#but they're the best roommate I've ever had

[dr-gaytorius]

i honestly feel bad for ppl who get on my bad side by being prickish little shits bc i’m really nice and a great listener and funny and interesting and a great friend and love violence and will kill for my loved ones 

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 10)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 9, Part 11

summary: In the morning, Miguel reminisces.

warnings: smut! grinding, humping, alcohol, PIV, switch-y behaviour (what's new), aftercare, mentions of depression. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: soft melty mig >>>

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 4.5k

Oh! and I finally made the series' playlists (very open to requests) <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

between your bodies;

You wake up with a headache and a lump in your throat.

Bleary eyes; and you rub away sleep, rosy and warm around the edges. Everything smells like him, is your very first thought. It's the kind of thing that has you reeling, tossing and turning in unfamiliar sheets before looking up at a mottled ceiling. Light creeps in from curtains cracked open, rays spreading like wildfire on everything it touches. Miguel's bed is by the window, and you can't help but curl up what little light spills in with your hands; palm upwards, slowly balled into fists. It's warm, and your hand feels a little different.

Oh.

Like a bolt of lightning, memories of the night before run up your spine; dancing up and down between the sheets. Miguel's hand in yours, his skin pressed up against you, a room spinning in the kind of way that seems romantic. Seems romantic; you note. It could've been the alcohol, but you had felt something between you two, yesterday. Something… different . Your cheeks grow warm at the thought of last night; drunken revelations and so much light, it burns.

I like the way your eyes scrunch up when you smile. I like the way you look in the morning, squinting at labels and cereal packets. You've got the prettiest lips I've ever seen, Miguel.

You burrow under the covers as you recall it; the memory of Miguel between your thighs, his head in the crook of your shoulder. The way he had half-laughed, heady and heavy and thick with want, low groans pooling by the shell of your ear. You're not too sure if you meant it; really, really meant it; and you're scared of what that means. Casual sex was the agreement, and you didn't think you had the capacity for much else.

Sighing, you stretch your leg out from under the covers, dipping a tentative toe on the rug. Bare, except for a T-shirt whose hem kisses your thighs. Mig's t-shirt, of course, and you tug it down as you slip out of his bed. The aftermath, things tossed off shelves and awards that had clattered to the ground, lies in last night's wake. Guiltily, you root around to pick up his things.

They're more personal than the things around the house. You notice a plaque or two from undergrad, his diploma  - biomechanics and chemical engineering with honours - and even a certificate from a middle school science fair. The image makes you smile: little Mig with braces and a distinct frown, handed a plastic trophy in front of a spotty crowd. 'First Place' it says, and knowing him his entry was less baking soda volcano and more miniature Hadron Collider . If he's anything like he is now; he was probably a mouthy little pain-in-the-ass, too.

You take a watch off of the floor, half hidden under his bed. A knee brushes past a clear box; that jostles and rattles around like nails in a metal can. From vague outlines, you can see a box of junk , in every sense of the word: scrap metal, wires, plastic tubing. A whole scrapyard under his bed, and you reach for it, curious.  Something knicks at your hand in the process. Glass, from a broken pane of a frame slipped under the bed. Softly, you hiss, sucking at the cut that draws blood.

More careful, now, you push the frame towards you, sweeping up the glass as best you can. In the lowlight, you can't make out much. Carefully, you hold it by a corner - an intricate thing, all twisted metal and brushed bronze. From out under the bed, you see it, or rather, him: Miguel, a little younger, surrounded by a couple of unfamiliar faces. A taller man, a much older woman - and they both smile in the way he does, crows feet and with the kind of warmth that reaches their eyes. In his arms (Miguel's, but not your Miguel) is a little girl. She is small; wide-eyed, gap-toothed; looking up at him, as if the camera wasn't there. The adoration in her face makes you smile. His sister, maybe? His brother, Gabi, and his dear mama ? 

Gently, you place it on the side table. You sweep up the glass into your hand, ignoring the sting that spreads to your palms. It's not a deep cut, but you head to the kitchen anyway, in search of warm soapy water and something to mop it up. 

Slipping past the doorway, it is deathly quiet. Morning spills in through a window, illuminating a lone figure - broad shoulders, tan and bare save for pyjama pants, hunched over the dining table. 

Miguel doesn't seem to notice as you get closer, finally able to hear slight noise and chatter from a tinny phone. Cup of coffee in hand, you watch as he scrolls, replaying the same video over and over. From over his shoulder, you can just about make it out: music that had deafened you at the time, loops with a pathetic whine. A video from last night, it seems, and you recognise the icon of Lyla's story. Bright lights, your dress sparkling and a pretty little laugh drowned out by Lyla's - he seems to replay the same couple of seconds over, and over, and–

“Mig?” He jumps, leaping almost 3 feet into the air, it seems. His phone shuts off with a clatter, slammed onto the table. Turning, he seems guilty, before flattening his face into something more socially acceptable.

“H-Hi. Morning.” He clears his throat, giving you an awkward nod.

“Morning,” Softening, you slink down to take a seat. He knows, of course: he knows that you know, that you saw exactly what he's been doing. But you're both going to ignore it, let it settle in the gaps between you - a gap that quickly shrinks, he notes. 

The chair drags across the floor, almost catching at a rug on the wooden slats. When you seat yourself by him; closer, closer, oh-so close; you can't help but brush your legs to his, addicted to the way it makes him shiver. Payback, you think, grabbing at his mug and stealing a sip before he can say anything. For all the times he's fucked with your head.

Miguel knows better than to protest, crossing his arms resolutely. He sighs - not maliciously, but with a tinge of defeat. You're too pretty, and too close for him to think properly; to even muster up the energy to argue. And so he doesn't, opting to chew at the inside of his cheek. 

“ Hey .” You say, hand coming up to cheekbone, stroking at it with your thumb. Miguel tries not to lean into it, to melt into the touch. “ Careful. Where'd you go?”

It makes him laugh, bitterly, ruefully - whatever you want to call it. Where'd you go? And you say it like you've got an inkling of all the shit that goes on in his head. He goes to the same place he always seems to be, these days. Somewhere that reminds him of you , of your nights together, of your nights apart–

“Did you sleep well?” You're asking, and it takes him a second to process it.

“Sure.” Shrugging, he lies, and you pretend to believe him. “Long night, I suppose.”

When he picks that moment to look at you, to bore into your soul, you take your hand away; feeling naked , feeling bare . 

“What about you? Did you sleep well?” 

And you hum, non-committal, in response.

“Can’t remember much.” It’s a bold-faced lie, and he knows it.

He chews at his lips, eyes dragged down to your figure. He’s shameless, lashes fluttering before he sighs - with the kind of tiredness that rattles at his chest - scratching at a 5 o’clock shadow.

He’s pinching at the bridge of his nose like he’s battling a headache - and losing miserably. Miguel; your Miguel, this time; looks so pathetic, with the countenance of a wet mop. It’s not a grimace, nor a frown, like always. It looks like melancholy - thinly veiled, bone-deep - and it makes your heart splinter.

You just… you just want to comfort him. To hold him in your arms and stroke his hair, to press kisses into the crinkles at the side of his mouth, his forehead: to be warm and soft and somewhere safe , for him.

It’s a compulsion you can’t fight, clambering over him to sit on his lap. His gaze flickers, pointedly trying to ignore you, but his hand rests comfortably on plush thigh. It sends a shiver down your spine; how tender his touch is, even when like this. 

“I…” You start, tracing a hand to his scratchy jaw and gently tilting him towards you. “I remember enough.”

 He can’t help it, hand travelling a little further up and eyes flitting to your lips. 

“... Yeah ?” And it comes with an unceremonious squeeze at your ass, wetting his lips with pink tongue.

That gap between you shrinks even more as you press your chest to his, with a hand at his shoulder. God, his skin is hot to the touch; lean muscle that tenses under your palm. He gets closer.

“What are you doing today?” He’s trying so hard, forcing himself to look you in the eye - betrayed only by a pounding heart and a lingering look to your lips. 

Coupled with the way he looks at you; kneading at your thighs, leaning into your gentle palm; it makes your throat close up. 

“...U-Umm, I think–”

“It’s Friday, right?” He hums, head cocked as if deep in thought. “You’ve got… stats and lab prep, today.”

You frown. “Yeah, actually. How did you–”

“You’re always complaining about Fridays.”

“I didn’t yesterday.”

“I’ve barely seen you all week, sweetheart.” 

“ And who’s fault is that? ” Muttering, you roll your eyes, trying not to show him the way it makes you melt.

“I listen.” He says, soft. 

“...sometimes.” You finish, but it’s half-hearted. You know, he knows; he listens . He always has. 

“I think…” You clear your throat. “T-Think m’gonna take the day off. I’m pretty–”

Tired. Exhausted. Ready to kiss your roommate if it meant he would look at you like that for a little longer.

“ – hungover .” He whispers, thumb stroking your hip as you snort; ready to bat him away. 

Wriggling, his grip tightens, slotting you closer as if in a trance. You’re laughing, a sharp retort at the tip of your tongue, but his wry smile seems tinged with something else. It’s a something that makes your heart skip a beat – but it’s his next words that have you reeling.

“I’ve got the day off, too.”

You’re taken aback. “Don’t you…? I-I mean I thought you’re taking extra hours at Alchemax…”

“Nope.” Resolute, he shakes his head. “We’ve got appraisals or something, today. Upper management only. I thought I told you.”

Brows kneaded, you give him a look he’s well accustomed to. And Miguel; because he’s Miguel, of course; counters it almost immediately.

“Don't give me that … You didn’t even know I wore glasses until yesterday.”

“That’s not fair , Mig.”

“You don’t want to spend the day with me? Dios mio, hermosa.”

“Mig–”

Dramatic, he tips his head back, clutching at his chest. “Am I that bad? You can’t spend a couple hours with me–”

“Mig –”

“Just a couple, sweetheart, and then I’m out of your hair, and you can complain about me to–”

“ Mig! ” You exclaim, giggling whilst you nudge his head forward to meet your gaze.

“You called?” He flutters his eyelashes playfully, with a hint of a smile. 

It looks good on him, you think; glad that he feels comfortable enough to finally let go.

There’s a gentle lull and he places hot palms at your thighs to hike you up even closer. You adjust yourself on his lap, watching the way he groans with his head in your hands. It makes you bold: the way he moves to clutch at your hand and dart under the lip of your shirt to press you closer. 

A roll of your hips makes him purr , eyes fluttering as he rocks up in thin pants. Quickly hardening, he’s wearing a dopey smile - one you return as you press your forehead to his. He angles his hips just right, causing little moans to spill out from pretty lips. The hand at his jaw travels to the nape of his neck, tugging in that way you know that he likes. You know him, and that makes your chest warm: the way he purrs and rumbles as you touch him in a way only you can.

Roughly, he swallows, head tilted up to catch at your cheek. 

“Do you remember what you said last night?” It’s whispered into skin, soft and barely-there. “What you asked me to do?”

Kiss me. Why won’t you kiss me?

Like something sharp and intense through your veins, the memory makes you shiver, leaning into Miguel so his clothed cock catches at your clit. Like this , you don’t want to look at him - you can’t. 

Ask me tomorrow.

And so you shake your head, nuzzling into his side with a weak whimper.

There’s a pause so imperceptible you might have imagined it. If Miguel is disappointed - or relieved, or frustrated - you can’t quite tell. Unceremoniously, he latches on, taking large handfuls of your ass and sucking ugly hickies into pretty skin.

“You asked me–” He says it between wet kisses, sloppy and hungry and quickly deepening. “You asked me to fuck you .”

You gulp, hips rolling as you close your eyes. 

“ Just the tip, you said.” He lifts you up slightly, rolling back plaid pants. He nips at your neck, all tongue and teeth and claws. “Do you remember now?”

He’s not even inside, teasing your bare folds with the wide head of his cock. Your head tilts to give him more access to that juncture of your jaw. A dry chuckle leaves your lips at his tone and countenance; asking if you remember as he does his best to make you forget even the simplest of things. And that’s the thing about Miguel O’Hara, saccharine-sweet, gorgeous -in-the-low-light O’Hara: he makes you feel so good, everything else falls away.

“ Fuck.” He heaves. “”J-Just the–”

Impatient, you shift your hips, slipping him inside with one delicious movement. You can taste it: pleasure , white-hot and building up just below your gut. Miguel separates with a wet pop, hands trailing up to rid you of your shirt – his shirt, you realise with a moan. Exposed, he eyes your pretty stomach and then the peak of your breast. He keeps you flush to his hips, right at the sharp cut of his v-line, tufts of hair leading to where you both meet. With the way his eyes flutter, you can tell: he wants to kiss you, slathering up your chest to collarbone, and then from collarbone to jaw. He gets close, pressing shaky kisses to the corner of your lips – threatening to break the promise you made to each other long ago. And God , with the way he pistons up into your cunt, you… you just might let him.

Then his hips shift, pubic bone at your clit in a way that brings pleasure to the burn. You’re stretched out, filled to the brim and then leaning back to press your forearms onto the grain of the dining table. Like this, his hands stay squeezing the flesh at the tops of your thighs; only able to watch as you take over. You use a bit of leverage to tilt your hips this way and that - eyes low, not leaving his.

“Feels good , Mig.” You’re whining, eyes locked onto his because you want to watch him fall apart - to watch as all his troubles melt away. “So good. Uhh –Always does. I remember… shit … remember this. ” 

And you take his hand, wrapping your lips around his index and middle finger - thick and large - with the memories of how they felt inside you only making you wetter. Gushing praise as best you can, you slobber and slather over his fingers, studying every twitch and gorgeous groan that he gives. He pulls his hand away from you; gentle, but cursing nevertheless; alternating from slapping your ass to tugging at the stiff peak of your nipple. It’s your turn to stutter, hips jumping as you cum - an orgasm so hard he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from spilling into you. There’s blood in his mouth, he notes as he studies the way you look: beautiful, always beautiful; framed in the gentle pink and purple from a rising sun.

Miguel slips out of you, painfully hard. Still heaving from your orgasm, you lean forward to press his cock between your bodies: bare and gorgeously framed in morning sun. Writhing, you kiss his neck, trailing up to the shell of his ear, whispering sweet nothings.

“Want you to cum, Mig.” And you do… oh God , you do. “You close?”

All he does is groan, nodding fervently into the crook of your neck. Diligently, you wrap him up in your arms, crooning and sweet, carefully rocking into him so his cock slides up and down your soft skin. For once, he doesn’t complain, holding you just as tight. 

“M’gonna… o–ohh ffuck …”

“Cum, Mig. For me.”

You’re firm but gentle, pressing your tits up against him and making sure his cock gets that well needed friction. As such, you can feel it almost immediately; hot cum slathered over your tits and body - leaving so much glistening on your skin. 

With a rough gulp, he heaves, eyes screwed tightly shut. You can’t help it, brushing away stray hairs from his face, leaving soft kisses in your wake. And maybe, just maybe, you hear him sob - muffled whimpering and whining with every slight shift of your body against his. And oh . It makes your heart melt when you realise, still carding your fingers through the nape of his neck.

He’s overstimulated. It’s too much.

Limp, he stays wrapped around you for a while, muttering nonsense into your skin.

“ Sorry. ” Shakily, he says – like he even has anything to be sorry about. “M’really— fuck. I just need a moment.”

You hum. It makes your heart heavy that he thinks he needs to be ready now , that he thinks he doesn’t deserve more than a moment to process his pleasure. You want Miguel to feel good, you always have. But with the realisation that you want him to be happy ; to feel safe, to feel loved; well…

…it scares you more than anything.

~~~

Aftercare .

Miguel admits, he’s not too familiar with the term.

It’s not something he’s proud of. With many a one night stand under his belt - even, occasionally seeing a girl more than once - he’s never been too good at it. He’s tried, definitely. Tried so very hard to stick around a little longer, to stay curled up in bed and guide his partner through their comedown. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite come naturally to him - oft susceptible to a glass of water by the bedside and a gentle nudge to an Uber. That physicality: the cuddling , and kissing, the sappy, wholesome, relationship-adjacent thing? He’s never had that desire after sex, much too stuck in his own head for that.

So why does this feel… so good?

You’re taking care of him. He’s not stupid; knowing that your bedside manner is much better than his. You’re merely doing the right thing and helping him past such an intense orgasm: and that seems to come in the form of his head on your chest, limbs tangled up together on your beat up old couch. This doesn’t count , he’s convinced himself: all those rules and boundaries you’ve both come so close to breaking - a little cuddling doesn't even scratch that surface. And if it feels so good to have your hand playing with his hair, to ground himself with the steady thump-thump of your heart, then who is he to complain?

He’s just a man, he decides. A mere mortal, unable to resist that taste of heaven he’s been given - unable to say no . Absentmindedly, you’re humming some stupid song you’ve had stuck in your head for at least a week, now, eyes trained towards a cheesy soap on the TV. There’s a mug of coffee on the table - it tastes like shit, but Miguel is more than happy to gulp it down if  it makes you feel better - hot and steaming as you tug the blanket so it covers him a little better. 

Unknowingly, you’re lulling him to sleep - the very same sleep he’s been chasing for the past couple of hours. Tossing and turning at night, but barely 10 minutes in your arms and his body only seems to listen to you , for some reason. Traitorous bastard, he thinks, fighting to keep his eyes open. 

You’ve cleaned the both of you up - even though he had insisted otherwise. Let me take care of you , he had slurred, and you just laughed ; that pretty, infuriating laugh, with that pretty, infuriating smile – the very same one he’s wanted to kiss off of you since the beginning. Weakly, he protested, following you into the kitchen only to make a nuisance of himself. 

It’s like you're drunk, Mig.  

In some ways, maybe he is. You had steered him away, and onto couch cushions. Which must have been quite the feat, he notes, able to control all 6”5 of his sleep-deprived, hefty limbs. But he supposes, yet again, his body doesn’t quite listen to him anymore. Only you.

Was it that good? Did I fuck the fine motor skills out of you?

He remembers groaning. He remembers trying not to be drawn in by that lilting giggle, covering his ears with a rough blanket. Most of all, though, he remembers the feeling of your body on his, slipping on top of him to dig him out of that heap.

Miguel? Baby, it’s a joke! I’m kidding, I promise.

He had poked his head out. Baby. He likes that, likes the way his name sounds out of your mouth. It anchors him to this mortal plane like a sharp hook, cutting through the brain fog and burying itself into his chest. You had clasped your hands around his face, steadfast despite his wriggling.

…Oh God, even worse. I think I fucked the common sense out of you instead.

He remembers wanting to kiss you. Your lips curled up into that stupid smile, clearly so pleased at a shitty joke. It makes him warm, thinking about it now. Or maybe, it’s just the blanket you’ve tried to suffocate him in. 

“When did you sleep?” You ask, and he has to blink up at you to collect his thoughts.

“Late.” He says it simply. 

That answer doesn’t satisfy you, and you’re poking and prodding at his face, gently pulling at slowly deepening eyebags.

“ No fucking wonder .” You mutter. “You’re turning into me. No more late nights, Mig.”

When he frowns, you stick your tongue out, gleefully watching as his grimace deepens. 

“Or what?” 

“Or we stop having sex.”

That makes him rocket u pwards, indignant. “ You can’t just– ”

“I can do what I want.” Slowly, your face morphs into what must be worry. At least, he thinks it does, not too familiar with someone worrying about him like this. “No more late nights, please”

You say it so softly his heart might break. He clears his throat of its cobwebs.

“That's not really up to me, sweetheart.” Thesis deadlines. Tutoring. Taking on more hours at Alchemax in preparation for a big event. Slowly, his plate mounts, and it takes everything in him to keep going.

“I know,” You settle his head onto your lap, now. Absent-mindedly, you wrap one of his curls around your finger, hand in his hair in a way that feels more intimate than the past hour, days, weeks spent together. “I just wish you'd take care of yourself better.”

It's not said to chastise him, and you don't sound disappointed ; not tinged with the same flavour of guilt that his mama has over the phone, or that Gabi has when he hits him with that deep sigh. It's pure, selfless, plain-and-simple worry. He doesn't deserve it, he thinks.

He looks up at you. Beautifully oblivious, your gaze is still pinned to the TV. It’s domestic, comfortable in the afterglow of sex. That’s what it must be: contentment and bliss settling over him like a warm blanket. The aftermath of being in your arms, of your body on his; purely physical , that follows the kind of euphoria that he imagines can only be found in a needle. Honestly, he’s still expecting a sharp decline, a rough comedown that tastes like regret, or despair, or deep, deep empty. It doesn’t come.

Always the pessimist, but Miguel can’t help it, really; he’s been chasing something just out of reach for too long. 

“You’re gone again.” You say it so quietly he almost misses it. You give him a weary smile, hand clutching at the fabric that pools around him. He watches as you rearrange it by his shoulders, pinching the folds with a kneaded brow. Finally satisfied, you look him in the eye. “Like Ophelia. ”

He doesn’t sigh. He doesn’t scoff, or roll his eyes, or any of the half dozen ways he’s learnt to repress difficult emotions. Slipping under the water - the makeshift waves made of a ratty blanket - passive to his own suffering. You don’t say it, and he hasn’t even told you the half of it; but somehow, you see it . You see him.

He remembers the first time he met you. Thundering and clattering through his space; bulldozing every carefully placed wall he’s spent years putting up. And then he remembers the first time he actually met you; behind the sharp tongue and quick retorts, finding you watery and forlorn on the floor of your shared apartment. Beautiful, of course – always, always beautiful. But that time, the kind of beauty only found in a painting: tragedy captured in oils, careful brushstrokes muddied by time, by loss, by hurt. You’ve been hurting for a while, he thinks, well before any mention of shitty ex-boyfriends and missed lectures.

Miguel recalls late nights spent trying to still his heart, fixated on a sudden, betraying question that rattles around in his head. Are you like him? Do you understand ? Born with something missing, a tick-tick-tick of the count, radioactive and broken and–

Your hand drapes lazily across his chest, tapping and pointing at something on the screen. He hums, non-committal, the words out of your mouth barely registering. It feels familiar. It feels warm. It feels like nights spent on the couch trying not to laugh at your frustratingly witty remarks. He remembers holding his breath when your leg brushed against his; stealing careful glances to his side; trying not to stare at the way the gloom of the TV looks ethereal against you, snug to the slope of your features, cut this way and that.  

But more than anything, he remembers wanting to kiss you. God. Maybe he always has. 

_

_

_

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[highvern]

Teach Me VI

Final

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au

Warnings: angst, pining, crying, alcohol consumption, jealous pouty DK, meddling Seungkwan and Hoshi, eventual smut, dry humping, making out, face fucking, munch DK as always, unprotected sex, cream pie, they're simps for each and its disgusting!, DK wearing a chain that dangles in readers face bc im sick and twisted, kinda choking but not really?

Length: ~7.4k

Note: SURPRISE!! ITS HERE!!!! this series started in OCTOBER which is wild to think about. two months of these two plaguing my day to day and so many amazing readers interacting with the story honestly makes a little emotional for it to end. this is the first series i've ever done and now it's over so soon but there are bigger and better things on the horizon! (goes and cries in the corner) If you notice any errors or typos pls ignore.

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

read more here

[MONDAY 11:23 AM]

YOU: Home

Mr. Boo: Thank you! Love you!

Mr. Boo: We can have a bff night when I get back

[MONDAY 4:48 PM] 

DOKYEOM: Hope you got home safe

DOKYEOM: I’m sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.

DOKYEOM: Can we talk this week?

Dokyeom doesn’t leave his room the rest of the weekend. A combination of fear of Seungkwan beating the crap out of him and absolute heartbreak keep him wrapped in the covers. Not even Soonyoung can elicit more than a half-hearted grunt when checking if his roommate is still alive.

The drive back to campus is no different. Staring longingly out the window, Dokyeom stares at his unanswered messages. When he goes to your Instagram he finds your account missing with the sinking realization you blocked him.

Seventy two of the best and subsequent worse hours of his life crumbled your fragile relationship. He thought you returned his feelings. 

After Soonyoung blabled a drunken confession on Dokyeom’s behalf, he worried you’d drive off in the night; swiftly rejecting him. But you wrapped your arms around him and held him as you slept. Kissed him awake in the early morning sun, nothing but a soft smile and presses of lips across his face. It was better than anything Dokyeom hoped for. He thought it meant you liked him back even if you didn’t say it yet.

But then you interrogated him and the hot tub and it all came crashing down. You were trying to let him down easy, buttering him up before giving him a reality check. It’d hurt of course. The tsunami of shame at thinking he had a chance and then adding insult to injury when you called him childish. 

Dokyeom knows he was wrong for his reaction but embarrassment sent him spiraling and he needed to get as far away from you as possible. 

And now that he’d succeed, he doesn't think he can find a way back.

—

Monday and Tuesday are spent suffocating under a mound of blankets, munching on a carton of ice cream, and crying till your head hurts and your throat is sore. The string of texts from Dokyeom remains thoroughly ignored; but each buzz of your phone raises your heart rate to unhealthy levels until you read the notification from some store offering a discount. 

You ignore the string of messages from Dokyeom, tempted more and more to block him as they come through; but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Just like you can’t bring yourself to delete the pictures of you two together peppered throughout your camera roll, or the most recent video that does nothing but make you sick to your stomach.

Tuesday night your roommate returns to campus, cheery and well rested from a weekend with her boyfriend back home. You hide from her friendly questions about your weekend in the bathroom, shrouded in steam and bubbles.

Looking at yourself in the mirror after you're sufficiently pruned and chilled from freeze drops, you notice the traces of Dokyeom still on your skin. 

A tiny maroon bruise is fading to a sick green right under your collar bone. Prodding it with the tip of your finger, you wince at the tenderness of the flesh. 

You hate it. 

Hate how somehow your eyes are thick with a gloss of tears at the sight of a hickey, they way you can’t catch your breath when you realize the shirt you brought in with you is another one of his you lifted over the months.

Dokyeom hadn’t been your boyfriend. You two hadn’t even been casually dating. Over and over again you remind yourself you were just friends who had sex, and you shouldn’t be this torn up over a guy. Dokyeom didn’t like you and that wasn’t something to hold against him. 

But the facts do nothing to stop the knot permanently lodged in your throat.

—

The first time you see Dokyeom post-not-breakup, he’s sitting in one of the rolling chairs at the mahogany table you two claimed for your usual study sessions. 

Blood frozen, heart clenching unbearably, you turn and walk right back out the revolving glass doors, hoping he didn’t see you.

But the echo of quick footsteps behind you say otherwise.

“Hey! Y/N!”

Faltering for a moment, you keep walking as if you hadn’t heard anything. And because the universe has a sick sense of humor, the crossing light turns red just as you approach, leaving you stranded with the one person you didn’t want to see.

You whip around at tap against your arm with such ferocity you nearly stumble.

Dokyeom has the gall to smile at you sheepishly before opening his mouth, “Hey.”

“Hi.” 

“You weren’t in lab yesterday.”

“Nope.” You respond monotonously, glancing behind you at the still red crossing light.

“Did you need notes or—”

“No, I got them already.”

“Oh, well—”

The light turns green, allowing you to race across the road before Dokyeom can finish his thought. The heat of his gaze doesn't leave your back until you turn down the next road leading you home.

—

Your second interaction with Dokyeom is in the same sterile lab your friendship started. You slip inside just before class starts, narrowly avoiding getting locked out by your grumpy instructor. 

Sliding into an open seat near the door, you stare straight ahead as he delves into the topic for this afternoon, pointedly ignoring the pair of eyes watching you from the familiar station at the back of the room.

“Finals are almost upon us people so I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that the lab is not open after hours. Meaning, you should prioritize your time in this room. Now let’s get started.”

The guy you’ve been partnered with is nice enough, willing to follow your lead as you read off the necessary equipment. He even manages to crack a few jokes, though not funny you’re thankful for the distraction.

You learn his name is San, he’s an underclassman and he doesn’t understand anything about the class despite attending every lecture and office hour available. 

When he leans over to copy the results you’ve scratched into your notebook, you hear a crack and shatter behind you. A dozen heads twist towards the source of commotion, finding a red faced Dokyeom staring at you.

“Mr. Lee! May I remind you our lab equipment isn’t cheap!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, shuffling towards the broom hanging on the wall.

You focus on ignoring him the rest of class, which is surprisingly easy with your new partner pestering you with inane questions. 

A lull hits, waiting for the digital scale to spit out a final reading. You managed to pull well ahead of schedule, calling over your instructor to verify your results before collecting your things. 

“So,” San starts, stuffing his own notebook in his bag. “Would you be down to tutor me sometime?”

“Oh, I uh—”

“No pressure! I just saw some of the old quizzes in your folder and thought maybe you could help me out.”

“Sure,” you smile, taking his phone to enter his number. 

Voices from the different stations echo off the blank walls, drowning your conversation out.

“Awesome! My boyfriend took this class last year but did about as well as I’m doing.”

Returning his phone back, you start walking to the door. “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah, he told me to take geology instead but I didn’t listen.” He laughs, stepping forward to hold the heavy wooden door open for you to pass.

You miss the sound of a second beaker breaking as you walk down the hall with your new friend.

—

“Dude, you have got to calm down.” Soonyoung pleads, head hanging off the couch as his legs extend into the air. He swears the increased blood flow makes him smarter.

Dokyeom nearly wears a rut into the carpet from his pacing across the length of their tiny living room. He’s been in a mood since that afternoon, watching his not-girlfriend-possibly-no-longer-friend giggle with some dude that wasn’t him. And then give her number to said dude. In front of him. All while she completely ignored his existence.

“He probably just asked her to study together.”

Jealousy isn’t Dokyeom’s thing. Sure he may whine and pout if he isn’t getting enough attention, but he’s never got the blood boil urge scream like he has right now. And about a girl that won’t even look at him.

Tangling both fists in his hair, Dokyeom tries to calm down. Soonyoung was probably right. You’re a genius at chemistry, you’re slated to officially tutor through the library next semester pending final grades, and the guy Dokyeom swears he’s never seen in class most likely asked you for help. It’s not his place to be jealous.

“Hate to be that guy but you need to get a grip”

It's easier said than done. There's four more weeks of class plus a four hour final and your Seungkwan’s friend. You’re not going to disappear after the semester ends and Dokyeom’s feelings surely aren’t going anywhere given he’s got a constant reminder that you’re the woman he lost his virginity to. 

If he knew inviting you to that party at the beginning of the semester would end up like this, he'd have sat somewhere else the first day of lab.

Soonyoung chokes on his own saliva when Dokyeom collapses on the floor with a reluctant, “You’re right.”

“I am?” Eyes bugging so hard they nearly pop from his head.

“I just have to move on.”

They both silently agree to pretend Dokyeom is capable of that.

—

San and his boyfriend, Jay, turn out to be horrible study partners. You are hardly able to focus from the way your abs hurt from laughter; Jay has a talent for self-deprecating humor.

“You didn’t!” You gasp, ignoring the daggers being glared into you back by other library goers. 

Typically you’d respect the needs of others, but they chose to sit on the first floor; if they needed real quiet they should have sat upstairs where it’s enforced by a graduate librarian with nothing better to do.

Jay nods solemnly, “I threw up on him during our first date. But he,” flinging an accusatory finger at his boyfriend, “insisted we go to some weird food truck so it’s his own fault.”

“You said you liked to try new things!” San defends.

“Not food poisoning!”

Descending into giggles, you feel sorry Seungkwan is missing out on two people he’d get along with. But he canceled at the last minute, leaving you at the large oak table all by your lonesome until you’d run into your classmate, looking for a seat.

From the corner of your eye, you see a familiar someone approaching. White blonde hair and trademark grin, Soonyoung stops at the edge of the table.

“Hey, Y/N” he grins.

Sending him a tightlipped smile you return the greeting.

Soonyoung introduces himself to your tablemates, both just as friendly as he. Thick palpable tension descends into the warm atmosphere and you’re about to rise and get another coffee just to escape it when Soonyoung turns back to you.

“Could I take a look at your results from the last lab? We didn’t get to finish in time.”

The unspoken half of ‘we’ is Dokyeom. 

You hate the flare of curiosity flashing in your head. When you partnered with Dokyeom you always finished on time if not early, even with his joking.

“Ugh, sure.” You agree, digging into your bag for your notebook.

Not waiting for an invitation, Soonyoung slides into the chair next to you, pulling out his own notebook to copy down your answers quickly. But even after collecting the necessary info, he lingers.

“So you’re in lab with us too, right?” He asks San.

“Yeah, but I’m probably taking it again next year even with Y/N’s help.” San smiles.

“And you?” Soonyoung asks Jay.

“No, I took it last year.”

“Glad to see someone can make it out alive! Do you guys mind if I hang out until my friend arrives?”

The friend is definitely Dokyeom but you don’t want to look like a bitch in front of your new acquaintances nor have to explain the mess of your love life to either of them. 

Soonyoung’s self satisfied grin when you flash a tight lipped smile and nod nearly tempts you into strangling him. Why is he choosing to torture you? It’s Dokyeom’s fault no matter how you look at the situation. He tricked you; had you falling for the saccharine persona and ambiguous confessions. Dokyeom rejected you at the cabin for everyone to see, humiliated you, and then had the nerve to act upset when you wouldn’t speak to him.

You try to focus on the worksheet in front of you, a proactive effort to prepare for the final exam still far away. Drowning in extra credit had been an exhaustive effort to get your mind off of your issues but Soonyoung had to ruin it. And now he’s laughing with San and Jay like best friends and it’s all too much. 

Shooting up from your seat, they all stop to stare as shaky hands pack up your materials. “Sorry, I forgot I had a thing. Somewhere else. Bye!” 

Halfway to the door before anyone thinks to question your eagerness to leave, you walk right into another person.

“Shit sorry!” The faceless stranger exclaims as your books and papers go flying.

“No, I should have been watching wher–”

And when you look up, Dokyeom is staring back. 

“Sorry, let me help you.” 

“It's fine!” You snap, scrambling to shove everything into your bag.

You will not cry in the library: not over Dokyeom, not in front of Dokyeom. But once the concrete steps out front greet you the first tear falls and they don’t stop until you fall asleep curled up in your bed.

—

Later that week, in the sanctuary of your dorm, you indulge in contraband alcohol and the hype of your best friend.

“You need to just rip the bandaid off.” Seungkwan announces, arms thrown wide to punctuate his point.

“And how do I do that? I still have class with him!”

“Okay but how much of his stuff is still here?”

“Only like a few things.” you shrug, glancing around the room.

“Oh, really?” Seungkwan asks, throwing himself from his perch on your bed, crossing to the basket full of laundry in front of your closet.  “Because this is a hoodie from his high school, this is the shirt I got him for his birthday a few years ago,” he shuffles around the collection of socks and pants to pull more of Dokyeom’s belongings out. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t wear boxers.”

Seungkwan launched the wad of clothing your way, disappearing into the bathroom in search of more evidence of your ex-friend with benefits.

“You let him keep a toothbrush here?” Seungkwan yells, head popping out with the neon green piece of plastic dangling between his fingers.

It's tossed into the growing pile at the foot of your bed, your rage-fueled focus on the smattering of objects on your desk. 

More cheap wine and outrageous laughter has Seungkwan encouraging you to race across campus and return everything as soon as possible.

Red faced, he steadies you by your arms, “Listen, the sooner you get rid of this stuff the better. You’re like subconsciously holding on to him or whatever.”

Mooney eyed, you nod at your friend’s wisdom, scrambling for a bag.

The tote of Dokyeom’s belongings you’ve accumulated over the months sits heavy on your shoulders; bulging with the assortment of clothes, a spare phone charger, and a book that was severely overdue at the library you’d found under your bed.

Each click of your shoe against the tile floor echoes in the eerie silence as you walk down the hall towards the door of his apartment. The sterile lighting and gray walls are familiar yet alien under the new circumstances you're visiting. 

You won’t be greeted with the smile you’ve grown to miss or the puppy-like excitement that once made you feel special. Both things of the past you hope to forget. No one had your heart fluttering or twisting in knots the way Dokyeom had. But those happy memories are just memories. And the sooner you cut him out, the sooner you can forget them.

Your fiery determination to get over him ignited in the walls of your bedroom had begun to smolder as the chilly wind and movement sobered you up. 

A large part of you hopes it’ll be Soonyoung answering the door, Dokyeom absent for whatever convenient reason as you dumped his belongings and walked away for the last time. Worse case scenario, neither are home and you're left feeling like an idiot, lugging the ridiculously heavy bag back across campus in the freezing wind and rain. 

Worse-er case scenario, Dokyeom is home.

The door to the boys’ apartment is like all the others, but the hot pink “please don’t do coke in our bathroom” doormat stands out. A gift from Jeonghan, if you remember correctly.

A quick rap of knocks announces your presence before you can lose your nerve, stepping back as you wait for it to crack open.

As luck would have it, Dokyeom answers the door.

“Um–” he starts, clearly confused by what he’s seeing.

Shoulders square, back pin straight, you thrust the bag at him. “Here’s your stuff.”

“Oh.” Dokyeom exclaims, still confused, but cradling the tote into his stomach.

“Well, bye.” You turn to leave but stop when he calls you back.

“I can grab your stuff real quick. Since you’re already here.”

It is a horrible idea. Alone with Dokyeom, in his apartment, where the only person to hold you accountable is yourself. But you can be done with this entire mess once you have the hodge podge of items you’ve no doubt accumulated here.

Nodding once, you follow as Dokyeom turns to head towards his bedroom.

Suffocating tension, thick as tar, fills the air. Dokyeom doesn't attempt to replace it with ill timed jokes as he digs in the black dresser in the corner of his room. The bottom left drawer had been long cleaned out of his own clothes, making room for the odds and ends left behind following your rendezvous. 

A sizable pile of clothes lands on his unmade bed, followed by some toiletries you forgot at the cabin in your haste to flee.

Your ears are ringing from the quiet at this point, unable to look at Dokyeom swapping his belongings from the canvas tote with your own. Focusing on your phone, you scroll mindlessly, as Dokyeom works slowly to prolong the torture. He unfolds and refolds all the shirts, lost pairs of pants and shorts, before cramming them into the bag. If you took a second to look at him, you’d see longing glances in your direction with each item he packs away. But you don’t chance it until he approaches you when he’s finished.

“Here,” he says, eyes downcast as he hands you back the full bag.

Lifting it from his hands, you move back to the living room, bee lining for the front door and the sobering cold air outside.

“Wait.”

The smooth metal doorknob is cold against the wrinkles of your palm. All you need to do is twist and it's over. Unlatch the lock, step outside and your relationship with Dokyeom, whatever it may have been, is done. No more crying, no more wondering. Only four more classes and you can leave the mess of the past semester behind you forever.

But you can’t do it. The smallest part of your heart, buried under the weight of anger and sadness, pleads for you to stay. To give Dokyeom one last chance.

You wait for him to say something else, not moving a muscle as you take shallow breaths. Body tense in preparation, you’re afraid you might shake out of your skin. Being alone with Dokyeom was a stupid idea. 

Realizing you're not going to leave, you hear him shuffle closer.

You jump when he speaks again, voice right over your shoulder. “Can we please talk?” 

“What’s there to talk about?” You frown. 

At his responding silence, you chance a glance over your shoulder, met with sad brown eyes. 

“I just—,” he shakes his head, chin tipping towards the floor to examine his socks.

Prompting him again, “What do you want, Dokyeom?”

“You asked me if I liked you… and I do.”

You squash the seed of hope rooting in your chest, afraid that if he tramples it again you’ll never recover. Turning to face him, you cross your arms pensively. His confession should send your heart racing and your cheeks flushing. But why does he sound so sad about it?

Dokyeom scrubs a hand down his face in frustration. “I should have told you sooner but I— I kept waiting for the right time and then that night happened and I thought I messed everything up. But then we started fooling around so I thought ‘there’s no way she likes me.’ You know? 

From where you’re standing, Dokyeom is exactly the kind of guy anyone would go for. Warm as a ray of sunshine, contagious laughter, thoughtful. Excited by life, and brimming with affection for anyone lucky enough to be considered his friend. 

It’s a shame he can’t see himself the way you see him.

“I know all you wanted was to hook up and I was fine with that until you came to the cabin. Soonyoung had to run his mouth, and I thought you were trying to let me down easy in the hot tub so I got embarrassed.”

Biting your lip to stop the rebuttal simmering on the tip of your tongue, you feel the scowl melt off your face, morphing into a questioning gaze.

“You’re like, the coolest person I know. You’re funny and you’re smart and pretty, god you’re so pretty.” he breaths, finally looking at you. “And I feel like every time I get to see you I can’t breathe. And us hooking up made it worse because I’ve liked you since the first day of class when you sat down next to me and smiled at me. I thought I was gonna throw up.” Dokyeom raises his hands in defense as you scoff, quickly clarifying, “In a good way! You just— you make me nervous and stupid and now you hate me.”

He finishes the last part in a whisper, face vulnerable, looking at you helplessly.

“I don’t hate you.” You warble, launching yourself into his arms, tangling your limbs around him to squeeze as close as possible. It’s ungraceful, your head knocking into his chin, his feet scrambling to balance the unexpected shift of weight. But Dokyeom barely hesitates before pulling you into his chest, face buried in your neck while trying to force you into his skin by his arms around your waist.

Two puzzle pieces, carved to fit perfectly together. 

“You don’t?”

Squeezing him tighter, you calm in the thud of his heart and the pine scent of his cologne. You both simply bask in the presence of one another. At a week and a half, this is the longest you’ve gone without the other since you started your arrangement.

Dokyeom presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, sweet as sugar. His lips ghost against your hairline as he starts to speak again. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”

“I shouldn’t have called you childish.” You apologize, tipping your head back to meet his gaze.

“I mean you were right. I was being a dick.”

“But I wasn’t in any shape to call you out when I was doing the same thing.”

“The same…” Dokyeom echoes, confused.

“If we weren’t so dumb we could have been dating for weeks by now.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” You smile.

“We really are dumb.”

Pure unadulterated joy takes flight on his face. Dokyeom cups your face in his hands, forehead meeting your own as you smile at him, his own dazzling in return.

“Yeah, but at least we have each other.”

The bark of awkward laughter and shaky words are unstoppable as you cower in his arms. 

“So you’re okay with me calling you my girlfriend?”

“You can call me whatever you want.” You sigh, biting your lip at the idea.

“Even my shmoopie poopie?”

Nose scrunching as you laugh at his ridiculousness, you shake your head vigorously in objection. “You can call me whatever you want besides that.”

“Baby cakes?” He asks, peppering a kiss on your cheek.

“No!”

“Honeybuns?” 

Another kiss on the tip of your nose.

“No.”

“What about–”

A firm press to his mouth silences Dokyeom as you hum.

— 

Soonyoung returns to his apartment after another failed date, eager to shoot the shit with his roommate over a few beers and some video games. But when he opens the door to his home, he finds a trail of clothes flung haphazardly across the furniture, leading straight to said roommate's room. 

No fucking way. Soonyoung thinks. 

Then he hears a thud from behind the door, followed by a familiar laugh he hasn’t heard in the apartment in well over two weeks.

No FUCKING way! He huffs, reaching for his phone.

—

Down the street, Seungkwan smirks as the expected ding of a new Venmo notification shrills through the silence of your dorm:

“Kwon Soonyoung paid you $50.00. – HOW DID YOU KNOW? – Your Venmo balance is now $135.00.”

Epilogue:

Finals season rushes forward rapidly. Two days before you’re set to fly back home for winter break, Chem grades are released.

Another pair of matching As to be celebrated in typical fashion but this time you’re Dokyeom’s girlfriend and he’s sweating like it’s his first time all over again. The night you both confessed had been you last night together. Dokyeom insisted you take things slow, his fear of messing up again forcing him to take caution. 

It's sweet. How he wants to take you out, wine and dine you as if a certain video didn’t still exist on both your phones. And you’d enjoyed the full experience too; walks around campus with interlaced fingers, shy glances in class, and girlish giggles as he offered his jacket on a cold night. The innocent good night kisses dropped on your lips in front of your door that have Dokyeom insisting “just one more” for an hour before he finally lets you slip inside your room.

It’d been everything you dreamed of and more.

But you're both tired of make outs that lead nowhere. Of sitting in Dokyeom’s lap at parties and not letting your hands wonder like you’re both dying too. Waking up in his bed and pretending you don’t feel him nudging the curve of your ass as before he hides in the bathroom to take care of his boner; leaving you to stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to follow him into the shower and lend a helping hand.

Tonight, you’ve reached the boiling point and it’s spilling over.

“‘s okay?” He asks into the curve of your neck, palms gliding up your stomach underneath the soft cream sweater you’d worn to dinner.

Humming as your head lulls against the interior of his front door, the warmth of his mouth and hands making your brain fuzzy. Tonight, everything feels like more. Your nipples peak at the smallest brush of his tongue, back bowing under the swipes of his thumb against your ribs; even when he pressed a chaste kiss to the back of your intertwined fingers on the walk to his apartment ripped the air from your lungs.

Dokyeom feels the nerves of that first night, but you’re acting like the desperate virgin he’d been. Drooling to touch and be touched. For your boyfriend to string you out one last time before you both return home for a few weeks of winter break only to pick right back up in the new year.

Snaking a hand down his front, you palm the half hard length with a firm pressure that pulls his hips forward like a magnet. A strained grunts sings in your ear as Dokyeom rocks firmly in your grip, pressing you into the wall under his torturous grind.

Turning to nudge your nose into his cheek softly, hot kisses dropping across his jaw as you bid him to take off his pants; pushing them down clumsily. You don’t bother with the brass button or rough zipper, blinded by desperation and simply clawing the stiff material downwards in an effort to get beneath.

You manage to trickle to your knees, slipping through Dokyeom’s hold like water. The hard floor biting into your skin as you kneel before him to mouth at the thin fabric of his boxer. Dokyeom’s elbows land against the wall, caging you in as he watches from above; entranced by the shallow dip of your lips over the covered head of his cock and the lash of your tongue where you taste him through the fabric.

Tonight isn’t the night for teasing, so you have his boxers landing atop his jeans around his ankles in a blink. Tongue following the vein bulging on the underside of his cock as your hand returns to allow your thumb to dig into his slit.

Dokyeom whimpers a pathetic “fuck,” as you play with him, eagerly lapping up his shaft before sucking him into your mouth; hand dropping to cup his balls, the other rest on his stomach to hold his own shirt out of the way.

You missed how responsive he is to your touch, melting in the palm of your hand as he chases the warmth of your mouth with his hips. Anyone who walks by the door would undoubtedly hear what’s happening on the other side, the choked whimpers from you and guttural moans from Dokyeom combining into a lewd symphony.

Head hitting the wall behind you with a dull thud, you let Dokyeom take over; humming as each press forward leaves the taste of his cock on your tongue. There’s something degrading in letting him fuck your mouth like this, sandwiched between his hips and the wall as he uses you to get off.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, tongue sticking out to bid him back but his slender fingers cupping your chin distract you straight into his lips.

Pulling you to your feet, Dokyeom dips his tongue between your lips as he leads you blindly to the couch. His mouth is nothing but taking; stealing your breath away, your sanity. Things you’d happily let him have if it meant he wouldn’t stop. But Dokyeom was a giver too. A slide of his tongue lit a fire under your skin, fanning the desperation bordering on depravity. 

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding your aching cunt against his thigh. 

Dokyeom responds by pressing into you harder, teeth tearing into your bottom lip as his cock drools against your thigh, staining your jeans.

You're so turned on it hurts, pussy painfully empty and panties drenched from heavy petting. If Dokyeom doesn’t do something soon, you have half a mind to get yourself off without him.

Dokyeom is trying, fighting to not to blow his load on your leg as you whine and arch beneath him. For him. But when you manage to close your fist around his length, giving a firm tug with the twist around the head you know he goes crazy for, it’s all over. Dokyeom’s core tightens as he spills on your sweater, streaks of his cum ruining the fabric as he pants into your mouth. Your tight grip doesn’t falter as you work him through it, teeth bruising his jaw as he paints you with his seed.

When Dokyeom gains sentience again, he winces in shame.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t— I wouldn’t,” he tries to apologize, but stops when you part your lips to lap at your stained fingers; eyes trained on the pink of your tongue dipping out to swipe against the tips for taste.

Mouth wide as he stares, Dokyeom thinks he might come again without any help as you suck your fingers. His own dip into the pool of cum dimpling across your stomach, lifting to your mouth to replace yours. Dokyeom groans as your eyes never leave his, heated and heavy lidded as lick them clean and swallow his cum.

Dropping his hand to the back of your neck, he angles your head so his tongue can delve into your mouth. It’s messy and disgusting but you like it and that’s all Dokyeom cares about as he works to free you both of your clothes. He’s stark naked easily, shirt gone over the back of the couch in no time. But your clothes require more focus than either of you are capable of when Dokyeom is on top of you.

His feet hit the ground before he rises to stand, dragging you up to roughly undress you. You don’t seem to mind if the way you fist your jeans down is an inclination. Outer layers gone, Dokyeom finally gets a peek at the early Christmas present you’d been hoping to surprise him with.

Lacy maroon panties and a match bra hug your figure, accentuating your shape in the most mouthwater ways. Eyebrows raised to his hairline, Dokyeom heaves at the masterpiece you present him with.

Drops of your flesh peek through the holes in the lace, teasing him with what’s underneath. The high cut sides of your thong dig into your hips, making your legs look impossibly long and highlighting the sway of your thighs. Straining to pull his eyes up further, Dokyeom finds the bottom hem of your bra. Tongue rolling out of his mouth as the cups push your breasts up and together, teasing Dokyeom with ideas of fucking his cock between them as you lick at the tip.

You look like a goddess and Dokyeom is happy to get on his knees to worship every inch.

Dokyeom catches you smirking at his obvious reaction when he finally looks at your face. Stepping into his space, your fingers find purchase in the short hairs at the base of his head. A cold sweat breaks on his brow as you smile like the cat who got the canary.

“Do you like my outfit, Kyeomie?” You ask, tone deceptively sweet.

If he was capable of any thought beyond cataloging the swaths of naked skin and curves, maybe he’d answer more eloquently than grunting like a caveman.

“I picked it for you.”

Dokyeom lets his hands find your hips, squeezing the plush flesh in his palms as you continue to toy with him. His fingers pluck the thin elastic while his mind wanders down the extensive list of things he’s dying to do to you.

“Do you wanna see the whole thing?”

“There’s more?”

Falling to the floor, you dig into the pocket of your jeans for whatever the last piece of your outfit, if you could call it that. Rising again you present him with a thin piece of ribbon and a silver chain, both causing Dokyeom’s face to twist in confusion.

You prompt him to take the scarlet ribbon, a perfect match to the set you’ve donned, allowing Dokyeom to spot the clasp at the ends and the small silver charm dangling in the middle.

A sun is embossed on the front of the circular piece of silver. And engraved on the back is his name.

Having his name around your throat while he fucked you isn’t a kink he knew existed. But now Dokyeom is pretty sure he’ll be haunted by the idea for the rest of his life. The silver chain still in your hands has a similar charm but with a moon. Dokyeom’s vision goes fuzzy and his brain clouds at the assumption your name is on the back to match.

“Will you help me put it on?” You ask innocently, turn around so Dokyeom can slip what he can only describe as a mock collar around your neck.

Dokyeom latches the clasp with shaky hands, the strip of silk pulled taunt around your neck with each breath. When you face him once again, the charm sits in the hollow of your throat, silver winking at him seductively. 

The icy metal of the chain bites into his skin erotically as you raise to clasp it around his neck. Your nose nudges against his jaw, a ghosting open mouth kiss landing on his jugular as the charm teases the muscles of his chest where it dangles.

You land on the couch with a squeak, taken aback by Dokyeom shredding the delicate fabric of your panties with clumsy hands as he struggles to get them off you. Bullying his way between your legs, he apologizes with a heavenly strip of his tongue through your slit.

He eats you like a man starved, nails leaving crescents in the tops of your thighs as he spreads you so wide the muscles in your hips scream in objection. Dokyeom’s tongue dips into your hole, collecting your essence on his tongue before spitting it back on your clit and digging in. The swollen nub slips against the flat of his wet muscle, and when his lips gently close around it he sucks just the way you taught him to you he’s rewarded with a wanton sob.

Whines fly from between your lips at the torturous pleasure, thrashing as Dokyeom uses all his strength to pin you and place. Spots dance along your vision, expanding as two fingers push past your folds to stretch you out. Dokyeom knows your pussy like the back of his hand and he stuffs you just right with his fingers.

All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hold on tightly as you fly over the edge. Racing forward under the heat of Dokyeom’s mouth and harsh thrusts of his fingers till you weep pitifully. You’re floating through space under his attention; mouth open over silent begs not to stop, eyes clenched shut. Every beat of your frantic heart carries satisfaction through tense muscles till you are pliant and boneless.

“Too much,” you whimper, thighs forcing close around his head.

Dokyeom takes it in stride. The combination of your essence and his saliva soaking chin, leaving a damp trail across your body as he kisses his way to your mouth.

His thumb finds the ribbon taunt around your throat, focusing on the piece of metal resting against your skin as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Panting into his mouth, you mewl something vaguely sounding like “want you.”

Luckily, Dokyeom is more than happy to give you whatever you want.

Nodding like a bobble head, he pulls you down into his lap as he kneels on the floor. The head of his cock proddes against your entrance, slipping in just enough for you to take the rest with ease.

The stretch is nothing short of bliss; so deep you can taste him in the back of your throat. Dokyeom fills you perfectly, the small nip of pain from not taking him in the past month only multiplying the satisfaction you feel at finally having him inside you again.

With herculean effort, you rise to allow only a few inches to exit before dropping back down. Hands searching for leverage, you balance on the cushions behind you as you grind into his lap.

Dokyeom doesn’t know where to look, overwhelmed by his options; your face twisted around gasping breaths; or your chest, still clad in your bra, tits bouncing with each movement; or where his cock disappears inside you. 

But the silver heart around your throat seems to snag his focus easily.

Dokyeom isn’t possessive but the way it not so subtly declares you as his makes his cock throb. He’s the only one that gets to have you like this, and you him. The twin pendants remind him you’re his girlfriend and everything beyond slips away as he watches it jerk around with every movement.

Before long, your legs burn from effort, ruining your already unstable motions into nothing more than stuttered ruts. Dokyeom’s hands palming your ass assist in lifting you to the couch, limbs awkwardly sprawled off the edges but he doesn’t slow while your nails scratch deep lines into his shoulders.

“Oh, don’t stop! Fuck, please don’t stop.” You beg, head thrown back into the cushions.

Stopping sounds like the worst idea he’s ever heard. Dokyeom needs this. Gloved snuggly in your heat after so long is the only cure for the constant plague of memories of pestering him day and night. He knows they won’t go away but at least he won’t feel like ripping his skin off every time you're within a fifteen foot radius.

The wet clap of your bodies grows to a crescendo, your orgasm on the horizon and tightening your muscles into a deathgrip on his length. Spots float in Dokyeom’s vision at the squeeze and he drops his mouth to yours to lap up all your high pitched whines.

When he rises again to gasp against his own pleasure, the chain you gifted him dangles right above your lips and a nuclear bomb detonates.

You cum again with Dokyeom’s thumb under the ribbon encircling your neck, a tease of choked breath as he rubs the charm like a lifeline. Voice cracking, earth shatter, mind numb pleasure from the tip of your nose to your pinky toe. 

Dokyeom is babbling over you. Rhythm abandoned as he subjected to the tight squeeze of your worn cunt until that punch to his gut hits. Each rope of cum makes his cock throb as he plows you with a deep thrust, stilling to empty himself inside you.

You're fully crushed into the itchy upholstery as his arms buckle.

“Wow,” you gasp, catching your breath.

What else can you say? A month of no touching culminating into the best sex of your life with your devastating boyfriend while he wears a chain with your name on it.

Dokyeom cackles into your collarbone, chest tickling against yours until he leans back to look at you. 

His hair resembles an electrocuted poodle, his lips are red and swollen, and sweat glosses his skin in the low light. But Dokyeom is glowing with life and happiness and all the things that make the world good.

“I love you.”

Dokyeom responds with a girlish shriek at your impromptu confession. 

“Damn, okay.” You laugh, staring at his bare ass as he runs a lap around the living room stark naked.

“You can’t just— I wanted to say it first!” He pouts before flopping down on top of you.

“Are you serious?” Breathless from his weight, you fail to push him off you as he flails like a fish. “Is that what you’re focusing on?” 

“Yes,” Dokyeom grouches into your cheek. “You’re the first girl I’ve felt this way about and I wanted to…”

He trails off, suddenly embarrassed. Your entire relationship was many of Dokyeom’s firsts. The first person he had sex with, first college girlfriend he told his mom and sister about, and now the first girl to make him truly understand loving another person. It wasn’t something you held over his head, and some of it he didn’t even tell you about but it all tallies up in his mind how unprepared he is for it all. 

“Minnie, look at me.”

You don’t speak again until he finally meets your gaze. 

“I don’t even remember what we were talking about.” You sigh.

Dokyeom doesn’t catch hint, “We were talking about–”

“Nope, can’t seem to recall.” 

Finally, he catches the playful pout and the way your eyes cut back his as you look around the room feigning ignorance. And because he’s Dokyeom and you’re a sucker for anything he does, you can’t stop the smile mirroring his own when softly traces the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[super-who-locked-me-in-here]

Pieces of media my mom has seen and the popular MLM ships in them that she doesn't think are gay:

MCU - Stucky (note that she does get a kick out of Stony stuff and she believes wholeheartedly that those two hate fucked in a not-filmed scene of Avengers 2012 so this is not about her thinking "oh Captain America is so straight-laced because he's the ideal American man" or anything)

MCU - Poolverine (she's fully aware and accepting of the fact that both Logan and Wade are canonically queer characters but she thinks all the flirting Wade did with Logan in the newest movie didn't necessarily mean anything because "he talks like that to everyone". Side note though: while she believes Wade should be with Vanessa, she does think that Logan can and should shoot his shot with Wade after Vanessa inevitably dies since he and Wade are both immortal. It's just that she thinks Wade should get his happy ending with Vanessa first.)

MCU - Lokius ("Mama have you ever seen a man fix another man's tie like that" "No but that doesn't mean it doesn't happen! I wouldn't know though; it's been like 15 years since I worked a corporate job.")

Sonyverse/Marvel - Symbrock ("They literally have a symbiotic relationship. That doesn't make them gay." So I showed her the comics where Eddie calls Venom "love" and gives birth to Venom's babies and she said "Fine you win but please never show me alien man birth ever again."

Supernatural - Destiel ("They're like Steve and Bucky! They're brothers in arms! They've been through hell and back together!" Note that she only watched through season 5 but she does know about a lot of their later interactions because I told her about them)

House M.D. - Hilson ("Dot I watched that whole show and they were never anything more than good friends" "What about when House admitted to thinking about Wilson during sex? What about that whole episode where they pretended to be gay for each other to prove a point to a neighbor and Wilson proposed? What about that whole episode where Wilson had to furnish the apartment and House told him not to let a woman tell him what to do but Wilson let House tell him what to do? What about the whole ending?" "Why can't two men just be close enough friends to joke about that stuff with each other?"

Real life - Me and my best friend of the same gender orientation who I've kissed multiple times and have had a requited crush on for years that neither of us have ever persued for logistical reasons (I literally used me and this friend to try and prove my mom wrong about Stucky and Destiel. I asked her if she thought me and this friend were like brothers and she said yes with a straight face)

Sherlock - Johnlock (to be fair this is the BBC ship name, but she doesn't think any iteration of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are the slightest bit gay. "They're business partners and roommates.")

Our Flag Means Death - BlackHands (Should go ahead and say that I'm not really a BlackHands shipper myself; we both really enjoyed Stede and Ed's romance in the show. BUT it takes so much away from Izzy's character and his development if you don't acknowledge that he was jealous of Stede and in love with Ed, at least a little. My mom thought Izzy was just an extremely loyal first mate.)

Also, for the record, I'm not trying to call my mom out as homophobic. I'm queer and so are two of my siblings and she's very supportive of us. There are gay romcoms she enjoys like Our Flag Means Death and Red, White, and Royal Blue. The reason I'm making this list is because I think it's really funny how she doesn't understand the concept of queerbaiting (not that all of the above listed ships are queerbaiting). She thinks things are either explicitly straight or explicitly queer (whether it's gay, lesbian, bisexual, etc) and cannot comprehend the idea that some character relationships are deliberately pushing the boundaries of straight friendships into queer relationships to get more minority viewers and I think her explanations are funny.

[syoddeye]

sy's reading recs

hi. i read a lot of fanfiction for COD and i love spreadsheets. i try to track my reads, and thought i'd make two reading rec lists. you are currently viewing the non-darkfic list. i've included blurbs from yours truly. the blurbs are short because there are a LOT of recs below the cut. now then.

beyond the read more, you are responsible for reading tags, warnings, and summaries.

pairings are indicated where applicable, although these may change or may not be established yet.

similarly fic ratings may change! again, it's your responsibility to read tags and warnings.

i've checked all the links, but if they're broken, i blame tumblr. there's enough info to find the fic if need be.

do not harass authors with "next part when" bullshit. it's tacky and i hate you.

previous lists: one, two | banner by @/cafekitsune

gaz x reader

Lavender Skies by @yeyinde

Late to the party but gd if you haven't read this, put it at the top of your list. Kebabs, back-up shoes, the feeling of someone knowing you, the pain and sublimity of being in your late 20s...Chef's kiss.

childfree!reader thoughts by @pfhwrittes

Tooth-rottingly sweet bit about finding someone with the same priorities and not being made to feel bad about it. Love it when the boys match-make a lil bit.

The Gym by @secretsynthetic

Very cute piece about meeting trainer!Gaz at a workout class. Kudos to Reader for making it through the class because I would've had to bail if Gaz perceived me for half a second. Love how observant and sweet he is in this.

Pluto by @groguspicklejar

Late to yet another party, but I got sucked in by the premise: 'vampire!Gaz is smitten with a girl who has no desire to be around his kind'. I love how the relationship progresses, the later chapters had me gigglin'. Except for that last chap. I got GOT.

ghost x reader

child free @391780

I tag it from time to time but one of my favorite things to see in fanfic is the love and intimacy of caring for someone. And that's what this is. Among my favorite oneshots I've seen shared in this fandom.

Roommate Simon by @tacticalgirlboss

Roommate Simon could go in so many directions, but I love this particular take. The slow evolution of the relationship from roommate to something else. Made me feel mushy as hell by the end.

Through Me (The Flood) by @peachesofteal

Another drop everything to read fic. Seeing Simon embrace a role he was not expecting to ever fulfill is both heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time. Me with every installment.

soap x reader

mic work by @glossysoap

I have four words for you: Erotic audio artist Soap. Soap's hard at work (🥁), imagining best friend!Reader as the subject of his latest scripts. He is COMMITTED to his job. submissive Soap by @doeidawn

Dizzying. Schedule time to take a lap after reader. Something about that man begging. It needs to be studied and somehow distilled. Into what? I don't know, don't ask me, I can't think straight after re-reading this. bad reservation by @the-californicationist

I think I summed up my reaction to this in my tags: "reader's getting that michelin star dick". A prompt filled by Cali that made me giggle furiously for a smooth ten minutes after reading.

price x reader

Storm Chaser by @/the-californicationist

Save me, biker!Price...save me... Caution: You may need to lie down after reading. Truthfully, I'm terrified of motorcycles. But I would reconsider for this Price.

A Case of You by @alittleposhtoad

One of my favorite new series. A zombie apocalypse where you're hiding out on a remote island in Canada, and who finds you? Just my favorite man. Really enjoy the pieces of worldbuilding and seeing Price interact with what's left of Reader's community.

Words Like Violence by @deadbranch

BodyguardxBodyguard. Two professionals wanting one another and their jobs kind of getting in the way. Suits. Gear. Gloves. Pure catnip. An appearance from Simon that made me laugh, re-read, then rub my hands together like a raccoon.

141 x reader and other pairings

GhostGaz Week by @dragonnarrative-writes - gaz x ghost

Dragon knocked it out of the park on GhostGaz week. I love all of them, but 'afraid of the dark' and 'sweet talk' are two of my favorites.

An Offer You Won't Refuse by @lovifie - gaz x price

You know that clip of Kylo Ren screaming more? That's me, because this makes me want more GazPrice in my life. Delectable. Mean!Price and Gaz calling in a victory.

SCP!141 by @ghouljams - gen tf 141

Incredibly fun and freaky AU that I think has half of my lil circle of friends on here willing to overlook their personal safety to get at SCP-141....I may or may not be among them.

Fancy by @swordsandholly - 141 x reader

Subtle delicious morsels of worldbuilding and bleak, dystopian vibes with vampires. That should be enough to get you started. Had me at the Reba reference.

Tradie 141 by @/pfhwrittes - mix

The way I would be quickly banned from any worksite if they were real. The Tradie!verse is very, very important to me and I eat up every piece that comes out of P's big brain.

Autumn Embers by @/dragonnarrative-writes - 141 x reader

One of the most nuanced takes on the omegaverse paired with some of the hottest smut. The meta is a good place to start, imho, as it underpins the fic and bolsters the plot.

Mission Shenanigans by @kyletogaz - gazsoap x reader

Here's a taste: “You’ve got your tongue shoved in my pussy and you expect for me to be quiet?” Got it? Scurry on over for the oneshot that made me bluescreen at the end.

Service Dog Johnny by @void-my-warranty - ghoap x reader

Interesting spin on Ghoap x Reader that shows a level of intimacy between Simon x Reader (and by extension, Ghoap x Reader), that goes beyond the sex. Yes, the smut is fantastic, but the relationship dynamic hooked me.

Cool Girl x @/peachesofteal - ghoap x reader

As a former 'Cool Girl', reading this is both therapeutic and painful, and fuck me if I don't run to read every update. You will cry, laugh, tear your hair out, and enjoy it.

Fuck-ass mohawk by @sentientcave - ghoap x reader

Reader finally saying what I'm thinking. Fuck-ass mohawk. Hilarious piece. I definitely didn't finish this and think "oh dang I want Reader to be mean to ME". 👀

"romance" in the age of technology by @/pfhwrittes - soap x gaz

Let it be known that Johnny MacTavish is a giver. A good friend. So thoughtful of others. So while Gaz recovers from top surgery, obviously our Scottish saint takes it upon himself (literally?) to cheer him up. Funny and WHEW.

[cuttergauthier]

Fresh Start

Jack Hughes x Female Edwards Reader

Warning: cussing, fluff

word count: 1.0k

let me know what you guys think🤍

I was starting my last year of University, I used to go to the University of Michigan but after a bad break up I ended up transferring to Columbia University. 

Columbia university is only a few minutes from Jersey, the team my brother was drafted by. My younger brother and I are pretty close, I could have stayed in Michigan and spent my last year with him there, but I needed a change, and to be somewhere I wouldn't run into my ex.

My brother will be in Jersey in a few years and I can't wait.

Since my brother started playing for the Michigan Wolverines he became close with his teammates, he’s pretty close to Luke Hughes, who was also drafted by the New Jersey Devils, now there roommates in Michigan, Luke playing in his last year before he joins his brother jack in Jersey who already plays for the devils.

Because both Luke and Ethan got to Michigan at the same time, along with a few others they stuck together, and are really close.

My brother introduced me to his teammates and I became friends with them, mostly the older ones. Now when I told the guys I was transferring to Columbia they were all sad but they understood why. Luke and Ethan both made it their mission to tell Jack, Luke’s brother to make sure he looks after me, they don’t think I know but it was pretty obvious.

Last summer when Ethan was invited to the Hughes Lake house, they also invited me, since according to Luke I became like a sister to him. That’s where I met Jack for the first time, Luke introduced us. Jack and I didn’t talk much that summer but I know for a fact that Ethan and Luke told him to look after me when I was at Columbia, I’m not stupid even tho both Ethan and Luke are younger than me, ever since my break up they’ve been protective.

Now I've been in Jersey for about a month and a half. University started a few weeks ago, Jack came by my apartment during my second day here, he said he wanted to show me around but I knew Luke told him. 

Jack showed all the best places to go to in New York, he also introduced me to his teammates, they're all really nice and welcoming, so is Jack.

Ever since I got here, we’ve been spending a lot of time together when he doesn’t have practice and I’m not busy with homework. 

Today is Wednesday. I had class from 8:30 to 10 a.m. This morning, Jack had the day off so he asked if I wanted to hang out after class and I agreed.

I just got back to my apartment. It's now 10:30 p.m. Jack said he’d be here at 11 a.m. so i went and changed out of my jeans and put on a pair of black Lululemon leggings so I could be more comfortable.

Once I was done I went and sat down on my couch, I turned on Netflix and put on the new season of Outer Banks so I could watch before he got here. 

Thankfully I didn’t have any homework to do since I finished it last night. Ever since i’ve gotten close to jack i started to get feelings but there’s nothing i can do about it since i doubt he feels the same way. My brother will be his teammate in a couple of years and I also don’t want to make things weird between them.

At around 11:02 a.m. there was a knock on the door, I paused the show and went to open the door.

“Hey, this is for you” Jack greeted me smiling with an extra coffee in his hands, when I opened the door.

“Hey, come in and thank you, you didn’t have to get me a coffee” I replied smiling and taking the coffee from him, while opening the door wider so he could walk in, once he did I closed the door. Jack took off his shoes and we made our way to the living room.

“ it’s nothing, i know you had class this morning so i thought you might need one” 

“I really did, so thank you” 

“ What are we doing today?” He asked 

“I have no clue, what do you want to do?” I said

“I was thinking maybe if it’s okay with you, i could take you on a date” he said looking at me waiting for my response. I was shocked. I didn't think he felt the same way.

“I’d love that” i said smiling softly

“Perfect, do you want to go after we're both done with our coffees?” He asked

“That’s perfect” i said nodding

“How have you been? How are your classes?” 

“I’m good, my classes have been a bit stressful but it’s normal since it’s my senior year.” 

“Makes sense, are you excited to be graduating in May?”

“Yes, I can't wait,” I said eagerly, making him chuckle.

“Jeez, it is that bad” he said sarcastically making me chuckle 

“No, i’m just excited to be able to do what i love full time” i said smiling

“I’m glad”

“Are you ready to go out?” He asked once I took the last sip of coffee.

“Yeah, let’s go” i said smiling

We put on our shoes and jackets before making our way out of my apartment. I grabbed my hand and I looked at him smiling.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked curious

“It’s a surprise” he said smiling

Jack ended up taking me out to one of my favorite restaurants that he showed me when i first moved here, it was an amazing date, i had a lot of fun. 

Now Jack dropped me off at home. He walked me up to my door.

“I had an amazing time tonight” I said, turning and looking at Jack who already had a smile on his face.

“Me too, any chance I can take you on another date soon?” He asked.

“I would love that” i said blushing 

“Perfect,” he replied. 

He leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“I’ll talk to you later, have a good night Yn” he said before leaving.

Once I made it in the apartment and closed the door I couldn't stop smiling.

Another date? I like the sound of that!!

[amywritesthings]

Love your fic love, it's the best one I've ever read. Could you do something from Levi pov when he started realising he liked Reader and he felt about that?

first of all, thank you for such lovely words! i'm so happy you like it. second of all, i can certainly write you a levi pov where he had his 'oh shit do i like her?' moment xo

all at once. / levi ackerman x f!reader

word count: 900 warnings: language, levi pov set in the silver underground universe

( read on ao3 here )

Furlan had a funny saying about the people he fell head over heels for.

It happens slowly, he once told Levi.

The two of them were sitting around their newly-bought two-bedroom apartment, comically vacant and egregiously filthy.

With his long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle, Furlan chose to sink his palms into the dust to tattoo his fingerprints. 

To say he was there.

(I was here. I am here.)

Levi chose a more civilized position — sitting backwards on one of the only two chairs they had in this place, his sleeved forearms folded over each other on its curved back. He peered down at his friend with the utmost curiosity, head hung under a curtain of black fringe.

“The hell’s this question coming from?” Levi grunted as he shifted his shoe on the floor.

Fucking disgusting; he wasn’t going to sleep tonight if the entire apartment ended up being this damn dirty. 

“What do you mean?” Furlan asked. "Which topic?"

“The topic of this,” Levi clarified, “and why you’re so interested in who I may be looking at on the streets."

"What, we can't gossip?"

The way Levi's brow quirked said otherwise. Furlan sighed.

"We're roommates now."

"So?"

"So?"

"I don’t think I asked who you're interested in, Church.”

“No, you didn’t,” Furlan hummed happily with a dopey smile on his face. “But now that we have this place with two whole bedrooms to ourselves, we have the luxury of inviting people over. Think about it: two young and handsome bachelors, ready to take on the—”

“Wait, invite people over?” Levi interrupted, brow rising. “This isn’t a community house. It's headquarters.”

“No, I know."

"Do you?"

"Yeah! But like I said, think about it: now that we’re taking names and carving our own legacies down here, I’m sure plenty of people will think we’re great. Maybe we'll even get some kinda group of admirers for our efforts.”

“Doubtful.”

“Aw, c’mon, Levi,” Furlan pouted. “Don’t you like anyone? There’s that one guy with the tattoos over on second street.”

“No.”

“Or the dark-haired girl who always seems to give you a discount on soups.”

“Not happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

Furlan blinked.

The black-haired boy felt his temper — and embarrassment — rising.

“Because I wouldn’t know what the fuck it feels like to like someone like… that.”

Levi grit the truth between his teeth, hating the honesty that came with this ridiculous conversation. 

The Underground City doesn't quite offer anything real. Down here love was transactional. There wasn't room for emotional error.

He saw what it did to his mother.

He saw how it molded whatever the fuck he’d call Kenny.

Bottom line was that feelings weren’t good.

And then there was Furlan, looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Well, when you realize there's something about someone, it's slow,” the ash-blonde boy suggested, nodding with encouragement. “From my understanding, liking a guy, girl, person, whatever — it happens slowly, then all at once.”

“How’s it slow?”

Furlan smiled, knocking his feet side to side against the wooden floorboards.

“Probably because the people you actually like are kinda in the background until they aren’t anymore.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Levi echoed. "You're supposed to be attracted to them first."

"That definitely helps, but that's like... lust or whatever," Furlan challenged. "I'm talking about liking someone. Wanting to hold hands or be with them so you can listen to them talk all the time and never get bored of what they're saying."

Levi scoffed, turning his chin sharply to the right as he considered.

Slow, then all at once.

Except it was never slow.

It would’ve been really fucking helpful if it had been.

You’d been ready to rip his throat open all those years ago.

No one had ever gotten the jump on him the way you had. No one would ever come close.

Maybe watching your fights after Kenny dropped him for reasons unsaid had been the slowest part about this. Watching your sweat-streaked face as you caught your breath in the midst of folding someone double your size like it was nothing. Listening to your voice in the alleyway when you spoke to that witch of a woman. Conjuring up an excuse to talk to you, to see if you even remembered—

It’d been all at once from the very beginning.

Someone as fleeting as a ghost had haunted his once dreamless sleep.

Hell, you still did.

“Sounds like you got someone in mind.”

His gray eyes darted back to Furlan, instantly on the defensive.

The other boy sported a goofy smirk. Levi scowled.

He could tell him.

He could ask if the way his throat closed up whenever he so much as considered uttering her name was a sign that he was head over heels.

That sometimes it wasn’t slow, but as fast as a blow to the damn head.

That sometimes liking a stranger felt more powerful than anything he'd ever known.

“Nah,” Levi lied, surging from his seat to stand at full height. “Only thing I’m interested in is cleaning this piece of shit up. I’m not sleeping on cobwebs tonight, so get up, grab a broom, and help.”

James.

Maybe one day he’d face it; liking someone.

Really, genuinely, devastatingly wanting someone.

But he couldn’t afford it.

(Maybe one day.)

[jamsandsuch]

advice for first year uni students from a uni senior

the roommate(s) will always be more important than the room

+ for roommates, SET. CLEANING. EXPECTATIONS. EARLY. don't wait until you're uncomfortable with how much mess is in the kitchen for you to start thinking if you should bring it up or not. set standards and make them clear.

put your key on a lanyard and hang it from your doorknob when you’re at home so you don’t forget it on the way out

if your dorm has a shared laundry room, set your timer for when your laundry finishes ~5 mins early to give you time to walk from your room to the laundry - especially during weekends/evenings/finals people wont have the patience to wait for you - even if your load just finished

If you have noodle arms like me, buy yourself one of those collapsible grocery carts you drag behind you like a luggage - best purchase i've ever made

Or if you're lazy, order online - but order on a free day because even if you schedule a time they're always gonna come stupid early and you dont want any frozen items to get spoiled or have your groceries stolen

DONT BUY ANY TEXTBOOKS/MATERIALS UNTIL THE FIRST WEEK/CLASSES ARE OVER. sometimes you’ll have early access to the booklist or syllabus and go ahead and start buying textbooks, but increasingly often you’ll buy the materials and show up to class just to find your prof has uploaded scanned copies of everything. *save your money*, wait!

BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS - look at your class schedule and walk around campus to find each classroom. you will probably get lost on day 1 and so will many other students so this will save you a lot of walking around bumping into other lost first years

trust me after a few weeks you won’t be waking up for that 8am class. i know you did it 5 days a week in high school, but there’s a reason uni students are allergic to morning classes. know your natural energy/attention levels and take advantage of the freedom to build your schedule around your energy fluctuations

compress/stack your class schedule as much as possible. if you absolutely do need breaks, make them at least 1.5-2 hours long or you probably wont get anything productive done and minimize these long breaks as much as you can so you can just get your day over with sooner

work smarter, not harder - when school starts note each course’s assessment type by quizzes/finals/essays. if i ever have a course thats just essays, i only do lecture notes + write my own annotations about readings rather than taking notes on them which saves time i can dedicate to textbook notetaking for courses with frequent quizzes + finals

if your school has benefits/discounts/insurance - know what it is and USE IT.

most clubs wont be like high school where there are regular meetings you attend. unless youre in the exec team the membership fee you pay/when you sign up for membership it’s just for access to their events when they happen. if you want to be involved in a club in a way thats as involved as high school, look at their social media pages for hiring.

+ as someone who has had to hire before - if you’re nervous, literally just do it. i was in an exec position for our student union services and once only had like 3 applicants to pick from

if you want to be noticed by a professor, sit in the front row. and always answer/ask questions - it doesn’t matter if you said anything of substance or not, they will remember that you contributed

that and also always make the point to say hello and goodbye! eventually (in my experience) if you come early enough and are just waiting for class to start, a conversation will happen - make these regular enough and you could have an important connection!

disclaimer: of course, not all of this might be something that resonates with you/possible for your course or school, so in the words of my cousin - take what resonates

+ anyone else is free to add on!!

[veltana]

Mafia AU prequels - Bucky's break-up

✦ Pairing: Stucky/Fem!Reader ✦ Word count: ~1.7k ✦ Rating: Mature ✦ Warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, mild swearing, angst, mentions of alcohol consumption, lots of fluff and feels, platonic cuddling, sharing a bed, Bucky is a dramatic drunk, unrequited love/crush, mention of loki/reader. ✦ Summary: The thing with roommates is that you will hear them during sex occasionally, it can’t be avoided with thin walls in an old building. But since that Wednesday Bucky never once slept alone and the rest of the time he was hardly in the apartment. ✦ Note: This is a prequel to No one as sweet as you set while they were living together in college, which focuses on their growing relationship and how Bucky and Steve started to develop feelings for Sweets as more than just their best friend. You don't need to read No one as sweet as you to get this but I recommend it. (Also posted on AO3)

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

Bucky and Dot broke up on a Wednesday around lunch. On Wednesday night Bucky had a new girl in his bed and you and Steve shrugged, put on your headphones, and waited for it to blow over.

The thing with roommates is that you will hear them during sex occasionally, it can’t be avoided with thin walls in an old building. But since that Wednesday Bucky never once slept alone and the rest of the time he was hardly in the apartment.

With your room right in between Steve and Bucky’s, you took the brunt of the sounds and on Friday morning you decided to take shelter in Steve’s room because the girl was a screamer and you had barely slept for two days.

Now it’s Tuesday, around one am and both Steve and you are awake, listening to the moans and sounds making their way through your room and into Steve’s.

"How does he even do it?" Steve sounds a little amazed as you both lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. "Drugs?" you ask. "Honestly, it has to be, how else is he going at it all the time like that?" "Maybe they're all faking it?" you suggest.

"I've never heard anyone complain about him," Steve shrugs. "But I mean statistically he can’t get it right for everyone every time." "If he does, he is one of a kind," you decide. "Tempted to go for a ride?" You hear the smile in Steve's voice without even looking. "No, not really," you grimace. "We should do something, I’m not sure it’s healthy anymore."

"Yeah I know, Sweets, but if I try and grab him like he did with me when I was sad about Peggy he is probably going to punch me," Steve sounds concerned too.

Sweets, that dorky nickname they both have decided to call you because you happen to like all things sweet. Somehow it had stuck, even though you protested. "I can try and talk to him," you pause before continuing. "If he is ever alone again."

Suddenly the front door slams and you realize that the sounds have stopped. Sharing a look both of you rush out of bed, finding Bucky in the kitchen, downing a gallon of juice.

"Want some?" He holds it out when he sees you. The smell of alcohol on his breath is strong, even when you’re a few feet away, pulling out a chair to sit down across from where he’s standing. "No thank you," you answer while Steve leans against the fridge. "So, who was that?" you ask.

Bucky shrugs. "Don't know, met her at a bar." "Are you using protection?" Steve asks with a raised eyebrow. Bucky straightens up, putting the open juice jug down hard on the counter, making liquid slosh out, looking at Steve with black eyes that you’ve never seen before.

"Of course I am, do you think I'm fucking dumb or somethin'," he snarls. Bucky tends to be a little dramatic when he's drunk. In an effort to calm him down you reach out to him. "Hey, Bucky, it's okay, he wasn't-" The moment your fingers touch his arm, he turns and moves his hand. "Don't fucking touch me," he says and the palm of his hand connects with your underarm.

Out of surprise and not because it hurts, you yelp and look up at Bucky, a little confused because he’s never reacted like that before. He stares back at you with horrified eyes, realization dawning on him. Slowly, without another word, he backs away and hurries over to his room, slamming the door behind him like a teenager in a fit.

Steve moves forward and grabs your arm, turning it over to see if you’re hurt. "What the fuck is wrong with him," he murmurs. "It's nothing, I was just surprised," you shrug. "I've hurt myself worse by bumping into tables." "That is no fucking excuse." Steve lets go and starts towards Bucky's door. Before he can knock, Bucky opens it with a bag over his shoulder. He's changed into new clothes and his cap is pulled down low over his eyes.

Steve blocks the doorway and crosses his arms, asking "Where the fuck are you going?" "Heading out, move," Bucky mumbles and tries to duck past Steve but the other won't let him. "The fuck your not, you're gonna stay here and face whatever it is that you’re feeling," Steve's voice is laced with restrained anger. "And you're gonna apologize to Sweets."

You’re about to protest that you're not really hurt, but Steve shoots a look over his shoulder and you clamp your mouth shut. "We understand that you're sad about Dot," Steve is softer now and he leans on the doorframe, giving Bucky a way out but he doesn't take it, he just stands there, looking at the ground.

"You don't understand shit, Steve," Bucky mutter. "Have you even cried?" Steve asks and that makes Bucky’s head snap up, his mouth a thin line. "Real men don't fucking cry," he hisses. They stare at each other for a long while, then Steve points to you. "Can real men apologize when they're being a fucking ass?" Steve asks with poorly hidden disdain.

This is a sore spot for both of them and has been the grounds for arguments before. Bucky has some views on what it means to be a man that neither Steve nor you share. It has gotten better over the years according to Steve but you have not seen Bucky cry once, not to sad movies or when he’s been injured, or even had his heart broken. It's concerning, but maybe you and Steve can help him with that one day.

The bag lands on the floor with a thump and he walks past Steve to where you're sitting on the chair. Without a word he gets down on his knees in front of you and gently grabs your arm, pressing his lips against your skin murmuring "I'm sorry," repeatedly.

Steve has turned to look at you and you meet his eyes that are still hard and annoyed. You use your free hand to remove the cap and run your fingers through Bucky's hair, whispering, "It's okay."

When you do, Bucky stiffens and stops moving for a moment, then he lets go of your arm and buries his face in your pajama-clad lap, his voice trembling when he says, "I'll move out, I swear. I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, Sweets! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I love you so much."

Steve softens immediately and pushes off the door to settle on the floor beside him, rubbing his back. “No need for that Buck,” he says softly and you echo him. “I don’t want you to leave Bucky,” you grab one of his hands and gently press a kiss to the top of it before placing it back again.

After several minutes of silence, Bucky asks angrily into your legs, "Why the fuck does it have to hurt this much.” "I don't know," you answer truthfully. "I wish I never met her, never fucked her, never fucking loved her,” Bucky continues. "No, you don't," Steve argues. "I know it might feel like you will never be happy again but it will get better." Bucky lifts his head and Steve cups his face and brushes his cheeks, even though there are no tears there.

"We love you, and we will help you with anything you need," you promise. Bucky nods and lays his head down against your legs again with Steve's hand still on his cheek.

Eventually, Steve stands up and Bucky looks at him a little worried. "Not leaving, just gonna get another blanket for the bed," he reassures him. While Steve is gone Bucky says, "I'm sorry I hurt you, I love you, Sweets, more than you could ever know." And you smile because even though you know he’s exaggerating, it’s still nice to hear him say it. "I know Bucky, I know," you whisper.

When Steve comes back he pulls Bucky to his feet and guides him into the bedroom. You check the front door before turning all the lights out, then padding over to Steve's room too. They're cuddled together, Bucky's head pressed into Steve's shoulder and you move to slide in behind Bucky, but he grabs you around the waist and pulls you down between them. It makes you giggle and there is a weak smile answering on Bucky's face before you all settle in.

There is not even a light bruise left behind on your arm the next day, but you've never seen Bucky so remorseful. In the following weeks, he accompanies you around to classes, carries your stuff, and has sworn off drinking. Both you and Steve are skeptical because Bucky is famous for his partying but in the months that follow he often goes out but always comes home sober.

One day when you're having lunch at home together on the couch, you ask him about it.

First, he puts his food down before taking hold of your utensils and placing them on the table. Then he grabs you and pulls you into his lap, hugging you so tightly you can hardly breathe.

"I never want to put you in that situation again," he explains. "What if I get angry and do something worse, to you, or Steve, or anyone else." Hugging him back as best you can you say "Maybe you should talk to a professional about it?" "I'm on a waiting list," he replies.

You cuddle into him, really trying to show him that you mean it when you say, "Bucky I'm not afraid of you, I know you didn't mean to hurt me." "Don't make excuses for me," he says and picks up a strand of your hair, twirling it between his fingers.

The moment is cut off by your phone chiming and you wiggle out of his hold. When you pull it out a smile splits your face. "Have to go," you grab another spoonful of fried rice then get up. "Who was that?" Bucky asks.

Since you’re halfway to the door you don't pick up on his tone. "Just someone I've been seeing," "What's his name?" "Loki, he's from Europe!" You turn around with a smile and throw him a kiss before you're out the door.

Bucky feels his heart break, again, only this time he has no excuse to be sad about it because you aren't his.

prev | next

[calware]

would you ever share a list of your fave fics to reread ? Id love to hear your recommendations and faves

sure thing :) i'm only going to list works that have been going on for a while (or at least have gotten past the very beginning of the story) and that i've read all the way through. i'm also not going to list any of the super iconic fics i like because this list is already pretty long. these are all based on stuff that i personally find more interesting to read about, mostly focused on the human characters and not a lot of romance

i don't really know if these first two count but they're too good to not include:

Jade Route by spicyyeti

a post-epilogues comic centering around jade, this is my favorite homestuck fanwork. i especially love the artwork and the way it frames the story. it is reaaallllly hard to read it on a phone so make sure to read it on a computer or tablet

House of Dirk by imarriedacherub no rating - graphic depictions of violence - 13,570 words - 20 chapters (unfinished) A sitcom about completely normal and well-adjusted newlyweds Dirk and Caliborn attempting to make a good impression on their son, Dave, and his boyfriend, Karkat.

another comic, this one hosted on both ao3 and mspfa (though the ao3 version has more pages). i like how ridiculous it is. will probably never be finished, sadly

moving on to the actual fics:

Reallocated by breezefulskies mature - chose not to use archive warnings - 324,756 words - 65 chapters (unfinished) Hal finds himself stranded aboard a certain meteor, impact-bound for Houston, Texas circa 1995. And everything spirals out from there. Because sometimes, when a system seems to be just short of defunct, all that is required is to take a step back and reevaluate the materials at hand and redistribute your available resources. And so, with birth comes a countdown on a cycle that begins as it ends: In the red.

hal is mysteriously sent to earth via unknown means and finds himself raising a baby as best as he can, which, given that he's glasses, is not easy. this is my favorite homestuck fic, not just because it's about hal, but also because i love the focus on family dynamics and the plot as it unfolds. begging everyone to read this, i can't say what happens exactly without spoiling things, it's just really really good. at the moment, it updates once a month

Ersatz Abyss by katreal mature - no archive warnings apply - 120,092 words - 39 chapters (unfinished) You look into the mirror to find your own face looking back at you. You laugh. And then you cry. Last, you try and figure out how you got to this moment. The Auto-Responder had long since resigned himself to an artificial existence, his only dwindling hope for escape hinging on a promise that has yet to be fulfilled. Then one day he wakes up, Dirk nowhere to be found. What's the point in getting what you want, if you can't show off a little?

another great hal fic. i managed to get my roommate (who has not read homestuck) to read this and they really enjoyed it, so i'm sure you all won't have any problems liking this one either. there are a lot of fics out there of hal getting a body, but this one is very different in that it's not the happy ending that you might first think it is. this fic perfects the feeling of everything snowballing into a bigger and bigger problem until it all falls apart

Falling for the First Time by nobrandhero teen - no warnings apply - 63,818 words - 11/17 chapters The game is over, Alpha Earth resets to 2009, and Dirk's bro doesn't live up to expectations. The movie director who appears so chill and stoic in interviews is actually a talkative, needy dweeb like his teenage counterpart. It's not a bad thing, as far as Dirk's concerned.

for whatever reason, i'm a sucker for fics where the characters somehow end up on earth again post-game, and out of all the fics that follow that concept this one is my favorite. sadly, this one barely touches on jane and jake, but it's pretty interesting to read about what dirk and roxy are getting up to with their guardians (and the earth) restored to their previous conditions

The Haunted Harley House by hemoanarchists teen - chose not to use archive warnings - 78,462 words - 23 chapters (finished) There is an old house you built a long long time ago, alongside someone very close to you. Now as you don a new name, slipping back into society to care for a descendant, to whom tragedy has left you as her only family left, you take her to the house, the house that bears your family name. You really shouldn't have been surprised when he came to join you. It is his house too, after all.

carlah, a young girl who lives on earth c, has just been taken in by her uncle "jacob harley" after her mother's death. as time goes on, she slowly learns more about the true nature of her new guardians and the house they all live in. normally i'm not that interested in OCs but i love how intriguing carlah is as an outsider of the story. it's really easy to get invested in her as she uncovers a mystery we all know from the beginning and another that we have to learn along with her. shoutout to dysfunctional family dynamics

actually, while i'm at it, i'm going to recommend a bunch of other stuff he's written:

Atlantis Bound teen - chose not to use archive warnings - 33,263 words - 8 chapters (unfinished) Dirk tracks down an old friend

prequel to the haunted harley house but can also be read after (or separately). i really like the dynamic between dirk and vriska here, and i also love the way vriska's repeated reincarnation is utilized. vriska's journey through the newest iteration of her life while dirk watches over her is soooo captivating, especially when snippets of her previous lives are sprinkled in throughout. do you guys love cycles? personally i love cycles

Cherubian mature - chose not to use archive warnings - 54,011 words - 29 chapters (unfinished) The 5000 year time skip never happened, at the dawn of time the gods desperately try to guide the planet into a better future. But with tensions rising it feels like one bad day could bring everything crumbling down.

all of dante's earth-c god fics as a whole changed my brain chemistry and this acts as the beginning (and catalyst) of that overarching story. a lot happens in a very short amount of time

Transitional teen - no warnings apply - 1,860 words - oneshot a simple question what changed when you went godtier?

super simple but also an interesting exploration of the headcanon that players' bodies change when they go godtier. the twist is that each "change" is unique to each character and relates to their Self in some way

Monster under the bed teen - chose not to use archive warnings - 2,573 words - oneshot Skeletons in the Closet mature - chose not to use archive warnings - 2,910 words - oneshot Small Talk teen - no warnings apply - 8,944 words - 6 chapters (unfinished)

putting all three of these together because i believe(?) they're all part of the same narrative

[snekatiemainy]

I wish we saw more of Antony and Hazel interacting because like. We saw it a bit in rattleconda racers but I feel like there's a lot you can do with their parallels that could be a bit explored more.

Hazel's life has just been turned upside down, she's in a new place with new people and without her older brother who is her rock and as she said her best friend. It suddenly feels like everything is out of her control and she's forced to navigate this new scary world. She's forced to make new friends which is hard, and try to find comfort without the person she knows the most.

As someone in college right now, going off on my own was one of the scariest things I did in my life. I'm living on my own, with someone I've only ever talked to twice before, without my parents support, without any of my high school friends, and I'm thrown into the deep end with something I've never experienced before.

Every time Antony goes on his little rant at the end of the episode, I can't help but think HE IS SO ME.

"Well, it is different! And you're not the only one going through it!" He then talks about eating in a cafeteria, a roommate who snores, not being able to ask someone out. Which all seem like silly superficial things at first glance but... it IS different. He's eating away from home (where the Wells eating family meals together), sleeping away from home, he has none of the same support he used to be. (And consider for a moment the idea that when he comes home to visit, its not the home he grew up in. The people are what matters, but doesn't that feel different too?)

When you're freshly 18 and have never been so far from home for so long, it's all new and overwhelming. The first few weeks of college before I finally settled in and found a group of good people were some of the worst weeks ever. And even after that I regularly struggled with being away from my parents, my pets, my friends, my own private space (and I too had a roommate who snored lol). I can't help but sympathize so hard with Antony because I get it!!

Idk. I just wish they kind of drew on that a lot more. Because Hazel and Antony are soso alike- they're in wildly new situations they have to learn to navigate, and while they're each lucky enough to get new friends and a strong support system through them, that doesn't mean it's easy. And yes, it's all different, and likely will never be the same. But that's okay

[eustasskiddsprosthetic]

Lads, it's been such a long time since I've returned to my roots—Lu/Law/Lu and I'm happy to say I have an idea! I've read a thread discussing dilf Luffy and it reminded me of my own Dilf!Lulaw fic I wrote some time ago. I'm OBSESSED with Dilf Luffy so follow me.

Law and Luffy are childhood friends. Law babysits Luffy when they were 13 and 6 respectively and they get along. Law would teach Luffy about the anatomy of various small animals, showing him how to dissect (or pretty much butcher) any type of animal they could find and Luffy would watch, quietly and thoroughly intrigued.

When Luffy was 10 years old, he thought the 17 year old Law was just the coolest guy ever, apart from Ace and Sabo. Law's tall, super smart and his deep voice (whenever it doesn't crack) is super nice.

Sure, he's stuffy and a nerd but if Luffy throws enough rocks at Law's window, Law's the best guy to prank people with! He has backup plans after backup plans to get them both out of trouble. He one-ups Luffy's ideas in a non-condescending way. He's also super pretty when he laughs...

When Law's 20, he tells Luffy that he's moving overseas on some sort of scholarship to Japan. Luffy had no idea what Japan was but Ace and Sabo tell him it's a pretty country with plenty of food. Luffy made Law promise to take him there some day, and Law agreed to, figuring why not.

Sabo also tells Luffy to get his contact information and Law agreed, giving Luffy his phone number and social media handles in case he wanted to text.

And text, Luffy did!

"HEY TRAFFY!! I MISS YOU!!!!! HOW'S ANIME JAPAN!!"

[insert image] "This is my new dorm."

"looks boring lul :P"

"Not allowed to decorate too much, unfortunately. However, I have a roommate soon."

"ROOMIE!! WHO WHO WHO"

"My partner. I'm seeing someone atm."

"atm? wots that Traffy 0_0"

"It means 'at the moment'."

"Oh."

For some reason Luffy felt kind of sad. Maybe it's one of those emo spurts as he's growing up but Traffy never dated when they hung out. Did Traffy not tell him anything? That's upsetting.

"Who is it!!! They btr be nice to u >:("

"Don't worry about that. They're very kind to me. I'm looking for a nice picture to show you."

And Traffy sent Luffy a picture of the guy. It's a tall, buff guy with reddish-brown hair and a scruffy chin. Luffy felt his chin and realised he had a little stubble.

Luffy said that the guy looked plain when Ace walked past and asked what's up. Deep down though, Luffy was annoyed that he's actually quite good looking and that he's way older.

"Is there something wrong, Luffy?"

"wot"

"I don't know. You're the first person I told this to... Sorry, I didn't know you're not supportive."

"Support what"

"I like men, Luffy. I'm gay."

"0-0" Luffy thought of how to respond. A couple friends told him something similar before but he seriously didn't care. "is fine lol"

"Really?"

"YUP !! NO WORRIES HAHAHAHAHA I DIDNGT KNOW YOU HAD A BOYFIE WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME!!"

"I didn't know how you'd react." And then Traffy was seen typing for a few minutes. "Thank you for not dismissing me."

"!!!!"

They text on and off more from there. Indeed, it felt like when they were kids where Luffy would share whatever's on his mind with Traffy and Traffy would reply politely. They talked about whatever, sometimes deep things, sometimes lighter things but it's usually always fun.

Sometimes, Traffy would talk about his relationship with Drake, as Luffy learned his name later and for some reason, that's Luffy's least favourite subject.

Traffy was neither happy nor unhappy. He talked about him the same way Traffy talked about the weather in anime, Japan. Heck, Law probably liked Ace and Sabo more and they don't even talk!

Luffy didn't have the words or courage to ask whether Traffy really loved Drake and so he never talked about it. As he got older, he couldn't accept that Law—the coolest, nicest, raddest guy ever—would marry some guy.

Law invited Luffy to the wedding ceremony but Luffy couldn't go, partly because he had exams and mostly because he just refused to. Ace and Sabo were surprised to hear that but they eventually understood why.

Whenever Luffy pulled up Law's wedding pictures on their social medias, he would only pinch his fingers on the screen to zoom in on Law's barely smiling, kind of sad face. He'd pout and ask what made Drake so special...

They talk on and off but life got in the way for them.

Law's busy with his hectic job as a surgeon. Law's trying to take more time off social media to be more offline. Law's going to therapy and journalling more. Of course there's his marriage.

Luffy's life's developing nicely too. Luffy's busy with all his friends and being present for them. He's his brother's biggest cheerleaders in their respective sports teams. He's also trying to study a little bit more to do well enough to make it in college.

And so they stop texting for a day. And then a month. And then a year. And then a decade rolls by easily. It's as if they never met.

...

And now, Luffy's 40 and he settled into a nice suburban area as a single-pringle. His house became less of a home and more of a gathering space.

Ace and Sabo drive over to have wild cookouts with their respective partners and kids. Zoro and Sanji come over to drink alcohol. Nami and Usopp for movie dates. Franky gave Luffy a sexy ice cream machine. Robin and Chopper would come over to bird watch in Luffy's backyard. Brook would host charity concerns in his front yard for the children and Luffy let Jimbe tutor kids in his living room.

Life hadn't felt so full in a while. Luffy smiled at his framed pictures and thought, "Wah... I've made it."

One day, he heard some people move into the vacant house next door. After all, how could he not hear them? They were arguing so fucking loudly.

"Shut up, nerd! I do what I want to do!"

"If you're as smart as you say you are you'd be more careful! Those drums are expensive! Be nice to them!"

"They ain't your drums, shit head!"

"But I'm responsible!"

And then Luffy heard something fall down and it made this horrible noise. Enough! He said. He put on a shirt and walked outside. There, he saw the culprit of all that noise.

It's some big man, a guy as big as Luffy with flaming red hair and a permanent scowl. He turned to Luffy and said, "What's your fucking problem? Can't a guy move into his fucking house?"

Luffy hated his attitude—what's his problem!

"I asked ya a fucking question, dipshit."

"I don't like you, you're a jerk!"

"Oh, is that-"

"Shut up, Eustass!" Both Luffy and the guy turned their heads to face the balcony.

And Luffy gasped.

On the balcony, stood a tall man who moved gracefully like an ice prince. He wore a loose Sora the Warrior tee shirt, tucked into light jeans. He had piercings on his ears. His jawline was sharp.

"You're annoying me, Eustass. Hurry up."

"Shut up!"

The not-Eustass-guy turned to face Luffy when he realised Luffy was staring. It started with an apologetic look and then he looked cold, annoyed. Why was Luffy staring so much and so intensely? The man squinted as if that would help him. He frowned and put his glasses on. The man blinked rapidly, in complete disbelief.

"I-" Luffy broke into a large grin when the other man's coldness morphed to surprise. Slowly, he warmed up and there's this warm look in his eye that took Luffy back to when he asked Traffy a question about the frog he was dissecting in the woods for Luffy's entertainment.

No way. Luffy shook his head. NO FUCKING WAY.

He made a little sign and Luffy knew what it meant even years later. It meant that he promised that he'd be back. He kept his promise. About twenty minutes later, Luffy heard a knock on the door. He never sprinted this fast in his life.

"Hi-" And Luffy enveloped the guy in the biggest bear hug he had ever given. He's just so fucking happy! And then Luffy pulled away to actually see him for himself. He was always handsome but since when was he smoking hot? Tall, thin-hipped and slightly muscular.

He looked up at Luffy and his sharp, annoyed eyes softened with tender affection. OH YES WAY!

"Hello, as I was saying. It's been a while."

"Hell yeah! How've you been, Traffy!" It's nice to even say his name again! He felt like a little kid again! Traffy smiled indulgently when Luffy slapped his back.

"I'm alright, thank you."

Luffy saw that Traffy was fiddling with his ring finger and said so. Traffy noticed it too and apologised for the habit.

"I'm going through a divorce now. Eustass, being nice for once, offered to let me stay with him and his partner while I figure out what I want to do with myself. It'll take time for my dad to get that carpet installed in his new house nearby so here I am now to kill time."

"D-divorce?"

"We fell out of love, let's put it bluntly," Law said, now distant. "I found out he's been cheating on me."

"Oh." Luffy suddenly felt like that dumb thirteen year old who didn't know how to handle Law coming out to him. "That sucks."

"Yes, it indeed 'sucks'. I was so shocked I didn't even cry about it for a week when I found out last year."

There was the awkwardness of feeling like one of them did something terribly wrong. Law smiled tersely.

"Enough about that, I'm keeping my hands full with idiots who claim that they want to 'help me out'." Law laughed gently. "Some classmates from Anime, Japan are coming to visit for a few days next week. I wonder how they're doing."

Luffy smiled. His heart ached.

"What do you want to do, Traffy?"`

"Me?" Law gave it thought. He glanced to the side. "Well, first things first, I have to help Eustass over there move in."

"After that?"

"After?" Law blinked. "I'm not sure. Probably brush up on my Japanese. Why?"

Bright-eyed and a little bit scared, Luffy said, "Let's go out!"

"Huh?"

"It'll be fun!" Luffy was totally winging it. "We can get beef bowl at Sanji's place! Do you like camping, Traffy? Ace and Sabo set up a really cool fire place out back—why don't we fire that up later! How about ice cream? Robin made cheese cake too! It's super yummy!"

Law started laughing so much tears came out. Luffy thought with some sadness that Law wasn't done crying about his divorce.

"You haven't changed at all!" Law said, smiling widely. Luffy felt proud of himself for that much. He didn't realise how much of a hole Traffy left behind in his heart when they stopped contacting each other.

Life doesn't give second chances but maybe, just maybe...

"It's really nice seeing you again, Luffy. I... I've missed you. It's been a bit lonely these few months, so let's catch up, i-if you want."

Maybe Luffy could finally show Traffy just how much he loved him...

[waldau-archived]

hi!! i really love the way you write for wonwoo♡♡♡ could i request wonwoo+friends to lovers(something like she fell first but he fell harder kinda trope?)

thank you so much anon! also you're my first ever request! i hope i did this trope justice, because as much as i love established relationships i don't think i've ever really done much for friends to lovers.

crush — jeon wonwoo | 2,193 words | fluff

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

it hits wonwoo like a sledgehammer.

he's glad he's already sitting in his usual seat at the table, because there probably couldn't be a worse time to realize he's in love with you. when you're out on a date with someone else, and when these dates look like they're going to become a steady fixture in your life; something that he's going to have to learn how to make peace with.

wonwoo doesn't just love you. he's in love with you, and he's grappling with the realization of how many months he's missed without knowing the extent of his own feelings for you.

he wishes there was some manual that told him what to do when you had feelings for your roommate. when said roommate happened to be your best friend you'd try to ask out if you weren't so afraid of ruining the friendship.

since the end of high school and the beginning of college, wonwoo's always had you by his side — whether it be in the same classes, or the same friend group — hell, he's lost count of the number of nights you spent together, watching movies instead of trying to get some sleep for the next day.

(maybe there was a reason why he chose horror movies sometimes, even though you were scared of them.)

he thinks back to all the times your friends joked you were practically dating — that never annoyed him. he was merely surprised at the idea of dating you. you had always been his best friend; nothing more. you were a constant fixture in his life that he didn't see in any other way.

but now? wonwoo wishes he could turn back time and see what could have happened. would you have had the same inside jokes you do now, the same ease that comes with learning to co-exist by carving each other's shapes into your lives?

he looks up from his laptop at the sound of the wind rattling the windows. but he's the only one home.

you're out on your second date in the past two weeks with this guy named seungcheol. for the past two weeks, wonwoo hasn't been able to put a finger on why he hasn't been so keen on this guy you're seeing, despite the fact that seungcheol sounds like nothing but a gentleman.

and now he knows why.

he's heard a lot about how funny and smart and nice seungcheol is, from taking you to your favourite restaurant for a date to leaving you at your doorstep at the end of your night out.

wonwoo wants to argue that he, too, does the same thing for you. he holds doors open for you and gives you his beanie when you're cold and lets you have his popcorn when yours is done, but you just don't see him that way. and he doesn't know what to do to make you see him that way.

he focuses on his laptop again. the words all seem jumbled, and he's pretty sure he's been on the same page for the past half hour. so he takes his glasses off and lets his eyes rest. only to remember the time you took his glasses off when he was almost about to fall asleep on the sofa.

you're loving. it's something he's learned from you. you're always looking out for others, always concerned, wanting them to know you're there in the subtlest ways possible.

wonwoo always wants you around, and now has an irrational worry that he won't have you for much longer. his heart starts hurting — really, physically hurting, like a deep pain in his chest that can't be satiated by anything. he didn't know it was possible, but it's all he can feel right now.

he tries to think about anything else. those few people he'd dated back in college, whose names he can't even remember now. he hasn't dated anyone in the past two years since you graduated, got a job and moved into this flat together.

wonwoo hadn't known what to expect when it came to living with you, because as much as you were best friends, you'd never shared a living space together beyond a night's time. now over the course of the last twenty five months, he's become accustomed to you, and he's afraid he's ruined it all by realizing he's fallen in love with you far too late.

part of that is definitely your fault, he reasons. he wouldn't blame seungcheol for falling in love, either.

the thought of you on your date hurts him enough that he picks up his pen and scratches something on the notepad lying next to his laptop. his strokes are harsh and drawn without care, but when he stops, it's a rough sketch of your favourite flowers.

he lets out a bitter laugh. everything always circles back to you, in the end.

you don't ask for anything on your birthday, but wonwoo always gets you a bouquet of your favourite flowers alongside your gifts, because he knows how much you love them.

he wonders if seungcheol knows they're your favourite.

he's shaken out of his thoughts when you open the door to your shared house and step inside, almost tiptoeing, like you're afraid of making noise. you freeze when you see him looking at you. he wonders how long he's been sitting there, mind blank but also filled with thoughts of you. it's eating him up like a slow poison from the inside, but he forces himself to hold your gaze.

you look amazing. more than that, you look happy.

he's not jealous. he's never jealous when you're happy. but he just wants you to be happy with him, and he doesn't know if he's enough.

he wants to know what it'd be like to take you out. he wants to know everything that makes you smile, because he still learns something new about you almost every day. he wants to know what it's like to hold hands with you, kiss you goodnight, and wake up every morning knowing you're there by his side and his side only.

he wants more than he can possibly have.

"hey, wonwoo," you say, shutting the door behind you before you take off your shoes. "couldn't sleep?"

"no. i wanted to wait till you came back."

you frown at him. "i told you not to."

as if he could ever do that. whether you go out on dates, or to parties with your friends, wonwoo can't relax till he knows you're back home, safe. he just shrugs. this is one thing he'll always be stubborn about.

"did you have dinner?" you ask, ruffling his hair and moving past him to presumably fix yourself a snack before you go to bed.

"yeah," he says, looking back at the laptop. the letters are still jumbled, so he cleans his glasses before putting them back on. "unless last night's pizza doesn't count."

"that's a lot of words for no," you say. "are instant noodles okay?"

"of course."

wonwoo watches as you move around, putting back today afternoon's dried dishes into their respective places and filling a glass of water for yourself.

"did you have fun tonight?"

"yeah," you say, a smile on your face. "cheol picked out this movie i've been wanting to watch for a while. then we went to this hole-in-the-wall cafe that was surprisingly nice. and then he dropped me home."

wonwoo tries not to react at the nickname you already have for him. he's not jealous, but it's getting harder to convince himself of that. he looks at your jacket. it looks...not quite your style.

"is that new?" he asks, pointing at it.

"what? oh, this? seungcheol asked me to return it to him the next time. it was pretty cold today."

wonwoo's hand crumples the note before he realizes. next time? why couldn't he have realized how much he loved you before all of this had to happen?

"you okay?" you ask, turning around to look at him. "come here and tell me if it tastes fine."

"it's just instant noodles," he pretends to grumble, but waits for you to feed him some. he can see you're a bit tired. he wishes you'd fall asleep on him, the way you do when you're stubborn enough to want to keep him company with whatever he's doing.

"tastes good," he hums, licking his lips.

did he just imagine your eyes looking at them before they moved back to his face?

"great. hand me those bowls from there?"

you using him for his height is a running joke he hopes never gets old. wonwoo takes out the cutlery too, but stops when he sees an angry red line on your hand.

"what happened to you?" he asks, holding your hand so he can see it clearly. he tries not to think about how much bigger his hand is. the cut isn't bleeding, but it's still there, starkly visible against your skin.

you hesitate. "i'm not sure. i remember my hand hit something in the cafe, but i didn't see it till now."

"and you didn't bother checking it once you got home?"

you look at him. "i didn't even feel it that much, woo."

"you could have tetanus for all you know!"

"it's just a cut! it's hardly that ser—"

you stop talking when wonwoo switches on the tap and turns off the stove. "take this off," he says, pointing to the jacket. it shouldn't even be in your home. he shouldn't be feeling like this in the first place.

you comply wordlessly, hand limp in his as he washes it thoroughly, before patting it dry with the towel near the sink and finding a bandaid in the cabinet above. you have a propensity for getting hurt randomly and wonwoo's glad to be prepared.

"done," he says, letting go of your hand. you're still looking at him.

"kiss it better?" you ask. there's a mischievous look in your eyes.

and who is he to refuse? he takes your hand back, gently pressing a kiss to it, making sure it's not too forceful. when your eyes meet again, he gets the feeling there's something in the air. even you seem to be aware of it. it's like the tipping point before the scales lose their balance, like the calm before the storm; it's now or never.

"one more time?" you ask, moving a bit closer. wonwoo swears he forgets how to breathe. and he definitely isn't imagining your eyes on his lips this time.

"always," he says, before he leans down to press his lips to yours.

it's magic. there's no other word for it. wonwoo feels like he's transcending worlds when he feels your lips against his, trying to press yourself into him when you wrap your hands around his waist.

when you pull apart, wonwoo swears you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life. this is what he wants, and he'll be damned if he doesn't try to find out what could have been.

"please don't go out with him again?"

"...what?"

wonwoo swallows, letting go of your hand. his bravery now comes and goes like waves on the seashore, tides threatening to spill out everything he feels about you in one careless motion.

"i don't want you to go out with him again."

"because...we kissed?"

"because i'd never let you get hurt if you were with me."

"you...what?"

"i like you," he says, taking a step closer. "i don't know what that meant to you, but i like you so much, and i hate that it took me this long to realize it. i want...i want you to give me a chance."

"you like me?" you ask, voice smaller than before.

he nods. "i want to...take you out on a date. wherever you want. i want to make you laugh. it's been killing me, thinking about you with him."

"oh, my god," you say, burying your face in your hands. wonwoo's heart drops. "why would you— i've been trying to get over you all this while, going out on dates with him so i can stop thinking about you that way, and now you're just...giving me what i've always wanted?

wonwoo feels like he's been drenched in ice-cold water. "you like me?" he parrots. he doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he pulls you in for a hug. even this simple gesture suddenly feels like a brand new thing in the light of your recent confessions.

your hands find their place around his waist again, your chin on his chest, looking up at him. "of course i do. i'm surprised you didn't realize earlier. it's been...a while."

this is news to him. "how long, exactly?"

you bow your head, not meeting his eyes, "i'm not telling you now."

"you can't hide anything from me, you know."

he can feel your smile against his chest. "i know. let me just have this for now?"

"forever."

you tighten your grip around his waist and just stand with him.

wonwoo makes a mental note to get you a bunch of real flowers.

[rookfeatherrambles]

Hey Tumblr, its been a hell of a few days for me. For those that don't know, on Sunday (June 2nd), I was in a car accident that really traumatized me, and I don't know if its going to affect me for another week or another 10 years. Details under the cut, as well as pictures of my injuries (no blood but bruises and scrapes, will be tagged appropriately).

My friend came up from Washington state to see me and wanted me to meet her at the hotel she was staying at. No problem. I'd just take an uber, from where I was located it would be an under 10$ trip. The uber gets there, I introduce myself, I place my purse into the car, and as I'm getting in, my earbud falls out and bounces off into who knows where. So I pause, one foot in the vehicle, one foot out, as I'm sort of stooping to look for this missing earbud. (It was important to me, more on that later). The back seat door is still wide open, but then, the driver decides to start driving. My foot is dragged back and twisted, and the rest of my body follows, and I'm screaming as I hit the ground and feel the wheel going over my leg. I think my first thought was that it had been ripped from my body. I was dragged a few feet down the street while passengers screamed to the driver to stop the car, and I don't think I've ever felt that kind of pain before. My throat is raw from screaming and crying. The car stops, people come and the driver tries to control the situation. All I ask through my sobs is 'is my leg still there?' and yes, miraculously, it is still there. I'm offered hands, but I lift myself up under my own power, extremely in shock. I'm not bleeding. Just scraped to hell with a tire track on my skin like a brand and terrified. Other parts of me also were scraped up, but I didn't notice until later. People are talking to me, all I want to do is be with my friend, so I look the driver in the face and tell him to take me to my destination, where I meet up with my friend. I am in shock all night. The driver asked me if I was okay, and upon me saying yeah, fine (I was not fine) he tells me he's not going to report this to Uber because its just a few scrapes. Anyway, I visit with my friend, and under guidence of my great roommate, I go to a walk in clinic and wait for nigh on 4 hours to get my injuries documented and get checked out. The verdict? Whiplash, no broken bones. I ache like I'm 90 but that's to be expected. I'm off work for a week, I'm given a 200$ physiotherapy prescription, but unless I want to pay out of pocket, I need to contact uber and start an insurance claim. I do that. They tell me they're going to put me in touch with an insurer. I don't believe them. I get a consultation with a personal injury lawyer set up for this friday, and now we come to here and now. I need headphones to cope with sensory hell outside of my apartment, and they were not on me when I left, so they're long gone. 180$ earbuds. Truthfully, I have this gut feeling that Uber is going to do their best to discredit me and what happened, just like that driver. I can't get into a car now without remembering that agony of my leg being crushed under the wheel, and when I'm in any vehicle now, I'm plagued by panic and horrid images of gruesome demise. I genuinely think I might have PTSD, though I'll be looking into a formal diagnosis when i can get to it. When I can AFFORD it. I hate to do this so soon after asking about my back, but I'm out of work for I don't know how long now, I don't know how many physio appointments or THERAPY appointments i will need to get over this. I need to recoup my headphones, I need to get groceries delivered now (which is really pricy), I need to keep myself afloat until Uber decides to (or decides not to) make amends. I don't even know if they fired the driver. I just want to feel safe and I just want something done. Anyway, if you can donate, please do. I know I'm just the silly AU person (one of many) but I have to ask. I have no other choice. I'm just sorry I don't have anything to give in return. Paypal.me/xcannibal Proof of injuries below.

[falling-star-cygnus]

Hi! English is not my first language so j apologize for any odd wording.

I loved your 4ggravate headcanons and wanted to know if you have written any 4ggravte fics? Or do you maybe have fic recs of them? I'm starving for content of these four best friends turned lovers being domestic and each expressing their love in different ways.

hi hi!! thank you so much for your kind words <3 <3 <3 i've written, i think, one 4ggravate fic on this page but it was more Cytham than anything -> it's also really old and not... great :{

however there's a bunch of really good fics on Ao3!! even if i only tend to read the ones that focus on Alhaitham -> Four Hearts Beat as One by The_Phantom_Writer is my all time fav :D

HC just for u: Alhaitham is subconsciously cuddly, but if you call him out he'll traipse away like a cat -> scenarios under the cut :D

*Kaveh and Alhaitham are sitting on the divan; the scribe is reading, the architect is leafing through a book of different designs* *Slowly, Alhaitham adjusts every so often, until he's leaning into Kaveh's side- eyes not leaving his book* *Kaveh freezes as the scribe's head leans onto his own* Kaveh, cautiously: Alhaitham. Alhaitham: *noncommittal questioning sound* Kaveh: What are you doing? *Alhaitham freezes* *Slowly, ever so slowly, he leans off Kaveh. Closes his book. And takes guarded steps away into his room* Kaveh: ...damn

*During a group hangout, Cyno is playing against Tighnari in Genius Invokation* *They're playing in the roommate's house for once, because Lambad's was too loud for the Valuka Shuna and Scribe* *Alhaitham is on Cyno's side, Kaveh is on Tighnari's, and the scribe presses against the general to look at his cards. Cyno tilts them instinctually so that he can see them better* Alhaitham, pointing at one of the cards: *quietly* play that one. Cyno, nodding: Good idea *Everybody- sans Cyno, who plays the aforementioned card- freezes as Alhaitham stays like that* *Tighnari opens his mouth* *Kaveh clamps a hand over it, vigorously shaking his head 'no'*

*Again, in the roommate's house. Tighnari is waiting for Kaveh to finish getting ready because they had plans. [The architect wanted to go into the forest to find some inspiration and didn't want to go by himself]* *Alhaitham is dozing lightly next to him, having fallen asleep reading in a patch of sunlight, and slowly tips into the fox's lap* *Tighnari tenses and immediately forces himself to relax in the same breath- even as his hands scramble to hover uncertainly. He carefully sinks one hand into fluffy grey hair- which elicits a pleased sleepy noise* Kaveh, walking out: Ready to go...oo? Tighnari, whispering: What do I do!? *Kaveh, as quietly as Kaveh-ly possible, sits down next to them* Kaveh: You can't move until he wakes up, it's the law Tighnari: He's not a cat- *The architect raises an eyebrow* Tighnari: Yep- I heard it as soon as I said it. *sigh*

[robby-bobby-tommy]

I was too tired to stay on Philza's stream... But I am winning, ok?

Fitza staying as strong as ever.

I'll talk a bit about purgatory, since I didn't have time while it was happening.

During the purgatory, we all were thinking that Wallflower duo was dying, cuz they both hunt each other down, but in reality they only got stronger! They are one of the few duos who could kill each other and still stay besties for life. Closer to the end of the Purgatory, they met up and threw a dice together, laughing and joking. Even hugging!! They were in different teams, yet they still hugged and respected each other so much. The Eye B_tch tried to break Fitza up, but their not so platonic duo was stronger than that.

I think it's a stretch, but I felt very warm, when Phil woke up and called for Fit first. I dunno why, but they are very dear to me. Fit is Phil's closest friend and vice versa. So Phil waking up and seeking Fit is so sweet.

And now to yesterday's stream. I didn't watched it all, but I've had enough moments to speak of. Firstly, Fit greeting Philza right when the latter logged in, as they did wayy back, in the first few months of qsmp. Then Phil shows his crows his wings for the first time, which was already huge af. But then he trusted Fit enough to show them to him. And in reality, Phil just showed his greatest vulnerability and insecurity to this specific person, and if it's not the biggest gesture of trust I don't know what is. After Purgatory, they both were supposed to be colder to and be wary of each other, but no. They still confide in each other, being the most honest they can. Fit even apologized. And when Dadza called himself a dumbass, Fit quickly said he isn't one. I love them.

And then Phil and Fit spent a lot of time together, as they did before. Walking, talking, cleaning the server for their kids, joking about each other's d_c-. They're calm around each other, cuz they've known each other for years. I think it's a stretch once again, but I feel that Phil would show his wings to Fit first even if he had a choice.

And again, if we're going back more, when Phil saw the picture of the skull and called for Fit, the latter came almost immediately. After Crow started saying "stupid... Stupid bird brain" 2b2t veteran informed that he believed in existence of skull picture. War criminal sees that dadza starts to doubt in himself, so he reassures him and lets him join him and Pac in the dungeon. Putting friends before roommates (they are so gay, why is Fit in denial... No matter how jacked he is he can't beat Fitpac allegations).

They rotate in my head every second of the day. Their friendship is stronger than anything. If the world came crushing down, they're gonna be together. If one's in trouble the other is already planning the rescue mission. They know each other for a long time, they know how ruthless they can be, but they aren't afraid. They're here for each other. They put their trust in each other, giving each other access to private chambers (Fit's secret bedroom and kid's basement). They're prepared to break the rules, put oneself on the line for the other's sake. They even share illegal stuff with each other. Fit is bullets for Philza's gun. The best duo ever.