#anyways i tried and i hope whoever reads this enjoys it

[leonscape]

Lovers Swapped Personalities

Chemma or Emmalier?

Anyways, an alternate universe where Chevalier actually received loved from his mom and didn’t become the brutal beast.

Emma walked through the halls, minding her own business. She abruptly stopped when she saw tripwire in her path. With a sigh, she stepped over it and kept walking.

Pranks come with the territory of marrying into the royal family. Actually, even getting hired to work in the palace would subject you to Clavis’ pranks. Anyone in the palace was at the mercy of the third prince.

“You think you got away from that one huh?” Clavis asked Emma. She whipped around and frowned. “Well I apologize, but that isn’t the case.”

“What are you going on about?” Emma questioned.

“Well Chev and I teamed up on this one and we came up with quite the clever scheme,” Clavis said proudly.

Emma turned back around and continued walking. As she passed by a door, it opened and a bunch of rose petals exploded into her face from inside the room.

When the rose petals settled, Emma did not look amused. Chevalier popped out from behind the door. “I can’t believe you let him rope you into one of his pranks. Again,” Emma said.

“Chev is my big brother, of course he’d help me if I asked him,” Clavis said.

“Your shocked expression is adorable,” Chevalier told her. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity, I had to see it again.”

“And we got to use the rose petals one last time before they get used to make rose water,” Clavis added, proud of himself. Emma shook her head at Clavis and walked away.

“All right, clean this up,” Chevalier ordered.

“Fine,” Clavis huffed and pouted.

When Chevalier caught up with Emma, he approached her with caution. “I’m sorry, please don’t be mad.”

“I do not understand why you entertain his foolish ideas,” Emma told him.

“He’s my little brother. No matter how foolish he seems, he’s my brother. I have to humor him,” Chevalier explained.

“I never had brothers or sisters, so I’m not familiar with this concept of foolishness.”

“He’s always been mischievous like this since we were little. My mother always encouraged me to entertain him.”

“I see…” Emma said.

“I apologize. I won’t involve you in his pranks from now on,” Chevalier told her.

“I’m not mad, just… annoyed, I think.” Emma told him. “Only a mere nuisance, that’s all.”

“It was supposed to make you smile.”

“I can’t see how exploding rose petals in my face was supposed to make me smile.”

“Okay, maybe it was actually to make me smile,” Chevalier laughed. “I love you.”

Emma’s lips cracked a smile in response and Chevalier’s smile widened.

[oh-katsuki]

the notebook theory (tsukishima kei x reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 24.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spacing out?” 

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

“Got something due?” 

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

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

“You’re like a girl with a crush.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tadashi motions towards him. 

“Aw, why didn’t you say hi?” 

“You seemed busy,” Kei lies. 

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

“Sure,” Kei nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” Blood rushes into his ears. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m your friend too, ya know?” 

“That so?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Tall order,” he snorts. 

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

“Uh, yeah…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that mean?” 

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

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

“Yeah, you look like the manga type.” 

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

“Maybe,” you laugh. 

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re twisted, you know?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhm, yeah? Why?” 

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

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

“Good, I’ll see you, right?” 

“Yeah, you will.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” Kei responds. 

“So then what was that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tadashi pulls him from his thoughts. 

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

“Who?” Kei plays dumb. 

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

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

“Why did you ignore them then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t.” 

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

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

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

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

“Did something happen?” 

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

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

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

“Doing what?” 

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

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

“I don’t do that!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s normal?” Kei sniffled. 

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

“Yeah, it’s normal.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Thought you went home,” he says. 

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

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

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Kei answers automatically. 

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

“Yup, that’s exactly it.” 

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

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

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

Kei nods a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Today?” 

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

You hum, leaning back on your hands. 

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

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

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

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

“Did you ever apologize?” 

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

“For what you did in school?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Kei shakes his head a little, smiling. 

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

“Thanks,” he says softly. 

“No problem,” you respond. 

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

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

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

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

“What’d he say?” 

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

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

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

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

You nod again, your eyes wide. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s good of you.” 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

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

“At her?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Expect a call!” 

Kei nods and raises his arm to wave goodbye.

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

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

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

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

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

“Just wanted to apologize again.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, are you good?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Kei says. 

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

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

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

“Yup, see you in the morning.” 

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

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

“Hello?” 

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” you say.

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

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

“Kei?” you say. 

“Yeah?” 

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

“Okay,” he swallows. 

“I feel a lot closer to you.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

“Goodnight, Kei,” you practically whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kei chokes on his exhale. “What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that the one without the arms?” 

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

You hum a bit. “Do you like it?” 

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kei feels the color rise to his cheeks. 

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

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

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

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

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

Kei watches the corners of your lips curl up. 

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

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

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

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

“But you like me anyway, yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

He jumps, started by your voice and your proximity. 

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

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

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

“Where’re you headed?” he questions. 

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

“I can’t. I’ve got a class in 15.” 

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

“We?” Kei raises an eyebrow. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah sure, why wouldn’t it be?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna run? Can’t be late, can you?” 

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

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

“Have a good class!” You call. 

“What’s the rush?” he questions. 

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

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

—

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

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

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

“Sure it isn’t,” he laughs. 

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

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

“I just said it wasn’t like that!” 

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

Heat floods Kei’s face, painting it red. 

“Caught ya,” Tadashi smiles. 

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

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

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

Tadashi barks a laugh. “So what changed?” 

“What do you mean?” 

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

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

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

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

“Tired of what?” 

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

“Because of them?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” he chokes out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so one year older than me?” 

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

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

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

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

“Your sillies?” Kei laughs a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hanging out,” you smile lightly. 

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

“Wanna go sit outside for a bit then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort. “I hope so.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about us is so similar?” 

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

“See?” 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

“Am I?” 

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

“Yeah, you are.”

“How so?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll pass, pipsqueak,” Kei scoffs. 

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re not cleaning, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Touch me,” you breathe out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kei furrows his eyebrows and sucks in a sharp breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah but-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Christ,” he groans. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You first,” he mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Liking people,” he says. “Dating.” 

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

“Shit, seriously?” 

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

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

“Huh,” he says. “Could you tell?” 

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

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

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

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

Another bout of silence follows. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Good,” you say. “Me too.” 

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

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

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

“Okay,” he says. 

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort. “What does that even mean?” 

Kei gives you a pointed and somewhat irritated look. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” Kei asks. 

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

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

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

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

“Me? Gentle?” Kei scoffs. 

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

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

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

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

“For what?” You laugh. 

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

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

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

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

“What? That I care about you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, I do,” you laugh a little.

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s move in together,” he says. 

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

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

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

—

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

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

The notebook theory. 

[nicksolemnlyswears]

DUDDDDE!!

I am in LOVE with your writing. I have been craving some good Han Lue works and you're filling the hole!

Everywhere is extremely lacking in quality Han Lue content bro 😭😭

But any whosies.

I was wondering if it were at all possible to request a Han work from you (from what I've seen you still have requests open so if you don't im sorry)

Specifically something about a reader who's fucking amazing at driving, and has been crushing on Han for a while, and the two decode to race (set in Tokyo) and whoever wins gets the loser to do what they want. Y'know classic setup.

You could choose where this leads to. Idc if we win or loose. All I want is a little bit of fluff sprinkled amongst some smut mayhaps. You could do this in headcannon format btw don't feel obligated to write the whole thing.

I'm just thirsting for any thing I can take 💀🙏🏼

Take your time! <3

pairing: han lue x racer!reader

words: 11.4k

warnings: some cursing and smut (pls wrap it before you tap it) don't judge my smut too much, it's been a while since i've written one

notes: hi anon! thank you for all your sweet, sweet words 🥺 i hope this is somewhere along the lines of what you were thinking of. as soon as i saw your request i was ✨inspired✨ it's been a long time since i've been so hooked by a oneshot. i have worked on it almost everyday since i received it so thank you! i changed the request just a little bit, i hope you don't mind.

trust me i know there is a ridiculous lack in han content! it's the reason i'm here writing over this man! there is not enough content for the speed i consume it, lol. i've read my own headcanons like 10 times already, excluding the times i was working on it.

anyways! might have gotten a little carried away but i enjoyed writing it so much! here you go! enjoy!

i really really hope you like it!!

Tokyo was the city where you learned how to street race. Weaving through the cars on the highway became second nature the harder you pressed the gas pedal. The neon lights turned into blurs as you sped down traffic, whether it was in search of a prize or a thrill.

You were meant to meet Han Lue. His presence became known as soon as he stepped foot in the parking complexes that serve as makeshift race tracks. He quickly became popular with the crowd, especially when he joined DK's crew.

His races were seen as exclusive, known to happen once in a blue moon. He was totally opposite to you. You took the opportunity to race any moment you could. It's what lead you to become a good racer. Practice makes perfect, after all.

'Good racer' is a bit of an understatement. You're one of the best right after DK. There's a debate about whether the second best is you or Han. Each person can take their pick. Many have suggested the idea for the both of you to race, but Han has shot down each and every one. He doesn't need to prove himself to anyone. Besides, he hasn't had anything to gain from racing you.

People like to call you 'Angel' because when you started participating in the races, you looked like an absolute angel, but soon after, they discovered you raced like the devil. You fool everyone around you, even with the way you drive. Whenever someone has to go against you, they think they have your strategy down, yet you switch it up every time.

The distinctive revving of your car alerts Han of your presence. He glances to his left, where you've parked right beside him. As you open the door and step out of your car, he opens a bag of chips, depositing one into his mouth.

You walk over to him, leaning against his car like he is. The bare skin of your back arching slightly as it touches the cool metal. "Have I missed anything?"

Han shakes his head cooly, watching his surroundings. He spares you a glance, taking in what you're wearing. A short, shimmery dress with an open back and high heels. Seems like you don't plan on racing tonight. You refuse to race in high heels. You've tried before and failed. You didn't lose, but you did break off both heels.

You feel his eyes trailing over your body, and you don't mind it. You like that you can catch his attention that way. Having a crush on a guy like Han takes work. He has every woman's attention in the racing underground. They often cling to his arms and bat their eyelashes his way, and he has gladly taken a few of them home.

"You done judging my outfit?" You say, looking at him.

"Not judging, admiring," he promptly replies with a small shrug.

That right there is what feeds into your silly little crush. Han isn't afraid of your comments or banter. If you look good, he'll say it. It's the way he says it that irks you, though. He is so nonchalant and aloof like he's commenting on the weather.

It doesn't help that he's never truly made a move on you. He considers you his friend and acts that way (most of the time, at least). You hate every moment because being his friend is the last thing you want.

"I take it you're not gonna race tonight?" He asks, already knowing the answer. He just needed an excuse to talk to you. Digging into his bag of chips, he grabbed another one to pop into his mouth.

"Not unless it's against you," you respond cheekily.

Han chuckles, "Not you too."

"Are you afraid of losing, Han?" You ask him, keeping your eyes on the race about to start. Why else would he avoid racing you?

Han props one arm on the roof of his car, facing you and saying, "If you're into racing, you can't be afraid to lose, Angel."

"Then why don't you spoil me a little and race me?" You hum, turning your head to face him. He's much closer than you anticipated, but you resist the urge to pull back despite the reddening of your cheeks. You want Han to know you like him even if you refuse to say it out loud.

"Maybe one day when I have something to race for," he responds simply, kissing your cheek and turning back to watch the race.

You release a shaky sigh and try to calm your pounding heart. Extending a hand, you dip your fingers into Han's nearly empty bag of chips and steal one for yourself. Han doesn't mind lowering the bag to make it easier for you. There's a smirk on his face as he fully well knows what he did. It's fun to make you flustered.

Han is out on the streets of Tokyo doing business or collecting his money from the greedy hands of wanna be gangsters. It's entertaining, to say the least, although sometimes it gets tedious. It's only fun when they get rowdy and want to intimidate him. They should know better than to judge Han by his calm exterior.

He's walking by the busy streets of Shibuya, the shopping district of Tokyo, minding his business. Han avoids the masses of people until he looks into a store and sees you. You're by the checkout desk, ringing out a client.

Han can't help it; he's drawn to you. Forgetting the wad money he has to collect, he enters the store. The bell on top of it chimes, prompting you to greet the customer in an abnormally cheery tone.

"Hello, welcome to-Han?" You stutter over the greeting, seeing his slightly mocking grin.

Han walks over to you and leans on the counter, there was barely anyone in the store now. Perfect timing. He assesses you and your overly pink clothes, bedazzled name tag, and glossy pink lips. It's unlike you to be so pink. He recalls you telling him you hate the wretched color.

"So this is where you work, Angel," he hums, toying with the trinkets on the checkout counter.

"Not everyone can survive with racing and sketchy side deals," You mutter. One hand on your tilted hip as you shoot him an annoyed look.

If racing made you enough money, you certainly would not be working in a store that makes you wear pink on every single shift. You could get more involved in the sketchy part of racing, but things are alright for now.

"True," Han stifles a laugh. He grabs a lollipop from the big jar filled with sweets for the paying customers and pops it into his mouth.

You extend a hand to throw away the colorful wrapping, and he places it gently on your hand, fingertips grazing your palm. You're not a teenager to be reacting over such minuscule actions, yet you do.

"What are you doing here, Han?" Han adores it when you say his name that way, pretending to be annoyed by his presence when in reality, you love having him around.

"Wanted to visit my favorite girl," he responds aloofly, carefully gauging your reaction. As he expected, your cheeks redden, and you try to hide it.

"Did you know lying makes your nose grow long," you scoff, rolling your eyes.

"Could be useful," Han says cheekily, causing your blush to deepen.

"If you're not going to buy anything, you can't be here," you shoot with a pout.

You weren't prepared to face Han this afternoon. You didn't get to repeat your affirmation as you do every night you encounter him. His constant playfulness throws you off, not giving you the opportunity to compose yourself.

"Oh no, consumerism got its claws on you," he jokes sarcastically. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, which only emphasizes the size of your chest. "Fine, help me find a new jacket?"

You round the counter and motion for Han to follow you toward the men's section. Your coworker will have no problem taking over the checkout counter.

You shoot Han question after question in search of the perfect jacket for him: colors, textures, durability, versatility, sizing, and so on. He responds just as quickly, propping an arm up and leaning against a rack of clothes as he watches you storm all over the store in search of the item that screams Han. He had no intentions of buying anything today but seeing how invested you got it leaves him no choice.

"I quite like this one," you beam, standing Han in front of a full-length mirror. You slide off the jacket he's wearing and replace it with the nice black leather jacket you found for him. Dusting him off, you look into the mirror seeing how perfectly it fits his broad shoulders.

"Why do I feel like you're giving me the most expensive one?" Han asks, looking at himself in the mirror.

He had to admit you picked well. He looks great in the black leather jacket. It didn't have too many buckles to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't too warm either. The material felt nice and luxurious hence his comment.

"You asked for my help," you shrug, "It's not my fault I have expensive taste. Besides, you look hot in it." You wink at Han through the mirror.

Han tries to hide the smile forming on his lips. You were getting bolder and bolder. He knows about your crush on him; you're terrible at hiding it. Truthfully, he's felt the same from the moment he saw you race. You're oblivious, though, so he likes to tease you.

"I'll take it," Han sighs, refusing to look at the price tag. "Might even wear it on a date."

"Oh, you've got a date?" Your smile falters, quickly regretting picking such a nice outfit that makes him look so handsome. You'd definitely put out if a man wore that to a date and was as lovely as Han. All of your hard work just for another girl to enjoy it. If you catch one of Han's little friends wrapped around the jacket...you will burn it.

"Not yet," he says mysteriously, taking off the jacket and returning to the checkout counter. Han has to get going. He does have to collect his money. Especially now that you've convinced him to buy the expensive leather jacket. 'It's an investment,' he tells himself.

"She'll be one lucky girl," you huff, scanning the tag, carefully folding it, and placing it on a bag. "Don't worry, I'll apply the friends and family discount."

You watch Han go through the display window and hope he was just fucking with you on the whole date thing. You can live with your crush and have him as just a friend, but if he gets a girlfriend, you will not be able to manage it. You scold yourself silently for acting like a lovesick teenager. You're better than that. Right?

Taking the party to Han's club after a race is a must, especially after winning six thousand dollars. You won't have to worry about rent for at least six months, which is something to celebrate.

You park next to Han's car, and he waits for you to enter the plain-looking building. People greet him left and right as they go through the door that pours music and lights each time it's opened.

"You sure are popular," you tease him, leisurely walking towards him.

"Comes with the territory," Han responds without missing a beat. "Ready?" He asks, motioning for you to walk ahead of him.

"Always," you chirp. You purposefully accentuate the sway of your hips, giving Han something to look at.

Being a Friday night, the inside is filled to the brim, there isn't any space for more drunken people. Using your short height to your advantage, you easily find a way to the connecting hallway between this part of the club and the more exclusive one.

Han isn't as lucky constantly losing you from his sight. He's conscious that you are a grown woman capable of making your own decisions and caring for yourself, but he'd feel better being with you.

When he catches up to you at a point, he grabs your hips, pressing you against him, preventing you from getting lost again. You look back, startled, expecting to see a stranger rubbing against you. Noticing this, Han quickly calms you, "It's just me, Angel."

'It's just Han,' you repeat to yourself. You grab onto one of his hands, holding onto your hip, taking full advantage of the situation. Having Han wrapped around you feels like being on cloud nine. If this wasn't his club, you'd be going in circles, so he never pulls away.

With Han holding onto you, the way to the 'not-so-secret' hallway takes longer than usual. Not that you're complaining, though! Han's firm grip makes you fall harder for him. It fuels your imagination on how it would feel in other situations.

Han enjoys this position just as much as you do. He can pretend it's a safety thing as he steers you away from the sweaty bodies of drunks dancing, but it's for his selfish gain.

Having your body close to him reminds him of what he's missing and desperately desires. It started as a little innocent game for Han, knowing you had a crush on him, but then it turned into something more. He likes that you have feelings for him and wants it to stay that way. Han wants your attention on him all the time. His games are over; he wants you.

To your surprise, Han doesn't let go of your waist when you enter the hallway. Instead, he slings one arm around it as he walks beside you. "Maybe we should've taken the other entrance," he smirks.

"And miss the show?" You chuckle, finding a couple making out in the deserted hallway. Neither is willing to admit it's not about the show but about Han's proximity.

Unlike all the other times in the past you've partied with Han, he doesn't let go of you for more than two minutes. You dance all night together, just the two of you, no girls coming up to Han and no guys coming up to you. There simply wasn't a window of opportunity.

"You enjoying yourself?" He says in your ear over the loud music. Your back is against his front as your sway and roll your body to the beat. One of his hands is nursing a drink, and the other is right where it should be, on you.

"I won 6k and have a cute guy buying me drinks and dancing with me. What do you think?" You giggle, turning in his arms to face him instead. The drinks stop you from overthinking and let you wrap your arms around his neck. Faces close. You want to kiss him so bad you're not drunk enough, though, and it's not the way you'd like to do it, either.

"Just making sure," he smiles down at you, hand on your lower back.

The night is long, yet with Han, it goes by so fast. Sooner than you'd prefer, he walks you to your car, no longer holding onto your waist but your hand. There are only a few stragglers left behind who refuse to acknowledge the night is over. You and Han are two of them.

Reaching your white and red, modified skyline Han opens the door for you. With one arm propped against the open door and the other extended onto the roof, Han cages you against your car. Before you get in, you turn to face him, finding the bravery to do something you've been thinking about all night.

"Thanks for tonight, Han. I had fun," you say softly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds smoothly, brushing his fingers on your naked shoulder. The jacket you wore earlier was discarded somewhere in the bar. An excuse for Han to see you outside the races.

"Well, goodnight." Gathering every particle of bravery, you stand on your toes and peck his lips softly.

It's only a tiny, innocent kiss, yet it makes Han close his eyes. It happens too quickly for his liking. You have been growing bolder, bold enough to kiss him. He needs to step up his game.

Taking advantage of his distracted state, you close your car door and rev the engine. On the drive to your apartment, you squeal in excitement. Fingers ghost over your lips, replaying the small kiss over and over again.

Another chance at a race becomes available only days after your win. Men love to challenge women, especially those who are winning, much like you are.

They hate seeing you be successful, but it doesn't bother you in the least. It's another opportunity to win cash or a car, which you can use for parts and sell what you don't need.

As you roll up to the starting line, Han approaches your window, leaning down to duck his head in.

"Come to give me a good luck kiss?" You speak playfully, lips turned up into a smile.

You two haven't talked about what happened at the club and have continued to act as you usually do. He's been more touchy with you, though, often trying to find a way to be close to you. Being the lovestruck fool you are, you've encouraged it, finding those ways to let him be close.

"We both know you don't need luck. You've got this in the bag, Angel." Han speaks encouragingly, "Tell you what, though. You win, and it's yours."

"Making me earn it, I see," you laugh, shaking your head. "Alright, you've got a deal. See you on the other side."

Han is confident you'll win. With a last reassuring tap on your door, he steps back, finding his place in the crowd.

Your opponent finally drives up to the starting line, sending you an unnecessary nasty look you laugh at. The flag girl stands between the two cars, her dress leaving nothing to the imagination. You respect it. They are a lot more confident than you are in that department.

You are off when the word 'go' falls from her lips. You knew this track by heart, having raced it so many times. You knew exactly when to hit the gas and when to press the brake to get the car to swerve. Han's full attention is on your race, and when your car disappears to another level, he takes the elevator up to the top floor, where the finish line is. Watching you race is interesting. You always come up with ways to confuse your opponents.

With a bag of chips, he anxiously waits for your victory. Regardless of your ability to race and win, your races make him nervous. He cares about you, and so many things can go wrong.

The noisy crowd gets louder as the sound of tires screeching gets closer. In seconds, your car swerves onto the top floor, again marking you as the victor. There's not a scratch or bump in your car. Your opponent arrives shortly after with dents and long scratches in his paint.

The crowd cheers loudly for you, coming up to you to congratulate you and tell you how cool you looked. Your opponent comes up to you and hands you his keys with a scowl. You shrug it off. A deal is a deal.

Winning leaves you on a high, a feeling of invincibility wrapping around you. You've learned to control it because that feeling caused a big loss years ago. You get distracted by the people around you and forget Han's promise. It's funny because it was the only thing running through your head while you raced.

"Good job out there," Han says, catching up to you later in the night once the hype died down.

"Why, thank you!" You chirp, closing the hood of your car and leaning back to sit on it.

"I believe I made a promise," Han mentions, stepping close to you until you're face to face, only a few inches between the two of you. "You did," you nod, biting your lip.

Han notices this, bringing a hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging your lip loose from the tight hold of your teeth. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You slide on the warm metal of your car, placing a hand on his chest to brace yourself as Han settles between your legs.

"I'm a man of my word," he whispers, finally leaning down to press his eager lips against yours. Han is greedy for many things, and your lips are one of them. Ever since that night at the club, he's wanted to smash his lips against yours, to feel you close, taste you.

Your eyes instantly flutter close, fisting Han's shirt in your hand as if afraid he'll pull away too quickly. The kiss starts slowly as you both test the waters, but it soon becomes not enough. Han tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

It's an electric shock that consumes him and doesn't let him go. This is the result of Han holding himself back, and you made it worse when you gave him a taste the other night.

Han slips a hand under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. You gasp against his lips, arching your back as his cold fingers catch you by surprise. It serves as an opportunity for Han, his tongue pushing past your pouty lips, savoring the moment.

You gave into him, offering everything you have in exchange for this moment. His warmth wraps around you, burning you from the inside out. The need to breathe makes itself present too soon and becomes far more demanding than the need for each other's lips.

Han pulls away, your bottom lip between his teeth. You're breathless, as if you ran a marathon. You feel lightheaded, intoxicated by Han, who continues to peck your lips softly. He might be addicted already. The tips of his fingers draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.

"So this is what winning feels like," you breathe out, smoothing Han's shirt with your palms. A futile way to hide their shakiness.

Han laughs, pressing his face against your neck and leaving a fleeting kiss behind. "Appears so, Angel."

A perk of being Han's friend is using his garage whenever you want. The days of paying for a spot to fix your car in a stranger's garage are far in the past. At the moment, you've spent the most part of the afternoon upgrading your car. The car you won on your last race sits beside yours with the hood popped open as you switched around pieces. He had quality parts, and his driving still sucked.

Twinkie, Earl, and the others are scattered around the large garage, working on different things and chattering. You had purposefully picked a spot away from them so you wouldn't get distracted. With work, your time is limited.

Han is on the second floor, leaning against the railing and pretending to watch the first floor and what they are doing. In reality, he is watching you closely.

You're bent over the hood of the car, working on unscrewing a tight bolt, cursing at the man who installed it initially. It's a sight straight out of his dreams. Your Nike sweatpants hung low on your hips, framing your ass perfectly. If he focused, he'd see the dimples on your lower back. His mind ran wild at the thought of pressing his thumbs against them while taking you from behind.

It's been a while since he's slept around. He cut himself off when he realized his feelings for you. What was the point of sleeping around if he wouldn't be satisfied? Those girls weren't you. They were temporary relief. Now, his pants tighten at anything you do. It's like he's seventeen again and unable to keep it in his pants.

He followed the curve of your ass to your arched back and the cropped shirt you wore. The matching crew neck sweater you arrived in is discarded in your car due to the heat. The revealing shirt rose with each of your movements, revealing the band of your baby blue bra. You tug on it for the millionth time today, annoyed.

The strands of hair you curled to frame your face stick uncomfortably to your sweaty forehead. You regret not putting them back into the two braids that fell over your shoulders.

Han needed to rip his eyes away from you before the others noticed. He's been staring for too long, fantasizing about everything he could do to you. To Han, you looked even more beautiful than you did that night with your sparkly dress and makeup. A woman who knows her way around a car is instantly a hundred times more attractive in his eyes.

As he accidentally visualizes you taking his cock from that same exact position, car included, you groan and straighten up. "I need help," you whine to no one in particular. The bolt is not budging, no matter how hard you try.

Han snaps out of his fantasy and springs into action, quickly appearing by your side. You've bent over again, wrench in hand, to give it one more try before giving up. He leans beside you, a hand on your lower back for faux support.

"What's the matter, Angel?" He says softly, one hand propping him up as he looks at the machinery under the hood. It's better if he helps you. He can't continue listening to your whines and groans.

"I need to unscrew those," you point at the bolts giving you a hard time.

Han asks for the wrench in your hands, and you place it in his hand, annoyed. You don't need the help of a man to do this, but it's Han, so you'll take it. You watch him as he places the wrench around the bolt, his arm tenses, emphasizing his muscles hidden by the short-sleeved button-up he wore over a white wife-beater tank.

His hair fell around his eyes as he successfully unscrewed the bolts. Feminism died as you lustfully took in Han, biting your lip. 'What a man,' you thought. You would've instantly refused the help if he had been any other guy.

"There you go," Han says, handing you the wrench. When he spares you a glance, he laughs softly. Good to know he has the same effect you have on him.

"Whatever would I do without you," you purr, shooting him a mischievous smile, "You deserve a reward." That's what it has come to, silly excuses to kiss Han because you're just friends. Nothing more.

Han looks at your lips briefly before snapping back to your eyes. You grin at him, leaning closer to kiss him for his 'hard work.' You know that he's been watching you all this time; you saw it from the reflective surface of the toolbox. Seeing his quickness to help you makes you believe he enjoyed the show.

Your lips brush teasingly against his, and just before Han can grab the back of your neck to stop the teasing, a loud bang tears through the room. Both you and Han pull away to see where the sound comes from, but Han bangs his head on the car's hood in the process.

"What the hell was that?" Han yells, rubbing the back of his head. He's annoyed that he's been interrupted.

"Sorry! The motor I was working on fell!" Earl exclaims from the other side of the garage, unaware of the daggers Han is throwing him.

"Best I get back to work," you quietly say with a chuckle, taking the piece you needed out of the car to bring it to yours.

"Yeah," Han says simply, reluctantly leaving to do his own thing.

Each and everyone that's in Han's garage returns to their business after the noisy interruption. Twinkie turns on a radio, blasting music to drown out the silence and clanking of tools. You work without interruption for the next three hours, giving your car all the love it deserves.

You clean your hands free of the motor oil and grease and search for Han. Your work for today was done. Now that you took anything valuable from the car you won, you had to sell it. You figured Han could do that for you.

"Hey, are you busy?" You ask him, seeing him working on a part by his desk.

"Nah, what's up, Angel?" He questions, dropping the screwdriver in his hand to focus all his attention on you.

Leaning on the desk casually, you begin speaking, "After I replace the bumper and give it a new paint job, can you sell that car for me?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," glancing at the car, Han agrees. It's a popular car in the racing world, and as soon as he gets the word out he's selling it, many offers will pop up.

"You're the best, Han!" You beam at him, pushing yourself off the desk to return downstairs.

"Angel, wait," he calls after you. Being your friend has been fun, yet he needs more. You shouldn't have to come up with excuses to kiss him; you should be able to do it freely whenever you want.

"Yes, Han," you ask softly, tilting your head in question.

Standing up from the rolling chair, he approaches you, "Do you want to go on a date?"

A grin sneaks past your lips before you even process what he said. Instantly, you nod your head, "I'd love to." You could combust at that moment. Finally, after months of pining, Han asked you out.

"Let's go," he smiles, grabbing your hand and guiding you to his car.

"Wait, now?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Yes, unless you have something more important," he asks, teasing you.

"Nothing is more important, but I'm a mess," you shake your head hesitantly. You spent your afternoon working on cars, sweating, and getting covered in grease. You didn't think it would be in sweatpants when you pictured going on a date. Not to mention the state of your hair.

"No, you're not. If you must know, you've had me distracted all day," Han whispers the last part in your ear, trying to convince you even if it means giving himself away.

"Am I supposed to apologize?" You question, the corner of your lip curving into a sultry smile. You had been right all along.

"No, just agree to the date. Be spontaneous," Han bounces his eyebrows cutely.

"Let's do it," you sigh, hoping you won't regret it.

"Atta girl," Han smiles victoriously.

Han tries to remember the last time he had a proper date. Even with his ex, they just sort of happened. No date ever officially branded as such. It's why rather than asking you and waiting for the day to arrive, he decided to do it spontaneously. It leaves him no time to be nervous or to overthink things.

You slide your sweatshirt back on on the way out to shield yourself from the chilly Japanese night. Han opens the door to his car for you, shutting the door when you slip in. The drive is short as he takes you to a small family-owned sushi place he swears by.

"I'm surprised you eat more than chips and crackers," you joke with him as the food arrives, and he takes a bite.

"I definitely eat more than that," Han replies nonchalantly, referring to something else entirely. It's something you don't catch despite your dirty mind.

A discussion develops when you discover Han always orders the same thing in the restaurant. He's in Japan. He needs to throw himself into the culture and try new things.

Starting easy, you grab a piece of sushi from your plate, "You need to try this."

"I don't know," Han grimaces as he looks at the sushi held in your chopsticks.

"That's not an answer. Open your mouth," you groan, gently placing the sushi roll in his mouth.

You watch him chew slowly, getting a feel for the new food. "It's good," he agrees, liking whatever you had ordered. It was delicious, actually.

"Better than yours, right?" You ask him, knowingly, pointing your chopsticks at him.

"Yes," he rolls his eyes, refusing to give you the satisfaction.

"Told you," you sing, grabbing both plates and placing them in the middle of the table. Now you could each grab from both and share your meals.

The date goes smoothly. It's a wonder why the two of you hadn't gone to dinner before today. You already know Han is attentive and funny but his wisdom surprises you. He's already lived through so much, more than an average person. Despite being a couple years older than you, he retains his youth. That may be why he appeals to a younger crowd as well.

"What was your life like growing up?" You ask him, taking a drink from your Coke. Han ordered another plate of sushi to share, the one you chose earlier.

"My upbringing wasn't the best," he shrugs, remembering his life in California as a teen. "I was always in trouble."

"Why does something tell me that you were the one causing the trouble," you say, narrowing your eyes.

"I definitely was," he chuckles, "But in the end, it brought me here, and I'm happy."

Han believes in the timing of life. He's been after Tokyo for so long. Before stepping foot in Tokyo, he had to go through the Dominican Republic, Rio, Germany, Shanghai, London, and many more places. It was supposed to happen that way, or he wouldn't have met you.

"I knew it," you sigh dramatically, "I've always been into bad boys."

"What about you, Angel?" He returns the question, curious about your past.

"I grew up in a normal Japanese family. My dad's a mechanic, my mom a nurse, and my sister a pain in the ass. I went to school for engineering and graduated with top honors," you tell him, reminiscing on your not-as-impressive past.

"You say that as if it's easy to graduate with top honors," Han chides you, to which you roll your eyes. "Why work retail? Doesn't engineering make you a lot more money?"

"Don't laugh, okay?" You point at Han. When he agrees not to laugh, you continue, "I wanted to be a Formula 1 racer when I was younger. My dad signed me up to participate in smaller competitions, and I was pretty damn good. My mom was totally against it and forced my dad and me to quit.

Fast forward, I'm in college, and engineering seemed like the way to go. Learned about street racing and figured that could be a way back into my dream. It's a foolish thought. The professionals spend years in proper circuits practicing and competing. No one comes with a background of illegal racing."

Han wasn't expecting that answer. He assumed you hated engineering and did it to appease your parents. He wonders why you thought he would laugh. Your dream is nothing to laugh at. Having witnessed your racing, you undoubtedly had the innate talent. "So retail?" He prompts, realizing you didn't answer the first question.

Snapping your fingers, you say, "Right! I figured I'd always have my degree. I'd rather spend my time having fun now; when the time comes, I'll return to that. I do like it, but I'm not ready to commit to a life of 9 to 5's. I prefer spending my time in the wee hours of the night racing. Since I can't be a Formula 1 racer, I'll be a street racer. Much cooler, anyways."

"That takes guts," Han tells you, "I'm glad you're doing it."

You give him a little shrug and a smile because you were too. Despite your childish dream dying when your mom forced you to quit, you're still happy with your life. Especially if you end up with a guy like Han.

Han, being a gentleman, pays for dinner. Before returning to the car, you stop by a convenience store for dessert. Han follows you buying snacks for himself. In search of something sweet, you find a shelf filled with Pocky. You grab the chocolate-covered ones with a plan in mind.

You and Han sit at a table outside the convenience store. It was getting late, so only a few people were around. You open the packet of Pocky, taking out a chocolate-covered stick.

"Have you ever played the Pocky game?" You ask, taking a bite of the treat.

"No. What is it?" Han looks at you curiously.

"Essentially, you grab one end of the Pocky stick, and I grab the other. We have to eat it, but if one of us pulls away, they lose," you respond simply, hiding the game's purpose.

"That sounds awfully like Lady and the Tramp," Han mentions, catching onto your intentions.

Offering him a stick, you say, "Want to play?"

Han smiles at you and grabs the Pocky stick placing the biscuit end between his teeth. You hold the chocolate-covered end and tap his hand to start. You both take it slow, Han opting to stay still as you near his lips. You tilt your head when you're close to his lips, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss you when only a small piece is left.

You smile into the chocolate-flavored kiss. If you wanted to kiss Han, you could've done it without so many sneaky plans or excuses, but it wouldn't be as fun.

"So, who won?" Han asks when you pull away.

"Does it matter?" You cheekily say, pulling him back in for another kiss.

There's no flaw in your reasoning. Han pulls you close, lifting your legs to lie in his lap. You spend more time than you care to admit making out outside the convenience store.

Han offers to drive you to your apartment since your car needs to be finished. Throughout the drive, his hand is laced with yours in your lap. Small talk flows between you as you continue to learn about each other.

Smoke coming from your apartment building cuts that conversation short. Firefighters stand outside the building, spraying water into the source of the fire. Han steps out of the car with you to ask anyone what is going on.

Noticing the building manager across the street, you approach him. He quickly blurts out all the information he knows. You're one of many of the tenants to approach him. "There's a fire on the sixth floor. We don't know the damage yet. I understand this is your residence, but you need somewhere else to say for the next few days while we asses the damage and inspect the building."

"What am I going to do?" You groan, covering your face with your hands. You worry about where you'll stay and your stuff in your apartment. You have important documents in there.

"You can stay with me," Han offers without a hint of hesitation.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose." It's nice of Han to offer you a place to stay, but would it be too much at this stage of their situationship. Last thing you want is to push boundaries.

"You're not imposing. Let me help you," Han insists, grabbing your hand to rub soothing circles in it. It's a given he has feelings for you, but before that, you are his friend, and he's not going to leave you out on the streets or sleeping in your car.

Han offers you calming words on the way to his apartment. Your apartment is on the twelfth floor and the other side of the fire. Chances are that your stuff will probably be fine. Whether the building will close for renovations is another matter entirely.

His apartment is just another level to the building he owns. Its entrance is on a more private side. Inside, it's very clean and organized, a surprise since you expect most guys to be messy. Picture frames and knick knacks are scattered throughout the space, giving you more of a glimpse into Han's life.

It's quiet between the two of you but comfortable. Han is giving you time to process what you saw in your building. He offers you his shower if you'd like, and when you brought up you didn't have any clothes, he searched for a clean t-shirt and sweatpants you could borrow from him.

A shower is just what you need as you let the water cascade down your body. Fire aside, it has been a great day, even before Han asked you on a date. Hope fills your being at the prospect of soon beginning a relationship with Han. So far, everything points out it can happen. There haven't been any red flags or hesitation from him.

You change into the oversized t-shirt Han picked out for you and the spare pair of underwear you always carry in your bag. Smart girls know to carry a spare in case of emergencies. You debate about wearing the sweatpants he left for you but choose against it. The t-shirt covers enough.

You shyly make your way out of the bathroom in search of Han. You find him in the bedroom, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket. "The bed is yours," he mentions, eyes briefly trailing your naked legs.

"Where will you sleep?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. If anyone has to sleep on the couch, it should be you.

"I'll take the couch," he responds, as you expected.

"Han, stop being a gentleman and get in bed with me," you say, taking the pillow from his grasp and placing it back on the top of the bed.

He offers you an 'Are you sure?' look, and you nod confidently. He doesn't need to be told twice. Han steps out of the bedroom for a few minutes and grabs a shower. Taking that time, you get on the bed to get comfortable, it's soft, and you sink into it.

You're snoozing off when he returns to the room. Han carefully peels back the sheets and gets under them. Feeling the bed dip, you turn to the side to face him.

Your sleepy mood makes you cuddle up to him without much thought. The smell of his soap invades your senses. Han naturally accepts it, throwing an arm around your waist and hugging you closer, legs intertwined. He kisses the top of your head, finding comfort in the position.

Thankful doesn't begin to cover how you feel. There's this overwhelming sense of security that comes with Han. There is something about him that makes you trust him. Deep down, you know he wouldn't intentionally hurt you.

"How are you feeling?" Han checks up on you before you fall asleep.

"I'm okay. I hope none of my things got damaged," you mumble into his chest, pressing a kiss into it afterward. "Thank you for everything, Han. Your help with the car, the date, letting me invade your bed," you finish with a soft laugh.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds truthfully. If he can help you in any way, he will. Sleep consumes both quickly after, and it becomes the best night you've both had in a while.

The following day you're the first to wake. Han's arms are around your waist, and you feel his breath tickle the back of your neck. He's warm, and you just want to sink into it even more. Your need to pee pries you out of his embrace, though. 

As carefully as possible, you slip out of his loose grasp and head to the bathroom. Han had picked out a toothbrush for you the night before, which you're thankful for. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you cook breakfast for Han as a 'thank you' for his hospitality.

You pick the ingredients you need from his fridge, careful not to make too much noise. Your progress is slower than you prefer as you get used to the kitchen layout and localize everything you might need.

Soon enough, you drop pancake batter into the pan, and while that cooks, you scramble eggs with veggies. Since it's his kitchen, you assume he'll like what you make. It's his ingredients, after all.

Just after finishing the last batch of pancakes, you hear the patter of Han's feet entering the kitchen. You turn to glance at him quickly and greet him, "Good morning! I made you breakfast, sit!"

"You didn't have to do that," Han says, coming up behind you. He traps you between his body and the stove as if having you close last night wasn't enough.

"Yes, I did! You let me stay here, borrow clothes, sleep in your bed," you flip the pancakes as you count all the nice things he's done in less than 24 hours.

Humming, unconvinced, Han kisses your cheek and thanks you. It sends a tingle between your legs as his voice is raspy and deep from sleep. Your cheeks flare up, betraying you as always.

Han follows your orders and sits by the kitchen table, waiting till you're done to begin eating. With that time in his hands, he observes you. You're wearing the t-shirt he loaned you, which swallowed your frame. Each time you flipped a pancake, it rose slightly to reveal the light green fabric of your panties. Han soaked the sight in and wondered if this was what waited for him in the near future.

His eyes continue trailing down to your thick thighs. He wouldn't mind being trapped between them. Lower and lower, his gaze went from your pretty legs to your varnished toes. Back up, it went as you turned off the stove and approached the table. You weren't wearing a bra under the t-shirt, as your nipples poked through the thin fabric.

Han's glad he didn't notice these things last night, or he wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink. Spreading his legs, he tried to hide the hard-on he was sporting. None the wiser, you sit on the empty chair near him and tell him to eat up.

Shooing the dirty thoughts from his mind, Han thanks you one more time and digs in. It's a lovely morning, with light chatter bouncing between you. Han praises your cooking every chance he gets and even finishes the pancakes you left over but not before drenching them in more syrup. When both of you are done, you clear the plates and place them in the sink to wash.

"Angel, come 'ere," Han calls from behind you.

Mindlessly you walk over to him, wondering what he wants. Han grabs your waist, pulling you to his lap. "Han, what are you doing? I have to do the dishes!" You squeal, holding onto him, afraid he'd let you fall.

"No, you don't," he speaks softly, one hand cupping your cheek.

"I don't?" you prompt, leaning into his touch.

"Let me properly thank you," he offers, lips chasing yours. Han can't contain himself any longer. You've done a number on him, strutting around his kitchen in your underwear. He wants you. He needs you.

You lean into the kiss as you always do, pouring everything you have into it. Tasting the coffee on his tongue, you bring your hand around the back of his neck, softly tugging the long strands of hair. Han groans into the kiss, having missed that sensation.

Repositioning yourself, you straddle Han in the rickety kitchen chair. You feel his hands all over your body, trailing down your back to grasp your ass in his palms. Every so often, you'd resurface to breathe but dip down again and again to continue kissing him.

Han feels himself harden as you rub your center against him deliciously. It's clear as day you want him just as much as he wants you.

"Want to spoil me and fuck me?" You breathe heavily, kissing Han's neck.

"So bold," Han chuckles, his hands wandering under the t-shirt to feel your warm skin, his nails faintly scratching your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Six months ago, you would've been too scared to ask me that."

Six months ago, you would've been too scared to kiss him on the cheek, but you've come a long way. As time passes, you realize your feelings are not one-sided because Han means every word he speaks to you despite his taunting nature. Each and every complement is honest.

"I got tired of waiting around for you," you bite back, nipping his neck and sucking a pretty bruise on it.

Han hisses at the momentary sting, "I thought I was just a friend?"

You laugh sarcastically, picking your head up to stare at him, "I don't let friends kiss me or grope my ass."

"What does that make me then?" Han raises an eyebrow, cheekily squeezing your ass as a smirk forms on his lips.

"Special," you shrug, lips pouty and swollen.

"Because?" He wants to hear you say that you feel something for him. It's a last hurrah on giving you a hard time for fun.

You realize it's time to be honest and come out with it. You stopped hiding your feelings a while ago. Hell, you even asked Han to fuck you. All that's left is to admit your feeling out loud. "Because I have feelings for you, Han Lue," you whisper, brushing the hair that threatens to fall over his eyes.

"That's all you had to say," Han murmurs, catching your lips in a passionate kiss.

The heat rises with each passing moment. Your feelings have now come to a boil and bubbled over. Han picks you up easily and sits you on the kitchen table. He leaves his touch on your naked back to trace the outside of your thighs. It's time to give you precisely what you asked for and what he has been fantasizing about for far too long.

Grabbing the elastic band of your panties, Han slides them down the curve of your ass and your thighs until they are off. He throws them somewhere in the room, the information unimportant for now.

"Han, please," you whine, spreading your legs wider and giving him access to your most private part. You beg between kisses to feel his touch where you need it most.

"So impatient, Angel." Han jabs lightly as his right-hand touches the inside of your thigh. The pads of his fingers brush over your thighs repeatedly, nearing the apex more and more with each stroke.

You gasp as he finally dips a finger into your folds, gathering the slick that formed to spread it around your bundle of nerves. You gasp, breaking the kiss and throwing your head back.

Han sucks on your neck and collarbones as you moan into the air. Slipping a finger into your tight walls, he groans, thinking about how they'll feel around his hard cock.

"Fuck, Han, feels so good," you sigh when Han adds another digit into your soaking core and presses on your clit with his thumb.

"I didn't realize I made you this wet," he says into your neck as you grind your hips into his hand. You must've been wanting this for as long as he has.

"Liar," you respond, staring at him with hooded eyes. The nights you've touched yourself while thinking about him are many. The real thing is a million times better.

Han watches you intently, catching every little reaction you have to his touch. The moans and whines echo through the room and are music to his ears. Without a doubt, there's a wet patch in his boxers as his tip leaks precum from the erotic sight in front of him.

Your walls clenching around him alert him you're close, and promptly after you make it known as you beg him not to stop, except he doesn't listen and stops just as you're about to cum.

"Why did you stop?" You complain, eyes wide in desperate need.

"Want you to cum on my tongue," he responds, stealing a quick kiss before he kneels on the floor. Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he scoots you closer to the edge.

His words shoot another current down your legs, no doubt making more of a mess. You wait with bated breath as Han kisses the inside of your thighs, making eye contact with you as he delves into your pussy.

He licks up from your hole up to your clit. You grasp his hair with one hand, pulling the t-shirt up with the other to better look at him going down on you. Your eyes roll involuntarily when Han wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. His long fingers find your opening once more, sliding in effortlessly.

You try to maintain eye contact with Han through it all. If his hair fell on his eyes, you'd quickly brush it back, not wanting to miss his lustful gaze. It spurred Han on to see you crumbling over him, biting your lip as you tried to hide the pretty cries that wanted to fall from your lips.

Han stops licking your clit and slows his thrusting fingers each time you near your orgasm. Time and time again, he repeats this when you're near the edge. Only when your arousal coats his hand he keeps his pace, and as you whine out, 'gonna cum, don't stop,' he slips his tongue into your pussy, tasting your cum directly from the source.

He makes a great example of what his nose can do as it brushes over your clit while he tongue fucks you. You trap Han between your legs as your pussy clenches, your orgasm coming in waves. As you relax back onto the kitchen table, Han continues to lick your puffy center, being careful with your sensitive nub.

When he stands, you fist his t-shirt, smashing your lips together, tasting your essence. "Let's take this to the bedroom," Han pants. You nod eagerly and squeal when he picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist.

You leave a trail of kisses on his neck as he makes his way to the bedroom. Once there, you both fall on the bed, Han hovering over you. He tugs on your t-shirt, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, this has to come off."

Without the shirt, he can admire your naked body. A lone finger slides down from your neck to your sternum. It slides to your side near the curve of your left breast, where a small sakura flower is tattooed.

"This is my new favorite thing about you," Han softly says, noticing you staring at him.

The tattoo was an impulsive thing to do. You had wanted a tattoo for years but never knew what to get. After your last breakup two years ago, you got the little flower instead of getting bangs and dying your hair. It has no real meaning to you. It's just a cute flower.

"You're the first to see it since I got it done," you tell him, a laugh bubbling from your lips as his touch on your ribs tickles.

"And I hope it stays that way," he responds. It's an unspoken promise. He wants you all to himself for the foreseeable future.

His finger continues the trajectory down your tummy, lightly going over your belly button before it traces over your mound and dips to touch your clit.

You gasp at the surge of pleasure as your clit remains sensitive from his previous actions. "Gotta say it's not fair that I'm the only one naked," you moan when Han continues to circle your nub.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Han incites you to see what you'll do.

Any remaining shyness you had is long gone as lust replaces it. You kneel in front of Han, who leans back to watch you. Your chest is close to his face, so when you lean closer to grab the hem of his shirt, he sucks one of your nipples. 

"Han," you whine, arching your back," "Stop distracting me."

Ignoring his mouth on you, you grab his shirt and pull it off. Successfully making him stop his attack on your breasts. You peck his lips and kiss down his jaw.

You take your time kissing his toned chest and stomach. You wish to memorize every part of him. "You're so handsome, Han," you purr, glancing up at him.

Those simple words that spilled from your mouth made his heart flutter. Han is used to being the one to dish out compliments and praise the women he's with. To have you say that is like a breath of fresh air, and he can't wait to have more.

"Fuck, Angel," he groans, grasping your chin. You kiss his palm with a smile that's equally angelic and devilish.

You want to peel two more layers off Han's body and decide to do it all at once. Grasping the band of his pants and boxers, you slowly pull them down, building anticipation.

His cock springs out of its confines, landing on Han's abdomen. You don't hide your curious gaze as you take in his cock. It's so big it makes you bite your lip in anticipation. The tip is a dark pink as it drips with precum.

After you remove his pants entirely, you grasp his cock, feeling the warmth and weight of it. Han breathes out through his nose, a futile attempt to keep his cool. A string of saliva drips from your lips, coating his hard length. Each stroke you made caused a bead of pre to spill from him.

You take it as an invitation to taste him, wrapping your lips around his head your tongue licks the beads of white. 

Han does the impossible not to push your head down to take all of him. The thought is present, though. You've barely teased him compared to how he teased you, but Han can no longer resist. 

"I need you," Han groans, calling out your name, not the nickname you've been donned for the past three years.

You don't take it for granted. Hearing your name sends you into overdrive. Han pulls you up to kiss you and lies you down on the top of the bed. He comfortably gets between your legs that hug his waist to bring him closer. His cock brushes your wet pussy, and you both hiss at the sensation. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having Han fill you entirely.

"You ready, Angel?" Han asks you. One arm holding him up and the other wrapped around your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze. Time stops ticking at that moment. It's just you and Han wrapped in each other. 

"I've been ready for the past month, Han. Fuck me, please," you plead quietly, your fingertips running up and down his back. 

"Just because you said, please." Han lines his cock up to your entrance and pushes past your lips into your warm center. Relief floods through the both of you, but it soon dissipates, and it's replaced by waves of unfiltered lust.

Han starts fucking into you deep, at the perfect pace. Your eyes involuntarily close as you feel Han's cock stretching you open and filling you like never before. Han kisses your temple and releases sexy moans into your ear with words of encouragement.

'Such a tight pussy just for me.'

'Taking me so good, Angel.'

'Can't get enough of you.'

You echo his words, encouraging him to keep fucking you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold on to anything, and your heels dig into his lower back. The closeness between you is intoxicating, your scents mixing and becoming one, his hair ticking your face, his warm skin heating up yours. 

Han slows the pace momentarily, leaning back on his knees to see your pretty cunt taking his cock. He wants to commit to memory how your pussy spreads to make way for his cock, a white ring on the base of his cock, and how your little clit is exposed and vulnerable to his touch.

The other girls he's slept with only got part of his attention and dedication. He didn't mean to make a huge impression. He only did his job, often choosing to lie back and let them do as they pleased with him. 

With you, it's different. He wants to give you his all and leave a great impression. He'll do all the work; you can just take it if that's what you want. That's the difference between you and the other girls. He lived to spoil you.

Meanwhile, you fall apart under him, moaning incoherent phrases he can barely make out. He loves hearing them, though. You reach for Han's hand as he increases his pace and grips it tightly.

Han slips his cock out of you, wanting to make his fantasy a reality. You shudder at the empty feeling and whine, "No, don't stop." 

"Come on, Angel. Get on your knees," Han coo's at you, kissing your pouty lips. "Promise you'll cum soon."

Han positions you on your knees, your back arched as your tits rub against the bed sheets. You huff through it all, desperate to have him pounding into you again. He smacks your ass when you wiggle it to get him to do what you want.

Han enters you in one smooth motion, this position amplifying your pleasure as he hits the spongy spot inside of you more directly.

"Han!" You cry out, fisting the sheets underneath you. 

"I'm right here, Angel," Han breathes, snapping his hips rhythmically. 

Just as he visualized, he grabs your hips in his large hands and digs his thumbs into the dimples on your back. With a tight hold, he thrusts into you unrelentingly, and you push back onto him just as eagerly. Your cries are muffled by the pillow you're hugging to your face.

Your pussy swallows him with each thrust, even as it clenches to prepare for orgasm. He can't hold back any longer as his balls clench with each faltering thrust, and your walls squeeze him tighter than ever.

" 'm cumming," you squeal, your legs tense up and shake. Your walls contract and release in a rhythmic motion that sends Han over the edge, your name on the tip of his tongue.

Han pulls out of you, helping you get back onto a comfortable position, and lies beside you, catching his breath. He turns to look at you, and you do the same. You can't hold his gaze long as you furiously blush.

Han laughs, grabbing your hand to lace your fingers together. "You can't get shy now!"

"I can't control it!" You exclaim, hiding your face with the same pillow as earlier. 

The rest of the day is spent in bed. Han ignores his daily responsibilities and stays in, getting lost in your touch and making promises he hopes to keep.

One Year and a Half Later...

You drive up to the empty parking complex. It's similar to the one you spend your nights on. Driving up the floors, you find Han where he told you he'd be. He leans against the familiar orange car, a bag of chips in his hands. A nice lather jacket covers his arms, making you smile when you remember how he got it in the first place.

"Hey, you wanted to meet me here?" You question, getting out of your car.

Approaching him, you kiss his salty lips and wait for an explanation regarding the random meet-up spot. In the entire year and a half of you dating, he's never asked you such a weird request.

"You feeling up to race?" Han asks you, holding your hand in his.

It's been years since the two of you met, and for the same amount of time, people have been pining you two to race. He denied every request, including the ones you threw every once in a while.

"It's about time," you exclaim, excitement filling your body. "What's at stake?"

There is something up Han's sleeve. You know that much. There is something he wants from you if he suddenly wants to race you. He could just ask. You'll give him everything he desires. You play along, though.

"Winner gets the other's car," he offers, pushing himself off the car to wrap his arms around you to hug you, his thumb soothingly brushing over the spot where your tattoo is. He last saw you when you left for your new engineering job early in the morning.

"You're willing to sacrifice your car?" You chuckle, implying you are going to win.

"It's only fair," he shrugs, kissing your cheek.

With one last peck, he lets you go and gets in his car. You follow his lead, lining up your car to the imaginary starting line. Han sets up a timer, and once it went off, both cars lurched forward at high speeds. 

You focus on the race, forgetting it's Han you're competing with. You've been dying to go against him for so long, desperate to find out who was the better racer between the two. 

As expected, Han makes it hard for you. The race is neck and neck as you drift up the floors of the building. Whenever Han takes the lead, you find a way to get ahead. You see the end near, and Han threatens to surpass you, but with one last boost, you keep your position, winning the race.

You leap out of your car, feeling the high of the race. No one has kept you on your toes for so long. It's a satisfying win. Han walks out of his car more calmly, smiling, happy to see you celebrate. It didn't matter to him that you were better. You deserved it.

"I can't believe I won," you exclaim, jumping into his arms as he spins you around.

"I can, and I'm so proud," Han says, kissing all over your face.

The race's prize is forgotten as you celebrate, but Han reminds you by handing you his keys, "A deal is a deal." You take the keys from him as a mere formality. You're not taking Han's precious car. Racing him is enough for you.

The weight of the keys is strange to you. They tend to be much heavier. Opening your palm to inspect them, you see that his keychains and spare keys are missing. In their place is a diamond ring.

"Han, what-" you stutter, whipping up to look at him.

"My car is yours. I figured I could be yours too. Will you marry me?" Han takes the keys from you, getting down on one knee and removing the ring from the holder. 

From all the possible scenarios you had in mind from this clandestine meeting, Han's proposal was not one of them. Nevertheless, you have your answer instantly.

"Yes," you nod, choking back a sob.

Han grabs your hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It's a perfect fit, just like Han. You drop down in front of Han, ignoring the dirty floor, to kiss and hug him.

Han kisses away your tears, a smile permanently etched on his face. He never thought he'd see the day he would settle down, but this past year has been near perfection with you, and he doesn't see himself with anyone else.

"Did you let me win to set this up?" You ask him later that night. His arms are wrapped tightly around you as you lie on his chest.

"No," he answers simply, kissing your head.

"You let me win," you then say assertively.

"No, I did not, Angel," he answers again, hiding his smile in your hair.

"I don't believe you. We have to race again," you tell him, lifting your head to glance at him.

"I don't have a reason to. I've got everything I want right here. Take the win, Angel," Han tells you sweetly, his fingers playing with your ring.

"For now," you huff, settling back down and cuddling up to him.

Fin. 

thank you for reading! i didn't mean for it to be this long although i'm sure you guys are not complaining!

this was so much fun to write. guys like i am in love with han lue, i've spent hours on tiktok watching han lue and sung kang edits. i need help! tell me i'm not the only one like this!

requests are still open ❤️

[m-musings]

HIII

im actually so excited omg i dont wanna sound mean actually the opposite but you write for a couple of pretty dead fandoms and im just so happy to see new writers for them.

can i request hcs for rotg (either jack frost, or bunnymund, or pitch, whoever you like. maybe the three of them??? idk go nuts show nuts) with a grim reaper reader? thanks! :D

Headcanons: Jack Frost, Pitch Black and E. Aster Bunnymund with Grim Reaper! Reader

A/N: anon I'm dying at go nuts show nuts, that's the funniest shit i've read in a while but anyways yeah, all 3 sounds good to me lmao. also, I wasn't sure if you wanted platonic or romantic so i just kept it on the friendly side, i hope that's okay!

Word Count: 450 Warnings: mentions of death/ dead people

Jack:

Jack is a bit wary around you at first simply due to the nature of your job.

But once he sees just how gentle and kind you are with the souls you reap, he's back on board with getting to know you.

As he gets more comfortable with you, he'll definitely make fun of you like he does with the other guardians but he does it with love!

Jack will occasionally accompany you when you're reaping a younger soul. His presence seems to calm them down if they begin to panic, even if they sometimes can't see him.

If you ever get a break from reaping, he will invite you to participate in one of his famous snow day snowball fights as a way to forget about the sadness that sometimes comes with the responsibility of being a being of death.

He's still the excitable and reckless Jack Frost but when you're around, he's more mellowed out and - forgive the pun- chill to hang out with.

Pitch:

Pitch is intrigued by you from the start.

While he may control people's fears, it is a rare occasion for him to actually interact with one, let alone one as important as the personification of death itself.

He knows just how powerful a reaper can be so he is always sure to treat you with the respect you deserve.

The one time Pitch tried to convince you to join him against the Guardians, it ended with a scythe pointed at his neck and a stern scolding from you, so he doesn't bring that subject up around you anymore.

Pitch actually enjoys spending time with you though, he feels that your presence is much more tranquil and calm than that of the other spirits he knows.

He can be maniacal and full of himself but deep down he has a strange admiration for you and the job you do.

Bunnymund:

Bunny has known you for a long time and has come to highly regard you as an ally.

You two mesh well together, because without the deaths you take watch of, he wouldn't be able to help bring new bouts of life into the world.

He refuses to see any of the souls you may bring around The Warren though, it makes him kind of squeamish.

He will occasionally help you wrangle up a lost soul or two but it's very uncommon for him to be around during the actual reaping.

Bunnymund and you do spend the most time together just because your roles are so interconnected with one another (Guardians of Life and Death and all that).

All in all, You and Bunny are very close knit and have a great respect for one another.

[moonsgemini]

you’re on your own kid

summary: rafe cameron has loved his best friend through every season, but through the seasons of their senior year things start to get complicated.

warning: she/her, smoking, alcohol, angst, fluff, kissing, cheating ???, drugs, mutual pining, (let me know if I missed any)

wc: 4.7k

an: HIII! I’m really excited for these taylor swift fics bc her songs give me so many ideas. This took a while for me to finish & idk if I like the ending or honestly if I like it at all. I promise seeking arrangements is next on my list to post <3 Hope you guys enjoy !!!

rafe's version masterlist - masterlist

I wait patiently

he’s gonna notice me

it’s okay we’re the best of friends

-

summer

Of course when he walks in the party instantly feels like an actual party. It hadn’t been much of a party to her especially not with him around. These things got boring fast if he wasn’t by her side making her laugh and talking about anything and everything. Not having to worry about sleazy guys coming up to her or putting something in her drink because he always by her side. Always looking out.

Everybody loves him anyways. The way he carried himself charmed everyone, made them always want to have his attention. Sunglasses perched on his nose, even though it’s eleven at night, that big smile on his face. He’s bobbing his head to the music and greeting everyone, she can tell he’s in a good mood tonight. It puts her in a good mood, her fingers itching to greet him already.

When he finally reaches where she’s standing with a few of her friends he smiles even wider at her. Greeting everyone but always just looking at her. Moving to push his glasses up onto his head. She couldn’t help the smile that tuged at her lips as he side hugs her friends knowing that’s not what she’s going to get.

And she’s right, once he gets to her it’s all outstretched arms and gentle rocking as he hugs her tightly. She’s been away at her grandparents house in florida for the last week of summer. They had missed each other. Face times and text messages just didn’t feel like enough.

“You’re finally back,” He said once they pulled away.

She rolled her eyes playfully a teasing smile on her lips, “Were you counting down the days Cameron?”

He shrugged, “Maybe, I know you were.” That grin never leaving his lips.

“Now come on,” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders beginning to lead her to the kitchen of whoever’s house this was, “I need a drink and you need to tell me about Florida.”

“I already told you everything every day Rafe. Just sat out by the pool or on the beach,” She motioned towards her body, “got some new clothes.”

He raised his eyebrows eyeing her body, “Some very tiny clothes,” His eyes took in her mini skirt and tank top all the exposed skin doing something to him, “Any guys out there?” He didn’t look at her as he asked. Instead he grabbed a beer out of the fridge, cracking it open with his back to her.

She scoffed, “Florida boys? No thanks.”

He turned around smirking, “So just North Carolina boys for you?”

There was a look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite read. Every now and then he’d give it to her and her mind would spiral on what he could be thinking. She always hoped it was the same thing she was, “Mhmm only North Carolina boys.”

-

I hear it in your voice

You're smoking with your boys

I touch my phone as if it's your face

I didn't choose this town

I dream of getting out

There's just one who could make me stay

-

fall

Everything had felt boring lately. After the summer and after the start of senior year she felt like the parties in outer banks were a waste of time. It was always the same people doing the same things. Kids too young to know what’s good for them and too young to care about the consequences of their actions. Not a care in the world knowing mommy or daddy would get you out of whatever stupid decision you made.

She’d spent most of her high school career pretending to like parties and drinking. Even tried coke once but it made her feel like her brain was rotting so never again. When in reality she’d rather be home smoking on her balcony reading a good book or hanging out with her close friends around a bonfire. It was exhausting always having to put up a front that she was this social party girl.

It took her a long time to come to the realization that she didn’t have to be what people thought of her. On figure eight it felt like everyone knew your business and everyone thought they knew you. They start seeing you at parties talking to Rafe Cameron and all of a sudden you’re some party girl with a drug problem. Once people found out Rafe quit doing coke and dealing she just became the party girl. Kook prince and kook princess always stuck to each others sides, of course she was going go gain a reputation.

Once she realized that people are going to talk regardless what she did so she stopped caring. Started staying home more. Rafe kind of hated it. Because she wasn’t there anymore. But he made it work with their busy senior schedules. Always saying he can make time for his best friend. That’s what she was. His best friend.

best friend.

Even saying it in her head made her cringe. If only he knew that she wanted something more so badly. At first she didn’t even see him that way, he truly was a great friend. He listened to all her rants about music, school, books. Rafe paid attention, he was soft with her. She didn’t understand why people always said bad things about him because he never showed those sides to her.

She sighed thinking about him, sitting on her balcony. The thought of him was brought on by everyone’s instagram stories of the party currently happening. She had opted for one of those smoke on the balcony with a good show or book nights.

As she scrolled through her phone more it began to vibrate. Rafe’s contact popping up on the top of the screen. A warm feeling spread through her stomach, maybe it was just because of the weed. She pressed the green button and brought the phone up to her ear. Admiring the little picture of him first, it was one she took right before she had left for florida. He was holding up their friends dog with a big smile on his face.

“Hello?”

“Heyyy,” A raspy voice said on the other line. Immediately she knew he had been smoking as well, probably with all the guys outside. He could even still be passing the joint around. He could also be smoking a cigarette outside after he’s gotten a buzz, it was his favorite thing to do after a few beers.

She put the laptop that was resting on her to the side, bringing her knees up to her chest. Leaning her head to the side on her knees she smiled softly, “Hi Rafe, you rang?”

He can hear her smile. Rafe knows her like the back of his hand.

“I did, what are you up to?” He knows exactly what she’s doing tonight even though she didn’t even tell him.

The wide grin on her lips dulling slightly, “Uh just looking at some schools in california, also watching new girl.”

“Still wanna leave this place huh?”

She let out a breathy laugh picking at the thread on her bench, “You know me too well.”

“Of course I do. I’m coming over,” She could hear him walking on gravel.

“My parents are asleep Rafe,” It was almost one in the morning and her parents had some golf charity event early in the morning.

He laughed amused, “Okay? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean you have to climb up to my room on the second floor or stay at that party,” Her tone was stern not wanting him to get her in trouble but also praying he’ll come and not wake them.

“Hey I gotta convince you to stay close to me after high school so you brought this on yourself,” He was walking to her house. She didn’t live too far from where this party was and he didn’t want to drive after smoking and drinking. At his words her hand tightened around her phone closing her eyes for a second imagining he was there saying that to her but in a different context.

Rafe didn’t have to do anything to convince her. He was the only one who kept her here. It was why she was still mulling over the idea of leaving the outer banks.

“You better at least be bringing a joint for us,” She sighed feeling giddy about him coming over. He always made her feel like a school girl with a big crush on the cutest boy in school.

“Already had one with your name on it babe,” He always threw that word around like it meant nothing. It meant everything to her.

They bid their goodbyes as Rafe was a few houses away. Less than ten minutes later she heard rustling under her. Rafe was climbing the tree by her room. He stepped onto the ledge before getting hoping down.

“Rafe,” She shushed him harshly hoping her dad didn’t hear. His heavy feet landing with a thud.

He looked at her with a smirk, “oops.” He shrugged not really caring if he was loud. Grabbing her legs that were laid out on the bench and sat down placing them on top. One hand on her shin and the other right above her knee.

He leaned his head back looking at her. That contagious grin on his face his eyes hooded and a bit red from his night out, “So ms. I wanna run away. What’s this thing you’re trying to escape,”

She sighed leaning back, “Dunno. I guess everything. I want to start somewhere new, it’s hard when people think they know everything about you.”

He let out a short laugh, “Yeah tell me about it. Maybe we should escape together, I think you’re the only person who doesn’t see a douche bag when they look at me.”

Her heart burst. If they were in a cartoon there’d be hearts swirling around her head and violins playing.

She shook her head smiling, “No one sees you as a douche bag,” She smirked, “anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter because the family company will be mine after college and people will see that I’m more than just a pretty face with a bad attitude,” He smirked.

“You are a pretty face with a bad attitude,” She agreed before holding her hand out, “Also you have something for me no?”

He patted her legs, “How could I ever think you forgot.”

They smoked and talked all night. She put on a movie on her laptop but it was more of background noise. At almost four in the morning she started to drift off to sleep and soon she was asleep on Rafe’s lap. She just felt so comfortable and warm with his hand rubbing circles on her shoulder.

He carried her to her bed and tucked her in because he knew she got cold easily. He sat next to her on the bed and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. A small smile on his face, these were the nights he cherished with her. When the world felt so quiet that it seemed like they were the only people existing. No interruptions from their friends or their parents.

Just him and his girl.

-

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

-

winter

She pushed through the crowd of people while scanning the room for the 6’2 man she was meeting. It was the first party she had come to since summer and she was only there because he had begged her to come. It was a christmas sweater party so she had on a red sweater with kittens playing with presents. She had gotten it with Rafe a week ago at a vintage store, it was the whole reason he even brought up this party. Telling her it’d be the perfect place to wear it to.

Spotting her friend Emma she went up to her, “Hey have you seen Rafe? he hasn’t been answering me.”

“I swear I saw him going to the bathroom like a few minutes ago,” She pointed towards the hallway.

“Thanks,” She waved and walked towards the hall.

It was much quieter in this part of the house. She’d never been here before so she didn’t know where the bathroom was. There was a door on her right and left and one straight ahead. She decided to check them all. She opened the door on the left and it was just a closet with towels. The door on her right was the bathroom. She was confused because wasn’t he supposed to be there.

She turned towards the last door and saw some light coming from under. She had a gut feeling this wasn’t going to be good. Slowly she walked towards the door and opened it just like ripping a band aid off and

ouch.

Rafe on top of Taylor Thompson. His hand under her sweater and his lips on her. Taylor’s hands in his hair. At the sound of the door opening Rafe turned around and the girl under him sat up to look.

“Shit,” He muttered feeling his heart sink.

She stood there in complete shock for a second before speaking, “Sorry to interrupt.” She slammed the door closed. Holding back her tears until she was in her car alone. Her feet knowing where to take her as her mind was elsewhere. Why would he do that? The last few months had felt different to her. It felt like there was a possibility of something more.

It felt like he literally ripped her heart out and shoved out down Taylor Thompson’s throat. That blonde bi-

“Y/n! Wait!” Rafe called as he chased after her.

She ignored him not really wanting to see him until she got her emotions in order. Now it was clear he wanted nothing to do with her and never cared about her, at least not in the say way. She didn’t want him to see her cry over him, it felt pathetic. They were outside now she had finally reached her car. Clicking the buttons to unlock it furiously.

“Stop!” Rafe said as he jogged to push her car door closed before she opened it all the way.

“What!” She yelled turning around to him. A look of anger in her eyes.

He took a step back seeing how upset she actually was, “I-It’s not what it looks like.”

She rolled her eyes, “I don’t care Rafe.” Crossing her arms defensively.

He furrowed his brows, “Then why are you leaving?”

“Because I can.”

“Y/n-“

“Rafe! I don’t want to third wheel all night so go fuck Taylor Thompson like you want, I don’t give a shit.” She seethed, tears pricking at her eyes.

He shook his head, “I don’t want to fuck her.”

“Then why were you kissing her?”

“I thought you didn’t care,” Now he was getting mad for some reason.

“Fuck you Rafe.”

He laughed bitterly, “Tell me why it bothered you so much.”

She scoffed confused, “What?”

“Why did me kissing her bother you?”

“Because it didn’t bother you. You just didn’t care,”

“About what?” He took a step closer. He was trying to get her to say it. To say that she cared because she liked him.

He knows he fucked up but after her reaction he realized that he had convinced himself she didn’t care when she did. Then he may have taken a few shots and gone into the guest room to breathe and call her. But then Taylor Thompson came in right when the tequila was kicking in and things got blurry. She was on him and he didn’t stop it and she tugged him on the bed and he just couldn’t move or stop. He also couldn’t stop thinking about y/n as it was all happening, wishing it was her.

“About me,” She sighed looking down voice so small.

“I care about you.”

She looked up at him with a frown. She sighed frustrated being able to hold her tears anymore as a few slipped down her cheeks, “No you don’t. If you did you wouldn’t have kissed her.”

She turned around quickly opening her car door and getting in. Rafe got what he wanted, to hear her say it. But maybe he fucked up so bad he can’t fix it. He steps back as her car starts and watches her drive away.

She can barely see between her tears as she drives home. She felt dumb. She felt like he was using her to make his ego bigger. Why did he have to ruin it? The one person who kept her tied to where she is had betrayed her the most. She knew he didn’t owe her any loyalty but she couldn’t help the way she felt.

-

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed

Writing in my room

-

spring

Three and a half months.

It’d been three and a half months of Rafe and her not talking.

After she left the party she promised herself she would never speak to him again. He hurt her and she couldn’t believe she’d let it happen. Feeling dumb for feeling the way she does towards him. How could she have let herself fall for him so much?

He had called and texted her relentlessly at first. Even tried to go up to her in school but she’d quickly turn and walk away from him. After a month of trying to get her to talk to him he gave up. He fucked it up more than he thought. Rafe gave her the space she wanted but he’d always be there in the background if she needs him.

Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t take him always looking at her with those eyes. Couldn’t take all the time she was spending alone. She thought she liked being alone and spending time alone but she also liked all the time she spent with him. He made her feel so care free and light. The anxiety that was constantly bubbling in her stomach would diminish around him because she didn’t have to pretend to be someone she’s not.

But enough was enough.

Ever since middle school she had kept a diary. A few stacks of books tucked away in the back of her closet hid her deepest feelings and every detail about her life. The current one she had been filling was almost full and the last quarter of the notebook was all Rafe. Well to be honest he was in all of them, and not in a weird way. He was just always there, they were always together.

But now that they didn’t spend time together her pages consisted of rants of her boring school days and writing different scenarios she had wished happened that night instead of what did. She had ranted about how he made her feel and how she felt seeing him on some other girl. A girl that wasn’t her. It should have been her.

After everything they had done together how could he not see her in the way she sees him? Maybe he did live up to his cold hearted reputation. Even though he had never done anything wrong before. She actually can’t remember the last time she saw him hook up with anyone. Not since the beginning of junior year and back then he was fully in his coke addiction. She remembers that night like it was yesterday.

They had become friends around that time the year before. Summer before sophomore year they met at midsummers when she caught him and his friends in the storage closet drinking from a bottle of vodka. Y/n told them she wouldn’t say anything if they let her have some. Rafe immediately liked her, she knew what she wanted and she got it.

Now it was a year later and he can feel her eyes on him as he kissed some rich touron. He was high out of his mind and he just wanted to make y/n jealous. But it didn’t work, the look he had caught from her as he trailed behind the redhead he just met was one more of disappointment. He felt his heart clench at the feeling. After that night he decided to get clean and stop the hard drugs because he hated that look.

She couldn’t take it anymore, keeping all of her feelings on sheets of paper. She needed to find him and yell at or just do something. He has confused her for years now and she was sick of it. Especially now that Rafe and her were closer than ever. All her pent of feelings seeped through as she sighed exasperatedly, putting her pen that had been furiously writing down. Slamming it on the desk as she harshly pushed herself up from her desk.

With anger she had stormed out of the house and driven to his. Her sneakers stomping on the ground as she marched towards him. Every one of their memories together flashing through her head.

She had spotted him on the dock and was b lining towards him. Rafe’s head turned as he heard her stomping towards him. His stomach flipped when his eyes landed on y/n, he had really missed seeing her around. Especially at his house. He propped his sunglasses up on his head and hopped back onto the dock. He had been getting the boat ready for a solo boat day to clear his head.

“Y/n?” He asked in disbelief.

“You!” She pointed at him and stopping once her finger was poking his chest, “Why are you the way you are!” Her finger jabbing into his chest with every word.

He watched as her chest rose and fell quickly. He had never really seen her mad before, something he always admired. But now seeing her with furrowed brows and steam practically coming out of her ears, he kind of liked it. Rafe knows he shouldn’t be thinking about how cute she looks and instead be getting on his knees begging for forgiveness.

He had really missed seeing her up close. Missed how dark her lashes were and how glossy her plump lips always were. He counted all her freckles to make sure she didn’t get any new ones while they were away from each other. Her hair was in a style he hadn’t seen on her before.

“Well hi to you too,” He smirked. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t help use the charm he knew she loved.

She placed her palms on his chest and shoved him, barely making him move. Y/n began ranting, “For the last fucking four years you have been my best friend and you’ve been so confusing! Everything was fine at first but-but then you were always there for me whenever. And you always fucking listened to me. And you’re so funny. I started to feel different and then I saw you at that fucking party,” She glared at him, the image of him on that girl making her nauseous, “And then you changed. You don’t hook up with anyone and you don’t leave my side at parties,” she laughed sarcastically, “You even fucking call me babe sometimes. So I though oh maybe he feels different too then again I saw you on some fucking girl. And you chase after me so Rafe what the fuck do you want from me? Has this all just been bullshit to you? Am I just some fucking girl you get to flirt with to get your weird little fix until you find someone you actually want to be with?”

He rolled his eyes almost offended, “You know you’re not just some girl.”

She scoffed with wide eyes, “That’s all you took away from that. What else am I supposed to think? You make me feel special for years and I just wait and wait. Then when I think things are finally happening you go and kiss some girl.”

“Y/n-“

“Who fucking knows what would have happened if I hadn’t walked in.”

“Can I-“

“I know you would have fucked her and then came home to me to talk about your problems like I’m some wife in the 50s.”

“You-“

“You kill me Rafe.”

“Stop!” He practically shouted as he placed his hands on her shoulders. She closed her mouth and stared at him intensely.

“I was afraid you didn’t feel the same so I kept my feelings down. I’ve liked you since the moment I met you. But I was fucked up then so I didn’t act like it until I saw how much I hurt you. I changed for you and-and then I just got scared. You are someone so beyond me, you are like the nicest smartest most beautiful person. Why the fuck would you want me?” He laughed like it was obvious, “And we’re such good friends it was terrifying to think about how if I fucked it up I wouldn’t have you at all. No one’s ever actually tried to get to know me the way you have. And then I did fuck it up again,” he sighed scratching the back of his neck, “I shouldn’t have let her kiss me that night. I should have found you and told you what I’ve been feeling since I met you. That I love you so much it actually hurts. And it’s hurt me knowing I made you upset.”

“Rafe,” She sighed as her eyes softened. This was not going at all how she expected things to go.

“I get I fucked it up, so if you still never want to see me again that’s fine. But please give me a chance,” He was actually contemplating getting on his knees to beg.

“You’re such a big dumby. You’ve always had a chance. You mean so much to me. Rafe the only reason I haven’t applied to out of state schools is because I want to be with you. Even if it was just as friends,” She sighed feeling like a weight had been lifter off of her shoulders. A part of her still wanted to punch him.

He took a step closer lifting his hand and softly brushing his fingers across her cheek as he cupped her face, “Will you please go out with me? Because I am so in love with you.”

She leaned up towards him. Their noses now brushing, “I love you,”

He smiled as he pulled her towards him, their lips meeting. The kiss felt like every taylor swift love song playing at once. All the yearning felt worth it in that moments. Their lips moved against each other languidly, like they’ve always been doing this. Rafe’s hands moved to her waist, gripping in all the right places.

Y/n’s hand ran through his hair tugging when his hands reached lower giving her butt a squeeze.Rafe melted at her soft sighs and quiet moans as he trailed kisses down to her neck. Kissing behind her ear. He kissed her cheek as he faced her again. Her hazy eyes and swollen lips made his blood flow to a certain lower part of his body.

“Rafe, this doesn’t mean I’m not still kinda mad at you. You have a lot of making up to do,” She smiled innocently at him.

“Baby I’ll give you whatever you want. In fact, let’s go shopping now for our date tonight,” He kissed her one more time before moving to hold her hand dragging her towards his car.

She laughed as she trailed behind him knowing that one shopping trip wasn’t going to make it better. He owed her big time.

“It also doesn’t mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend because you haven’t asked me,” She smiled smugly at him as he opened the door to his truck for her.

“I guess I have my work cut out for me then,” He said leaning against the frame of door once she had sat down.

“you do.”

He leaned up and kissed her softly, “Anything for you baby.”

[olive-may-write]

Hope

Hi! So this is the first time that I've wrote somthing this length in a while so this will be a bit rusty.

This is slightly self indulgent as someone who has chronic pain, I just thought I'd write someone up with a reader who has it in mind.

Anyway reader is someone who experiences chronic pain, it's a small insight into the mind of someone who lives with it. I tried to make the reader as gender neutral as possoble, but other than that I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to give feedback of any kind, I just ask that you are kind <3.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton X Reader

Possible triggers: Dissusion of mental health problems, mentions of chronic pain and how it can affect someone's life, Mention of feeling sick / vomiting.

---------------------------------

The drawing room is not exactly the best place for you to be right now, you had initially thought that a spot of reading would be a sufficient distraction from the blinding pain shooting through your temple. unfortunately, the book you are reading, or trying to at least is not providing any useful distraction, with the words on the page becoming more blurred the more you try to preserver.

Huffing you close the book, trying to focus on something else to distract you from the burden you carry. The pain. 

You were never a sickly child, quite the opposite, you were always able to bounce back from any aliment that affected you, that was until sometime during your early adulthood. You cannot fully remember when it happened, just that one day it started, a sharp pain like a needle had been pushed through just under your kneecap and the stubborn thing would not go away.

At first, you had thought you had just over-exerted yourself during the social season with dancing, however, when that had ended, and you found yourself with more time to rest and recover you found that this pain remained. And it had gotten worse, it slowly moved upwards towards your other joints, sending sparks between all the different offending joints. 

A knock at the door breaks your train of painful thought, you slowly move towards the door, confused as you had confessed to your maid that if anyone needed or wanted you for anything to very gently turn them in another direction to not exacerbate your pain anymore with meaningless conversations. 

The door slowly creeks open, your maid’s face apologetically peeking around the frame.

“Apologies, I understand you did not want to be bothered; however, you have a visitor. One who is very adamant to see you, even after I explained that you had fallen ill today…”  she relays, she seems almost skittish, unlike her usual self. This visitor has put up more of a battle than others, who would see you? 

Sighing you looked towards her, trying not to cringe at a sudden stinging in your temples, you can’t very well be mad at her, after all, she can’t ultimately swat away everyone that wants to see you, though you had hoped that you would’ve had more time to try and calm down this headache before seeing anyone, alas, fortune is not in your favour today. 

“Please do not apologise, Ester, you tried your best,” you say sympathetically. “I do not think I would be so lucky to hide myself away for the whole day without interruptions, please do send whoever is most eager to see me in, if you would not mind.” With the housekeeper slipping back out the door you try to calm yourself, ‘breath, just breath’ you think, trying to calm yourself down, trying to calm the headache, as well as your body. 

You are not given enough time, as you hear the door opening again, this time more swiftly than before, footsteps moving quickly and a huffing breath. You then realise a slight error in your wording to your maid early, while you had instructed her to tell people that you had fallen ill, you mostly assumed that she would only need to tell people already aware of your ailment, and with that understanding they would know that you were somewhat alright and not gravely ill and not someone else. Someone who is not aware of your condition, someone who is now staring at you with anxious eyes trying to determine what it is that is wrong with you. 

With your body still positioned towards the door you fully take in your visitor, Mr Benedict Bridgerton. You watch as he steps into the room, the door slowly closing over, trapped. 

“I was told you were ill” he starts, stepping closer towards the chair you reside in, eyes still darting over you trying to determine the cause of your ‘illness.’ 

“I give my apologies for being so ardent in wanting to see you, I had initially come here under different pretences, however, the way your maid described your illness I was stricken with worry.” He speaks too quickly, staring at you with a slightly overwhelming concern.

“What ails you so?” he finishes almost crouching in front of you. The pause in the room is too stifling, this question that you hoped you would never have to answer while alone. In the past, you were always quite fortunate when the question had come up, with your father or mother there to quickly move the conversation along. Never bringing the truth to light. 

“A misstep walking down some stairs! The floors had just been washed and they were simply too enthralled within their novel to notice” was one such story that had to be shelved after multiple uses.

“Oh, you know they were just so concentrated with their needlework that they strained their hands; nothing to concern yourself about” another one, a slightly more believable story, and one that could be told repeatedly. However this time you were alone, there was no one to save you, no one to swiftly tell a half-truth. No, you were on your own, and with a mind-numbing headache in addition. 

“Ah, yes, erm please do excuse Ester, she does tend to exaggerate a little bit with her storytelling, I have but a simple headache.” You are not exactly lying, you do have a headache, you are simply omitting that the ache is also everywhere else within you. 

“Oh, thank goodness!” Benedict replies, visibly relaxing, almost bending in half with the sigh he lets out. 

“I thought you to be gravely ill with how your maid detailed your condition” he continues, “That you could hardly move, and you were racked with pain” he recounts, what you can only assume to be Esther's attempt at persuasion. And while true, you had hoped she would have chosen something along the lines of having a simple cold. 

“Yes, well, as you can see, I am in perfect health, you have nothing to worry about Mr Bridgerton, though your concern is duly appreciated. I do hope your time has not been wasted by travelling over here,” you respond, very much hoping that you can put this conversation to bed. You can feel the pain in your temples starting to come down towards your neck, you need to move, having been sitting in one position for too long but with Mr Bridgeton here you could not just up and move. You also had forgotten your cane this morning in your room, not thinking you would need it very much today, and you did not particularly want to be witnessed limping up and out of the room in front of a man who had no idea of your condition. 

Your only plausible solution was to grin and bear it, or rather, politely smile and nod along to whatever this man was about to ask you.

“Nonsense!” he exclaims loudly in a jovial manner, making the pain shoot through you once more.

“My time is never wasted when it comes to you” he speaks softly, as if he realised that by shouting, he would be causing you pain. 

“If you are in good health I was wondering if I might ask something of you?” Ah the question you have been waiting for, it could not have come quicker. 

“Yes, you may” Your response could be seen as quite rushed if you were in a normal situation, however with the pressure in your temples building and the pain slowly becoming more intense, you found yourself not caring how your actions could be perceived as by others of the ton.

There is a moment of silence where neither of you say anything, staring at him expectingly, you choose to prompt him by nodding your head towards him, hoping he catches onto your hint. 

“Oh Right!” he starts with a jump. “Well I came here today with a confession of sorts, I have witnessed you, wait! Ah!” he suddenly stops almost aware of how slightly strange he must sound. 

“Oh goodness, well- I, god” You take some pity on him as he seems to stumble over his words, ablet not enough pity to warrant sitting patiently in an increasingly uncomfortable chair. 

“Mr Bridgton, I do not mean to rush you but would you please simply ask this question” huffing slightly. 

“I know this is not how I am supposed to go about this, but I cannot ignore my feelings for you any longer! Please would you do the honour of letting me court you?”

There is a pause after his confession, stunned, shocked you are not sure how to respond. You almost think it is some cruel jest that he has been set up to follow through, but as you look at him, his expression and how he holds himself you realise that he is being as truthful. You feel as if someone has thrown a bucket of cold water over you, what does this mean? This cannot be real. This man of high stature wants to court you. While not lowly in rank, you certainly are not what you would expect a Bridgerton to go for and certainly not someone as seemingly broken as yourself. 

Sitting there for a few more moments you realise that he is still waiting for your response. 

“I, I cannot” you start “I am very sorry, but I cannot accept this offer.” You state, dropping your focus to the floor. 

“I. what?” Benedict almost laughs, stunned. 

“Why can you not? Are you intended to another?”

“No, I am very much not.”

“Are you interested in someone else?” You scoff at the question. 

“No, not that it matters either way” The pain starting to build up even more now that you are having to argue your case.

“I have refused your offer, Mr Bridgton, I do fear that Ester had some truth in her words and I feel a headache coming on. I think it best that you leave for the day” You aren’t lying per se,  you have had a headache for the best part of the day. 

“But why not? I do apologise, but I am simply confused. You are not intended to another, and you are not interested in anyone else, so why refuse my offer.” He states.

“At least agree to court me, and then you can make your decision afterwards, at least let me have a chance to show you how I care for you.”

You are starting to get frustrated, and the pain in your head has started to become unbearable, like someone smashing pots and pans together, you feel a ringing in your ears, and you almost want to throw up. 

“I am not well!” you explode, your breathing is ragged as your chest moves quickly. The pain in your temples is more present than ever, cringing you move to push your forefinger and thumb to either side of your nose bridge and start to pinch, hoping that brute force would almost will the pain to subside. 

‘Pathetic’ you think to yourself, ‘I can’t even argue correctly, must everything I do be muddled with pain?’ You try and calm your breathing, focusing on the feeling of your fingers on your face, the clothes you are wearing, your breathing, anything to try and calm the pain down before it loses control. 

There is a strange tension between the both of you, a quiet blanket that has been placed over the room as you do not know what to say. 

“I am not well sir… I have not been for quite some time” you start again, still pressing your finger and thumb into the sockets below your eyebrows. 

“Ester was right. I am riddled with pain, every day. I cannot dress without the pain, eat without it, speak, walk, laugh; live without it, I am tormented by it…” You begin to feel a sharp pain behind your eyes as tears start to fall onto your cheeks. Realising that by unravelling this thread that you would not be able to stop, you cannot tangle it back up again and simply throw it into your sewing box never to be spoken about again. 

“I cannot be who you want me to be, I cannot offer you anything. It hurts to live, and I cannot burden you with that, you would be throwing away your freedom if I were to agree to your request. Do you want that? To be saddled with an intended that cannot do the simplest of tasks without the burden of pain?” You seem to burst out into a frenzy of words. 

Without giving him a chance to argue back you move to stand, using a hand to brace yourself on the side of the chair you are occupying, you push down to give your body the momentum to move, your elbow shaking as it strains under the surplus of weight it is not normally used to. You curse yourself for not bringing your cane with you.

You pause while trying to catch your breath, frustrated that you simply cannot run out of the room and hide after such a shocking outburst, left to just stand there trying to muster up the strength and energy to try and move towards the door. With your head tilted down you were fortunate enough that you could not see his face, which was one of pain and shock. 

Starting again you move towards the door, gripping the backs of chairs and the edges of side tables, with your back turned you don’t see Benedict moving as well, like a kicked puppy wanting to be comforted he follows behind you, he does keep his distance, not wanting to upset you further than you already are.

As you place your hand on the door, dropping it down so you are grabbing the handle, you feel a presence behind you. From the corner of your vision, you see a hand place itself on the door. You slowly turn around to face him, you thank some part of him that he is not crowding you up against the door, that he has given you some space. 

“Please let me go, let me go. You can be free, you can move on, let me be.” you pleaded, looking up at him, your eyes flitting over his face looking for a sign, any sign that would indicate that he headed your prayer. You slowly focus on his eyes, looking within them, your breath hitches as all you see is a kindness so gut-wrenching it makes you feel physically sick. 

There is no malice, no pity, or any inclination that he will follow your word. All you see within his gaze is kindness, one of love and hope. You start to feel overwhelmed, having such a kind affectionate gaze homed in on you. You think back to all the times you caught his gaze; at balls, gatherings, when he would come to speak to you, when he came to visit today to ask to court you. You think about how there was no pity within his stare, no sympathy, no looks of “such a shame, one so young yet so ill,” none of that. 

You start to think about how you have brushed him off, how you have ignored him, at times even running away from him, too wrapped up in your melancholy to even look, actually look at how he was gazing at you, too scared to even admit that someone might even look at you within out an ounce of pity. 

You start to think about how you could allow this, the love and admiration of another person, how this could happen. Could this happen? Could you willingly put your anxieties aside and let someone in, could they be your rock, could they hold you when the pain becomes overwhelming, suffocating you, pulling you down into despair? 

Could you let him? As this question appears within your mind you feel a spark, like flint and rock smashing together, start within you. It is almost unnerving, unnatural. You have not felt this for an extraordinarily long time, almost losing belief that you could ever feel it again.

Hope. Hope that you could be loved and cherished, that you could have someone there for your bad days, as well as your good days where you could go for a walk or a carriage ride, where you could go to socials and visit family. 

This line of thought left you almost breathless, as you still stood within the drawing room of your home. Slightly pressed up against the door, with one of your hands behind your back on the handle as you were trying to escape…again. 

As this chaos was happening within your head, Benedict slowly brought his hand to your cheek, hesitating as if unsure if his action would cause you more pain than comfort. 

Pushing the feeling of guilt down, you take a leap of faith by slowly moving your head towards him, tilting it so your cheek rests within his palm. You flinch slightly, Benedict moving his band away from you, nervous that he might have caused you more anguish. Quickly you stop him, bringing your other hand to cage his, gently placing his hand back onto your face, cupping your cheek and jaw slightly through his hand.

“It…it did not hurt that much, I was just surprised is all” you whispered “It has been a very long time since anyone has held my face this way” You can feel your reserve beginning to crack, you pushed forward, that small spark of hope within you starting to burn brighter.

“It is quite lovely actually, I don’t have to use as much energy to hold my head up when it is being held for me” you ramble, trying to ease the tension and hopefully his nerves. 

“I see” he replies slowly, looking over you to make sure that his actions are not upsetting you in any way. Slowing analysing your features, sketching your appearance in his mind, unsure if he might get an opportunity to be this close to you again. 

Bringing his focus to your eyes he is startled at what he finds, hope. A small whisp of it, and while surrounded by what he can assume is anxieties and doubt, he is so certain that it is there. 

 “If you would let me” he continues “it would be an honour to hold your head for you if only for a moment, to provide but a small reprieve.” Realising that you are not stopping him from speaking, he continues.

“You are so extraordinarily strong, a remarkable person. Willing to take on so much and push through it all, despite the load you carry” he feels your head rest slightly more in his hand, seeing your eyes fluttering before you shut them for a moment. He is worried slightly that he might have messed up, saying something that pushed you down into the darkness rather than bringing you up into the light. However, as you open your eyes again, slowly raising your focus from his chest to his face, then to meet his gaze once more, he disregards his previous concern. He can see that spark burning ever so slightly brighter.

You gently pressed his hand between your own and your face, turning the latter into his palm so that your lips were ever so gently touching below his thumb. If he would be so bold he could move the digit with a feather-like touch across your cheek and wipe away any tear marks from earlier. 

“But you do not have to carry this load alone, I am not sacrificing my freedom wanting to be with you” parroting one of your earlier statements with earnestness.

“I am not sacrificing anything, I come forward willingly, I come to you after hearing about you and your life. I come to you as a willing partner if you would have me. Allow me to carry some of your load, let me hold your head and hands for you. Allow me the honour of holding you during your dark moments as well as your light.” 

“I want to be there for you, with you, I am not here out of pity, I am here out of admiration and love. I fear that if I loved you any less, I would be able to talk about it more, my heart is but a reflection of you.” He felt like he was rambling, struggling to find the words to convey his true feelings, how he was frazzled by you, in a way he had not been before. 

There was a pause and he started to doubt himself, his words, and his abilities before he saw a subtle movement from the outskirts of his vision.

As you looked into his eyes you could feel your grip on the door handle slipping, becoming less tense, less firm. Overcome with emotions from Benedict’s confession your hand goes limp, falling from the handle completely. 

As you stare into his eye you slowly bring now limp hand up towards his face, almost parallel to his still cupping onto your own. You move slowly, akin to a dazed animal who is wary of any sudden movements; as you reach, you settle your arm on his chest resting so that your palm now cups his jawbone. 

Benedict sees the movement, your hand dropping and moving up, towards him, he feels like he might faint, being able to touch you is one thing, but you, touching him is something he did not consider. He shuts his eyes, almost squeezing them closed not wanting to frighten you with how shocked he must look. 

When you finally rest your hand against his chest, he felt like his heart must have stopped beating, he froze, willing himself to take a breath, to steel himself before opening his eyes. 

For when he did, he was in awe, the spark that was once so dim, nearly stamped out was burning and it was burning bright. 

“Do you mean it?” you ask, voice shaking slightly.

“With my whole heart, with the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins. I will be by your side till you are through with me, till I drive you mad, till we are grey and even then, I will still hold your head for you so you can rest for a while.” Benedict tries to convey every ounce of his emotions that he feels so you can be sure that you are fully aware of what he is experiencing. 

“I think I would like that” your reply is rushed. Not wanting to waste a moment, not letting it run away or hide. You finally made your choice, you would let hope win, you would lose the battle but win the war and your victory prize did not seem all that bad. 

[milkywaydrabbles]

just read your latest kinktober!! so gooood 😫!! if you could pretty please do #21 with hanma shuji, sanzu, and the haitani brothers!

A/N: No on fucking look at me, I was not expecting this to end up being 3.3k and yet somehow...omg. Sorry for the demon that posessed me. This is pure filth, probably had more fun writing this than I should have but I hope you love it bc I do. Enjoy, mwuah

Threesome or Moresome x Hanma, Sanzu, Rindou, Ran

It was no surprise that the executives of Bonten did not like sharing. They didn’t like sharing their seats in the meetings (there were no fucking assigned seats), they didn’t like sharing their women (literally sex workers doing their jobs with whoever paid them), they didn’t like sharing their money, and most of all: they didn’t like sharing you. Another executive in the ranks

You hadn’t been with any of them, not really. Some heavy petting with Hanma here and there, a makeout session with the Haitanis at one point during a drunken night, maybe you gave Sanzu a handy when you were playing passenger princess for a mission. Nothing solid, and definitely not enough to any of them to stake ‘claim’ on you. You held your own, not letting any of them interfere with your work. You barely glanced in their directions unless you had to (you were softer with Kakucho, he was too sweet for you not to be) so that the ugly green monster didn’t rear its ugly head. What you didn’t know is that it always did anyways. 

Countless arguments and fist fights were had over who you belonged to (none of them!), usually between Ran and Hanma. Shuji just loved to get under the older brother’s skin, it was one of his favorite past times, really. It never ended well for any of them, usually beating the shit out of each other. On more than one occasion you’ve walked in on the fights, muttering something about them ‘being idiot assholes’ and slamming the door before any of them could even get a word in. But recently...something’s changed, you could feel it.

Hanma, Sanzu, Rindou and Ran have all been particularly kinder to you, unbearably so. They’d all look at you with a devilish smile plastered on their face, hell they’ve even gone so far as to no longer fight in your presence. You were suspicious of them, narrowing your eyes whenever another made a snarky comment and there wasn’t a complaint to be heard. You kept your distance, feeling like something was really off. After a particularly stressful mission, one that spanned the length of a week and had so many intricacies it was making your head spin, it was decided that the five of you would go out drinking to celebrate. You needed to take the edge off after walking on thin ice for the last few days. You had arrived at the usual bar--one that Bonten owned and had a private balcony for the execs and Mikey whenever they decided to swing by. The others were already there, drinks being passed around. They quieted down when you arrived, feeding you drinks and shots to ‘get you on the same level as them’

“Hanma you fucking alcoholic, slow down” You cackled, shoving the beer he tried to give you out of your face. “Who knew you were such a lightweight.” Rindou spoke, taking a sip of his own beer with a drunken smile. You pouted, ripping his own drink away from him, “I’m not. The cocktails were fucking strong that’s all.” You took a sip before giving it back to him, turning to Hanma again with a sigh. “Fucking--fine, leave me alone after this!” You threw your inhibitions to the wind, chugging the bottle as the rest of the crew bursted out in excitement and laughter. “There you go, beautiful” You bristled at Ran’s words, ignoring them as best you could but he could already tell you were reacting to them. Hanma’s turn to speak, “we knew you could do it pretty girl.” He cooed, squeezing at your thigh. You couldn’t ignore that. “What are you morons up to?” You squinted, drunk or not you knew the four of them didn’t get along that well to not let those two remarks slide. Sanzu grinned something wicked, eyes wide coked out of his mind. “We have a proposition for you, pretty.” You waited. “Sleep with us.” 

You barked out a laugh, keeling over and holding your gut. “Funny fucking joke, cokehead.” You waited to hear any sort of commotion--even Hanma egging you on to actually sleep with him. But you heard nothing. Okay, now you were concerned. “...You’re joking right?” Rindou shrugged, chugging the rest of his beer. “Look, we all know you’ve fucked around with us one way or another. You know we want you.” You swallowed dryly. “Easiest for none of these motherfuckers to get jealous is if you fuck all of us.” (Rindou was also one of the jealous motherfuckers, but he’ll at least keep cool longer.) “That’s a fucking joke! Absolutely not, no fucking way in hell!” You knew, even if they kept trying to persuade you, at the end of the day they would let you be. They weren’t fucking monsters. ( You were a soft spot for them, is all.) They let it be for the rest of the night, continuing on as if nothing ever happened. But...you couldn’t let it go.

So when they all found themselves in a group chat with you, and a text from you, they grinned like the devil himself.

| We play by my rules or we don’t play at all. My place, 9 pm. Don’t make me regret this, assholes

-

“Fuck, look at you pretty girl, taking me so fucking well.” Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, Ran’s cock ramming into the back of your throat as he face fucked you. You gagged and choked each time he pulled back, Ran growing more feral with each thrust hearing your pretty sounds and seeing your makeup run as you tried to steady your breathing through your nose. Behind you was Sanzu, kneading and slapping your ass as he shoved his cock deeper into your sloppy pussy. “Fuck, can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.” The pink haired man groaned, spreading your cheeks to your drooling cunt swallow him up. “What a nasty little bitch.” One hand was occupied with Rindou, trying to keep up with his pace jerking him, though really he was more just fucking into your hand. “Move, Haitani.” Ah, the ever graceful Hanma. “My fuckin’ turn.” A tattooed hand ripped you off of Ran, taking the millisecond of opportunity to breathe in deep, before being shoved back down on another dick. Hanma pushed into your throat until your nose pushed up against his pubes, your free hand clawing at his stomach to give you a fucking minute. He hissed, pulling back and letting you breathe. “Don’t be a fucking asshole, Hanma.” You all but stuttered out, trying to keep your composure but a particularly harsh thrust right into that spongy spot deep within your cunt had you whining. “Fuck! Aah, Sanzu--shit.” You whimpered, looking back to see the wild eyes of the resident drug addict look at you with a smirk plastered on his face. “Yeah? You like that, baby? Like when I fuck that slutty little pussy?” He angled himself again to keep hitting that spot that made you see stars and you whined, nodding. They were overwhelming you in the best possible way and you didn’t know how you’d ever recover from this--how you’d ever fuck anyone else after this.

Hanma took your chin in his hands, trying to be more careful of you this time. “Don’t leave me hanging, angel, wanna see you choking on my cock.” You were starting to become so fucked out you nodded and licked a stripe up his long shaft, before swallowing him into your throat (at your own pace.) He groaned, hand gripping at your roots as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him off. You felt Rindou slip out of your hand and move towards the back of you. “Out the way druggie, I wanna taste her before you dickheads cum inside her.” Sanzu grumbled but complied anyway. Last thing anyone wanted to do was kill their boner by arguing. The younger Haitani spread your lips with two fingers, seeing your abused hole clench around nothing. “So fucking hot,” He murmured, gathering saliva in his mouth before spit right on your pussy, seeing his dribble out. The fingers that held you open moved to swipe at your clit, which caused you to moan around Hanma. “Fuck, whatever you’re doing back there keep going Haitani--moaning like a fucking whore around my cock.” He cackled, hand tightening in your hair almost painfully. But it felt so good you didn’t care. 

Rindou removed his fingers completely and licked a stripe up your wet slit. He let the muscle drag over your clit a few times before teasing your hole, dipping in before licking around your pussy again. The teasing was absolute torture, when all you wanted was to feel him inside you. He suckled at your nub with a groan, and slipped his tongue fully in you. He spread your cheeks fucking you with his tongue. Your muffled moans got louder,  grasping at anything you could get your hands on. Ran slipped in and grabbed your hand to place around his cock with a laugh. “Yo Rin, she’s fucking shaking bro, keep going.”  And you were, on the precipice of the strongest orgasm you think you’ll ever have in your life. You didn’t think that you’d ever be this turned on having sex with any of them--let alone all four at the same time. But they learned your body so quickly and used that information against you, brain melting. Hanma slipped out of your mouth, wanting to hear the wanton moans that were spilling out of your mouth. “Fuck! Rin, pleasepleaseplease don’t stop don’t sto-oh fuck!” You cried, tears slipping past those pretty lashes and your mouth shaped in a cute ‘o’ as you violently shook from your orgasm. You drenched Rindou’s face, and he happily lapped up all your juices with a laugh. “That’s what I’m talking about baby” he teased, sucking your clit into his mouth again until you had a second wave of shocks, now turning painful. You squealed , free hand pushing him away from your hole. 

“Rin, huh?” Hanma grabbed at your jaw, raising you up slightly from your knees so you were looking up at him. “If he gets first name then I wanna hear you call me Shuji, baby.” Your breathing was shaky, along with the rest of your body as you dumbly nodded. Your eyes were hazy and a small smile played at your lips--completely fucked out. “Look at her, fucking cockdrunk.” You had no idea who was talking anymore, barely paying attention as you tried to grab at the tall man in front of you. “Open up your mouth baby.” He cooed, and you immediately complied, sticking your tongue out. Suddenly you had a glob of spit in your mouth, some landing on your cheek too. Then you heard a laugh. “So fucking cute, go ahead and swallow baby girl.” Who you assumed was Hanma speaking, you did as you were told and showed him after, eyes that you didn’t even realize you closed fluttering open and waiting. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.” Sanzu turned your head closer to him, now kneeling to kiss you hotly on the mouth. It was all tongue and teeth, as you tried desperately to get closer to him. He licked into your mouth, sucking on your tongue and biting at your lips. The kiss left your lips swollen, you know it, but you didn’t care, bringing him back in after he let go. He mumbled a laugh in between kisses “someone’s needy.” 

You felt a mouth wrap around your nipple, and you keened, arching your back more into whoever was suckling at your chest. Ran, nipped at you, hearing you whimper at the short burst of pain before laving his tongue over in apology. “Let’s move you, baby. Lay on your back.” You complied, spreading your legs when your back hit the bed. The men around you groaned, all pumping their dicks as they saw the object of their desires and wet dreams so ready and willing to take them all. Rindou pulled you up, hanging your head over the edge of the bed and slapping his cock on your mouth. “Open up, baby.” He smirked, pushing his dick past your lips and seeing drool at the corners of your mouth. You had no energy to even blow him properly, letting him use you as a cock sleeve and fuck your mouth as he pleases. 

His thrusting only lasted a minute before a voice cut in, “let her up for a second, Haitani--wanna see that pretty face when I shove my dick in her.” Hanma ran a hand through his unkempt locks, lining his big cock to your hole and waited. “Come on baby, why don’t you tell daddy what you want?” He teased, laughing as you wiggled your hips towards him. “Hanma--” “Wrong.” You whined, moving more. “Shuji, please.” You whimpered, and he dipped the tip of his cock in to tease. “You know what I wanna hear~” You jut your lip out in a pout, “daddy please, I want your cock. Shuji, fuck me already.” He clicked his tongue. “I’ll let the attitude go f’now, see how far that gets you.” Suddenly his hips were flush against your and you felt like you got the wind knocked out of you. His pace was relentless, slamming himself into you over and over again. Your cries didn’t last long as Rindou abused your mouth again,  muffling most of the noise spilling from you. Sanzu bit and suckled marks into your skin--around your tits, on your chest, your waist, wherever he can get his mouth on. Ran fucked into your shaky hand, slapping the tit that wasn’t in Sanzu’s mouth. You cried, pussy clenching around Hanma who barked out a laugh. “The little freak likes it when you do that, Haitani.” Ran snickered, pinching harshly at your nipple before giving you another slap. “Yeah? Little baby likes it a little hard?” You could hear how cruel he sounded, but you didn’t care. The pain mixed with everything the men were giving you felt better than any drug Sanzu could supply you with. 

“Fuck, gonna cum down your throat, baby. Be a good girl and swallow it, yeah?” Rindou grunted, grabbing a hold of the sides of your face and fucked your mouth with vigor. It felt like he was in your stomach with how deep he was, Rindou loving the outline of his cock in your throat. “Fuck, baby, look at you.” He didn’t last long after that, spilling his cum straight down your throat with a moan, grinding on your face until he was done. You gasped when he finally let you go, swallowing down his cum as best you could without choking, some of it dribbling off the tip of his dick onto your face. You didn’t have much of a reprieve as Hanma took the opportunity to fuck into you hard, force shaking you on the bed. “Shuji, shuji! Fuck! “ You cried, clawing at the sheets trying to keep your head up to look at the way his cock pummeled your swollen cunt. “There you go, baby! Keep calling daddy’s name.” He snickered, spitting on your clit before letting his fingers rub at you. Your eyes rolling, feeling the impending orgasm bubbling higher up. Hanma pressed a hand down on your stomach as he angled himself, and you snapped. You were sobbing, your entire body shaking as your drenched him, trying to close your legs but he wouldn’t let you. “Shu--shuji no more” you whimpered as he laughed, letting go of your stomach but still fucking into your sloppy pussy. “Who knew you were a squirter, huh? Gonna make me fucking cum if you keep clenching baby.” His nasty words spurred you on, and even though you were exhausted you couldn’t help but tighten around him. 

A few more pumps and Hanma was emptying his balls into your cunt, stuffing you deep with his cum. He moved back to see it dribble out as you kept clenching around nothing. You couldn’t even think anymore--being tossed around like a rag doll before you were face to face with Ran. “Talk to me, pretty girl--you think you can keep going?” He sounded teasing, but you knew deep down he really was checking on you. You nodded, pulling him in to a bruising kiss before feeling him slip underneath you. “Want you to ride me, beautiful.” You lined yourself up with his length, pushing down and leaning over so he had a perfect view of your ass. “That’s what I’m talking about, angel.” He slapped your ass hard before gripping at your cheeks, bringing you down harder onto his cock with each pap, pap, pap. To your front, Sanzu’s cock slapped at your face, forcing you to open your eyes and look up at him. “Come on baby, use that pretty mouth on me.” You nodded once, and opened up wide to let him fill your mouth, sticking your tongue out underneath his shaft and bobbing your head. Ran met your bounces with a thrust up, using the momentum to his advantage to fuck you deeper. You kept crying, the overstimulation becoming borderline painful but it wasn’t enough, wanted all of their cum. Your hands gripped at Sanzu’s hips, slobbering on his cock, gagging and letting drool dribbled out of your mouth. You were a fucking mess, filled with cum, sweat and spit covering you. You should feel disgusting, but how could you? They were making you feel so good.

“Fuck me, beatiful. This pussy is still so fucking tight.” Ran practically wheezed, indenting your skin with small bruises on your hips with how harshly he was gripping at you. “Could fuck you every fucking day and you’d still be so fucking tight.” He pounded into you, cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. It hurt, but you still fucking liked it. Sanzu pushed you deeper onto him, seeing the spit and drool bubbling around him. “Sloppy little bitch,” he cackled. “Pretty baby can’t help but be messy, can you?” He taunted, facefucking you with no restraint. “Gonna cum inside you, beautiful, fuck. Need you to cum first.” A hand wrapped around to your swollen and abused clit, giving it a few slaps and rubbing at it, thrusting your cock up to rub at your walls and bring you crumbling down. Your orgasms were still pulsing your through veins, clenching him so fucking tight Rin ground you down and shot his load inside of you. You felt yourself fill to the brim with cum, two loads now covering your messy walls. 

Sanzu was right behind him, except he wanted to keep you messy. He pulled out enough to tip your head back and cum into your mouth, having the mess land on your cheeks, forehead, even your hair. Ran lifted you enough to slide from under you, holding you up when he felt you trembling and nearly collapsing. “Woah, hey baby come on lean back.” He cooed, having you lean on his chest as he motioned Hanma and Rindou to grab something to clean you up. “You okay?” He whispered, kissing at your temple that wasn’t covered in cum, feeling you nod against him. “Mhm, m’okay...” Your voice was low, throat raw from all the use. Ran smiled on your temple, moving away when Sanzu got closer to wipe away his mess from your face. “Looked so good covered in my cum, baby.” He laughed when you swatted at him. “Gonna have me dreaming of that face every night.” You groaned, “Sanzu, shut up.” smile evident in your voice. 

The men cleaned you up, and Hanma picked you up to bring you to the bath that Rindou had started for you. They were fucking assholes, but the least they could do was help you around after they fucked you nearly to unconsciousness. “Thank you, Shuji.” You murmured only for him to hear, petting his cheek as you looked around dazed. He kissed your palm, whispering a ‘you’re welcome, baby’ and letting you relax.

They’d be there when you were done, to ask if you needed anything else, to ask how you were feeling, and most importantly to ask if they could do this again some time.

[fallingdownhell]

Hello, could you maybe do one shots of Xiao and whoever else you like saying “who hurt you”? I love the work you put out so far, and I’m really curious to see what you right. 😁

A price to be paid

Characters Included: Xiao, Wanderer/Scaramouche, Kazuha, Tighnari

Summary: When they notice you being hurt, no matter if physically or emotionally, they will stop at nothing, to make you smile again..

Content: established relationship; gender neutral reader; swearing; Scara is being refered to as Kunikuzushi/Kuni; talk about violence; physical and emotional wounds; not proof read yet

Word count: 2.1k words

Well... I said I wouldn't be taking any requests for the time being, and I still stand by that, I am NOT taking requests as of now. Maybe in the future, if work stuff calms down a little. But, with that being said, I read that comment and instantly had some ideas in my head, so I decided to write it anyway.

Since you didn't specify any other characters except for Xiao, I just went with some of my faves, who just so happen to be most of the anemo boys😂

I tried to keep it short and simple this time around, it worked more or less. And as always, I hope you enjoy reading!

Xiao

One of the most protective boys in my opinion

I mean, it's basically 90% of his personality (I say this in a loving way)

Sure, he is devoted to Liyue and Rex Lapis, but you? That's a whole nother story

Would go to the end of the world and back for you of you wanted him to

Absolutely nothing he wouldn't do

So, when someone dares to harm you, in whatever way, his inital instinct would be to seek out that person to... "talk" to them

Don't worry, he won't kill them. He swore to never kill another human (but that doesn't mean he can't hurt or scare them)

You'll have to talk Xiao out of going after them (depending on what they did to you)

Please try to understand him though, he just wants to make sure that you are fine, he couldn't handle to loose another loved one

Very awkward and unsure in how to give you comfort. He never really had to deal with these kinds of emotions

Will ask you what you need from him and he will do that for you

It was like second nature for Xiao to keep a watchful eye on you at all times. Not in a stalker-type of way. He knew when to keep his distance and he had other things to do as well. But he still watched out for you, to make sure that you were safe.

You were one of the only good things in his life, after all. What good would he be if he couldn't even protect you, the one most dear in his heart, though he still had his troubles showing and expressing that fact from time to time.

But his worry and devotion to you became all the more clear to you when one day, he returned to Wangshuu Inn, finding you there on the balcony while you cried your heart out.

Xiao's inital shock quickly faded as he ran over to you, carefully picked you up from the floor and brought you over to a room that Verr Goldet has granted him a while ago but he rarely used for himself.

You continued to cry into his shoulder, dampening his shirt, but he didn't care. Right now, you were his number one priority.

Unsure of what to do, he opted to slowly putting his hand on your head. He silently let you cry it all out until you finally calmed down a little bit.

Once you did, he slowly pushed you away just a little bit, gently putting his hands on your cheeks as he looked at you with a stern expression.

"Who did that to you? Who hurt you?"

But you just shook your head in response. "That's not important right now. I just... Can you stay with me? Please..?"

So he did. He stayed close by your side, the entire night and in the morning, he was still there right by you. Although he did want to set out and find whoever was responsible for making you feel that way, you always came first.

And, just to give you a little bit of extra comfort, he held you just a little bit closer than he usually would, just so you would feel safe and cared for.

Scaramouche/Wanderer

That person better start running

He would NOT go easy on them

If he sees you hurt in whatever way, shape or form, he will make the person responsible for this, pay

Although he left his life as Scaramouche, the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, behind him, didn't mean that he was a total good guy all of a sudden

No, there were still some traces of that life in him, and sometimes, with a good reason of course, it felt good to act on those thoughts and feelings every once in a while

However, he will make sure that you are taken care of first before he sets out to seek revenge in your name

The Wanderer was in the comfort of your shared home, awaiting your return from the last of your commissions. He was looking forward to a relaxed evening with you in his arms and no one to disrupt.

However, as the door to your home swung open more violently than it usually did, he already had a strange gut feeling that something was off.

Nonetheless, he still went to check it out, only to be frozen in place when he saw you standing in the doorway, one hand holding onto your stomach, while blood seeped through your clothing.

"K-kuni..", you managed to whisper, before your knees gave out. He quickly rushed to your side, catching you before you could crash to the floor. Aftee that, he scooped you up and ran like the devil himself was after him. He needed to get you help.

But first...

"Y/N, I need to know... who hurt you?"

You looked up at him, seeing the always focused and serious expression on his face. But if you listened closely, you could hear the faintest tremble in his voice. Like he was scared of losing you (which he was, he just never would admit to it out loud).

You were able to mumble the name of your attacker before you couldn't hold on anymore and fell into unconsciousness. But that was enough for him.

As soon as he dropped you of at the Bimarsthan and made sure the doctors and nurses there were caring for you, the mask quickly fell of his face, as his gaze turned darker and more sinister than it has in a while.

He left Sumeru City within the hour to track down the person responsible. Preparations weren't necessary for him. For the worst that he could do to that person, he was able to do with his bare hands..

..

It took the Wanderer two days to find your attacker, but he managed it. Archons, how pathetic they sounded when they begged him for their life.

He did spare them (he swore to never go back to his old ways after all) but that didn't mean that he couldn't fuck them up a little bit. And he did. They may have wished they were dead by the end of it, but the Wanderer would not grant them that wish.

..

After returning to Sumeru City, he immediatly went to the Bimarsthan, to check on your condition.

The doctors informed him that you were doing good, but you were still weak and sleeping most of the time.

He stayed by your bedside the entire time you were there, drifting in and out if sleep. He never let you out of his sight, watching over you and making sure you woulh heal well.

Often times, when you were fast asleep, he would press light kisses on the back of your hand, mostly to reassure himself that you were fine and not going to leave him behind anytime soon.

Kazuha

Kazuha is a compassionate guy and it shows in the way he cares for you

He always puts your comfort before his own, no matter the circumstances

Didn't like how crowded the place got? Don't worry, he will get you out of there in no time

Bored? He will always have a poem or a soft tune ready for you to listens to

You have an activity you want to do with him? Best believe he is more than excited to follow your lead and share another beautiful moment with you

Kazuha knows how to handle his words and actions. He is a controlled guy, it's very hard to get him upset or something of the sort

You are, and will always be, his number one priority. Nothing could be more important to him, than you

When Kazuha found you in the room that you two had rented for the time you were Staying in Liyue Harbor, he could already hear your quiet sniffling.

He knew youbwere trying to keep yourself silent, so he wouldn't notice and worry too much about you.

But you must have forgotten that he was your boyfriend for a reason. It was quite literally his job to worry and care for you. So for you to try and hide how you felt, he felt a little insulted himself.

But alas, it wasn't about him right now.

He slowly opened the bedroom door, only a few lights iluminating your figure sitting on the bed. You heard the door opening and instantly froze, frantically trying to wipe your tears, but they only kept coming.

And before you knew it, your wrists were held in the hands of your lover, who sat down next to you, quielty looking at you.

"My dear.. What happened to you? Who hurt you?", he asked, his voice sounding as gentle and calm as always.

"No one important", you muttered. "Just some random guy.. he was making some comments and.. some of them really hurt.."

As you explained the situation to Kazuha, tears started to form again as you recalled the interaction. You didn't want to cry over some stupid shit like that, but your body seemed to think different about it.

"Shhh, it's alright, my love.", Kazuha said as he pulled you closer to him, placing your head onto his neck, while he slowly played with your hair.

"You are safe here. Let it all out, it's going to be okay. I'm here for you." He continued to whisper sweet little things into your ear as you cried until you felt better about it.

Kazuha kept stroking your hair and your back, soothing you while also silently reassuring you of his presence and that he wasn't gonna leave you alone, ever.

Tighnari

I feel like in Tighnari's case, if you are his partner or even his mate, his more primal instincts would want to take over

If he sees you hurt in any way, he would have to hold himself back to not just attack the first person he sees

Tries to stay calm and rational but is extremely worried about you

Once he's sure that it's nothing life threatening, he's more calm and able to listen to what has happened

Will treat you like you're made of glass for the next few days

It can be annoying, but please bear with him. He just wants to make sure that you will be fine

Depending on what happened, he might go on a little bit of a rant on how to be more careful and avoid such a situation the next time

Will cuddle uo to you and hold you tightly every chance he gets after this incident

"Master Tighnari, we need your help in the infirmary. Someone got hurt while out on patrol in the forest."

The forest watcher couldn't help but sigh as he was dragged away from his own work. Didn't they know how to take care of injured people? He did teach most of them, so why did they need him? Maybe he should hold another course, so that they can learn and do this stuff themselves.

But once he entered the hut, he realised why they went to get him.

There you were, sitting on the bed, an open wound on your left arm. Collei was by your side, trying to clean it, while the pain of it was obvious on your face.

The other forest rangers left the hut as soon as Tighnari entered, but he didn't care for them. He quickly rushed to your side and fell to his knees on the ground, his ears slightly dropped downwards.

"My flower.. what happened to you? Who did that?", he asked, almost impatient to hear your answer.

"Relax, Nari. It's not that big of a deal. I got surprised by a grouo of fungi, but they have been dealt with.", you told him.

Hearing that, his tense state relaxed a bit, bjt his worry was still very much present in the way he looked at you.

"Collei, I'll be taking over from here. Thanks for your work. Could you go to my cottage and grab me the stuff from my desk?"

"Of course, Master!", the young forest ranger said as she hurriedly walked out, leaving you two alone. As he said, Tighnari took over in cleaning the rest of the wound and bandaging it up nicely.

While doing so, he often glanced up to you and you reassured him every time that you were alright, except for the pain in your arm.

He may be quiet now, but you better expect some form of lecture or rant at the end of the day about the hidden dangers in fungi or something of the sort...

[bloodynereid]

Hi can I please request a Jordan x reader . Reader has power that glitch & saves Jordan. Reader hey I am lucky that I didn’t get stuck in between a wall.

Thank you.

Flying Grand Pianos - headcanons

pairing: jordan li x gn! reader

tw: cursing, mentions of uncontrolled powers, cate and sam went to prison (i'm sorry okay! they're my pookies but for this fic to work i had to do something), uh nothing much ig? unless u have a phobia of falling pianos... then maybe don't read this??

description: your powers come in handy in the weirdest situations.

a/n: hiii hopefully u enjoy this! i literally did not mean to make this as insane as it ended up being but hey i'm sick and running on like too little sleep, i hope it's still entertaining tho cause i had sm fun writing this lol. i tried to integrate everything you said into headcanons cause it felt more apt ? ig... anyways requests are open & lmk ur thoughts <3

It was your final year at God U, somehow you had actually made it through the insanity that happened during junior year. You had even come out of the whole situation with a whole new group of friends… even if Cate and Sam sort of had to be locked away because of all the shit they did.

Thank whoever had decided to call the FBI because you had no idea how the entire situation might have turned out if Homelander showed up instead.

So life had turned back to normal towards the end of junior year, mostly because Vought was able to keep most of the situation quiet. Now you were only a step away from becoming an actual superhero… which was a strange situation to think about.

Your powers weren’t all that noteworthy but were insanely useful in battle and to get out of awkward conversations… especially since you were able to mostly control them.

You had the ability to glitch, which essentially meant you could manipulate the fabric of reality around you and mess with it (always with a limit of course, you weren’t an all-powerful magician). You mostly used it for teleportation or to mess with people, something that was always sooo worth it.

You also were kind of insanely good at dealing with actual glitches in computers, which made absolutely no sense but it did help adding to your skill set for your major.

There was probably one specific time where your powers worked in your favor in the best way possible. Over the past few years you sort of developed a tiny little miniscule (HUGE) crush on Jordan Li and now that you were actually able to call them your friend that tiny little crush grew into something way bigger.

What you weren’t aware of was that Jordan felt the same way, they always viewed you as this pretty incredible supe but never really had the chance to talk to you… until the whole The Woods situation. After that it almost made it harder for them to just ask you out on your date… because you had created such a tentative but strong friendship - something that Jordan hadn’t had since Luke. Something that they weren’t sure they would be able to walk away from again.

It was a few months into your senior year when the incident happened. It wasn’t something crazy like Homelander suddenly massacring the school instead it was an incident that belonged in the halls of a supe school… one of the new freshmen had somehow conjured up a piano in the middle of the damn sky and was unable to make it disappear.

The one problem with this piano was that it was falling... and falling really fucking fast.

You had been drinking one of your favorite drinks from Jitter Bean when you were surprised (and very concerned) to see a piano making its way towards Jordan - a very distracted Jordan who was talking, or rather yelling into their phone.

It barely took you a second to make the decision before you dropped your drink and glitched in Jordan’s direction - thank whatever all powerful force was out there for actually having it work because a moment later you reappeared next to Jordan and grabbed their arm before glitching again.

Suddenly you were standing in your room and Jordan was looking at you like an insane person before a loud crash and a whole bunch of yelling was heard outside the window.

Jordan shot a confused look before darting over to the window, only to find that a huge grand piano now stood (well not really it was sort of everywhere) where they had just been standing a moment ago.

You shot them a sheepish smile as they turned around to look at you with a dropped jaw.

“I actually can’t believe that worked, I’m lucky I didn’t accidentally get us stuck between a wall.”

lol i have no idea what this is but i like it anyways.

[twistedwonderlandsimps]

Got random idea come while reading your Yuu Hunt and reading Yuu Leech again that Yuu Hunt meet with the Leech twins and Yuu Leech meet with Rook Hunt.

A lot of things can happen, Rook being a stalker, he is stalk Yuu Leech.

Jade and Floyd really interested in Yuu Hunt as they not like their younger brother Rook.

Though love your story and headcannon.

Thank you for reading my stories, anon! And I hope you enjoy this one, too!

-

[Yuu Leech and Rook Hunt]

“Oi! Yuu, can’t you slow down a little?” Grim grumbled as he tried to keep up with Yuu’s pace, unbothered by the dark aura they were emitting. Only Grim would be so bold to talk to Yuu while they were in one of their moods. Yuu said nothing and continued walking down the school’s hallway, ignoring how the students immediately steered clear from their path. After all, who would want to purposely irritate an already irate Leech? They’d probably be either the bravest or the stupidest person in the world. And unfortunately or fortunately, whoever it was had gotten Yuu’s attention.

“It’s like you’re trying to run away from someone.” 

Yuu clicked their tongue and cracked their neck, rolling their shoulders as if they were preparing for something. “Aiya… Do I look like someone who'd run away? I can feel their eyes on me since earlier and it won't stop. It's starting to piss me off. If they want a fight then they better do something soon because I'm getting bored.”

Grim’s ears perked up at your words. “A land predator? Are you gonna hunt them down?” It was a common occurrence for the both of them to try and beat down people or creatures that interested Yuu. No matter if it was on land or on sea, Grim always helped them take it down.

A smirk tugged at Yuu’s face, teeth bared. “If they don't make a move, I will...”

Swish!

Just then, the Leech’s hand shot up and caught an arrow mid-air. The arrow had a dulled tip, clearly not meant to seriously injure but it was a declaration to Yuu, nevertheless. Yuu smiled menacingly as they turned their head towards the direction where the arrow came from, the shine of metal visible from afar as a second arrow was prepared to be released.

“Found you.”

-

The Leech twins like it when Yuu and Rook decide to hunt each other down because it takes the attention off of them. Rook stops stalking them and Yuu doesn't put them in their inescapable hugs so it's a double win for them. They also deliberately did not tell them about Rook for the hell of it.

Anyway, Yuu Leech finds Rook interesting and enjoys fighting with him whenever they meet. Rook’s easily one of the people that can probably take Yuu's attention off of their brothers and free them from their hug.

-

[Yuu Hunt and the Leech Twins]

Yuu wasn't a coward, per se, but it does get quite worrying when they've noticed two twins with teal hair in their peripherals who had been following them for quite a while now and judging from the amount of students avoiding them, they were probably someone not to mess with.

‘So why are they following me?!’ Yuu screams internally.

“Oi, Yuu, they're getting closer. What do we do?!” Grim whispered at them, also having been keeping track of the two since they appeared. “They won't go away no matter how much we try to lose them!”

“You think I don't know that?!” Yuu whispered back.

Unfortunately as fates would have had it, as Grim and Yuu weren't that familiar with the school’s layout and that made it all more easy for the Leech twins to corner them.

“N-Now, now…” Yuu tried to placate as they backed up, putting their hand in front of them like that would physically stop the slowly advancing Floyd. Jade was standing behind him, guarding the way out should Yuu slip by his brother.  “I'm sure that whatever my brother did, I had nothing to do with it.” This whole situation was probably their brother’s fault. Yuu just arrived at the school a few days ago so there was no way they could've done something. The most logical thing here would be because of their brother.

‘What’s this? Can't get back at the younger brother so bully the older sibling instead?’ Yuu cried inside. They were sooo going to tell Rook to stop whatever it was he was doing with people.

“Heh, you remind me of a shrimp. I'll call you Shrimpy…” Floyd smirked, finding it amusing how different Yuu acted compared to their young brother. “Come here, Shrimpy, Shrimpy.” He lunged for the older Hunt. Except, he didn't make contact as he found himself falling backwards from a sudden weight pulling him back and onto the ground. Floyd tried to get up but soon realized that the lapels of his clothes had been bolted down on the ground with a crossbow arrow.

Yuu didn't hesitate reloading and quickly aimed the crossbow, firing multiple shots consecutively at Jade who dodged their attack. However, it seemed that this was exactly what Yuu planned as they and Grim made a mad dash towards the exit.

“Sorry, I'll pay for your clothes lateeeeer!”

-

While Yuu Hunt may be a bit of a ball of anxiety, they– like all the other Yuu sibling variants– have the skills to deal with others. Remember, they're a Hunt and while they are scared of Rook, they're still the oldest Hunt sibling.

Yuu is terrified of the Leech twins but always uses non-lethal methods to escape them. Rook, however, is still and always will be their top one most scary person to be hunted by. 

[paleprincessturtle]

hi would love to see a harvey specter fanfic that had some angst but ends in a nice fluffy moment!

Hi! Thank you so much for the request. Hope you enjoy this one!

Cakes and Flowers

You always knew that Harvey had zero to no patience. So when he abruptly asked you to marry him in the middle of the week—Tuesday night, to be exact—as much as it was such a surprise, you always knew Harvey couldn't wait that long to live up to all the romantic things he planned on how to propose to you. So there it was: Wednesday morning, you suddenly became a lefty. Everyone was thrilled, to say the least, and more puzzled as to why you left work on Tuesday evening not engaged and came back the next morning totally glowing from being someone's fiancée.

It was only the third day of you being engaged. You were cooking dinner while Harvey sat by the island, and some documents spread in front of him. "Is that the Winchester case?" you asked as you chopped up some carrots. "Yes," Harvey answered as he nodded. "Need help?" you asked as you rounded the island to stand beside Harvey. You wiped your hands on your apron and leaned down to get a better look at what Harvey was reading. As you read what was on the documents, you felt Harvey's eyes on you. Watching you intently with a mere distance between the two of you. "Let's elope in Vegas; we'll go first thing in the morning tomorrow," Harvey said as you turned your head slowly to face him. You looked deeply into his captivating brown eyes, searching for any glimpses of jokes. No. You know him too well; he was being serious. "Harvey?" you chuckled in disbelief at what he just proposed the two of you should do over the weekend. Harvey took your hand as he stared at you, eyes full of love, full of passion. "I don't want to wait any longer; marry me tomorrow; be my wife." Harvey took your hand and gave it a chaste kiss. You smiled down at him, he waited for your answer.

No, you didn't cave into the puppy's eyes that Harvey pulled the whole night AND the whole weekend. You finally convinced Harvey that on their wedding day, you and Harvey must've wanted your closest friends and family to be there. You convinced Harvey that he was making a rash decision that he would regret later. Despite all the convincing you successfully did, Harvey only gave you 3 months to prepare for the wedding. It wasn't like you wanted a big wedding anyway. But a wedding is a wedding, and you wanted it to be as perfect as it could get. Upon this request, you also successfully made Harvey promise to help you with the wedding preparation. Harvey couldn't care less about the venue, cakes, or dress you wear. You could wear a burlap sack, and Harvey would be as happy as a kid on Christmas morning. But you still wanted to involve Harvey in this; it was his wedding day too.

That day, Harvey had to pick you up from a client's office since you had to be there at their board meeting. It was already pouring even before Harvey arrived. You sighed as you saw how bad the rain was, and there you saw Harvey's car. You could just call Harvey to tell Ray to go get you an umbrella. To think again, you were sure that Harvey would fetch you himself. You stayed there for a full minute, contemplating the distance from the entrance door to Harvey's car. You could use your bag. You glanced down at your bag. Oh, the pretty leather. But you decided not to bother Ray or Harvey. So there you were, in your pencil skirt and high heels. Ready to run. Just as you stepped into the rain, you felt your phone buzz. It must be Harvey, you thought. But there was no way in hell you would stop to pick up whoever was calling you. As you opened the door, Harvey was ready to scold you. You could see it in his face. You were drenched. It was far, but it was raining cats and dogs. Harvey was about to open his mouth, but you raised your hand at him as you tried to fish out your phone. The buzzing was persistent. "Hi Evelyn," you answered, phone between your shoulder and ear. "What? No, I already told you I wanted my bouquet to look neat while giving wildflowers. What? No, no, no. I told you, white and soft pink. No, not peach. Have you ordered it?" You listened with the little to no patience left in you. Thank God she hadn't ordered anything. "Haven't I told you to run this by my fiancé? I was in a meeting the whole afternoon." Again, you listened to your wedding planner. You turned to look at Harvey and the information Evelyn gave you. "Okay, Evelyn. You got everything covered?" You exchanged goodbyes after Evelyn told you she had everything under control. You just stared at Harvey as he raised his eyebrows at you. "What is it?" Harvey asked; he seemed oblivious. "You told Evelyn the roses at our wedding would be peach and white?" you asked in disbelief, especially after you briefed him on what to say when Evelyn called to make sure about the flower arrangements since you wouldn't be able to pick up her call. "I said soft pink, she asked peach, and I said yes. I thought she knew colors better than me, so I just said yes." Harvey answered nonchalantly. You sighed as the growing pain in your temple throbbed. "You didn't even try, Harvey!" You raised your voice at him. Harvey watched you as you rubbed your eyes. "Hey, I'm sorry. Okay? I thought it was the same color, and it was my fault that I didn't check on it. I'm sorry, okay?" Harvey took both your hands as he kissed them. You looked at Harvey with teary eyes. You never wanted a big wedding, but you wanted this to be perfect. Couldn't Harvey just understand that? "Oh, my sweet sunshine, don't cry. Please, I'm sorry." You felt the tears were impossible to hold as you started sobbing. Harvey took you in his arms and got his clothes wet in the process. "It won't happen again. It must be tiring to prepare for this wedding in such a short time. I'll be there for you, okay? I won't happen again."

But, of course, it happened again. Harvey Specter would do whatever Harvey Specter wanted.

You were at the venue, waiting for Harvey. You two were supposed to do cake tasting today. Along with the food selection and the floor plan, basically everything. It was just three weeks before the wedding, and you felt like everything wasn't going as planned. You felt like there were still a million things to do. It was your third glass of champagne. You saw Evelyn grow restless as she made sure of the floor plan. You checked your watch again. He was supposed to be here at 6. It was 8. You felt like you were about to cry. This seemed like your wedding, not your and Harvey's wedding. You walked over to Evelyn and apologetically asked for a reschedule. Evelyn, who probably saw the unshed tears of frustration in your eyes, kindly agreed.

It felt odd walking through the hallway, not in your working attire. It was always dresses, blouses, shirts, skirts, pants, and high heels. Today you were just dressed in a knit sweater, jeans, and loafers. It was a little over 9 pm when you reached Harvey's office. Harvey didn't even acknowledge your existence until you walked inside and sat on the sofa. "Sunny? Hey, I thought you were at home. Is everything okay? I'm a little busy here." Harvey then stood and walked over to you. You stood up abruptly before he even reached you. Harvey stopped, and just then he saw that you'd been crying. "What's wrong?" Again, Harvey tried to step closer to you, but you took a step back. "Cakes, floor plan. Ring a bell?" You could hear Harvey curse under his breath. "I swear to you, I forgot." Harvey was about to reach for you, but you raised your hand. "Like you forgot everything else regarding our wedding! Every fucking thing!" you shouted at him, but your voice came out hoarse. "I wanted this to be perfect, Harvey. For you, for me," a sob escaped as you messily tried to wipe the tears with the sleeve of your sweater. "You were adamant about proposing, about getting married; now that we are about to get married, you suddenly acted like none of this matters!" Harvey stood still as his heart broke, seeing you in tears. "You know what?" You took the heavy ring from your ring finger and put it loudly on the coffee table. Harvey watched you in horror. "If you aren't even ready for wedding preparations, forget ever being married. Being married will take more than flowers and cakes." With that, you left. Not turning back even when you heard Harvey calling out your name.

You quickly went to Harvey's apartment to take your apartment's keys. You couldn't remember the last time you stayed at your place. After moving in with Harvey, your apartment seemed to cease to exist.

But the thought of being alone in your apartment seemed depressing. So you walked around Central Park. You developed the habit of twirling your engagement ring when you were thinking. As you walked around, you were unconsciously about to twirl the ring, but it wasn't there. For a second, your heart stopped beating. Then you remember taking it off. You found a nearby bench and just sat there for, God knows, how long.

You finally decided to go to your apartment. It felt odd not to go to Harvey's. It was just a little over 11 when you opened the door.

"Harvey?"

You said in disbelief as you saw Harvey, still in his suit, standing over your dining table. His back was facing you; he seemed to be arranging something. Upon hearing your voice, Harvey jumped a bit. "I didn't hear you coming." Harvey smiled as he saw you. But his heart clenched when he saw your face all blotchy from crying. "What are you doing here? How did you know?" you questioned him as you walked further inside. You saw some plates; dome-shaped lids covered those plates. "When I got back, you weren't there. When I checked, your apartment's keys weren't there. So I figured you'd be here." You nodded at his explanation. "What are those?" You pointed to the dining table. "Come, sit with me," Harvey said. He offered you his hand while he waited for you to take it. But you walked past it as Harvey sighed. The two of you sat side by side. "I knew I missed the cake tasting. So I called Evelyn, and she helped me arrange our own cake tasting." Harvey said as he opened the lids one by one. You saw the familiar cakes you saw earlier. But you could see that these were fresh slices. "I messed up, again," Harvey turned to you as he took your hands. The warmth of his hand, the sincere look on his face. You cried again. "I'm sorry, I really am. There are no justifications for what I did. I will say nothing, but I'm sorry. I regret everything I did. God, when I saw you take off the ring, I thought I was about to drop dead." Harvey cleared his throat as his voice wavered. He then chuckled dryly before continuing, "I thought I lost you forever. How am I going to live without the only source of sunshine in my life?" His thumb caressed your tear-stained cheek. "I'm sorry too; I wasn't supposed to be so childish, leaving just like that," you whispered as you leaned into his touch. "No, it was never your fault. You are tired, and I didn't even try to help you." Harvey gave you a small smile, and you smiled back at him.

"I don't know," Harvey started, his mouth still filled with cake. "This one and this one," Harvey pointed at the black forest and chocolate truffle. You were too full of cakes to think about which one was which. Instead of taking bites, you and Harvey ended up finishing like 2 slices of each cake. "But you know what?" Harvey pointed a fork at you, and you just raised an eyebrow at him, too full to say anything. "I like the vanilla with fruit ones." You nodded. "Yeah, I like that too. So, is that the one we're choosing?" Harvey looked deep in thought. "If you like it, then yes." After Harvey heard you mumble a yes, he made a note on his phone. "What's that for?" you asked. "I gotta call Evelyn tomorrow to tell her that we've decided on the cake." He looked up from his phone, and you smiled at him. He smiled back at you and gave you a peck. "And I've rescheduled the food tasting, and we can also see the floor plan and everything tomorrow at 6. Does that work for you?" You smiled widely at him as you nodded. "Okay, awesome." He typed some more on his phone before he finally looked back at you. "We need to do one more thing." Harvey chuckled as you groaned. "Don't fret," Harvey said as he smeared icing on your lips. "I need to eat the rest of the cakes off of you."

MASTERLIST

[writinandcrying]

TMNT HEADCANONS - Taking naps with the turtles / having a sleepy S/O

As someone who has accidentally slept for 23 hours straight and literally has a nickname as “snooze” I’m obligated to do this (I tried to look for a cute / aesthetic gift but that pup is my spirit animal fr)

I’ve been digging how @oozedninjas does their Headcanons (as long with their writing, I seriously eat it up everytime yum yum yum)

as much as I love looooong Headcanons, sometimes I only have some blurbs going on in my mind, I also think this keeps things so dynamic, every interaction can be seen and everyone is happy yipee (I hope you don’t mind me using your writing style? Headcanon Set-up? Layout? as reference! Pls let me know if so, I’ll def take it out or reference you on new ones!)

English is not my first language and I didn’t proof read this, if there is any gramatical erros pls don’t hesitate to tell me!

• Isn’t the one for naps, lowkey thinks it’s a waste of time, he rather do activities with you! Time is precious! That being your hobbies or his, talking, playing games or reading, he has his mind set on it… until you flutter your lashes at him, giving him puppy eyes, and suddenly at the warm of your embrace, the way you hum over his plastron, how cute and serene you look… he starts questions himself, why haven’t you two done this sooner?

2003, 2012, Rottmnt Donnie

2003, MM Raph

2003, MM Mikey

All Leo’s (minus MM and rise) lmao

• Has been waiting for it. Since you two have been officially a thing, he has been patiently waiting for it. wants to do nap dates, casual napping after Sunday lunches, accidentally napping from watching a boring film, coming home late and you are tired? Lay on top of him babe, let him will take care of you 🫶🏼 adores the innocence of holding you close, caressing your skin as you caress him back, finally admiring your features while you sleep, he longs for it, absolutely eats it up

MM AND ROTTMNT LEO !!

2007, 2012, ROTTMNT, Bayverse Mikey (keeping bayverse and 2012 still would be A Task (but anyways BOTH WANTS IT) 2007 is probably tired all the time bc of his gigs lol)

Bayverse, ROTTMNT RAPH !!!!

2007 and 2003 Donnie

• How come you are always this sleepy? This doesn’t make sense, something has to be wrong with your vitamins levels, have you been sleeping at night? Are you having nightmares? What kind of meds are you taking? Your sleep schedule and how you can just simply fall asleep everywhere is astonishingly worrisome, he will look into it

Take a wild guess (all versions)

Doctor feelings

• HE is the who Needs a nap. Drag him to his bed. Hold him close, put ambient music, kiss him softly and don’t let go.

2007 Leo, Future!Rottmnt Leo

2003, 2007, Future!Rottmnt DONNIE !

Future!rottmnt and Last Ronin Mikey

Future!Rottmnt, bayverse, 2007 Raph

Everyone in IDW-TMNT

Not a turtle, but Rottmnt Casey Jones

• can’t take naps (light sleeper or doesn’t want to mess their sleeping schedule) but enjoys you being by his side anyways, will give a dirty look to whoever makes loud noises next to you, tries to always save the most comfortable spots for you on movie nights, he knows you are bound to fall asleep. will takes embarrassing pics of you tho

Take another wild guess (all versions)

And another one (all versions as well)

Mm Donnie

[f1letters]

you're on your own, kid | pg10

"I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me. it's okay, we're the best of friends"

summary: after what she thought was the best night of her life, she came to the realization that she was nothing but one more girl on his list

warning: angst, childhood best friends, toxic fuckboy pierre, mentions of bullying as a little kid, friend zone, one-night stand, suggestive language, swearing, mentions of feeling used, emotional dependence, heartbreak, miscommunication trope, platonic!reader x charles leclerc

pairing: pierre gasly x reader

word count: 4.1k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts.

whoever guessed 'you're on your own, kid'... CONGRATS!! this one is for you! haha I hope you guys like this one, it's the longest story I've written so far but this is such a special song to me and I tried my best to do it justice! enjoy!

masterlist

Summer went away, still, the yearning stays

I play it cool with the best of them

I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me

It's okay, we're the best of friends

Anyway

For as long as Y/N could remember, she had been completely and madly in love with her best friend.

Pierre and Y/N became an inseparable duo from the moment they met as two little kids trying out for their primary school's football team.

At the time, the other boys tried to make fun of the little girl for wanting to be a part of a "boys' sport", as they called it. Being the only girl there, she was made the target of all the bullying, but when she was about to give in and give up, her hero appeared in the form of 6-year-old Pierre who defended her with everything he had.

Y/N looked at the tiny French boy with wide, sparkling eyes as he took her hand and gave it a little squeeze so she wouldn't feel alone.

From there, the two immediately became best friends and that's how they stayed throughout the years.

But at some point in time, the girl found herself getting butterflies when she was in Pierre's presence, imagining what it would be like to have his lips against hers, idealizing a life where the two would be together as more than just friends.

It was inevitable. Pierre emanated such a powerful energy that it consumed her head and dominated all her senses.

He was like a drug: addictive, impossible to give up and she depended on him for survival - almost as if he was oxygen.

And so it was with so many other girls, victims of the driver's charm, although his playboy fame followed him everywhere since he was a teenager.

And it hurt. It hurt too much.

All those years, Y/N had no choice but to fake a smile and nod as she listened to the Frenchman brag about all his latest conquests, all the models, actresses and singers he got involved with all over the world. 

She had no choice but to wait patiently for him to notice her and for him to finally see them as more than the best of friends.

I hear it in your voice, you're smoking with your boys

I touch my phone as if it's your face

I didn't choose this town, I dream of getting out

There's just one who could make me stay

All my days

To be honest, Y/N was already starting to accept that nothing would ever happen between them.

So, the girl chose to distance herself from her friend a little, in an attempt to let her romantic feelings for him fade over time.

She used every excuse in the book to avoid him: I'm tired, I have other plans, I'm working late, I'm sick, I had a family emergency. All of the excuses in the world were used.

Until the day when there were no more excuses and she ended up having to give in, arranging a movie night with the man, as they frequently did over their friendship of nearly two decades.

Y/N arrived at Pierre's luxury apartment in Milan on time as she always did. For a second, she hesitated to knock on the door, letting her anxiety take over, and almost decided to flee in the opposite direction. But as if the driver read her thoughts, the Frenchman appeared from inside his house, seeing his best friend, frozen on top of his black 'welcome' mat.

"Hey! I thought I heard someone coming!" Pierre said excitedly as he gave the girl a short hug. "What are you waiting for? Come in, make yourself comfortable!"

Y/N took off her long coat, hanging it on the coat rack in the hallway, and followed Pierre into his living room, where she saw everything prepared for their movie session. Pillows scattered across the living room floor, two warm blankets crumpled on the couch and two buckets full of popcorn, the smell of which had entered her nose from the moment she set foot inside the apartment.

The familiar image of the boy sitting on his soft carpet made her body relax, and she took the seat next to him while he searched for a movie on his Netflix account. After the two agreed to watch a horror movie, both of them big fans of the genre, the two leaned back against the bottom of the sofa and directed their attention to the screen.

The minutes passed and the two remained in a comfortable silence, commenting from time to time on some of the moments in the film. 

Pierre was now closer to the girl's side and the heat he radiated seemed to almost burn her with the tension that appeared to have settled in her room.

Out of nowhere, Y/N felt something cold on her thigh and thought she was daydreaming when she realized it was her best friend's hand. The girl didn't react, fearing that the words coming out of her mouth would be the wrong ones.

She couldn't help but notice how the driver seemed to be studying her every move, out of the corner of his eye, like a predator looking for prey to attack. 

It was a look she had seen on his face more times than she could count. But never directed at her.

His hand began to move slowly up her soft thigh towards the warm spot between her legs, testing the waters and seeing how far she allowed him to go. His calculated movement was stopped abruptly when she caught his wrist before he reached his intended destination.

"Pierre, what are you doing?" Y/N asked, turning her flushed face towards him.

The boy was mere inches away from her, a smirk plastered across his face and without any sign of regret or embarrassment at having been caught making his risky move. "Y/N, don't lie to me. I've seen the way you look at me. The way your eyes react when they see me approaching you, when you see me with other girls, or when you see me shirtless." He grinned at her, shamelessly.

The girl remained silent, no words daring to be uttered, and she gasped as his hand returned to its former place on the top of her thigh. The Frenchman narrowed the space between them even more, letting his lips brush over hers.

"Come on, Y/N. I can feel how much you want this, want me right now." The man spoke, his fingers now playing with the elastic of her underwear, threatening to act on his desire. "Don't think too much about it. Just live in the moment and act without thinking about the consequences."

Those words were enough to make her head turn off, completely losing her rationality.

Filled with lust, Y/N acted without thinking and kissed Pierre urgently, as if she feared the moment would end at any moment.

With tongues fighting passionately, touches exploring the curves and details of each others' bodies, and clothes scattered carelessly around the room, the two allowed themselves to enter a new level of intimacy.

And the young woman's heart looked like it could explode at any moment with how full it felt, finally having the boy she craved for so long in her arms.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I waited ages to see you there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

The next day, Y/N woke up with the sun's rays coming through the half-open window of a room that she recognized immediately as Pierre's bedroom.

Though she had never woken up in that room like this before: naked, with only the sheets covering her body, and with a satisfying ache between her legs that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Although the driver was nowhere to be seen, a goofy smile appeared on her face, and she brought her hands to her face to cover it up. She let out a silent little scream as she remembered the wonderful hours she'd spent the night before, her exploring Pierre's body, Pierre exploring hers.

Finally, things were going to change. 

She finally got the boy she wanted all those agonizing years.

Grabbing a used tracksuit of his that was lying on a chair and a pair of clean boxers from his drawer, the girl got dressed and headed to the kitchen, where she found her lover leaning against one of his kitchen counters, concentrated on the phone in his hand while drinking some coffee.

"Well, good morning!" Y/N said, almost humming with so much happiness filling her as she approached the driver.

"Hey." He replied, short and dry, making the young woman stop in her tracks, dumbfounded by his carefree attitude.

"Did you sleep well today...?" She tried to test the waters to see if it was just her being dramatic and misunderstanding his response.

"Yeah, sure." Pierre spoke again, without returning the question and without taking his eyes off the small screen of his iPhone as he drank a bit more of his coffee.

Nervousness began to replace all the bliss that previously consumed the girl. It was almost as if he never cared, not even after all she gave him the night before. "Is there something wrong, Pierre?" She questioned, clutching the bottom of the hoodie she was wearing in an attempt to hide her uneasiness.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

"No, sorry. I'm just trying to arrange something here." He replied, more friendly, though he still hadn't even looked at her since Y/N walked into the kitchen.

"What are you planning?" The girl asked, trying everything to strike up a conversation with him. Her heart was beating wildly at that point, and it seemed to crack more and more with each beat.

"Just this lunch thing with a girl I've been talking to for a few weeks." His shoulders shrugged as if his words hadn't pushed Y/N to her limits.

She couldn't explain how hurt she felt. How dirty and used he, of all people, made her feel.

How could he? Her best friend. The person who had been by her side for years. The man she would do anything for.

After suffering in silence for years afraid to act on her feelings, this was her pay for taking a risk once in her life: becoming just another silly girl in Pierre Gasly's long list of lovers.

Just another conquest, another achievement, undeserving of the driver's concern and care, with zero distinction from all others.

"Look, I'm in a hurry. I really have to go, Y/N." He informed her just as he started to walk hurriedly towards the exit, placing a quick kiss on her temple.

As if those same lips hadn't been glued to hers, clinging to every surface of the girl's body just hours before.

"You know the way! Just let yourself out. See you later!" He yelled, leaving the girl stunned, tears streaming from her eyes, as she heard the apartment door close loudly.

I see the great escape, so long, Daisy May

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed, writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot

I'll run away

A couple of days later, Y/N found herself sitting in her condo's parking lot one night, balling her eyes out while she played the songs of her favourite artist.

She couldn't believe that her best friend had used her body and taken advantage of her feelings for him. And to make matters worse, the girl has received nothing but silence from Pierre's side since that morning in his apartment.

Left alone with her own confused thoughts, Y/N's head was spinning. She didn't know what to do, what to think, or what to say.

I just want to get out of Milan and go home, she repeated over and over again.

Y/N had never chosen that town.

The young woman remembered every detail of the day when Pierre announced he was going to move to Italy, leaving France.

A life without Pierre was unimaginable for the girl. She couldn't remember a single day when she didn't know him, when she didn't have his presence in her life.

Feeling trapped, with no other option, she simply packed her bags and went with him.

She couldn't help but think what a huge mistake it had been to come after him, especially when he didn't seem to care about having her there at all.

Y/N picked up her phone, preparing to turn off the music that was blaring through the car to return home, but she was stopped by the sight of the image that decorated her lock screen.

It was from last year. Pierre and Y/N were wearing their ugly Christmas sweaters - like they did every year as a silly tradition - cuddled up on the couch in his parents' house. The lights from the tree reflected on them, creating a magical atmosphere around the two friends.

The girl affectionately touched her phone, as if it were his face. 

Although the idea of returning to France had been hovering in her head for a while, she knew that she couldn't decide to leave without talking to him first.

After all, he was the only one who could make her stay.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I called a taxi to take me there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare

As tears continued to pool in her sad eyes, Y/N opted to get out of her car, assuring that it was safely locked, and called a taxi to take her to the boy's house, since she wasn't in any condition to drive.

The drive was silent and short, just the typical 15 minutes it took her every time. The girl got out of the car, thanked the driver, and began to walk hurriedly towards the building. Her step was uneven and fast, revealing the girl's erratic and desperate state.

Y/N walked through the door of the building, politely greeting the doorman, and continued on her way towards the elevator.

She was only inside for a few minutes until she reached Pierre's floor, being immediately surprised by the loud sound of music coming from the door of the familiar apartment.

He's having a party, and he hasn't even invited me, she thought to herself.

While she suffered from his absence, Pierre was surrounded by anything but silence.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

Y/N gained some courage and rang the doorbell, although she was afraid that no one would hear the sound in between the noise coming from the apartment's speakers.

However, seconds later, the driver appeared at the door, wide-eyed at the sight of his friend.

"Hey! Y/N!" Pierre smiled at her, without any sign that he had stopped to think about her during the days that had passed since the night of desire between the two of them. "I wasn't expecting you, come in!"

"Hmm..." The girl hesitantly entered the house and tried to pretend that everything was fine, not wanting to ruin the party. "I was nearby and decided to stop by."

"Oh, good!" Pierre replied, bringing his hand to the back of his neck as his eyes roamed the party full of other bodies. "We're just having a last-minute thing. You know, just a spontaneous hangout." He chuckled, clearly looking to get back to what he was doing before heading to the door.

"Yes, of course, Pierre 'spontaneous' Gasly." Y/N joked, in an attempt to break the tense atmosphere between the two. However, she only received the disinterest of Pierre, who clearly didn't find the joke funny.

"Look, I have to go. I was in the middle of something," Pierre looked back at her, pointing towards a person she immediately recognized. "But Charles is over there with Joris! You can go to them. We'll talk later, okay?"

Without even waiting for her answer, the Frenchman left. The girl's teary eyes followed his image until she saw him returning to his dark couch, where three gorgeous women were waiting for the driver, with hungry eyes on their faces.

The same fucking couch where he'd explored her body, millimetre by millimetre, marking her skin with his touch, days before.

"You know how he gets when he is hosting a party." Charles said, approaching the young woman when he noticed her presence alone in the room.

She shrugged, discreetly wiping the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. "Yeah, well, my presence was always pointless here for him anyway."

Y/N turned to the Monegasque driver and hugged him tight, longer than usual. The man was caught off guard, taking a few seconds to return his longtime friend's hug, but he did so.

Charles couldn't help feeling that that hug meant something more to the girl, but he chose not to question it since it was apparent in her hurt look that something else was going on and he didn't want to intrude.

Y/N placed a friendly kiss on the boy's cheek, letting her hand rest on his cheek. Her gaze locked with his eyes and he swore he saw a tear fall down her cheek.

"Goodbye Charles." She forced a smile. "I will talk to you later, I love you." Y/N turned her back to her friend and walked out the door, without allowing the driver to respond.

Charles couldn't shake the feeling that this 'goodbye' wasn't just a 'see you later', but, blaming it on alcohol and his imagination, he returned to the party, without giving the matter any further thought.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

I hosted parties and starved my body

Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

In a hurry and with tears flowing freely down her face, the girl returned home and placed all her belongings in suitcases and bags, without any care.

And with that, Y/N ran up and down the stairs of the building where she lived towards her car, filling the trunk and the back seats of the vehicle with everything she had in her small house.

For one last time, Y/N looked at the now lifeless apartment where she lived for the last few years and her heart felt tight, unable to hide the nostalgia that that place was going to leave her with.

She might not have been the happiest there in Milan, but her home had always been her refuge.

However, it was time for her to turn the page, burn the bridge, and finally return to her true home.

Sitting in the car, she took a deep breath and began her long, impulsive journey back to France. It was completely insane trying to make a trip lasting more than 10 hours, especially at that time of night, but the girl simply couldn't bear to stay there another minute.

When the sun started to reappear in the sky, illuminating the endless road with its orange and pink tones, Y/N realized that he hadn't stopped yet and decided to park at one of the available stations to rest.

However, the heartache and the feeling of betrayal still crushed her soul, so she sought refuge in the words of her best friend, Céline, who would certainly welcome her when she reached her destination.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" Her sleepy tone soon revealed that she had been awakened by the call.

"I'm coming home, Cél." Y/N informed, sniffling her nose. "I gave my blood, sweat and tears for this. I gave it my all but I just couldn't take it anymore."

"What?" Y/N could hear the sound of the sheets and mattress moving on the other end of the line, imagining Céline suddenly sitting up on her bed. "Home? As in France? I don't understand, what happened? Talk to me."

"I'm just a dumb girl who thought the guy she loved for years was going to be her prince charming, coming to save her the perfect kiss." The young woman sobbed, with her hand covering her mouth in an attempt to hide the noise. "Instead, I was just treated like a fucking toy. He didn't even care to know how I felt after he slept with me."

"What? You and Pierre?" His friend questioned, shocked. "Oh my god, I never thought he would be capable of doing this to you. I don't even know what to say."

The two friends stayed for a long time talking, Céline being her usual attentive friend and listening to Y/N's outburst without interrupting her.

"Don't worry, girl. I'll be here with open arms to welcome you home." Cél tried to comfort her friend, making the girl in the car thank her for everything.

Y/N had no reason to be afraid when the people who really cared about her were waiting for her where she truly belonged.

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money

My friends from home don't know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

The days passed and Pierre went on with his life as normal, not even noticing the girl's absence until Charles asked him about it.

The two were playing FIFA on their PlayStations when the Monegasque spoke. "Pierre, have you heard from Y/N lately?"

The Frenchman felt a wave of shock hit him as he realized he hadn't seen or heard from her since the night of the party when he'd rudely dismissed her.

"I don't know, mate... When I talked to her at the party, she didn't seem right." Charles expressed his concerns. "I've tried texting her, calling her. She doesn't answer me."

"It's probably not a big deal. She's probably just busy with something." Pierre pretended to be unconcerned, trying to convince himself more than his friend that it was just a misunderstanding.

"No, Pierre. You don't understand." The Monegasque insisted, persistent in solving the mystery. "When she said goodbye to me that night... I felt like it was goodbye, a real goodbye."

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

The word echoed in Pierre's head and regret filled him from head to toe, as he rose abruptly from the sofa.

"I have to go, Charles."

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

So, make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it

You've got no reason to be afraid

You're on your own, kid

Yeah, you can face this

The driver knocked insistently on the girl's door, almost as if his life depended on it.

"Y/N, please! Open the door!" Fists clenched against the wood, he begged for a chance to apologize.

Pierre knew now that he had acted wrongly with her.

For letting his desire for some release come between them. For using his friend for a night of passion when she was the most important person in his life. For giving her just something fleeting, something ephemeral when she deserved the world at her feet.

For ignoring the girl the morning after the best night in his life. For avoiding her the next few days when he should have run to her and confessed his feelings. For taking the easy way out and looking for comfort in other bodies when the only one he wanted by his side was her.

Pierre gave up knocking and let his back hit the door, sitting on the step. "I'm sorry. For everything. I beg you, give me a chance to tell you everything I should have said ages ago."

"Sorry, but are you looking for Y/N?" An old voice spoke, making the Frenchman look up at the person. "She doesn't live here anymore, young man."

"W- What- What do you mean?" Pierre stammered, feeling like he'd been doused in cold water.

"She left the apartment a few days ago. The landlord is already looking for someone to rent the place." The elderly lady informed him, setting down the groceries she was holding on the floor.

It was too late, he thought. I lost her, forever.

She approached him, placing a hand gently on the boy's shoulder, who now had his head between his hands.

"I'm sorry, but you're on your own, kid."

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

taglist: @dan3avocado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12

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(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

[pascallatte]

Payback

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: a behind the scene moment, filmed by Pedro himself. A closer look at the chaos that happens in between takes.

Date: Nov 2016

Warning/s: none just pure old fluff

A/N: Yeahhhhh, why does it feel so long since I've posted something?? Also, Twitter fics will be posted a day after the main fic is posted (will post more info soon). Anyways, here I am again with a new fic, hope you enjoy this like you did with my past ones!! Happy reading.

The set of narcos on and off screen can be described as…chaotic. It may be because of the cast themselves. The teasing, between Pedro and you, is something that isn’t new. And with Pedro posting on Instagram another one of those videos you and him, while preparing for the second season, fans can think that their game still hasn’t been set straight. This leads us to this, to which fans say the Normalcy of the relationship between you and Pedro.

Caption

@yourusername, always gives me a hard time while shooting, it’s payback time.❤️ #NarcosSeason2 #Netflix 

As soon as the video started, it blinded whoever was watching because of the intense light that was given by the sun that day. Pedro, who was recording, panned the phone around to catch a small behind-the-scenes look. Clearing his throat he flips the camera to show himself, fully clothed as the hardcore agent, Javier Pena.

“Hello, I was given the chance to go on break while they,” points to you and Boyd behind him, who was talking to one of the producers, “shoot some more things. While waiting, I’m just going to sit in this chair and eat what I can.” He gets comfortable on his designated make-up chair reaching for some snacks before popping them in his mouth. 

“Why eat what I can? Its because-, “ flips the phone to you and zooms in on your red sweat-covered face, which actually still looked good despite being under the sun for almost the whole day,”-‘cause, ducky over there would come here, soon, and take all these-these snacks, especially these small cheese filled biscuits. She likes them.” He whispers to himself or rather the camera, during the last part.

The phone almost slips from his hands as he tries to zoom in for a closer view, which he gets. You and Boyd were seen smiling to the crew as you walked in his direction, presumably already given the signal for you to be able to take a break. Still far, he follows your move as you walk towards him looking straight past the camera at him, smiling and waving. Unconsciously he whispers to himself, “Ah tan bonita, bebe.” So pretty, baby.

You were stopped just a few feet away from him by a staff member, allowing him to hide the phone while still being able to record the whole thing. Placing it down in front of him and flips to see Pedro leaning on the armrest. Turning to look at you, with a look that tells that he's waiting for you to look at him as he gives an adoring look towards your direction. 

“Hola Pedrito,” you said in a soft tired voice. Your voice was heard first receiving a smile from Pedro as you circle around his chair and hug him from behind, whispering to him as he looked at you nodding. The camera was then fixed to see the two of you, you hugging Pedro from behind, a small peck placed on his cheek. You were seen smiling at him before you take a sip from the drink that he has offered you. 

Just noticing the camera, you turn your head to him, gesturing to the phone that he’d set up. As you stood straight, taking his drink with you. Raising a brow, giving him a questioning look, “¿qué estás haciendo?” what are you doing?

Grinning up at you, he subtlely reached for your hand, making sure it wasn’t seen on tape, “Te estoy grabando.” I'm recording you. 

“¿Desde cuando?” a nervous chuckle escaped you, fighting the panicked look that was about to escape you, knowing what this was all about now. Since when?

He laughs at your expression, reaching up for his drink and responding with a “Desde antes de que llamaran a un descanso.” Making you raise the drink-filled cup away from him. Since before they called for a break.

Setting the cup somewhere out of the frame, you came back to look at him suddenly slapping his thighs and walking away mumbling, “Ayayay Pedro.”

An amused “Why?!” was heard from him before the video ended. And if that wasn't enough, it was followed by another one.

You were now sitting next to him, almost shoulder to shoulder, still enjoying the break given to you. In the entirety of the video, you were seen reaching into the same bags of chips or bowls of candies that he reaches for, getting the same thing he already has. And not only the food but also the drinks.

Besides you copying every bite or drink he does, you also copy his gestures. From the eyebrow-raising to adjusting himself in his seat, the hair flips, and the most iconic, as you call it, brushing-of-the-mustache.

It wasn’t that Pedro wasn’t aware of your antics, he just thought that it was a coincidence. So when he sees you do the gesture on your invisible moustache as well as drinking from a cup, he knows that you were on to something. And he’s going to stop it before it even happens.

Pedro calls your name out of the blue, unaware that he already knows, and calls out his name too.

“Y/n.”

“Pedro.”

He stares at you. Long enough to make you falter and tilt your head in confusion. Still making eye contact he takes a sip, in which you copy (obviously).

He grunts at what seems like a confirmation to him as he was seen nodding his head. Placing his cup down in front of the phone camera, he leans closer to you.

“Stop copying me.”

Letting out a soft laugh, “What? I’m not.” You feigned innocence backing up as he leans in closer. You look to your left at the camera, shaking your head.

You were only able to hear a short “Okay,” before you were pulled to the side as Pedro’s arm softly pulls you to him. Now laughing, you try to move away by hitting his torso and pulling his arm. But you just stayed in place, sadly for you.

“You can’t copy me now, can’t you?” He teases as he looks down at you, who was huffing out a breath hands on the forearm around your neck.

“Isn’t this abuse?” You lightly said, jabbing his chest. Causing him to loosen his hold a bit, allowing you to look at him. And to your surprise, you were closer than what you’d imagined, almost nose to nose.

“Nope,” he whispers before tightening his hold on now your shoulders, how it got there is something you don’t have a clue on. Squeezing you tightly, Pedro leans back on his chair making the two of you topple down, laughs and wheezes were heard before the phone was taken by Pedro to show you on the floor still laughing your hair covering your face.

The short video ended with a very…funny, or you'd like to say "a disgrace of a shot," close-up of your face all red from the laughing.

•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙

Taglist: @benonlinear @t-stark35 @heyitsme-2 @elleeeee21 @holmesstrange @tagakalat @flyestvenustrap @oldermenaremyreligion @cherryred444 @hobiismyhopeu @ilovehotdadsandshit @djarinsstuff @guacala @avengersheart @pukka-latte @lilvampirina @namgification @mmkkzz (bolded blog/s: I can't seem to find you guys' accounts but I'll still tag in case it works)

[froggibus]

Taking Care Of You While Sick - Obey Me!

Includes: Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, Beel & Belphie

Genre: hurt/comfort + fluff!

Summary: you get sick, and your favorite demon knows (or tries his best) just how to take care of you

CW: sick! Reader, fever, lots of medicine, satan being Satan, wholesome Beel

wow i wonder what could have possibly inspired me to write this one….weird. anyway I am still sick but thats okay cause i got to sleep 20 hours one day and watch all the marvel movies so pog. anyway enjoy <3

————

Lucifer 

doesn’t know much about human illnesses but knows when you’re getting sick 

 makes you get lots of bed rest

 will have medicine and fresh water for you around the clock

 offers to do his paperwork in your room to keep you company 

 you don’t really notice either way cause you’re asleep mostly 

 he does anyway tho cause he’s worried and wants to keep an eye on you

 corrects your temperature in your sleep too

 shivering? adds another blanket

 sweating? pulls the covers back and puts a cold cloth on your forehead

 “luc did you…swaddle me?”

 “you were cold”

 even after you get better he’s extra adamant about you taking vitamins 

Mammon 

 thinks you’re dying at first

 notices you’re much warmer than usual and actually thinks you’re going to light on fire

 panics and thinks lucifer is gonna kill him 

 you have to explain that you’re not actually dying but that you’re sick 

 probably has no idea what to do to help you

 just does what he likes when he’s sick

 brings you lots of fluids (especially juice)

 and soup

 expect lots of soup/ramen

 is with you 24/7

 “you’re MY responsibility so I gotta keep an eye on you”

 probably forgets to take care of himself in the process 

 so you make him drink your water/eat your soup/sleep 

 definitely sleeps with you with the excuse of ‘watching out for you’

Levi

 its just like in that anime he watched 

 except he really hopes you’re not dying like the MC in the anime was

 just does exactly what they did in the anime (but with a lot more blushing and stuttering)

 probably thinks you’d rather lucifer or mammon take care of you 

 you try to comfort him but you’re so tired that it just comes out as a bunch of mumbles 

 definitely has to give himself a peptalk (or five)

 “y/n is really sick rn, this isn’t about you, ok?”

 will feed you medicine if you’re not strong enough to do it yourself 

 you’re surprised at how well he’s handling things

 “ok y/n im gonna head back to my room but if you need anything tonight just text me ok?”

 “levi can you stay with me”

 thinks he’s misheard you at first

 malfunctions for a really long time 

 you’re already falling asleep by the time he decides to climb in bed with you

Satan

 has been waiting for this moment since you arrived 

 literally read so many books about human illness and immune systems 

 figured it was only a matter of time until you got sick

 is ready with juice and water and medicine 

 literally has everything you could possibly need 

 checks your temperature VERY delicately

 “fuck y/n you’re burning up”

 gets you a cold cloth for your forehead 

 even tho he knows everything he still is really nervous

 checks on you like every five minutes (if he even leaves your room)

 would make himself a bed on your floor so that if you need him in the night he’s there

 somehow you convince him to come lay with you 

 even tho you’re a million degrees 

 he’ll stay with you all night just to make sure you’re okay

 would definitely try and hunt down whoever infected you 

Asmo

 can tell you’re sick just by how clammy and washed out you look

 but he won’t say anything 

 probably makes you one of his ultra healthy super food smoothies

 even if it tastes gross he makes sure you drink it

 would probably spoon feed you food too

 insists you get lots of rest

 and when you can’t sleep he’s there to keep you company

 keeps up with your hygiene too

 will brush your hair/tie it up so that it doesn’t get tangled while you sleep

 gets a cloth to wipe down your face and applies lotion and chapstick 

 probably wouldn’t sleep with you cause he doesn’t want to get sick (even tho demons don’t share the same sicknesses with humans)

 but will stay in a phone call with you from his room all night and if you need anything he’s there in a heartbeat

 more medicine?

 he’s there

 but he’s so tired don’t expect him to return to his room after

Beel

 doesn’t know whats going on at first but makes an educated guess

 asks what you need instead of assuming 

 makes you lots of snacks + drinks

 i feel like he would hide your medicine in food like they do for dogs??

 idk it seems up his alley 

 also helps you with any tasks you may possibly need with

 homework? he’s on it (just don’t tell Lucifer)

 need to wash your hair but you’re too weak? all you gotta do is lean your head over the bathtub 

 he’ll take really good care of you

 would probably baby you a little tho

 like cut up your food into really small portions 

 and give you juice out of a sippy cup

 “beel where did you even find that?”

 “i-uhh—“

definitely watches movies with you until you fall asleep and stays to make sure you don’t need anything

Belphie 

probably knew you were sick before anyone else

tries to ignore it cause he totally doesn’t care

but your skin is hot!!

and you’re sweating a lot 

and your voice sounds…different?

eventually he has to give in and admit he’s worried about you

and since no one else is around he takes care of you

brings you water and medicine and offers to let you sleep in his bed

“just so I can wash your sheets! you’ll feel so much better in clean ones…”

even lets you sleep on his pillow

probably watches you sleep to make sure you’re still alive 

but can’t help and admire how peaceful you look 

pushes you to drink fluids and sleep LOTS 

and if you refuse to sleep?

well he’ll just have to make you sleep

masterlist

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hello hello!

I saw your “Them comforting reader after a long day” post and i thought how about a “reader comforts them after a long day” with Furina/Mona and whoever you choose. I’m gonna go back to bing read your posts now! Take care!

Comforting them after a long day

characters: Furina / Mona x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: maybe slight hurt/comfort, but mostly fluff

a/n: Couldn't exactly go the full comforting route in Mona's path, bc let's be honest. That girl is too proud to show even a little bit of weakness or vulnerability, but this should do as well.

Oh, also: FINALLY A REQUEST FOR MONA I LOVE HER SO MUCH I- SOJDVNIJSDVNSIDVNSIDJVNIJSDNV

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Furina

Even though Furina had promised herself not to hide behind a facade any longer, there were times she instinctively fell back on her old habits, the 500 year old autopilot that made it possible for her to keep her secret for so long not disappearing overnight. So when she finally closed the doors to her apartment, only to immediately turn around, lean onto them and let gravity do its job until she had slid down to a sitting position, Furina finally closed her eyes before letting out a heavy sigh she had held back for far too long.

“That was a big one. Want to talk about it?” Your voice suddenly rang out, causing her eyes to snap open and quickly land on your silhouette in the hallway as she struggled to leap back up, embarrassment flaming up in her as she tried her best to play it off as if nothing happened, only for her to end up leaning awkwardly against the door.

“Want to talk about what?” Furina shot back immediately, only to silently cringe at the way her words came out, putting on a smile as she slowly took off her shoes and coat and made her way over to the living room, being closely followed by you.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s also fine. Can I take your hand for a bit?” You eventually stated with an understanding smile, grabbing her head once she gave you a nod and starting to massage it by pressing your thumbs against different spots.

It wasn’t like Furina didn’t want to tell you… actually getting her complaints off her chest probably wouldn’t feel so bad. There was nothing stopping her except old habits and the fear something bad might happen once she opened up, that she inherited from her “former life” as Fontaine’s Archon.

“ No, I want to. But I’ll warn you. It might be a long and ultimately boring tale, so are you sure you want to list–” Furina interrupted her melancholic monologue when you pressed against a particular point on her hand, causing her to suddenly yelp in pain as you briefly stopped and looked up at her once again, your face asking her if you should stop. Just like with her opening up, your hand-massage was painful, yet also felt… pleasant and before long she signaled you to continue before reopening her mouth. “–so are you sure you want to listen to it?”

Without a moment of hesitation you responded, giving her a determined nod as you continued to carefully massage the same spot until stopped being painful, showing Furina one last encouraging smile until her complaints and worries started to pour out of her mouth. The former Archon talking until she felt the corners of her mouth dry up, with you intently listening to each and every one of her words.

…Maybe being more open every once in a while didn’t feel too bad.

Mona

Being an Astrologer was what Mona had always dreamed of being, so when it came to it, she wasn’t scared of pouring every single second of her free time into her work, even when chances were her research would reach a dead-end. Because even with fate ordaining everything that ever happened or still lied in the future, there was no way of knowing how things were going to turn out without at least giving them a shot.

So having her the last couple of weeks worth of work turned out to be for nothing when it became clear it wasn’t going anywhere was nothing Mona was unfamiliar with. It was simply a part of her job after all… but even though the great Astrologer Mona Megistus would never admit to being bothered by setbacks, you knew her better than to fall for her unaffected facade.

“Do you have ingredients at home?” You suddenly asked in the middle of your walk, immediately gaining Mona’s attention as she quickly got lost in thought, trying to remember what food she had used up and what still remained, only to eventually give up and shrug her shoulders, letting out a small sigh as she straightened her hat.

“There might still be some left. I can’t say for sure though, keeping stock of my supplies wasn’t exactly something I kept in mind these last few days,” she admitted only for you to quickly whip around your head, a smile adorning your lips as you came up with a suggestion.

“Let’s go out and eat something! That’s something we didn’t do in quite a while.” Considering Mona’s thoughtful look and how she paused in her tracks for a few seconds, it was fair to say that she wasn’t completely against your proposal, even if you were sure it would still require a lot of convincing to get her to finally agree.

“I’m not sure. Going out to eat when you could just as well buy ingredients and cook something is a waste of money isn’t it?” She hesitantly responded, still pondering as her fingers continued to scratch her chin. Truth be told. You couldn’t agree with her more. You had recently spent a lot of your money on things that in hindsight didn’t exactly prove to be the wisest investments, but even so, you felt as if it was your duty to get Mona to eat something tasty today, even if it meant eating nothing but bread and butter for a few days.

You knew Mona better than to not notice how demoralized she seemed the last few days, her sudden mood change and her increase in free time coinciding too well for it to mean anything except her latest research turning out to be for naught. Of course you knew better than to confront her directly about it… something that would only lead to Mona getting defensive as she’d deny feeling down about anything, too proud and stubborn to open up. And so, the only option left was for you to do what you did best.

“I know… But you’ve been so busy these last few weeks so I couldn’t see you all that much and... I’ve missed you,” you explained while trying your best impression of a puppy, “So can we please go out today?” When you saw Mona’s face heat up slightly as she quickly glanced around the two of you, looking if there was anyone in earshot, you knew your plan turned out to be a success, having to do your best to stop your lips from curling up into a smile when she let out a yet another deep sigh. 

“Fine, but stop saying embarrassing things. We’re in public.”