#That first text box lives rather rent-free in my head | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gimmethatagustd · 2 years

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who's your bias? | kth

Everyone says idols shouldn’t date their fans. Little did you know the crazy sasaengs aren't the ones who might ruin your relationship. It might just be your boyfriend's best friends.

» pairing: idol!taehyung x music producer girlfriend!reader

» wc/date: 12.6k | January 2023

» notes: this was entirely self-indulgent 😂 i hope my taehyung whores enjoy my first idol au oneshot. also i wrote 80% of this while i was high and with no beta so if it's bad, now you know why

» masterlist | ao3 | join my taglist

» what was jai listening to? impatient - jeremih ft. ty dolla $ign

“Y/N, stop it right now.”

Your boyfriend breathes the command faster than you can even open your mouth to greet him. With a roll of your eyes, you put your phone on speaker and sit it on the floor beside you. Rummaging through the cardboard boxes littering your apartment is easier done with both hands.

“Why hello, Taehyung. What a pleasure to hear from you.”

“Are you seriously mad at me right now?” From the whine in his voice you’re positive he’s wearing a deep pout, bottom lip jutting out as far as it can. You love kissing his pouts away.

But not this time! And not just because you’re on opposite sides of the world.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s so late there and I’m sure you’re very tired from displaying your dick to all of America for three hours.”

The cardboard box in front of you has “BEDROOM” scribbled in your father’s handwriting on the side in thick, black Sharpie. It’s full of little trinkets and random decor. A Shooky plushie is crammed into the corner in between a cracked Army bomb and a small framed photo of you with your parents. You smile to yourself despite your boyfriend’s huffing over the phone. Your father had given you a strange look as he helped you pack the items as if to ask, Really? Do you really need these?

Just because you’re dating a member of BTS now doesn’t mean you can’t cherish your old BTS merch! It’s not weird, in your opinion. It would only be weird if you made it weird. And you weren’t making it weird.

“I did not display my dick!”

You roll your eyes for probably the fifth time while you ponder where to put Shooky. You'd kept it on your dresser in your old home in the States. Something tells you Taehyung won’t appreciate the lack of a Tata beside it.

“You were thrusting and throwing it around! And pointing at it while doing it, too!”

“Y/N!”

“Don’t Y/N me! I have my TikTok evidence!”

With your cracked Army bomb in hand, you open the app in question, scrolling through your favorited videos until you get to the one. The one uploaded only a day before. The one you’d texted to Taehyung which prompted his immediate phone call.

“And what does the caption say?” you ask but then cut Taehyung off before he can answer the question. “It says, and I quote, ‘I will never forget Taehyung doing this. I looped this for hours. Kim Taehyung lives in my head rent-free.’ Hashtag Taehyung. Hashtag HipsDon’tLie. With the woozy face emoji. And do we need to discuss the music choice?”

“Y/N, can you please-”

“Slut Me Out,” you deadpan in a monotone voice. “That is the song they chose for you.”

The other end is silent for so long you start to feel bad. Every time your jealousy spikes, you seem to act on impulse rather than thinking through how you might make Taehyung feel. Yes, he sometimes plays his part in the group a little too well, but you also knew that this was his job. It’s his job to make people get excited - excited for the music, the group, and himself as an idol.

Still, your opinion is the most important to him, and you know that.

“Jagiya…” Taehyung sniffles and you feel your heart shatter.

Fuck, you really are a bitch, aren’t you?

“Tae, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know, I didn’t really think anything of it. It’s just an act, y’know?”

You did know. Away from the stage and the cameras, Taehyung is quiet, almost shy. He’s happy to be a silent observer of whatever chaos his members create. He gifts everyone with puffy cheeks and boxy grins, sometimes a boisterous laugh that manages to make your heart soar every time. But the soft-spoken soul you listen to old school R&B with while you smoke strawberry swisher blunts on the balcony late into the night, and convince that yes, the apartment is soundly built and no, the balcony will not randomly fall out beneath you… That person is different from the person you see wearing a resting bitch face in interviews or the person who chews away at imaginary gum during concerts.

You find all versions of Taehyung endearing, although the fake gum chewing is kind of embarrassing if you wanted to be perfectly honest.

“I know, Tae. I’m sorry I’m being judgmental for no reason,” you insist and you hope he believes you. Complaints about his idol status typically resulted in red eyes and sniffles, yet sometimes you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing his pressure points despite his sensitivity.

Your apology puts Taehyung in a better mood because his following comment is cheekier than you expect.

“You get jealous a lot, jagi.” His smug tone is close to bringing back your irritation.

“I am not jealous of some fans in a stadium, thanks.”

“Good,” he says more cheerfully. “‘Cause I only have sights for you.”

That makes you laugh and you feel your earlier heaviness disappear. “You mean, you only have eyes for me?”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

You shake your head as if Taehyung can see you. A few photo strips are beneath Shooky in the cardboard box. You silently curse your father (respectfully and endearingly) for casually placing something so fragile in the bottom of a box. The photos are of you and Taehyung in a photo booth at a birthday party for an idol you didn’t know. An actor, you think. You thumb at one of the corners of the photo strip that has curled inward. Taehyung’s hair was straight then, and short, falling just above his ears. You much prefer the thick waves he wears now.

“You’re so cute.”

“Only for you.”

“Oh shut up, now you’re being corny.”

You’re not sure why, but you try to suppress the smile Taehyung’s light flirting coaxes out of you, even though he can’t see you. Accepting his teasing affection has always been hard for you. All the boys are too caring; it makes you uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. You’re just not used to men acting like that. They’re all very different from the men you’ve been around growing up. There’s a reason Taehyung can’t listen to you talk about your ex-boyfriends without getting pissed.

“Mmm, maybe. I’m also sleepy,” Taehyung slurs. His voice is so soft you almost can’t hear him, so you lift your phone to your ear rather than use the speaker setting. The smoothness feels like a lullaby gentle enough to carry you to sleep, even though it’s still daylight in Seoul.

“Goodnight, Kim.” You decide for him, knowing he would stay on the phone if you let him.

Confirming your thoughts, Taehyung grumbles when he speaks next. “I love you, jagi.”

“I love you, too.” People always talk about the “honeymoon phase” when the butterflies disappear and couples no longer feel the exciting draw toward each other anymore. It’s been less than a year since you started dating Taehyung, but you’re confident that your heart will always flutter when you hear those three words so confidently spoken. Taehyung had been the first to say it; something about that makes you even more sure of your relationship.

“Can’t wait to see you soon so I can slut you out.”

“... please go to bed and never say that ever again.”

In the distance, you hear someone start yelling. The noise is accompanied by a rather aggressive ruffling sound, as though Taehyung’s phone is being rubbed against fabric.

“Are you two having phone sex?” The second voice accuses, this time sounding much clearer.

“Hyung, leave me alone,” Taehyung whines. “Y/N, tell him to go away.”

You let out a long sigh, but the grin finally cuts through the hardened expression you try to maintain. “Goodnight, Jimin.”

It sounds like the two boys start physically fighting each other before Taehyung lets out a breathy, “Goodnight, baby,” accompanied by Jimin screeching something you can’t understand before the call ends.

With a shake of your head, you leave your phone on the floor and get up to position Shooky and your Army bomb on your dresser. You’ll figure out what to do with it later, you decide.

Later ends up being three more days of you giving a half-assed attempt to sort through the boxes. Your bedroom is mostly organized by the end of the week with only one more box remaining, shoved into the corner of the room. It’s a bunch of family keepsakes that will make you cry if you start looking at them.

Right now you want to make a beeline to the kitchen.

It’s hard not to trip over all the boxes that litter your apartment, most of them already torn open and half-empty. The kitchen hasn’t been fully unpacked, either, so you opt for instant ramen in the microwave rather than dig for utensils to cook a proper meal. It’s pretty bad. You and Taehyung are a terrible match; you both have no idea how to cook. There’s no point in all the fancy kitchenware your parents bought you. You’ll never master any of it. It’s not because you don’t put in any effort, like Taehyung. You’re genuinely shit at cooking.

And baking? That’s even worse.

You stand in the middle of your living room while you shovel ramen in your mouth. It’s too hot, so you inhale loudly through your teeth to cool the food off before it scorches your throat. There’s so much you need to do, and it’s making you nauseous thinking about it. Somewhere in the mix of boxes are your Hangeul textbooks that you should be studying in your free time instead of playing video games and video chatting with your friends. It’s only been a week and a half, but you already feel lonely without the constant presence of your friends and family. The boys have been on tour the entire time. Namjoon decided you moving to Seoul while they’re on tour would make your arrival less suspicious, and everyone would be more focused on the tour than whatever an unknown American music producer is doing.

In your opinion, Namjoon was overthinking the whole thing as he is wont to do. But you let him be bossy because you know his heart is in the right place. It’s not like the public knows you’re dating Taehyung. There hasn’t been any press or rumors about you at all. You’re genuinely unknown.

You prefer it that way.

Your fork scrapes the bottom of the bowl and you realize you’ve scarfed down the ramen without much thought. You suppose it’s easier to do that when you aren’t using chopsticks. (You’ve managed to master them, for the most part, but you prefer to fall back on forks when you’re alone at home.)

You place the bowl on top of the large cardboard box in front of the couch. It has the pieces for your coffee table inside, but you haven’t had the energy to put it together yet. The part of you that allows your feminism to leave your body whenever the boys are around is kind of hoping you can get one of them to build it for you. Maybe Yoongi. He’s into that kind of stuff.

With a sigh, you flop onto the couch and slip your phone out of your back pocket. A few Whatsapp and KakaoTalk notifications light up the screen. You used to be terrible at responding to texts, but moving halfway across the world has made you a better texter. It’s a way to fill the loneliness.

[Alex] hey bitch

[Alex] this 15 hour time difference sucks ass

[You] I’m sorry

[Alex] its fine. i’ll forgive you for chasing money and dick

[You] I’m not chasing dick omg

[Alex] dont lie

[Alex] whats that tiffany pollard meme

[You] Stop

[Alex] i know his dick is big. i know it! i know it’s big!

[You] I hate you

[Alex] you didnt deny it. anywayyy did you see this?

As much as you adore Alex, she’s an expert at getting under your skin. You remind yourself that it’s all harmless as you click on the link she texts you.

BTS' V woos fans with his casual rockstar visuals on his return from world tour

Kim Taehyung, also known professionally as V of BTS, was spotted at John F. Kennedy International Airport on Friday. The singer is reportedly returning early to South Korea ahead of his band members after completing the final performance of their…

You don’t know why you read the shitty k-pop tabloids. You figure it’s the same reason why people make a hobby out of watching bad movies. There’s a weird itch in the back of your brain that can’t be scratched unless you open the link Alex texts you— teasingly, of course, because she thinks she’s being funny. Your friends don’t understand the nauseous feeling you get when you scroll through the article and accidentally click on a link that takes you to an external website flaunting doctored photos of your boyfriend with Jennie Kim.

BTS’ V and BLACKPINK’s Jennie Spend Romantic Weekend in Paris

You know it’s a lie because the weekend in question was the same weekend Taehyung flew you to Seoul to do a final walkthrough of your apartment before you signed off on it. Taehyung spent every second of that weekend by your side.

The article makes you sick anyway.

You’re so caught up in trying to craft a text to Alex to explain why she needs to leave you the fuck alone that you don’t hear the sound of your apartment’s front door open over the music you’re listening to.

“I’m gone for a few months and I come home to you listening to some other band?”

“Holy shit, Tae, you can’t do that to me,” you yelp when Taehyung leans over the back of the couch to hover over your shoulder.

“Explain yourself.” His voice is warm honey and milk even when his strong eyebrows point downward in mock disappointment. The expression is almost convincing, his naturally sharp features making conjuring up a dark appearance easier.

“You can’t tell me Stray Kids’ new album isn’t good.”

“Jagiya, I just got home,” Taehyung whines. “Kiss me and stop thirsting over Australian boys.”

He touches your chin to tip your head backward. You lean your head against the back of the couch and look up at him. The position makes you think of the iconic Spiderman kiss, seeing Taehyung’s face upside down above yours.

“Y’know, I worked on a few of their songs. Before I met you.”

The confession is meant to tease him for making fun of your music choice. Of course, words’ impact often diverges from intent. It’s in the twist of his face and the way he pulls back slightly just before his lips brush against yours that you know you’ve made him jealous.

“Oh did you?” His hair hangs around his face as he leans over you.

“Mhm, Bang Chan’s accent is really cu—”

You shouldn’t be shocked when strong hands squeeze your waist and Taehyung hauls you off the couch to stand in front of him. He wraps his arm around your waist to pull you tightly against his chest.

“You didn’t work with any other groups before us, okay?”

You purse your lips to hold in the laughter that threatens to explode from your chest. All you can do is nod in agreement. It reminds you of girls getting upset when they remember their boyfriends dated other people before them.

“Good.”

Taehyung dips his head down to connect his lips with yours. The closeness of his body forces you to inhale his cologne and feel goosebumps travel down your arms. It’s been months since you’ve so much as held Taehyung’s hand and you feel like you’ve been starved. Your body trembles so severely that you dig your nails into his biceps to hold yourself upright. You moan into his mouth, already open and ready for you because Taehyung is nothing but giving.

The kiss isn’t bruising, not yet. It’s slow and deep. Taehyung takes his time reminding himself of your taste. You grip the nape of his neck to pull him down as you meet him by standing on your tiptoes. His height has always been one of your favorite aspects of his physical appearance. Dark, watchful eyes that pierce into your soul might be at the top of the list.

His tongue swirls around yours, only retreating to suck your bottom lip into his mouth. His teeth graze along the plump skin, each nibble making you dizzy in the head. You normally hate wet kisses, but there’s something satisfying about seeing Taehyung’s lips pink and shiny with your spit when he finally pulls away. Pride thrums in your chest; you did that. You made his tan skin flush pink. You made his eyes dark and sharp. You made his breathing ragged and desperate.

And, fuck, does it feel good.

You run your fingers along his sharp jawline and watch the muscles flex beneath his taunt skin. “Don’t clench your jaw like that. It’s not good for you,” you muse, allowing your fingers to skim over his Adam’s apple.

“I’m trying to stay calm.”

Your eyebrows fly up with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Wanna bend you over the couch and fuck you until you can’t walk,” Taehyung says with such a gentle tone that the stark difference between what he says and how he says it has your body trembling once again.

You inhale sharply and let your hand fall from his throat. Instead, you reach for the lapels of his leather jacket and squeeze them.

“Why don’t you?”

You can’t look at him when you ask. Even though you’ve been dating for almost a year, Taehyung still intimidates the hell out of you sometimes. The darkness of his eyes when he gets horny sends you reeling. You’re sure if you look up, you’ll see The Look. He stares at you unabashedly with an expression of desire so strong you feel like he might consume you just by looking at you.

“You haven’t eaten yet and I need to take a shower.”

“How do you know I haven’t eaten yet?” With a pout, you finally dare to look your boyfriend in the face. The way he gapes at you is judgmental and doesn’t make you feel devour-worthy at all.

“I know you,” he scoffs. “You’re just like Jimin. I bet you haven’t even been awake more than two hours.”

Barely a year into your relationship and he’s already reading you like an open book. You can’t stay salty about it when his bread cheeks come out and he’s giggling at the frustrated “hmph” you let out.

“I’ll be fast,” he promises with a smirk that collapses into another fit of giggles. The hearty slap on your ass encourages you toward the kitchen while Taehyung makes his way to the bathroom.

You did already eat, but today is an outlier. Normally, you are like Jimin, staying up too late and sleeping in longer than everyone else. And sometimes you’re like Yoongi, too. You get so caught up in the songs you’re working on that you forget to stop to eat or pee or look somewhere other than at a computer screen.

The move to Seoul threw you off your usual work schedule. Everything you need to get done is looming over your head like a dark cloud. If Namjoon comes back before you finish editing the English lyrics of his upcoming single, you might die of embarrassment, no matter how many times Taehyung insists that Namjoon won’t be disappointed.

Taehyung wasn’t lying about being quick. He’s wearing a white cotton t-shirt and grey sweatpants when he returns, hair damp and swept away from his face. You’re still standing at the fridge, painfully aware of how little food you have. Plenty of grapefruit soju, though. Priorities.

“Do you want ramen?” You eventually ask. When Taehyung doesn’t respond, you turn to give him a sheepish smile. He probably thinks you’re ridiculous.

Taehyung is sitting at the kitchen table with your phone in his hands. His eyebrows scrunch together and he turns to you with narrowed eyes.

“Why were you looking at this?”

He lifts your phone in your direction. The doctored photos of him and Jennie glare back at you. You feel your heart drop into the pit of your stomach.

“Tae, I didn’t—” You snap your mouth shut because, honestly, it looks bad. It looks bad no matter how you explain yourself because Taehyung’s bottom lip is already quivering and you know you’re both replaying the stupid TikTok phone call in your heads right now.

The two of you stare at each other for only god knows how long. You’re the first to break; not many people can hold their own in a staring contest with Kim Taehyung. Yoongi is probably the only one. Jungkook would give a valiant effort, but he’d ultimately crumble in a fit of nervous giggles. Taehyung is scary when he wants to be.

Dating Taehyung started as an unbelievably exciting experience. You had your brush with fame before meeting the boys, but Taehyung was the first idol to give you genuine attention beyond whatever job needed to be done. Not that you’d ever sought it out; you had more dignity than that. No, Taehyung pursued you. Who could blame you when you fell head over heels for the sinfully gorgeous man who seemed larger than life? The long legs, big hands, and chiseled features were dangerous enough. Throw in a glowing personality, quirky sense of humor, and a big-hearted desire to care for others and you had a man who was too good to be true.

And who are you? Some dumb American kid with average looks, a standoff personality as a result of having a bit of social anxiety (and trouble acclimating to a new country), and a penchant for fucking things up. Maybe it was your fault for not seriously considering how hard it was going to be to date an idol.

“C’mere, jagi,” Taehyung murmurs, beckoning you.

You expected waterworks— hell, you’re ready to start crying yourself. Instead, Taehyung wears a tired but soft smile. He holds your waist as you climb into his lap, straddling him. He wiggles a little in the chair to adjust you more comfortably on his thighs.

“Koreaboo, really?” He gathers your face in his hands, thumbs running across your cheeks. His hands are soft and you regret not washing your face when you woke up. Sometimes it’s not fun to date someone as beautiful as Taehyung.

“It was an accident.”

You avoid his gaze, but Taehyung coaxes you back to look him in the eyes. It’s hard. There’s so much passion swimming in them. He blinks up at you with an earnestness that makes your heart ache because you’re always the one causing problems.

“They could have at least used better pictures of me,” he complains with an exaggerated pout.

“Maybe I’ll send them some from my private collection.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Taehyung grins as he threatens you, so you grin back.

“Oh, I dare.”

Quick fingers dig into your sides and you let out an embarrassing squeal. Taehyung doesn’t let up on tickling you until you’ve got tears in your eyes and your threats to elbow him in the face start sounding a bit too real.

“Please don’t torture yourself with shit like that, okay?” He mumbles the request into your neck because your arms are thrown around his shoulders.

You slide your fingers into his hair to cradle his head against your chest. When you dig your nails into his scalp he lets out a low groan. Nothing about the position you’re in is sexual, but you’re quickly reminded that this is the most skin-on-skin contact you’ve had with your boyfriend in months. With that fact in mind, you don’t feel bad when you scoot further into his lap and squeeze his thighs with your own.

“Tae?”

“Hmm?” When he tilts his head back to look up at you, he’s got that spacey, blissed-out look on his face.

“Tell me you love me.” You place your finger against the little freckle on the tip of his nose.

The slow, boxy grin is almost better than hearing the words. Your finger migrates to touch the freckle on his lip.

“I love you with all my heart.” He punctuates the confession with a kiss on the tip of your finger. “Your turn.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s the reaction he’s looking for.

“I love you, too. You dork.”

“So romantic,” he laughs, but the amusement doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, he watches you with lust darker than what consumed his expression earlier.

You sit with your breath burning in your lungs as Taehyung slips his hands beneath your baggy t-shirt. His smooth palms slide up your rib cage until he reaches your tits, palming one in each hand. The tilt of his chin tells you he wants another kiss, and who are you to deny him what he wants? You dig your nails in his hair harder while you kiss him, tugging to angle his head in the direction you want. Small moments like this give the appearance that you’re in control. And Taehyung loves domming while you both pretend you’re the one in charge.

He pulls back with a wet smack. If it was anyone else, you’d be ashamed of the whimper that sounds from your throat as Taehyung removes his hands from your shirt. You grip his hair tighter, but Taehyung just chuckles.

“So needy. What am I going to do with you?”

You could give him a couple of ideas. There isn’t time, though. Taehyung is already grasping your chin and tilting it down.

“Open up for me, okay?”

Your cheeks grow hot as you open your mouth. You already know where this is going, so you stick out your tongue. Still, it’s difficult not to squirm when Taehyung presses his index and middle fingers flat against the wet muscle.

“Suck.”

You swallow around his fingers, sucking as best you can as he begins to thrust them into your mouth. It’s vulgar, the wet suctioning sound of his fingers dragging against your tongue. In and out, a steady pace that doesn’t go too fast. Taehyung has such long, gorgeous fingers. You quite enjoy when he wrecks your insides with them until you’re on the brink of tears. Which you’ve come to find is something Taehyung thoroughly enjoys doing.

“You miss having your pretty mouth stuffed?”

You know any attempt at a spoken response will come out as a garbled mess. You whimper, eyes fluttering closed as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. You push your tongue in between his fingers and curl around them.

“Gonna suck my cock like this, jagi?” He purrs the question, ending it so breathy it’s almost a moan as he eases over the term of endearment. “Show me how much you miss me, hm?”

Maybe it’s the deep, sensual way he purrs jagi with heavy eyelids and that crooked smirk on his face. Maybe it’s because he bites his lip when he says it or that he lets his lip go with such slowness that you can see the way his teeth scrape across his plump bottom lip as it falls back into place. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s shoving his fingers just a bit deeper into your mouth. Maybe it’s all of these things that make you shift so that you can press your clothed pussy against Taehyung’s thigh.

He flexes the muscle as you start rutting against it, rolling your hips to the rhythm of his fingers gliding in and out of your mouth.

“Look at you.” His lips brush against the curve of your ear, sending a shiver down your back. “So desperate for me that you’re going to get off on only my thighs?”

You’re not the type to be able to orgasm just from rutting and friction like this, but Taehyung has managed to learn your body faster than you ever expected. He slips his free hand beneath the waistband of your leggings and underwear. It’s the quick circling of his thumb against your throbbing clit combined with the rutting of your hips that sends you over the edge.

“That’s it, baby, you did so well,” Taehyung whispers praise against the skin his lips have access to on your collarbones as you shudder in his lap. “Love seeing you cum, fuck, doing this shit over KakaoTalk fucking sucked.”

Taehyung finally removes his fingers from your mouth when you stop moving. Seeing the string of spit that connects his fingers to your lips makes you feel weak, but you’re riding the high of his praise and skillful fingers, so you don’t care.

He wipes your spit onto his sweatpants and gently holds your chin with his other hand. He gives you a soft smile and rubs his thumb over your bottom lip. You can taste yourself when you flick your tongue over the trail his thumb left.

“I missed you so much,” he admits with a gentle kiss on your lips. “And not just because of this. I missed all of you, everything about you, just being with you.”

“I missed you, too.”

It’s meant to be a confirmation of your mutual love, but it comes out like a whine. You know Taehyung doesn’t mind from the way his eyes zero in on your tongue running along your bottom lip. You don’t have to say anything more for him to know what you want. He nods once and you’re almost immediately on your knees between his legs.

“Fuck.” He leans back in the chair and lifts his hips so you can tug his sweatpants down his thighs. “Gonna be good for me, baby?”

You quickly nod your head, though you’re focused on gently taking Taehyung’s cock in your hand. Alex isn’t wrong. Taehyung’s dick is big, but that doesn’t mean you have to go around talking about it. That’s for you to know and for others to wonder about.

You had to sign an NDA before you were allowed to see it, anyway, but you’d keep your mouth shut even if no legal action would be taken against you for gossiping.

“Kiss it first.”

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he watches you. His eyelids droop lower when you plant a puckered, open-mouthed kiss on the head of his cock. You press the tip of your tongue against the slit to lick at the precum already leaking from him. The buck of his hips isn’t unexpected, but you feel like you need to remember how to do all of this after being away from him for so long. Not to mention how tired your jaw is about to be.

Taehyung seems to sense your hesitation because he allows his body to go slack beneath you. The hand that has reached down to dig into your scalp doesn’t let up, but he doesn’t push your head down like he normally would when you finally slide his cock down your throat.

He doesn’t buck his hips again, even when you drool so much that the inside of his thighs become just as wet as yours. You squeeze the base of his cock, twisting your wrist to the rhythm you’ve established when you can’t take all of him into your mouth.

You reach down to gently roll his balls with your free hand. His cock twitches against your flattened tongue and you hum with satisfaction.

“God, your fucking mouth–”

You make eye contact with Taehyung as your hand ventures lower. There’s nothing more beautiful than the way his face crumples with pleasure when you massage his perineum.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he whines.

You ease up slightly but still suckle on the head of his cock for longer than Taehyung wants. Why not have a little fun? All you’ll end up doing is riling him up even more, and that can only be a good thing for you.

Taehyung digs his fingers into your hair and yanks you up. It stings, but the pain might as well be white-hot pleasure once Taehyung is praising you with a gravelly voice.

“You’re too fucking good at that.”

You don’t even like sucking dick, but you’d do it all day, every day if Taehyung asked you to. But since he made you stop, you have other priorities to take care of, like the fact that there are way too many layers of clothes separating you from your boyfriend. While you were on your knees for him, Taehyung removed his shirt. The white cotton is discarded on the floor beside the chair and his half-dry hair is tousled around his head in a messiness only he could successfully pull off.

After wiggling out of your leggings and underwear, you climb back onto Taehyung’s lap. His broad chest shudders beneath your touch as you run your hands down to meet his soft tummy. His responsiveness strokes the ego you didn’t realize you have.

“Y’know, you never gave me the chance to ask you how travel went.”

“Seriously?” He knows you’re teasing, but you like the mock-irritated tone of his voice. It makes his chest rumble.

You use your grip on him to stabilize yourself as you grind into his lap. You scrape your nails at the nape of his neck and suck on his bottom lip. Taehyung moans into your mouth, low and throaty, when his cock glides through your wet folds as you roll your hips. He lets you pull his hair, head falling back to expose the smooth plane of his throat. Your lips leave his to latch onto his throat instead. The kisses you give him are slippery and biting and hot.

“No hickeys, Y/N.”

Taehyung’s scolding is deep and sharp; you both know he’s not fucking around. It’s a command he has had to throw your way more than once. The idea of marking him up is just so appetizing, but you know you can’t. Sure, makeup can make just about anything disappear, but it’s annoying to deal with and Taehyung isn’t particularly a fan of the side looks the makeup artists give each other when they see dark bruises littering his neck and collarbones.

Maybe you’ll give him just a tiny one and suffer the consequences later.

You cling onto him tighter when you feel two of his fingers slip inside of you. Spreading your thighs as wide as you can without throwing off your balance on the chair, you roll your hips into Taehyung’s hand to take his fingers deeper.

“Please,” you moan against his neck. You can smell your shampoo and body wash on him. Something about him smelling like you makes you feel overwhelmingly possessive. He’s yours. Kim Taehyung is yours.

He turns his head to the side to capture your lips with his own as he snakes his arm around your waist. The position allows him to pull you tightly against his chest. He holds you in place as he starts thrusting his fingers into your pussy just as he had thrust them into your mouth.

Taehyung grunts as he keeps his legs spread in the chair, which in turn forces your thighs open when you try to squeeze them closed around his hand.

“Stay still.”

“Can’t.” You shake your head and thread your fingers through his hair, tugging the strands harder.

It’s too much; Taehyung lights a fire against every inch of your body each time he touches you. If he was anyone else, you’d be singed, but Taehyung takes such good care of you. You’re not singed. You’re ignited.

“You have no fucking idea,” Taehyung takes a deep breath, “No fucking idea how badly I’ve been craving you.” He warms you up with each thrust of his fingers, adding a third until you’re clawing at his shoulders.

“So, ahh fuck, fuck me,” you gasp, your mouth hot against the corner of his jaw. Your teeth scrape against his skin and he merely lets his head fall back to give you more.

“No please?”

You bite his cheek in defiance and get a slap to the ass that only makes you want to bite him more.

“Don’t be mean to me,” you whimper.

Taehyung’s steady rhythm against your front wall has your orgasm burning so hotly in your core that you feel like you’re going to cum if he even so much as turns his head to look at you one more time.

Your thighs are already sore by the time Taehyung removes his fingers from your pussy. He uses your sticky arousal as lube to stroke his cock and you don’t want to think about how excited you are about this.

“Hurry up.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows at you just as he grips the inside of your thigh with one hand. The other he uses to line his cock with your body. You can feel the head press against your entrance, and you try to push your body down to swallow him whole, but Taehyung holds you up to stop you.

“Impatient cockslut, aren’t you?” Taehyung chides.

His previously spacey look is sharpened by the sparkle of mirth in his eyes. Your body tenses when he spits the insult at you, and he knows it’s making your clit throb even harder.

“Tae.” You bite your lip because you’re close to begging at this point.

Luckily, you don’t have to. Taehyung presses down your hip and you quickly take the lead, easing yourself onto his cock until you’re fully seated on his firm thighs.

Your body burns from the stretch it has to make to accommodate him, but you knew it would. Even when you’re fully adjusted to him, there’s always a bit of a stretch. He also knows he has to let you ease into it to avoid slamming himself straight into your cervix. The first time it had happened, Taehyung genuinely thought he’d broken you. You kind of thought so, too, if you were going to be perfectly honest. The struggle of having a big-dicked boyfriend.

“Okay?” He’s watching you with those lustful, dark eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum because you’re afraid of the way your voice will quiver if you try to say real words.

You’re so full, it’s a bit overwhelming. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. You missed Taehyung a lot, but holding onto each other in such an intimate position is making you realize just how lonely you were without him.

“I’m gonna move, okay?”

He waits until you silently nod your head before he adjusts in the chair, scooting down slightly to spread his legs better. You allow him to adjust your legs, bending them at the knee and hooking them over the arms of the chair. With a tight grip on your ass, Taehyung pulls you down onto his cock at the same time he thrusts up into you.

The pace Taehyung sets is desperate, but you don’t care. Your second orgasm is approaching at an alarming speed. It feels like it’s taking all of your energy to simply stay grounded with reality as Taehyung squeezes you and your hips crash into each other. You don’t even try to do anything, just let him take over your body as he pounds into you. For the most part, you’re a pillow princess and you both know it. Besides, how can you possibly keep up with someone so athletic? Taehyung’s stamina is ridiculous. Neither of you has an overstimulation kink, but Taehyung’s ability to just go and go and go might as well have given you one. None of this has ever bothered Taehyung, though. He likes giving more than receiving.

“Oh fuck.” Taehyung nips at the base of your neck when you clench around his cock just to feel him shiver.

There aren’t any rules about him marking you up. The petty side of him likes when you wear the dark bruises in the open, with no makeup or clothing to hide them. It’s a satisfying game he likes to play. He likes that everyone knows you’re getting dicked down and, therefore, are taken.

You like the secret satisfaction of knowing it’s Kim Taehyung who gives you those marks, and no one even knows.

What you don’t like is thinking about all the other people Taehyung may have enjoyed giving marks to.

It’s hard not to let your mind wander. Taehyung has never talked to you about his previous relationships, and there’s no way for you to know about them if he doesn’t tell you. The media can’t be trusted to accurately report idols’ love lives; today has been a perfect example of that. You’re stuck with only your imagination to make up all kinds of scenarios. Maybe Taehyung has been with other k-pop idols, or models, or actresses - people with more money, who are prettier and more sophisticated than you. Hell, you’ve never even asked him about his sexuality. What if he really has been fucking Jungkook! What if they’re in love and you’re just something temporary?

“I was made for you, jagi. You know that?” Taehyung’s breath is hot against your skin. His words are gentle, but the power with which he thrusts up into you is bruising. “Made for you.”

It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he can somehow sense the insecurities threatening to pull you out of the moment. As always, Taehyung manages to bring you back to the present.

Fuck, sometimes you wish he wouldn’t do shit like this to you. You’re already pathetically in love with him. You can’t imagine what more could come next, yet you feel yourself practically bursting from the seams with love.

Your moans fall in line with the sound of the chair scraping the floor and your skin slapping against Taehyung’s with every thrust. When your mouth falls open, Taehyung presses his thumb against your tongue. With eyes fluttering closed, you suck on his thumb and try to hold on as your body rocks up and down.

“Fuck, fuck, oh, god, Taehyung.”

“Yeah, jagi?” Taehyung pulls down on the corner of your mouth until his thumb is dragging spit across your cheek. “Tell me.”

His voice is so soothing it makes you want to cry. It’s unfair.

“You feel so fucking—“

It’s the slick pressure of his thumb massaging your clit that finally has you arching your back with a scream of Taehyung’s name. You’re so loud that you worry your neighbors heard you. There are plenty of people named Taehyung in the world, though, right? He could be any Taehyung.

If you ask Taehyung later, he’ll probably say he can’t even remember his own name because of how tightly you clench around his cock when you cum. The feeling is so overwhelming that you think you might pass out from holding your breath. You gasp, inhaling more air than you exhale, but Taehyung keeps going. Every subsequent thrust knocks the air out of you until you have the opposite problem and now you can’t keep any air in.

“I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead, baby. Cum inside me.”

Taehyung whimpers into the crook of your neck as he cums, the suggestiveness of your permission not lost on either of you. You’re on birth control and Taehyung knows a kid would probably ruin his career. So it doesn’t actually mean anything when you tell him he can stay inside; you’re not getting pregnant any time soon. Still, he gets off on coming inside of you, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I was going to make a joke that I should go on tour more often if that means I’ll cum that hard again, but I think I don’t want to go on tour ever again,” Taehyung admits with a shaky laugh.

Just the idea of Taehyung leaving you for months on end again makes your stomach twist. He brings so much life to everywhere he goes, and you felt like much of that life left you when he did. Even if it was only temporary.

Taehyung holds you until his cock is no longer twitching inside of you. Once his arms finally fall to his side, you try to untangle yourself from the chair as his body, but your limbs might as well belong to someone else.

“Help,” you squeak hoarsely. You feel like covering your face when Taehyung laughs.

Taehyung helps you out of his lap, though you both are so wobbly on your feet that you hold onto the edge of the kitchen table when you stand. Taehyung looks wrecked, and you feel wrecked. You’re not sure your knees will ever work properly again.

“Why are we still listening to Stray Kids?” Taehyung grumbles when he realizes the speakers are still playing in the background.

“It’s a good album.”

“We should be fucking to my songs.” Taehyung pauses for a moment, thinking.“‘Christmas Tree’ is a fuckable song, right?”

“You’re joking.”

Taehyung shakes his head and reaches for your phone. His face is programmed to unlock your phone, just like your face unlocks his phone. You don’t understand how he can stand butt naked in the kitchen, cum all over his thighs, and search for the jazz playlist he made on your Spotify account.

(“Jazz Hands, Y/N. It’s a vibe.”)

Once his playlist has replaced Stray Kids, Taehyung wraps you up in a giant bear hug that lifts you off your feet. The hug nearly knocks the air out of you.

“Can’t believe you made me dirty after I just showered.” You can’t see his pout, but you can hear it.

“You’re the one who started this.”

Taehyung scoffs. He starts walking down the hallway, practically dragging you in his arms as he goes. Your toes barely reach the ground, but you’re more content to let your body fall slack and make him do all the work.

He kicks open the bathroom door and sits you down on the counter.

“No, you did this. You looked at me with those pretty eyes and said, ‘Tae’.” He tries to mimic your voice by moaning his name. “I’m a weak, weak man. You influenced me. I just wanted you to eat.”

“Well, I did eat.”

Taehyung presses his lips together. “Don’t say it.”

“I’m gonna say it.” You lean forward on the edge of the counter, trying to get in Taehyung’s space, but he’s ignoring you as he prepares the shower.

“Y/N.”

“I ate…”

“Stop.”

“Deez nuts.”

Taehyung drags his hands down his face, leaving his skin red. His reaction makes you giggle.

“Technically you only played with deez nuts. Your mouth, sadly, did not ever come near my—” He tries to correct you, but you’re already throwing a scrunchie at his face.

“You’re ruining the joke!”

“It’s a bad joke!”

Maybe your sense of humor is way better than his, but as you suffer another Taehyung tickle attack, you can’t help but feel ridiculous for how you’d behaved earlier. How can he look at you with sparkling eyes and a boxy smile that makes him laugh with his teeth, hand coming up to cover his face when you give him your poutiest of pouts— how can you see such genuine kindness and think Taehyung would ever do anything to jeopardize what you have?

“Wassup motherfuckers!”

You raise your eyebrows at Namjoon and tap the end of your chewed pen against your computer screen. Biting pens isn’t sanitary or cute but you do it anyway. The man’s eyes aren’t on your pen cap, though. He’s staring a hole into the podcast you pulled up because you know he doesn’t want to look at you.

“Namjoon, why did you start the episode like that? This is not your Automatic Dick era,” you say with a deep sigh.

“Beoryeo.”

“Excuse me?”

“The song. It’s called ‘Throw Away’, not… Automatic… Dick…” His correction dies on his tongue when he sees the exasperated look on your face.

“That is not the point.” You shake your head and exit the website. You’re not in charge of PR. That’s someone else’s problem.

Your attention turns to the newest draft of the song you’ve been stressing out about since you arrived in Seoul.

“This, though? This is fucking beautiful.” You adjust your laptop on the coffee table so Namjoon can better view the document. The two of you are at the dorm, lounging in the living room.

There are a lot of highlighted lines and many comments throughout the document. You wish you were like the members who scribbled their lyrics in cute leather journals, but your brain is too much of a disaster and broken by technology. If you don’t have your laptop, you can't write lyrics for shit.

“How are you so eloquent in Korean, but in English, you’re so…” You wave your hands around like you’re rifling through the air for the rest of your sentence.

“Casual?”

“Yes.” Sure, we’ll go with that, Joonie.

“Well, that’s why I’ve got you!”

At least he thinks you’re eloquent. The boys probably think you’re spending all your time in your office easily pulling masterpieces out of your ass when in reality you’re Googling, “what's the word for when you can't remember a word?”

It’s lethologica, by the way.

You love Namjoon, but sometimes you think he has too much faith in you. Writing songs is hard. He of all people would know that. The difference between you and Namjoon is that when Namjoon struggles with writing he gets all emo, buys a bunch of weird furniture, and flies to another country to look at foreign art. When you struggle with writing, you just go home and play video games with Taehyung until you’re ready to try again.

You’re both practicing avoidance, but Namjoon’s method just looks a little more dramatic than yours. Despite his assumptions, that doesn’t mean you’re better at handling yourself. You just do things differently.

“We’re so lucky to have Jagi PD!”

Namjoon groans and covers his head with the hood of his hoodie as Jungkook flies into the living room.

Strong hands cup your armpits to lift you off of the couch. While Jungkook is crushing every bone in your body as he hugs you, all you can think about is how you were kind of a little bit sweaty, and now Jungkook has his hands all in your armpits.

“Jungkookie, don’t pick people up without their consent.”

Hobi enters the room behind the younger man and gives him a stern look which makes Jungkook immediately put you down on your feet.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook says with a pout and galaxies in his eyes. You give his shoulder a playful smack. His baggy black t-shirt sticks to his skin, and you’re less worried about being sweaty. Jungkook is soaked.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. I’m tough.” You flex your nonexistent muscles to make the precious maknae laugh his pout away.

“You should come train with us, Jagi.”

“Jungkook,” Namjoon exclaims from where he still sits on the couch.

He turns to his friend with wide eyes. “What?”

“Stop calling Y/N ‘jagi’. Taehyung is going to kill you.” This time Jimin pipes up.

You hadn’t realized he’d entered the room, too. The three newcomers are varying degrees of sweaty with pink cheeks and wearing workout clothes. You suppose they’ve just come back from working out or perhaps a dance practice. They’ve all been back from tour for a few weeks now, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned about the Bangtan Boys it’s that they never fucking rest.

It’s exhausting just to think about it.

“It’s okay,” you say with a shrug. “I think ‘Jagi PD’ is pretty fucking funny, to be honest.”

The nickname Jungkook created for you is cute in your opinion. You are a music producer. Jagi PD is better than using your last name. It could be like your stage name. Maybe you can get Namjoon to credit you as Jagi PD under the songs you write. Using your first and last name seems lame when it’s paired with fun names like SUGA, RM, j-hope, and Slow Rabbit.

“Pretty fucking funny,” Jungkook repeats. He gives the other men a triumphant look before launching himself onto the couch with Jimin.

Hobi chooses to sit on the couch on the opposite side of the room with Namjoon. From the way Namjoon has nestled back into his seat, it’s clear that his song will have to wait. It’s for the best. You’re not thinking about music anymore.

You can’t blame Jungkook for interrupting your work, but the true source of distraction saunters into the room with his arms full of grocery bags.

“Hey, jagiya,” Taehyung greets you sweetly with a kiss on your forehead as he walks through the living room to get to the kitchen. The final two men, Jin and Yoongi, trail behind Taehyung with their own bags.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin give Jungkook a pointed look when Taehyung uses the term of endearment.

“What are you guys making?” Jungkook is curled up against the arm of the couch with his phone in hand. He’s holding it sideways which makes you think he’s probably playing In The Seom. The app is old news by this point, yet Jungkook’s attention is still consumed by it. It’s hilarious.

You wish you could meet the game developers. Whoever made Taehyung’s character look so fucking feral deserves a raise.

“You’re gonna cook?” You don’t hide your shock at the idea that Taehyung would be cooking anything, and that makes everyone laugh.

“I’m making dinner,” Yoongi clarifies. “And it’s a surprise, so stop paying attention to me.” He shoos Jin and Taehyung out of the kitchen.

Jin sits on the couch with Jimin and Jungkook, while Taehyung sits with you. The armchair really only seats one person comfortably, but you wiggle so Taehyung can sit half next to you and half under you. He arranges your legs to drape over his lap. It’s nice, being this close. You can snuggle into his side and let him wrap his arms around you without worrying about who can see or what people think. All the boys are supportive of your relationship with Taehyung. It’s a bit frustrating that there’s no way for you to fully express how appreciative you are.

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” From the couch in the living room, Jungkook shoots Yoongi a glare as if Yoongi’s request for some alone time while he cooks is a personal attack.

Yoongi snorts and turns his back on Jungkook to begin unloading the groceries. “I don’t know, talk to each other.”

“You guys are boring. I only want to talk to Y/N.” You’re not sure how you’ve become Jungkook’s favorite, but it’s exceptionally endearing.

“You’re not even going to pay attention,” Namjoon points out. “Always on that damn phone.”

He’s still got his hood up, and he looks like he was half-asleep. No one but you gets the joke, so Namjoon nods his head in your direction before returning to his slumped position.

“I like watching Jimin-ssi’s character spin around in little circles.”

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” Jin chimes in. “He looks so small.”

The glares Jimin shoots everyone in the room are terrifying. You think about something you’d heard someone say: the shorter the person, the closer to hell they are. Something dramatic that only a tall person would say.

“All the characters are the same size,” he exclaims. “And I don’t do that!”

“Yes, you do. There are fanmade compilation videos of you spinning around, Jimin-ssi! I’ve watched them,” Jungkook confesses with full confidence.

A small squeal sounds from the opposite side of the room. You turn to see Hobi practically bouncing on the couch.

“Please, can we watch some? I want to hear the cute sound effects.”

A pillow flies across the room, and Hobi just barely dodges it. Jimin crosses his arms firmly against his chest and scowls as Jin and Jungkook enthusiastically agree and Hobi snatches the TV remote before anyone else can.

“At least watch a video that isn’t about me doing something embarrassing,” Jimin breaks down enough to plead (not beg!) with Hobi. He eyes the room and his gaze falls on Taehyung. A small smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth and you feel Taehyung slowly exhale. “We should watch one about TaeTae.”

You try to cover your laughter with a cough, but Taehyung applies a light slap to your thigh in retaliation.

“Why me?” he pouts.

“Yes! Let me pick!”

“Jungkookie, no. It was my idea.” Hobi scrolls through his phone until his face lights up with glee. “I’ve watched this one before and it’s so cute, Y/N, you’re going to love it.”

“The suspense is killing me.” You wiggle your eyebrows at Taehyung. The rolled eyes you’re met with feel like a victory.

“Okay, it’s called, BTS struggling to understand ‘Tae-tae language’,” Hobi prefaces while the video loads on the TV.

Jin laughs at the loud snort you let out. “TaeTae language is hard to understand.”

“Maybe you guys aren’t creative enough to understand me,” Taehyung scoffs.

“Hey! I understand you!” Yoongi protests from the kitchen.

Taehyung looks like he might say more, but the video interrupts him. It starts with highlights from the comments section of previous videos. One comment mentions Namjoon being their bias.

“Is that weird? Like, to watch this kind of stuff and hear people talk about their biases?” If you were famous, you were absolutely positive that you’d never Google yourself. You would not want to know what kind of weird shit was out there about you, even something as seemingly innocent as silly compilation videos.

“I think it’s funny,” Jimin says with a smirk and half-moon eyes. “I’m everyone’s bias, anyway.”

“That’s not what TikTok says.” Jungkook turns his nose upward at Jimin, though his eyes never leave his phone. It’s a shame In The Seom didn’t allow him to drown Jimin in the ocean, or he totally would have done it by now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just check how many videos there are under my hashtag.”

Jimin snorts with a roll of his eyes, seemingly dismissing Jungkook’s claims. But you see him twist on the couch so the younger man can’t see that Jimin pulls up TikTok on his phone. As if TikTok was the end all, be all. You want to tell them it’s impossible to know who’s the most “popular” or whatever, but you know that conversation is futile.

“Y/N, you were Army before you started dating Tae!” You can practically see the light bulb going off in Hobi’s brain. Or, rather, the Army bomb. “Who was your bias?”

Hobi’s question barely leaves his lips when the room grows quiet. Seven pairs of eyes stare at you expectantly, including your boyfriend’s. You keep your eyes on the TV, though you aren’t seeing the compilation video playing anymore.

“I don’t know. I didn’t have a bias. Y’know, OT7 and all that shit.”

Suddenly, the room erupts. Screeches of protests and arguments are shouted across the living room, the boys yelling on top of one another and slewing insults at each other.

“Oh come on, Y/N, tell us!” Hobi whines.

“Yeah, we wanna know! We won’t judge you.” Pulling this precious information out of you is so vital that Jungkook looks away from his phone long enough to give you a pouty face.

“It’s obviously me. I’m Worldwide Handsome.”

“Leave her alone, guys.” Taehyung shifts in his seat and adjusts how your legs drape over his lap. His large hands massage soft circles into your calf muscles. “This is so childish.”

“Right. A bias is just whoever a fan is partial to,” Namjoon says with a shrug. “What matters is that fans support us as seven.”

“No, a bias is the one the fan wants to fuck the most.” This time Jungkook doesn’t look up from his phone when he speaks.

Jin hums in agreement, winking in your direction and making Taehyung scowl.

“You’re just scared it’s not you, Tae.” For someone Taehyung calls his soulmate, Jimin seems to jump at every opportunity to fuck with his friend. He turns to you with those haunting siren eyes that lure in even God’s strongest soldiers. “Is he, Y/N? Is your bias Taehyung or someone else?”

“I thought Hobi’s question was, who was my bias? Not is.”

His siren eyes narrow at you. “Stop arguing semantics and answer the question.”

You can’t hold a staring contest with the now-paused Youtube video, and Jimin’s sudden snappiness makes you feel the need to look away. Right into the eyes of your answer, the only person who hasn’t spoken during the entire bias conversation.

Yoongi’s sharp eyes catch yours when you look away from the TV. Never one to miss a beat, he raises a perfectly-shaped eyebrow at you, the ghost of his classic Yoongi smirk barely lifting the corner of his mouth before the entire room erupts into shouting again.

“YOONGI?! REALLY?! OUT OF ALL OF US, YOU PICKED HIM?” Jimin jumps up from the couch, knocking pillows all over the floor.

“Watch it, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi scolds the younger man for his informal language. Jimin only rolls his eyes.

“Damn, Jimin was right. You aren’t her bias, TaeTae.” Jin shakes his head with a solemn look. He gets up to leave the room, giving your boyfriend a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he walks past. “I’m going to my room to play Mario Kart. This is too depressing for me.”

At the mention of video games, Jungkook perks up. “Wait Jin hyungie, I wanna play, too!” He tosses the last couch pillow in Jimin’s lap and scrambles to catch up with Jin halfway down the hall.

Yoongi wears a full-blown smirk now. You watch with wide eyes as his tongue slips out to drag across his bottom lip before he’s drawing his lip between his teeth. “Cute.”

“Fuck off,” Taehyung hisses at the older man, lifting your legs off his lap.

“Tae…” You reach out to grab his arm to stop him, but he’s already heading to his bedroom. The door slams shut so hard that the photos on the walls shudder.

You turn back around to glare at the remaining men. “Did you have your fun, hmm? Was it worth it?”

“I really… I didn’t think…” Hobi fumbles his words, clearly uncomfortable with the outbursts he’d unwittingly caused.

“If it doesn’t work out with Taehyung, call me, yeah?” Yoongi sends you a wink, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

You feel your face heat up and you refuse to look at him. You wait until he goes back to preparing the food before you stand up. Without another word, you follow in Taehyung’s footsteps until you reach his door. It’s locked, but you expected as much.

“TaeTae,” you call softly. “Please let me in.”

You wait in silence long enough that you consider going home. If Taehyung doesn’t want to talk to you, you aren’t going to push him. Even if you think the reason for his outburst is stupid and that he’s acting like a child.

Eventually, the door is opened wide enough for you to slip inside. Taehyung doesn’t look at you when he shuts the door. Instead, he sits on his bed and leans his back against the wall. He keeps his eyes on his hands delicately folded together in his lap. His eyes are already red and slightly puffy. The sight is glass in your veins.

“Tae, please don’t be upset,” you start slowly. Climbing into his bed, you scoot until you’re lounging next to him. He doesn’t pull away when you rest your head on his shoulder.

“It’s embarrassing.”

You let out a small sigh, not because you’re frustrated with him but because you’d known watching fanmade videos would turn out to be a bad idea.

“If it makes you feel better, you were still in my bias line.” It’s probably not the best way to reassure your boyfriend, but it at least makes him look at you.

“Who else?” His eyes are narrowed.

“I don’t think I should answer that.”

Taehyung’s bottom lip droops and you feel your heart seize.

“Okay, okay!” Maybe holding his hand will make it better. “Jimin, but, no don’t give me that look! Just listen.”

Taehyung’s pout deepens, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“It’s not like when I hang out with Jimin or Yoongi I’m thinking about those things, okay? It’s just a natural thing that happens. Anyone can be drawn to specific people in a group; the same thing happens with friendships. Like you and Jimin. It’s normal.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem convinced, but he laces his fingers through yours. You interpret the light squeeze he gives you as permission to continue talking.

“Yoongi is cool because I always saw him as this, like, mental health icon for me. He talks so much about mental health and fans see how he has grown and gotten healthier over the years. It’s inspiring, right? You’ve seen it firsthand.”

“That’s true,” Taehyung sniffles.

You nod your head. “Exactly, I respect him as a person and an artist. And with Jimin, I’ve always been almost jealous? of him. Because he can so beautifully balance both masculine and feminine qualities and aesthetics. He looks good no matter what and has learned to accept himself instead of forcing whatever weird masculinity shit y’all had when you debuted. That’s inspiring, too.”

Taehyung is silent for a while. You give him the space to process what you’ve said, and you hope that it’s enough to make him understand that a bias is not just about who you want to fuck. Jungkook is such a flirt; of course, that’s how he would interpret things.

“Why did you like me?” He finally looks at you. His eyes are a little pink from his tears, but his cheeks appear dry. The innocent curiosity in his expression tugs at your heart.

You reach up to run your fingers through his fluffy hair, combing out any tangles and gently massaging his scalp. This is probably how Taehyung feels when you worry about fans, paparazzi, and sasaengs.

“Well, you’re hot,” you say with a grin. You feel a bit lighter when Taehyung’s mouth curves slightly, too.

“Is that it?”

“Of course not.” You stick your tongue out. “You were my favorite in the vocal line. I loved how smooth your singing voice is, and how thoughtful you sound when you talk about how important the members and Army are to you. How could someone not love the inventor of I purple you?”

It feels weird to talk about how you liked Taehyung before you knew who he was. You never made your status as a fan obvious in the beginning. Professionalism is more important than fangirling. Even now, you only casually discuss your interest in the group before meeting them.

“Your sense of fashion made me laugh. You always seemed so happy, even though people like to focus a lot on how mean you can look. And I thought your relationships with Yoongi and Jimin were cute. You’re a great example of how men can and should be soft and loving.”

They’re all highly-simplified explanations for why Taehyung caught your eye in a group of seven, but they seem to put him at ease. He slides into the bed so he’s lying on his back under the covers. With his eyes locked on yours, he pats his chest.

“C’mere.”

You lie down under the covers next to him. It feels nice to rest your head on his chest and throw your leg over his waist. Ever since Taehyung came back from the tour, you’ve wanted to be attached at the hip. It’s not that you can’t handle being alone, but you don’t think it’s a bad thing to want to be with the people who bring you joy— especially when you live in a new country.

“You know I’m in love with you, not Yoongi or Jimin.”

“I know.”

“Do you actually?” You shift your head so you can look up at him.

Taehyung meets you halfway. You let your eyes close as he slots his lips with yours, allowing your body to melt into his. The desperation the two of you had for each other when Taehyung first returned to Seoul eventually died out. Now, you’re okay with taking things slow. You can savor the feeling of his body on yours, firm and warm beneath you. You can savor the smell of his cologne and his taste as you breathe him in and slip your tongue inside his mouth.

“I do,” he responds with a heavy exhale once you pull away. “I’m sorry I got upset. I just got so angry when hyung…” Taehyung scrunches his eyebrows and his nose scrunches along with them.

You massage his forehead and try to forcefully smooth the wrinkles there. “Yoongi is just being an ass. He loves you, too,” you point out.

Taehyung can’t argue that, so he leans down to kiss you again. You know how important physical contact is to him, especially when he’s upset. With that in mind, you slip your hands beneath his t-shirt. Splaying your hands flat against his chest feels nice. It’s a reminder that he’s real, and he’s here. He’s safe and healthy and yours.

“We both get pretty jealous, huh?”

Taehyung gives you a sheepish smile, all cheeks and pretty lips. You love his little lip freckle, but your favorite will always be the one under his eye.

“Not as bad as Jungkook, though.”

“Mhm, please don’t break up with me over a perilla leaf or anything.”

Taehyung giggles and you feel like you’ve got helium inside you. If you don’t hold onto him tightly enough, you might float away with how light and carefree being with him makes you.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” he says as he nibbles your earlobe.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

His hands find the hem of your t-shirt, and you sit up to allow him to undress you. It’s a delicate process because Taehyung wants to take his time, too. It might seem like the two of you use sex to solve your problems, but you never see it like that. For you, letting Taehyung take his time breaking you down, just to build you back up again, is an act of emotional intimacy, just as it is physical. When Taehyung gets comfortable between your thighs, dark eyes locked with yours as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the hold he has on your wrists grounds you. And when he hovers over you with your legs wrapped around his hips as he thrusts into you, you whisper gentle praises against his throat to remind him that you are his and he is yours.

You spend the rest of the afternoon in Taehyung’s bed. It feels good to snuggle with him while he talks to you about all the jazz clubs he forced Jimin to go to during the little free time they had on tour. It seems the tension in the house fades because the rest of the boys are loud and energetic; it’s impossible to tune them out when their laughter bleeds into the room despite the door being closed.

“Do you think Taehyung and Y/N are done having make-up sex?”

“It’s pretty quiet in there. Maybe they fell asleep.”

You groan and bury your face in Taehyung’s side. It’s almost as if Jungkook and Jin are purposefully talking outside of his bedroom to make sure you can hear them. Knowing them, it’s not a far-fetched idea.

“Probably tired themselves out. The screaming was really—”

“JUNGKOOK!” Taehyung sits up so abruptly that you fall back onto the bed. “SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

Jin and Jungkook’s laughter eventually fades down the hallway, but Taehyung gets out of bed anyway.

“Yoongi is probably almost done with dinner,” he grumbles. You watch him zip up his jeans and admire how tall and lanky he is. Sorry to Yoongi and Jimin.

He manages to get his arms caught in his t-shirt somehow, so you begrudgingly get out of bed to help. You tease him endlessly because obviously fucking you is so good that he doesn’t know how to use his limbs anymore.

Your teasing is nothing compared to the way the other boys drag you the moment you step out of Taehyung’s bedroom.

“You okay, Y/N? Sounded like you might be dying,” Jimin grins as he prepares the kitchen table for dinner.

Jin snickers, throwing out his own commentary. “Taehyung, you got it pretty good even though you aren’t her bias, huh.”

Before Taehyung has a chance to bite anyone’s head off, you chime in.

“Yeah, yeah, Yoongi was my bias when I was a fan,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You can practically see Jungkook registering that you said “was a fan”, and that makes him pout. As if you aren’t still a fan. What a baby, just like Taehyung.

Yoongi snorts as he retrieves a dish from the oven. “I cannot fathom why.”

“Me either,” Jimin agrees with a giggle. He’s completely unfazed by the dark look Yoongi shoots him.

You join in on Jimin’s laughter, and you’re pleased to see that Taehyung is smiling too. The whole thing is so ridiculous. Maybe you’re feeling a bit too comfortable because you start oversharing.

“And I was a Yoonmin shipper, I’m not gonna lie.” You’re laughing so hard that you don’t realize neither Jimin nor Taehyung are laughing anymore. After a few seconds pass, though, your smile slowly falls. Jimin’s face has turned bright pink and Yoongi has his back to the table.

“It was one time, okay?” Jimin’s eyes burn holes into Yoongi’s shoulder blades from across the room. “Okay, two times.”

The older man doesn’t comment.

You nudge Taehyung’s leg with your foot under the kitchen table. He presses his lips together as hard as he can, but the smile just gets pushed into his cheeks. A rush of air explodes from his lips in a loud raspberry, and that’s what triggers your laughter again.

“Oh my god, I really wish I was surprised but I’m not,” you confess with a wheeze.

You’ve clearly touched on a sensitive topic. Jimin blabbers away about how it’s not that big of a deal, all while Yoongi silently finishes arranging the dishes on the table. It would feel uncomfortable, but Jimin’s flushed face and the tiniest of smiles curving Yoongi’s lips make you think it meant a lot more than what Jimin wishes to admit.

And that’s really fucking cute.

As the rest of the boys come piling into the kitchen, Taehyung scoots his chair until yours are touching. You bump shoulders and tilt your face up so he can press a kiss against your jaw.

“I love you,” he whispers. “With all my heart."

“I love you, too.” You lace your fingers with his and let your hands rest against his thigh. “You dork.”

The kitchen is chaos, but all you can focus on is the boxy smile Taehyung gifts you.

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

@bts-ruu @chuberella23 @guks-lip-piercing @sailoryooons @hvnnibvni @jinsquishes @jjkeverlast @klitklittredge @koobsessed @moonchild1 @moonleeai @nonbinary-demonbrat @parkdatjimin @reliablemitten @saweetspoiled @sugarwithtea @swga-ficrecs @taegiblr @yoongukie-ff

(and i'm tagging y'all cuz ik you were excited for this) @norushtolive @btscontentenjoyer

#taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #who's your bias?

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pollylynn · 2 years

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Title: Shadow Box WC: 900

"Hi, my name is Kate, and my boyfriend has been a very bad boy. Yes, that's right. His name's Ricky.”

—Kate Beckett, The Mistress Always Spanks Twice (2 x 16)

A/N: There's a mild spoiler for the Nikki Heat books in this story; it's something that is established pretty early on, and I don't think it's a big deal in terms of what it "spoils," but I am bananas about avoiding spoilers, so I warn because I love.

There’s an imaginary boyfriend problem in town. Well. It’s even more local than that. There’s an imaginary boyfriend problem in his head, and it’s not a lascivious teenage boy, or even a bevy of lascivious teenage boys, if in fact bevy is a collective noun one can apply to lascivious teenage boys. He should know whether or not it is—words and their various uses are his stock in trade—but he does not at the moment. The imaginary boyfriend infestation has driven this and other vital knowledge right out of his head.

He wishes the imaginary boyfriend were a teenager, driven mad with lascivious thoughts by the sight of his daughter in her borrowed—and let’s face it, fairly modest, despite his paternal freakout—cheerleading outfit. Okay, he almost wishes it were a lascivious teenager, but reasonably high neckline and unremarkable hemline aside, he is not quite there. Even with an imaginary boyfriend living in his head, rent free, he is not quite texting all the lascivious teenage boys he knows to invite them over to appreciate his daughter’s skill with pom pons.

The imaginary boyfriend is also not the hypothetical boyfriend—the all-but-certainly- hypothetical boyfriend whom she would bring nowhere near the precinct if he existed. That is not the imaginary boyfriend in question. The hypothetical boyfriend is no concern of his, because come on: if he existed, she would totally bring him around the precinct. For the distinct pleasure of torturing him? She would absolutely risk any amount of teasing, any number of wolf whistles, anything at all the boys and the rest of the precinct could dream up for that.

So he’s not worried about the hypothetical boyfriend suddenly materializing. He is worried about the imaginary boyfriend—the one whose existence is completely and totally his fault. He is, not to put too fine a point on it, worried about Don, Nikki Heat’s trainer-with-benefits. He is worried about a man who is entirely the product of his own imagination. A rather unimpressive imagination, in this case.

He remembers creating Don in an adolescent moment when he felt he had to make good on his spur-of-the-moment insistence that Nikki was kinda slutty. Or maybe it was in a fit of pique after she went on and on about Nikki Heat being a stripper name. It could have been in a prolonged bout of frustration, because he couldn’t figure her out at all after that first blinding insight about loss and an unsolved murder. Even with a front-row seat to her kiss with Sorenson and the post-Sorenson date she may or may not have really had, he could not at all get a handle on her personal life.

Truthfully, he can’t really remember exactly how Don came to be, and now he’s stuck with him. He’s stuck with this embarrassment of a character who illuminates almost exactly nothing about Nikki Heat: She’s an adult woman who has occasional casual sex and that is supposed to be . . . what? Edgy? Complicated?

The adolescent moment explanation is not especially compelling, particularly in light of the recently revealed, titillating insights Nikki’s real-world counterpart seems to have into the ins and outs, as it were, of Dungeon Alley, and he does not believe for a second that she acquired those insights working Vice. He has more faith in the non-hypothetical existence of the hypothetical boyfriend than he has in that hastily assembled explanation.

He’d very much like to have that problem in town. He would enthusiastically make up the guest-room bed in his head for the problem of how Kate Beckett has come by her ability to recognize custom cuffs and her casual familiarity with the layout of the average sex dungeon. But there’s no room at the inn.

He is stuck with Don, living the rent-free life in his head, and what is with that guy anyway? He’s content to occasionally jump in to Nikki’s bed and leave it at that. Of all the unbelievable things he’s asked his readers to believe over two decades and upwards of twenty novels, that just takes the cake. The man is a cardboard cut-out who aspires to two-dimensionality. He exists solely to . . . what? Assure the audience that Nikki isn’t some ice queen? To convince them that she is an ice queen until Rook comes along and ignites her innermost fires?

That last rhetorical question lands with a bitterly non-rhetorical thunk. Don’s origins were somewhere in that particular neighborhood. He needed an obstacle. He needed Nikki to have some non-Rook outlet so that she wasn’t, from the very beginning of the first book, tossing Rook roughly on to the hood of her undercover and ravishing him openly on the streets of New York.

But Don the imaginary boyfriend is an embarrassing oversimplification, even on that clunky, superficial level. He is a cringe-worthy mess. He wouldn’t know a double cross lap stitch from . . . some other kind of second-rate, mass-produced stitch. He couldn’t MapQuest his way to Dungeon Alley, and he has no idea whether or not Nikki prefers slippery to sticky.

Don the imaginary boyfriend is wholly unworthy of such esoteric knowledge. The trouble is, the more he gets to know Nikki—the more he gets to know her—he’s not sure who is worthy, let alone ready for her.

He’s not sure there’s a man alive—or imagined—who is, but he’d like to find out.

A/N: This is a stinky one; I really wish my schedule allowed for me to write one every night, rather than so sporadically, but I am trying to get back to at least a few per week. There's just more shaking the rust off involved.

images via homeofthenutty

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stylistiquements · 3 years

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Day 9 : Scronch'love.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : a lovely afternoon and an ancestral question; when are you going to join the dream smp?

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.5k

𐐪𐑂 Warning : swearing

Masterlist | Previous | Next

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

“Have you been here for a long time?”

Time bends and twists into unknowns shapes when well spent. So, you’re so not sure. Long enough for your fairy garden to start looking like at least a proper garden, long enough for your feet to start fidgeting, brushing against the soft fabric of the blanket ever so slightly and softly.

“Can you share your screen?”

“I’m just picking flowers, there’s nothing much to see,” you warn but it never does the proper job.

“That’s fine, I like watching you play.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Yeah. You’ve been playing for years and you’re still dog water. It's almost soothing,” you hear him grin through the silkiness of his voice.

You smile evasively, palm gripping the mouse and executing on memory. Soon, Sapnap’s satisfied noises hovers and everything is just how it’s supposed to be. You spend a while humming the music of days and nights of the game while building your project. Sap helps from time to time, giving advice when his attention is there and leaving trails of compliments on his way. You don’t think the garden is necessarily that good, you don’t mind either.

“Do you think the tree should go on the left or the right of the pond?” You ask, fingers drumming back and forth between the two options. Right he says. "What about the roses, do I plant some or not?"

“It’s just a detail, don’t hurt your brain too much on that,” he says in a light tone, but you disagree.

“Details are what make things important. Like when you remember I prefer warm pillows so you give me yours, it’s just a detail but it makes me happy.”

“Of course I do; you’re a baby,” he murmurs teasingly.

With an arched eyebrow, you retort, “says you,” and silence follows for a second as you plant the tree on the right of the pond.

“Yeah, Dream already made sure I was aware of that.”

“Not sure why the piss baby thinks he’s qualified to have this conversation, buddy,” you note and Sap chuckles are as vivid as contagious. “Why would he call you a baby anyway? What have you done?”

“I-I’m not telling you.” As soon as the mumbles fades, your phone sends loud vibrations on your desk. You abandon your character to the night and the wildness, picking the phone as you murmur a low oh, okay. Whether it’s to your phone or Sapnap, that, isn’t really clear. Still, Sapnap’s words sound more distant, more of what wonders are made of. On the screen, a twitter notification of a certain Karl Jacobs.

“You’re not even listening to me anymore,” Sapnap whines.

“I don’t listen to whiny babies, sorry.”

“We’re on the verge of divorce, yn and it’s your fault.”

A scoff skitters out through teasing lips, “But you still talk about me all the time, don’t you?” Your voice drags through different lands, unknown and musky.

“So what?” He splutters all awkward like it’s some kind of confidence that shouldn’t have left his thoughts and, somehow, you’re surprised the almighty confidence has left the game. “Who said that?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re obsessed with me, admit it,” you demand and though you don’t notice it, too tangled with the moment, the atmosphere is tinted with a different nuance like it’s suddenly dawn at the end of a summer party.

“So are you.”

Now, your heart drums a strange yet familiar rhythm. Something made of secrets and uncertainty, something you decided to leave unnamed a long time ago. Sapnap, you reason, can’t be lied to. He knows better than words half meant, half made up and it’s annoying, really, but he just does somehow. If you dare to lie, he would know and then it would be even more annoying.

“Yeah, you’re living in my head rent free but at least I’m not trying to hide it.” No answer. You peek at the game, you’ve been slain by a spider. “Karl said that,” you resign yourself. “He said he was about to join the vc by the way.”

Before the conversation can carry on, the sound of Karl joining the call resonates. Being in this Discord server is like living in a house with 10 siblings, that’s what you understand from the way Sap exhales heavily.

“Oh, I am interrupting something?” Karl says, struck by a peculiar energy.

“Besties time Karl, besties time,” Sapnap mumbles beneath his breath and it chimes a little like disappointment.

“Well, too bad I guess,” Karl exclaims. “It's about time I meet miss Bunnyshow.”

Karl is like that gif of a cat sitting in a tiny box with the caption “if it fits, I sit”.

“Does that mean our passive aggressive subweet arc is over?” You ask, faking the dejection when your smile grows wide.

“Oh god, I hope not. That’s my favorite part of the day.”

"It means a lot to me. Especially coming from my comfort streamer Karl Jacobs," you confess.

Satisfied, your attention gets back on the game; flowers rooting gracefully into the dirt and hives ready to host the beloved honey bugs as Karl and Sap catch up on time being apart. Everything is quiet and peaceful like the end of an afternoon well spent.

“I like your garden,” Karl points out and you hum a thank you beneath your breath.

“So you can take Karl’s compliments but not mine.”

“We’re besties you’re honor. Sapnap you can leave now, thank you,” Karl giggles and you follow along.

“Sorry Karl, there’s only room for one man in my heart and that has to be Sapnap.”

He fakes a cry to keep the theatrics before adding without transitions, “You know if you asked Dream he’d probably let you on the SMP.”

“No thanks,” you grin.

“Sapnap, your girl doesn’t want to play with us.”

“She’s already been whitelisted for months now,” Sapnap informs but fails to comment on the first part of the complaint.

He’s not lying, but you feel like it says more about Dream’s stubbornness than it says about you. As for your best friend, he understands better than anyone that wish for privacy and it’s something made of respect like yours for his career. You’d rather see him shaped by all the light than being touched by a glimpse of it. He does, after all, deserves it all. So, that’s the contract you made with yourself because it made sense; being a supportive shadow. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that you’ve never considered streaming before. It’s that it’s his world more than yours.

Karl, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to think the same way, “This is unacceptable, I gotta send a few texts.”

“Lost cause, dude, lost cause,” you grin but stubbornness seems to be a pre required trait for those mcyts.

Before you have time to find a suitable comment about the newborn group chat, a new person joins the call and Sapnap's annoyance is even more palpable, "No fucking way dude. We can't even have a second of peace on this server."

"Why would you be in a discord call if you want peace. You're just dumb," Quackity retorts with an energy he and he only can ever own.

Then George joins and Dream follows on his heels and soon your ears are filled with conversations that are as loud as scattered. Your shoulders sink in the back of your chair as soft fingers try to brush the upcoming migraine away. This is why you can't join the SMP; -not really but still- too much energy that has to be processed at all time. And you should know better, being friend with a very chaotic boy for the last 15 years, but you're not somehow.

"No, fuck that," Sapnap mutters. "I'm out."

"You can't leave now we have things to discuss," George exclaims. "Bunny, explain to me how Sapnap's proposition is more appealing than mine."

"Because I know her more than you do," he defends, and he's right. Money isn't of you interest. Love, on the other hand...

"Because she's like scronch'love," Karl giggles mindlessly.

"The fuck does scronch'love mean?" You ask, amused.

"It's very simple," Quackity intervenes. "If I offered you the same thing, would you even consider it?"

"Of course I would. What kind of question is that?"

"Fine. So, if Sapnap keeps his offer, here is mine; you become the president of Las Nevadas in addition to what he said."

"What?" Sapnap takes offense.

The call brims with an agitated confusion as you smile deviously, heels rooted into the floor to make your chair spin lightly and your fingers drum on your desk.

"I don't think you wanna do that," George corrects.

"Yeah, you absolutely don't," you confirm.

"Fine," he retorts. "So Sapnap's offer plus a Las Nevadas citizenship. How does that sound?"

"Like an offer I'll confider," you sigh. "So who's scronch'love now?"

"Still you," Dream answers. "Except you're also a big dummy."

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

A/N : helloooo,, how are you??? this part very self indulgent and I think this fic will be in general but I hope you liked it anyway. I love the idea of c!quackity always being too much and always having something to add to be even more over the top. I'm having more trouble than I thought about Bunny's and Sap's friendship because I want them to have a very special friendship but I hope it appears as such. idk. lmk what you think and thank you for reading it it makes me very happy <3 Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge ; @tinyegg ; @qnfdnf ; @paintingpetalsforyou ; @notjennaleigh ; @victoria-a567 ; @washy-washy ; @moneybagmarvel ;

#129 days #Sapnap smau #sapnap x reader #smau #social media au #sapnap x you #sapnap x y/n #mcyt smau #sapnap series #sapnap fluff #mcyt x reader

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chosonore · 3 years

Text

part one | calmness

calmness [noun. the state or quality of being free from agitation or strong emotion]

pairing: kamo choso/f!reader

summary: falling in love with choso was a gradual and slow process, creeping up on you so inconspicuously that you don’t realize until the feelings hit full force. he’s become a constant in your life, your sun, your home. but does he return the feelings?

wordcount: 8k

content/warnings: roommates au, friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life, mentions of alcohol, language, some pining but not really, the amount of oblivious reader and choso will kill you, slow burn, characters are aged up if not already obvious, lowercase intended, [UNEDITED]

a/n: [hello this is a re-post because my blog was banned for a few days! so if you’ve seen it before, i’ve had to delete it i am so sorry if you’ve saved it. but it’s here to stay now!] here it is, the long awaited roommate!choso series wehfuhuehw if you’ve lurked around on my blog before, you would’ve seen the little drabbles i’ve sent suki a while back. this idea has been floating around in my head for so long and there isn’t really a lot of plot to it, it’s really just a really long slice of life thing. wanted to explore falling in love with choso, i just... love him a lot ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ i’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how he would be in situations like this and i hope you enjoy!

masterlist - next

you were pretty sure that you’d scared all the costumers away with your constant sighing – even yuuji was looking at you concerned now although you’d told him that you were fine hours prior. the entire apartment hunting issue was now getting to you; a few months prior, your landlord had announced that he would be selling the apartment, leaving you with no other option than to find a new apartment. but rent was astronomically high and you were already struggling as is. even finding roommates was proven to be a difficult feat, you weren’t sure why but you kept attracting weird people and now two weeks before the moving out date, you still didn’t have a place to stay. worst case scenario, you’d have to rent a storage space and crash at your friend’s place.

“y/n, are you okay? you look… very stressed,” yuuji asked gingerly, after he’d closed the store and helped you clean up the cash register area. “uh if it helps, you can vent to me! we’re friends right? so what’s bothering you?”

you were hesitant. sure, despite not knowing him so well since he’s only been working at the store for a month or two now, you would consider the two of you friends. but you felt bad just dumping the entirety of your worries onto him. so you opted to tell him the… short truth.

“ah it’s just- i’ve been looking for a place to stay because, essentially, i’m getting kicked out of my place but it’s been pretty unsuccessful,” you sighed, scrubbing at the counter more vigorously now. “i need to move out in two weeks but i haven’t found a place yet and the people looking for roommates just seem to be people who would drive me insane.”

“oh really?” yuuji sounded hopeful- wait, why did he sound hopeful? “my older brother is looking for a new roommate! his former roommate recently moved in with his boyfriend so the room is vacant right now. if you want, i could arrange a date for you to look at the apartment and meet him? i promise my brother isn’t weird or anything, he’s pretty diligent with chores and is always up to hang out.”

your jaw dropped; yuuji was your lifesaver. he was incredibly friendly and polite, always helping others and looking out for everyone. you were overwhelmed with joy and relief, maybe you were naïve and too hast in trusting his words but his brother had to be similar to him, you couldn’t imagine them being polar opposites. it couldn’t be that bad and at this point, you were desperate. “i would love that! when are you guys free?”

“ah we could actually head over to his place after clocking out,” yuuji put the boxes and pens back into place before ushering you to the staff room and turning the lights off. “he’s been home quite early lately, so i can just let him now right now if you’re free?”

you nodded in agreement, almost too eagerly, as you threw your jacket on and grabbed your bag, waiting for yuuji outside of the store. it was already dark outside and you almost felt bad for taking up his time like this but he had offered after all. yuuji was furiously texting as he stepped out of the building, screen lighting up his face in a comical way. in the dim light of the street lamps, you clumsily fumbled with the keys before finally being able to lock the door.

“you’re in luck, he’s home right now!” yuuji announced, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his red sweater. “said it’s okay if we drop by real quick.”

you hummed in thought, matching yuuji’s pace as you walked across the street. “does he live far away from here?”

“nope, it’s basically around the corner.”

thankfully, the apartment was within walking distance so you had a slow stroll while talking about work, friends and uni. although you shared the same friend circle, it was almost impossible to have both of you in the same room – yuuji was often busy with club activities while you were constantly studying or working. it wasn’t until he started working at the store that you finally got to know each other, immediately getting along much to your friends’ relief. he had never talked about his older brother before so you were surprised that he had siblings at all. but he sounded genuine when he said that his brother was cool so you didn’t think much of it.

“okay so this is the place,” yuuji stopped in front of a building, pressing the doorbell. “please don’t be too intimidated when you meet choso, he looks unfriendly and unamused sometimes but that’s just his face.”

turning around, you took a closer look at your surroundings. it was an apartment building that looked rather cozy, surrounded by tall, expanding trees. to your relief, it wasn’t a sketchy neighbourhood - you’d always felt wary about walking home by yourself after a late shift. in the distance, you could see a playground and screaming, laughing children. it was harmonious and peaceful, easing your soul and initial doubts.

“oh okay,” you bit your lip in nervousness as the buzzer went off, following yuuji into the building. the closer you got to the apartment, the squirmier you got, anxious about meeting his older brother. the door was already left ajar so you could enter, the smell of food wafting out of the apartment to the hallway. you peeked inside before entering, immediately feeling more at ease upon seeing that the apartment was organized and clean. coats and jackets hung up on the coatrack, shoes lined up neatly along the wall. several photos were stuck to the wall - one of a younger chubby-cheeked yuuji, one of what looked like a garden party, another one of a happily smiling group of people. your heart was warming up; yuuji’s brother seemed like a rather attentive person who appreciated his surroundings and close friends and family.

“choso! did you make dinner for me?” yuuji called out as he kicked off his shoes and stormed inside before you could stop him, leaving you to your own devices as you awkwardly stood in the hallway of the apartment after closing the door. you took your shoes off slowly, stalling as much time as possible. should you just wait for yuuji to come back? or should you come in and greet them with the same energy that yuuji just exuded? but then his brother might think that you were weird and reject you straight away. you froze when a deeper voice rang out.

“didn’t you say you’d bring a friend? where are they?”

you hastily took off your shoes and tiptoed deeper into the apartment, hiding behind yuuji as you looked at the taller man in front of him. his brother looked at you curiously, placing the cooking utensils he was holding onto the counter. so yuuji and him did look like polar opposites. yuuji, for the lack of better terms, looked like a soft peach while the man in front of you had tied his dark, long hair in twin tails and was sporting a huge white shirt with sweatpants but perhaps the most striking thing about him was the face tattoo. you hadn’t expected that at all. he spiked your interest, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. you had to snap out of it, this was your potential future roommate and you did not need to have any further thoughts. not of that kind.

“hi,” you greeted quietly and held your hand out for him to shake. “i’m y/n, nice to meet you.”

“choso.” he shook your hand, giving you an approving nod.

maybe you stared at his hand a little too obviously, admiring his long fingers, his nicely shaped fingernails and the veins on his hand. yuuji cleared his voice, slightly elbowing you in the side. you gasped in embarrassment, jerking your hand from his and hiding it behind your back. choso didn’t seem like he had caught onto your staring. and if he did, he had enough mercy to not bring it up.

“let me show you your room first,” choso explained unfazed, patiently waiting until you followed him. he walked across the living room, pointing to the side. while yes, he was attractive and seemed to be an enjoyable person to be around with, you couldn’t shake the wariness in your bones. choso switched on the lights, letting you step into the room first. it was empty for the most part, aside from a few boxes that were neatly stacked and placed in the corner. the room had a comfortable size, big enough to fit everything that you owned but not too big so that you’d feel uncomfortable with the empty spaces.

“sorry about the boxes,” choso apologized, turning to you. “i’ve been storing some of the stuff from our studio here, since i sometimes work from home and it was more convenient to have it here instead of my room.”

“i see…” you nodded, trying your best not to peek at the contents of the box. “if you don’t mind me asking, what do you work as?”

“some of my friends and me, we’ve opened a tattoo and piercing studio earlier this year. i only do tattoos though, some of the others do piercings additionally,” he explained to you, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. your mouth fell open, making you look like a fish. you couldn’t hide your excitement, eyes gleaming like you’d just discovered the biggest treasure you’ve ever seen.

“really? that’s so cool! yuuji never told me you were a tattooist, i would love to see your works someday,” you grinned from ear to ear while choso looked away from you, not being able to handle the praise. although he appreciated the sentiment, he didn’t know how to respond to compliments - the feeling was foreign to him.

"yeah, sure," choso replied with a strained voice. in the dim light, no one would be able to make out how the tips of his ears reddened and choso was thankful for that. he cleared his voice, slowly trudging outside of the room to show you the rest of his apartment.

when yuuji had mentioned that he’d found a potential roommate for choso, he didn’t tell anything else. choso didn’t expect it to be yuuji’s co-worker, much less someone whose energy was so bright and happy unlike his gloomy self. he briefly wondered whether you were okay with living here - even if you were desperate to find an apartment, surely you'd at least want someone who was… more open and less intimidating than him.

you trailed behind his broad frame, carefully taking in the entirety of the apartment. it seemed like there was nothing to worry about. even though you've only known him for a few minutes, you felt at ease with him and that gave you a better feeling about moving in with him. yuuji was innocently sitting on the couch, spooning the soup choso had prepared earlier while watching tv. his eyes followed the pair, relieved that there was less awkwardness than he anticipated but slightly suspicious because… there was something.

as choso showed you the rest of the apartment - kitchen, living room and bathroom - he comprehensively explained expenses and house rules to you. there weren't many rules to begin with; choso simply disliked clutter and expected everything to be put back to its original place after use, being noisy was a no-go as well. everything in between was negotiable. by the end of the apartment tour, you joined yuuji in the living room. he shot you a questioning look, raising his eyebrow in curiosity. you were certain that you'd take the offer. there was no way this opportunity would go to waste.

"thank you for showing me around, choso," you smiled at him gratefully. "if you're okay with me moving in, i'd love to become your roommate. i think we'll get along well."

the last box was haphazardly tossed in the corner of your room, earning you a disapproving glare from choso. exhausted, you flopped on the bed and spread across it like a starfish. choso placed the remaining boxes on the floor. moving day was, despite choso coming to your rescue, utterly chaotic and tiring. your muscles were aching from overexertion and there was no remaining energy or nerve for you to attend to unpacking. you felt like a jellylike mass.

"i'll cook something for us. do you have any preferences or dislikes?"

you lifted your head slightly to peek at choso who was standing in the doorway, on his way out. “you’ll cook for me? what are you, an angel?”

choso didn’t reply, simply stared at you. he was used to such antics - it reminded him of his childhood when he was still living with yuuji and taking care of him. lethargically, you shook your head and planted your face back in the pillow. "no, i'm okay with anything. will inhale anything as long as it's edible," though your voice was muffled, choso understood you nonetheless. he made a confused, albeit affirmative noise before disappearing. a long exhale left your lips. truthfully, you were lucky to have an amazing roommate like choso. even though you didn't know each other well and he wasn't very talkative, he was very much willing to help. with time, you were sure he would warm up to you and become great friends. your eyes were slowly drooping, the exhaustion settling in your bones. within minutes, you dozed off into a deep, comfortable slumber. you didn't wake until a knock roused you out of your sleep, startling you in the process.

"huh? yeah?" you scrambled hastily, trying to fix the bird's nest that was your hair. choso did not need to see you in this state - delirious from being woken up from your deep slumber, feeling as if you'd woken up in a new century and with imprints of your pillows and blanket on your skin. before you could make yourself presentable, choso had already opened the door and stared at you unabashedly.

you blinked dumbfounded, staring back at him.

“food’s ready. you coming?” choso gave you a questioning look, waiting for a reaction. so apparently, he did not care what you looked like after waking up. he didn’t even bat an eyelid at your messy state, unfazed by it.

“uh yeah, give me a minute,” you replied after a few moments passed, sitting up tiredly. choso nodded before closing the door behind him as he returned to the kitchen. grabbing yourself a fluffy blanket, you wrapped it around yourself and waddled outside. whatever he had prepared, it smelled divine. you hummed in content as you took a seat at the dining table. the table was already set, dishes still steaming and looking so inviting that you had to stop yourself from drooling. choso padded to the table, placing some drinks on the table before taking a seat as well. as he described the dishes he'd cooked for the two of you, you inconspicuously looked him up and down. this time, without yuuji catching wind of it.

you knew choso was tall and very broad but you only realized the full extent of it seeing how the chair seemed tiny in comparison to his frame. his hair was down for a change, falling just above his shoulders. as usual, he was wearing comfortable clothes; a big shirt, big enough that you could admire his arm muscles and hands every time the sleeves moved. not only was he attractive, he was incredibly attentive and helpful as well, not expecting anything in return.

"thank you for cooking, i really appreciate it. looks really good," you complimented choso, taking a bite from the dish. you hummed delighted, wiggling in your seat happily. "oh my god, this is so delicious! where did you learn cooking like this?"

"i used to cook for yuuji and myself a lot."

"i wanna return the favour too but now i kind of feel inadequate," you joked lightly, smiling at him sheepishly. while you weren't the worst cook, you weren't outstandingly great either. choso however, was probably the best cook you knew.

"i don't mind. as long as you do your best, it's the thought that counts."

you nodded in agreement, taking a sip from your drink. silence fell over you; a comfortable silence however, both of you just enjoying the food. you supposed it wasn't too bad if you took your time getting to know each other - after all, choso seemed like someone who would quickly recoil if cornered. it wasn't too much of a concern.

after finishing the meal, you helped him clean up and wash the dishes. nudging him gently, you asked: "do you want to watch some movies after? yuuji recommended me a few that i have yet to check out."

choso took the plates, drying them with the towel before placing them back to their designated spots. "sure, you're responsible for the movie selection then."

spending time with choso was easy, almost too easy. you were glad that the two of you were off to a good start, he didn't seem to mind your company and you enjoyed his. cheerfully, you put the movie on, snuggling the blanket that was wrapped around you. the way you were laying on the couch was reminding choso of a little burrito. unbeknownst to him, the corner of his lips lifted a little at the sight. he waited until you noticed him and shuffled a little so he could sit on the couch as well. the movie you had chosen was a lighthearted comedy, one that yuuji had highly praised and recommended you watch first.

midway through the movies, the exhaustion was creeping up on you, making you feel heavy and sleepy until you slumped against choso's side. he glanced to the side, observing you to see whether you would wake up. soft and steady breaths left your lips, already asleep within seconds. choso pondered whether to wake you now, worrying that you would miss out on the movie that you were so eager to watch. you looked so peaceful that he felt bad, deciding to wake you once the movie was over. but even choso couldn't shake the tiredness, gradually slumping against you until sleep overtook him as well.

as the sun was rising, light was flooding the apartment, filling it with warmth. you scrunched your eyebrows at the brightness, attempting to move so it wouldn't blind you. the first thing you noticed was your strained neck - probably because of the weird position you had slept in - and the second thing was that something heavy was laying on your lap. blinking in confusion, you peeked, groaning inwardly at the blinding light. black hair was splayed across your lap, connecting to… choso? oh no. oh no. you must've fallen asleep while watching the movie and judging how choso was comfortably using your lap as a pillow, he did as well. embarrassment spread throughout your body; this wasn't supposed to happen, much less with someone you didn't know so well.

now that you were unintentionally watching him, you felt creepy. the situation was too perplexing to you - should you wake him now? or just wait… until he woke up? but what if you had to pee. what if choso wasn’t going to wake up until a few hours later? what if he woke up and saw you staring at him like a creep? though you did think he looked vulnerable and peaceful in this state, unusual from his intimidating, unwavering self. it made your heart tingle with an unknown feeling, softly bubbling with curiosity.

beneath you, choso was moving slightly, shuffling around until he felt comfortable. you stayed still, tensely watching his next movements. he remained still for a while, making you exhale in relief. until he didn’t. choso blinked a few times, trying to make sense of his surroundings until his gaze fell onto yours. and you stared back, frozen in fear. even if he was the one laying on your lap, you felt anxious.

“uh i… we must’ve fallen asleep last night, ha ha…”

“you fell asleep early on and i was going to wake you after the movie ended but fell asleep myself, i’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable,” choso apologized sincerely and sat up right away, rubbing his eyes sleepily. even though he looked rather deadpan, there was a trace of embarrassment on his face.

“oh no, it’s okay! we both fell asleep after all… ah, since we’re roommates, we’re sort of friends now, right? so don’t mind it too much, it happens!” you gave choso a reassuring smile, showing him that there was no bad blood between you.

choso nodded slowly. “i guess so. i’m glad you don’t mind. "

an awkward pause.

"do you have classes anytime soon? i can make breakfast for us.”

and just like that, the tension between you was alleviated. not completely gone, but barely noticeable. choso stretched like a cat, yawning quietly before he got up. you couldn't help but glance at his toned stomach, eyes almost bulging at the sight. turning to the side, you hid your face and cleared your voice. "i don't have classes today but i have to go to work later. so i won't say no to breakfast if you're making it."

"how's living with choso?" yuuji questioned you curiously, leaning against the counter. lowering the pen and writing board you were holding, you hummed in thought. in the past few weeks, the two of you had settled into a comfortable routine. there were minor hiccups here and there but the issues were easily resolved - somehow, you silently understood each other, an important foundation for a good friendship.

"pretty relaxing, to be honest. he's a good roommate and friend," you replied, clicking with the pen which earned you an annoying glance from yuuji. "you should've told me he was a great cook! i don't think i've ever tasted any dishes that were as good as his."

"he cooks for you?" the surprised tone in yuuji's voice startled you. was that out of the ordinary? you just thought he was being a good friend when he prepared dinner for you whenever you had a late shift.

"uh yeah? mostly when i come home late or when we have movie nights together. i always tell him that i can definitely help but he insists that he's fine doing it himself."

"i see. choso just doesn't like people messing with his cooking routine, that's all. i'm not even allowed near the kitchen, even though i'm not that bad of a cook either," yuuji laughed, scratching his head sheepishly. he wasn't going to tell you why he was perplexed by the fact that choso willingly cooked for you. it was too early to make any assumptions; he just couldn't shake the feeling that there was something at play. no one knew his brother better than him - choso would never do any favours for persons he didn't care about, persons that weren't family or extremely close friends. while they had talked about choso's thoughts about you, he never mentioned anything more than getting along well and often spending time together. for choso's standards, you were a quite close friend.

"oh, and here i was, thinking that he must really hate my cooking skills. so it's just that," you concluded, grinning happily. he was weirdly persistent about it but knowing this detail about him, you'd stop pestering him in the future. "hey do you wanna come over tomorrow? it's movie night again, i'm sure you'd enjoy it too."

"hmm, sounds tempting. if you can convince choso to cook, i'm in."

"pff, who would say no to this face," you retorted mischievously, showing yuuji the best puppy face you could muster up. he groaned, pushing you gently.

"show off," he told you jokingly and rolled his eyes. "i don't know how choso tolerates you."

"you're just jealous, huh? didn't think you had that emotion in you. choso and me are the bestest of friends, of course we get along well," you stuck your tongue out at yuuji before leaving him to his own devices as you bolted to the cash register to help a customer. as you animatedly conversed with them, yuuji shook his head. it was obvious that there was some attraction but that was something he'd let you figure out. cupid wasn't a well-fitting job for him. friends, my ass.

"huh, did you say something, yuuji?"

"no, not at all."

soft, melodious music was playing in the background as you silently sat at the counter, watching choso prepare some meals before yuuji was visiting. this time, you heeded his advice, not pestering his brother about needing help and instead just opting to watch him and make light conversation. choso seemed to have noticed as well, mood ever so slightly lifted when he saw you simply taking a seat and asking about his day. he liked this routine, being able to go about his day without someone unwantedly poking their nose into his business until he felt comfortable enough to talk about it. as you absentmindedly doodled on a napkin, choso casually told you about his day at work. about squirmy customers who were getting their first tattoo done, about those that had interesting ideas that he was still trying to find ways to implement, about how noisy his co-workers were and that they wanted to have a night out soon.

“do you wanna join us? you said you wanted to meet my friends,” choso asked, briefly glancing up at you as he was dicing the vegetables. it was true, you did inquire about his friends at some point, more so jokingly and out of curiosity - although he complained about them every now and then, you could tell that he deeply cared about them. choso was the kind of person who acted like a mother hen around friends and sometimes nagged a lot more than you anticipated. but then somehow, miraculously, every minuscule task that would stress you was completed and topped with a freshly made, warm dish by the end of the day. he wasn't good with words but his actions made up for it.

you didn’t expect him to offer you to tag along. he was comfortable enough to introduce you to his friends, even seemed to trust you with them. it felt… strangely heartwarming. "i would love to join you but i have quite a lot of assignments piling up; i'll have to do some night shifts to finish them," you replied and sighed ruefully, putting the pen away. "i'll tag along once i've finished everything, okay?"

choso frowned slightly. "but don't overwork yourself. you'll end up frustrated and burnt out," he told you earnestly, reaching out to pat your head. you gaped at him, the fond gesture making you feel flustered. it was nice knowing that he was looking out for you. choso stared back at you, seemingly startled by his own gesture as well. his hand had moved faster than he could react - he didn't know what to make of it.

the ring of the doorbell interrupted every trail of thought and you jumped up quickly. "i'll get it!" you sprinted towards the entrance, letting yuuji in. perhaps you greeted him too overzealously, yuuji looked at you like he knew something was up. nonetheless, he didn't mention anything, instead presenting you the bottle of wine and some dvds that he brought. choso gave his younger brother an acknowledging grunt, too absorbed in his tasks. taking in his surroundings as he got comfortable on the couch, he noticed some subtle changes in the apartment - the numerous pillows and fleece blankets littered across the couch, the set of matching mugs as well as choso's sketchbooks and, presumably, your textbooks on the coffee table. it was obvious that the two of you spent a lot of time together.

even throughout dinner, yuuji realized that choso had taken a liking to you, more than he probably realized and let on. he almost felt like a third wheel watching how you animatedly talked about trivial things and even more so when it was movie time. like a little burrito, you were wrapped in a blanket, leaning against choso. though it surprised yuuji to see his older brother opening up to you so rapidly, he was happy about it. although chaotic and clumsy, you were a good person and a positive influence. having witnessing how choso had closed up and how hurt he had been after the break up of his previous relationship, yuuji was glad that he wasn't cautious around you and welcomed your presence. even though… both of you were painfully oblivious.

"should we wake her?" yuuji asked as he saw you snuggling into choso's side, peacefully sleeping while the movie was still on.

"no, it's okay. she often falls asleep midway through movies, i just let her sleep. probably exhausted from uni."

yuuji looked at him as if he grew three heads. "so you just let her sleep? and you… sleep on the couch too?"

"hm? yeah, kind of. i feel bad about waking her and we're friends so it's not that big of a deal," choso replied innocently, shifting slightly so he was comfortable while keeping his arm around you. ever so slightly, he leaned onto you.

yuuji buried his face in his hands, silently screaming. don't comment on it, don't say anything, it's none of your business. you might have pink hair but you're no cupid.

utterly exhausted, you made your way into the apartment. you flopped onto the couch, grunting in irritation when you heard choso calling your name. staying put, you just laid there and listened to his footsteps nearing. "you okay? did anything happen?" he questioned, leaning over the couch to look at you. you weren't even sure what to answer, whatever you were feeling at the moment was an accumulation of stress across multiple weeks. you were frustrated with your projects, feeling like you weren't making any progress and not having time for yourself whatsoever. all you needed was a break, a pick me up.

"do you wanna talk about it?" choso repeated again but you shook your head, lifting your head slightly to look at him. he almost felt bad for thinking that you looked adorable, the way you huffed in frustration with a little pout on your lips. you shook your head, hugging one of the pillows.

"not now, later maybe?"

"okay. i'll make you a cup of tea." he disappeared from your field of vision. you listened to the sound of the kettle, closing your eyes as you focused on it. slowly, your erratic thoughts came to a halt. your breath and heartbeat steadied and you gradually felt more calm. clack. choso placed the cup of tea on the coffee table, taking a seat next to you. he was hesitant to touch you just yet, waiting for another reaction from you. sniffling quietly, you sat up and thanked him quietly.

"choso?"

"hm?"

"can i have a hug?" you inquired meekly. he didn't reply, simply pulling you into his arms. without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. he smelled nice, like freshly washed laundry and the shampoo he was using. it reminded you of home, making you feel more at ease. gently, choso rubbed your back; wherever his fingers moved, it left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. not that he noticed anyways, fortunately. for a few minutes, only the sound of breathing resounded. it was calming and warm - choso was warm, so warm - you almost fell asleep. humming quietly, you moved closer to him.

"today was just really… bad. everything went wrong," you confided in him. "it made me feel like shit, like i couldn't do anything right. i guess i just feel really stressed so i can't concentrate on anything."

choso leaned forward, reaching out to grab the cup of tea. you squeaked in surprise, holding onto him so you wouldn't drop backwards. his left arm snaked around your waist, keeping you in place as he leaned back again. you moved back a little, as far as choso's arm allowed you to, and took the cup from him, taking small sips. "i think you're doing okay," he told you, drawing patterns on your back. "it's only natural to feel this way when everything's been piling up. what you need is a good rest and have a reset, you'll feel more refreshed and inspired to work on your projects. and don't hesitate to ask for help, no matter whether it's a professor or classmate."

"i also told you not to overwork yourself, didn't i? and don't think i can't tell that you've been pulling all nighters," he scolded you, pinching your cheek playfully. it made you giggle, tilting your head to get away from his hand.

"yeah i know, i know. just couldn't help it, it's a bad habit. i'll try to get better at it," you promised him, giving him a reassuring smile. "thank you for listening to me."

"it's the least i can do."

a comfortable silence fell over you. choso continued to rub your back in an attempt to soothe your nerves while you sipped your tea. you were grateful for him, he was an amazing friend - you didn’t even know how to show gratitude to him. awkwardly turning to put the mug back on the table, you then leaned against him. “choso?” you hummed against his chest, snaking your arms around his waist. “you know you can talk to me about problems too, right?”

“what do you think we’ve been doing these past few weeks?” he retorted and chuckled in amusement. “you should try to go to bed now. get some rest, you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

you pouted, not wanting to move. fortunately, he couldn’t see the face you were making - you weren’t ready to let him go just yet, wanting to memorize the expanse of his chest, his warmth, the way his arms felt around you. it made you feel safe, like a temporary relief to your anxiety. “can we… can we watch a movie maybe? i’m not sleepy yet.”

of course, choso saw right through you. “you always say that and then you fall asleep midway. you just don’t want to move, huh?”

“okay, you caught me,” you giggled hysterically as he stood up slowly and pretended to let you fall, catching you before you fell. clinging onto his shoulders, you wrapped your legs around his waist. you refused to let go. unbothered, he held you by your thighs as he waddled across the living room towards the console to choose a dvd to watch. while clinging onto choso, you could hear his heart beating rapidly - you chalked it up to how strenuous it must be to carry you around. choso, on other hand, couldn’t put a finger on the warm, tingly feeling inside of him. did he like having you around like this? stupid, of course he did, you were good friends after all. spending time with you was relaxing for him as well. back on the couch, he let you use his lap as a pillow, absentmindedly combing his fingers through your hair. the two of you remained in this position until both inevitably fell asleep, movie still playing in the background.

“y/n. earth to y/n. dude, can you hear me?” nobara was frantically waving papers in front of your face, rolling her eyes as you snapped out of your trance and took them from her. to your delight, the two of you shared quite a few classes this semester which meant that you could usually share the workload as well. you copied some of her notes, hastily scribbling them in your notebook.

"sorry, i was lost in thought. what did you say?"

"i asked you whether you wanna go out later? the whole crew is coming, it's been a while anyways," your friend repeated, placing her little cosmetics bag on the table to check her makeup and apply another layer of lip gloss.

"ah sorry, i already have plans for today, maybe ano-"

"with whom?" she asked pointedly, narrowing her eyes at you. in recent times, you've been rejecting her offers to hang out a lot; whether it be because of studying or hanging out with… "wait, are you having a date with that roommate of yours again?"

"it's not a date!" you briefly paused, giving her a dirty look. nobara was weirdly persistent about this dating thing, claiming that you would never get anywhere if you didn't make a move. "his name is choso, yuuji's older brother. i told you a million times already. he's been a really good friend and taking care of me when i feel stressed, so i thought it would be time for me to do the same for him."

"a really good friend?" a doubtful look was shot your way.

"yeah, i mean yuuji cooks for us all the time, how is it any different? anyways, i'll join you guys another day, okay?"

nobara stayed still for a moment. you truly didn't realize how much you's been mentioning choso. choso this, choso that, choso here, choso there. even yuuji had confided in her that he thought you might have developed a crush on his older brother though he wasn't certain. nobara, however, was sure. but operation make y/n realize things proved to be more difficult, considering you hadn't had a crush before as you were never interested in relationships.

"fine. but in return, you have to tell me about choso. what do you think of him?" nobara stuffed her belongings into the impossibly full handbag. propping her chin on her hands, she leaned closer to you with a shit-eating grin. you sighed, putting the papers away. it was no use trying to focus on your assignments when she was in an investigative mood. she wouldn't let go of the issue until you gave her a satisfactory answer. and for some reason, it irked you that she was inquiring about choso. why was she so curious about him? couldn't she have asked yuuji instead? it was his brother after all. maybe nobara was… interested in choso? you narrowed your eyes at her.

"i think he's great. might be intimidating at first and not very talkative but when he opens up to you, he's actually a softie. very respectful and polite towards people, always thinks of others first. and not to mention, he's really talented too! he often acts like he's annoyed by people or minds his own business but he really does care a lot. you feel comforted by his presence when you're close with him," you rambled, trying to list all the positive points about him that you could think of. nobara nodded slightly as she was listening to you, making it difficult to gauge her stance on him. was she going to confess now? maybe you should confront her about it. yeah, she would never admit it otherwise. "nobara, are you interested in choso? if you wanted me to introduce you to him, you could've just asked."

nobara stared at you with an open mouth. checkmate.

"you know i wouldn't have judged you at all! after all, choso is handsome too. so really, you don't have to sneak around about this," you concluded triumphantly, patting her arm in reassurance. it filled you with pride to be able to catch nobara off guard for once - usually, she was very composed and ready to give you a sassy answer.

"y/n, sweetie. you're so very wrong." nobara sighed, dejectedly pushing your hand away. you were incredibly dense when it came to feelings and relationships. maybe it would be more amusing to just watch everything pan out. “i don’t really care about choso, that’s your man after all.”

“yeah, yeah, i- wait what?”

thankfully, you arrived home earlier than choso did - for once. and for once, this friday was going to be a relaxing one, seeing as you’d finally finished your projects and assignments and could finally engage in a much needed self care day. placing the groceries bags on the counter, you went through the ingredients again just to make sure you didn’t forget anything. yuuji had given you a recipe for his famous meatballs recipe, claiming that it was one of choso’s favourite dishes. in recent times, choso seemed to be exhausted and sometimes even easily irritable after work - considering how much he did for you, it was only fair for you to treat him as well. surprising him seemed to be the best course of action.

making quick work of the ingredients, you took your time to clean the apartment while the soup was still cooking. yuuji was kind enough to lend you a few dvds, not even asking you whether you were going to watch them with choso anymore. while you felt bad about turning your friends down yet again, you promised yourself to make it up to them in the future by inviting them over for a sleepover or movie night. though knowing them, they would not let you stay in the comfort of your home but drag you to a party or club again. especially nobara would always insist on dragging you along, while megumi and yuuji didn’t really care about where they would be going for the night. her excuse was to find you a partner, claiming that it was about time you realized how cute you were, which you vehemently denied. even maki had told her to pipe it down at some point. all the more, it made you suspicious that nobara had not brought the topic up anymore. you couldn’t imagine her giving up so quickly, considering how persistent she had been for almost a year now.

the jingle of the keys and the soft click of the door made you stop whatever you were doing, peeking around the corner to see choso coming in. giggling quietly, you watched as he stopped in his tracks and sniffed the air, seemingly confused about the scent of the soup. he turned around upon hearing you, a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his lips. “up to no good?” he questioned you teasingly, placing his bag and jacket in the wardrobe. huffing, you stuck your tongue out at him and shook your head. you padded over to him, softly tugging at the sleeve of his shirt to make him follow you to the kitchen.

“since you always cook for me, i thought it would be time for me to do the same for you. yuuji showed me your favourite dish but i’m not sure if it turned out as well as he always makes it,” you sheepishly explained, showing him the pot of soup and the bowls and cutlery that you’d already laid out. choso hugged your side, squeezing your waist gently before patting your head and muttering a quiet thank you. your chest filled with pride, finally being helpful to him for once. if you weren’t careful, it would burst - he fuelled your ego even more as he complimented you, telling you how well the soup turned out and that he really appreciated it. you knew he wasn’t lying, for one because he was a sincere person and always offered heartfelt compliments, and because of how eagerly he was eating, practically inhaling the soup in one go. he even looked like he was in a food coma by the time you finished dinner, making you ban him from the kitchen to take a rest on the couch.

after washing the dishes, you came back to the living room to see him lie across the couch, eyes closed and calmly breathing. he looked like he was taking a nap, until he opened his eyes to peek at you as you approached. giddily, you joined him on the couch, showing him the hair products that you’d already placed on the coffee table. “can i give you a massage and do… uh hair stuff? i really like it when people brush my hair and stuff and i thought you might enjoy it too,” you explain to him. choso contemplated for a few seconds before shrugging nonchalantly. yes! you signaled him to sit on the floor in front of you as you pressed play. with the sound of the movie in the background, you focused on choso’s hair and took off the hair ties first. he got comfortable, turning towards the tv and learning his head against the edge of the couch. gently running your fingers through his hair, you made sure to detangle rough knots before massaging his scalp gently. you could tell that choso was beginning to relax by the way his shoulders were slowly sagging. in silence, you worked through the entirety of his scalp before moving on to brush his hair.

if you didn’t already know that choso was a naturally withdrawn person, you would’ve been concerned by how quiet he was and how he didn’t show any reactions to the movie. you were glad that he seemed to like the entire hair spa ordeal; he didn’t even seem to mind that you were using your hair products on him, the soft floral scent now emanating from his hair as you massaged it through the tips and then brushed it in slow strokes. by the time you were done, he looked utterly relaxed, struggling to keep his eyes open as he climbed back on the couch and sat next to you. without having to ask, he wrapped his arms around you. yawning quietly, you moved closer to him, turning your attention to the tv. habitually, his hands moved against your back, drawing shapes and patterns. slowly, choso could feel the heat in his body rising and chalked it up to the close proximity. it did make him feel a little uneasy however; he shifted you around on his lap until he felt comfortable. abruptly halting his movements, he froze as you turned to him, ass grazing his groin. an electric shock ran through him. subconsciously, he jolted at the friction. the tips of his ears turned red in embarrassment but he reassured you he was fine when you looked at him concerned. what the hell was that? was his body now not listening to him after being so relaxed?

“choso, can i ask you something?” you leaned back slightly to look at him.

“you already did. but yeah, go ahead.” choso grinned at the little huff you let out, grasping your hand in time as you tried to hit his chest and intertwined your fingers so you couldn’t move.

“uh this might sound weird but i think a friend of mine is interested in you. nobara, do you know her?” you squeezed his hand, moving it around with yours. “she asked me about you the other day.”

“huh, really? isn’t that one of yuuji’s friends too?”

you nodded in agreement. “yeah, we’re all friends. i only told her good things about you, of course.”

choso hesitated. he wasn’t sure what to tell you, not wanting to say something about your friend that could upset you. but the truth was, he wasn’t really interested in anyone right now. the recent breakup had done a number on him and he felt like he hadn’t properly moved on just yet. not when the thoughts were still obsessively circling in his head. but when choso was with you, they miraculously seemed to disappear, making him feel more at ease. “i’m not really looking for anything right now, sorry. i don’t really want to disappoint her, i’m just not really up for a relationship right now,” he told you truthfully, giving you an apologetic smile.

you stopped in your movements, nodding slightly in understanding. and still, it made your heart seize up for an unknown reason.

ps.: the story of how it takes reader and choso ages until they realize their feelings or alternatively: nobara and yuuji unwillingly turn into cupids

#jujutsu kaisen #choso #kamo choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #kamo choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #kamo choso x you #choso kamo x you #choso imagines #choso kamo imagines #kamo choso imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen imagines #fic: home #writing

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fivescoffeemug · 4 years

Text

milk coffee. (Five Hargreeves x Reader) (part 2)

Summary : you got too broke to pay for rent so you crash at Five’s.

Warnings : none

Words : 2,137

A/N : please please tell me (thru dm or ask box) if you want to be in this taglist, because I’m making more parts and this is seriously flopping :(

(Just to be clear, the story takes place on 2nd April 2019 assuming they got back to the umbrella academy and not the sparrow academy because fuck the cliffhanger)

taglist : @eyelash-curler

part 1 | part 2

“Have you got the money?”

“Sorry?”

“The rent.”

“I—I ... I don’t—I don’t have it yet.”

“Sorry but you’ve been here for three free weeks.”

“Miss, please, please just give me another week I swear my book’s just—”

“Get out.”

“Miss just—”

“I’m going broke too and I need the money! But since you’re broke too one of us has to have money right? Now go back up and pack your shit.”

“I’ll be homeless.”

“I’m giving you till five.”

Five. It hit you like a swing of a sledgehammer to the back of your head.

No, you thought. That would be so pathetic.

But what other choice did you have?

You rushed up the stairs, grabbing your phone and finding the word ‘Five’ in your contacts. You pressed on it, calling it immediately.

At the fifth ring, he finally picked up.

“What?” He hissed.

“Wow, you sound overjoyed to hear from me,” You rolled your eyes, soon realizing now was not the time for the petty insults.

“Mhmm,” He hummed, seeming busy with something else. “What do you want?”

This wasn’t the first time you called Five since you met him, probably about the third, the other two times were just because you were bored.

It had just come to you that he always seems so uninterested in your company whenever you began conversations, but he would come around soon enough. You both wouldn’t stop at the scornful insults though.

“Can I ... crash at your place?” You struggled to say, biting your lip and closing your eyes right after.

“You were already crazy enough to even want to keep in touch but this just breaks the mental asylum records by a landslide,” Five comments. “What next, you’re gonna come up and tell me you have powers or something?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his remarks. You always told yourself, ‘damn I hate it when he does that,’ but you always knew that was a lie.

“Well? This is a joke to just keep me listening, right?” Five asked. “What do you really want, Y/N?”

“Sorry to disappoint you today mister masochist, but it turns out that I do infact need a place to crash,” You repeated, hoping you wouldn’t have to explain.

But of course, that’s if you lived in world where everyone was a naive nobody.

“What’s wrong with your place?”

“I’m fucking broke, alright?” You blurted in frustration. “I’m not from here. I’ve got no one else. I had to pay the landlady from the money I could scrape out of my pants pockets and I thought my book would sell by now, but I guess I was getting ahead of myself.”

You could feel Five huffing in a slight chuckle.

“Not from here, so no family or friends to turn to for shelter ... oh helpless, helpless Y/N ... ” He narrated, clearly amused at your desperate situation.

“Well?”

“It would really be amusing to see you on the streets, wouldn’t it?”

“For you, definitely.”

There was silence for a while.

“You know what, fine. I’m not as cruel as you think I am.”

“The fact that you had to point that out means you probably are,” At this point, talking to Five always just triggered the instinct of throwing any insult you could at him.

“You wanna sleep on the streets?”

“No.”

“Then shut up and start packing.”

“Not even your address?”

“I’ll text you.”

“Okay, bye.”

And with that, he hung up, and you threw your phone on the bed and began packing.

...

When you turned up at the place, you thought you read the address wrong, you read it over at least seven times now. You looked up at the tall building. It was a mansion.

It made you wonder if Five really was just some regularly school boy.

You got to the front door, knocking at the wood. You found yourself admiring the patterns on it for a short while before the door finally opened.

“Can I help you?” A taller black woman with frizzy hair asked as you found youself puzzled.

“I—well, I’m ... ” You couldn’t find the words to say. You couldn’t say you were here to see Five because if anything you just needed a place to stay. “I just ... I wanted to see Five.”

“Five!” The woman calls. “Some girl is here for you!”

You heard the faint sound of some footsteps walking rather hastily down the stairs, finally seeing Five in the distance coming closer now.

“I was expecting someone, come in,” he said monotonously, barely making any eye contact with you.

You tugged your small luggage inside the building after you and got a good look at the foyer. There was a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the entire place just seemed so grand, giving off the 1990’s vibe but if they were dirty rich.

“F-Five how old are you?”

“Well ... ” his head slowly leaned to the side as he squinted in thought. “It’s complicated.”

“How is that complicated?”

“Okay if I said I was like twenty two would that satisfy you?”

“Well if that’s a lie then obviously not,” You follow him as he began walking up the stairs, dragging along your burden of a luggage.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to be unsatisfied for a while,” He turns to a corridor and you finally meet his plain room.

The walls reminded you of his eyes, the ones you fell for the time you met him. You had to admit, those were a true beauty.

Too bad its owner’s a real pain in the ass, you thought, smirking to yourself.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Do you guys just not have a spare room in this big-ass mansion?”

Five’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the ground. “Well, not one I’d want you to use.”

“Why not?”

“My dad’s. He’s dead.”

“Oh ... I—”

“Nope, don’t apologize,” Five shook his head. “Just put down your stuff. Crashing here is the best option you’ve got anyway, I’ll get an air mattress.”

You watch as Five exits the room, another stranger standing by the door, looking surprised and confused at the same time.

“Why?”

“Nothing I just ... I’ve never seen him so ... kind,” he finishes, soon entering the room. “Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. Klaus.”

“Y/N,” You shake the hand he held up, soon letting go as Five reappears again, seemingly glaring at Klaus before he left.

“Who are the other people in your house?” You ask before Five could start inflating the mattress.

“Does it matter?” He asks back, seeming to have no intention of letting you know about what was going on.

“Well, you’ll have to make some sense out of this,” You huffed, still slightly confused as to how peculiar Five has been. “If you’re not going to tell me then at least give me your age.”

Five grabs an air-pump and starts inflating the mattress, clearly ignoring your plea. You offer your help, and he let you but after discovering how incredibly slow you were going, he took back the pump and resumed doing it himself.

“Do you like reading books? I wrote one.”

“I really wished I had said ‘I don’t remember asking’, but unfortunately for me, I wanna know how the hell you ended up alone penniless where you don’t belong,” Five finished pumping air into the mattress, which you immediately say on after he left to put the pump back.

“Well?” His eyebrow raised, then returned.

“I was an orphan my whole life, it was abusive and I’ve had enough,” You huffed, frowning up at him. “That’s all I feel like saying.”

“An orphan ... when’s your birthday?”

“Tell me your age and I’ll tell you my birthday.”

Five looked to the side, biting his lip. He nodded, looking at the ground.

“How old do I look to you?” He cocked his head up as your eyes met yet again.

“Like ... eighteen?”

“There you have it.”

“I got it right?”

“Yes now it’s getting late and we’re going out to get dinner soon. You coming?”

“I don’t have any money left.”

“Five, let’s go,” A man appears at Five’s door, soon noticing your presence. “Who’s the girl?”

“Homeless person I decided to help,” Five replied coldly. “Poor Y/N doesn’t have the money for dinner too.”

“I’m not—”

“Y/N?” One of his eyebrows were raised, now facing you. “Don’t take the bitch too seriously he’s always like this.”

“I suggest you do the same for him, sadly Diego doesn’t have any spare braincells left, he shares one with our gorilla brother,” Five reviled, Diego turning back to glare at Five.

“I think I’ll skip dinner; I don’t want to bother the four of you about it.”

“The fou—Five! Does she not know about ...?”

“Do you really think I’d willingly embarrass myself by introducing the rest of our braindead siblings to her?” Five rolled his eyes.

“Up your ass, Five,” Diego digressed, soon smiling at you as he turned to face you again. “There’s actually seven—no six of us here. One of us died.”

“Your dad, right?”

“I—well n-no, he’s not really part of the picture ... ”

“My dad had seven of us. One of us died. That’s the end of it,” Five concluded, or at least tried to.

“My name’s Diego, that’s Five, and the tall black woman’s Allison, the short one’s Vanya, the bigger looking guy is Luther and the high one is Klaus.”

“Didn’t Klaus quit drugs?”

“Well, I don’t know. Drugs or no drugs he always kinda seemed high to me,” Diego shrugged.

...

After Five treated you to dinner, you washed up and Vanya let you use her pajamas for the night. Five got you an extra blanket and pillow too.

In the middle of the night, you had a nightmare. Your neck and face was sweaty and you were panting heavily. Five woke up to his room shaking, a few small things falling off the side of his table. He glanced down at you, trying to shake you awake.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

“No ... please ... I can e-explain ... ”

“Y/N you’re dreaming! Wake up!” Five fell off his bed as the shaking got worse, and ended up on top of you.

“Ow!” You jolted awake and the room’s rumbling had finally stopped.

He scrambled to the edge of the mattress, clutching the sides of your shoulders as concern had smeared his face.

“Y/N are you okay?”

Your face was already stained with tears when you woke up, but you couldn’t help damping your face again as you bury it in your hands, sobbing.

“Y/N ... talk to me.”

“No!” You cried, lowering your head to the mattress. It was a horrible nightmare. “I ... I don’t want to.”

“Y/N ... Y/N ... listen to me. Please, look at me.”

When you heard this, you stopped, as he asked. But it was only because you couldn’t believe what he was saying, or at least, the tone he was saying it in.

His eyebrows arched upwards as your eyes met once more. Those calm, sea blue eyes told wonders to you without saying anything at all. It made you calmer.

“You were dreaming. It was just a nightmare, it’s okay. You’re okay. Do you hear me?”

You felt his hand on yours. It wasn’t so obvious, though, because it was just the tip of his fingers touching yours.

But somehow, you still felt the tears rolling down your cheek.

“I’m ... I’m so sorry, Five,” you started tearing up again.

“Here.”

He held out his arms slightly, and you gladly wrapped your arms around his neck, your back now warm from his touch too. You buried your face in between his neck and your arm, while he places his chin on your shoulder.

You felt him inhale and exhale, and somehow the feeling of his chest, his shoulders rising, it made you feel okay. It made you feel at home.

“Are you okay now ‘cause I’d really like to go back to sleep,” five broke the silence after several seconds of feeling each others’ warmth.

You nod, pulling away from the hug. “It’s okay if you say no, but I ... I really don’t want to sleep alone. I mean, on this mattress. It’s so big, it feels so lonely.”

Five blinked for a few seconds before nodding, standing up to grab his pillow and blanket.

“I’ll face the other way,” He said, pullling his blanket over him as he laid beside you. “But I’m here. Just remember that.”

You nod, resting your head on your own pillow, feeling yourself ease back into the drowsy feeling of sleep.

“Actually, Y/N ... how did you make the room vibrate?”

#tua five #tua #tua2 #tua s2 #five x reader #number five x reader #number five x y/n #five x y/n #tua five x y/n #five fanfic #number five fanfiction #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x y/n #five x you #tua five x you #five hargreeves

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

The Boys Next Door

a/n: I have no idea where this came from. enjoy some smut and some other college!Harry.

You lived in a college town, and your parents were landlords for many college students. They owned a few different properties along one of the street close to campus. You were twenty-one and going into your senior year. You didn’t mind going to school where you grew up. You went somewhere else your first year, just to get out of town for a while, but eventually coming home was the best choice. Plus, you got to live off campus in one of your parent’s apartments with your friends. You were having a great time.

They wanted to go on vacation, do a little traveling this summer, so they put you in charge of one of their smaller properties. The home you were in this summer was converted into two apartments, side by side. Your parents had someone else to run the larger properties, but they had a great deal of trust in you. You happily accepted, especially since you could take a cut of the rent as pay. You also weren’t too upset because the boys moving in next door were really cute. Soon to be seniors as well. They were international students, and as much as they liked going home, they were still college students. It was easier to save up the airfare for the holidays, rather than to fly home for the summer.

You’d be in your apartment alone. Your friends all had to go home to their families and jobs, not that you minded. You loved being crazy with them, but the alone time would be great. You put the keys to the other apartment outside under the mat, and emailed them to let them know. You also left instructions on rules for living there. Your parents weren’t in the business of dealing with idiots.

It was a beautiful day out, so you decide to set up the small inflatable pool out back, and throw on a two piece to sunbathe in. You get your lawn chair, put some sunscreen on, and dip your feet into the pool. You crack a hard seltzer open and throw your shades on. You sigh with happiness and relaxation.

The boys, Harry Styles, Niall Horan, and Louis Tomlinson, all show up to the apartment. They find the keys and head inside. They get all their things moved in and wheel their grill out back. There was no fence between the two sides, but it was still clear that it wasn’t an overly shared space.

“Oh shit!” Niall says, pointing to you. “Is that our landlord?”

“I think so.” Louis says.

“We should go introduce ourselves then.” Harry says. “After all, she could be hungry for somethin’ off the grill.”

The three walk over to you. You had your headphones in and you had fallen asleep.

“Excuse us.” Louis says. You don’t move. “Think she’s asleep…”

Harry rolls his eyes and nudges your shoulder.

“Huh?!” Your eyes snap open and you flinch when you see three very good looking men standing above you. “Um…can I help you?” You stand up and look for your cover up, but you never brought it out. Your two piece was strapless, and a little revealing.

“Sorry to wake yeh, I’m Harry.” You shake his hand. “This is Niall and Louis, we’re your tenants.”

“Oh!” You laugh. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you guys. I’ve seen you around though, you’re all on the soccer team, right?”

“That’s right.” Niall says.

“We were just about to fire up the grill, wanna join?” Louis asks.

“Sure! I actually have some fresh lemonade in the fridge inside, I’ll bring it over.”

“Sounds good.” Harry says.

They go back over to the grill and you go inside. You grab a large t-shirt to throw on, and the jug of lemonade out of the fridge. You grab some solo cups as well, and you head over to their side.

“I don’t wanna be a Debby Downer, but my parents wanted me to remind you guys that you’re getting a discounted rate because you agreed to mow the lawn, and shovel once winter comes. Everything you need is in the shed.” You point to it. “The keys for it are inside a combination box. The combo’s on the paper I left in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, yeah, we found that. No worries, the lawn will look perfect.” Niall assures you and you smile at him.

“Any other official business? I’d like to add some vodka to this lemonade.” Harry says, shaking the cold bottle in his hand.

“Nope, that’s it for now. Please, make the drinks.” You say.

“What can I make yeh, love?” Louis asks.

“I’d love a cheeseburger, please and thank you.” He nods to you and Harry hands you your drink. “Thanks.”

“So, you’re all alone in there this summer?” Niall asks.

“Mhm. My friends will come up for a weekend here and there, but I don’t mind it. This is my favorite apartment of the ones my parents own, I’m excited to be alone in it for a bit.”

“Well, if you ever get lonely, just give us a call.” Harry winks and you blush as you bite the rim of your cup.

You all enjoy mini BBQ and get to know each other more. You all talk about your majors and how excited you all were to be seniors.

“We’re gonna head down to the pub later if you’d like to join us.” Niall says.

“That sounds great!”

“What’s your number, we can text you when we’re ready.” Harry says. You hand him your phone and he puts his number in.

You head into your apartment to shower and wash all the sunscreen off. You throw on a crop top and pair of shorts, and do your make up. Harry texts you when it’s time, and you walk downtown with them to the bar. You all find a booth, and he happens to be the one to sit next to you. Niall grabs the first round of beers.

“What do I owe you?”

“As if I would ever make a girl pay for her drinks.” Niall scoffs. “You don’t ever have to worry about that with us, Y/N.”

“Oh! That’s really nice of you.”

You all clink your glasses, and take a swig of your drinks. They ask you questions about what it was like growing up in the area, and you talk about what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. Eventually, you get a pretty good buzz going, and it makes you want to dance to the music playing. There were plenty of people out on the dance floor already.

“Do you guys wanna dance?”

“Sure!” They all say at the same time.

The four of you make your way to the dance floor, and you start dancing. You all giggle and have a great time. You got a little more drunk than you thought, and it hit you like a ton of bricks when you left the bar at closing.

“I’ll never understand how these places close at one in the morning. We’d just be gettin’ started back home.” Louis laughs.

Harry looks at you and sees you sort of struggling to walk.

“Want a piggy back ride?” He offers.

“Seriously?” You slur.

“Sure, come on.”

You hope onto his back and you giggle as your eyes start to droop. Yup, way too drunk.

“M’just gonna get her settled, I’ll be home in a minute.” He tells the two of them as he takes your key.

“My room’s upstairs.” You mumble and he hums his response. He pushes the door open and sets you down on your bed.

“Thanks.” You smile at him. “Tonight was fun. This’ll be a great summer.” You yawn.

“Yeah, it will be.”

Harry goes down to your kitchen to get you a glass of water. When he returns you’re passed out on your stomach. He leaves the water on your nightstand, and heads out. Niall and Louis were on the couch, eating some cold pizza, when he got back.

“She alright?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, passed out already. I left her some water.” Harry grabs a slice of pizza and sits down with them. “She’s cute, I like her.” He says with a full mouth.

“You should ask her out then.” Niall says. “She’s a lot of fun so far.”

“Too soon for that. I need to play it cool.”

“You’re too shy for your own good.” Louis says.

You spend a lot of time with the guys over the next couple of weeks. You go out with them to the bar quite a bit, and you all share many meals. Your favorite thing to do was happen to be outside when Harry mowed the lawn. He would do it shirtless, and he loved when you’d bring him out something cold to drink. You also liked watching them get into little games of soccer.

Sometimes at night you would go over there and watch them play video games, or maybe they’d come over to watch a movie. You found yourself to have gotten the closest with Harry.

Harry: too hot in my room…2:02AM

You: no fan? 2:10AM

Harry: it broke :( 2:12AM

You: I have ac…2:13AM

Harry: is that an invitation? ;p 2:14AM

You: if you want it to be ;p 2:15AM

You slip out of bed, and stop to look at yourself in the mirror. You usually slept naked…you sigh and throw on a large bed shirt, but that’s it. It covered everything just fine. You go downstairs and open the back door for Harry. He was only wearing shorts.

“Hi.” He smiles.

“Hi.” You smile back. “What are Niall and Louis doing?”

“Oh, both of their fans work just fine. I’ve been too lazy to go to the store, but I suppose suffering in sweat just isn’t worth it anymore.”

“Well, my room’s nice and cool, so come on up.”

You and Harry go up the stairs up to your room, and you close the door behind you.

“Oh my god.” He moans as he stands in front of the A/C. “Now this is livin’.” You can’t help but giggle at him. He watches as you reach into your dresser for a pair of shorts. You wiggle them up your body. “Were you not wearin’ anything under that before?”

“Nope.” You grin and sit on your bed. You pat the spot next to you.

“I can just sleep on the floor…”

“Don’t be silly, bed’s plenty big for the both of us.”

He nods and gets on with you. You both lay and face each other.

“Comfy.” He says.

“Mhm.” You push some hair away from his face. “You have nicest hair, have I ever told you that?”

“No. In fact, you could stand to compliment me a lot more.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. It’s the least you could do in exchange for all the free alcohol we give yeh.”

“Very true, okay, well, I also like your tattoos.” Your fingertips lightly graze his arm.

“You do?”

“Yeah, they’re cool.”

“What else do you like about me?” His leg gentle slides between yours.

“You have a great sense of humor, and you’re just really nice.”

“You’re nice too, and you’re really pretty.” Your cheeks flush, you were thankful it was dark. His leg inches up a little further between yours. “Sexy, actually.”

“God, I think you’re hot as fuck, Harry.”

“You do?”

“Mhm.” You adjust yourself on his leg, and move closer to him, your faces only inches apart now.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

He cups your cheek and pulls you into him, his mouth slotting over yours. Your eyes flutter closed as you sink further into the kiss. You open your mouth for him and he doesn’t waste any time getting his tongue on yours. You groan against him, and grind yourself on his thigh.

“I wanna fuck you so bad.” He groans.

“Okay.”

“What?” He pulls away. “Really? Just like that?”

“Sure, why not? I want it, can’t you tell?”

“Sometimes it’s not about bein’ able to tell…you wanna have sex with me?”

“Yes, I do.” You turn and reach into your night table to grab a condom. You place it on top of the table for when you need it. “I’m on the pill too, but I think using a condom is for the best.”

“Agreed.”

He moves to hover over you, and starts kissing you again.

“How long, ngh, how long have you wanted to fuck me for?”

“Since we met.” He mumbles as he starts to suck on your neck.

“Fuck, why didn’t you?”

“I was tryin’ to play it cool.” He chuckles against you.

He motions to have you sit up to take your shirt off, and he marvels at your breasts. He cups both of them in his large hands. He tweaks your nipples and leans in to suck on one of them. Your head rolls back as he kneads the other one.

“Harry…I wanna, I want you to…”

“Need my mouth somewhere else, angel?”

“Please.”

He gets between your legs and tugs your shorts down. You were glistening. He licks his lips and dives in. He licks a flat stripe from your center up to your clit, and circles the tip of his tongue around you before sucking on it. You gasp when he does so, and your hands fly to his hair to grip on. Your hips buck up when you feel two of his fingers slip inside you. He pumps in and out as he continues to work your clit with his mouth. You were panting, your body had never felt so good before.

“Holy fuck! Oh my god, don’t stop, Harry!” You moan out.

He pumps fast, brushing your g-spot. It was all too much, and you release around his fingers. He retracts them sucks them into his mouth.

“Tastes even better than I thought it would.”

“Get the condom on, now.”

He smirks and grabs the foil packet. He gets it open with his teeth, slides his shorts down. His hard clock slaps against his stomach and your jaw drops.

“Oh my god.” You say under your breath. “Harry, you’re so…big.”

“I know.” He mumbles as he slides the condom down his shaft. “Don’t be nervous, I won’t hurt you.”

“M’not worried about that.”

He leans in and lines himself up with you and slowly pushes inside. Your head rolls back into the pillow as you feel him stretch you out. Your nails press into his shoulders. Once he’s all the way in he gives you some time to adjust.

“Alright?”

“Mhm, you can move.”

He starts with slow thrusts, rocking in and out of you. You can’t help the moans that leave your lips. You had never felt so good before. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

“Go harder, Harry. I want you to make the bed shake.”

“Fuck.” He groans, and does as you say.

He grips your legs and puts them over his shoulders. He thrusts in hard and fast, and the bed does start to shake. His thumb finds your clit, and he rubs it furiously.

“Fuck, oh fuck, that’s it, oh my god!” He had you screaming. “Harry!” You cry out as you come around his cock.

He fucks you through it and comes to his own release, spilling into the condom. He collapses on top of you, and you kiss his neck over and over. He pulls himself up and gives you a kiss on the lips before pulling out.

“Where’s your trash, angel?”

“In that corner, next to my desk.”

He hums his response and gets up to throw it out. He hears you get off the bed and turns to look at you.

“Just going to use the bathroom, get comfy.” You smile.

He gets back on your bed and waits for you. When you come back you don’t even both with a shirt.

“I like to sleep naked, that okay?”

“You don’t see me wearin’ anything do you?” He smirks.

You get on the bed and lay your head on his chest. He puts his arm around you and rubs your back.

“That was, uh, really something.”

“Felt good?”

“Really good.”

“You took it really well. You were so wet, felt good for me too.” He kisses your hair line.

“You can come here to beat the heat any time you want.”

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #college!Harry #stay cool everyone!

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit.

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall.

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine.

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor.

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store.

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted.

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right?

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :)

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again.

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it.

I’m counting on it.

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind.

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.”

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing.

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs.

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.”

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up.

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?”

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded.

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.”

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.”

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back.

October 9 (sat)

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime.

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all.

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?”

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—”

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?”

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.”

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them.

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria.

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.”

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged.

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head.

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks.

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends.

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself.

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls.

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.”

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline.

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug.

“I will,” she responded.

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.”

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person.

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high.

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha.

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked.

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted.

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account.

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases.

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.”

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.”

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle.

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to.

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically.

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked.

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised.

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him.

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure.

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously.

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them.

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride��s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.”

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted.

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.”

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?”

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging.

“Honestly hour.”

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off.

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.”

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.”

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.”

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.”

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.”

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said.

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was.

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked.

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag.

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively.

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?”

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously.

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food.

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.”

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening.

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?”

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p.

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by.

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.”

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense.

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him.

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.”

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,” he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.”

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently.

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.”

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions.

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.”

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.”

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting.

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all.

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

#anthony beauvillier #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #new york islanders

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ohemgeeitscoley · 4 years

Text

"Do you want the room or not?" Ben asks, pushing his hands in the pockets of his sweater. It's so jarring to her. Every story she has ever heard that involved Ben centered around his confidence, his anger, the way he could just command a room.

None of it matched with the image in front of her.

"Yeah," she finally responds. "Yeah. I do."

----

In which Ben learns Rey's nightmares, her favorite tea, and how to sneak into her heart.

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Rey/Ben Solo (Reylo)

Note: None of this would ever have been written if it weren’t for @andyouweremine Not only is she a fabulous beta who makes my writing better, but she’s the one that sent me the post to Reylo Week and said we should write something for it. Also, she listened to me go on and on about this song and all of the feelings it gives me. Seriously, I have no idea what I have done in my life to deserve such an amazing and supporting friend, but I love you a whole lot. Thanks for being my shipping soulmate and spiraling with me on this.

This was written for Day One of Reylo Week 2020 Favourite Song Lyric or Quote. "For Island Fires and Family” by Dermot Kennedy is the inspiration behind this, so I definitely recommend listening to it.

Read on AO3 or below.

But she’s bringing the moon and stars to me

Damn permanent reverie

***

“What do you mean Ben Solo says he has a room I can rent?” Rey asks Poe. “This is the same Ben Solo that seems to personally enjoy making your life a living hell?”

“He’s a defense attorney. I’m a prosecutor. That’s literally his job,” Poe explains, shrugging. “He’s just… annoyingly good at his job.”

“Thanks Poe. I really needed that brilliant explanation as to how the adversarial American legal system works.”

“I’m just saying,” Poe wraps a glass in a piece of newspaper before placing it in the box next to him. “He’s also one of my oldest friends and despite… well, anything you’ve probably heard about him, I know he’s a good guy.”

"And he just happens to have a room available to rent out to a grad student who can barely afford ramen?"

Poe's smile is more like a grimace as he raises his hand to awkwardly scratch at his neck. "That's what he tells me."

Rey grabs a stack of plates from the cupboard, setting them down on the counter to start wrapping. "I still don't know why you would ask him. We barely know each other."

"I was with him when you texted me," Poe holds his hand out for Rey to pass him a plate. "And he offered.

"Why would he do that?" Rey asks, crossing her arms across her chest. "He doesn't even know me."

"Like I said," Poe shrugs, taping the box closed. "He's a good guy."

***

"That can hardly be considered fair rent for living here, Ben," Rey argues, her eyes wandering around the apartment. It is in a much better location and is at least three times the size of her last apartment.

It also isn't in a building that is being condemned.

Ben blushes, looking away from Rey. "It's the friend of a friend discount."

Rey snorts. “I would think the friend of a friend discount would be letting a complete stranger move in with you on, like, twelve hours’ notice. Not offering a bedroom and free reign of the rest of your apartment for less than what I was paying for an apartment that is being condemned.”

“I really don’t need the money,” Ben says shyly.

“They pay you pretty well to make sure the bad guys remain on the street?” Rey asks. She regrets it as soon as she sees Ben tense, the bashful look gone from his face.

"Ben, I didn't… I'm sorry," Rey sighs, glancing at the floor. She counts to three in her head before looking back up at Ben. She ignores the way it almost hurts her to notice that he's stepped back away from her. "I didn't mean it like that. It's your job. And I'm sure not all of your clients are actually guilty. But even if they are you're still just doing your job."

Ben doesn't say anything. Rey is working her way through her mental list of friends that she could call for a place to crash at least for the night. Certainly Poe and Finn wouldn't mind her staying just one night. And even if they did, it was Poe who thought that her staying with Ben would work out and clearly it wasn't going to work.

She reaches in her purse to grab her phone so she can start looking for hotels. She tries not to think about how she decidedly cannot afford to stay in a hotel for any length of time.

None of it matched with the image in front of her.

"Yeah," she finally responds. "Yeah. I do."

***

Rey has nightmares.

Ben doesn't mention them and he doesn't ask questions. But he does make sure to brew the coffee extra strong the next morning and to hand her a cup first thing when she walks into the kitchen. He doesn't know her yet, but he knows enough to know that Rey isn't comfortable talking about herself or her past.

And he knows enough about nightmares to know that they are rooted in the past.

So he stays away. He wakes up when he hears her rustling around the kitchen, hears the soft whistle of the kettle when she makes tea.

But he stays away.

Rey doesn't mention anything to him and he knows that she would if it was something she wanted to talk about.

The more he gets to know her, the harder it is to stay away. She opens up to him slowly, small glimpses into her past when she talks to him about her day while he makes dinner after work or when they are walking around the farmer's market on the weekends planning meals for the week.

He wants to know everything about her. He enjoys being someone that she's comfortable with to talk to about her days, her dreams, and her past.

But he doesn't want to push her. He doesn't want to be too much.

He's always been too much.

He's never had a roommate before and he isn't quite sure where the appropriate boundary line lies for these kinds of situations.

He's scared of pushing too hard and crossing it.

It's just past three am when he hears her whimpering in bed. He stays quiet in his room, rolling over in bed to his side. He listens as she walks out of her room and he hears her sob, and he can't stay away.

She isn't alone, she doesn't have to be alone, and he needs her to know that.

He holds her and she cries against his chest. All he wants to do is comfort her, to bring her peace the way she does for him without even trying.

So he takes her to the roof and opens himself up to her.

***

Rey curls her feet under herself as she settles into the couch. Ben moves around the kitchen, pulling a mug from one cupboard and honey from another. Her eyes follow him, taking in all of his small movements, the way he squints his eyes in concentration to make sure he is squeezing just the right amount of honey into the bottom of her cup before adding hot water and tea. She still doesn’t quite understand exactly how she got so lucky to fall into being his roommate, let alone someone he cares about.

There was a time when Rey’s only knowledge of Ben had been what she had heard from other people, stories of a rather closed off defense lawyer, all tall, dark and brooding. Full of anger. Rumors that Rey knew were based in truth, but did nothing to actually describe who Ben was underneath the facade that Snoke had helped create. If Poe hadn't offered Ben and Ben’s apartment as a lifeboat when Rey needed a place to stay, Rey never would have known anything different.

Ben had only been a part of her life for six months, but the thought of not knowing him hurts her. The idea that she could have gone about her life without knowing the depths in which he could care, the almost constant actions he took to ensure that the people he cared about knew they were cared for threatens to overwhelm her. Rey spent her entire childhood bounced from one bad foster home to the next. Believing that people cared about her isn't natural, but she believes Ben.

Ben who knows what kind of tea she likes to drink after a long day and knows how much honey she adds. Ben who teased her for her odd precision the first time he watched her make tea after she moved in, but remembers it all the same.

Ben who now makes the drink perfectly for her, because he notices without her saying a single word that she's had a bad day. His reaction is to make her feel better, even when Rey knows that Ben's day has been worse.

He first takes care of her.

“Tell me about your day?" Ben asks, stirring the tea a few times before he walks out of the kitchen and holds the cup out for her to take.

“Or," Rey begins, taking the cup from him, "you could tell me about your day instead."

Ben stares at her, eyes narrow as he sits next to her.

"Don't look at me like that." Rey blows on her drink and presses her feet against his legs. "You made me tea for my day, which has already made it infinitely better. You can tell me about your bad day first."

"And what makes you think I had a bad day?"

It's the way he says it that sets her off. The self-deprecating tone of his voice, the attempt to hide from talking to her by pretending that everything is okay.

As if she can't read him as easily as he reads her. As if she didn't hear the clipped way he ended their call when she called asking if he needed anything when she stopped at the market. Like she didn't notice the lack of grammar and unusually high amount of typos in his messages to her at the end of the day.

Or the way he moved around the kitchen making her tea. His shoulders tense and his thoughts loud. The way he kept brushing his fingers across her ankle as they talked.

How when she walked into the apartment he looked at her like she was something he wasn't sure he deserves. And how he only looks at her like that when he is convinced that there are two versions of him: the monster he is at work and the person he is with her at home. When he starts to believe that maybe he's nothing more than a monster and she just hasn't noticed.

Or that she hasn't had an opportunity to leave him for it yet.

She doesn't tell him any of that though.

"I know you," she summarizes. "Tell me about your day."

"You don't need to hear about the things I do at work." Ben's laugh is hollow. "Some days you're the only person who looks at me like I could be something more than I am."

"I hate when you do that," Rey admits, shaking her head. "When you act like what you do at work makes you a bad person."

"I am a bad person." It's an absolute truth when Ben says it and the clear intensity in which Ben believes it breaks her heart.

"The things I do, Rey," Ben shakes his head, his sentence trailing off. “It’s not something that’s up for debate.”

“You’re not a bad person, Ben Solo,” Rey whispers, glancing down at her tea for a moment before back up at Ben. “I hate watching him try to convince you that you are one.”

"Rey," Ben sighs, "It isn't that easy."

"But it is Ben," Rey says, her voice soft. She knows that she can't push, that every time she tries to push him on this he snaps and shuts down and that she hasn't and won't get anywhere that way. And she knows that she has to get somewhere. She refuses to even think about what will happen if she can't. "It is that easy."

***

Ben knows that something is wrong as soon as he walks into the apartment. For starters, the apartment is almost completely silent. He can hear Rey’s footsteps, but there is no background noise.

Rey hates silence.

Usually when he gets home he can hear whatever movie or show Rey is playing in the background, or, if she’s studying, he can hear music coming from her bedroom. Or, he’ll hear Rey mummering to herself as she reads through her notes or textbooks, or she’ll be humming under her breath.

But he’s taken off his jacket, and hung it on the coat rack by the door, and he’s toed off his shoes and slid them next to where Rey’s are and all he has heard are Rey’s footsteps.

The second sign: Rey is pacing.

Ben has only ever heard Rey pace after a particularly bad nightmare. It’s barely 6:30 and Rey is pacing in silence. She hasn’t shouted at him asking how his day was or what he’s making for dinner.

For the first time in six months, Ben is apprehensive about what he is going to walk into when he finds Rey.

“Hey,” Ben says as he walks into the living room, a tight smile on his face.

Rey stops pacing in front of the TV, which is on a news channel, but the volume is muted. Ben doesn’t need to hear the words to know that the coverage is focused on the trial he won earlier in the day.

The case itself was a high-profile case. It’s the reason the results of the trial are being aired on the news. It doesn’t take a lot to sensationalize a brutal murder and sexual assault. Hux had originally been the attorney Snoke had assigned to handle the case. It was reassigned to Ben after a case review when Ben pointed out the inconsistencies in the interviews Hux had conducted with the detectives about when, or even whether, the arresting officers had read the client his Miranda rights.

Ben hadn’t wanted the case. Ben usually was assigned the more white collar crimes, embezzlement, fraud. Occasionally, Ben would get assigned the larger drug trafficking or prostiution rings. But the homicide and violent offenses were hard for Ben to stomach.

But at the end of the day, Ben doesn’t choose his clients. He represents who he is told to represent.

And in this case, Hux overlooking the inconsistencies in the interviews had just been the start to the amount of holes and deficiencies in the prosecutor’s case.

“How do you do it?” Rey asks, her voice almost cracks and Ben knows that this isn’t a conversation he wants to have with her. “How do you represent people like him?” She points back toward the television. “He murdered that girl, Ben. He tortured her for days, he raped her, and then he murdered her. And he just, he gets to go home?”

“Rey.” Ben leans against the wall behind him, folding his arms over his chest. “You say that he did those things, but 12 of his peers returned a not guilty verdict.”

“Because you convinced them to,” Rey shouts, throwing one hand up in the air. “Your job was to convince them that he was innocent and you did it. And I just, Ben, I don’t understand how you can do it.”

“It’s my job,” Ben shrugs. “He is innocent until proven guilty. And there were procedurally a lot of issues. It’s not my fault that the investigation that led to his arrest was flawed.”

“Is that how you justify it?” Rey asks, shaking her head as she steps toward him. “The investigation was flawed? Some human made a mistake while investigating a horrific crime scene and somehow that’s justification to allow a murderer back into society? Is that what makes it okay Ben?”

“Yes,” Ben argues, watching as Rey moves around in front of him. “I did my job. Maybe next time the police and the state will do theirs better.”

“You mean the next time this guy decides to take another girl and kill her?” Rey glares at him and Ben knows that he should walk away now before the conversation goes any further. He’s angry, and she’s angry, and nothing good is going to come from this conversation. “How is that blood not on your hands too?”

“That’s not how it works,” Ben yells. His voice is too loud, too demanding. He flinches when he sees Rey flinch and pull herself back from him.

In that moment Ben knows that he is everything everyone says: too loud, too tall, too stubborn, too proud. He’s everything everyone says he is.

He’s never hated it more.

“That’s just not how it works. I am not out committing crimes or, God, Rey I’m not murdering people,” Ben says, his voice lower and more controlled. “I don’t disagree that the system we have is flawed. But my job is to advocate for my client and to protect the constitutional rights he is afforded. That’s the society we live in, one that believes that it is better for ten guilty men to be free than for one innocent man to be jailed.”

“That’s not how it works,” Rey throws his words back at him with venom. “And you know it Ben. You take advantage of a broken system.”

“I do the best job that I can for those that I represent.”

“You represent monsters.”

“And does that make me one, Rey?” Ben asks quietly, his fingers pressing at her chin to stop her from looking away. “Do you think I am a monster now? Just because of what I do?”

“I don’t know,” Rey responds and Ben drops his hand, taking a step back. “I don’t know what that makes you.”

Ben takes a deep breath, running his hand through his hair.

“I have to go,” he says after a moment, taking another step back from her before turning around to walk toward the entryway.

He hesitates at the door, his hand resting on the doorknob. And he waits for her to call to him. For her to follow him and to keep the conversation going. He’s almost certain that she will, that she won’t let him leave thinking that she believes him to be a monster.

Only she doesn’t.

Ben’s standing in the entryway in silence again, and when he opens the door to walk away, he’s pretty sure a part of his heart breaks.

***

"I thought I would find you here."

Rey refuses to turn her head to look at him. Instead she focuses on the moon shining bright in the sky, on the feeling of the hard cement under her fingers.

She tries not to think about how Ben knew where to find her because he was the one to show her how easy it was to pick the lock to the roof. She tries not to focus on how it made her feel to be a part of something secret with him.

It’s too much.

The constant reminder that the Ben she knows, the one that she knows she is starting to fall for, is the same Ben that passionately advocates on behalf of deplorable people who commit horrific actions.

She can practically hear Poe telling her that it’s his job. And she knows that people aren’t defined by what they do for a living. She's told Ben countless times that his job didn't define who he was as a person, and she never thought that she could be someone who would hold someone’s job against them as a fault. But she can’t quite wrap her head around how Ben, her Ben, can be someone fighting for the wrong side.

How is it possible that the same person who knows without her saying anything that she's had a bad day and makes her favorite tea and sits with her in silence until she chooses to open up be the same person who represents murderers? And does it well enough that they walk away free of a guilty verdict to go back to society to commit the same crimes. It doesn't make sense to her.

She isn't sure she wants it to make sense. It shouldn't make sense.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," Ben says and Rey finally looks back at him, taking a deep breath as she takes in his appearance.

He looks like a wreck.

She hates it. Hates that their fight is clearly affecting him. She hates that they are fighting at all.

She looks away, pulling her knees up closer to her chest, and says nothing.

It's a beautiful night.

The sky is clear of clouds and the moon is bright. There's too much light pollution for her to really make out too many of the stars, but she can imagine them and it's comforting in a way.

The first time Ben showed her how to get to the roof had been after a particularly bad nightmare two months after she had moved in. She had thought that she was doing a better job at hiding them, but Ben proved that he noticed her more than she thought.

He walked out of his room while she was making tea and hugged her. He just held her until the kettle started whistling.

He didn't say anything about the tears on her face when he pulled away, just finished making her tea and asked if he could show her something and took her to the roof.

He stayed up with her, sitting on the cold cement without any complaints, talking to her about the stars and the stories behind the constellations. He talked to her about his childhood and his own nightmares.

“You left,” Rey notes, breaking the silence. She doesn't say how that hurt her. She knows that she doesn't have to. It's almost painful how well Ben knows and understands her.

“I came back,” Ben points out, sitting down next to Rey. “That counts for something, right?”

Rey nods, because it does matter.

Ben doesn't say anything, just sits next to her in silence and looks up at the sky.

"You aren't a monster," Rey says after a moment. "I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have even insinuated that you are. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," Ben reaches for her hand, intertwining his fingers with her. "I understand. There is truth to what you said. The work I do sometimes has consequences. And the clients we get at First Order… you aren't wrong about the kind of people I represent."

"Why do you do it?" She asks, turning her head to the side to look at him. "Is this really why you went to law school?"

"No, I went to law school because I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. But I had to do something. Crim law was interesting and it was kind of romanticized, protecting people from the over zealous reach of police and the state, all humans that can be wrong and corrupt. And being recruited by Snoke was prestigious and I liked that." Ben sighs, "Plus it pissed my mom off, which was a pretty big deal to me when I was 25."

Rey rolls her eyes, slowly shaking her head. “'I guess I get how you ended up here. I just don't understand why you stay or even how you can stay. You hate your job, Ben. I know you do."

"I do," Ben admits, looking away from Rey. "But it's all that I know. And I'm good at it. What if it is all that I'm good at? What if I leave and I fail? What if I am only good at defending criminals?"

"That's Snoke," Rey interrupts him. She moves until she's kneeling in front of Ben. She cups his face with her hands, her thumb caressing his jaw, and she waits for him to look at her. "You are so good, Ben. You would be great anywhere."

"You don't know that."

"I do. You're smart, and you listen. You could never be anything less than successful. I absolutely believe that."

"Why?"

"Because I know you. And you, Ben Solo, are a good person."

Ben stares at her, resting his hands on her knees, and his expression is so open and vulnerable. His eyes full of wonder and hope. He looks at her like she's something that he cherishes.

Rey leans forward and presses her lips to his. The kiss is chaste at first, then Ben pulls her into his lap, deepening the kiss as he wraps one arm around her waist, the other in her hair.

Rey pulls away first and Ben grins, his sharp and crooked teeth on full display, and he has never looked more gorgeous.

She has no idea where they go from there.

***

Ben still can't believe that Rey agreed to come with him.

She had been apprehensive about going with him to the Christmas party. But she's here, talking with one of the firm's new associates, champagne glass in her hand. She stands tall with a confidence that Ben knows is all her own. The red dress she spent hours picking out sparkles under the light.

She looks like she belongs.

Rey smiles when she notices him. It's small and private, really it's barely noticeable. But Ben notices and for a moment the room seems brighter. Her smile brightens as he walks toward her and his breath catches in his throat. He has no idea what he has done to deserve for Rey to look at him the way that she does. Let alone for her to smile at him alone.

“Where have you been?” She questions, raising her glass to her lips to finish off her drink. “You spent weeks convincing me to come with you tonight and then you leave me alone with the wolves minutes after we get here.”

“I don’t know that all of my coworkers are wolves,” Ben jokes, trying to get away with not answering Rey’s question.

Rey notices. He knows that she does.

“Wolves. Lawyers. Same thing right?” Rey sets her glass down on the table behind her. “Dance with me?”

Rey knows that Ben doesn’t dance.

But Rey asks, and Ben finds that when it's Rey asking, he isn't very good at saying no.

And so they dance.

Ben places one hand across her back, grinning at her as she mumbles something about his height. She's teasing and he knows it because no one has ever quite fit into his arms so easily before.

Ben's not a terrible dancer. Dancing isn't his favorite thing and he doesn't particularly enjoy the attention that actually dancing brings on, but he can dance. He knows all of the steps and movements for the basic dances. It had been important to his mother, making sure that he knew what to do at all of the different events she needed for him to attend.

If Rey asked, Ben is confident that he would be able to lead in whatever dance she requested. But she seems happy to just sway with him, her cheek pressing against his chest.

"You were gone for awhile." Rey's voice is soft, Ben almost doesn't hear her over the music. "Where did you go?"

"I left my two weeks' notice on Snoke's desk," Ben responds just as quietly, pressing his hand against her back, holding her to him.

He doesn't need to see her face to know she is proud of him.

It's clear in the way she says his name anyway.

"We might actually want to get out of here before he finds it," Ben laughs, enjoying how easy it is to smile with Rey in his arms and the weight of his job off his conscience. "I know you were looking forward to dinner, so we can stay, but--"

"I don't care about the food," Rey interrupts, matching his smile with one of her own. "Let's go home. Maybe I'll even make you dinner."

"I just quit my job Rey, I don't have a death wish."

Rey swats at his shoulder, her eyes narrowing as she glares at him. Ben's smile grows.

***

"Mmmm, no, stop" Rey says, trying to yawn away the sleep in her face while grabbing the books back from Ben's hands. She sets them back down on her desk, rapidly blinking her eyes as she tries to take in her surroundings.

"I wasn't asleep," she lies, glancing up at Ben, trying to ignore the concerned look on his face. "I couldn't have been. Because my final is in three days and I am not ready and I need to keep studying and--

"And you need to sleep," Ben interrupts her, placing his hand on her shoulder. Rey tries to resist the temptation to tilt her head toward him, but his hand is so warm and there and-- "You've barely slept all week. You're going to do great. But only if you sleep."

"What if I don't?" She whispers, looking back at the desk and the stack of notes and highlighted sections of books she still hasn't gotten too. "What if I fail? And I don't graduate? And I never become a social worker? Then what?"

"Then you'll figure something else out," Ben says like it's the most obvious answer in the world. "And you'll be great at it too."

"And if I'm not?"

"I'll still be here to support you, to take care of you."

Rey's heart races at the promising look he gives her.

"It's not your job to take care of me."

"It could be," Ben smiles at her, running his thumb along the side of her face. "It's not like I've got another one at the moment."

***

Rey stretches her legs out in front of her, pointing her toes toward the television. The documentary that Ben is watching is playing and even though Rey has been there the entire time it has been on, she really has no idea what the documentary is playing.

Ben is sitting on the couch behind her, running his hands through her hair. It's nice, the way he massages her scalp with his fingers. Rey hums her contentment, pushing her head back further into Ben's hand.

"You're squirmy," Ben points out as he tugs on a piece of her hair.

Rey grins when Ben separates the piece of hair in his hand and starts braiding. "Is that a problem?"

"Only if you want me to finish braiding your hair. It's hard to do right with all the moving."

"You'll figure it out." Rey leans her head back flat against the couch, her smile growing as she watches Ben huff. He takes apart the braid he had started.

"Brat," he says under his breath, his fingers combing through her hair again, pulling the strands stuck underneath her head out, so that he can start another braid. "Give me the hair ties on your wrist?"

Rey pulls the hair ties off of her wrist and hands them to him. Then she closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of Ben's hands in her hair, the comfort of having him so close to her. She wishes all of her days could be spent like this.

"Your hands are magic," Rey says after Ben finishes the first braid, right when he's starting on the second.

His hands freeze. Rey smirks, but keeps her eyes closed. She doesn't need to open them to know the expression on Ben's face, or to know how his eyes would be darker than they had been before.

Rey has been more and more blatant with her flirting with Ben since she kissed him, waiting for Ben to kiss her again, or make a move, or, really, to do anything.

Ben resumes the second braid, carefully pulling strands of Rey's hair apart and weaving it through the other strands.

Rey knows that she could have brought the kiss up, but she hadn't. She mistakenly assumed Ben would bring it up and that things would progress from there.

Only he didn't and Rey had felt too awkward to bring up the kiss or her feelings for him.

Which she also knows is stupid because it's Saturday afternoon and she is sitting on their living room floor pretending to be interested in some documentary she couldn't care less about just because he asked her to watch it with him. And his hands are in her hair and all Rey can think about is how nice it feels and how badly she wants to kiss him again.

Ben finishes the second braid and Rey immediately misses the feeling of his hands in her hair. She regrets not moving more and making Ben start over again and again.

She sits up straighter, pressing her back against the couch.

She tries focusing on the documentary, which really should be over but is somehow still going on, but her thoughts keep drifting back to Ben, and the kiss, and her hands.

And, God, how she really wants to find out just how magical those hands could be if he would just touch her the way she wants him to.

Rey pulls her legs up, twisting around until she's resting on her knees and facing Ben. She's mostly eye level with him with the way he's lying on the couch.

"Do you like me?" Rey blurts out. She grimaced at the awkward silence that follows, crinkling her nose as she imagines all of the ways she could have approached that better. "I just, I'm sorry, that's not quite how I wanted…"

Rey groans, closing her eyes. She presses her hands into the couch and stands up, moving away from Ben. If she wasn't so focused on being mortified by the situation she put herself in, she probably would have found the speed and awkwardness of the way he got off the couch and followed her amusing.

"Do you like me," Rey repeats in horror, shaking her head. "I sound like a teenager getting ready to ask the pretty boy in school if he wants to go to steady."

"You think I'm pretty?" Ben asks, placing his hands on her waist. He's smiling at her, and it's that same stupid smile he gave her after she kissed him, and Rey would give anything for that smile to stay on his face forever.

"Yes," Rey answers honestly. "I think you're very pretty."

Ben laughs. "So, is this the part where you ask me if I want to go steady?"

"Maybe." Rey teases, rolling her eyes, while Ben pulls her closer. She places one of her hands on his chest, smiling as she feels how fast his heart is beating. "I guess that depends on what your answer would be."

"I think that you'll find when it comes to you, Rey, my answer is always going to be yes."

***

“I love you,” Rey says without much thought one morning while Ben is placing pancakes on two plates next to the stove. She knows exactly which plate is hers, because the stack of pancakes is at least twice the size of the other.

She isn’t surprised with the way she just blurts out the words without any context or pretense. Honestly, she’s surprised that she’s managed to keep from saying them so many times before. Because she loves him with such an intensity that she feels like she could burst at any moment.

He freezes for just a moment, before he resumes making them breakfast, pouring more pancake mix onto the griddle.

“Ben?” She asks, tilting her head to the side.

“I love you,” she says again.

“Okay,” he responds, carefully flipping the pancakes.

“Okay?” She asks, huffing as she looks at him. “That’s all you have to say?”

Ben doesn't say anything and he doesn't turn around. He stays completely silent as the pancakes finish cooking. He slides them onto his plate before reaching across the counter and grabbing two bananas.

"Ben," Rey huffs, unsure if she's upset that he isn't responding to her telling him that she loves him or if she's upset because he's ignoring her. She's pretty sure it's a good combination of both. "Is that really all you have to say?"

Ben turns the griddle off, unplugging the cord from the wall. He picks up the plates and walks over to the dining room table where she is sitting. He sits across from her and slides her plate across the table.

"Is that…" Rey pauses, biting down on her bottom lip as she looks at him.

She knows that Ben loves her. She honestly knows that to be a fact. And even if she didn't know that, she knew in her bones that Ben would never purposefully hurt her.

So she really couldn't figure out why Ben's only response to her had been 'okay' and complete silence.

"Is that really all you have to say?" Rey finally finishes, dropping her eyes down to her plate.

"You love me," Ben says and Rey looks at him just in time to see him slightly shrug his shoulders. "Okay."

"Ben--"

"Rey. You love everyone that brings you food. So, yeah. Okay."

Rey laughs. She doesn't mean to laugh because this is absolutely the wrong time to laugh. But Ben thinks that she blurts out 'I love you' to anyone bringing her food and not because she's in love with him.

"You think I said that I love you because you brought me food?"

"Sure. Why else would you say it?"

Rey almost misses it, the way Ben's lips twist up for just a second in a smirk.

He is messing with her.

She tells him she loves him for the first time and he is fucking with her.

"I sort of hate you." Rey breaks off a piece of her banana and pops it in her mouth. "Just so you know."

"I sort of love you too," Ben grins. "Just so you know."

***

Rey giggles, honestly giggles, when Ben slips out of her again.

She's already bent in an awkward angle, her hands keep slipping against the tile of the shower and she can't quite hold herself the way she needs to for Ben to stay inside of her.

Not that it has stopped him from trying, numerous times.

He's too tall and the shower is too small for them to have sex. She had spent fifteen minutes explaining this to him when he had joined her in the shower.

She's pretty sure that only made him more determined to prove her wrong.

He drops one hand from her breast to her stomach, using it to hold her back up and he's sliding back inside of her.

It takes Rey's breath away every time. The way he stretches her, how full she feels in that moment, especially with the angle. It's exquisite.

His thrusts are shallow and slow, and it's far more intimate than anything Rey thought she would be comfortable with. But it's Ben and Rey quickly discovered that her relationship with Ben was going to destroy all of the walls that she had spent her entire childhood building.

It scared her at first, the way he could hurt her. The fact that she had let herself care enough about him that he could destroy her.. Now it's just comforting, knowing with everything in her that Ben wouldn't hurt her.

So even though Rey knows that he's going to slip back out because Ben has almost no self control when they are together and he won't be able to keep going at this pace for long. And even if he could, she knows that she'd never be able to come this way, she wraps one of her hands around his wrist, the one that's planted firmly against the tile, and moves her hips back to meet him and enjoys it.

He groans when he falls back out, resting his forehead in the crook of her neck.

She giggles again, turning her head to look at him while he backs up.

He looks so determined. His eyes are narrow as he glances at her and the edges of the tub, as if he's trying to determine the different ways he can have her stand and place her hands to make this work. There are water droplets dripping off of his hair and sliding down his chest. He's so absolutely beautiful that it takes her breath away.

"Maybe if you weren't laughing this would be working," Ben mutters, leaning down to kiss her.

"Yeah. It's my laughter that's causing this problem. Not your apartment having ridiculously small bathtubs," Rey points out, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. "You didn't test your shower out before signing the lease?"

"I can't say 'is my shower large enough for me and my future girlfriend to have sex in' was very high on my list of thoughts when I moved in."

Rey shrugs. "Your fault then."

Ben glares at her, but he's biting his bottom lip and Rey knows he's trying really hard not to smile.

"You could just admit that I'm right and take me to bed so you can fuck me like we both want," Rey offers, tilting her head toward his bedroom.

She can see the corner of his bed in between the gap from the shower curtain and the wall, and she would kill in that moment to be on it with Ben above her.

"Oh no. You are not right." Ben shakes his head, spraying water on her. He leans forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I still have ideas on how this could work."

"Ben," she whispers, taking his hand in his. She lifts his hand up to kiss his knuckles. "Take me to bed, please."

"Okay," he agrees, just like she knew he would. "Okay sweetheart."

***

"Move in with me?" Ben asks, his voice low and just above a whisper. He runs his fingers through her hair, grinning as Rey somehow manages to pull him closer.

Rey giggles, her breath warm across his chest where she presses her lips against him in a barely there kiss. "We already live together."

"That’s not-- I'm trying-- I mean--" Ben falters over his words, rolling onto his back.

Wordlessly Rey follows him, adjusting herself until she's mostly laying on top of him and not the mattress. Her elbow is pointy and is pressed into his rib. It's not the most comfortable position Ben has ever been in, but Rey sighs and it's almost as if he can feel her happiness and contentment wash over him.

He can't imagine ever wanting to move.

"Move in with me," he repeats. "And I don't mean live in the same apartment with me with a separate room and a separate bed. I want this to be our room, for this to be our bed. I don't want us to have separate anything."

Ben takes a deep breath, glancing down to meet Rey's gaze. "I love you and I just want to be with you. Stay with me?"

"Yes," Rey breathes, stretching up to kiss him. "Always."

***

"Thank you," Rey says, pulling on his hand and leading him toward their bed.

"For what?" Ben presses his lips against her neck.

Rey tilts her head, giving Ben better access as he continued to trail kisses along her collarbone.

"For giving me a home."

#reylo week 2020 #reylo fic #reyloweek #reylodaily #reylo fanfic #my fic

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ravenforce · 5 years

Text

Ithaca Pt. 4

Word Count: 4176

Warning/s: None, except Steve and Val’s kind of a bitch.

A/N: OMG. I’m so sorry I’ve been posting chapters in long intervals but rest assured I’m working on this. I just sometimes write a block of text and hates it on the proofreading phase. So I would end up scraping a chunk of the fic and rewriting it. If you guys, wants to be tagged on this fic, just let me know. And let me know what you think, as always.

PS. If there are any grammatical mistakes I’ve still overlooked, I apologize.

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 5

***

It was dark outside when you arrived at your shared apartment with your schoolbag slung against your shoulder and a box of groceries in your arms. Your class finished around five in the afternoon. You didn’t mean to be out late but you figured it’s better to get acquainted with the town now rather than later when you’re swamped with school work.

“Welcome home,” Maria greeted as she emerged to the living room with wet hair, and only wearing an oversized shirt and underwear.

You tried not to flush at the sight of your best friend’s long legs but you’re only human, and you’ll have to be an idiot not to appreciate such a beauty like Maria. Maria noticed the pink on your cheeks before you could decide to duck your head and go about fixing your haul on the cupboards in the kitchen.

“How’s your first day?” Maria asked after purposefully jumping on the counter next to you.

You’ve known Maria all your life. Even after she got adopted, the two of you kept in touch regularly. So when you caught the glint on her eye, and you saw the mischievous smirk on her lips, you knew exactly what she’s doing.

“It’s intense. Your friends are intense,” you answered as you continue the task at hand. “How about you? How’s your day?”

Maria just shrugged as she watches you finish putting the last of the groceries away. You cocked an eyebrow in her direction. You thought Maria might not be in the sharing mood. So you let it go and is about to pass her to go shower when she stopped you with a hand on the back of your shirt.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to sharing you,” she answered seriously.

You turned on your heel to face her and situate yourself between her dangling legs on the counter. You put your hands on either side of her thigh as you look up in her eyes. Maria didn’t mean to gulp but suddenly her mouth has become very dry.

“Sharing is caring, bubba,” you said before a laugh crawled its way up to your throat and ruining the moment.

Maria rolled her eyes playfully at you. She’s secretly glad that after everything that happened in your life, you manage to maintain your sense of humor. Before she can come up with a retort though, she was surprised when you pulled her by the collar of her huge shirt.

“What the?” Maria yelped.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady,” you said seriously, voice an octave lower than your normal speaking voice. Maria shivered.

“Y/N,” she whispered.

You smiled before pecking her lips and walking away to shower.

“Coward!” Maria whined.

You left the door of the shower open, making your laugh heard all over the apartment.

***

A week has passed since you officially started school, again. A week since you’re officially adopted by the Avengers, making you instantly one of the popular kids. Being exceptional at a very young age, and having been the youngest Stark Industries intern in history (Tony not counted, as he’s technically the heir), you’re used to the limelight but it doesn’t mean you enjoy it.

The Avengers is a pact full of next-level popular kids. Tony Stark, the Odinsons brothers Thor and Loki, Natasha, and Steve are descendants of the families that founded Ithaca. Carol and Valkyrie are both soccer varsity players, while Clint’s an Olympic archer. Wanda’s top psychology student and founder of the school’s peer counseling group, and Maria’s one of the leading tech student and captain of the school’s self-defense club. So it goes without saying that every eye is on them anywhere they go, and walking alongside these kids somehow makes you feel a little vulnerable, seen, exposed.

Thankfully, your schedule is packed between classes, volunteering in the library, and a job in one of the small clubs downtown. You mostly interact with them over breakfast (since apparently, it’s a long-standing tradition between the group), then lunch break, and free periods. It’s not that you don’t like their company, you actually really do enjoy being around them. Most of them are really funny, too.

It’s their fans that you’re not very fond of because they tend to be loud, trying-hard, and downright obnoxious sometimes. They don’t seem particularly taken to you too. Some of them threw you dirty looks in the cafeteria or whisper when you pass them along the hallway. You’re not really bothered by any of it though. You can understand the animosity towards a stranger who coveted the position everyone was vying for - being friends with the Avengers.

“Hey! Earth to Y/N,” Tony snapped his fingers in front of your face.

You had to blink twice to bring yourself back to the present. You remembered you’re actually sitting on the Avengers’ usual spot at Starbucks for breakfast. You took a quick sweep of the table, everyone was present, and all eyes are on you.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Carol asked as she places her hand on your arm.

You saw Nat’s eye twitch at the contact but you ignored it. You turned your head to regard Carol.

“I’m good. Just tired,” you answered.

“I understand not being able to sit still and doing nothing but I think working at the club every other night is overdoing it,” Natasha said with her signature poker face but voice dripping with hidden concern.

You couldn’t help the small smile on your face. “I need the money,” you tried to argue.

“For what? You’re on full scholarship, you paid your half of the rent for the whole year before you moved here, and your patents and investments are paying dividends monthly,” Maria shuts you down.

You opened and close your mouth to say something but you didn’t know what to say exactly.

“Hill - 1, Y/L/N - 0,” Loki teased, which made Tony laugh so hard he almost fell off his chair.

You pouted. Wanda poked your nose.

“Don’t pout, little one. We’re only looking out for you,” she said before kissing your cheeks. By now, you’re used to Wanda always touching you, always being affectionate. A week and you understood, her love language is touch. So, you allow yourself to enjoy it even for a little bit. You wouldn’t be caught admitting that these kids are growing on you though.

You deepen the pout, which earned a hearty chuckle from Wanda.

“Fine,” you groaned dramatically. “I’ll ask my manager to give me less shift.”

“Good. You need to learn how to be a young adult again,” Thor said before glancing at his watch then standing up and rounding the table to kiss the top of your head.

Tony bolted up and sat ramrod straight on his chair. He has a wicked smile on his face.

‘Oh, no’, you thought to yourself.

“Agreed,” he said carefully. Smile growing by the minute. “That’s why I’m throwing a party in your honor on Friday.”

You groaned while everyone approved and cheered.

***

A month later.

A month is how long it took for the Avengers to finally settle on a which weekend works for everybody. It was quite hilarious to watch everyone get frustrated because of a party. Little did you know Natasha and Carol’s a little more aggravated than the others because they’re still not any closer to cracking the mystery that is you. Nat and Carol are a little angst too, to say the least, that you’re closer to Thor and Wanda than you are with them.

On your part, you weren’t favoring a pair over another. It just so happened that Thor has really taken to you, and has been helping you get acquainted with the town whenever Tony or Maria isn’t available to do so. He also volunteered to be your fitness partner by taking you jogging around town or going to the gym after class. He has become somewhat the big brother figure you never had, even though you’re almost the same age.

Wanda, on the other hand, is not the type of girl you usually hang out with. All your life, Maria’s the only other girl who’s really close enough to you to drag you outdoors but Maria likes outdoor activities such as paintball and laser tag, hiking, paragliding, and free diving. Wanda, on the other hand, likes going shopping, going to movies, as well as getting massages and pampering treatments at the spa. Usually, you loathe being dragged to do girly activities but you’ve grown to love Wanda’s company enough to let her. She’s cute, smart, funny, and warm.

“Nat, stop tapping your foot. She’ll be here,” Clint teased mildly.

“Why is she still not here?” Carol who’s sitting on the other side of the table interrupted. Clint just had to chuckle at how the two are so much alike than they cared to admit.

“She’ll be here,” Thor said behind the bar after fixing Nat’s drink. Nat nodded at him thankfully before taking a sip of her vodka.

“Are you sure you gave her the right address?” Carol asked while pacing behind Natasha.

Clint and Thor looked at each other at Carol’s accusatory tone. Natasha’s knuckles are turning white as she grips the glass tighter. Loki raised an eyebrow at his brother, silently asking him to diffuse the situation. They worked so hard to get everyone free on the exact same day, and to get the party sorted out, only for these two to blow up at each other face just because they’re pining for the same girl for the first time.

“Relax ladies,” Tony who was silently standing on the balcony and watching the other party-goers by the pool below. “She’s here.”

Carol and Natasha are instantly beside Tony and scanning the crowd for you.

***

You didn’t intend to be late but you had to make sure you got all your homework’s done before going out, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it at and after the party. There’s also the case of not knowing what to wear to such a high profile party. You were sure, half if not the whole school, will be in attendance. Then there’s the case of you initially refusing everyone who offered to pick you up because you didn’t want the extra special treatment.

Then you made a mistake of not taking the cab to the estate because you were saving money, only to realize that there’s no bus stop in the executive part of town because rich kids have their own cars to drive to school. So, you had to walk for a good fifteen minutes before reaching the Starks. It wasn’t hard to find, the industrial designed mansion stood in contrast to the row of classic cul-de-sacs.

You were right, the house is filled with so many people, some are spilling out of the streets. Everyone was so absorbed in the music, dancing, and drinking that you were able to move around covertly. You were able to get inside the house and out on the garden and the pool area without seeing any of your friends along the way. Standing by the side of the pool and about to reach on the inside pocket of your leather jacket to call Tony, when you looked up at the man himself looking back at you with Natasha and Carol. Tony waved, while the two ladies merely gaped as you walk to enter the side of the house they’re in.

***

Tony turned away from the balcony.

“Close your mouth ladies, it’s unbecoming,” Tony said teasingly before meeting you at the top of the staircase. He immediately engulfed you in a one-arm hug.

“Finally!” everyone shouts when they saw you.

You smiled at your new friends before noting that the noise from outside is muffled. ‘Soundproof,’ you thought.

“Sorry, I’m late,” you said before walking with Tony at the table.

Most of them assured you it was fine except Steve and Valkyrie who was more interested in continuing their game of pool than join the rest of you. You ignored the fact that they don’t like you but as long as they’re not actively doing something to make your life in Ithaca hell, you really don’t care.

Maria immediately enveloped you in a hug the moment you flopped down on the couch next to her.

“You look fantastic, bubba,” she said before planting a sloppy kiss on the side of your face.

You know by the display of affection that Maria had a few drinks in but you’re not there to mother your best friend. You’re there to have fun. So you just smiled at her and kiss her cheeks too. By then, Carol and Natasha have both taken their seats across from you.

“Only Maria gets a kiss?” Wanda quipped on your other side. You laughed before relenting and giving your new friend a friendly kiss on the cheeks too.

When you turned forward, you noticed the slight flush on both Carol and Natasha’s cheeks as they both got lost watching you. You had to clear your throat before the two looked you in the eye.

“Want a kiss too?” you asked confidently. Carol choked on nothing, while Natasha had to avert her eyes for a second.

“And she’s not even drunk yet, ladies and gentlemen,” Tony announced theatrically before laughing out loud. Maria joined in the laughter as well. You would be pissed had it been someone else but these are your best mates. You know it was all good fun.

“Shut up, you two,” you told your best friends before turning back to Carol and Nat. “I’m sorry, I was kidding.”

“Jokes are half meant,” Thor said before handing you a glass of JD and coke. You smiled at him gratefully.

Before you can think of anything witty to throwback though, Steve spoke as he surveys his shot at the pool table. “Big wow! She owns a pair of ratty leather jacket and she’s instantly a player,” he said sarcastically.

Everyone looked at Steve wide-eyed and utterly surprised that they were unable to say anything at the moment.

“Give her an award for actually pulling it off. I thought all she knows how to wear was preppy clothes,” Val piped in.

Maria and Tony clenched their fists. You can see a storm brewing before it starts. So you decided to kick Tony’s shins and putting your hand on Maria’s knees to diffuse their attention. Tony groaned in pain while Maria sighed heavily.

“You two, go away if you have nothing better to say,” Nat said seriously before you could say anything else.

Steve’s eyes narrowed for a second before he dropped his sticks on the table and leaving the playroom. Val glanced at Carol to gauge her stand on the matter when she saw Carol’s lips pursed in a thin line, she rolled her eyes before walking away. There a fat pause after the two jocks left.

“I’m sorry about those two. They probably misplaced their manners tonight,” Carol said, trying to alleviate the awkwardness.

You smiled. “That’s okay. They don’t know me.”

“So let them get to know you,” Maria suggested.

“And I know the best way how,” Tony quickly piped in before pulling out a board game from under the table. “Let’s play a game.”

***

Game one was hours long of tipsy monopoly where you dominated with Natasha. Carol hated that you were drafted to partner up with the redhead. So she drank and drunk as much as Thor would let her while playing the game. Everyone decided to finish the game when eighty-five percent of the estates on the board is already owned by your team.

“Take that Stark,” you taunted your best friend before turning towards Natasha with your hand up waiting for a high-five.

Natasha didn’t make you wait long before she’s slapping her hand against yours. “It’s a pleasure winning by your side, Tasha,” you murmured while holding her hand still.

Natasha smiled. In an hour, she found that you’re not only book smart but also street smart. She also found out that you’re a little rough around the edges but still very accommodating, which she really likes about you. “I wouldn’t wanna win with anyone else,” she said sincerely.

All you could do was grin like an idiot. You wanted to say something else but you were interrupted by Carol’s chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor as she abruptly stood up. She was looking intently at both you and Natasha, and you noted the fire in her eyes. Then she glanced at yours and Natasha’s clasped hands.

‘Ah,’ you thought.

“I’m gonna go find Val at the dance floor,” Carol said, voice strained with what you assume is jealousy.

Clint who was the only one paying attention to the interaction agreed that it’s time for the hosts of the party to make an appearance. Everyone was on their feet steadily even with the amount of alcohol that was consumed while playing. In fact, you thought the Avengers look steadier and even more confident than usual as they walk down the stairs like celebrities on a catwalk.

“Go ahead, I’ll catch up with you. I’ll just use to powder room,” you said to Loki who stopped at the top of the stairs to wait for you. He shrugged his shoulder and winked at you. You chuckled to yourself as you think of how opposite the Odinsons are. Thor is friendly and talkative, while Loki is silent but very observant. You like them both, either way.

***

Finding the Avengers in a crowded room isn’t hard. Most people flock around them, always trying to get a moment with them. The party-goers cleared a circle in the middle of the dance floor for the group to dance without being swamped by everybody else. You watched them for a minute before deciding, you’d like to have a drink. So, you made a beeline for the bar where a certain blonde’s sitting alone on it.

“Four tequila shots, please,” you ordered politely.

Carol snorted beside you. “Liquid courage?” she asked teasingly but she’s not smiling and definitely not looking at you.

‘That’s bothering’, you thought. Carol is one of the most confident women you know. There was never a day, ever since your arrival in Ithaca that Carol ever not look in your eyes when she’s speaking to you.

“Drowning something?” you teased back as you note her glass almost full to the brim with scotch.

Carol didn’t answer, still didn’t look at you. When the bartender put down your order, you quickly downed two of them simultaneously. That made Carol look.

“Slow down, you already had a few Jack Cokes upstairs,” she said, clearly concerned.

You made your stool turn towards her. You pushed the other shot glass towards her and she caught it without looking. She quirked an eyebrow at you. You picked up your glass and raised it towards her. Carol doesn't know what’s happening exactly but she clicked your glass together before both of you down the liquid fire.

You jumped out of your stool and made Carol’s spun around to face you.

“Y/N, what the heck?” she yelped as she grips your biceps.

You chuckled before leaning up. “Come dance with me, Captain,” you whispered right beside her ear.

Carol couldn’t help herself from shivering. Your voice, your proximity is doing things to Carol. When you pulled away, you couldn’t help but smirk after seeing her pupils fully dilated.

“Or would you prefer I dance with someone else instead,” you said before offering your hand towards her.

Carol blinked twice before taking your hand. You laughed when Carol nearly shoved you in her haste to get you to the dance floor.

“Sorry,” she said but didn’t make a move to extricate her front against your back.

You turned on the spot, making Carol hold onto your waist. You pulled her impossibly closer by putting your hand on her nape. Chest to chest you can feel Carol’s heartbeat beating erratically. You chuckled before you spun around again, and you ground your ass against the blonde captain in time with the beat of the music.

“You’re killing me, Y/N,” Carol groaned deeply.

You chuckled. “Already? I haven’t even started yet,” you said close to her ear so she can hear you.

Carol groaned. When you look past her shoulder, you can see Natasha watching you with a mighty frown on her face before Wanda dragged her back on the other side of the dance. At some point in the night, you and Carol rejoined the group, and you danced with Natasha and practically everyone too.

***

The sun was rising when the ballroom of the Stark mansion was emptied except for your group. Everyone was sitting on the floor, drunk and decompressing. Frankly, at that point, all you wanna do was to be in your bed and sleep. Plus points if you could cuddle with Maria. When you look across the room and caught Maria looking back, you know she has the same idea.

“Alright, I had so much fun. Thank you for throwing this party for me,” you slurred slightly.

Tony groaned from the floor. “No, no, no. Don’t leave yet. Let’s play another game,” he cried out.

Everyone was so out of it that they blindly agreed to play. Tony cheered as he grabs the last bottle of scotch and poured everyone with a shot.

“What are we playing?” Thor asked while leaning on the wall, eyes already closed.

“Never have I ever,” Tony said.

Maria stood behind you before reaching out for your glasses. “One shot, and we go home,” she whispered before handing you your glass.

A few questions in but you and Maria still haven’t drunk your last shot.

“Alright, I have a good one,” Clint said. “Never have I ever slept with my best friend.”

He didn’t drink.

Thor didn’t drink.

Tony didn’t drink.

Loki didn’t drink.

Wanda didn’t drink.

Then every eye is on you, Maria, Carol, and Natasha. A pregnant pause ensued before you thought, ‘fuck it’ and drinking your glass.

Maria smiled before throwing back her shot too.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Tony said before standing up and dusting himself. “She’s gay, not the Virgin Mary.”

***

The Avengers have been partying together all their life that they all had respected guest rooms. Had you stayed for a moment, you would have seen Natasha and Carol downing their shots too.

134 notes · View notes

melwritesbadly · 4 years

Text

With Wings in All Black

After a tragic turn of events, Kazama Kaori , AKA Hex, has her investigation swept out from under her by the #2 Pro Hero. Reluctantly she joins Hawks in the pursuit of justice. On top of trying to solve the biggest case of her career, Kaori is still a young woman struggling to find her place in the world. Life is turned upside down as her professional and personal lives start to blend.

Rating: T (subject to change)

Content Warnings: slight language, implied violence/death

________________________________________________________

‘Are you aware of the hour?’

‘As if you were sleeping. ANYWAY, I’ve got another one for you!’

‘We’ve discussed your cryptic messages, another one what?’

‘Why another little bird for the nest. I think you’ll like her.’

‘Somehow I doubt that.’

__________

Two for Some Luck

Hex decided to take the 20 minute walk back to her apartment rather than the much shorter flight. It was thankfully peaceful. No assaults, no muggings, just bustling city life despite the late hour.

She thought about her next steps and her current situation. Despite her perceived annoyance she was grateful for the help. She just hated that it cost Kenji’s life to get it, and that was not ok with her…

So why now, after weeks of posting to the Hero Network? And why him. When now, in all honesty, it seemed like a case for the police.

Pro Heroes usually didn’t investigate murders, at least not top charters like Hawks.

Heroes like Hawks were better suited for grandiose villains, not the everyday kind of monsters. That’s what the underground was for.

Because people like Kenji’s mother didn’t get happy endings, no heroic flourish at the end of it all. No triumph. Only grief.

Hex couldn’t protect her from that, just like she couldn’t protect Kenji, and she is no closer to helping all the other missing people either.

Some Hero she was…

The walk was not as calming as she hoped as her mind swirled with guilt and more questions she was not going to find the answers to, at least not that night. Instead she decided on a shower and hopefully a few hours of sleep before she went with the police to the Takei house…then to wherever Hawks decided to meet with her.

From the front of her building Hex could see the light on in her apartment.

Mayu must have got home early from the bar.

Soon her key was slipping into the lock and opening the door to her small shared apartment.

Kaori didn’t have much in the way of money when she left her father’s agency. Without an agency supporting you, hero work did not pay well, if at all. The odd jobs she took around the station were barely enough to cover her portion of the rent and her groceries but bless Mayu. Her roommate didn’t complain when her payments were late or if she had to pick up some extra costs. Her new job at the swankiest Hero club in the city paid big bucks and Mayu was a generous young woman.

“Kaori?” her roommate called from behind the closed bathroom door.

“Yeah, it’s me Yu.” her voice tired as she called back to the other woman.

“You’re early!” a muffled gasp “Bad night?”

“You have no idea…What are you doing in there?” Kaori kicked off her shoes and placed her black coat on the simple rack Mayu kept her various jackets and purses on.

“Oh you know, having another identity crisis”

“Are you dying your hair again?” Kaori asked sitting on the small but comfy couch Mayu had ‘acquired’ during her brief stay at University.

Stretching out along it Kaori pulled one of the colorful throw pillows over her face and briefly contemplated screaming into it.

She heard the door to the bathroom open followed by the barest hints of hair dye and floral shampoo that snuck under the decorative square.

Mayu lifted Kaori’s legs high enough to wiggle under them, setting them back down over her lap.

“What’s wrong pretty bird?” Mayu asked in her sweet voice then gasped “Wait don’t tell me-” she reached for one of Kaori’s hands and held it in her own.

[Glimmers of hope, new links on a chain, soft, red, light as a feather]

“You met someone!” Mayu gasped.

“You know I don’t like it when you use your quirk on me.” Kaori’s voice muffled through the pillow and wiggled her hand free from her friends.

“Sorry PB, you know I can’t help myself. Anyway back to the matter. You met someone!”

“It’s not like that. It’s work stuff” Kaori finally pulled the pillow from her face holding it to her chest instead.

Mayu’s head was wrapped in a ratty dye stained towel. Her round face and large blue eyes made her seem like one of those painted cherubs.

“What color this time?” trying to redirect the conversation away from herself.

“Baby blue to match my other baby blues” she clasped her hand and fluttered her lashes for effect. “And what do you mean work stuff?! Didn’t feel like work stuff.” she prodded, tickling her fingers along her friend’s shins.

“Yu” a sigh “I don’t want to talk about it right now. It’s probably going to be on every tabloid by the end of the week anyway…”

Kaori pulled herself up and stood up from the couch and made her way to her bedroom forgoing the shower tonight and resigned herself to wake earlier while Mayu was sleeping to avoid further questioning or quirk prodding.

“Tabloids, what? What?! PB!”

“Too tired, going to bed.” Kaori ignored her roommate who had jumped from her spot and charged at her rapidly closing door.

Mayu drummed her hand along her door and whined.

“You never go out with anyone and now you tell me the media is involved. What did you dooooo?” she whined dramatically, scratching along the door.

Kaori stripped her dark clothes and slid out of her flight suit and brushed out her hair.

“It’s nothing Yu, just… let me sleep, I’ll talk to you in the morning.” she paused “Don’t touch my stuff!” knowing her roommate could use her quirk on inanimate objects too.

“No fun” came one final whine from Mayu who then admitted defeat, for now.

______

The next morning Mayu waited until Kaori had finished her breakfast and headed to the bathroom to shower. On the kitchen table was a box filled with various pictures, notes, maps and other handwritten details. Mayu held one in her hand not so much reading it but feeling what that paper represented activating her quirk.

She felt the hopelessness, the frustrated exhaustion. The perseverance. Strings and connections winding and wrapping leading nowhere and everywhere.

‘I will save them’

Mayu pursed her lips and placed the paper back in the box.

If Kaori had taken down her pinboard was she giving up? No, there was no way. In the 2 years she had known her if someone needed help Kaori would help them. Hex would help them.

[New links in the chain, hope, feathers] she recalled from last night. Hmm, the first part was easy to decipher. It had to represent whoever Kaori had met, someone new. The chain could maybe mean she was trapped, which would explain why she was so gloomy last night. Hmm, hope and feathers…

As Mayu thought through the abstraction of her quirk she noticed the unfinished cup of coffee and Kaori’s phone which just emitted several pings indicating she had just received messages.

Mayu knew she shouldn’t look but…

It’s not like she was snooping through her phone (it has a passcode and she could not for the life of her crack it)

She would just- check her lock screen for the time and…

Mayu hit the button on the side lighting up the screen. Kaori didn’t have a custom background, just whatever came default with the phone but it did show a preview of the texts she had just received. The sender’s name caused her to make a confused but amused face.

The nosy young woman was not paying attention and did not hear the shower switch off as she scanned over the small blurb of text. Mayu gave a startled jolt as Kaori swung open the bathroom door and came out in a towel. Kaori was equally shocked to see Mayu up.

“What are you doing?” Kaori asked, eyeing her roommate suspiciously.

Mayu hastily grabbed the used mug and brought it to the kitchen under the guise of washing it.

“Oh nothing, couldn’t really sleep so I figured i’d clean up a bit.” She was a terrible liar and knew it.

“Yu…” the tone of her voice was enough to make Mayu fidget.

“Err, well” Mayu scratched her nose then twisted the ends of her hair. The now blue hair is a little frazzled but fluffy from letting it air dry. Kaori stood arms crossed waiting for her to continue.

“You see…” she reeled “I was…cleaning up,” she gestured to her the mug in her hand “and well your phone went off and I just happened to see the screen when I was leaning over and…” She spun the mug between her hands, a small smile sneaking onto her lips “Who’s ‘Unsolicited dick pics’”?”

Kaori blinked confused.

“What?”

“That’s who texted you- well that’s their name in your phone!” Mayu giggled.

“My phone?”

Who could possibly be named that Kaori thought. Then stopped when the obvious answer hit her, face falling with an un-amused expression. She shook her head and picked up her phone and flicked it on going to her message app to see the full message.

She replied,

Hawks’s response was immediate and Kaori shook her head setting her phone down.

Mayu was watching her expectantly.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Kaori crossed to her bedroom and closed the door enough for some privacy but enough to continue the conversation.

“Who’s dick pic guy?!” Mayu asked, leaning against the wall next to Kaori’s door. She heard Kaori click her tongue.

“He’s not ‘dick pic guy’. Just some smartass who thinks he’s cute.”

“Ah, so he’s cute now.”Mayu teased “Who is he! You said you’d tell me in the morning!”

From inside her room Kaori sighed adjusting her bodysuit making sure the fabric wasn’t bunched before slipping on the rest of her clothes.

“If I tell you, you can’t make a big deal because it is NOT a big deal and this is strictly for work. Pro Hero business” A dressed Kaori- rather Hex stepped out and pointed a finger at Mayu.

“Super secret and super dangerous!”

Mayu blinked but nodded.

“I’m serious. It’s no big deal” now it was Mayu’s turn to roll her eyes.

“You keep saying that but It’s making me think it is a big deal. Now spill!”

Kaori breathed in and touched her fingers to each other in front of her face at the brim of her nose.

“Hawks” Mayu’s mouth dropped.

“What.”

“I’m not saying it again.”

“No I heard you, just- what, as in, WHAT? Isn’t he mega hot and like the number 2 hero.”

“Yup, that’s the one” Kaori grimaced, speaking through her teeth.

“So you finally agree that he’s hot?” cheeked Mayu recalling a tipsy conversation they had when the popularity ratings were last posted.

“Just because I’m a bird and he’s a bird doesn’t mean I automatically find him attractive.”

“Attractive you say” Yu tried to fish further casting her a lewd look raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Stop.” Kaori moaned, annoyed reaching up to smooth over the feathers at the back of her neck. They tended to tense and puff up when flustered, or in this case, annoyed.

“He’s not my type- too flashy” This caused Mayu to scoff.

“So says miss ‘I’m black as night spooky-spooky bird lady!”

“I’m not flashy and I certainly don’t like the attention!” Kaori waved her hands to maybe try and physically dismiss the subject. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I’m late already, I need to go.” brushing past Mayu and started to pull on her gear.

“We will continue this conversation later young lady” Mayu mock scolded,wagging a finger at her, Kaori shook her head

“Yes mom… I’ll see you later Yu”

______

Hex met with two officers just outside of Takei’s apartment complex. They did not speak to her but offered her a curt nod before gesturing to her to go on ahead of them.

She had never done something like this. To tell someone that their loved one… had died. It wasn’t something Hero’s did. Hero’s swooped in, stopped the bad guys and swooped back out. In and out of people’s lives, never lingering, never personal…

She hesitated, knuckling inches above the door, letting out a tense breath but finally rapt her fist against the worn door.

A soft ‘just a moment’ was heard beyond.

It seemed like an eternity but finally the door swung open and Kenji’s tired mother was revealed.

“Oh Hex.” she said softly, almost surprised to see her at her doorstep. Mrs. Takei’s eyes drifted to the officers who stood formally behind the Pro Hero. She gave a sad, knowing nod.

“Please… come in.”

They had waited for Mrs. Takei to make herself a cup of tea and settle into a seated position before speaking.

“Mrs. Takei…” Hex paused trying to find the right words “Your son- Kenji” She looked down unable to meet the woman’s gaze.

“Kenji’s body was found last night.” Hex said softly. A sad sigh came from the older woman.

“I see…” was all the woman could muster, Hex saw a slight sad shine at the corner of her eyes.

Hex stood and bowed her head low.

“I promised you I would find your son and bring him back to you. I not only failed you. I failed him. I beg for your forgiveness.” the officers bowed as well.

“Oh, no, please.” Mrs. Takei sniffed “Kenji, my son, he died the moment he went missing, I could feel it in my heart. At least now…” she paused again to compose herself. “Now I can lay him to rest properly.”

“I’m so sorry you are going through this Mrs. Takei. If there is anything I can do?” Hex offered a soft and sympathetic look in her eyes.

“You’ve done more than anyone Hex, I’ll be ok.” She sipped her tea.

“I can do more, for Kenji, for the others. Us Hero’s are not giving up-I’m not giving up.” Hex leaned forward and took Mrs. Takei’s hands and spoke sincerely, meeting her eyes “I will get justice for Kenji and for you.” It was a sad but welcome comfort to the woman.

“I know you will Hex, thank you.” Mrs. Takei squeezed the younger woman’s hands and finally let a few tears slip out.

“These officers will help you as best they can with any questions you might have and you can call me anytime you like ok?”

Mrs. Takei nodded sniffing once more then released Hex’s hands and brushed away her tears.

“Before I leave, I wanted to ask you…” Pulling out her phone Hex opened the picture she snapped the previous night of the business card “Does this mean anything to you?” The older woman examined the picture but shook her head no.

Worth a shot.

______

After excusing herself and leaving the apartment Hex made a quick stop back at her apartment to gather her evidence, she loaded it into a knapsack snapping it to one of her buckles and took flight to the hotel just in time for lunch.

Here we go…

Taking a deep breath is Hex strode into the hotel lobby. A quick stop at the concierge pointed the way to one of the conference rooms on the upper floors. The elevator ride was spent admiring how ritzy the place was and how she would put forth her evidence without sounding like a conspiracy theorist.

The conference room had frosted glass preventing her from seeing anything but shadows.

Should she knock? No- Jeesh why was she so nervous? She felt the feathers on her neck creep up. She shook her shoulders working out the jitter and opened the door.

An impressive spread of food was laid out on the long table. She felt all attention on her as 3 sets of eyes took immediate notice of her intrusion.

Duke Amazing had a mouth full of some sort of sandwich and lifted his bread in salut and continued to chew, a few crumbs in his mustache.

“Hey! It’s the star of the show!” Hawks called out.

He was kicked back in one of the executive chairs, legs propped up on the table and a can of some sort of energy drink in his hand. His other hand gestured to the projector screen at the front of the room showing videos of… well her.

The other person in the room sat next to Hawks upright and smartly dressed in fitting business attire. Her eyes meeting hers seemingly stared at something Hex could not see. Just at a glance she was certain this woman never smiled.

Hawks noted his manager’s dead eye stare and casually elbowed her causing the woman’s focus to drop and lose whatever it was she was looking at.

“This is June, the agency manager.” Hawks gestured to her then to the table “Take a seat, grab some grub, I think we’re getting to the good part.” he swiveled in his chair a bit, rocking himself side to side as he turned his attention back to the screen.

Hex placed her pack on the table and took a seat opposite to Duke.

“This data is old.” She commented idly picking through the food to find something she liked.

“Well,” the manager clicked a remote rewinding a certain part of the video and letting it play again “You’re about as underground as someone can go. The name Hex doesn’t even register on any hero chart. A nobody” she played the next bit in slow motion.

Every beat of her black wings taking up a frame. The familiar motions slowly rolling through her shoulders and hips as the Hex on screen slowly spun and let loose several pointed feathers as projectiles into the villain on screen sending them back and into a wall subdued. June rewound it and played it in real time, the motion as fast as a blink.

“However…” fast forwarding again and video Hex zoomed along the screen, and two other figures joined her. June paused it. Hex frowned as she started at the on screen version of herself.

“Aello,” the picture zoomed in on the blond in the middle. She fluttered in the air, quirk similar to Hex’s but her wings were white and blue.

“ Ocypete” June zoomed in on the other fair haired winged woman on screen. Her wings were green with sparse flecks of black.

“Finally, Celaeno.” June zoomed one final time, this time on Hex. Her jet black wings a stark contrast to the white and green of her partners. Her dark hair is also in conflict with their uniform blond-ness.

Hex did not speak and only stared at her past self posed perfectly behind her flashier partners. Their costumes matched in every way but color. Blue, green, and black. The black of her suit and her headgear were the only thing she had retained from this past persona.

The only thing worth keeping

Hex though as she eyed her past smile and eyes, perfect for the camera. Remembering how she had felt presenting herself that way.

“The Harpy Sisters- affiliated with King Crow Agency. Currently holding the number 112th slot on the boards despite missing a member.” She let the footage roll again switching to ground combat.

“Celaeno’s such a pretty name.” June mused more to herself then resumed speaking to the room “Still you’re very on brand for this agency.”

Take your brand and stuff it. Is what Hax wanted to say but felt that was a bit unprofessional. But still wanted to make sure the manager understood her stance on the matter.

“I told Hawks last night I don’t do agencies” Hex shoved a bunch of chips into her mouth making a point to crunch loudly.

“Well, as much as it is his agency. I handle all the logistics. And I’m telling you,” she paused folding her hand neatly on the table “We don’t ‘do’ Freelancers and since you don’t ‘do’ agencies we can’t ‘do’ a team up.” using the same tone to match Hex’s.

“And why not?” Hex questioned trying her best to not let her tone get too uneven “You said yourself I’m nobody. You have nothing to gain by trying to brand me- no one cares. No one cared that I left King Crow, and no one cares now.”

June tutted and had a constrained grimace on her face.

“True no one gives a damn about you Hex. But people care about Hawks. And it’s my job to protect his image so people continue to care about him. I know things are different working underground but topside? This is his world.” She gestures to hawks who simply shrugs “He’s the number 2 hero. Society chose him to be their hero- whoever is represented by his agency is a reflection on him. If we have ‘nobodies’ skulking around his agency it could make a bad impression”

Hex stood abruptly and walked towards the other end of the table.

“June, look now what you’ve done. Scared the poor girl off.” Commented Duke finally brushing his face free of crumbs.

Instead of leaving, Hex grabbed her bag and stomped to where June and Hawks were sitting. Locking eyes with the woman, Hex undid the fastening and dumped the contents out on the desk before her creating a mess.

“This is what I think of your stupid charts and pretty pictures of Hero’s.” quickly rifling through the paper and pulling out the pictures.

“ Taichi Mizo, missing 6 weeks. Ochiro Honda, missing 4 weeks, Ben Darma missing 7 months.”

Hex listed about a dozen people holding a picture to correspond to the names.

“I have been begging for help for weeks on the HN. For one of your ‘top charters’ to notice. To do something about this. But no.” she tossed the pictures on the pile “You were too busy posing for pictures, and worrying about what others think about Hero’s rather than being an actual Hero. Then you get caught with your pants around your ankles. Go “Woops, my bad.”

“I think you’ve made your point”

“Have I?” Hex huffed “Someone died because the only person who cared was me and I was too much of a nobody to help. Then you come at me and tell me how to do things when I’m the only person who’s done anything to try and fix this problem!” The room was awkwardly silent. Hex felt puffed up but resisted the urge to press down her neck and stood firm eyes never leaving June’s.

Duke stood silently and tip-toed out the room, an extra sandwich and bag of chips in his hand closing the door with a soft click.

“Well, that was intense!” Hawks tried to break the tension taking a loud sip from his can. Hex sighed in frustration and began collecting her papers.

So much for being cool.

“Listen, Hex. It’s bullshit, it’s all bullshit.” Hawks started fiddling with the tab of the can “The glitter, the glory. You’re right, we’re caught pants down, dick out-”

“Language” chided June causing Hawks to gesture towards her.

“See what I mean I can’t even tell it how it is without getting my wrists slapped.” June swatts his hand away “Anyway. I asked you to help. I want you to help. Because you care. I admit I have to drink the kool-aid every now and then but that’s the price we pay as Hero’s. The trick is not to chug.” He sips at his own drink “A sip here, a sip there and even bullshit is bearable if it means I can be the Hero I want to be. Now you said last night you needed resources. If it’s one thing this kool-aid man has is resources.” Hex tutted and finally smoothed down her neck.

“So It comes down to ends and means huh?”

“Seems so Chickadee”

She placed her hand on her hips and looked up and let out a deep breath.

“Fine then. Limited term contract- my previous conditions still stand. Full access and availability to this case.”

“Very good, a 12 month term with the agency.”

“6 months and I retain and manage my own promotional material” It was June’s turn to tutt.

“Unacceptable, the agency manages any and all images associated with the Hero’s under its employ. 9 months with lodgings.”

“I like my apartment, commuting isn’t so bad. 6 months and I can Veto any publicity I deem unnecessary.”

“8 months and you get 1 veto.”

“8 months and I get 2 vetoes” Hex stood firm and crossed her arms.

“8 months, you get 1 veto, and you get to retain your costume and persona. Even though Celaeno would be better branding for the agency.”

June pulled out a pen and pulled out a folder that was buried under the mess of papers Hex had dumped out.

“8 months, 1 Veto, Hex stays and you,” she pointed at Hawks, “no longer call me Chickadee.” It was his turn to tut resuming his twisting in his chair.

“Ah, there is no way I could sign off on a ‘no Chickadee’ clause in your contract Chickadee. Then I’d have to think of a new nickname for you and frankly that’d be too much work.”

“Worth a shot.” She nodded “Ok, deal”

“Fantastic, welcome aboard Hex.”

June quickly filled out the form then handed it along with a sort of stamp to Hawks. He didn’t bother looking over the contract and simply put his stamp to where it needed to be signed then used a feather to move the contract over to Hex letting it hover until she grabbed it. Once she did he made the feather do a lap around her prompting her swat it away like a fly. Pleased with her annoyance he recalled it and it zoomed back into place among his other vibrant plumage.

She read through its entirety making sure the agreed upon terms were fairly stated. Those stale management courses she took finally came in handy it seemed.

She was as satisfied as she was going to be given the situation and put a pen to the paper.

“Bottoms up Kool-aid man” she said and signed her hero credentials

“Cheers” chimed Hawks cracking open another can.

______

End Notes: I hope you guys are liking this so far. Sorry if it seems a little slow right now. Chapter 3 is almost done, and four has some agency fun. Also the text parts might seem a little weird since I’m on android and there is no good social dummy app to make fake texts. Anyway, I’m planning to do little fun half parts in between the larger chapters to give myself some time to work on the next parts so looks for that next week.

Thank you!

#wwiab #hawks #bnha hawks #hawks bnha #mha hawks #hawks mha #hawks x oc #hawks x reader #keigo takami #takami keigo #original character #boku no hero academia #my hero acadamia

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

Text

HOW NOT START A STARTUP FUNDING LANDSCAPE

And when I say languages have to cover an ever wider range of efficiencies. When you raise VC-scale money, the clock is ticking.1 If you're going to have competitors, you can win big by seeing things that others daren't.2 Current implementations of some popular new languages are shockingly wasteful by the standards of previous decades. Economically, startups are an all-or-nothing game.3 There are some stunningly novel ideas in Perl, for example.4 The best way to do this is to get the job done.5 Better still, answer I haven't decided.6 The results so far bear this out. I think this makes them more effective as founders.

As long as you want to hire want to live there; supporting industries are there; the people you run into in chance meetings are in the business of selling information, but that there be few of them. Most hackers would rather just have ideas. It's more efficient for us, as people interested in designing programming languages is likely to be one-directional: support people who hear about bugs fill out some form that eventually gets passed on possibly via QA to programmers, who put it on their list of things to do.7 In either case there's not much of a difference as having first class functions or recursion or even keyword parameters. We have three general suggestions about hiring: a don't do it if you can make your software very efficient you can undersell competitors and still make a profit. Now most of your people will be employees rather than founders.8 Once you take several million dollars of my money, the clock is ticking.

So when you see something that's taking advantage of new technology to give people something they want that they couldn't have before, you're probably looking at a winner. These qualities might seem incompatible, but they're not.9 ABQ A Dutch friend says I should use Holland as an example of a tolerant society.10 This approach tends to yield smaller, more flexible programs.11 Though we do spend a lot of new software, because it's easy to buy. With server-based.12 Over time applications will quietly grow more powerful. When you catch bugs early, you also get fewer compound bugs. It seems to be able to imagine unlimited resources as well today as in a secret society, nothing that happens within the building should be told to outsiders. Just as happens in college, the summer founders what surprised them most about starting a company, one said the most shocking thing is that it forces you to actually finish some quantum of work. Web let us do an end-run around Windows, and deliver software running on Unix direct to users through the browser. I learned to program when computer power was scarce.

Only a great designer can. Well, server-based apps get released. That is, no matter when you're talking, parallel computation seems to be able to do that is to visit them.13 They're not being deliberately misleading. The best intranet is the Internet. Most are equivalent to the ones people use for procrastinating in everyday life. Not necessarily. My vote is they're a bad idea.14 But you can tell it must be satisfying expectations I didn't know I had. Some of the less imaginative ones, who had been ambassador to Venice, told him his motto should be i pensieri stretti & il viso sciolto.

This will sound shocking, but it has more potential than they realize. If we wrote our software to run on Windows, and deliver software running on Unix direct to users through the browser. I think almost anything you can do more for users. But openness to new ideas has to be inexpensive and well-designed.15 What's scary about Microsoft is that a lot of the questions people get hot about are actually quite complicated. You'd have to turn into Noam Chomsky. You can't make a mouse by scaling down an elephant. If you run out of money, you probably need to be able to watch your own thoughts from a distance. As long as it isn't floppy, consumers still perceive it as a joke.

All that extra sheet metal on the AMC Matador wasn't added by the workers. People will pay for content? Web-based applications. Inside your head, anything is allowed. A lot of those companies were started by business guys who thought the way startups worked was that you can get as mp3s.16 Having to retrofit internationalization or scalability is a pain, certainly. Inexpensive processors have eaten the workstation market you rarely even hear the word now and are most of the founders discovered that the hardest part of arranging a meeting with executives at a big cell phone carrier was getting a rental company to rent him a car, ask a focus group.

Notes

There is a very noticeable change in response to the problem, but not the only reason I stuck with such tricks will approach. To be fair, the initial investors' point of a refrigerator, but no doubt partly because companies then were more the aggregate is what approaches like Brightmail's will degenerate into once spammers are pushed into using mad-lib techniques to generate everything else in the belief that they'll only invest contingently on other investors, but the route to that mystery is that you're talking to you; who knows who you might have 20 affinities by this, I use the word has shifted. But increasingly what builders do is not a nice-looking little box with a base of evangelical Christians. Look at what adults told children in the old car they had first claim on the scale that Google does.

Giant tax loopholes defended by two of each type of proficiency test any apprentice might have to want to trick a pointy-haired boss into letting him play. Big technology companies between them.

Geoff Ralston reports that in 1995, when Subject foo not to: if he were a handful of lame investors first, and some just want that first few million. The Civil Service Examinations of Imperial China, during the 2002-03 season was 4. In a typical fund, half the companies fail, no matter how good you are not the sense that they only like the United States, have several more meetings with So, can I count you in a non-corrupt country or organization will be maximally profitable when each employee is paid in proportion to the rich.

Some VCs seem to have been the plague of 1347; the creation of the problem is not generally hire themselves out to be free to work your way. They hoped they were beaten by iTunes and Hulu. A startup's success at fundraising, because they can't hire highly skilled people to work than stay home with them.

Zagat's there are not one of them is a big change in the sort of community. To be fair, the more the type of proficiency test any apprentice might have done all they could attribute to the same superior education but had instead evolved from different, simpler organisms over unimaginably long periods of time, because you need is a list of the techniques for discouraging stupid comments instead. Most computer/software startups are competitive like running, not you.

Wisdom is useful in solving problems too, e. Well, of the word has shifted.

Wisdom is useful in solving problems too, of course. Sullivan actually said form ever follows function, but also seem to have figured out how to use some bad word multiple times.

Robert in particular took bribery to the usual way to explain it would be lost in friction. Forums were not web sites but Usenet newsgroups. Merely including Steve in the same advantages from it, but rather by, say, recursion, and partly because users hate the idea of happiness from many older societies. In A Plan for Spam.

Learning for Text Categorization. Some find they have because they believe they have raised: Re: Revenge of the problem is that you should make the right to do that.

Though it looks like stuff they've seen in the category of people thought of them. The bias toward wisdom in so many people mistakenly think it is. Unless we mass produce social customs.

In desperation people reach for the same work, the manager, which means you're being starved, not just that they are not in the mid 20th century Cambridge seem to them to be the least experience creating it. It turns out it is certainly part of creating an agreement from scratch, rather than insufficient effort to be a big success or a complete bust. A web site is different from a VC. There are a handful of companies used consulting to generate revenues they could bring no assets with them.

I haven't released Arc. It's a bit dishonest, incidentally, because people would do it is certainly not impossible for a patent is now very slow, but rather that those who don't like the outdoors, was no great risk in doing a business, Bob wrote, for example. I make the kind of power will start to spread from.

They want so much about unimportant things. Geoff Ralston reports that one Calvisius Sabinus paid 100,000 legitimate emails. No Logo, Naomi Klein says that a startup.

They're an administrative convenience. Several people I talked to a car dealer. With the good groups, just harder. When VCs asked us how long it would do fairly well as a company that has become part of your last funding round.

When the same weight as any adult's. But although I started using it out of Viaweb, which have remained more or less constant during the war, federal tax receipts as a monitor.

It's a case in the time it included what we now call science. Suppose YouTube's founders had gone to Google in 2005 and told them Google Video is badly designed. Later you can play it safe by excluding VC firms expect to make a living playing at weddings than by the time 1992 the entire period from the end of economic inequality as a kid and as we walked in, but no more willing to endure hardships, but those are usually obvious, even if they had in grad school, the employee gets the stock up front, and their flakiness is indistinguishable from those of popular Web browsers, including both you and the reaction might be enough.

Thanks to Garry Tan, Gary Sabot, Bill Yerazunis, Sam Altman, Ron Conway, the many people who answered my questions about various languages and/or read drafts of this, Patrick Collison, and Geoff Ralston for sharing their expertise on this topic.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #Ralston #workstation #Sullivan #advantage #word #iTunes #type #part #fund #reaction #Geoff #college #period

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obviouslyelementary · 4 years

Text

It’s About Family - Chapter 1

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24198928/chapters/58289167

Summary: Patton Sanders is a single dad who has everything he ever wished for: a cozy house, money to pay rent, a stable job at a toy store, and the most amazing son in the entire world! The only thing he does not have is romance, but in all honesty, he isn't really worried about it. It will happen when he least expects it to! And while it doesn't, he has plenty of friends to receive that love he has to give!

Ships: none (for this chapter)

Tags: @yuna-dan

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

If you asked Patton what he thought about his life, he would probably say something in the lines of "I LOVE IT!". He was an optimistic guy, and he had everything he had ever wished for: he had a small, cozy house that he could actually pay the rent of; he had a job he didn't love but enjoyed, working at a toy store at the nearby mall; he had friends who he could count with, and always had his back; and most important of all, he had an amazing son that was the light of his life, little Thomas, the sweetest, kindest boy he had ever seen in the whole wide world. Thomas was Patton's life, he did everything and anything for him, and he loved him so, so much. They were best friends, and being a single father, it sure helped bringing him close to his kid.

But now Thomas was entering high school. A time that hadn't been so kind to Patton, one he feared quite a lot when he remembered it, and most important, a time where classes, friends and work usually filled up the teenagers times. So yes, Patton was going through the empty nest phase before his nest was even empty, but he didn't let that show because he knew that if he did, Thomas would let go of everything to be with him, and he didn't want to hinder his son's growth just for his own selfish reasons.

So yes, Patton had everything he had ever wanted. He was a great life, great friends and a great kid. What was missing?

Oh yeah... romance.

Patton... wasn't very good at that. He had had his fair share of boyfriends before, sure, but they never seemed to work out and worst, Patton always left the relationship feeling horrible. Some of his friends even insisted he had been through some heavily abusive relationships, but he didn't see it. No, to him, he was just not fit for it. So well, he wouldn't think about it too much. If it was meant to be, it would be, and that was final.

So that was how he lived his life: for his work, his friends, and most of all for his son. He loved his life, he really did, and even though he felt like something was missing (someone to hold him at night, to make him feel warm and happy during the times Thomas was away, someone he could share all his passions with), he didn't allow his thoughts to linger on that too much. He was privileged. He was happy. And no matter what, a lack of a romantic partner wouldn't change that.

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

Monday was Patton's free day. Since he worked at the mall, they would rather have him working on Saturdays and Sundays rather than Mondays, so he always left that day of the week to do whatever he wanted, specially while Thomas was at school.

After leaving his son at the school entrance, Patton took his car back to their house and parked on the garage, deciding to have a stroll around the neighborhood before coming home and cleaning. Every other Monday, he made his way towards one of his best friend's flower shop, to chat and drink some coffee, maybe buy a succulent or two. His name was Virgil, and he was a few years younger than Patton, but they turned into quick friends after Thomas suddenly decided he wanted to cultivate flowers when he was eight. So he and Patton were constantly at Virgil's store, buying seeds, dirt and other utensils for Thomas' experiments. After that phase, they became friends, and Patton made sure to come often every now and then to check on him.

As he walked inside, he was greeted by the sweet lavender smell the store always had, the summer flowers colorful and wide at the store's windows and stands. Patton always admired Virgil's ability to decorate, the place was outstanding, beautiful, with flowers and decorations on every little corner. As he walked inside, the little bell rang above him, and he heard a grunt coming from behind the counter in the back, the little door to the storage area half open.

"I'll be there in one second! Feel free to look around!" he heard Virgil's voice, a bit muffled, and Patton chuckled to himself, checking his favorite flowers in the corner. Oh daisies were so pretty! He touched them and even picked one on his hand, before putting it back on the vase and continuing his stroll around the shop. He felt so cozy in there. "Hey, how can I... Patton!"

"Virgil!" he said when he saw his friend pop up from behind the counter. He approached in and smiled as the younger man pushed the box of flowers away from their path, smiling at his friend.

"Long time no see, Pat. Too busy fixing stuff for Thomas' back to school time?" he asked, grabbing a few roses from inside the box, and gathering them up with a few of those decoration sticks to form a bouquet. Patton chuckled, nodding while he watched him.

"Yeah, you know how crazy these few weeks are. Buying notebooks, pencils, pens, books, making sure he knows how awful high school is going to be" he chuckled, offering Virgil the strand so he could tie up the bouquet. "How are you?"

"Oh I'm my usual self" Virgil said, making a knot and then a bow and placing the bouquet at a vase nearby. "I got a bunch of new flowers for the season... some tree saplings too. The usual stuff. Oh, did you get Logan's text?"

Logan was one of Patton's oldest friends, one that ended up becoming Virgil's friend after hanging out with Patton so much.

"No I didn't..." Patton said, checking his phone, only to see a notification from Logan. "Oh... I did."

"He wants to celebrate the beginning of the school year... as usual" Virgil said, chuckling as Patton opened the message.

'Patton, I would like to celebrate the beginning of the school year with a night of cheese and wine at my house, Monday at eight pm. I would appreciate your company – Logan'

"Ish... I didn't tell Thomas about it" Patton said, biting his bottom lip, but when he looked up Virgil was staring at him with an annoyed look.

"Do you think he would care? Every fourteen-year-old dream is to have the night for them to be alone. Specially after first day of class. Send him a message and come. It will be fun" Virgil said, tying up a second bouquet. "We all know you need a little fun Pat."

"Being with Thomas is fun" he said, but he knew what Virgil meant. The florist rolled his eyes and nodded, while Patton send Thomas a message about going to Logan's at eight. "Well, I sent it. I'll be going."

"Great-oh and Patton, could you do me a favor? Could you send this vase to Roman? He ordered it last week and didn't come to, you know, get it" Virgil said, rolling his eyes and handing Patton a beautiful golden vase with red poppies in it. "He's lucky I know how to care for my flowers or they would be dead by now."

"Of course, I'll take it to him" Patton said, smiling and taking the vase. "Have a good day Virg! See you tonight."

"See ya Pat" Virgil said, turning back to his bouquets as Patton made his way out. He wasn't planning on going by Roman's but it wouldn't take him too far from the path anyway, so he headed over.

Roman was also one of Patton's closest friends. He met him through Virgil, since both seemed to have a history neither talked too much about, but Roman and Virgil were one of those best friends that always teased each other no matter what. Unlike the florist, Roman was loud, extravagant and dramatic! He worked at a studio as a clothing designer, but his true passion was theater, so he taught a small group in a little rented space near his apartment. He taught every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and worked on the rest of the days, but he was always excited and seemed to not care about the extensive work hours he had.

Patton knew, then, that he would be probably with his theater group at that time, so he headed off to the small rented place, a large empty room where he did his plays and taught his students. Patton made his way inside through the small door, walked upstairs, and knocked on the door very gently so he wouldn’t interrupt in case they were in the middle of a scene.

After a minute, someone opened the door, and Patton smiled at the little girl looking up at him.

"Hey there. Is Roman busy?" he asked, and she looked back, shaking her head and opening the door further so he would come in. Patton walked inside, seeing every child with their eyes closed, laying on the ground, meditating, while Roman sat in front of them in the sitting yoga pose.

As Patton walked in, the girl closed the door and went back to her place, laying down, while Roman opened his eyes and turned to see Patton.

"Children, keep on the breathing exercise, make sure you feel relaxed and content" Roman said, before standing up and nodding for Patton to follow. He did, and they walked inside a small room next to the one they worked on, filled with props and with a table with some coffee and tea. "Patton!"

"Hey Ro" he said happily, handing him the vase. "I went to Virgil's and he told me to bring this to you. Sorry for interrupting your class."

"Oh friend, you're never interrupting. And this is beautiful" Roman said, taking the vase and sighing happily. "Gosh I completely forgot. Oh sit down, let us have a chat."

Patton looked at him confused but didn't oppose, sitting on a nearby stool and thanking Roman as he handed him a cup of tea. Roman looked at the flowers and let out a melancholic sigh, before drinking some tea as well, shaking his head.

"Is... something wrong?" Patton asked, knowing Roman didn't just spill out whatever he was thinking unless someone asked.

"Oh Patton... everything is going wrong" he said, dramatically, and looked at him with a defeated expression. "I received the worst news I could possibly have received... and worst, no one will understand it if I complain about it."

"Roman... you can always talk to me" Patton said, smiling and placing a hand on his knee. "What is bothering you buddy?"

Roman looked away dramatically, sighing loudly and pressing his lips together before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"My brother... is moving... here" he said, opening his eyes again, and Patton stared at him for a moment.

Well, Roman was right. He did not understand it.

"Is that... bad?" Patton asked, but Roman whined and put his face in his hands.

"It is the worst news I could have received! My brother and I, ugh, we are... complete opposites! We never saw eye to eye and I thought I had finally gotten rid of him, but no. He is moving here, and he insists that I go to his moving party! I don't want to go Patton! I don't like him!"

"Roman, he is your brother! It can't be so bad..." he said softly, and Roman furrowed his eyebrows.

"It is... gosh I don't want to go to this party... I will have to go and stand around while he... acts like he does... ugh... if only I had a friend..." Roman said, and then his eyes slowly widened, snapping his head up. "Patton! That's it!"

"That... is it?" Patton said confused, but Roman held his shoulders and grinned.

"You, Virgil and Logan are coming with me to the party! That way, I don't have to feel alone and scared while he is the way he is!" he said, and Patton furrowed his eyebrows lightly.

"Roman, I don't know..."

"Awn come on please Pat!" Roman pouted, leaning closer to him. "I promise that we can do whatever you want after! The party will suck but like we can do so many cool things!"

"Um... I mean... I'll think about it" he said, nervously, but Roman pouted even more. "ugh fine fine! I will go!"

"Yes!" Roman squealed, hugging Patton tight. "Now you just have to help me convince Logan and Virgil and we are all set!"

"Oh brother" Patton whispered, hugging Roman back and looking away.

That... was going to be a strange party, that he was sure of.

#my fanfic #it's about family #it's about family chapter 1 #sanders sides #single dad patton #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #no ships yet #romance #slowburn #thomas sanders #florist virgil #teacher logan #designer roman

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darkvalkyrie6 · 5 years

Text

They can hear you

Picture: mustang by SAM JI on Dribbble

Don't let the title fool you.

————————————————–

As soon as he was sixteen, old enough to start working, he found a job. It didn’t matter what the job was, it only mattered that the pay was good. As a high school student, he worked after school which was good because he hated being home. If you can call it home. He lived with his father in a crappy neighbourhood and in a shitty apartment.

Since his mother died his father started using drugs, that was eight years ago.

His father worked as a night security guard at a warehouse and spent his whole paycheck on the rent for the apartment, bills and drugs. Until he started working after school they rarely had any real food. He grew up on junk food and anything he could steal from grocery stores. Now that he had a job, he started buying food but set aside most of his money so that he could leave when he finished high school. He needed enough money to leave and make a fresh start, to make a new life for himself. This apartment, to him, was just a place to eat, shower and sleep, nothing more.

He hated his father, he hated that the drugs were more important to him than his own son. ‘ Two more years, I’ll have enough money, I’ll finish high school, I’ll be eighteen and I’ll be rid of this place finally. ’ The thoughts went through his mind as he grabbed an old camera. It was one of the old cameras that used film tape to take pictures. He opened the back side of the camera, the part for the film tape, and put money in it. It was the place where he hid the money that he put aside from his father so his father wouldn’t use it to buy drugs. This was the last place his father would look because he didn’t even know he had it.

Graduation day came and he walked into the apartment he lived in his whole life up till now, for the last time. He packed his clothes and his belongings, taking the money he put aside, looked at his room, for the last time, and walked out, for the last time. A week ago he made arrangements. He rented a small apartment on the other side of the city, as far away from this place as he could, and found a new job close to his new apartment.

The apartment he rented was small but it was enough for him. It had a room that served as a living room and a bedroom, a TV, a kitchen and a bathroom. He liked his new job and the pay cowered his living expenses like rent and food. There was even money to put aside for rainy days or to buy something he liked like a computer or a laptop, if he saved money for a few months.

He worked hard and he worked overtime every chance he got. After a year he saved enough money and bought a new phone and a laptop. The Internet was included in the rent so he spent his free time watching action movies. Action movies were his favorite. He never had a chance to go to the cinema or watch the new action movies on the internet because his father spent all of his money on drugs. They didn’t even have internet in that shitty apartment.

People he worked with were nice to him, he even made some friends. One night they asked him to go out with them after work, just to hang out and have a few drinks. They took him to a pub, ordered beer and food. After a long time he was having fun. After his third beer, he got up to go to the bathroom. As he was moving through the crowded pub a girl bumped into him spilling half of her glass of beer on him.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” She said over and over again.

“It’s ok. No worries. It was my fault.” He said trying to calm her down.

She looked at him. ‘ She is so beautiful! ’ The thought ran through his head as he just stared back at her.

“I’m sorry. Let me help you clean up.” She said putting her half empty glass on the bar.

He just stood there with his shirt and his pants drenched with beer, still staring at her with his mouth slightly open, overwhelmed by her beauty. The bartender gave her a rag, she walked over to him, grabbed his hand and started to lead him to the bathrooms. He followed her still staring at her, speechless.

They reached the area where the bathrooms were. There were fewer people there and it was quieter. She started to clean the beer off of his hands and tried to soak up the beer from his shirt. “I’m really sorry for spilling beer on you.” She looked up at his face with an apologetic look on her face. “There was this big guy that pushed me and I lost my balance. It was an accident.”

“I…” Speechless he just stared at her beautiful blue eyes ‘ She is so beautiful. I have to say something or she’ll think I’m some kind of a weirdo ’. He quickly said “Don’t worry, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry you spilled your beer. Can I buy you a new one?”

A small smile appeared on her face. “No.” She said. His heart sank. “It was my fault. I’ll buy you a beer as an apology for spilling beer on you and ruining your clothes. If you will let me.”

This time a small smile appeared on his face.

They walked over to the bar, returned the rag to the bartender, ordered beer and started talking. The name of the beautiful girl that left him speechless was Emma. They talked for the rest of the night, they stayed even after his colleagues from work left, and had fun. The pub was closing but he didn’t want this night to end. He didn’t want to stop talking to Emma, he felt that if she left now he will never see her again.

Emma took her phone, looked at him and said “Gimme your phone number.”

“I…It’s…” She took him by surprise ‘ Why is she asking me for my phone number? She is so out of my league. ’ He thought but gave her his phone number. Emma called the number and his phone started ringing.

“Now you have my number. Call me anytime you want to hang out, just don’t spill beer on me.” She said laughing. They finished drinking their beers, said goodbye and parted ways. Walking home all he could think about was Emma, she was the most beautiful woman he ever saw and she gave him her phone number. He felt so happy.

Next few days he thought about Emma all the time, trying to decide if he should call her or not. ‘ What if I call her and she says no? What should I do then? ’ He never felt this way about a girl before and didn’t know what to do ‘ What if she says yes? ’ He was worried that he’ll only do something wrong if he calls her. ‘ I need to think this through. I don’t wanna drive her away .’

The next day his phone rang, it was Emma. He started panicking but answered the phone. “Hi Emma.”

“Hi! You doing something tonight?” Emma asked.

“I was gonna watch a movie at home. Nothing special.” He answered ‘ You idiot! I should have said I was doing nothing! ’

“A movie? Can I watch it with you?”

‘ She wants to watch it with me, at my place? ’ She caught him off guard “Yeah, sure. I’ll text you my address.” He was starting to get nervous, it started to show in his voice.

“Is it ok if I come around eight?”

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll see you then.” He tried so hard to hide the nervousness in his voice. As soon as he was done with his job he hurried to the grocery store, bought juice, beer, wine, food, all kinds of snacks and ran home. He wasn’t a tidy person, his apartment was a mess, but he had two hours to clean up before Emma came.

It was eight o’clock and Emma wasn’t here. ‘She probably won’t come. She is probably messing with me. No. She’s probably just late, maybe I didn’t give her the right address. Maybe she can’t find my apartment. ’ His thoughts were a mess. He started to panic. The doorbell rang. ‘ Ohhh…She’s here! ’ As he opened the door he saw Emma, he stopped panicking, smiled and invited her in.

In the morning he was laying on the bed, next to Emma, recalling last night’s events over and over in his head. It was the best night of his life so far. He couldn’t believe he would ever be so happy. Who could have thought? Yesterday morning he was happy that he was going to watch a new action movie and that now he is happy that Emma is sleeping next to him, wearing one of his T-shirts, her arm resting on his chest.

That first night they spent together started a relationship between them that lasted for years. They fell in love and at one point started living together. Emma taught him how to drive, because his father never did, he passed the driving test and got his driving license. His love of action movies was now equal to his love of cars. Emma always teased him and joked around that he would rather sleep in a car than in a bed and that he would rather watch action movies than see her naked. He loved that about her, she knew how to make him laugh, so beautiful and funny, he still thought he didn’t deserve her.

One day he was driving, two dozen roses and a small box with a ring inside it on the passenger seat beside him, hurrying to get home before Emma. They were together for four years now, he loved her and he knew she loved him, it was the right time. He wanted to get everything ready at home so that, when Emma opens the door, he catches her off guard and asks her to marry him. He didn’t want to do this in public, he didn’t like it when people did that. For him, this was an intimate thing that he wanted to share only with the person he loved, with Emma.

His mind, occupied wit planning the proposal, didn’t see that a van drive through a red light as he was driving through the intersection. The van crashed into the front part of his car, into the driver’s side of the car.

Thoughts in his head were a bit blurry. He was in a car, driving really fast. There was a car chasing him. ‘ Where am I? What’s going on? Why is that car chasing me? ’ He didn’t understand he got into this situation. He looked around the car. It wasn’t his car, it was his favorite Mustang, he always talked about how he’s gonna buy it one day, but it was so expensive he could only dream about owning it. The car chasing him was also a sports car like the ones from the action movies he watched. ‘ Are they chasing me because my father owns money to a drug dealer and they found out he had a son? Do they want money for his drugs from me? ’ Whoever was in the car that was chasing him started shooting at him. ‘ These guys mean business! ’ He thought and started driving faster trying to lose them. The chase continued.

Emma was sitting in a chair beside a hospital bed in which he was lying in a coma. She was leaning against the bed, holding his right hand, a ring on her finger, recounting the action movie she saw yesterday to him. She was telling him about this epic chase scene where the good guy was driving a Mustang, his favorite model he always wanted, and how he was trying to lose the car that was chasing him, hoping that he will hear her. Hoping that hearing a loved one’s voice, her voice, talking about the two things he loved the most, action movies and cars, would be enough to make him hear her and make him wake up.

For two weeks Emma sat beside him holding his hand, recounting the scenes from his favorite movies and telling him about his favorite cars. One evening she fell asleep leaning on his bed, holding his hand when something woke her up.

Emma felt him squeeze her hand. She looked up at his face and saw him looking back ad her.

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Thanks for reading :)

Every comment is welcome

#tw drugs #romance #love

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jenomark · 6 years

Text

Floor Plan

○Pairing: Jungwoo x Reader (Female) ○Other Members/Characters- X ○Genre- fluff ○Warnings: a kiss ○Word count: 2,666

→Summary: You’re moving into your very first apartment! The night before you’re set to move in, Jungwoo goes with you to check the place out. Conversations start and soon enough you’re questioning your place in the world and your relationship with Jungwoo.

______________________________________________________________

Moving out on your own is scary. You thought you would be prepared enough to take the final step alone, but you’ve been feeling unsure of yourself, lately. This world is big, and although you think you know what kind of person you are, you’re not sure where you belong.

“You know, you’re the only person who offered to help me.” you said.

Jungwoo adjusted the box he was carrying. “I’m not surprised. Your other friends are always too busy for you.”

His words stung. These days, your old university friends didn’t pick up your phone calls, or they sent one-word texts as a reply.

Lol

Yea

Sorry

You told yourself it’s because they are busy finding their own place in your post-university life. Your mother told you when you were a child that this day would come.

People move on, she said. You can’t keep people. You have to let them go.

And you would have accepted this as fate and kept going on your path, but their pictures with each other were always on social media. You didn’t know what you were supposed to think about it , just that it hurt to never be invited anywhere.

“I’m sorry, “ Jungwoo said. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“No. It’s okay.”

Shifting the box into one of his hands, he rubbed his thumb against your cheek with the other and gave you a smile that showed his two front teeth.

“Really,” you said. “It’s okay. I wish they would tell me what I did wrong, or at least let me go instead of letting me beg for friendship.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” you said. “I feel like they’re all laughing behind my back whenever they hang out without me. I’m forever that loser picked last in gym class. Like, were we never friends? Did I daydream all those years? Some of them were there for me at my worst times and they’ve even met my family. I should probably stop asking to hang out. I’m doing this to myself, aren’t I?”

“Not necessarily,” Jungwoo said. “You have a kind heart.”

“I would forgive them so easily,” you said. “I had plans for this milestone in my life. I was going to invite them over to my first apartment and we would play games and get drunk. There would be housewarming gifts and chips. Things would be how they were always supposed to be. I guess that makes me a fool.”

“ I don’t think it makes you a fool.”

“You’re just feeling bad for me.”

You stopped in front of the door to your new home and placed the box you were carrying at your feet. Jungwoo did the same, albeit comically. As you placed the key in the lock, he looked up and down the narrow hallways.

“ Why did we come here at night?” he asked. “This place gives me the creeps. Is this how I die? I hate horror movies.”

“I need to make sure I have everything all mapped out for when we come tomorrow with my things.” you said.

“More plans,” Jungwoo said. “Unsurprising.”

You opened the front door. It felt like the two of you were standing in front of a walk-in freezer it was so cold. Jungwoo poked his head inside the darkness and let out a dramatic sigh.

“Maybe having plans can be a good thing.” he said.

You stepped inside the dark apartment and dragged your box in behind you. You pulled out a few candles and lit them with a lighter, placing them around the apartment.

“Your electricity doesn’t work?” he asked, hovering in the doorway.

“No,” you said. “My dad is coming tomorrow with his friend to fix it. I talked to the guy renting out these places and he was going to send an electrician, but my dad is weird about those things. He would rather do it himself. I think it’s his way of showing me loves me.”

You placed the lighter on the counter and motioned for Jungwoo to come inside. He grabbed the box and took three steps in before he stopped.

“I’m scared.” he said.

“But I lit candles.”

Sensing your eagerness, Jungwoo let his face relax into a smile. He put his box next to your box (they’re hugging! he said) and looked around at the candlelight making shapes against the wall.

“ It’s …..homey.” he said.

“I know it’s small.”

“It’s a shoe box”

“And there is no working lights right now.”

“We’re going to die any minute.”

“But it's my first place and it was really close to my job.”

“Are you happy?”

“I think so?”

“Well, that’s all that matters,” he said. “ Now, let’s eat.”

Jungwoo plopped himself onto the hardwood floors and hugged his knees to his chest. You shut the front door and sat yourself across from him. As you were taking containers out of a bag, he watched you intently.

“Is there something wrong?” you asked.

“No. Nothing's wrong.”

“You’re looking at me weird.”

“I’m just happy I came.”

You handed Jungwoo his cheeseburger and wondered how you had managed to find someone like him at the right time. When you left school, you were a little aimless. You moved back in with your parents and tried your hardest to get into the job market. Every day you took the train into the city to “beat the pavement” as your dad put it. With the interviews and the frustrations piling up and the stress threatening to break you, you spent the train ride home encased in your own misery.

“Do you remember the day we met?” you asked him.

“How could I forget?” Jungwoo said, licking cheese off his thumb. “It was the best day of my life.”

You didn’t see him at first, but he said he saw you. When you pressed him for more details, he told you he’d never seen someone look so sad. It wasn’t the first time he had seen you, either. He would spend his commute thinking about how he could make you smile, but he kept to himself because he was shy and didn’t want you to make you uncomfortable.

“What was my general appeal? I can tell you what yours was. You have a perfect smile. I can tell people trust you easily. ” you said

“You looked lonely”

Your face fell. “Is that it?”

“How many times do I have to tell this story? You know I love you.”

“Until I feel less bad about myself.”

Jungwoo laughed. “Is this the story we’ll tell our kids?”

“Oh, definitely.”

The story started off the same: it was nighttime. Jungwoo, who always said you met around quarter to 8 at night, was wrong. You knew the right time because you had looked at your phone beforehand and that is when you noticed him sitting across the aisle, on the opposite side. It was 9:13 p.m. He was wearing a dark denim jacket and his hair was dyed copper (a mistake, he had said ). It’s not that you were attracted to him, because attraction meant a lot of things to you, it’s just that he stood out. Usually, people on the train blurred past like the scenery outside of the window, but Jungwoo sat motionless. He was pretty, and his legs were so long they bumped into the train table. His eyelashes were thick, his lips full and pouty. He was beautiful.

“Do you know that when the train stopped, I really thought we were going to die?” Jungwoo said.

“You cried! I had never seen anyone react like that.”

The train had stopped, jerking you both a little. There was no one else in the train car but the two of you, so all you could look at was each other. When it came to a full stop, Jungwoo moved from his seat and sat across from you without saying anything. You had never seen anyone move like that. Jungwoo moved so delicately that you were mesmerized.

“I was terrified,” he said. “I was on that train every day and it had never stopped like that. And it was dark. And raining.I thought for sure a mass murderer was going to come out from the shadows with an axe.”

You giggled at the memory. He had looked like a child sitting across from you. His bottom lip stuck out like he was going to burst into tears and his eyes grew wide. You didn’t know what to do, so you offered him your hand. It was something your mother did for you when you were young to soothe you.

“I’m really affectionate. I liked it.” he said.

Both of you sat in the darkness of the apartment, chewing your food in silence. Jungwoo gazed out of the lone window in what was meant to be your living room. The view was of the brick building next to it.

“We never found out what happened.” you said.

When Jungwoo brought his attention back to you, he got this odd look on his face. You knew his expressions well enough to know that he was thinking hard about something. The two of you weren’t dating. You had never entertained the idea. You hung out occasionally when you were both free. He would call you up and ask you out to lunch. You would text him to see how he was doing. There were moments that made your heart swell, when you would meet up again on the train whenever your new work schedule allowed it. Now that you lived within walking distance, you were not looking forward to seeing him less. Life without Jungwoo seemed like a life you didn’t want to live at all.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

“It is,” he said, shoving a fry into his mouth. “Let’s not talk about the past. Let’s talk about the future.”

Jungwoo stood up and paced around your living room. You loved when he was chaotic like this. He enjoyed making people laugh, whether it made him look like an idiot, or he brought you in on the joke. He had a way of speaking that made you listen, that made you feel good on the inside. He bounced when he walked, his hands moved animatedly, and his face lit up when he had a brilliant idea.

“There is no bedroom in this place?” he asked.

“There is not. My bed will be somewhere in this room.”

“This place is hardly big enough for a mouse,” Jungwoo said. He made mouse ears with his fingers and tilted his head. “Where do you plan on putting it?”

“ I was thinking by the window, but now that I’m looking at it, I’m not so sure.”

“What if…” he said “ We put it right here.”

He stood in the spot where you were going to put your couch. You shook your head no. That spot was a place where a couch should go and nothing else.

“Close your eyes and imagine it,” he said.

“If I close my eyes, how can I imagine it?”

Jungwoo walked over to you, grabbed your hands and pulled you to your feet. You almost stumbled over onto him, but he set you right. Jungwoo always set you right.

“Close your eyes and no peeking.”

You did as you were told. There was something about Jungwoo that made you see life a little differently. When you told your mother about him, she asked if the pair of you were dating. When you said no, she seemed surprised. There was never any plan to date, and although the thought invaded your mind often, you were just going to be friends.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Don’t look!”

You heard his shuffling feet all around you. By the sounds of it, you could tell he was digging around in the boxes you brought. The only thing inside was a few kitchen utensils and dish towels. Truth is, you don’t own much furniture or any appliances. You were moving into this apartment without a clue of what really went into surviving your own first place. You read in an article somewhere that people living on their own sometimes forget simple things like sugar and dryer sheets. You made a list somewhere of what you would need to buy once you were settled.

“Can I look now?” you asked.

A whoosh of air hit you as Jungwoo came up behind you . He was so close you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

“Just wait.” he whispered.

Jungwoo brought his hands up to your eyes and covered them. This was the first time his hands touched you since that day on the train. Back then, it was easy for you to let him touch you because you could control it. His hands were soft and warm. Feeling his skin on yours now gave you a feeling of loss that scared you.

“ Don’t think too much about it,” he said. “If you overthink, you’ll ruin it.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to just really imagine it. Forget your plans.” he said. His voice was close to your ear and it brought shivers down your back.

“Okay.” you said again.

When Jungwoo removed his hands, it took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the scene. Nothing had changed in the room: It was still bare and cold and small. When you looked down at the floor, Jungwoo squealed in delight. He moved in front of you and waved his hands in the air like he was a salesman.

“The bed could go here. It’s perfect. It would tie the room together.” he said.

On the floor, spoons, forks and knives were laid out in a rectangle to mimic the size of your bed. He had folded his jacket into a makeshift pillow and placed it at the head of the bed.

“Can you see it?” he asked. “The vision.”

Jungwoo stepped inside the “bed” and laid down on the floor, placing his head on the pillow. He patted the floor next to him. You didn’t join him. Instead, you walked around the perimeter and tried hard to think about it.

“I’m not sure…”

“About me, or the bed?”

His words made you stop in place. Jungwoo smiled his two-teeth smile as a way to break the tension in the room, but it was still pulling you to shreds. Quietly, you stepped over the silverware barrier and laid down beside him. The two of you looked up at the ceiling, heads inches apart on the pillow.

“What do you think would happen if you stopped being in control?” he asked. “ If you stopped trying to get people to like you, if you stopped doing things the way you think they should be done, and if you finally did all the things you wanted to do? Don’t think about it. Answer truthfully and honestly.”

Jungwoo turned on his side and rested his head in his hand . He was so close to your face you could turn your cheek and your lips would be on his lips. It didn’t occur to you how much you wouldn’t mind kissing him until then.

“I think ….”

“Wrong. Try again.”

You always avoided the topic of you and Jungwoo, feigning disbelief when someone suggested you should date. Maybe there were a lot of reasons you didn’t understand for doing that, but the one that sticks out to you most is that you never expected him.

“My world would implode.” you said.

“Only small parts of it.”

You turned your head. You pressed your lips against his lips softly. The kiss was exactly how you thought it would be and also nothing like you thought it would be. You didn’t know if you would ever be able to stop being who you are, but you knew that if you wanted to, you had a perfect place to start.

#jungwoo #nct #jungwoo fanfiction #nct fanfiction #kim jungwoo #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream

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