#PEOPLE'S BONES DON'T POP OUT WHEN THEY SLEEP

[sweetteainthesummerx]

✰ sweet nothing✰

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

pairing: quinn hughes x writer! reader

warnings: angst and comfort, fluff

song: sweet nothing by taylor swift

summary: 5 times Quinn knew you were the one, and the one time he let you know...

word count: 2.2 k

notes: quinn my sweet boy!! also sweet nothing by taylor swift because her love songs are so superior

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

outside, they're push and shoving, you're in the kitchen humming

quinn pushes open the door to his apartment, exhausted. His face hurts from smiling at fans, and the triple header really, really took it out of him.

he loves his captaincy, really. he loves his boys, the leading, the responsibility. it's hard, though, to live up to all of the jostle and hassle the spotlight brings.

needless to say, the push and shove of stress has taken its toll on him, and all he needs is a hot shower and preferably 8 or more hours of sleep.

through the walkway, he hears a familiar voice, the telltale clatter of pans, a taylor swift song and the aroma of garlic and tomatoes.

you must've used his spare key he gave you.

he smiles despite himself, something warm tugging deep in his stomach.

he calls your name and immediately flushes with how breathy and needy he sounds. the last thing he wants is to scare you away.

"q!" you pop up from behind the counter, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts that drapes long over your slender shoulders and a pair of ratty sweatpants. your hair is pulled back from your make-up void face.

you've never looked more beautiful.

you make your way over while he admires you, and lock your arms around his waist, smiling up at him.

"missed you," you kiss his cheek, and he flushes again. god, why was he like this still?

the two of you have been dating for over than a month now, but he's still so easily flustered by you. maybe it's because you work with words for a living, but you're the sweetest thing he's ever seen (and tasted).

you think it's cute, and you tell him more often than not, reducing him to a puddle of a blushing mess.

he bundles you properly in his arms, kissing you properly.

you're so soft and warm under his fingers, your mouth hot and pliable.

you indulge him for a moment, savouring the time with each other. his hands wander down to your hips, gripping hard like he's afraid you'll be blown away by the wind.

a timer dings, and you pull back. he chases your lips, letting out a whine when you giggle and push gently at his broad chest.

"quinny, stop! i made you lasagna, and I don't want it to burn."

"mm, we'll order take out," he mutters into your neck, breathing in your familiar perfume.

you let out a sound of protest, finally breaking free of his hold. he follows you like a lost puppy as you set the table, plating him an extra large piece.

as he eats, you watches your kind eyes and easy smile with adoration.

the realization jars him, but settles firm in his bones: he wants to come home to you everyday.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

i wrote a poem, you say, "what a mind", this happens all the time

it's the release of your latest book, and quinn watches as you engage with your fans. the biggest indigo in vancouver invited you to come do a meet and greet along with a signing.

you had spent the morning with quinn, his hands stroking through your hair to calm you down. although your other books had success, this one was your proudest piece of work yet.

quinn had been the first person to read it. he was impressed; he knew you were smart and you had a way with words that astounded him, but the whole book was like poetry.

the words flowed easy from you, as easy as breathing.

now, watching you all flushed and a little embarrassed by the attention from the mass of people who showed up, he all but glows with pride.

a young girl, maybe in her early teens, comes up to you with a wide smile and bright, glassy eyes. he can't hear well, because he's tucked near the back of the room to avoid the crowd, but she says something and your face falls.

he's ready to sprint through the crowd to get to you, but you hug the younger girl. she's crying, he realizes. you squeeze her tight, sign her book and send her off with what looks like encouraging words and another hug.

afterwards, while he drives with one hand and the other on your thigh, he asks what happened.

"she told me she's never felt more seen by anyone before. that my book told her it's okay to not know where to be in the world." your eyes feel wet, and he smiles.

god, you're brilliant.

he raises your hand to his mouth and kisses your pulse.

"what a mind," he murmurs, and you laugh softly.

"you tell me that all the time."

"because I mean it, babe."

now he understands when those cheesy movies say "I want you body, mind and soul".

you are undeniably beautiful, gorgeous even. kindness seeps from your very being, and you're mind is bright and soft.

he wants all of you, forever.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

the voices that implore, "you should be doing more"

ellen sees some of the articles and criticisms of her eldest on the internet. quinn has always been the quietest, the most calm and so stoic. but her sweet boy, who worked too hard and did too much was always being told to do more.

so when she called him and he picked up the facetime groggy and hair still damp, she was surprised.

"hey, mom." he answered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"hi, quinn. sorry, sweetie. i didn't expect you to be asleep. i thought i would check up on you."

"all good." he yawns, and he makes small talk.

she wonders if he's seen all of the speculations about his captaincy on the news and headlines.

he tells her he has, because she asks him straight up. he appreciates the straightforwardness, and he has since he was young.

he tells her that you were there.

"she ran me a bath, with those weird salt things that women love so much-"

"hey! they're very nice." she interrupts, laughing at his antics.

"and she made soup. we ate already and I took a nap. she's out getting groceries, but i'll tell her you said hi, mom."

ellen nods, something tangible and comforting in the air around her. her son is in good hands.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

to you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

you find him in the empty change room. he's sitting on a bench, wet hair messy, head hung. you expected this; your boyfriend was nothing if not responsible and too hard on himself.

after another loss, his grief and frustration was normal.

you kneel before him, taking his face, hot from the shower in your cool hands. his pretty eyes are rimmed red, and he leans into your touch.

"hey, pretty boy. you did good out there, captain."

he shakes his head, fingers trembling as he pulls you closer so he can push his face into your hair, inhaling your smell.

"i failed them. i'm a shit captain, and i can't seem to break this cycle we're in-"

"you are not a shit captain." you say those words firmly, and it almost surprises quinn. normally you were soft-spoken and slow, but you tell him this with urgency.

"i should be taking care of everyone, and everything-"

"but who takes care of you?"

your words break a dam in him, and he buries his head in your shoulder. the position is uncomfortable, but you don't shift or mention his shaking shoulders.

"you are a good leader. a good leader is one who stands with his team, even during the tough times. the boys adore you, and you will break this rut. but it takes time, and work, my love. no one works harder than you."

he sniffs, a hovering breath touches your neck.

"you are so strong, my sweet boy." you cradle his neck, pressing kisses to the side of his face. this sets off another wave of emotions, and he easily tugs you up into his lap.

his wet hair drips onto your (his) jersey, but you don't mind.

"and if you need to be strong for them, you can be soft with me. i'm here for a reason. another set of shoulders to bear your burdens."

"i love you, y'know that?" his voice is scratchy, vulnerable and thick with emotion. although the two of you have exchanged those three words countless of times before this, it feels like more this time.

"i know, quinnie. i love you too."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

jack hauls his older brother onto the curb, setting him there, praying that he doesn't fall flat into the road. luke runs out with quinn's jacket, draping it over his shoulders.

it isn't often that quinn gets drunk, especially this drunk. but the boys night was a chance for all of them to let loose during the off season.

the small dive bar near the lake house was the perfect place to get away.

"dude, he is hammered." luke huffs, tugging at the sleeves of his own hoodie, the chill of the night starting to surround the air.

quinn says something under his breath as he sways, and jack sets him upright again.

"bro, what did you say?"

quinn repeats your name, louder this time, with the request to see you immediately.

the way he says your name, with so much love and awe makes jack almost wish he was in a relationship.

"sure, man. i'll call her to pick you up."

you arrive a mere 10 minutes later, hair wet, wearing one of quinn's canucks sweatshirts and a pair of sleep shorts.

"hey guys," you greet the other hughes boys. Luke gives you a side hug, and you pat jack's arm in thanks as you move to help her boyfriend up.

"babe!" Quinn only realizes then that you're here. jack has to laugh, seeing his brother so far gone because of the 7 tequila shots they took.

"jeez, guys. how much did you drink?" you ask, laughing, and Luke starts to regale you with the tale of jack's bad rendition of lady gaga.

"i missed you." quinn is now standing behind you, arms firmly wrapped around your waist, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. he doesn't say it loud, but contented and quiet.

jack watches as you smooth your hands over his forearms, rolling your eyes in amusement.

"yes, yes, I missed you too, you clingy baby."

"hey! m'not clingy." he protested, his whole body pressed up against every inch of yours.

jack snorts, giving you a sympathetic look, "good luck with that one."

you jokingly flip him off, as you try to maneuver your much larger boyfriend.

"c'mon, hughes." quinn frowns at this.

"I only answer to quinny, my love, sweetie and baby."

"that's your name?" jack asked, only to be met with a dirty look from his brother. luke snickers as you shrug quinn into the passenger seat.

"thanks for watching him." you say as you walk over to the driver's side.

"thanks for coming to get him. did we interrupt anything?"

"nah, except your mom was showing me your guys' baby pictures." you eyes shine with mirth as they groan.

"please tell me she didn't-"

"yep, the bathtub pictures too." you smile, and quinn yells something from with in the car.

"okay, I should probably get the big baby home. you guys don't stay out too late, okay?" you tell them, and they bid you goodbye.

he watches you guys drive off, quinn probably saying something stupid as you laugh.

"y'know, i really hope she's the one." Luke tells him as they head back into the bar.

jack has never, ever seen his brother so happy. he's never seen him smile so willingly for anyone, and clearly, you have him wrapped around your finger.

"yeah, me too, man."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

+ all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

you're wearing your blue light glasses, a tank top and a pair of his plaid boxers as you sit cross-legged in your shared bed, hair loose around your shoulders.

you're working on something new, and quinn studies your features as you concentrate.

without looking up from your laptop, you grin, "stop staring, stalker."

he laughs, "you love it."

you meet his eyes as he crawls next to you. he lets you wipe at his mouth, where he's sure there's still remnants of toothpastes.

"i love you." you offer instead, and he pulls you onto his lap. his fingers inch up your thighs but stop there.

he just wants to feel you, before he has to leave for another roadie.

"i love you." he tells you matter-of-factly, "and i'm going to marry you one day."

"babe, we've only been together a little over 8 months," you protest, but he sees the glow of joy on your cheeks at his words.

"i know," he says confidently, "but i'm going to make you my wife, one day. all i want is you."

you melt at his words, laying your head on his shoulder, "all i want is you, and your sweet nothings."

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[nocturnesmoon]

You don't have to do everything alone

A/N: Making some blurbs while I work on a longer piece, could be awhile before that one comes out though, probably gonna end up at 10k words if I haven't calculated it wrong. Requests are open too if you got a blurb you'd like to see!

Blurb: Reader is overworked and gets pulled away by their boys.

The screen in front of you had gotten exceedingly brighter during the last few hours. You could feel your brain slowly turning to mush in your head, no matter how hard you tried to sharpen yourself.

The sun outside had long since gone down, replaced by a dark and clouded sky that you didn't have time to pay attention to. You could feel your eyes hurting, slipping closed every now and then from exhaustion. Most people had already gone back to the barracks by now, done with their work for the day and in for a good sleep.

You couldn't afford such a luxury right now, not with the current mission and everything that's at stake. You didn't know how long you had been at it today, but it's all your mind had been focused for the last week. Your job was to track the targets, find them, information anything you could to figure out potential locations.

That's what you'd been occupied with for so long now, and you were failing at it.

You were supposed to be a specialist, a professional who knew what they were doing. Instead, you were here, with a headache that could kill, no hope, and tons and tons of unreviewed files you had yet to get to.

You take a deep, long breath, hoping that it could give you some relief in your state. It doesn't. Your hand comes up to rub at your neck, taking the opportunity to look around the office you'd been holed up in.

You'd been right to assume everyone else had already gone, someone must have missed you were still in here and turned off the lights. Either that, or you'd been sitting still as a statue for longer than you thought.

It was a possibility, judging by the ache in your bones when you stretch and pop your sore joints. You didn't dare look at the clock, but you didn't doubt that you had missed your usual afternoon gym session. There was too much to do to allow yourself to be distracted, even for a few moments.

You knew a large part of this operation now relied on you and few others. Ones that you didn't count on being competent enough to get the job done, so it came down to you. Not that you felt very competent now either, you weren't much better, having found no solution to your problem yet.

With a sigh, you turn back around in your chair, honing in on the sharp screen once again. You could ignore the ache in your stomach for a bit longer, if you just tried a few more things, maybe you could find the fix all solution you'd been looking for?

Even with your split mind, and rundown state, it wasn't hard to get back into focus. It was the only trait you could rely on now, the focus carrying you through long enough to fix your problems one by one.

A downside, some would say, would be the way you tune out of your surroundings, you stop noticing things happening around you, not to mention the passage of time completely eludes you. You didn't even realize when the light in the office were turned on, or when two different sources called your name. You didn't notice the footsteps become louder in your direction, or when two shadows towered over you.

You were only torn out of your focused fixation when someone gently slid down a hand over your eyes. Your breath hitches in your throat, your hands coming up to grab at the arm and push it away but getting stopped by a different set of hands.

"Jus' us luv" Simon's gruff voice vibrates close to your ear, making you relax your shoulders and let your hands fall back to your lap. It's only now when your eyes are shrouded in the darkness his palm creates that you realize how much your eyes were hurting. You forcefully blink a few times, settling for closing your eyes, protected behind the security of his hand.

You lean back in your chair, feeling the back of your head collide against Simon's firm stomach. You crane your head upwards, despite not being able to see him, you can almost imagine the curious look he has on when you do. His other rough hand slowly slides from your shoulder, over your throat, holding a persistent comforting weight there to keep you in check.

Your lips part ever so slightly, letting out a long gust of air, expelling everything in your lungs and making your shoulders sag. You had barely noticed how exhausted you had gotten, but this was nice.

You try to jerk your head when you hear someone else's movements, but Simon holds you in place. You feel a different set of hands gently lay on your shoulder, that someone shuffling in-between you and the desk you'd been spending the last several hours at.

"Missed ye darling," you let out a small huff when you hear the Scottish accent, not that you expected him to not be hot on Simon's heels. Your scoff is silenced when he gently places his lips on yours, Simon's hand not even bothering to move to give him space to do so.

In a way you don't want him to move his hands away from your face and neck, it was somewhat stabilizing. "What are you two doing," you ask, slightly out of breath when Johnny pulls away. From the sounds and his movements, you guess he crouches down in front of you, placing both his hands on each of your thighs.

You reach forward, blindly searching for him, and only finding him when he guides your hands to his face. "You've been actin' off," Simon starts out, Johnny slipping in a hum of agreeance, "you're working yourself to death dove."

You let out a huff in response, not wanting to agree with him no matter how true his statement was. You run your hands through Johnny's hair, grabbing playfully at his mohawk. You lean forward, gently sliding out of Simon's hold.

His hands resting on you retract, and you almost instantly regret it, squinting your eyes in the bright light. "M'fine," you mumble quietly, letting go of Johnny and looking into his bright blue eyes, "Jus' a bit stressed".

"C'mon to bed, love," you had halfheartedly expected Johnny to plead with you, but he seemed way past that now, using a more authoritative tone and leaving little room for disagreeing. Of course, that didn't mean you weren't going to, though.

"Can't" you continue to mumble tiredly, doing your best to keep your eyes open and ignore the dull ache in your head, "still have to finish this." You hear Simon let out a heavy sigh behind you, you'd almost feel guilt under his disappointed stare if you weren't already ridden with it already.

"You've worked hard enough for today, there's always tomorrow" Simon reasons with you. You're about to protest again when he points another thing out, "don't come with another excuse, you can barely even keep your eyes open, don't deny it."

You barely catch the glance the two men exchange with each other, but you don't fail to recognize what it means. You've already lost the fight at this point, you didn't have an argument that would actually make them listen, and deep down you knew they were right.

"I…" you barely get your word out before Johnny stands up, taking your hand in his and softly pulling you to your feet. You don't know when or how, but they'd already turned off the computer you had been using.

You take a step towards Johnny, but instantly feel your vision swirl, the millions of thin pricks blacking out your view for a good couple of seconds. With a groan, you collide against his chest, closing your eyes and staying there long past how long it took for the prickling to disappear.

"Ah got ye," he mumbles quietly, bringing around his burly arms to encompass you into a hug, placing a small kiss to the side of your head. The last of your willpower and determination to continue and finish your work tonight, dwindles away when you feel his warmth.

"When's the last time you ate?" you hear Simon ask in a quieter, knowing tone. You wince against Johnny, knowing the scolding you were gonna get later. It was hard for you to recall much of anything from the day, most of it was spent in front of a screen with data, minimal breaks. You weren't entirely sure whether or not you had eaten anything that day.

Johnny takes in a deep breath; you feel his chest expand under your cheek before lowering back again. "We'll get ye some leftovers on the way back aye?" he mentions and softly turns you around, "Garrick left some from his last meal, ah think it's something ye will like."

You nod gently, letting the exhaustion take a small win when your eyes softly close. You don't feel like opening them again, being quite fine with falling asleep standing up right now. "C'mon, let's get you to bed, Johnny'll get the food." Simon places a hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you along.

"Aye."

How you stay upright all the way to your room, you have no idea. You're pretty sure you should've collapsed at least ten times on the way here, but with Simon's hand on you, you felt like you could push on just a little more, and finally you could collapse on your bed.

Simon let's out a breathy chuckle at your theatrics, moving your limbs around like you were a doll. He pulls you up and takes a seat behind you, pulling you close with your back to his chest. You feel his hot breath on your ear, and after getting yourself comfortable, you can finally feel yourself relax.

"You need to stop taking on everythin' alone" he dips his head into the crook of your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin. "You're not the only one working on this, you can take a break" he mumbles, and lets his arm travel over your midriff, pulling you even closer back against him.

"I know, but the less I’m working, the more time it's going to take to find our target" you answer, moving your hand up to run it over his scalp. Your attention is taken away from him when the soft click of the door opening reaches your ears.

With a small smile, you greet Johnny back in, watching the plate of food he brings along. As soon as you smell the delicious meal, your stomach rumbles, loudly. You grimace, once again having forgotten the gaping hole you felt in your stomach.

"Hungry then aye?" He sits down in the bed next to the two of you, handing you the plate of food, which you accept graciously. You knew how good of a cook Gaz was, but this was one of your favourites, it was likely he had intended to give you some as well, had you been available at all during the day.

You let out a sinful groan when the food collides with your taste buds. "Thank you…fucking hell," you mumble with your mouth full. You make a mental note to thank Kyle for the food later, and then also beg him for another batch.

"Easy," Simon grumbles from behind you, "gonna upset your stomach by eating so fast." His hand comes to rest against your elbow, slowing your movements so you don't inhale the food on your plate.

"I know I know," you mumble between bites, catching the cheeky grin Johnny gives you from how you sound with your mouth full. "It's fine, I can eat, take a nap and then get back to it" you declare after finishing another bite of your food.

"Nu uh," Johnny shakes his head, seemingly amused that you think you're not going to be resting longer than that. "We'll keep ye in bed until ye're rested properly" he reaches his hand forward, letting it rest on your knee while his thumb rubs against your skin.

"What you can't do that-"

"We'll do whatever it takes to make sure our darling isn't working themselves into the ground again," Simon comments from behind you, leaving you a bit stunned at his sternness. You feel him gently take the empty plate away from you and put it on the bedside table when you're done.

"You can't keep me chained to the bed," you respond with a pout, crossing your arms over your chest and twisting your body to look in the eyes of the man behind you. He doesn't look like he's about to put up with your shit, however, and doesn't even dignify you with a greater response than his infamous glare.

Johnny brings your attention back to him, turning your head back by grabbing your chin. He leans in to plant a gentle and short kiss to your lips. "Ye heard 'im, whatever it'll take love" he chuckles quietly, the breathy sort of way.

You feel heat rise in your cheeks and let out a squeal when he picks you out of Simons lap, rolling over and ending up on top of you in the bed. He rests his chin against you, letting his weight hold you down and give you a comfort to your restless edge.

The light turns off above you, and it doesn't take long after that before the bed dips and Simon joins beside the two of you. Johnny let's out a satisfied hum when Simon pulls you both closer, wrapping you all up together in the blankets.

"Goodnight, ye sleep tight now, darling."

[cvnt4him]

i would request monoma x reader bc I'm literally going crazy about him but idk-- OMG NVM MONOMA X KIND/SOFT READER

BITCH ME TOO WHEN I TELL YOU HE FR GOT ME FOAMING OUT THE MOUTH LIKE IM A RABID ASS DOGGGG.

You know you wrong as hell for that picture tho.. bc why he look so goofy, bones js doing my man wrong this season😞

...........................................

*˖°My heart.°˖*

...........................................

"I don't get what you even see in him, my love."

Mina scolds as she finishes crocheting your last butterfly loc into your hair.

It was 4 AM, you both had school in a couple hours and she had been doing your hair since 12 o'clock. Your head was pounding and was going to be throbbing for the next week. You can only imagine how bad it'll be once you put your hair into a ponytail...

You sigh from relief knowing that was the last braid you had to endure. She puts muse all over your hair, the soft yet cold air like foam covering your hair as she gently slides her hands down each braid costing it in the pleasant and calming scented hair applicator.

You stand and stretch deciding to just put your bonnet on without putting your hair up so you can just head straight to bed, not that you'd get much sleep since school started in like what less than an hour and a half? What's the point in even trying to sleep.

"he makes me laugh. he's a gentleman, he--"

"gentleman my ass."

She cuts you off with a scoff straightening up all of the things she used to do your hair, putting them away and washing the icky foam texture off of her hands.

"okay first of all, don't you ever in your life; he's a sweetheart, really he is. and I don't need you questioning my choices, you're like a sister to me so please for the love of God just fucking trust my choices for once, yeah?"

She hums and rolls her eyes putting her bonnet on and getting under her leopard printed covers. She sighs and wishes you a good night as you leave and head back to your dorm.

All you could think about while getting ready for school was how rude mina was. Sure he was quite unpleasant to your classmates but he's a sweet guy to you!! Well no.. he's just less of an asshole. You noticed that Everytime he would say some smartsss remark to your peers he wouldn't say anything even remotely bad to you. He wouldn't even look at you. It's like there was something about you that just made him go silent.

The way you looked at him however, that was a game changer. He would get all stuttery over his words and just get flustered to the point he'd live without kendo needing to assist. (Knocking his hardheaded ass out)

You figured he had a crush on you which you were completely alright with due to you reciprocating his feelings! He was so beautiful and rather charming in his own way. He was distinguished and quite dashing!!!

You had no idea how people could just say such mean things to him!!

You finish off your look with a silver necklace that makes everything pop so beautifully. Your many rings matching indefinitely. You wore a white turtle neck and a pastel pink plaid skirt with white opaque tights on underneath. Baby pink Mary Jane's accompanying your soft aesthetic.

Being in college was fun for you, the party's the sleepovers the random socks on other people's dorm handles. It was an interesting experience, one of the greatest parts about it was how you could wear whatever you wanted! No dress code, no uniforms just your own unique style!

You walked with a sway to your hips as you made it to your class, to your surprise seeing how there were different students there than normal.

You look around and see groans and laughter coming from somewhere, you turn your head out the classroom door to see some of your friend and peers angry and uncomfortable whilst a manically laughing monoma boasts about something.

Mina sees you and lights up nodding her head in monomas direction telling you in girl talk or whatever the fuck to "get your fucking man before I have kirishima walk him like a damn dog."Her eyes saying more than enough.

You chuckle which catches others attention, including monomas. He turns with a raised brow to see you, his eyes widening and a pinky tint slightly becoming visible on his features.

"hello, neito."

He clears his throat and turns to you dusting off his outfit and giving you a small grin looking to the ground, unable to hold eye contact.

"hi y/- ahem. Y/n."

His voice cracked whilst he tried saying your name instantly making him get flustered and asking a loud and entertained kirishima have a belly laugh.

Monomas turns to them and instantly shouts at them calling them "Imbeciles" and "incompetent losers" and such, the way he spoke with such sophisticated mannerisms was just amusing to you, even while arguing and being angry with people he disliked he still manages to not use foul language and be somewhat civilized. It's quite neat.

You giggle catching his attention again, he turns to you and bows his head lightly with a smile as an apology.

"what are you up to, neito?"

You ask with a tilt to your head.

"who me?! I- uhm-- y'know the usual, classes are just taking over my brain at the moment, haha!"

He jokes, making you giggle again. God you were so cute to him, the way you innocently giggled or laughed at anything, the way you dressed to adorably like an innocent little girl was oddly compelling to him.

"i see you've gotten your hair done. It looks very nice, y/n."

He says to you nodding his head to your hair, the way you had little sparkles raying off of it and how you had little star shaped clips in your locs just completes your outfit.

"awh thank you neito!! You're so sweet!"

You jump into his arms with a hug, snuggling your nose into his shirt. He blushed intensively, getting stiff and tense underneath your touch. You did such foul things to him, making him flustered and blushy like this. He never felt this way for anyone, he always wanted to be a hero and show everyone that he was just as capable of doing things his former class rivals could.

He slowly wrapped his arms around your shorter figure leaning his head down and resting it on your head, his nose burying itself into your locs and smelling the sweet smell radiating off of them.

It was an unfamiliar smell to him, yet it was so intoxicatingly sweet. Like he'd smelled it before, or like it was just something he couldn't resist. A smell he was sure he wanted to take over his senses all the time. For the rest of his life even.

The hug lasted quite some time, an angry kirishima faux clearing his throat to end the long hug. Mina rolled her eyes and nudged him, she didn't like monoma really, but if you had then she'd just have to thug that shit out. For your sake.

You pulled away first, having monoma realize where he was, which was not in a perfect mansion with a beautiful rose garden, white picket fence, and a golden retriever running around with happy and cheerful barks.

He looks down at you ass you peer up at him with beautiful eyes, the way they shine so brightly even without sunlight raying into them, the way you bat your eyelashes at him and smile innocently.

He blushed while staring deep into your eyes. Fuck he'd just imagined a whole entire life with you, making you his wife and you have his kids.

You were evil and putting him under your spell. Your evil, wicked, enchanting, perfect, beautiful, absolutely breathtaking spell. Wait what?!

He got flushed and hid his face with his hand as he looked away, his other hand still on your waist.

You put one of your hands on his neck causing him to snap his neck to look right back to your face. You look down at his chest and rub your other hand up and down it and slowly look back up to him. You smile and move your hand that was once in his neck to his flushed cheek.

He wss going to kiss you. Fuck he was actually going to kiss you, finally, after having a huge crush on you for all these years you were going to kiss him. He'd finally make you his!

"AHEM. So yeah uh, we have to get to class, right y/n? Wouldn't want kids to catch you guys Frenching in the middle of the hallway while classes are in right? Right?"

Kirishima interrupts, making up an excuse to get you away from him.

Mina face palms herself while pulling kirishima away from the two of you. Monoma watching while he gives kirishima an evil, shit eating grin. Kirishima was practically foaming out of the mouth like a raccoon with rabies.

You simply giggle before letting him go. No no no, that's not what was supposed to happen! Why'd you let him go?!

"he's right, we should get to class."

You say quietly, never taking a step back still being rather close to him, peering up at him with wide eyes and offering him a smile.

He sighs and looks away. He was extremely disappointed. Why'd that shitty shark toothed fucker have to get in his way? You were finally going to kiss him.

"but, we can hang out later, if you'd like."

"yes!-- I uhm.. yes, I would like that, if you would."

He answers quickly, before stumbling on his words and saving himself from eternal embarrassment, not that toud ever make fun of him. He was cute, and flushy. Most people didn't get to see him like that not even kendo. You were honored and wnsted to spend more time with him. So you agreed. The two do you made plans and agreed to meet and have lunch, he'd take you to see a movie and you'd go out on dinner dates.

He had so many plans for the two of you. And once you start dating you better believe you're not allowed to be around anyone without him, not that he's jealous.. he's jealous. He's so jealous, he hates anyone that's not him being in your presence. He loves you! More than anything and anyone.

He holds you with grace, being so gentle with you throughout everything. Making sure you don't have tod I anything, not lift a single finger. He holds you tight at night making you feel safe and warm. He loves matching with you, and eating with you, and doing anything to ensure everyone knows you're his. He isn't insecure or anything but he's not oblivious to the rather hot people that swarm your school. He has a hard time reassuring himself that you only have eyes for him!

You're so kind and nice to everyone it's hard to believe you're his girlfriend. Seriously, no one believes you two, but you are. You're his and he's yours. No doubt about it, he'd choose you over the world.

He loves showing you off, boasting and bragging about how cute you are, how you're his girlfriend and how no one can ever even compare to you. How your skin glows in the sunlight without any help. How you're so strong and are better than anyone who ever existed. You can be a bit of an airhead at times, he even teases you about it, but let someone dare say some shit about you, he's ready to throw words. Something tells me hes not the best at hand to hand combat..

Anyways, he loves you dearly, he makes sure to tell you constantly. He doesn't want you feeling like you're less than perfect. He has standard, rather high ones too, and you meet them to a tee.

...........................................

AN: this is x black!reader bc I js got my hair done and I've become kinda obsessed w him so. Yeah!!! I'm definitely making more monoma and tenya content bc they've recently been clouding my head. Anyways love laugh love monoma!!!

This is kind of all over the place so come back later for more and much better content including him.

[jolapeno]

x. oh, just to be with you

javier peña x f!reader | chapter ten of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: we're back to texts and phone calls. sorrowful!javi, two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love. pls don't be mad at me ✨ wordcount: 3k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

He's aware of everything. 

How the porch creaks when he steps on it, the way the back door doesn’t quite meet the frame unless it’s locked. How the wind is knocking something else, far across the tall grass and fence posts.

Right now, his focus is on how his curtains don’t quite close. That they're letting the thinnest crack of moonlight cascade through his room. How the smallest luminescent slither keeps dancing in the breeze, yet it still lands perfectly on the propped-up photo strip on his dresser, highlighting the two of you, as though he hadn't committed them to memory. 

He can’t remember the last time someone had managed to slide around his walls—bypass his common sense and begin weaving themselves into him. Javi also can't remember the last time he wanted something more than a win.

Then came you.

Not that he complains that you're the exception. He'll never complain when it comes to you. 

Having people close has never been his issue. It’s letting himself fall that he’s forever found hard. He can be a lover who makes a night all about the other; he can be a protector, shielding and doing what is needed. 

It’s the parts after when he feels he clams up. A portion of him constantly weighing up risks, calculating the damage he could cause—either by a choice he could make or others—long before the city that housed Escobar. 

Javi knew his reluctance had stemmed from before he left Laredo, but it was now carved somewhere deeper in him. Something you managed to find with relative ease and cut out of him as if it was nothing. 

All smiles. All radiance and fucking beauty, with a laugh that could make his lips curl even if his bones are aching and his muscles are tired. 

If he closes his eyes, he can almost convince himself that he’s back there, in the hotel room. Because even if you’d never been here, your room is full of him. 

His bag of spilt-out clothes from your time together, slowly letting the scent of your perfume seep out across the room. Your jacket, hung on the closet handle, and the photos and sign you made on his dresser, all perfectly in sight. 

you have nice handwriting  I did try my best, sometimes I get lazy and letters blur together more.  I like how you wrote baby Does this mean I’ve got the whole set now? Cause you like how I say it, how I write it, how I mouth it. 

Even when he had known you’d needed to get some sleep, Javi had desperately wanted to beg you to stay up. Sending back a text here or there, already missing you so much more than he was sure he could handle. 

He felt lovesick. Like the singer in all those songs that make people either stare at a loved one or bite back tears because they lost theirs. Suddenly relating to a sea of them he’s heard on the radio in the kitchen or hummed in the back of his pop’s throat. 

Javi had been happy to see his pops, somewhat surprised he even came out of the house to greet him. But, as soon as his eyes landed on him, he became suddenly more aware of his old man’s age. Noticing the lines on his face, the ones that tell a thousand stories—not all of them he’s sure he’s heard. Curling into the hug he’d barely reciprocated before, unsure how to form the words to thank him for convincing him to go. 

Naturally, he asks about you. 

It’s more of an interrogation if he’s honest. He shows the photos, the ones now on his dresser, watching his pop smile as he continues to answer the array of questions, until he yawns for the tenth time in the space of five minutes.  

“You should get some sleep, Pop.” 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Javi. Tell me more about your lady.”

Your lady. 

Those two words stand out as if they’ve been illuminated in bulbs, twinkling and shimmering. 

now youre back in reality you sure about us  Never been more sure about anything, baby.  just wanted to check  You’re beginning to sound like me, worrying.  left a mark on me  Think that’s fair, you’ve left a lot on me too. Especially my chest.  

“Tomorrow. Promise. The drive took it out of me.” 

But Javi isn’t tired. 

Somehow, he had suspected he wouldn’t be the moment he watched you leave.

For longer than he cares to number, he's struggled with it. Had developed an unhealthy live-able balance of it when he was working, something he managed to keep as a prize in his return. 

Now, it’s different.

There’s an edge to it. As though he's now having to pay back the stolen sleep he enjoyed when he had been lay with you. When he slept with ease and not struggle. Leaving him feeling now like he’s in a lull, a dream. All aware, not in a daze anymore, noticing things he had never given much attention to before his trip out of town. 

You had been so warm, so soft. His fingers gliding up and down your side, soothing you as much as it was him. But, you slept with ease. Falling almost instantly once you'd stopped talking, a little jolt and a soft sigh punctuating it.

Fuck, he misses you.

Thumb and index pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes clenched shut. Unsure how he's supposed to manage, and cope, until the next chance he gets to see you.

Till he gets to hold you in his arms, stare at your smile as it grows across your face or feels the light tap of your hand when he’s teasing you...

Something ugly curls inside of him. At first, soaked in sadness, before it shakes itself and burns bright with annoyance. Irritation. Anger at how unfair it all is. 

How is it, after all, he’s given up—he’s fallen for the one person not even in his state? A person he had to say goodbye to hours ago, for reasons out of his or their control. 

He almost snorts, unsure if it’s due to the tiredness or the reality that after all he’s faced, life would continue to be cruel and deal him such a hand. Tempted to get up, kick off the sheets and pull out the crossword from before he left town.

Javi doesn't. Instead, he closes his eyes, shaking his head—to no one but himself. Because he can't do them without you now. A promise, one given with ease.

He hears the whisper of the wind, the rustle of the trees. Something needling at him that if he wasn't so broken, this would be the perfect amount of quiet to fall asleep to.

Now, it's not the loud of a Colombian city he misses now. It's how your leg slides over his, how your breaths feel on his chest—how you twitch, ever so slightly, as you first fall asleep. 

But, it’s the quiet as to why he hears his phone vibrate, practically darting out of bed, knowing it can only be you. 

why aren’t you asleep?

Because I can't sleep without you. Apparently.

I miss you too. 

I really hate this. I even miss you digging your knee into my hip. 

told you that you’d miss it once it was gone

I feel like telling you that you’re right will mean your head will inflate.

youre right

One day, right?

if I could make that tomorrow I would

You really missing me that much? 

not enough words in the world to describe how much, baby 

Gonna make me cry. 

dont cry I can’t wipe them from here 

So not wise for me to tell you I cried the entire flight home. 

did the person you sit next to seem to mind 

They didn’t say anything until we landed. Then promptly told me that I deserved better. 

so they thought you were broken up with 

I think I may have led her to believe that from the amount I was crying. 

fuck you like me a lot 

I like you a regular, normal amount. 

I don’t think I like you a normal regular amount 

That’s the tiredness talking. 

you know it isnt 

I feel the same. I really miss you. 

I miss you too but you should try to sleep you have work tomorrow 

Okay, but so do you! 

ill be fixing a shed or a pen baby you have to deal with people 

go to sleep and then tomorrow we can call as planned 

You’d told him that you suspected the first day would be the hardest.

Not the goodbye (and that had been fucking painful) but the following day when they were apart. 

Javi hates that you’re right. 

It twists inside of him how much he loathes it—grateful that he gets to push some of his anger into repairing the side of the shed. Hammer meeting nail, again and again. Each time with more fury than is needed, only worrying after whether he’s done more damage to the shed post than pre. 

"Mijo."

He doesn't find a judgemental look, but one filled with sympathy.

His pop not quizzing him, just handing him a beer. A cold one, droplets descending down the can, sliding across his palm and down his wrist—attempting to soothe the boiling blood in his veins. 

“It’ll get easier.” His pop tugs his hat down, shielding his eyes, before staring off into the distance. “When me and your mama first began, we couldn’t see each other all the time either.” 

Letting out a sigh, Javi grinds his teeth. A sea of biting comments lathered on his tongue, all set to pounce, to poison. 

Instead, he kicks the ground, swallowing most of them back. “She wasn’t hundreds of miles away, though.” 

“No,” his Pop says, clapping his hand on his back—both for comfort and likely stability. “But we didn’t have landlines, or tha' other thing you do on y’phone. The tapping."

The tapping.

He doesn't snort, even if it sits at the back of his throat. Burying it in the liquid that slides down his throat with ease.

"Come on, ‘need to head into town, and my truck is acting up.” 

Javi doesn’t question it, why he’s the one sliding into the passenger seat of his own truck. 

If he’d thought about it, he’d have asked why the truck was acting up or why Pop was driving instead of him. But he doesn’t—didn’t. Just let it happen, staring off as the shades of grass pass him by, fingers playing with the cap on the can, twisting and twisting it. 

To fill the silence, he rolls the edges of the can around in his hands. Crunching the sides every now and again, making him wince from the noise. 

Then, he finds himself staring at the fingerprints left in the dust from you touching his dash—eyes catching sight of a hair grip on the floor near his boot. 

He’s rolling it in his fingers when they’re back on the road, silence smothering them until he watches his pop turn on the radio. As soon as it springs to life, it becomes desperate to try and cut through it. The broadcaster mumbles about heavy rain and increased traffic, but he’s lost in a sorrow of sadness all cast by the spell of a good week to care. The fog around him making it hard to see the wood through the trees, never mind the hope through the misery. 

“Dios mio. More trucks passing through now since the bridge opened. Y’noticed, mijo? So many.”

“Hmm.” 

Eyes fixed on the grip, the one more worn on one side than the other—imagining your face, the night when he’d watched you take them out, face fresh, one of his tees on your frame. 

Then, because the world isn’t cruel enough, the song changes. The radio playing a game with him now, as well as everything else, as he lifts his head, trying to focus on the road. Hearing the soft thud of his pop’s fingers on the steering wheel, his jaw tightened as the lyrics washed over him. Faintly hearing you humming along with the chorus.

Because he heard the song in the diner with you. 

Heard it on the radio one afternoon, then again in the bowling alley—how it wrapped its tune around the two of you. 

“Heard our song today,” he says, fingers massaging his temple.

He's thankful his pop said he had plans, the quietness settling over the rest of the ranch.

Before he met you, he dreaded the nights he was left alone. His thoughts gearing up, ready to pounce. The minor differences he could have made if he took a step back and stared at the facts, how he should have noticed how deep the corruption was—how much Colombia was taking from him, bit by bit. 

Now, he tries not to grin when his pop says he’s going out.

When he’s left alone, allowed full reign to talk as loud as he wants to you—rather than being huddled near the phone, whispering like a teenager. 

“Our song?” 

“Yeah.” 

Javi can practically hear you smirk. “And how does that go, charmer?” 

He’s not a singer. Not by a long shot, but he does his best. Humming the tune at first, softly singing the words from the chorus until he trails off.

You snort, before you try to muffle it in a cough. 

“You tricked me.” 

“Maybe. But, just because I wanted to hear you sing.” 

Smirking, he pulls the phone from his ear—shaking his head—before replacing it back to hear you add:

“You have a beautiful voice.” 

“Fuck you, baby.”  

Your laugh rips from you, hurtling down the phone right to his soul—making fireworks explode in his chest and warmth kiss his nerves. 

Because now he can imagine what you look like. Likely head thrown back, eyes closed—nose scrunched a little as your hands grip onto something for leverage. 

And it was beautiful. You’re beautiful—your laugh and your smile. Something he feels he should have said long before now. He’s about to rectify that, when he hears it merge into a sniffle—veering into tears and half-suppressed swallows before a noticeable little sob breaks through—as his throat dries instantly, closing. 

Turning, he places his palm on the fall as he tries to keep his chest from tightening. The knot in his chest, the one he suspects is tied to you in some way, constricts, pulling taught around his lungs.  

“I—I miss….”

You sniffle again, louder. “I've been looking forward to this all day,” you whisper, voice catching, words struggling to fall as sweetly as they usually do. “But, is it bad for me to say that phone calls aren’t the same now I’ve had the chance to be with you in person?”

Leaning his forehead against the kitchen wall, Javi wipes his chin. “Took the words outta my mouth, baby.”

He hears you chuckle, almost both heavily and heavenly, before you ask about his day. 

He rambles because it’s easy too. You listen, lapping up every single thing. Hearing about his trip to town, his pop making jokes—trying, desperately, to crack through the mist that had descended. 

“How was yours?” 

Then you sigh, all tight. You tell him about Aish and her interview, before your voice softens as you begin whispering about the prep you’re doing for your interview. He’s about to comfort you, when you continue about the asshole you work alongside has been taken out for lunch by your boss and that you snagged your favourite pair of tights on a desk.

“But, enough about that—guess what I’m wearing?”

Smiling, he bites down on his knuckle, Javi lifting his head, groaning as he tries to think. “All of your clothes at once? Anything else might short-circuit my brain.” 

“Won’t tell you then.” 

“No. Please. Tell me, baby.” 

He hears you move, and is almost sure he can hear you swallow. “You realise that you’re missing something, Javier?” 

Fuck, the way you say his name. How it drips from your tongue. Laced in lust and swirling down the phone line to his brain. 

He quickly tries to think of his washing, the piles he made—the attempted sorting. And it hits him. His eyes widened, head half-lifting, feeling his eye twitch. 

“Fuck—“

“Yes. I’m sat in that. And underwear, of course.” 

“Hermosa…”

His throat is dry, painfully so. Mind arranging an image of you from the days he spent with you. And fuck. 

“Wasn’t sure this shade of pink was my colour, but I was wrong.” 

Jutting his jaw, he closes his eyes—picturing the sight of you. The underwear he’d had the chance to peel off of you, the way it set against your skin—now, accompanied by his shirt on your arms. The buttons are likely undone, showing off more skin than he can currently process thinking about. 

“It’s nice on my skin,” you whisper, all honeyed. “Be better on my floor.” 

Clenching his fist, he bites his lip. “Baby…” 

“Maybe I’ll show you one day.” 

Snorting, he traces his teeth with his tongue. “You better. Now, tell me about the underwear.” 

“Only if you can answer six across. Clue: now.” 

Mouth parting, his jaw rolls to the side, eyes picking a spot on the wall. Thinking. And thinking. 

“Want an extra clue?” 

“An extra? You're spoiling me.” 

He hears you giggle, low and in your throat. “It’s an Italian word. And, ‘I want to see you… blank—“ 

His eyes flick up, a smile spreading. “Pronto.” 

“Correct,” you reply. “Seven words, silenced. You did this to me when you had your mouth on my—“

“Shushed,” he says quickly, fist clenching, trying to stare at the mark on the wall again, and not let the image of you populate in his head. 

“You okay, baby?” 

Gritting his teeth, he sighs. “You’re devious, you know that?” 

“I think it’s your shirt. It’s making me… flirty.” 

Grinning, he turns on the spot, back against the wall—head tilting up, eyes closing. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too….” your tone softer, frayed at the edges. “I’m kinda glad I stole your shirt.” 

“Me too. Means I get to see you to steal it back from you.” 

“Off me.” 

It comes out quickly—purposefully chosen, spilt. 

Frowning, he opens his eyes. “What?” 

“Off me. You’ll have to steal it from my body.” 

Grasping the phone, breathing through his nose, letting out a murmured, “Fuck, baby,” under his breath.  

AN: for all those wondering if they'll be together in person again, they will. i am a happily-ever-after kind of writer unless otherwise stated. but it was so important to me that they had a magical week, and then returned to their lives.

[mins-fins]

all flights are delayed !

"i like to call myself a pretty man connoisseur.."

synopsis: your sad to say it, but you don't have much going on in your life. you have a very time consuming major, just a few friends, barely any time to go out, and spend most of your free time either a: working, or b: sleeping. so for once, when you finally have the friday off, and your dragged off to go watch a football game between a rival school of yours, you really do wish you were anywhere else. somehow though, it turns out to be one of the best things to happen to you, because a charming oreo–haired musical theater major from your rival school just happens to saunter his way into your life, you didn't expect to fall in love in your junior year, but your also not complaining!

pairing: xiao dejun x male!reader

genre: college au, strangers to friends to lovers, musical theater major!xiaojun x health science major!reader, fluff, like the lightest of angst, lowkey fast burn 😖

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing(?), gay people, a little miscommunication, reader having a crisis over oreo xiaojun, probably a lot of repetitive phrases, huang guanheng is EVERYWHERE

word count: 12.8k

notes: OKAAAAAAAY hello! now in the beginning i really did enjoy writing this but after like the fourth scene its all so disgusting and jumbled up but i am also very proud of myself because this is the longest ever fic i have ever written (it is all xiao dejuns fault), actually it is ALL of nct's fault because why do i have a bunch of 8k word fics of so many nct members..😢 anyway if this seems any rushed or makes absolutely no sense at times its because im tired and i worked extra today but it doesn't really matter because constructive criticism is good (i shouldn't even publish this tbh) but there is a first for everything! enjoy!

YOU'VE NEVER BEEN A FOOTBALL FAN. now you know that might be a little of a sour opinion, especially to the men in your family, but it's just never been a sport you enjoy. it is just a little fun to watch, especially when drunk, because the sight of men in tight ass clothes running around a field chasing a ball is possibly one of the funniest things you think your drunk mind has ever seen. which is why now— in the stands, listening to the loud shouts and screams from your schoolmates, and rival scholars, you feel as if your ears have just been popped.

after all the days of working, and doing nothing but schoolwork, you were glad to have the rest of the friday off. there was nothing else you wanted to do but put on an oversized sweater, make a bowl of ramen and rewatch gossip girl for the seventy fifth time already (yes, you keep count), but no— guanheng decided he was going to drag you out of the dorm to watch stupid football game, one about "school spirit" or whatever, you weren't paying attention to him when he decided to go on his ramble, and now he's abandoned you once again! probably off to go talk to one of his 1000 other friends or something.

you almost consider leaving, but then you witness the amount of people you'd have to maneuver through, the amount of excuse me's you'd have to utter, the amount of pushing you'd endure as you tried to make your way through the crowded stands, besides, you can't leave without guanheng, your pretty much the only person responsible for keeping him alive at this point.

so you somehow suck it up and manage to stick around. your ears are practically on fire right now, and you desperately want to take off your shoes because of how they are poking you at the moment. you almost feel like your being pressed together by all the people in the stands, as if walls are slowly pushing in and crushing every single bone in your body.

"that team is doing horribly.." you mutter to yourself in an attempt to calm your crazy mind.

"i know, we suck".

at first you think you've made up the voice, because in the past hour and a half all you've heard is shouting, cheering, and loud music blasting on your ears, no one has made any attempt to talk to you since guanheng up and left you alone in the stands, so the response almost seems like muddled up words created by your brain as a response—

but it's not.

someone actually did respond to you, and in a split second there is a completely new person standing beside you, also observing the game but not looking as pleased to be there. when you do glance to your left, you come across possibly the most beautiful boy— no, person, you come across the most beautiful person you think you've ever seen in your twenty years of living, for once it feels like everything stops.

you are not the kind of person that just.. does that. now you've met tons of pretty people, you've met so many people that you could definitely say are so beautiful they could be displayed in a museum as an art exhibit, but never in your twenty years of living have you ever seen yourself go silent at the sight of a beautiful person— your brain feels like it's malfunctioning, you're not exactly sure what to say, you open your mouth but no words come out, and you almost consider punching yourself because you probably look like a complete idiot right now.

"oh? you don't go here?"

that's what you decided to say? of all things you could've said, of course he doesn't go to your school, he just implied that the other team belonged to his school, why would that be the best thing to say out of everything else?

the stranger looks up, then he laughs, and your not sure how you keep your composure. "oh no, i go to vixsith" he replies, using his thumb to point backward, though he's not pointing at anything in specific, just pointing to point. you're not sure why you pick up on that, or why you're even watching where his hands are going anyway.

"your insulting your own team?" you inquire, and he laughs even harder at your question, covering his mouth with his hand. "this is about school spirit, have faith in them" you joke, and all he does is continue laughing, crossing his arms as he tries his best to calm himself down.

"i'm being honest, the only person on that team who knows how to play is mark, he deserves better" he remarks, eyes focused on the player he just named. he then seems to have a random realization and turns to you once again. "i'm dejun by the way" he holds out his hand for you to take, and you just blink at it like an idiot, before coming back to your senses and quickly shaking his head.

"y/n".

at the sound of your name, he seems to have yet another realization. he points at you and narrows his eyes. "we have a mutual friend don't we?"

at the question, you narrow your eyes, cogs turn in your brain as you think about who he could possibly be referring to, then it comes to you—

"guanheng".

the two of you say his name in unison, and the two of you both try to stifle your laughs as the realization dawns on you. "he knows everyone i swear" you mutter, and dejun snorts, looking away from you to laugh. "even from other schools.."

"oh we go way back" dejun responds, moving his hair out of his face. "middle school actually" he adds, and your eyes widen, as if your shocked, of course guanheng has friends from way back when, why are you surprised?

you don't feel as surprised as you do lucky..

"was he still as inhumanely flexible as he is now?"

dejun laughs again, he does that a lot. "yes, yes he was".

"he talks about you a lot.. you know" dejun comments out of the blue, tucking his hair behind his ear. "he basically lives with us, and if he's not sleeping over we always assume he's with you".

"oh so that's why he always just.. appears and disappears.."

"yeah that's kind of his thing" dejun scrunches his face, looking bored by the lack of action happening on the field. "i can never find him unless he directly comes to me first" he doesn't look at you as he says those words, but you're very much staring at him the whole time.

you almost feel like a creep in a way, you want to punch yourself in the face again for continuing to stare at him. you blink a couple times before turning your face away, trying to correctly articulate your thoughts.

"both teams suck".

you only say those words because you want him to continue talking, you want to hear him talk, it's nothing that crazy, having a conversation with him is just so intriguing to you for some reason..

"well yeah— but you guys get more training so you have an advantage" he comments, narrowing his eyes at the field, arms crossed over his chest. "the guys on our team have no idea what their doing".

"do you like football?" you ask, not sure why your so interested in his answer, you just are, you have no explanation for your sudden intrigue of this charming oreo–haired boy that goes to your rival school.

your much too distracted by how gorgeous he is to worry about giving yourself an explanation.

dejun laughs again, shaking his head. "not really, my dad does, so i just know things because of all his screaming and shouting" he replies, arms still crossed over his chest. "i'm not really a sports person, i do musical theater for pete's sake".

"oh so you sing?" you don't mean to ask another question, you're worried that you might be bothering dejun with your constant inquiries, but he actually seems glad, excited that someone is asking him about his major.

"well yeah" he responds, his smile growing. "all things theater, i write the songs, i act the parts, i play instruments, sometimes i even take offstage roles instead of my usual onstage ones".

he fiddles with his fingers, picking his nails. you assume, from his mannerisms, that he doesn't know what to say because most people don't really ask him about his major, or what he does, it's like he's elated that you even asked him.

"what about you?" dejun instead asks, veering away from the topic of his major and instead making yours the main topic of discussion. "what do you do?"

"health science" you say the words as if it pains you to, like it's the single most uninteresting thing you've said this whole interaction. "i know, it's boring".

dejun laughs again; "no no! i didn't say that!" he waves his hands in a disagreeing manner as he chuckles at your words. "i just don't meet a lot of people interested in pursuing science.."

"it's more of the health aspect than science actually" you mutter, and dejun just looks even more interested in what you have to say now. "but science is a big part of it so.."

"you must be very smart then" dejun remarks, smiling as the two of you make eye contact.

"i'm alright" you just say, finally pulling down your formerly rolled up sweater sleeves now that the air outside has begun cooling down. you only lightly shiver, and you glance back at dejun one more time..

"where do you think guanheng is?" he asks, clearing his throat as he scours the still full and lively bleachers, searching for your friend. "off doing whatever he does.."

you're currently very distracted, and you don't even realize what's going on when you snap out of whatever daze you were having and everyone is suddenly standing up and cheering like there's no tomorrow.

dejun looks over at you, and he can clearly see how confused you are because he laughs for one last time. "you guys won!" he somehow manages his voice over the roar of the crowd. "congrats!"

he's yelling, but he's not exactly loud, he still manages to sound so gentle whilst yelling at you.

"thanks!" you blurt out as a reply, and you feel like a complete idiot for that, but dejun smiles, so you don't feel all that embarrassed.

the game is over, and people are going to start to leave soon. dejun looks back, spotting a group he recognizes, then he looks over at you, a smile on his face. "i've gotta go now" he says, almost disappointed in a sense. "it was nice meeting you y/n!"

you nod, not knowing what to say. "yeah! you too!"

you too? you too?? is that what you say y/n!?

dejun gives one more beautiful smile before heading off, and you blink, having absolutely no idea what just transpired in those few minutes.

holy shit i forgot to ask—

but you couldn't— because he was gone, gone in such a flash you couldn't even spot his oreo hair in the crowd.

YOU FORGOT TO ASK FOR HIS NUMBER. YOU FEEL SO STUPID, your not even sure why you wanted to ask him that, but in the back of your mind that was the question you were preparing yourself to ask from the moment he told you his name, that he was friends with guanheng, the moment the two of you began laughing about your majors and stuff like that. the whole interaction with a pretty oreo–haired musical theater major at a football game is all that you were thinking about last night, as you tried to find pretty much anything else to think about as you struggled to sleep.

how did you forget to ask him for his number? you want to smash your face into your computer screen because of how stupid you are. you said "you too!" like a fucking idiot, but maybe you were just too distracted, he was smiling at you with that beautiful smile and staring at you with his absolutely gorgeous fucking eyes, how could you even think coherently whilst a beautiful man (from a whole other school but who cares?) was staring at you with his pretty brown eyes like you were the only person in the world?

okay your pushing it now..

but there is just something, something about him that drew you in, your not sure why you were so adamant on getting to know him, but he was just so— you can't explain it right now! you are currently very sleep deprived and also moody because of your disappearing roommate that always decides to appear at the worst times.

you don't remember the last time you ever got an actual eight hours of sleep, these days that seems like a dream more than a reality, but guangheng is just never tired. he's somehow always up, doing something, hanging out with people, he never sits down in once place and just stays still.

when he walks into the room, hands on his hips and gaze immediately focused on you, you barely bat an eye at him, just spare him a quick glance, noticing how pissed off he looks. you scour your mind for an explanation as to why he must be mad now, probably something someone said, or he got into yet another argument with one of his classmates, your not even sure anymore, you don't know where he is half the time.

"could you do me a favor?"

you almost laugh out loud, not at him, but at the idea that he wanted you to do him a favor. at this point, he probably owes you thousands of favors considering how many you do for him, but he seems upset, and you don't have any of that pettiness leftover to ignore him, so you move your eyes to look over at him.

"why should i?"

okay— you lied, your still just a little petty, but you totally have every right to be! guanheng deserves just some sass from you after disappearing each and every time he decides to take you out somewhere.

guanheng blinks, then he pulls out the signature guanheng frown, a sad stupid frown he always makes when he wants to persuade you into doing something. you're not sure how you've even ever fallen for that signature frown, maybe it's because he's just so great at looking sad, at looking upset, he somehow always manages to make you feel bad for him, and therefore, end up doing the favor for him.

"because i'm your best friend, your roommate, and you love me so much" guanheng smiles wide, like he just found out he won the lottery, and clasps his hands together as he rocks back and forth on his heels.

"i don't know.." you mumble, looking back at your computer screen. it's a saturday, you have no classes saturday, you can just sit down, relax, be the absolute lazy motherfucker you were put on this earth to be. "i don't feel like going out today".

guanheng huffs, crossing his arms. "one last favor! just one! then i'll get off your back!"

"your horrible at following your promises, heng" you comment absentmindedly, your tone is much meaner than you intended, and guanheng's gasp is enough to tell you that he indeed takes offense to those words. "what? i'm not lying".

"y/n!" oh great, he's whining now. "i will get you anything i can, anything! just this one favor! please?"

your about to say no again— but then it's like a lightbulb goes off in your head, and you get a spectacular idea. anything? he did say anything, and he can give you something you want.

the number of a pretty boy preferably!

you let out a sigh, and guanheng knows what that sigh means, it means you agree. "fine, i'll do you this favor, but this is the last one".

guanheng's smile brightens, and he cheers like a kid that just got the best christmas present one can receive. "thank you! thank you! thank you! i love you!" he kisses your cheek, and skips off to another room.

"get your jacket!" he shouts, already rooms away from you, so he has to shout.

"what?"

"get your jacket! were leaving!"

you furrow your eyebrows at his words, but you don't say anymore, because you did agree to do this favor for him after all.

so, without questioning it more, you get up and go grab your jacket.

"SO WHEN YOU SAID A FAVOR..?" you don't continue on with your sentence, pausing to let out a breath as you shove your hands into the pockets of your jackets. guanheng looks over at you, and he just chuckles at the unreadable expression on your face. when you agreed to do this favor for him, you didn't know it included leaving your dorm and having to be dragged out to yet another unfamiliar place. "did you forget to mention the fact that we'd have to leave the school?" you finally finish, eyes focused and narrowed on your friend, who again, smiles at you with that signature guanheng smile.

"it's a saturday, most of us don't have classes anyway, they won't question it".

"is that supposed to make me feel better?" you ask to yourself more than to guanheng, but he hears you anyway, and that results in a snicker from him. despite that, he doesn't respond to your silent question, making you frown just the slightest.

"stop pouting".

"i'm not pouting" your quick to rebut, rolling your eyes at his words. you almost bump into him when he suddenly stops, and your about to yell at him again for being stupid when he places a finger on your mouth.

he knocks on the door in front of him, not paying attention to the burning glare your currently sending him.

"i'll bite off your finger" you threaten, moving forward and pretending your about to do that. guanheng squeaks and quickly moves his fingers away from your lips, a flash of true fear in his eyes. all you do is give him a menacing and totally not threatening smile.

"psycho.." he whispers, he looks like he's about to say more, but the door opens, so he closes his mouth and turns around.

"come on!"

he grabs your wrist and drags you into the dorm, and you felt your heart rate increase. maybe he knew these people, but you sure didn't! what if they thought you were weird? you want to pull him back and tell him that he shouldn't just drag you into some strangers dorm, but he is much too distracted to even notice your uneasiness.

"i've returned!" guanheng yells, letting go of your hand to place his hands on his hips, as if he was proud of himself.

"can you slam the door on him!?"

"ten! come to me!"

before you can ask him what the hell is going on, he sprints down the hallway, you assume to go after this ten person, you just blink, shoving your hands into your pockets as you begin to rock back and forth on your heels.

"hello stranger!" an unfamiliar voice exclaims, you look up and come face to face with a pink–haired boy with a bright smile.

"hello" you reply politely. "i like your hair" you immediately remark, pointing at his hair like an idiot because you don't want to touch it and make him uncomfortable.

his face lights up, as if you were a millionaire that just gifted him a life changing amount of money. it was as if no one ever told him that his hair was pretty before, or that they liked it. he jumps up and squeals, excited. "thank you! ten said it was stupid!"

you furrow your eyebrows, then chuckle. "what? no it's very pretty, pink suits you!"

"hah! i told you guanheng! pink does suit me!" he yells down the hall, and you can hear the small shout of rebuttal that guanheng responds with from all the way down the hall. "thanks! only a few people actually noticed that i dyed my hair".

you laugh again, okay he is very funny, you like him!

"oh! i'm yangyang! the nicest person who lives here!" he introduces himself in the same fashion a reality tv star would, and quickly grabs your hand to shake it. you don't complain, just laugh again as he vigorously shakes your hand.

"y/n, it's nice to meet you".

he gasps, recognizing your name. "oh you're the famous y/n! guanheng always talks about you, for a long time i was convinced he was in love with you!"

"why are you tarnishing my brand!?" guanheng shouts again, sounding even more pissed off than he did before. "huh!? liu yangyang!?"

yangyang shakes his head, ignoring guanheng's loud shouts and flapping his hand, mocking him. you laugh as you watch him mock the other, who has absolutely no idea what he's doing right now.

"you have a project to do!" another unfamiliar voice shouts.

yangyang gasps again, suddenly looking stressed. "fuck yeah— um!" he turns around and reaches over to grab his laptop, then he turns back to you and gives you a smile.

"yeah, my apologies" you just wave it off, urging him to keep going. "um i'm doing a project where i have to interview people on their majors.. trust me i don't know either, but! i've interviewed like the whole school already, and i need one more person.."

"and that person is me?" you ask, but you already know the answer to that question, yangyang nods, much more quickly than he seemed to intend to.

"yes!" he exclaims, but then he clears his throat. "but only if you want to, i don't want to force you into anything you don't want to do—"

"no no no it's fine!" you cut into his sentence, shaking your head. yangyang, again, looks elated that you agreed.

okay so this was the favor guanheng wanted you to for him! (not for him necessarily— but his friend). he could've just told you about this straight up instead of being vague about it, it wasn't even that burdening of a favor, not like the other ones you've done for him.

"guanheng! why don't you bring him around more often? he's better than you are!" yangyang yells again, probably for the nth time that hour.

guanheng doesn't answer, but you knows he's pouting, you can just sense it at this point, you call it your "roommate instincts".

"oh hi y/n".

now that's a voice you recognize, and you almost don't believe your eyes when the one person that kept you up all night walks into the room and smiles as he sees your figure. "dejun, hi" you smile back at him, hoping you don't sound as awkward as you feel.

dejun looks so so pretty, as he always does. he fiddles with the necklace hanging around his neck, his eyes lingering on you for an unspecified amount of time.

"ten hit me with his shoe" guanheng suddenly storms into the room, arms crossed over his chest. "asshole.." he mutters under his breath, huffing like some sort of baby.

dejun then laughs, covering his mouth with his hand, and that causes you to laugh, turning your head to the side as to not make it obvious.

guanheng exchanges glances between the both of you, a prominent glare in his eyes, but then the look in his eyes changes, and he points at the two of you. "you two have met?" he asks.

dejun pauses, still humored by the previous words said by guanheng, and your brain almost malfunctions once again. "i— um" great, you just sound so natural and not awkward.

"we met at the game" dejun immediately says, saving you the awkwardness of having to collect your words in your brain. you thank whatever god or deity up there for dejun's quick response, and he just flashes you that familiar pretty smile. "yesterday, you know, while you were off doing who knows what.."

guanheng gasps, looking at dejun like he'd just cursed his entire bloodline. "you— your just such a bitch! you know!?"

"ow! don't punch me! i'm fragile!"

guanheng lands one more punch on his shoulder, and it gets one more squeak out of dejun, who jumps once again. "i don't care, your horrible".

yangyang blinks, probably already used to their little quarrels. he then turns to you, just shaking his head as they continue to whisper–argue. "so, what do you major in?"

it's almost like you totally forgot, his project, the thing that guanheng dragged you here to help him with. "health sciences, i take courses in everything related to healthcare and like— half actual science courses?"

"so your looking to work in healthcare?"

"yeah basically, i've already taken courses in emergency service's, becoming a paramedic is my top option!"

yangyang gasps at your words, he looks over at guanheng, then quickly back at you. "are you single?" he asks, again with the same quickness.

dejun snorts, hitting guanheng as begins laughing hard. guanheng scrunches his nose, staring at yangyang like he's crazy. "what kind of question is that!?"

"what? that is a totally valid question to ask!" he exclaims, crossing his arms. "it's for my project! clearly!" he lies.

"your— oh my god, unbelievable".

"so are you?" yangyang asks again, looking at you with suspenseful eyes. he is very much interested in your answer it seems.

your finally finished with your laughing fit, and nod, still very amused. "yes i am, i'm single".

"good, this is very important information".

yangyang gives you a giddy look, and dejun just continues to laugh.

you're not sure why your so focused on him though..

YOU AGAIN, HAVE NO LUCK SLEEPING that night, and after the first hour and a half of tossing and turning, you gave up on trying to chase slumber you knew you wouldn't be able to catch. you assumed that the longer you stared at your computer screen, the quicker you'd get tired and the quicker your eyes would become heavier, but no! it's now almost two in the morning and you still aren't sleepy in the tiniest bit, you didn't know insomnia got this bad, if you knew this prior to coming back to school this year, you would've bought more of those sleeping pills. you lean your chin onto your hand as your computer continues playing audio from a random episode of brooklyn nine–nine.

the millions of thoughts rampant in your mind were probably distracting you, rendering it impossible to sleep, and also rendering it impossible to focus, seeing as your just looking around your room, which is pretty much boring you considering all you've been doing for the past thirty minutes is looking around your own room.

you think your gonna bore yourself to death, you pretty much prepare to stay up for the next five hours until your alarm rings and startles you out of your daze (which has happened way too many times for your comfort), but then your phone rings.

it's almost two in the morning, who exactly is calling you at this time? who knows that you're awake at 1:56 in the morning and decided to call you? they probably knew you'd pick up..

and you know who it is— it's so obvious.

dejun.

you don't mean to pick up your ringing phone as fast as you do, you want to punch yourself in the face for how desperate you seem, and you almost don't answer the phone because you feel so embarrassed. "hello?"

"hi!" dejun sounds way too joyous for someone who is sleep deprived, and up at 1:57 am. "sorry? was that too loud?"

"no no your fine" you reply, even though the speaker is on, guanheng can quite literally sleep through anything, there was one time the fire alarm was going off for a good ten minutes and he didn't even budge. "guanheng is a pretty heavy sleeper".

"he's lucky, i can't sleep" the sound of shuffling on the other line resonates in your ears, and dejun huffs, sounding frustrated. "you were the only person i assumed would be awake".

you snicker. "why is that?" you inquire, he was right, of course, but you just wanted to hear his reasoning, and also wanted him to keep talking.

you really like dejun's voice for some reason, it just scratches the right part of your brain. in these past two days you realized that you like a lot of things about dejun, many more things than you thought you might.

"your major has the word 'science' in it so i just assumed the amount of sleep you get is slim to none".

now that gets another laugh out of you, you laugh much more than you intend to, but also— it's dejun, and you can't resist the loud laugh that escapes your lips.

oh your such a desperate little bitch—

"well you'd be correct" you respond, humming as you pick at your nails. "at this point sleeping is beginning to make me tired".

there's a long pause, and your worried you made everything more awkward, because you don't hear anything from the other line. for a moment, you're almost convinced dejun hung up on you, but before you can speak he beats you to it.

"i can keep you company until you get tired" he immediately suggests, and you almost choke on your spit when he says that. "i don't mind".

you go silent, feeling as if all logical thoughts in your mind have suddenly disappeared into the air. you might sound like a complete loser right now but that was just so sweet of him to suggest, you smile much too wide for your own comfort, but you don't even think about that, because your just so charmed by the words.

"you are.." you pause, clasping your hands together as you think about what words to say next. "yeah yeah, that's fine" you finally continue, your new words having no connection to the previous ones you previously said, you just hope dejun doesn't notice.

"good! it would've been awkward if you said no" dejun giggles, and you just can't get over how cute he sounds. "plus, i wouldn't want you to be tired in the morning, lord knows how much you do in a day.."

you feel an unfamiliar fluttering feeling in your stomach, because he is so considerate? he wants to help you, he's just being so nice to you at.. two! two in the morning! you bite down on your bottom lip, hoping it doesn't bleed from how hard your tooth drives into it.

"aww, you care about me that much?" you ask, just wanting to hear him talk again. you feel like a teenage girl giggling and kicking her feet over a high school crush, except you can't kick your feet and giggle because then dejun would know.

"okay, be quiet, don't make me hang up".

"okay okay don't do that!" you say, totally meaning to sound as desperate as possible this time. "if your not here i won't ever fall asleep".

you hear something similar to a squeal on the other line, as if dejun had heard your words and just freaked out.

the realization honestly boosted your ego.

"you— you suck!"

"you offered to help me jun, don't get like this now!"

you're not sure how long it goes on for, but you swear you two laugh all night while on the phone.

"SO WHOSE THE GUY?" the question is asked so abruptly that at first, you assume you heard your friend wrong. when you look up, he stares at you with that deadpanned gaze, and that's when you realize he's completely serious. you chuckle at the realization that your friend is sure that your in love with someone (well you are— your just surprised that he figured out so quickly). "what guy? there's a guy?" you tilt your head, acting as if you have no idea what he could possibly be talking about. you giggle as you watch him slowly get even more irritated by your answer.

"you always come in here looking a little less miserable each day" chenle observes, leaning forward as he narrows his eyes at you. "someone is making you excited to live life?"

"do i always come in here looking miserable?" you ask, completely diverting your attention from chenle's previously asked question, which makes him pout.

"yep!" renjun exclaims, sitting beside you, he crosses his legs in his chair and presses his lips into a thin line. "so! who is he?"

the two seem way too excited to know about your never talked about before crush on dejun. now— you didn't know it was so obvious that you were now smitten for this new guy, you're usually the friend that's known from straying the furthest away from love, you don't remember any people you've legitimately liked that weren't elementary school crushes..

so yeah, your friends totally had every right to be surprised, because your absolutely smitten for a man and they just want to know who this man that is making you so happy is!

you hate that you give in so easily. "he's one of guanheng's friends.." you mutter, picking at your nails, looking down to make sure you don't witness renjun and chenle's reactions with your own two eyes.

renjun gasps, sounding like those ladies at the hair salons that just heard the juiciest gossip. "ooh! who? does he go here? do we know him? is he pretty?"

chenle looks over at renjun like he's crazy, that familiar judging stare in his eyes as he watches renjun lean closer to you with a totally not creepy smile on his face. "don't you think your acting a little too interested in this?"

"i just want to know!" renjun shouts, playfully glaring at the younger. he then turns back to you, and you assume his cheeks must be hurting from how hard he seems to be smiling. "tell me please?"

"he's— he's just your run of the mill pretty guy who is nice, and smart, and absolutely adorable who tells horrible jokes that still end up being funny in some way and he has a pretty laugh and i just love his voice, and talking to him, and, i can't even explain it because it'll sound stupid!"

"you sound like a psycho" chenle immediately says, laughing at you like you just confessed to an atrocious crime against humanity. you sink into your chair, slumping towards the side.

"aww! the pessimistic y/n is in love!" renjun squeals, again, like those women at the hair salon who just heard the juiciest gossip. he grabs your arm and shakes you vigorously, causing you to get dizzy in the slightest bit. "i can't believe i've lived to see this day!" he shouts, continuing to shake you as you can't properly get out your cries for help.

"renjun you're gonna kill him" chenle pinches the older in the arm, making him yelp and jump, he giggles as he witnesses the glare the older male sends him, his crushing grip remains around your arm, but you don't even mention at this point, because at least he's not shaking you anymore.

"sorry" he remarks, definitely not sorry as he squeezes your arm once again, beginning to get overly excited. "it's just.. exciting you know?"

"it's exciting that i'm in love with someone?" you raise an eyebrow, and though you expect renjun to respond, chenle quickly does.

"yep! you'll finally be gone!"

his cheer results in a gasp of offense from you, and all chenle does is giggle in victory.

THE ONE THING YOU'VE LEARNED FROM THE now excessive amounts of times you've hung around guanheng's other friends is that they're loud, they are all really loud (even sicheng! who, for a good majority of the time, is always quietly staring at his friends with clear concern in his eyes), even if they don't mean to, they're somehow always either yelling, shouting, or making some sort of scene. they're all just naturally hilarious, like comedians that don't realize they're comedians because they're just being themselves. in the past few weeks, it's like you spend more time with these people that don't go to your school in comparison to people that actually go to your school and that you can see easily.

but if you're being honest, you don't really mind that your spending all your free time with them, because they are indeed very fun to be around (and you get to see dejun much more regularly, which is something you rather enjoy), and because life would be insanely boring if guanheng didn't decide to drag you out of the dorm every other day to go do stupid things with his friends that go to a whole other school.

"you are such a cheater! i won fair and square!"

"you did not! your the cheater! sicheng is my witness!"

sicheng, who was not listening to anything either ten or yangyang had to say, looked over at the younger with a look of concern washed over his features. he blinks as he's suddenly put on the spot, smiling nervously as the youngest stares intensely at him, waiting for his answer. "uh.. i— i don't know".

his delivery makes you burst out laughing, and you cover your mouth with your hand as to not make yourself look like an absolute fool. you don't even realize that you picked up on one of dejun's habits, you might be spending too much time around him..

actually, forget that! there is no such thing as spending too much time around dejun, and that might make you sound like a "simp" but you don't care.

you've fallen, and you've fallen hard.

"okay.." guanheng presses his lips into a thin line, ignoring the way ten and yangyang now begin discussing the logistics of cheating in card games, unfortunately dragging poor sicheng into their argument. he turns to dejun and scoots closer to him. "can you do me a favor?"

dejun groans, playfully rolling his eyes. you assume he's done as much favors for guanheng as you have, and you barely stifle the snicker that dares to escape your lips.

dejun hears the sound, and smacks your arm hard, making you jump. he only gives you a teasing smile before turning to guanheng, having to give him a response.

"at what lengths do i have to go for this favor?"

guanheng scoffs, crossing his arms. "it's nothing insane or anything, i just want you to get me something.."

"and you can't get it yourself because..?"

"i have no money on me" and there goes that signature guanheng frown, dejun opens his mouth to argue but then he shuts it so quickly it seems like he just got out in some sort of trance.

"fine fine" dejun rolls his eyes once again, surrendering much too quickly. "you owe me though—"

"take y/n with you".

there's a pause, both you and dejun go very silent for a moment. whilst dejun is just confused, you absolutely know what guanheng is doing, and you have to use every bit of patience in your body to restrain yourself instead of jumping over the table and tackling him right then and there.

dejun is clearly clueless, though, because he just raises an eyebrow. "why?" he inquires, somehow sounding so sweet even though his question is asked with so much confusion.

"y/n knows what i want".

what a smooth lie, dejun glances over at you, and you just shrug, having no idea what more to say. "he needs to take a walk anyway" guanheng lies again, wow, two in a row! he's on a roll.

"okay..?"

so that's how you find yourself on a walk with the person that you are very much in love with, a somehow comfortable silence spread between the two of you as dejun hums an unfamiliar tune to himself, hands in his pockets, eyes closed as he slowly sways back and forth.

he looks very peaceful, just doing what he does, being effortlessly pretty as he does so, and you observe his behavior, almost entranced by it in a sense.

you only stop when he speaks up—

"do you think they're still arguing?" he suddenly asks, and you snap out of whatever daze you were having, praying that he totally didn't notice you admiring him like a creep. "or are they just.. conversing calmly now?"

you don't want to seem like even much more of a weirdo, but you feel like he asked that question just as an excuse to talk to you, and maybe your thinking too much into it, but you've definitely done that before, so you know what it looks like.

"i hope they aren't still arguing" you answer, and dejun looks up at you, smiling. "that'd be a long ass time to argue".

"well they like arguing just to argue" dejun replies, fiddling with his necklace. "but they're harmless.. for the most part".

his delivery makes you laugh, and you look down at your shoes. "you're a very calm person, you know, the opposite of guanheng".

the sudden statement from dejun makes you look up at him once again, and this time, he's staring directly at you, as if he had been waiting to make eye contact with you the whole time. "calm?"

"well compared to my roommates you are" he giggles, and maybe he doesn't mean to, but he stares at so intensely that your legs feel shaky.

"who knows? maybe i'm a fraud" you tease, purposefully leaning closer to him so your words have an effect. dejun's eyes widen, and he lightly leans away from you, looking speechless. "you'd never know, though".

you don't know how you suddenly got so bold, or why you were so amused at the sight of dejun freaking out, you feel like some sort of genius for what you just did, and you snicker at yourself before leaning back.

dejun takes in a deep breath, looking like he's trying to fix himself. he clears his throat and stumbles through his next words. "i— uh.. you're such an idiot!" he decides to say, crossing his arms over his chest.

your not sure how the two of you became so casual in this amount of time, a few weeks ago, dejun wasn't such a regular figure in your life, and you were just any other college student doing their best to get by, not thinking about falling in love with a gorgeous oreo–haired man—

but you're also not complaining.

you aren't sure how you got so lucky, how it just happened that you could continue to spend time with the cute boy you met at a stupid football game simply because the two of you shared mutual friends, it's one of times guanheng's actually done you a favor, without even realizing it too!

"okay i'm sorry" you giggle, shoving your hands into your pockets, you once again begin taking from dejun's habits and sway back and forth. "seriously!"

"you're unbelievable" dejun exaggerates, rolling his eyes, but it wasn't serious, and you knew it wasn't serious. "but i meant what i said, your calm".

you raise an eyebrow at him, wanting to know more about the observations he has about you. "could you elaborate on that?" you don't mean to laugh, but you do, and it causes dejun to laugh too.

"you just.. seem content with what you have" he explains, but he doesn't explain it enough, so he continues. "like someone could get you a piece of paper as a birthday gift and you'd be pleased".

you laugh, hard, because he somehow managed to get you spot on. you almost feel like he is reading your mind, because he nailed you down with each word. "really? i guess i am like that".

"ah, so my prediction was right then!"

you laugh at how glad he is. "yeah, i am truly not that hard to please, gifts are gifts and if someone gets one for me, there's no use in being mad if the gift isn't something i like, at least they remembered to get me something!"

dejun stares at you for a specifically long time, looking you up and down. he stares at you with warm eyes, a gaze that seems so near and dear to his heart, a gaze so loving that it looked like he was about to get down on one knee and propose to you.

"i like any and all gifts" you continue.

"are there any specific kinds of gifts you like?"

dejun asks that question in a tone that makes it seem like he's totally not trying to sound suspicious, but he is totally asking you that question for a very specific reason.

guanheng must've told him something..

at least, that's what you assume, but dejun is patiently waiting for your answer, and you can't daydream the whole time about the true meaning of his words.

"i like books, plushies, music tapes, vinyl's, you know.. regular gifts that people like receiving".

dejun hums, as if he's noting down the information you're telling him in his mind, still, you don't say anything about his mannerisms, just keep it to yourself.

"are you noting down my reply?"

"i'm just keeping it in mind!" he says, smiling brightly at you. "just in case your special occasion comes up and i don't know what to get you".

oh! so guanheng definitely did tell him something..

"i mean— were friends! any gift from you will be a good gift".

at the word friends, dejun seems to pause, cogs in his brains turning as he tries to process your words. you don't understand why he would be trying to understand your words, because the two of you were clearly friends, did he think you two were something else?

you see the flash of disappointment on his face, but it quickly reverts back to a smile and he simply acts like nothing happened. "sorry, the word 'friends' just caught me off guard".

a lie..

how interesting.

"seriously though, i just want to get you a gift you'll appreciate forever".

but you're already enough for me— do you know how much you've changed my life?

your own thoughts manage to surprise you, because the words that you just told yourself in your own mind startle you enough that you make a judging face at yourself. luckily, dejun is turned away from you, so he doesn't notice.

"well that's thoughtful of you".

"i try my best.." he responds, finally looking back at you with that same loving stare, one that wants to lure you in and make you trip on your own feet.

for some reason, the two of you stop. there's an uncharacteristically long pause, like the world just decided to cease for a moment, and you both are completely stuck in place, just there, staring at each other.

dejun's eyes move, as if scanning your face like a camera, and they (of course) stop at your lips. he stares at them for what seems like forever, and it almost looks like he's restraining himself, but by the way he bites his bottom lip, it's clear—

he wants to kiss you.

and maybe there's a small voice at the back of his head that tells him to cut it out, because he almost immediately snaps out of whatever daze he was having, and clears his throat, his cheeks going a bright red.

"uh— sorry, yeah, um, we should get going" he says, shaking his head as he pulls his sleeves down.

"guanheng will yell at us if we're late".

okay, so he just decides to not talk about it? you want to ask him why he didn't just do it, because he clearly wanted to, but before you can even open your mouth, or get any words out, he grabs your hand and the two of you continue walking back to the group.

he doesn't say anything more, doesn't try to make anymore small talk, and while you do want to bring up what just happened there, you don't.

you just bask in the feeling of dejun's hands intertwined with your own.

it's a good feeling, you decide.

THAT MOMENT IS STUCK ON YOUR MIND for what seems like years. you can't get over it! how he was looking at you, how he clearly wanted to kiss you, but for some reason, decided to stop himself from doing so. you're not sure why you didn't just tell him that it was okay, that you would be completely fine with him kissing you, but you guess that you're just a complete idiot as well, because you just stayed silent throughout the whole thing, the two of you equally deciding in silence to not bring it up, just sitting next to each other in awkwardly for the rest of the night.

and yeah, it's become normal for dejun to constantly run through your mind these days, it's like he has his own subsection in your mind, dedicated to thoughts about him and him only, but it's like he's just become rampant in there ever since that.. thing he did (or should you say, didn't do, considering he decided to not kiss you when the opportunity was right there), maybe you should've pulled him in, maybe you should've (for once) been impulsive and done the first thing put to your mind.

and this crawls through your mind for days, then those days become a good week and a half. now— you and dejun aren't not talking or anything, it was just sort of difficult to look at him without thinking about that.

you're so into your thoughts these days, that you are much more spacey during your classes, at home, and somehow, guanheng picks up on your weird turn, which is crazy, because guanheng was the last person you expected to notice something like that, he usually never notices most things in front of him anyway.

"okay, what the fuck happened?" he decides to randomly drop it on you when he seems to have had enough, which is funny, because he's technically the person that started the whole thing.

you look up from your phone, blinking at him like he just said something out of this world. "hm?" he scoffs at your lack of a response, shoving your shoulder, which results in a glare from you.

"what happened?" he asks again, this time without the extra swear word, he makes himself comfortable on the other side of the couch. "you are acting weird" he points at you accusingly, like you'd just been accused of a crime and he was trying to figure out if you were truly suspicious.

"i don't know what your talking about.."

"stop stalling!" he complains, grabbing your arm and beginning to shake you back and forth. "tell me! you can't keep acting weird and just not tell me what's wrong".

now you want to tell him, but in your mind it sounds so stupid that you feel like guanheng would laugh at you the moment you uttered the first few words of your sentence. "you're going to laugh".

guanheng gasps, offended by your response, though it is true, he just wants to be dramatic. "i won't! i'm concerned! i'm being a good roommate and asking you what's wrong!"

so, you roll your eyes, taking a deep breath. "okay so hypothetically.." you begin, because you have no other idea how to start your sentence.

hypothetically just means = it was indeed not hypothetical!

"hypothetically, uh huh.." guanheng hums, understanding the true meaning your words have. "okay sorry, continue".

"let's just say that, hypothetically, i am totally in love with one of your best friends, and that friend totally wanted to kiss me but then chickened out last minute and like an idiot i didn't say anything and i have no idea how to go about it".

guanheng's eyes widen at your words, and his jaw almost drops. "hypothetically though" you add to the end of your sentence after a long pause.

"right right! hypothetically.." he nods, though he can't contain his look of excitement at the words. "and you didn't kiss him back!?"

you're almost knocked off the chair from how intense his yell is. you groan and cover your face with your hands, embarrassed and ashamed. "i didn't know how to bring it up and not be awkward!"

"just say 'hey dejun you could totally kiss me and it'd be fine because we are both mortifyingly in love with each other'!" guanheng shouts, louder than his previous words. he's always so straight up, and you almost wish you didn't tell him anything. "it's that easy!"

"it is not!" you shout in rebuttal, crossing your arms and frowning. your acting like guanheng at this point, but that's not what you're noticing at this very moment. "it's easy for you! you date people and you kiss people all the time! i don't do that!"

"excuses excuses!"

you're at a loss for words at his lackluster words, you once again, frown and turn away from him. "i'm sorry! i have never been hardcore in love with someone like this before! i don't know how to talk about it!"

guanheng looks like he's about to yell again, but he takes a deep breath and relaxes himself, leaning back in the couch. "okay, i'm sorry for yelling.."

"y/n, you really just need to tell him how you feel straight up, because if you keep stalling than none of you will end up confessing in the end and you'll both just be going through a loop of 'should we or should we not?'"

you blink, staring at guanheng for a good few minutes, honestly surprised. this is probably the best advice he's ever given you, usually, you’re the one that has to give him advice because he always ends up doing something stupid and has someone that wants to murder him because of that stupid thing he did.

"that was actually.. good advice" you reply, laughing at guanheng's eye roll. he just shoves you, making sure he does extra hard this time to get his point across.

"shut up! i always give good advice!"

"you usually don't give any advice at all.." you mutter, running a hand through your hair as you look away from your roommate, who just glares at you like you just committed a federal offense.

"say something again and i'm gatekeeping dejun from you!"

"your what!?"

at the sound of your shout, guanheng giggles as he scurries away, proud of himself for the words that escape his lips.

YOU'RE NOT SURE HOW YOU SOMEHOW LET guanheng drag you off to a party on a friday night where all you wanted to do is relax. parties have never truly been your thing, but that's because being surrounded by a bunch of drunk and high adults just isn't your idea of fun, you're also just not a big drinker, so the only reason you usually even end up at parties is to take guanheng home when he gets too drunk and can't fully articulate his thoughts. so, the fact that guanheng was somehow able to convince you to get out of the house and go to a party when you truly should've been at home, watching horrible sitcoms.

but no, you're here! and you can't leave without guanheng because if you did, he'd probably find a way to end up killing himself, or he'd say the wrong thing to the wrong person and would end up getting punched in the face.

so you find yourself in a familiar spot, your back against a wall as you stare at your phone, somehow able to ignore the hundreds of screaming drunk people that surround you, it's become a skill of yours, and you're not sure how exactly it developed, you've just become such a natural when it comes to ignoring others.

guanheng, of course, has already walked off to do his own thing, but not before reminding you of the advice he'd given you a few days prior, yelling at you to 'just tell the boy you like him!'

maybe his advice is burned into your brain, because now all you wish is that you were with dejun, talking about something stupid, or just talking.

and there must've been somebody listening in on your thoughts, because he suddenly walks around the corner, head whipping around like he's searching for someone.

your not trying to look at him, but he catches your gaze immediately, and he skips towards you like a kid in a candy store.

"hi" he greets, a little giggle to his words. his face is a shade of bright red as he giggles once again, though nothing's funny. "pretty".

he whispers the last word, with the intention of you not hearing it, but his mind must be too clouded for him to realize that he said it much louder than he thought he did, but you don't say anything, just hum.

"hello" you greet back, and he laughs once again, covering his hand with his mouth. "are you okay?"

a loud snicker leaves his lips, and he moves closer to you to link his arm with yours. he rests his head onto your arm, a content smile spreading across his face. "i'm drunk".

his honest answer makes you question his state for a moment, since when do drunk people admit that they're drunk? or maybe he's only just tipsy.. your not sure, but he's not acting like a totally sober person right now.

"are you sure?" you raise an eyebrow, dejun just responds with a small 'hmph', and he keeps your arm linked with his. "dejun".

"yes! i am!" he yells as rebuttal, shaking your arm a few times. "do you wanna smell my breath?"

"oh no no no" you reply, covering his mouth with your hand. he laughs at you, his cheeks as pink as yangyang's hair, he grabs your hands, and whilst yours are cold, his are burning hot. "okay you have energy".

"i'm sorry" he suddenly blurts, another snort escaping his lips as he leans his head against your chest. you give him a look, confused as to why he felt the need to apologize.

"for what?"

"for doing that thing" dejun responds, closing his eyes as he sways back and forth. "i probably made everything awkward, i didn't mean to".

that's what he thinks? he thinks that he made everything awkward? you feel your heart break at the realization, but all dejun does is laugh sadly.

"you didn't— you didn't make everything awkward, it's okay".

dejun laughs again, clearing his throat. "just tell the truth, y/n.."

you chuckle, not at dejun, just at his words. he wants you to tell the truth? fine.. you will!

"dejun" you begin, using your pointer finger to tilt his chin up so the two of you make eye contact, you watch as his eyes widen, but he doesn't move, just lets you do your thing. "you can kiss me, it's okay".

he blinks, as if trying to figure out if you were lying or not. he opens his mouth, but no words come out, so he closes it again. "it is?" he asks again, just wanting reassurance, you hear his voice crack, but he's getting impatient, he wants your answer.

"yeah it's fine".

that's all the conformation dejun seems to need, because he finally presses his lips to yours after what seems like years of waiting. your arms naturally rest on his waist, and there's just something, something about this that makes you smile.

there's an urgency in the way he kisses you, and his hand comes up to hold your face. he is just so desperate, and it would be a lie to say that you weren't just as desperate as he is. you'd been wanting this for so long, you don't even know how many times you thought about what it would be like to kiss dejun.

his fingers caress your cheek, and the contact feels like your skin was set ablaze. maybe this is what you needed, and you assume it's exactly what dejun needed to, because he pushes on your shoulder with a seemingly inhumane amount of force, which makes you gasp a little.

while your one arm is around his waist, the other one goes up to run your fingers through his hair, somehow causing the two of you to both smile, barely stifling your laughs.

after what seems like forever, dejun pulls away, and while you're standing there, breathless, he just smiles, relaxing as you play with his hair. "you like my hair?"

you aren't sure why out of all things, that's what he decides to ask, but you laugh, completely enamored by the boy in front of you. "yep, it's soft" you reply, biting your inner cheek. "the color suits you".

dejun tilts his head, looking up at you with his insanely pretty eyes. you just want to squish his cheeks, or wrap him in a blanket and hold him forever, you aren't sure why you just have this surge of loving emotions for absolutely no reason, maybe it's the way he's staring at you, or that he just left you breathless and did it so flawlessly.

he hums, not knowing how to respond to your compliment. he just suddenly gets shy, his ears turning red at your words.

"you're so stupid.."

that's probably his favorite phrase to say to you by now, but you don't mind, you just smile as he hides his face away from you. 

"dejun" you call out despite him being right in front of you, and he looks up at you again, gaze warm as he gives you a small smile.

"yes?"

"i love you" you immediately spout, not even surprised by how high your voice has gotten. "like— in the i'm in love with you kinda way and not in a i just want you to kiss you but not call you my boyfriend kinda way".

dejun pauses, snickering at your words, he looks at you like you're the only person in the world.

what other way could there possibly be?

but you don't get any response, at least, not from him, because all he does is lean forward and press his lips to yours.

YOU'VE NEVER REALLY BEEN A FAN OF YOUR BIRTHDAY, and you aren't sure why. it used to be a fun thing up until you turned twelve and it suddenly felt like a switch had flipped, as if your birthday was making you miserable. now it's not like you always feel depressed on your birthday, it's just that sometimes you don't want to have a huge birthday celebration. most of the time— you only request for huge birthday bashes on specific days, like when you turned ten (you were very excited about becoming a double–figured age), or when you turned eighteen (you became an adult, not that exciting but it was definitely something, you could finally legally drink), but it's truly only specific days that you don't mind having large, people–filled birthday parties.

and not only were you not exactly anticipating your birthday, you already had something even bigger on your mind the whole time.

like dejun ghosting you! that's definitely one!

okay so you tell the guy you love him, you make out with him at a party (in the opposite order but oh well), he doesn't give you a response and then he decides to just ignore you?

maybe he just didn't know what to say, and that also lead to him just not picking up his phone for a good two weeks as he completely ignored your calls and texts and voicemails!

and with this being the only thing on your mind, your birthday seemed to be the least important event at the moment.

you didn't really want to think about it, and the campus was starting to make you feel sick, so this year you planned on visiting your parents after the day was over, considering your special day fell on a friday—

but guanheng, guanheng had other plans.

he practically begged you to let him throw the party for you, he wanted to do it so bad that he vowed to never ask you for a favor ever again (which is a lie! he never keeps his promises!), he was acting so desperate, it was like you'd just saved his life or something.

you're not sure what made guanheng so eager to throw a party for you, especially because you just didn't know what you would do with a bunch of people in your dorm.

but he insisted, he would throw you the best party in the world.

and after what seemed like forever, you two finally agreed on something—

you go visit your parents friday evening, and guanheng throws your party on saturday, easy!

"what do you mean strawberry isn't a good flavor!?"

you scoff at his question, nodding your head, as if confirming your words. "i don't like strawberry flavored things, you get me a strawberry cake and i'm making you sleep outside".

your threat results in a gasp from your roommate, who looks genuinely hurt by your words as he places a hand on his chest, horrified. "you are such a horrible roommate! threatening me when i'm throwing a party for you".

"it'll be a horrible party if you get me a horribly flavored cake".

you totally mean what you say as well— you truly dislike strawberry cake.

and when guanheng said party, you didn't exactly anticipate how many people he would decide to let into your dorm.

now you know a good chunk of these people, but most of these people probably decided to come just because they knew guanheng, all they did was utter some happy birthday's and then they ran off to do their own thing.

guanheng got most things right, he just invited a bunch of people that really didn't care for your birthday, just wanted to be around him.

so it's no surprise that you felt just a little disappointed about the people at your party that just didn't give two shits about your actual birthday.

and guanheng was off doing something else, though you could actually see him this time, he was telling people where to put the gifts they brought for you.

your beginning to feel suffocated in your own dorm, which is ironic to you, because this is quite literally the place you go to get away from a bunch of people, it's the only place of yours that isn't full of people.

so, you clear your throat, and push through people to get to the door, not wanting to stay inside with all these people, you'll probably end up throwing up everywhere if you stay inside even longer.

when you exit the dorm, you take a deep breath the moment you close the door, letting your back fall against it. you immediately jump as you see a person behind the door—

okay so dejun (who you confessed your love to by the way!), is pacing back and forth in front of your door, totally stressing. you blink, a look of confusion spreading across your face. "um.."

"are you okay?"

you aren't even sure why you opened your mouth, but if you didn't, this would just go on for a good twenty more minutes.

dejun jumps, clearing his throat as he smiles awkwardly. "you— scared the shit out of me".

he's acting so casually? after not talking to you for a good two weeks!?

"sorry—"

"i'm sorry!"

dejun immediately yells, covering his face with his hands. "i'm so sorry for not texting you! or calling you! or giving you a response! it was so stupid of me to not consider your feelings and instead of just telling you straight up how i felt i decided to ignore you but i was scared that i wouldn't be able to tell you without making it awkward and it—"

"dejun" you place your hands on his shoulders, turning him around to face you. "your rambling".

he sighs, eyes darting away from your face, he frowns. "but it's not okay, i didn't talk to you, i probably came off as such an asshole! you were probably so confused, and i just.. said nothing!"

you observe his features, and he looks even more anxious at your silence. his face goes red, and his leg begins bouncing up and down, whilst his hands look for something to hold.

"okay, calm down.." you mutter, reaching for his left hand and lacing it together with yours. "it's okay, there's no need to be worried".

"i'm sorry" he says again, finally looking up at you. "i get it if you don't forgive me—"

"dejun" you cut into his sentence, squeezing his left hand. "i forgive you.. i love you".

you repeat your confession once more, and dejun blinks, processing your words.

"i love you too".

and finally, after what seems like forever, after what was so long, he gave you a response.

before you could say anything more, dejun pulls you in for a hug, his arms circling around your waist. you're a bit taken aback by the sudden display of affection, but you also don't mind, because he squeezes you tighter.

"happy birthday" he mumbles, a small smile coming to his face as he feels your hand comb through his hair. "i'm sorry".

"stop apologizing" you say, lifting his chin up so you could look him in the eyes. "i forgive you, it's okay".

and it is, you're being completely honest, but dejun doesn't say more, immediately pulling you back into a warm hug

but suddenly, the door to your dorm swings open and guanheng peaks his head out, eyes widening as he witnesses the current thing. he has absolutely no context to anything which was happening at the moment, he just opened the door to witness a totally unaware dejun hugging you.

"uh.." he blinks, glancing between you two, but not asking anything, just clearing his throat. "it's time to cut the cake?" he laughs awkwardly, and you just smile, giving him a i'll be right there look.

"o...kay" he doesn't say anything more, just goes back inside and closes the door.

dejun giggles as guanheng closes the door, pulling away again to look up at you. "oh he is totally tired of us".

"we didn't do anything, though".

dejun snickers, lightly hitting your arm. "okay okay, you need to stop, it's your birthday, you have to go cut your cake".

"and.." he pauses, pulling a box out of nowhere and handing it over to you. "open your gifts".

you raise an eyebrow, confused. "where were you even hiding that?"

"that's irrelevant! it's your birthday, come on!"

and you let him drag you back into your dorm, smiling at him the whole time.

YOU ALMOST CONSIDER THE WAY YOU are acting to be absurd, and it's funny how much of another side dejun can just bring out of you. now you would never consider yourself to be a grumpy person, but people usually do describe you as having a 'natural frown'. you never really thought of yourself as being like that, but you guess that people don't see you look so happy much, because they continue to point out how it's like some glitch in the matrix to see you just a little less miserable as each day passes. chenle especially makes comments, talking about how you need to "put your smile away" because not seeing your resting face constantly freaks him out, renjun on the other hand, is elated, or maybe he's just glad he can finally be rid of you, you don't know.

but all that put aside, you are happy, and you have a cute oreo–haired man to thank for that.

and maybe this is all you really need, just dejun, the two of you don't even have to do anything, he can just lay his head down onto your shoulder and you'd be having a good time.

you like it when he sits down and paints your nails for you, or when he watches you bake over your shoulder, not knowing what to do but happy to watch you do your thing, or when he coerces you to win prizes from carnival games for him with his absolutely adorable eyes (he doesn't even need to try to coerce you, you'd do it either way).

"i'm pretty sure this is illegal".

"it's not!" you reply, though you mean to reassure dejun, your words seem to worry him more than anything. you take his hand, squeezing it. "dejun, i'm not getting you into any illegal activity".

"i can never tell with you" he retorts suspiciously, keeping your hand in his as you lead him up, he would have tripped if not for you holding your hand and guiding you up.

you clear your throat, patting the spot beside you as dejun immediately sits, so close to you that your legs are touching. "if i ever wanted to do something illegal, i'd know better than to bring you along".

he gasps, and you can't resist the urge to laugh at how offended he sounds. "what is that supposed to mean!?"

"you" your pointer finger touches his nose, and he doesn't even try to move. "are a snitch, you would be horrible to commit a crime with".

dejun slaps your hand away, and you laugh at the way he crosses his arms, a familiar pout gracing his absolutely beautiful features. "you— i.. take that back!"

"it's true! even yangyang would be a better option than you!"

dejun is even more offended by the words, and he slowly scoots away from you, arms still crossed as he pouts. you giggle as he remains scooted away from you, still angry about the words you said.

"uh— jun, i was just joking!"

"you suck".

dejun glares, but his glare is anything but serious, as you can see the way he slowly starts to break under your gaze, resisting the urge to burst into laughter. "i hate you".

"you love me".

he does, and he can't pretend he doesn't, because he almost immediately snickers, looking away from you as to not laugh more.

oh he is just so adorable.

you scoot closer to him and wrap your arms around his waist, making him yelp. "you're so cute" you mutter into his shoulder, and at this point, dejun doesn't even try to pretend anymore.

"you're so corny" he says, patting your arms that currently circle around his waist. you lean your head down onto his shoulder, making yourself comfortable, and he just lets you, because at this point he can't really push you off him.

"don't fall asleep, i'm not going to carry you back to your place".

"you would be too weak to carry me anyway— ow!"

you yell loudly as dejun nudges you in the stomach with his elbow, and while he looks absolutely proud of himself, you just glare, absolutely done with him.

but you don't say anything, just lets your fingers run through his hair, probably your favorite thing to do with him. he just cups your face, and he just smiles at your face, giggling. "your just as cute as when we first met".

the statement makes you snicker, because you did not expect for him to say that out of all things he could've said. you get why he says it though, because you are at the place where it all began, the bleachers, the same bleachers where you two were standing when you shared your first interaction.

you tilt your head, wanting to tease him more. "so there were moments where i wasn't cute, then?"

dejun scoffs, turning away from you. he lightly pinches your arm, and you yelp once again, inching away from him. "why do you enjoy hurting me?"

he smiles innocently. "i don't, i have absolutely no idea what you're talking about!"

your face drops, and all dejun does is laugh, squeezing your cheeks. "don't be mad, babe, you know i love you".

and you do, you do know, he never fails to remind you of how much he does.

"i love you too.."

with your eye rolls, and tiny mutters, dejun knows, he knows that you're telling the truth.

[vintagexherry]

Treasure for three days [1]

Pirate!Miguel x Princess!Reader

// Hostage, threatening, superstions, misogyny (I think), manhandling, implied forced royal marriage, kidnapping, implications of sexual acts, Ooc Miguel, Miguel is mean

---

A/N: Not sure if Im gonna turn this into a series but we'll see

---

This isn't what you meant when you wanted to be taken away from a mundane life.

"If none will provide with what I have requested. The princess will get it." He ended maliciously.

'He' being a man of height and strong structure is as of right now, holding a sharp edged sword at your throat while holding your hands behind your back.

'He' being the famous pirate, notorious for his actions and sharp with his demands.

"Let go of her! or else!-" Your father still in his sleeping clothes demanded the man who held you hostage.

"What? Make your gaurds shoot me? I have cannons standing by and men waiting, and with a simple signal, they can pillage and destroy this kingdom." He threatened as his hands grip his sword tighter, pushing it slightly closer to your throat, making you whimper.

He isn't only notorious for his actions, but his brain. He didn't get his popularity by just blowing up things to bits like any other pirate.

He plans them.

So darn good at it too.

Your brain is still wondering how'd you get into this position.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

"You keep pressing the wrong note. Once again, from the beginning."

You held back your sigh as you started to play a musical piece on the piano all over again.

You've been at this with your mentor for hours and you swear if you don't take a single break, your bones will desintegrate.

Your mentor has known you since you started etiquette training, and so on and so forth.

And as much as you knew her, she's always been nothing but strict with a permanent frown on her face, her hair tied into a tight bun, and you wonder how come she still has hair.

Once you finally pressed the right note, she nodded approvingly.

"Very good now. We'll practice this piece tomorrow again at noon. Now, if you excuse me, I'll inform your father of your progress."

Not waiting for your reply, she stood up from her chair and left you sitting by the piano.

You exhaled a breath of relief and stretched your fingers for a bit, hearing small pops here and there. You look out the large window by the wall, watching life go on the large village. You'll soon rule once your father chooses a suitable husband for you.

Speaking of your father, he entered the room, slightly surprising you with the sound of the heavy doors.

"My dear, your mentor has told me you had difficulty on today's lesson." Your father looked at you with slight disappointment in his eyes.

You sigh, you know your mentor has told me about your progress, not skipping good bits, but it just seems that your bad quality only worth focusing on.

"I know father, it's jus-"

"Then you will do well to practice even more. Remember, you're performing for tomorrow's night annual ball."

You held back a groan.

Of course, he cares about tomorrow's ball.

Nothing but an excuse to let men ask your hand for marriage and letting your father decide if their good or not. At first, you were flattered, and people would ask for your hand, but it gets tiring once you learn it is just for politics sake, nothing but lies, only wanting to feel the crown on their head.

Your father's kingdom was known to be one of the most successful of them all. Trading and economics were bountiful, and the crime rate wasn't high.

"Yes, father." You defeatedly relented while he grunts in acknowledgement and left you without another word. You just wish a humble and kind man will take you away from this mundane life.

It was finally nighttime when you got ready for bed, you got out of your bath and wore your white cotton sleep dress.

You went to one side of the bed to blow off the candle, but before you did, a sharp sword suddenly appeared behind you, The edge of it just inches away from slicing you.

"Don't move."

A deep and gruff voice commanded you, and you froze.

How did he get in? The balcony? through the door? That can't be. There's gaurds around the palace patrolling every second.

"Where is the necklace? And don't lie, or else your pretty little town gets it."

Necklace? What necklace? There's billions of different kinds of necklaces, and that's the best description he can give you?

"I-I don't know what you're t-talking about -" You winced when you felt the sword go closer to your throat.

"Not speaking, huh? Well, I can jus-"

His words were cut off when your room door busted open, revealing gaurds with their guns and your father in his sleepwear.

"So it was you who knocked out those gaurds!" Your father yelled, so that's how he got in.

The man behind you didn't waste time grabbing your hands and holding them behind your back. He took quick yet short steps to your now unlocked balcony, and he stopped by the edge.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

So now you're here, with a pirate at the edge of your balcony.

"You."

His sword left your throat, but instead, he pointed it to your father. In turn, the gaurds raise their guns higher.

"Necklace, or you won't get your little princesa back."

You looked at your father with tears brimming at the edge of your eyes, silently begging him to give what the pirate wants, but he doesn't seem to mind you.

"O' Hara." Your dad stated, starting to collect his bearings.

"That necklace is a national treasure, you can't possibly!-"

"Daily pirate life, I would say."

You paused.

That necklace?

The necklace?

You only remember bits of story of that supposed treasure, where your father had gathered a rare type of gem from a group of natives who are part of the neighbouring lands. Once gathered, the gem was then moulded and sanded to become a necklace.

"So... No necklace, then? That's alright...I'll give you three days, and if not given your kingdom, can disappear on the map."

You loudly yelp when you suddenly turn around and get carried on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

He didn't waste time sheathing his sword and jumping off the balcony, which made you scream while he grips line of rope.

As O'Hara lands and runs for it, you hear gunshots and your father yelling for you.

You tried beating his back with your hands and waving your feet to at least loosen his grip, but alas, it's useless.

"Let go! Unhand me!" You shouted, but your words were going out on his ear and the other. You kept shouting for help, but you were suddenly cut off by your own yelp when you felt a large hand smack your ass.

"You pirate!" you seethed

He laughed at your reactions. "Tell me something I don't know, princesa."

His feet were moving faster than any man you've seen before, and before you know it, you arrived at the shore of the beach.

"Lift up the anchor and start sailing." He ordered as he climbed up the ship.

As he lands, with your upside down view, you see people pulling up the anchor and unfolding the sails.

"A woman on board, huh? You do know what they say about women being on a ship righ' boss?" A random crewmate noted as he took a closer look at you while your still hoisted on his shoulder.

"Quit talking and more sailing, or you're walking the plank." He threatened and the crewmate didn't waste time going back to business.

As the ship starts sailing and the sounds of gunshots and shouting were becoming more and more distant, O'Hara started walking up to a room.

As he enters, he roughly plops you down on what seems to be a bed and ties your hands and feet together.

"Stay." He simply said as he went to a desk and chair.

You scoff, as if you had a choice.

"Look, if it's the necklace you want I can just tell you where!"

He didn't say anything as he sat down and looked at various maps and papers.

"Please, I ju-"

"Shut up." His rough voice hightened in volume.

You quickly did.

"If you won't stay quiet, I can leave you naked for my men to use. So if you know what's good for you I would recommend you to zip it."

You shivered from his words.

You didn't want to anger him further, so you opted to look around the room.

More maps were scattered, and bottles of what seemed to be rum were placed neatly in shelves. Chest full of gold and jewelry were scattered everywhere. Artefacts and even bones of beasts were displayed like trophies on the wall.

"I must say, for a spoiled mocosa, you obey well." He chuckled.

You wanted to spit something back, but you're afraid that once you do, he'll keep his words.

"If your father doesn't give his precious treasure, get ready to say bye-bye to your little kingdom. So let's hope he's as obedient as you." He chuckled as he sat down, drinking from a bottle of rum.

"But if he does? You'll return me and keep the town safe away from your cannons?" You asked.

Miguel looked at you and lightly laughed.

"We'll see about that, but if he did give it, maybe I will keep your pretty little place safe and you'll be back at your papa's arms."

You don't believe him but do you have any other choice? "You....You promise?"

Miguel glanced at your shivering form, and after a deep thought, he took a quick gulp of his rum and finally spoke.

"I promise your little princess ass."

You gulp, hoping he would keep up with his words.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Morning came by, which marks the first day of your captivity, and you really want to take a bath.

O'Hara or Miguel, which he prefers to be called. Has removed the rope around your wrists while he lets you go around the ship, even outside the captain's cabin, just as long he could keep an eye on you. He was confident enough that you won't really go anywhere.

Not that you can anyway.

With water surrounding you in every direction, you lost hope trying to escape. Maybe until they make land, but who knows.

Right now, you were at the helm of the ship looking at the distance. Miguel, on the other hand, was talking to what seemed to be his navigator.

You really hope that your father would just let go of that necklace when he had the chance. But you hope even further that Miguel will keep his words that you will return safely and the town will he out of harm's way.

"boo"

You flinched hard, hearing a deep voice right next to your ear.

And of course, it's no one other than Miguel.

"Don't think too much or else your head will explode." He chuckled while you scoffed.

You suddenly feel self aware of your state.

It's been several hours, and you're still in your sleep wear. What's worse is that your barefoot with your ankles on display.

Miguel noticed your furrowed expression and chuckled.

"Is the princess not happy with her accommodation on the Arachnid?"

The arachnid is what they call this ship. You can say it's impressive apart from the crew.

"Shower." you demanded

"A wha?-"

"I need a shower." You completed your demand.

The ship suddenly got quiet, and all chatter seemed to stop as they stared at you. The only sounds that can be heard are water crashing against the ship, the wood of floor creaking, and seagulls squaking above.

You froze from the attention, when all of a sudden, the ship was filled with laughter all around even Miguel threw his head back to laugh, and suddenly your face flushed with embarrassment . I mean, should you be embarrassed?

All you want is a shower, you feel disgusting from the dirt you have gathered for today, and a change of clothes would be nice, something or anything that would cover your ankles.

The ship's laughter died down to chuckles.

"Shower you say? The princess wants to shower." His smirk grew in size while he looked at you.

"Well... Yes, I need a shower. If not, then at least give me proper change of clothes. If you're gonna kidnap someone, at least do it right."

Your words made Miguel laughed more.

"Change of clothes, huh? Bothered your little ankles are showing?" He mocked.

"If you're bothered by that, you should see the entertainment district. Trust me, hermosa when I say they show more than their ankles." With his words, laughter grew once again on the ship, and you winced in disgust on his implications

"Speaking of the entertainment district, why don't we give it a visit while princess looks for change of clothes." With that, the crew cheered, and the navigator smirked as he directed the steering wheel to the nearest land which you assumed where the "entertainment district" is located.

You gulp.

How are you gonna survive three days with these men.

[greyskyflowers]

I like to think the Marines must have collectively smacked their heads off their desks when Ace joined whitebeard.

Like, this kid, the kid, the one with the thing that only a few people know, yeah that kid...

Was already a huge, flaming pain in the ass and now is apparently part of Whitebeards family.

What.

All of the sudden he's a whole new person. He calls Whitebeard pops and calls the crew family. They call him brother and commander and Ace and ours with possessive eyes because Whitebeard is no fool. He knows and while he doesn't tell them the details, he tells his family that they'd take Ace from them. Would take their brother away and leave his blood on their hands and his screams in their ears.

And that's a hard no. That's where people fuck up with them.

And maybe Ace gets dragged to Marineford still. But this time they don't plan on just getting him out.

They shake the earth.

Marco ripping through people as easily as he'd rip through earth and stone for Ace. Talons shining like the swords Vista swings and the way light shines off diamonds.

I just think of Ace with his head hanging and hunger a beast in his belly that howls at him. Wrists tacky with blood dried like tar and bones sore from the cold stone. How everything hurts and it's been so long since something hurt this much. How he draws his knees up the best he can to rest his head on them, a respite for his aching neck.

The walls around him shaking and dropping dust around him. He doesn't know what's going on but it doesn't really matter. He wonders if they'll bring the whole place down just to make sure he dies in the dark where he belongs.

And how solitary his cell is. How it's dark and quiet and something inside him feels the same way. It curls up under this skin and he thinks he'd give anything to sleep.

The door slamming open to the sounds of the chaos beyond and Ace snapping his head up to squint at them. His family.

They pull him up with careful hands, someone breaks the chains and blue feathers flick aways the pain like it does the old blood.

He doesn't notice them eyeing it all. The dark room, the weight lost, the shivers, the way he clings to whoever is closest.

They bring it down.

And they wipe the dust from the destruction off their brother's face with love.

🏴‍☠️🔥🏴‍☠️🔥🏴‍☠️🔥

Cleaning out my drafts and this has been in there for awhile. Not exactly what I wanted but I'd rather share part of it than just delete it. Weeeeeeee

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

OP crews watching you adjust to piracy: Isekai edition

Whitebeard Pirates

"I'm bored," you grumble, lying spread out on the deck of the Moby Dick, as you stare out at the clear blue skies above you.

Whitebeard mumbled, "then go read a book," from his chair, as he read the newspaper

You sighed, "I've already finished everything in the library, twice."

Marco sat up, his leg dangling off the yard he glared down at you and exclaimed, "There's gotta be like a hundred books in there, and you've only been here for a month and a half."

"Yeah, but most of them are shorter than a hundred pages with a relatively low reading level."

Ace, who was lounging on the stairs and eating a bowl of cherries as he said, "oh rub it in, why don't you?"

You flopped over on your stomach, so you could shoot the black hair man a dirty look. "Rub what in? I'm simply stating a fact."

Izou snapped, "he's teasing, ignore him. And if you are bored then go do your chores or something."

You sigh, "I can't, all the chores are done, and there is nothing I haven't already cleaned this week."

Marco squinted at you, clearly using his big brain to try and figure out why you can't just sit still. He slid off the yard, and glided over, landing softly next to you. The blonde started to poke and prod at you, taking your pulse and just examining you in general "I think you're addicted to stress."

"That sounds pretty on point for me." You grumble, "but that might be a result of the way people in my world both live and work."

When Marco squinted at you in confusion, you explained how your usual work week went. Izou huffed, "that explains a lot, you aren't used to having free time. So you don't know what to do with it."

"... but if I'm not being productive what am I supposed to do? Doing nothing stresses me out."

Ace rolled over onto his stomach and groaned, "There's nothing to do because you've done everything already. You even volunteered to clean the bathrooms, who even fucking does that?

Marco took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he sighed, "People addicted to stress, it explains your elevated blood pressure of late, and your insomnia, and lack of appetite."

Pops huffed, "you are my child, you don't have to 'earn your keep' by working yourself to death. Also, I order you to go through rehabilitation, and that you get a hobby that makes you happy." With that he scooped you up and rest you on his knee, and held you there while you squirmed, ignoring all your complaints about boredom.

Red Haired pirates

Shanks waked out on deck to see the entire crew lounging around. The red head walked over to Lucky Roo and gently kicked his side. "What the fuck is going on, why is no one working?"

The large man merely pointed over at your form zipping from one side of the deck to the other as you swabbed the deck.

The captain cocked his head and asked, "didn't they already swab they swab the deck after breakfast?"

Lucky Roo scratched his stomach as get grumbled, "yeah, they also swabbed it before and after lunch as well."

Benn, who was leaning against one of the banisters, takes his cigarette out of his mouth and says, "you wanna take it easy there kid?"

You stopped and looked at him, sweat soaking the bandana tied around your forehead to keep your hair back, you shake your head, "but I'm almost finished, plus I have to earn my keep." You used this brief respite to ring out the mop in the bucket.

Hongou clicked his tongue in disapproval, and a growled rumbled out of his chest, "You've worked nonstop over the last three days, only taking breaks to eat, sleep, and bathe. Working so much isn't good for you."

"But~"

Shanks waved his hand dismissively and flatly stated, "you've done plenty of work for today, go rest. We can't have you working yourself to the bone, all the time, it'll make us look bad if our land lubber rookie is more active in ship upkeep than us. No matter how cute they are to watch having the cleaning zoomies."

Yassop who appeared to be napping, cracked an eye open to glower at you, as he grumbles, "yeah, all the chores you've done in the last three days, is all the usual housekeeping that we do as a crew over a course of two weeks, actually."

The realization you might be over doing it crashed into you like a wave. You pulled off your bandana and rung it between your hands, "okay, sorry, it's just I need to be doing something, or I'll go nuts."

Shanks ogles you and purrs, "well, how about you do me instead?"

Benn karate chops the top of Shanks' head and grouses, "if anyone on this ship needs to get laid it's me, since I have to deal with all of you dumbasses."

Beast Pirates

You looked around, it was a quiet afternoon, one of many on Onigshima. Most of the core crew had gathered in one of the large banquet halls, to lounge and enjoy the breezy autumn afternoon. Kaido was sprawled out on the floor, drinking sake and snacks. Maria was snuggled up to Kaido, resting her head gently on his chest. Yamato, Ulti and Page one were reading comic books on the floor, and sharing a bag of chips. Sasaki and Who's Who were sitting on the floor playing shogi and drinking. Queen was tinkering with his prosthetic arm, his tools softly clicking against one another. Jack sat in the corner whittling. While King lounged on his back up in the rafters as he napped, the crackling fire on his back that usually filled the silence to a comfortable level for you, was out, so he didn't burn the wood

Despite the peace and tranquility of the room you felt like time was moving painfully slow, and the unfamiliar silence made your ears ring.

As the silence dragged on, you grew more uncomfortable and restless. After a few minutes of constantly shifting around, King sat up and snapped, "would you sit still!"

You whined, "I'm sorry," flopping unceremoniously onto your back. After a few minutes you rolled into your side and asked, "is there any news or~"

Kaido rumbled, "News comes with the paper, which comes in the morning, like it does every day."

Queen took a long drag of his cigar and mused, "I wonder what has got you so antsy, perhaps it's a crush?"

Everyone in the room turned their attention to you, interested to seed if you did indeed have a crush. You shook your head and explained you were just adjusting from our fast past-paced information stream and constant stimuli bombardment to one newspaper a week with important news on it sometimes, and life on a sleepy pirate island. By the end you sighed, "I am just not used to living in boring times, I'm used to knowing world changing events within five minutes of them happening."

King stretched his wings and sighed, "well, that explains why you keep asking about the news, and for stuff to do. But that doesn't explain why you seem afraid of silence."

You hummed thoughtfully, "It's like I'm experiencing silence and tranquility for the first time, because there's always noise, be it from machines, or nature. And it's unfamiliar enough my brain is just like" and you mimic the noises and body language of an angry monkey. Before continuing, "that, and it makes my tinnitus like three times worst, so it's just a constant high-pitched ringing in my ears, which hurts."

Most pirates have tinnitus from the constant gun fire and howling wind. So some of them nodded in empathy. King muttered, "Sometimes I forget you're from a different world, until to do weird shit like that, but I hate that I’m used to it enough that I understand your prattling nonsense."

You puffed out your cheeks, "Well if you'd light your fire again, there'd be enough noise for me to be comfortable."

Queen shrieked, "I asked you a question, will you please answer it!"

Ignoring him, you and King carried on your conversation. King asked, "oh so this is my fault?"

You shook your head and admitted, "no, it's just it helps fill the void, and it's rather calming." Which made King flustered enough he didn't respond, and he looked away from you.

Queen looked between the two of you, realizing what King's body language was saying what he refused to say. Before the round man cackled, "oh my god, you two have a crush on one another."

King swiftly turned on the man, and tackled him to the ground while adamantly denying that he had feelings for you. The tussle resulted in the shogi board being launched against the room, the bag of chips crushed, a bottle of alcohol to spill onto Maria's lap, and an all out brawl.

Kidd Pirates

Kidd rubbed his stomach, drowsy from the large break just ate, and looked at the clock and groaned, "balls, it's time for morning roulette." It was practically tradition that the crew took a thirty-minute break after a meal before starting their chores. There were tasks people volunteered to do routinely, but there were certain tasks that no one wanted to do. So what the crew decided a roulette wheel with everyone's names on it, was the least problematic way to pick who has to do the undesirable tasks. There was even a semi-elaborate ritual they did in order to make sure the wheel wasn't tampered with that involved everyone gathering and taking turns doing a series of checks of the moving pieces.

Killer, who was nominated by the crew to keep the keys two the closet where the wheel was stored, nodded his head and went to go get the wheel. As the wheel was being set up, Eustass noticed you were watching with particular rapt attention. From what you'd told him of the diversity of your old life back in your world, he only assumed your interested was because this was new to you. Kidd slapped his brawny hand on your shoulder and boomed, "you look like you've never seen a roulette wheel," and shook you playfully.

Kidd was shocked when you turned your attention to him and admitted, "no, we used them at school festivals for games like the cakewalk. I just have never seen it done so thoroughly. I figure it's to make sure it's not tampered with?" Kidd nodded, and you hummed, thoughtfully, "I admittedly was trying ways to figure out how to rig it in a way that gets around the inspections."

The crew stopped their examination, to glare over at you. You held up your hands and promised, "Not to cheat, but to come up with more inspections."

Wire sauntered over and engulfed your skull in his hand, and warned, "do not futz with the wheel."

As you nodded in his grasp, Killer chuffed, "you better not, also saying that out loud is a good way to get framed by someone trying to rig it?" His blond hair dancing along his back as he shook his head in disbelief.

That night, as you headed to join the crew for dinner, you noticed everyone was inside the galley already, and that their precious wheel was left attended out on deck. You grinned as the most wonderful and irresistible idea took root in your head.

Kidd took the plate of pasta that Killer made for dinner, and turned to go sit down. As he looked for a spot a very sharp and familiar rapid clicking from out on deck pierced the quiet hum in the room. While The red haired man thought nothing of it, Killer asked, "where's (y/n)?"

When everyone connected the dots, many of them raced to the door, and threw it open, expecting to catch you red-handed. Only to be met with your figure fully illuminated in the moon light, standing an arm's length away from the wheel, gently spinning the wheel with an outstretched finger. As they stared at you, trying to figure out what they were looking at, you let out a dark chuckled, "hehehe, If I cannot find problems, I will make them..." making them realize you were fucking with them.

Killer snapped, "why are you like this!"

"I dunno, I'm bored."

Killer momentarily took a few deep breaths to calm himself, before he gritted out, "if you're bored, there's plenty of work to be done."

You shrugged, "I don't wanna, besides tormenting you is so much more fun," and walked over towards them.

Kidd's eye twitched as stopped you, threw you over his shoulder, carried you into the galley, and roughly dropped you into a chair. "Sit," he ordered, pointing down at you, before he wandered over and handed you a plate of food. "Eat, and stop causing problems."

As the captain walked over to his second in command, you exclaim, "how about we play a different kind of roulette!" And you pull out an unloaded revolver from the back of your trousers. Killer quickly brings his fist down on your head, and pulls the revolver out of your hand and replaces it with a dart gun.

Kidd pointed a finger at you and bellowed, "that's it, you're sorting the scrap in my workroom, so I can keep an eye on you."

[cr4yolaas]

the night shift — prologue

masterlist | day 1

it's cold. too cold.

it's a little too late at night for any customers to arrive. tokyo is deemed one of the many cities that don't sleep, but with how quiet it is inside and out and the snow collecting softly on the windows, it seems that the world has come to a slumber.

the overhead lights flicker, slightly. someone would have to squint their eyes to see it. the freezers hum in the background, forever running for the satisfaction of others. a gentle melody that neither of them knows the name of loops from the speakers. it's just about the same as every other branch in the city.

and yet, for them, it's a sanctuary.

to escape from the reality of their lives is a blessing, and they find that solace in the walls of the convenience store, almost every night.

he likes to observe her. when their shifts align and they find themselves seated together behind the register, just like every other night, he observes, and observes, and observes, but he can only absorb so much. the color of her hair. the tint of her cheeks. the little habits.

he knows there's more to it. that, beneath the mass of flesh and muscle and bone, there are more intricacies than he could count on his fingers. but he reminds himself, every night, that there is no point in bothering himself with it. because, after all, they're just coworkers.

the alarm on his phone, set at exactly 11:30 in the evening, rings inside his pocket. they're both pulled out of the reservoirs of their minds and dropped into something more secure, something more familiar. a routine.

while he gets up to sanitize the counter, she moves to the register, the metal clinking at the little drawer pops open (he doesn't know, but she counts the money in her hands and wonders what it'd be like if it were all hers, just for a day). the heater shuts off and the door to the break room clicks shut. old shoes squeak against old tile while pen meets paper, little notes jotted into her mind that she'll (hopefully) remember to tell her manager about tomorrow.

silence washes over like a blanket. they don't fight it.

a sense of agreement, albeit not verbally disclosed, is shared between them — that much has been established since they were both employed, standing side by side in a line full of newcomers with too little shoulder space. there is no need to say anything. there is no need to do anything, other than their job. it's routine. it's necessary. it's comfortable.

but, the night shift drags on. and the more it does, the more he wants to break the routine.

ᡣ𐭩 thank you for choosing to read the night shift !!

ᡣ𐭩 this is one of my favorite projects ever i think. i'm so so excited for it

ᡣ𐭩 i wanted to introduce the ambiance and general vibe first so i hope this little prologue captured it well ^_^

ᡣ𐭩 in case you missed it, the convenience store that kags and yn work at is a common branch in this au. therefore it's not exactly a mega company but it's not a family business either

ᡣ𐭩 yn texts the manager's son bc he's an old man who stays around just for the fun of it. may or may not hate the son's guts, bc he's a bit of a privileged nepo baby

ᡣ𐭩 kageyama is a people watcher imo. bc of his analytical skills that are constantly applied to volleyball, i feel like he tries to apply similar skills to those around him sometimes. and who better than his coworker !!

ᡣ𐭩 anyways. i hope this smau turns out well !!

taglist: @causenessus @strawberryuri @iiwaijime @savemebrazilhinata @tiramizuloz @conrad4life13 @wyrcan @zazathezaer @nperoconelcositoarriba @winniethepooh-lover

italicized names cannot be tagged. check your account settings!

[roo-bastmoon]

With 17 versions to buy and 8 versions combined for 160 streams per Spotify account, plus Melon and FLO streams now counting, of course Jungkook’s Seven is charting high and sweeping awards. Firstly because it’s Jungkook of course, and secondly because it’s been given every possible advantage.

My (perhaps controversial) opinions about that are below the cut.

Honestly? I really can’t feel good about any “first” or “most” or “fastest” records achieved by this single—catchy as it is—which wasn’t written or conceived by Jungkook and has nothing much personal or deeply meaningful about it. It’s a fun feel-good summer pop song, for sure, but no more groundbreaking than, say, Bad Decisions (in my opinion… I have no musical expertise.)

But I can’t feel super great about all the records and awards because this many versions immediately restocked and shipped and auto play and promoted to radio and ads and leadership hyping only this while Jungkook says he wants to be the one and only artist to conquer kpop and pop for the next thousand years… it all just doesn’t really sit right with me.

When compared to the 10 months Jimin forewent sleep, food, and showers to have a hand in every aspect of his first (and deeply personal and symbolic) album, which was never sent to radio or restocked, got split tracks and delayed playlisting and shady articles, plus not one kudos or congratulations from leadership even after he made history for South Korea and stocks soared…

Forgive me, but it all leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It is ruining the song for me.

Some things like culled streams and sales are out of the company’s control. But the things I mentioned above were all possible for Jimin’s Hot 100 #1. Even if every Tannie has total say in their projects' sales and marketing, and everyone was on board with only Jungkook getting the Hybe America "red carpet" treatment, I can’t lie and say the stark difference feels fine. It doesn't, and I confess I leave the headphones in every time Seven comes up in the playlists now.

I’m not jealous. If anything, I have a warped sense of pride that Jimin has done so fantastically well despite so many, many obstacles stacked against him. I love to champion an underdog and I’m glad I never need to doubt his success was organic. I actually feel extra admiration for how humble and hardworking he continues to be—no resting on any laurels for the It Boy. I'm so glad he is my ult-bias.

*sigh*

Listen to me.

I know Jungkook and Jimin are both genuinely good people. I know they are sincerely talented and hard working. I know they truly love each other. I know all members are legitimately happy for each others' success.

I know what’s important to me may not be important to them, nor what they want for their careers. And even if I feel their company’s making shitty decisions, I know my place as a fan.

So I trust them. And I simply hang in. I hope lessons were learned for smoother, fairer future releases. Because neglecting assets makes zero business sense, and perceived favoritism can erode the group’s bonds and tear ARMY apart. It is, frankly, just plain stupid.

So I may dislike things about their solo era rollouts and I can't bring myself to sugar-coat it; but I mostly try to keep my negative thoughts to myself and find things I CAN celebrate with other fans on an open timeline.

I never want another Tannie to feel anguished and misunderstood the way Hobi did about JitB’s physicals.

Watching Jungkook’s face here on his London live when he talks about people hating him just haunts me. It guts me. I can't stand it. That kid was going through it and I don't believe he has a malicious bone in his body, so it just really upsets me seeing him like that.

There’s so, so much about this company, this industry, this culture that I just don’t understand. But I trust Park Jimin completely. As long as Park Jimin loves and supports his members, God knows, I will too.

So!! On that note...

We have Jungkook’s birthday to celebrate next week and Taehyung’s album to support the week after that. I’m going to do my best to rest up and gather some good energy for these things!

And of course, we must congratulate our Jimin, who made history again today, and no matter what, will always set the standard. I just know he's cooking up something else for us with all these weeks of silence, and I cannot wait to go BERSERK for it whenever it drops.

I’m not really sure I had a point to this post. It’s just that I have been mulling all this over for a long time, and finally felt well enough to sit up long enough to come online and type up my thoughts.

I guess what I mostly wanted to share with my friends here is that it’s okay to feel really disappointed and even enraged at the way some things play out over the (hopefully life-long) careers of BTS members. Don't let folks gaslight you. Call it like you see it. (Maybe keep sensitive things behind a cut or in the DMs--and of course, please change your mind if you get better insight. In the end, only the Tannies really know what's going on with the Tannies.)

But while I’m still side-eyeing the company so hard right now, I’ve decided to love and support the boys as people and artists. I'm trying to believe the best in everyone. I’m still an OT7 Jikooker.

You don’t have to agree with me, and if you need to unfollow, I understand. But I figured I should just tell you guys (especially the new followers) where I am at with all this.

Love, Roo

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

If the Sky Comes Falling Down (For You)

First posted: January 25, 2019

Focuses on: Jason Todd and his various siblings

Favorite bookmark: "A variety of permutations and flavors of Robin h/c featuring Jason! The Baskin Robins of BatFam h/c, if you will."

Second favorite bookmark: "and so, step by step, the prodigal stray coaxes himself home."

Tier: #3 in hits & kudos & subscriptions, #4 in comment threads, #2 in bookmarks

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Individual chapter notations below the cuts.

Chapter One

First, to note, the title came last and is from "Hey Brother" by Avicii because it was already on my BatFam playlist and gave me strong sibling feels, so it worked!

Okay if I remember correctly, this fic came about because 1) I had jotted down story ideas, all surrounding Jason, that were all just a bit too similar for me to feel comfortable doing them as one-offs, and 2) it was late 2018 when I start writing so I was deep in 5+1 IronDad fics.

This fic was so deeply indulgent from start to finish, which I think might be why people liked it so much? Like, if you're into the tropes into this fic, you're really into them. It scratches the itch just right, because it's my itch and I wrote it for me.

The plan was to do like I did for my other multi-chapter fics (except Nature and Nurture, RIP me) and write it all out before posting anything, so I could be sure that I would actually finish. I don't have that kind of self-restraint anymore. But it was a fun challenge to figure out what should happen to whom and in what order.

Jason didn’t sleep much anymore. He’d always been a rough sleeper, his years spent in low-security public housing and then on the street grinding away at his ability to rest with ease. He slept lightly, his consciousness skimming just below the surface, ready to spring awake at the softest noise.

As I've said before, sometimes I have an idea for a fic but then, when trying to start it, a sentence pops up immediately as my opener. That's always a wild ride because sometimes it seems to have nothing at all to do with where I want to go, so then I have to backtrack and figure out but why tho????

Moving to the Manor had helped some, after he’d assured himself that no one was going to scratch at his door or steal his shoes. The cold mornings had been the best, spent curled under a mound of the softest blankets imaginable atop a mattress so perfectly contoured to his bones that it’d felt like floating on the surface of a pool. He’d slept, truly slept, at the Manor.

I like the idea of, even at Jason's most toxic and vitriolic, the Manor itself still representing safety and comfort. Maybe sometimes he would twist it into stifling or grossly indulgent, but I think deep in his stomach he would know that distortion was a lie. The Manor was safer than anywhere else, even with his mom.

Those days of rest were long gone. The Pit had done a number on his brain—intensifying and altering his emotions, erasing some old habits and dialing up others, leaving dark chasms where memories should be.

I've seen other fics play with the idea of the trauma of Jason's injuries, death, resurrection, and the Pit all combining to some degree or another to swiss-cheese his brain (a phrase I lovingly borrow from Quantum Leap.) And that of course leaves a bunch of really fun room to play with—how much does Jason know he's missing vs. how much is gone or totally distorted without him even being aware? (Again, another thing I tease out in various fics like N&N.)

It was like someone had jammed a stick in his skull and given his brain a good stir. Or maybe that was just the crowbar. Ha.

I made myself snicker with that one. It's so voiceily Jason but also that ha is so guttural and specific in my head, you all will never know.

He was making progress with his budding criminal empire—splashy progress, as displayed on the crusting cuffs of his sleeves and the splattered toes of his boots, but also more subtle progress, too. The subtle form was harder, so much harder, but he knew its changes would be more permanent, in the long run. Splashy got people talking. Subtle got them bowing.

Jason! Todd! Is! No! Thug! He is smart and cunning and uses violence to make an impact and that's that on that.

And though he’d heard her speak before in the careful neutral of the middle-class, the sounds being beat out of her now were Crime Alley crooked.

I like the idea of Steph and Jason growing up in the same neighborhood. It's not a hill I'd die on, but it makes for some interesting fic.

The girl put up a good fight. She was rough, no finesse, no real training. All knuckles and elbows and feet and knees. He spotted some of the Bat basics pop up in the way she ducked and spun, but she wasn’t lithe like Nightwing or crafty like the Replacement. She was a brawler. And she was losing.

She is who he might have been, without Bruce and Alfred and Dick. A decent fighter, stubborn, willing to brawl it out, but ultimately destined to lose.

It sucked in an abstract way, the way it sucked that someone was going hungry halfway around the world, the way it sucked when a stranger missed his bus. It sucked, but it wasn’t Jason’s problem, and he couldn’t really bring himself to care. B needed to learn to pick up his toys.

Starting with Steph made the most sense to me. She wasn't (and isn't) a member I know super well, with so much of her canon backstory being things I have no interest in, and she's part of the Family but in that awkward "we're maybe siblings but also I have a mom and also I dated one of you too??" ways, so she's got a little bit of distance, for me as a writer and also Jason. She doesn't have the emotional heat of the others. He doesn't hate her, just what she represents. He also doesn't care what happens to her, except—

The knife glinted in the amber streetlight and cast a shadow across the yellow emblem on her chest.

She's not Batman. She's not a Robin. She's Batgirl. And that's a different thing entirely.

Jason knew what they saw when they looked at him. He was big now, broad-shouldered and massive in a way he had only ever dreamed of being as a scrawny, malnourished street kid. His helmet was blood-red and gleaming, its angles sculpted to subtly suggest a skull. And his clothes were still stained with actual blood. He was an Alley myth, a nightmare with more bite than the Bat, because he wasn’t afraid to do real damage. He was death.

Jason Peter Todd is scary smart, and he knows how to make the exact impact he wants.

“I don’t know you, but I know your colors. You’re Ibanescu’s boys.”

I had to google Gotham crime families. I know literally nothing other than the name.

It was one thing to let her get the snot beat out of her. And even if someone else had taken a shot at her, he wouldn’t have minded. But he couldn’t. Not in that suit.

:3

“It’s not about you,” Jason repeated, his voice gravelly and rough. He pointed toward the yellow symbol on her chest, the symbol that, in the world he’d left, the world he remembered, belonged to someone else. “I owe her a debt. And now it’s paid.” Jason was a murderer. A thief. A criminal. A drug lord. He had no illusions as to his own goodness anymore, no hope for redemption or grace. But he had his values, the few precious things that he would not allow. One of those, it seemed, was watch a man restrain and stab a Batgirl while he did nothing.

Someday I'll write more about that. The partner and friend and maybe mentor who was still reeling from trauma and hadn't yet found her way when Jason was snuffed out of existence.

Jason was tired, but the night was just beginning.

So that's where it starts. Jason tired, literally caked with dried blood, stepping in not because of love or hate or curiosity or concern but because he felt he owed a debt to someone else and that debt instead landed on the person in front of him.

[gabessquishytum]

Hob meets a pregnant Dream as he's delivering for his own local (but) fancy and low-staffed meal delivery service.

Dream needs help getting the proper nutrients and nutrition while pregnant, so he (was forced) along with his sisters to taste all food delivery services that delivered to his apartment and Hob's service was the only one with food he could stomach, let alone actively liked.

Hob doesn’t normally deliver his meals, but Matthew was sick and self-employed business owners do what's necessary. Dream answered the door, and Hob was smitten instantly by the beautiful grumpy pregnant person at the door. Then he turned around asking if Hob could maybe help him out by putting the food away in the kitchen. Hob may have been a little ass-matized --- staring (perving) on this gorgeous person's ass --- saying of course.

Thank goodness Dream's delivery was Hob's last one, because he doesn’t leave for a few hours. Not in a dirty way,,,, yet!

Hob is a reformed slut, and he might want to keep this man and baby, so he has to be chill...offering to cook for him in person-fresh (daily) a few times a week, is just being helpful. (Shut up!)

AHHH I love this concept!!!

Hob is reasonably good at catering to the needs of pregnant people - he had younger siblings, he's had pregnant friends. So it's pretty easy for him to get into Dream’s good books by offering essential services such as: 3am ice cream delivery, lower back massage, shaving Dream’s legs for him, talking to him during the night when he can't sleep, cuddles after hormonal outbursts. Dream is just wondering where this angel came from and why he's here in Dream’s apartment making salt caramel cookies and holding Dream’s bump for him for minutes at a time.

Dream entire family are also like how??? have you managed to get this reasonably normal man to be your slave??? They don't know that Hob is having the best time gently perving on Dream’s perfect figure. Plus who doesn't enjoy cuddles and midnight snacks? Hob is having a great time.

They don't even fuck until Dream is way over 6 months gone and just super uncomfortable yet vaguely horny 24/7. It makes perfect sense to ask Hob for help. Turns out he was a magic cock that makes Dream wish he hadn't waited so long to jump his bones - he should have bent over the counter that first day when Hob came with the food delivery, it would have made so much more sense!

...just like it makes perfect sense to put Hob’s name on the birth certificate when Dream eventually pops out the kid. He figures Hob has earned to right (especially since Dream broke his hand squeezing so hard during labour).

Hob didn't think that being helpful would make him a dad, but you won't hear him complaining. He can't wait to take care of Dream’s sexy little butt forever <3

[stupidphototricks]

The golems in Discworld are a mystery. They're clay plus words. There's no real-world reason they should work (as opposed to Hex, which is loosely plausible), not even magic. They’re entirely fantasy.

They were never alive, yet they’re immortal. They can't talk. They do the jobs that nobody wants to do, and they aren’t paid, and they don’t get a choice, and people are suspicious and a little afraid of them.

But they can read and write, and they are moral, intelligent, original thinkers who even understand humor.

DURING THE DAY I MUST SLAUGHTER, DRESS, QUARTER, JOINT AND BONE, AND AT NIGHT WITHOUT REST I MUST MAKE SAUSAGES AND BOIL UP THE LIVERS, HEARTS, TRIPES, KIDNEYS AND CHITTERLING. "That's awful," said Cheery. The pencil blurred briefly. CLOSE. -- Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay

[Note: Terry Pratchett Stealth Joke™. If you don't get it now, wait 2-7 years and it will pop into your head in the middle of the night]

(Spoiler break if you haven't read Feet of Clay)

Dorfl's journey in Feet of Clay is from someone's property to someone with agency of his own. From an unpaid slaughterhouse worker to a salaried Watchman. From being viewed as (at best) an it or (at worst) an abomination, to proving that in many significant ways, he is a person and should be treated as one.

"He's just made of clay, Vimes." "Aren't we all, sir? According to those pamphlets Constable Visit keeps handing out. Anyway, he thinks he's alive, and that's good enough for me." -- Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay

Vimes really takes a chance in taking Dorfl along to make the arrest at the end, when Vimes doesn't yet know who Dorfl really is now. I don't know what Vimes could have been thinking (or probably not thinking due to sleep deprivation!), but it pays off of course.

"What will you use the golem for?" "Not use, sir. Employ. I thought he might be useful to keep the peace, sir." "A Watchman?" "Yes, sir," said Vimes. "Haven't you heard, sir? Golems do all the mucky jobs." -- Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay

And once he has the power of speech and the freedom to use it, Dorfl has a lot to say, and is capable of holding his own in any philosophical discussion.

"Indeed, A True Atheist Thinks Of The Gods Constantly, Albeit In Terms Of Denial. Therefore, Atheism Is A Form Of Belief. If The Atheist Truly Did Not Believe, He Or She Would Not Bother To Deny." -- Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay

"Law Is The Servant Of Freedom. Freedom Without Limits Is Just A Word," said Dorfl ponderously. -- Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay

"Is It Frightening To Be Free?" "You said it." "You Say To People, 'Throw Off Your Chains' And They Make New Chains For Themselves?" "Seems to be a major human activity, yes." Dorfl rumbled as he thought about this. "Yes," he said eventually. "I Can See Why. Freedom Is Like Having The Top Of Your Head Opened Up." -- Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay

[jamietxrtt]

“keep your eyes shut.”

😈 gratuitous whumpy drabble time

Driving Jamie Tartt to hospital was not, he had to admit, Roy's idea of a good morning.

A good morning was a warm cup of tea on a cool morning, a nice leisurely two hours of defrosting time when nobody tried to talk to him at all.

It was not rushing out of the house with a granola in one hand and a coffee in the other, and nearly spilling said coffee everywhere when he tripped across an unconscious body. And then waking said body and manhandling it into a car to go to hospital while it protested within an inch of its life.

Roy thought that maybe, once in the car, Jamie would give up the fight and go get his stitches and concussion check quietly.

But Jamie never could make things easy, could he?

“I’m really alright,” Jamie said for the nineteenth time. “It’s been bleeding on and off all night, y’know, and I’ve managed not to keel over and fucking die so far.”

A low growl crept from the back of Roy’s throat. “All night you spent sleeping on my porch steps like a fucking dog.”

Jamie took the washcloth down from his forehead to scowl at Roy, and fresh dark bulbs of blood sprouted up along the gash through this temple.

“Oi!” Roy barked. “Pressure.”

Jamie rolled his eyes, but did as he was told, pressing the cloth back to his head.

“You could’ve rung the fucking doorbell, you know.”

Jamie waved him off. “Knew you’d freak out. Which you did. I didn’t want a fuss.”

“So you thought it would be less alarming to let me find you passed out and fucking bloody when I opened the door in the morning?”

Jamie winced. “Okay, yeah, maybe not the best plan. But I’m alright, really.”

Roy grunted. “We’ll let the doctors decide that.”

“Roy—”

“It’s not an argument, Jamie. We’re already nearly there.”

“We’re— what?” Jamie looked out the window shield, as if noticing for the first time that they were moving. “What the fuck, why're you going so fast!”

“Speed limits are for people without medical emergencies in their passenger seats.”

“Crash the fucking car, why don’t you,” Jamie muttered. “You old enough for them to take away your license yet?”

Roy growled again.

.

As they pulled into the hospital car part, Roy realized why Jamie was so reluctant about the hospital thing.

He’d figured the kid was just being contrarian (read: an arsehole) and difficult for fun (read: a little prick). Or trying to maintain some tough-guy veneer, as if anybody fucking cared about how tough you were when your head was bloody cracked open. But as soon as the hospital was in sight, Jamie started shifting uncomfortably in the passenger’s seat beside Roy. By the time the car was parked, Jamie’s eyes were wide.

“I— uh…” It was always strange, how Jamie managed to do this. Managed to go from Jamie Fucking Tartt, prick extraordinaire, who’s favorite pastime was getting under Roy’s skin, to Jamie, just Jamie, wide-eyed and spongy and bone-achingly young, in a matter of a few seconds. Threw Roy for a loop every single time he did it.

“I really don’t want to do this, Roy.”

Now that the car was parked, Roy could turn to assess him fully. The injuries didn't look any better than they had when he'd first shaken Jamie awake-- the gritty scrape along his chin, the darkening black eye clinging to the bottom of his socket, and, of course, that garish slash, hidden in the center of a purple bruise, ripping from Jamie's temple to the top of his forehead.

(Probably more injuries that Roy couldn't see, but he was trying not to think about that at the moment lest he start shouting.)

But now he could see that Jamie's hand, fallen into his lap with the cloth bunched up in a fist, was shaking.

"You don't like hospitals," Roy said, more a statement than a question.

Just as quickly as frightened, vulnerable Jamie had appeared, he vanished again, Jamie's glare snapping up across his face like a window shutter. "How'd you guess that one, Einstein?"

Roy ignored him. "It'll probably be quick. They'll give you a concussion test, pop a few stitches in your head, give you some Paracetamol and send you home."

Jamie visibly shuddered.

“I… Will you.” Jamie kept his face turned away, unable to look him in the eye, as he mumbled something.

“Hm?”

“I said, will you go in with me?” Despite the situation, Roy managed to notice that Jamie’s ears were going pink. “…Please?”

“Well, of course I’m going in with you.” Roy shook his head. “What, you think I’m gonna drive you here and kick out out on the curb and drive away? I’ll help you check in and all.”

“I didn’t mean—” Jamie gave a frustrated scoff, glancing back at Roy. “Not just the waiting room. I mean, like… will you go in with me, to do the fucking— tests, and stitches, and shit.”

“Oh.” Roy didn’t know what to say. Jamie’s ears turned an even darker shade of Red.

“Nevermind,” he said quickly, starting to get out of the car. “It’s stupid, I’ll just—”

“No, no.” Roy caught his arm. “Of course I’ll go in with you. If the nurses and all them let me.”

Despite his crimson ears, Jamie’s face flooded with relief. He nodded.

.

“And there you go,” the kind doctor said, putting away the cleaning swabs. “All cleaned out. Now we just have to pop a few stitches in and you’ll be on your way.” She smiled.

It wasn’t Sarah, as much as Roy had lobbied to try to get his sister to treat Jamie, she was busy with other patients (and no special treatment, Roy, she echoed in his brain). But this doctor was kind, another woman, older, with smile lines around her eyes.

Privately, Roy was glad Jamie’d gotten a lady doctor. Earlier, one of the nurses taking his tests had been a man, an older man, shining light in Jamie’s eyes and asking him questions. Roy noticed the way Jamie started to stumble over his words, and he had a suspicion it wasn’t entirely due to the concussion.

Jamie seemed more at ease now with the lady doctor, but he eyed the tiny needle she brought out and leaned away warily.

He made a noise in the back of his throat, like a baby seal. “You’re gonna use that on my head?”

“Don’t worry, love, it’s all numbed up, you won’t feel anything.”

Jamie looked to Roy, panicked. Get me out of here.

“You did just fine with the cleaning,” Roy told him, quietly. “Why is this different? You won’t feel it.”

“Because she’s putting a fucking needle in my head, maybe?” He leaned as far away from the doctor as she could without falling off the examination table.

Roy knew people were often scared of needles— had held Phoebe through more than one tantrum about a flu shot— but this wasn’t like that. It wasn’t a syringe. It was tiny, really, a small little curve of metal the doctor had to grip between tweezers to even hold. Nothing to be afraid of, in Roy’s view.

But Jamie seemed to disagree. As the doctor picked up the needle with a smile, producing some special-looking thread, Jamie lost it, cringing as he turned away.

“Ah, yeah, no. No, I’m not doing this.” He started to get up from the examination table. “I’m not. I’m not. I can’t.”

“It’s alright, love.” The doctor frowned as the wound on Jamie’s head started bleeding again. “I’ll tell you what I’m doing the entire time I’m doing it. I won’t do anything more than necessary to close the wound up, hm? Only take a few minutes.”

“No,” Jamie shook his head vigorously, then winced. “I never should’ve come here, I— Fuck—”

The lady doctor turned to Roy, a placating smile on her face. Could you…?

Roy cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Jamie.” He took the younger man’s hand.

The sudden act of touch seemed to shock Jamie out of his panic. Roy wasn’t usually a hand-holding type.

“You’re okay,” Roy said. “I promise.”

Jamie’s eyes flitted between the doctor and Roy.

“How about this?” Roy said. “You close your eyes, and I’ll stay right here holding your hand, and she’ll do what she needs to do and you won’t even feel it. And you can just talk to me. And when you open your eyes again it’ll be done.”

He remembered a few months ago, when Phoebe had to have blood drawn and threw an absolute fit about it. Roy had sat by her side and talked to her, told her don’t look at it, look at me, distracted her until it was done.

Jamie looked back at Roy, his eyes wide and full of fear.

Fuck, how did he manage to look so fucking young sometimes?

“I’ve got you,” Roy promised. “Close your eyes. Trust me.”

After a long, uncertain moment, Jamie slowly squeezed his eyes shut.

“Okay. Okay. Good lad.” Roy watched as the doctor began to work. “Okay. She’s wiping the new blood up with another one of those pads. Okay. All clean.”

Jamie’s hand was shaking. Roy squeezed it harder.

“She’s got the needle and thread, now, she’s going to start—”

Jamie jerked away when the tweezers got close to his face, his eyes starting to flutter open—

“No, Jamie, it’s okay. Just keep your eyes shut, alright? Breathe.” Jamie obeyed, closing his eyes tightly again. Roy took in an over-exaggerated breath, and Jamie followed suit.

“Good. Good lad,” Roy said as he watched the needle poke through Jamie’s skin. “You’re doing good.”

Jamie took another deep breath.

“She’s already halfway done, see? You’re okay. You’re doing good.”

Jamie started to shake underneath the needle, and the doctor paused. Didn’t want to poke him anywhere unintentionally, Roy thought.

“It’s okay. You’re alright.”

The shaking ceased, and the doctor finished the job, clipping the thread with a single snip.

“All done,” she said quietly. She smiled at Jamie. “No more needles.”

Roy went to drop Jamie’s hand, but the younger man clung on. His eyes were still shut.

“You can open your eyes, Jamie.”

He did. Looked around him, observed the absence of a needle (the doctor had put it away), and relaxed. He let go of Roy’s hand. “Sorry. Thanks.”

Roy shook his head. “No. You did well.”

Jamie’s hand drifted up to touch his forehead, but the doctor stopped him. “Oh, careful, love, careful. You don’t want to mess up those stitches, hm? Then we’d have to do this all again.”

That was an effective deterrent. Jamie kept his hands to himself.

“Let me call Nurse Osgood.” The nice doctor smiled again. “He’ll just do one more once over, and then you can be on your way, hm?”

Jamie’s eyes were still a bit faraway, so Roy nodded for him. “Thanks,” he told the doctor, and she left.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Jamie said quietly, his voice hoarse. “Thank you.”

Roy shrugged. “It’s nothing.” He patted Jamie’s shoulder gently. “You ready to go home?”

“Please.”

[merakiui]

no because imagine you drop floyd after he proposes to you - you can probably write an okay article with what you’ve got - and you think you’re done with him for good, until a few weeks later you see that he’s run away from prison. imagine the fear of knowing he’s just out there and the way all his threats are circling across your mind, especially in the middle of the nights when the shadows look a little too similar to a certain someone.

And you'll never be able to predict what he might do now that he's escaped. Will he lay low until the chaos dies down? Will he come right for you, disregarding the risk altogether? Will he change his appearance to blend in with society? Have you already seen him out of the corner of your eye, or is that just your paranoia playing tricks on you? It's so terrifying and anxiety-inducing. You'll live in a constant state of fear and uncertainty. Every little sound startles you. From a creaky floorboard to the wind blowing harshly outside, it gives you such a terrible fright and triggers your flight or fight response immediately.

To keep yourself safe, you've installed extra locks on your doors, you keep your windows locked tight and the curtains closed, and you've even taken to staying with a friend or a loved one every now and then on the days when you don't feel very comfortable sleeping at home. You never stay out late anymore, and if you absolutely must you never travel home. You'll find somewhere to stay for the night, even if that means coughing up the funds for a one-night stay at a hotel. Even doing things during the day is frightening. You fear Floyd might pop out of nowhere and it'll be over for you. And you're constantly checking the news every day to see if there are any updates regarding the search for him. He's dangerous and hostile; surely they'll catch him. Surely they'll find him soon. Right?

You've finished writing the article and you've sent it to your editor for their perusal, but somehow you feel like it's better off remaining unpublished. You worry Floyd might see it if he happens to have access to the internet, and if he reads it and doesn't like what you've written... You shudder to think about what he can and will do to you if he ever catches you. He'd been so intent on marrying you when you met with him during interviews, shamelessly sharing all sorts of fantasies he's thought up involving you. Some were violent and criminal. Others were lewd and gross. Some were oddly...soft? Domestic? Sweet? Regardless, every fantasy of his was creepy when spoken in that lazy drawl. The one that crawls up your spine and settles into your bone marrow. Even now, you can hear how he'd pronounce 'Shrimpy' so perfectly, drawing out each letter with a toothy grin.

Weeks become months. No progress has been made on the search. It's as if Floyd's vanished, and that doesn't sit right with you. It's getting harder to go outside, to meet people, to stay in touch, to write articles and set up interviews. You feel trapped in your house but, most of all, in your own skin. Floyd's still out there. You're reminded of that fact when you watch the news or are asked for details from colleagues or even the police, all of them wondering where you think he might be because, in their words, "You know him better than we do." And that's true to an extent. You do know Floyd; you've interviewed him, read the official criminal psychology report that dissected and diagnosed him, and have penned an entire journal's worth of notes about his personality, his likes and dislikes, his interests and hobbies, and so on. But you can never put yourself in the shoes of a killer, and so it's impossible to predict where he might be.

You think you might be going insane because you're certain you're misplacing things out of fear, rearranging them out of some anxious habit, and eating more from your fridge and pantry because you're trying to cope with the stress. When shadows take the shape of Floyd, you have to blink hard and remind yourself that, while he's childish and impulsive most of the time, he isn't a fool. He wouldn't break into your house so suddenly. He's smart, even if he pretends like he isn't. He must be if he's been able to evade capture for this long.

But as long as he remains free, you will never be able to rest peacefully. Which is so unfortunate because Floyd wants his Shrimpy to be comfortable! He'll come get you soon. And when he does you'll never have to be scared of anything ever again.

[julemmaes]

“hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve, testing the waters

- the other notices so they pull them into a hug, smiling as they just watch them melt”

For gwynriel or nessian??? 💕💕💕

Keep them coming girl I'm having so much fun with these ones you have no idea. I also reblogged some others posts with prompt if you need inspo, but feel free to continue really

This can be considered a part two to the previous prompt you sent, but can be read separately

Word count: ~2k

Azriel was tired.

No, he corrected himself mentally, "tired" wasn't even beginning to explain the exhaustion binding his bones. Or how he felt like his eyes could pop out of their sockets at any minute with how swollen and read they were.

Surely staying in the pool the entire afternoon and swimming underwater without any goggles hadn't been the smartest option, but the surprised wows and oohs coming from Nyx whenever he opened his eyes and looked at him had been enough to convince him it was worth it.

Now, he wasn't so sure anymore. 

Everyone was crammed in Rhysand and Feyre's huge kitchen—not that anything else in their summer villa could be considered anything but—and he was keeping to himself in the corner that faced the backyard, in case he needed a fast escape plan. 

He loved his family, he truly did. But they could be a bit too much from time to time, and now that his only excuse to avoid adult interactions had been put to sleep, he felt like he had to find another way lest people started approaching him.

He sighed to himself, sipping his wine as he cracked another peanut in his fist. 

There was another person in the room that could make this less miserable for him, but he really didn't want to pull her out of that bright bubble of laughter that surrounded her.

Azriel looked to the side, glancing at Gwyn.

She was sitting on the edge of the kitchen island closer to him, her hands tucked under her thighs and her naked legs dangling. She was only wearing her bikini bottom and one of his dark blue sweaters and her hair were like a fire avalanche of beauty.

She was stunning. 

And he was the luckiest piece of shit ever.

His girlfriend turned his way, tilting her head to the side as if sensing his gaze on her. She flashed him the whitest and brightest smile she could and his heart sunk. She squinted and her freckled nose wrinkled in that adorable way of hers. 

He was so lucky.

She frowned slightly, her smile still in place, as if to ask him if everything was okay. He nodded tiredly, assuring her he was good and after a few beats where she observed him attentively, she nodded in turn, convinced, and went back to whatever they were discussing. 

He suppressed a smile and hid his chin in his shirt, hoping no one was looking at him and would catch him simping over his love. 

When he went to take another swing from his glass and noticed it was empty he huffed, annoyed. And although he was already a bit tipsy and he knew he shouldn't be drinking with how weary he was, he risked his peace to go and retrieve a refill. 

He walked slowly to the center of the kitchen, brushing a finger down Gwyn's leg and moving further before she could stop him. He sidestepped Emerie and Mor, who were sitting on the countertop, legs intertwined together, hands on each other. Mor was kissing her fiancée's jaw and Emerie seemed completely oblivious to it as she kept talking.

"All I'm saying is that this house is already big enough," she laughed, dumbfounded. "You definitely don't need to add more rooms or another gazebo, the one you have is perfectly fine." 

Cassian snorted, throwing snacks in his mouth like they hadn't just finished a five course meal. 

"But wouldn't it be nice if in, let's say, a few years, when everyone starts having kids, they could have their own smaller, cozier gazebo?" Feyre said, leaning with her elbows on the island. 

A choking sound cracked the beautiful picture Feyre had been trying to paint, and Cassian started coughing, spitting crumbles and munched up food everywhere. Nesta, standing right next to him, looked at him with such a disgusted face that Azriel had to chuckle. 

Elain patted him on the back until he was breathing normally again and at this point, Azriel was wondering how not everyone had caught up on what was going on.

He shook his head as he poured red blood wine in his glass and kept silent as he made his way to Gwyn's side, trying as much as he could to hide behind his girlfriend's frame.

"You good?" Nesta asked her husband, eyeing him with calculated calm. 

His brother cleared his throat one last time before nodding.

Azriel noticed Rhysand holding back his own laugh, trying to hide his smirk in his cup of coffee. That was interesting. 

So Cassian had told him. Making a quick sweep of the entire room, only Lucien seemed to be in on their secret, considering how shitty of a job he was doing at pretending he wasn't laughing, too.

Bad, bad choice, had his brother made. If Nesta found out Cassian had told so many people, she would have him by the balls. And Rhysand owed him fifty bucks.

"Anyway," Feyre clapped her hands, "I really, really want to build a smaller version of the one we already have."

Azriel tuned her out then, not really caring for this topic and decided to focus on the feather touch caresses his girlfriend was trailing down his forearm. 

She did that all the time. 

Gwyn unconsciously touched him everywhere. All. The fucking. Time. Didn't matter where they were, what they were doing, who they were with, his girl found a way to have her soft, delicate, slender fingers on him. 

And he loved every second of it, but he wanted more. 

With his mind fogged by the alcohol and the throb in his head due to the extended time spent with his family, all he needed was a bed and his girlfriend in his arms, but he would never pull her from this place unless she asked him to leave.

And he definitely wouldn't initiate any kind of pda. He had tried, many and many times again, to be the kind of person who could just sweep their lover into their arms and cover them in kisses in front of a room full of people. Unfortunately, he wasn't comfortable with being the one to seek out his partners for fear they would feel forced to accept what he was offering in front of others. So he waited, and waited. 

And waited for Gwyn to do more than just brush the tips of her fingers up and down his arm, but she wasn't even looking at him, her back to his chest—and she wasn't even leaning on him. 

He brushed the fabric of his sweater, down to the hem of it and tugged slightly. When his girlfriend suddenly laughed he sucked in his breath and moved his hand away, tucking it in the pocket of his shorts.

Stupid man, just touch her. 

She'd told him so many times she wanted him to. That she needed him to touch her, even in front of their friends.

He counted to ten and then chickened out again, deciding to go with his trademark request for affection. 

He pinched her sleeve and tugged with a bit more strength than before. Gwyn's head shriveled his way and then looked down at his hand, still clasped around the shirt. The corner of her lips curled and then she scoffed, pulling her hand free from under her thigh. 

She silently opened her legs, turning more his way but still keeping her attention on the conversation. Azriel knew it was so the other's wouldn't catch up on their actions, so he didn't take it at heart. 

Not anymore at least. The first time she'd appeared this disinterested in their affection he'd fallen down a rabbit hole of insecurities and fears that had lasted days. 

He took his rightful place in between her legs, letting his hands travel under his shirt and around her naked waist, pulling her closer to him. With her sitting so high from the ground, his head reached just below her chin and when her fingers laced in his hair, she pushed his face right between her covered breasts. Her legs tied around his hips.

He sighed.

Heaven.

His thumbs were drawing circles right above her butt cheeks, where they were safely concealed by the sweater and that was the only sign he hadn't yet fallen asleep. Even though he didn't deem the chance of that too impossible, with the humming rumbling in her chest and the light scratches on his scalp.

Azriel closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, enjoying their scents mixed together. The remnants of sunscreen on her skin, the perfume of her chamomile shampoo, the faint aroma of the cherries she'd been eating all night long.

He loved her.

The head massage she was giving him suddenly stopped and he felt her voice in his very brain when she whispered in his hair, "Are you tired, love?" 

He loved when she called him that.

He nodded, "Dead."

She mockingly gasped, quiet enough just for him to hear and then two fingers pressed lightly on his neck. He chuckled, not moving from his position. 

"Nuh-uh," Gwyn murmured, "still very much alive." 

His only answer was a groan. 

She shifted and her legs released him, and the cold that hit him shocked him enough that he moved away from her. Her hands fell to his shoulders and when he looked up at her, she was smiling down at him.

That fucking smile was going to be his death. 

Without taking her eyes off of him, Gwyn announced to the room, "I'm taking my big boy to bed. He needs sleep."

Azriel started shaking his head, ready to complain they could stay and force himself through another hour of this torment if it made her happy, but her hands were on his cheeks and she was kissing him before he could open his mouth.

Hoots and hollers rose from the others and Gwyn laughed in the kiss, forcing him to part from her, but he smiled nonetheless.

He didn't deign his family of a goodbye before his girlfriend dragged him out of the kitchen and up to their room, where he finally stripped and laid down for the night.

Gwyn crawled in bed after him, after having changed into just a pair of slips. They both slept naked at home, and they weren't about to change their habits just because they were on holiday. 

She curled around him, chest to chest, their legs finding their way to intricate without making it uncomfortable. Gwyn left a kiss on his collarbone before tilting her head back and looking him in the eyes, leaving another incredibly soft kiss on his chin. 

He was having the hardest time keeping his eyes opened, and he only managed to brush his lips against hers before sleep overtook him.