment before his shoulders relax, a rueful smile twitching on his lips. “Just got shit taste, huh.”

Geralt returns the grin. “He is with me.”

Jaskier splutters with indignation that’s only partially feigned. “Well, excuse you both, I happen to have exquisite taste, thank you very much!” He reaches out, his hand hovering over the scarred skin, a question in his eyes. Eskel takes a breath and turns his face into Jaskier’s touch.

He runs his fingers lightly over the hardened scar tissue, mapping the uneven terrain in caresses. Eskel’s eyes flutter shut. “I can’t speak for the rest of the world,” Jaskier murmurs. “I can’t imagine how cruelly men have treated you. But I do think you’re beautiful, Eskel, truly.” He pauses, glancing at Geralt. His gaze is fixed on the pale fingers and scarred flesh, concern writ large in his golden eyes. Jaskier wonders, not for the first time, how he ever thought his witcher inexpressive. “And I do believe Geralt thinks so, too.”

Geralt startles at the mention, but he leans in, resting his forehead against Eskel’s.

The intimacy of the position strikes Jaskier. Wasn’t like that, Geralt had immediately defended at the slightest implication that there was anything more than the occasional illicit orgasm between them. It’s not the first time he’s seen his dear witcher deny himself affection, connection, especially when it comes from another man, so he can’t help wondering how deep that denial may have run. “Geralt,” he asks softly, “have you and Eskel ever kissed?”

Geralt shakes his head, his eyes shut.

“I think you should.” It’s barely more than a whisper.

A moment of stillness stretches between them all, the two witchers looking at each other wordlessly. Eskel is the first to move. He carefully cradles Geralt’s face, eyes searching before he leans in, capturing his lips gently. It’s slow, hesitant, a meticulous exploration before Geralt moans against him, big hands threading through dark hair and pulling him in harder.

Jaskier moves deftly, slipping behind Eskel and threading his arms around the witcher as he plants reverent kisses down his neck, hands roaming luxuriantly across the hard body. Nimble fingers find the laces of Eskel’s trousers, untying them but making no immediate move to remove them, drawing the roughspun cotton of his shirt from the loosened pants so he can slip beneath to bare skin. He worships every inch of that broad torso with callused fingertips. Eskel is every bit as muscular as Geralt but built differently, thicker and wider and more pliable beneath Jaskier’s curious hands. An appealing layer of fat cushions his hard abdominals like a gambeson; strong, flexing pectorals have the give of flesh beneath his grasp. It’s an altogether delightful body, Jaskier thinks in warm contentment, belonging to an even more delightful man who Jaskier would be delighted to be absolutely railed by.

But that isn’t tonight’s objective; no, not with Geralt panting so beautifully, head thrown back against the stone wall as Eskel sucks a blood red mark on his collarbone. The finesse between them has vanished, replaced by the desperation of a century’s delay. Eskel paws at Geralt’s waist, nearly ripping the buttons from the fabric in his haste to get a hand down the front of the tight black pants, his other hand bracing him on the wall beside Geralt’s head.

Geralt is quick to return the favor, freeing Eskel’s cock from the codpiece, shoving the trousers roughly down his thighs, sinking to his knees.

Jaskier tries in vain to enjoy the sight from over Eskel’s shoulder, but the cream-colored shirt billows loosely enough around his body to veil Geralt. Yanking the offending garment off, Jaskier tucks his chin over the witcher’s shoulder and watches as his lover pumps Eskel’s cock in a pale hand, leaning in to lap greedily at the head before stretching his lips obscenely around the ruddy flesh.

When he speaks, Eskel’s voice is a hoarse wreck. “Isn’t that a sight for sore eyes.” Geralt growls in the back of his throat and takes him further down. “Fuck, Wolf.”

Jaskier snakes a hand down Eskel’s hip to his groin. He circles the base of his cock in a sure grip, grasping the thick shaft and moving in concert with Geralt’s shallow bobbing. Eskel inhales shakily, reaching the hand not buried in white hair back to anchor himself onto Jaskier by the back of the neck, arching into the bard’s embrace.

Jaskier pulls him into a messy kiss. The careful restraint has evaporated into something rough, strong, unleashed. Jaskier loses himself in the kiss, the racing tattoo of his rushing blood making the groan from Eskel something he feels more than hears.

Geralt bats away the bard’s hand jacking Eskel, and when Jaskier glances down he sees Geralt sinking down the thick shaft until his nose is buried in the dark hair at the base.

Eskel rips away from Jaskier’s kiss, breath ragged. “So good at that, shit.” His head falls back on Jaskier’s shoulder, eyes closed. “Used to choke on me when you tried,” he grunts. “Remember? Almost got us caught with your coughing a couple times. But you weren’t ever satisfied unless you tried.”

Jaskier massages at his chest, relishing the little gasp as he rubs a nipple. “He’s had plenty of practice since then. Haven’t you, love? Love swallowing cock, don’t you?” Geralt’s hands grasp Eskel’s hips roughly. “He wants you to fuck his face,” Jaskier says, planting a kiss on Eskel’s temple. “You wouldn’t deny him, would you?”

“Fuck.” Eskel complies, releasing Jaskier to anchor both hands in Geralt’s hair. He pistons forward experimentally, shallow. Geralt tugs at his hips until he’s set a brutal pace, the muscles in his thick body straining as he fucks him with abandon until there’s nothing else, nothing but slapping flesh, labored breathing, and pleased, desperate, muffled moans.

Eskel pulls abruptly back, holding Geralt off him by the hair.  “Fuck, Geralt, enough. Don’t wanna come yet.”

“Want you to.” Geralt’s voice is a raw rasp, his eyes red-rimmed. He nuzzles at the juncture of his thigh and groin, sucking at the sensitive flesh between words. “Want you to come fucking my throat. Come again later.”

Eskel pushes him away firmly, discipling his voice into something deep, reproachful, but with a surprising touch of tenderness cutting the sting of his words. “Listen, little cockslut, I said not yet.”

Geralt whimpers, but he withdraws, sitting back on his heels and awaiting further instruction, eyes fixed on the other witcher.

Eskel steps back from both of them, shoving his trousers the rest of the way down and stepping out of them before he looks at Geralt. “Up, Wolf.”

Geralt scrambles to obey.

Eskel pulls him into a kiss, praises spilling out against his lips. “So good,” he says. “Pants off.”

Once Geralt’s naked Eskel pulls him close, hoisting him easily into his arms as strong thighs wrap around Eskel’s waist. Eskel kisses him, holding him effortlessly. It’s a rare thing, Geralt not being far and way the strongest in a room at any given time, and to see him so evenly matched, see him carried about and manhandled as though he weighs nothing at all, is quite an alarming, appealing experience.

“Wanna take you to bed.” Eskel nuzzles against Geralt’s neck, his words barely audible. “Wanna be inside you, Wolf.”

“You did win the game,” Geralt grunts.

Eskel’s brow is furrowed when he pulls back. “Fuck the game, Geralt, wanted this as long as I can remember. It’s not just a game.” He carefully smoothes the messy white locks away from his face. “Wasn’t ever just a game.”

Geralt nods slowly. He holds Eskel’s gaze as he tilts his head, closing the space between them to brush his lips again Eskel’s. “So take me to bed.”

And he does.

Eskel lays Geralt out with an expression of sheer reverence. He crawls between his legs, slotting their bodies together, taking them both in a firm grasp before he leans down to capture Geralt in a sensuous kiss.

Jaskier observes the writhing pair silently as he makes necessary preparations. He rids himself of his trousers and smallclothes. Folds the discarded clothes and sets them neatly on a chair. Retrieves the oil from the chest at the foot of the bed. Stalls.

Because they are beautiful together, their touches familiar yet entirely new. There’s an unmistakable sense of scale between them, a history that Jaskier is loath to disrupt, a tale spanning a century in which Jaskier is barely a footnote.

“Jaskier.”

They’re still entwined, all muscled, scarred limbs curving around each other like one flesh, but they’re both looking at him. Eskel’s face crinkles into a crooked smile. “It’s a big bed, bard. Plenty of room.”

And there is. So much room in Geralt’s outstretched arm, curling immediately around his lover as he slips in bed beside them. In Eskel’s astute gaze as he runs a hand down Jaskier’s back and squeezes his hip reassuringly, pulling him into a nigh unbearably sweet kiss. In the way the three of them move together, exploring, discovering, building a gentle rhythm all their own.

“Have you ever fingered him?” Jaskier asks, his words nearly lost in the velvet-soft skin he’s thoroughly lavishing.

Geralt’s breath catches, though whether it’s at the question or the warm mouth on his balls is anyone’s guess.

“No,” Eskel says, his hand carding through the bard’s hair. “Show me what he likes?”

Jaskier reemerges to kiss them lightly, first Geralt then Eskel. “I’d be delighted.” He sits up on his heels, pulling Geralt with him. “Up, love.” He turns to Eskel as Geralt turns over to settle wordlessly into place. “Hands and knees is best for opening him up. He tends to get overwhelmed otherwise, don’t you, darling?” He kisses Geralt’s scarred shoulder, petting his arms, his back, his sides, nodding with a bright grin when Eskel’s hands join his in their caresses. “You can open him up when he’s lying on his back, but only when he’s absolutely relaxed and he’s already gotten off once. Otherwise he’s self-conscious, can’t lose himself in the sensation.” Geralt is already—perhaps unconsciously—rocking his hips ever so gently back towards him. A wave of warmth spreads through Jaskier as he rubs at the small of his lover’s back. “Eager for us, aren’t you, Geralt?”

A breathless grunt is the only answer.

“It’s all right, love, we’re going to take care of you.” He uncorks the oil, leaning down to nip lightly at the swell of Geralt’s cheek as he pours some into his palm. Cold. He warms it in his hand, rubbing vigorously. Eskel’s eyes track each movement. Silent, the bard holds out his lubricated hand. Eskel hesitates for a second then swipes his fingers through the mess until they’re dripping, coated thoroughly.

“Touch him before you touch him there.” It’s a rush, hearing the professorial tone of his own voice, seeing the witcher scramble to follow his instructions. Using his dry hand, Eskel pets the expanse of skin, running his fingers indulgently through the pale hair on his thighs, his arse. “Good.” Jaskier’s voice resonates deep in his chest, a low, soothing murmur. “Acquaint him with your touch. Let him know where you’re headed. Then when you’re both ready…” He takes Eskel’s wet hand by the wrist and guides it. “Just a finger. Start up here, down, down and past, and then up again. Again. Circle his rim, give him some lovely pressure, get him nice and wet but not in, not yet, not until…” He laughs as Geralt cants his hips back toward them with a desperate moan. “There we are. Now you can press in, just a little—oh, you’re being so good for us, love, taking his finger so well. Thicker than mine, isn’t it? What a treat.”

It’s too much, too arousing and too heady and too intoxicating, seeing hefty sword-callused fingers prodding carefully at the flesh Jaskier had seen stretched around his cock only this morning. He reaches out, an oiled finger lightly stroking the taut rim before slipping in effortlessly alongside Eskel’s.

A keening sound almost like a sob is muffled as Geralt rests his forehead on the bed, a full-body shiver running through him.

Eskel pats at his thigh. “Your boyfriend’s back here trying to kill me, Wolf.” He shoots a look of wonder at Jaskier before he leans forward, kissing the slight dimple at the small of Geralt’s back. “Hadn’t even thought about how good you’d look speared on us both ‘til right now.”

Geralt shoves back against them hard, pants as he fucks himself back on their fingers until Eskel adds another. “Not tonight, though,” he growls. “Tonight that hole is mine.”

“Gods, Eskel.” Jaskier pulls him into a breathless kiss. “He’s perfect, isn’t he?” he murmurs against scarred lips. “The way he can’t help seeking out more. Fuck, but he’s going to look so stunning on your cock. How do you plan to take him? Like this, let him whine and cry and shove himself back on your prick as hard as he can? Or have him ride you, watch him desperately take his pleasure as he stuffs himself full of you? Or…”

“Fuck, Geralt, does he always talk this much?” Eskel’s other hand shoots to the base of his own cock, giving himself a few rough strokes.

“Always,” a muffled rumble confirms. “It’s hot.”

Jaskier beams.

He slips his finger nimbly from Geralt’s stretched hole, drizzling a little more oil where Eskel begins to tease a third before Jaskier reclines on the bed, lying his head on the pillow where Geralt’s buried his face. Gently, he tilts the witcher’s chin toward him, taking in the wrecked breaths, the serene, softened gaze. He runs a warm thumb over Geralt’s lips before following it with a tender kiss.

He runs a hand over the muscled abdomen, down the sharp angles of the juncture of his hips, the pale coarse hair at his groin. Geralt’s softened some in the excitement of penetration, as he’s wont to do. Jaskier cups that lovely, familiar cock, rubs against him with just the pressure he knows his lover needs to coax him gently back towards hardness.

A breathy, high-pitched whimper that barely sounds like it could come from the same throat as Geralt’s usual guttural utterances breaks through the hazy atmosphere. “He’s ready for you,” Jaskier murmurs softly, reaching to squeeze Eskel’s unoccupied hand.

Eskel drapes his body over Geralt’s, covering his back and shoulders with fiery kisses as he rocks against him soothingly, fingers still buried deep as they rut together. He turns his face toward Jaskier, a heady desperation in his eyes. “Can I take him on his back?” he begs. “Don’t want to...to overwhelm him. But…”

Jaskier plants a reassuring kiss on Eskel’s cheek.

Geralt whines piteously as fingers slip from him, but he follows the gentle hands guiding him onto his back.

“Love,” Jaskier whispers, soothing fingers massaging his scalp, “are you with us?”

Geralt takes a breath, as though opening his eyes to meet Jaskier’s takes tremendous energy. He nods.

“You’re doing so well, darling.”

Geralt leans into his hand at the praise, eyes fluttering shut again.

“Stay with me, Geralt. Do you need a break?”

“Need Eskel.”

Eskel, kneeling between his legs, surges forward to capture Geralt in a careful kiss, gripping his shaft as he lines himself up. “Oil?” he pants, and Jaskier slips a wet hand between the two bodies to coat the thick, twitching cock liberally. “I’ve got you, Wolf,” Eskel whispers, sinking slowly into the pulsing tight heat, Jaskier’s oiled fingers lingering, anointing the site of their union.

The electric energy swells, inundating them, sweeping them into its current. The rough, slow grind as the witchers find a rhythm. Meandering callused fingertips dancing across scarred skin. Oil and precome and sweat mingling as they slide together. The earthy, sharp smell of the fireplace meeting musk and heat and desperation. Goosebumps covering warm flesh against luxuriant soft furs.

Geralt comes with a harsh cry from nothing but the movement within him and the insistent rub of Eskel’s abdomen against his cock.

Eskel fucks him through the aftershocks gently, bringing himself to a stuttering halt as Geralt trembles beneath him. He pants against Geralt’s neck. “Fuck,” he swears, kisses messily at the sensitive skin, “so beautiful, Wolf, feel so good under me.”

Geralt lets out a long breath.

“Had enough?” Eskel whispers against him.

Blissed out, relaxed, all loose limbs and satisfaction written in every line of his body, Geralt grins, his eyes suddenly clear, kissing Eskel as he rolls his hips pointedly back onto his cock.

And with this second wind it’s different, Geralt’s haze melting into something far more vocal, more demanding. “More,” and “fuck, Eskel,” and “hard,” and “won’t break me, Eskel, fuck,” and movement and manhandling and Geralt back on his hands and knees, Eskel burying himself hard and fast and too much, it’s got to be too much, Jaskier’s sure of it until “don’t hold back, please, please I can take it.”

A hand reaches out to grab roughly at Jaskier’s hip, dragging him in place before Geralt, his back against the headboard. “Please,” Geralt moans, mouthing frantically at the base of his cock, his drawn-tight balls, “need you too.”

He threads his fingers through sweat-damp white locks as Geralt hungrily sucks him down. The harsh, accelerating thrusts from Eskel rip through Geralt, slamming him further onto Jaskier’s cock and it’s so much, the delicate arch of Geralt’s back, the loud slapping of skin against skin, the strange unifying sensation of the three of them melding into one, the tight fluttering of Geralt’s throat milking the head of his cock, the way Eskel’s whole body seems to convulse, the choked-off howl as he chases his climax, the way he shakes as he collapses forward onto Geralt...

The adoring light in those stunning amber eyes as Geralt looks up at Jaskier through thick lashes, the way his hand sneaks up to hold onto his lover’s as Jaskier’s breath hitches, coming with a cry as Geralt swallows around him.

They topple gracelessly into a breathless tangle of limbs. Geralt groans piteously as Eskel unsheathes himself, leaving the bed swiftly, and Geralt hates feeling empty while he’s still coming down so Jaskier finds himself trailing long fingers to his messy hole, pushing the escaping come back into him, massaging and plugging him gently and running a soothing thumb over the stretched rim as they trade languid, exhausted kisses.

Eskel watches them from the beside with a look that might be wonder. “You two are a handful,” he chuckles softly. He climbs back onto the bed, wiping away drying spend from Geralt’s stomach with a warm, wet cloth that drags down, down between his legs, down to where Jaskier extracts himself one finger at a time, cleaning him with attentive care.

Geralt smiles up at Eskel lazily before pulling him down into a quick, filthy kiss, nipping at his lower lip. “You like us, though.”

“Hmm.” Eskel pulls away enough to grab a cup of water, tilting it to Geralt’s lips, careful not to spill. Then he offers it to the bard, reaching over to pet his hair with unexpected tenderness. “Thank you, Jaskier,” he says. “For sharing him with me tonight.”

“Should be me you’re thanking,” Geralt yawns, shifting around until he’s nestled comfortably on Jaskier’s chest, ear pressed soothingly above his heart. His eyes flutter shut as Jaskier traces aimless patterns on his warm skin. “Arse you were fucking happens to belong to me.”

Eskel snorts. “You sure about that?” He blocks the sleepy, playful swat aimed at him, taking the cup back from Jaskier and setting it carefully on the bedside table. He looks down at Geralt, already halfway to sleep on the bard’s chest, and rolls his eyes fondly. “That didn’t take long.”

“Well, in his defense, you did work him over pretty thoroughly,” Jaskier murmurs. He reaches out, tracing the muscles in Eskel’s scarred upper arm gently.

He leans into the touch, looking down for a moment. When he meets Jaskier’s gaze, his eyes are unspeakably bright. “Thank you. For tonight.” There’s a reverent rasp in his voice. “And for being good to him.”

Geralt’s breathing has evened out as Eskel slips out of bed, rifling through the discarded clothes.

“Bloody witchers, gods save me,” Jaskier sighs, flopping a dramatic hand to his forehead. “Geralt always used to try to slink off into the night after sex, too.” He catches Eskel’s gaze and extends a long hand towards him. “It’s a big bed, darling.”

They stare at each other in silence for a moment, something like awe blooming on Eskel’s exquisite, kind face as he nods, climbing back into the bed and molding his body carefully against Geralt’s back, a square hand finding Jaskier’s and squeezing.

And though it’s the dead of winter, Jaskier doubts Kaer Morhen’s ever felt quite so warm. He drifts into a peaceful sleep.

[unstoppableforcce]

beer pong

—trivia night universe (3)

pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x bartender!reader

part 2 | next part | masterlist

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this moment between the two of them so I hope you enjoy the mix of fun and somewhat serious! there’s no smut in this part but the next idea I have for them is smut related, and if yall have any ideas, feel free to let me know! I love these guys !!

“Now, do you want to do this or do you want to fuck around?”

Santiago Garcia had never been more in love with another person than he had been in that moment. 

He had been dancing around the idea for about a week or two now, but never had such a foreign concept been so clearly illustrated to him before. It caught him every so often, for brief seconds or sometimes minutes, but it didn’t stop him in his tracks until now. 

There had been the morning that you insisted on going with him to the grocery store because he never bought the right kind of apples and danced around him in line humming whatever song had been on the radio while the two of you were in his car. There had been the day that you texted him asking him what his favorite color was then showed up later that night with your nails painted that color. There had been some smaller moments too. When you asked him to put your necklace on for you, when you came up behind him in the kitchen and trailed kisses across his shoulders, when your perfume lingered in his bathroom long after you left for work...

The thought had a firmly secured spot in his mind, but it took you standing across the table from him with a raised brow, quirked hip, and ping pong ball in hand and repeated the question, he knew for sure. 

He was head over heels, breath knocked from his chest, absolutely and indiscriminately in love with you. 

And he was going to kick your ass at beer pong at the same time. 

Frankie couldn’t help but laugh as he walked towards the table and handed Pope a fresh beer. He didn’t say anything aloud, but he could read it on his face. He was smug and Fish only got smug when he was seeing right through him, and just as Santi was sure that he was in love with you, he was also sure that Frankie could see that on his face. 

He caught the ping pong ball you threw at his head and rolled his eyes, “Honey, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I don’t know, you talk a lot of shit Pope, but this is kind of my realm of expertise.” You smirked back, bringing your beer to your lips as Benny joined you by your side with another beer. 

To think you had been so nervous about meeting the guys officially for the first time. He’d told you over an over again that you had nothing to worry about but it wasn’t until the two of you actually arrived at Will’s house and you truly met them. You fell easily into pace alongside them, bouncing back and forth with them like you had known them for years. It was everything Pope knew it would be, and maybe that made him love you a little bit more. 

“Ok, house rules here. Nothing too crazy.” Benny warned carefully as he waved his hands over the table as if he were blessing the triangular assortments of red solo cups. “And normally I’d argue the lady gets to go first but it looks like we’ve got an honest-to-god face off ready here so...”

“Damn straight.” You easily replied, holding the ball up as Santi mirrored your movements. “Give me your eyes, baby.”

“You have them, honey.” 

Frankie and Benny both shared in a whistle, and as Will came outside with a beer of his own and a plate of snacks, he joined in as well. But your stare stayed locked with Santi’s as you both counted off and threw the balls across table to the respective cups. 

Yours sank easily while his swirled around the edge of the corner cup and rolled out, leading to the first round of cheers shared between you and Benny. 

Fish landed a heavy hand on his shoulder and blew out another breath, “this is going to be fun.”

And that was exactly what it was, an extension of what it had been for the first hour of the night, an easy flow of fun times. At least until you guys came down to two cups left on each side. 

“Oh the pressure is building.” Benny mocked as he lowered himself to his knees to put his face behind the cups to distract Frankie as he faked a few tosses before finally throwing and missing by nearly a mile. “Oh! The pressure has claimed another victim.”

“Shut up Benny—” Fish fought but the two of you were laughing too hard as you bent over to grab the ball from the grass. “They are a dangerous duo—“

“You’re telling me.” Santi chuckled, lining up his shot as both you and Benny began to dance behind the cups to distract him. It almost worked too, but at the last second, he found his focus and his skill and nailed the water in the cup effortlessly. “There it is!”

He slammed his hand against Frankie’s in the most intense high five that they had maybe ever shared while you and Benny threw your hands up, exasperated as the cups in front of you now totaled 2-1, not in your favor. 

Passing your ball to Benny, you fished the other ball from the water, dumped the water out, and stacked the cup all before reaching for your own beer and taking a hefty swig. This was it. If there was ever a moment when you needed to call upon the skills you probably should have left behind in college, this was it.

“After you,” Benny gestured with another wave of his arm as you sat your drink down and you gave him a quick reciprocated nod. 

Santi and Frankie began a similar dance to the one that you and Benny had managed, pulling the edges of your straight-lined focused mouth up at the corners even as you fought it. And when Will laughed, the whole group was dancing and laughing, and you couldn’t keep a straight face but you were determined to keep your shot straight. 

“We don’t have all night honey—”

“I’m focusing—”

“Focus faster—”

“Shut your pretty mouth—”

“We’re waiting—”

The toss was perfect, landing in the cup with a satisfying splash and an echoing cheer taking over the rest of the group. “Worth the wait, baby?”

He pulled the ball out with a smile he couldn’t keep down. He tried to smother it with his drink as he flicked the water off the ball but it was no use, the smile was there. The smile was there and it was contagious to the three other men who considered themselves his closest and only friends. 

It was good to see him this happy. Overwhelmingly good to see him this overwhelmingly happy. How could it not make them equally as happy?

Though, Fish wasn’t happy to see his chances to win slipping through his finger tips. 

“Let’s see what you got, Benny.”

“Let’s go.”

“You got this.” 

He turned to you and gave you a solid fist bump, something that had slowly became your ritual the more the two of you played. Then he turned back towards the table and tossed without a practice windup or any hesitation. 

It bounced on the rim. 

Both you and him leaned with it. 

It bounced in. 

The shouting must have annoyed the shit out of Will’s neighbors but none of the five of you seemed to care. You all just burst out in obnoxious cheering, Benny wrapped you up in a quick hug, twirling you around before the two of you descended into laughter, relishing in your victory even more when you saw both Frankie and Santi throw their hands up. 

“Good game,” Frankie easily conceded but Santi just shook his head, reaching for his beer. 

“Great game,” you countered with a fully body chuckle as you grabbed your own drink and walked around the table to wrap your arm around Santi’s waist and steal a quick kiss from his lips. But as he tried to hide his smile still, you quickly broke through when you said, “do I taste like a winner?”

That not only broke his smile from him, but a full body laughter of his own as well as he shook his head and pulled back from you. “You’re breaking my heart, honey.”

“You knew what you were getting yourself into.”

“Nah, I’m calling for a rematch,” he said, turning back to the group and repeating himself, “A rematch, and we’re going to get Will in on this one.”

“He can’t accept a fair, honest game—” Benny shouted as you raised your bottle in agreement. 

“I want a rematch—”

“Sore loser.” You mocked, but another game happened anyways. 

Though, this time, there was much less structure to it. Benny was blowing balls out of the cups as they swirled, Santi was smacking away bounces without second thought, and even Frankie was leaning in from the sidelines to get in the way of shots. But it was fun. More fun than you could remember having in a long time. 

The night calmed down after that; not as high energy but equally as fun once you all moved back inside. 

Benny had a few questions about mixing drinks which ultimately moved all of you into the kitchen with half of Will’s liquor cabinet and refrigerator out on the counter. It was mindless fun for you and they all seemed to be having a good time, but it also meant that by the time you all decided it was a good time to go, you were very, very drunk. 

With your fingers intertwined, the two of you said your goodbyes and walked back out into the nighttime chill, swaying your linked arms between the two of you as you walked down the driveway to where Santi was parked on the street. And again, as you giggled, tripping over yourself slightly, he was reminded again of the fact that was becoming a more and more common fact of life for him. 

He loved you. He was in love with you. He adored every bit of you and, the two of you hadn’t been together for long, but he was sure of it. 

It wasn’t a familiar feeling for him, it wasn’t something he was anyway comfortable with admitting if he was going to be honest, but he was almost a hundred percent positive. 

He loved you. He was in love with you. And he was sure of it. 

“Why so quiet?” You hummed, swinging your linked hands back and forth with more force to attempt to snap him out of his own head as they two of you made it to the curb next to his jeep. 

“I’m not quiet.” He attempted to counter but as he stopped walking and turned to you, he could see the disbelief plainly on your face. 

“You sure you’re okay to drive? I can call a lyft—”

“I’m fine to drive, honey, I had maybe three beers since dinner—”

“Then why so quiet?” You fought, with maybe a bit more drunken determination than you typically had as you tugged on his hand more. “Come on, I thought tonight went well—”

“Tonight went so well, I had an amazing time—”

“Then what’s wrong?”

You sounded sad, he didn’t want you to be sad, there was literally no reason in the whole universe for you to be sad and he hated that you thought that something was wrong but... but he couldn’t get the words out. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t said them before, it was just that he had really never felt comfortable saying them. The few relationships he had where he did say it, they ended shortly after the three little words left his lips, and the last thing he wanted was for that to be the case here. You were the best thing that had ever happened to him and if he went too fast... if he said it before you were ready for it and he messed everything up...

He didn’t want to ruin this. He was terrified, and by the looks of it, so were you and that was his fault. 

Keeping his mouth shut was going to ruin it, telling you was going to ruin it...

“Nothing’s wrong, honey, I swear.” He said easily but as he pulled his keys from his pocket and tried to turn to the door, you kept your hold on his hand and kept him where he stood. 

“Did I do something wrong tonight?”

This was so far from fair to you. You were drunk and he was being evasive, giving you every reason to worry while he was trying to get you not to worry. 

How could a night where everything had gone right so far go south so fast?

If he could just open his goddamn mouth—

“Santi, I don’t understand—” You dropped his hand, bringing both of yours together in front of you, wringing them over each other as his silence held...

And he just couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I love you.”

He swore his heart was going to beat out of his chest, his stomach was filled with nerves he hadn’t felt in years and watching your face was doing nothing to calm him down. Half your face was cast in shadow from the street lights that lined the road, and as his eyes scanned over every inch of you, he still didn’t find anything to go off of in terms of your reaction. You held his stare with the same sad look you had been wearing before he said anything. 

What did that mean?

Was it too early? It had only been a few months, so he couldn’t blame you if you didn’t feel the same especially given how long it took him to open up to you about the littlest of things. He didn’t even know how long he was supposed to wait, was there some sort of timeline that healthy minded adults followed that he was just never told about?

Did he just ruin things? Was he moving too fast—

“Really?”

Really?

What did that mean? Did that mean that he said it too early and you didn’t believe him? Did that mean that you didn’t feel the same? Did that mean he just caught your off guard or did you wish he hadn’t said it? 

He could see what felt like a thousand emotions playing across your face and he didn’t know which meant what—

You lips cut him off before he got too deep into his thoughts. And it wasn’t just the surprise of your lips on his, it was the pure force you put behind it. 

He stumbled back into the side of his truck, catching you with his body as you pressed every inch of yourself into him. Your hands pulled at the sides of his face, tugging on his ears to get yourself even closer as he wrapped his arms around your waist and towards your back, holding you as close as you were holding him as his lips reciprocated the heavy kiss. 

There wasn’t a thought in his mind anymore that wasn’t you. Your intoxicated feet even stepped on his in your overwhelming eagerness, solidly holding every single part of you that you could against him. 

He wasn’t sure what it meant, but there was no way it could be bad news anymore, that he was sure of as your tongue pushed into his mouth and your hands trailed up to his hair, tugging with much more intensity than he was used to. 

But even then, he had to pull back to catch his breath and it was worth checking in with you as he did. With his forehead pressed to yours, his arms cradled around your back, he opened his eyes and found yours waiting there for him. “So...”

Your face twisted into an adorable intoxicated confusion, “So?”

“I just told you I loved you and you kissed me and I don’t know--”

You stole another kiss off his lips easily. “Are you kidding me?”

Was he supposed to know what that meant? Did he know what it meant and his brain just wouldn’t let him think it or was he just too hesitant? How could you kiss him with that kind of passion and still leave him so confused--

“No, I’m not—”

“Santi, I’m so in love with you...” 

Blowing out a breath of relief, he shook his head and pulled your face back towards his, reconnecting your lips and swinging you around to press you into the side of the car while you giggled against his lips. But then he pulled back again, leaving you chasing his lips. 

“What—”

“I have to drive home eventually, we can’t just have sex in Will’s driveway...” He laughed out, bringing his hand to your bare neck and the gold necklace that laid there and tracing it lightly with his calloused fingertips. 

“Why not?” You chuckled back, nudging your nose into his as his laughter melted together with yours, as hot as the sun despite the gentle chill of the night that surrounded the two of you. 

“Because I know he has security cameras and I have a very comfortable bed at home...” He countered, taking his keys back into his hand, unlocking the car, and opening the passenger door for you. 

“Fair point...” 

As he led you into your seat, he moved to turn away but you caught him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back in for one last kiss. 

One last kiss he couldn’t pull away from. 

He didn’t know what was different about it from all the others, he definitely didn’t know why it stood out from the kissing session that had just concluded, but he knew that he could feel it was different. And you felt it too, because you lingered the same way, leaning out of the car to hold onto him, still by the collar. 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me...” He sighed out against your lips, the words falling much easier now than they had around the three little words. 

He didn’t know if it was just the words of ‘I love you’ or just his own fears or his comfort now... He didn’t know what it was, but the words fell like dripping honey from his lips. 

“I don’t know, you’ve got three pretty good things in the form of your best friends who we just left inside and—”

“And they’re the best and I’d put my life on the line for them, I have before, but I’m not in love with any of them.” He continued easily, stealing one last kiss before shutting the passenger door and walking around to the driver’s side with a smirk he was never going to lose. 

Not as long as he was with you. 

And he was hoping that was going to be for as long as he lived. 

He got back into the car next to you and found you staring at him wide-eyed and surprised but his smirk didn’t leave his lips and he easily started the car. 

“Santi—”

“Now that I’ve said it, I’m going to be saying it all the time, I just want you to know that.”

Your slightly drunken brain had cleared up enough to leave you happy and sober. Your head finally caught with you and a smirk the same size as his grew on your lips. “Good.”

“It might even get annoying—”

“Do you worst.”

Yeah. He loved you. 

--

tags: (these are tags from teh first part, let me know if you’d like to be added or removed) @mandoplease​ @spider-starry​ @shakespeareanwannabe​ @mylifeliterally​ @this-cat-is-dea​ @woakiees​ @imananxiousdriver​

[cucumbers-and-olives]

The Winner Takes It All

Summary: Cast as Donna and Sam in their school’s production of Mamma Mia, the two rehearse “The Winner Takes It All” for the first time. But some added drama before the show makes their performance much more real.

Category: angst, high school au

Fandom: JATP

Paring: Reggie x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings/Includes: cheating, but “only” kissing

A/N: Ahhh i’m posting this an hour late i’m sorry! this is my submission for @jatpsongficfeb, thank you @bright-molina and @dream-a-little-bigger-x for coming up with this amazing idea!

A/N pt 2: many of you will be begging for a part two (i know bc both my betas are) and it’s coming on saturday! time tba

Mandatory Thanking of the Betas: shout out to @wrhen and @funsizearsonist who are amazing betas as always!

Please don’t repost my work without my permission, in part or whole. My work can also be found on AO3 under the same username. Thank you!

~keep reading~

“Okay, let’s rehearse ‘The Winner Takes It All’, Reggie, Y/N, I want to see what you can do with this,” Ms.Davis said. The stagehands moved pieces of the set around, and the world was created. The stairs were on stage left, and there was a bench stage right.

You took a deep breath and you finally met the eyes of the boy you were about to sing to. Your roles had been perfect for you a week ago, but almost coincidentally, finding him kissing another girl made you fit the role even better.

The pain in your eyes was evident, and he knew that it would make this scene even better. Even though the cost was your relationship. It was his fault and he blamed himself. One stupid mistake.

“Alright, everyone ready?” There were various yes’s and yeah’s in response, and once again, Ms.Davis gave the two of you instructions. “Feel your characters. Reggie, when you are ready, I want you to start at the cue line. Be Sam, you got this.” She sat down and pulled out her notebook and you inwardly smiled.

There was a huge exhale in the theater. Everyone knew what had happened, and everyone was anxious to see how this scene went.

“Donna, c’mon, this is about us,” Reggie said, cueing you. There was something in his eyes, something that looked like regret, but you had to ignore that and focus.

“God Sam,” You ad-libbed before starting the song.

I don't wanna talk

About the things we've gone through

Though it's hurting me

Now it's history

I've played all my cards

And that's what you've done too

Nothing more to say

No more ace to play

As you acted, it slowly became less acting, and more real. He had hurt you, and there was nothing he could do to fix it.

The winner takes it all

The loser standing small

Beside the victory

That's [his] destiny

The pronoun change was obvious, and although you couldn’t see it, everyone began to whisper around the theater. You knew exactly what to do to hurt him and to get extra notes later from Ms.Davis.

I was in your arms

Thinking I belonged there

I figured it made sense

Building me a fence

Building me a home

Thinking I'd be strong there

But I was a fool

Playing by the rules

You threw all your pain and anger into the song, and he shrank into his shell. The song was softer, but your words were still daggers in his back. One after the other.

The gods may throw a dice

Their minds as cold as ice

And someone way down here

Loses someone dear

“Reggie? Do you want to go over lines? We’ve got half an hour till reh-,” Your word died out as you saw what he was doing. Or more specifically, who he was doing. “Sorry I can see you’re busy kissing someone else.” You said, stalking out of the room.

He chased after you into the hall. “Y/N! It’s not what it looks like, I promise!” All of the actors and crew in the hall quieted down as he spoke. “Please.” He begged.

You took a breath and turned to face him. “What the fuck Reg? ‘It’s not what it looks like?’” You mocked him. “How does you kissing someone else not look like exactly what it is?” He opened his mouth to speak but you stopped him. “I don’t know why I thought we could last.” You turned around and almost ran down the hall, but you had to keep your head high, so you walked, and you counted the classroom doors that you passed.

The winner takes it all

The loser has to fall

It's simple and it's plain

Why should I complain

But tell me does she kiss

Like I used to kiss you

Does it feel the same

When she calls your name

“Y/N, I’m sorry, tell me what I can do to fix this, please,” He begged, cornering you in the bathroom. You stared past him at the pink tiles.

“Get out,” You said quietly.

“Please,” He begged.

“This is the girl’s bathroom. I won’t ask again. Get. Out.” He sighed, defeated.

As soon as the door closed behind him, you collapsed. It was too much. Too much pain, too much anger, too much to all be bottled up inside. So, you let it out the only way you knew how, by crying. You sat on the cold tile floor for five minutes before you forced yourself to get up.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you looked dead inside. But you cleaned yourself up, put a smile on your face, and walked out onto the stage. You couldn’t look at him, so you didn’t.

Somewhere deep inside

You must know I miss you

But what can I say

Rules must be obeyed

Rules. The pact you had made when you had started this relationship. There were only two. Be honest, and don’t cheat.

Well in high school, cheating was kissing someone else. Cheating was kissing your best friend.

The judges will decide

The likes of me abide

Spectators of the show

Always staying low

The game is on again

A lover or a friend

He acted his way through it, but that line hit both of you hard. If he had kissed another girl, someone who wasn’t your best friend, it might have been better.

A big thing or a small

The winner takes it all

I don't wanna talk

If it makes you feel sad

And I understand

You've come to shake my hand

“He’s a great guy. Don’t hurt him,” You could see your best friend lurking in the corner of your dressing room.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, it’s not like that.”

You turned around in your chair, and it squeaked a little. “Except, it is. I don’t care who kissed who, or who initiated it. I have a show to do, and I don’t need a friend or a boyfriend to do that.” You tried to walk out the door but they grabbed your arm, stopping you.

“Y/N/N,” They begged.

Your words were cold as you spoke. “Only my friends call me that. You are not my friend.”

I apologize

If it makes you feel bad

Seeing me so tense

No self-confidence

But you see

You ran up the stairs for the last line, looking down at Reggie, who stared out into the audience.

The winner takes it all...

-

Shoot me an ask to be added/removed from my tag list!

JATP: @n0wornever @potterly @calamitykaty @screwunsaidemily @crybabyddl @badwolf00593 @dream-a-little-bigger-x

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Spooky unpredictableness

31 Days of Spooktober

Day 4/31

Cassian fully believed his girlfriend was a demon.

Not in the bad sense of the thing, even though whenever he told her that she would reply by saying that there wasn’t a good sense in that. No, Cassian just believed that Nesta could not be human. There was a series of reasons to that, but the biggest one was that his girlfriend couldn’t be scared.

Haunted houses, horror movies, pranks, jump scares… Nothing drew more than a simple frown from Nesta. Cassian just knew that she could walk into Hell itself and probably scare the Devil before being scared by him.

And so obviously, Cassian spent the whole month of October trying to scare her.

He didn’t do it as much during the rest of the year, but there was something about Halloween season that just made him insanely tempted to giive Ness a good fright. She wasn’t like Feyre who hated scary pranks, or like Elain who would scream and laugh seconds later. Nests didn’t react, and so she didn’t particularly care if Cassian tried to scare her or not.

“I’ll get you this year.” Cassian said, eyes narrowed as he stared at Nesta.

She only smiled sarcastically over her coffee mug, reading the news on her phone. “You couldn’t make me gasp from surprise even if your life depended on it, sweetheart.”

Cassian jaw fell slightly, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry?”

Nesta raised her icy grey-blue eyes to him, a light-brown eyebrow raised. “We know each other for seven years. We date for four. Tell me one time you got a reaction like that from scaring or surprising me. Let’s be honest, Cass, I can’t be scared and you have become predictable. It’s ok, it’s how our relationship works.”

“I will surprise you.”

“Uh-huh.” Nesta murmured, going back to her coffee and news.

“I mean it.”

“Of course you do.” Nesta’s ironic smile only grew. “Why don’t you go to Halloween spirit buy a Michael Myers mask? You can try catching me when I’m getting out of the bathroom. No, wait, this is not very original. Haven’t you done this already too? Like three times.”

Cassian huffed, getting up from the table. “You’ll see, Nesta Archeron.”

“Want to bet?”

He, stupidly and recklessly, assented. “Yes, I actually do.”

“Very well, name your conditions.” Nesta’s face was probably hurting from her smile.

“If I make you obviously surprised, and I mean even a gasp, I win. If by the end of the month this doesn’t happen, you win. The winner can ask anything and the loser has to say yes.”

Nesta raised her eyebrows, low laughs coming out of her. “Oh, I’m in. You’re so fucked.”

He walked out of the kitchen, Nesta’s laughs following him until he closed the bedroom’s door.

He would never admit it to anyone, especially to Nesta, but she was somewhat right. It’s not that Cassian had never tried to surprise her, but Nesta was always one step ahead, always noticing stuff he thought he had hidden well. She knew him way too well, and getting anything that would be actually surprising to her was near impossible.

And then there was the fact that Nesta couldn’t be scared. It wasn’t something solely based on Cassian, but just in general. Both Feyre and Elain would always tell the rest of their friend group that Nesta was never scared, especially during Halloween when she knew things were fake. She had been a serious kid, and nothing, absolutely nothing, would even force a surprised gasp out of her.

He was dating a goddamn evil genius, and he would need to step up his game a lot if he wished ti get Nesta to at least widen her eyes.

And so Cassian paced his room all throughout breakfast time. He mentally annotated some ideas for actual scares, but nothing that he truly believed that would make Ness surprised. After thirty minutes of nothing, he sighed, throwing himself on their bed.

At least he hadn’t bet with her.

Oh, wait.

—————

Nesta adored Halloween.

People usually believed that because of her serious demeanor, she was the type of person to hate the holiday, but to be honest, since she was a kid Nesta had loved Halloween time. She liked the autumn aesthetic, the elaborated decorations, the horror movie marathons. She loved the candy sales and how everyone was minding their own fucking business and not shoving their noses of hers.

Above all, Nesta adored Halloween because it never scared her.

Since she was little she would watch slasher movies and while her sisters squirmed and screamed, she was intently watching the story. Haunted houses in amusement parks were fun because of other people’s reactions, because they also always failed to make her jumpy. Spooky prank wars with her sisters was easy because they could never scare her, but were easily scared by her.

In short, Halloween was Nesta’s holiday and she made sure to enjoy every single second of October.

It also didn’t hurt how hilarious she found her boyfriend trying to scare her every year. At this point, he had already tried everything from masks to fake insects, jump scares to fake blood. He would even sometimes run out of ideas and repeat the same prank as if she would have magically grown terrified of plastic spiders. She found his dedication both cute and funny, but also effortless. She had gone twenty four years without falling for these pranks, and it was very unlikely that things would change now.

Sometimes she thought about asking Cassian to stop doing them. It was a waste of his money, but he seemed to enjoy them so much that Nesta just couldn’t bring herself to burst his bubble. There was also a very smug part of her that thrived on always winning their unspoken Halloween matches, but she’d never say this out loud if only to maintain her cold and detached nature about these childish pranks.

All those factors together were what made her, in the following morning, taste her sugar before pouring it into her coffee.

She turned to Cassian who was sitting at the table and intently not looking at her. “Really, Cassian? Salt instead of sugar? Not even my dad would fall for that one.”

Cassian scolded, but refused to look at her. Nesta simply smiled and laughed smugly, looking around the cabinets for what was labeled salt but was actually sugar.

“You got it on a Buzzfeed article, didn’t you? I told you those things will fry your brain and it’s not like you have neurons to spare.”

His head whipped in her direction, eyes narrowed and defiant. “I will surprise you, Nesta Archeron. You’re in for a fucking ride if you think not.”

Nesta smiled coyly, letting her coffee mug on the counter as she slowly walked to Cassian. “Really?”

“Yes.” His jaw was tight, but there was something about his expression that was slightly off, that was slightly different.

Ignoring the fact that she was probably being paranoid, Nesta laughed, sitting on Cassian’s lap and putting her arms around his shoulders. He was stiff under her, something that only made her laugh once more. “Cass, our relationship is not based on surprises. As much as it pains me to say, since the beginning you understood most of me, and I understood most of you. And that was a long time ago. There isn’t any aces to play, no rabbit inside the hat. Our relationship is transparent and it’s good that it’s this way.”

“You can still surprise me.” He grumbled.

“You are easily impressionable.”

“Fuck off.” Cassian’s brood broke, and he let out a huffed chuckle. “This has not convinced me to stop, just so you know.”

Nesta jumped off his lap, smirking as she went back to grab her coffee. “I never hoped it would.”

——————

It was October 31th finally.

As much as Nesta still believed she couldn’t be surprised, Cassian sure as hell was trying. Worst was, he wasn’t trying hard, he was just trying a lot.

In the past year the pranks were elaborate and hard to build, but this time they were… classics.

Fake bugs inside your drawers, mayo instead of toothpaste, garlic inside the Oreos. The type of shit that would make you want to throw the thing away, but not really the type of stuff to frighten you. He did buy some masks and put them in random places of the house to scare her, which obviously didn’t happen. He tried to get her scared by doing jump scares after they watched a horror movie, by turning on and off the lights whenever she was alone in a room. He tried the whole mirror thing that, whenever the bathroom was too hot, the words “help” would show up in it.

It was funny and he obviously thought about it, but there was something missing. There was something that was essentially Cassian not being put into those pranks. It’s like he was actually getting his ideas from Buzzfeed, and he would definitely know that none of those things would actually surprise her.

To be honest, she was somewhat disappointed. Nesta would never say it out loud, but she liked the pranks. It was a part of her relationship with Cassian since they started dating— before even— and this year it had been… boring, predictable.

Exactly what she had said it would be.

As she padded to the kitchen on Halloween morning, Nesta wondered if Cassian was doing it on purpose because of what she had said. Wondered if he had made it purposefully predictable to make her regret her own words.

She stopped in front of the fridge, shaking her head. This wasn’t Cassian’s style, no. If he was pissed about what she had said, he would have talked to her. The one in the relationship that usually brooded and was middle vindictive was her. A lot less than she was in the beginning of the relationship, and something she was constantly working on. It wasn’t that she was a mean person, but Nesta had learned to bottle her emotions so much, had learned to treat everyone so coldly as a defense mechanism, that sometimes she would panic and those would be her initial reactions.

It was a slow process— becoming more and more the person she wished to be. A lot of it had been done because of the amazing support she had from Cassian and from her sisters, but Nesta was also proud to recognize that a lot had to do with only herself.

No, Cassian wouldn’t be cruel and do something like that. Nesta knew this because, during the years that she took to overcome her trauma and get to know herself more, she had also gotten to know Cassian more. And he was never cruel, never mean.

Nesta shook her head, clearing her head of thoughts as she opened the fridge.

She could only stare at the jar in front of her, torn between sighing or laughing. She grabbed it, turning around to look at Cassian who had just entered the kitchen. “Really, Cass?”

Cassian huffed, spreading his arms. “Not even a gasp?!”

Nesta chuckled, setting the jar down on the counter. It was big and filled with a green liquid. What was supposed to be scary was the head inside that looked a lot like Rhysand’s. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t be happy if this was actually Rhys’s head.”

Cassian laughed, shaking his head. “You’ve got to let the grudge go.”

“I have!” Nesta deadpanned, examining the jar. “Most of the times, at least.”

“Well, looks like I failed.” Cassian said, and Nesta raised an eyebrow at his tone. He didn’t sound defeated, he sounded smug.

“Yes, you did.” Nesta announced, eyes narrowing at Cassian. “What the fuck are you smug about?”

His smile widened. “Nothing.”

“Fuck off, Cassian. If you honestly think I’ll let you surprise me on the last day, you’re mistaken.” Nesta rolled her eyes, turning back to the fridge to grab some grapes. “If you honestly think I’ll—“

And right there, for the first time in her entire life, Nesta found herself absolutely shocked when she turned around. A loud gasp left her mouth, the grapes she’d been holding falling to the ground and rolling all the way to where Cassian was kneeling, a complacent grin on his lips. He was holding a small black box, a simple silver band with small black diamonds on it.

“Well, well, well, Nesta Archeron. If that gasp wasn’t like fucking music to my ears.”

She placed a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Cassian…”

“If I remember our bet correctly, which I do,” he winked at her, holding the velvet black box higher. “I believe I had the right to anything I want and you have to say yes.”

Nesta let out an incredulous laugh, her head shaking. “I should have guessed that your shitty pranks weren’t because you were tired.”

Cassian threw his head back and laughed. “No, they weren’t. I thought that by making your expectations for pranks this year be lower, this whole thing would be more surprising.”

“Are you proposing to me only to win a bet, you asshole?”

Cassian grinned again, hazel eyes shining against his brown skin. “No, but you need to admit it has come in handy. I had been planning this for weeks, and then you asked if I wanted to bet I could surprise you. Honestly, you set yourself up to this. And I haven’t proposed yet, chill a little, woman.”

Nesta laughed again, eyeing Cassian. He was still wearing only the shorts he wore to bed, his shoulder-length hair a mess of curls. His face still looked slightly puffy, his usual sharp cheekbones red from happiness. Nesta guessed she wasn’t much better; she was wearing one of his white shirts, light brown hair falling down to her shoulders.

“So, are you going to ask or not? I don’t have all day.”

“So bossy, what am I getting myself into?” Cassian said ironically, but soon his face softened, smile becoming loving. “Nesta Archeron, even though you don’t have another option that it’s not a yes, would you give me the pleasure of marrying me so I can spend the rest of my Halloweens trying to scare you?”

Nesta chuckled merrily, nodding. “Yes, and even if I wasn’t forced to say yes because of this bet, I would have said it nonetheless.”

Cassian got up, immediately sliding the ring into Nesta’s finger, his other hand sneaking around her waist. He pulled her against him, a huge smile overtaking his mouth as he pressed his lips to hers. “I know you would. You’re not that unpredictable either, sweetheart.”

.

.

.

.

A/N: Oh, hello Nessian, it’s been a while... I had this idea during September and didn’t know who to give it to, but I realized today how good it fits what I imagine the Nessian long term relationship would look like! Hope you guys like it and about the kinktober: I know it was supposed to be Sunday but I was procrastinating so it’s gonna be here around 3 AM probs

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[ibijau]

gonna blame this on @robininthelabyrinth who suggested a dark AU where the Jin win, and Jin Zixuan has two pretty concubines as his prize. I ended up doing something a litte different, where instead the Jin side with the Wen at the start of the war, but hopefully it’s still fun :) 

also on AO3

Standing beside Wen Xu, Jin Zixuan tries to figure out where he's met the two young men they've just captured. A task made difficult by the weather (it has been raining for days now, and their new prisoners are caked in mud, especially after being pushed face first into the dirt road by Wen Xu) and the falling darkness (Wen Xu likes to attack at dusk or during the night, when others are tired and less wary). But Jin Zixuan knows them. He's almost sure he knows them. They certainly seem to know him. The tall one turned pale upon first spotting him, though that was his only reaction, and the shorter one won't stop glancing at him with barely restrained hatred. He looks almost familiar too, with his delicate face. They've met, Jin Zixuan knows they've met.

His attention is mostly on the tall man though. After all, even though their clothes are of equally poor quality, the taller young man is the one who showed some skill with martial art, and his speech betrays a higher level of education. He must be a rogue cultivator, and one of the good ones at that, since he managed to give them trouble without a spiritual weapon.

Where on earth has Jin Zixuan met him before?

“So, will you not join the glorious armies of Qishan Wen?” Wen Xu insists after his usually speech. “Hey, Zixuan, why don't you say something to convince them, hm? Earn your keep.”

Jin Zixuan flushes at being addresses this way. Normally, he hates how informal Wen Xu is with him, acting as if they were old friends, all because Jin Zixuan's father is a coward without morals. This time though, he lets it glide. Upon hearing his name, the taller prisoner looks up toward him and in that position, the rain washes off enough of the mud for Jin Zixuan to finally realise who it is in front of them. It knocks the breath out of him. This, definitely, could change the course of the war.

Jin Zixuan crosses his arms on his chest, and pretends to closely inspect the two men kneeling in the mud.

“If they don't join us, can I have that one to play with?” he asks, nodding toward the taller man. “He looks like he'd make a fun pet.”

The young man stares at him with disbelief, while Wen Xu, predictably, bursts out laughing.

“Zixuan, don't you already have a few whores with you? If you keep falling for every pretty face you see, your house if going to end up too full, and they'll start turning on each others.”

Jin Zixuan shrugs dismissively, the way he's seen his father do countless times. “If there's a fight, I'll get rid of both the winner and the loser, and replace them with someone prettier. But I like that one. He's got a face that's made to swallow cocks.”

Wen Xu laughs again. It's lucky that it's him with Jin Zixuan, and not his horrid little brother. Neither brothers are interested in men, but Wen Chao likes to be a pest who'd want his share of the fun before letting Jin Zixuan have what he wants. Wen Xu, by contrast, doesn't really care for the pleasures of the flesh, and has enough political awareness to give Jin Zixuan some face. He knows that if Jin Guangshan hadn't sided with the Wen so immediately after the destruction of the Lotus Piers, the Wen might be facing more opposition than they are at the moment.

“Zixuan, if you want him so much, then have him,” Wen Xu generously offers, gesturing toward the prisoners. “Or do you want both perhaps? Hm? The other one is somewhat pretty as well. If you don't grab him, I'm tempted of putting him in a dress and playing a prank on ChaoChao.”

Jin Zixuan shivers, and glances at the other young man. He knows he's seen him somewhere, but even now he can't figure out where. Is saving him worth the risk of ruining everything else? Is he important enough? If Jin Zixuan does nothing, if Wen Xu does play such a prank, that young man is sure to die. Wen Chao never takes well to being made a fool of, especially by his brother, and he tends to take out his anger on whoever is less susceptible to fight back. He also likes to make others bear witness to his fits of anger, especially Jin Zixuan who just doesn't do well with torture.

He can't save everyone. It'd be too dangerous. The Wens aren't stupid, and they don't trust him, not when Jin Zixuan sided against Wen Chao during the reeducation camp, before he went home to a father who'd taken the easy choice. And it is so important to save the taller man, Jin Zixuan knows, so he should take this small victory while he can and be satisfied with that.

But there's just something about the other one too. Jin Zixuan knows that face.

“You know, he would look pretty in a dress,” Jin Zixuan agrees, his heart beating so fast he feels as if he might be sick. “Too pretty to be wasted on your brother. He's not a cultivator anyway, is he?”

Wen Xu bends down and grabs they young man's wrist, inspecting his pulse for a moment before letting go and shaking his head.

“No, not at all. But aren't you scared to bring pretty faces into your home? Your whores might get tempted to do something stupid.”

“Heimei will keep them in check,” Jin Zixuan retorts. “She's too smart to mess around, and too mean to let others have fun if she can't.”

Heimei will also absolutely kick his ass about taking such a risk, if this turned out to have been a wrong move. At least, after getting over the sheer joy that should accompany the reveal of the taller prisoner. Hopefully, that should be enough to placate a little his moody concubine.

“Zixuan, you need to stop fucking people who could kill you in your sleep,” Wen Xu jokes. “Ah, I'm tired of this... sure, you can have them both, but tomorrow you're helping me interrogate those Lans we captured the other day.”

Clenching his teeth and forcing a smile, Jin Zixuan nods. He hates interrogations. He hates, also, that Wen Xu is convinced he's doing him a favour by making him help. Apparently, Wen Xu wants to help him become less sensitive, since he finds that Jin Zixuan has been too sheltered in his life, just because Jin Zixuan hasn't been watching his father torture people for fun since he was five.

Considering what other things Jin Zixuan has borne witness too, though... neither of them have great fathers, really.

With the matter of what to do with their prisoners settled, their group leaves the road. Jin Zixuan personally blocks the spiritual energy of the taller man who throws him a cold look for it, and they all head back to their headquarters in a nearby small town. Wen Xu chats the entire time, either to complain against the weather or to guess what their enemies' next move might be. It's a relief when they arrive in front of the house Jin Zixuan claimed for himself and they have to separate. Wen Xu's company is like poisoned wine: it's best to avoid it entirely, or only have a very small quantity otherwise.

Once inside, Jin Zixuan orders that a bath be drawn for himself in his personal quarters. Then, after a moment of reflection, he asks for a second one so that his new pets can get clean as well. The housekeeper offers to have them prepared for his pleasure and sent to him once they are more presentable, but Jin Zixuan refuses.

“It'll be fun to make them wash each other,” he says in the tone of voice his father uses sometimes, the one that always makes others uncomfortable. He's getting good at using it too. “But bring some clean clothes, and scented oils. I don't think Heimei will want to share. See if you can find a dress that could fit this one,” he adds, pointing at the smaller man whose face, under the mud, is black with restrained rage. “And make sure we aren't disturbed.”

The housekeeper bows to him and goes to give orders. While Jin Zixuan checks the news with other servants the Wens gave him, his prisoners are taken away to his quarters. Since there's no urgent business requiring his attention, Jin Zixuan is soon free to follow them.

The house he's living in used to belong to a rich merchant who ran away when the war broke so close to his home. Being abandoned, it was seized by the Wens and then offered to Jin Zixuan, while Wen Xu claimed for himself the local magistrate's manor. It was intended as an insult, a reminder of their sect's respective positions, maybe even a jab at Lanling Jin's inglorious origin. Jin Zixuan took it all in stride, because this house is bigger than the magistrate's, and his personal quarter well isolated from the servants' who are all loyal to the Wens.

It is an odd contrast to see those two muddy young men wearing robes of rough linen in the middle of Jin Zixuan's opulent room, where everything is gilded with gold or made of precious wood. Jin Zixuan pretends to ignore them while servants come in with bathtubs that get filled with hot water. He kicks off his shoes and lounges on a sofa to watch the proceeding, and waits.

He doesn't have to wait very long.

The first tub is only just filled up when someone wrapped in delicately embroidered silks storms into the room. Although the person's face is mostly hidden behind a veil, there's no hiding their anger.

“Are you trying to replace me?” Heimei shrieks in such a high voice that everyone present winces. “How many concubines do you need? Aren't I enough?”

“You are everything I could need, my little flower,” Jin Zixuan awkwardly replied. “I just thought it'd be fun to have new toys in the house. We captured those two men and since they're pretty enough, I figured it might be fun to watch them play with each other while my little summer fruit is seated on my lap. Don't you want that?”

“Don't presume to what I want!” Heimei explodes, before quickly glancing at the two men. Too quickly, in fact, to get a real look at their face. “They're dirty!” Heimei gasps. “They're going to ruin the floor! And you're ruining the sofa!”

“Then maybe my pretty little peach should help me out of these wet clothes,” Jin Zixuan suggests, as flirty as he can make himself to be. He's not very good at that, and can see the servants rolling their eyes, but the second tub is nearly full now. “Heimei, MeiMei, my sweet, my tender girl, be good and undress me.”

Heimei, of course, refuses, puts on a show about being unloved and discarded. Jin Zixuan is forced to rise from his seat to take Heimei in his arms, petting her hair, squeezing her waist, even letting his hands on her ass, all while professing that she is his one true love who he will marry as a second wife when the time comes. Heimei complains and whines but redirect his hands toward her chest so he can grope her there, and she's starting to untie his robes when the servants finally leave for good, careful to close the door behind them. There are silencing talismans engraved on the wood which only worked when the doors are fully closed, and nobody wants to hear what sometimes happens in this room.

As soon as they are alone, Jin Zixuan pushes Heimei away from himself, which Heimei understands to mean their usual comedy isn't needed anymore.

“Zixuan, what the fuck?” Heimei hisses in a deeper voice than before. “We agreed to lay low for a little bit!”

“I couldn't let them fall into Wen Xu's hands,” Jin Zixuan retorts, before walking to the two puzzled men, and bowing before the taller one. “Lan gongzi, please forgive me for speaking of you in such a manner before. I hope you understand the circumstances left me no choice.”

Lan Xichen's eyes open wide, as if he really hoped he hadn't been discovered. Truthfully, it was a close thing. Without his ribbon and his elegant white robes, Lan Xichen looks like a completely different person. Still, he's lucky that Wen Xu is somewhat bad with faces, or this could have gone bad.

“What do you mean, Lan gongzi?” Heimei gasps, rushing closer. After taking a longer look at Lan Xichen, Heimei gasps again, sobs, and falls into his arms. “Xichen-gege! You're alive, you're alive!”

More puzzled than before, Lan Xichen kindly allows this outburst of emotion from an apparent stranger. He awkwardly pats Heimei's back before trading a glance first with his companion who shrugs, then with Jin Zixuan who pinches Heimei's arm.

“You still have your veil on, remove it or you'll just creep him out.”

Heimei slaps away his hand, but pulls back enough to remove the tear drenched veil. It is Lan Xichen's turn to gasp in surprise.

“Huaisang? What are you doing here?”

Nie Huaisang nods grimly.

“Zixuan managed to find me before the Wen and helped me hide,” he explains, wiping away his tears. “I've been here with him since then, but we couldn't exactly let anyone know. We're on the wrong side of this war after all.”

Lan Xichen nods slowly, before turning his eyes to Jin Zixuan. His expression is a little less cold and disgusted now, though that's not saying much. Jin Zixuan knows how little liked he is by those on the other side of the Sunshot Campaign, and he cannot blame them. Without his father's support, the Qishan Wen might not be doing so well.

Without Lanling Jin's help, the Unclean Realm might not have fallen. Nie Mingjue might still be alive, leading this war the way everyone knows he's been preparing to do for years. Instead, what's left of Qinghe Nie is led by a far less talented cousin, and though the allied sects are doing their best, it's doubtful that they'll last much longer.

“I thought you were...” Lan Xichen starts saying, his voice trembling with emotion as he looks back at Nie Huaisang. He then catches himself, and gets back in control, speaking again with more calm. “Huaisang, you were assumed to have died in Qinghe. I am so glad this rumour was wrong. But I must wonder then... how much more lies have been spread about Jin gongzi?”

“It depends what you've heard,” Nie Huaisang says, coming closer to Lan Xichen and taking his arm the way he likes to do with friends. “We've been so busy trying to convince the Wen that he's really on their side, we haven't really had time to wonder what everyone else thinks of him.”

Lan Xichen nods, perhaps understanding how delicate their position has been these last three months. Or maybe it is just that Jin Zixuan's reputation is too awful to be mentioned by someone of the elegant Lan sect. Lan Xichen's companion ends up being the one to explain it, and it isn't pleasant to hear.

“People say that Jin gongzi is a murderer and a rapist,” the young man says quite bluntly. “They say he has killed many people even outside of battle, that he collects men and women as concubines. It is said that he even captured his former fiancée after she had already lost all her family, and refuses to give her to his mother who wishes to return her to her grandmother. Instead he uses her as a whore, and lets the Wen have their way with her in exchange for favours to him.”

The blood drains from Jin Zixuan's face at that accusation. He had expected something bad, but not to such a degree.

“Jiang Yanli's virtue is untouched!” he exclaims. “She's living here too, and I've convinced Wen Xu that she isn't to be touched because I want to use her as a tool to claim Yunmeng Jiang's territories when this is over. I would have preferred to let her return to her grandmother, but I'm half sure my father would have either claimed her for himself or sent her directly to Wen Ruohan to prove his good faith. You can meet her later, if you like, and see for yourself she's been treated as well as she could be, under the circumstances.”

After losing so much, Jiang Yanli is quite miserable these days, of course. She's the last survivor of her sect, of her family. Meishan Yu is taking part in the war, apparently, but they're not a particularly big clan, and Wen Chao has been targetting them particularly, in case they secretly harbour some Jiang survivors. Wen Xu once drunkenly told Jin Zixuan that although his brother swore to his father that he fulfilled his mission perfectly, he actually never found the corpse of Jiang Wanyin, so the young man could very well be still alive and plotting his revenge.

After hearing this, Jin Zixuan had hesitated to share the news with Jiang Yanli. In the end, he didn't. With the way the war is going, even if Jiang Cheng is still alive right now, he's unlikely to survive much longer, and Jiang Yanli would just end up having to grieve a second time.

“So you are on our side, Jin gongzi?” Lan Xichen asks.

“I would be if I could,” Jin Zixuan says. “I cannot go directly against my father, as I hope you will understand. But I do not like associating with evil people, so I try to act according to my convictions whenever possible. It has become harder lately. The Wen don't want to insult my father by pushing me to the side, for fear he'll change sides, but they've also figured out I am a rather poor general and never lead my troupes to any satisfying victories, so they don't involve me in anything important.”

It's not that he loses his battles. He can't afford that. But Wen Xu is always complaining that he's failing to capture enough prisoners, that so many escape while returning to their headquarters, that he's always picking too many to become his personal playthings. Nie Huaisang and him had just decided that he would try to be a little less obvious in his lack of cooperation, at least for a few weeks, if only because to continue like this would endanger the people he's already rescued. They still haven't figured out how to set these people free, but now, with Lan Xichen there, it becomes more urgent than ever. If he's discovered in Jin Zixuan's custody, it's all over.

“That you're trying at all is to your credit,” Lan Xichen says, more kindly that Jin Zixuan thinks he deserves when he's still had to kill people, where there are so many victims of the Wen he couldn't save. “I am grateful to you for helping me, Jin gongzi. I fear, though, that I must ask you to help me some more. Meng Yao and I really cannot be absent too long. Our side has lost too much already, if I appear to have disappeared again, I fear our allies will lose courage.”

The name Meng Yao startles Jin Zixuan who stares at Lan Xichen's companion with mild horror. He remembers a banquet for one of his birthdays, where his father was told a certain Meng Yao wanted to see him who carried a token. He remembers, also, his mother's anger, and later Jin Zixun laughing as he described that Meng Yao being thrown down some stairs like the bastard he was.

Jin Zixuan remembers all this. Judging by the barely contained heat in his eyes, so does his half-brother.

His father would be furious at him for having taken risks to save what he would consider one of his most shameful bastards, but Jin Zixuan has long stopped caring what his father thinks of him. He doesn't even read his letters anymore, since they're nothing but demands for Jiang Yanli to be sent to Lanling, and threats of punishment if he remains so incompetent as a general.

“It's going to be hard to release you,” Jin Zixuan says. “We'll think about it tomorrow, when Jiang Yanli joins us.” It was her, after all, who told him to disguised Nie Huaisang as a woman and present him as his capricious concubine, stating it would just seem like he's adopting the Wen's habits. “For now, please have a bath, eat something, and rest. You both look like you need it.”

“It has been a rough few days,” Lan Xichen confirms, bowing politely. “Thank you for your hospitality and your help, Jin gongzi.”

Jin Zixuan bows back, uncomfortable with a gratefulness he's really not sure he deserves. He then leaves that part of the room so Lan Xichen and Meng Yao can have a little privacy. Nie Huaisang looks as if he might stay and chat with them as they bathe, shameless as always, but Jin Zixuan drags him away.

Even if they've just been saved, even if they're grateful, he wouldn't be surprised if the two young men didn't fully trust them yet, not with the reputation he apparently has now. It's better to give them a chance to talk alone if they want, to show that he trusts them.

“This is going to be a mess,” Nie Huaisang remarks as they sit by a window to wait for their guests to be presentable. “You won't be able to stay neutral much longer, Zixuan.”

Jin Zixuan nods. If he's honest, it's a relief that he'll be forced to really pick a side after weeks of kissing ass and pretending the Wen siblings don't make him want to puke every time they say something.

He doesn't like the idea of going against his own father, but Jin Zixuan has betrayed his own values too long already.

And if he must die doing what's right... at least, he'll be in good company.

[livesincerely]

it’s beginning to look a lot like... ch. 4 (END)

Also on Ao3. Chapter three here.

00000

The Twelfth Christmas

“You’re shaking the table!”

“No, I’m not!” 

“Yes you are, you dirty cheater!”

“You’re just mad ‘cause I’m winning⁠—”

“You wouldn’t be winning if you weren’t shaking the table⁠—”

“Hey, chill the fuck out,” Jack interjects, wandering over to investigate before things can get out of hand. “We’re gonna get another noise complaint.”

“Charlie’s cheating!” Tony insists. “He’s shaking the table!”

“No, I’m not!” Charlie denies. “Tony’s just a sore loser.”

“I’m not a sore loser!”

“Well, you’re definitely not a sore winner!”

“I said, chill out,” Jack says firmly. “Or I’m gonna be the one sweeping the pot.”

“Aw, Jack!” they whine in unison.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jack says. “Choo-Choo, stop shaking the table,” —Charlie ducks his head, pouting⁠— “and Racer, stop stealing from Charlie’s pile when he ain’t lookin’,” —Tony’s eyes go wide⁠— “yeah, Tones, I saw that.”

There’s a few grumbles, but no real arguments. 

Satisfied that he’s halted World War Dreidel, at least for now, Jack goes back to the living room and crawls into the Pillow Fort. 

“Everything okay?” Davey asks, lifting his arm so that Jack can snuggle back into his side. 

“Just another throw down,” Jack says, resting his head against Davey’s chest. “You know how they get.”

“There’s no mercy in dreidel,” Davey says, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Only annihilation and bragging rights.”

Jack laughs softly. “Yeah, I think they’ve really taken that rule to heart, querido. They’re planning total domination and they ain’t afraid to go through each other to get it.”

He takes another moment to get good and comfortable—arms tucked around Davey’s waist, one hand slipping up under Davey’s shirt to sit against the curve of his stomach. Davey throws his legs over Jack’s, his arm a warm weight across Jack’s shoulders, and he tugs a blanket up to cover them.

Davey asks, “Good?”

“Go for it,” Jack murmurs.

Davey unearths the remote from their nest of pillows and hits play; the dvd picks up right where they left it before Jack got up, with Hiccup finding Toothless in the quarry.

They’re watching the movie and not watching the movie. They’ve probably seen it about a hundred times, it’s not like they don’t know what’s gonna happen, so it’s sort of just on for background noise and because it wouldn’t be Christmas without it. Mostly they’re just sitting together, enjoying each others’ company as the last few hours of the day wind down. 

It’s been an impossibly hectic holiday season: Davey’s semester didn’t end until the 20th, leaving only a couple of days for frantic Hanukkah shopping and barely more than that for last-minute Christmas shopping. There’s still a handful of nights of Hanukkah left⁠—they’re spending the rest of the week at the Jacobs’ to finish out the holiday, then ringing in the New Year the night after, leaving tonight as the only lull in the madness. 

Well, considering the muffled arguing he can still hear coming from the kitchen table, there’s never really a lull in the madness. But lying here, settled in with Davey’s fingers combing through his hair and his heartbeat beneath his ear, the boys happy and whole just a few feet away… Jack can’t imagine anything better.

He shifts slightly, tipping his head up just enough to see⁠: Davey’s looking towards the TV, his expression soft with relaxation and a hint of sleepiness, the fairly lights casting a gentle glow across his features and leaving specks of color dancing in his eyes.

Jack’s heart does a little loop-de-loop around his chest. He never gets tired of looking at Davey. He’s pretty sure he could spend the rest of his life looking at Davey.

“What’re you thinking about so hard, Jackie, love?” Davey asks after a while.

Jack curls around him that much more, his hands sliding up to splay wide over Davey’s ribcage. 

“Nothin’,” he says, quietly content. “Still jus’ thinkin’ about tomorrow.”

Davey hums in acknowledgement, his nails scratching lightly at the nape of Jack’s neck. “Mama’s been hinting that she wants us down there as soon as physically possible⁠. She sounded pretty frazzled⁠—I think Les must be driving them all a bit crazy, waiting.”

“What, and she thinks adding us into the mix is gonna grant her some peace?” Jack asks with a snort. “Charlie, Tony, and Les might distract each other for a while, maybe, but there’s no way whatever Les is puttin’ her through now is worse than whatever the three of ‘em together will cook up and unleash. But either way, I’m not goin’ anywhere until we get at least two loads of laundry done because that sucked ass last year, coming home to a shit-ton of dirty sheets and blankets.”

“Yeah, I figured we wouldn’t be getting there until early afternoon-ish,” Davey says. “I told her maybe 2pm or 3? And, at this point I think she’d take the chaos if it meant she could get a few hours in the kitchen, uninterrupted, without Les trying to talk her into a round of dreidel. Apparently he’s taking the tournament very seriously this year.”

“There’s somethin more serious than whatever the fuck went down last year? I didn’t think that was possible,” Jack says. He pauses for a moment, considering. ”Oh, hell, what am I sayin’? This is Les, Charlie, and Tony we’re talkin’ about.”

“Yeah, Mama said the same thing,” Davey agrees. “She specifically mentioned that they’re setting aside a separate table just for dreidel⁠—somewhere safely away from any food or drinks or breakable glassware, presumably.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Jack says. “Though, I’m tellin’ ya now, if anyone ends up with sufganiyot in their hair again, I’m groundin’ both of ‘em ‘til Easter.”

“God, can you even imagine?” Davey says, laughing. “I thought Sarah was gonna murder all three of them.”

“I thought Racer was gonna shatter a window, with how loud he screamed when she started chasin’ him,'' Jack adds. “Then, remember? We found him hidin’ under your old bed?”

“Oh my god,” Davey says, his laughter bubbling up into a full on giggle. “I totally forgot about that!”

Maybe it’s the holiday getting to him. Maybe it’s the bit of eggnog he had earlier or the smell of pine and the hint of candle smoke in the air or maybe it’s just the way that Davey’s looking at him, expression bright and his eyes crinkled up at the corners, but suddenly Jack’s heart feels too big in his chest⁠—like his entire self might burst open.

“What?” Davey asks, still smiling, when he notices Jack staring at him. “What is it?”

“Do you remember when we were at your parents house?” Jack asks. “Not last Hanukkah, but the one before that? When you first started your grad program?”

“What about it?” 

“It was, like, a week before Christmas, a coupl’a days into Hanukkah'' Jack starts, thinking back. “I picked you up from campus right after your last test, already had the car packed and the boys bickering in the backseat, and between the snow and the holiday traffic, it took us, like, four hours just to get to your parents house, and I loved every fucking minute of it. ‘Cause you’d moved out, an’ you had classes an’ finals an’ a whole fucking graduate dorm an’ it felt like I hadn’t seen you in weeks, weeks, after four years of livin’ in each other’s back pockets an’ I missed you so fucking much. You weren’t even twenty minutes away but it felt like you were gone⁠, all’a the time—”

Jack’s rambling, he knows he’s rambling, and he’s not sure if he’s even making any sense. But Davey makes no move to interrupt him, listening with that quiet intensity of his, eyes wide and warm.

“⁠—and I’d spent all of fall looking forward to the end of your semester because then I’d have you for a whole month. A whole month, where things could be like they were, like they were s’pposed to be. I’d get to make ya coffee in the morning and hear ya singin’ in the shower and see ya reading on the couch when I got home from work. I was so excited, but I hadn’t realized yet, you know? I didn’t know.”

He pauses for a breath, heart fluttering a little in his chest, then continues.

“But then, that evening at your parents… you never sleep the night before you have a big test, always stay up too late studying and worrying, and sure enough, you were passed out before Jeopardy even came on, absolutely exhausted. I hadta carry ya upstairs later⁠; your Ma had made up your old room for us so I just tucked you in, then slipped into bed beside you. I didn’t think anythin’ of it ‘cause we always share and you didn’t even wake up, just kept on sleepin’. But then, the next morning…”

Jack raises a hand and drags his thumb gently over the ridge of Davey’s forehead.

“You always get a little wrinkle right here, when you ain’t been sleepin’ enough,” he murmurs, rubbing away an imaginary crease between Davey’s brows. “Tension, I guess. It’s how I can always tell that you ain’t been taking care of yourself. But that next morning, I woke up and you’d sort of curled around me in your sleep, half on top of me. My whole fucking arm was numb ‘cause of how you were lying on it but I didn’t dare move ‘cause you looked so comfortable. No wrinkle, no crease, no frown… and I just kept lookin’ atcha an’ lookin’ atcha…”

His hand slides down, cupping around the side of Davey’s face. Jack looks him right in the eyes and says, “And suddenly I thought to myself, ‘Holy shit, I am apocalyptically in love with this man.’”

There’s the tiniest sound of an inhaled breath, Davey’s throat working beneath his palm. 

“‘Cause I hadn’t known, ya know? But once I did—once I realized⁠—then I knew. I figured out right then and there that all I wanted was you, that all I’d ever wanted was you, and the boys, and all of us together for as long as I could keep ya. That I’d wanted you since ya brought me that hat and scarf ‘cause you wanted me to be warm, an’ the phone card ‘cause you wanted us to be able to talk, an’ the sketchbook ‘cause you wanted me to have something just for having, and it hurt so bad because it was too late, you’d already moved out, you were pullin’ away, an’ I had a whole month of fucking torture because I had you right where I wanted you but I didn’t actually have you⁠—”

Davey leans that barest bit closer and kisses him, long and slow. 

“You’ve always had me,” he promises. “Jackie, you’ve always⁠—”

“But I didn’t know,” Jack says. “And you didn’t know that you had me. But really, the whole time we could’ve been⁠—”

“We were idiots,” Davey agrees, pressing his forehead to Jack’s. “But what else is new?”

“I love you,” Jack says, reaching out to lace their fingers together. “I love you so much, Davey. You don’t even realize how much I love you.”

“Sure I do,” Davey says, his voice a little wet, giving Jack’s hand a squeeze. “It’s about as much as I love you. Now stop it before you make me cry.”

“Love of my life,” Jack says. “‘M so lucky to have you.”

“Jack.”

Jack smiles, lifting their clasped hands up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to Davey’s knuckles.

“Happy Hanukkah, Dave.”

“Merry Christmas, Jackie.”

00000

Tags: @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside, @corbinthecowboy

[leelysian]

Changbin as your older brother AU 💖✨

genre: fluff, bullet point fic

word count: 2.3k

warnings: swearing

Disclaimer: I do not personally know Changbin. This work is purely fiction and my own idea. I took inspiration from his on screen persona. Please do not translate or re-upload my work.

A/N: hi :) Sorry if this is kinda bad. I’m running out of ideas for this series(?). It’s really hard to write these aus for the members when there’s limited knowledge about them and when you’re trying to make everything seem different without making it seem like they’re all one dimensional and cut from the same cloth. Thank you to everyone who has been reading these older brother aus and thank you for being patient. Please leave some feedback, it really keeps me going. ❤️

☆ Let’s start with you as babies.

☆ Changbin would for sure as kiddy questions like “How did the baby get inside mummy’s tummy?” “When will baby come out?” “How does baby poop?”

☆ Your parents either answered him vaguely or somehow dodged his questions.

☆ Would sleep in your parents bedroom close to your mum to protect her baby bump.

☆ Would be hella excited to feel you kick in your mum’s tummy.

☆ Would say cute things to the baby bump. “Come out quickly baby I can’t wait to play with you.” “We can play with *insert favourite toy* together.” “We’re going to have a lot of fun together.” I am close to tears

☆ Doesn’t care about the gender.

☆ When you were born, he was extremely excited to see you but little Binnie patiently waited till your parents had their moment first until they ushered him to the hospital bed.

☆ He was wide eyed as he held you as if scared to hurt you. He smiled when he stroked your cheek with a finger and smiled wider when you grabbed onto his finger.

☆ CUDDLES, CUDDLES AAAAAAAND MORE CUDDLES

☆ Tried to help your parents take care of you but most of the time failed.

☆ *tries to put pants on you* *gets kicked in the face instead*

☆ The only thing he could properly do was cuddle you as he fed you a bottle and somehow you ate properly if he was the one feeding you when you were being fussy.

☆ *you two fall asleep while he’s holding you*

☆ Adoring/curious stares.

☆ Fed you a bit of lemon for jokes when you were starting to grow teeth and had the time of his fricking life when he saw your reaction.

☆ I’m talking the kind of laughs he does with his whole body.

☆ Helped you learn how to walk patiently. Just laughed when you fell on your butt.

☆ Taught you how to high 5 at a very young age.

☆ You talked to him a lot. Not like he understood what you said because it was mostly babbling but it was fun for both of you.

☆ You broke a lot of his toys. He’d get upset until he got new ones.

☆ The one toy he never shared with you was Gyu, his plushie.

☆ Fast forward you’re older and know how to walk and talk coherently, Changbin is a kid.

☆ Changbin wants cookies but they’re on the top shelf and your mum purposefully put them there so neither of you could reach.

☆ “Changbin what are you doing?” 

☆ Changbin: 👀

☆”I’m gonna tell mum~”

☆ “NO DON’T. If you help me, I’ll give you a cookie then you have to promise me you won’t tell mum.”

☆ Your smart ass contemplated for a few seconds before you agreed, “Ok what do we do?”

☆ “If I lift you up can you grab the jar? Don’t drop it.”

☆ “Yes.”

☆ Somehow both of you managed to retrieve the jar unscathed. Why none of you thought to grab a chair and do it, I don’t know.

☆ One cookie turned to two then three until the jar was half empty and your dad caught you. 

☆ Everyone except you two with crumbs around your mouths in the room:️  

👁️👄👁️

☆ Your dad walked in with brooding eyes. He grabbed a cookie and started eating quietly, “It’s a secret.”

☆ All three of you smiled happily and continued munching on the cookies.

☆ Until a while later your mum walked in and gasped, “YOU ATE ALL THE COOKIES?! *insert dad’s name* YOU WERE IN ON THIS TOO!”

☆ The three of you gulped nervously until you said, “No mum look! We saved a few for you!” The three of you smile innocently.

☆ Your mum sighed and smiled exasperatedly. “This is the last time.” A chorus of agreement sang throughout the room yet nobody meant a single word.

☆ Most of the time you two were hyperactive and played around so much you’d be knocked out cold by the time it was around 9 pm. 

☆ Your parents had to lug you to your shared room.

☆ You two played tag a lot, he was really fast so you’d always get tagged very quickly.

☆ HIDE AND SEEK

☆ Running. So much running. You’re the hyper kids.

☆ Rock paper scissors. Winner flicks the loser’s forehead. Changbin always took the penalty but never really doled it out on you, if he did it wasn’t too hard. 

☆ Races. “LAST ONE IS A ROTTEN EGG!” 

☆ Changbin could easily win, but sometimes he slowed down purposefully to let you win for a change.

☆ Giggles. Giggles everywhere. Giggles all the time.

☆ Pillow forts in your room. 

☆ Tickle fights.

☆ Cuddling together while watching cartoons.

☆ You thought he was cool.

☆ He liked you thinking so highly of him.

☆ Made him want to be even cooler for you.

☆ He’d ruffle your hair playfully.

☆ He’d pinch your nose. “AAAAHHH”

☆ He’d pull your hair.

☆ PIGGY BACK RIDES!!!!!!!!!

☆ Such a joker. It was harmless fun.

☆ Once you doodled on his school notes. He got mad and stopped talking to you.

☆ He rarely got angry at you, sure you two bickered sometimes and sometimes got whiny at each other.

☆ You apologised with a treat you got, instead of eating it by yourself, you gave it to him as a peace offering. 

☆ He didn’t eat it himself, he shared. “It’s okay just don’t do it again. These are important. You’ll know when you get older.”

☆ “Ok. I’m sorry.”

☆ Things became alright again.

☆ Fast forward you’re tweens/teens/young adults.

☆ The dynamic is wild.

☆ You two would always goof around like idiots.

☆ Changbin annoyed you a lot.

☆ “Y/N look over there!” you’re stuck in visible confusion. *smacks your head and runs* 

☆ “CHANGBIN!”

☆ You’re eating chips. “Y/n what’s that?” “What’s what?” *steals bag* 

☆ “When are you gonna stop tricking me?”

☆ “When are you gonna stop falling for that?” 

☆ You get pissed.

☆ Then it escalates into a wrestling match until ultimately you get hurt and start nearly crying in pain.

☆ “FUCK! SHIT SHIT SHIT I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY HERE YOU CAN HIT ME BACK. PLEASE DON’T TELL MUM! PLEASE STOP CRYING!” 

☆ You’re watching tv peacefully. Changbin walks in with a nerf gun/water gun. “REACH FOR THE SKY!”

☆ The living room turns into a warzone or a set for mission impossible.

☆ You ‘borrow’ his clothes. “Y/N STOP STEALING MY SHIT!”

☆ He ‘borrows’ your charger. “GET YOUR OWN CHARGER CHANGBIN!”

☆ He casually strolls into the living room, sits next to you with feet propped up on the table, snatches the remote when you’re not looking and changes the channel. 

☆ “HEY I WAS WATCHING THAT!”

☆ “Well too bad. I don’t wanna watch it.”

☆ “GIMME THE REMOTE!” “No :}”

☆ Another wrestling match for the remote.

☆ You hide his glasses. Basically keep them with you.

☆ “Hey y/n have you seen my glasses?” “Nope.”

☆ He looks EVERYWHERE. 

☆ You keep them on top of the tv when he’s away. “Hey Changbin found it on the tv.”

☆ “That’s weird I don’t remember putting them there. The heck?”

☆ “Maybe you’re just losing your mind. Already becoming an oldie?”

☆ “I may be old but I can still kick your ass.”

☆ You’re the younger sibling that either grows up to the same height as him quicker or grows taller than him somehow.

☆ He hates it. You thrive on it. “Hehe shortie. Can you even reach?”

☆ So he started working out to tone up.

☆ You’re barely able to lift a heavy box. He picks it up with ease. “Do you even lift?”

☆ He’s washing the dishes. You leave your dish for him and sneak out. “Y/N! I SWEAR-”

☆ You have a lit music taste because of him. 

☆ You’re sleeping, he’s up early. You need to go to school. Instead of waking you up like a normal person, he pulls the blankets completely off of you and tackles you. “Y/N WAKE UP!”

☆ “CHANGBIN YOU CRAZY BASTARD! DO YOU WANNA DIE?!”

☆ You two are eating. He’ll finish eating seemingly at the speed of light and stare at you eating. “I’m not sharing.”

☆ “I didn’t say anything.”

☆ awkward silence

☆ You pass your food to him. “You owe me, pabbit (pig + rabbit)”

☆ Both of you forget about it later on.

☆ He’s hella clumsy.

☆ He’d definitely break a glass or plate or vase.

☆ He’s the type to fix something just enough to make it seem not broken so the next person who uses it would think they broke it.

☆ Anything to not get his ass handed to him by mummy dearest.

☆ You do this thing to annoy him which is basically mock/copy him when he tells you something. 

☆ “Hey you know-” “Hey you know-” “you know that-” “you know that-” this continues a few more times until he screams and tackles you.

☆ You did this thing where you literally jumped on his back when he was unaware and you'd stick to him. The scream was worth bursting your eardrums. Worked every time.

☆ He was built he could carry you.

☆ Another thing is copying his actions.

☆ He yawns, you yawn. He scratches his nose, you copy. He stretches, you stretch. He shifts, you copy. 

☆ “STOP COPYING ME!” “Stop copying me” “I said STOP COPYING ME!” “I said stop copying me!”

☆ “I hate you.” “I love you too bro.”

☆ His friends like you and a lot of times you hang out with him and his friends.

☆ He wears the weirdest stuff just for shits and giggles.

☆ “Hey y/n.” “What?” you look at him and burst out laughing.

☆ Where he got a shark head mask, you had no idea. You had tears running down your face as he started to sing and sexy dance to baby shark.

☆ “STOP I’M GONNA PEE!”

☆ You two say the darndest things.

☆ “I just realised- if vampires can’t go out in the sunlight then wouldn’t the moonlight kill them too?

☆ “How?”

☆ “Moonlight is just the sunlight shining from behind the moon dumbass.”

☆ “Oh shit you’re right.”

☆ Another example of this would be:

☆ “The hospital is the only place you leave without entering.”

☆ Both of you:  👁️👄👁️

☆ You’re eating watermelon. You bite some of the white bit.

☆ “I just realised the worst part of the watermelon tastes like a cucumber.”

☆ awkward silence “wait you’re right.”

☆ “Anyways, here you can wash the plates.”

☆ “Y/N!”

☆ AEGYO FLUFFY GOODNESS

☆ Will use everything in his cuteness arsenal to get what he wants.

☆ You hate to admit it actually works sometimes.

☆ “Y/n~ pleeeaaaseee get me some cookies.”

☆ “No.”

☆ He keeps whining and rocking or shaking you. “PLEEEEAAAAAASEEE”

☆ “FINE!”

☆ Who’s really the older sibling and who’s really the younger sibling?

☆ “You know you could’ve just gotten them yourself with the time it took you to annoy me into getting them for you?”

☆ He just smiles toothily. 

☆ “If you could choose between a giant me or 5 mini me’s which would you choose?”

☆ “Neither I’d rather die.”

☆ “Y/N! WHYYYYY” he whines and shakes you.

☆ He’s always there for you when you need him the most. He’ll always comfort you with tight hugs. 

☆ He’s the type of person to make silly jokes and make you smile or laugh to make you feel better instead of sort of brooding with you.

☆ This is only acceptable with him, if anyone else tried to be goofy when you were upset it wouldn’t work.

☆ Because it’s Changbin’s thing. Only he has that power.

☆ You rarely see him upset. He’s always smiling, joking around and acting cute.

☆ One time, really late at night you saw him in the kitchen sitting with a glass of milk. He hadn’t noticed you. 

☆ This was off putting because you rarely saw him this quiet. He’s always laughing and loud.

☆ He was staring off in the distance, the glass gathering condensation from being out of the fridge and into warm temperature.

☆ “Can’t sleep?” He was startled and shook his head no. “What’s on your mind?”

☆ “It’s nothing.” You sat with a glass of water. “You know you can tell me, right?”

☆ “I know I just don’t wanna bother you.” he said and this confused you. “Why would you be bothering me? That’s absurd.”

☆ He shrugged, “I dunno, seems like all I do is annoy people these days.”

☆ You pat his back. “Hey, that’s not true. Well it only applies to me because you’re my sibling. That’s a thing. Is there anything specific you’re talking about?”

☆ He stays quiet for what seems like the longest time until he unloads. 

☆ You’re not good with words like he is. You try your best to listen and give sensible input. 

☆ Changbin admired that about you. Despite being younger, you were sometimes mature and understanding. You were authentic, you never tried to be something you weren’t.

☆ Which is why he always valued your words. 

☆ Afterwards if he had anything on his mind, sometimes he’d vent to you.

☆ You the ability to make his insecurities disappear simply because he feels stupid for the way he thinks when he talks to you. 

☆ You make his problems miniscule, not in a belittling way but in a way that makes him realise how things could be different or done differently.

☆ Your sense of perception was something amazing.

☆ This is why Changbin believed you were the best sibling he could ask for.

☆ But little did he know, you wouldn’t be able to function properly if he wasn’t the goofy, silly, clumsy, idiotic Changbin who exists today.

☆ He’s just the right type of flavour you need in your bland life.

☆ don’t be shy put some more.

☆ He’s the right balance of a clown, a baby and a guardian angel.

☆ He’s extremely caring, loyal, kind hearted and annoying.

☆ You’d change absolutely nothing.

[eeunoia]

BTS Imagines

Night game | Jeon Jungkook

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader

Summary: Bestfriend!Jungkook is paired with Y/n who’s a little uncompetitive so he gets a little whiny about it. We all know how competitive our maknae is so... 😏

Warning: none

Y/n walked towards the living room with a banana milk at her hand as she sipped from it from time to time. Jin tried to collect everyone at the living room since he wants to do some game for tonight’s pajama party. It was random but everyone agrees so they’re now waiting for Jin to start his mini-game program.

Jungkook sat down at the sofa and watched as Y/n entered with her banana milk. She’s chatting with Jimin, laughing at something him and her are talking about. He pouted as he gently reached for her hand and guided her beside him.

She was too busy talking with Jimin that he just followed where he pulled him. She then showed him a little soft smile and sip again at her banana milk. Jungkook eyed it and smirked at her.

“Noona give me a sip.” he said with a pouty lips. Y/n shook her head as she handed the banana milk for him to take his sip. She chuckled as he drink from it like baby. She fixed his messy hair and even parted it at the middle.

“Hair’s too long.” she mumbled and he heard her right away. His eyes went up like he’s trying to see his hair. Y/n smirked watching her bestfriend go adorable once again. It was a normal scenario for her.

She’s older than him but they seem to get along very well. They’re best of friends and very comfortable with each other.

“Do you think I should cut it?” he asked making her slowly shake her head ‘No’ and then she smiled at him.

“Nah, I like it.” it was late before she can take it back. Jungkook’s already smirking in front of her. He was obviously excited to hear that his bestfriend liked his hair. She often denies it whenever his hair suited him but today’s different.

“You like it huh?” he said with a teasing voice. She gulped and quickly looked away trying to let the topic fade away. Thankfully they both heard somebody arriving.

Jin and Yoongi entered the living room and clapped to catch all their attention. She snapped her head towards them and waited for what they’re gonna say.

“We’re gonna have small games tonight.” Jin said holding a blank card board. She chuckled finding it funny. He really went all out in being the MC because he got a blank card so that he can act that he’s reading from it.

Hoseok noticed the blank paper so he burst into laughter and even hit the person beside him. She find it funny as well so she just chuckled together with the other boys.

Jin seems unbothered and even gave them a brief about the games. Y/n let out a sigh feeling tired already. The game’s not yet starting and she’s not energetic already. She hates playing games because she isn’t the competitive type. She can lose for all she cares because she hates to feel competitive.

“The winners can take the big rooms and the losers will be here at the living room’s couch!” her eyes darted over at Jin when he asked that. Since when did they agreed on making the result of the games affect the place they’ll sleep in.

“What? No! I thought we’ll just play to kill time?” she was quick enough to complain. Jin eyed her and shrugged his shoulder, a smirk was present over his lips.

“Where’s the fun in that, Y/n?” he said and she just rolled her eyes as she clicked the side of cheeks using her tongue.

“So we’ll be divided by two’s since we’re eight people.” Yoongi said.

Jungkook cheered beside her obviously getting fired up. She rolled her eyes again because of him. Her bestfriend is the complete opposite of her. He hates losing so he’s really competitive.

“Alright! Hyung’s right, noona! It’ll be fun. Whoever ends up with you will sleep in the living room!” Jungkook teased him laughing.

Jimin and Taehyung laughed together with him and teased Y/n as well. She made face at them and smack their heads for being annoying.

“Don’t be too hard to Y/n boys.” Namjoon interrupted them and smiled as he watched them tease each other.

Y/n got Jungkook headlocked but he’s still smirking, “It’s true tho. Noona is not competitive so she’ll surely let the team lose!” he announced and chuckled. He set himself free from her hold so she glared at him that only made him laughed even more.

As Jin made the other members pick the paper so they can be grouped, Jungkook smiled teasingly at Y/n before he dropped a swift kiss over her cheeks without anyone noticing.

“Just kidding, noona.” he said but she doubt if he really mean it. I mean, he still have the teasing face on.

When it’s their turn to pick, Y/n playfully pushed Jungkook but the boy didn’t even budge from his place. Everyone finished picking so it’s time to announce who’s grouped together.

Slowly the team got formed but Jungkook and Y/n still got no pair. It was only Jimin, Jungkook and Y/n who is left. Suga still don’t have a pair. Jin asked the three of them to open it at the same time that they agreed into.

Everyone was anticipating for it and waits silently until the three of them opened it all at once. Y/n have her eyes closed tightly hoping not to be paired with Jungkook because he’s really competitive and he’ll surely pushed her to do better.

The boys got so noisy viewing the result. Hoseok had his hands over his stomach laughing hardly. Jimin looked at their papers and cheered as he jumped into his Suga hyung for a hug.

“The funny thing is Jungkook ends up getting paired with Y/n!” Yoongi announced that made Y/n opened her eyes in shock. She checked her paper and then Jungkook’s.

Her shoulder fell as Jungkook bit his lips because he can’t believe he really got paired with the most uncompetitive person in the room. But he’s somewhat happy because it’s Y/n.

“Alright. It’s settled then Jungkook and Y/n will occupy the living room!” Taehyung teased since Jungkook said before that whoever got paired with her will lose.

Jungkook whined, “Aniya! (No) The game’s aren’t starting yet.” he said.

Y/n let out a loud sigh and then she sat down at the sofa feeling tired already. Jungkook turned and went straight to her.

“Noona you need to do better today so we won’t sleep at the living room’s couch.” he encourage her. Jin was already explaining what game are they playing but they’re not listening.

Y/n furrowed her brows, “Are you pressuring me?” she asked sounding a bit upset. She knew this will happen. Jungkook’s competitive ass is showing once again. He really hates losing!

Jungkook chuckled, “Do you want to sleep here? Look, do you think I’ll fit here together with you?” he asked and even motioned the living room’s couch.

He’s exaggerating a bit, the couch is just fine. He just doesn’t want to lose.

“Jungkook-shi? Y/n-shi? Are you listening?” Jin asked when he noticed the two were too occupied with their own conversation. Jungkook turned and answered.

“Neh,” he said with a slight smile and stood up.

The first game is Palm Pushing Game. Y/n shut her eyes the moment she heard it. It’s over for her. She’ll probably let her opponent push her off balance at the first seconds of the battle.

“Noona, I’ll teach you to defense and offense.” Jungkook is now giving me those determined look. y/n showed ber poker face and crossed her arm before shaking her head no.

“Give it up already. This game is not for us.” Y/n said. He hissed a little.

“No, we can do this. You can do this.” Y/n saw his pouts in between his sentence. Jungkook is being whiny. He really wants to win.

“You don’t understand! I can’t win them with palm pushing game because I’m a girl and they’re way stronger than me.” Y/n reasoned out. Yeah she did said that she ain’t competitive and such... but it is somehow true that she can’t win them even if she tries.

Jungkook shake his head. “Exactly! You’re a girl so we’re gonna use that as our advantage.” he smirked like as if some evil plan is being plotted in his head and look at the first battle in front of them. It was between Jin and Taehyung.

“Huh?” Y/n was clueless to what he’s saying.

“They won’t push you too hard, trust me. They won’t even play aggressively otherwise they’ll end up touching your boobs.” he let out a snickered laugh.

Y/n’s eyes grew big and she hit him over the shoulder when she saw him glanced over her chest.

“What the fuck?” she cursed. Jungkook then eyed her seriously. His eyes were a bit glaring so she can’t help but to gulp.

“No cursing, noona.” he said and stood up to watch their opponent. They all laugh as Taehyung fell and got out of balance.

It was now Y/n versus Hoseok. He was smiling bright and did a small playful wave to Y/n.

“Annyeong, Y/n!” he said excitedly. Jungkook eyed as Hoseok went to his place which is in front of Y/n. She pouted at him and he just laughed.

She turned her head to look at Jungkook once. He was giving her signals like focus and to take it seriously. She pouted, she doesn’t have all the courage to win this up.

“Okay, best of three. Play fair guys.” Jin reminded them. Hoseok gets ready and so did Y/n. She can’t believe she’s playing this game.

When Jin signaled that it’s the start, Y/n was already cautious. She was just standing not doing the offense Jungkook told her to do. He let out a frustrated groan. What did he expect? Of course, he already saw this coming. You were naturally uncompetitive when it comes to this stuff.

As Hoseok attacked Y/n,she tried to dodge it which resulted from her getting off balance. She shrieked but Jungkook was quick enough to catch her.

“Hyung! Not fair. You’re too aggressive. She’s a girl.” Jungkook whined together with his cute pouty lips.

Hoseok and Taehyung were doing their lil dances and stopped when they heard Jungkook.

“Huh? I didn’t play aggressive.” Hoseok answered. It is true. He didn’t. Y/n’s just being stubborn.

Jungkook eyed her and she quickly pouted. “What?”

He let out a sigh then showed his pout at her. Y/n starred and thought that he is really serious with this game.

“Noona, can you take this seriously? Please? Just this once?” he pleaded cutely.

“Why are you being whiny, JK?” she asked the obvious. She knew the answer.

“Because I want to win.” he said.

“Do you hate it that much to sleep in the couch with me?” Jungkook’s brows furrowed at what she asked.

“No. What I said about the couch is a bluff, I don’t care about it. I just want to win.” he showed her his smirk.

She shook her head and just nodded. Maybe it won't hurt too much to try to win?

Hoseok and Y/n stood back at their places to start the game once again. Y/n followed what Jungkook told her. She tried and surprisingly won. Her eyes grew big as an unfamiliar feeling took over her system.

Jungkook cheered in happiness and did a hilarious ceremony dance in front of his hyungs. They all laugh at him because he looked so funny.

“Way to go!” Jungkook said as he dropped a kiss at her forehead.

The matches continued smoothly. Jungkook wins his games and Y/n occasionally wins hers. Jungkook eyed Y/n and smiled as he saw her trying. She looked cute with his focused eyes trying to guess which direction Jimin’s hand will go. Cham cham cham is getting her hyped up.

Jungkook kept on cheering for her and kissing her at her face from time to time. Everyone was obviously enjoying as laughters filled the whole room.

As the night fell deeper, Jin is now announcing the group with the least win. Y/n is beside Jungkook, her legs resting over his thighs as he gave her soft massages. It hurst because of the last game they played.

“The group with the least wins is...” Jin started as the boys did a drum roll. She rolled her eyes but lowkey anticipating the result.

“Jungkook and Y/n!” Jin. The boys laughed and teased them as usual. Y/n will just probably shrugged this off if its a normal day. But this is different. She can’t believe she lost even when she tried.

She looked at Jungkook and she saw him smiling bit. He didn’t look upset which is shocking since she know how he hates to lose. He looked at her and motioned her to come close to him.

She pouted and obliged. She pout even more as he locked her in his warm embrace.

“You did good today, noona.” he said with still a hint of joy through his voice.

“I told you I can’t do it! You should’ve played the last game. We could’ve won.” she said still feeling a bit sorry.

Jungkook carefully caress her back trying to comfort her. He’s not upset that they didn’t won. He’s just so happy that he saw Y/n side where she’s competitive.

“I enjoy watching you so focused so... it’s okay! We can win next time.” Jungkook comforted her and she just pouted getting sulky.

“I won’t join next time.” she said that made Jungkook chuckle.

They all went to their destined rooms and they remained at the living room. Y/n was busy being sulky to Jungkook when Jin arrived with blankets and pillows.

“Heres your pillows and blanket so you won’t be too cold. You can pull the couch and make it bigger.” He said with a smile. She thanked him as she get up because Jungkook will transform the couch into a bed-like one.

“Thanks hyung.”

Jin left them when he saw that they’re fine. Jungkook and Y/n lay down to the couch. He quickly snuggled closer to her.

“Clingy.” she said. Jungkook laughed as he nuzzle his nose at her neck.

“I’m comforting you, remember?”

Y/n rolled her eyes but a ghost smile was plastered over her lips.

“Yeah whatever.”

We all know the Golden Maknae is very competitive. Hahahaha anyways, thank you for this request @gloryofroses19​ I hope you liked it! 🌸

[ddaenggtan]

as we go along | myj [m]

pairing | min yoonji x reader

wc | 10.4k

genre | NSFW; Fluff, Smut, a dash of Angst bc why not

Four years ago, the beautiful stunning attractive frustrating Min Yoonji came into your life. Ever since, it’s been a competition between the two of you to win the HOA’s Holiday Decorating Contest. The fiery looks she gives you paired with the pointed insults throw you off your game every year, but not this time. This holiday season, you’re determines to win; and along the way you might just find that Yoonji’s been trying to win something else.

;OR the queer hallmark movie of your dreams.

warnings/tags | idiots to lovers, enemies to lovers, Awkward Gays, Idiot/Oblivious Gays, very strong language i think this MC curses almost as much as i do, oral (female receiving) x2, fingering, wall sex, theres like....a hint of body worship in that MC loves eating pussy bc lbr. what else could possibly compare to that. uhh side jinkook, as well as some side namyoonmin and some vhope if u squint real hard. hwasa and chungha are a lesbian power couple. OH The Min Twins aka Yoongi and Yoonji are siblings uwu

a/n |  this is 100% every single lesbian fantasy of my dreams because i just really love the ladeez and also min yoonji needs more characterization outside of 'stone cold butch domme' so uh. here ya go. i love ladeez so this is v self indulgent and also Super Gay. 

this is part of the 25 Days of Christmas: A BTS Anthology 

[Today]

Red bleeds into green and glitters magnificently on the snow. Lights and tinsel are strewn all over the yard of your parents’ house, creating a rather pretty collage of sparkles and swirls against the white backdrop. You wish you could appreciate it more. 

As it stands, however, you’ve been outside for hours untangling the decorative strands so that you can hang them on the gutters, eaves, and railings of the two story house behind you. Your mother had insisted you work inside but you know better. The cats - Mochi and Pablo - are your favorite in the world and you love them dearly, but one of their favorite things in the world has always been holiday decorations. The number of times you’ve had to stop them from chewing on lights of knocking the tree down is frankly ridiculous. So instead you’re unravelling everything so you can get started on what you’re sure is going to be your best year yet.

You’ve always loved decorating, of course, especially for the holidays. Getting up before dawn to go pick out one of the giant fir trees to stand in their living room, picking out new figurines for the Winter Village that sits on the mantle, helping your parents put ornaments on the tree. You love holiday decorating nearly as much as you love the feeling of victory in your chest. 

“If you had an organizer that wouldn’t take nearly as long,” says a voice from behind you. It’s melodic and deceptively sweet in spite of the lower register, and you don’t turn. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction. You don’t even respond, instead settling your gloved hands on your hips and eyeing the front porch so you can decide where to start. 

“Really? Ignoring me now? Tsk tsk, and here I thought you were better than being a sore loser.”

Continuing on your mission to pretend she isn’t there, you heft several yards of lights over your shoulder and head toward the ladder you have against the porch roof. You may as well start up high. 

“Interesting choice,” Yoonji mutters as she watches you. The hair on the back of your neck bristles, and you take a deep breath to calm and center yourself. “I’d heard that icicle lights were a bit last season, but I’m excited for this vintage look you’re going for. If you need more, let me know. I think the ones I used last year are still in the garage.”

“What do you want, Yoonji?” You huff, turning over your shoulder to glare at her. She looks entirely too at home in your yard with a steaming thermos in her mittened hands. 

“Just wanted to say hi. Wasn’t sure you were coming this year, considering how late you got in.”

“My flight was delayed for weather reasons,” you snap. 

“Ah. That’s why I always drive up instead.” There’s a pregnant pause that’s filled only with the huffs of your breath as you focus on the lights in front of you. “Oh, but you never got your license, did you? Ah, you should call me next year, we can carpool.”

“I got my license this past year,” You bite out. She doesn’t need to know that it took a few tries. It’s not your fault it makes you anxious to be behind the wheel. “Seriously. I have work to do.”

“Obviously,” Yoonji mutters. You flash her a glare and she just smiles back. “Just wanted to see how you were, if you needed any…” She pauses, eyes trailing over the explosion of decorations on your lawn with thinly veiled judgement in her eyes. “Help.”

“If I needed your help, I wouldn’t be winning this year’s contest.”

“By the looks of it, you aren’t winning this year’s contest anyway.” Her mutter doesn’t escape your notice. But that’s the real problem you have with Min Yoonji.

She’s sarcastic and blunt and kind of intimidatingly hot, but you can handle that. You are a strong, independent queer woman in the modern age and you are not about to let some random lesbian intimidate you, no matter how much you kind of wanted to fuck her in the past. Yoonji is not a problem for you. 

It’s the way she’s constantly putting you down, giving you backhanded compliments, and generally acting like she’s better than you. While winning your parents’ neighborhood’s annual Holiday Decorating Contest that their local Homeowner’s Association runs. Everyone gets a kick out of the friendly competition, the winners get a gift certificate to a Korean BBQ place, and a good time is had by all. 

Except you. 

Because you’ve made it your mission to win - to beat the current reigning champion of the past three years who stands on your lawn sipping what smells like hot cocoa and silently judging your decor choices like she didn’t put a massive inflatable pumpkin on the roof for Halloween. 

She watches you the entire time you hang up the lights, carefully attaching them to the edge of the awning covering the front porch. It isn’t until your father pulls into the driveway and you’re done with the upper half completely - about to start the railing - and descending the ladder one careful step at a time that she speaks again. 

“Those are hanging too low,” She tells you. She doesn’t seem to mind when you ignore her in favor of wrapping lights around the stair banister. 

“Hey there, Yoonji!” Your father calls as he starts to unload the groceries. “What brings you to this part of town?” They both laugh at the joke and you force back a gag. 

“Just hanging out,” She calls back. “Making sure your daughter doesn’t break her neck for some silly competition. You need help with those?” Your dad waves her off. 

“I’m not that old, but thank you. Besides, it looks like you’re needed elsewhere.” He gestures with one bag-laden hand, and both you and Yoonji turn. 

A large SUV pulls into the driveway across the street; the passenger door swings open before the vehicle even stops, and a girl - woman, really - launches herself out of the car. She’s across the street in record time, nearly tackling Yoonji to the snow with the force of her hug. Both look excited to see each other, a rare smile on Yoonji’s face that makes you burn with something that doesn’t feel quite like the usual rage. 

The two are talking rapidly in your front lawn, too harried and chaotic for you to make out much of anything besides the fact that they missed each other. They look comfortable with each other in a way you’ve never been and you force yourself to remember that you don’t care . Even as you eye the way the newcomer’s hand sits just that little bit too low on Yoonji’s back. 

The sounds of car doors closing and snow crunching draws your attention and you’re shocked to see another gorgeous girl making her way over. She looks as excited as the first, yet more subdued about it. 

Likely because they’re on a lawn that decidedly does not belong to them, but you could be wrong there. 

Both of the women are absolutely gorgeous, though, easily model material. The first has artfully styled dark hair that falls in perfect waves down her shoulders, and is delightfully curvy in all the places the world loves. Her cheekbones are to die for, makeup flawless, and you resist the urge to pluck at your own outfit, chosen for warmth over style. 

The second woman is no different; not quite as thicc, as Jimin would say, but the figure suits her, as does the straight platinum hair that hangs down to her lower back. It’s stark against the black of her expensive-looking coat, and it only adds to the energy she carries that draws you in even as you wish it wouldn’t. 

“Oh, how rude of me! These are my neighbors,” Yoonji says after a minute. You don’t miss the way she hesitates saying your name, or the almost predatory smiles the other two women get. 

“So you’re the one,” The dark-haired one says. You don’t get a chance to question it before the blonde cuts her off. 

“I’m Chungha,” She says with a friendly smile. “And this is Hyejin.”

“My friends call me Hwasa, though,” The brunette adds. “We hate to tear her away but it’s been ages since we’ve seen our girl.”

“You saw me like two weeks ago,” Yoonji mutters. You’re too caught off-guard by anyone calling Yoonji their ‘girl’ to respond, but you don’t miss the way her cheeks tinge pink from something that isn’t the cold. 

“So we’re gonna steal her away now,” Hwasa continues, oblivious. You don’t protest, letting your father chat amicably while they say their goodbyes and you look between the girls. 

Hwasa’s hand is still lingering on Yoonji’s lower back, something neither of them seem bothered by. That’s something that friends do, though, right? Jimin squeezes your ass constantly and the two of you definitely aren’t together. 

You hear your name and a question but you can’t seem to really focus beyond a mumbled agreement to whatever you were asked. The way Chungha’s eyes glance over her companions feels like something more, but you can never really be sure. Not in this day and age.

But when they head back across the road to Yoonji’s house, Hwasa doesn’t hesitate to lace their fingers together. Yoonji lets her do it, and the glimpse of the grin and the flushed cheeks you see make your heart clench. 

Paired with the way Chungha eyes the pair as she follows behind - a decidedly more than friendly gaze - and every alarm in your brain is going off. She looks ready to jump them both the second they get in the door. 

“I’m impressed,” Your father says. 

“I’m not done yet,” You tell him, turning back to the decorations sprawled across the lawn. “I’ve still got to-”

“No, no,” He interrupts. “Not the decorations. That you’re finally making strides to be nicer to Yoonji.” You stare blankly at him, not understanding what part of your attitude towards her said anything about being nicer. 

And anyway, why shouldn’t she be nicer to you?

“The party…?” You blink at his words, looking in all respects like a startled rabbit. “The annual Min family holiday party? That they just invited you to? The one that you said you would attend?”

“I’m sorry, I did what. ”

“It just happened, sweetheart. I was standing right here for the entire thing.”

“No,” You tell him firmly. “No, because I would remember telling Min fucking Yoonji that I was going to her stupid holiday party.”

Your father just shakes his head. “Then perhaps we ought to get you a doctor’s appointment, sweetie, because I watched it all happen not five seconds ago.” He pats your shoulder, doing his best to show his solidarity for your sudden idiocy, and makes his way inside. 

You spin to watch him go, all the potential protests and complaints clogging together in your throat and leaving you silent. He gets to the bottom step before you’re storming angrily back to your decorations, because whatever , you’ll go to the stupid party. 

Yoonji can have her dumb holiday party with those overhyped cookies your father always raves about. She can have her caroling and her sing-a-long that your mother adores. She can even have her two super hot model girlfriends, because you’re a modern woman, and sometimes that’s what a relationship is. Whatever. It’s her prerogative. You don’t care. It is not going to affect you, or your decorating, at all. 

You scream a little when the icicle lights you so carefully hung knock against your father’s head on his way inside. 

[Three Years Ago]

“You look like you’re struggling,” a voice says behind you. 

They aren’t wrong, either. You’re balanced precariously atop the porch roof your parents’ new hours, hanging garland off the edges so your dad doesn’t have to do it himself. 

You turn to see who’s talking to you - especially since you don’t actually know anyone, this being your first visit to the neighborhood - and very nearly have to hold on to the edge beside you to stop yourself from falling off. 

The man that stands on your parents’ front walkway is easily the most beautiful you’ve seen - a casual elegance to his stance that you’ve not seen outside of celebrities. His leather jacket looks warm and comfortable while remaining stylish, and the all-black underneath suits him while highlighting the lithe form. All of it is perfectly complemented by the mop of jet-black hair tucked under a knitted beanie, and you can’t help but wonder what kind of neighborhood your parents have moved to, when models are just walking around the streets. 

“Uh…” You would kick yourself for sudden ineloquence if you thought you could without falling straight on your ass. The guy bites back and obvious smile, ducking his head for a moment to do so. 

“I haven’t seen you around before,” He calls as he looks back up at you. “Did you move in recently?”

“No, I don’t live here.” He raises a brow and you huff. “It’s my parents’ place. I’m just doing their decorating for them.” The guy nods and starts to say something else, but he’s cut off before he can. 

“Jimin-ah, what are you doing?” You look back to the garland as someone else walks up, some girl based on the quick glimpse you get while tugging on a strand that doesn’t want to untangle. You give them some semblance of privacy as the guy - Jimin - relays to her everything you’ve said so far. It only strikes you as a little odd that he’s being so detailed; she could be a jealous girlfriend, for all you know. 

“Oh,” the girl says, tone as dry as the dead leaves piled in the corner of the yard, “Is this supposed to beat me somehow?”

“Yoonji,” Jimin scolds under his breath. 

“Sorry,” You say, standing up to your full height. It’s a considerable distance considering you’re still on the porch roof. “But what is that supposed to mean? Is there some kind of competition I don’t know about?”

“Oh,” Yoonji repeats, surprise evident in her voice this time as she eyes you. You take the opportunity to do the same, and you’re glad the nip in the air already turned your cheeks pink because fuck. 

Yoonji’s god damn gorgeous. She’s slightly taller than the average girl, even in the winter boots she’s wearing, but she wears the height well; her shoulders are straight and her chin has a natural upward tilt to it, like she’s used to looking down at people in more ways than one. She’s not dressed fancy - just thick leggings and an oversized sweater - but she looks like she belongs in a commercial or something. Her hair is similar to Jimin’s - pitch black and soft - but hers is glossier, more like a cat’s coat; her cheeks are pink from the cold, her lips are slightly parted and invite too many thoughts about if they’re as soft as they look, Even in such casual circumstances, she’s radiant, even as she says-

“That explains a lot.”

It takes a second longer than you’d like to admit for your brain to resume function, but when it does, you huff with indignation. 

“Excuse me?” You hiss. “What, are my decor choices not good enough for whatever this competition is?”

“No,” Yoonji says slowly, cocking a brow, and you see red - and it isn’t the lights from the house across the street. You don’t even let her continue before you’re defending yourself.

“Well I’m sorry that not all of us can decorate like they just stepped out of...of…Better Homes And Gardens, or some shit like that. Some of us focus more on making sure we like our decorations and that they actually mean something instead of just doing things for the aesthetic .”

Yoonji mutters something under her breath but you can’t make it out; it’s lost among the breeze that kicks up and the soft sound of laughing that Jimin is trying desperately to muffle. You huff a little and return to your mission of dragging the garland up on top of the roof, a new determination filling your chest. 

“Shouldn’t your boyfriend be doing this?” Yoonji asks, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking a brow. You freeze. You can hear Jimin’s quiet inhale, and when you look up, he’s got his lips puffed out like that meme of that guy doing the duckface. You let your hand rest on your hips and give this girl the best glare you can - which you have to admit is quite powerful when you need it to be. 

Like now, when this random super hot girl is judging you for being single and also assuming you’re interested in men. The nerve of her. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” You tell her firmly. She frowns a little, and you wish the expression wasn’t so cute. 

“Why not?” 

You scoff. “ Because,” You tell her firmly, “Not only am I happy by myself and don’t need someone else to be complete, I happen to prefer women. You may be happy with a member of the opposite sex,” You wave at where she and Jimin stand close together and return to trying to pull up the piece of garland that’s probably stuck on something, “But I tend to lean the other way.”

Yoonji just arches a perfect brow at you, but she at least doesn’t bust out laughing like Jimin does. 

“Oh man,” He says, wiping tears from his eyes as he stumbles forward, “Imagine looking at us and thinking we’re straight. Oh my god, imagine, can you believe-”

“So why don’t you have a girlfriend doing this then?” Yoonji asks. Her cheeks are a little redder, but you’re pretty sure it’s just from the cold. “Wouldn’t it be better?”

“Because I’m a strong,” You heave another string of garland up, “Independent,” heave, “Woman!” You give one last tug on the garland and it flies loose, sending you landing back on the flat of your ass atop the porch roof. It doesn’t hurt too bad other than the fact that you can see a smile playing on Yoonji’s lips and your pride has already taken a few hits. 

“Well then,” Yoonji says, patting Jimin’s arm and stepping back, “We’ll stop distracting you, Miss Independent.” She and Jimin walk across the street, and you pretend not to notice the way she looks back every so often. 

[Today]

“No, it needs to be taller.”

“Sweetheart if it’s any taller, it won’t fit in the house.”

You send your mother a frustrated glance and shake your head. “It will, it just needs to be the right height and shape.”

“Why can’t we just get a fake tree? They’re so much easier to move and put together, wouldn’t that be better?”

“No,” You hiss, scandalized. “Real trees are better overall for the environment, not to mention how you can’t manufacture the smell of pine trees that come with them that set the entire atmosphere. Plus this nursery uses the profits to plant more trees both here and in areas that suffer with deforestation. It’s for a good cause.”

“And that’s why we had to get here at five in the morning?” Your mother asks sarcastically. 

“Yes,” You reply firmly, “Because otherwise all the good trees will be gone and we’ll be forced to choose from the leftovers.” Your mother mumbles something else under her breath, but you don’t hear it. You’re distracted because there it is. The perfect tree.

You’re two steps away from your perfect tree - tall, evenly spaced, full branches, well balanced, with the perfect shade of evergreen - when you hear her. 

“It’s over here,” Yoonji’s voice echoes. “I need the perfect tree, and it’s the best one I’ve found in years.”

You ignore the way your mother lights up and shush her when she tries to call out to Yoonji. You listen closer; your nemesis is still talking, something about needing a tree for someone - which, who leaves tree shopping to the last minute? The only reason you’re here is that you got in late because of the weather - but her voice is definitely getting closer. 

Panicking, you look at your tree. If Yoonji sees it, it’s definitely over. It’s perfect, there’s no way she’ll want any other, and what Yoonji wants, she gets. 

The only real explanation for what happens next is that you’re running on four hours’ sleep and Yoonji tends to make you a little stupid. 

“Get the other side,” You whisper to your mom. She stares at you and doesn’t move. “Hurry up, before they get here!”

Your mother watches for a few seconds as you wrap your arms around the tree, getting pricked in the face with pine needles as you do, and start to tug. It’s a heavy tree, and it’s only just started to shift when the voices get closer. 

“Seriously?!” You exclaim in a harried whisper to your mom. “Not even a push?!”

“You’re trying to steal a tree,” Your mother says. “From a nursery that gives to charity. I’m not helping with that.”

“I’m gonna pay for it later!” Your mother sighs and starts pushing halfheartedly on the other side of the tree.   

“Shit, no, I meant-” Your words are cut off by a grunt as you manage to catch the tree before it falls entirely. It’s heavy against your shoulder, and of course that’s when Yoonji turns the corner, followed by the broadest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. Both stop in their tracks at the sight of you. 

“Hey Seokjin.” You say, faking a laugh. “How are you? Haven’t seen you this year. Business good?”

“Yeah,” He says, cocking a brow, “When people don’t try to run off with our trees.”

“Who? Me? I would never!” The tree starts digging into your shoulder and your legs tremble. “I just thought I’d load it up for you, y’know, save you the trouble.”

“Oh did you?” There’s amusement in Seokjin’s voice as he fiddles with his ring. “You know our policy, you have to pay before loading.”

You start to stammer out some bullshit about him being busy but you’re only halfway through the excuse when Yoonji says your name.

“It’s alright,” the woman says with a bored voice. “She was loading it up for me. That’s the tree I was coming to show you anyway.”

The weight finally overtakes you, and you crumble under it. You manage to twist so that nothing important is trapped under the trunk, but you get a faceful of needles for your efforts. 

“Maybe you should do it, though, Jin,” Yoonji says. “It looks a little much for the poor dear.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin huffs. He pulls the tree off of you with what looks like little effort, hefting it over his shoulder so the base drags the ground. “Where are you parked, Yoonji?”

“Load it onto their car,” Yoonji responds. Both you and your mother stare at her in shock. “Consider it an early Christmas present.”

“Oh, well isn’t that sweet of you,” Your mother coos. She points the way to Seokjin and the two head off, chatting amicably as they go. 

You narrow your eyes at Yoonji where she stands, not even offering to help you up from the snow where you still lay.

“What’s wrong with it?” You ask. All she does is quirk a brow. “The tree. Why are you giving it to me? You wouldn’t unless there was something wrong with it. So what is it? Termites? Leaking too much sap? What?”

Yoonji shrugs. “You wanted it,” She says simply. Your blood boils, and she steps back like she doesn’t even notice. 

“You aren’t even going to help me up?” You call as she starts to walk away.

“Good try, Miss Independent,” She calls back. “I think Jungkook’s still in the office if you need him.”

You half-scream a growl as you flop your head back into the snow. A pout forms as you watch the sky start to color with the sunrise. 

You’re going to have to throw away your perfect tree.

[Two Years Ago]

It’s the day of the contest. You’re confident in your decor choices this year, even if you couldn’t get every single thing you had in mind, you decide as you wander the neighborhood to scope out the competition. Last year you went simple and got second place, and you’ve switched it up this year. All out with the best decorations possible. 

You’re going to win. Losing isn’t an option, not again. Not when you were beat by her. 

It doesn’t matter, you remind yourself as you turn the corner onto your parents’ street. Your decorations are as good as they can be. 

Your mood sours a little when you see a figure in the yard across from yours, but the soft beanie and oversized hoodie cheer you up once you notice them. 

“Yoongi!” You call with a smile. The man turns and gives you a gummy grin. “I didn’t know you were in town!”

“Yeah, we got in late last night. Kinda crashed once we did. Then someone dragged us all out to the store early this morning.” He rolls his eyes and you laugh. 

“Well the house looks good. Not as good as mine, obviously,” You tease, “But good.”

“Yeah, you might win this year. Yoonji’s got some good competition.”

You sniffle a little, doing your best to contain your distaste for his twin. 

The Min twins, nearly identical save for the fact that they aren’t the same gender, are easily the best and worst things about the neighborhood. Worst because of that pompous priss Yoonji, obviously. 

Best because Min Yoongi is one of the sweetest people you’ve ever known even if he is a bit shy. You met him last year, when he’d carried in an obscene amount of groceries for your mother and you’d almost mistaken him for his sister. You’d made him coffee to say thanks, the two of you talked, and you’ve been friends ever since. 

“No Jimin?” You ask him. He gestures vaguely to the roof, where you can see a small blue hat bopping around. “Ah. I take it you aren’t finished yet, then.”

“Do you know any other reason my sister would have my boyfriend on the roof?” You share a grin with him as you both watch a strand of lights fly off somewhere. “Apparently she needed to make some last minute adjustments. That’s why she dragged us all out to the store, to hunt down some stuff for her.”

“Oh, did you happen to see one of those big dancing snowmen? The one that plays music, you can control it all from your phone? I looked everywhere and couldn’t find one, it’s the one thing I was missing. Had to use an inflatable yeti instead.” Yoongi frowns. 

“Huh, how weird. That’s what we were-”

“I got it all ready, it just needs to be plugged in.”

Yoonji strides out from the house - looking as good as ever in some plaid pants, how dare she - and stops dead when she looks up and sees you. 

“What are you doing here?” She snaps, and you scoff. 

“Visiting a friend,” You respond with a nod towards Yoongi. You take a glance at the phone in her hand, then up to where you can see Jimin standing up a snowman. “Did you seriously steal my idea?!”

“What? No.”

“Really. Because I distinctly remember telling Jungkook about this yesterday while I was picking up my tree and you were right beside him talking to Seokjin. I was even going to put it on the roof so everyone could watch it dance to Pentatonix covers.”

“Like I would listen when you talk,” Yoonji says. Yoongi sighs but you can barely hear it over the flood of rage. 

“Y’know what? Get fucked,” You tell her as you storm out of their yard and back to your parents’ house. 

“I guess you won’t be coming to the holiday party then?” She calls over the road. You send her a rather vulgar hand gesture in return that you hope your parents don’t see. By the time you get inside, the snowman is playing a Mariah Carey Christmas song and you kind of want to set it on fire. 

You do not win the competition that year. 

[Today]

Maybe you should have listened to your parents when they said not to drive today. Probably you should have taken the big ass truck that your father keeps in the garage specifically for when the weather is bad, because it’s got that fancy four wheel drive and traction control and all sorts of stuff meant to keep people safe in the middle of floods and monsoons and blizzards. You definitely should have remembered to charge your phone before you left the house.

Especially considering that your car isn’t great in the snow now falling gently from the sky to land on your hood, mixing with the smoke pouring out from under it. 

You’re lucky you managed to drift to the side of the road and get your hazard lights on, but that’s where said luck runs out. Your phone is dead, it’s several miles back to the house, even further than that to town, and the temperature is already dropping into dangerous territory. 

You’ve been sitting here for three hours, though, tucked inside the residual warmth of your car with spare blankets wrapped around you as you watched night fall. You’re not sure what else you can do. There aren’t any wild animals around here, or anything like that, but it’s definitely too dangerous to trek back to the house. 

“I should’ve just walked back earlier,” You groan as you bundle the blankets closer. “At least it was warmer then. Stupid car, stupid car, stupid me , didn’t charge your stupid phone, how dumb am I.”

Your tirade against yourself continues for several minutes and includes a few very crafty curses that would make your mother gasp. You’re in the middle of another when lights shine into your mirrors, nearly blinding you. 

The lights slow and come to a stop behind your car. A door shuts and you scramble to exit, ready to get on your knees and beg whoever it is to give you a ride to literally anywhere that has heat. 

It takes a second too long for you recognize the shiny purple jeep and the elegant black peacoat backlit by the headlights, and by the time you do, she’s already got an angry snarl on her face. 

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” She demands. You shiver in response and glare at her. 

“Oh, just hanging out, thought I’d take a little nap beside the road in the freezing cold, the usual y’know,” You bite back. She rolls her eyes and starts back towards her jeep. You frown, watching her, and she stops with one foot inside and her hand on the door. 

“What are you waiting for?” She asks. You shrug, and she huffs. “Get in the fucking car, I’m taking you home before you turn into an icicle.” You don’t move and her frown deepens. “Fine, but if you die out here, I’m not the one that’s going to tell your parents it was because you were too stubborn to accept a ride.”

Guilt gnaws at you, and with a frustrated huff, you stomp your way over to the passenger side of her jeep and climb inside. 

She’s careful as she drives, you notice. Long fingers wrapped tight around the wheel, jaw tensed so hard it could be stone, and one arm leaned against the window after she’s finished turning the heat up as high it will go. 

It’s not even been five minutes when she tosses a thick, fleece-lined blanket at you. You look at her, ready to be pissed off, and she cuts you off before you can complain. 

“Your teeth are chattering so loud that I can’t hear myself think. Try not to get hypothermia before we get there, okay?” You huff a disbelieving laugh but curl into the warmth of the blanket anyway. It feels almost too-warm, like when you pull clothes out of the dryer, but it’s a comfort against your freezing skin. 

“Why are you even here? You aren’t heading back from town, you’re not heading to town. Do you just drive around looking for lost girls?” 

“No,” She says carefully, hand tightening around the wheel. It’s all she says for a full minute before she sighs. “Your parents got worried.”

“What?! ”

“They said you went to town to pick up some salt for the sidewalk and drive, and that it had been hours, and that they hadn’t heard from you again even though you took your phone. They were scared that something had happened, so I…”

Your sarcastic response dies on your tongue when you look at her. Really look. 

Her shoulders are tense and set, in a way you haven’t seen before. Her brows are creased, and the pretty lips you refuse to acknowledge are set in a thin line and turned down at the corners. There’s something fizzling in the air between the two of you, something new and unknown.

“...Were you worried about me?” You ask quietly. She shoots you a look and then laughs, a second too late with not enough amusement. 

“Drink that,” She says, gesturing to a thermos. “It’s coffee, it’ll help you warm up a little.” You take the thermos, thoroughly enjoying the warmth it provides your hands, and take a sip. You don’t know why, but you’re surprised when it’s the exact way you like it. You shoot her a thoughtful look, wondering just how else she might surprise you. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, only the lull of the engine and the tires. Neither of you talk much; perhaps because she’s too angry, but you’re too distracted by your own thoughts to say much. 

There’s no way, right? The two of you hate each other, you have since you met. It tints all your interactions, colors every single conversation where either of you are even mentioned, it’s one of the basic facts of the universe. 

So why, as Yoonji pulls into your parent’s driveway and smiles at where they stand watching from the window, do you have a feeling like maybe you’re wrong?

[One Year Ago]

“Really? Inflatables?”

You scowl and turn, already prepared. There stands Yoonji, arms crossed. The weather is fairly mild for the season, and she’s taking advantage of that. High waisted shorts, an off-the-shoulder top, lace-up boots, leather jacket, she looks like every rebellious lesbian you’ve ever dreamt about, and it only makes you hate her more. 

“Yes, inflatables. Because some of us like a little fun. Besides, you stole my dancing snowman last year, and I wanted something you aren’t going to rip off.”

“I didn’t steal your-”

“Whatever,” You interrupt, not wanting to even bother to listen. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

She starts to say something else, but the slam of the front door cuts her off. You turn and grin, waving. 

“Tae! C’mon, put it over here!” 

Taehyung smiles and makes his way over, inflatable deer in his hands. Yoonji’s silent as he gets there and sets the animal where you direct. When he’s finished he turns to you, boxy smile and all, to make sure he’s good, and glances at Yoonji. 

“Oh, you didn’t say you had a friend over,” He whines. “Now I’m being rude. Hi, I’m Kim Taehyung.”

Yoonji doesn’t answer, merely eyes with distaste the hand he’s got extended. 

“Right. Well then, I’m gonna go get the fawn, alright? Be right back.” He smiles at you, and you watch as he jogs back into the house.

“I thought you only brought Namjoon with you this year.” You turn at Yoonji’s words. 

“No, Tae came as well. It’s a good thing, too, because Joon is utterly useless now since he met Yoongi and Jimin. Little punks stole my best friend.” You’re only mostly kidding. You’re happy for Namjoon - he’s been somewhat lonely these days, and now he’s got not one but two handsome men vying for his affection. 

It does reinforce your own loneliness, though. 

“I thought you liked girls.” You look back at Yoonji and notice she’s got a small pout on her face. It’s cute. 

“I do like girls.”

“Then why is Taehyung here?” The way she says his name is full of spite, and it makes you laugh. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that I had to get your permission when I want to bring my friends and loved ones up to visit my parents for the holidays.” You adjust the inflatable deer, posing it so that it looks like it’s glaring at Yoonji’s house in anger. 

Taehyung comes back out before Yoonji can say anything. He’s got his jacket off now, and he does look good in the simple white shirt and the headband that makes his hair look even fluffier than usual. You just really can’t focus on anything but the inflatable fawn he’s got tucked under one arm and the matching rabbit tucked under the other. 

Yoonji’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, and you roll your eyes. 

“You need another deer,” She spits before she turns around and stomps back to her house. Taehyung shoots you a look. 

“I take it that’s Yoonji, then,” He says with a laugh. You make a puking sound and he tuts at you. “You’re supposed to be nice. That is not nice.”

“Yeah, well, she didn’t steal your dancing snowman, did she?”

Across the street, you can see Yoonji fuming as she stands on the porch, talking to Yoongi about something or other. They both look over and while your first instinct is to turn around like you haven’t been watching them, you resist. Instead, you give Yoongi a bright wave. He doesn’t return it but his frown lessens slightly, though that could be because Jimin stumbles, laughing, out of your parents’ house with Namjoon not far behind him. 

Both of them have hearts in their eyes, and it only gets worse when they look at Yoongi. 

“That’s disgusting,” Taehyung says with a wrinkle of his nose. “Eugh, they’re so couple-y and gross. Remind me not to come next year if Namjoon’s here.”

“Oh no,” You tell him with a grin as you wrap him in a hug. He’s warm and solid against you, as he always is, and you thoroughly enjoy it. “If I have to struggle, you do too.”

“Fine,” He whines dramatically. “But I’m bringing Hobi so he has to suffer, too.” You laugh and set him to work organizing the inflatable animals. There are eyes on your back the entire time, but you refuse to turn around and give Yoonji the satisfaction. 

Especially once you realize that you do need another deer to make it look balanced and perfect.

[Today]

The holiday party is well underway by the time you arrive at Yoonji’s, however reluctantly you do so. Your mother and father disappear almost immediately, sucked into conversations with people they’ve known for years now; Tae and Hobi are tucked into a corner, nursing glasses of cider while they look at the rather extensive Winter Village display on the Mins mantle; Namjoon has been here for hours already, and is no doubt locked away in Yoongi’s room with the man himself, and Jimin, and you choose to believe that they’re having some philosophical discussion and not doing anything else. 

You think you catch a glimpse of Jungkook amidst the people from the neighborhood, but by the time you get to where he was, there’s no sign of him, or the broad-shouldered man he’s usually with. Abandoned in the kitchen, you pour yourself some cider and spike it with a hint of rum, just to get you through the night. 

“Where’s your boyfriend?” A voice says. 

When you turn, you find Hwasa perched on the countertop, Chungha leaning back between her legs. Both are watching you curiously, and both look absolutely fantastic in figure-hugging dresses and tights and heeled boots. They look like they just stepped off a runway, but the look in their eyes feels more like a panther than a model. 

“What boyfriend?” You ask eventually. 

“Tall, great chest, soft hair,” Hwasa says. When you just stare at her, she smiles a little. “Boxy smile.”

“Oh, Tae?” You laugh a little. “He isn’t my boyfriend. I’m not even interested in him like that, he’s just my best friend.” The two women share a look and Chungha kisses her cheek before heading out of the room. Hwasa eyes you and you have the distinct feeling you’re being judged. 

You thought you looked okay when you picked out the simple but nicer outfit; black sweater, maroon skirt, tall black boots. It’s classy but casual. You’re sure of it. 

At least you were. 

“So tell me about this thing with Yoonji,” Hwasa eventually says. You nearly choke on your cider. 

“I mean...there’s not much to tell. We’ve hated each other ever since we met four years ago.”

“Oh?” Something lights up in her eyes that you don’t particularly like. 

“Look, no offense to you or your girlfriend, Yoonji’s just...kinda mean for my tastes. I guess some people are into that.”

“Elaborate.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, and you find yourself explaining before you can stop. You tell her nearly everything, about all the shit Yoonji’s done to you, and by the time you’re finished, she’s actually smiling.

“Like...I’m sure you love her and all, otherwise you wouldn’t be dating her, but-”

“What? ” She nearly falls off the counter, she’s laughing so hard, and when you start to help steady her, she just waves you off. “No, sweetie, I’m dating Chungha, not Yoonji.”

“I thought you were dating both of them? Did you all break up?”

“Oh my god , she wasn’t kidding,” Hwasa says breathlessly, still fighting back giggles. “Holy shit, this explains so much. Ha, oh my god, no, we never were dating Yoonji, she’s just our best friend. Like you and that Taehyung guy?”

“Oh.” You feel foolish; it makes sense, friends can be just as physically close as romantic partners. You and Taehyung are proof enough of that. “I...just assumed…”

“I know, but you’re definitely wrong. You drink more cider, stew on that, maybe rethink things from another perspective, I’ve got to tell Chungha about this, it’s too good.” Hwasa hops off the counter with ease and disappears out the door before you can ask her to explain what she means about other perspectives. You can hear giggles as they slowly drown in the chatter of the party and the soft carols playing over the speakers. 

You stay in the kitchen for a while, nursing your cider and thinking. If Yoonji doesn’t have two model-hot girlfriends, then could you have been onto something in the jeep that night? You’ve hated her for so long, and assumed that she hates you in return, but if you were wrong about the girlfriends, then maybe you’re wrong about that, too. 

Something enters your vision and you look up, nearly spitting out your drink as you do. 

Yoonji stands in front of you, in a slinky green velvet dress that she keeps tugging the bottom of. It doesn’t look like anything she usually wears, down to the floral lace tights and the wedge heels that make her even taller than she already is, and she looks slightly uncomfortable if the burn in her cheeks is any indication. 

The worst part is that she looks good. Like, good good. It suits her, even if it isn’t her usual style, and for once you can’t deny the attraction swirling within your stomach. 

“What are you wearing?” She asks angrily, glaring down at your clothes like they kicked her dog - whom you have not seen tonight, which is a travesty, because you adore Holly. A cough echoes from somewhere behind the two of you, and Yoonji wrinkles her nose. “I mean...I like...your outfit.”

You quirk a brow at her and set your cider down on the counter nearby. “Really? Because it looks like you want to tear it off and then set it on fire.” Something complicated happens with her expression and a spark ignites in your mind. 

“Are you sick?” She asks. Her face does something else complicated as a groan echoes from nearby, and something painful twists in your stomach. You really didn’t think you looked that bad. “I mean, after the other day. With the snow. And the cold. Are you sick?”

“Is...this your way of telling me I look ill?” You ask her. She frowns. “Because if wanted me to leave your party, all you had to do was say that, you don’t have to insult me.” You head toward the door of the kitchen and there’s a scrambling that sounds much too loud for just her friends. 

So your friends are also eavesdropping. Fantastic. Now everyone knows she’s insulted you. Just what you needed tonight. 

Her hand catches your wrist as you’re about to leave the kitchen. “I didn’t mean it like that,” She mumbles, not making eye contact. “I just...wanted to make sure you were feeling okay. It was really cold that night, and you were out there for a long time.” 

“So, what, you suddenly care? Why? Because you don’t want to win by default or something?”

“No, because I-” She cuts herself off with a groan, and you’re glad there are so many people around, because it seems like everyone’s distracted with something else. They’re too busy to notice this absolutely disastrous conversation. 

“Hey look,” Taehyung says, appearing from nowhere and pulling roughly on Yoonji’s arm until she’s standing beside you in the doorway. “Mistletoe! How random! Guess you have to kiss!”

“That’s a stupid tradition,” Yoonji spits, and you’re inclined to agree with her. “Forcing people to kiss just because of some plant? How is that okay? Besides, it’s got nothing to do with the actual myth behind it, and-” She sounds like she could go on forever, but you cut her off. 

“And it’s not like we want to kiss anyway.” Her grip on your wrist slackens, and you turn to look at her. Uncertainty fills you as you look at her expression, because the only word that comes to mind is crestfallen. “Right?”

“I...I mean…” Taehyung disappears as Yoonji searches for words, and you just know he’s hanging out somewhere nearby to watch it all happen. 

“Because we’re nemeses.” You say slowly. “We hate each other.”

“Do we?” Yoonji asks quietly, threading her fingers through yours. “Do you?”

“Don’t you? ” You ask her. “You’ve been nothing but rude to me since we met. You’ve insulted me, and stolen my decorating ideas, and-”

“No,” She says quickly. “No, I never meant any of it like that, you just never gave me a chance to explain. You’re...you’re so pretty, and I always get flustered around pretty people, and I say the wrong things.”

“You told me I wasn’t as good if I didn’t have a significant other the first time we met.”

“I was trying to figure out if you were interested in women, and when you said you were, I just...panicked, because I figured you had someone, because you’re…” She gives a wave to your general being. 

“You stole my dancing snowman.”

“I did not! I heard someone talking about a dancing snowman at the tree nursery, and I didn’t realize it was you, and I thought, since I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I’d get a dancing snowman that would play this cheesy playlist thing I made for you. I didn’t know you were looking for it, and I didn’t steal your idea. Not on purpose, anyway.”

“Okay, well...last year you were so rude! And you said you wouldn’t listen when I talked!”

“I thought…” She trails off, looking ashamed. “I thought you were dating Taehyung, and I got jealous. But the listening comment wasn’t like that! It’s because I always zone out because I like to listen to you talk, because your voice is so pretty, but I never hear what you actually say, and also you just...are really pretty. So I get distracted.”

“I…” You’re rather speechless; your entire world has shifted on its axis. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never.” Yoonji insists. “I just don’t know how to talk to pretty girls.”

“You hang out with Hwasa. And Chungha.”

“Yeah, and?” Her brows furrow. “What’s your point?” If you could, you would keysmash at her, but as it stands, you just gape. 

“Uh, they’re literally model gorgeous?”

“Oh, are they?” She looks down at where your fingers are still entwined with hers. “I hadn’t noticed.”

You blink at her, and she looks up at you. There’s a faint smile playing on her lips, and something bright in her eyes that you haven’t seen before. 

“I’m sorry,” You say, shaking your head. “I just still don’t-”

“Will you shut up?” Yoonji asks, free hand coming to gently glide across your cheek. “And let me kiss you?” Your jaw shuts with a snap and you nod. 

Her lips are soft against your own, and your breath catches in your throat as you return the kiss. Her hand moves to grip your jaw, tilting your head ever so slightly so the two of you fit together that little bit better, and your hands come to rest on her hips. 

Electricity sparks through you to her. She pulls back just a little and you’re distracted by the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips. 

“This might be moving a little fast, since we hated each other an hour ago-”

“You hated me an hour ago,” She corrects. 

“But I would be very, very happy taking this to a more private area so I can express to you just how apologetic I am that I thought you hated me.” You tear your gaze from her lips to look at her face. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown out at the mere thought. 

“Upstairs,” She growls, already pushing you in the direction of the staircase. You’re both speeding through the crowd of people as fast as you can without being obvious, and you have to help her every few feet because she’s wobbly in her heels, but by the time you make it up the stairs and into her room, you’re both desperate. 

Her mouth meets yours with a fire behind it that you’ve never felt before, and you hardly even get the door closed before she pushes you back against it. Your tongue darts along the seam of her lips and she grants you entrance, and you could moan at just the taste of her if you were just a little weaker. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” She whispers, moving to nip at your neck. Her hands are under your sweater and you don’t even remember them getting there, but you can’t complain as they move to cup your breasts and tweak your nipples through your bra. “Can you even imagine how many times I’ve dreamt of touching you? Tasting you? Hearing you moan?” 

She bites, hard and rough, and you can’t stop the moan that escapes you. How she possibly knows that you like that is something you don’t have the energy to ponder, nor the will to question. 

“Please,” You breathe, hands tangling in her hair as she sucks a mark into the skin of your throat. She’s slotted between your thighs and your hips are rutting against hers ever so slightly, desperate for some friction. You know you’ve already soaked through your panties, which is a feat considering all she’s done is play with your nipples a little and kiss you like you’ve never been kissed. 

“What is it, angel?” Her voice is deeper than usual, roughened by the desire coursing through your veins and hers, and it only makes you wetter. “What would you like me to do?”

“Anything,” You plead. “Please, just touch me.” 

“Anything?” Yoonji mutters. She chuckles, low and raspy and so unbearably attractive that you want to scream. You almost do scream, from frustration, when she pulls her hands away from your nipples, but she drops to her knees and you forgive her. 

Yoonji kisses up your thighs, from the edge of your boots all the way to where the hem of your skirt hits mid-thigh, and her hands are warm as they slide underneath. She doesn’t stop kissing you, not even as she lifts the fabric of your skirt and nips at the crease where your thighs meet your hips. Still, she’s so far away from where you need her, that you can’t help your whine. 

“Patience, angel,” She whispers as she glides one finger along your fabric-covered lips. Your hips rut forward on instinct, and she laughs a little. 

“You stole my dancing snowman, you could at least be quick about this,” You mutter. 

“What’s the fun in being rushed?” She leans forward to mouth at your pussy through your underwear and your legs tremble slightly. She’s gentle as her hands slide your underwear down to pool around your ankles, and even more gentle as they glide back up to rest on your thighs. “But I’ll be nice this time. Besides, I’ve been dreaming of what this pussy tastes like for years.”

Anything else you might say to her is cut off with a moan as her tongue starts to tease at your clit. One of your hands comes to rest on the back of her hair before you even realize you’ve moved, and she takes that as all the encouragement she needs. 

Yoonji eats pussy like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have, and you’re in absolute awe. The way her tongue moves against you is absolute bliss, no matter where it is; she teases at your entrance, sliding the very tip of her tongue inside to gather your wetness before she runs the flat of it up to your clit, where she circles and sucks mercilessly before moving back down to thrust it in and out and in and out relentlessly. She coaxes an orgasm out of you faster than anyone else ever has, and even as your writhing against the door with her head under your skirt, she doesn’t stop. 

Instead, she slides one long finger inside of you and keeps it there. She doesn’t move it, doesn’t even allow it to twitch, but it’s there and you can feel it as she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks, making your clench around her. She moans into your pussy, too, the entire time she’s at work between your legs, and it only turns you on more when you glance down to see her hand between her legs. 

“Yoonji, please, I want, please, I wanna taste you too, please,” You beg, tugging gently on her hair until she pulls back. Her chin is covered in your cum and the sight is so unbelievably unerotic that you could probably come just from that. 

“Take this off,” She growls, pulling on your skirt as she stands. You do as she says without hesitation, more than willing to get naked if it means getting your mouth on her, and by the time your boots are in the corner with the rest of your clothes, she’s just as naked as you are. 

And god, she’s beautiful. 

Your lips meet hers again as you push her towards the bed, and you can taste yourself on her tongue as it slides against yours. The two of you tumble onto the mattress and you situate yourself between her thighs. It isn’t until you’ve got her legs spread wide and your licking and sucking at her nipples that you register that her face is flushed with something new. 

“What is it?” You ask, panting, as you detach from her - beautiful, wonderful, adorable, perfect - tits. “Do you not want me to? I don’t have to, I just would really like to, it’s up to you.”

“No, it’s not that, I’ve just never…” She trails off, looking embarrassed, and realization smacks you in the face. 

“No one has ever gone down on you before?” You ask in disbelief. She shakes her head. 

“I’ve always been the one to do so, all the other girls have been kind of...well. I’m usually the dominant one, so…”

“Yoonji, sweetheart,” You say seriously, pressing a kiss to her cheek with each word. “Will you allow to me to eat you out? Because seriously, those other girls are trash, and I would absolutely cherish the experience if it’s something you want.”

Her face turns even more pink and she nods. You press a quick kiss to her lips and gently spread her thighs so you have better access. You mimic her actions from earlier, pressing kisses to her thighs and the crease of her hips. When you finally get a taste of her, you moan. 

She tastes like absolute fucking bliss, you decide as you glide your tongue through her folds. You could live off of nothing but the taste for her until the end of time itself, and the way she moves is amazing. Little jerks and thrusts, and her fingers tangle in your hair to push you closer even as her hips pull away slightly. 

Your tongue rubs circles around her clit, flicking and licking and coaxing her closer and closer to her high. You dip down to fuck your tongue into her for a second or two, and the way her back arches is art in motion. You reach one hand up to tweak one of her nipples while your other arm remains wrapped around her hip like a steel bar, keeping her in place even as she grinds against your mouth. 

You remember how it felt earlier when she wrapped her lips around your clit, so you mimic the action. Her bud fits perfectly between your lips, and when you suck on it, she tenses. Everything stops for a second, and you’re afraid maybe you ruined it, but then her whole body jerks, and she presses you hard against her. You lap up her essence as it comes, eager and more than willing, and when she finally stops spasming, you pull yourself away with a grin. 

“Holy shit,” She mutters, and you laugh. 

“I can’t believe no one’s ever eaten you out before,” You sigh, one hand sliding along her waist to massage her breasts. “Does that mean no one’s ever fucked you before either?”

“I mean…” You stop, staring at her with wide eyes. “I told you, I’m usually the dominant one, so most people don’t really...return the favor.”

“Can I please fuck you?” You ask in a rush. “Please, I promise I’ll be gentle.” She huffs a little, and you think it’s amused but you can’t be sure, because she’s spreading her legs again and your focus is elsewhere. 

“Yeah, angel, you can fuck me.”

You lower yourself to kiss her, lingering and deep, and you don’t miss the moan she gives as she tastes herself on your tongue. You wait until she’s thoroughly distracted by the way your mouths move, then glide your fingers over her. 

Her clit is still sensitive, based on the way she jumps as you ghost your fingers over it, so you avoid that. You don’t want to overwhelm her. She groans as you slide a single single finger inside her, and you moan. 

Her walls are softer than the velvet of her dress, and warm around you. She’s tight, too, so incredibly tight that you aren’t sure you’ll be able to fit another inside her. She moans as you slide your finger out and then back in, gathering more of her wetness as you do. 

You’re careful as you fuck her, gentle and slow, and you think you could get addicted to it. Her hips move in time with your hand, gaining speed as you do. “Fuck, angel, it’s so good,” She whimpers. You smile. 

“Let me know if it gets too much, okay?” She nods, and you start to slide a second finger in. Yoonji winces, just a little, so you slow until her hips rock against your hand. 

“More,” She breathes. “Please, more.”

“As you wish,” You tell her. You still are gentle as you thrust into her, feeling her walls contract around you. It’s heaven, absolute perfection, and you tell her so as she grips onto the sheets. 

You latch your mouth onto her nipple as you continue fucking her, biting and sucking as your fingers curl. 

“I need, ah, please, I need more, I need, holy fuck, to come, I need to come,” She moans desperately. You grin and curl your fingers more, sliding them against her walls. You finally find what you’re looking for, that small spongey spot that has her convulsing around you. 

“That’s right, baby,” You coo, “Come on, I know you want to.”

Her hands are in a death grip on your shoulders, and they only get tighter as you press harder against that spot inside her. She comes with a cry that you muffle with your own mouth, her body shaking as she lets go. 

You slide your fingers out when she’s relaxed a little more, licking the taste of her off as she pants. 

“Holy shit,” She breathes. You grin, peppering kisses along her stomach, up her chest, along her throat and over her cheeks. “Can we do that every day?”

“I dunno,” You tease. “Are you going to steal my dancing snowman again?”

She rolls her eyes and shoves at your shoulder, and you laugh. 

“I’m just saying, you’re supposed to be nice to the people you like.”

“I’m bad at that, though,” She mutters. “I always just...say the wrong thing. I’m more of a do-er.”

“I’m still caught up on how I was supposed to know you liked me based on the things you did.”

“Really?” She huffs, glaring at you playfully. “I went tree shopping at five in the morning for you.”

“Yeah,” You say softly, grinning. “You did.”

25 Days of Christmas: A BTS Christmas Anthology 

[stardustryewriting]

A Learning Process (2)

Part 1 3 4 5

AO3: here

Social Learning

It’s been exactly three days, since the mess that was initially meant to be ‘a fun shopping trip together’. Since then, the only interaction between Bakugou and Midoriya had been angry looks Bakugou threw at him, whenever he had the audacity to breathe too loudly. Or when he looked like he wanted to talk to Bakugou. Or every time his head decided it was time to think about feelings again. Bakugou didn’t really feel bad. He was convinced it was all Deku’s fault anyway, for dating such a social airhead.

Said social airhead didn’t like Bakugou throwing mean looks at his boyfriend. More often than not, Todoroki gave his own mean looks back or he even said something about it. Bakugou was close to challenging Todoroki, both to settle the argument and to blow off some steam, but he wasn’t really into the idea of getting house arrest from Aizawa, again. So he just showed him the finger, every now and again.

Something which always, without fail, got Kirishima on his case, saying that his attitude was ‘uncalled for’. And maybe, yeah, he had a point. But also, there was a part in Bakugou that loved all the attention he got from Kirishima, a voice in his head that demanded more. His hatred for that voice translated to the outside and he told Kirishima to get off his case.  

So, everything was going great.

And then everything had to go to hell. There wasn’t even any time to prepare, Bakugou didn’t see the storm coming. ‘The storm’ came very inconspicuously, in the form of Kirishima knocking on his door, to ask if he wanted to play a game of Monopoly with him and the rest of the gang. Bakugou wanted to protest that there wasn’t a ‘gang’, only people who insisted on spending time with them, but he thought better of it. He had that argument with Kirishima one too many times. Then he simply wanted to say no. He couldn’t do that either.   

Because, of course, it was Kirishima, who asked. If it had been Kaminari or Sero or even fucking Mina, he could’ve easily said no. But when Kirishima asked and then looked at him - eyes shining hopefully, lips turned into an expectant smile - there was no way Bakugou could say no. The voice in his head yelled ‘yes’ very enthusiastically. He toned that enthusiasm down several notches and threw in some annoyance to keep up appearances. Kirishima was impressively not impressed.  

“Great”, he cheered and walked ahead to the elevator, “we meet in the common room in thirty. Don’t be late.”

Bakugou wanted to scream that he’d never been late in his life, how dare Kirishima imply otherwise, but he thought better of it. That would make him seem lame. Kirishima was always going on about manly men, being lame didn’t fit into that scheme. Bakugou paused, wanting to hit himself for that thought. It didn’t matter what kind of men Kirishima liked. And even if it did (again, it didn’t), that wouldn’t mean Bakugou would just simply change himself. Who even knew if Kirishima liked men like that?

Bakugou kicked his trashcan hard, in an attempt to get his mind off these things. The result was him being distracted and his room being a mess. He really needed to let off some steam soon. Or make a real attempt of sorting through his feelings.

Maybe Aizawa’s potential house arrest wasn’t that bad.

__________________

Monopoly proved to be very bad for Bakugou’s blood pressure. It started out very tame, except for Mina getting three throws - and by extension three properties - in her first turn, because of her way too good luck. Bakugou’s got himself one of the pink properties, which was decent enough. Kirishima also got a pink property and started bothering him about trading almost instantly. Sero got one of the train stations, which was nothing special, so Bakugou paid him no mind and Kaminari was deemed the loser of the first round, when he bought a light blue property. 

It turned out that was the biggest mistake of the evening. 

An hour later, with almost all of the properties on the board gone, Kaminari looked more and more like the winner. How he did it was beyond Bakugou and everyone else in their circle. He really only owned the light blue properties, but he somehow managed to get four houses on each of them and landing there took a big chip on everybody's wallet. Sero proved so very impressively, two times in a row. 

Meanwhile Mina, who had the infamous dark blue properties, was a minor inconvenience at best. She only had one measly house and even though it still hurt, it was nothing compared to what Kaminari took from them, every time someone was unfortunate enough to land on his field. At this point, jail was the best option. He was really envious of Kirishima, who spent most of his time there. 

He and Kirishima had formed an alliance halfway through, when Mina and Sero turned mad at Bakugou for refusing to trade and threw money at Kaminari, while encouraging him to build houses. Kirishima stuck by him - accusing Mina, Sero and Kaminari of bad sportsmanship - and Bakugou in turn helped him complete the pink street. Kirishima only had two houses on each of his properties, but he made decent enough money to not be in constant danger. He also told Bakugou not to worry, should he ever land on Kaminari’s property, because he would bail him out. Mina and Sero immediately used this statement to declare bad sportsmanship.

“Okay, as long as you don’t throw a five, seven or eight, you’re safe”, Kirishima declared, nodding at Bakugou encouragingly, as if that would help. As if the outcome of the throw was determined by anything other than sheer luck. This wasn’t the luckiest evening of Bakugou’s life. Nonetheless he took a deep breath, he could feel the tension in his fingers. Landing on Kaminari’s property now would cost more than he currently had. He couldn’t afford it. He let go of the dice, watched them spin and hoped against common sense, that Kirishima wishing him luck would be helpful in any sort of way. 

It wasn’t. 

The dice showed a seven. Kaminari and Mina erupted in cheerful laughter, Sero happily declared himself ‘Not-the-first-to-be-bankrupt’ and Bakugou wanted to blast all three of them to smithereens. He probably would have done it, too, hadn’t he been interrupted by Kirishima at the very last second.

“How much do you need?”, Kirishima asked urgently, while Mina, Sero and Kaminari still happily celebrated Bakugou’s apparent defeat in the background. That surely wouldn’t last long.

“About four hundred”, Bakugou grumbled, while his friends slowly calmed down, focusing on him and demanding money they knew he didn’t have. He could see Kirishima moving out of the corner of his eyes, while he stared the other idiots down, hoping it would calm them down. It didn’t really, but it felt better than just sitting there and doing nothing.

“Here.”

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Kirishima waving money under his nose, grinning like a maniac. Bakugou raised his eyebrows in a silent question and Kirishima rolled his eyes at him, like he was an idiot. Bakugou would be offended, if he were any less confused. 

“It’s 450 Ms”, Kirishima explained, calling the Monopoly money ‘Ms’, because none of them could figure out how the currency was actually called, “to bail you out of your debt.”

That got the other three idiots back on track, protesting loudly against Kirishima just giving Bakugou money, because ‘That’s not how the game works’. Kirishima shrugged, reminding them of them just giving money to Kaminari near the beginning, while still waving his money into Bakugou’s face.

“I don’t want your money”, Bakugou finally said. Not because the three idiots protested, he couldn’t care less about what any of them thought, but because he’s always prided himself on his sportsmanship. He could win without any support and he could win even when his opponents didn’t hold themselves back. He had to, if he wanted to be number one.

“Just take my money. I’ll be your sugar daddy!”, Kirishima said jokingly, winking at him playfully and eliciting a laugh from all of their friends. Except Bakugou didn’t laugh, because his mind went immediately into the gutter. He took the money out of Kirishima’s hand swiftly, ignoring the comments on his ‘bad sportsmanship’. Anything to get his mind off of these particular images.

“Fuck off”, he said, more for the effect. It didn't work very well, because his cheeks still felt somewhat hot and Sero wasted no time in pointing that out. Snitch. Kirishima just laughed good-heartedly and then moved on, as if this were a normal occurrence.  

And maybe for Kirishima it was just a normal thing, a friendly jab between, well, friends. Nothing big, no harm done. But the voice in Bakugou’s head that had been entirely too insistent that what he felt for Kirishima could be a crush took these words and went wild with them. It took every ounce of self-control Bakugou could muster to not blow himself up for these thoughts, which made concentrating on the game basically impossible. He vaguely registered that Kirishima went back to jail. He heard Mina make a joke about sugar daddies and prostitution. He knew he didn’t stand any chance at all at winning.  

He didn’t win in the end. But, to his immense satisfaction, Kaminari didn’t win either. That idiot built hotels on his properties, which in turn meant throwing some of the houses back in the bank. Houses which Kirishima swiftly bought. It only took two more turns and some very unlucky throws for Kaminari to get bankrupt and with the light blue properties also under his belt, Kirishima was deemed the default winner of the round by Mina and Sero, who just gave up. Bakugou, of course, didn't give up, it just wasn’t in his nature. He lost anyway, because Kirishima possessed almost the entire board and lived a happy life in jail, while Bakugou had to pay him. It took only three more rounds for Kirishima to become the ‘Monopoly-Overlord’.

With how happy he looked after he won, Bakugou didn’t have it in him to be mad. 

Because really, Kirishima’s eyes sparkling happily, while he humbly gloated about his win, was too good to be mad about. And after he threw his arm over Bakugou’s shoulder to explain that technically, Bakugou won too, because of their alliance, he knew he was a goner. A warm arm over his shoulders and Kirishima close enough that he could feel his breath, that Bakugou’s nose would’ve touched his cheek had he moved his head even slightly, felt like a win in itself. The voice wanted him to move so desperately it almost hurt.

Bakugou moved alright. To push Kirishima’s arm off his shoulders, while declaring the whole game stupid. And to make a very swift retreat, before the voice in his head got any other terrible ideas. He’d take a cold shower and then he’d go to bed. There was an early training session waiting for him, the next day, after all.

And maybe, just maybe, he could humor the thought that he had a crush on Kirishima some more. Just consider it a bit more seriously. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt.

__________________

It was absolutely and without doubt the stupidest thing Bakugou ever considered. 

How does one even know if they have a crush? An hour and three google searches later, Bakugou had exactly zero answers. The only thing he accomplished was getting his patience to the lowest level it had in years. Weren’t teenagers supposed to have crushes all the damn time? Apparently it was impossible to even properly define what a crush was. 

He wanted to scream at whoever was trying and failing to define stuff like that. Not that Bakugou would ever admit to reading it in the first place. That would make him everyone’s laughing stock until the end of his life. Probably even after that. 

‘A brief, but intense infatuation with someone, especially someone unattainable’ 

This entire thing was so far off the mark, it would have been laughable. If it were any less frustrating that is. ‘Brief’, ‘intense’, ‘someone unattainable’ weren’t really the words he would use describing Kirishima. Or his relationship with Kirishima. Or his feelings towards Kirishima. Then again, Bakugou had no idea how he would describe his feelings towards Kirishima. That was the whole problem. 

Nonetheless, he knew that google wasn’t any help in quest to find out about these stupid things, that bugged him more than they had any right to. He just knew that he either needed to figure them out and get rid of them, before they actually messed with his friendship with Kirishima. He liked being friends with that idiot well enough. 

But if the internet wasn’t of any help, what would help him then? Unfortunately, there was no ’Feelings 101’ he could consult. And even if there was, Bakugou would probably blast it, if it was written anything like these terrible articles he wasted an hour reading. He could ask someone, but that probably wouldn’t yield any results. Most of his classmates were way more sentimental and in touch with all of their feelings than he was.

Most of them, anyways. 

He already knew what a terrible idea that was. 

__________________

Nonetheless, the next saturday, after his morning run, he found himself in front of Todoroki’s dorm room. He prayed that the social airhead was both there and alone. If he saw Deku, he would definitely blow something up. And then he would crawl in a hole and die, because even that was better than asking advice from his childhood acquaintance. (Yes, he refused to acknowledge this ‘friendship’ Deku was always going on about.)

He released a deep breath, staring at the door as if it had personally offended him. This is the worst, he said to himself, while simultaneously raising his balled fist to knock. There was no way this would end well. He gave three firm knocks, to not betray his shaking thoughts and waited for Half-and-Half to open the door. It felt like forever. Realistically, it was probably five seconds. 

Todoroki opened the door slowly, because other than Bakugou he was in no haste. He did raise his eyebrows just the slightest bit when he saw who was standing in front of his door. Otherwise his facial expression stayed exactly the same. Bakugou could still read the surprise and it irked him, even though he couldn’t exactly be mad about it. There wasn’t really any good reason why Bakugou was standing in front of Todoroki’s door. Even the reason Bakugou had for actually being there felt mediocre at best. 

“Bakugou?”, Todoroki said, nearly entirely neutral, so you could barely hear the question in his voice, “Do you need something?”

“I’m not talking about this in the hall”, he grit out, knowing full well he had no right to ask for entrance into Todoroki’s room. Todoroki granted it to him anyway, albeit just by wordlessly taking a step to the side to let Bakugou through the door. Bakugou made his way inside quickly, paranoid that someone else might see him, if he were any slower. 

“You’re not waiting for shitty Deku, are you?”, he made sure, eyeing Todoroki suspiciously. Deku barging in and hearing the conversation he was about to have was his worst nightmare. He’d rather be in the clutches of the sludge villain again.

“He’s not shitty!”, Todoroki defended his boyfriend immediately, “and he’s training with All Might.” He crossed his arms after that, looking at Bakugou like he was expecting an apology. Bakugou waved him off, relieved to know Deku wouldn’t stop by anytime soon. His training sessions with All Might always took quite some time. 

“What are you doing here anyways?”, Todoroki wondered, uncrossing his arms and moving to sit on his bed. By the looks of it, he was reading before Bakugou came by. He was sure he’d heard Sero talk about that exact manga just a week ago. Shrugging it off, Bakugou moved to sit on Todoroki’s floor, back to the wall and legs crossed. Todoroki mustered him curiously, so he crossed his arms in front of his chest, before trying to sort out what he wanted to say. He really should’ve thought about this beforehand. 

“This conversation needs to stay in this room”, he demanded, before anything else. If Todoroki went out to tell anyone what he was about to talk about, he might as well just end it there.    

“Okay”, Todoroki gave in easily, even agreeing when Bakugou demanded that not even Deku was allowed to know about this. With that, the second biggest hurdle was taken. Now he was standing in front of the biggest, and damn him, he didn’t have any idea how to tackle that. 

Well, if the water is too cold, you don’t go in slowly. You jump in all at once.

So that was his new game plan.

“How did you know you liked Deku?”

“What?”, Todoroki asked, looking entirely caught off guard. It was one of the rare times, when his carefully crafted stoic expression dropped and you could see perfectly what was underneath it. Bakugou would gloat about it, if he were any less tense.

“How did you know you liked Deku?”, he emphasised again. At least now he had Todoroki’s undivided attention, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. This clearly wasn’t how Half-and-Half had planned his morning to go. In all fairness, Bakugou could imagine more pleasant things, too. 

“Is this going to be one of these ‘shovel talks’ that Uraraka warned me about?”, he finally answered, after several seconds of careful consideration. Bakugou could feel his headache starting to throb from that answer alone. He would like to scream at the idiot for getting such unwarranted ideas, but he really didn’t want to draw any attention to them.

“The hell? No it isn’t. I couldn’t care less about who the idiot is dating”, he almost whisper-yelled and then he continued swiftly, because Todoroki looked like he wanted to defend Deku again, “Now answer the damn question! How did you know you liked Deku?”

“He’s not an idiot”, Todoroki protested and Bakugou considered leaving for a solid five seconds. Unfortunately that would get him nowhere closer to figuring out his feelings and he already was at his last option. He wouldn’t be there, if he had anything else, that was promising to be helpful. Todoroki, meanwhile, looked like he was in deep thought and Bakugou didn’t know if that should make him hopeful or fearful. Probably a mixture of both. 

“I don’t know”, Todoroki finally concluded, “I guess I just knew.”

Bakugou wanted to claw his hair out. That was by far the least helpful answer he could have possibly gotten. If it were that easy, he wouldn’t have consulted the internet and there would have been no need to talk to Todoroki in the first place. Why did the bastard insist on being the least helpful being on the planet?

“Are you shitting me? There had to be something”, he argued, less in hopes of actually getting some more information from Half-and-Half and more because it was a convenient outlet for some of his frustration and anger. Why did he feel like he was going backwards, instead of making progress?

“Not really”, Todoroki murmured, again looking to be in deep thought and not even talking to Bakugou properly, “It just feels nice, you know? Warm and welcoming and safe. Like I can be myself and it would be just fine, but also like I wanna be a better person, just for his sake. Does that make sense?”

“Not even a little”, Bakugou deadpanned, because really this was probably even less helpful than what he said before. Even worse, it was sappy and hearing Todoroki of all people say it made Bakugou feel like he needed to vomit. This proved to be an even worse mistake than he originally thought it was.

“There had to be a moment where it hit you. Like the realisation!”

“No”, Todoroki denied, shaking his head to emphasize it, “I think it’s been there from the beginning. He was always special, since he shouted at me during the sports festival. It just went from there.”

“What a weird thing to say”, Bakugou grunted, not even a flicker of kindness in his voice, which didn’t seem to bother Todoroki in the slightest, “It sounds like your feelings had a mind of their own.”

“Maybe.”, Todoroki agreed, shrugging his shoulders and looking at Bakugou couriosly, “Maybe, if you tell me what you feel, I can compare it to what I feel. That might be more helpful.”

It really spoke about how desperate he was, that he actually considered the offer, for a solid minute. Would it be so bad, telling Todoroki about what he felt and trying to figure it out from there? He didn’t have to say a name - the fact that he was confused about Kirishima could remain his secret for just a little while longer - and they agreed that nothing from the conversation would ever leave the room.

He only had to jump over his shadow. He knew he couldn’t do that.

“Fuck off”, he spat at Todoroki, who in turn only smiled at him, like he expected that answer. Was Bakugou really that easy to read? If even someone as socially stunted as Todoroki could figure him out, he must have been an open book. He hated that thought with a burning passion. 

“Why not spend some time with them?”, Todoroki suggested, propping his arm on his knee and his head in his hand, “You know, just the two of you, like a date, but without it actually being a date.”

Bakugou leveled Todoroki with an annoyed glare. Not only was their entire conversation meaningless and a complete waste of time, now the bastard also made fun of him. Setting up a date, as if Bakugou knew anything about that. That wasn’t on his list of things to accomplish on his way to become number one. Therefore it was deemed unnecessary until five seconds ago. 

“Yeah sure. How would I go about that then, in your opinion?”, he asked sarcastically, to make a point that he would under no circumstances do that. As always, the sarcasm flew right over Todoroki’s head.

“Invite them to walk, eat something together afterwards, have some deeper conversations than usual. I’m not too great with dates either.”

Bakugou left the room wordlessly after that. Todoroki was crazy if he really thought Bakugou would take that advice. 

__________________

After his talk with Todoroki, Bakugou went to the kitchen, instead of his bedroom. There was no way he could concentrate on anything right now, so he would just make himself a cup of tea. To distract himself and to calm his nerves. And maybe, just maybe, it would help him stop thinking about Kirishima all the time. 

Fat fucking chance, the voice in his head taunted. Maybe it was time to get his mental health checked.

Just when his water was hot and he was about to finish preparing his tea and then vanish for the rest of the day, to sort through the mess that was, apparently, his feelings, the front door opened. And in walked no other than Deku himself. That was just his luck.

Even worse was that the nerd was closely followed by Kirishima, who not only spotted Bakugou immediately, but also walked over without a second of hesitation. Which wasn’t unusual, to be fair, but it was nothing that Bakugou wanted right now. He had enough Kirishima-related problems, even without Kirishima standing right in front of him. 

“Hey dude”, Kirishima greeted, smile shining like the sun itself and Bakugou would have hit himself for the sappy thought, had he been alone, “You’re back early. Don’t your morning runs usually take longer?”  

“Usually”, he replied, trying to sound disinterested, “had some stuff to do, so I came back early.”

“All right”, Kirishima said, not the least bit deterred by Bakugou’s tone, “I think your cup is full.”

Bakugou stared down at his overflowing tea cup, which he had completely forgotten the moment Kirishima started talking to him. Luckily, it only ran over a little bit, Kirishima prevented the worst. Still, he cursed under his breath, while he cleaned it up. It wasn’t like him to get this distracted. 

“That’s unlike you”, Kirishima commented and Bakugou could hear the smile in his voice, “what made you so distracted? A crush?” Bakugou knew it was a joke. He still wanted to die at the spot.