#BUT WHOEVER DECIDED THE SITTING ARRANGEMENT WAS ONTO SOMETHING

[meadowsofmay]

i am sORRY but rajan and oscar's sexual tension first two hours of the episode is palpable to the point the knife won't be enough to cut it and i. respect. that. you don't trust a dude in shiny suit? call him a prince, call him your highness, abuse his pride by helping him up a wall don't worry i got you. it's so amusing to watch.

[oh-katsuki]

the notebook theory (tsukishima kei x reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Summary: Kei has a cynical and jaded outlook on love. When his friend Tadashi figures out that Kei has feelings for you, Kei isn’t sure how to react. After all, love is not something he does but rather, something that happens to him.

"There’s a notebook that Kei likes on his desk. No matter what he does, nothing is good enough to put a permanent mark into the thing. Even if he used a pencil, Kei feels like the evidence of the mark would still be there even after erasing it, a molecular change that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Kei calls it the notebook theory.

He thinks that might be what’s happening to him. A molecular change, imperceivable to someone not looking at him under a microscope. It’s like his DNA is being rewritten and stitched together with bright pink yarn. He feels himself steadily come apart and come together. It’s uncomfortable, like trying to dream when he has a fever. Kei is nearly certain that you’re the reason."

Content Warnings:  fem!reader (gender neutral pronouns), no real manga spoilers, slow burn, one-sided pining, angst, mentions of divorce and broken homes, toxic relationship (kei's parents), smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), pinching, mentions of mark making, overstimulation (m!receiving), multiple orgasms, hair-pulling

Word Count: 24.8k

A/N: i know i spent forever working on this but it's finally done and while i have a lot of thoughts about it, idk rly what to say. anyway, here's my first attempt at a tsukishima long fic. also i already know that im not beating the tsukkiyama allegations, okay? i tried and failed to beat them okay i just think there is no way to put them in a situation without it being a little homoerotic bc.. they r them okay? anyway, i hope u enjoy and would love to hear ur thoughts <3

The morning comes without warning. Kei thinks he’s read that somewhere, though he’s just sure just where he saw it. He also thinks that whoever said that is right. Morning is always a harsh assault and never as gentle as people describe it to be. 

Kei’s room, the one he rents at university, faces toward the east. In the mornings, when the sun peeks over the horizon, it shines directly into his room and onto his bed before creeping across the light wood floors. His blinds, as useful as they are, always let some through the cracks and the light cuts the ground like butter to a knife. Kei doesn’t think it feels half as romantic as it sounds. 

The light works better than his alarm. No matter how set he is on sleeping in, he never fails to wake up as soon as those slats of light make their way across his bedspread. It wakes him like fever and he’s never quite as comfortable as he felt falling asleep. This morning is no different. 

He rises like he always has, running a hand over his blonde hair and dragging it down his face after sitting up. Then, he stands once in an attempt to gather his bearings before sitting right back down on the edge of the bed. He fights the lingering remnants of sleep, feeling the ray of sunlight beat down on his back. Then, he reaches towards his glasses on the nightstand and slides them up the bridge of his long nose before standing up again once and for all. 

Yamaguchi lives in the other room. His best friend since high school, perhaps his only real friend. They’d miraculously attended the same college and decided to room together, though his other friends from his youth aren’t too far. The arrangement managed to make it all the way until their fourth and final year. Living with each other has become par for the course. 

Tadashi wakes up later than Kei does on most days, except for Tuesdays and Thursdays. On those days, he has an 8 am and is usually in the kitchen before Kei has even stood up for the first time. Today is a Wednesday, so Yamaguchi is asleep in his room. The morning light doesn’t wake him the same way it does Kei. His room faces west, so it isn’t until the mid-afternoon, when Tadashi is chased from his room by the afternoon rays and heat, that he notices the sun on its blinding conquest across the sky. 

Kei’s room is clean and neat. There’s no clutter, no collection of items that don’t have a proper place. Everything is itemized and stored exactly where he intends for them to be. His floor is void of stray clothes, of socks he’d discarded the night before, his nightstand is bare and his desk is surprisingly empty save for one notebook sitting in its center. It’s a room that he could leave at any time, despite living here for nearly two years. If Kei chose to do so, he could pack his things and be gone in a day. 

Yamaguchi’s room is different. It’s lived in and well worn. There’s clutter on the floor, socks and pants he’d taken and tossed away to be dealt with later. Certain things don’t have a place and end up living on semi-crowded surfaces filled with things he likes to put down as quickly as he’d picked them up. Kei envies that way of living. A non-temporary way. He envies the rug in Yamaguchi’s room and the way he fills the space with himself. Kei thinks that even after they’re long gone, future tenants would still be able to feel Tadashi’s presence. 

To say that Kei is cynical would be accurate. He tends to lean more towards paranoia in his own strange way. He keeps things in order to quell the anxiety in it. Things stay where they are meant to be. As a result, he’s earned himself somewhat of an uptight attitude that makes Kei feel more awkward than relaxed even when he’s in his own spaces. Not that he minds it. 

Tadashi’s dish from last night is sitting next to the sink. Kei moves around it as he fixes a tea, making an effort not to drag his feet across the floor because he hates the scuffing sound. Every now and then, the glass of his mug will clink against the cheap kitchen tile and Kei will cringe in some paranoid worry that it will wake his friend. 

As he gathers his things to leave the quiet apartment, Kei wonders where his cynicism comes from. He’s sure he could pinpoint it if he tried. His parents divorce, his previous experiences with dating that have left him jaded, the holes that wore even in his most sturdy of sweaters. Inconsequential nothings that piled up until Kei had developed an undeniably cautious outlook on the world. To him, all of these things are the same. Like the morning, they’re intrusive and unsightly, but none is less important than the other. 

Kei does have things he likes. Art, for one. He likes paintings, sculptures, little pieces of history, and all of the things people make with their hands that he could never do. Kei is hopeless at crafts. His fingers are lithe and long, but they’re clumsy and hard to control. Despite his need for order, Kei has trouble controlling his urges. The subtle twitches of his fingers always mess up whatever it is he’s trying to craft. 

He likes writing best of all, specifically curatorial writing. It’s easy for him to pick which pieces belong together and how to organize them in a space, it suits his talent for compartmentalizing. Kei gets to tell a story that way, be it historical or artistic, sometimes both. The essays that his classmates find tedious, he finds relaxing despite the stress. For him, writing about art and history is a pleasure much like sipping tea that is the perfect temperature, unintrusive and natural. 

By the time he arrives at the library, it’s nearly 9 am. He works better here, in the quiet section at a table hidden by three tall shelves of books. It’s almost never occupied and there are hardly ever people seated in the immediate area. Kei doesn’t go out of his way to avoid others, but he finds that if he doesn’t approach people, they often won’t approach him. He prefers things this way, it makes the good and bad people easier to weed out. 

From this spot in the library, Kei can see where you usually set up shop for the day. You arrive after him by about 45 minutes and he convinces himself that it is always coincidental. 

Strictly speaking, you’re Tadashi’s friend, not his. You’ve known each other for a little under a year and have been by the apartment a few times, but yours and his conversations are limited entirely to pleasantries. How are you? What are you working on? We’re graduating soon, huh? Casual conversation that Kei can weasel his way out of at any time. Like his room, it’s impermanent. 

Kei has had the idea that nothing stays stuck in his head since middle school. The house he lived in when his parents were together, weekdays with his mother and weekends with his father, graduating seniors, the apartment he lives in now. To Kei, all of it is so temporary that he finds it difficult to get attached to it, not that he’s devoid of emotion. He quite loves the little things he has, but his grip on them is loose and half-hearted. Whatever leaves, Kei thinks is meant to leave, so he makes no effort to hold on. 

It’s probably unfair to think of you that way, but Kei can’t really help it. He can’t change what he is. Besides, it’s not as if he doesn’t have a reason to think so. He’s often approached by people for his looks, people who want to get close because they think he’s tall and handsome, people who collect others like trophies. He’s not heartless, so he’s been hurt more than a few times. Kei thinks he owes it to himself to be cautious, not that you’ve done anything to earn that type of subtle hostility. 

“Thought you might be here,” someone’s hand lands on his shoulder. 

“Shit,” he groans, “is it that late already?” 

Kei glances down at the watch on his wrist, reading the time as just past 10:45 am. He’s been here for an hour and 45 minutes and hasn’t gotten anything done. Tadashi pulls the chair next to him out and sits down, resting his chin on his hand. 

“Spacing out?” 

“A little,” Kei responds, tapping his pen against the table and turning back toward his book. 

“Got something due?” 

“Yeah, on Friday,” he exhales. “Haven’t started it yet though. You?” 

“Nah,” Tadashi smiles. “I’m just chasing you around.” 

“You’re like a girl with a crush.” 

Tadashi shrugs and lets out a good natured laugh. It’s a little too loud for this part of the library, but Kei lets it slide, smiling with his friend. 

Tadashi is the opposite of him, he thinks. He smiles often and says exactly what’s on his mind when it crosses it, even if it's a little mean. Tadashi used to be a follower, but in his final year of high school and university years, grew into someone befitting of his somewhat sunny and sarcastic personality. Thoughts and words come easily to him and he has no trouble vocalizing his joy or his disappointment. 

Yamaguchi has freckles covering the entirety of his body. Kei knows this because he’s seen far more of Tadashi than he thinks he should have. His skin is tawny and warm like him. Kei finds himself looking at the ones on his hands as Yamaguchi begins to write in his notebook. Kei can’t read his handwriting because it’s terrible and he doesn’t much feel like working on his own project, so he watches his friend’s hand mark the page. Then, his gaze slinks across the library to you. 

You’ve got your head down and look like you’re falling asleep despite it only being 11 in the morning. Your hand moves lazily across your computer keypad. By the time Kei realizes that you’ve spotted him staring, it’s too late to look away. His gaze was too intentional, so he smiles at you instead, nodding his head a little. 

You smile and wave, standing from where you sit and collecting your things. They fill up your arms because you don’t bother to put them in your bag, making your way clumsily across the room and setting your stuff down across from him. 

“Hi, Tsukishima,” you smile. “Hi, Tadashi.” 

You use his friend’s given name and Kei feels a pang of jealousy hit his chest. 

“How long have you been here? I didn’t see you,” you ask, settling into the seat across from Kei. 

“I just got here,” Tadashi smiles, looking up from his notes. “He’s been here for a while though.” 

Tadashi motions towards him. 

“Aw, why didn’t you say hi?” 

“You seemed busy,” Kei lies. 

You pout, filling your mouth with air. “Next time just come say hi, ‘kay?” 

“Sure,” Kei nods. 

Tadashi tosses him a sideways glance and Kei shrugs it off. He’s not interested in being teased this morning, though when is he ever. 

Kei doesn’t like the way you make him feel. When you’re around, he becomes prickly. It sets Kei on edge in a way that he hates. His world, previously so rigid and organized, quickly begins to feel cluttered and structureless. 

You make his heart pound. You make it hammer against his chest so hard that he can feel it in his ears and behind his eyes. It goes all the way down to his already-hard-to-control fingertips and the tops of his thighs. A previously pastel colored world goes vibrantly candy-colored like it’s been plunged in saturating liquid. He nevers knows how to hold himself, never knows how to act natural. What does it mean to act natural, anyway? How should he rest his hands on the desk? Would it be weird to lace them together? Does he look as stiff as he feels? It’s entirely possible that he is suffering a massive heart attack. 

You whisper across the table to Tadashi, leaning forward and laughing at something he’s written in his notebook. You can read his handwriting, something Kei is equally jealous about as he is angry. Kei just watches your conversation, unable to really listen into it on account of the stroke that he thinks he’s having. 

The three of you stay like this for a while, earning the occasional irritated whisper or dirty look from some of the more studious people in the library. Kei pretends to ignore them, remaining quiet throughout the duration of your study session with Tadashi. His quiet corner is invaded and painted bright pink with your presence and he doesn’t know whether to feel giddy or irrationally angry. Maybe it’s both. 

“Crap, is that the time?” Tadashi exclaims, hunching over himself when someone nearby shushes him. “I’ve got class across campus in 10 minutes.” 

He hurriedly collects his things. Tadashi does it so fast, in fact, that Kei hardly has time to beg him not to leave him alone with you. So he just watches as Tadashi throws his things clumsily into his bag and tosses it over his shoulder. 

“Bye, ___,” he says in a rushed whisper. “I’ll see you at home, Kei!” 

“Sure,” is all that Kei can muster. His voice cracks when he says it and he immediately avoids looking at you and stares at nothing in particular in his textbook. 

It’s quiet for a while. Kei pretends to busy himself by glancing between his textbook and his computer and you sit with your head bowed as you take notes on a lecture you’re listening to through the single earbud in your right ear. Then, you tap the end of your pen lightly on Kei’s notebook to get his attention. 

It’s only been about 10 minutes since Tadashi left, but the library now feels like an entirely different place. His heart pounds as he struggles to keep a straight face. 

When he looks up, you’re looking at him with a tilted head. Your expression is soft and unintrusive, friendly but a bit guarded. You smile softly at him. 

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” You ask gently. It doesn’t sound accusatory, but rather a casual statement tinged with friendliness. 

“Huh?” Blood rushes into his ears. 

“I just kinda get the impression that you’re uncomfortable around me,” you say. “Am I wrong?” 

“Uh, no- it’s not that I don’t like you.” 

He’s quick to correct you and he feels heat rush to his cheeks. 

“Then what?” you question lightly. There’s no ulterior motive behind your smile, Kei can tell, but your openness makes him uneasy. 

“I dunno,” he calms himself a little. “I don’t really know how to act around you, I guess.” 

You laugh, leaning back into your chair. “Is that all?” 

“Well, yeah…” he feels awkward and his palms are sweaty. He drops them below the table to wipe them. “You’re Tadashi’s friend and I’m pretty different from him so I just…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

“I was worried you hated me,” you smile, chuckling to yourself. 

“That’s definitely not it,” he loosens a little, smiling lightly despite the thudding of his heart. It slows down steadily. 

“I’m your friend too, ya know?” 

“That so?” 

“Well, yeah,” you shrug and lean all the way back, crossing your arms. “I just kinda figured that we would be.” 

“Friends?” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. His word placement is awkward. 

“Duh,” you laugh a little. “You know, you don’t have to speak formally with me.” 

“That’s just the way I am,” he huffs at being read. 

“Well, you can drop them with me. I don’t mind.” 

“Tall order,” he snorts. 

You tilt your head to the side. “Did you just make a joke?” 

“Uh, yeah…” 

“Funny,” you smile. “What are you studying?” 

“It’s not really studying…” he says, glancing down at the near empty document. “I’m supposed to be writing an essay I have due on Friday. Not going well.” 

He looks up at you through his lashes. You’re leaning forward across the table now, your chin angled upward as you try and peek at what’s on his screen. He turns it so that you can see better. 

“Baroque art?” You read aloud. “Oh yeah, Tadashi mentioned that you’re an art history major. Do you draw too?” 

“No,” he scoffs. “I’m hopeless at it, but I like art. It’s nice to look at.” 

“Huh, you look like you’d be good at drawing,” you say. 

“What’s that mean?” 

“I dunno, like a manga author or something,” you shrug. “You’ve got nice hands too. Like an artist.” 

“Manga?” He laughs a little, trying to play off the color he feels rushing to his face from the compliment. 

“Yeah, you look like the manga type.” 

“Is it the glasses?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Maybe,” you laugh. 

Kei looks down at his hands. They’re big, like the rest of him, and his knuckles are thin. He’s hyper-aware of them now that you’ve complimented them. He studies them briefly, following the barely visible veins up the back of them, following the line of his fingers to his nails. They’re trimmed and somewhat well kept, save for the spots that he tends to bite at when he lays in bed at night. His hands look nothing like Tadashi’s. Tadashi’s fingers are thick and his nails are short on account of him biting them. Kei wonders if you prefer them to his. 

—

There’s a notebook that Kei likes on his desk. It’s only a bit bigger than his fist—a little thing, really—and it’s completely blank. Kei’s never written anything down in it, nothing has ever really been worth sullying the thing. It’s got brown fabric binding and a semi-thick cover. It’s malleable, but not so flimsy that he’d need a desk to write in it. 

Kei’s not too sure why he bought it in the first place. Maybe he liked the size of it, small enough to fit in his pocket, but not so small as to be ridiculous. It’s practical, much like he is. He’s considered turning it into a daily planner and putting to-do lists in it, but Kei isn’t much of a list guy, it’s Tadashi that likes making lists. Nothing has ever really felt like it suits the book. He’s considered journaling in it, but his life is one big routine and he doesn’t think there’s anything worth writing about. 

No matter what he does, nothing is good enough to put a permanent mark into the thing. Even if he used a pencil, Kei feels like the evidence of the mark would still be there even after erasing it, a molecular change that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Kei calls it the notebook theory. 

He thinks that might be what’s happening to him. A molecular change, imperceivable to someone not looking at him under a microscope. It’s like his DNA is being rewritten and stitched together with bright pink yarn. He feels himself steadily come apart and come together. It’s uncomfortable, like trying to dream when he has a fever. 

Kei is nearly certain that you’re the reason, not that he’s about to admit to anyone else that he likes you. Tadashi managed to weasel it out of him, though he didn’t really have to ask. In fact, it was less of an admittance to Kei than it was confirmation of his own feelings. If Tadashi can tell that he likes you, then he must. 

People seem to know things about Kei before he even knows them himself. At least, that’s how it seems. He’s always confronted with his own feelings by other people, not that they’re really ever wrong, but it seems everyone catches onto what he’s feeling rather quickly. He’s not too sure why that is, maybe he’s just obvious and hasn’t realized it. 

Come to think of it, when Tadashi had confronted Kei about his feelings for you, he’d been deeply annoying about it. Kei couldn’t even try to deny it because Tadashi had come out with his guns blazing, cornering him in the living room and throwing facts about you at him until his face was beet red with embarrassment. Then, with a serious frown on his face, he’d simply stated you like them and that was the end of it. Kei couldn’t even deny it. Even he knew that it read plainly in his expression. 

To be frank, it sucks being told in plain speech how he feels about someone. Whenever that happens, it makes Kei feel like he’ll never be able to keep another secret in his life. Sometimes, he wishes that he was able to make the decision to tell someone else on his own, but even Kei knows that that is a little beyond him. Kei can think the feelings just fine, but when it comes to speaking them aloud, he seems to have a padlock around his throat. 

Tadashi knows this about him and if it weren’t for him, Kei would have agonized far longer and far worse over certain situations of emotional turmoil. Most of the time, Tadashi gets it without needing to ask or say anything. It’s nice to have someone understand him in that way, even if it does mean he can’t keep a secret to save his life. 

Feelings lately make Kei a little angry. He’s always known that he’s had somewhat of a sour personality. Kei doesn’t need to be told that he’s smug to know that he is. He’s snarky and usually touchy, picky about the people that he hangs out with. It’s not really a secret that Kei is a hard person to get along with, but lately, he feels like it’s been worse. 

Maybe it’s because this is new territory to him. As conceited as it sounds, Kei has never liked someone first. It’s not because he doesn’t think anyone is worthy, but rather, because there are very few people he doesn’t find grating. Despite how he seems, Kei is incredibly sensitive about things, so naturally, it’s easier to get on his nerves. 

He’s dated before, though not for long, and all of his relationships have started the same way. Kei is approached by them, usually on the premise of looks, and he accepts. He’s not sure why he does. Sometimes it’s because he thinks they’re pretty, other times it’s because the romantic in him hopes that it will actually work out. It never has. 

Most of the time, Kei turns out to be different than they expected. He’s too touchy, too sarcastic, too awkward in his way of trying to love. To Kei, it has always felt like it’s ended just as he was beginning to develop real feelings. 

If he’s being honest, it’s given him a twisted inferiority complex. He’s worried that somehow, on a fundamental level, he’s not enough. Sometimes, it even goes so far as for Kei to think that he’s just generally disappointing. He tries not to be. Kei wants to be relied on. He wants to be someone his friends can go to when they need something sturdy. 

Despite his personality, Kei considers himself sturdy. Well, maybe stubborn is a better word. Kei considers himself stubborn enough to be made sturdy. He’s just a little awkward. That’s all. People seem to mistake that for being unreliable. It’s a peeve of Kei’s. 

Tadashi isn’t like that. Tadashi is bright and warm, reliable in every sense of the word. Kei actually looks up to him a lot, not that he’d ever say anything like that to his face. Sure, Tadashi’s not perfect, but at least people rely on him. At least Kei relies on him. 

Tadashi is more easy going than Kei is. He has an easier time going with the flow, which makes him more personable. Kei thinks that Tadashi is the closest thing that he’s had to a better half. In truth, without Tadashi around, Kei isn’t exactly sure what would have become of him. 

It’s pointless thinking about these sorts of things though. Kei realized a long time ago that thinking about being better won’t automatically make him better. This is just the way he is and Kei’s learned to accept that, whatever it means. Still, none of this changes the fact that he likes you. 

Kei could mull over thought after thought and he doesn’t think it would have any effect on the fact that he’s definitely developed a crush. He’s positive it will go away. In fact, he’s not even sure if it’s real. Maybe Kei is just jealous of you the same way he’s jealous of Tadashi. You’re bright and warm like he is. You and Tadashi are cut from the same cloth, so maybe that’s why the two of you get along so well. 

In all honesty, Kei wishes he could be a little more like Tadashi for that reason. Maybe if he were more like Tadashi, he’d have the courage to fully accept these new and uncertain feelings for what they are. But he doesn’t have that kind of courage, not right now at least. He doesn’t have the courage to solidify and lean into his feelings. Kei doesn’t want to risk what little comfort and security he has. If the relationship between you both is a blank page, Kei doesn’t have anything important to write. What if it ruins the paper? What if when he erases it, it changes the thing on a molecular level for the worse? The notebook theory. 

— 

Despite everything, Kei is rather self-aware. At least in his own head he is. Kei knows that when he pretends he doesn’t like you, he really ends up liking you more. He knows that he’s touchy, that he’s awkward, that he comes across more crass than he intends to. Kei is clumsy, not stupid. That doesn’t mean that he has to acknowledge it. 

You’ve been coming around more often since the conversation Kei had with you in the library. Maybe you’re more comfortable now knowing that he doesn’t hate you, so you’re happier to join Tadashi in their shared apartment. 

Kei feels bad about making you think that he hates you. Actually, he feels really bad about it. Like, astronomically bad about it. Embarrassingly enough, it actually keeps him up at night. So he goes out of his way to be a little nicer to you. The only other person he’s ever done that for is Tadashi. 

He greets you properly when you pass, despite the flare up of a medical condition he’s yet to fully diagnose brought on by your presence. He asks you questions about your studies, partially because he is genuinely curious and partially because he doesn’t want you to hate him. He thinks he’d die if you hated him. Kei’s being brave in his own way. It’s little, but he’s doing it. 

As a result, the two of you have grown a little closer. Kei has your phone number now, though he rarely has any reason to text you. Typing out a message to you makes him nervous. It makes him red in the face when you’re not even there. Somehow, having your phone number feels vulnerable to him, like he has access to you whenever he wants and you him. It means that if you wanted, you could make him nervous without even being nearby. That’s a lot for Kei to think about. 

Kei sees you in the library sometimes too, but he never takes the initiative to speak to you. You always come up to him first, clumsily gathering your things the way you did the day you and him sorted out your friendship and plopping them down in front of him. 

Sometimes, you both go several hours without saying anything to each other. Other times, you’ll chat away about something while leaning forward on the desk and Kei has to pretend that he’s not wildly nervous at your proximity. You’re so friendly. So genuinely warm that Kei can physically feel it when you talk. Despite his nerves, Kei would describe you as comfortable. You’re a comfortable person to him, as alarming as that is. 

His crush is out of hand. It scares him, not that he’s actively thought about that. What started as him noticing you has quickly ballooned into him being painfully aware of you at all times. He kind of feels bad about it. You don’t seem to think that he’s anything more than a friend and it makes Kei feel bad that he thinks of you as anything but that. He doesn’t want you to be just a crush to him. Kei wants you to be like Tadashi, someone he can rely on and be comfortable with. He almost feels like he’s reversed what’s been done to him his whole life, like somehow he’s only become your friend because he wants something more. 

Truth is though, he doesn’t want anything more. Kei wants to stay exactly where he is. He doesn’t want his crush to develop any further. He doesn’t want to confess, he wants to forget. Even now, sitting on a couch in the library, he wants to imagine he doesn’t feel anything at all for you.  

“Hey, are you okay?” You tilt your head at him. 

“Huh? Me?” He questions. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You seem a little distracted,” you smile. “You’ve been staring at your computer for like… 10 minutes with this blank look on your face.” 

“You’ve been staring at me for 10 minutes?” He raises an eyebrow, trying to play off the embarrassment of being caught like that. 

“Not staring at you,” you huff, “but I definitely noticed.” 

“Ha, creep,” he tilts his head up a little, blowing air out of his nose. 

“You’re twisted, you know?” 

“Whatever,” he shrugs his shoulders and looks back at his computer screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head and smile before looking down at your work. 

Tadashi has said the same exact thing to him before. In highschool, after Kei had made a joke about his teammate Hinata’s height, Tadashi had given him a look and snorted that he’s so twisted. He’s been hearing that sort of thing his entire life. 

“Hey, are you cool if I skip out of here early?” You ask a few moments later. 

“Oh, yeah sure. I don’t mind,” he nods, hiding his disappointment. “I didn’t realize that we had like… set times to be here.” 

You laugh lightly. “Well, we don’t, but we tend to come and go at the same time, no? I kinda look forward to it.” 

Kei envies your honesty. You’re so honest all of the time. You say what you feel when it pops into your head. He wishes he could be like that, maybe then he would be able to say that he does too. Instead, he just nods and swallows his heart back down. You smile at him again and then gather your things. 

“You’ll be home on Friday night, right?” 

“Uhm, yeah? Why?” 

“Tadashi invited me and a few friends over, did he tell you?” 

“I think he mentioned it.” Kei has actually been thinking about it for the last couple days. 

“Good, I’ll see you, right?” 

“Yeah, you will.” 

“Great, talk to you later then!” You smile and with that, you walk away. 

You sounded so certain in that statement. Talk to you later. You said it like it was inevitable. Thinking about that, Kei can’t help but watch you go. He even likes looking at the back of you, though he wishes he could see your face too. It feels worse to be walked away from than walked towards. 

Kei can’t tell anymore if what he feels is romance or jealousy. It’s probably both. It’s probably some mix of the two that he can’t quite sort out. He wishes it weren’t that way. Kei gets the feeling that he might be ruined. 

So he just watched you leave the library. Someone is waiting for you at the top of the stairwell. Kei can tell they’re a guy and despite the reluctance of his feelings, his stomach drops anyway when you nudge his shoulder with yours and loop your arm around his. That’s something you haven’t done to Kei before. Touch him. You touch this other person so easily. It makes Kei jealous. 

It makes sense that you might be seeing someone, that there might be someone else. After all, you’re you. Desirable. You look up at the stranger, leaning on him, smiling and flashing your teeth. Yeah, it makes sense. 

Turns out, it’s easier to pretend that he doesn’t feel anything when he thinks you’re interested in someone else. He likes to think it will save him the time of wondering. 

—

Kei has cleaned his room approximately four times today. Sure, it’s overboard, but every time he goes into it, he notices something else that needs to be spruced up. Like a pot with a leak, there is always something that he seemed to miss the last time he went through and cleaned up. 

It’s not like you’ll be in his room tonight anyway, but you will be in his apartment and that’s close enough to his room that he, for whatever reason, needs to make it so spotless that it looks like a set. Kei knows though, that even when you’re here, he’ll be wondering if there’s something else that he missed beyond the closed door and he’ll think about it incessantly. 

He’s been avoiding the thought of him liking you. Instead, Kei cleans and cleans and then cleans some more for good measure. It’s not like he has any sort of claim on you and he knows that it’s stupid to feel jealous over one interaction he witnessed by chance, but his mind is running away with him. Was that person your boyfriend? Has he been begrudgingly pining over a taken person all these months? Do you think that he’s creepy because of it? 

He doesn’t get to be upset over the idea that you’re seeing someone else. Why wouldn’t you be? Kei’s done absolutely nothing to indicate his interest in you (or lack thereof), besides maybe telling you that he doesn’t hate you. He has no right to feel the way he does, but he spirals anyway. His insecurities, the ones that gnaw at him in the hours before he falls asleep, play in a constant loop in his head. His unreliability, his unpleasant personality, his cynicism, the baggage he carries with him like a badge. All of it piles up one by one. 

Kei feels like a kid again, losing himself over such a simple interaction, over something so miniscule that it might not even be considered anything at all. There are a plethora of reasons for his feeling like this and Kei thinks he could draw one of his issues out of a hat and it would still somehow address the situation at hand, but all he really feels is hurt and he doesn’t want to explain it away. Kei finds that liking someone hurts. It hurts more than it feels good and the uncertainty chews at his patience and leaves it razor thin. It’s not your fault, nor is it the person Kei’s convinced himself you’re seeing, but he needs someone to blame and it can’t be himself. 

The idea of you relying on someone else makes him nauseous. He’d never considered the thought before, that you find him as unreliable as others do. Kei wants to be relied on, most of all by you, and that fact makes him upset. He’s afraid of what you think of him and without the confidence to accept his feelings, it threatens to crush him. 

Kei’s got this itch over it, so he tries to distract himself. Cleaning his space to prepare for you helps him delude himself that he doesn’t quite like you at all. It’s not your fault. He’s just confused, like his parents were when they married each other. It hurts. Like they were when they had him to try and fix their marriage, which had started to fall apart even when Akiteru was an only child. He’s confused. He’s jealous over your ability to live the way Kei has always wanted to. That’s all this is. Nothing more and nothing less. He feels like he’s being split in two, stretched thin between two modes of thinking. 

Kei glances over his shoulder and into his room one last time. He’s forgotten to wipe the mirror. He goes back in and the cycle starts itself over. 

—

He’s not proud of his behavior. Kei thinks only a seriously huge asshole would be proud of the kind of behavior he displayed tonight. He regrets it immensely, though some part of him is begrudgingly holding onto the idea that maybe he was right to be so short tempered. Of course, that’s a lunatic’s idea. 

Tadashi is standing by the apartment door, mumbling something to you behind it. Over Tadashi’s shoulder, he sees you shake your head and in response, Tadashi gives a small bow before shutting the door to the shared apartment. Then, Tadashi turns and walks towards him. 

Kei doesn’t want to look at him, but Tadashi, for some reason, commands his gaze. 

“Is there a reason you were such a huge cunt tonight?” Tadashi sort of spits the words. They land at Kei’s feet and roll around before settling. 

“What are you talking about? I was normal,” he answers, though the statement sounds like a lie the moment it leaves his lips. 

“Bullshit,” Tadashi says. “You were being an asshole the second they walked through the door and you’ve been one to me all day.” 

Kei scoffs, his cheeks burning, “I’ve just been tired, dude. Besides, what does it matter? You’re closer to all of them than I am.”

“What? You’re tired so you just get to be a huge asshole?” 

“No,” Kei responds. 

“So then what was that?” 

Kei doesn’t really know. He doesn’t know what prompted him to act so cold or make such snide comments. It’s true, he’d been in a bad mood all day and he knows that Tadashi has borne the brunt of his misplaced emotions, but even Kei is confused as to why he’d acted the way he did. Still though, there is a part of him that knows that it was connected to his spiraling and what he saw in the library. He’d sound insane if he said it out loud, like somehow his growth was stunted in the third grade, but Kei is sure it had something to do with liking you and the hurt that comes with it. 

It’s not as if he’d been outwardly mean, but he had been cold. There are parts of himself that Kei doesn’t want you to see, sections of his personality that he ropes off from you because despite not liking you, he wants you to see the best in him. Tonight, he managed to somehow show off the worst. 

It started with the noise when everyone had arrived. You, Hinata, Kageyama, Tanaka, Kiyoko, and Yachi had all piled into the apartment in one large group. Kei’d been sitting on the couch and the sound of the door startled him right off the bat. He assumed that by the time they all had rounded the corner into the living room, his face was already sour, because everyone had greeted him cautiously. 

It’s no surprise that everyone was so loud. Kei has known this particular group for many years and they, having all gone to school or work nearby, pile into his apartment often for events like these. You were really the only new factor in all of it and while Kei is known as a touchy person, he certainly was more touchy than usual tonight. 

You’d been trying to talk to him all evening and Kei, in a desperate attempt to avoid whatever lingering feelings he had for you, had been shutting you down at every turn. Thinking back on it, he’s endlessly embarrassed. You didn’t deserve that. You’d been nothing but kind to him and there Kei was holding a grudge over you for something he had no right to be angry about whatsoever. He had been holding a grudge over something that he’d learned later that evening that wasn’t even true. 

Kei thinks that what Tadashi is referring to, was deliberately picking a fight with Tanaka. Kei and Tanaka have never been particularly close. Even in high school, his boisterous and somewhat obnoxious personality has always rubbed Kei the wrong way. Despite that, Tanaka has somehow managed to maintain a connection to him through university and the two of them have established a tentative but honest friendship. 

You had been sitting on the arm of the couch beside Tanaka, leaning over him to look at something he was showing you on his phone. Then, you laughed a little too hard and Kei felt that familiar sense of injustice rise to his throat, thick and heavy. It’s an ugly feeling, the kind that makes Kei feel sick when he’s in bed late at night. Bile rose in his throat in the form of harsh words. Jealousy in the form of the verbal venom Kei excels at. 

For Kei, Tanaka was an easy target, someone he could poke at and get a satisfying rise out of. In the moment, the rise he’d gotten from Tanaka by making snide comments about the volume of his voice and his particular obsession with pretty girls had been exactly that, satisfying. 

He’d picked a small fight. Nothing physical, but just enough to get him irritated. Kei’s not proud of it, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t done it deliberately. After all, Tanaka has never been the type to be the bigger person and turn his nose up. 

Sometimes, when Kei is experiencing emotions he’d rather not deal with, he decides to obsess over one single thing. Usually, it’s cleaning or schoolwork. Tonight, it happened to be the volume of Tanaka’s voice, which he knows was a shitty thing to do. Despite wanting to be reliable, Kei can’t help but feel that he was endlessly immature, lashing out at someone completely unrelated to the situation just because he could. 

Tadashi pulls him from his thoughts. 

“I thought you liked them, dude,” his voice is even, letting up on the anger. 

“Who?” Kei plays dumb. 

Tadashi responds with your name and Kei stiffens slightly. “I thought you guys had gotten closer. What happened?” 

“Nothing happened,” Kei says. It’s the truth. Absolutely nothing happened. Kei had spiraled all on his own. 

“Why did you ignore them then?” 

“I didn’t ignore them,” Kei says. Again, it’s not a lie. He may have shut conversations down and been a little cold, but Kei couldn’t ignore you if he tried, it’s sort of the whole problem he’s dealing with now. 

“Maybe, but you were cold. Like… needlessly.” 

“I was fucking normal, Tadashi. You should know me well enough by now to know that,” Kei spits. 

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it? I know you and I know that shit wasn’t normal. You’re twisted, but you’re not an outright asshole, Kei. What’s going on?” 

“I was normal, Tadashi. Just because I didn’t bounce around or get rowdy, doesn’t mean that something is wrong,” Kei answers. 

“Yeah, but you were like… majorly fucking weird, Kei. You were being an asshole. Don’t you like them? Don’t you want to be nice to them?” 

“I don’t.” 

“You don’t want to be nice to them?” Tadashi scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“No, not that. I don’t like them like that anymore,” Kei lies. 

“Oh please, that’s such horseshit,” Tadashi laughs bitterly. 

“Get off my ass, Tadashi. I don’t fucking feel that way about them anymore,” Kei insists. 

“Did something happen?” 

“No, literally nothing happened! Why does something have to happen? I just don’t like them,” Kei feels himself getting indignant. Tadashi doesn’t deserve this either, but he seems to be indiscriminate with his poor behavior tonight. 

Tadashi looks at Kei for a moment, studying him and calculating all of the things only Tadashi could know about him. Kei tries to hide it. 

“Jesus, Kei, you’ve got to stop doing this shit,” Tadashi touches his hand to his forehead. 

“Doing what?” 

“Getting all in your head about every single connection you’ve ever had with a person,” Tadashi raises his voice. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I’ve seen you do this a million times! You start to really feel something for a person and then you fucking back away like a dog with its tail between its legs!” 

“I don’t do that!” 

“Yes, you do! You sabotage yourself until the other person is forced to do something about it!” Tadashi exhales. 

“I’ve never done that deliberately! What does someone else’s actions have to do with me?” 

“It doesn’t have to do with you,” Tadashi says, “It has to do with your parents.” 

The wind is knocked out of Kei, air sucked from his lungs. He furrows his eyebrows at Tadashi, his mouth slightly open. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Tadashi pushes, angry and trying to make him listen. “Not every relationship is like your parents’, Kei.” 

Tadashi knows he’s stepped over the line the moment he says it. If it hadn’t registered before, it registers clearly on his face now, regret settling over Tadashi’s usually bright features. Kei gapes at him for a moment, running through his thoughts and trying to pick out one that best verbalizes what it is he feels. Kei comes up empty. 

“Shit-” Tadashi starts towards him. “Kei, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that. I’m just pissed off I didn’t mean to-” 

Kei pushes past him. “Tadashi, I know you mean well, but don’t try to tell me about my fucking parents.” 

Tadashi doesn’t try to stop him when Kei flings the front door open and walks outside.

—

Kei remembers it like it was yesterday. He remembers all of it. 

He can clearly recall the way shattered glass looked on the marble tiles of his childhood home. White porcelain, broken up into multitudes by his mother and father. They never laid hands on each other, but everything else in the house was fair game. Kei’s lost count of the amount of broken glass dishes and picture frames he’d swept from the floor. 

Kei’s parents had always been on and off in their affection for each other. One minute, they were deeply in love and the next, they were at each other’s throats. Neither of them were bad people, but they made each other bad people. The two of them brought out the worst in each other, maybe on account of knowing the other so well. 

Akiteru was an accident. His brother knows this because when his parents argued, they never let him forget it. In their spats, leverage was whatever they could get their hands on, and that just happened to be Akiteru and the unfortunate circumstances of an accidental pregnancy. 

His parents got married at 19, thinking that they’d be able to handle a child, that their marriage was anything but rushed. They convinced themselves that it was love, when the reality was that Akiteru came because they were too young and stupid to prevent it. At least, that’s what Kei and Akiteru had settled on in the evenings after the yelling had died down and they were left to make sense of it in their shared bedroom. 

They had Kei to fix the marriage. Kei knows this because, like Akiteru, his father’s marital “solution” in the form of a second child was constant leverage to his mother. Kei grew up asking Akiteru why his mother and father even had children in the first place. 

Their relationship was rocky and unstable, predictable and toxic. They, like Kei, would do things to get rises out of each other. They’d make digs, do things to get under the other’s skin. They did it for attention, for affection, or out of loathing for the person they’d decided to make their life partner. When things settled, they got bored. His parents often mistakened calmness for complacency in their relationship. His parents loved each other, but they hated each other just as much, and it was he and Akiteru who paid the price. 

They got divorced when he was fourteen and any chance of Kei having a normal family went to the courthouse with the divorce papers. Akiteru was 20 at the time and managed to avoid the brunt of the custody battle. Kei still gets unexplainably angry with Akiteru for leaving him alone, though he knows that it’s not his fault. The only way Kei could make sense of it was through blame and it was easier to blame Akiteru for lying about volleyball or leaving him alone than it was to blame himself. Both Kei’s father and mother tried for full custody, not because they loved him that much, but because they knew that it would destroy the other. In the end, Kei spent his weekdays with his mother because she lived closer to his school, and weekends with his father just because. 

It happens all the time. People grow together, then grow apart, and grow to loathe each other. Kei watched it happen to his parents, he watched it happen to his friends, he watched it happen to himself with his own reflection. That’s just the way it goes. 

The air outside of his apartment is cool and breezy. He can feel the wind through his sweater, cutting through the gaps in the stitching and into his skin. Kei feels like he can think a little better out here, sitting on the short concrete wall with his back to the apartment building. He stares at his feet, outstretched in front of him. He's still wearing his house slippers. 

Kei did this once when he was younger. The fight that night had been particularly bad and his parents had resulted to throwing things across their bedroom. Kei could hear picture frames shatter through two walls and he wondered which memories they’d decided to trash. A particularly loud shout had sent Kei out of the front door and onto the curb in front of the house. 

He remembers crying, staring at his house slippers on the pavement, afraid because he could hear the shouting even from the lawn. Akiteru had come out to get him, sitting down beside him on the curb and putting his arm around him. 

“Are mom and dad gonna get divorced?” Kei had asked through sniffles. 

“Divorced? No, no,” Akiteru answered. “It’s just a rough patch. It happens to all couples. Mommy and Daddy will be fine.” 

“It’s normal?” Kei sniffled. 

Akiteru paused for a moment. Looking back, Kei realizes that Akiteru was debating on whether or not to lie to protect him. Kei wishes he hadn’t. 

“Yeah, it’s normal.” 

Normal. Kei realizes that he doesn’t exactly know what a normal relationship looks like. He is his parents' son. What they had in them, he has in him. Kei knows that those habits, the digs, the sour statements, the passive aggressiveness, are all things he’s picked up from watching them. Some role models they were. 

He needs to apologize to Tadashi. He may have overstepped, but Kei knows that he’d been an asshole tonight. He’ll need to apologize to Tanaka as well. And to you, which is perhaps the scariest part of this. He wants to apologize for his behavior, but apologizing means that he has to admit that he’d acted the way his parents did, out of jealousy and a pull for attention. Yup, he’s his parents’ son alright. 

Kei tilts his head up toward the sky. Only half of it is visible, the other half blocked by the three story apartment complex directly behind him. It’s a clear night, but he can’t see any stars and the moon is nowhere to be found. Kei wonders when the morning will come. It’s a few hours off, but he thinks about how the sky will look when the sun begins to rise. 

“Kei,” a familiar voice calls from in front of him. 

You’re a few feet away, your hands clasped in front of you. 

“Thought you went home,” he says. 

“Yeah well, I had intended to,” you start, “but you seemed off and I felt weird going back without checking on you. Can I sit?” 

Kei shrugs his shoulders, mortified and angry at being caught like this. He appreciates the thought, but you’re the last person he wants to see right now. It just means he needs to face his shortcomings sooner. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Kei answers automatically. 

“Just decided on some fresh air?” You smile a little and Kei blows air out of his nose. 

“Yup, that’s exactly it.” 

You sit next to him with your legs outstretched the same way his are, your hands are laced together in front of you, hanging down between your thighs. Kei doesn’t make an effort to say anything and neither do you. Instead, he just trains his head back up towards the sky and attempts to collect his thoughts, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

Strangely, tonight he doesn’t feel nervous. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have the energy to. Maybe he’s too preoccupied with being sorry to pay any mind to the heart palpitations he gets when you’re around. Maybe it’s because even though he showed you the worst of him tonight, you still came back. It’s a small hope, but it’s there. 

“Hey,” your voice comes quietly, “I don’t know what’s going on, but if you need- I mean- if you want to talk about it, I’m a pretty good ear.” 

Kei nods a little. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “about tonight.” 

“I didn’t come here for an apology, you know?” You exhale a little. 

“Yeah, but you deserve one,” he says. “I was pretty shitty to you.” 

“Yeah, you were,” you agree, catching Kei off guard, “but it happens to all of us. Sometimes we feel things and just can’t keep them inside, you know?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, swallowing down his shame. 

There’s another long silence. You don’t move to touch him or talk to him, instead, you provide steady company. Kei, as strange as it is, is comforted by your presence. 

“I fought with Tadashi,” Kei says after a few minutes. 

“Today?” 

“Yeah, tonight. After everyone left,” he says. “I deserved it though. I’ve been pretty shitty to him all day.” 

You hum, leaning back on your hands. 

“I did the same shit in high school too, you know?” Kei starts. “We’ve uhm- we’ve known each other for a while, the group that was over tonight. Around the end of middle school some shit happened and I uh- I took out a lot of what I was feeling on Tadashi and the others, but mostly Tadashi because he was the only one who knew.” 

Kei isn’t sure why he’s telling you this. Maybe Tadashi was right. Maybe this is another attempt at self sabotage. 

“You bullied him?” You ask, a little surprised. 

Kei shakes his head. “No, but I wasn’t very nice either. Anyone could tell you that. I thought I was past it, though,” he admits, a little defeated. 

“Did you ever apologize?” 

Kei looks up at you in surprise. Your eyes are full of something, curiosity, maybe pity. 

“For what you did in school?” 

He nods. “Countless times, and not just to Tadashi either, to everyone.” 

“You know, stuff like this happens,” you say. “When I was little, I used to hate sharing. Toys, food, friends. I’d hate it when my friends were friends with other people. It made me insecure and I’d get mad at them for it. I grew out of it, but sometimes I still get that way and I have to apologize later.” 

Kei laughs. It’s strikingly similar to what’s happening now, not that you’d have any way of knowing. 

“I can’t imagine you doing that,” he says. 

“I’m serious,” you say. “I still get weird over it sometimes.” 

Kei shakes his head a little, smiling. 

“All that I’m saying is that sometimes we slip up, that’s all. It’s normal,” you continue. “Not that I’m condoning it. Just saying that it doesn’t make you a horrible person. It makes you human.” 

“Thanks,” he says softly. 

“No problem,” you respond. 

“So why’d you fight with him tonight?” 

“He was angry with me because I was an asshole,” Kei shrugs.

“And you’re mad that he called you out?” You give a quiet and somewhat incredulous laugh. 

Kei shakes his head. “No, I’m angry about what he said after.” 

“What’d he say?” 

Kei debates on telling you. He doesn’t want to make himself out to be a victim. After all, Tadashi meant no harm, even if his comment did exactly that. 

“The argument kind of switched subjects,” Kei tiptoes around the fact that the subject was you. “He brought up a bad habit of mine and I got defensive.” 

“Okay,” you say, waiting for him to say more. 

“Remember when I said that something happened at the end of middle school and only Tadashi knew about it?” When you nod, Kei continues. “My parents got divorced. They were a bad match and it was messy. He brought it up.” 

You nod again, your eyes wide. 

“He didn’t mean any harm, I know that,” Kei inhales. “But uh- that stuff kind of sticks with you. Well, it’s stuck with me and I didn’t like having it used to explain my behaviors, even if he was right. I’m not deflecting or anything though. I know I was the problem tonight.” 

“Sure,” you say. “I’m sorry about your parents.” 

Kei shrugs. “It’s in the past. They’re both remarried now with new kids.” 

The last sentence leaves Kei with a sour taste in his mouth. His parents are good people, but after his childhood, he doesn’t think they have any business having more children. Maybe they’re capable of being good for them, but Kei doesn’t like to imagine that. It makes him feel like their marriage wasn’t the problem, but he and Akiteru were. 

“You say that like they got a new pet,” you smile a little. “Are you still in touch with them?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “I visit whenever I go back home, though they’re really not too far from here.” 

“That’s good of you.” 

“Well, they are my parents,” Kei says plainly. 

You’re the only other person he’s divulged this to by choice and your reactions, understanding and level-headed, make him feel better. It’s like getting a weight off of his chest. This is the worst of him. This little bit of information, his history of being unable to fully confront his feelings, of taking anger out on others when he was young, is where his problems originate. 

“Yeah, but you’re allowed to feel what you feel about it,” you say. “My mom died when I was eleven. Texting and driving. I’m still angry at her for it.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

You shrug and offer him a wry smile. “It’s in the past, but I’m still angry even though I shouldn’t be.” 

“At her?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “She made a stupid mistake that we’re constantly warned about and left my dad and me behind. I was so angry with her, still am. I love her though, perceived faults and all.” 

Kei thinks about whether or not he loves his parents. He thinks he does, even if he resents them. Kei can’t imagine what he’d do without them. Even though his childhood had few emotional comforts, he still can’t think about a world where he doesn’t visit home to have his mother’s cooking. That’s a world that you live in. 

“That’s hard.” It’s all Kei can think to offer. 

“It was,” you say. “Got easier though as soon as I started accepting things. Now I just miss her more than I hate her.”

Another bout of silence follows this. It must be close to two in the morning and he’s been outside so long that he can no longer feel the tip of his nose. 

“Anyway, about tonight,” you say, “it’s not a crime to feel what you feel, but if you need help, that’s what we’re here for. It’s easier to accept feelings and get hurt than to ignore them, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah,” Kei says, looking to face you. “Thank you.” 

You’re so pretty. It’s striking. The curvature and angles of your face, the gentle look in your eyes, softened by the conversation. Kei finds himself thinking that despite not wanting to face you a few hours earlier, he’s grateful that you showed up. You’re good in ways that Kei can hardly fathom. 

“You should go inside. Tadashi is probably wondering where you are,” you say, standing up. “Plus,” you pinch the tip of his nose between your middle and pointer knuckles, “your nose looks like a cherry tomato.”

“Rude,” he says, startled by the sudden touch. 

“Payback,” you shrug your shoulders and Kei rolls his eyes. 

“Do you need me to walk you home?” Kei offers, a bit nervous about you walking home on your own. 

“I’d love to take you up on that, but you seem tired and I don’t live very far,” you respond. “I’ll call you when I get home though, okay? Since you’re so worried.” 

Kei laughs a little and then nods, standing up. “Yeah, I am.” 

His honesty surprises even him, but you just tilt your head and give him a small smile. 

“I’ll see you on Monday,” you say. “Thanks for the apology” 

“Anytime.”

“I hope not,” you laugh and Kei follows suit. 

You begin to turn on your heel, giving a small wave. 

Kei doesn’t know what overcomes him, but he calls out your name and reaches for your wrist. Before he has a moment to think about what he’s doing, he pulls you to his chest in a hug. You stiffen and then relax in his grip, wrapping your arms around him. Your body is warmer than his, sending heat through the gaps in his sweater. 

“You can call even if it’s not to tell me you got home safe,” he says. “If you want to.” 

You squeeze him around the middle. “Okay, I will.” 

When Kei lets go, he finds that his face is burning. The cold has been replaced by a flush of blood, making his vision a little syrupy.

“Thanks for coming back,” he says. “Get home safe.” 

“Of course,” you sound a little dazed, wearing an expression that Kei thinks might match his. “And I will.” 

Then, you smile at him, flashing your teeth and giving him a wave. You hold up your phone and point to it. 

“Expect a call!” 

Kei nods and raises his arm to wave goodbye.

He stands and watches your figure as you walk down the sidewalk and turn the corner. When you’re out of sight, he lingers by the door to his building, just in case you decide to come back. You don’t come back, but Kei lingers anyway, considering the conversation. 

He goes inside, intent on apologizing to Tadashi. When he opens the door to his apartment, the lights are still on in the living room and Tadashi gets up from the couch and walks quickly down the hall to him.

“Kei, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

“Don’t worry,” Kei says. “I know. I’m sorry about tonight too. And for treating you like that today. And for high school.” 

“High school?” Tadashi says, confused. “Why are you bringing up high school?” 

“Just wanted to apologize again.” 

Kei can feel his eyes drooping, exhaustion creeping into his body and replacing the elated feeling he had moments before. 

“I didn’t mean to bring your parents into it. How you like someone is none of my business,” Tadashi says. “I was out of line.” 

“So was I,” Kei admits through a tired sigh. “I shouldn’t have acted that way. I’ll apologize to the others in the morning.” 

Tadashi narrows his eyes a little and nods. Kei, besieged by that sleepy late night feeling, moves towards his bedroom. 

“Hey, Kei,” his voice comes out a little louder this time. “You’re being surprisingly easy-going. Are we good?” 

Kei scoffs a little, rubbing his eyes. “I just had some time to think, that’s all. And yeah, we’re good.” 

“Okay, are you good?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Kei says. 

Before he closes the door to his room, he furrows his eyebrows and makes a firm decision. 

“By the way,” Tadashi turns to him, cocking his head to the side in response. “I lied. I do like them.” 

“Could have guessed as much,” he responds, laughing a little. “See you in the morning.” 

“Yup, see you in the morning.” 

Kei shuts the door to his room. It clicks into place quietly. His room is spotless. It looks like a room that could be easily emptied at any time. He sighs, stepping into it and laying down on his bed. His phone is on the comforter next to him, lying face up. 

When it lights up, it illuminates the ceiling above him and he answers the phone without needing to check who's calling. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, I got home safe,” he hears your keys clink against something and then the sound of a door shutting. Then, he hears the sound of you laying down on your bed. He imagines you’re lying the same way he is. 

“Good, I’m glad,” he says. “No trouble?” 

“No trouble at all,” you say. He can hear your smile. 

“Thanks again for coming back tonight,” he says, turning over onto his side and letting the phone rest on the bed in front of his face. 

“Of course,” you say.

He doesn’t know what else to say. His nerves have caught up to him and your voice through the speaker sounds so close, like you’re whispering directly into his ear. 

“Okay, well I’m going to go to bed,” Kei starts. 

“Kei?” you say. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m gonna take you up on your offer. About calling you. Just wanted you to know.” 

“Okay,” he swallows. 

“I feel a lot closer to you.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

“Goodnight, Kei,” you practically whisper. 

“Goodnight,” he responds, lowering his voice the same way you did. You hang up the phone and the call ends. 

He blinks at his phone for a moment before standing up and getting ready for bed. Kei goes through the motions while thinking about how the evening got here. He’d been certain before it began that he no longer liked you, that he was confused. Now, he’s certain of the opposite. 

He decides that he’ll like you for real this time. Even if he’s afraid of hurting himself, of hurting you.

Kei lays down in his bed and faces the ceiling. He thinks about his parents, about your mother, about you. The cadence of your voice, the slight tremor in it. He thinks about your expressions, understanding and unintrusive. He thinks about your history, the anger you’d admitted to him and the grace you’d given him in his own circumstances. 

He dreams of braids, like DNA. Coils of pink yarn woven together in an intricate pattern. A molecular change not visible to the naked eye. Morning comes like liquid gold, spilling across his bedspread in slats through the window.

—

Kei’s apologies go smoothly. Tadashi’s friends—his friends—are good people. They know him better than most and field his awkward, stumbling apology with steady hands. 

He’d explained his sour mood in as little detail as possible, deliberately omitting his feelings for you while doing so, and he made a special effort to apologize to Tanaka. He’s easygoing and quick to forget, but Kei knows that even after accepting the apology, Tanaka will lord it over his head for a week or two. Tanaka thinks those kinds of things are funny and Kei won’t try to tell him otherwise. 

You do take Kei up on his offer. You call him twice a week now. Sometimes it’s to tell him something relevant to him, other times, you just whisper into the phone that you just felt like talking. Either way, it’s not good for his heart. Kei thinks that at this rate, it might just give out. 

There are a lot of things that Kei could say about liking you. It makes his days a little brighter. When he remembers that he has someone he cares about like that, he feels a surge of excitement for no particular reason. He finds that he looks forward to seeing you and goes out of his way to do so, more than he did before he was willing to admit it. 

He’s noticed the way you eat, like every bite of food is even better than the last. He’s noticed that you wipe the condensation off of your cups before each sip. He’s noticed that when you’re studying, you’ll pull at the collar of your shirt absentmindedly and then become frustrated when it is stretched out of place. Kei likes all of these things about you. 

Kei has also found that liking someone hurts. It hurts worse than he thought it would. Insecurity weaves its way into even the most minor of interactions. He’s self conscious almost all of the time, adjusting his hair, clothing, glasses right down to minor details. As of late, Kei appears more put together than he ever has, but the reality is that he’s probably the least put together he’s ever been. 

When you’re around, Kei is awkward and clumsy. He drops things, trips over nothing, loses control over his lanky limbs and overshoots things. He feels like a teenager again, not that he’s that far off from one. 

Still, one thing overshadows all of this. Kei is so comfortable around you, so peaceful despite the nerves and insecurity, that he’s able to forget about the worst of it. Forgetting about the worst of things is not something Kei is particularly good at. He’s cynical by nature. You help to ease the burden of it. 

The coffee shop he’s visiting with you today is quiet. The room is decorated with dark oak wood and the tables are accented by the rings of the trees the wood was cut from. The early spring light filters in at angles through the windows letting out onto the street. It falls across your notebooks and the knuckles of your hand, wrapped evenly around a black pen. 

You’d brought him here to study instead of going to the library and Kei can’t help but think that it feels like a date. His tea sits half-finished in a mug beside his laptop, beginning to cool to room temperature. Your coffee sits by your unoccupied hand and every now and then, you’ll reach to take a sip of the warm beverage without even glancing up. 

Kei has spent so much time watching you today, that he’s hardly gotten any work done. His computer is open on a document with a paragraph of writing about nudity in the classical period, which he hasn’t touched in about 10 minutes. He’s been clicking blankly around the page, adding spaces and then deleting them and then glancing up over the edge of the screen to look at the way you purse your lips when you’re focused. 

“You’d get a lot more done if you stopped staring,” you say, not looking up from your notebook. 

Kei chokes on his exhale. “What?” 

You laugh a little, looking up at him through your lashes. God, you’re pretty. 

“The document?” You chuckle. “You’re not fooling anyone by clicking around randomly like that.” 

“Oh,” Kei furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head a little. “Yeah, just can’t seem to focus.” 

“What’s the paper on?” You set down your pen and cross your arms on the table. 

“It’s not really a paper,” he says. “It’s a visual analysis on the Aphrodite of Knidos.” 

“Is that the one without the arms?” 

“No, but they come from the same family of statues,” Kei smiles a little. 

You hum a bit. “Do you like it?” 

“Like, do I think the statue’s pretty?” Kei closes the screen of his laptop to see you better. “Yeah, I do. Learning about the history of it is a bit depressing though.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, Aphrodite was one of the most powerful Greek gods, right?” He says, and you nod your head and roll your eyes because you know that already. “But this statue group intrudes on a private moment of hers. She’s trying to cover up her body, probably just before or after a bath. It’s meant to be humiliating.” 

You tilt your head. “Sounds more interesting than molecular structures at least.” 

Kei laughs a little. “Yeah, I think it’s just a bit more interesting.” 

“Why did you choose to study art history?” You question, leaning forward on your elbows. 

Kei feels awkward at receiving the question. He doesn’t like talking about himself much, let alone his passions. They tend to get away from him. 

“Probably because I’m no good at art,” he smiles a little. 

“Such a shame, what with your artist’s hands and all,” you reach across the table and tap his knuckle. 

Kei feels the color rise to his cheeks. 

“You’re no good at art, so you study art history instead?” You press for more. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I like things that people make with their hands. There’s a lot of human expression in ancient art, good and bad. Gives a bit more context into who we were before.” 

You lean back in the chair, grinning at him. Kei bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to notice the slope of your neck. 

“Why are you studying molecular bio?” He changes the subject. 

You shrug your shoulders. “I want a good cushy job that makes me a lot of money.” 

Kei watches the corners of your lips curl up. 

“Plus,” you continue, “I wanted to show off a little bit.” 

“So you put yourself through four years of torture?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Yup, I’m a huge masochist,” you grin. 

“You STEM kids are unbearable, you know?” Kei snorts. 

“But you like me anyway, yeah?” 

Kei nods, heat creeping up his neck, and watches you return to your work. 

It’s true, he does like you anyway. Kei likes you so much, in fact, that it frightens him. Well, the idea of liking someone has always frightened Kei, whether he’s noticed it or not. Commitment, or lack thereof, make Kei nervous in the same way heights do. He feels like he could lose his footing at any moment. 

That’s probably why he doesn’t want to do anything in particular about his feelings. Kei is content with just feeling them. He’s content to just be able to like you in his own way, even if nothing ever comes of it. He probably shouldn’t do anything about them, considering the back and forth battle he’s waged in his mind over the last few months. He’s too indecisive to do anything but like you, and even that feels herculean to accept. 

Not that liking you is a hard thing to do. You’re easy to like. It’s easy for him to picture touching you. It’s easy for Kei to imagine late night conversations and little intimacies shared over damp pillows. You’re easy to talk to, floating through conversations and navigating conflict with a sure step, something Kei can’t do. It’s not hard to find things to admire. 

Kei imagines what it would be like to be with you. He imagines the feel of your hands in his, how you might look spread beneath him, the inside of your thighs pressing against his hips. He imagines how his glasses might fog up with your breath and slip down the bridge of his nose. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? 

A little alarm bell sounds in his head. This is a dangerous line of thought, a greedy one. Kei doesn’t think he can handle greed, not when it comes to you. He got a taste of it that day when he saw you leave with someone else and again the following Friday. Kei doesn’t mix well with it, with wanting. Still, he wants. 

—

It’s a breezy day. It cuts the growing humidity as the beginning of May creeps on. This is no doubt one of the best times of year, though Kei prefers the fall or winter. Still, even with the slightly sticky air, his walk to class is pleasant. He’d even venture to say that it’s good. 

Light filters through the trees, blooming with their spring flowers, and in the distance he can see a familiar row of cherry blossoms just beginning to bloom. As he approaches them, he finds himself admiring their delicate petals, wondering just how brief their bloom will be before they come cascading down. One tree among the pink rows has yet to open its flowers. The buds sit on their branches, shades of green and gray. A late bloomer. This tree will no doubt flower once the other petals have fallen, and when it does, it’ll become the most eye-catching thing on the street. 

Kei admires it for a moment, standing below the thing and looking up through its twisting branches. It’s so small, much smaller than the rest of its counterparts, and its branches don’t look too full of yet-to-bloom buds either. 

There was a tree like this outside of Kei’s childhood home, the one his family lived in together when it was whole. It would always bloom a week after the others and every year he would worry that it never would. Of course, he kept this fear to himself, but he often watched it from his bedroom window when Akiteru was out. He’d press his face against the glass and pray for the flowers to come so that it didn’t get left behind. Sure enough though, it would bloom without fail and leave scattered pink petals across his yard and doorstep. Kei wonders if this tree in front of him will do the same. 

“Thinking about changing your major to plant sciences, Kei?” 

He jumps, started by your voice and your proximity. 

“Jesus,” Kei turns, “you need a bell or something.” 

“You’re the one standing in public staring at a tree with no flowers on it,” you laugh a little. 

Kei shrugs his shoulders, not really willing to give an explanation for the train of thought he was just on. 

“Where’re you headed?” he questions. 

“Dropping off an assignment,” you smile lightly, “wanna come with me?” 

“I can’t. I’ve got a class in 15.” 

“Fifteen minutes is fifteen minutes,” you shrug. “We’ll make it.” 

“We?” Kei raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, you come with me to drop off my paper and then I drop you off at class. It’s a win-win.” 

“Sounds like I’m just doing a lot of extra walking,” Kei snorts. 

“Yeah, but you get to do it with me so it’ll be more fun.” 

Kei folds and goes with you to drop off your assignment. It’s an essay assigned by an old-fashioned professor who doesn’t like electronic submissions. You comment off-handedly on what a waste of paper it is and Kei nods, just happy to hear about it. 

It’s strange. Kei is normally very tied to his routine. It keeps him sane, helps him to organize his thoughts and feelings into neat compartments. For Kei, an orderly life is an orderly mind. Somehow though, you ask him to deviate from that and he’s more than willing, eager even, to oblige you. Better yet, he does it without feeling off-kilter. Well, without feeling as off-kilter about his daily life. When it comes to you, Kei is about as stable as a pogo stick. 

The walk to your professor's office is only a few minutes from his classroom, just a few buildings over, but by the time you both arrive there, Kei’s palms are sweating. He resorts to shoving them in his pockets and wiping them on the inside of his pants, mortified at the idea of accidentally touching you like this. 

“Hey, about tonight,” you start after dropping the paper off with a quick bow. 

You’re supposed to come over. It’s the first time you and Kei have agreed to hang out at one of your places alone and Kei has been compartmentalizing his nerves so harshly that he’d almost forgotten about it entirely. Maybe that explains his easy-going mood. 

“Yeah?” 

“So, Tadashi may have mentioned it in front of the others,” you give him a sheepish grin, “and they may have asked to come and I definitely told them ‘the more the merrier’.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Kei’s a little disappointed. “So they’re coming too?” 

“Yeah, is that okay?” You furrow your eyebrows. 

Kei can’t very well come out and say that it isn’t, because his reason for thinking that is entirely about monopolizing your time. Kei says he doesn’t want to do anything about these feelings, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t indulge just a little into the foreign feeling of accepting that he’s ‘in like’. 

“Yeah sure, why wouldn’t it be?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him and Kei misses the message entirely. 

“I dunno, you’re not really a fan of bigger groups right?” 

“Not really,” Kei shrugs, “but I’ve known them for a while so it doesn’t count.” 

You nod your head and then smile. “Great! Now, where is your class?” 

“Social Sciences,” Kei glances down at the brown watch on his wrist. “In about… four minutes.” 

“Wanna run? Can’t be late, can you?” 

Kei does not want to run. He runs anyway. You’re faster than he is and your step is louder. The soles of your shoes thump on the floor with every step you take and your whole body lurches forward with each bound. When you reach the end of the hallway his class is in, Kei is completely winded. Considering that he plays volleyball as a hobby, he should really be in better shape. He attributes his lack of breath to your presence. Maybe he’d been holding it while watching you run. 

You glance into his full classroom, giving him a relieved look upon seeing that the professor has not begun her lecture yet. Then, you bounce twice on the tips of your toes and start jogging in the other direction. 

“Have a good class!” You call. 

“What’s the rush?” he questions. 

“I’ve got class now too, dummy. Just wanted to hang out with you for a few more minutes.” Then, you turn and run off, your bag bouncing against the side of your leg as you round a corner and fly down a set of stairs. 

That’s the thing about you that Kei can’t get enough of. When Kei takes a step back, when he resigns himself to being okay with just a chance meeting and a brief hello, you take a step forward. Whatever Kei lacks, you make up for tenfold. Your outstretched hand makes him greedier. It makes Kei want more than he’s ever wanted before. He goes to class starved for something that isn’t food, a feeling Kei hasn’t experienced often, let alone leaned into. He lets himself feel the hunger. 

—

Day melts away to a cool evening, still slightly wet, but like the dampness before rain. The air loses its warm touch, creeping into something chillier. Kei opens his bedroom window to let the air in. He likes the smell of cool nights. He wants his room to smell like it when he sleeps tonight. 

“Sorry that I spilled the beans about tonight,” Tadashi leans in the doorway of his room. 

“It’s not like that,” Kei rolls his eyes, already irritated with the implication that whatever you and Kei had organized was anything more than two friends hanging out. 

“Sure it isn’t,” he laughs. 

“I’m serious dude,” Kei fights the urge to throw something soft at him. 

“You wanted to hang out with them alone, right?” Tadashi tilts his head. His dark hair falls to the side and around his neck. 

“I just said it wasn’t like that!” 

Tadashi gives an even laugh. “You’re the one making it dirty, Tsukki, not me.” 

Heat floods Kei’s face, painting it red. 

“Caught ya,” Tadashi smiles. 

“When the hell are you moving out?” Kei grumbles and Tadashi gives another good natured laugh. 

“Not until you do. You’re stuck with me.” 

“Not if I kill you,” Kei doesn’t smile when he says this. 

Tadashi barks a laugh. “So what changed?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean with you. You seem a little more upbeat lately,” Tadashi says. “Nothing like the sad sack from a few months ago.” 

“I was kidding before but now I’m serious. I really will kill you.” 

Tadashi shakes his head a little but doesn’t say anything, intruding on Kei’s space until he gives an answer. 

“I just got tired of it, that’s all,” Kei says evenly, though it’s a little hard to admit. 

“Tired of what?” 

“Pretending,” he says plainly, glancing up at Tadashi in the doorway. 

“Because of them?” 

“No,” he starts. “Maybe. I don’t know. Can you leave now?” 

Tadashi shakes his head. “Too curious to leave.” 

“I don’t have an answer for you,” Kei grumbles. “I got tired of pretending I didn’t want them.” 

“Not like you were very good at pretending,” Tadashi laughs and Kei tosses him a sharp look. 

He raises his hands defensively, tucking his chin downwards and laughing lightly. “Okay, fine. I’m gone now.” 

“They’ll be here in an hour or so, by the way,” Kei adds and Tadashi gives a little hum to confirm that he’s heard him as he leaves the room. 

Kei glances around his room. The floor is bare, save for a small mat by the side of his bed to keep the shock of warm feet on a cold floor in the morning away. That notebook, dear to him as it is, still sits on the desk. It’s empty, but Kei likes the look of it. 

The hour before you and his friends are meant to arrive goes by so slowly that Kei worries that he’s gotten the day wrong. He incessantly checks his watch. It’s a brown leather watch with a square face. Thin and somewhat old fashioned, Kei prefers it to pulling his phone out to check the time. His Dad has one like it, almost matching. It had been given to him as a gift at his high school graduation and Kei had accepted it begrudgingly. He’d not been on good terms with his parents then and having them both in the same space for his graduation day was more trouble than it was worth. Still, he wears the watch almost daily. Despite having the impression that his parents never really cared about him, it was a fine gift for him and the brown strap suits his light skin tone in the same way it suits his father’s. 

He walks to the mirror in his room, hanging on the wall beside his nightstand, and peers into it. Kei’s curly hair is somewhat unruly. It’s hard to manage, especially in the warmer months when his waves turn into frizzy curls that he can’t seem to keep down. It’s gotten longer, coming down to just above the bottom of his ears at the back and curls upwards in licks of thick blond. 

Kei fiddles with it for a moment, tucking it behind his ears and then deciding to pull it forward. He could put gel in it to help calm it down, but he hates the greasy look of it and he’s never been one to primp and preen. He adjusts his glasses on his nose, square frames in a tortoiseshell pattern. They look expensive, though they’re only a cheap pair that he’d found at the drug store and had the lenses replaced. 

He looks normal. Kei looks like himself, if not a bit flushed in the face from his nerves. His reflection is one he is oddly unfamiliar with, despite it being his throughout his entire life. At some point during high school, he’d stopped recognizing the man in the mirror as Kei and started viewing him as a separate entity. Kei Two, a version of him that can make a home out of a space and find things to write in his notebook. Kei Two’s family is still whole and unbroken, and he likes to imagine that he’s a little more friendly than the real-world version. He looks away from the mirror, content today with being the original. 

Kei is in the living room and around the corner when the front door latch clicks open and is followed by a symphony of raucous voices. He takes a sharp inhale, unsure of why this feels so different from the hundreds of other times you’ve all piled into his living room. 

“Where’s Kei?” He hears you call, dragging out the syllable of his name in a soft hum. 

That’s why. It’s because this time, you’ve come here to see him specifically. You’re not here to see Tadashi or by chance, you’re here because you’d made plans to see Kei. That’s what makes it different. 

You round the corner and Kei is hit full force in the chest with his emotions and his nerves. It happens all at once, keeping the air from his lungs. You’re smiling, beaming even, and Kei thinks that maybe it’s because you can hear the hammer of his heart against his chest. 

“Hi,” you breathe, plopping down next to him on the couch. 

“Hey,” he chokes out. 

Kei chides himself for his nerves. He’d been doing better about getting weird around you, but today he feels closer to blowing up than he ever has. 

Hinata, Kageyama, Yachi, and Noya make their way into the kitchen, each one clapping Tadashi on the back as they do. They beeline for their fridge, opening the door and flooding the floor with artificial white light as they pull out enough beers and sodas to supply a small army. Kei wonders why he and Tadashi ever bought so many of them. Kei hardly drinks, but he supposes that Tadashi just likes to host. 

“Tanaka and Kiyoko?” Tadashi questions as he makes his way into the living room with the group. His beer cracks open with a satisfying pop. 

“Date night,” Noya says, sinking into one of the arm chairs situated around the coffee table. “So annoying.”

He groans about Kiyoko, someone he’s all but worshiped since high school. 

“You’re just mad it isn’t you,” Kageyama quips, giving a somewhat mean grin. 

“Not true,” Noya argues. “I am the happiest person in the world for them! But now they go on dates and I can’t come. It’s like I lost a bro.” 

“You’re so overreacting,” Yachi adds, her lips forming around high pitched syllables. “They’re here most of the time.” 

“Yeah, most but not all,” Noya pouts. 

“Give the same energy to Daichi, Suga, and Asahi next time, kay?” Tadashi laughs. 

Their friend group is a large one, consisting of most (if not all) of their highschool volleyball team. While Hinata, Kageyama, and Yachi are the same age as Kei and Tadashi, Tanaka and Noya are a year older, and Kiyoko is two. Daichi, Asahi, and Suga all went to universities outside of Sendai, meaning they hardly ever see them. All in all, the rest of the group is pretty bummed about it. Kei just finds that he misses having Daichi around to reel everyone in. Now that he’s gone, that job has somehow gone to Tadashi, who is more of an enabler than anything else. 

“They’re different and you know it,” Noya frowns, opening his open beer with a hiss through his teeth. 

You lean to the side, bumping your shoulder against Kei’s. 

“Who’re Daichi, Suga, and Asahi?” You ask softly. 

“You’ve never met?” Kei furrows his eyebrows and you shrug. 

“Maybe, but if I have it was only once or twice.” 

“They’re friends from our volleyball team in highschool, but they’re two years older.” 

“Okay, so one year older than me?” 

Kei blinks a few times. “You’re a year older than me?” 

“Yeah?” You laugh a little like it’s obvious. 

“But aren’t you a fourth year?” He furrows his eyebrows. 

“I took a year off before starting college,” you shrug your shoulders. “Thought that I had to get my sillies out.” 

“Your sillies?” Kei laughs a little. 

“Yeah,” you smile, “and I had to save up some money. It makes the world go ‘round, you know?” 

“What are you guys whispering about?” Tadashi gives Kei a wry grin over the top of his beer can. 

It’s only then that Kei realizes the way you both are leaning into each other. He’s tilting his head down to hear you better and you’re leaning forward. It gives off the impression of two people conspiring, of closeness that Kei hadn’t even realized had crept up on him. 

“I was asking who Daichi, Suga, and Asahi are,” you shrug off the moment, leaning back in the chair. 

This prompts a chorus of disbelief, everyone jumping in to describe them to you. Kei takes it as a moment to breathe, inhaling and exhaling. He can feel your thigh against his, just barely there and bleeding warmth through the fabric of his jeans. 

They delve into stories about nationals, little details that Kei had forgotten a long time ago. Every now and then, someone will bring up Kei’s more-than-sour personality and he will feel the need to hide the embarrassment on his cheeks. Even though you know about it, it’s still mortifying for Kei to hear. He wants you to see the best in him, but any hopes he had of you forgetting are quickly washed away as someone brings up Kei’s relentless prodding of Kageyama’s easily pushed buttons. 

You laugh along with them like you were there, amused to hear stories about your college friends in their high school years. Kei finds himself thinking that you fit very well into this scene. 

Still though, despite the fun he’s having, Kei’s battery begins to run out quickly and after a long game of cards, he gets up to take a quick break in the kitchen. It’s not that he wants the night to end, but rather that he just needs a minute to himself and uses the idea of more snacks as an excuse for it. 

He reaches into a cabinet, pulling out a half-finished bag of chips and setting them on the counter. They’re clipped with a bright red chip-clip from the grocery store and Kei thinks that because of that, they shouldn’t have gone stale yet. If it were the peak of summer, Kei might think twice, but this time of year, they should be fine.

Then, he bends down to get a large white mixing bowl from a lower cabinet. Their plates and bowls are kept in various different cabinets, though the only reason they stay somewhat organized is because of Kei. 

“Done already?” You lean your hip against the counter. 

“With what?” Kei struggles to keep his eyes from following the line of your body. 

“Hanging out,” you smile lightly. 

“Not really,” he says. “Just needed a minute and decided to get more snacks.” 

“Wanna go sit outside for a bit then?” 

Kei glances into the living room where the group chatters away. He’d hate to be stopped on the way. 

“Relax,” you laugh. “They’re so caught up they won’t even notice that we’re gone.” 

Kei furrows his eyebrows and then shrugs, swallowing his heart down with the spit that has pooled in his mouth. He follows you out of the front door, shutting it with a quiet click and heading down the steps of the complex and to the concrete wall lining the shrubbery outside. It’s the same place you’d come back to talk to him at all those weeks ago, though he is in considerably better spirits than he was then. 

It’s a cool night, the gentle heat of the day completely burned off to make way for a crisp breeze. He inhales, wishing that he had brought a drink to fiddle with and sip on to distract him from his nerves. 

You sit beside him, leaning back on your palms with your legs outstretched in front of you. Your hand is only a few inches from his and Kei sucks in a breath when he accidentally touches it while he gets comfortable. You only offer him a little smile in response. 

“Sorry again about bringing the troops here,” you speak first. 

“That’s really okay,” he says. “Contrary to popular belief, I actually really like them.” 

You snort. “I hope so.” 

Kei inhales louder than he intends to and when you look at him like he’s going to say something, he just holds his breath and shakes his head. The air only leaves him when you finally look away. 

“Kind of a bummer though,” you start, “I was kinda excited about just hanging out with you.” 

Kei’s breath catches in his throat. He swallows to move the metaphorical blockage. 

“We hang out all the time though,” he says like it’s enough. Of course it’s not enough. 

“Guess so,” you smile a little, though Kei can hear the distinct turn of disappointment in your voice. 

“You know,” he starts, already embarrassed at what he’s going to admit. “I wanted to be your friend for a while.” 

“Oh yeah?” you smile, opening up again and turning towards him. “Why?” 

Kei shrugs, resisting the urge to shut down completely. It’s embarrassing admitting to someone that you wanted to know them before you actually knew them. 

“You kind of reminded me of Tadashi,” he says. “And you both got along so well.” 

“Tadashi? I’m nothing like Tadashi,” you laugh, shaking your head. 

“What? No, you two are so similar,” Kei insists, lacing his fingers together. 

“What about us is so similar?” 

“Well, you’re both sociable and warm and…” Kei trails off. He can’t really think of anything else. You look at him with an expectant look in your eyes. 

“See?” 

Kei realizes that the two of you are not similar at all. Your warmth is where the similarity stops. He’d been likening you to Tadashi this entire time, not because the two of you are similar, but because you make him feel similar to the way Tadashi does. Safe and comfortable, though with the added addition of deeply awkward. He realizes that without the safety net of you being like Tadashi, he’s never had any ability to deny his feelings and with that they rage full force around the corner and slam into his chest like a heavy blow. 

“We’re nothing like each other,” you laugh and lean back against your palms. “Though, it would be cool to be like Tadashi.” 

Kei experiences the sudden realization that he doesn’t want you to be like Tadashi. Kei wants you to be like him. He wants you to be greedy and want him the same way he wants you. He wants you to be able to keep up with his turns and his moods, something he didn’t realize he wanted in the first place. If you’re like Kei, then Kei doesn’t have to be afraid of showing you the worst. You’ll have already seen it. If you’re like Kei and he loves you, then what is stopping you from loving him? 

“Even if you’re not like Tadashi, that’s fine.” His cheeks burn. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I like you all the same,” he admits quietly. 

“The same? As Tadashi?” You purse your lips a little. “I thought I was a little different. Was I wrong?” 

Kei wants to kiss you. Kei wants to kiss you so badly that his mouth has gone dry and his lips feel like they’ve separated from his body. Anything he’d thought about not wanting anything with you flies out of the window with your proximity. You’re so close to him. Close enough that if he leaned a little to the right, his shoulder would be against yours. You’re so close and you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for something, implying that somehow you’re different from Tadashi. Implying that you want him to like you differently than the way he likes his platonic friend. 

“No, you’re different,” he says, taking the bait you’ve laid in front of him. His heart pounds and he can’t look at you. He thinks he’ll kiss you if he does. 

“Am I?” 

Kei can hear the smile in your voice. It makes what you’re saying sound honeyed and curved. 

“Yeah, you are.”

“How so?” 

Kei finally raises his head to look at you. You’re grinning, leaning towards him like you’re watching a show. He feels the way his nerves rise into his throat, pressing against the very back of his tongue. He doesn’t know how to answer or what to say. Well, he does know what to say, he just doesn’t think he can. Kei is good at thinking about emotions, but when it comes time to speak them outloud, it seems that he’s still got a padlock around his throat. So he does what any logical person would do. 

Kei leans forward, pushing against his screaming nerves and trying to ignore the tremble in his hands, and kisses you. It’s awkward and his teeth click against yours before his lips fully settle against your mouth. He feels the breath you draw in, like surprise and relief mixed together, and he finds that he does the same. 

He can see the way your eyes flutter closed through his barely open ones and he realizes that your lips are so warm. He screws his eyes shut when you dip your head forward to move your lips against his. Yours are so warm and soft, like satin. A kiss has never felt like this to Kei before and he finds that he wants to catalog every single one of your reactions. Maybe that’s what he could write in the notebook. Maybe he could write down every single thing that you do that leaves him winded and wanting more. 

Neither of you reach for the other, but he can feel the knuckle of your pinky against his as you slowly kiss each other, tilting your heads side to side. There’s hunger within him, the need to take more than what he’s receiving and a greed he isn’t quite familiar with, but there’s also romance. It’s like a spell that’s yet to be broken, fed by the click of your mouths as they move together. Kei sighs, flooded with the relief of this kind of physical affection, of being honest with himself at how much he likes it. Kei loves the feel of your mouth. He loves the way your lips and tongue feel and he loves that they’re all that he can feel right now. 

The kiss lasts longer than Kei thought it would and by the time he pulls away, you’re both steadily panting and attempting to keep your breathing even. He wants to do it again. He wants it so badly that it makes his chest swell. He wants to do that with you forever, but he swallows down the desire. It’s a temporary fix, but it’s enough for him to choke out what it is he wants to say next. 

“I think I’m in really hot water,” he squeaks. 

“What do you mean?” You breathe out, the playfulness from a few moments earlier long behind you. 

“I think I want you way more than I thought I did,” he admits quietly, the first out loud admittance of his feelings to you. 

You smile a little before speaking. “I think it’s only hot water if the other person doesn’t feel the same way.” 

Your face is still so close to his. “Yeah?” 

It comes out a bit desperate, like he needs reassurance. Kei does. He’s so afraid that he thinks he could die. Afraid of the spell breaking, afraid of losing whatever moment this is and being forced to return to his one-sided pining, afraid that you don’t feel the same way.

Your face moves closer to him, breath trembling lightly. “Yeah.” 

You kiss him again, pressing your lips against his lightly before parting them. He’s so overwhelmed and so immediately lost in it. Kei feels the way your tongue teases the inside of his mouth and it makes him feel like a teenager again, swelling with desires and emotions that he can’t name. You move your hand over his, placing it lightly on top of his, and he reacts by lacing your fingers together and pushing forward more. 

Kei wants to touch you so badly, to reach up and hold your face, to touch your waist and your legs and your chest. He wants to do it all, to feel you right here under the cover of night, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses you and stews in the desire, letting it swell in his chest as he listens to the clicking of your mouths. You kiss him so slowly, moving your mouth at a languid pace. It drives him crazy. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this.

“We should go back inside, I think,” you break away, your bottom lip shiny with a sheen of spit. “The others might think something’s up and Tanaka isn’t exactly good with discretion.”

Kei automatically reaches up to swipe it with his thumb. He doesn’t know where this affection comes from, where the possessive action found its origins, but he finds that he likes the way it feels to be able to do it in the first place. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Kei responds, though he would have been happy to continue sitting out here with you, kissing you silly. 

You stand first, dusting off the back of your legs and waiting for Kei to follow suit. When he does, you reach quickly for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before walking in front of him. 

Kei is not sure how he should act when he goes inside. He’s tense all over, desperate to pick up where the two of you left off, and unsure if his face betrays that thought. 

“Where’d you guys go?” Tadashi asks as Kei closes the door behind him. 

In the time you’d both been gone, the living room has been transformed into something nearly unrecognizable. Empty beer cans are strewn about the tables and the blankets and pillows from the couches are now haphazardly laying around beside the couch or over people’s bodies. Then again, maybe the room always looked like this and he was just too busy thinking about how close you were to him. 

Kei doesn’t know what to say. Why had they gone outside in the first place? He’s not even sure that he remembers. 

“I wanted a cigarette and I made Kei come with me,” you answer evenly. “Why? You jealous?” 

“Of inhaling second-hand smoke? No, thanks.” Tadashi laughs, but he tosses Kei a sideways glance. Tadashi knows him well enough to know that Kei wouldn’t voluntarily stand outside with a smoker unless he was particularly fond of them. 

“Aw, man, I thought you quit?” Hinata pipes up, tilting his head. 

“I did, hot stuff,” you respond, sitting down on the couch. “Don’t worry. I won’t smoke anymore.” 

Hinata huffs and Kei takes the opportunity to sit down next to you. 

His thigh is pressed against yours, warmth seeping through his pants and into his skin. Kei feels like he could explode. You’re so close to him again, closer than before, and he can’t stop replaying the kiss in his head. He’s desperate for it, fidgety with his desire. He keeps thinking about the hot press of your mouth and the languid motion of your tongue. All he can imagine is the few points of contact between you both, mouth and hands, and how badly he wanted it to be more. He needs it. 

You touch him a few times throughout the night and the tension is so palpable that Kei is convinced he can see it. It’s like there is a rope pulled taut between the two of you. If he doesn’t stick his ground, he’ll go flying towards you, grabbing and touching and taking in the way he’s desperate to now. 

After an hour, his friends begin to grow restless. Their faces are flushed with alcohol and the things they’d been amusing themselves with are no longer enough stimulation. 

“Hey, we’re going out to the bars. Who’s coming?” Hinata speaks up. 

A chorus of agreement rings out, but the last thing Kei wants to do is go out.

“I think I’ll probably stay back and start cleaning,” he says somewhat disdainfully. “It’s a mess in here,” Kei tosses you a small glance. It’s unintentional but he’s glad for it because Kei is hoping that you’ll stay back with him, that you both can pick up where you left off. 

“I’ll stay and help too. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow anyway,” you smile and Hinata pouts. 

“You guys are so boring,” he protests. “Leave the mess for tomorrow and come out with us.” 

“I’ll pass, pipsqueak,” Kei scoffs. 

“Fine, but don’t complain to me when you’re full of regret tomorrow,” he points a finger at Kei and then moves it over to you. “And you’re too nice for your own good.” 

“Do you hear that?” You say, beginning to usher the group to the door. “I think it’s the sound of the bar and all that alcohol calling to you guys.” 

“You guys are so full of shit-” Kageyama starts, speaking up for the first time in a while, but Kei just waves him out. 

“Yeah yeah, let the grown ups clean while you guys have fun. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The rope is so taut between you both that it’s unbearable and by the time the door closes, you are spinning around on your heel toward Kei. 

“We’re not cleaning, right?” 

Kei shakes his head and starts towards you. The tension breaks when his hands find your hips and he hungrily leans down to press his mouth against yours. 

This kiss is different from the first, desperate and full of desire. It’s fast and your mouths move together quickly as he starts to walk you back towards his bedroom, his hands eagerly roaming up and down your hips. Vaguely, he acknowledges that his glasses have been moved out of place, but he pays it no mind as you turn the knob to his bedroom door with your back to it. 

There’s an urgency to his movements. Kei feels it in his chest, this desperate desire to be closer, to consume everything that you’ve laid out in the palm of his hand. You stumble backwards into his room and Kei catches your shifted weight with a hand around your waist. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, feeling the warm skin on your jaw and neck. His fingers tremble where they touch you, half out of desperate need and half out of the nerves that threaten to spill from his mouth. His lips though, are occupied with yours, clicking together, all tongue and teeth. 

Kei kisses sloppily down your jaw, his lips smearing across your cheek and dipping down below your ear. He sucks a trail there, unsure if he’s leaving marks, all the way down to your collarbone. Every part of you tastes better than he’d expected it to and with every push he delivers, you pull. 

You make small sounds, little pants and groans that make Kei’s hair stand on end with wanting. Your voice, so familiar and fond to him, spills out in small, breath-like bursts that make Kei want to coax more out of you. Kei’s never been one to want this way, but right now, it’s all that he feels. So much tension and impulse that he feels like he can hardly control himself. 

You reach blindly behind you for the bed and Kei guides you down, placing his hand on one side of you as you sit. Then, without disconnecting your lips, he guides you up toward the wall. 

He feels the cool tips of your fingers at the hem of his shirt, pulling downward and then upward to get him to take it off. Kei obliges you, leaning back on his knees and pulling it off over the top of his head. You eye him for a moment, the two of you slowing down enough as the urgency settles into something heavy and lingering. 

Kei leans forward again, one of his hands reaching for your hip. He slips his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, sliding his long fingers up your stomach as he kisses you again. You’re so soft and he can feel the way your chest heaves against his palm. His touch is feather light and he slides it up evenly until it reaches just below your breast. When you nod, Kei moves it up over your bra and he feels you shudder. Kei does the same, overwhelmed by your pliability. 

He can feel the goosebumps that have raised on your skin, little pinpricks of skin that indicate that some part of you feels good. When Kei squeezes your breast, you gasp into his moan and he groans his response, letting you bite at his bottom lip. 

He feels you suck at his lips and swipe your tongue along the ridge of his mouth. When he opens it to let you in, he’s overtaken by the warmth of the soft muscle. He groans, tilting his head down to kiss you deeper, letting the taste of you spread over his mouth. It’s hot and your breath fans across his face. 

Kei hands drift from your breasts along the sides of your body. He feels the heave of your breath there against your warm skin, his palms resting on your waist. You raise your knees, the sides of them pressing against Kei’s hips. He shifts downwards slowly, dragging his mouth along your skin, past the cloth of your shirt. 

His hands make their way from your waist to your hips as he dips lower. Kei takes off his glasses, already fogged up and in the way. When he meets your eyes, you nod your permission and Kei slips between your legs, his flat palms moving to spread your thighs. 

You’re so warm and soft, so pliable in a way that Kei can’t articulate. It makes his mouth water with his desperation and he’s grown hard against the bedspread beneath him. 

“Touch me,” you breathe out. 

Kei nods into your stomach, looping his fingers around our waistband, and pulls down your pants. Your panties come with it and it’s with a slight wave of regret that he realizes he won’t get to see the way you stick to them. 

When he sees you, his heart leaps into his throat. His eagerness and his nerves catch up to him and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. You shudder when the air hits your exposed cunt, an unintentional side effect of Kei’s nerves that has him grinding down against the bedspread. 

He slides his palm to rest over your center. It’s warm and sticky, wet beyond what Kei had imagined and he gingerly presses a finger between your folds. You gasp, mouth falling open above him. Then, he slides his finger into you to the first knuckle, curling up. Kei goes deeper on the second pump, curling his whole finger inside of you and feeling the way you tighten around him. 

You arch your back up off the bed and Kei groans and rolls his eyes, resting his head on the inside of your exposed thigh. He curls his fingers in you, watching the way they coat with your pleasure. His eyebrows are knit together, like he’s asking whether you like how he touches you or not, and you seem to pick up on his insecurity, nodding your head before letting it tip back against Kei’s pillows. 

Kei thinks your expression is incredible. Your eyebrows pull up in the center, pretty face twisted and mouth slightly open in an expression of undeniable pleasure. Kei’s stomach winds at the look of it and he ruts his hips against the mattress to quell the growing ache of need. His fingers, which curl at a slow and even pace inside of you, are warm with your enjoyment. It leaks between his knuckles, sliding down the back of his hand like a slow moving syrup. He wonders whether you have more to give and how you taste, his gaze slinking from your face to the place just above where his fingers disappear. 

He lowers his mouth to you without thinking, curious and needing the taste of it. Sure enough, you have more to give. Your voice comes quickly, a small gasp that is stifled by the back of your hand when he sucks sharply on your clit. Your hips push forward against his hands and then you arch up off the mattress with a small cry. Kei wonders if you’ve cum. He wonders if he’s sent you over the edge, but if he has, you’re taking all of it so well that he doesn’t dare stop. 

The taste of you spreads on his tongue, tangy and warm. You invade his senses violently, like you are gripping his throat. Kei holds his mouth to you, pressing the length of his cock into the mattress and moving his hips like he plans to fuck it. 

He moves his free hand down your thigh and onto the inside of your leg. Your skin is so soft. It’s so vulnerable, something easily pierced and bled. Kei’s pointer finger rubs gentle circles there, feeling the slight pull of the soft skin with his fingers, so thin that it almost feels like tissue paper. He’s sure that with a little pressure, you would bruise. 

The thought surprises him. He works his tongue across your clit and his fingers against that gummy spot inside of you, but his mind drifts to the softness of your inner thigh, the way it would be so easy to leave a spot that might hurt later when you press on it, remind you of exactly where he was. Then, Kei pinches you on the inside of your thigh and when you cry out, tightening around his fingers with a tapered moan, he pinches you again, harder this time. 

You whimper slightly, like you like it. No, you sound like you love it and Kei finds himself holding back a choked moan as he tries not to cum prematurely. He pinches along the inside of your legs and around the back. Not too much. Only when he feels like it. Only when he wants to hear what kind of sounds you’ll make. 

“K-Kei wait, wait,” you pant, grabbing him by his tufts of blonde hair. It hurts. He doesn’t think you mean to hurt him, but it doesn’t matter. He likes it and he twitches in his pants. 

“Huh?” He hums, detaching from your clit and slowing the movement of his fingers to a halt. Your legs shake around his handiwork. “You okay?” 

“I’ll cum if you keep going like that,” you breathe, screwing your eyes shut like you’re still on the edge. “Drag it out for me, yeah?” 

Kei furrows his eyebrows and sucks in a sharp breath.

“Cum if you want to.” He tilts his head down to reattach his lips. 

“Not yet,” you tug at his hair. “I like chasing it.” 

Kei stares at you, unblinking and awestruck. Your chest heaves and despite the pleasure on your face, you look uncomfortable as your orgasm slips away from you. Kei likes that look on your face and he finds himself growing greedy. 

“Come here,” you coax him onto the mattress. 

Kei watches as you slip your hands into the waistband of his jeans and pull them down, leaving him on his back with his tented boxers exposed. You crawl down his body and settle between his legs with your arms between his thighs. He shudders when you run your hands up them and he briefly sees his boxers jump. 

You smile, pressing your mouth to him through his boxers. Kei can’t stifle the groan that escapes him and heat floods his face when you raise your eyebrows in response. 

“You don’t have to,” he says through gritted teeth as you slip the waistband of his boxers down. 

“But I want to,” you mumble, taking him in your hand and placing a kiss on the side of his dick. 

Kei’s head falls back against the pillow and he swears under his breath when he feels the warmth of your mouth close around the tip of him. He jerks his head up to see, awestruck by the way your lips look around the head of his cock. 

For some reason, Kei is already so sensitive. He feels everything, and when you swipe the tip of your tongue along his slit as you bob your head, he makes a noise he didn’t think he could make. His fingers knot themselves in the bed sheets, white knuckled and trembling while you bob your head over him. 

Your mouth is so warm and wet. It’s a little messy, dripping down the length of him and onto his balls. Kei feels the warmth, the heat of you. He can still taste you on his tongue. Kei can still feel the stickiness left behind from your arousal on his mouth. The combination of you between his legs and the taste of you on his tongue is overwhelming. 

Kei can feel his orgasm growing in his lower stomach, turning over until he’s bringing his long fingers to your head in an effort to steady himself. There’s nothing he can do but give in, watching you through damp eyes as you watch his expression. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly he cums. It doesn’t take long and he teeters on the edge for a few moments before fully cresting over. Kei can’t help the way he lifts his hips from the mattress, his voice caught in his throat as it hooks on a high pitched groan. His voice cracks and he feels the way his cum collects on your tongue and across the tip of his dick in your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, red faced and panting, “I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to finish so quickly, you’re just-” 

“It’s fine,” you come up, your eyes glassed over and lust-filled. “I like making you feel good.” 

“Yeah but-” 

“No buts,” you crawl over him and straddle his waist. Kei winces when your weight briefly nudges his cock. “There’s still fun to be had. Can I kiss you?” 

He nods and you lean down to do as you’d asked. Your tongue moves slowly against his, less desperate this time, like you’re trying to work him down and back up again. You place your hands on his chest, settling your weight down so that your bare cunt is pressed against his sensitive cock. Kei thinks he might die. 

He brings his hands to your waist, the fatigue creeping from his bones as he digs the pads of his fingers into your fleshy sides. You draw in a breath when he does and it makes Kein feel like he’s tipping sideways with arousal. Everything that you do, right down to the involuntary twitch of your hips or eyebrows, is sexy. 

Kei turns you over, growing hard between your legs again, and gently pins you to the mattress. He kisses you for a moment longer, his lips working clumsily across yours before he pulls away to catch his breath and find his bearings. 

You chase him with your mouth, tilting your head up to kiss him. Kei feels his chest swell with arousal and his cock strains almost painfully against his pants as he peers at you. You’re so pretty. Everything about you is so pretty. On his chest, he can feel your fingers, splayed over his pecks, across his collarbone, and grazing the side of his neck. He leans closer, loving the pressure of your body and the desperation that pours from your skin. 

Kei kisses you again. He kisses you the way he wanted to outside, dipping his tongue into your mouth with a desperation that he can taste. You take control back, reaching between the two of you, and Kei shifts himself upward instinctually to give you access to him. He feels your fingers fumble for him and there’s a pause in which Kei doesn’t know what to do. He wonders if this might be the part of him that you like. The awkward part, the one that doesn’t know what to do. Kei’s thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of your hand wrapping around him and tugging upward. 

His head drops and a low groan escapes his lips before he can even think to stop it. Kei’d almost forgotten his sensitivity, how desperately he wants to be touched, how overwhelming it feels. He shivers, looking down at where your hand wraps around him and pumps. When he looks back up, he finds that you’re looking at his face, your eyes glassed over and observant as you commit all of his expressions to memory. 

“What?” he says, letting out a shuddering breath and the slight overstimulation. 

“Your face is red,” you reach up with your free hand to run your thumb along his cheek. 

Kei huffs, dropping his head and you fiddle with something between the two of you.

“No,” you pick his chin up. “I like it. It’s cute.” 

You tighten your grip around him and Kei feels his expression twist, a new rush of heat and desire flooding his belly as he realizes you’re sliding a condom onto him. Then, you guide the tip of him between your legs and he feels the wet press of your entrance against him. 

“Christ,” he groans. 

You smile slightly, shifting your hips a little and then placing your hands on his shoulders. Kei pushes forward slowly, his thighs twitching. It takes everything he has to keep from cumming again and every muscle in his body screams with a desire to let go. 

Kei is so overwhelmed, partially because you feel so good, but also because there is some part of him that knows this feels different. Kei feels different about you, about being intimate with you, than he has with anyone else. There’s something alive in him, something with its own mind. Something greedy and vulnerable that stirs when your face is this close to him, when he’s buried all the way in you to the base of his cock. Emotional and sensitive, Kei feels it kick. 

His first instinct is to run. Agreeing to let himself like you, to let himself do something about it, was not agreeing to letting something live inside of him. Kei’s first thought when he registers the difference is to cut it off and suffocate it so that it stops thumping against his chest. He’d grown so used to the hollow feeling that the feeling of living emotion makes him nervous, it puts him on edge. But when he pulls out a few inches and fucks back into you, the anxiety dispels into insurmountable pleasure. A pleasure Kei can’t describe, something fulfilling and whole. 

He picks up his pace, letting himself do what he wants while you grip his shoulders with blunted nails. He likes the expression you wear. Truthfully, he likes all of your expressions, but this one is new. Pressure and pleasure, a newness to the feel of him inside of you that you can’t quite keep from your eyes or lips. He kisses you as if he could taste it, slipping his tongue between your lips. 

“I really like you,” you mumble against his mouth, breath hot as it fans across his cheeks. 

Kei’s heart hammers and his hips stutter a little. 

“Me too,” he chokes, trying to think about volleyball to stave off a second orgasm. All that comes to mind though, is you. 

“Are you close again?” you breathe, voice laden with pleasure. 

“I have been since we started,” Kei admits. 

“Cum then,” you say softly, reaching behind his head to pull his mouth back to yours. Kei likes the control you exhibit. He groans his approval.

“You first,” he mutters.

There’s this possessive part of Kei that wants to watch you fall apart on him. He wants to see it, to watch you feel good too and commit it to memory so that he can always keep it. He thinks it’s a pride thing, something attached to his desire to succeed, to his reliability. Maybe though, it’s just because he thinks it’ll look hot. 

He reaches down and lifts one of your legs up by the back of your knee, pressing it down to give himself better access. You whine and Kei feels the way you clench down around him, your fingers knitting into the hair at the back of his neck. It hurts in a good way. 

Kei slips his hand between you, rubbing circles on your clit to get you there faster. Frankly, he doesn’t know how much longer he can last like this, staring down at your face while it twists with pleasure. You’re so attractive to him. Everything about you is sexy. It makes Kei a little crazy. 

He listens as your breathing quickens, as your voice wavers further. He feels the way your cunt begins to flutter faster, pulsing around him until you attempt to cry out and warn him. Then, you clamp down around him, arching your hips up off the mattress and pulling at his hair. Kei moves his head with you, relishing in the way you tug and scratch. 

He builds up to his orgasm so fast that it hurts. There’s pressure and then the mounting feeling of nearing the top, and then the peak and crash. He cums so hard that it hurts, pushing his cock as far as it will go into you and feeling the warm spill of his cum in the condom. He moans a long, drawn out sound that you mimic, his fingers knitting into the pillow behind you and his head dropping so that his lips sit near your neck.

He lets out a shaky breath, letting himself sit inside of you for a moment. You turn his head towards yours and kiss him. It’s gentle. A smooth and languid kiss that neither of you moves to deepen. Your lips move against each other and Kei closes his eyes to savor the taste. 

You tap his shoulder and Kei rolls over onto the bed beside you, snapping the condom off with a small wince and tying it up in a quick motion. He places it in the trash bin beside the bed. When he turns over, you’re already moving to slip under his arm, resting your head on his chest. 

There’s a passing moment of silence, not unlike the ones you both have fallen into before and you sigh lightly against his exposed chest. Kei follows suit, watching the way you move with his breath. 

His skin is sticky against yours and Kei can vaguely register the smell of sweat in the room. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since everyone left, nor does he know when they’ll be back, but he estimates that it won’t be more than an hour. Kei briefly wishes that he could pause time so that he can stay here with you, just like this. 

“I’m not good at this kind of stuff,” Kei admits quietly. 

“What stuff?” You ask, tracing your finger along the ridges of his lean abdomen. 

“Liking people,” he says. “Dating.” 

You give a small laugh. “No offense, Kei, but I could tell that from the moment I met you.” 

“Shit, seriously?” 

“Duh,” you breathe out. “It’s a little charming to me, though. I like that part of you.” 

So it’s true. You like the parts of Kei that he’s always worried were the worst of him. 

“Huh,” he says. “Could you tell?” 

“That you like me?” You ask, shifting your head to look at him. “Yeah, it was obvious after we established that you didn’t hate me. I always noticed you staring in the library.” 

“Really? I thought I was being a little slick with that,” Kei feels heat and color flood his face. 

You let out a good-natured laugh. “People can always tell when someone’s staring, Kei. It’s like a sixth sense.” 

“Good to know. Hindsight is 20/20 and all.” 

Another bout of silence follows. 

“You can keep staring though,” you say, “if you want to. And calling.”

“Okay,” Kei responds, “I didn’t really plan on stopping.” 

“Ha, freaky,” you laugh a little and Kei reaches up to flick the side of your head. “Wanna start going out?” 

Kei thinks about this for a moment. He thinks about being able to hold your hand, brush hair out of your face, watch movies on the couch and fix your breakfast the next morning. Then he thinks about not being able to do those things. 

“I think I’d be a little upset if we didn’t,” he admits. 

“Good,” you say. “Me too.” 

He’s fighting off sleep. His eyelids are heavy and he tries to blink away the shroud of rest that’s falling over him. Kei knows you’re fighting it too. Your breathing goes in and out of that familiar breathing that comes with sleep. Kei likes the way it sounds coming from you, restful and quiet. 

“We should… really get up to clean just a little,” he mumbles. 

“Five more minutes,” you say softly, your voice heavy and laden with drowsiness. 

“Okay,” he says. 

It’s just five more minutes. Kei fights sleep to hear you breathe like this a little longer. 

—

There’s a period after which Kei doesn’t know what to do with himself. Like the awkward start to a new hobby or passion, Kei finds himself enthralled with his budding relationship while simultaneously stumbling continuously along the way. You’re gracious with him though, letting him make mistakes and fumble until he finds his footing. 

It’s all very awkward for him, very new. He finds that it’s easier to just do the nice things he wants to do for you than to agonize over it and slowly, he begins to grow comfortable in the relationship that took you both so long to begin. 

At first, only Tadashi knew about you both. Kei thought that there was no point in hiding it from him, since you were over at the apartment all the time. Of course, Tadashi somehow already knew. That’s how it usually goes anyway, and Kei is relieved to find that his internal change did not trigger some global shift that would turn his life upside down. Everything is normal, save for the fact that Kei now tries to love without hindrance. 

Kei discovers that he’s possessive. That’s a new trait of his that he didn’t know belonged to him. Before you, before Kei had found something he so desperately wanted to keep, he’d been rather detached. Possessiveness was rare because Kei hardly ever got attached enough to want. Now though, he wants so badly that it hurts. You lean into it. Kei suspects that you like it when he wards off people who hit on you, when he pouts a little because he wants to be close to you, when he gets a little jealous. Kei doesn’t really mind it either. After all, despite his possessiveness, he never feels insecure. The both of you make sure of that. 

This sunny period with you, the one Kei worried would only last a week, drifts easily from one month into two and before he knows it, it’s been five. Kei had worried about that fundamental change. The one imperceivable to the human eye. He’d worried that slowly, it would begin to spoil what is so good between the two of you. 

“Kei,” you snap him out of it, placing a hand on his shoulder, “you okay?” 

He sets down his cup of tea, barely touched. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet?” You give him a wry smile. “This was your idea, after all.” 

“Yeah, well it was a pretty shit idea actually,” he breathes, “My parents aren’t exactly easy.” 

“You want to cancel?” You ask, your eyebrows pulling up in a clumsy attempt to hide your disappointment. Kei can see right through it.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I want you to meet them. I just don’t want you to meet them.” 

The truth of it is that Kei would like to cancel. In an ideal world, one where the sun rises on the opposite side of his bedroom window, he’d forget the whole thing and take you out to get dinner and see a movie. Things would be simpler that way, less uncomfortable for the both of you. But as uncomfortable as it is, Kei wants you to be a part of their lives too. You’re too important to not introduce to his parents and Kei can’t see it any other way, though he’d like to. 

You snort. “What does that even mean?” 

Kei gives you a pointed and somewhat irritated look. 

“Okay, sorry,” you raise your hands defensively and walk over to place them on his shoulders. “I know you’re worried, but I think it’s going to be okay. I’m excited.” 

Kei huffs out a laugh, unable to vocalize his nerves in their totality. “Excited to meet my dysfunctional, divorced parents that kind of hate each other?” 

“Yup. I’m excited to meet the people who raised you.” 

Kei smiles a little. “You should meet Akiteru, then,” It’s an exaggeration, but for some reason the prospect of seeing both of his parents together has him feeling a little more bitter than usual, even if it was his idea. 

You give him a little grin through narrowed eyes. There’s an understanding that passes from you to him, like you’re acknowledging that you haven’t forgotten what he’d told you nearly six months ago. Kei feels the tension in his shoulders relax a little. 

His parents are already at the restaurant when he arrives. It’s a swanky Italian place. The kind you go to on birthdays or for anniversaries, where the pasta dishes are things like lobster mushroom ravioli or truffle oil fettucini in tiny portions. Kei made sure to book somewhere that his parents would have trouble making a scene in, not that they ever had much of a mind for decorum when they were married. He’s surprised to find them chatting cordially when you both arrive. 

“Kei,” his mother stands from the table and crosses to give him a hug. He pats her back gently.

“Hi Mom,” Kei responds and she gives him a small smile. 

Kei’s dad adjusts the lapel of his suit, the same one he’s had for years, and reaches to give him a hug around one shoulder. 

“Guys,” he inhales, “This is my partner, _____.” 

You grin at Kei and then introduce yourself formally to his parents. Kei watches in awe as you blend right in, like you’ve known them for many years. He sits down while trying to keep the nerves from his face. 

“We’re so happy to meet you,” his mother starts, “Kei’s never introduced us to any of his partners before.” 

“I’m the first?” You smile a little, raising an eyebrow at Kei as if to tease him. 

“There really haven’t been that many to begin with,” Kei grumbles as if that somehow makes it better. 

You laugh again and the ball of conversation begins rolling. His mother tells you how pretty you are and his father nods a quieter approval. They talk about his university’s graduation ceremony, which they attended separately, as if they were together the entire time and then ask about your major, if you graduated with him, where you plan on going. You tell them what you want to do and that you want to go wherever Kei goes. He marvels at how smoothly the evening moves onward.

There are moments where the tension in his family becomes obvious. Little swells or comments that bring up a sour or shameful memory that cannot be ignored. Moments when the air thickens and it feels like the hammer is about to come down. It never does though. The tension, rather than snapping, simply fades away. 

He’d expected everything to blow up for some reason. Kei had expected that, like his childhood, the restaurant dishes would end up smashed on the floor. The glassware always ended up broken in the house, why shouldn’t they be broken here to shatter the illusion of things being good? He braces himself for a ball that never drops.

It takes him until the ride home, after a successful dinner, to realize that the dishes haven’t been smashed in years. Not since he was fourteen and his parents fought for custody. Not since his mother got remarried to her now husband almost 6 years ago and his father met his new wife. Kei wonders why he still feels like he lives in that house. The one his parents were at their worst in. Why can’t he feel like he lives in the apartment he rents with Tadashi? 

“I think that went well,” you say softly on the drive back. 

Kei nods his agreement. “I think so too.” 

You don’t bring up the fact that they didn’t fight, or that they spoke about their new kids with each other as if they were old friends. You don’t accuse Kei of being wrong, of being paranoid even though he most definitely was. 

“I’m glad that I got to meet them,” you say. “You look so much like your mom.” 

“Really?” Kei asks. 

“Yeah, you’ve got her eyes and her nose,” you smile a little. “It makes you two look similar.” 

“Huh,” he says. “I never really gave that much thought.” 

Kei turns the idea that he has his mother’s face over in his head. He’d spent so much time dreading that he was like them on the inside, that he never paused to consider the outside. So much of his life has been spent worrying that he’s just like them. That he breaks the plates and lashes out and acts cruelly even when he’s trying to love. But he has his mother’s eyes and for some reason that unsettles him. It’s like evidence. 

“You don’t really act like them though,” you say as if on cue. “You’re a little gentler.” 

“Me? Gentle?” Kei scoffs. 

“Yeah!” you say. “I mean, sure you’re prickly, but there’s a goodness to you that’s really obvious if you look.” 

Goodness. What a strange word to use to describe someone. Kei thinks that if there’s any goodness in him, if there’s anything that hasn’t been tainted by his parents’ sour personalities, it’s from Akiteru. Kei likes to believe that whatever good he got was from him. No matter how strained his relationship with him might be now, Kei is certain of that. 

“That’s a relief,” he admits in a flat tone. 

After a long pause, he speaks again. “Thanks.” 

“For what?” You laugh. 

“Bearing with me… and with them,” he says. “Couldn’t have been easy.” 

“It was easy,” you say. “Because I wanted to meet them. And I care about you.” 

Kei feels color rise to his cheeks. He turns to look in the sideview mirrors as he pulls the car into a parking spot in his apartment complex’s garage. 

“You say that stuff so easily,” he huffs. 

“What? That I care about you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, I do,” you laugh a little.

Kei’s face grows hotter and he distracts himself by putting the car into park and taking the key out of the ignition. 

“Me too,” he says quietly, waiting for you to catch up so that he can take your hand in his. “Sorry that I don’t say it a lot.” 

“Not to be rude,” you say, “but even if you never said it at all, it would be obvious. You’re kind of a sucker.” 

Kei supposes that that’s true and he gives a small laugh before nudging your shoulder with his. The parking garage is humid and stuffy, but he holds your hand in it anyway. 

—

You’re half asleep in bed beside him and your breathing comes in even sweeps the way it does just before you fall asleep. Kei listens to it for a moment, admiring the sound of it and the way your chest feels expanding against his. 

He thinks about dinner, about how good it feels to have introduced you. How real it makes this relationship feel despite the uneasiness surrounding his familial situation. Kei thinks about his parents. He thinks about their inability to be good for each other. He thinks about the worst of them, something he’s familiar with, before thinking about the best of them. Kei imagines the way their faces looked at dinner, talking about the children they’re raising properly. They’re good people, they just made each other bad. Molecular shifts that changed them for the worst. The notebook theory in its most frightening form. But they were good too. 

Kei thinks about loving you. His reluctance to do so originally isn’t quite beyond him yet. He’s unsure, in fact, if he’ll ever really get past the fear of the fall, the fear of becoming what his parents made each other. But he also thinks about his promise to love you for real. Love is not something that Kei does. He knows now that it's something that happens to him, like it happened to his parents. They loved each other once, even if it made them so blind that they couldn’t see just how bad it made them. 

Kei still resents the fact that he was born to fix a marriage that never would have worked in the first place. He resents being a fix rather than a gift, but at the very least, his existence is proof that his parents cared enough about their family to try. Even if it was misguided, at least they tried even a little. 

In the quiet after of an emotionally charged evening, loving you seems like an easier task for him now. It’s not hard to love you. What’s hard, Kei thinks, is not hurting you. He carries a lot of baggage that, for a long while, felt like too much. Kei thinks he can manage if it’s for you. He’ll bear the brunt of it. He’ll put in the work. 

Yes, Kei is his parents’ son, but he’s also Tadashi’s friend, Akiteru’s brother, the person who loves you. He doesn’t live in the house with a bin full of shards and no glassware anymore. 

“Are you awake?” He whispers across the pillow. 

“Mhm,” you hum, pushing your cheek into his arm.

“Let’s move in together,” he says. 

You tense against him and slowly attempt to blink away sleep. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he responds. “I want to live with you.” 

“Okay then,” you smile a little. “Let’s do it.” 

—

In the fall, when his lease with Tadashi ends and his friend gives him a tearful, yet somewhat silly goodbye, Kei moves into your new shared apartment. Two small rooms in a modest part of town, a shared kitchen and living room, one bathroom, a mismatch of furniture from both of your old places, and an empty fridge. The first night is spent eating take out on the floor with you in front of a TV with no proper stand. Kei has never been happier. 

And in the morning, when the sun comes through the slats of his window, broken up into gentle dots by the orange-leaved trees outside, Kei rises slowly. He rises gently. Kei doesn’t want to wake you, not before he’s made breakfast. He pads out to the kitchen, where boxes are strewn about, half unpacked, and grabs the little brown notebook from the box it’s been temporarily living in. In it, he writes a grocery list full of the things you like. It’s a good enough reason, a good enough change. 

The notebook theory. 

[livwritesstuff]

i hit 100 followers while i was asleep (absolutely bananas imo but i’m so thrilled y’all are enjoying my steddie dads verse bc i’ve literally never had so much fun writing before) so here's a sneak peek of a wip featuring the Harrington fam

Eddie does not understand sports. 

He may be approaching fifty years old and way past his old ways of rejecting every notion that doesn’t perfectly align with his own interests, but even after all these years, the wires in his brain simply cannot wrap themselves around sports no matter how hard he tries.

And he does try because, naturally, he has three daughters, Moe, Robbie, and Hazel, all of whom play sports.

To be clear – his kids can do literally anything they want, bar none.

He’s still in goddamn awe with the whole arrangement that is the life he lives every day – kids and a house and a job he loves and all that with Steve Harrington of all people. There’s no way Eddie would start fucking all that up by projecting his own weird quirks onto his children. He refuses to be the kind of parent that prevents their kids from doing anything just because they don't get it. If the girls want to play sports, they’re gonna play sports. Nothing wrong with that.

Still, sports are one of those things he takes the back seat and lets Steve hold the reins for, especially now that thirteen-year-old Moe is pretty deep into the whole basketball thing. 

Steve understands the politics of the game, both on the court — like knowing which refs are gonna be biased towards which team and noting Moe’s play-time each game — and off. He schmoozes the coach, he’s friends with all the parents, all the things Moe, at thirteen, doesn’t even notice and Eddie, while aware of it, doesn’t understand. He still can barely follow the games themselves (and he goes to as many as he can, though he and Steve are outnumbered by one and with the prospect of the girls carting themselves around still a distant fantasy their schedule is insane so he can’t make them all). He does his best to follow his husband’s lead but Steve doesn’t always react to things the way Eddie thinks he will. He doesn’t bat an eye when a kid gets smacked in the face with a ball, nor at the impossibly loud thud when someone hits the deck (look — he gets the floor is hollow, but it is loud). He’s completely unbothered by the fit Moe throws every game whenever she’s inevitably benched for having an attitude with her opponents or her teammates or the coach or the ref or just about anybody who tries to get in her way.

As is what happened at Moe’s game yesterday.

Eddie hadn’t seen it — well, he’d seen it, but seeing something and understanding what he’s actually looking at are two totally different things. From what he gathers, Moe had missed an easy shot and gotten pissed off in her own little way about it, so she’d launched herself at whoever on the opposing team had gotten their hands on the ball after it ricocheted off the backboard. Unfortunately for Moe, the team they were playing had a reputation for being a little too aggressive for a middle school league, so when she’d hit the ground, she hit it hard. Moe had been pulled off the court by her coach (carded, maybe? Eddie still isn’t sure how that works in basketball) and scowled on the bench for the rest of the game.

Steve had tried to reason with her on the drive home (an interesting choice, in Eddie’s opinion).

“Darling,” he’d said, “I totally understand being upset about missing a layup, but I don’t know how to get it through your head that intentionally fouling someone isn’t the way to go about resolving that emotion. I love you and I support you, but I’m getting tired of watching you play for three minutes and then sit on the bench for the rest of the game.”

“Talk to the coach then,” Moe had grumbled.

“About what?” Steve exclaimed, “Moe — you do it on purpose!”

The conversation had ended not long later because Moe decided to give them both the silent treatment (a clear sign that she knew she was in the wrong even if she didn’t want to admit it) and Eddie thought that was the end of it (for that game, at least). Then, Moe threw them a curveball by spending most of that evening in the bathroom throwing up, at which point she admitted that her head had caught more of that fall during her basketball game than she’d originally let on.

Steve doesn’t mess around with head injuries (for obvious reasons), so the next morning he calls Moe out of school and brings her to their pediatrician to get checked out.

A couple hours after Robbie and Hazel boarded the school bus bound for their elementary school, Steve and Moe return home.

“So what's the verdict?” Ed asks as they enter the kitchen.

“She's concussed,” Steve announces.

“Like father, like daughter.”

“No sports, no bright lights, no reading, no school, no phone,” Steve says pointedly, and Moe only scowls harder. She’d been using the incident as a leveraging tactic in her crusade to get a phone. Not being able to play sports was a no-brainer; they’d all seen that one coming, so even as recently as this morning, she’d been claiming that she’ll “die of boredom without a phone,” while she recovers.

Even as recently as this morning, she’d been largely unsuccessful.

“Thirteen-year-old children do not need phones,” Steve had told her, “If someone wants to talk to you, they can call the house, and if it's urgent enough that it needs to be right now, you can get walkie talkies.”

“No one uses walkie talkies.”

“Your dad and I used walkie talkies all the time.”

“Uh, pretty sure it was just the one time, Steve,” Eddie pointed out.

“Yeah! And it worked out great!”

CONTINUE ON AO3

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ɪɴꜰᴜʀɪᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴇʟᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ || ꜱᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ! ᴀᴜ ||

a/n: guess who procrastinated and ended up writing a thing :) 

In all seriousness I’m a complete and utter simp for Cole Brookstone and he is unreasonably attractive in looks personality and everything in between, especially for a goddamn lego man.

Playlist reference: https://youtu.be/j45ogZNaCis

Soulmate AU: Everyone has a soulmate designated to them since the moment they’re born. The tell-tale sign to single them out are the fact that you can hear what songs the other is listening to at any moment of the day.

Ugh. Not this again.

You groan, sitting up as the all-too-familiar sound of soft rock starts playing in the back of your mind. You shake your head slightly to rid the grogginess threatening to lull you back into comforting sleep.

You grab your headphones, immediately sliding them onto your ears as the soothing sound of chill pop music quickly drowns out the soft rock. On the bright side, it means that your soulmate exists.

On the other hand, it also means that whoever they are, they get up at ungodly hours of the day.

You stare blearily at the digital clock.

Five AM. 

You'd gotten used to the routine by now, but the days when your soulmate slept in were few and far between. Nonetheless, it's surprisingly boosted your productivity since the music started playing a couple months ago. 

"Stop it already!" 

You grumble, grabbing a pillow and covering your face with it. You press your face harder into the soft material, willing with all your might for the music to stop.

It'd been three days since it had started, and you abhorred every second. 

It was annoying, repetitive, and not your preferred genre at all.

You'd seen many compatible couples with similar music tastes, so why was your soulmate so adamant about having such lousy taste in tunes? Feeling bitter, you decide to drown it out with a playlist of your own. It was custom-made by you, and it took you ages(half a year, to be exact) to put it together.

It was a compilation of your favourite songs and the exact opposite of your soulmate's preference. You knew it annoyed them because every time you played a specific song they hated, they'd play something else you usually shut out in the first three seconds by aggressively playing the music they disliked on repeat.

It took a while, but you had finally called a truce(for now) with your soulmate by playing one of their favourite songs, and they begrudgingly did the same for you in return. 

Your friends were weirded out when you first revealed that you hated your soulmate's music taste. Obviously, they had never faced that issue. You were met with confused questions, your friends clueless and oblivious that people could dislike their soulmates. 

It was a foreign concept, but it was one that you were living. 

At first, you were excited that you could finally hear the songs your soulmate liked to listen to. 

That same excitement soon morphed into disdain for the genre they listened to. 

Now, you survey the bedroom you're in, taking note of all the scattered cardboard boxes. They were filled to the brim with various items of yours, some containing knick-knacks you've picked up randomly off the streets or in night markets. 

"Are you ready to go?" You turn your attention to your mother entering your room. She eyes the mess with a disapproving gaze, and you smile weakly. "I'll clear it up before the moving vans come?" You negotiate, hoping to escape an earful after getting out of bed so early.

She sighs. "Fine, but make it quick." She leaves the room with a pointed glare, shutting the door behind her. You sigh in relief, grabbing a roll of duct tape from your dresser and taping the boxes shut. You grab a marker and label each box with the contents inside.

 It took a while, but you were finally done. You wipe the sweat off your brow, glancing around at the now neatly packed and stacked boxes, arranging the last one in front of you. You grab the bag you had packed the night before, all the necessities inside. By now, the music from your soulmate had stopped playing(thank god for that), and you were halfway through your playlist. 

"Ready to go?" Your dad calls from outside. 

"Yeah, coming down in a sec!" You yell back, standing in the doorway. You look back at your room. The gentle sunlight shining through the bare windows breathed life into the room and the curtains that once decorated the small window seat. Where your bed once sat was empty with the polished mahogany wood underneath. 

Endless nights of laying in your plush bed with your bedside lamp's dim yet warm glow seemed so distant in your memories. Your hand lingers on the doorknob, mumbling a soft goodbye before shutting the door and heading downstairs to where your parents are waiting.

"Are your friends not seeing you off?" You're immediately greeted with a question as soon as you shut the car door, sitting in the back. You look up to see your dad looking at you with a raised brow, waiting patiently for your answer. You pause the music, and the sweet sound of silence greets your ears.

"Yeah, we already said our goodbyes yesterday." You reply with a shrug. Alicia and the rest of your friends brought you out for dinner at the pizza place you often frequented, and you spent the night giggling and reminiscing past memories. 

They dropped you off at two AM, and you snuck into the house without anyone noticing. Your friends had made you promise to text often, and you'd definitely update them as soon as you reached Ninjago City. 

Your dad seems satisfied with your answer and starts driving off. 

Your phone beeps and you pull it out to see messages from your friends. 

'Send souvenirs! Or face my wrath when we meet up again.' - Alicia

'Brooo' - Brenden, image.jpeg attached.

'Call when you reach! And make sure you drink plenty of water, you dehydrated fungus.' - Nico

You giggle at the messages, opening up the group chat to see a short video they filmed in the morning before school. You slide your headphones onto your ears, pressing play.

"Yo, have a safe trip or whatever!" Brenden's black hair is frizzy and unkempt, a clear sign that Alicia had probably dragged him out of bed for this. He's shoved aside, and the phone is grabbed, a familiar face coming close to the camera. 

"Nico, she can't see your face properly if you hog the camera!" Alicia complains, grabbing Nico by her coat and snatching the phone away. A head of red hair comes into view, a stark contrast to the shy brunette beside her. 

"Bring souvenirs!! I heard that the candy over there is to die for." Alicia demands with a bright grin, and you roll your eyes. 

"Guys, Ms. Fergurson is coming!" Nico warns. 

Alarm is apparent in all of their eyes. "Oh god, okay, we gotta go now, or we'll get caught! Bye, Y/n, love you stinky three thousand." The video is cut short, and you stifle a laugh at the sudden ending.

'Thanks guys, love you stinky three thousand.' 

You quickly type out the response and continue to scroll through Instagram for the remaining time it takes to get to the capital city. 

You stir, eyes fluttering open at the annoying sound of drilling and construction. You blink a few times, sitting up from where you had slumped against the window while you slept. Your vision clears, and you move your hands away to see bright lights and skyscrapers galore around you. 

You're here. 

Ninjago City is filled to the brim with people and endless traffic. Your dad scowls at the long line of cars in front of him, glaring at the red light that seems to take forever to turn green. 

"That's the school you'll be attending tomorrow." Your mum points out from the passenger seat, and you follow the direction she's pointing to. You stare at the large school on the right. 

‘Ninjago High School’

You hum in thought, already filled with anxiety for the following day. It didn't help that you were from the outskirts and had a different(and probably lacking) curriculum. You fiddle with the games on your phone, focusing intently on beating the next level of Candy Crush. 

You mumble a cuss when 'Game Over' appears on the colourful screen, and your mum instantly turns with a suspicious gaze. You smile nervously, trying to play it off as though you hadn't said anything. 

She turns back around, choosing to let it pass. 

You stare out the window, watching the shops pass by in a blur until you spot one that catches your eye. "Dad, could you drop me off here?" He doesn't question your sudden request, making a turn and parking next to the sidewalk. 

You open the car door and exit, looking up at the sign on the storefront. 

'Ninjago Doomsday Comix'

"There's a Chinese takeout nearby if you wanna grab dinner before meeting us at the new house." Your dad has a GPS pulled up on his phone, texting you the address of your new home. 

"Yeah, I'll grab some food on the way back. Gonna take a look around the place, y'know, before I get lost tomorrow." You joke. You adjust the straps of your small bag before settling it in a comfortable position on your back. 

"See you later then, kiddo. Call us if anything happens. Should be safe since those ninjas are around." 

Before you can question what he means, he drives off with all the rest of your luggage. 

"...Ninjas?" You mumble in confusion before shrugging it off. You were lucky that your dad had visited the city multiple times on business trips and that he was primarily a hands-off parent. Your mum usually just went along with his whims. 

The door swings open easily, a jingle catching you off guard. A man at the cashier counter greets you with a friendly grin that eases your nerves, and you walk up to him. 

"Hi, do you know where to find Starfarer comics?" 

"Well, right here, of course!" You cringe at his response, realizing how poorly worded your question was. It elicits a chuckle from the man in front of you. 

"Just kidding. I'm Rufus, Rufus McAllister, or you can call me Mother Doomsday. You're a new face around these parts. What's your name?" 

"Uhm, I'm Y/n. I just moved here, so maybe that's why." You reply, clutching the straps of your bag with a small smile at the friendly man.

"Well, welcome to Ninjago City! I hope the city treats you well. We got the ninja protecting us, so that's added security too." 

Your brows furrow, wondering why everyone around you knew what these ninjas were, but you had no clue. "Ninja?" 

Rufus pauses with his lips parted, seemingly processing your words. A relaxed grin slowly forms on his lips, and he waves off your question. "You'll find out soon enough." He glances towards a specific aisle, seemingly contemplating. 

"It should be fine then…." He mumbles. You're just lost in where this conversation had ended up. 

"Aisle Eight is where we keep the best-stocked Starfarer comics." He gestures to the area he had been staring at earlier. You thank him with a brief nod, walking over. 

The aisle is relatively empty, save for two other people. A blonde guy in a green hoodie is flipping through the latest issue of Starfarer with keen interest, engrossed in the colourful pages.

Next to him is another boy with slightly wavy and choppy black hair, the smooth and silky strands making you both envious and curious about his hair care routine. In contrast to his friend(you assumed), he regards you with a suspicious gaze. 

He’s kinda cute.

You find it odd, feeling mildly unsettled by the intense stare he gave you. It wasn't a good one; it was more on the wary side than interested. You brush it off, ignoring the pair and scouring the shelves for issue number three.

You finally find the issue you're looking for, but it's directly opposite the pair. 

After all, what would you be if not cursed with bad coincidence?

You practically tiptoe over, clearing your throat slightly as you grab the comic book and start reading. Green Hoodie(Greenie, you decide to nickname) looks up in surprise, only now noticing your presence. Mr. Grumpy Pants(The nickname suits him perfectly), on the other hand, doesn't bother hiding the grimace on his lips at your presence, looking away.

You stiffen, eyes narrowing into a glare.

Rude.

Greenie hits his friend's shoulder in a light punch, looking at you with an expression of apology. 

"She should be fine. Rufus wouldn't send anyone over here without vetting them first." Greenie whispers to Mr. Grumpy Pants, referring to his earlier behaviour.

"Yeah, but what if they're…you know? I don't want another repeat of what happened with Jay." 

Damn.

You almost drop the comic book in your hands, caught off guard by how attractive Mr Grumpy Pant’s voice is. You tense, now more aware of their presence. Even though you don't want to eavesdrop, you can't help how your ears practically perk up, hoping to hear more of the deep voice from earlier. 

Plus, they weren't doing a very good job of keeping their conversation a secret.

"I trust Rufus. He's a good friend." 

"...Maybe." 

"Is that…? OMG! It's them!!"

You're interrupted from blankly staring at the same page for the past fifteen minutes, having focused on the conversation behind you, though the pair had stopped talking a while ago.

You look up at the store's glass windows, startled by the sudden sight of a group of girls pressed against the glass, staring intently at the two boys behind you. 

"Oh no." You watch all the color drain from Greenie's face while Mr. Grumpy Pants smacks his palm against his face, sliding it down and sighing heavily with an utterly defeated expression. 

"Not again…" You hear him mutter.

The girls grab their phones, snapping photos of them. You realize that you're probably in them, too, considering the lack of distance between you both. 

"Girls, there's the door!!" The tallest and most commandeering of the group holds open the entrance to the comic book store, and they swarm towards it.

"Cole, run!!!" Greenie yells, taking off to the back door that Rufus quickly ushers them both through. You grab the issue of Starfarer that Greenie dropped on the floor in his hasty exit, watching the fabric of Cole's shirt almost get stuck in the doorway.

At least now you know Mr. Grumpy Pant's name. 

You place both the comics back on the shelf, leaving with a quick wave to Rufus, who nods goodbye. You pull out your phone, look up directions to the Chinese Takeout store and slowly make your way there. You grab your earbuds, put them both in your ears and start your playlist from the beginning.

You're next to an alleyway, just steps away from the Chinese Takeout, when your arm is grabbed and pulled into an alleyway next to you. A yelp rips free from your chest, losing your balance and almost fall. 

A strong and warm arm holds yours firmly, pressing you against the cold brick wall. Your eyes automatically squeeze shut when your back hits the wall with a grunt, opening your eyes to see Mr. Grumpy Pants from earlier. 

His hand is pressed firmly against your mouth, and your hands curl into fists, punching his chest weakly. Unfortunately, your body's affinity to whatever created muscles in your body was little, making you regret not going to the gym after years of procrastination.

He shushes you, and you only just notice his pinched brows and the shine of sweat on his forehead. You hear the gradual approach of his fangirls and realize that he had tugged you behind a wall that separated into a small alcove, out of sight from the sidewalk you were on earlier.

"Turn that nauseating song off." Cole winces, muttering through clenched teeth. Your punches slow to a stop, confused by his words. He grabs your phone out of your hands, pressing pause on your beloved playlist. You allow him to do so, your mind blank and realization slowly dawning on you. 

Your eyes widen in shock, staring up at his stupidly handsome face. His dark brown eyes are filled with the fear of being caught, and you catch yourself admiring the shaggy black hair that frames his face in the most annoyingly perfect manner.

Your mind races with incoherent thoughts, but one sticks out like a sore thumb.

Your soulmate's a celebrity?

You'd think that being a celebrity would mean that his music taste would be of at least adequate quality.

"Am I getting kidnapped right now?" You voice out the most pressing concern on your mind, though it comes out muffled. He turns back to face you with an incredulous expression.

"You don't know who I am?" His voice is hushed, waiting for the horde of fangirls to run past your hiding spot. 

Your eyes narrow, pushing his hand off of where it's placed on your shoulders. You try to ignore the tingle his touch leaves behind that spreads to your hands and how his choppy bangs somehow manage to fall over his eyes in a somewhat attractive manner when he turns to face you. 

"In the past twenty minutes, you've glared at me, been rude, and practically held me hostage," You snap at him, irritated by the lack of common human decency he seemed to display. "And what do you mean nauseating song? If anything, you're the one giving me headaches with that god-awful noise you call music that you play daily!"

You finish your mini rant, having reached the end of your already thinning patience with the boy in front of you. You pant slightly, trying your best to reign in your temper. 

"Noise? Noise?? I could say the same for you! You're disturbing my sleep at night with those ear-splitting synths and breathy singing that sounds like they're on the verge of hyperventilation!" Cole retorts with thinly veiled disgust, taking a step back, dusting off his hands, and wiping them on his pants. 

You eye the action, feeling insulted. Both of you stand in the alleyway, silently glaring at each other. Cole breaks the stare first, scanning the area behind him once he realizes the fangirls are gone. You grin, elated at the quiet victory. 

"You really gotta get more variety." Your smile drops as soon as the words leave Cole's lips, and yours press into a thin line. 

"Speak for yourself." You can barely hold back another biting remark. If anyone were to see you now, they'd definitely mistake you as enemies rather than the soulmates that you actually are.

He groans, rolling his eyes. You're tempted to ask what he does for a living but choose to stay silent. You shake your head, still in disbelief that you've found your soulmate. "How on earth are we even going to get along…." You mutter to yourself.

Cole looks up, seemingly having heard your quiet mumbles. "I could say the same thing. I can't be with someone who can't tell the difference between good music and bad!"

How insufferable.

But you can't help ogling his arms when he props his hands on his hips, the muscle ready to tear through the thin material. You tear your gaze away, crossing your arms. Unfortunately, he catches your eyes wandering, a cocky smirk tugging the corner of his lips up. 

Your cheeks instantly warm, and you look away in embarrassment.  

"Well, whatever. Just find me when you want to learn what real music sounds like!" 

"Fine!"

"Fine then!"

With that, the conversation ends, and you both turn to face opposite ends of the alleyway, walking away from each other with flushed faces and burning cheeks.

'Wait, I didn't give him my number.' 

You realize, turning around.

"I'll find you!" Almost as if he senses your hesitation, he answers your unasked question.

You turn with a huff, “Didn’t ask!" You yell back. 

To drive home your point, you place your earbuds back into your ears and hit play on your playlist.

Immediately, Cole's songs start playing in the back of your mind, much louder than before. You let out an irritated sigh, but surprisingly enough, the tune didn't sound as vexing as before. 

It might even be a little bit endearing.

[watatsumiis]

*Raises hand* May I request something about Arlecchino learning that her lover had been kidnapped and then proceeding to rescue them on this fine December day?

This one has been sitting in my inbox for a hot minute as I ponder what to do with it, but hey, now is as good a time as any to get onto it since I’ve got the ideas swirling around in my brain >:3c  sorry its on a fine February day instead of a December one. but thank you for the request <3

Content: A pre-established romantic relationship with Arlecchino. Gender neutral reader (referred to as ‘you’) who gets kidnapped and roughed up a little (no graphic descriptions of either, all off-screen). Arlecchino resorts to violence. Reader works for the Fatui in some official capacity. Arlecchino gets very clingy. 

When first given the ransom note, the higher-ups decide to try and keep it all hush-hush from Arlecchino - the relationship you two share is pretty common knowledge to anyone who spends any amount of time in her presence, and it was only a matter of time until something like this happened. They quickly send out scouts and agents to get you back as soon as humanly possible, but they’re all coming up empty-handed.

They manage to placate and distract your lover for all of an hour or two before she senses there’s something wrong. Something they’re not telling her. The moment she realises that it’s something to do with you, she flies off the rails entirely, going off at anyone and everyone who will listen. Of course, her subordinates insist that a kidnapping isn’t something she personally needs to get involved in - they quickly get demoted or transferred to work with one of the less ‘amicable’ Harbingers. 

Of course Arlecchino knows that she shouldn’t be the one to go out and rescue you, that would be playing right into the hands of whoever took you in the first place. 

Whether or not that will stop her is a different question entirely. She isn’t known for being the most rational of the Fatui Harbingers, especially when personal matters like this come into play.

She spends all of three and a half minutes handing out orders from her office before she’s up and out the door, donning her travel cloak and all of her finest weapons as she seethes. Every moment apart from you is agony, even more so now she knows of the danger you’re in. The moment she closes her eyes all she can picture is you in pain, crying out for her to come and save you. 

Arlecchino is a ruthless, unstoppable force. Nobody dares to stand up to her when she’s got such cold determination in her eyes. It doesn’t take long until she’s managed to pick up the trail that all of the others had lost, and follow it to its source - your captors. 

The scenes she left behind after her ‘interrogations’ were gruesome enough to make even the most battle-hardened veteran shudder. She leaves a trail of crimson behind in her wake as she pursues you, thinking of nothing but getting you back in her arms safely. 

She shows no mercy towards your captors, bringing them down one by one, paying no mind to her own injuries until she’s cut you free of your bindings. 

Even if you’re not hurt at all, she’ll fuss and preen over you, cradling your face in her bloodied hands as she pulls you close to her chest, her exhaustion finally catching up with her as she practically collapses in your arms. 

It doesn’t take long for her soldiers to catch up with you both and arrange an escort to bring you home, but it’s a chore to get Arlecchino to let you go for long enough for the medics to check on you both and tend to your wounds. Even then, she sits as close as humanly possible to you and always has at least one hand on you at any given time. 

Even once you’re home safe, Arlecchino won’t let you out of her sight. She was clingy to start off with, of course, but now it’s increased about tenfold, she won’t even let you leave the room without her or at least three soldiers at your side. Sometimes being dragged off to whatever her latest assignment is can be damn near as traumatising as getting kidnapped, but something about it does make you feel all safe and warm, and there’s absolutely no way anybody could possibly doubt her love and adoration towards you after all she went through to save you. 

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites.

[junostwistedworld]

Falling For You

In which you make a lasting impression on Neige when he gets himself in a touch of trouble.

It can be read as platonic or romantic; written in second person; no reference to gender or appearance. Just generally silly/fluff? Reader is assumed to have ended up at RSA rather than NRC.

♤♡---◇♧

You've had a long day. If something could go wrong, it has, and Che'nya's been at his finest when it comes to being a menace. And it's barely even noon! All you want is to get a cafeteria, get something to eat, and sit down for a little bit before your next class... It seems you just aren't going to get a break.

There's crowd gathering around the gigantic oak tree in the courtyard, someone's climbing up it... Despite your better judgment, you stop to see what in the world is going on. You find Rielle somewhere in the front of the crowd and ask what's going on- is that Neige?

He just sighs: yes. They found a baby bird in the grass on their way to lunch and Neige decided he had to put it back before the parents came. A kind gesture, but really a stupid idea. Still... you stay to watch for a few minutes. He's moving carefully, pulling himself up one branch at a time, stops and leans against the trunk before holding onto the branch above him and scooting out. Reaches the bird's nest (how did he even find it...?) and takes the chick out of his coat pocket and drops it in as carefully as he can before returning to the trunk. Polite clapping, relieved chatter, Neige is making his way down. So you turn to leave, lunch has waited far too long...

There's a crack, followed by screaming, you turn around- well. No one should be shocked, the tree's probably older than the castle is. One of the branches have wrenched halfway off the tree under Neige's weight, and now he's clinging to it with arms and legs wrapped tight. Reaching out to try and grab the next branch over, every time he moves though the one he's on rips a little farther off the tree... His fingers have just reached the other branch, and the one he's on decides to give out.

He tumbles down the branches- and you trample whoever happens to be in front of you, because you go sprinting without much thought, skid to a halt under the tree and lift your arms as if to catch him- ... it's less like catching and more like breaking his fall, because you both end up sprawled on the ground. The breath gets knocked out of both of you. And he just slowly sits up, looks at you and gasps if you're okay, you saved him, is there anything he can do to repay you?

Yeah. Get off before you hurl. Because let's be honest- it would probably hurt a lot to have someone fall from a tree and land on top of you. He clambers off, kneels beside you and wavers he guesses he fell for you, huh...! Asks again if you're okay?

Yeah... This is probably one of the least dramatic things you've gotten dragged into since you ended up in Twisted Wonderland. You sit up, he just smiles at you- and then the crowd descends. Swarming around Neige and pulling you up and dusting you off. Someone gives you your bag- either you dropped it or flung it in someone's face in the mad dash to reach the tree and Neige. Speaking of him: you can barely see the top of his head through the crowd swarming around him; even at school he's popular... He's in good hands now, so you decide to take your leave before anything else dramatic can happen.

And by the time Neige managed to wiggle through the crowd to find you... you've disappeared...!

Later that night at your cottage...

... Who sent you a massive flower arrangement? The coffee table's gonna break if you try to put this on it.

It was Neige. Either he's smitten, or you've got yourself a fanboy for life.

♤♡---◇♧

I've said it before, I'll say it again: I'm all for the dramatics. And who doesn't enjoy a crazy 'how we met' story every now and again?

NOTE: I've never edited photos before, this is my first attempt. Very plain, but I still somehow managed.

Masterlist

[theauthorlives]

The world seems to have shifted slightly...

-

Wally had a GREAT sleep. He vaguely recalled repeating his ‘I am sleeping’ mantra, and suddenly everything felt comfortable and light, as though he was outside. There was no pressure holding him down, just the warmth of a blanket and the security of a bed. The realm of the waking was miles away.

It was only the sound of something hitting a door and the shout of “YANCY. GET UP!” that reluctantly pulled him from the world of sleep. It was a shame too. Wally didn’t remember the last time he slept so well. He grabbed the pillow to hug as he turned to step out of the bed with bleary eyes.

The floor was not where it was supposed to be, and Wally was lying face-down on the concrete floor before he knew where he was. 

“... Ah.” At least the pillow had softened the landing! “Why is the floor so low? Did I turn into a little bug like in one of Sally’s scary story?” One hand brushed his hair out of his face to look up at the bed.

…

That was not his bed.

Instead of his large single bed, he was sitting beside a plain, metal bunk bed. The bottom bunk had the blanket and pillow arranged to pad out one corner like a makeshift cozy corner. The top bunk, however, had part of the blanket falling over the edge. If he woke up on the top bunk, then the confusion on the distance between the bed and the floor made a lot of sense.

“Where am I…?” The room was smaller than his bedroom, and it lacked colour too. Everything was either grey or white, leaving Wally in his bold coloured, striped pyjamas sticking out like a sore thumb. The shape of the room was narrow and L-shaped. It would feel cramped if the occupant was taller than Wally. The window was small and positioned too high for Wally to even consider climbing up to, while the door behind him looked too heavy to move, and maybe was made of metal. Compared to his own bedroom, Wally couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t a very welcoming place… Yet he had slept so soundly here. How strange.

Another series of bangs startled Wally from his thoughts. 

“HEY. YANCY. MOVE IT.”

“Yancy…? But my name is Wally…” Even with the confusion, the weird voice was right. He couldn’t stay in this room all day. Who knows what time it was! He turned to the lower bunk while deciding what to do, and spotted a small bundle of neatly folded clothes with a pair of shoes waiting for him.

“These are the right size for me!” With how large everything else was, Wally was relieved to find clothes that would fit him, and dedicated the time to change. Like with everything else in the room, the outfit was simple and lacked proper colour. The white t-shirt was soft to the touch; and he only needed to roll the bottom of the black-and-white striped trousers once so he wouldn’t trip on them. Finally, the black shoes were simple, but easy to wear. He felt underdressed, but it would have to do for now. 

Next, he climbed onto the flimsy chair to use the small mirror on the table to help fix his hair. To his surprise, there was a comb and hair gel. Whoever ‘Yancy’ was, it was someone who also took care of their hair. What luck!

At last, he was ready to go!

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Pedantic, chapter three - a Malevolent AU

Arthur Lester is the best IT architect in the world, and the reason Carcosa, Inc. has its fingers in every pie. Government, medical, everyone in the world uses its systems. Arthur is also going blind and nearly gives up… until a deeply annoying cybersecurity programmer prods him into trying something new.

Chapter Three: The choice is made. What does Arthur have to lose? (The answer is his heart.)

AO3

----------

John Doe began sending images around four in the afternoon.

Arthur checked. That meant John was goofing around at two in the morning his time.

The first was a sticker depicting a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Beneath it were the words, Licensed to bear small arms.

Arthur snorted his coffee as Cassilda described it to him. When recovered, he said, “Doe, what the hell?”

No Doe here. That name went out with the dinosaurs.

“It’s your name, idiot. Are you saying you’re old and extinct?”

Maybe I’ve got big teeth and little children love me.

Arthur laughed again. “That can come across all kinds of wrong.”

I’ll give you wrong. A pause, followed by a second text. That made more sense in my head.

“It’s two in the morning, you whacko. Why are you up?”

Waiting for you, princess. Also, Baldur’s Gate 12 is addicting.

“Excuses, excuses.”

John sent a picture of a cat.

It is a young Siamese cat, Cassilda said. Less than a year old. It stares up at the camera with an expectant look, sitting primly, tail wrapped around its feet. Beside it is a human leg in pajama bottoms, wearing a fuzzy slipper.

“Who’s this?” said Arthur.

Guy. She’s my buddy.

“She?”

I fostered. I’d say, “Hi, guys,” every time I came home, and this one got too used to it.

“I see. Doomed. You had to keep her.”

She kept me.

There was no reason for Arthur to know this reply was different from the others, like there was more to this than mere words said.

But there was. This had mattered in some big way.

He tried to shake it off. “I haven’t had time for pets. I get so focused on my work… they’d starve, or something.”

You just need a partner to share the load, is all.

Right.

Right.

There were a few ways to take that, and Arthur doubted all of them.

He let it go.

So John sent another photo. This one was a glorious setup; two meter-wide monitors, multiple keyboards, and ample desk space for the numerous snacks and drinks arranged as if in front of six stations.

One chair. It was spun to face the camera, as if whoever had been sitting in it hopped up just to take a pic.

“What’s this?” said Arthur.

Where the magic happens, baby.

Arthur smiled, considering his own absolutely ascetic layout. “Why multiple snack stations?”

Because I have numerous systems running, taking up a portion of the screen. I slide between them, and they require different flavors.

Arthur laughed. “They what?”

That system we’re customizing for the fucking Migo? That’s spicy.

Arthur did not like them. They didn’t trust his ability to make things just work, and kept making requests that complicated the system for users. “I agree.”

The Yithian delegation is a challenge, but I like them, so they get barbecue chips.

“Oddly specific.”

Their biggest challenge is older tech. I like making them able to go toe to toe with the assholes in spite of it.

“I like that, too. You’ll have to show me how you’re getting around their iCore B11 chips.”

Sure. Anyway, enough about me. Decided?

Arthur fell silent.

He walked to his window, looking out. He could almost see the view from this office; or maybe he’d just spent so much time here that his mind overlayed memories—the tree-filled hill falling away, Melbourne stretching out below, the smaller stone bastion where his own home sat gleaming in the fading sunlight.

He held onto the memory, staring at blurs.

His feed dinged. Parker’d sent a message.

“Hold that thought,” he said to John Doe, and sat down to hear Cassilda read it out.

#

Well. It was a thing.

Arthur called. “Are you fucking serious?”

“When you said he came out of nowhere a year ago, I didn’t think you were literal,” said Parker, amused. “But yeah, I’m serious. Social security number issued last year. Birth certificate not found. No known schools. Not so much as a photo in a yearbook. He’s a ghost.”

“That can’t be,” said Arthur. “Carcosa would never hire someone suspicious, never mind put them in charge of security.”

“Well, Hastur de Amarillo did. And you’re gonna love this part: there’s no record of an application.”

Arthur hesitated for all of one second. “Hold on.” He had Cassilda open his system in the back end.

He had his own back doors. It wasn’t really legal, but Arthur had access to everything simply because it was his baby and he had to in order to fix things or tweak them.

This was worth doing himself, without help. Squinting, close to the screen, he took the mouse in hand and navigated.

John Doe’s employment began one year and two months ago. There was his address (wait… already in Manhattan?), his income (nice), and… that was it.

No interview. No notes. No contacts. No medical contacts or work history. No references. No resume.

He really had sprung from Hastur’s head fully formed, apparently.

“Nothing?” said Arthur.

“Nothing. Whoever he was before your boss hired him has been hidden so well that I can’t dig a fucking thing up. I don’t know what this guy is hiding, Arthur, but this unnerves me.”

It unnerved Arthur, too. John Doe might have the skill to cover his tracks, but it felt impossible to be that good in this day and age.

John had been smart enough not to invent a past. That would’ve been seen through immediately. Instead, he just… didn’t exist. How many systems would he have had to hack? This was upsetting.

“Thanks, Parker,” said Arthur.

“I’ll keep looking, but… he’s hiding something big. People can’t hide themselves this much and still get jobs.”

Arthur knew the answer was to ask Hastur. He didn’t want to ask Hastur. He didn’t want to have to answer Why do you want to know?

He sighed.

“You okay there?” said Parker.

“It’s just complicated.” The implications of being able to do this were staggering. John Doe…

John Doe was a dangerous man.

“Fuck,” said Arthur.

“Use a condom,” said Parker, knowing damn well that would pull him out of his funk.

Arthur laughed. “Goon.”

“Right. I’ll let you know what else I find.”

“Thanks.” Arthur sighed. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Arthur had no idea what the hell to do now.

#

Arthur liked to celebrate a successful launch. He didn’t like to do it alone.

In his twenties, he’d spent a lot of time in the local nightlife, just in the company of strangers, enjoying some booze, the laughter, the dancing.

He hadn’t done that in a few years. It was too scary when he couldn’t really see what was going on.

He sipped his champagne, anyway, mulling. Maybe it was the booze on an empty stomach, but he knew what to do. “Text John. All right, asshole, I’ll take your bet, but you won’t like what I demand when you lose.”

All right! What, you want me to mail you my balls or something?

It was definitely the booze. “No. You’re going to tell me who the fuck you really are and how you hid yourself so well.”

Silence for a long moment, which Arthur could have predicted. It was a rude thing to say, and possibly illegal, and showed he’d been looking into John.

None of which he cared about right now. He tried to refill his glass and realized he’d drunk the whole bottle. When had that happened?

Deal.

Wait, what was?

Well. This just got interesting. “Good. We start tomorrow.”

Good.

It was the most succinct John had ever been. Arthur suddenly felt bad and took a picture of his empty champagne bottle. “To celebrate our new relationship,” he said.

A beat. Maybe he’d pushed too far. Maybe he’d busted this relationship before it even got started. Maybe—

I can drink you under the table, said John, and Arthur knew they were okay. Sleep it off. Wow me tomorrow.

“I will,” said Arthur, far more petulantly than he was proud of, and was grateful text did not portray.

He didn’t remember falling asleep on his couch, but he sure did, and dreamed of programming all night.

------

CHAPTER FOUR

[sassykattery]

A Lover and a Friend, Pt. 9

Hello hello, my dear readers. It's time for the final part to the finale of "A Lover and a Friend." As always, I hope you have enjoyed my series so far.

CW: MC is afab,she/her pronouns used, no major CW this chapter as it's mostly storyline.

Themes: romance, scent, love triangle, DiavoloxMC, LuciferxMC.

Characters: Diavolo, MC="You", Lucifer, Barbatos

Minors and Ageless blogs DNI

18+

Masterlist

Without further ado, please enjoy.

"Well..." you started to say. You sat up to sit shoulder-to-shoulder to Diavolo, so you could talk to and look at him properly. But it was hard to hold his gaze, so you resorted to looking at your hands in your lap, hesitating.

"What is it?" he asked. He was studying you closely, noting the apprehension, the worry, and the pure fear that crossed your face. You couldn't get the words out.

"Darling, you can tell me anything," he said gently.

You swallowed thickly as your throat threatened to tighten up again, and you took a deep breath.

"There's something I need to talk to you about... About Lucifer," you finally replied. Diavolo's gaze shifted away for a moment and then landed back onto you, waiting for you to continue. "It's actually... something you said to him, apparently."

He remained calm on the exterior, but there was an edge to his voice. "Yes?"

"You told him that if I wanted him, you'd be fine with it, as long as it was my decision and he didn't hurt me. Is that... right?"

"That is what I said, yes," he replied, voice firm, starting to piece together where this was going.

"Why did you say that?" you asked, finally looking Diavolo in the eyes.

He replied, "That day, I noticed Lucifer's scent on you, very heavily, and I wanted him to know that I didn't mind you spending time with him, but if he started mistreating you again, I wouldn't hesitate to punish him for it. He informed me that you two were working on becoming friends. That made me happy to hear, but I ultimately assumed he had an ulterior motive for doing so. It turns out he seems to still be genuine in his endeavor."

You didn't look satisfied with his response, so he continued. "I was giving in to my jealousy earlier that day, because for the first time, I was concerned maybe you'd choose him over me, that I'd lose you. After giving it some thought, and then with what happened to you at The Fall, I made it clear if you chose to be intimate with him, I wouldn't fight with him over it. I know he's important to you. I realized that you're allowed to choose whoever you want, and I'm just fortunate enough that you want to be with me. I'm confident in your love for me." He watched your reaction to this, and you looked very uneasy, he felt your heartrate jump and noticed your eyes widening.

"Did he do something to you?" he asked.

You shook your head, "No, nothing like that. It's just..." you turned your head away and crossed your arms. Looking out the window you finally continued, "Would you really be okay if I was in that sort of relationship with him as well as you?" You felt like your heart was about to beat its way through your chest with how hard it was thundering, the strong pulse creeping its way into your throat.

He took your hand, which made you jump, and you looked back into his eyes. "Would that arrangement make you happy?" he asked, his voice was low, and his tone was deathly serious.

"I-I don't know..." you replied.

Diavolo rubbed his thumb over your hand. "That is all I truly care about, is that you're happy, and safe."

Deciding to be honest, you spoke up, "I had a moment with Lucifer where... I was conflicted in how I felt. Part of me considered I was just lonely without you around, and maybe that's true, but I also know I have certain feelings for him. I just... don't know if it would work." You looked over at Diavolo who was intently listening, but not saying anything. You continued, "I just don't know if I can make you both happy. I'm not sure I'm good enough for you. If I split my time between the two of you, I worry someone will start to feel shortchanged. And then Lucifer, I worry if he would be truly happy considering our past."

"My dear MC, you make me happy, you don't need to worry about that," he replied, bringing a hand to lightly touch your cheek. "And you are good enough for me, in fact you're too good for me. The amount of grace you have for my work schedule is something I truly appreciate. I would actually feel better if there were someone here for you when I'm away or busy," he mused. "And Lucifer has already been fulfilling that role, as it were. Additionally, he feels as I do, that we want you to be happy above all else."

You sat with his words, mulling them over. It was clear he was sure in what he was saying, you just couldn't help but hesitate. "Would... anything change? If it doesn't work out?" you asked.

"I don't see why anything would have to. If the arrangement works, then it works, but if it doesn't then we'll just reevaluate then. But I'm willing to try whatever makes you happy," he answered. Both of you sat in the silence for a few moments, soaking in everything that was said.

You looked away, a smile tugging at your lips.

"You know what would make me really happy to try?" you asked, still looking out the window.

Diavolo leaned in and whispered in your ear, "Tell me, my love."

You looked back at him and leaned in close.

"Pickles," you whispered.

A frustrated and disgusted groan erupted from his throat. He rubbed his face in his hands. You giggled at his dismay.

"Sorry, my love, I just wanted to tease you," you said, "But... I'd like to try."

Diavolo pulled his face away from his hands and looked down at you, hearing the seriousness return to your voice. He couldn't help but melt at your sweet, wide-eyed expression.

-

You told Diavolo that you brought Lucifer with you, and the prince decided to invite him to his office to talk while you went and to see about that tea Barbatos was making, and maybe help him with tonight's dinner.

Lucifer shut the door quietly and strode to the chairs in front of Diavolo's desk where the Demon Lord sat. He sank down and crossed a leg, waiting for what Diavolo had to say.

"So, MC and I discussed some things," Diavolo stated.

"Is that so? And I'm guessing it includes me since I'm now sitting in your office," Lucifer mused, slightly arrogant. "What did she say?"

"She seemed unsure about being with both of us, but I got the impression that it's a possibility in her mind. I think that if we maybe discussed the boundaries in this relationship so everyone is happy, it may work out better," Diavolo replied.

"Ever the diplomat, Lord Diavolo," Lucifer said.

Diavolo chuckled. "Indeed. I still stand by what I said, that she should make all of the decisions here. Whatever she wants, we make it happen. And whatever boundaries she sets with us, we have to respect," he stated.

"There's no argument here," Lucifer simply replied. The air was tense between the two, even if they were agreeable in terms of the nature of their conversation.

"Even if that means she changes her mind and only wants one of us," Diavolo added, his tone becoming firmer.

Lucifer smirked. "Is that a challenge? To see who she picks?"

"Of course not," Diavolo replied, "It's merely a fact. She told me earlier that she's worried things won't work out. So, it is up to us to make sure we don't cause her more stress. But I'm currently not the one with the history of making a mess when I get jealous," he said, slightly malicious.

"She's forgiven me for that," Lucifer stated, slightly irritated. Diavolo nodded. "And I have come to the same conclusion as you, I would just like to see her happy, no matter the cost on my part. She's worth more than my damned pride," he continued, his voice becoming strained.

"Then we're in agreement," Diavolo said, standing from his seat offering his hand. Lucifer stood as well and took it.

"So we are," Lucifer replied.

Just then, the door opened, and you walked in with a tray of tea for everyone. You stopped short when you saw Diavolo and Lucifer shaking hands, but instantly stopped when they heard you, their heads turned to you.

"I feel like I'm interrupting something," you said quietly.

"Not at all, love!" Diavolo beamed. Lucifer smiled as well, beckoning you over. "We were just finishing up talking about some things, so you have perfect timing, as always."

You walked over with the tray of tea and cups. It was still tense in the room, but they seemed excited, from what you could tell, and you were curious as to what they were discussing. At the desk, shooing the guys away, they sat as you poured tea for them. They gave you their thanks as you handed them their brimming cups. You poured one for yourself and finally sat down in the chair opposite of Lucifer.

"Um, so what were you guys discussing? It seemed like you all are in high spirits because of it," you finally asked after a sip.

Diavolo and Lucifer shared a glance, and Diavolo nodded. Lucifer turned to you and spoke, "You, actually."

"Me?" you asked curiously. "I'm not that important, how boring," you tried to play off your mild embarrassment and nervousness.

"On the contrary, however we have come to an agreement as to our relationships with you," Lucifer continued. Your cheeks burned a little, and you took another sip to try and distract yourself.

"Oh..." is all you could muster. You stared down your tea, avoiding their gazes. Diavolo and Lucifer exchanged another look, noting your sudden shyness. You finally looked up at them and they waited for you to say something. "And... that means... what?" you finally spat out barely above a whisper.

Diavolo spoke this time, "It means that I'm fine with you having an intimate relationship with Lucifer-"

Just as he said that you gasped and fumbled your teacup, spilling some of the hot tea on your chest and lap. You seethed at the sudden pain and both demons jumped up, but Lucifer was closer and immediately took out his handkerchief to help you. He knelt down and began dabbing at your dress.

"Are you okay, MC?" Diavolo asked. You looked between the two demons before you. It was strange, to see them both jump to your rescue. One, that one of pride and preserving his image, kneeling before you and cleaning you up, and another, this one with a heart of gold, watching it all.

"MC?" Diavolo called out to you again. There wasn't a coherent sentence to be found on your lips. A part of you, the larger part of your rational mind, wanted to bolt, just as you did that night with Lucifer. But there was another part of you, that darker inhabitant of your mind, that whispered its illustrious and seductive words to you, telling you what you already knew in that delicious, pure soul of yours:

You can have both. You want both. They're right in front of you, and within your clutches. All you have to do is take them.

Something clicked inside of you.

"I'm fine," you said abruptly. Your eyes shifted down to Lucifer's, and you smiled sweetly. "Thank you for helping me."

Lucifer nodded within slight confusion at the sudden wave of calm that seemed to wash over you. Just moments before, you looked as if you were going to pass out on the spot, or run, but it was as if a light switch was flipped, and you had your confident demeanor about you.

Both demons sat back down, as you set your teacup on Diavolo's desk and relaxed back into your seat. They started drinking their tea, watching you.

"So," you finally spoke. Their bodies instantly became tense. "Then it's official, I'm dating both of you," you mused. "What... are the boundaries with this?"

Diavolo set his teacup down and spoke, "That's for you to decide. We want this to be whatever you want. If you want to set a schedule for when you'll spend time with us, that's fine. If you would like to set some rules, you're free to do so. Whatever you want, dear, we'll make it happen, for you."

Lucifer nodded when you looked over at him for confirmation. You thought it over. "I suppose a schedule isn't a terrible idea, but I don't want it to be restrictive since you both are busy. I want to be fair to you both," you thought aloud. "As for rules, I'm not really sure. Mostly just no fighting, or I'll dump each of you." That caused the both of them to jolt just a little. "I think it would be nice if I could spend time with both of you, simultaneously, if possible."

"I think we can make that happen," Lucifer replied. "What would... you like the public to know?" he inquired to both you and Diavolo.

"Oh..." you muttered. "I'm kind of a private person... I'm worried what people will think," you replied in admission.

"Consider this, MC, you live in a world comprised of demons, it's not as prudish as maybe the human world is about this sort of thing," Diavolo replied. "You might be surprised to learn the affairs and secrets of some of our own aristocrats, and they're far more nefarious than just being in multiple relationships."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, not having thought about those things. Finally nodding, you responded, "Then I don't mind people knowing."

"I believe that settles things then," Diavolo said with a big smile. You smiled in return. You couldn't help but still wonder if things would all work out, but again, there was that carnal side of you that stuffed all that down and told you it would be fine.

"Well, now what?" you asked impishly. Diavolo narrowed his eyes at your naughty smile.

"It certainly won't be involving pickles whatever it is that you're thinking," he said in a disgusted tone. You pretended to be disappointed and dropped your shoulders in sadness. Lucifer smirked.

Someone knocked at the office door, and you three found Barbatos there with a few papers in his hands. When he approached, you saw it was more than a few, in fact it was a stack of them.

"I'm sorry my lord, but I will have to ask that you work through these documents needing your immediate attention," he said smoothly. Diavolo took them. He read through some of them and sighed.

"Indeed, I will have to work through these now." He looked up and you and Lucifer and continued, "I'm afraid these will take a bit of time, why don't you two head out for the day?" He turned his attention to you and said, "I'll talk to you later, maybe we can spend time together tomorrow." You nodded and smiled.

-

You and Lucifer ventured back out into the city, leisurely strolling arm-in-arm, looking at the windows of the shops you passed. A set of earrings in the window of one of the jewelry stores caught your eye, and it nearly made you stop, but you kept walking to keep up with Lucifer. He paused, however, and looked down at you.

"Something catch your eye?" he asked softly.

You shook your head and smiled, "No, that's okay. I just haven't seen earrings like those before. We can keep-" you tried to say as Lucifer walked back over to where you stopped, dragging you with him. He looked and saw a rather marvelous pair that would look charming on you. They were chandelier drops with glittering black stones that were set in a sort of floral shape.

"Hmm, those I assume?" he pointed, and you nodded.

"Really, Lucifer, it's okay I don't need-" you tried to say again

"Nonsense," he replied and you two walked into the store, led by the demon keeping his hold on your arm. Luckily, the store wasn't busy and within minutes, he handed you a red velvet box with a black bow tied around it that contained the earrings. You two thanked the shopkeeper and left.

As you continued on to the House, you kept staring at the red box in your hand.

"Thank you, Lucifer," you chirped, realizing you hadn't said as much since you left. You were still surprised at his sudden purchase, only ever having seen the earrings that one time. He smiled but kept his head straight, looking at the road before you both.

"Of course. I've been wanting to buy you something for a while now, and the opportunity finally presented itself. I'm glad you like them," he replied. You craned your head up to look at him. Your heart fluttered a little seeing him like this, kind and soft; you quickly returned your gaze to the box.

Lucifer was remembering how he heard the other customers and employees were whispering about you two, noting how they thought you were with Diavolo. It doesn't take long for word to spread in the Devildom, but he was intrigued to see how people would take this.

Upon reaching the House, you two could hear the chaos coming from inside. There was screaming and music thumping, and Lucifer groaned, rubbing his face with his free hand.

"Maybe we should've just stayed at the castle," you muttered. Lucifer let out a huge sigh and wondered the same. He then had an idea.

He turned to you and tilted his head. "Are you tired yet?" he asked.

"Me? No, I'm fine, why?" you replied.

"Why don't we go back to the shops and continue browsing, maybe even get something to eat?" he suggested.

"Hmm, I guess I wouldn't mind. I think it beats whatever circle of hell we'll encounter going in there," you jerked a thumb at the House.

Lucifer smiled, his eyes closing and crinkling, "Indeed," he concurred. You knew that smile, that was one where the unbridled rage was bubbling at the surface, but he was keeping it tucked away in your presence. Those brothers would be dead on arrival when you two returned.

For the next several hours, you and Lucifer wandered the streets of the Devildom, taking in the sights, talking about anything and everything. Around lunch time, you two stopped by Hell's Kitchen for some food, which would probably anger the brothers back at home, however, that would be the least of their worries when that time would come.

Eventually, you both decided to go home once more. It was quiet, much to yours and Lucifer's suspicion. Upon entering, it was eerily quiet. There wasn't a demon to be found, and from what you could both tell, everything was still in-tact.

"I think today's an excellent day to do surprise room inspections," Lucifer said. You smiled.

"I think I'll go to my room while you do that then," you giggled. He nodded and you went your separate ways. When you reached your door, again, everything was as you left it. It didn't take long for you to hear yelling from across the house. You weren't surprised, but you continued putting things away and changing out of your dress and into comfier clothes. You set the earrings box on your dresser.

It was a rare occasion, you didn't have any pressing matters to attend to, so you went and turned out the lights and crawled into bed and played some music on your D.D.D. and zoned out, thinking about today. You couldn't quite shake the anxiety you felt about now having two boyfriends, but it was almost rather perfect too: they complimented yourself in the best ways, and your heart even felt full knowing both could be completely involved in your life.

You thought about that red velvet box again. It didn't slip by you to think about how much Lucifer has changed in the months you've remained friends, driving your decision to accept him as your boyfriend again. He did bring joy and comfort to your life, and it was something you treasured deeply. He also understood your stubbornness, and he once swore to you if he wasn't already the Avatar of Pride, you would be as the runner up for such a position.

Just as your eyes began to close, there was a knock at your door. You were pulled from your thoughts, realizing the yelling had stopped.

"Come in," you called out. You sat up in the bed and started to get up when an annoyed and disheveled Lucifer walked in. You stood and tilted your head, wondering what was going on.

"Are you okay?" you asked, padding toward him.

"I need you," Lucifer said.

This has been the finale to "A Lover and a Friend." I will return with the next chapter very soon.

Thank you for reading~ <3

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and likes are appreciated.

Masterlist

[juletheghoul]

Burning Hour (Part 3)

This series has completely taken over my life and I am so happy you are all enjoying it so much - thank you for all of the lovely messages and comments - I treasure them deeply.

So - you shouldn't be surprised that this particular moment on the red carpet absolutely inspired a scene in this story and I regret nothing. Hope you all enjoy this fantasy that's keeping me going lol.

Din Djarin x F!Reader (Virgin reader)

Pairing: Din x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) Angst, pining, slow-burn, implied arranged marriage, language, age-gap (about 10-11 years, legal, reader is of age) Yearning, jealousy, fingering/touching / slight dirty talk (slightly possessive)

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist Series Masterlist Part 4

—

You floated through the morning.

Your dreams were full of kisses, of declarations of love and beskar glinting under the sun and it was hard to concentrate on anything.

You smiled to yourself as you broke your fast with warm bread and butter, feeling his eyes on you from his place behind your father.

“Your highness-” Your father’s advisor came through the door holding the usual paperwork, things for him to look over, letters to read. “-A letter has come for the Princess.” He turned to you then with a smile. He was an old man, grandfatherly and sweet. He handed it to you and you noticed from the corner of your eye Din’s helmet turn towards you.

It was a small letter and you noticed how beautiful the script was as you opened it.

Dearest Princess,

I would be honoured if you were to join me here at my home for dinner. My messenger awaits your response and if you agree, I will send my personal household guard to accompany you. I also imagine your knight will be in attendance, I welcome him and whoever else you choose to bring at my table. Ruby as well of course.

Hoping you’ll say yes.

Ever yours,

Poe. D.

“It’s from Poe, he asks that I join him this evening for dinner.” You were frowning at the letter, conflicted because you wanted to stay home, wanted to meet Din in the garden again. A tiny part of you however, the tiniest part wanted to say yes - wanted to see how Poe would behave. Part of you wanted him to do something unforgivable to wipe the smiles off your parents faces.

“Oh but you must go!” Your father’s voice boomed through the room and you imagined that you could almost hear Din’s jaw clenching.

“Yes my darling, you must go. What does the letter say?” Your mother held her hand out and you handed it to her. She smiled as she read it. “Din, you must accompany her.” She was smiling big, excited at the prospect of a match having been made. No one bothered to ask if you wanted to go.

“Yes of course, let his messenger know that the Princess will be in attendance. She will go, Din- I leave her safety in your hands. Take you who must.” It had been decided for you, and you had to accept it. You felt Mila’s hand grasp yours under the table in understanding.

-

“Which gown would you like to wear your highness?” She asked sadly as you put on your undergarments and you sighed.

Whichever one makes everyone leave me alone.

“Whichever you think would look best sweetling, I have no preference.” You said the words and they were honest. Yes - Poe was charming and sweet, handsome and in another life you would have been faint with excitement at his interest in you but you were in love with Din. He was the one you wanted to share a meal with. He was the one you wanted to kiss in the open - to have holding your hand as you sat together in front of the hearth. He was the one you wanted in your bed.

“How about this one?” She held out a lovely powder blue gown. You would have said no, something more plain but you had to be seen to be making an effort.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” You smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes. She didn’t comment on it.

“I will tie a blue ribbon around Ruby’s neck to match, and I think you have some sapphires as well.” She brought over a tray of jewelry for you to peruse while she laced up your gown.

Your mind drifted to an interesting place. You imagined you were preparing for dinner with Din and imagined your knight picking out jewels for you to wear.

Would he prefer diamonds? Would he like me better in opals or emeralds?

You had a feeling he wouldn’t mind either way, but it was lovely to pretend even for a moment. She placed a dark blue cloak about your shoulders and stood back.

“You look beautiful Princess, the blue looks lovely against your skin.” She held up a silvered looking glass and you saw the reflection of a happy woman, although why she was happy - no one could know.

“Thank you sweetling, let's get this night over with shall we?” You smiled at her as you both made your way outside.

---

Din, along with five of his best knights, waited for her to set out for Damerons home. Damerons own household guard waited as well, having been sent to accompany her and he surveyed them. They seemed competent enough, he gave them their space nonetheless.

It was getting more and more difficult to put the future out of his mind - he knew that the Princess would marry at some point, it was her duty as Queen. She might even marry Poe - he knew that objectively they were a good match but his mind simply couldn’t stay objective. Not when it came to her.

This whole thing was moving faster than he hoped and he didn’t know what he could do about it.

You have to face facts Djarin, you’ll never marry her. You are a knight, she is a Princess, there is no place for you. Maybe you should just let her go.

It was in him to do so, to ignore his feelings for her; to find Gisela and ask her to marry him - have a couple of little ones and pray for things to work out. The harsh words to get her to hate him on the tip of his tongue but they evaporated like dew on a sunny day when he saw her come out to meet him.

She was a gem- a bright, glittering thing that he wanted so desperately to hold onto.

“I am ready Sir, shall we?” She smiled shyly and he nodded.

“Of course Princess, allow me.” He guided her into the wheelhouse, dreading and cherishing every single second.

--

The ride was uneventful, the road was quiet thankfully with nothing to see but long swathes of trees and greenery in the gloaming of the evening.

Ruby was napping softly in your lap but woke quickly when you arrived, her little tail wagging happily at the prospect of exploring.

“Yes my little darling - we are here.” She was in Mila’s arms when you pet her, the two of you waiting for the wheelhouse to come to a stop.

Din opened the door for you, he was helping you climb down when you heard Poe’s voice sounding out.

“Princess, I am so pleased you agreed to come-” He was striding over, his squire on his heels. “-I am happy to see you all. Please - be welcome.” He was smiling big at everyone as his guards retreated, no doubt returning to their posts. He crouched quickly to pet Ruby before approaching you.

“Hello Poe, I thank you for your invitation.” You smiled as you took in your surroundings. His home was a beautiful sprawling estate. He must have been wealthier than you thought. “You must give me a tour of the grounds - I would love to see the gardens.” You smiled at him as he offered you his arm.

“Of course Princess, I will show you whatever you wish after our meal - unless you’d like to go now?” He paused for a moment.

“After dinner would be just fine.” You answered as he guided all of you inside.

--

You weren’t sure what to expect about his home when the letter had come in earlier but it was a pleasant surprise. There were fresh cut flowers everywhere, painstakingly detailed tapestries hung up on the walls as you made your way to the large dining room. Lush carpets and plush chairs, truly a man who enjoyed his comforts.

“You have a lovely home Poe.” You smiled as he led you to your seat.

“I thank you Princess -“ He turned to Din and the other Mandalorians waiting by the table. “-Please, sit with us. I meant what I said, you are all welcome at my table.” He gestured to them to sit.

“I do not wish to intrude, we would be happy to eat with the rest of your household guard.” Din replied, his voice was clipped however.

“Nonsense. I insist, I dare say the Princess would be more comfortable if you were to join us.” He said it with an easy smile and Din hesitated slightly before agreeing. They all sat, lining their helmets up before them.

Din barely spoke.

He had never been one for long speeches - you were unsure whether it was because of the helmet, or just his nature. The other Mandalorians were friendlier and Poe took it all in stride. You could see that he took nothing personal and treated them just as he treated you.

Aside from Din’s cool demeanor and Poe’s etiquette, the dinner went well. The food was wonderful and you didn’t fail to notice some of your favourites on the menu.

“I took the liberty of finding out what you like to eat.” He said it quietly, not wanting to draw attention and you favoured him with a smile. It was hard not to like him, he was very thoughtful.

Once the meal was done, he fulfilled his promise and escorted you outside. It was much more open than the gardens back home - everything illuminated by torches and lanterns. There were flowers and neatly pruned shrubbery surrounding the large building. You noticed a stable on one side, as well a modest greenhouse on the other.

“It’s nothing compared to what you’re used to but I enjoy it. The kennels are just behind the stables and there are flowers and different fruit trees just to the right there - that’s where they get the most sun. I’m afraid the night doesn’t do it justice, it’s much lovelier during the day.” He was walking you through the grounds, your arm tucked under his as your party followed.

“It’s lovely, truly.” You were sincere and you couldn’t help but look up, the sky awash in stars. “I would imagine you must spend a lot of time out here.” You let him guide the way.

“Not as often as I'd like to, but I try. Perhaps when we marry I’ll make more of an effort.” He said it with a wink and you scoffed loudly but without malice.

“Oh is that so? Well then I suppose I’ll have to change some things around since in your mind I’ll live here hm?” Your tone was playful but sarcastic and you were acutely aware of Din following the two of you.

“Oh yes Princess, I am quite sure. My home is yours and you may do with it what you will. I live only to make you happy.” He was just as playful and as annoyed as you were that he was so confident in your union, it was also aggravatingly refreshing to be able to speak to someone so honestly - better yet for them to respond in kind.

You ignored it, Poe was charming, that’s all.

Much to your annoyance, the night was enjoyable. Poe was an excellent host and it was later than you had originally planned when you set off for home. The woods were pitch black in some spots, it made you anxious to ride in the wheelhouse while the world outside seemed like it didn’t exist. The soft light of the moon doing nothing to pierce through the darkness of the road at times.

Reaching the palace had been a relief and you said as much when you stepped out.

“You should have told me Princess, I would have ridden in it with you - if it would have helped.” He spoke as he guided you inside. You had wanted to, but the temptation of having him so close would have been too much - and as much as Mila knew about your feelings towards him - you didn’t want her to see you kissing him.

You patted his arm in silent thanks and he said nothing else.

When you reached your room you hesitated at the door, wanting him to pull you away somewhere but he didn’t - instead he waited until Mila got in. He took his helmet off and you smiled at the state of his hair. Your fingers itched to ruffle through it.

“Princess, if it’s not too late, I would ask you to join me for a midnight ride.” He waited for your answer and your smile widened.

“Of course! Would you permit me to change quickly?” You didn’t want to ride in such a stuffy gown - as beautiful as it was.

“I will wait however long it takes.” He motioned for you to go and you did - urging Mila to help you once you reached your bedchamber.

“The soft linen dress I think - with the long shift and the heavy cloak. I want to be comfortable and warm.” You changed as fast as humanly possible - all but ripping the jewelry off and within a few minutes you were rushing out the door. The two of you making your way towards the stables as silently as possible.

You watched him work deftly, his skilled hands saddling his horse with ease. One horse, not two.

“Are we to ride together?” You looked at him confused.

“Is this a problem for you Princess? I thought it might be quicker to get us to safety should something happen if we were on the same horse. I could saddle you your own if you prefer - we just wouldn’t travel too far.” He hesitated momentarily and your heart leapt at the thought that he would be holding you so closely.

“I trust your judgment Sir, one horse it is.” You kept your voice neutral and he nodded, finishing his work quickly. Once he was done - he helped you up and pulled himself up behind you. The cool beskar pressed up against your back as his arms reached around you to grab the reins.

Your dress pooled up around your thighs slightly, but your legs were covered by your big cloak but it was exciting nonetheless. You felt exposed, with his proximity it excited you way more than it should have. It felt forbidden, taboo and thrilling to have it feel like he was holding you. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning back into his body slightly but he didn’t complain.

The ride through the forest was quiet except for the sound of the night birds, the crickets and the creatures that prowled at this time. The sound of the horses' steps, the sound of its breathing mixing with yours as well as Din’s. He rode through trees, through the little paths only he seemed to know and after a while you were beside a lake. The soft sound of the water kissing the shore added to the nightsong and you were happy that he had brought you here. He had been silent the whole ride, but you felt him take his helmet off behind you and secure it somehow to the saddle.

“You should know that you looked exceptionally lovely today Princess, blue is your colour.” His breath tickled your neck and you shivered. You turned slightly to look back but you couldn’t fully face him, the angle awkward but he kissed you just under your ear to let you know it was okay.

“I thank you Sir, I hoped you would like it.” You leaned back into his arms to tuck your head under his chin.

“You wore that for me? I thought you wore it for Dameron.” His hands came up to hold onto your arms as he pressed little kisses to your neck.

“I always dress for you.” You left it at that, hoping he would understand that despite everything- he was the one you wanted.

“Can I confess something?” His hand came up to slowly undo the cloak tied at your throat.

“Yes, anything.” You answered almost breathlessly, watching his hands open up the cloak to expose your shoulders, the skin of your thighs poking out where the dress had bunched up even more.

“You might think me wicked but, I thought about what it would be like to kiss you.” His hand trailed down as he spoke, rubbing at your thighs over your dress and you watched them in the low light of the moon, mesmerized.

“You’ve kissed me before Sir, you could kiss me now.” You turned a little more but he stopped you.

“I wasn’t thinking about kissing your mouth lovely girl, I was thinking about kissing you somewhere else.” His hands slowly gathered the fabric of your dress, bunching it in his fist - lifting it inch by inch to bare your legs to him. “May I show you where I want to kiss you?” He stopped but you clung onto his arms around you.

“Yes - please show me.” You felt is other hand join the fray and soon he had exposed your lower half to the cool night air. Your undergarments were damp you knew it - the arousal pooling low in your belly at the thought that he might touch you where you most wanted him to. He didn’t disappoint.

His hand trailed up your inner thigh lightly, slowly, up until he skillfully slid it into your undergarments. He groaned deep in his chest when he touched your bare sex.

“Right here. I long to kiss you, taste you here.” His touch was feather light on the lips of your womanhood, slipping along the seam of you. You whimpered, no one had ever touched you here and you felt the slick dripping out of you as you let him explore. “Would you let me Princess? Would you let me bury my tongue right here?” He dipped his fingers low, parting you slightly to dip his fingers just at the entrance - collecting your arousal onto his fingers before slipping them out and bringing them to his mouth behind you. You moaned at the sound of him sucking you off of them and you nodded frantically.

“Yes Din, I would let you - I’m yours.” You moaned the words and his other hand held you in place.

“And I am yours.” He responded before bringing his hand back to where you craved it, this time he spread the lips of your cunt open wide, honing his middle finger on the pearl of your sex. He rubbed tight, slow circles around it and you moaned - trying desperately to open your legs wider. He chuckled darkly behind you.

“Does that feel good Princess?” He turned your face with his other hand, twisting his upper body enough to capture your mouth in a messy kiss, not quite aligned but it sent a shiver of arousal through you and you felt yourself climbing higher and higher- his finger relentless as he sped up a little.

“Yes - Gods yes - it feels so good Din, I thought about you too.” You moaned the words into his mouth. “I think about you touching me like this, when I do it to myself.” He groaned at your confession, his tongue thick in your mouth when he kissed you again.

His finger dipped low to collect more wetness and the glide of it was just right, just slippery enough to send you over the edge and you almost screamed. Your body seizing up with pleasure as your sex clenched around nothing. He cooed into your ear as you rode it out.

“You are intoxicating my lovely one.” He kissed your neck, as he lowered your skirts.

You watched him, blissed out and boneless as he licked his fingers before grabbing the reins again and slowly making his way back to the palace.

-

Mila was snoring softly when you slipped into the room and you were careful not to wake her and as tired as you were from travel it took you a long time to fall asleep. Your heart full of love for Din and a hunger you couldn’t satiate filled your belly. It was a craving for his body, for his kisses, for physical love a woman shared with her husband. You fell asleep hoping - though secretly knowing- that he craved you the same way.

—-

As happy as you were when you awoke the next morning, it was quickly dampened - your father informed you that Poe was to arrive at the Palace as his honoured guest. That he was to stay for a time as a gesture of good will.

You saw right through it.

Your parents had decided that Poe was the suitor they wanted for you and they weren’t being at all subtle.

They informed you with big smiles on their faces, no doubt in hopes of pushing you towards him. It was exhausting - this constant reminder that you would never be truly free to live the life you wanted with Din.

When Poe arrived, he was happy - taking this as a sign that he was winning you over.

“Greetings Princess, I cannot tell you how happy I am to be able to spend more time with you.” He was all smiles and you had no choice but to smile back.

“It will be interesting for sure.” With the way you felt about Din, the intense desire to be around him was at the forefront of your mind. As well as the way Din behaved around Poe, it would definitely be interesting to say the least.

—

Your father invited Poe to dine at your private table, and he engaged him in conversation almost the whole night. They spoke of the future, of how Poe would help rule if he were indeed to marry you. Your mother smiled silently, happy to let the conversation center around the two of you.

Din stood still behind your fathers chair and you wanted nothing more than to pull him to sit with you. To talk to him, kiss him and feed him from your own plate.

“I would want to help people to be quite honest, extend a hand to those that aren’t as fortunate as us. There are people out there starving and that doesn’t sit right with me.” He was honest, to a fault like he said but you admired that.

“That’s very noble of you my boy.” The king nodded.

“It’s very honourable isn’t it my darling?” Your mother smiled at you and you smiled back, nodding around a bite of your food.

“I’m sure the Princess and I could do much and more to help the people who need it the most, if she would let me that is.” He had a shy, genuine smile for you, tentatively reaching over and taking your hand in his. You couldn’t very well snatch it back but you felt Din’s eyes burning into the interaction.

This could get messy.

“Princess, I would humbly ask that you accompany me for a walk through the grounds - chaperoned by your knight of course.” He asked as the remnants of the meal were taken away.

“Oh I’m sure she’d love to join you wouldn’t you sweetling?” Your mother cooed, and you smiled and nodded.

“Yes of course.” You let him guide you, Din following closely behind.

—

“I hope I’m not intruding - I know that the King and Queen are very keen for this to work between us.” He held your hand as you walked arm in arm and you couldn’t help but sigh softly.

“Yes they are aren’t they.” Your tone came out a little more exasperated than you’d hoped but he was well aware that you were not to be swayed by him so easily, you knew he should expect some hesitancy from you.

“I understand that you aren’t impressed and that I am most likely not your first choice. For all I know you might already have your eye on someone else.” He laughed and you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at Din. “Regardless of that Princess, I know this must be difficult for you but I beg of you to give me a chance to show you that there is potential here. I believe that in time you might come to love me.” He pulled your hand up to his mouth and kissed your fingers.

“You are selling yourself quite hard Poe, I appreciate that you understand that my feelings for you aren’t where you want them to be.” You looked up at him apologetically, expecting him to have a sad look on his face but he surprised you; he was smiling - content to listen to you speak.

“I know, it’s not in you right now but I believe you will see me in a different light. I have faith.” He left the conversation there.

——

It was hard to find time to meet with Din, Poe seemed to be everywhere and his determination seemingly had no bounds.

Your mother found you as you dressed for the day - she had a note from Poe. He was asking you to accompany him into town to hand out some supplies. You couldn’t refuse him, not when your mother had delivered it herself.

“Will Din accompany us?” You asked it offhand, your voice neutral - your face a mask of nonchalance.

“No your father is going on a hunt and Din will be protecting him, there will be other guards with you.” She said it with a shake of her hand as she searched your wardrobe for an appropriate dress. “This will do nicely.” She picked out an off the shoulder, deep berry coloured dress that was not at all practical for a day out in the city.

It would have to do.

-

He had taken you to an orphanage in the heart of the city. There were kids running around of all ages and the older ones ran towards Poe when you entered - recognizing him. He had a big smile on his face as they hugged him around the middle, all decorum forgotten.

“Poe did you bring us anything?” A boy of about twelve years was eager, looking around you to the entourage of guards waiting behind you.

“Of course, brought all of you some good stuff like I always do.” He ruffled the boys hair before he held his hand out to you, you smiled and stepped forward. “I have someone very special here with me today, this is the Princess. Come on over and say hello.” He called them over to you and you saw some of the little girls eyes light up. They flocked to you, asking you if you were indeed the Princess. Asked you if you had a crown, and most importantly why you were there. They were precious.

“She’s here to help just like I am.” Poe answered for you.

A little girl of about six pulled on your dress and you lowered yourself slightly to be at her level.

“Princess, I like your dress, you’re so pretty.” She was smiling at you, her hair was a tangle but her eyes were bright.

“Thank you sweetling, you are much prettier I must say.” You moved the hair out of her eyes and she smiled wide, her little hand clutching at a makeshift cloth doll.

You helped Poe hand out toys and new clothes and there was food for them to eat. You spent the day playing with them and learning about their lives. The women who ran the orphanage knew him and you saw that all of the talk of helping the less fortunate was real, he had already been doing much more than you had ever even imagined.

It was hard to deny the little spark of something that he held within you.

He was handsome, he was kind and smart- funny and generous and with the way his eyes found yours throughout the day; he felt something for you. His eyes were piercing, dark and mysterious and for the first time, he gave you butterflies.

One of the little ones was showing you his space within the building, his bed and his tiny toy horse. He was waxing poetic about how one day he would be a knight. You were smiling at him when Poe stood next to you, his gaze heavy and it sent a flush crawling up your neck to light up your ears.

The fabric at his neck was crumpled and you couldn’t help but reach up to fix it, your arm extended over to him and his gaze focused on it, reached up to hold it to his neck. He placed a delicate kiss to your bicep and pulled you closer. The act was small, but so intimate it did something to you. Melted a tiny piece of you that up until now was frozen to him and he saw it on your face. Felt it in the way you let him hold you close, your arm still around his neck, his hand moving down to hold onto your waist.

The little boy was in front of you now, asking Poe if he would ever give him a real horse and he laughed, not unkindly.

“One day my boy, one day I will give you a horse - only if you promise to behave and be on your best behaviour. Can you do that?” The little boy nodded sagely promising he would. You didn’t pull your arm away, and you couldn’t pinpoint why.

—-

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[ghostdrew22]

Falling Out Of Love With Astoria Greengrass || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x slytherin!reader (but it's not mentioned frequently so you can ignore it) Warnings: Allusions to sex, some angst, mentions of death, if there's anything else please let me know :) Summary: Throughout the Hogwarts years from Astoria’s POV we watch Draco fall out of love with her, and into love with Y/N.

WORDS : 6251

<~>

The Greengrass and Malfoy families had held each other in a high regard for quite sometime. When it so happened that the Malfoy’s had a son near in age to the Greengrass daughters, it was almost too perfect an opportunity to pass up and both families decided that to keep their families pure, wealthy and powerful, one of the Greengrass daughters would marry Draco when they all came of age.

So soon playdates were being arranged and the Greengrass daughters had become best friends with the Malfoy son. For a while, it looked like Astoria was the sister that he was going to marry,  like she’d stolen the Slytherin Prince’s heart. They both liked each other enough, it was a perfect union really.

But then you happened.

It was all going well, perfect even, until Year 1 at Hogwarts began and you snuck your way into everyone’s lives. Draco, Blaise, Daphne and Astoria had grown up together, you were the outsider. It shouldn’t have happened really, it was most unbelievable to Draco himself, but on the first day of school he bumped into you before the sorting ceremony and you flashed him a smile that had his insides bubbling with warmth- not love, definitely not, but an odd sense of comfort. Before long you, Draco, Blaise and Daphne all got sorted into Slytherin and the oddest of crews was formed; three wealthy purebloods and their half-blood best friend - but you were powerful quartet and you only grew in power when Astoria joined Hogwarts the next year.

~~~

She should’ve known, from the day that she met you, that she’d  never be enough in comparison to you- not for her sister, not for her  friends, and definitely not for Draco Malfoy. How could she be  when your laugh made everyone else laugh too, when your smile brightened  up everyone’s day even her own, when your hugs were a refuge from the   terrible reality that consumed the Hogwarts grounds every year, when you  were the only true friend that most people ever had in their lives.

In  another world, Astoria would’ve been the one that Draco fell in love   with, not you. In another world, a perfect world perhaps, your dorky   snort wouldn’t have even made it into any of their lives. Your touch   wouldn’t linger on their souls like a wolf’s imprint and your voice   wouldn’t snake its way into their most euphoric dreams. And perhaps in   another reality, one in which the universe didn’t hate Astoria, you   didn’t exist at all.

But in this reality, you are real, very real indeed.

She isn’t in love with him. No. She can’t be.

But that doesn’t change the fact that Draco’s arranged to marry her not you.  He’s meant to marry the beautiful, wealthy, pureblood with as much   social status as his own, not the half-blood from Hogwarts whose father had to work for his social status. Everyone knows Mr L/N, it’s hard not  to know the trailblazing wizard who succeeded against all odds then lost  his wife to a muggle disease, but that doesn’t mean everyone respects  him in the same manner that they do Lucius Malfoy.

It’s absurd, you’re too different. You’re too different from the rest of them, it doesn’t make sense that he fell in love with you.

~~~

YEAR THREE  - DECEMBER

The Malfoy’s had a small, annual Christmas tradition. If your idea of a small tradition is a ball with the Wizarding World’s richest and most popular adversary’s. You’d never gone before, due to your mother being a muggle and unenthusiastic about fraternising with pretentious, former death eaters, but once your friendship had reached stable enough ground Draco had insisted that you and your father come for the ball. And reluctantly, your father agreed.

You’d not come with a date. What was the point if you were going to spend the entire night with your friends anyway? It was unorthodox, and deemed slightly rude by Lucius Malfoy, but no one had cared much after you’d managed to discreetly blend in with your friends and Daphne hadn’t left your side the entire night.

It’s that night when Astoria starts to notice that she’s losing him to you. She’s clearly looking richer- everything about her always screams money- but it seems that it’s not enough to compare to your smile, your eyes, the way your laugh fills the room whenever one of your friends tells a joke, because almost the entire group can’t keep their eyes off of you, including Astoria herself, even though hers is an act of insecurity and not admiration.

So she tries to lure Draco away from you before he can get sucked too deeply into your sparkling iris’s, coaxing him to join her on the dance floor and he obliges without complaint- knowing that his father is keeping a watchful eye on his son and his future wife.  And besides, Draco does love Astoria, he wants to make sure that she has a good time. When Astoria looks back at this night she’ll imagine that it was the night that Draco had stopped loving her and started loving you instead, but she was wrong. He had loved you both for long after.

His hands are tight around her waist, in a loving and protective manner, as he leads her onto the dance floor swiftly and treats her to a night of bliss that she’ll never forget. His heart is in it, undeniably, but it seems that only half of his heart belongs to Astoria. Because the whole night, while he dances with her, laughs with her, eats with her, and has the time of his life with her, he guiltily wishes that it had been with you.

~~~

YEAR FIVE - NOVEMBER

Astoria walks toward Draco’s prefect dorm - wanting to find him and drag him down to the Quidditch field so that he can fly around with her for a little bit- and stops at his door when she hears the faint sound of laughter barricading against the walls from the inside. It’s your laugh, she knows it well enough by now, and his chuckles follow soon after.

She suspects that this is a private moment, one meant only for the two of you to witness and experience, and she doesn’t know how but something about the way you’re laughing just sends jolts of envy shooting through her- like Draco’s never made her laugh that way, and maybe it’s because he never has. There’s an odd sort of intimacy that wafts through the air, even with all these walls and doors keeping her separated from you both, and it unsettles her down to her core because it feels so different to the way Draco is with her.

“We have to tell them… We have to tell her.” You sigh as you look into Draco’s eyes sadly. Astoria can’t see the scene but she can sense the discomfort that’s now enveloped the room at the mention of whoever you two seem to be discussing.

“Y/N.” Draco sighs tiredly - having had this argument with you countless times in the last two months.

“I know, I know that you’re arranged to marry her and you love her and she loves you but Draco the two of you aren’t even dating. There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing but that doesn’t mean it’s fair to either of us- she at least deserves to know.”

Realisation dawns on Astoria as she processes that she’s the one that they’re talking about - that in some odd twist of fate she’s become the other woman.

“What if she hates me?” Draco asks and Astoria feels her heart wrench- there’s no possibility in this universe that she could ever hate him, even if she tried.

“She could never hate you.”

“What if she tells my parents?”


“Tell them that nothing’s changed and you will still go ahead with the marriage when the time comes. Tell them all the things that you’ve already told me.” There’s a slight hint of sadness and betrayal lacing your last few words and Draco feels sorrow wash over him.

“Y/N-“

“No, don’t say it.” You shake your head with a sad smile. “You’re going back to her in the end, I’ve accepted that.”

He sighs and pulls you into a bear hug- rubbing your back and soothing you. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about Dray.” You say and even Astoria can hear your smile from outside the door, “But we have to tell her.”

Draco nods and starts to pepper kisses down your neck- sloppy, desperate ones that even Astoria can recognise. “We can tell her after…”

“Dray…” You whine out in protest and he chuckles.

“Tell me to stop and I will pretty girl.”

Astoria doesn’t wait to hear your response, but when the two of you walk into the Great Hall for dinner that evening- large smiles and happily exhausted expressions covering your eyes- she knows what your answer was.

~~~

YEAR FIVE - NOVEMBER (the next day)

Astoria and Draco are sat by the lake together, doing homework and chatting as the rest of their friends keep themselves occupied- as they usually do when Astoria and Draco disappear off together. It’s a habit that they created a few years back when they decided that they needed to spend more time together, alone, to prepare for the inevitable future in which they’re married.

In the past it had been perfect - hours spent in their little corner of reality in which no one else besides the two of them existed. They’d sit and talk for hours - forgetting that time is even a measure in the great expanse of their universe- sometimes they’d do puzzles, play wizard’s chess or just respectively do their own homework. But now it’s changed, it seems that Draco is always itching for their time together to end so that he can return to you. And she knows that it’s not her fault, not anyone’s fault really, and that it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to spend time with her because anyone can see that he does hold some love for her in his heart. But it doesn’t compare to the love he has for you, it doesn’t compare to the way he wants to be next to you as much as possible.

“Are you a virgin?” Astoria asks suddenly as she turns to the boy beside her. She knows that it’s an intimate question, and that he has every right not to answer her, but she needs to know how strong the bond they’ve created over the years is.

Draco thinks on it for a few seconds, weighs the pros and cons of both lying and being honest, before he finally settles on his answer- knowing that it’ll lead to more questions. “No.”

Astoria can’t tell if she’s relieved that he didn’t lie or if she’s hurt that he wouldn’t have told her if she didn’t ask, but she pushes away the fog of emotion and continues on the mission that she set course for this morning. “Who?”

Draco gulps, “Y/N.”

Silence encapsulates them and sends them down a dark road of confusion - where to go from here?

“Do you love her?”

“I don’t know.” Draco shrugs, feeling a smile crawl onto his face at the thought of you, “Maybe.”

“Hm.”

“But it doesn’t matter much anyway, I’m marrying you in a few years bumblebee.” He turns to her and grasps her hand in his own- trying to send a message of reassurance that just makes Astoria’s throat close up- sending her a soft and loving smile. A soft and loving smile that is no match for the one he would’ve sent to you if he’d said those words to you instead.

“True as that may be,” Astoria begins as she takes her hand out of his and pulls back to sit comfortably while facing him, “It’s no reason for us to not enjoy our youth.”

“What do you mean?” Draco asks as he sits up - hoping that maybe the two of you can start to see each other out in the open.

“Let’s see people, other people, while we can.”

“Are you sure?” He raises his eyebrows and she nods- before she has the chance to change her mind- “Who is he?” Draco asks with a smirk.

Astoria tilts her head to look at Draco clearly- to observe this man that she loves enough to let go of in hopes that he’ll come back to her- and she feels her heart warm at the thought of him being happy with you, despite her own desire to feel that love instead. “Trust me, there is no he.”

“Mhmm.” Draco hums absent-mindedly as he hooks his arm around Astoria’s shoulders and pulls her into his chest for a hug. “Thank you bumblebee.”

“You’re welcome.” She giggles out as he places a kiss on her forehead. “We’ll be coming back to each other in the end anyway.”

Before long Astoria and Draco’s study sessions have a third participant. And Astoria thought that she’d hate it, she desperately wants to hate you for stealing his affection from her, but she can’t. Her plan to get you out of Draco’s system backfired quickly- her efforts to push you out of his heart recoiled on her as you pushed your way into hers- and soon enough the two of you become best friends.

Study sessions become picnics- ones where you and Astoria bully Draco with foolish nonsense like plaiting his hair, painting his nails, beating him at every muggle boardgame known to man, making him read to you both as you lay down on the picnic blanket and watch the clouds above. The sound of you and Astoria's combined giggles now fills Draco’s ears everyday, and he can’t possibly think of a sound he loves more.

~~~

YEAR FIVE - MAY

Shit. That’s the very first thing Astoria thinks when that morning’s copy of The Daily Prophet lands in front of her at the Slytherin table. Her eyes immediately shift to find where you’re seated but you’ve already gotten up and started marching out of the Great Hall. Draco’s eyes catch her own and they both nod silently in agreement before getting up from the table and moving to follow you.

The Headline had stated, in big, bold print, that your mother (among many other muggleborn witches and wizards in the Wizarding community) had not died of cancer but instead been poisoned by undercover Death Eaters that worked with her at St Mungo’s. They’d created a slow-acting potion that replicated the symptoms of cancer and made it impossible to identify the source of the sickness- which is why neither muggle doctors nor healers had been able to cure her.

Deep down both you and your father had known that she hadn’t died naturally, you’d both long suspected foul play even when she had first fallen sick, but no one seemed to be interested in your babblings of concern- chalking it down to grief and denial. So you’d moved on- stuffing it so far into the depths of your memory that you’d almost forgotten about it completely- but when that article had landed in front of you in the Great Hall hot, fresh tears of sorrow had started to pour down your cheeks without a moment of hesitation, and it had taken all of your strength to clamber out of the Great Hall and into your dorm room.

You’re crying so hard- completely lost in your cloud of affliction and immeasurable heartbreak- that you don’t even notice Draco and Astoria sneak into your room until they’re both sat beside you on your bed, running their hands up and down your back and your face - trying to bring you back down to planet earth with their movements of affection. But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough to take away your pain.

You don’t hear them whisper above you, and you don’t even notice what’s going on around you until Draco has lifted you up into his arms and started carrying you somewhere. You only manage to blink back tears and observe your surroundings once Draco has gently laid you in his bigger prefect bed and wrapped the covers around you.

“Lay with me.” Is all you manage to rasp out, sparing a glance at them both, before you drop your head into the pillows and try to find solace in sleep. They don’t hesitate to do as you wish- Draco climbing in bed behind you and Astoria climbing in by the front, bundling you up in the safety of their presence’s- and you sigh in relief when you start to feel Draco’s fingers in your hair and Astoria’s hand grasp your own.

It’s almost awkward- your back to Draco’s chest and Astoria’s head in yours as you strain to focus on the scent of her pomegranate shampoo as well as the scent of Draco’s oceanic one, so that there’s something to tether you to the real world- but there’s an almost protective nature to the way you’re all lying, like they’re saying more than words ever could; we’ll protect you. It’s safe and it’s warm, so you let your eyes close as you drift off to sleep.

But maybe that was the day it all started to fall apart, because that was the last time he ever looked at her with as much love as he looked at you with.

~~~

YEAR FIVE - JUNE

Astoria watches as your giggles fill his ears and leave him drunk with happiness- more drunk than any amount of the firewhiskey he’s holding could possibly even try to. It’s a bitter sight really, to see the one who’s meant to be yours falling deeper and deeper in love with someone else, to push down your feelings of contempt and jealousy for the sake of friendship - both with you and Draco.

You two are wrapped in a world of your own- the only thing either of you can focus on is the sound of each other’s voices and the feel of each other’s skin rubbing against each other as you sit in the common room with your friends for game night. The only thing tying you both down to earth is the distant sound of laughter that carries from Blaise, or maybe Theo, and toward you both- waking you up every few minutes from the trance of each other.

It’s in the breaks in between each game that the two of you get sucked back into the whirlwind of your love for each other - that he whispers to you everything he adores about you, and you whisper back all the things you adore about him- hushed, quiet, private, and yet observable from across the table where Astoria watches the scene in a state of silent fury. An anger so muted that one could easily mistake it for admiration, that one could simply miss the way she yearns to be in that place instead of her own, that one could misinterpret her desire to be the one smothered in the kisses of those soft lips.

Best friends.

Best friends.

The two of you are her best friends.

That’s what she tells herself when she feels that familiar coil of rage inching it’s way up into her throat and begging to meet with her tongue- to scold you both for hurting her so blatantly. But she doesn’t, no, her mother raised her with more self-restraint than that. She swallows her anger, her sadness, her jealousy, and reminds herself that no amount of fury will ever be worth losing you both.

He won’t choose her.

We’ll be coming back to each other in the end anyway, she reminds herself.

~~~

YEAR SIX - DECEMBER

When sixth rolls around no one fails to see the changes that Draco’s gone through over the summer break- least of all you and Astoria. You both try your best to act like everything is the same- like he’s not folding in on himself, shrinking closer and closer to just teeth and bones, losing all the colour in his face, draining more and more of life as the days go on- but it’s evident in the way he eats less, spends less time outside with you both and pushes you two as far away from him as remotely possible.

Winter Break rolls around and as usual, you all go down to the Malfoy Manor for the few days of Christmas. Excitement bubbles in the train carriage as you, Blaise, Daphne, Astoria and Theo converse about the upcoming break, but Draco doesn’t join in the conversation- he merely lets his head fall on your shoulder and his fingers intertwine with yours. Your close proximity is a silent reminder that he still loves you, even if he doesn’t say or show it as often, and that whatever he’s going through isn’t your fault but rather a much bigger problem.

It’s over break that you fully notice the impact of whatever Draco’s going through- his bright smile doesn’t appear when he greets his mother, and he flinches in her embrace when she comes up to hug him, he no longer meets you all in the garden late at night to watch the stars and talk till the sun rises, and the days that used to be spent laughing together are now consumed by him sleeping. Two days before you’re all due to leave, you decide that you’ve had enough and you confront Draco in his room- charming the room with a silencing charm in case you erupt into another fight.

“We need to talk.” You say from your seat on the edge of the bed as Draco walks out of the bathroom in a set of black pyjamas.

“Are we seriously doing this again Y/N?” He asks as he rolls his eyes and walks over to the vanity in his room.

“It’s the last time, I promise.” You say with a smile as you shrug. He looks at you skeptically and so you elaborate, “If you don’t tell me what I want to know then we’re breaking up.”

“Fine.” He replies simply with a shrug as he leans against the vanity. “It’s not like you’re not going to want to be with me once you know.”

“And how can you possibly know that?”

“Because it’s bad, Y/N, it’s really really bad.”

You sigh and swallow as you look at the ground. A few seconds pass before you continue, “Do you remember when your father got sentenced?”

A look of confusion flashes across his features but he nods slowly anyway, “Yes, why?”

“You’d started walking ahead with Blaise and Astoria so you didn’t see but, your mother came to talk to me.” You start as you give him a sad smile, “She asked me if I was going to break your heart. When I asked her why she thought that, she asked me how I could possibly love the son of someone who knew the people that killed my mother in cold blood.”

“Why didn’t you te-“ Draco starts but you lift your hand and cut him off.

“I thought about it and I realised that it didn’t matter to me, my love for you is beyond any physical measure and it can’t be wavered by something as morbidly coincidental as that. I told her that I love you more than words can describe and that it didn’t matter to me because that’s not you.” You laugh a sad laugh, “Do you want to know what she said back?”

“What?”

“She told me that ‘to be a Malfoy is to be burdened by responsibility and raised with the weight of the world on your shoulders.’ She told me that I should be prepared to lose you when your duty to your family gets in the way of your love for me.”

“Nothing’s in the way of my love for you, I promise-“ He interrupts you and you send him a look that shuts him up.

“When I asked what duty she was referring to, she said to me ‘the one his father couldn’t fulfill.’” You finish with a large and shaky breath as your eyes finally shift upwards to settle against his unwavering gaze. “So I’m going to ask you this once. If you lie to me then we’re done because I will assume that she was right.”

Draco gulps but nods, “Go ahead.”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, are you a death eater?”

He doesn’t answer at first, he’s still staring at you and dumbfounded at the fact that you’d figured it out, but once he does finally process what you’ve asked him then he starts to roll up the sleeve of his left arm. You gasp at the sight of the skull and snake embroidering the pale skin underneath, and immediately look away so you don’t cry. “Yes, Y/N, I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How could I?” He asks as he looks at you sadly and you nod in understanding- opening your arms for him to come and settle in them.

The two of you sit like that for hours- in bed, him crying in your arms as he tells you what he’s been tasked with and how he’s been trying to fulfill the task alone over the last few months, he tells you about the Vanishing Cabinet, about having to kill Dumbledore, about learning Occulemency with his Aunt Bellatrix and figuring out for the first time how deep his love for you runs in his veins- and you try your best to choke back tears and be strong for him as he finally opens up for the first time in months.

When the two of you finally leave the room to go downstairs for dinner, Draco feels as though a huge weight has been lifted off of his shoulders and he smiles, for the first time in months, and it’s for you.

Both Astoria and Narcissa easily take notice of Draco’s altered demeanor when you and him make your way to the table. Astoria feels jealousy wash over her when she watches him pull out a chair for you, kiss your forehead, dish food out for you, and stare in admiration as you eat. Narcissa on the other hand, feels pride, and an unbridled sense of relief at the fact that you managed to help her son out of his head. Astoria’s eyes land on Narcissa’s face for a moment and she sees it; the look of acceptance that a proud mother gives to the one who owns their child’s heart.

And that’s the first time that Astoria realises, maybe we’re not coming back to each other in the end.

~~~

1998 - MAY

Draco feels his breath caught in his lungs as he searches for you throughout the castle - fighting off anyone and anything that stands in the way of him coming across you. He finds Theo, Goyle and Blaise while searching for you and the four of them run through the castle with fire in their bones and aches in their heart at the prospect of not being able to see their friends again. But then it happens, his eyes land on a flash of blonde waving around the courtyard with determination; Daphne. And beside her, in all your magnificent and powerful glory, is you.

The four boys run toward the two of you and you all have a brief moment of relief consume you as you reunite in each others arms. Hugs are thrown around, kisses passed along, and soft words of reassurance are spread to remind you all that you’re alive and together. But as soon as that moment of relief fades, a panic sets in its place as you and Draco realise that Astoria is still missing.

“I thought she was with you.” Daphne says to Draco as her breaths become uneven again and tears begin to prick at her eyes.

“It’s okay, we’ll go find her.” You tell Daphne as you pull her into a hug quickly before pulling away and lacing your fingers with Draco’s.

“The rest of you try to get somewhere safe, we’ll find each other again.” Draco orders the rest of your friends and soon you and him are off to find Astoria - running up and down between corridors and hidden alcoves in hopes of finding your best friend, your missing piece.

After ten minutes of looking you find her, fighting for the right side with Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, with blood smearing her cheeks and her eyes blown wide with fear.

That’s when Draco feels like he can breathe again.

You and Draco rush up to her and capture her in your combined embrace - trying to focus solely on the faint smell of pomegranate that wafts off of her hair, trying to commit this moment to memory so that you can always remember what it felt like to have the two pieces of your heart back together again.

“You found me.” Astoria breathes out as tears fall down her face.

“We always come back to each other.” Draco says back as he smiles down at her and you wipe the tears off of her face.

“Don’t be sappy.” She responds as she chokes out a laugh.

“I can’t help it, I was worried that I might have to marry Daphne instead!” He exclaims and the three of you laugh, despite the awkwardness of the situation, almost forgetting that walls are crumbling around you and lives are fading out into nothing.

“You should know by now that I’d never leave you to suffer that fate.”

“I do bumblebee.”

It’s when she looks up into his eyes finally that she sees it, the difference between his love for you and his love for her. There is a different kind of love, safety, understanding, lust, that transpires between you both when you look into each other’s eyes, one that doesn’t appear when he looks into her own. The light that shines in you and Draco’s eyes when you look at Astoria is a dim comparison to the light that shines when you look at each other; a candle compared to the sun.

You both love her. And she, oddly, loves you both. But it’s not the way that you love each other, and Draco would never be able to love her again after loving you so fiercely.

She sighs and puts on a small smile. “Please can we go?”

“Yes, of course. We’ve got to find the others.

“Same side, always.” Draco insists and you look up to him and shake your head.

“Draco, I can’t ju-“

“Same side, always.” Astoria repeats, with pleading eyes, and you sigh before nodding.

“Same side, always.” You reply as you turn to head back in the direction that you came from. Astoria holds out both of her hands, you and Draco take them happily, and the three of you walk toward the end of the war together.

Later when you arrive in the courtyard to hear that Harry Potter is dead Astoria immediately runs to join her sister and her parents on the other side, on Voldemort’s side. And not soon after, you follow Draco as he joins his parents on the other side, keeping your promise to always be on the same side.

It’s only when you’re all in the Malfoy Manor later that evening after defecting when the reality of your situation finally dawns on you and you break down in tears- tears of grief, pain, anguish, anger, relief. Astoria watches in envy as Narcissa receives you in her arms- tears staining her face already as she grips you so tight that you might suffocate. She keeps you in her arms for a while- soothing your light sobs, sending hushed whispers and reassurances your way, promising that they’ll protect you and thanking you for keeping her son safe. Lucius says nothing and doesn’t allow his expressionless demeanor to fall, but when you finally pull away from Narcissa to stand beside Draco, Lucius grabs your hand and squeezes it- a gesture so small that one could easily miss it, but one that says everything he possibly could’ve said in that moment.

Then, she realises that she didn’t lose, how could she when it had never been a competition in the first place. Draco had always belonged to her on paper, but his love for you was written in the stars from the moment that you were both born. Astoria didn’t lose because she was never in the race, in fact there was never a race to begin with.

It had always been you.

~~~

2001


A few years passed- names were forgotten, new engagements were made, houses were moved out of and new homes were created on the ashes of grief- but one morning she felt her heart drop deep into the pit of her stomach. Lying on her kitchen counter was a gorgeous invitation to a wedding, you and Draco’s wedding, and a letter from you- in which you begged for her to be your bridesmaid.

After the war Astoria had told her parents and the Malfoy’s that she couldn’t go through with the arranged marriage- that he deserved to marry someone that he loved instead- and then she’d pack up her bags and started traveling the world- desperately in search of a love like yours and Draco’s. She didn’t succeed, she couldn’t find anyone that she loved with that much magnitude. So after two fruitless years of traveling she’d returned to the UK - applying for and receiving the appointment of Hogwarts Charms teacher once she’d gotten back.

Slowly, bit by bit, she began to reach out to her old friends and of course, you and Draco had been the first to respond- excited to see her again and yearning for the old days when the three of you would lose time laughing together. She’d been shocked to find out that the two of you had done some traveling as well- exploring Asia, Africa, South America and North America alike, eating food from every culture you came across and dancing to music that you’d never hear back home- and the three of you had spent the next few months meeting up for dinner and talking about your travels.

That was perfect, to Astoria, that was all she needed.

A year passed since she’d been home when Draco surprised you one night, serenading you with poetry he’d written about you over the years and getting down on one knee to proclaim his immeasurable, undying love for you and his eternal devotion to you. The very next morning the two of you were sending out invitations and you were begging for Astoria to be your bridesmaid.

She said yes, of course, and she was the best bridesmaid that you could’ve asked for.

~~~

2002

She’d cried - whether it was to mourn a love that once was or to celebrate a love that now is, she didn’t know. When you and Draco had said your vows she had cried, and the first thing that you and Draco had done once the ceremony had ended was engulf her in your arms. She’d been there for every stage of your relationship and if it hadn’t been for her the two of you probably wouldn’t have been able to get married.

She laughs in the midst of her tears as the two of you hug her- lost in a bittersweet trance of happiness and discontent, she feels full of the love that the two of you hold for each other but there’s a gaping hole that still begs to be filled in her own chest. “Why are you two hugging me? It’s your wedding!”

You wipe a few tears that have fallen down your own face- completely forgetting that your makeup will be ruined- and  pull away to face her. “We’re thanking you. None of this would’ve been possible without you.”

“We’re in debt to you bumblebee.” Draco says with a chuckle and she shakes her head immediately at his words.

“You two owe me nothing - your happiness is enough for me.” And in a way it’s true, the two of you having each other fulfills her in a distant but comforting manner. “Now, time to throw the bouquet!” She exclaims as she clings onto your wrist and pulls you away from your groaning husband.

When the bouquet lands in Astoria’s hands, instead of the many other women circling around her, she feels her breath hitch in her throat. Who can she possibly marry when she’ll never love anyone the way that she loves-

“If I’m not your bridesmaid as well then I’ll kill you at the alter.” You cut off her train of thought as you come up to her with a big smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of it being anyone else.” She replies with a smile and you both laugh as you catch each other in one last warm embrace before everyone moves up to the reception.

It’s the way your hands fit perfectly around her waist, the way you breath runs along her ear as you laugh absent-mindedly, and the way you smile at her when you pull apart. You smile at her but it’s not enough to make her smile back because she finally sees what she’s been trying desperately not to see for so long. You smile at her- bright, warm, inviting, happy- the way a friend smiles at another, with love and adoration and support. But it’s just not enough.

It’s at that moment she realises.

She isn’t in love with him. No. She can’t be.

She’s in love with you.

<~>

I feel like this wasn't as angsty as I originally wanted it to be but I still really love it. :)

anyway, i’m currently listening to ‘break my heart again’ by finneas so i'm off to go cry about Astoria’s ending as if i am her.

IN REGARDS TO A SEQUEL: It might be coming soon.

love you all

jean <3

[infernal-fire]

Just The Benefits (1/2)

Pairings: dark!Steve x you

Warnings: smut, slight overstimulation, dark!Steve, dark!Nomad!Steve

Later in the series: noncon, breeding kink, slight degradation kink, slight praise kink, mentioned dark!Tony, dark!Bucky

Please do not interact with this blog if you are under 18. Your media consumption is your responsibility. 

Summary: Y/N wanted the benefits and nothing more. That was the agreement… right? Steve decides it’s not enough.

Word Count: 1600

A/N: This is my first ever fic! I’m really hoping you’ll enjoy this but I also appreciate all feedback <3 I’m planning a second instalment for the fic, which will be longer than this one. I’m out here pretending like someone is going to read this. 

Nomad!Steve is the most attractive Steve and you can talk to a wall if you disagree. 

(This GIF does not belong to me)

It was convenient. The idea of no strings attached was that it was always supposed to be easy and mutually beneficial. You were enjoying the life of an Avenger and there’s no need to add anything to the mix. 

That’s how you found yourself under Steve’s mercy every week. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel anything for him but right now, all you could think about was making sure you didn’t tap out from his girth. 

You were bent over his king-size bed, stuffed full of his cock. He cooed praises into your ears and took on a languid pace. He pressed your head down with one arm, wiping your tears on the sheets, wrapping the other around your waist. His cock was moving in and out of you like a piston, making a squelching noise that your loud moaning drowned out. 

“Sweetheart, I’m going to speed up” he moaned, and you whimpered in response. His speed had you lurching forward on every thrust, the room reverberating with the sound of skin slapping. 

His cock repeatedly battered your cervix, which was becoming more sensitive by the second. You cried out as your eyes crossed and your muscles went limp, the crashing waves of your orgasm possessing you. 

“That’s it, baby, cream my cock. I’m so close.” his grunts filled your ears as he leaned over you. The hand that was holding your head made its way to your neck and he pulled you up flush against him while the other hand began toying with your engorged clit. You were full-on crying from the overstimulation now; he hadn’t slowed down since you came. You were on your tippy-toes, trying to alleviate the pressure on your abused cunt. 

After a few more thrusts, he pushed in one last time and squeezed your body before giving you some experimental thrusts. He pulled out and held your almost-passed-out frame by the hips and lifted you onto the bed. 

“Jesus Y/N was I too rough?” You weakly shook your head as you closed your eyes and held his hand. He tucked you into his sheets, tossed the condom across the room and rounded the bed, settling beside you. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you mumbled. 

He paused as if he were pondering what he was going to say. In reality, he began taking in your naked, tired form that looked unreal yet ethereal on his bed. With your back to Steve, you had no idea he was feasting on the sight in front of him. 

“What is it?” the slight raspiness of your voice alluded to your exhaustion. 

“I don’t want to be friends with benefits anymore.”

You turned around to face him and propped yourself up on your elbow. The surprise of his statement was overriding your body’s pleas to sleep.

“Did I… do something?” You were honestly unsure of what to say.

He paused again. “It’s not enough for me. I know we came into this saying no strings attached but I care way too much for you.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t that. Steve took your silence as a cue to continue. 

“I think I love you. No, I-I know I love you. I want the whole thing with you, not just sex. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay with just sex. You know, I had feelings for you before you agreed to this. I had a feeling you might not say yes to a serious relationship so I proposed this arrangement.”

His speech initially started with uncertainty but as he spoke, he became sure of himself. He was sure you would agree. You two were perfect together and there was no denying it in Steve’s mind. 

You got out of bed and began rummaging through the clothes strewn on the ground.

“I cannot believe you asked me to do this with your feelings involved. That was very manipulative and…” you trailed off. Did you want this? No. He messed with you. You affirmed it to yourself and picked up the rest of your clothes. “You were manipulative and this isn’t going to happen anymore. I told you I didn’t want a relationship to cloud my judgement with my missions.” 

“Where are you going?” he began getting out bed, panic slightly evident in his voice.

You weren’t going to cry. But you were slightly hurt that he had a hidden agenda and that you were too stupid to not notice it. You turned to leave before he gripped your forearm. 

“I know you’re angry, but you want this too.” He towered over you. The unexpected calm in his voice was unsettling. 

“You’re scaring me, please let go.” He let you break out of his hold. 

“FRIDAY, lock my doors and don’t open unless I say so,” he commanded.

He was beginning to chip at your resolve but you were determined to not show it. You glared at him again instead. 

“FRIDAY, contact Tony and tell him Cap locked me in his room.”

He stared at you and stared back. Under the façade of toughness, you were crumbling and scared out of your mind. You didn’t want to stay and find out why he locked the door. What could he do when the entire team would question your whereabouts the next day?

The seconds stretched on before he finally spoke again. “You’re making a mistake. You want this.”

“Tony has overridden your request, Steve. Y/N, the door is now unlocked.” FRIDAY called out. 

You turned and speed-walked out of the room, not turning back to look at Steve who was now lowly chuckling to himself. 

He wondered if you really thought this was the end of this conversation. 

You turned to your missions to help you cope with the loss of one of your best friendships. You give men a little bit of space in your life and they think you owe them the world. Worst of all, you should’ve seen this coming. Little touches, smiles that always reached his eyes and hugs that lasted a little longer they should. Not mentioning walking you to your room after training, making your breakfast and taking special care of you after a particularly difficult mission. You were truly a fool for not realizing it sooner.

Everyone is scared of something, even the Avengers. For you, it was this new side of Steve. You weren’t even sure how to act around him anymore. The relationship was on the low and not many people knew about it; Bucky knew for sure, and now, Tony must have an idea as well. Tony didn’t ask you why Cap locked you in your room. That should have been the first red flag that your teammates weren’t on your side. 

You proceeded as if things were normal around Steve and he did too. There was no reason not to, right? He just acted out because of the rejection, you thought to yourself.

All the Avengers sitting down for dinner was a rare occurrence, but this particular Friday, there was a crowd in the dining room of the compound. 

You were happy today. Your paperwork had been a breeze and you had a good weekend planned for yourself. Around the table, Tony, Rhodey, Thor were bickering, Clint and Nat were silently observing while Steve and Bucky were engrossed in a private conversation of their own. 

“After dinner, we should play a game” Sam piped up through a mouthful. Clint snickered to himself and Sam continued.

“I’m serious, we should play truth or dare… something like that. I barely know anything about you guys, minus things like your favourite way to take a target out.”

“I think it should stay that way” Nat slightly grinned and continued eating. 

“Honestly, I agree, I feel like I know nothing about you guys,” you commented, wiping your mouth and clearing your empty plate. Tony grabbed it for you and made his way to the sink. “I wasn’t aware that we were in high school. But tell you what; hide and seek would be interesting with this crowd.” Tony contemplated before finishing his thought: “Barnes and Romanoff should try to find us. That would be a kicker.”

“That sounds a lot better than truth or dare. I’m game” Nat said before getting and stretching. Bucky quietly chuckled and everyone began to clean up the table. 

“So this is really happening?” Rhodey laughed as everyone made their way to the living room. 

Bucky and Nat stood in front of everyone and negotiated rules. You smiled to yourself, thinking about how blessed you were to be a part of something so amazing.

“Okay then, 5 minutes to hide and 30 minutes to be found. If you’re found you have to do their paperwork for a week.” Clint finalized and everyone nodded.

“Alright, off you go,” Nat said before settling into a couch, observing everyone that scrambled off. 

Thor looked lost, unsure where to go. He rarely stayed at the compound. You pointed him in the direction of the gym before racing past and making your way to your spot. There was a supply closet that you had a feeling Nat wouldn’t bother checking. Bucky knew of it, but you had a back-up escape route in mind if he decided to look there. You got to the closet and silently slipped in before sliding the door closed and settling into the corner. After a few minutes, you heard light footsteps that became louder. It hadn’t been 5 minutes yet. Whoever was coming to your spot, you were prepared to tell them to buzz off before the closet door opened to reveal Steve. 

He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

Part 2

Masterlist

Tagging some people I want to be friends with 🥺

@smutsonian @imanuglywombat @nastybuckybarnes @candy-and-writing @speechlessxx @mariessecretfantasies​ @mypoisonedvine​ @harryspet​ @nsfwsebbie​ @cherienymphe​ @imdarkinme​ @ironlady1993​ @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ @sherrybaby14​ @mcudarklibrary​

[uvobreakmylegs]

Pretense

got inspired by @ramwrites​‘s Inked piece. in the same story setting but it’s Hisoka’s s/o

Warnings: blood, mentions of death, very slight yandere behavior

The inside of the tattoo parlor was a lot cleaner than the outside, you decided. That's at least one thing it has in it's favor. Although that doesn't change the fact that you really don't want to be here. Especially since the woman in charge of the shop is not only willing to work for the Phantom Troupe, but also goes ahead in branding the significant others of the troupe.

'Branding' had been the way Hisoka described it, and it sounded pretty accurate. When you asked him why Chrollo would go so far to mark the partners of the troupe, Hisoka had answered with “boss just likes to make sure the most prized possessions of the troupe are marked as such. Cements it further for the more.... Resistant ones.”

Hisoka was currently wandering about the room, inspecting the tools next to the chair before looking to the artwork on the walls, softly humming to himself whenever he spotted a design that he liked. You were sitting in the chair at the center of the room, your legs dangling off the side as you waited for the tattoo artist to come back in. Your hands were folded in your lap as you tried to keep your mind from going crazy with scenarios of how this could go wrong. When it came to the Phantom Troupe, you wanted to have as little contact as possible. Being around them scared you, even more than Hisoka could whenever he got into that state where he was particularly unhinged. And while the woman doing the tattoo wasn't a member herself, just the fact that she was in close contact with Chrollo made you more than a little nervous.

On the other hand, Hisoka was relaxed, and almost seemed a bit excited as he came up behind you to rub your shoulders encouragingly. You turned your head to glare at him, but as usual, he smiled back at you, not taking the look you were giving him seriously.

“Alright, where did you want this thing?”

You turned at the sound of the woman's voice as she reentered the room. She sounded tired, and based off the way she grimaced at the sight of Hisoka, she was probably getting flashbacks to when she needed to tattoo the spider onto his back.

Hisoka tapped on a spot just below your shoulder blades.

“She wants it in the same spot as mine so we can match,” he said cheerfully, “isn't that cute?”

Stupid bastard.

“Sure,” she answered dryly before looking at you, “if you could take off your shirt and lay on the chair; I'll get the stencil out and we can see how the placement looks.”

You wordlessly obeyed, pulling your shirt over your head and folding it in your lap. When Hisoka took it to place it elsewhere, you laid on your front, holding on to the top of the chair to try and ground yourself.

You barely felt it when she placed the stencil on top of your bare skin, and Hisoka quickly agreed to the placement.

“All right, easy enough,” the woman said, more to herself than either of you. But she looked back to Hisoka, motioning with her head as she told him “you go back out to the lobby. I'll let you know when we're finished here.”

Hisoka shrugged.

“Alright then.”

A wave of panic hit you, and you struggled to find your voice for a moment.

“W-wait.”

They both looked at you.

“Could... Could he actually stay with me?” you asked.

Hisoka looked amused. The woman looked annoyed.

“Why?” she asked.

“I don't like needles,” you mumbled.

There was a certain level of disgust that she leveled at you in her gaze, and when Hisoka grabbed a chair and pulled it up so he could sit near the spot where your head lay, she asked “seriously?”

“How could I possibly leave her when she needs me?” was Hisoka's response.

“..... Fine. But you,” she said, jabbing a finger at Hisoka, “need to keep your damn mouth shut.”

Hisoka smiled at her.

She huffed as she got her tools ready.

And you lay still, letting out a small sigh of relief.

When you felt her hand press down on your back and heard the buzzing of the tattoo gun, you reached out for his hand, to which he obliged, taking your hand in his and gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

It stayed relatively quiet for some time, the only noises you could hear in the parlor being the soft music that played in the background and the constant buzzing of the tattoo gun. The tattoo was slowly taking form on that space on your back, the giant spiderweb with the number 4 in the middle.

She brushed over the areas where the needle had gone in every few seconds, wiping up the blood that came up after.

“This one bleeds a lot,” she grumbled.

“Oh? You aren't feeling nauseous at the sight of a little blood, are you?” Hisoka asked.

She glared at him, probably for breaking his agreement of keeping quiet.

“It can affect the end product if someone bleeds too much and I can't see the stencil because of it.”

“Aren't you a professional?” Hisoka shot back.

“I'm not saying I can't do it,” she snapped back, “it's just annoying.”

“Of course,” he answered, chuckling a little.

The woman chose to ignore him, turning her attention back to you and the design she was etching onto your back. Nothing more was said after that, and you found yourself focusing on the feeling of Hisoka's hand on yours. The callouses on his fingers, the edges of his slightly too-sharp nails that could cut through your skin if he really wanted to, and how his thumb continued to brush over your knuckles. Just that was enough to keep you calm in this situation.

“You need a break?” the woman asked you after a while.

“I'm fine,” you answered.

“Okay. Well, I need one, so let's take five,” she said, putting down the gun, “if you need the restroom, it's out the door and to the right.”

She left the room without so much as a word to Hisoka, who let go of your hand as he stood up and stretched his legs.

“There's a snack machine outside; should I get you something?” he asked you.

“I really don't want to eat anything from this place,” you said.

“Not even something sweet? Might be good for you, lift up your spirits a bit,” he said, rubbing the top of your head.

“I think you deserve a treat.”

You batted his arm away.

“I'm not a goddamn dog,” you grumbled.

He didn't react to the way you pushed his hand off of you other than to laugh a bit. He then turned away and left the room while you laid your head back down. It had been at least a couple of hours, and you hoped there wouldn't be too much left to finish with the tattoo. Too bad it was on your back and you couldn't get a good look at it to determine how far it was from being finished.

The woman came back in just as Hisoka did, the latter of which was holding a small bag of hard candies. They both sat back down, the woman looking over you and seeing that you hadn't moved at all.

“You sure you don't need a break?” she asked.

“I just want this stupid thing over with,” you answered.

You couldn't see it, but you sensed the way her eyebrows raised at your tone and how she looked over to Hisoka. The clown didn't say anything, instead ripping open the candy packaging with one of those sharp nails and popping a few of the sweets into his mouth.

After a few seconds of nothing happening, she seemed to shrug her shoulders and picked the gun back up to continue with her work.

“Didn't think you were so lenient, Hisoka,” she said after a moment, “the previous number four wouldn't have let his partner speak like that.”

Hisoka actually scoffed at that.

“Like I care.”

The woman didn't say anything to that and continued with the inking process. But now your curiosity was piqued, and you tentatively asked her “the other number four had this done, too?”

“Yeah. Can't quite remember what they looked like now, but he was one of the first to get his partner tattooed.”

“What happened to them after he died?” you asked.

“You mean after he-” she glanced to Hisoka- “killed him? Nobody checked up on them and they starved to death.”

You felt your blood chill at that. There were lots of painful ways to die, but starving to death would be such a long, drawn-out process; to just slowly wither away as you grew weaker and weaker as your stomach caved into itself and you lost so much strength you would no longer be able to move. Whatever fate had in store for you for when you died, you hoped it wouldn't be something like that.

Whoever that poor bastard had been, you hoped they didn't suffer for too long.

“Guess I'm not surprised you couldn't be bothered to let them out after you started with the troupe,” she said to Hisoka.

He shrugged.

“I didn't even know they existed until after they were dead. No one told me about this arrangement. Blame the other members who actually knew about the situation before you blame me.”

“You were the one to kill him,” she pointed out.

“If he wanted to keep his place he should have been stronger,” he said, placing another piece of candy into his mouth, “if it mattered that much to you then why didn't you let them out?”

“I'm not paid for that.”

“Ah, of course.”

There was silence after that, and another hour passed. Hisoka decided to entertain himself by slipping pieces of the hard candies past your lips one at a time, his sharp fingernails scratching your lips. You ended up slapping his hand away after a certain point, much to the mild astonishment of the tattoo artist.

“Still can't believe you of all people would allow that,” she said, “other members of the troupe would have been raging.”

“I don't like things that are broken,” Hisoka answered, running a hand through your hair.

“Pets are much more fun when they have a bit of bite.”

She couldn't see the way you glared at him for that comment.

The completion of the tattoo couldn't come fast enough, and it was of great relief to you when she finally pulled back and announced that she was done. She was saying something to Hisoka about how to take care of it to avoid infection, but you didn't pay it much mind, instead grabbing your shirt that Hisoka held out to you and pulling it over your head.

You paused ever so briefly during that, as you felt the sensation of something dripping down your back. You were quick to pull the shirt down the rest of the way, glancing back and finding some relief that she wasn't looking at you.

After receiving payment from Hisoka, you were both practically shooed out of the parlor. Despite her overall calm demeanor, she seemed to have little tolerance for handling Hisoka in large doses and wanted the clown out as soon as possible. It wouldn't have surprised you if he had decided to try and linger a little longer just to see if he could goad more reactions out of her, but he seemed to be just as eager as you were to leave.

The walk back to the hotel you were staying at was done in silence. That uncomfortable sensation was still there, running down your back and making you cringe as you felt like something was collecting above your waist.

The second the door of your hotel room was locked shut, you pulled your shirt off and exposed your back to Hisoka.

“Take it off,” you said.

“Don't you want to see how it looks first?”

“Hisoka, the blood packet is leaking. I can feel it pooling up at the bottom,” you hastily explained, “I want this stupid thing off of me.”

“If you insist,” Hisoka answered.

He reached forward, his nails catching on a particular spot just below your neck, and like peeling off a band-aid, Hisoka peeled off the sheet of texture surprise that he had placed over your back, the thin packet of fake blood he had hidden beneath the fake skin falling to the floor as he did so.

Just as you had said, there had been liquid pooling up at the bottom of the sheet, and when it was pulled away, some of the blood fell both onto the floor and your pants.

“Shit-!”

You immediately went to the bathroom, throwing your shirt to the side as you grabbed a towel off the rack and held it under the faucet. There was a coating of red covering your back, as expected, and you went about trying to clean the liquid off. Unfortunately, it seemed like your pants were permanently ruined. But you preferred that over that woman potentially discovering your ruse.

You managed to wipe the blood off, but you definitely needed a shower. Before doing that, however, you stuck your head out of the bathroom door to see Hisoka sitting on the bed, shuffling through cards as usual.

“I'm going to take a shower,” you told him.

“Just a moment,” he said, setting the cards aside and motioning for you to come closer.

With a sigh, you went to him, climbing onto the bed and allowing him to pull you onto his lap. You glanced at the side table, noting the sheet of nen that had been on your back for the past few hours sitting there. It didn't look like your skin anymore and was back in its normal form of a white sheet, though the ink that had been used was now embedded into it. The tattoo was larger than you had anticipated, and you were grateful you didn't actually need to have that thing permanently inked into your back.

“You'll be able to recreate that whenever you need to?” you asked.

“I do it all the time with mine, don't I?”

“Mm. Although I really have to question if that's going to be necessary. Are you expecting members of the troupe to just randomly lift up my shirt to make sure it's actually there?”

“You wouldn't want to risk a situation where it would be discovered that it wasn't there, now would you,” Hisoka replied.

“Fair enough,” you said with a shrug, “I guess I should just be grateful we went to all this trouble and you didn't just let them put that on me.”

“And allow the troupe to make a permanent mark on what belongs to me? Hardly. If I went so far as to mark you, I'd want my own brand,” he said.

“I don't know if I want that; you'd probably pick something stupid.”

He pouted at you.

“You're always so mean to me whenever we're alone; makes me feel like you don't actually like me.”

“I seem to recall something about pets with bite?”

Hisoka smirked, conceding as he nodded at you. Then, in a move that was somewhat atypical of him, he pulled you in closer until you were resting against his chest. You didn't question it or protest; there was that stupid part of you that genuinely liked the clown, after all.

The oddly quiet moment allowed your mind to wander, and your thoughts went back to what that woman had said about the original number four and his partner and the absolutely miserable way in which that partner had died. You didn't need to fear that same exact death; you were free to go where you liked, so being locked up with no food wouldn't be an issue if Hisoka unexpectedly died. At most you'd get kicked out of that room he had in Heaven's Arena, but that wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen.

The worst thing would be if Hisoka messed up and the troupe came after you because of it.

“You get so quiet whenever you're around the troupe. I think most of them would be shocked if they knew how you usually are,” Hisoka whispered.

It was true. You virtually clung to Hisoka whenever you were forced to meet up with the troupe. He always seemed to enjoy it, and not many of them bothered coming up to you. It was that part of you that worried you would somehow ruin his plans. Somehow, you would manage to let slip something you shouldn't and the truth would be revealed. Better to keep your mouth shut to avoid that scenario entirely and try to blend in with the rest of the significant others with their miserable expressions and occasional broken bones.

“When do you think you'll be able to fight Chrollo?” you asked.

“It's impossible to say. His movements are a mystery to everyone, so I need to wait for an opportunity to present itself.”

He ran those fingernails through your hair.

“So lets keep playing nice until then,” he told you.

“Mm.”

Play along until Hisoka got what he wanted, wait a few months after, and then he'd move on to a new obsession, a new opponent he wanted to fight. It was honestly a pretty miserable situation to be in, and yet you willingly stayed. Although if you did try to leave, you weren't so sure he would let you go so easily.

Hisoka wasn't a good person. And there was definitely something wrong with you for you to stay with him, even as he dragged you into dangerous situations that you'd never be able to survive without his help.

But one Hisoka running amok was better than the other twelve being allowed to continue as they were. At least there would be less people dying.

And still that question simmered in your mind: what would the troupe do to you if they found out Hisoka's true intentions?

You pulled away and he looked back down at you.

“Can I get my shower already?”

[blu-joons]

DATING NCT A⇴Z HEADCANON ⇴ Johnny Seo

A ⇴ AFFECTION

He loves using his height to wrap you up nice and tightly in his arms. He often can’t help but rest his head on top of yours or pick you up so that you’re at the same height as he is so that your lips are much more accessible to him.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

You noticed at the event that you met Johnny, that he talked to most people. You were sure he was just being friendly when he spoke to you too, he was getting along with everything, but he definitely found himself drawn to you that night, even if you weren’t too sure whether he was nice, or coming onto you.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

For the next few occasions that you met, you weren’t sure if Johnny was really into you, or if he was just a complete sweetheart. However, at the end of one event, when he asked you if you were free to head out with him to maybe get dinner together, all of your questions were answered. Words completely failed you when you realised what was happening, all you could manage was a nod of your head to give him an answer.

D ⇴ DATES

He loved physical dates, he loved to be able to show off how strong he was, usually taking you bowling or down to the arcade. The one good thing about Johnny though was that he wasn’t too competitive, he loved to let you win and give your ego a bit of a boost. And as the rules usually were between the two of you, whoever lost paid for dinner, and he much preferred treating you to a meal rather than the other way around. He wasn’t someone who liked to dress up and sit to dinner, he much preferred adventuring and exploring the city with you.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

Johnny was yet to date since he moved to Korea many years ago, so his first relationship felt like a long time coming. He was very protective of your relationship from the start, whilst he didn’t want anything to get in the way of his happiness, he also knew that there were rules in place, and he was very respectful of that. He spoke to management a lot about your relationship, he didn’t want to put a foot out of line, but he was also incredibly keen on making sure that you were happy and well looked after. At times, he didn’t quite know how he found the balance.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

Some people mistook Johnny for a bit of an intimidating man as he was one of the tallest members, but you knew he was anything but. Johnny very rarely fought with you, he doesn’t like conflict, but he does acknowledge that sometimes the two of you can disagree on things. He’s very good at talking things out with you, he refuses to let the two of you make an argument cause too big of a deal. If you want space, Johnny will give it to you, but as soon as he’s back with you, he’ll throw his arms around you and refuse to let you go for a very long time until you promise not to argue about the same thing ever again.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

With his family in America, it took a very long time for you to get the chance to meet them in person. So, you and Johnny dedicated a couple of hours each week to call his family so they could get to know you. They appreciated the effort you went to in order to get to know them, which meant they fell in love with you very quickly.

H ⇴ HOME

Johnny loved being in the dorm, but he was also quite keen to move on quite quickly and find a place with you. The one good thing about rooming with Haechan was that he was the youngest, so if Johnny wanted him to leave the dorm room for a while, he would do in an instant, and usually bunk in with Taeyong for the night.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

When you heard rumour that the boys had a week free from their schedule, you arranged for the two of you to fly back to Chicago. As soon as Johnny found out what you were up to, he couldn’t help but be the first person to say, ‘I love you.’ He was overwhelmed, and not really thinking straight, but one thing he was sure of was that he really loved you.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

It was a feeling that Johnny didn’t tend to feel too often, he trusted you, and he trusted all the people that the two of you were friends with. If he was feeling jealous, then he would usually stay pretty silent and move his arm so that it rested around him. A tight grip around you was usually a strong sign to you that Johnny was feeling a little bit insecure, so you’d work hard to make sure that he felt safe around you and reassure his mind that he had nothing to worry about and that the two of you were absolutely fine.

K ⇴ KIDS

He already was the dad of the group, so it only really felt like a natural step for him to become a proper dad one day. Whilst he knew having a family was a little way off just yet, Johnny had certainly discussed the matter with you. He was lucky that he didn’t have to enlist at some point in his career, highlighting when many of his members would go away as a possible chance for the two of you to really start settling down.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

Johnny’s jokes were one of the first things that attracted you to him, he loved to make people laugh with his humour, but also his clumsiness. You were forever reaching out to catch him when he tripped up a step or banged his body against an object that he paid no attention to. As much as you knew you shouldn’t laugh at him, you struggled to believe how one person really could be so clumsy. It hurt Johnny, a lot, but knowing that his misfortune helped to put a smile on your face certainly softened the blow for him a little bit.

M ⇴ MISSING

Having spent so long away from home, Johnny never thought that homesickness would be something that bothered him again, until he met you. He felt like he was a teenager all over again the first time he was without you, it was impossible for him to describe how hard he found it without you. It hurt the other members too, Johnny was usually such a sunshine in the group, to see him struggle without you being around was a struggle for them all, but they’d always make sure to rally around him and make him feel better, reminding him every day that it was another step closer to being able to be back with you.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

His nicknames for you were definitely when his Americanisms would come out. ‘Babe’ or ‘baby’ were usually the two that he’d call you, leaving the rest of the members confused from where that had ever come from.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

Johnny was obsessed with your height, you were the perfect height for him to be able to rest against, but also curl up tightly into his chest.

P ⇴ PDA

He was very protective of you, especially in public, and his affection definitely showed that off. He’d always have an arm around you, he didn’t care where the two of you were, just a small hold against your body was enough to reassure him that you were by his side and safe, which was all that he ever wanted.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

Whenever he does anything, he loves to ask for your opinion on it. It could be something as simple as deciding what flavour ice cream he wants; he’ll still ask you what you think and which one he’d end up enjoying the most.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

Johnny loves taking photographs, especially of you. He has a whole album on his phone dedicated to you, which is all hidden so that no one else can see them. The album certainly makes being away from you a little bit easier, when he’s feeling down, he’ll soon finding himself smiling again when he looks through all the photos of you that he’s taken, the more candid, the better, as far as Johnny was concerned.

S ⇴ SEX

He loves to be the dominate one, he loves to show off to you how strong and powerful he is and keep you wrapped up tightly in his arms. Whilst he might be dominate, he’s also very gentle, he always makes sure to take the best care of you and will always put your needs above any of his. He prides himself on knowing exactly what you like from him and will make sure that he delivers every single time.

T ⇴ TEXTS

The two of you don’t tend to text each other too often, you’ll usually call instead so that you can hear each other’s voices. Texts are usually reserved for when you’re in a rush and left with no time to pick up the phone.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

He’d spent so long at the company, and away from home, you were the perfect in between. He loved that you were a distraction for him away from work, but he loved that with you, he felt like he was back home again.

V ⇴ VACATION

The moment he had the chance to go on holiday, he was desperate to take you and introduce you to his family. He’d told them practically everything there was to know about you, except for meeting you in person. So, when he finally had the chance to introduce you to them, Johnny jumped at the chance to take you there.

W ⇴ WHINING

He doesn’t usually whine a lot; he’s very understanding and only takes up your time when you have it available to spend with him.

X ⇴ XXXXX

The favourite place to kiss on you for Johnny is definitely the top of your head. He loves to emphasise that he’s taller than you and make you feel small. He loves looking down at you and seeing how cute you look whenever your cheeks turn red as a result of a kiss from him. He knows that his kisses are your weakness and will definitely use that against you to get whatever he wants from you, with a big smile on his face.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his home away from home, the one that filled the hole in his heart.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

He loved to be the big spoon whenever the two of you slept and wrap his arms around you. He’d pull you so tight that you’d usually have to beg for him to let you go a little bit so that you could fall asleep as well.

---

Masterlist

[shirakumos-sandwich-shop]

❄️SCARAMOCHE X FEM READER X CHILDE ❄️

❄️Arranged marriage AU❄️

❄️PART 2 ❄️

Scaramoche held out his hand to you and you cautiously took it. He was a dangerous man but you couldn’t help but be intrigued. He smirked at you and led you to the side of the dance floor. One hand held yours and the other snaked around your waist. You realized you were still clutching your vision.

“Here,” he let go of your hand and plucked the vision out of your palm. He maintained a firm hold on your waist with his other hand as he pocketed it. “Don’t worry, I’ll give it back after.” He said, answering your tense expression.

He held your hand again and you let your free hand fall on his shoulder.

You had decided there was no way this was the man your parents were trying to marry you off to. He was known for being cruel and authoritative to those under him and he was disliked by many. Your father would not have allowed it for sure.

“What’s puzzling you.” He asked, noticing your furrowed brow. Startled by the sudden question you looked up into his dark purple eyes.

“Hmm?” He questioned.

“Would you like the truth or a lie?” You asked.

“Oh? Interesting. I’d like to hear both. What’s the lie?”

“Thinking about how good of a dancer you are.”

He laughed and pulled you a bit closer.

“You're right, I don’t have much time or use for dancing. So my skills are a little rusty.”

“I’ve had worse. At least you know where to put your hands.” What were you saying… you blushed at your own words.

“Hmm. Is that so.” He smirked and inspected your face. “What’s the truth then?”

Was there any harm in telling him?

“My parents are determined to marry me off to some man I don’t know.” You said flatly. “He’s supposed to be here tonight to decide if he wants me or not.”

“Well, that is interesting.”

“Is it?”

“I think so.” He hummed thoughtfully. “He’s somewhere here then?”

“I guess, I don’t know who, where or if he’s decided if I’m worth his time or not.”

“I’m a bit jealous I must admit.” His words made a deeper blush creep up on your cheeks. “Whoever he is, he’s a lucky man.”

His fingers intertwined with yours and you felt his thumb gently caress the back of your hand. A shiver went down your spine from the sensation. Unsure of what to do you just stared back into his violet eyes. The song ended and he pulled you aside.

“Y/n!” Tartaglia’s voice called. He walked over with a cheery grin until he saw who you were with. His face changed to one of confusion. “I didn’t know you two knew each other, hello Mucci!” His dorky smile returned. The man next to you tsked and scowled at the younger harbinger.

“Mucci?” You asked into the air.

“Don’t even.” Scaramoche grumbled.

“But seriously how do you know each other?” Your redheaded friend continued.

“We uh..” you started.

“We just met.” The dark haired man next to you broke in. “Just getting acquainted, nothing to bother your idiot head about.”

You felt very awkward standing between the two, part of you wanted to slip off and leave them to bicker.

“I never thought you had an interest in other people besides yourself, Mucci.” Childe prodded. Scaramoche gave him a look that almost paralyzed you with fear but didn’t seem to bother your friend one bit.

“Anyway, I’m leaving. I have important business to attend to.” He turned his attention back to you. “It’s been a pleasure.” And with that he walked off into the crowd.

“What did he want?” Tartaglia asked, all pretense of happiness gone.

“I honestly don’t know.” You told him.

“Well.” He looked at you concerned. “Don’t let him hang around if you see him again. I don’t mind him that much but I wouldn’t trust him around you.”

“Why?”

“He’s just… an asshole.” Childe sighed. “I don’t wanna go into it right now.”

You saw how bothered he was by the whole thing.

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. Besides, he was pretty weird.” You tried to lighten the mood and smiled at him. Tartaglia smiled back shyly.

“You wanna dance again?” He asked.

“Sure!” And so he scooped you back into his arms and you twirled around the dance floor together. Still something seemed off, like something was missing.

“Y/n? Where did you put your vision?” Tartaglia pulled you to a stop as he looked over you, concerned. You gasped loudly.

“He took it!” You patted the spot on your back where it should have been.

“Wait, did he really!”

“Yes! It came off so he put it in his pocket while we danced.” You wondered if he had kept it on purpose. He didn’t seem the type to just forget things.

“I’ll go find him.” Tartaglia told you. “Wait here.” He rushed off in the direction that Scaramoche had gone earlier. You couldn’t just wait there. After a moment of thought you pushed through the crowds and began walking down the ornate halls of the building. On a whim you started opening doors to the different rooms. After what seemed like an hour of doing so you passed a large door and heard a familiar voice from behind it. You stopped and listened for a second, you couldn’t make out the words but you recognized his voice. Should you wait? Or just go after him?

You pushed the door open just enough to slip through. Sure enough, there was Scaramoche sitting in a velvet armchair. He stopped speaking as he noticed you enter the room. Determined to take back what was yours, you walked to him.

“Oh, good. it’s you.” He said.

“Give it back Scaramoche!” You held out your hand demandingly.

“What? This?” He held out your vision teasingly. You tried to snatch it but he kept it away from you like he was playing with a cat.

“Y/n! How dare you be so rude.” You turned to see your mother glaring at you angrily. In your rush you hadn’t noticed that your parents were the ones he had been talking to.

“What is this about?” You asked your parents even though you already knew. Scaramoche smirked to himself as he toyed with your vision.

“Y/n, If you hadn’t burst in and interrupted us we could have properly introduced you.” Your mother said.

“You don’t mean..” you stumbled over your words.

“Are we done here then?” He asked of your parents. “I gave you my answer.”

Every word that came out of his mouth pushed you closer to the edge. You just wanted to run away from everything. You snatched the vision from his hand and ran out of the room, your mother shouted behind you.

“I’ll speak to her.” Scaramoche said diplomatically. “If you would excuse me.” He nodded to your parents and left the room after you.

You ran through the building trying to stop yourself from crying. You only came to your senses when you crashed into someone.

“Y/n? What! What’s wrong?” Tartaglia said breathlessly. You had knocked the wind out of him. He pulled you closer with his strong arms.

“What’s wrong, did something happen?” He asked in a worried tone. You looked into his ocean blue eyes and all you could do was make a strangled sob. You buried your face in his soft shirt. His arms pulled you close against him to comfort you.

“It’s alright, I’m here.” He stroked your hair to calm you and you grabbed onto his shirt. Your tears had already left it damp.

“Tartaglia,” a stern voice said behind you. “I’d appreciate it if you’d get your hands off my fiancée.”

(I have a few more parts to this, so let me know if you like this and want me to post them)

[pascalpanic]

hello lovie how u doing? sorry for bugging again but I was thinking.. how about reader lil jelly of the DEAs new secretary hitting on Javi but he's not giving a shh and reader go to the office for a visit with cinnie and kisses javi like out of nowhere and he gets ?????? and she's suddenly shy

Covetous (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: see above

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: jealousy, flirtation, language and innuendos

A/N: HI I hope this was what you’re looking for!! I hope it’s clear enough that reader is insecure and not demonizing Javier or Luisa... you’ll see. Enjoy!

Javier naturally attracts attention. You’re not quite sure what it is about him that does- or rather there are so many things about him that you don’t know which one it is. Is it the tight shirts that show off his broad shoulders and thick arms? His commanding aura? The sex appeal he radiates like humidity on a hot Colombian morning?

You love him more than anything. How can you not? He gives you all of his love, and expects nothing in return from you. His love is a passionate and all-consuming one; Javier fears commitment, but once he’s in, he’s all in. He’s the strong and silent type, but he melts with you, allows himself to be soft and gentle.

You know Javier would never do anything to hurt you. He can, has, and will go out of his way to protect you, especially with the danger of being the DEA agent’s girlfriend. That doesn’t lessen your anxiety, the fear that some poor judgement lapse on his part will lead to a broken heart. You know the man’s past. You’d be lying to say you weren’t a little scared.

When he started mentioning Luisa, you’d brushed it off and frowned. Javier is an adult. He can be friends with whoever he likes. Plus, she works with him. He can’t exactly ignore her. You didn’t know much about the woman other than the fact that she was young and pretty, as Murphy had told you. She was intelligent, a skilled worker as their receptionist. The only reason you had to dislike her was the little demon inside your head named Jealousy. Hell, you’d never even met her.

Javier mentions her in passing, just something she did at work or something funny she said. Never anything to be suspicious, and you know deep down that your Javi would never do something like that. He’s a good man, he loves you. You know it’s irrational, that you have no reasoning at all, but you can’t help but feel insecure when he talks about her.

Javier works ridiculous hours. He doesn’t have time to do much other than work and work and come home to you and do more work on the couch. He loves you for that more than anything: you understand it. You understand the busy hours and that he doesn’t often have the energy to do much when he gets home. You just sit next to him and quietly rub his shoulders, pressing kisses to his skin while he grinds out some paperwork. You don’t always understand what he’s doing at work, but your outside perspective often offers valuable ideas. You’re not just a girlfriend to Javier, but more of his partner. You are his other half, his comfort and relief and love in his hectic life.

If he’s being honest, Luisa bugs the shit out of him. She’s a smart girl, really, but her job is not as an agent. She likes to think she is, but she doesn’t have the training or knowledge to do so. She’s a go-getter, and Javi admires that, but it’s just another problem on his endless pile of them.

The most annoying thing is her flirting. Javier is no stranger to flirtation, obviously, and in any other situation he’d love to play along; she’s pretty and funny and a good conversationalist, but Javier, of course, only has eyes for you. He’s given her signs to back off, clearly, but she hasn’t picked them up. He’s tried to be more blunt, but nothing works. She is dead set on Agent Peña, and she’s a determined little thing.

You don’t visit Javier at work often. It’s rare that you get the chance, since you’re busy yourself. Usually, you’ll coordinate a day with Connie to bring lunch for the boys and sit with them for a while. They obviously both enjoy it, other than the mockery they receive from the other men when you leave. You love doing it, preening under the attention of your boyfriend and laughing at his annoyance with the other men. You’ve been there enough to know some of the other agents, and you know plenty about them from Javier’s annoyance at them at the end of the day.

Planning a day to surprise Javier at the office is fun. You usually do it when you know he’s extra stressed, when he could use the diversion and a little break in his day. That’s why you decided on it last night. Connie has the day off, and she insisted she’ll help you cook something to bring into work; Steve has been a mess lately too. They need it. She was right.

With a fresh tray of cookies out of the oven, you sigh and climb onto the couch to knock on the ceiling. You rap three times; moments later, two come back in response from Connie. It’s easier than using the phone, Connie suggested one night while you and Javier steadily got the Murphys drunker and drunker. It was funny to you at the time, but she was right. You smile remembering it as you put some cookies into a container and walk out of the front of the apartment building.

Connie is in a cheerful mood today. It’s probably because she has the day off; normally, she’d be asleep at this hour, thanks to long night shifts. She chats with you as the two of you drive to the embassy together, humming along to a song on the radio. She tells you all about Steve, the latest recipe she found, her new favorite grocery store. You smile and nod, mind elsewhere. Her blonde head bobs along to the rhythm as she finds a spot and parks.

You are irrational, you remind yourself as you walk in. You know and trust and love Javier. Luisa is nothing to worry about. Then why do you have a painfully tight grip on your container of cookies? “Hey, you’re gonna crack that,” Connie chides and swats your hand. “You okay, babe?”

You shake your head and smile it off. “It’s nothing. Guess I’m just excited,” you chuckle and loosen your grip on the cookies, though your spine is rigid as a board.

There’s a desk and at the front sits a woman, slightly younger than you, writing something in a book. She looks up when she hears the two of you enter through the lobby deeper into the building. “Hola. Soy Luisa, bienvenidos. Necesitá-“

That’s Luisa? She’s sweet, you frown. You’ve been all worked up over this? She’s cut off when Steve walks past. “Woah, hey ladies,” he chuckles as he sees the two of you. He wraps an arm around his wife and kisses her forehead. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Connie shrugs, beaming up at her husband. “We just thought we’d bring you lunch.”

“I made cookies,” you offer weakly, holding up the tupperware. You’re surprised it isn’t shattered into plastic shards on the ground by now.

“Hell yeah,” Steve smiles and snatches the cookies from your hands. “Luisa, this is my wife, Connie.”

She nods. “I could tell,” she chuckles, gesturing to the blonde hair and blue eyes. Who else would she be around here? “And you are?” She asks, turning to you.

“Ah, that’s Peña’s girl, remember?” Steve says for you, which makes you breathe a sigh of relief.

Her smile becomes tight-lipped and passive-aggressive. “Ah, yes. Wonderful to meet you,” she tells you, turning back to her books immediately. “Steve, you will show the women back then?”

He nods. “Thanks, kid.” He steals a candy from the jar she keeps on her desk and leads you back into the bullpen. He and Connie talk about their days, and you trail behind, nervously tapping your fingers against your sides. Now that you don’t have the Tupperware to clutch, you fidget until your heart warms at the sight of Javier. He’s hunched over his desk, shoulders straining against his tight shirt. He’s rapidly banging out a report on a typewriter, and your smile becomes a little bittersweet with how hard you know he’s working.

He’s a jumpy man, but scaring him is your favorite thing in the world. You hold a finger to your lips to the Murphys, telling them to be quiet, and they nod in agreement. Silently padding up behind him, you cover his hands with your eyes. “Boo,” you squeal.

“What the fuck?” Javier jumps, rapidly pulling the hands off his eyes and spinning in his chair. His hand hovers over his weapon, but his anxiety fades when he sees it’s you. “Hijo de puta… cariño,” he smiles softly, laughing a little. “What are you doing here?” He asks as he stands, pulling you into a hug.

His face is all the reassurance you need, his smile and his arms squeezing you making you grin. “We brought you lunch. Wanted to surprise you,” you tell him as you break away, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Got a spare minute?”

He sighs and sits back down at his desk. “Can you give me five? I need to finish this report then I’m all yours.”

“Fine,” you sigh teasingly and kiss him on the head. While he types, you and Connie set up the desks, arranging chairs and plates on top of piles of cluttered papers. Javier’s handwriting is messy, you notice as you look at a folder of information, but legible. Hurried but still nice, looping and arcing.

“Hey,” Javi booms playfully and startles you, snatching the folder from your hands. “That’s classified.”

“That’s about as classified as your dick is to the Colombian population of women,” Steve snorts.

“Stephen!” Connie gasps and scolds, smacking his arm.

It doesn’t matter. You and Javi are laughing, falling onto each other and giggling at the joke. Steve sniggers under his breath, trying to avoid Connie’s wrath from the rude joke.

Straightening up, you take a sip of your water and try to collect yourself, though you’re still chuckling softly. “Does this mean you’re done?” You ask him hopefully.

Javier sighs and signs the bottom of the paper. His signature is beautiful and classy: J. Peña. “Now I am,” he smiles at you and tucks the file away in a desk drawer. “What did you bring us to eat, hm?”

The four of you converse over the meal, waving forks around aimlessly to make your points. The Murphys talk on their own, chatting about plans for the night. The meal is clearly finished and Javier cracks open the container of cookies, winking at you. You know he loves them, adores the little fluffy things. You smile and snag one from the tupperware before he can. He frowns. “I wanted that one.”

“Poor baby,” you tease and cup his face, taking a bite from it.

There’s the clacking of heels on tile approaching before you hear it: “Agente Peña!” a feminine voice sings. You roll your eyes, completely missing the way Javier rolls his too. “Javi?” She asks as she gets closer, about to round the corner.

God, you can’t stand that she calls him that. He’s only Javi to you and the Murphys, to those who love him. Your rational brain is far out of the window, possessed by jealousy as you do the only thing you can to, what, stake your claim? It doesn’t matter. Javier won’t be mad with the tiniest bit of affection. Your other hand cups Javier’s face too and you kiss him.

He’s used to kissing you. The two of you do it all the damn time. He’s just not a big PDA man; never has been. He prefers to keep his passion in private. But he doesn’t care, and cares even less when he knows Luisa is watching. He kisses back, rolling your chair closer to his and cupping your face too.

Luisa huffs at the sight. “Guess you’re busy,” she scoffs in English.

You break away only to find her walking away, and you can’t help but smirk. At least now she knows that Javier is truly committed to you, if she even caught a glimpse of the way he kissed you back. “What was that for?” Javier asks.

“Because I love you?” You chuckle and kiss him one more time, soft and quick.

He knows exactly why you did it. He doesn’t ask again. “I love you too, cariño,” he chuckles and rests his hand on your thigh.

-

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