#for every single reason outside of the actual god damn classes besides one

[jenoismydad]

2 + 3 = You In Me

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

Pairing: Tutor!Jaemin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (pwp), Slight Angst, College AU

Words: 4.6k+

Warnings: 18+ content. Unprotected sex.

Synopsis: He agrees to tutor you and you end up becoming good friends even though you both so clearly want to be more. What happens when you let you bodies talk for you?

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

Jaemin was coming over to help you prepare for a test. You had no clue how he'd agreed to assist you, but you were thankful nonetheless. Jaemin rarely ever studied with girls. Mostly because they were always hitting on him. But it seemed you were an exception. You wondered why but you figured it was because he was trying to make some extra money.

Yes, Jaemin made you pay him. He made everyone pay him so you didn't think too much of it. From what you'd heard, his methods never failed to prove effective. You hoped he could help you study well enough to pass this test. After all, a majority of your grade depended on it.

You'd spent a good amount of your time trying to prepare a nice study space for you both to sit at in your apartment. So far you'd only managed to clean your coffee table and place two cushions for seats at its feet.

Jaemin would be here any minute. You rushed to get everything you'd need for the day, wanting to keep it all ready so that you wouldn't have to interrupt the study session. Your bell rang not soon after. He was here on time.

Opening the door, you welcomed him with a smile. He nodded and entered without a word. Black track pants and a plain white shirt. Jaemin hadn't made much of an effort to dress to impress. He ventured into your dorm, looking around the place silently.

That's when he came across your makeshift study zone. He pointed at it and looked at you.

"We're studying here," he asked, placing his hands in his pockets. He sounded a tad bit dejected. Your eyes widened slightly in panic. Was he not comfortable with sitting on the floor? "Yeah, I figured. Is there a problem," you asked, fearing the worst for no reason. Jaemin shook his head. "Nope, I just thought we were gonna sit in your room. That's where most of the girls take me anyways," he revealed, flashing you a small grin. You immediately felt at ease.

"My room's kind of a mess at the moment," you admitted, joining him near your couch. He took a seat on the floor, placing the cushion behind his back instead. He cleaned his black-rimmed glasses and patted the space next to himself. "Let's get started."

Jaemin was a pro at breaking down the complex concept so that your pea-sized brain could understand it to the fullest. The only drawback with that method was that it took much longer than you'd like it to. Two hours later you'd only finished one of the chapters that would be coming for the test. You still had four more to go.

"Fuck it's already three o'clock," you complained, falling dramatically on the coffee table. Jaemin flipped his pen in his fingers and stretched his body with a yawn. "I don't mind staying overtime," he joked. He'd made a lot of humoring comments during your time with him. The last you'd heard, he tended to be quite serious, never straying from his purpose. Not that you minded or anything, but Jaemin wasn't really meeting the expectations everyone had set for him in your mind. Maybe they were just trying to intimidate you.

"Don't you have to study too," you asked, turning your head to glance at him. He looked at you and shook his head. "I already studied beforehand. Plus, this test's gonna be super easy. You pass it with a breeze," he admitted. As relieving as that sounded, you didn't wanna take any chances. What if he flunked the test because he didn't revise or something. You really didn't want to be the person he blamed when that happened.

"You don't have to stay for my sake. You can go home if you want to. I think I can manage on my own now." you flipped through the pages of your coursebook, sighing in despair. It was a lot to go through. At least you still had half the day left.

Jaemin folded his arms. "Don't worry about me y/n. Not to undermine you, but I don't think you can get through all of this by yourself. I mean, you barely managed to understand the basics. All those chapters just branch off from this one and get increasingly tough to learn."

If this was him trying to convince you to let him stay then it sure as hell was working. You groaned and sat back up. "You promise you won't fail the test because of me then?" Jaemin chuckled. "Of course not. I'll pass with flying colors."

So you resumed studying. Jaemin was right. What he taught you next was more confusing than the first chapter you'd covered. You regretted not paying attention during your lectures. Jaemin never got impatient with you. In fact, he took ample time to make sure you understood everything he explained to you. He was very thorough and you appreciated that. However the more knowledge you absorbed, the more exhausted you felt. It got to the point where you felt like you couldn't study any further. Jaemin then suggested that you take a small break. You couldn't have agreed faster.

"Once we're done you should go through the practice questions that I emailed you," Jaemin reminded, taking a sip of the soda you'd offered him. You gave him a thumbs up and fell on the ground. "You're a lifesaver Na Jaemin."

Jaemin chuckled and turned to you. "I'm guessing it's not just math that you're having a problem with."

You raised your head and narrowed your eyes at him. "Nicely deduced."

"We can get together to study together for your other subjects if you don't mind. No need to pay me either," he offered.

You furrowed your brows. "Jaemin the longer you spend teaching me the dumber you're gonna get."

He brushed you off. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that."

"You never know, and besides, after today you should know that it's gonna take five hundred years to clear all my concepts. Do you even have that kind of time?"

Jaemin tilted his soda can at you. "You'd be surprised at how much free time I have on my hands."

You smiled. "Wait so you're actually agreed to be my personal tutor."

Jaemin rolled his eyes amusedly. "It was my proposition but yes. I wouldn't be your personal tutor though. Just a study partner."

You sat up and leaned back. "So like, studying in the library after class and stuff like that?"

He nodded. "If the library's closed we can come here or I can take you to my place."

You pursed your lips, considering his deal. But something paused your train of thoughts. "Wait a minute. Why are you asking me this all of a sudden? You hardly seem like the type of guy who'd study with someone else."

Jaemin downed his drink, wincing at the fizziness that clawed at his throat. "I've had fun studying with you so far. Like, you're genuinely dumb, unlike some other people I tutor who just pretend to be dumb so they can spend a few hours with me."

You raised a brow. Had he just called you dumb? "I'll try not to take offense, thank you very much."

Jaemin apologized with a laugh.

"Does it make you feel smarter in some type of way," you asked? Jaemin hummed in response. "It kinda does now that you mention it. But I also feel like it would help me revise and clear my own concepts at the same time."

That made sense. "Damn, and here I was thinking you wanted to do this cause you were interested in me."

Jaemin's eyes widened. You raised your hands in defense. "It's just a joke. Don't take it seriously," you assured. Jaemin relaxed at that.

"Let's get started again. We're almost halfway there," he said, changing the topic. You agreed and sat beside him again, pen in hand, ready to go.

_

You walked out of your lecture with a bright smile on your face and headed straight to the library. Sure enough, Jaemin was already sitting there, waiting for you patiently. You sent him a small wave and skipped over to him. Handing him your graded test paper, you watched excitedly as his eyes lit up.

"Oh my god. You passed!"

You squealed and sat next to him, placing your bag near your feet. Jaemin smiled up at you. "This is such a good score," he added, glad that he'd been able to help.

"Henceforth we're studying together for every single test. I don't care if you're sick or at a friend's house."

Jaemin laughed and nodded. "Sure thing. If it means seeing you this happy then I'm down."

You froze at his words, glancing towards him. He clearly didn't seem to realize what he'd just said. Maybe you'd heard wrong. It was possible. After all, he was whispering. You didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to listening anyways. Concluding that you were mistaken, you pulled out your books and got to finishing up your assignments.

A few hours later Jaemin and you exited the library. You both usually parted ways since your dorms were in the opposite direction. However today, Jaemin followed behind you.

"What are you doing," you asked when he jogged up next to you. "We should celebrate your achievement today," he suggested. That sounded nice. "Okay then, what do you propose we should do?"

Jaemin pondered on your question. "Let's go to the cafe. I'll buy you coffee and anything else you want."

Coffee was perfect. You nodded and agreed. Jaemin grinned and led you to a small cafe that was just a little outside campus.

You both entered the small shop, the tantalizing scent of coffee hitting your senses immediately. Even though it was almost lunchtime, the cafe was brimming with multitudes of students. Luckily, the queue was short.

"Go find us somewhere nice to sit. I'll buy us some drinks," Jaemin said, pulling out his phone. Before you left, you let him know what you'd like.

Venturing to the back of the cafe, you found a secluded booth for two. It faced a large window, one that gave a fantastic view of the campus. You took a seat and placed your bag next to you. After a couple minutes of waiting, Jaemin emerged with your drinks in hand. He handed you yours before sitting down.

"Iced Americano? I see you're into the classics," you chimed, deciding to spark up a conversation. Jaemin took a sip of his drink. "Simple is the best after all."

Of course, it was. "Hey Jaemin," you started, setting your drink down on the table. He hummed. "Do you wanna come over later today," you asked. Jaemin furrowed his brows. "But we already finished studying."

You shook your head. "Not to study. Let's hang out, maybe watch a movie or something like that."

He seemed a bit taken aback, but nothing too alarming. It was just that you two never really did anything other than study together. Sure enough, you'd become close because of it. But you figured as friends, there were other things you could engage in to pass the time.

"Let's do it. What time should I come over," Jaemin asked? "Does seven work for you? I'll order pizza, so you don't need to worry about dinner."

Jaemin nodded. "Seven works for me."

_

As soon as the clock struck seven, there was a knock on your door. The ever punctual Jaemin would never be a second late. You let him in, eager to get your night started. He walked into your dorm and went straight to your room, plopping down on your bed as if it were his own.

You'd already been browsing on Netflix, wondering what genre he liked. It had never come up in conversation before so you didn't really know.

"What are we watching," he asked, scrolling through the options. You shrugged and joined him on your bed. "I'm not sure. I didn't know what you like," you admitted.

"I usually just watch whatever's in the top ten or 'new this week'," he shared. He stopped at a movie you would never have believed he'd be interested in.

"You wanna watch Yes Day," you asked in disbelief? Jaemin giggled and nodded innocently. "It looks super lame but I've already finished watching everything," he revealed. Here you were thinking you both would watch something more serious instead of a family movie. Instead of spending forty minutes trying to settle on one movie, you decided it best to just go with the first choice.

Jaemin started the movie and leaned back beside you. It was quiet between you both for the most part. You watched the movie in silence. It wasn't as entertaining as you'd thought it would be, but Jaemin seemed to be engrossed in it so you chose to say nothing and continued staring at the screen.

Halfway into the movie, Jaemin stifled a yawn and fell to the side, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He looked at you and pointed to the screen. "Are we gonna keep watching this?"

You let out a breath of relief and exited out of the movie once and for all. "If you didn't like it why'd you make me watch it," you complained, shutting your laptop. Jaemin sat up and crossed his legs. "I thought you were enjoying it. You even laughed at the funny parts."

You stuck your chin out. "You should know what my fake laugh sounds like by now Jaemin." He raised his hands in defense. "The only time I hear you laugh is when you realize you're doing something wrong."

You tsked. "That's called nervous laughter genius. You suck at interpreting emotions."

He hit you with a pillow softly. "Hey, stop making me out for a robot."

"You're the human embodiment of the AI," you joked, dodging the pillow he swung at you. Raising your hands in defense, you shielded yourself from him. "At least I said you're intelligent."

Jaemin paused his attacks. "You're lucky I think you're cute. I'll let you off the hook for now."

You had another one of those moments where you froze, wondering if the words that had come out of his mouth were true or not. He didn't whisper this time. You'd heard everything word for word. But you couldn't believe it.

"Did you just call me cute?"

Jaemin nodded, not seeming too surprised about it. "You aren't not cute," he added. Maybe you were misinterpreting the meaning behind it. Friends called friends cute. It was normal. That didn't mean that they liked each other, did it?

Noticing the conflict in your expression, Jaemin leaned forward and cleared his throat. "I didn't mean it in an 'I have a crush on you' type of way."

Something about that made your stomach churn. You felt uneasy all of a sudden. You wanted to be relieved, that he didn't think of you as more than a friend. But a part of you wished he felt otherwise. You didn't know why, it just did.

You chuckled awkwardly and faced him. "Yeah, of course, you didn't. I don't know why I thought that."

Jaemin hummed and rested his chin on his palm. "Maybe because you wanted it to be true."

"Huh?"

"Maybe you wanted me to tell you that I like you."

You didn't know what to say to that. So you just smiled awkwardly. "But you don't, do you?"

Jaemin grinned. "Do you want me to?"

"No! Of course not, why would I-"

"I'm just messing with you y/n. Don't worry, we're just friends," he assured, finding you getting alarmed quite amusing. You hit his shoulder. "Don't joke around like that. Who knows what might happen."

Jaemin's laughter died down. He met your gaze sombrely. You knew he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. His eyes traveled down to your lips for a moment. You sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling giddy. Jaemin looked back into your eyes, this time with a small smile. You didn't know what he was doing. You also didn't know if you liked it or not. Your mind said one thing and your body said another. Jaemin subtly licked his lips. You had no clue why the action had such a devastating effect on you.

Before you knew it, your lips were on his. Jaemin didn't seem surprised at all. In fact, he relaxed and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling your body onto his. He fell back on your mattress, bringing you on top of him. Straddling his lap, you placed your hands on either side of his head, kissing him with vigor. Jaemin groaned against your mouth, the sound sending warm shivers down your back. His lips were softer than you thought they'd be and he tasted faintly of coffee.

His hands slipped under your shirt, resting on your skin. His touch felt fiery hot. You rolled your hips over his lap impulsively, biting his both lip as a throaty groan left his mouth. He squeezed your waist and trailed his hands down to your ass.

Before things could escalate, however, your bell rang. You both stilled, separating from each other. When your eyes met, you scrambled off of him and sat at the edge of your bed, completely stunned. Jaemin rubbed his face and sat up as well, not really knowing what to say. The bell rang again, snapping you out of your daze. "I'll go get that," you muttered disorientedly, leaving Jaemin in your room. He nodded and stood up. "Actually, I'm gonna go," he said, leaving your room before you could say anything. You heard the door open and shut soon after. Your bell rang again.

You went to open your door. A delivery guy stood before you, hands empty with a confused look on his face. "The guy that just left took the pizza with him. He said that you'd pay for it." You couldn't believe it. Nonetheless, you paid the man and shut your door. What had just happened?

_

A few days passed after the incident at your dorm. Jaemin hadn't called or texted you and in all honesty, you hadn't made an attempt to contact him. You felt too embarrassed to face him. After all, it was you who'd gone onto him. Even if he didn't push you away it wasn't like either of you had agreed to start making out. You were anxious because you knew you'd ruined your friendship with him.

A part of you missed him. You enjoyed spending time with him, even though all you did was study. Everything was so bleak now that he wasn't around to humor you.

You didn't want to regret whatever had happened that night. It was amazing. You just wished it hadn't ended the way it did. You should have understood that he indeed was joking. Instead, you mistook his prodding for sarcasm.

It made no sense for you to not speak to him. You wanted to make amends, figure out what had gone wrong. But you were scared he'd ignore you. That would just make you feel worse than you already did.

So you passed the days, wafting in your own misery. Pitying yourself as if the entire weight of the world had been thrown on your shoulders.

Little did you know that all it would take was another shitty test score for you to pick up your phone and call Jaemin.

"Help me study," you said as soon as he answered the call. Jaemin was silent on the other end. "Don't just listen to me. Say something," you begged. Your heart felt heavy. You heard him sigh. "I'd rather not y/n." You got goosebumps. "Jaemin, please. We can go to fucking library if that makes you feel better," you suggested, desperate for him to agree. After giving it some thought he finally answered you. "Okay fine. Tomorrow at three. But no longer than three hours."

He hung up, leaving you feeling a tad bit better. You looked forward to the next day. Hopefully, he wouldn't act indifferent to you.

_

Jaemin sat in your usual spot at the library. He was on his phone, leg crossed over his lap leisurely. You walked up to him and took a seat beside him without a word. Seeing you had arrived, he put his phone away and turned to you. "What are we studying?"

You took out your books and opened them. "This."

Jaemin glanced over the material. No wonder you'd flunked your test. He sighed, placing the textbook between you two. Without wasting a second, he began tutoring you.

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't pay attention. You were too busy staring at his face, more specifically his lips. They way he'd lick them ever so often made butterflies soar in your stomach. He'd run his hand through his fluffy hair and adjust his glasses, letting your mind run wild. Jaemin didn't seem to notice your lack of focus. You figured he didn't really care. He kept glancing at his watch. It was like he was waiting for your time with him to come to an end.

Much to your dismay, eventually it did.

"I'll send you a picture of some practice material. You can use that to prepare better," he concluded, getting up from his seat. You quickly stuffed your books in your bag and ran after him.

"Jaemin wait!"

He paused. "What," he asked as he turned around. He sounded disinterested. "Can we talk," you asked? Jaemin sighed and shrugged. "What do you wanna talk about," he questioned, placing his hands in his pockets. "About what happened at my place last week."

Jaemin tensed up. "It was a mistake. I think we both understood that."

You shook your head. "I don't know Jaemin, I'm not sure I did."

He furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"The more I thought about it the more I realized that I wouldn't have kissed you unless I wanted to. Not just that but you wouldn't have let it go so far if you thought it was wrong."

He seemed at a loss for words.

"When you called me cute, you did mean it in an 'I have a crush on you' type of way." You didn't need an answer for him to know you were correct.

"What are you trying to say y/n," he asked, sounding defeated.

"That I like you," you admitted. Jaemin's eyes widened. "And that you like me too," you added.

Jaemin bit his lip. "Okay, so then why were we acting like we hated each other for so long?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because you overthink everything and I'm a big pussy."

Jaemin chuckled and slung his arm around your shoulder. "I'm sorry about that babe."

You cringed at the nickname. "Don't 'babe' me. We're not dating. Not yet."

Jaemin rolled his eyes. "Does it really need to be that formal?"

You nodded adamantly. "Of course it does."

He sighed. "Fine. Will you go out with me y/n?"

You smiled and shook your head. "I'd rather not Jaemin."

"Yeah whatever," he said with a scoff, leading you outside.

_

As soon as you were past your door Jaemin's lips were on yours in an instant. He pushed you against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist. You held onto his shoulders, sighing into his mouth. "I missed you so fucking much," he muttered, stumbling to your room.

He dropped you on your bed and hovered over you, staring down at you somberly before kissing you again. His lips didn't stay on yours for too long, trailing down to your jaw and then your neck. You tugged at his shirt, urging him to take it off. When he did, you stared at his chiseled body in awe. "I didn't know you worked out."

Jaemin chuckled at your comment and pulled your own shirt off. He flicked the tiny bow on your bra with an amused grin. "This is cute."

You nudged his arm timidly. "I wasn't exactly preparing myself for this moment."

He said nothing further and latched his lips to your neck once again. Running your fingers through his hair, you craned your neck to the side to give him more access. He gently sucked on your skin, not too harsh that it would leave marks. You sighed and fiddled with the waistband of his sweatpants. "Do you want it off," he asked quietly, lips ghosting over yours. You nodded, biting your lip when he pushed his pants down.

His member came into sight, making your mouth water.

Taking your hand in his, he brought it to his cock. Your fingers wrapped around his girth instinctively. Jaemin suck in a breath as he made you stroke his length. His hand slipped past your panties, fingers toying with your clit. You gasped and spread your legs wider, loving the way his calloused fingertips felt. Tightening your grip around his cock, you jerked him off earnestly. In turn, Jaemin began rubbing quick circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Letting go of his member, you hastily pushed your pants down your legs. Jaemin peeled your panties off of you, marveling at the sight of your glistening pussy. "Don't just stare," you complained, shutting your legs, "do something."

Jaemin wordlessly, spread your legs apart and settled down between your thighs. He glanced up at your through his lashes, asking for permission before licking a stripe up your folds. You pushed your hips against his mouth, eyes falling shut when he repeated the action. Holding onto your thighs, he nipped and sucked at your clit, groaning every time your bucked your hips into his face. You gripped onto his hair, tugging at his roots. Jaemin's fingers prodded at your slit, slowly entering your walls. He curled them up, making your arch your back in delight. It felt so good. He knew exactly what he was doing.

With his tongue skillfully moving over your clit and his fingers continuously pumping in and out of you, it didn't take long for you to feel a familiar knot in your stomach. You sat up, pulling his mouth off of your cunt. "I need you to fuck me now." Your voice was hushed, breathless because of how much you'd moaned. Jaemin's eyes had darkened considerably. He pushed you down on your back again and pressed his tip to your entrance.

Jaemin felt bigger than he looked. Not that you were complaining or anything, it just took a while to get used to. He made sure you were comfortable before slowly starting to pound into you.

You grabbed his arms as he fastened his pace, head falling back in ecstasy. Shallow breaths left his parted lips. "You feel so good," he muttered, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was hot on your skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, humming in response. You were close. Jaemin could tell.

Gripping onto your waist, he went faster, slamming his cock into you as he chased your highs. You cried out his name, squeezing your eyes shut. Your walls clenched tightly around his length, your orgasm crashing down on you intensely. Soon enough, he twitched inside you. His thighs stilled, hips snapping into you one last time before thick ropes of his cum shot into your walls. He let out a pleased groan, voice deep and raspy.

"That was amazing," you breathed, pushing your hair out of your face as Jaemin moved off of you. He smiled and tugged his pants back on, joining you under the covers. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." Jaemin pulled you into his side, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. You laughed to yourself. "What is it," Jaemin asked. You shook your head, looking at him. "To think this all started after you agreed to tutor me."

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

tagging: @neosmutcollective @hoehousenet @kdiarynet @kafenetwork @nct-writers @ficscafe @whipped-kpop-creators @kpopscape

[manjiropie]

do whatever is in your mind.

Young Mikey x Reader!

Warn! no warnings today! enjoy!

It's not often Mikey and I have a quarrel. We do bicker here and there, but that's what happens between friends, right?

I've joined Toman for almost a year now– although I've known Manjiro for much longer. I met him through Emma, who is a big friend of mine for as long as I can remember. She was there for me at times when I felt like there was no exit, no light. She's an extremely important part of my life– of me.

I've come to realize that I have been spending more and more time near Mikey, which is not bad, I do enjoy his presence. He may look tough and intimidating but he's just like a mochi: freezing cold on the outside but melting saccharine inside. Now that I'm a part of the gang and actually get to know and participate, I've gotten closer to him. Here and there Mikey invites me out.

"So, it's like a date?" I'd smirk suggestively at him.

"In your dreams." He'd try to hide his smile and he'd look away.

However, there are a few little habits he has that tend to send me on a rage trip. I get mad easily. Things will likely set on fire quickly. It's not that I want to, but my mother is not one of the most patient people in the world and she tells me to cool down. As if.

This last week was the cherry on top.

Mikey had crossed the line. He had pissed me off in every single way possible. He pretended not to listen to me while he was eating. He would answer me in a "oh, I don't really fucking care about what you're talking about!" way. He tripped while he was laughing hysterically at something Draken had said and his pink lemonade was all over my white shirt. He drew in an assignment that was due to the next day for my math class. He told me off for no reason at all in front of everyone in the last Toman's meeting... all of that wasn't on purpose. I am aware of how incredibly short his attention spam is when it comes to not so important affairs. But, fuck, couldn't he just be a little nicer to me? At least during last week where I was having sharp cramps in my fucking uterus? Yeah, maybe he didn't know that because I try not to be so obvious. But when he told us we'd be training last thursday I almost laid on the ground in fetal position and cried for hours. I didn't! I fought and then went home and cried.

Then, this Saturday– today –he invited me to his house to hang out. Emma was with a friend and his grandfather was out of town. When he called me to his house we never did much. We'd watch TV, hang out on the couch discussing stupid stuff, we'd be on our phones... nothing so wow. It was still fun, though.

I wasn't in the best mood to leave my comfy bed but I was way less in the mood to fight him off over the phone. So I slid out of the bed and dressed the first jeans I saw laying on the end of my bed and the oversized Nirvana shirt hanging off my chair (it's actually my dad's shirt, shhh).

~

I knocked twice on his bedroom's door.

"Come in." He yelled from inside. I open the door and he's laying on the bed, his head hanging off of it and his hair is almost touching the floor. His face lit up and he rolled over so he laid on his stomach. I walk over and sit down beside him.

"What's up with the frown?" I didn't notice I was frowning to be honest. Guess the bad mood followed me here.

I shrug.

"Ugh, don't tell me you're in a bad mood." He whines. "I called you here to chill and you're already angry. What's up?" He lays on his pillow and swings his legs to place them on my lap. I huff and shove them off, getting up.

"You've been treating me like shit the whole week and now you wanna chill?" I say, more calm than I thought.

"I did not treat you like shit this week? When do I treat you like shit?" His tone was one of disbelief and confusion.

"Ah, Mikey. Embarrassing me in front of the rest of gang; spilling your drink on my school shirt, which is now stained; ignoring me or answering like you're bored..." I list them off on my fingers. "I am the one who asks, what's up with you?! God, you're always being so unpredictable, which is good sometimes but not like this! Not to me!"

I flop down on the couch, starting to get tired of this whole thing. Knowing Mikey, I know that he'll not lay down again.

"So you're the only one allowed to have bad days now?" He sits on the edge of his bed and I turn my head around lazily, uninterested, bored, like him.

"You were laughing incredibly loud with Takemitchi and Draken friday."

"You can be so annoying sometimes."

"Oh, I'm the annoying one now?" I stand up.

"If you don't like my company, why did you even come in first place?" He also stands. We don't have much height difference, but he's hardly two inches taller than me.

His voice is calm, like always. Which makes me infuriated. "Fucking hell! Does it hurt for you to apologize!?" My sudden outburst takes him on surprise, and me, too.

"I already apologized, stop whining about it."

"I'm not whining–"

"If you weren't," he walks to his desk and sets a cup that was once beside his bed down. "You would've dropped this matter before."

"You don't give a damn about what I feel, do you, Mikey?"

"What?" He turns around, brows knit together.

"You heard me. You made me have a bad week and the least you could do is apologize, you dumbass!" I stomp to his direction.

"I already did! Why don't you–"

"Shut up or I'll punch you." I say, slightly looking up.

His eyebrows twitch and he slowly tilts his head to the side, like a puppy. "Or what.. ?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" I point to my ears.

He comes a little closer. "You're gonna do what if I don't shut up?"

"I'm going to punch you if you don't stop being a brat." I sneer at him. My blood boiling. The stress from this shitty past week overflowing in that moment.

"Oh, yeah?" I could feel his breath oh my nose.

"What? Are you doubting me? I would." I jerk up an eyebrow. I've never fought physically with him. But it's not like I can't.

"I'd like to see you try." His eyes flicker to my lips for a brief second and my breath fails, making me cough.

"What? Can't punch me?" He amuses.

"Fuck you."

Suddenly I feel an arm sneak around my waist and in a second I'm chest to chest with Mikey. My eyes widen– his were peaceful as ever, although superior.

"Do it." He says, looking down at me.

The way he's holding me is making my head spin. True, Mikey is cute...

"Do what?"

He laughs at my confused expression. "I don't know... what did you say you'd do to me?"

Ha ha.

His hold on me tightens.

"Do whatever is on your mind." He says.

My eyes roam free between his eyes and his soft pink lips. Do whatever is on your mind.

If he knew what was on my mind, would he still allow me to?

"Do it," he encourages me once again, "aren't you the 'oh so brave' one? Punch me, yell at me, do whatever you want to me."

Those words were the last push I needed. My hands find the soft skin of his neck, hidden by his long hair. I pull him close and lock our lips together. I feel him making a little sound, I don't know if it was surprise or relief.

If by just looking at it his lips seemed soft, actually touching it felt like kissing cotton candy or guessing cloud shapes.

He didn't pull back, in fact, he held me with both hands. I have no clue how he did that but it seemed as though all of my worries dissipated as we kissed.

My heart was beating so fast that it made my chest hurt. My head started to pound when I spent a little too long without air. I pull back from his lips and keep my gaze on them as I breathe heavily.

"Hm." He hums quietly, almost dreamily if you'd ask me.

I look up at his face and smile a bit, noticing how his cheeks are pink. I lift an eyebrow up as if asking what he was thinking. He shakes his head and then puts his right hand on my cheek, caressing it. He kisses me again. This time is slower. As though being present in the moment. As if it were just me and him and nothing else.

----------

I hope you guys liked It! It was so pleasant writing this out of the small bits of ideas that I have. Don't forget: my requests are open. You can request anything! Thank you for reading! Oh, likes and reblogs help a lot! If you consider following it'd make me even happier <3

[thunderheadfred]

🐈‍Aizawa HC’s🐈‍

I dunno if people will care for this; I suspect my HC's for Aizawa are a little off the fandom norm. Still. I tried. Things get approximately NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

He has like, one discernible change of clothes per season. There is no distinction between hero outfit, casual wear, and pajamas. That fabric used to be black. It is now an exhausted shade of ‘please stop washing me.’ If you suggest that he buy new clothes, he will stare you down like you have three heads, and none of those heads have a brain.

This man does not spend money. He has a mind-blowing amount of savings, but no one will ever know until he dies and wills it all to a random animal shelter in the middle of nowhere. Has a secret scholarship fund for UA students. Again, this is completely anonymous. Only the principal knows.

He's a startlingly competent sketch artist. Nothing fancy, and he never took an art class in his life, but his quirk innately lends itself to spacial reasoning and feature recognition. He has sketch books brimming with sloppy but pin-point accurate life drawings. He can capture your soul in three strokes of a dried-up ballpoint pen. It's eerie.

Given his schedule, you’d expect him to prioritze convenience first, but junk food makes him cross-eyed. His body is a temple and he eats like a fucking monk.

He’s a wine snob. Well, a liquor snob generally. He knows the name of every regional sake-maker in Japan, and can tell you exactly which bottle is the best, down the the month of production. Assumes everyone possesses such laser-focused knowledge.

Tea drinker. Yeah, he has encyclopedic knowledge about that too. Apparently everything this man drinks comes with a bibliography.

Technically he’s supposed to live in the UA dorms part of the time. He sleeps poorly there, and goes home whenever he has the opportunity.

His house is old, but not valuable. Probably inherited. Traditional style with very few modern updates. He keeps it meticulously clean and does repairs as needed, but the age is still obvious. Everything creaks. You swear the place is haunted but won’t dare admit it aloud - he WILL laugh you out of the house.

There’s a garden but he doesn’t have time to keep it up. He has a lot of memories of the plants in full bloom. Letting it go to seed upsets him more than he lets on.

He has zero personal possessions aside from household appliances, which he meticulously researches and keeps in perfect condition.

Reads an insane amount of books. These mostly come from the library. There’s always a stack near his bed. You have no idea how he finishes them, because every time you see him with a book, he’s asleep with it on his face.

He doesn’t adopt cats so much as just leaves his doors open and lets them freely colonize the place. It’s not his house, it’s theirs. Somehow there's not a single cat hair on anything.

Most of these cats are cuddly little angels; you've never met nicer. But there’s a few beasts in the mix, with battle scars and three legs and a craving for human meat; these are Aizawa’s special favorites.

- - - - -

Dating

Falls for you when he stumbles across you taking care of one of the hideous strays he usually feeds on his route. Doesn’t approach you at first (definitely tries to hide) but the cat is like "mrrr?" and brings you over to him, giving the game away. Traitor.

Will make you pay for your half of everything, down to the last yen. So what if you’ve been together for ten years? You have your own income.

One exception to the above: he’ll never buy you presents but he WILL treat you to lavish meals in dark restaurants with hand-written menus. Don’t mistake this for romance, he just likes the quiet atmosphere and excellent service.

He cleans every day; there’s an unwritten five-dimensional schedule and that schedule is EXACT. Zero time wasted. He’ll never actually ask you to help with any of it. He’ll never directly thank you, either. But if you learn how to take over certain chores and do the daily upkeep while he’s away, he’ll love you forever.

Not the type to talk about his day; he’d rather sit with you outside. He values silence. Not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, but a lot of the time he doesn’t have the energy to give you his full conversational attention. Physical contact is easier, and more comforting besides. Just... hold his hand a while.

His scalp gets tingly and sore from overusing his quirk. If you run your fingers through his hair he will pass out instantly.

He will cozy trap you. He’s touch-starved and was definitely a cat in a past life. Will hang all over you if you don't give him enough attention and constantly falls sleep in your lap. Hope you don’t need to get up anytime soon; he’s not moving.

You don’t exactly ‘move in’ with him. He never wants to spend a night without you, but his living space is already exactly how he likes it. He will never move out of that old house, but he’ll give you some rooms to yourself. Your stuff and his... complete absence of stuff... stay pretty much separate. Do NOT clutter up the bedroom.

The kitchen is the exception. That's a warm and cozy shared spot, the heart of the home. You’ll always be stepping around a cat.

He LOVES when you cook for him (so that he doesn't have to take the time). Will shower you with praise and encourage you to make huge earthenware vats of old-timey tsukemono that the two of you cannot possibly eat by yourselves. He’ll help with food prep and knows his way around, but he insists you’re the better cook (even if you aren’t).

Big on actions over words. Makes an effort to be present with you as much as he can.

Will stare into your eyes until you look away. When you look back, he's still staring with a rare warm smile on his face.

God, he loves you. You will never, ever know how much. He doesn't tell you often, but he shows you every day.

- - - - -

Somnophilia???.........

ACE ACE ACE ACE

This man is A-fucking-sexual. He’s not sex repulsed in any way, he’s just not personally invested.

Aromantic too. Deadass doesn’t get the hype. You are the most important person in his life and he’s deeply commited to and comforted by you. Just don’t expect to be seduced; it will literally never happen.

If you are allosexual, he will still be devoted to your sexual well-being. At first, that means buying you a DELUXE toy and encouraging you to use it on your own.

His voice is too damn sexy, even when he isn’t trying. He’ll give you all the phone sex you want; he thinks it’s sweet how you unravel for him. Edging you for ages is a fun little power play, but he’s definitely grading papers while he does it. Don’t be offended. Toshinori has overheard some THINGS.

When your relationship gets sufficiently serious, he’ll help out with his hands. He’s VERY SKILLED AT IT. He likes to lay down next to you and whisper encouragement in your ear. Eventually he gets possessive about your orgasms, and will make you ask for permission.

Sometimes the stars align, but his arousal is a rare bird. He'll take a whole afternoon to prepare. It’s love-making, full stop. Always slow and intensely emotional. He'll cherish every inch of you but might not cum at all; you can’t force it.

[adhd-disaster-willie]

you're the one that brings the sun; chapter 1/6

Summary: Alex is prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Willex roommate au! 

Warnings: Swearing

Notes: The title is from the song “I Dare You” by the Regrettes. I’ve actually planned this fic out so here’s to hoping I don’t get burned out halfway through. It might end up having 6 or 7 chapters, 5 is kind of just an estimate.

---

When Alex was 11, his mother proudly plastered his report card to the fridge and exclaimed that one day, her little boy would go to Harvard. His father gripped his shoulder with pride and Alex beamed up at his parents like they’d just told him he had superpowers. 3 years later, he was 14 and teetering on the edge of failure in the majority of his classes. He wasn’t stupid by any means, just preoccupied. He’d started a band with his best friends and that felt like the most important thing in the whole world, and high school was new and scary, so it was easier to not pour all his focus into school. His parents’ smiles faltered but they kept up hope, Alex could tell. 2 years later, he stood shaking and crying outside of the Molina’s garage and suddenly, the concept of going to college begun to feel distant and fake. But he’s 18 now, and somehow, miraculously, gazing at the piles of boxes in the back of Ray’s car and swallowing down a lump in his throat.

It sure isn’t Harvard, but a part of Alex feels giddy at the fact that he’s attending a public college that was relatively easy to get into; oh his parents would be rolling in their proverbial graves. What didn’t make him quite so happy though, was the looming fact that he’d be living with some random person, because for some godforsaken reason, the college wouldn’t allow freshmen to choose their roomates. Some bullshit about meeting new people and socializing.

“Hey, ‘Lex. Dude, you’ll be fine.” Luke shakes his shoulders, before swinging one arm around him and the other around Reggie.

“Says the one who isn’t even going to college,” Alex grumbles, slipping from Luke’s grip and into the front seat of the car.

“Yea cause I don’t need it. Not my fault you’re both nerds,” Luke retorts.

“I’m not a nerd, I just like to have insurance-”

“Yea, back-up plan, safety net, heard it a million times. Reggie’s a nerd though.”

“Old news, dude,” Alex says.

“I am not a nerd!” Reggie protests indignantly.

“Tell that to your 2 years of college credit in math.”

Luke nods in agreement. “Nerd.”

“Math is fun!”

“You’re horrible.” Alex makes a mock gagging noise.

Julie comes bounding out of the house, her arms decked with various baked goods. She tosses herself in the backseat beside Reggie and Luke, looking quite pleased with herself at being able to force Luke to sit in the middle. “Tía was apparently up all night baking,” she explains, passing the sweets up to Alex. “Don’t be surprised if she shows up at your dorm with food every day.”

Alex snorts. “I would not object to that.”

Julie sighs, leaning back in her seat. “You guys are so lucky, I’m tired of high school. Damn September birthday,” Julie grumbles. Her birthday is just after the cut off date, so she would be 18 for the majority of senior year, but is just barely too young to be in the same grade as the boys.

Reggie leans over and pats her arm sympathetically, earning an offended squeak from Luke, who’s only pushed further into the back of the seat.

“Don’t worry!” Alex chirps sarcastically. “You get to spend more time with Luke, since he’ll be squatting in your garage!”

“Oh, joy,” Julie deadpans.

“I am not a squatter!” Luke protests, kicking the back of Alex’s seat.

“No kicking! I’m holding food!”

“Y’know Alex, you’ve been staying in the studio for 2 years, you’re not one to talk!” Luke argues.

“I have a job.”

“A stupid job.”

“A stupid job that gets you free coffee.”

Reggie nodds to that, chewing on a cookie. “Can’t risk losing your coffee privileges.”

Julie groans loudly and stuck her head out the window. “DAAAAD! Let’s goooo!” She cries.

“Wow, I didn’t know you wanted to get rid of me so badly,” Alex says, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Oh shut up Lexi, I just wanna meet your’s and Reggie’s new best friends!” Julie says, laughing.

“I’m not gonna be best friends with my roommate.”

“Yea, Alex forgot how to do that!”

“Luke I will smother you in your sleep!”

At this, Ray approaches the car with a raised eyebrow. “No one’s planning a murder, I hope?” He asks, chuckling as he slides into the drivers seat.

“No sir!” Reggie replies, grinning.

“Not yet,” Alex mumbles under his breath.

“Alright boys, who’s ready for college!” Ray says, starting the car.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

---

“And that’s the last of it!” Ray claps a hand over Alex’s shoulder and smiles encouragingly.

Alex nods tensely, gripping the strap of his fannypack tighter.

The dorm’s probably as good as he’s gonna get. One reasonably sized bedroom complete with two horribly uncomfortable beds, a kitchen with a fridge that was in no way large enough to fit even a weeks worth of meals, a tiny living room that would probably fit a couch and a TV at the most, and a bathroom that smelled suspiciously of mustard. Really it isn’t terrible, but Alex has a habit of noticing every little detail, especially the ones that could be a problem at some point. His roommate hasn’t arrived yet, so he’s standing amongst his various boxes, anxiety pulsing in his chest.

Julie grips his hand tightly and smiles, tears pricking the edges of her eyes. “Hey, Alex, you’re gonna be okay.” She squeezes his hand briefly.

Alex nods, exhaling shakily. “Yea, yea I know. It’s just…”

“A change, I know. But this is a good change. And-” she hauls Reggie and Luke over to them. “-we’re all here if you need to call someone and talk. And dad, and Tía, and I bet your roommate will be super cool.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“Just pray he’s not a football player,” Reggie stage-whispers, shuddering.

“God, don’t even suggest that!” Alex whines.

Encouragements and teary hugs are passed along, as well as a promise to meet at the Olive Garden nearby for dinner in a few hours, and then Alex’s posse is off to get Reggie settled, and Alex is left alone in the dorm. Alright.

Alex takes a deep breath, steeling himself, before beginning to wander the dorm. He’s anxious to start unpacking without his roommate and risk doing something that they wouldn’t like. Even choosing a bed feels wrong, he really doesn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with this person. But leaving the dorm meant people everywhere so that was a definite no. He sighs, lowering himself to the wooden floor and pulling out his phone.

“Yea… uh huh. Yes Caleb, I got here fine. No the Uber driver did not try and kidnap me. The boxes- the boxes are not too heavy. Okay. Okay. Yea, bye. Mhm.”

Alex looks up hesitantly upon hearing the voice nearing his dorm. The person standing in the doorway is well… less of a person and more of a large stack of boxes threatening to fall over any second. “Hello?” Alex stands up and makes his way to the boy stood in the entrance.

Said boy pokes his head out from behind his boxes and grins crookedly. “Hi, uh, I’m Willie!” And well, Alex is a goner. He swallows thickly, breath catching in the back of his throat. Willie attempts to adjust the boxes but ultimately fails, sending them tumbling to the ground amongst several muttered curses. “Well… nothing fragile in there,” he falters slightly. “I think.”

“Um…”

“Right! Sorry, uh.” Willie holds his hand out and Alex shakes it tentatively.

“Alex.”

“Alex, cool.” Willie smiles again, his dark eyes twinkling as he does so, smile lines popping out. He brushes his hair -which looks so soft and pretty- behind his ear to reveal a small golden hoop on his right lobe. Alex is dead, actually 100% dead. Because he’d been prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Alex forces out a smile, all too aware that he’s still standing stiff and awkward in front of Willie, his grip on his fannypack tight enough to make his knuckles glow white. Then Willie coughs as some sort of attempt to fill the silence. “Sorry!” Alex squeaks. “Do you need help with the… the uh, boxes?”

“Oh yea, that’d be great!” Willie replies, beaming. “I don’t think there’s anything fragile in there, but y’know, my memory is absolute shit so if I broke some fancy china dishes I didn’t even know I owned, don’t be too shocked.”

Alex laughs anxiously. “Yea uh… I didn’t start unpacking cause I um… I didn’t want to claim a bed and stuff with-without your input?” His voice cracks at the end and he winces because Jesus fucking christ Alex.

Willie chuckles and Alex notes that he has the kind of laugh that echoes through your whole body and settles right in your heart. “ ‘S cool, man, I don’t mind.”

“Right, cool. Do you uh… are you okay if I take the bed farthest from the window? I’m not- not much of a morning person, and the window is… it’s east facing” Alex mutters, his gaze focused on his feet which are rocking back and forth at a rapid pace.

“Yea, of course,” Willie replies. “I don’t think I’ve woken up later than 8 in 5 years.”

“That’s horrific!” Alex cries, momentarily forgetting his anxiety. He steps back and blushes an even deeper red upon realizing how stupid he’s being. “I mean- I just… sorry, I just meant that-”

“You’re good, dude. I don’t bite.”

Alex cracks a tentative smile. “So uh… I’ll just start unpacking then.”

Willie shoots him a thumbs up and smiles once again, which is a thing he apparently does a lot.

An hour later, Alex’s belongings are unpacked and organized and the room feels a bit more his. He feels slightly lighter, exhaling and closing his eyes briefly. This isn’t so bad. Fiddling with the hem of his hoodie, he shuffles out into the living room where Willie is presumably unpacking. Except that he’s not.

Willie is laying upside down on a couch that somehow appeared while Alex was gone and he’s flipping through a tattered magazine while his belongings remain mostly unpacked.

“This quiz says that I should try roller skating,” Willie sniffs. “Some personality test this is- oh hey Alex!” He scrambles up so that he can look Alex in the eyes properly, and points to the magazine in his hand. “Found this in a box, not sure how it got there since I’ve never even subscribed to one of these, but there’s a chocolate chip cookie recipe in here.” He stops for a moment, pondering. “Personally I prefer peanut butter cookies, ooh especially fresh out of the oven. There’s this bakery near my house that-”

“Did you get… any unpacking done?” Alex asks, raising an eyebrow.

Willie looks around at his boxes and laughs sheepishly. “Well I unpacked one and opened 3 so… some, yes.”

“Where’d the couch come from?” Alex pokes the cushion warily, as if afraid that it’s full of bugs.

“Room across the hall,” Willie says, pointing. “They both brought couches and didn’t have room for two we got the one with more stains.”

“Right.” Alex’s reply is forced and tense, and he winces upon realizing. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected his roommate to become so comfortable so fast and he felt like he was several steps behind. Damn extroverts. Drumming his hands against his thighs, Alex slowly sits down on the other side of the couch, pointedly looking ahead instead of at Willie.

“So.” Willie scoots closer, sitting cross legged with his elbows on his thighs and chin resting in his palms. “What’s your major?”

Small talk, god Alex hates small talk. “Um, music,” he answers.

“Ah, that’s cool dude.” Willie nods.

“Uh, what about you?” Alex asks.

“Art,” Willie replies, grinning. “Be prepared for paint stains, like, everywhere.” He chuckles and nudges Alex’s shoulder playfully. Alex is going to implode, he’s sure of it.

Alex laughs awkwardly. “So uh… what’s wrong with rollerskating?”

Willie shoves his shoulder again. “Everything, dude! Well-” he cuts himself off, thinking. “-I just kinda suck at it, definitely better at my skateboard.” He jerks his head in the direction of a skateboard leaned against the wall and Alex wonders how he didn’t notice that.

“Oh, that’s- that’s cool. I rollerblade but I uh, I can’t skateboard to save my life.”

Somehow, they slip into a comfortable rhythm, and Alex notes that his anxiety no longer has him in a chokehold. Willie seems to have that affect; he’s just so… open. Alex doesn’t realize it yet, but he’s subconsciously created a folder in the back of his mind labelled “Willie,” and he doesn’t think he’s capable of forgetting anything Willie will ever say to him.

“- that’s why airplane food is just, horrible. Cause you basically lose like 30% of your tastebuds because of the elevation.” Willie smiles at Alex, gaging his response.

Alex would rather die than admit that he’s still trying to figure out how the topic of airplane food came up, so he just nods enthusiastically, actively stopping his eyes from dancing across Willie’s face, which is practically glowing in the evening sun. Evening. Shit. Alex pulls out his phone frantically. “Shit.” He says it out loud this time.

Willie’s brow furrows in confusion. “You good, dude?”

“Uh yea I’m just, I’m supposed to be meeting my fam- uh my friends for dinner and I have to be there in like 5 minutes.” He ignores the way Willie’s expression falls, convinced he’s just seeing things.

“Yea um, of course. I won’t keep you.” Willie stands up, his posture the stiffest that Alex has seen it in the whole 3 hours they’ve been acquainted for. “I’ll just… order a pizza.”

Alex hesitates in the doorway, weighing his options, which has never been his strong suit. “Do you want to join me?” He blurts impulsively. Willie looks at him in surprise. “I mean only- only if you want of course, we’ve only really uh, known each other for a few hours and you- you probably don’t want to, it was stupid. I’ll just- I’ll just go-”

“No! I’d… I’d like to, eating pizza alone in the dark sounds a little pathetic,” Willie responds.

Alex smiles genuinely. “Ok, ok that’s uh. Cool. That’s cool.”

---

Alex is already regretting this. The restaurant isn’t too crowded, he notices with a relieved breath. But it’s loud. It’s loud and yet only one group of people is talking. Alex doesn’t even need to guess who.

“Ok but- no- no- the whole song would be better!”

“Say banjo one more time, I dare you!”

“Banjo.”

“Julie, what the hell?! This is betrayal!”

“You stole my breadstick, it’s only fair.”

Alex coughs, quieting the table to a dull roar.

“Alex!” Julie pulls him down to sit next to her. “Oh? Who’s this?” Reggie is grinning wickedly and Luke waggles his eyebrows in a way that makes Alex want to shave them off.

“This is uh, my roommate Willie,” Alex responds, his voice raising an octave. “He didn’t have plans so I uh… I invited him, I hope that’s ok.”

“Of course it’s ok!” Julie pats the space on the other side of Alex and Willie sits down, appearing… oddly nervous.

“Congrats! Your Alex’s first new friend since,” Luke taps his chin, pretending to think. “7th grade.”

Alex’s face promptly falls into his hands. He’s seriously considering the whole, shaving Luke’s eyebrows in his sleep thing.

Reggie leans forward conspiratorially. “What’s your opinion on banjos?” He asks, making a point to ignore Luke’s dramatic complaining.

Willie raises his eyebrows, clearly confused. “Um. No comment?”

“I’m… sorry about them,” Alex says apolegetically. “Uh, this is Luke, Reggie, and Julie-” he gestures to each of them; Reggie waves, beaming happily. “-and Julie’s dad should be…” He trails off, looking around.

“He had to take a phone call, something about Carlos refusing to eat dinner until he proves the house is haunted,” Julie explains, clearly biting back a laugh.

“I… okay.” Alex shakes his head. “Are we waiting for more food or did Reggie eat it all?”

“Ha ha,” Reggie punctuates his statement by sticking out his tongue. “We’re waiting for the actual meals-”

“Yea Luke already ate the entire bread basket.” Julie shoots a glare in Luke’s direction.

“Well… you suggested we get hotdogs,” Luke grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Payback.”

“Okay,” Julie laughs.

Willie leans over to whisper loudly to Alex, “What’s the story with the hotdogs?”

“Don’t tell him!” Luke cries, leaning across the table and slamming his palms down.

“We don’t talk of the hot-dogs,” Reggie mutters miserably.

“Food poisoning.” Alex shudders slightly. “Very bad food poisoning.”

“We almost died,” Reggie says, eyes widening. “Like, for real death. I’m pretty sure I was a ghost for a few seconds.”

“Reg, you were not a ghost,” Alex says, speaking like Reggie’s a 10 year old talking about monsters under his bed.

“I was!”

“You were not!”

“So,” Luke smiles mischievously, taking Reggie and Alex’s bickering as an opportunity to apparently torture the latter. Despite Alex’s warning glares, he turns to Willie with an innocent expression. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Luke,” Alex hisses, all too familiar with Luke’s antics.

“Hmmm.” Willie is painfully oblivious to Alex’s panicked expression as he mulls over his answer. “A lot of stuff really.” He shrugs. “Rock, pop, I like those lo-fi playlists when I’m trying to study.”

Luke nods, clearly pleased with the answer, but he isn’t done and Alex wants to hide under the table. He knows what’s coming next. “Thoughts on… drummers?”

“Luke.” Alex is seconds from lunging across the table.

“Drummers?” Willie asks, tilting his head confusedly.

“Yup,” Luke says, popping the p and still smiling like he’s some sort of innocent puppy-dog and not an absolute bastard.

“Hot,” Willie jokes. Alex can’t even hide the way he manages to choke on his own spit, and Luke and Reggie have never been great at subtlety, turning to Alex with matching shit-eating grins. Willie either doesn’t notice or is kind enough not to comment on it. “Yea, pretty sure young Roger Taylor was my gay awakening.”

Reggie is full on giggling now, and Alex’s entire face is gleaming a bright red. Willie glances around the table, puzzled.

“Mhm.” Luke nods before swiftly turning to Alex. “Hey Alex, by the way, you left your drumsticks in the car, do you need them back?” His voice is sickeningly sweet, coated in some sort of poisoned honey. It’s Willie’s turn to choke on nothing, failing to disguise it as a spontaneous coughing fit.

“Fine,” Alex squeaks as he sinks further down in his seat. If he pulls out his phone and messages Luke a flurry of threats, that’s no one’s business. He dares a glance at Willie, who has become quite fascinated with his hands, which are tapping out a mindless rhythm on the table, his cheeks and the tips of his ears dusted red.

Needless to say, Alex makes sure Luke doesn’t even get to look at the next bread basket.

---

I hope you liked it! Tell me if you want to be added to the taglist :)

I’m hoping to update at least once a week, but who knows. Ok thats all.

chapter 2

Chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

[hannie-dul-set]

sins of lust [yoon jeonghan]

“lust /ləst/ — the mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the spirit is life and peace - romans 8:6″

LUCKY 7′S MASTERLIST

PAIRING | yoon jeonghan x female! reader GENRE | college! au, borderline smut, angst WARNINGS | nsfw themes obviously lmao but no actual doing the dirty because i can’t write smut for shit, swearing, jeonghan is the literal devil WORD COUNT | 4.5k

a/n: I’M SO VERY SORRY THATTHIS IS SUPER LATE ; - ; but anyways!! this is my last piece for our luck 7′s collab with @haokyeom​ :D this was,, very out of my comfort zone but i still do hope that you enjoy :’>

Your mother had always told you to never trust strangers.

“They’re like foxes,” your mother had once said as the both of you gazed through the window of your small cabin beside the thick walls of trees in the woods. Her hands rested gently over your small shoulders, and you two eyes the coat of orange fur speeding through the outside, a familiar stuffed animal hanging limply by its mouth. You had accidentally left it outside while you were playing.

You frowned upon seeing the animal disappear into the trees, and even at your young age, you knew that it was lost forever.

“They take what they can without a hint of remorse. You wouldn’t even know until you see them running away,” you looked up at your mother who stared into the distance with eyes stained in sadness. You turned around, hugging her waist and burying your face into her stomach, and she released a laugh as she patted your head. “My Y/N’s a smart girl, right? Never forget mommy’s words, okay?”

And you did. For eighteen years, you had lived with only the company of your mother, your homeschool teachers, and your precious cat, Salem. There were times when your grandparents would visit, usually during the holidays, but you weren’t exactly close with them (they didn’t seem to like you, either). It was only when you had finally entered college when you were given the chance to actually mingle with other people, especially people that were your age, and it was the first time that you had left to live on your own outside of your homey cottage beside the woods.

Initially, your mother was against the idea of you living in your campus’ dorms, especially the fact that you had to live with another person that you knew nothing of. You weren’t keen on the thought either, but it was far more reasonable than commuting every single day to the city all the way from the middle of nowhere.

At least your roommate was never around.

‘Staying over at Johnny’s xx,’ you sighed upon seeing the text message, and you stepped forward in the light when the person before you did as well. It was only the third week of the semester and you were already wishing for things to go back as they were.

A part of it was your fault for being socially inept, generally avoiding people and not even talking to anybody unless talked to. Your mother’s words rang into your head every single time, and naturally you had built up a wall. This wall was what made you feel comfortable, made you feel safe— you don’t trust anyone here, and it would be better to finish your studies without getting personally tangled with other people.

“Hi! What can I get you?”

Though, there were indeed times where you wished that you were at the very least not so awkward.

“A regular americano,” it took you so much strength to squeeze that out of our esophagus, relieving the tightened airway with a breath of relief when the barista nodded at your order and jotted it down. Hurriedly, you went to sit at an empty table, your racing heart making you move quicker than necessary. God, you wondered how many more trips to campus cafe would it take until you finally got the courage to order without feeling you were being held at gunpoint.

You huffed, squeezing your eyes shut. At least you didn’t stutter today, so that’s improvement.

Stop deluding yourself, Y/N. You’re still—

“Whoa. Careful, now.”

A thud. The feeling of warmth fluttering over your shoulders. An unfamiliar sweet voice seeping into your ears. And you looked up.

“Are you okay?”

His steady grip had left your shoulders but the traces of his warmth were still buzzing over your clothed skin like mini fireworks erupting when he made contact, and when you met his concerned eyes, it felt like you were about to reach the climax of the light show. He didn’t say anything, only waiting for the confirmation to fall from your lips with a worried look on his face. Your heart was still racing, but it was in a completely different rhythm. 

You had once felt your heart threatening to bounce off of your chest out of fear, and at times due to excitement. Your pulse rising due to nervousness was already like an unwanted friend to you.

But this.

What is this?

“Miss?”

“I, uh—” the man shot you a smile that was devoid of any malice despite you being a stuttering and mess that was frozen in place. Heat rushed to your cheeks while you were trapped underneath his gaze. You wanted to move but it felt like your mind was completely detached from your body, soaring above your head because you can't seem to grab a hold of it. But with enough willpower, you managed to squeak out a small “sorry’ before shuffling away to the farthest seat possible with your head down.

When you sat yourself on the seat, the first thing you did was look up to the direction of the male, only to see an empty space. You bit down your lip, hastily taking out your laptop from your bag and just move on from what happened, but the racing of your heartbeat refused to let it go. Was this… normal? You let out a choked groan, removing your hands from the keyboard to bury your heated face into your palms. There were times where you hated that you were so sheltered, and this was one of them.

If only your mother wasn’t so protective of you, if only she let you live a normal life, if only—

Your phone started buzzing.

Slowly, you sat up and took out your phone from your jean pocket, and the pace of your heart was slowed down by a surge of guilt.

‘How were classes today, honey? I hope you drank enough water today. Even when I’m around, you always seem to forget. The weekend is just around the corner. Are you coming home?’

You smiled. Of course, your mother had only wanted what’s best for you. Finally relaxing your muscles, you adjusted your position on the chair and silently tapped on our phone.

‘Classes were fine, mom. And that was before! I’ve been drinking a loooot of water, you know? Do you want me to…’

The next day had come. You quietly entered the near barren classroom, the early morning rays leaking through the open glass windows on the wall. You liked this class mainly because not a  lot of people are enrolled in it— even if it meant sacrificing a few more hours of your sleep. The less people to deal with the better.

I’ll just take a nap later after lunch. You thought to yourself as you let out yawn, your palm hovering over your mouth as you did. You arrived a little earlier than usual, so there was still an ample amount of time to review for a test for a different class before your professor arrived. You recalled your conversation with your mother yesterday, and you were slightly disheartened when you told her that you couldn’t come home for the weekend because you had a lot of things to finish that required you to be on campus. Even if you wanted to go, you couldn’t risk lagging behind your work.

A few more people entered your peripheral as you were scanning your notes, and you took this as a signal to put it away. You pulled your bag over your lap and tucked in your notes neatly before pulling out your laptop. More people started flooding and you noticed that the seat beside you was now occupied.

“You seem fine today.”

You jolted, the familiar voice entering your ears causing the veins underneath your skin to start buzzing. The moment you turned your head to your side, you were met by a small smile from the man that you bumped into yesterday. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I-it’s fine.”

Has he always been in this class? You’ve never seen him here until now. Then again, you didn’t really pay attention to the faces around you. The gap between your chairs seemed a little too close for your sanity, so you scooted a bit farther to the left.

“Are you feeling alright now?” his voice caused you to abruptly freeze as you tried to discreetly move your chair without being exposed, and you bit down your tongue. As if he noticed the sudden distance between you two, he thoughtlessly moved his chair closer. “You didn’t look too well yesterday considering how dazed you were.”

Why was he talking to you? A lot of people did try to befriend you during the first few days, but it gradually stopped upon them seeing how dismissive you were. “O-oh, I’m fine, uh— sorry for bumping into you,” he had his elbow propped on the table, his cheek resting on his palm as faced you, a seemingly permanent smile on his face that you’ve been desperately trying (and failing) to avoid. Maybe isolating yourself from the rest of the world dulled down your ability to perceive normal human emotions like the stuttering of your heart was trying to tell you.

Jesus, you thought that you were going crazy.

“That’s good to hear,” he hummed, turning his attention to the laptop screen before him. “My name’s Jeonghan, by the way.”

Jeonghan. You repeated in your head. Why did finding out his damned name feel like 200 pounds of gratification? Maybe you were really going insane. He cocked his head to your direction, the curve of his lips that never disappeared aiming directly at you, but they did not part to say anything. Jeonghan looked like he was waiting for you, which caused you to intermittently panic because why in the world was he just staring at you like that?

“It’s not fair that I gave you my name but I don’t know yours.”

Oh.

“Y/N,” your cheeks flared as you spoke, diverting your eyes from him out of embarrassment. “It’s Y/N.”

He released a light laugh before nodding in affirmation, and you swore your heart was trying to run away from you in condonation. It felt like hours had passed it between the seconds of your small exchanges, causing you to wonder when your professor was going to enter and distract you from the fervent blows on your ribcage.

It didn’t seem like your professor was arriving any time soon— the guy was always late so you weren’t even remotely surprised but for the love of god, he could’ve made an exemption today. Your eyes flickered over to Jeonghan’s space on the long table, and you saw him scribbling indecipherable doodles on what was once a blank sheet. You bit the inside of your cheek, debating with yourself over and over again until one side of your mind finally overtook your senses and sensibilities.

You jumped into the ocean when you’ve never even stepped into a lake.

“I—I never noticed that you were in this class until today.”

It took a lot from you to say that one simple sentence, the words barely squeezing past your throat, and you realized just how pathetic you were. Luckily for you, Jeonghan didn’t seem to mind the lapses in your voice, the diversion of your eyes, or the way your fingers nervously thrummed over the white coated desk. Even if he did, he didn’t say anything about it, only sending that angelic smile on your way.

“Really? I’ve noticed you since the first day,” he started. “To be frank, I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now, but you always looked like you didn’t want to be bothered.”

“You— you wanted to talk to me? Why?” 

He shrugged. “You seemed cute,” there was a slight pause before he continued. “And I was right.”

You blinked, gawking at him. Jeonghan was saying such— such unprovoked things without a hint of shame while your face was flaring like it just made contact with the sun. In the middle of you trying to recover, your professor had finally decided to walk in, capturing the attention of Jeonghan and everyone else inside the class. You released a breath that you didn’t know that you were holding and lightly tapped both of your cheeks in attempts to lower your ever rising temperature. You caught the male beside you laughing a little, and when you slightly turned your head to face him, you were struck defenseless with a playful wink.

It was quiet for the rest of the class, but you couldn’t focus. Not when your mind was making a lot of noise, not when your heart was about to explode inside your chest.

And definitely not when the pretty boy beside you kept on shooting you glances in between. 

“Do you like movies?”

Jeonghan asked the moment he sat down beside you, and your brows raised at his sudden question. It had been a week since your first encounter with him, and within those few days, you’ve been seeing more and more of him. You weren’t sure if it was a coincidence or if he’d been deliberately trying to squeeze himself into your life.

But what did you know? Nothing. That’s why you let him.

“I do,” you answered, a small smile tugging at your lips. You remembered the times when you and your mother would watch countless movies in just a single day when you were feeling sad. You couldn’t leave the house easily, and when you did it was nothing but forest, forest, and more forest. Sometimes you were lucky to come across a wild hare, or sometimes even a small deer. Which reminds you— it’s been a while since you’ve gone home. You took a mental note to schedule some time for you to go back there.

Your curious eyes flickered over to Jeonghan. “Why?”

“There’s a film festival this weekend,” he leaned back against his chair, legs crossed and arms swinging lazily at his sides until he raised one hand to your face, a finger poking your cheek. “And I’m taking this pretty girl with me.”

“What?”

You gaped, dumbstruck. His lips were pressed into a brazen smile as his eyes were gleaming at you while you were still frozen in shock. He didn’t even ask you— did he think that you were just going to go with whatever he’s saying that easily?

“I—I haven’t agreed to anything!” you rebuked with a quick stammer, which caused a frown to replace the previous smile on Jeonghan’s face.

“But I thought you said you liked movies,” he sat down straight, the legs of his chair making a noise upon meeting the floor. The unabashed pout on his face, accompanied by the confused furrowing of his eyebrows, soon dissipated from his features when he let out a sudden gasp. “Wait, are you saying you don’t want to go with me?”

“I-it’s not that! I’m just—”

You couldn’t come up with any words to follow, distracted by the pained expression that Jeonghan wore. Was he just overreacting to mess with you? Was it fake? Or was he really hurt? Your ineptitude to social cues made you want to rip your hair out of your scalp. Once more, you quickly looked at him before snapping your head away, harshly biting down your lip before taking in a sharp inhale.

“Okay, fine!” Jeonghan’s face lit up, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. “I—I’ll go with you.”

You refused to look at him with how much your face was heating up, but you heard him let out a satisfied hum. It was quiet for a moment, giving u the opportunity to relax your shoulders and release your breath. Looks like the professor is late again. You dug into your bag to take out your notes, relaying yourself before class actually starts, but your actions were halted when you felt a thin, cold object pressing lightly against your arm. You looked over to see a phone, and the phone was attached to a hand, and a hand which belonged to a Yoon Jeonghan who was twinkling at you with an expectant gaze.

“Your number.”

Any moment now you swore that you were going to melt.

Within seconds, you snatched the device from his hands, rapidly smashing down the few digits, and you shoved it back to him at the speed of light. How you wanted to throw yourself out of the window, right now. A quick buzz in your pocket distracted you from your internal meltdown, and you took your own phone out, expecting a text from your mother, but instead—

‘See you on saturday, pretty girl :) hehe <3’

You shot up to meet the smug smile on Jeonghan’s face, and you bashfully looked back down at the message on your phone, feeling a smile of your own blossoming on your face.

It was late at night when you two finished.

Jeonghan insisted on bringing you home, protesting when you said that you said you could make it your way back at the movies, protesting when you said that you can walk through the campus to your dorm building alone, protesting when you said that you can head upstairs by yourself, and now when you had finally reached your floor, he stopped protesting— but he didn’t seem to how any signs of leaving just yet.

“Did you have fun?” he asked in a quiet tone. It was near midnight, and neither of you expected that the festival would go on for this long. You nodded, laughing a little, back pressed against the door leading to your room. Perhaps you were feeling a little loopy and tired from all the movies you watched, some of the scenes that stood out to you still replaying in your head.

He smiled, a few tufts of his hair shadowing over his eyes. “I’m glad.”

“I took note of a few of the films that I really liked! I’ll probably rewatch them with my mom when I get home,” you beamed, and he chuckled at your enthusiasm. “What about you?”

You almost regretted that you asked. Jeonghan was silent for a moment, a pondering look on his face as his eyes stared at the side before quickly flickering back to you. His lips were curved into a playful grin as he ever so slowly closed in on you, causing you to melt yourself into the wooden surface of your door as your heart violently thundered.

“Do you want me to be honest?” he asked in a teasing tone. His face was barely hovering over yours, and you felt your nerves screaming at you to rest your racing pulse. He didn’t do anything, though, seemingly waiting for you to respond to his question, but all you could manage was a small nod. “I wasn’t really paying attention to the movies.”

Your breath hitched and your mind was a whir. What was he doing? The waves of your senses were pulsating in an uneven rhythm, causing you to stumble over your own presence of mind as it was gradually slipping away, replaced by a haze of an uncharted storm of emotions overtaking you.

Heat was rising and you didn’t know what to do.

“I would have paid attention if it wasn’t for this pretty girl distracting me the entire time.”

“Jeonghan!”

You exclaimed, your voice being louder than expected. “I-it’s getting late. Isn’t—isn’t it time for you to go?”

There was a nervous smile on your lips as you stared up at him, eyes quivering when you tried to meet his clouded gaze. You waited for him to go, to step away from his closeness so that you’d finally have enough room to breathe, but dropped an unexpected question.

“Do you want me to go?”

The silence was deafening.

Jeonghan waited for you to say something, but the answer was something you yourself did not know. He waited until he derived the answer from your lack of response, sending you a nod and a smile before turning away. Your eyes were shaky, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in your moment of an unprecedented assault of hesitation, head filled with white noise because you couldn't think— therefore you listened to the fever stirring your restlessness.

You grabbed onto the sleeve of his coat at the last moment.

There was a glint in his eyes when he turned around, a knowing look on his face as if he had been expecting it. Swift steps and an even swifter heartbeat chased after you and once again Jeonghan was mere centimeters away from you, his warm breath igniting fire against your skin. “You could’ve just said so, pretty girl.”

He didn’t even give you the chance to breathe when he captured your unguarded mouth with his.

The air brushing against your fevered skin felt different, especially when Jeonghan was all up against you, ravishing your parted lips until you felt your senses slipping away. God, you’ve never done anything like this before and your conscience belatedly rang in your ears the moment you felt his hot tongue claiming yours as his own. You let out a faint whimper, the voice at the back of your head yelling at you that this was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. This was wrong.

You barely knew him— ten days wasn’t enough for you to know him. But you were too drunk over this foreign heat of emotion unfurling in your core to listen to your better judgement. You shouldn’t have stopped him from leaving, you shouldn’t have let him graze his teeth over your skin, let his hands roam all over your your body, let the feeling him pressed roughly against you being the only thing your dizzied mind could think of

But fuck, it felt so good.

You blindly reached for the door knob as you let Jeonghan trail wet kisses on your neck, and with a clicking of the lock, the both of you disappeared into the darkness of your room.

You said that the first was going to be the last— your mother’s words like playing a mantra in your head to bring you to the edge of guilt. But a week had passed yet that “last” never seemed to surface.

“H-hi, mom. Yeah, I—I’m fine, don;t worry. My classes just ended and—ah!”

You bit down your tongue after releasing the uninhibited noise, gulping down when you realized that Jeonghan had no intentions of stopping his ceaseless attacks from your jaw all the way down to your chest. There was fear trickling in your veins as your mother was still at the end of the line, possibly hearing the indecent sounds coming from her own daughter. You tried your best to remain quiet, but it started to become impossible when you felt Jeonghan’s teasing fingers brushing over your clit. You stared at him with wide eyes, suppressing the violent waves crashing over you, but all he did was smile at you and kiss you cheek before pressing his fingers down.

A loud gasp fell from your quivering lips.

“Mm? Shouldn't you be keeping quiet, baby?” he mumbled into your jaw before pressing a down kiss, and you let out a shaky breath. The hand that you were using to hold your phone returned to your ear, and you were welcomed by the worried voice of your mother.

“O-oh, it was just Salem! The little guy suddenly jumped— jumped on my lap,” you trailed off with a hint of nervous laughter, and you met the mischievous glint shining in Jeonghan’s eyes. He removed himself from you, causing you to close your eyes in relief and let out a sigh. “Home? Ah, I—I don’t think I can go there soon, but I’ll make sure to— oh my god.”

You were too focused on your conversation on the phone to notice that Jeonghan was now buried between your legs, nipping at your inner thighs. You slapped your hand over your lips, suppressing your moans from his bites, kisses and licks. He shot you a look of warning, and your heart stopped when you felt his hot breath hovering over your core. Quickly, you fumbled out a farewell into your phone.

"S-sorry, mom, I—I have to go—"

Another week had passed and you started to feel the consequences of your decisions crashing over you like falling debris. Jeonghan and you still met frequently, but "good morning" and "good night" texts slowly fizzled into conversations consisting only of "can I come over?" and "are you free?". It left a heavy feeling in your gut when coffee dates and movie theatres were forgotten, replaced with nights in his or your room, and suffocating scenes in his car. You couldn't help but think that maybe you should have thought things through.

But you were weak.

Today was no different.

You were buried in your bed, thick blankets covering your figure as you watched Jeonghan swiftly pull a shirt over his head. He had an evening class after this and you couldn't blame him that he was in such a hurry. Even when knowing this, you still wanted to take your chances.

"Jeonghan."

You called out to him in a quiet voice, small and fragile and lacking in firmness. He stood in the middle of the room, ready to leave but he turned around to look back at you— even if it was stupid, it bubbled the faintest shimmer of hope. You pulled the covers closer to yourself, looking down at the crumpled white sheets as you pressed your lips together before saying.

"I like you."

He didn't say it back.

Instead he smiled at you, feet padding against your wooden floors as he walked up to you in bed, pressing a small kiss on your forehead before ruffling your already messed up hair.

"I'll see you tomorrow, pretty girl."

But you didn't see him tomorrow.

You didn't see him at all after that.

The seat beside you in class was now occupied by an abhorrent emptiness that made you want to drag your nails against your skin. You tried searching for him in the crowded walls of the large classroom, but he was either not there or hidden by the enormous mass of bodies. He left you with a heavy heart and the only one you could find yourself to blame was yourself. Your mother's words never stopped ringing inside your head since then.

It was like fate was laughing at you when you saw him again at the campus cafe— just like the first time you met him. You were in a hurry to leave when you accidentally bumped into him, your coffee nearly spilling from your hands. You parted ways without anything exchanged.

Your mother had always told you to never trust strangers.

Maybe you should have listened to her words.

[abbynx]

Juliet and Ophelia (Trish Una X Reader)

Like I said I can't pass up an opportunity to simp for this girl.

So this is a continuation of 'How would the La Squadra family react to you having a crush on the former boss' daughter, Trish Una?'

So yes, this series will be called, "Juliet and Ophelia" A Trish Una X Reader with a dash of found family with La Squadra and the Bucci gang so stay tuned!

Genre: Romance, fluff, wholesome

School. Nothing else to say, the certain word can emit a certain reaction from every individual. Some recoil and wince from the sudden flashbacks rushing into them, embarrassment and shame from all of the stunts they pulled. Some react with a certain fondness within them, lips slightly tugged to the side as the sudden nostalgia just soaks them up. Some, indifference. It's just an establishment wherein an individual attended for a quarter of their life and held nothing against it. To you, it didn't really emit anything from you. As a person who has never attended school, you looked at in an indifferent manner. You've been homeschooled all your life, relying on the knowledge your tutor Melone or sometimes Ghiaccio teaching you. They're good mentors, always took the time to make you feel like they aren't dumping overwhelming amounts of data on you. Additionally, they were extremely mindful of your well-being and made sure to not over-work La Squadra's adopted child. You thought of school as something as that, a school. You have nothing against it at all, nor you feel any sorts of things to it but you can certainly empathize those young people who struggle against it, tiring themselves to no end and are unsatisfied until their unmeetable standards are met. So that's what sums it, you were indifferent towards it... Until you yourself have began to attend it and all you can associate it with would be utmost regret. You didn't know what came up to you when Risotto asked of you if you wanted to live normally, he clarified that again; would you like to start attending school, like any other normal teens your age? Admittedly, home schooling is the norm too, but do you really want assassins educating you all your life instead of spending times with people your age, just enjoying the wonders of life? Ohhh, the entirety of La Squadra does not want you to emulate the same misery they've live to get to this, dear no. Risotto was kind enough to give you time to think about it, his right hand man Prosciutto taking the time to also explain its benefits and negatives. They offered to enroll you to a boarding school, attain a certain normalcy in your life for once. Although it was a boarding school, you can always go home every weekend to see them again. They can try to play it smooth and casual, but you know that they'd be too clingy to let you go. And by that, you accepted for some reason and now you've come to regret it, and can never take it back. You remain unmoving from your desk for the remainder of lunch break, head tilted down and interacted at the most interesting specimen to you, that were the pair of polished black shoes Prosciutto bought you. They were ridiculously expensive for a pair of shoes, but they are durable and pretty to look at, I guess. Just the perks of having a fashionable guy around. It was a dumb sight in hindsight and in an outsider's point of view, but you liked the way it gave out a glimmer when directed in light. Not only that, it's not like you can do anything about your crippling isolation in school. Everyone seems to despise your guts in this damned institution for some reason. You really don't know what they problems were, nor were they willing to confront you about it and instead opted to whisper and laugh at you from behind as you tread pass them. It was so damn unfair that you were one of the most fierce assassins La Squadra Esecuzione has to offer and yet you were easily taken down by a bunch of high schoolers who talked behind your back. You loathed this place. You regretted accepting the offer to study in this god forsaken hell and just wanted to go home. Melone's home education was more than enough, heck his teachings were more advance than the school curriculum has to offer and yet Risotto has insisted for you to experience this period of life for some reason. You've grown up from them, raised by assassins and have experienced the weirdest shit as a Stand User and they still think you need to have a normal high school life? And for what? It's not like there's an underground

organisation ran by students at school where you were needed to play double agent but no-- they insisted you to study things you already knew and compete among students apparently. The lunch packed with food remained untouched in your bag, wherein you planned to just give it to the stray cats and dogs just as you wait for one of La Squadra to pick you up from this damned institution. It's not like you were starving yourself, you were just uninterested to eat at the moment and you really didn't want it to go to waste so why not give it to those who are more in need? You weren't really accustomed to eating alone, as there would always be a member of La Squadra eating with you. These past few weeks felt so full without them that now it's made imminent to you that without them— life can be so colourless, so monochrome, so damn boring. Your crippling sense of loneliness, in addition to your utter unaccustomed self in a new environment made life hell for you in here. It would only be a few, agonising hours until you would be picked up by one of the assassins. At least there you'd get some actual slumber that won't require you to wake up at five o'clock to practically rush towards the school shower rooms and bathe in ice cold water in the middle of dawn for another day in hell. The teacher's lectures remained audible to you, and yet you couldn't seem to properly understand what she was going on about. It was a mere noise, as your eyes would impatiently dart up to meet with the hands of ticking clock, idly zooming by, as your legs bounced at the anticipation of the bell ringing. It was only a matter of a few more hours and yet, you just can't wait to ditch this hellhole for two days. "L/N, are you paying attention?" You jerk your head up from your daydreams with a slight yelp. Your teacher stood indignant, hands on her hips as she raised a questioning brow at you. "Well?" She waits. "Yes, Madam." You nodded. "Then pray tell, what is the common misconception about Mary Shelley's Frankenstein?" She challenged, shifting her weight on one side and awaits for your answer. It was then you noticed all eyes were on you. You knew the answer very well, it was simple really and yet being the centre of attention certainly hindered you from answering as soon as you can. "See? This is why--" "The common misconception regarding the Gothic novel Frankenstein is that often they refer the monster as Frankenstein, when in reality it's the name of the creator of the creature, Doctor Victor Frankenstein." You once remembered Ghiaccio's outburst about that, his shrill voice just ranting on and on about referencing the name incorrectly in modern pop culture. For a moment the teacher looks at you from the tip of her nose, as if to say 'I'll get you next time', before returning to the lesson Well, that was a relief. You released a breathe you've been harbouring, before turning your head yet again to watch the ticking hands of the clock go by and finally have the day done. ~•~ Similarly to your situation, it has come to her attention that she deeply regretted transferring back to school after a year of her absence. It was as if nothing changed, she was the same ol' Trish no one paid attention to, nor cared about. She only existed amidst their faint breathes whispering amongst each other behind her back as she passes by; "Whoop, there is she is again. I don't get why she returned." "Maybe she was pregnant last year." "Omg, really?" And she despises it. She couldn't have a single shit about their thoughts about her, but if they ever dared to spread rumours she wouldn't hesitate to use her connection with the mafia. She tries not to abuse this power, but come on, who wouldn't? At least now, they knew they wouldn't dare to land a hand on her, she has her own Stand now and not only that, her new family wouldn't stand something such as this to happen to her. All she wanted to do was to leave to godforsaken hell hole for two days for the weekend but alas, her pickup person was taking way too long. As much as she wants to stand up,

march forward to her new home with Bruno and the others, she was strictly told to wait for one of them to pick her up. But alas, they were taking too long and the roof of the waiting shed wasn't ideal for a rainy day either, not with its leaky roof, that is. All she can do was to sit on the metallic bench, and dodge dripping water leaking from the roof of the waiting shed. Seated at arm's length away from her, was a classmate of hers. A memory implanted itself on her brain after that one lecture in class, impressed at their quick wit to respond to the teacher's question, even if they paid little to no attention to the lesson apparently. And not to mention, their nonchalance response after proving the teacher correct was admirable. If only she can do something similar of that, she knew she'd be more proud of herself. The pinkette looks up in anticipation at the sound of a vehicle pulling over in front of a waiting shed, but frowned once she sees it wasn't the usual van Bruno rents. It was a black van, with pure black tinted windows and honestly, she'd think it was one of those vans that you'd be afraid of when you see it approaching. The student beside her let out a relieved sigh, and practically skipped off before boarding the van. Trish couldn't help but to sigh out as well, as she was now left alone to wait under the leaky roof. Trish shivered from the cold, before she decided to gather her knees in front of her chest to provide herself warmth from the rain. If only she brought with her the pink umbrella Giorno gifted to her, but alas, she forgot and left it back in the villa they currently reside in. She wanted to disobey them, and just walk home but she had no umbrella and doesn't really want to spend the weekend with her nose clogged and throat sealed with pain, as much as she wants to stay and rest within the villa with her new found family. She wanted to go home, she hated the hell hole and regretted her decision going back to it. As she wallows from her regrettable decision, the van door opens and the students steps out of it. Trish was confused for a moment, but didn't reacted to it, as her gaze remains directed down. For all she knew they don't left something behind, but apparently she was wrong. "Hey, it's pretty cold and you might catch a fever. You can borrow my jacket, here," Trish looked up, shocked to see you holding a black jacket and a light blue umbrella. She was shocked to say the least, but graciously accepts it. "The umbrella is a bit broken, sorry about that—" "N-no, it's enough... T-Thank you..." "You're welcome," they were quick to interact with, before they run towards the van once again and drove off. Trish watches the black van disappear into a turn, before she looks back at the jacket, subconsciously smiling fondly at it. She shrugs the jacket on, as it was slightly loose around her frame, before opening the umbrella above her head. After glancing at the direction from whence your van drove off, the smile on her face never wavered despite her impatience for her pick up person to arrive. ~•~ "So how was school, Y/N?" Risotto asks after a cheery round of laughter at the dinner table. You halted for a moment upon hearing the dreaded s-word being spoken. Thankfully, no one took notice of your reluctant pause and cleared your throat. You went on as normal, as you poke with your food in front of you. "It's good." You hoped that it wouldn't come up but alas, it was inevitable they'd ask that like any other adult talking to a young adolescent.  "Anyone got your attention~?" Illuso teases with his usual lopsided grin, with a mock crone. "Not really." You deadpanned, as you mentally rolled at the idea of liking someone in that school when everyone's been mean to you. "Your asking the wrong question, did you get someone's attention, though?" Melone chimes in. Once again, you mentally scoff at the idea of someone liking you. "Nuh uh." Oh if only they knew. Well now that you think about it, it was better for them not to know. They're highly capable people with strings to

pull and honestly, your classmates hasn't done anything physical to you yet. "Enough about the lovey dovey crap, what's important is that they're learning crap in school like they're supposed to be!" Ghiaccio retorts towards the two. "We're just glad you're enjoying yourself at school." Pesci adds with a warm smile. Another reason you can't tell them about your hatred for school. They were happy for you having that normalcy in your life, something they've never experienced pleasantly. As much as yours wasn't that ideal of a usual high school teen drama in one of those novels, but at least it wasn't as worst as their experience. And honestly, you would do just about anything to see them smile. "OHHH SHIT, Y/N'S SCHEDULED TO WASH THE DISHES!" Formaggio shouts from the kitchen in joy, prompting you to jerk up your seat in shock. The man has the tendancy to trick you into washing dishes sometimes and now that you've grown and realised how naïve you were, you grew more wary of his tricks. "SHUT THE HELL UP, NO WAY—" "YES WAY!" Formaggio returns from the kitchen, holding up the chart of dish washing schedule, before sticking his tongue out at you. "SUCKER!" Truly, you've missed the rampant chaos within your family, a stark contrast against the repetitive schedule in school. It was sheer chaos there too, not gonna lie, but this is a different type. This was the type wherein you felt at home, just smiling as the villa becomes frosted with a thin layer of ice unlike the one in school. You wanted to stay with them, but of course, their main priority was for you to have some sort of normalcy in your life and honestly, if that's what makes them happy you'd be happy to oblige. You are certainly doing great at school, and they're proud of it, it shows... If only Gelato and Sorbet were to see you as well. They may be gone, but you can just imagine them smiling and encouraging you. ~•~ Of course happy days would pass swiftly than its duller counterpart. Happy days were over once Monday hits and you were once again strapped to your seat for the next eight hours, another three hours by the library to get the Mount Everest high school work due to tomorrow, before curling up against the corner of your bed staring off into the abyss until slumber has taken a liking to you and claim you within its embrace and then somehow, someway, you would be then pulled from your sweet escape by a shrill bell from your bedside table, before you would inevitably glare at the blaring alarm clock, slam your hand against it before attempting to regain about five more minutes of sleep— only then to remember how things function in this seventh circle of hell as it was enough to convince you to get up and march towards your dresser with your stuff and head to the shower room. Needless to say, you've got the school schedule memorised by now. Even the usual discord occurring from time to time began to bore you. Nothing much really happened in school, you were just slowly deteriorating from boredom and by home sickness... Once gain, just goes to show how much you missed your chaotic little assassin family. You set yourself by your desk with a sigh, just wanting to get through this place without wanting to wreak havoc within the school premises that will prompt a bad mark on your pristine records. Not that you cared, it's just that Prosciutto will surely bitch about once he catches a glimpse of it and make an hour-long lecture about it. You let out an exhausted sigh for the umpteenth time, slumping against your desk with your eyes closed when suddenly a figure stands in front of your table. You immediately straightened your back and tried your best to look alive, before glancing up at her. "Oh hey, what's up?" You instinctively asked to swerve yourself away from the awkward silence, smiling up to the pinkette. "Hi, thank you for lending me you cost and umbrella. If it weren't for them I would've caught a cold back there." She hands you your jacket and umbrella back, in which you graciously accepted. "You're welcome, Miss Una— I-um—" you

stammered, your hands brushing against hers once you've reached to collect your neatly folded, pressed and newly washed jacket, along with your light blue umbrella. It was the heat of the moment when you gave her those following items and felt sorry for the girl, concerned about the dripping rain and the cold, humid air. "It's no problem." "Please no need for formalities, we're the same age. Just call me Trish." She insists. "There's the cafe in front of campus. I'll see you there after classes, my treat. It's the least I can do to show you my gratitude." "Uhhh, of course." For a moment it didn't process that the café she was referring to was an expensive one. The posh, fancy, the Prosciutto's to-go-to type of thing that charges an arm and a leg just to buy a shot of espresso, and they'd charge you your pair of kidneys if you asked for sugar and cream. Money wasn't a problem now that the boss was actually considerate, but why in all nine circle's of hell did you not insist her not to treat you? Well now's too late, as class has started and she's trudged back to her desk. Aside from the expensive coffee shop... Wow, you never thought that your encounter with her would expand to this type of interaction. At the back of your mind screamed wary, but something stronger in you just found this as a perfect opportunity for a friendship to bloom. She seems like a nice girl and quite frankly, she'd be lovely to spend time with. Like the weeks before spending your time in school, you gaze up to the clock as always, excited for something new other than weekends to go back to the La Squadra villa. This time, you were excitedly anticipating the time after class to meet with the lovely pinkette. Something good will happen, I just feel it!

[fukurodaze]

dump shot

pairing: third year!shirabu kenjirou x first year manager!reader (female) genre/s: PURE FLUFF, meet cute type beat! word count: 2.9k taken from this request by anonymous <3: “Shirabu x Manager! reader where reader is Karasuno's manager and she's seen pining over him and later the two end up in an accident outside the gym (before or after the games) where they find themselves locked somewhere”

for reference, this is set when hinata and the first years are in their second year, so ennoshita is karasuno’s captain. shirabu’s also the captain of the shiratorizawa vbc!

lowercase intended!

when shirabu kenjirou throws a dump shot, he is the coolest person in the room. it’s two words that come out of your mouth, groans of frustration coming from your team, and a faint smirk on the almond haired boy. 

“so cool...” you mutter under your breath, watching the practice match between your team and shiratorizawa at their gym. you get goosebumps.

it’s not your first time seeing the third year. you had watched shiratorizawa’s match with karasuno in the prefectural spring high finals, and though your eyes were glued onto the then first-year setter, kageyama, you would, at times, find your eyes stopping at the magenta number 10 jersey. you would later find out his name was shirabu kenjirou, and that you would come to develop an almost baseless crush on him, hopeless at best.

another rally starts, this time with shiratorizawa on match point, an already dragged out 32-31 on the scoreboard. it’s the third set on a friday night, yet the match is already scraping past seven pm and you don’t know if your body can take any more of the anticipation. 

and when the magenta jerseys spike a mean straight shot, your hands ball up with whitened knuckles at the bitter taste of a lost game. you run up to the boys with yachi, handing them drinks and towels, telling the second years “you did well” and the third years “that was a good one.” you glance at the first years, some of your friends, and give them a soft smile, as if telling them that you’re going to have to get used to this feeling, because it will happen. lots.

but loss is as temporary as victory when you see the boys mingle with each other, friendliness growing as the new first years dissolve tensions between teams. you even see kageyama bump into hinata and goshiki’s conversation, the sight of it new and endearing. 

yachi taps you on the shoulder, “i’m going to be picking up the bibs, can you collect the balls and put them in storage?”

shiratorizawa’s storage room looks more like a shed. it’s also much further than you think, and even darker than you knew storage rooms to be. it looks like an entire sports supply factory outlet rather than a high school unit. 

the large basket of volleyballs rolls weirdly on its wheels, knocking left and right as you try to drive it through the doorway. it makes a bit of a fussy sound when you bump into the basket of footballs, and as the footballs begin to fall out of their containers, you close the door in an attempt to keep them inside. 

"here they are,” you hear from the corner of the room, behind shelves upon shelves of equipment. your body freezes up dramatically, as if dreading the awkward interaction with the unknown person. hurriedly, you pick up the scattered soccer balls, attempting to take up to five at once to no avail, only causing more sounds of balls hitting wooden floors. 

“hello?”

you hesitate to answer. you only continue to put back all the footballs in their place and park the basket of volleyballs in some random corner of the shed before reaching for the door, only to find it doesn’t budge.

“aren’t you karasuno’s manager?”

you turn around to find the one person you wouldn’t want to see you like this. like every high school cliché, shirabu kenjirou is standing right behind you when you turn back, a pair of training shoes hanging off of his left hand. you nod and bow slightly, unsure what to do.

“i, uh, wanted to put the balls back here.”

“but why are you here in the shed?” his voice is softer, you notice, probably because he realises he’s talking to a girl, but his words remind you of how he’d talk to his team during the match.

“i just wanted to help clean up and stuff, like, uh, a token... of appreciation for this practice match?” god, your palms sure are getting sweaty. 

“this shed isn’t the place we put our frequently used equipment. we usually put our volleyballs in the room in the gym. it’s the one with the double doors. how come you came so far here?”

you shrug slowly, feeling nice and stupid for not noticing the actual storage room’s large double doors and instead wandering off to carry a basket of volleyballs past three other gyms and a few questioning looks from the shiratorizawa basketball team to this single-doored, large building. 

“i’ll just bring them back to the gym now-” you come back to the basket of volleyballs you had just left against a random wall as shirabu pushes on the door’s nonexistent handle. you think it’s all about to end until a muttered curse falls out of the third year’s lips. you look to him in confusion.

then he curses again, this time stopping himself midway as your gaze meets his, voice getting softer again. “did you close the door?”

“yes...?” 

“it’s not supposed to be closed,” shirabu sighs, “there’s a little metal rod that falls into a hole in the ground on the other side, and it falls in pretty easily if we close the door, so we can’t really get out right now.”

oh shit.

“i’ll just call- oh my god, i forgot my phone.” your tone is fast and apologetic, considering you had closed the door in the first place. “i’m sorry-”

“don’t be, you didn’t know before.” shirabu sits on a pile of thick and colourful gym mats, elbows on knees. the shoes he was holding are now behind him. “this school might be big, but it’s also damn old.”

shirabu has no idea what situation he’s in right now. frankly, he’s kind of panicking. but he tells himself not to panic, especially when karasuno’s new manager is right there (and she’s pretty cute, not gonna lie - is she a second year?). shirabu would probably be shouting and pushing the door by now until his voice ran hoarse, but surely, there is no use for that. 

“so, uh, how are we going to get out?” you shove your hands into your tracksuit jacket, stepping in front of the boy. you’re guessing it’s going to be a bit before you two can get out, so you might as well try to talk to him without a three meter gap in between him and you.

shirabu shrugs, and a look at you tells you that you can sit next to him on the pile of gym mats. “i think we’re just going to have to hope someone notices we’re gone.”

“i think they have to,” you chuckle, “you’re captain. would be kinda crazy if they didn’t notice you were gone.”

the conversation dissolves into awkward silence as the stranger you once pined over is literally right next to you, dried sweat and all, a light laugh leaving his lips.

“what’s your name?” the question is simple, obligatory, even, for introductions, but you swear you feel your heart skip a beat.

“l/n f/n,” you reply, and he says his name in return. you want to say you know, as you’ve already referred to him as captain of the volleyball club, but you settle with silence and a smile. he seems to like it.

“you’re karasuno’s manager, right?” 

“yeah. i’m a first year, but i have a brother in karasuno.”

“oh really? is he in the volleyball team?”

you shake your head, “no. he’s in the basketball team, actually, but he’s friends with some of the third years in the team. he’s the reason i got dragged to the spring high prefectural finals last year, actually.”

you hold your hands together, clasping them to evaporate your nervousness. shit, this is shirabu kenjirou you’re talking to, don’t mess it up!

shirabu leans back on his arms, looking up in reminiscence. he sighs, “spring high, huh? you probably saw my tosses back then.”

you can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face, the excitement of getting to talk to the third year getting to you, “i remember you from that game the most.”

“damn, then you’d probably also remember how my toss was bad enough for even ushijima-san to get blocked-”

“i think you were really cool, actually.”

shirabu stops in his vocal tracks. there’s no way she means that, he thinks.

“you’re just saying that.”

“well, of course i’m saying it. you wouldn’t hear it otherwise.” your feet kick themselves against the soft pile of gym mats, “but trust me, coming from a karasuno student, you were really cool. your entire team was, too, but, you know.”

at this point, you think you’re just embarrassing yourself. what if he thinks you’re some kind of weird fan? a naive first year? some wannabe manager who didn’t quite understand volleyball to its core? it seems like the conversation loves to come back to silence, and you don’t know how to break the ice.

“thanks,” shirabu mentions, tone higher, as he stands up and off of the gym mats. you feel a weight lift beside you, and in your floor-focused eyes, you see his shoes walk to the basket of volleyballs. 

shirabu bounces the ball once, and then once again, before you see his shoes in front of yours. you look up. 

“we have time. wanna toss?”

“i’m not that good at overhead passes...” you resist, knowing all too well from pe classes that your fingers don’t have the same kind of magic shirabu’s or kageyama’s have - or anyone in the men’s volleyball club, really.

shirabu only shrugs, “it’s fine, y/n-san. it’s just me. i don’t think you can even be that bad anyways.”

okay, maybe hearing him say your name was enough to persuade you. but still, the possibility of losing your pride in front of shirabu keeps you glued onto the gym mats. 

you purse your lips, trying to hide the overwhelming grin spreading on your face. you try to say a word, but you can’t seem to make anything out when teeth and raised cheeks do nothing but make you feel like this hopeless crush isn’t so hopeless after all. and so you nod.

he stands a few feet away from you, tossing the ball at what seemed like the perfect angle for your height only for you to miss it every two good tries.

“see? you’re not bad.” you think he’s lying through his teeth at best.

“i drop, like, every toss you give. this is not not bad.” you slouch, catching the ball this time instead of attempting to toss it. 

“well, that’s because you’re just doing it wrong. you hit the ball with the top of your palm every time. of course it’s going to come flying down.”

“okay, captain of the shiratorizawa volleyball club...” you tease, and you think it’s all fun and games until he comes to stand right in front of you, taking the ball. 

“put your hands up.”

you do as he asks.

“they should be about this far from your head,” he puts down the ball to adjust your arms, and then your hands, “it’s supposed to feel like there’s a nice place for the ball to rest in your hands.”

his hands are cold and rough when they lightly press on yours, shaping your hands and your elbows the way he does it on court, “your elbows and hands should make a triangle.”

he lets go of your arms, and you keep your arms the way he left them. he tosses the ball to you, and the only thing you feel is the sturdy feeling of fingertips on fabric.

shirabu catches the ball when you toss it back, “see? not bad.”

he doesn’t miss it when your eyes light up at his praise, and he makes a mental note to himself to not get distracted next time shiratorizawa has a game with karasuno. or maybe he will; who knows - maybe seeing you might make him look at his job with more vigour and passion.

“how do you do it?” you stare, “i mean, not that i haven’t seen, but-”

your words are cut off when he sets the ball onto the wall and back in one quick motion, his hands like cradling the ball with care on every push and touch. maybe it isn’t backed by an ace spiker or a team of five, but there’s a quiet power in what he does.

volleyball might be a team sport, but you’ve only been focused on this one setter all afternoon. even worse, he’s from the opposite team. 

he holds the ball and bounces it as he looks back at you, “when i got into shiratorizawa, you have no idea how much time i spent doing this.”

he exhales, like a weight has been pulled off his chest, feeling quite nice at your visible reactions. he throws the ball at you, exclaiming “toss!” only for you to catch it square above your head. you whine. then he laughs, and you laugh too, because you've never seen him laugh. 

“it paid off, then,” you say, coming to sit back down on the pile of mattresses. he sits next to you again, but closer this time. it’s like your stomach performs a somersault, and you absolutely love it.

"i guess,” he mutters, “maybe next time i’ll show you the dump shot you seemed to like so much.”

you can only bury your face in your hands, remembering the way you exclaimed ‘so cool...’ at his actions about an hour ago. you mumble, “was i too loud?”

he laughs again. you like the sound of it. “no, it was good.”

“it was nice to know one of karasuno’s managers looked at me more than kageyama,” his tone is stagnant, but you can hear him grinning, “that wouldn’t be considered betrayal, would it?”

you take it upon yourself to look him in the eye, and you tell him, with a small voice, “maybe it’s just something about you.”

you hide your face in your hands again, and you hear the setter laugh once more. you wonder if he laughs this much with his teammates. 

just as your embarrassment starts to settle, there’s a knock on the wooden door, “y/n? are you here?”

you recognise it as the second year, yamaguchi’s, voice, and you call back out, “yeah?”

“alright, wait up, i’ll just unlock the door...” his voice turns from muffled to surprise after the door opens, seeing you sitting so close to none other than shiratorizawa’s setter.

“i’m so sorry it took this long for us to realise you were, uh, gone,” yamaguchi scratches the back of his head, “but at least you had some company.”

yamaguchi gives the setter a prompt bow, and shirabu does the same.

“anyways, y/n, the bus is waiting,” the boy motions, and you nod, looking at shirabu. 

you wave at shirabu and start to leave the shed when he grips the sleeve of your tracksuit jacket. 

“are you free on sunday?”

you stop in your tracks, “yeah, i am.”

“i can show you my dump shot then. and there’s also a cute café nearby campus, i heard, so, we can go there after?”

you swear your heart melts at his words, “that sounds good.”

you can feel yamaguchi’s curious stare at both of you, but you don’t mind. “i’ll give you my number, then?”

you search through your pockets for something to take note with, “i don’t have a pen and paper... or my phone...”

shirabu sighs, “me neither, uhm...”

“oh, well. just tell me your number and i’ll memorise it.”

“are you sure?”

“yeah,” you smile, knowing that you’re not that good at memorising things but you know you’d keep his number dialed in your head. as he says out his string of numbers, you make sure to remember it all by the time you get to your bag. 

“see you sunday, then.” he waves once more.

“i’ll text you!” you’re left to ponder what the hell you’re going to wear in two days to your date with shirabu kenjirou. 

first date with shirabu kenjirou. is it a date? maybe you’ll know it on sunday. 

when you step out of the shed, yamaguchi only grins as he walks you back to the bus, amused at witnessing one of his underclassmen set up a date with shiratorizawa’s third year setter and captain. 

“on monday, tell us some of shiratorizawa’s secrets,” yamaguchi jokes as you two walk across campus. you glare at your upperclassman, and he only follows it up with a shake of the head and “no, no, just kidding! just have fun on sunday.”

“thank you,” you say quietly as you two approach the bus, “and thank you for unlocking that door at the shed back there.”

“no problem,” yamaguchi replies.

after announcing a small apology to the rest of the team when you enter the bus, you almost run to yachi when she shouts from the back that she’s already got your bag, with you practically grabbing it to take out your phone.

“woah, y/n! are you alright? do you have your stuff?”

you don’t answer, only putting down the numbers you drilled into your head five minutes ago, naming the contact “dump shot” and sending him a quick hello in text.

yachi asks again, “y/n?”

now you snap out of it, and nod before thanking her for bringing your bag. you can’t stop the uncontrollable smile on your face.

yachi stretches her arms out and smiles back, glad that her underclassman seems enthusiastic about this volleyball thing too. “i’m so ready for the weekend. i’m just going to sleep in and rest all day.”

you nod, slouching lazily into the bus yet with unknown excitement in your veins at the thought of spending a day with the boy you’ve only ever seen from afar until tonight. 

“i’m so ready for this weekend too.”

[lucys-key]

Unexpected Encounters (Eren Yeager x Reader)

Part 3: Twice in One Day

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Smuttt in this chapter and language

A/N: Thank you again for all of the kind messages about this story :,) I hope you enjoy this chapter! (aLsO this was my first time writing smut so this should be fun)

...

Wednesday of the next week had you back to classes and work. If you thought that the first two weeks of classes had been hard, they were nothing compared to the amount of schoolwork you suddenly found yourself with.

It certainly didn’t help that your mind was completely preoccupied with thinking about a certain brown-haired, green-eyed boy.

Eren had taken over every single thought you had, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You hadn’t seen him since the party, and that just made things worse. Wherever you went, you looked around for him, hoping and fearing that you would see him.

Your friends all knew what had happened at the party and they constantly teased you about it. While you had no idea Eren even went to your school before last Friday, apparently everyone else did, and apparently he was a pretty popular guy. You found out that he was on the school’s soccer team, but didn’t know anything else about what he did around campus besides that and being in a fraternity.

Historia and Ymir were out somewhere, so you were in your dorm alone getting ready to go to lunch with Hitch. The two of you exchanged numbers and became rather good friends after the party, and earlier that morning, she had invited you to an early lunch. You happily accepted her invitation.

Just as you were putting on your shoes, you heard a knock at your door.

“Hey, hey! You ready?” Hitch asked once you opened the door.

You grabbed your bag from the floor and nodded.

“Yep! Let’s go,” you said, and then left your room.

“You look cute today,” Hitch remarked as you walked out of the dorm hall.

“Oh, thanks,” you said, but then you saw Hitch’s smug expression and realized what she must have been thinking. “No, it is not for any reason in particular,” you assured.

Hitch made a sound indicating that she didn’t believe that one bit, but she dropped the subject, nonetheless.

“Where do you want to eat?” you asked as the two of you walked across campus.

Hitch thought for a moment, but then she said, “There’s this cool café slash coffee shop place not far from here that I’ve been wanting to try.”

“Sounds good,” you replied.

You followed Hitch as she led you through campus, and then to the small town that was just nearby. You hadn’t had a chance to walk into town yet, but you decided that you would be going much more often as you looked at all of the small shops and restaurants.

You walked for a few more minutes until Hitch turned right down a final street and stopped.

“Here it is!” she said, gesturing to the coffee shop. “Isn’t it cute?”

You looked through the large glass window and decided that it was pretty cute. There were people sitting in comfy looking chairs, and you could smell the coffee and other café aromas from outside.

“Yeah it is,” you agreed. Hitch smiled, clearly pleased at herself for finding this place.

“Let’s go in!” she said. Hitch walked forward and opened the door with you following close behind.

Once you stepped inside, you looked around. A lot of the people sitting in the café appeared to be students from your school. Some of them had their laptops out doing work, and others were reading books or chatting softly. You followed Hitch as she walked over to two of the comfy looking chairs and set her bag down on one of them. You put yours down on the other one.

“Want to order?” you asked after you had set your bag down. Hitch nodded eagerly.

You turned around to walk to the register counter and—

—oh. Oh no.

Oh no no no no no.

Hitch saw you freeze and asked, “What’s wrong?”

When you didn’t respond right away, she followed your gaze to the person working at the register.

“Oh my god!” Hitch exclaimed and then started to laugh hysterically.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?!” you accused, looking at her in horror. Hitch just continued to laugh.

“I didn’t, I swear! I didn’t know he worked here!” she assured you. You frowned and then looked back at the register.

Out of all places, why did you have to run into Eren here?

He was helping the customer in front of you, so he hadn’t seen you yet. You started to panic. What were you going to say to him? You supposed that you could just tell him your order, but that was embarrassing. Ordering food was suddenly the most embarrassing thing in the entire world. You didn’t even know what you wanted yet.

“Hitch, what do I do?!” you asked frantically.

“Just say hi to him!” she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Not helpful,” you muttered, and before you knew what was happening, Hitch was grabbing your arm and pulling you forward.

“It’s our turn!” she said. You did your best to hide behind her as you walked forward, but it was futile.

“Hi, how can I—oh, hey!” Eren greeted the both of you when he looked up.

“Hi, Eren!” Hitch said way too cheerily. Eren smiled at her, but then there was an awkward pause as his eyes met yours.

You still had no idea what to say to him. If it were anyone else, you probably would’ve been able to come up with something—anything to say, but the fact that it was Eren, and the fact that you had made out with him in a frat basement the last time you saw him, was severely affecting your ability to think clearly.

It also didn’t help that Eren looked just as good as he usually did. His hair was tied up, and he had his tiny black earrings in which matched the black shirt he was wearing. You bet it didn’t even take much work for him to look like that. He was just effortlessly handsome, and it was definitely affecting you. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop looking at him.

Eren looked away from you first and cleared his throat.

“So, what can I get you two?” he asked.

Having been so distracted, you hadn’t even figured out what you wanted to order. You quickly looked at what the options were, but had a hard time deciding.

Luckily, Hitch ordered for herself first, and when Eren turned to you to ask what you wanted, you just said, “I’ll have the same as her.”

Eren nodded as he put in the order and then you both paid.

“Mikasa will have your stuff down there,” Eren said, gesturing to the end of the long counter. You hadn’t noticed that there was someone else behind the counter, but you looked and saw a girl with short black hair working at the drink-making machine.

You looked back at Eren and tried to get yourself under control.

“Thanks,” you managed to say. You turned to walk to the end of the counter with Hitch and saw Eren smirk the tiniest bit before he greeted the next person in line.

Once you were away from Eren, you took a deep breath and Hitch started laughing.

“You need to get yourself together and talk to him,” she said.

“I’m trying,” you whined, “but I can’t figure out what to say.”

“Don’t think about it. Just talk to him like you would anyone else,” Hitch advised. But that was your exact problem. Eren wasn’t just “anyone else,” and now you were becoming all nervous when you saw him, which hadn’t been happening before the party.

You and Hitch waited for a few minutes before the girl called Mikasa walked over with your food and drinks. You thanked her and then walked with Hitch back over to the seats you had claimed.

Once you were seated, you put your food on the low table in between the chairs and began to eat. It was really good, and you were glad Hitch had found this place. You two chatted as you sat in the café until Hitch informed you that she had to use the bathroom. She got up to go, leaving you alone.

You took out your phone and checked your notifications. You were in the middle of reading a news article when you saw someone sit down in the chair across from you. You looked up, thinking that Hitch’s bathroom trip had been rather fast, but when you did, you were most definitely not looking at Hitch.

Eren was sitting across from you. Without Hitch, he was able to keep his full attention on you, and you felt nervous again as he looked at you.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” you asked him, proud of yourself for being able to form a whole question.

Eren made a face as if he had just been greatly offended.

“Damn. And here I was thinking you’d be happy to see me,” he teased.

“Is that so?” you teased back, and Eren grinned. He crossed one of his legs over the other and you saw that he was wearing white sneakers and those stupid black adidas sweatpants with white stripes. They were stupid because they looked so good on him.

“I have a break, actually,” he said. “Just thought I’d say hi.”

“I see,” you replied, and couldn’t help but smile. “Well, hi, then.”

Eren gave you one of his boyish smiles in return.

“Hi,” he said, saying your name after the greeting.

You felt yourself become less nervous the longer you talked to him. You found out that Eren had started working at the café during the first week of school, and that the girl who he worked with, Mikasa, was one of his close friends from high school.

“Do you like working here?” you asked him.

“Yeah, I do, although some of the customers can be a pain,” he replied.

You nodded in understanding. “That must be annoying,” you agreed.

“Yeah,” Eren started to say, but then you saw his green eyes look you up and down. “They’re not all so bad, though,” he finished.

You felt your face become hot.

“Right,” you said. Eren grinned at your flustered state, seeming to know the effect he had on you.

“Hey, sorry that took so—”

You almost jumped when you suddenly heard someone speak as they approached the chairs you and Eren were sitting in.

You looked and saw that it was Hitch, who had abruptly stopped talking when she saw Eren sitting across from you. She looked between the two of you and smiled when she understood what was going on.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said.

You looked at Hitch, and then to Eren as he stood up from the chair.

“No, it’s fine. I should probably get back to work anyway,” he admitted.

Eren looked back at you, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. You wanted to talk with him longer, but you also figured that given your luck with unexpectedly running into him, this wouldn’t be the last time you talked to him.

You nodded understandingly and said, “Okay.”

Eren smiled at you one last time before walking away.

“Nice to see you two,” he said as he walked.

As soon as Eren was gone, Hitch threw herself onto the chair across from you. You sighed when you saw the ridiculous smile on her face.

“Just say it,” you groaned.

“You talked to him! I’m so proud,” Hitch said.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you replied, but you were smiling.

Hitch looked at you and mentally congratulated herself on carrying out such a successful plan.

She had most definitely known that Eren worked at the café before inviting you to lunch.

___

Later that afternoon, you were in your dorm doing some work when you heard the door open.

“Hi!” Historia said brightly when she walked into the room. She placed her bag down on the floor before walking over to you.

“What’re you up to?” she asked.

“Just some schoolwork,” you sighed. You had been staring at your computer screen for almost two hours trying to write an essay for one of your classes. It had gotten to the point where there was more staring than actual writing happening.

“Oh, if you’re busy you can say no,” Historia said, “but Ymir and I were thinking about trying out the gym before dinner. I was wondering if you might want to come?”

You thought about it for a minute. You did still have work to do, but you figured that you weren’t really getting anything done anyway, and a break would be good. You were also curious about the gym since you hadn’t been yet.

“Sure. I’ll come,” you said.

“Yay!” Historia exclaimed, and then you two began to get ready.

You didn’t go to gyms all that often, so you didn’t know exactly what to bring. You figured that a water bottle and headphones to listen to music were probably enough. You also decided to throw a sweater in your bag to wear afterward.

When you and Historia were dressed in your exercise clothes and had everything else you needed, you walked out of your dorm and made your way to the gym.

It only took a few minutes to walk there, as it was close to your dorm building. Ymir was supposed to meet you both there, and when you walked into the building, she was sitting on a bench in the lobby area. The gym itself was in a larger building that was used for other athletic purposes. There was a pool, dance studios, and a basketball court also inside.

Ymir stood up when she saw you and Historia walk in. The gym was directly left of the lobby and the three of you made your way there. You greeted the students working at the front desk and then made your way inside.

The gym was pretty crowded, but not overwhelmingly so. You looked around in awe at all of the different machines. You had no idea what half of them were for. There were little cubbies at the front of the gym to store your things. You placed your bag into one of them after taking out your headphones and water bottle.

“Do you know what you want to do?” Historia asked you.

You looked around at the machines again, and to your delight, a treadmill had become available. It looked simple enough.

“I think I’ll use the treadmill,” you replied.

Historia nodded and said, “Have fun!” as she and Ymir walked over to two of the more complicated looking machines, both of them clearly having more gym experience than you.

You walked over to the treadmill and stepped onto it. You put your water bottle in the built-in holder and put in your headphones. The controls on the treadmill were simple to use, and you set it to a walking speed.

You felt kind of awkward as you walked, but it was also kind of fun. You looked around the gym and saw people running, doing core work, and everything else. On the opposite side of the gym from where you were, there was a section of more advanced weight machines, and it looked like one of the sports teams had reserved it for training.

You wondered which team it was. You saw guys working on all of the machines, and you thought you recognized Reiner’s blonde hair. As you looked closer, you realized that there were a lot of people you knew. Reiner’s friend from the party was also there, and he was helping to spot Reiner on the machine he was using.

Just then, two people stood up from where they had been lying on a mat. You saw that one of them had short, light brown hair, and the other had…

…darker brown hair tied into a bun.

No. No fucking way.

Was the soccer team at the gym?! At the exact same time as you?!

You almost tripped when you saw Eren turn to look in your direction. You immediately looked away, hoping that he hadn’t seen you.

Your hopes were dashed, however, when you hesitantly looked back over and saw Eren looking at you. Of course he had seen you. How could he not have?

You saw him smile, and then he waved at you. You waved back after a few seconds, trying your best not to fall while you walked on the treadmill.

Eren looked at you for a few more seconds, but then someone called him over to one of the machines.

You tried to look away, but now that you had seen him, you couldn’t. You watched as Eren walked over to one of the weight benches. He sat on the end of the bench and then leaned back until he was lying down. Eren’s teammate handed him a metal bar with weights on the end of it. He held it above himself, and then began to lower and lift it repeatedly.

It looked hard, but it seemed like Eren was used to it as he did his reps with seeming ease. He did a few more sets and then handed the bar to his teammate so he wouldn’t drop it on himself. He sat back up, took his hair out, and then re-tied it. When he finished, he looked up at you again.

You wanted to look away when you met his gaze, but it was too late—he had already seen you watching him.

From across the gym, Eren decided to take advantage of the situation.

You watched in horror as he brought his hands to the bottom of his shirt and then lifted it over his head. Once it was off, he put it on the floor and then looked back up at you. It was clear that he totally knew what he was doing as he leaned back down onto the bench and began another set of reps.

You only watched him for a few more moments because you really were going to trip and fall off of the treadmill if you looked any longer.

You walked for a while before deciding that you had had enough. You brought the treadmill to a stop and took a sip from your water bottle. You stepped off of the machine, and then walked towards the front of the gym where you had left your stuff.

Historia and Ymir were still on the exercise equipment and didn’t look anywhere close to done, so you decided to wait for them in the lobby. You got your bag and walked out of the gym.

You still had your headphones in, and you sat down on one of the benches in the lobby. You spent about five minutes looking at your phone and listening to music before you saw a large group of people make their way out of the gym.

You quickly realized that it was the soccer team. You saw Reiner and his friend walk past you, and a second later, Eren and Jean walked out of the gym.

When Eren saw you, he said something to Jean that you couldn’t hear. Jean looked at you, and then patted Eren’s shoulder before continuing to walk out of the athletics building.

You took your headphones out when you saw Eren walk towards you. He had thankfully put his shirt back on, but his overall post-workout look was doing nothing to help calm your nerves as he walked up to you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were stalking me,” Eren said when he was standing in front of you.

“Haha. Very funny. Remember that time you climbed into my room?” you replied.

Eren laughed and sat down next to you on the bench.

“You’ve got me there,” he said.

You could see that the front of his hair was damp with sweat, as well as some places on his shirt. Eren took his water bottle out of his bag and took a sip. You couldn’t help it when your eyes glanced down to look at Eren’s throat, watching the muscles work as he drank.

You quickly averted your gaze when you saw Eren look at you. He smiled to himself as he put his water bottle back in his bag.

“I didn’t realize you were such an athlete,” Eren said after putting his bag on the floor in front of him.

You rolled your eyes but laughed.

“Oh yeah, totally. I’m at the gym twenty-four-seven,” you replied.

“I can definitely tell,” Eren said. “Maybe next time you’ll even try running on the treadmill.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly and Eren laughed.

“Yeah, well, not everyone can be a pro like you, showoff,” you replied.

You realized your mistake when Eren leaned closer to you with a smirk on his face.

“So you admit that you were watching me?” Eren asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

His words caught you off guard, and you felt your face heat up from embarrassment. You didn’t know how to respond, as you and Eren both knew the answer to his question.

You looked away from him as you mumbled, “Was kind of hard not to.”

You didn’t realize how close you and Eren had been sitting, but you felt his leg touch yours and you turned your head back to look at him.

“Liked what you saw?” he asked when your eyes met his.

It felt like the party all over again. There was this tension that always seemed to build when you were with Eren, and you could feel it again now. You felt your heart start to race the longer you looked at him, and you decided that you needed to do something to relieve the tension.

“And what if I did?” you said boldly.

Eren raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised by your response, but not at all displeased. Your hand was resting on your thigh, and Eren, never looking away, moved his own hand to gently place it over yours. You took a sharp inhale of breath at the contact.

“Are you doing anything right now?” Eren asked.

You looked at him for a second longer and then looked towards the gym. Historia and Ymir hadn’t come out yet, and you figured that they would probably be a while longer.

“No,” you replied, looking at Eren again.

Eren smiled and then wrapped his hand around yours as he stood up. You grabbed your bag with your other hand. You followed Eren as he led you through the athletics building, away from the entrance of the gym. When he got to a door, he opened it and began to walk down a set of stairs.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

He looked back at you for a second and grinned.

“You’ll see,” he said.

You were confused until you got to the bottom of the stairs and Eren opened another door. You emerged into a hallway and saw some offices for sports team coaches, and it seemed like the entrance to the pool was also down here. There weren’t any people from what you could see.

Eren walked to the end of the hallway where there were two doors. You quickly realized that they were entrances to locker rooms. Eren opened one of them and quickly looked inside before closing the door again.

He released your hand and turned to look at you.

“So, here’s the deal,” he said, and you watched him as he spoke.

“I have another shift at the café in twenty minutes,” Eren continued, taking out his phone to double-check the time, “and I don’t have enough time to go all the way back to my room to shower and change.”

You nodded, although you were a bit confused about where this was going.

“So…?” you prompted him.

Eren took a deep breath, almost looking nervous.

“So… I’m saying that you can come into this empty locker room with me right now, or you can say no and walk back up those stairs,” he finished.

You looked at Eren for a few moments after he was done speaking, processing what he was implying by the offer.

Was this really happening?

As you looked at him, at his green eyes that you had begun to find so alluring, you let yourself accept just how much you had enjoyed kissing him at the party. The fact that he had been at the forefront of your mind ever since was no coincidence either.

There was no way in hell you were going to walk away.

You took Eren’s hand and looked directly into his eyes.

“Lead the way,” you said.

Eren glanced down at your lips and grinned. He turned around and pushed open the door to the locker room with you following behind, still holding onto his hand.

As soon as the door closed, Eren was on you. You threw your bag onto the floor somewhere so you could wrap your arms around Eren’s neck as he brought his mouth to yours.

Eren pushed you up against the door as he kissed you, his hands moving all over your body. While he had shown restraint at the party, that was certainly not the case now. You shivered as Eren ran his hands over your chest, feeling every dip and curve, before moving them slowly to your stomach. As he did so, you moved your arms from around his neck to his back, grabbing the material of his shirt.

You let out a tiny gasp when you felt Eren’s hands on the bare skin under your own shirt. His touch was like fire, and you couldn’t get enough. Eren tilted his head to deepen the kiss even more, and you moaned happily as you felt his tongue meet yours. You lifted Eren’s shirt and he groaned when you ran your hands along his back.

After a few seconds, Eren took his mouth off of yours. You felt his breath tickle your neck as he began to kiss the line of your jaw.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that fucking party,” Eren said breathlessly in between kisses.

“Well, that, ugh—" you got cut off as you felt Eren’s teeth graze your neck.

“—that makes two of us,” you finished after a moment.

Eren moved his head away from your neck to look at you, and he was smiling. You smiled back and kissed his lips again. But then, Eren pulled away and took your hand, leading you further into the locker room.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

Eren stopped when he got to one of the shower stalls and grinned.

“I have to shower, remember?” he said.

You felt a jolt of excitement run up your spine. You looked towards the entrance of the locker room, suddenly aware that anyone could walk in.

Eren saw where you were looking and put together what you must have been thinking.

“The sports teams use these locker rooms,” he informed you. “As far as I know, there aren’t any other practices today.”

You looked at Eren and nodded. He smiled and put his hand on your cheek.

“You can tell me if you’re uncomfortable at any point,” he said.

You smiled and kissed him, pushing Eren into the shower stall, clothes and all. He kept his smile as you did so.

“I know,” you assured him.

Once you were in the shower, Eren stepped away from you for a second to turn it on. You shivered as the cold water hit your body, but Eren closed the shower curtain and then covered your body with his as he pushed you against the back wall of the shower so you weren’t directly under the water. You knew that your clothes were still getting wet, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as Eren kissed you fiercely, the water slowly turning warmer.

You reached around to the back of Eren’s head to take out the elastic that was holding his hair up. You wasted no time in running your hands through it freely, pulling lightly on the strands. Eren seemed to enjoy that, as he moaned and the grip he had on your hips tightened slightly.

Eventually, Eren parted his mouth from yours. He looked at you for a few seconds, and you weren’t sure what he was thinking until he began to sink down onto his knees. You had to control your breathing when you felt Eren’s hands on your thighs. He looked up at you and slowly moved his hands to the waistband of your shorts.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

Fully understanding what he intended to do, you nodded eagerly.

“More than okay,” you said.

Eren grinned, and then you felt him lift your shirt up slightly. He began to kiss the area around your navel before moving his hands back to your shorts, slowly pulling them down along with your underwear. You had to steady yourself on the wall behind you as you felt Eren’s mouth move to your inner thighs, and you moaned when you felt his teeth graze the sensitive skin there.

He continued to kiss and nip his way up your thighs until you felt the heat of his mouth right over the place that was aching with need. Eren didn’t waste any time as his tongue enveloped your wet folds. You had to steady yourself again, moving your arm to grip Eren’s hair.

“Shit—” you cursed when you felt him moan at the sensation.

He continued to lick across your wet pussy, not at all shy in his ministrations. You couldn’t believe how good it all felt, and you groaned when you opened your eyes to look down at Eren between your legs.

Eren sensed you watching him and looked up at you, smirking at your flustered state. After a few seconds, however, he took his mouth off of you completely. You were about to make a sound of protest, but then you felt one of his fingers brush against your entrance before pushing inside. Eren started off slow, moving it in and out at a steady pace, and you closed your eyes again, focusing entirely on the feeling between your legs.

A second later, you felt Eren’s mouth back on you. You had to put one of your hands over your mouth to muffle your noises because suddenly, and almost simultaneously, Eren added a second finger inside you and his tongue brushed over your clit. You felt the pressure gradually build between your thighs as Eren continued to work his fingers in and out of you, while his tongue relentlessly stimulated your clit.

You brought your hand back down to Eren’s wet hair and let yourself become lost in the pleasure of it all, letting your body chase its release.

It only took a short while longer, and a particularly good-angled thrust from Eren’s fingers, to bring you moments away from orgasm.

“Fuck, Eren, I—I’m close,” you warned him, just nearly able to speak.

You felt the grip Eren’s free hand had on your hip tighten slightly in response, and he kept going with his movements, determined to make you cum. His fingers thrusted into you even deeper, and he kept moving his tongue over your clit until you felt your release crash over you.

You couldn’t muffle the sounds you made as your body convulsed in pleasure. Eren kept his mouth on you the whole time, coaxing you through it until you were completely spent.

You took your hand out of Eren’s hair and slumped against the wall of the shower. Eren placed a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before pulling your shorts back up.

“How was that?” he asked after he stood up.

You looked at him and smiled happily.

“Pretty great,” you said.

Eren smiled back and then brought his lips to yours to kiss you gently. You moaned softly when you tasted yourself on him. You paused, however, when you felt Eren’s erection hard against your thigh.

You pulled away, and Eren seemed confused until he saw you quickly glance down at his shorts.

He put his hand lightly on your cheek so you’d look back up at him.

“I don’t have time right now,” Eren said. “Can’t be late for my shift.”

You’d honestly forgotten about that. Although you wanted to stay with him longer, you also didn’t want to make him late.

You nodded at Eren and said, “Okay.”

Eren smiled softly and kissed you again before turning the water off. He pushed the curtain aside and walked into the locker room, getting water all over the floor. You weren’t soaked, but your clothes were still uncomfortably wet as you stepped out of the shower.

You saw Eren look through his bag and take out a towel. After quickly using it to dry his hair, he handed it to you.

“Here,” he said.

You smiled and took it gratefully. You wrapped it around yourself, trying your best to dry your clothes. As you did so, you realized that the towel smelled like Eren, and you smiled softly to yourself and wrapped it tighter around you.

Eren walked over to one of the bathroom stalls with his dry clothes. While he changed, you found your own bag on the floor and took out the sweater you had brought. You pulled it over your head, thankful that it was big enough to cover most of your damp clothing.

You heard the door to the bathroom stall close indicating that Eren had finished changing. You looked over at him and saw that he had tied his hair back up and that he was wearing the same outfit he had been wearing that morning at the café. He put his exercise clothes into his gym bag, and you walked over to him and gave him his towel back.

“Thanks for letting me use this,” you said.

He took it from you and smiled.

“No problem,” he said.

You stood there somewhat awkwardly as Eren put his things into his bag. When he was finished, he turned to you and asked, “Ready to go?”

You nodded and picked your bag up off of the floor. You walked with him out of the locker room and through the hallway. You walked side-by-side up the stairs, close enough that your shoulders would brush against each other as you walked.

When you emerged back into the lobby of the athletics building, you saw that Historia and Ymir had not yet finished at the gym. You quickly took your phone out to check if one of them had texted you to say that they were leaving, but neither of them had.

You walked with Eren to the entrance of the athletics building where you both paused.

“Well, you better get going,” you said after a moment.

Eren nodded and then opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then closed it again, rethinking whatever it was he was going to say.

“I—uh, how do I say this?” Eren began, suddenly looking shy.

“It’s been fun running into you unexpectedly,” he continued, “but what if, maybe, we met expectedly sometime?”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“I’d like that,” you said.

Read part 4 here

[hoenursey]

here it is, y’all, the nurseydex theatre kid au i never finished (and probably won’t ever). if any of y’all remember, this was going to be the othello au lol !! whoops.

_X_

God hated him, obviously. That much was apparent. God hated him or did not exist, because no loving god would do this to him. No loving god would have him, fingers wrapped delicately and squeezing ever so slightly at one (1) William J. Poindexter’s slim neck, and no loving god would force him to have his blocking so that he needed a knee wedged between Will’s thighs and his other hand pinning his wrist to the bed, and there was absolutely, positively no loving god that would have Will gazing up at him, pupils blown wide as a half erection tented the silk nightgown he was in, in the middle of Samwell College’s black box theatre.

There was just no way in hell, Derek reasoned, as Will swallowed and he felt the bob of his throat run down, down, down the center of his palm. A loving god would open up the floor and fucking eat him, just let him die right then and there.

“Will, you should be thrashing!” Monetta yelled, and Derek flinched, then forced himself to relax and slowly pulled back.

It happened like this.

“We have no backup for Desdemona,” Monetta spat. “Who fucking– who changes their major now? Who drops a class in the middle of the fucking semester? Can you even do that?” She whirled around, eyes wild, and Derek backed up slightly. Monet could be kind of… wild, sometimes, when she got going.

“Uh–”

“It’s rhetorical!”

Everyone in the theatre flinched.

“I need a backup. I need one now. I don’t care if it’s a fucking dog. If the dog can act, I don’t give a shit. I just need a fucking actor. Find someone who’s got chemistry with Derek and I will fucking kiss you.”

“I’d prefer it not be a dog,” he said hesitantly, and Monetta turned her head in his direction. Only her head, and a single, mad-looking eye focused on him.

“But you know what? I, uh. Can work with that. A dog, I mean. Anything. The show must go on.”

Monetta’s head turned back, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“Hey, what about Will?”

Nevermind, he thought to himself bitterly. He turned a flat look on Chris, who was smiling cheerfully, as usual, a wrench in his hand.

“Who?” Monetta asked. Her brow was creased, the script she’d been waving still dangling from her long fingers.

“He–” Derek tried to say, but then Monetta threw the script at him as Chris said, “He’s the one who’s been helping Larissa with sets! Me, Will, and Derek had our freshman humanities course together!”

“What does he look like?”

“Red hair, freckle-y,” Mandy called from the rafters.

“Mega freckle-y,” Jenny confirmed. “And he’s, like, p good at acting. He’s got a great voice, loud and, like, strong and stuff? Super pale, kind of angry just like as a person. He’s a little awkward but like once you get him comfortable it’s fine. We had 1302 together; actually, it was Othello, so he already knows the lines! He’s super rad!”

Monetta turned to him, and he gave her an uncomfortable look. “Please tell me you can work with him. Derek. Please. We really, really, really don’t have time to do another open casting call, and frankly all the non-actors in here suck. Please. We have three. months. Tell me you don’t have any problems with him.”

“He’s an asshole,” Derek grumbled. “A rude asshole who thinks i'm irresponsible and laughs at me when I fall–”

“But can you work with him on stage?”

Derek sighed softly as Monetta turned the closest thing she had to puppy dog eyes on him.

“You’re helping with my calc work,” he said tiredly, and she beamed at him. “Call him up, Chris. See if we can get him here by tomorrow.”

It happened like this: Monetta took one look at William Poindexter and fell in love with him. He monologued for her and she looked ready to propose. They found a costume (after damn near an hour of sizing and shaping and pinning and honestly, his ass was just unfair) and she had their children’s names picked out.

“Thank you so much for this. I’m so sorry we had to call you in so late, and this is so–”

“It’s, um, not a problem?” he said, almost a question, smile curving his pink lips, because of course he had an uncomfortably endearing smile.

“Monetta, one problem,” Caitlin Farmer said muffledly. They looked down at her where she was hemming the bottoms of Will’s pants, a few pins tucked between her lips.

“Yes, Caitlin?” Monetta asked, voice tense. Caitlin pulled the pins from her mouth and handed them to Derek, saying lightly, “Hold these, please?”

“Uh, we don’t have any period clothes for this. The sleep scene, where Othello kills Desdemona? We only have women’s robes and gowns, and I know costuming gets cumulative grades on like accuracy. It won’t be so bad if the rest of the costuming is good, but we’re hella underprepared and I know they don’t want to make an entire new outfit this late in the show.”

“What do you have?” Will asked. Monetta, Caitlin, and Derek all looked at him, surprised– he hadn’t really said much outside of a few words confirming or agreeing with whatever they said.

“Just… silk nightgowns. That’s it. The little strappy shift ones? You probably don’t want to wear those, i’m sorry–”

“It’s-- uh, don't worry about it,” he interrupted gently. “A few weeks in a shift dress isn’t going to kill me. Besides, i’m already gay and, uh, sort of out, so like, what's the worst they can say to me?” Derek’s brain went blank. Will was gay? Will was gay? Was he single? Why did he care?

“Derek!”

“Sorry, what?” he asked, blinking at Monetta.

“I said, go get ready for practice. We’ve gotta get your blocking down.”

“O-okay,” he managed.

“And I want you and Will to practice outside of this period! Go hang out, get dinner in the dining hall together! You’re supposed to be married, okay?”

Shit. Fucking shit fuck shit– “Okay, Monetta. Dinner, dining hall, practice. I’ve got it. I can hear perfectly clearly.”

“But does your brain work? I doubt you sometimes.”

It happened like this: they started having dinner together, and then lunch together, and then breakfast, and then Derek was sitting with the engineering majors and Will was sitting with the poetry kids and they were both sitting with the theatre kids. It happened like this: they bickered, and Derek flirted, and Will snarked, and they practiced until they were dead on their feet.

It happened like this: they hadn’t practiced kissing by themselves, just line work, because they didn’t really have the space to do blocking anyways. Or that was what he told himself, anyways, because he kept thinking about how much he wanted to, and he poured over the kissing scenes in private: how he’d kiss him, how delicately or firmly it would be done, and how most of all there wouldn’t be much more effort to pretend that he was madly in love with him, because of course he had to fall in love with anyone who smiled at him.

It happened like this: Monetta needed them to practice the kissing scenes in rehearsal.

“You’re both single, right?” she asked idly as she checked over the set backgrounds, Derek scanning over his blocking notecards from on top of one of their desks.

“Huh?”

“You and Will. Single?”

“Well... I am,” Derek said slowly. “But I wouldn't know about Poindexter. He's never mentioned a partner though, and it doesn't seem like his style to not, like, say anything. Want me to ask?”

“Sorry, I had to drop off some supplies to the culinary lab,” Will called, the door slamming behind him, and they turned to look at him.

“Will,” Monetta hedged, “You’re single, right?”

He paused, looking at her curiously, then nodded a little jerkily, shrugging off his bag and jacket. Nursey tried not to stare at the way his shoulders filled out the tight red “Samwell Computing” shirt (gay, gay, gay, his brain was chanting, gay, gay, stop thinking about how broad his shoulders are, gay). “Far as I know.”

“Great,” Monetta said, relieved. “Sorry, just… last time, we accidentally caused a few breakups? And chairs got thrown. I really don't wanna see that happen again.”

Will chuckled softly, flexing his wrists a little and then pushing up onto the stage with his hands, rolling into a standing position neatly. Derek was dying. “Well, no angry, uh, boyfriends here. Or girlfriends.”

“Fantastic,” she murmured. “I’d hate for you to have a chair thrown at your head, we really don’t have the time to find another Desdemona.”

“You know you’re supposed to care about other people’s well-being, right?” Jenny called down from above the stage, where she was fixing up some of the lighting that had fallen earlier. Mandy nodded in agreement.

Monetta took a moment to consider it, face thoughtful, and then shrugged, pivoting on her foot and walking away from Will and Derek.

“No time for that either! Everyone get dressed, we’ve got a lot of work to do today and some people still aren’t off book.”

“It’s literally just act two,” Connor said irritably from the fourth row, though he still stood to move backstage. “That’s it. Excuse me for not memorizing every single one of Iago’s stupid little asides--”

March smacked him on the back of the head and he yelped, indignant. “What was that for?”

“You don’t have to get insulted four times a week for a month, Wisnewski,” she grumbled, “So can it.”

[towerfandoms]

3AM Encounters

A/n: I feel like everyone uses that title but oh well I’m uncreative when it comes to titles. I’ve been simping a LOT for Shinsou recently so here enjoy this <33 and ik requests are off but for Shinsou I make exceptions ✨✨✨

Summary: Shinsou had trouble falling asleep and was laying in bed, counting as the hours passed by. That is, until he heard footsteps outside

Pairings: Shinsou Hitoshi x reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none just fluff

Despite the many times Shinsou had laid awake at 3am, he still could never quite get used to the eerie silence. It was times like this when he truly understood the phrase “deafening silence”. The quietness felt too loud. The nothingness made him feel uneasy. During the day, he despised hearing the loud screeches of jumpy teenagers but now, he almost misses it. He could hear just about every little thing, the slight gust of wind from outside his open window, the creaking of his bed every time he shifted to get comfier and the footsteps outside.

Wait,,, outside?

Shinsou grabbed his phone from his bedside table and squinted at the screen, the harsh light illuminating his room. It was 3:15AM. Trying to make as little noise as possible as to not draw attention to himself, he heaved out of bed and looked out the window that was overlooking the gardens. He was surprised to be met with the sight of a black silhouette scurrying across the gardens, making their way towards the equipment shed. They were dressed in what seemed to be a black hoodie and pyjama bottoms. He couldn’t make out their face, their hood masking all their features. Leaning out a bit to get a better view, he noticed they were holding something close to their chest. He wasn‘t sure but to him it seemed like a box.

Now this peeked the teenage boy's interest. He wondered what was inside the box to make them run so early in the morning. They were most likely a student in his year as these gardens were predominantly used by second years, since they were right by their dormitories. Should he go after them and make sure they weren’t getting into trouble? Thinking, he had nothing better to do and the chances of actually being able to fall asleep were slim so he decided to investigate. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say or do when he met the person but he just hoped they weren’t up to no good.

He pulled on the first sweatshirt he found and carefully made his way down to the backyard. He stopped when he thought he heard footsteps and thought of just going back to his dorm and letting the person do whatever they wanted. He wasn’t the class president or anything so he wasn’t obligated to check on every little out of the norm. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep influencing his decisions but for some odd reason he desperately wanted to know what the person was up to. When he first joined the Hero Course in second year he announced to everyone that he wasn’t looking to make friends. However that soon changed as he got to know everyone. He still wasn’t the most sociable person but hey who knows, maybe he’ll find a kindred spirit when it comes to the inability to sleep. So he let curiosity get the better of him and pursued onwards towards the equipment shed.

Once he was outside the shed, Shinsou leaned his head against the rotting wood trying to listen in. He was surprised to hear low whisperings but he couldn’t make out anything bar a few hushed be quiet’s. He stiffly stood outside for some time, unsure whether to knock or barge in. He decided knocking would probably be silly so he opted with the latter. In one swift motion, he swung the handle and stepped inside.

The scene before him was baffling, to say the least. Whatever Shinsou was expecting, it definitely wasn’t this. The black figure from before was kneeling down,  their back to him, petting a large grey cat while a kitten was on their lap. There were three more kittens around them, all purring and rubbing their heads against them, whining for their attention. When they heard the door creak open, they rapidly swung their head around, eyes wide at the thought of being discovered. So they were quite surprised when their deep e/c eyes met with Shinsous' own lilac hues.

They both stayed staring like that, neither pulling away and refusing to break eye contact. After what seemed like hours but couldn’t possibly be more than a few seconds, Shinsou finally pulled away, looking to the side while sheepishly bringing a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“Sh-Shinsou!” was the only thing you managed to say, confusion clouding your brain. Just what was he doing here this early in the morning? Then an even more alarming thought popped into your head. Was he going to report you???

Sensing your disarray, Shinsou quickly tried to explain himself, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, um, you don’t have to worry about me snitching or anything haha,” he nervously fumbled out, “I-I just saw you running and was wondering what you were doing is all…” he trailed off, unable to look at you in the eyes.

Of all people he had to meet in the middle of the night, why did it have to be you. You were also in 2-A, in fact you sat behind him in most of his classes. You two had a few brief encounters but it was enough for Shinsou to feel butterflies whenever he crossed paths with you. You were really sweet to everyone, always smiling and happy to lend a hand to anyone in need. Well you were the class president, he supposed, it was your job after all. Still though, the level of kindness you showed them all was something that not even Bakugou wanted to push away. As if your looks and kindness weren’t enough, you also had a killer sense of humour. You were always sending the funniest memes, tweets and tik toks to their class gc and responded to his sarcastic comments with ones of your own. You were without a single doubt one of the most perfect people Shinsou had ever laid his eyes upon. And now here he was seeing you surrounded by cats??? Hell, in his eyes you were quite literally an angel.

“Oh! Whoops, I suppose I should’ve been sneakier,” relief evident in your voice as you chuckled softly. Thank God it was just him and not someone like Iida a stickler for rules.

However, the fact that he was here now meant that...

”Wait a second! Did I wake you up??? Oh my God no, I am so so so sorry. Ugh, I feel so horrible now,” your tone changing abruptly as you ushered out an apology.

“What? No, no, it’s fine. I was always awake,” he quickly replied back looking down to meet your shining eyes again. There was only one window and the moonlight trickled through, enhancing your eyes and accentuating all your lovely features. You really looked as though you were hand-carved by the Greek Gods themselves.

You met his eyes again, sharing a look of sympathy as you understood his pain.

“Oh, you couldn’t sleep either? That’s why I came down here. I found the mama cat and her kittens three weeks ago. No one seemed to be feeding them or even know of their existence so I was kinda like damn, alright I’ll take care of yous,” you rambled on, almost forgetting about the kittens beside you, desperately mewling for attention.

You stopped to take a deep breath and started playing with the kittens next to you, looking up at Shinsou awaiting his reply.

Shinsou on the other hand was so absorbed watching you play that he didn’t even realise you were finished talking until you gave a small laugh.

“Do you wanna come over here and play with them?” you asked a small smile splayed on your lips.

He could not say yes fast enough. He walked over to where you sat and carefully kneeled down so as to not scare away the kittens. He gently started petting mama cat who instantly became smitten with him. Shinsou slowly began to smile, the pure adoration for these kittens displayed on his face.

You allowed yourself to stare at Shinsou while he wasn’t paying attention. Shinsou was a beautiful man, even Kaminari noting his good looks. You two never had much interactions bar a few good mornings and complaining about training. The usual small talk. He was always polite and when in a good mood would throw a few sarcastic comments here and there. Though he was never rude, it always felt like there was a barrier between him and the rest of the class that no one could quite break down. However now, early in the morning you somehow felt closer to him. It was like he was slowly letting his guard down. Even though neither of you were talking, you enjoyed his company, the silence almost comforting.

Despite how much you enjoyed just being next to him and petting cats, you also wanted to talk to him. It was hard talking to him in class, what with the walls he surrounded himself with. You decided now would be the best time to get to know him if you ever wanted to make a lasting friendship with him.

You wracked your brain for a conversation starter, not wanting to be too dry to bore him away nor wanting to be too chaotic to scare him away. God, just why were you so nervous anyways? It's just Shinsou after all. Why did talking to hot boys always have to be so hard ugh?

You looked over at him again, admiring his toned body that could almost be seen through the sweatshirt. You let your eyes trailed down until you noticed his pyjama bottoms. They were baby pink with Hello Kitty printed all over it.

You had to suppress a scream of joy. They were without a single doubt the most beautiful pyjamas you had ever laid your eyes upon.

“I like your pj bottoms,” you said teasingly, though that wasn’t your intention.

“O-oh, thank you,” he muttered, surprising himself by getting out a coherent sentence. Inwardly though, he was cursing himself for not throwing on a pair of sweatpants. You probably genuinely meant it but it was still something Shinsou didn’t want to go around flaunting. Fortunately for him, it was too dark for you to see the tinge of red on the tip of his ears and cheeks.

When he looked back up at you, he was expecting a face of mockery but was pleasantly surprised to see you smiling, your eyes shining brightly under the dim moonlight. The peace he was feeling before returned and he started to feel more confident in your comfortable presence.

“Y’know,” he started, his deep velvety voice becoming more confident. “Aren’t you the class president? What would Iida say if he found out?” he asked, completely breaking the ice between yous.

“You wouldn’t dare,” you said in a low voice, feigning a look of mock fear.

“I don’t know, it just wouldn’t be honest. My guilty conscience would never be able to handle it,” he replied, a teasing smile dancing on his lips.

You couldn’t stop smiling at the thought that he was willing to continue the conversation. You wanted to see how much longer you could make it last.

“Hmmmm, well how about I make it even. If you want, you can join me to feed the cats. They need to be fed in the day too, so it’s not like we’re always breaking the rules.” looking down as soon as you finished, afraid of the answer. You didn’t want to seem like you were being too pushy but at the same time you really enjoyed Shinsous company. The morning was slowly coming to an end and soon you both will have to go back to your dorms. You’ll both have to continue classes the next day and pretend this night never happened. You wanted it to continue. So you waited with baited breath for Shinsous reply.

Coincidentally enough, Shinsou had also been thinking the same thing. He had thoroughly enjoyed his time. Though you both hadn’t spoken much, your presence really put him at ease. He felt so much more relaxed around you. It would be a shame if this was the first and last night of spending time with you and the kittens. So when you asked, he knew his answer straight away. He just had to somehow play it off cool and act unbothered.

“Deal. I guess I have enough time to visit the kittens. And you too, I suppose,” he added with his signature smirk.

You felt your cheeks heat up but managed to return a mischievous grin of your own. You quickly pulled out your phone and sighed with disappointment when you checked the time.

“Unfortunately, I think our time here has ended. It’s nearly 4am, the sun will be coming up soon. And we have annoying classes tomorrow,” you stated a bit sad about the fact that such an enjoyable night has come to an end. However he did say he’d continue joining you so that kept you somewhat excited.

Shinsou looked at you, mouth slightly parted in shock.

“4AM already? Shit, sorry for keeping you up for so long,” with that he tried to remove mama cat from his lap who had fully made herself at home on it. She lazily stretched and got off, a bit annoyed that her nap time was ruined.

You and Shinsou both stood up and brushed yourselves down, dusting off any dirt that may have stuck on to you from the old floors.

“I can walk you back to your dorm,” Shinsou offered, his hand rubbing the back of his next.

“How chivalrous,” you giggled slightly. “Don’t worry about it, besides we wouldn’t want anyone to catch you in those stunning bottoms now would we,”

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes irritably but there was a pleased smile on his lips, indicating he wasn’t really annoyed.

You both made your way back to the dorms, whispering softly to each other occasionally. You broke apart to go to your separate dorms and try to get at least a couple of hours of sleep.

You lay awake in your bed, replaying the encounter and a bit upset at how quickly it had ended. You remembered his eyes, his smell and his deep velvety voice. You couldn’t stop smiling stupidly when you remembered your conversations. Somehow thinking about his voice managed to help you drift off to sleep, your last clear thought being Shinsou playing with the kittens.

A/n: I tried really hard to keep it gender, race and features in general neutral. If there’s any place where I could improve or switch up my words please let me know and I’ll be happy to oblige :)) constructive criticism/ feedback is always appreciated in fact encouraged so do not hesitate to tell me anything. Anyways thank you so much and have a lovely day yall <33

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Fight

CW: Ableism against a child, references to attempted noncon/assault of a survivor, religious references to the Bible, conditioning, trauma recovery, trauma response

TIMELINE: Immediately post-Creepy Pet Lib Guy. Links in piece.

She hears his footsteps, the soft motion of him through the living room and into the den, where a single lamp is on in the corner on the side table next to the old couch Paul never could bear to throw out. Ronnie doesn’t look over at him, instead picking at a bit of duct tape affixed over a ripped spot while sipping her beer straight from the bottle.

There’s a show on the television - they have a new one finally, but Ronnie’s never thrown out a damn thing that wasn’t broken just because it got replaced and she’s not about to start now, so she moved it in here - but she’s not watching it. Not even sure what the show is, only that the laugh track is tinny and never seems timed to the moments of actual humor. 

The house is mostly silent, this late at night. There’s no sound but the occasional gurgle from the ice machine in the fridge, the soft hum of electronics that she never notices except when the power goes out, and then only because of its sudden absence. 

No sound but the television’s off-key laughter and the footsteps of her son, creeping up behind her. 

“Mommy?” His voice is so high and soft, fuzzy with sleepiness, and she turns with a tired smile to see him dragging his favorite blanket behind him along the floor. It’s a quilt she bought at a church’s Christmas market when he was two, and it had buttons sewn in with the patches, giving the cats the quilt is decorated with three-dimensional button eyes. 

His face is rounded and so like his father’s, even so, his face and eyes and his hair are all Paul’s, through and through. He’s an echo, a clone of his father, in a lot of ways… up to and including navigating a world that has already labeled him as difficult, and he’s only six years old.

“Hey, baby. What are you doing up?” She’s twenty-three with a six year old son, and doesn’t that seem strange, some days? So many of her friends from high school are still out until dawn, posting photos of their drunken shenanigans on Facebook, and here Ronnie sits… twenty-three, with a husband who works nights, and a six-year-old son whose teacher calls him hopeless, right to his fucking face.

“I, I, I had a bad dream,” He says, and his eyes are so, so big in his small round face. Paul’s eyes are like that, big and green and soulful. She’d fallen into them, her junior year, and she’d never wanted to climb back out. No matter that her friends thought he was weird, no matter that yeah, okay, he is weird - he’s her kind of weird, and she and Paul understood each other right from the start. 

“Oh, no.” She pats the couch cushion beside her and he clambers almost eagerly up to tuck himself in beside her. Her throat nearly closes as he carefully spreads his blanket out to cover them both, the simple gesture of care and love. How do you look this boy in the eyes and tell him he can’t do something? “What was your bad dream about, do you want to tell me?”

“Monsters,” He says, as if that single word relays all the information she could possibly need. Maybe it does, really - at least the monsters her son dreams about are easier to vanquish than the ones Ronnie has to help him learn how to face on his own as he grows.

“Good thing I monster-proofed this house before we moved in,” Ronnie teases. She moves her arm around his shoulders and he smiles, faintly, eyes closing as he leans his head against her collarbone, his ear right where he’s always wanted it, ever since birth - over her heart. Listening to her heartbeat. Sure enough, his fingers find their way to her stomach and start to tap in time with it, and Ronnie sips her beer again.

“Monsters aren’t, aren’t, aren’t real, actually,” He says, speaking quietly and without opening her eyes, and Ronnie thinks if her six-year-old well, actuallys her one more time… she read all the parenting books and has a whole shelf of parenting memoirs she’s picked up and not a single one mentioned that little kids are fucking know-it-alls. Not one.

“Well, if they’re not real, then why are you buggin’ Mommy at midnight because of dreaming about them, huh?” She keeps her voice light and affectionate, just this side of teasing. Tristan doesn’t react well to any kind of perceived anger or rejection, moping for a day or more around while his brain tries to process that she didn’t stop loving him just because he did something that bothered her. Tris as a toddler broke her heart more than once with terrified insistence that you, you, you don’t even like me anymore after time-outs or discipline.

He’s just being manipulative, her mother had said once, but Ronnie knew better. 

He’s three years old, Mom. He’s not trying to manipulate me, he’s scared.

He’s just doing what works, Veronica, you can’t always give in to it.

Mom. He is a little boy. Do you realize how you sound?

Now his teacher is repeating the same tired circular logic that cycles round and round her son without ever seeing him. Ronnie is staring down the barrel of another round of meetings, talking to administrators to try and get around the teacher’s rigidity and hostility, arguing for Tris to get moved into a new class, and all the while he’ll fall further and further behind in his in-class work - while at home he rockets through the homeschooling workbooks she buys, a six-year-old already doing second-grade reading and writing work, first-grade math, obsessed with a kid show about science that they have to watch every single day or he has seriously informed her he might die.

The knowledge is there, and his love of learning hasn’t been throttled by school yet, and Ronnie can’t do anything but try to work within a system that tells her that her son needs to be changed or cured in order to not be kept locked away from everyone else.

Monsters are pretty fucking real, in Ronnie’s experience. 

One day her son will have to learn that all the monsters are human beings.

God, she’s so tired of fighting, and so very aware that she’s not going to stop until the whole damn world remakes itself to give space for Tristan, until the world deserves how unreservedly her son loves it.

She takes another drink, then sets the beer bottle carefully down on the coaster - she ordered them last year, and they all have little stylized drawings of the three of them on it, faceless sketches of a man, a woman, a child - man and child red-headed, woman with brown hair. 

When she’d gotten the positive pregnancy test, right before Thanksgiving her junior year, she’d thrown up and cried for a week and been sullen and silent at the holiday table, trying to figure out what to do next.

But Paul had never hesitated. When she told him, his response had been to go home to his dad and ask to start working part-time with the Garden, running packages he never looked into, playing lookout outside of bars while the Garden met inside. His first pay - cash handed to him in an envelope - he’d spent some of it on a onesie, a baby blanket, and a stuffed puppy with fur so soft Ronnie could barely stand the fluff. 

Then he’d spent some more on ginger chews and ‘Preggo Pops’, lollipops that were supposed to help with Ronnie’s morning sickness, and three books on pregnancy for her and one book on becoming a dad for him. 

Paul did what Paul always did - took one look at a cliff he had to cross and simply leapt headfirst and hoped for the best. That impulsiveness that she loved and that had gotten him in so much trouble in life, the enthusiasm that carried her long with it.

There are monsters in the world, Ronnie thinks, running fingers through her son’s fine, soft hair. But there are people who help you fight the monsters, too. Even if the monster is just the stares from other students at school as her stomach grew, the way her friends’ parents stopped letting her come to their houses, the thin-lipped disapproval of the principal handing her a high school diploma as she half-waddled across the stage, refusing to be shamed, engagement ring on her finger. Even if the monster is a world that tries to shove her son into boxes that he can’t fit into, or a teacher who sends him home in tears convinced he’s too stupid to learn anything.

Her jaw sets.

Veronica Higgs has been headstrong since birth, and she’s never made a decision she didn't follow through on. Never turned away from a fight. She’s not about to start now, not when it’s her son.

Ronnie has never turned away from the sweet baby that had looked at her with such dark-eyed seriousness when he was born, the infant who cried for reasons Ronnie couldn't’ fathom, the toddler who screamed that the lights at Target hurt his skin, the little boy who lined up dinosaurs and cars and toy horses in perfect color gradients, the boy who rocks in her arms and hums when he’s happy, the boy she hopes will one day be able to live on his own without her, because…

Because if only Paul and Ronnie are going to fight for him, then they’re going to have to be a fight so fierce that everyone else can’t possibly hold out against them.

The doctors said he might not talk - and he talks a mile-a-minute, about any-fucking-thing that comes into his mind. They said he wouldn’t make friends easily, but he goes on sleepovers with his gymnastics buddies, just went to a party at Chuck E. Cheese with a little preparation so he wasn’t scared of the games and lights and noise when he got there. They said he would struggle in school, and-

Well, he does. But only because of the adults who refuse to understand that Tris learns just fine… if you let him listen in his own way.

“Hey, Tris?” She smiles down at him and he turns those big green eyes up to her. There’s a chapped spot on his lower lip that looks like he might have messed with it until it opened into a sore, and she reminds herself to get some vaseline on it. “You want to stay here with me for a bit? We’ll watch one of your shows, and then back to bed. How’s that sound?”

He smiles at her, and nods a little, still tapping along to her heartbeat. “Oh, oh, okay, Mom. Can, can, can… can-can… can we watch Dino King?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ronnie hates that show, but really - he loves it, and it’s one night, and she could use the way his open, brilliant happiness helps her forget that he’s going to have to work harder and harder to hold onto it as he grows.

She picks up the remote, brings up the menu, switches to a streaming network, and listens to the grating, familiar theme song start to play as her son’s eyes move contentedly to the screen. 

He watches the show, but he never takes his head away from her heartbeat.

---

Natalie Yoder has had easier nights than this one, that’s for fucking sure. She leans over the kitchen table, papers spread out in front of her, trying to figure out where they went wrong. This is one of their biggest grants, it’s a bit of funding that she has always relied on, and… denied approval for the upcoming fiscal year. 

Thousands of dollars she needs to feed and clothe and house her rescues, gone up in smoke, denied with a bloodless email and no ability to fight back, not for this one. Not this year. It could be a simple error, something she overlooked, sure. Or maybe the association that gives out the grants is suspicious of her story about transitioning homeless people into permanent housing, which really is exactly what she’s doing, isn’t it?

Just… not the kind of homeless people the grant givers are imagining.

She’ll have to call Vince to beg for him to help her fill in the gap, and that will mean time for him to speak with his finance guy and get another couple of shell companies to funnel the money through so it doesn’t go back to him. He’ll give it to her, to be sure - Vince could give her the money to run this place flat out for the rest of his life and still be one of the wealthiest men in America, thanks to his low-key lifestyle and strong work ethic meaning he spends more time filming or producing than he does doing anything else.

Nat knows why Vince doesn’t want to be home, to sit up alone with a bottle or a glass in his hand. She knows his work ethic is simply escaping the demons that will never stop haunting his footsteps, what he traded away for his success, what he lost, what the money and fame can protect him from but can’t remove the stamp of it already written over his soul.

He’s famous, and rich, and Owen Grant can’t touch him now… but the tradeoff of Vince’s survival was that some innocent kid was abducted and turned, through drugs and torture and horrifying assault, into Kauri.

Kauri, who hasn’t answered the phone or sent a text in a week.

Not since that fucking group meeting where Chris was assaulted and Kauri stood up for him. Not since Kauri’s intuition that Kyle had some less-than-savory interest in Chris had proven correct, because… it wasn’t intuition at all.

It was experience. 

Nat groans, rubbing her hands over her face, closing her eyes and reminding herself, teeth ground together, to try and stay calm. It’s not unusual for Kauri to disappear for a while, a week or more. It’s not a sign that something is wrong. He was hurt by Nat pushing him, he needs time to think. 

He’ll pop right back up again, smiling like nothing happened, like he isn’t giving Nat gray hairs (well, new ones, anyway) trying to tell herself he’ll be okay.

All she can do is trust that he’ll come back when he’s ready.

... and castigate herself for letting that fucking predator get close to Chris without picking up on what he was planning, and for not realizing Kauri wasn’t just being overprotective of a younger rescue, but - in his own way - waving giant red flags that Nat, and Jake, and everyone else just didn’t see.

That, and then losing the grant, have made for one hell of a fucking week.

Nat takes deep breaths. Her hands smell like dish soap and a hint of the roasted garlic she’d put in the soup for supper lingering. The kitchen still smells like the garlic, roasted parsnips and rosemary. Chris had never had parsnips before-

Not that anyone knows if he really hasn’t or not.

“Oh, Nat, you are a mess tonight,” She mutters to herself. “Just full-on moping, huh? That’s how we’re gonna play it?”

Then she hears the soft scrape of a foot on the tile and looks up, blinking, to see Chris in the doorway, leaning against the wood of the frame, the big purple fuzzy blanket she’d gotten him a few weeks back wrapped around his narrow shoulders, the hints of faded muscle that still linger there. Usually he’s draped in Jake’s clothes but tonight he’s only wearing his basketball shorts, no shirt at all.

The rare glimpse of so much of Chris’s skin - she hasn’t seen so much of him since the night he arrived in the pouring rain - tells Nat more than anything else that Chris isn’t okay, either. 

“Hey, Chris. What’s up, sweetheart?” Nat glances over at the oven, squinting at the clock, and then groans. “Jesus, it’s nearly 2 am. I lost track of time, I guess.”

Chris doesn’t move from the doorway, not at first. He’s gone quiet again, since the assault, regressing back into periods of stillness and silence that they were so sure he’d gotten past. Jake says he’s testing again, trying to push Jake and Antoni into repeating the patterns that were tortured into his mind as normal, reacting with relief at their rejections - and then testing again, within hours, reminding himself that they’ll never say yes.

Nat looks at him, the shadows under his green eyes, and tries, “Did you have a nightmare?”

He slowly nods, and she watches his hands twist a little into the soft fabric of his blanket, rhythmically twisting to the side and back, nearly invisible with how well he can hide what he does to soothe himself, a skill taught in all the worst ways, learned in a desperate attempt to keep himself sane.

“Hm. I can see that. Was it about the meeting, the other night?”

His eyes dance away from hers, move to the ceiling, and he’s staring upwards at the rough texture up there as he nods, chewing on his lower lip with his top teeth, worrying at a spot that she knows he’ll eventually work to bleeding, sooner or later. He pauses and says, softly, “Kauri… didn’t come find me. That was, was my... my dream. And... it. It hurt.”

His voice, slow drips of speech, hits Nat like a knife to the heart. She nods, slowly, and pushes herself up, chair scraping back across the tile. Chris flinches minutely at the sound, curling a little into himself. “I understand, sweetheart,” She says, softly. “I’m so sorry we didn’t know sooner.”

She thinks, looking at him, of Daniel in the lion’s den, an old Bible story that’s never left her. Daniel trusted God and walked out unscathed, but she’s always thought maybe he wasn’t quite as unscathed as the Bible wants you to think he was. 

It’s one thing to have faith that you’ll survive being thrown in with monsters - it’s another to be so inhuman that you don’t wake with nightmares, for months or years after, that you were never saved at all. She is certain, deep down inside of her, that Daniel dreamed of a lion’s teeth and a promise broken, a prayer unheard.

The stories talk about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in a furnace walking out of the flames untouched, but of course the flames had still touched them. Scars aren’t always written openly on your skin. 

Of course they dreamed of flames scorching their skin, curling their hair, smoke stealing breath from their lungs. They, like Daniel, must have woken gasping, certain that their faith had been misplaced, that their trust that someone stood between them and the monsters who would destroy them had been betrayed.

They must have breathed, panting, in the middle of the night, and sworn they could still see the smoke in the air, feel the heat against their skin. 

They must have needed to come fully awake to remember - and believe - that they had been rescued. They must have needed the reminder.

Chris has no scars from walking with monsters - all his scars are inside his head. Chris’s scars come in his fear that she will not want him, that no one really wants him, when he can’t fight back or say no or defend himself, when he needs someone else to be his defense, to go to war. They come in his insistent, constant testing of Jake, pushing to see if it’s all been a lie, if they only want to use him the way he has been taught he is made to be used.

“Kauri was smarter than any of the rest of us,” Nat says, feeling suddenly exhausted. “We should have listened. I shouldn’t have had to step in. You deserved better.”

Chris deserves a fucking angel to lead him untouched out of the flames.

All he has is Jake - and Nat. 

She fills a saucepan with cold milk while he watches her, his eyes on her back a tangible, palpable weight, and pops a lid on, turning the dial until the flames flicker up from the burner to start heating it to a simmer. 

“I’m going to have hot chocolate the old fashioned way,” She announces, pulling down a bag with some discs of melting chocolate in it. They cost too much and mostly nobody notices the difference, but tonight… tonight, she thinks the extra effort is worth it. “You want whipped cream on yours, when it’s done?”

“Yes, please,” He whispers, and she looks over at him with a small smile. His hair is mussed still from sleep, a hint of red on his cheek where he must have had it pressed into a pillow. His freckles stand out in the thin light of the kitchen’s overhead light fixture. 

Next door, at Miss Ruth’s, a light turns on, and Nat glances through her own window to see it. Jaden, probably - that kid sleeps about as little as Chris does.

“Well, good, because I’m having some, too.” She pauses, leaning her back against the kitchen counter. There’s a long silence that draws out between them. The milk heats, bubbling just the tiniest bit around the edges in the saucepan, and Nat carefully drops in the chocolate discs to melt whisking until the liquid is a rich brown, thickened, ready for her to pour carefully into two mugs and top with the spray-bottle whipped cream she keeps in the fridge.

Nat sets the mugs down on the kitchen table, pulling Chris a chair up right next to hers. He relaxes a little at the tacit, silent request for closeness, drops into his chair with a slight smile playing over his face. He picks up the mug with both hands and takes a sip, getting whipped cream at the end of his nose, wiping it off with a scrunched-up expression that lifts some of the fatigue that dogs Nat’s muscles in the early-morning hours.

“I know the dreams are scary,” Nat says softly, reaching out to lay a hand on his back. He looks over at her, with those giant green eyes in his narrow face, searching for something in her. Maybe just for certainty that the promises she’s made to him will be kept. “But Kauri did come to help you. And you’re safe here, with us. We’ll always come for you, Chris, no matter what.”

He leans over, with slow inevitability, until the top of his head brushes against her neck, his head just at her collarbone. She lets her arm slide around his shoulders, her hand moving to run fingers slowly through his fine, soft coppery hair. “I, I, I forgot how to say no,” He whispers, and presses his head against her. 

“I know, honey. But that’s okay, we get back up and try again, right?” Nat sips her own hot chocolate slowly, and Chris holds his cupped warm in his palms, but even as he keeps taking sips, he doesn’t pull away from her. Eventually, he puts the mug back down on the table and shifts a little, so his ear is just over her heart.

“We, we, we try again,” He whispers. “But, but, but I don’t want to, to, to, I don’t-... want to be, um, to be scared again, to… have someone-”

“I know.” Nat swallows, her throat closing, briefly, but she fights it back and keeps her voice - and her hand through his hair - steady as she speaks. “There are going to be bad people out there, Chris, who want to hurt you. But you’re not alone.”

She thinks again of Daniel, waking from nightmares of gnashing teeth, maybe kicking off blankets and pacing a room, his skin written invisibly with the aftermath of a terror that never punctured skin. She thinks of three men in a fire, dreaming again and again that the fourth never arrived to lead them out of the flames.

She thinks of promises made, and kept. Prayers spoken in desperation, and answered, although so often far too late.

She thinks of the prayers for mercy, in the cold white rooms, that are never heard at all.

She’s tired, but she loves them - all of them, who have passed through her doors and gone on to other places - and she can’t imagine being anything but their army, their defense, the wall they can hide behind to rebuild themselves until they fight on their own. 

Not on their own, though, never really on their own.

She may never know what happened to him, to bring him here to her doorstep - but she knows that he doesn’t have to face the monsters, the flames, the danger alone. Not anymore.

“You’re safe here,” She says, gently, and turns her head to rest her chin on top of his head. “You’re safe here, and loved, and there’s nothing we won’t do to make sure you’re safe. Whatever comes at you, sweetheart, we’ve got you. And we’ll fight it for you, every time, until you can fight for yourself.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he asks, in a whisper, “Do, do, do you you-you promise?”

“Promise, Chris. Cross my heart and hope-”

“Don’t-... don’t say the, the end of it.” His voice weakens. “Please.”

“Sorry, sweetie.” She tightens the arm around his shoulders a little, and feels him snuggle closer in response, a low sigh of relief at the reassurance in the embrace. “Swear on everything. I’ve got you, and Jake has got you, and we’re not gonna disappear. I don’t-... I don’t know if we can always save the day for you, Chris, but I can promise you that we will always try.”

He hums, eyes closing. One of his hands slides over her stomach, and begins - slight, soft, barely-there - to tap. 

It takes Nat a few seconds to realize that he is tapping along to the beat of her heart.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly  @newandfiguringitout  , @doveotions  , @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @moose-teeth  , @cubeswhump  , @cupcakes-and-pain  @whump-tr0pes  @whumpiary  @orchidscript, @itallcomesdowntopain

[stonylovessteve]

Creator Reveals

We’ve reached the end of the exchange and that means it’s time to reveal the creators of all our works.

Thank you for putting so much love and effort into Stony Loves Steve 2020, you really made it a great experience. We hope everyone loved it as much as we did!

Giftees, be sure to leave a comment and kudos on your gift if you haven’t already. All our creators worked hard to make this event a success, so show them some love.

You can now post about your work publicly outside of the exchange. Tag it as #stonylovessteve2020 on tumblr and we’ll reblog you. @ us @stonylovessteve on twitter and we’ll retweet you.

Below the cut is the final list of all the works produced for the exchange and the creators.

Love thy neighbor by captainstars for picturecat  (616, 2.2k Words)

Neighbors are supposed to come around to borrow a cup of sugar; these ones take Steve’s husband instead.

Or

“So let me get this right, you came here to save me?” He asked.

Steve ducked his head down in a nod.

“But you managed to get captured by my kidnappers?” He added.

Steve paused, and then repeated the motion.

“And somewhere in the midst of all that, they turned you into a cat.” Tony pointed out, like it wasn’t obvious.

Funnel Cakes and Ferris Wheels by jehbehee for muchmoremajestic (MCU AU, 5.4k Words)

Tony takes Steve on a road trip to help him relax before his last exam.

give me something sweet by starkboi for starksnack (MCU, 1.5k Words)

Steve loves baking on his days off, there's just a missing ingredient that's been on his mind lately.

operation: grocery shopping by starksnack for avengersandco (MCU, 6k Words)

Steve, Peter, and Peter's trusty sidekick Mister Dog set off on a quest to check off everything on their grocery list. Will they find everything they need and get rewards from Tony?

Featuring cloud watching, scented markers, and Born This Way by Lady Gaga.

Moon and Stars by DepressingGreenie for march_hyde (MCU, 2.6k Words)

Steve and Tony spend the full moon at their cabin in the woods.

there's no place i'd rather be, without you beside me by ircnshield for starkboi (MCU, 10.5k Words)

“I don’t think he wants you to leave,” Natasha jokes from the couch.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Tony says as he bends down to scratch behind the dog's ear. “Look, buddy, I’ll give you a treat if you stop looking at me like that and let me go down to my lab.”

Dodger, seemingly unimpressed, walks closer towards Tony’s shoes, turns his body around, and simply drops his body on top of them.

Turn a Little Faster by Ishipallthings for b0n3l3ssm1lk (AA, 5.4K Words)

Tony and Natasha pose as a couple for an undercover mission. Steve doesn’t find this distracting. Not at all.

And yet, it all goes downhill from there.

(5 times Steve is distracted thinking of Tony, and 1 time Tony distracts Steve on purpose.)

Taking chances by hundredthousands for shcrlockholmcs (MCU, Comic)

Tony can’t resist it when Steve gets like this, and he’s feeling a tad uninhibited tonight.

say my prayers by farawatt for jayjayverse (616, 3.3k Words)

Steve gets into the motel at a quarter past nine in the morning.

You've Got That Power Over Me by stevesnarkrogers for alexcat (MCU, 8k Words + Fanvid)

“Pull it together, Stark,” Tony muttered to himself.

Steve’s chest ached at the sound of Tony’s voice. God, he missed him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and see if they could—no. YOU pull it together, Rogers. You’re here to help Tony, not yourself. Eyes up, soldier.

Net of Wonder by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes) for Syan (MCU, 2.4k Words)

"You can't control me." Then Tony whips his tail again to turn away from his father.

"You swim out that door and I'm planning your wedding and coronation myself."

Tony stills. He swallows down the way the oppression tries to pound him flat. But there's no avoiding the inevitable. He looks over his shoulder to glare at Howard. "Be my guest. It's not like you ever would have listened to me anyway."

Tony isn't expecting an apprentice when he goes to meet with Yinsen after a blowout fight with her dad, but he finds all that and more in Steve Rogers. Steve gives Tony everything he needs while Tony runs from his future, never knowing that their futures might be more entwined than they'd realized.

diastolic pressure (in between heartbeats) by firebrands for betheflame (MCU, 8k Words)

For flame, who gave the prompt "Steve and Tony have been fake dating for a while, but everyone else thinks they're *really* in love. When a mission goes terribly and Tony is presumed dead, Steve realizes he's in love with Tony and Dramatic Shenanigans Ensue."

Same Difference. by Perlmutt for Huntress79 (MCU AU, 5k Words)

Tony and Steve are the successful heads of two different divisions of SHIELD IT Security and are the walking wet dreams of all ladies in the company. Tony Stark is the elegant genius with his dark humor while the newcomer Steve Rogers is known for his gentlemanly behaviour and kindness. On the surface the two men are rivals. But there's more to it than meets the eye...

Canteen food is horrible, the intern is chaotic, and Tony goes toe-to-toe with a hyena to rescue the princess who doesn't need to be rescued...

Why Need a Thousand Words? I Prefer a Picture Instead by march_hyde for Neverever (MCU, 4k Words + Art)

Steve is struggling with a project for Tony, not that he knows of it. So of course Tony finds out and has to help out with whatever he can do.

Operation Check Yes or No by avengersandco for hundredthousands (MCU, 2.7k Words)

Steve just wants Tony to notice him, but he’s not sure how. Lucky for him, his friends help him make a plan to capture the attention of the one he wants.

When I Look At You by Syan for AvengersNewB (MCU, Comic)

Steve is always looking at Tony in very meaningful ways... Or very embarrassed ways, depending on the situation~

for god's sake, dear (just say yes). by frostfall for captainmistyknight (vicspeaks) (AA, 10.8k Words)

Ever since they’ve met, Steve has been in love with Tony Stark. So when Tony makes a marriage pact with him, he jumps at the offer, thinking that’s the only way he could have Tony.

Fast forward five years, and Steve is ready to pop the question to Tony, with hopes that maybe, just maybe, Tony feels the same.

That is, until he meets Carol Danvers, who just so happens to be dating Tony.

Honey, Keep the Sugar, You’re Enough for Me by Shamen610 for avengersincamphalfbloodstardis (MCU, 1.6k Words)

"I want you to draw me like one of your french girls." Tony had said, the very first time he had walked through his door.

Steve, who had been carrying a bag full of paints and a canvas under his arm, had barely been able to keep everything under wraps upon hearing the bold words.

Or

Steve doesn't actually have a Sugar Daddy, no matter what Bucky says.

Lullaby by alexcat for XtaticPearl (MCU, 1.9k Words)

Steve has nightmares and Tony helps.

Achromatic by captainmistyknight (vicspeaks) for firebrands (Marvel Noir, 2.8k Words)

"Steve’s life ended the moment he was born, according to the doctor’s at least. Of course, it took them awhile to figure it out, but when he was three years old, his Ma realized that on top of all the other issues he had to deal with, his eyes weren’t responding properly to light. She took him to the doctors to get tested, and they spoke his doom.

He was permanently colorblind. An achromat. He’d never know love."

A story of growing up, misunderstandings, and love in the jungle.

Easing Into Us by HogwartsToAlexandria for wingheads (MCU, 4.9k Words)

No matter how much he's tried, Steve could never find the right moment to tell Tony, to come out to him in a setting that'd be both private and allow him to flee if it didn't go as well as he hoped it would.

Until some jerk at the bar decided that Tony being an out and proud trans man was reason enough to pick up a fight. And Steve couldn't stand by and watch it happen.

Tony didn't much like that. At first. Ask him again tomorrow.

Bring Me His Heart by jellybeanforest for firelightmystic (MCU, 6.3k words)

Steve Rogers, infamous cat burglar, is hired by Tony’s business rival and ex-girlfriend, Sunset Bain, to carry out a little corporate espionage, namely to steal the original arc reactor prototype Stark had surgically removed from his chest.

Steve does steal his heart, but perhaps not in the way his employer had envisioned.

Or:

Tony interrupts Steve mid-heist in his penthouse and assumes he is the escort he hired for the night; Steve doesn’t correct him.

Memories of Us by muchmoremajestic for QueenE (MCU, 3.5k words)

An examination of three objects in retrospect as part of a scrapbook for a birthday gift for Steve.

Graphic Design is my Passion by zappedbysnow for talesofsuspense (Marvel, Comic)

Tony was about to have lunch when he saw someone he didn't want to run into inside the restaurant. He quickly backed away and snuck into a cafe nearby, plunking his ass onto a chair shielded by a wall, which just happened to be Steve Roger's art class.

Steve is an artist who does commercial work and draws comics. He spends his weekends teaching a drawing class for free at a local cafe. He doesn't recognize the guy who snuck into his class in a suit that looks like it costs more than his month's rent but he looks stressed and like he's running from someone. He can let this one slide. And no. It's not because the man looks damn fine. He's just a sympathetic guy.

The Love of Every Single One of My Lives by jellybeanforest for farawatt (616, 10.3k words)

Tony loves Steve, and he will always love him no matter how many times he has to bury the man before he gets it right.

Priceless by njava97 for kesktoon04 (MCU, 9.3k words)

Steve Rogers feels like he’s finally gotten the hang of this waking up in the future thing. He’s been dating Tony Stark for 6 months now and it's been going surprisingly well. But when an extravagant anniversary present brings up bad memories and a mission goes sideways, Steve is forced to confront the fact that maybe the first step to letting go of the past involves letting people in. Or: Steve Rogers has a series of epiphanies in a hospital bed, expresses a couple of emotions, talks about his problems and gets all the love he deserves.

AKA my love letter to Steve Rogers.

Ouanga by fundamentalBlue for venusiaries (MCU, 7.7k words)

Steve wakes up to the sound of screaming.

Take a Hand by RoseRose for HogwartsToAlexandria (MCU, 3.4k words)

Steve is single, alone, and about to give birth.

Fortunately, Tony is an amazing nurse.

Falling in Love at the All Day Cafe by betheflame for BladeoftheNebula (MCU, 3.9k words)

One of the things about the particular block they lived on was that at the corner was, quite possibly, the world’s best bakery. It was Zagat rated and everything, so it wasn’t just Tony that felt that way. People flew in from all over the world to eat at All Day Cafe - Tony had bumped into Gwenyth Paltrow a few months ago and thought it was his best friend, Pepper, and that was awkward - and their pastries were no joke.

Run by Olympic Gold Medalist Steve Rogers, the cafe specialized in classic French pastries with American twists - like a pain au chocolat that also came encrusted in pistachios - and routinely sold out of their daily specials within two hours of opening. Peter, in particular, loved their peanut butter cookies that the baker swore was nothing special but Tony was wondering if they’d laced it with kiddie cocaine or something.

Tony, in particular, loved going to stare at the owner.

That’s What You Get (for waking up in Vegas) by bon3l3ssm1lk for JehBeeEh (MCU, 1.3k words)

A dimly lit bar blasting dance music. A rugged man making conversation. A third round of beers, courtesy of the man. A fourth, fifth, and sixth round.

Steve couldn't remember much else.

laughing in bed by wingheads for RoseRose (MCU, Art)

prompt: sex with laughter

James & Barnaby by Wikketkrikket for mariana_oconnor (MCU AU, 16.7k Words) 

Steve Rogers has medical debt so ridiculous that if he doesn't do something about it, his mother will be out on the street. He swallows his pride and agrees to a 'charity marriage' with the elusive son of Howard Stark, so Howard can show off how wealthy and generous they are. Maybe it would have worked, too, if he hadn't then met the love the love of his life on his last night of freedom.

Still (Until you moved me) by GuiltyFan21 for maythecat12 (MCU, 2k Words) 

Steve hates it in the 21st century, where everything is so different. Life's a mess, the only constant thing being SHIELD coming to check on him. Until he meets Tony Stark, a brilliant genius who makes him feel more human.

The Icing on the Cake by BladeoftheNebula for Lacrimula_Falsa (MCU AU, 2.8k Words) 

Steve’s a bit low on cash this month, so he figures making a bit extra by jumping out of a cake couldn’t hurt.

If only someone had told the birthday boy that.

The Next Life by Sheron for hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes) (MCU, 2.5k Words) 

Eventually Tony had said: listen, I own an island, let's go.

artwork and email by ohjustpeachy for njava97 (MCU AU, 6.7k Words) 

Tony makes a donation to Art Reach, a non-profit, never expecting to get such a kind thank you note in response. He certainly never thought he'd find himself excited to look in his inbox every day, eager for a new message from the foundation's director, Steve Rogers, but here he is. Or, Tony falls for smol Steve over a bunch of emails and everyone knows it but him.

Hug n' Fly  by talesofsuspense for rebeccakbaa (616, Art) 

Iron Man flies Steve back to the mansion after he loses the serum.

who's that? by venusiaries for Perlmutt (MCU AU, Art) 

Quarterback Steve Rogers meets the love of his life in the hallway.

Closer Than Together by shcrlockholmcs for ircnshield (MCU, 5.6k words)

The annual Stark Industries Gala is coming up and Steve wants to ask Tony. But his efforts are of no avail and they both end up going alone. How can Steve stand by and watch everyone else take a bite out of the man he has feelings for?

Brooklyn Life by ashes0909 for himbos (MCU, 1.6 words)

Steve mentally followed his boyfriend's path across the bedroom and down the stairs into the living room

“Oh that fucking--!” Tony cried before he’d even made it past the couch. “Steve!

Objectively Perfect by AvengersnewB for Wikketkrikket (MCU, 2k words)

Going on an objectively perfect, but absolutely horrible date might be the last sign Steve needs to finally talk to the guy he actually wants to be on a date with, so desperately.

(Spoiler: The guy is Tony)

Instinctual by mariana_oconnor for DepressingGreenie (MCU, 17k words)

The true effects of the super soldier serum are top secret. Only a few people know the truth - the serum turned Steve Rogers into a werewolf. Steve still hasn't found a way to tell Tony, even though they've been in a relationship for months. He can't bring himself to explain that he's a monster.

But when they are clearing out an AIM base, that decision is taken out of his hands.

Could Never Resist a Man with Facial Hair by kenshincha for zappedbysnow (MCU, 1.5k words)

The team is tired of Steve and Tony pining for each other. They decide to do something about it.

A timely revelation by frosted_astronaut for captainstars (MCU/1872, 2.3k words + Moodboard)

Sheriff Rogers is in love with Tony Stark, the blacksmith. However, he denies it even in front of himself, until it's time for him to realize that he can't live in a lie forever.

Central (Jurassic) Park & More by cccoffee for nanasekei (MCU, Art)

A collection of art pieces for Stony Loves Steve 2020!

Something Fell From the Sky by jayjayverse for Shamen610 (616, Art)

When Tony is missing in action. Steve starts looking for him right away and when he finally finds him, it's nothing like he thought it would be.

-The art is really explicit so take care :)

I'll Catch You (If You Fall) by maythecat12 for ishipallthings (MCU AU, 10.4k Words)

New York: an artist and a superhero, an accident, and getting back together.

Just One Of Those Nights (The SLS Remix) by Firelightmystic for jellybeanforest (MCU, 6.4k Words)

Natasha's been angling to set Steve up on a date for a while now...

In Your Wildest Dreams by Neverever for cccoffee (AA, 3.4k Words)

The Guardians ask the Avengers to pick some flowers. What could go wrong with that?

Breath of a Fish by picturecat for sheron (AA, 4.9k Words)

Their relationship was courteous, as it must be for any two witches who had no interest in feuding with one another properly. But to someone he could trust not to repeat his words, Steve often complained that Stark was basically a warlock, the way he carried on with esoteric nonsense and ignoring the needs of the people. For his part, Steve had no idea what Stark’s objection to him was. He knew only that the man so obviously delighted in teasing Steve that the people of their town regularly placed bets on when they expected them to come to blows.

The Ballad of Nomad by himbos for GuiltyFan21 (MCU AU, 3.1k Words)

Set in the Old West, Steve Rogers, who moonlights as the vigilante Nomad, and his lover, Tony Stark, make a stop in the town of Extremis. Little did they know, trouble awaited.

How To Woo A Living Legend (by Anthony Stark) by Huntress79 for stevesnarkrogers (MCU, 1.5k Words)

Past the fight against the Chitauri, Tony finally finds the courage to act on his long-harbored feelings for a certain Captain. But he never, ever would have expected that the “Tactical Genius of the Century” could be this blind in regards to Tony’s attempts.

Take a number by jellybeanforest for kenshincha (MCU, 7.2k Words)

Since an unforgettable one-night stand a few years prior, alpha Steve Rogers has pined after infamously-promiscuous omega Tony Stark. He may not have much money, but he has scrimped and saved for the past couple years, determined to declare his intentions by getting the man the best courting gift he can afford, something to distinguish himself from the dozens of more well-heeled suitors gunning for the heart of the elusive billionaire.

All-American Cupcake by One and Five Nines (Obani) for frostfall (MCU, Comic)

“You’re a jackass sometimes, Steve. I’ve seen you get into a fistfight with three guys at once, but you can’t even TALK to the guy you’ve been in love with since we opened.”

[alkhale]

Shoot the Ball (Ushijima x Reader) Ko-Fi request

Guuuurl can I please get like a bunch of accidental run in encounters with ushiwaka plssss I feel like he doesn’t get much love

Here’s the problem with a school like Shiratorizawa.

It’s a big school.

Fucking huge.

Massive campus yet elite, trimmed student body with a very personal class average of students to teachers. Private tutors are offered in every nook and cranny of the libraries, and the dorms are luscious and extravagant.

Unknown to many of your classmates but most of your team members are aware, you got into Shiratorizawa on a favor from your childhood kyudo coach and a hefty scholarship you had to claw your way towards over a bunch of other studious bookworms. 

You’re the leading star on Shiratorizawa’s kyudo club, the ochi from your tachi group, the last person to shoot, the person who guides the rest of the team. You also hold the position of captain in your third year at Shiratorizawa, and kyudo is all you have ever known and love.

But, but, but, but, at a school like Shiratorizawa where a classic, high performance sport like kyudo, a traditional, beautiful sport like kyudo should be fairly popular, your club and your teammates’ performances are always outshone by more high-energy, easily watchable sports.

Shiratorizawa’s sports expect nothing but the highest level of triumphs from all their divisions. From basketball to dressage on horse, each club is required to perform admirably. If you perform well, the more funding you got for your club, the more prestige, and all good things.

Shiratorizawa’s kyudo club is actually high on the list, last year your team placed first at the Inter High and made it to the top four in nationals. Despite all this, despite the fact that you even scored consecutive kaichus, hitting all your marks and not missing a single arrow, making waves in the kyudo community and getting higher renown for your team, your headmaster still refused to acknowledge your club.

You’d come to him, white headband tied around your head, posters ready, armed and prepared to fight tooth and nail for an increase in funds and a spot at advertisements because if your fellow student body just knew about the sport, more people would join, more people would watch, and your club wouldn’t be in danger of closing down after you graduate or declining—

“It’s just not popular!” your headmaster clapped you over the shoulders himself, beaming. “Keep working hard though! Good job last year!”

Because popular and television-worthy, massive poster worthy, constant overhead announcements in the morning and the afternoon about matches, constant offered opportunities for extra credit, belong to certain sports at Shiratorizawa.

Shiratorizawa’s Boys’ Volleyball team.

Every morning you came to school and stared in disgust, not out of a personal vendetta for the guy, but for his whole damn team for taking the spotlight for the past three years you’d been here at Shiratorizawa, at the giant, blown up poster lining your school’s walls, posted in any classroom you two might have together. He flooded the school’s daily bulletin, online articles, even the god damn konbini near your house when your returned home for the holidays.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Volleyball star, playing for Japan’s national youth team—which was something you did drool over because nationals was your goal for kyudo—and even top of all his classes.

You kinda hated this guy and you didn’t even know him.

But it was no matter because this year you planned to take your team all the way to the top. Everyone at this damn rich school was going to known kyudo and love it, damn it. They were going to sing your praises all the way down the halls, line up outside the shooting range to get a peek at your beautiful team and fall in love with the bow.

All the way to the same stage this rich, boastful school’s especial crowning achievment and pride, enough to get them their own stupid bus, enough to get them their own damn gym, enough to get them their own damn cheer squad and—

Your first real, personal meeting with Ushijima Wakatoshi goes something like this:

I don’t need more protein, I need better results. You frowned, staring at the picture of the protein drink you’d been texted that was apparently quite popular these days, according to your fellow teammate. She constantly sang its praises, promising nothing but the best and urging you to start getting into it.

“Your practice schedule is too rigid!” she lectured, shaking her hands at you as you notched another arrow and took aim. “You’re going to shoot arrows till you’re an old maid! No one will marry you at this rate!”

“Kyudo will marry me,” you said, completely serious. “I’m marrying the best kyudo archer of this era and no one else.”

“He’s over fifty!”

“I like them older anyways.”

While normally you would have ignored your vice captain in favor of your own home remedies, your joints were acting up lately, specifically your left wrist and that was never a good sign. You had a feeling the tautness to the new string you were trying to break in wasn’t doing you any favors either. You needed to keep an eye on it in case it got worse.

I can’t bring this team down.

The school’s mini-grocery was fairly empty at this hour. Most students were back at the dorms and anyone still lingering around should’ve just finished with their own club practices.

The rows were designed so items could be taken from either side, not just one. You browsed the aisle, tempted by the choco-snacks but willing yourself to put another batch of fruits in instead. Have to treat my health like second nature. Results don’t come from potato chips.

“Finally,” your eyes zeroed in on the brightly colored bottle. A hefty size, meant to be poured out in cups and drunk daily. You had no idea how it would taste, but by your vice captain’s face, it couldn’t be too great.

You crouched down, reaching for the last bottle on the lowest row.

A massive hand engulfed yours at the top of the bottle’s cap, swallowing your hand whole.

“Holy shit!” you shrieked, ripping your hand away—only to find yourself unable to do so with the massive hand still laid down over yours. You hit the floor on your ass, gaping in horror at the monstrous palm and the calloused fingers and fearing this was finally the moment you were dragged into some abyss by an unknown creature and killed—

Eyes like olives, flecked with gold.

You stared, caught, unable to move for a second. You’d always thought his eyes were brown. You never noticed the weird lining to them that gave them a sharper look, like an eagle or—

“My bad,” Ushijima. Ushijima Wakatoshi said, his voice a deep, resounding rumble in his chest like a goddamn bear. 

He crouched there, sitting back on his heels, directly across the aisle from you, peering through the metal shelf like some kind of monster trying to fit through a crack. His massive hand and massive arm barely had to leave his body to reach the same bottle of protein you’d both been shooting for. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

All at once, the flood of posters assaulted your brain. The blaring announcements, the squealing girls, the headmaster, the volleyball buses with his face printed on the side, the magazines, the articles and—

You blinked, once, twice.

His lips parted.

You ripped your hand out from under his with a hefty amount of force. The action sent you flat on your back and you were sure he’d gotten a front row view of under your skirt but you really didn’t give a crap.

“Have it!” you barked out, awkwardly scrambling to your feet. You grabbed your basket and Ushijima blinked once at you, slowly, face monotonous. “You need it more anyway, jerk!”

You huffed, shoulders puffing up. Ushijima was silent on the other side of the aisle, wordlessly taking the bottle of protein with him as he stood.

You gaped.

HE’S A LIVING TREE.

Your neck actually craned a bit, straining to look up at him and he stared down at you from the top of the aisle.

His arm promptly stuck itself through the gap in the shelf, offering the drink to you.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, voice devoid of emotion. “You should take it.”

For some reason that irked you.

You forcefully—struggling with great difficulty—shoved the drink back to his side through the shelves. Ushijima blinked once, slow down at you and you bared your teeth at him before hoisting your basket up into your arm and storming to the check out where you flew through your wallet, aggressively paying the lady at the counter, nearly running into a smirking redhead at the doorway and rushing the rest of the way to your dorm where people kept asking why you looked so damn mad.

“Who was that?” Tendou chirped, sidling up to Ushijima. “A fan?”

Ushijima stared out the still swinging door and calmly examined the bottle of protein in his hand.

“No,” he said.

“...you gonna continue with the sentence or what?” Tendou prodded.

I hate this time of the year. You frowned, burrowing deeper into your muffler as you fought the early morning chill. Several other students were trudging beside you, sleep in their eyes as you all headed to the regular meeting for club time slots. You always showed up as early as possible to get the best dibs for your club. 

You absently kicked a pebble in your way, wondering how you should organize practice this week. You wanted to brush up on your form again and—

Why was everyone looking at you like that?

“Good morning.”

It took you a moment to realize a massive shadow had engulfed your own. You stared at your feet for a moment, rubbing your eyes before slowly turning.

Ushijima Wakatoshi bore down on you, face cast in dark shadows from the early morning darkness, puffs of steam clouding by his mouth where he breathed.

He looked like a monster.

You felt your hackles raise, nearly jumping out of your sneakers as you started to backpedal away from him, “Hah?”

“Good morning,” Ushijima said, looking completely unfazed by the crack of dawn and cold.

You continued to hurry backwards toward the gym while barking back at him as Ushijima took calm steps forward—since you were both headed the same way—every three of your steps one of his own.

To anyone else, it looked as though a bear were advancing on a chihuahua.

“G-Good morning to you too!” you snapped. “Bye!”

“What?” Ushijima asked.

“I said bye you—”

“We’re still headed the same way.”

“Stop following me then!”

 - - - - - - - - 

You smirked, hefting the pile of posters into your arms. This was it, this was going to work for sure. No way anyone could ignore the please join flyers if you were pinning them up all around the school, and the team had worked hard to make it stand out and eye catching, appealing to all genders and interests.

Your wrist was starting to bother you a bit, so you shifted the papers to the other arm. I got careless trying to get the bow turn again. I need to slow it down and ice it tonight.

Who says we’re last on the funding list? You grinned, grabbing your tape. They can’t ignore us with a bunch of members—

“Good afternoon.”

You screeched, dropping your stack of flyers onto your foot. They scattered the hallway.

Ushijima calmly turned his gaze downwards, staring at the colorfully illustrated flyers now flooding both your feet.

Join the kyudo club!

“You,” you snapped, urging your heart to calm and shoving your tape back into your pocket. You hurried, grabbing the flyers and restacking them as he stood, towering above you. “What the heck do you want? Do you get some kind of kick out of scaring people or—”

In one smooth, swift motion, Ushijima had crouched down beside you. You stared, gaping in disbelief as his large hands—he has such big hands, I’ve never seen anyone with hands that big, this guy is all muscle and—moved across the floor, gathering up the papers in one fell swoop. His bangs shifted slightly over the slight furrow of his brows. 

Ushijima looked at you, quiet, somber, unreadable as he carefully put your stack back together.

He looked weird in the school uniform. You were so used to seeing him in his volleyball one. He seemed like a different person. Oh, you’re the type that leaves the first button undone.

“I did not mean to scare you,” he said, slow, with that rumbling voice of his. It sent a timbre down your spine.

Ushijima remained silent, staring calmly at you, seemingly content with the silence.

“Y-Yeah, well,” you started. “My bad then.”

You quickly stood, lifting your stack. You stared down at Ushijima for once as he calmly looked up at you and promptly ran off without another word, unable to figure out the weird awkwardness that sat on your tongue whenever you dealt with him.

I mean, it’s not like I really… hate him right?

Why the hell am I running into him so much?

You just needed to shoot some arrows and you’d feel a lot better.

-----------

You shot too many arrows.

You frowned at your throbbing wrist, giving it a look of utter betrayal. The nurse had said to give her a few minutes for her to come back with some pain killers. You were only in the infirmary this time because the pain had gotten to a point where you’d actually dropped your bow in the middle of a draw.

Prelims are coming up. You glared harder at your wrist. You just needed to ice it and you’d feel better. I can’t let them down.

You were taking them straight to the top and then it’d be kyudo posters this school would see, not just stupid Ushijima’s face and—

“(L/n)-san.”

You screeched, nearly toppling off your stool. Your wrist smacked into the counter and you hissed in pain, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

Ushijima stood in the doorway of the infirmary, staring at you with furrowed brows.

Why him, why now? You grunted in greeting, gingerly rubbing your throbbing wrist, turning away from him toward the window.

You heard the door close behind him, focusing all your attention on anything else to ignore the massive presence behind you.

“What happened?”

WHY IS HE TALKING TO ME. 

“Oh, this and that,” you said simply, vaguely, struggling to find better words. You… you really didn’t hate this guy personally or anything, but it was personal at the same time? You didn’t know how you felt about him and it was making you confused.

You hated being confused.

Ignoring any and all other social cues, Ushijima took a seat on the stool beside you, back and posture impeccable. His hands calmly set on his knees. His volleyball uniform like second skin against his form, revealing nothing but miles of muscle and hardwork.

You stared at him in disbelief.

Ushijima faced forward, face unreadable.

….okay. You awkwardly glanced to the side, rubbing at your wrist. Way to make it even more awkward. Does this guy not socialize much or what?

“Uh,” no! Don’t talk to him! Just keep your mouth shut! “What happened to you?” you said awkwardly.

Ushijima’s face relaxed an inch. You blinked in surprise.

“My knee,” he said. “Coach made me go get it checked out.”

“...me too,” you said. He looked at you. You looked away. “Not my knee, I mean. My wrist. My vice captain will have my head if I didn’t. I told her I could just ice it.”

“You should be more careful,” Ushijima said.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“I’m sorry?”

“You do not need to apologize.”

You stared.

Ushijima motioned to your wrist, not taking his eyes off your face, “Your fans would be disappointed if you were unable to perform.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“You do not need to apologize,” Ushijima said again, shaking his head. You gaped at him. “I would be disappointed. I wish to see your kaichu again.”

Your brain short-circuited. You were left to dumbly look at Ushijima. He seemed to take pity on you and turned fully on his stool, several heads taller, looking down at you before he calmly said—

“I am a fan of your archery.”

The two of you sat there in silence.

Steam shot out of your ears as your face exploded into red. Ushijima watched in silence as you toppled over your stool and back onto the ground.

- i also stan one giant tree

[cali-holland]

Always You, Part Two- Tom Holland Mini Series

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader; little bit of Harrison Osterfield X Reader

Prompt: A drunken night 5 years later leads to a very awkward encounter between you, Tom, Harrison, and your roommate… but when Tessa goes missing, you have to face your past with Tom. 

Word Count: 5700

Warnings: parent issues; mentions of anxiety and sex; drinking; swearing

Loosely Based On: What Your Father Says by the Vamps

Part One

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

“Georgia, really, I don’t want to go out tonight.” You told your roommate, a.k.a. your best friend.

“You promised we’d go out for drinks once school was over. And we’ve got three reasons to celebrate tonight: we’re back home in Kingston, my friend, Caleb, is throwing two parties this weekend back-to-back, and we just graduated from Cambridge- and you were first class!” She emphasized the last part, by far your proudest achievement.

“You’re not wrong.” You let out a sigh, biting back a smile.

While away at Cambridge, you got a job through the university, which helped you to save up for your life outside of college. You remained on your parents’ good side throughout college, letting them uphold their end of the deal while you upheld yours. Your parents continued to pay for you through college and you hadn’t talked to Tom since you slipped out on him that night. For the first several months, it hurt like hell to think about it, but eventually your focus on academics numbed away the pain. Now, you were free from your parents, living on your own with a job lined up for the next month in Kingston at a law firm.

You still lived with your past haunting you, but Tom seemingly moved on with his life. He landed the role of Spider-Man, just like you knew he would. You couldn’t bring yourself to watch any of his movies; it hurt you too much to relive that pain of leaving him. Fortunately for you though, your roommate didn’t watch any of his movies either.

“This weekend is party weekend. We’ve worked our asses off for years for this, especially you.” She said.

“Fine. But I don’t want to be out too late tonight, alright?” You asked, standing up from your bed and looking through your closet for something to wear.

“That works. We’ll get you all loosened up tonight, and then tomorrow night you’ll go wild.”

“Oh god, one day at a time.” You teased as she walked out of your room laughing.

Later that night, you two arrived at the party and you felt yourself grow anxious over the new social scene. You were a 23 year old college graduate and this was the first party you had ever gone to.

“Let’s get drinks.” Georgia said, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the crowd. You didn’t know how she managed to maneuver through all of this, but you two eventually landed at the make-shift bar. You reached for a cup of beer, but she stopped you.

“Y/N, shots! This is good vodka, too!” She insisted, but you shook your head.

“I’ll do shots tomorrow. You said tonight was to loosen up for tomorrow, right?” You replied, taking the cup anyway. She laughed before throwing back a shot.

“You got me there.” She stated, taking another one.

A little while later, you had somehow lost Georgia in the crowd. You sipped on your single beer for a few hours before finally deciding you wanted to leave. You went searching through the crowd only to find her down a quieter hallway, pressed up against someone.

“Georgia, come on.” You said, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the stranger. You wanted to leave so badly that you didn’t even look at who she’d been making out with. As you two walked away, you could’ve sworn you heard someone call out your name. Shaking your head, you went outside to get a cab with your drunk roommate.

“I can’t believe you cockblocked me.” Georgia slurred as you two arrived home.

“There’s always tomorrow night.” You informed her, not paying much mind to her words. “Do you even know his name?”

“Tod? I think?” It came out as more of a question than an answer. “I don’t care. Let me tell you though, the boy knows how to kiss. His tongue was heavenly. Damn, I wonder-“

“God, please stop talking.” You groaned. You continued helping her get to sleep safely before heading to sleep in your own room.

But you couldn’t sleep. The calendar on your wall reminded you that it was arguably one of the worst days of your life. It marked five years to the day of you leaving Tom; five years ago tomorrow, you left him for Cambridge. Every year the ‘break up’ (if you could even call it that) hurts a little bit more than the year before- as you were always left pondering on the what if’s.

“No. Not this year.” You told yourself, shaking your head. “This year, I’m moving on. I’m going to go to that party with Georgia, I’m going to have fun, and I’m going to hook up with someone.” You paused, “Maybe.”

You weren’t sure when you drifted off to sleep, but you know that you ended up having the same terrible nightmare of seeing Tom again and having to explain yourself. It was the same nightmare every time- Tom standing before you with the saddest look on his face and you crying out into the void, apologizing for everything. It always ended the same too, with him turning away and leaving you as if he hadn’t heard you say a word. If you had to really pinpoint a reason as to why you haven’t even tried to speak to him in all these years, it was because you were still in love with him and you couldn’t handle facing him again.

“Morning.” Georgia said as you made your way into the kitchen. She sat at the kitchen bar, eating a bowl of Cheerios. A bottle of blue gatorade sat beside her, half full.

“What’s with the gatorade?” You asked.

“Hangover.” She replied, “Gatorade and plain ass cheerios are the only thing that work for me.”

“I was wondering why we didn’t have the good Cheerios.” You laughed, getting yourself a bowl of cereal. Though you only really had a few hours of sleep and your heart was aching, you bit it down and maintained your new “moving on” persona.

“Did I drink tequila last night?” She asked.

“I think it was vodka.” You answered, “Why?”

“I taste tequila, and I don’t like it.” Georgia scrunched up her nose in disgust.

“Maybe the guy you were snogging had tequila.” You teased and she let out a small groan.

“I have to say, I’m still mad at you for cockblocking me. He was so hot.”

“You don’t even remember his name.” You laughed at her in disbelief.

“I hope he goes back to Caleb’s tonight.” She stated, before asking, “Wait, are you still on for tonight? I don’t want to drag you out again. I feel bad for leaving you last night.”

“I want to go tonight. Like you said, last night was to loosen me up. We’re doing shots tonight.” You told her, making her smile.

“That makes me so excited.” She replied eagerly as you laughed. You were in for it tonight.

Several hours later, you and Georgia showed up at the same house for the same party, just a day later. You kept reminding yourself to be free, to move on and be your own person tonight. Once inside, Georgia immediately took you to the bar.

“You ready?” She asked you, making sure you were okay.

“God, I can’t believe I’m 23 and this is my first shot.” You laughed, “Cheers.” The two of you took the shot back and you made a disgusted face at the bitter taste.

“You’ll get the hang of it.” Georgia reassured you, handing you another shot.

You and Georgia drank and danced for a while until you felt your familiar social anxiety overcome you as the alcohol began to disappear. You excused yourself onto the quiet back patio, leaving your friend to continue to have fun inside. You leaned against the back of a patio chair as you let out a deep breath.

“Y/N?” It was the same quiet voice as last night, calling out to you. You thought you had just envisioned it in your head the previous night, and now you were concerned that the alcohol may be having a bigger effect on you than you lead on. But the voice sounded familiar, like home. Curious as to who the owner of the mysterious voice was, you slowly turned around. You felt your heart drop in your chest and you swore you stopped breathing for a moment.

“Tom?” You managed to squeak out as you registered who stood before you. Tom stood across the patio from you, and there was a stiffness that filled the air between you two. Both of you in disbelief of the other’s presence.

“What are you doing out here?” He asked. You could tell by his rigid stance that he didn’t want to step closer to you, that he didn’t want to make the conversation seem more intimate.

“I needed some air.” You replied. Between the alcohol in your system and your ex-boyfriend standing in front of you, you couldn’t think straight at all. “Why are you out here?”

“I needed to see if it was actually you.” Tom said quietly, and you crossed your arms uncomfortably. Another pause filled the air as both of you thought of something to say. Every time you tried to speak up and apologize, your nightmare flashed into your head. You couldn’t handle watching him walk away from you in your dreams, you knew you couldn’t handle that in person. “Can we talk?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You were torn, unable to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’. So you did the one thing you knew how to do- you left him out on the patio without another word. You ran off the bathroom, feeling your heartbreak with each step of the way. Today was supposed to be the beginning of truly moving on, but it only left you feeling heartbroken and empty.

After a few minutes, you calmed yourself down and you made your way back out to the party. You were walking towards the bar when you saw Tom standing there, taking back a few drinks. Your focus was diverted as a tall blond stepped in front of view. You didn’t catch the specifics of any of his flirty remarks, your mind still trapped on Tom. You looked at the flirty drunk in front of you. He was cute with attractive blue eyes- and he was drunk, and you were drunk.

‘I’m going to hook up with someone.’ You mentally told yourself again.

Feeling a sudden surge of liquid courage, you wrapped your arms around the stranger’s neck, pulling him down to kiss you. Deepening the kiss, his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to him. It felt so wrong to use this stranger as a distraction, but it felt so right at the same time.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, signaling to you that Georgia was trying to get a hold of you. You pulled away from the stranger.

“One moment.” You said, letting go of him so that you could get your phone out.

“You got a boyfriend I should be worried about?” He asked with a laugh.

“No.” You shook your head. You checked your phone to see a new text from Georgia.

‘Tongue guy from last night is here. Do you mind if I hook up with him at our place? Are you okay if I leave?’ She asked.

‘You’re fine. I found my own tongue guy. See you tomorrow.’ You texted her back, before putting your phone in your pocket.

“Where were we?” You asked, turning back to the guy before you.

“Wanna go back to my place, doll?” He asked.

“I need a name first.” You teased.

“Harrison.” He replied with a charming smile. “What’s yours?”

“Y/N.”

And just like that, Harrison swept you off through the crowd, taking you home.

~~~

When you woke up the next morning, you were still wrapped up in Harrison’s arms. His sleeping form looked so peaceful, and you began to feel disgusted with yourself from your actions. You had used him as a distraction from your ex-boyfriend while you were both drunk.

You slowly shifted out of Harrison’s embrace, but before you could slip out of his bed undetected, he woke up.

“Are you leaving?” He asked, his voice groggy with sleep.

“I was going to get dressed.” You replied, looking over at him as he sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist as he did so.

“If you’re going to slip out on me, at least let me make you breakfast.” Harrison said, a soft smile on his face. As he got out of the bed and made his way over to his dresser, you looked at him in disbelief.

“How did you-”

“Know you were trying to leave?” He finished your thought as he tugged on some boxers.

“Yeah,”

“Let me guess, you don’t really do hookups all that often?” He asked. The same charming smile on his face.

“Was I really that bad?” You questioned, embarrassed.

“No, no.” Harrison laughed, shaking his head. “You were great. I just mean, you’re not that good at sneaking out. You should’ve left before sunrise. Guys are less likely to wake up the earlier you sneak out.”

“Are you an expert on sneaking out?” You teased. Harrison held out a grey t-shirt for you.

“I’d say I’m more of an expert on the morning after.” He said as you took his shirt and put it on.

“Do you pull the breakfast and shirt thing on all the girls?” You asked.

“Only the ones that I want to come back to me.” Harrison stated, “So, breakfast?”

The two of you made your way into the kitchen with him only wearing his boxers and you only wearing his shirt. You could tell that you two looked like a walking hookup by that and your matching messy hair.

“Do you live here alone?” You asked, thinking the apartment was far too nice for just one person to rent.

“No, my roommate actually hooked up with a girl last night too.” Harrison laughed, beginning to make you a breakfast of eggs and bacon.

“Don’t tell me it was a bet for both of you to get laid last night.” You teased.

“It was a coincidence.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

As you and Harrison talked and ate, you felt yourself growing more comfortable with the whole ‘hookup’ thing. He was by far more experienced than you; you doubted he spent his whole life solely dedicated to his academic career like you did.

When you finally made it back to your own apartment, your hair was in a disheveled bun and you wore Harrison’s shirt and your shorts from last night. You tried to sneak your way into the shower, avoiding your roommate spotting you on your walk of shame, but luck wasn’t on your side.

“Someone looks like they had a good night, and a good morning too.” Georgia teased when she saw you.

“I hooked up with a stranger at a party, are you happy?” You joked.

“As long as you don’t regret it.” She said, “Did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, blushing at the thought of Harrison.

“Look at you. You got laid and now you’re all shy.”

“Shut up.” You groaned, “How was your night?”

“Honestly, he could’ve been better. His dick was big, but the sex was meh.”

“‘Meh’?” You repeated.

“I could tell he’s basically a virgin. He’s probably fucked one other girl.”

“Harsh, much?”

“Well, it’s true. He wasn’t the worst. I’ll probably call him up later, if he still wants to hookup.” She stated, teasingly, “Don’t act like you’re much different. I know you were a virgin up until last night.”

“I wasn’t actually.” You said, and you swore her jaw dropped.

“You weren’t a virgin? I thought all you did until I came along was read books.” Georgia joked. “Okay, tell me. Were you dating or was it a hookup?”

“We dated for two years, but we broke up because I went to Cambridge.” You explained, fiddling with Harrison’s t-shirt nervously. “Actually, yesterday marked five years since we broke up.”

“Oh, Y/N,” She let out a small sigh, pulling you in for a hug as she noticed your discomfort.

“It’s fine. He was at the party last night though, and so-”

“Your hookup was a five year late rebound?” She asked.

“I guess,” You shrugged, not really knowing if you’d want to even consider it a rebound. Deciding you couldn’t handle more of a sex conversation with Georgia, you turned to head to your room, telling her you needed a shower. You had to escape that conversation, not wanting to think about Tom or Harrison any longer.

~~~

Your thoughts were clear of Tom and Harrison for almost a week. You and Georgia had decided to go for a leisure jog through the trail by your old house one morning when the sun was up and shining.

“So you really haven’t texted him back?” Georgia asked you.

“I just don’t know what to do. Harrison really was just a distraction for the night, and now he keeps asking about when he can see me next and get his shirt back. I mean, how am I supposed to give him his shirt back after all that?” You huffed. Harrison had texted you the day after your special morning together, and you hadn’t responded to him. You just didn’t know what to say.

How do you tell someone “I’m sorry that I only hooked up with you because I needed to distract myself from my ex from five years ago”? You just simply couldn’t say that. He was a sweet guy, too sweet for you to hurt like that

“Keep the shirt, don’t keep the shirt.” Georgia shrugged, “I gotta say though, I’m impressed that you’re still sporting a hickey. That guy did a number on you.”

“Shut up. C’mon, let’s get some water.” You said as the two of you rounded the corner for the park. You came to a halt when you saw an all too familiar figure bent over the sole drinking fountain.

It was Tom. He was all shirtless and sweaty, probably stopping during a run just as you were.

“Oh my god,” You mumbled to yourself in disbelief. Your eyes were so focused on Tom, you didn’t see Georgia’s look of recognition.

“Tom?” She spoke up, a wide smile emerging on her face. You froze, confused as to how she would know him. In all the years you’d known her, she never mentioned him; and well, you never mentioned him either. You stood a few feet away from them, unsure of how to approach the awkward situation.

“Georgia, hey.” Tom smiled, seeing her.

“I thought I recognized those abs.” She joked, her voice getting higher. You almost choked on your own spit when you realized that she was flirting- with your ex-boyfriend.

“What are you doing here? Your flat’s nowhere near here.” He asked.

“Just out for a run. My roommate grew up over here.” She pointed over to you and you watched as Tom tensed immediately. You hesitantly walked over to them.

“Tom,” You said quietly.

“Y/N,” He replied in acknowledgement.

“You two know each other?” Georgia asked. Before you and Tom could attempt at a reply, someone called out to Tom from behind you.

“Tom, holy shit, you run fast.” The voice groaned as heavy feet came to a halt. You recognized the voice immediately, feeling your cheeks redden with embarrassment.

“Y/N?” Harrison asked, surprised to see you standing there with Tom. Your face furthered reddened as you noticed that he too had neglected to wear a shirt, and so now the only two men you’ve ever been with were both right in front of you, shirtless and glistening in sweat.

“Harrison,” You forced a smile at the awkwardness of it all.

“Wait, you’re Harrison the hookup guy?” Georgia asked. At her words, you instinctively glanced over at Tom as if you expected a reaction out of him. His reaction was a subtle clenching of his jaw while he eyed the fading hickey on your neck. You weren’t sure if you were glad that Tom reacted or if it just upset you more.

“Yeah?” Harrison answeed, looking between you and Georgia. “And you are?”

“I’m Georgia, Y/N’s roommate. I was with Tom when she was with you.” She laughed as it was a clever joke, but you just wanted to sink into a hole.

“You hooked up with Harrison?” Tom questioned you, angrily. He almost sounded jealous, but why would he be jealous of that?

“You hooked up with Georgia?” You replied, matching his outburst.

“What’s the big deal with that?” Georgia spoke up and you looked over to her. You gave her your ‘are you kidding me right now’ look and she finally pieced it together, “Oh my god, you’re exes.”

Simultaneously in response, you groaned and Tom let out a huff of annoyance. Harrison just chuckled a bit nervously.

“Well, this is awkward.” Harrison said.

“Yeah,” You sighed lightly.

“We should probably get going then.” Georgia stated, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the two boys without another word. Your stop for water was completely abandoned as you both continued back down the trail to your car as fast as possible.

“Oh my god, I’m going to die.” You groaned once you two were finally in the comfort of your own home.

“Hey, it’s not that bad.” She tried to cheer you up.

“My ex-boyfriend slept with my best friend at the same time I slept with his best friend, on the five year anniversary of our break up.” You stated.

“Did you not see what I saw today? I saw two absolutely gorgeous men out there, both of which you’ve slept with. That’s pretty remarkable considering that they’re the only men you’ve been with.”

“I know you’re trying to make this all seem better, but it’s not really working.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve never accidentally slept with my friend’s ex.” She said. If you didn’t know her, you’d think she almost sounded awkward about the topic. “On the bright side, Tom wasn’t very good. He probably hasn’t been with anyone besides you.”

“Why is that something I want to think about?” You asked, scrunching up your nose in disgust. You really, really did not want to picture Tom with Georgia; it was too wrong.

“Well, from your reaction, you’re not over him. I’m just saying he might not be over you either.” She shrugged before heading off to her room to get cleaned up. Alone with your thoughts, you started to wonder if her words had any truth behind them. It had been five years- could he really still have feelings for you?

It wasn’t until the next day that the whole situation was mentioned again between you and your roommate. Georgia had somehow managed to convince you to return Harrison’s shirt- and to attempt to find ‘closure’ with Tom. 

Which led to your current state of waiting outside of Harrison and Tom’s shared apartment with Harrison’s shirt in hand. You fiddled with your jacket pocket nervously, feeling the old ring Tom had given you resting in there. If you were going to return Harrison’s shirt and if you were going to try to get closure, then you were going to give Tom the ring back even if it broke your heart to do it.

You heard fast footsteps approaching from the other side of the door and you took an anxious breath. You weren’t sure if you were hoping for Harrison or Tom to open the door, but it was the latter.

“Y/N,” Tom said. You could tell by his raised eyebrows that he definitely wasn’t expecting to see you standing on his doorstep. 

“Hey,” You replied, awkwardly holding the word out for a little longer than normal.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe. You tried to ignore his stance- he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I, uhm, wanted to return this.” You looked down at the shirt in your hands and slowly held it out to him. Tom stiffened at the reminder of yesterday’s situation.

“I was wondering where it went.” He said quietly, grabbing it out of your hands.

“It’s yours?” You asked.

“Yeah, I loaned it to him months ago, but I guess he forgot about that.” Tom laughed a little, making you crack a smile. You missed his laugh.

“Also, I have this.” You said, taking the ring out of your pocket and holding it out to him in the palm of your hand.

“I can’t take that.” His voice fell soft as his eyes stared down at the ring. 

“Please, let me find some sort of closure.”

“I’m not taking that.” Tom’s fingers delicately closing your palm around the ring. He let out a small sigh, letting go of your hand, “Look, I just got a call from Harry, and Tessa ran off. Do you want to help me find her?”

“Of course. I know how much she means to you.”

“Okay.” Tom nodded. He disappeared inside momentarily, putting the t-shirt on a side table. When he returned, he closed his door and slipped his keys into his pocket.

“Where should we start?” You asked. It was the first time you had referred to the two of you as “we” in a long time; it felt almost foreign to say it.

“I was going to try the park.” Tom replied and you both started making your way there. Rounding a corner, you let out a small laugh as you realized where you were..

“Oh, this park.” You said quietly. It was the park that you and Tom had met at; you didn’t realize that he still loved so close to his childhood home. The idea of moving out and living close to your parents was never something that crossed your mind.

“It’s her favorite spot.” He reasoned, laughing a little, “She loves to chase cats in this park.”

It was strange to walk side by side in the all too familiar park. Both of you acted as if the two of you didn’t spend your happy summer days here, as if you didn’t make out behind the large tree in the corner, as if you didn’t fall in love under the stars at this same park. As Tom split off to go look at another corner of the park, you wandered over to the tree that he had so crudely named “our make out tree” years before. A fond smile found its way onto your face as you traced over your and Tom’s initials on the tree.

“We were so young.” Tom said, appearing beside you.

“Yeah, we really were.” You sighed, dropping your hand. You turned to continue on your search for Tessa, missing Tom trace over your initials just as you did moments before.

“So, where’s Harrison?” You spoke up, wondering why his best friend and roommate wasn’t there.

“He was still asleep. I think he brought a girl home last night.” He explained, “Not to make anything awkward.”

“All four of us were drunk and horny.” You laughed, trying to push past the unfortunate situation.

“How’s Crookshanks?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know.” You replied.

“What do you mean?”

“When I left for school, my parents got rid of her. So I don’t know how she’s doing.”

“I’m sorry. You loved that cat.” He said.

“And my parents loved taking everything that I loved away from me.” You admitted. You stopped yourself from adding ‘even you’.

“Are you still at Cambridge?”

“I just graduated.”

“First class?” Tom asked, looking over at you. You nodded, embarrassed almost by the question. “I always knew you would get first class.”

“Thanks. It wasn’t easy.” You stated. Another quiet pause overcame the two of you again, until Tom spoke up.

“I was awake, you know.” His voice quiet, like he was unsure if he should’ve said that.

“Awake?” You asked for clarification. You already knew what he meant, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

“The morning you left for Cambridge. I woke up when you kissed me, and I thought it had to be a nightmare because there was no way that you’d leave me like that.” He paused. He sounded heartbroken, but his words had a hint of anger in them, “That whole day was a nightmare. I went to your house to say goodbye, but you weren’t there. I tried calling you, but you never answered.” Tom stopped walking, making you come to a halt with him, “Why did you leave me, leave us? I know you were worried about the distance, but we could’ve made it.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice.” You said, still not looking at him.

“Y/N, I would’ve done anything for you, I would’ve followed you to Cambridge if you had just asked me to. We could’ve worked it out. You had a choice, you just didn’t give me a choice. Tell me, was it something I did?” Tom reached out and grabbed your hands in his, making you turn to finally look him in the eye.

“You didn’t do anything, which is what makes this so much harder.” You took a deep breath, remembering how you’d told Georgia you would try to get closure with Tom and you guessed it was now or never, “The night before I left, my parents found out about us. It was either they don’t let me go to Cambridge and I stay with you or-”

“You go to Cambridge and leave me.” He dropped your hands and took a step back, his eyebrows furrowed in hurt. “You chose Cambridge over me? You didn’t even give me the chance to help you.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think that my parents would even let me say no to Cambridge. My whole life, Cambridge has been my future.”

“I thought I was your future.” Tom’s words made your heart break all over again. “Just leave. I’ll find Tessa on my own.” Tom turned around sharply and walked off with his head hung low. You sighed, turning to walk in the opposite direction.

After a few minutes of meaningless wandering and trying to clear your head, you heard a familiar bark. Before you could fully process it, Tessa came bounding at your legs. It had been five years since you’d seen her, but she remembered you.

“Tessa,” You smiled petting the dog who was more than relieved to find someone she knew. Grabbing her collar and leading her away, you told her, “Let’s get you home.”

You waited on Tom’s front porch, unsure of what to do now. You had found Tessa, but you had absolutely no way of telling him that, and, knowing Tom, he’d be going out of his mind trying to find her. A couple hours passed by before you heard Tom’s footsteps coming up the sidewalk.

“Y/N, what are you-” He started to ask when he saw you, but he smiled in relief when he saw his dog sitting beside you. He was at a loss for words as he bent down to Tessa’s level, petting her while she gave him a few slobbery licks. Tom stood up and let Tessa inside his house and she went running for some water.

“Well, you’re here, so I’ll just go.” You said, standing up.

“You don’t have to.” He stated, “I was upset and distraught. I waited five years for an explanation; for five years, I tried to come up with some sort of explanation why you suddenly left. I even thought that maybe you went into some witness protection program or something.” Tom laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension. “All I know is that I haven’t been able to move on from you. After all this time, I’m still in love with you.”

“I still love you, too.” You said, your eyes brimming with tears of relief.

“Can we start over?” He asked.

“I’d like that.” You nodded. Tom stepped back inside his house and closed the door, leaving you confused. A brief second passed and he opened the door again.

“I heard your cat’s stuck in a tree. Need some help?” Tom asked with a teasing smile.

“God, I’ve missed you.” You laughed. Tom wrapped his arms around you.

“I missed you too.” As he leaned in to kiss you, you both heard a voice from behind Tom inside his house.

“I see you two are happy.” The voice said teasingly. It took you and Tom a second to process it as the person came into view.

“Georgia?” You looked at your roommate, bewildered as she wore nothing but Harrison’s shirt, which might have been Tom’s shirt- you didn’t know at this point.

“What are you two looking at?” Harrison asked, coming up behind Georgia and putting his arms around her waist. Tom shook his head and closed the door, blocking them from seeing the two of you outside.

“Wow.” You laughed.

“Wow, indeed.” Tom chuckled before leaning down to kiss you for the first time in five years.

~~~

Epilogue

“I don’t believe that.” Harrison laughed, pulling Georgia closer to him on the couch.

��No, it’s true.” You added from your spot on Tom’s lap.

“Oh my god.” Tom groaned, face red in embarrassment.

“Hey, at least she said your dick was big.” You teased, giving your boyfriend a kiss.

“Yeah, but you’re shit at sex apparently.” Harrison kept laughing at Georgia’s comment on her one night stand with Tom. The four of you were drunk and perfectly comfortable in bringing up the once incredibly awkward situation, but now it had been over six months and everything was fine between the group.

“I didn’t say shit- I said unpracticed.” She corrected her own boyfriend.

“I think it’s cute.” You teased.

“Well, Y/N’s shit at sneaking out.” Harrison commented with a chuckle.

“Mate, trust me, I know.” Tom joked.

“Can we go back to making fun of Tom and his dick?” You asked, before Tom pulled you in for another passionate drunken kiss.

[9r7g5h]

Teach to Learn, Learn to Teach

Fandom: Fantasy High

Rating: T

Genre: General/Friendship

Summary: Ragh and Tracker both have a lot to learn from each other. 

Words: 3269

AN: So, the topic of Ragh taking a level in cleric and Tracker taking a level in barbarian came up on tumblr, and I was so intrigued I had to write something for these gaybies. It will probably be three parts, one focusing on Ragh, one on Tracker, and one about them going home, or something like that. Just enjoy chapter one. 

Disclaimer: I do not own Fantasy High.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

They had both known, when Tracker first brought up her goal to Ragh, that it would be rough going. Fallinel wasn't the most welcoming of outsiders as it was, though at least High Elf decorum granted adventurers safe passage, so long as they weren't causing issues. But causing issues was the entire reason they were there, and Ragh's official adventurer certification he had received at graduation only did so much when he was helping Tracker constantly shoulder her way into temples of Galilea, trying to turn back the carefully placed lies the high priests had said to turn their goddess away from her wilder ways. 

The fact that she was actually making headway with the younger elves, the ones who saw how prim and proper their elders were and balked against that fate, only made things even worse for them. Add in the newly formed 'Pack of Galilea,' younger elves who not only wanted to worship the wild of the night but become wolves themselves, their leader constantly trying to convince Tracker to bite her so she could turn the rest of her pack and give more strength to the wild form of the goddess they loved, and, well. 

Honestly, they really should have expected something like this. Should have expected that the high priest would deem her a problem. Should have expected him to decide to end it. Should have expected him to know that only silver could hurt a werewolf, and armed the elf he had hired to do his will properly. 

Had they expected it, maybe she wouldn't be gasping in the back of their van, the silver poisoning from the arrow still stuck deep in her side seeping into her veins while Ragh tried to avoid the trees, putting distance between them and where they had been attacked. Had they expected it, maybe she would have cast Moon Haven earlier, ensuring their safety. Had they expected it, maybe they wouldn't have been goofing off, listening to music and chatting while their dinner cooked. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe she wouldn't be dying before she got to see Kristen again. 

"Ok, I think I lost them." 

She wasn't sure when Ragh finally pulled the van over, or how long it had been or how far they had gone, just that now he was besides her, talking. A knife in his hand, cutting through her second favorite shirt (damn them for that), pulling the cloth away from the wound. 

"Sorry sis, this is gonna hurt."

She barely felt him cut into her skin - the head hadn't gone all the way through, couldn't be broken off and the shaft pulled out, it had to be cut out and stitched up - but she did feel as he began to pull it out, the silver arrowhead brushing against the dying skin, making her howl in pain as everything within her wanted to flee. Flee the pain, the sheer burning agony of every single one of her cells dying, flee into the night and the moonlight until she could curl up somewhere that felt and smelt like home. 

But then it was gone. The silver was gone, she could think again, and though everything hurt, she could focus on Ragh's words. 

"Shit shit shit sorry sis, I had to get it out, shit. Fuck, god damn it, what was next? Think, Ragh, you know this." His voice fell to muttering for a bit as he pressed a cloth to the wound, looking through the medical kit. She wanted to say something, give him a hint or encouragement, but she was so tired. "Sterilize it, fuck, that's right! Where are you, you tiny little shit, you're hiding better then Riz to get out of PE... there you are!" He held up a small bottle triumphantly, used his teeth to undo the top, and splashed a generous portion directly into the wound. 

Tracker thankfully passed out immediately, her thoughts a dozen swirls of pain and Galilea thanking her for her efforts and wanting nothing more then to just sleep. 

It was morning when she next woke up. Her tank top had been replaced with a sports jersey, her side covered with enough bandages that she was almost sure she now classified as a large creature instead of medium, and the smell of burning fish covered everything else. Her stomach growled, despite the acrid smoke, and that was enough to get her moving, sluggishly kicking open the door to see what kind of trouble Ragh was in now. 

He was, surprisingly, doing well for himself. He had built a decent fire pit, had managed to grab a dozen fish or so from a nearby river, and only two of them seemed to have caught fire. The others actually looked amazing, and before she could even think the actual thought, she had grabbed one, sinking her teeth into the flesh, ravenous. 

Ragh just chuckled. "Good morning to you too, sis. I'm so glad you're ok. I was worried I was going to have to call Kristen and give her bad news, and honestly, your girlfriend scares me."

She couldn't help but laugh through her mouthful of fish, forcing it down so she could respond in a timely manner. 

"Full honestly, and I'll kill you if you ever tell her? She scares me a little bit too. Love her, but she has some weird shit going on with the gods that's just on a whole nother level."

She had been sleeping for two days. Ragh had done the best he could, keeping her comfortable and hydrated, just glad he had remembered enough from his mandatory healing class to stabilize her. He didn't know enough to actually heal, he had spent too much of the class mooning over a cute cleric guy in the front row, but cutting out arrows used knives, so he remembered that at least. 

"I just always relied on having a cleric," he admitted with a shrug. "Never thought much more about it."

"You thought enough to save me," Tracker pointed out, resting her non-cash covered hand on his shoulder. "Thank you." 

It took another day for her spells to come back, her energy finally high enough after gorging on fish and the few rabbits Ragh caught to finally cast a healing hand on herself. Ragh watched with a new found fascination as she unwrapped the wound, showing his shoddy stitches to keep her held together, only for the silvery light to flow from her hand, popping out the stitches and leaving her with healed, slightly pink skin. 

"Sis, you gotta teach me how to do that."

A raised eyebrow, a glance over at him as he half reached out, as if he wanted to touch her newly healed wound to make sure it was truly one, a tilt of her head as she waited for him to continue. He didn't, instead his skin flushing a deeper green as he shuffled his feet. 

"You want to become a healer?"

Ragh just shrugged, rubbing at the back of his head. They both needed to get haircuts soon, Tracker noticed and mentally filed away, watching as he felt the longer hair tickling the back of his neck and tried to move it away. Her own shaved side was growing out as well, much to her annoyance, though she quickly shook her head, forcing away the random thoughts as she looked back at her friend. 

"I know I'm not that smart," Ragh muttered, giving a shrug as if his lower intelligence score wasn't that big of a deal to him, "but even doing my best, there wasn't much I could do to help after, you know." He waved towards her and the pile of bloody gauze next to her. "I've never had to take care of someone before, someone else always did that, but now it's just the two of us, sis. What if it's worse next time? I don't know about all this religion stuff, but I've thought about it a lot over the last few days, and while I'm still gonna be the tank, it might help if I can also help take care of us." 

She wasn't sure what he was expecting, but Tracker could tell he wasn't expecting her to lean over and pull him into a giant bear hug, only to pull back a few moments later and punch him in the arm. 

"Don't sell yourself so short, big guy," Tracker said sternly, waggling a finger at him. "You kept me alive, which is the best thing you could have done. As for the healing, well, do you have a god in mind?"

Ragh immediately perked up, a half grin as he began to think. It would be a process, they would both soon find out - when he had come up blank, she had immediately begun with the most obvious of the gods: Cassandra and Galilea. Going over the pros, the cons, how both goddesses would easily accept him, though Cassandra might be a bit happier about it then Galilea was. But, eventually, neither of them just felt right to him, which was the most important thing. 

And so began their side quest - finding Ragh a god. 

"What about Tempus, god of war," Tracker asked one evening, gutting fish by the fireside as Ragh attempted to mend a hole in his shirt. "A neutral god, popular with a lot of fighters." 

It took him a long moment to answer, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips as he tried to keep his stitches straight. Tying off the line, he gave a small shrug. 

"Nah. I'm not much of a war guy. I like bashing heads, not overthrowing other governments for whatever reason I come up with, yah know?" 

“What about Gruumsh,” Ayda asked a few days later, pulling out the many goods she had brought from Riz’s borrowed suitcase of holding. She didn’t come often - Tracker had made it clear that this was her mission, and while all of their friends were ready to come the moment she said she needed help, she wanted to do this on her own first, or at least try. But every few months Ayda would show up in their camp with care packages and letters (Gorgug had made them satellite phones, but not all of them had planatar fueled vans to keep them charged with, so those were for emergencies only) and a few creature comforts they missed from home, stay for a meal, and then take back whatever they wanted to send with her, letters and keepsakes of their own to their own loved ones. 

It was always wonderful, getting the stack of letters from Kristen and Jawbone and the others, and this time she brought advice as well. 

“He is already the god of the orcs, which you are at least half of. I would need some of your blood to analyze the exact genetic makeup, and while that is a topic of conversation we will have to revisit in the future, for now I do believe Gruumsh would welcome you into his army.” 

Ragh was already shaking his head before she even finished, his nose wrinkled in distaste. “Nah sis, Gruumsh isn’t my kind of guy.” 

For a moment Ayda just stood there, watching him, her head tilted to the side. But then her eyes glowed just a bit brighter, and a look of understanding appeared. “Of course. You are neutral good. He is chaotic evil. Your alignments wouldn’t be compatible. I apologize for not thinking of this beforehand.” 

Ragh waved her off, giving her a fanged smile. “No harm, no foul, sis. I just get tired of people always thinkin orcs are evil, you know? I’m not, my mom’s not, Gorgug’s for sure not. So I really don’t want to get mixed up with an evil god if I can avoid it.” 

Ayda gave a deep nod of understanding. “On my honor as a wizard, and as both the mother and the daughter of the same quite wonderful half-orc, I swear to you, Ragh Barkrock, I shall not make that mistake again. Would you like an orange?” 

Ragh happily took the fruit from her outstretched hand, and Ayda gave a small, happy trill before returning to her unpacking, crying a few tears when he handed her a slice. 

“What about Talos, our lord of the storms and tempest that ravage our forests almost as well as you ravaged me last night?” 

Tracker could barely hide her eye roll and fake gag as she paid for their rooms at the inn, Ragh’s lately hook up hanging off his arm and batting his big elf eyes at him. She had known this was going to happen, again, and had warned him, again, that he needed better tastes in hook ups, but Ragh seemed to had a soft spot for elven twinks, and always ended up bringing one back to the inn whenever they were lucky enough to stay in one. She was just glad that they had separate rooms this time, and hadn’t had to sleep as a wolf in the nearest bush. 

“I’m not really a ravishing kind of guy,” Ragh said, trying to free his arm from the elfs’ grasp. “Sure, it’s fun to do every once in a while, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to commit to a ravishing lifestyle yet. What’s that, Tracker? We need to go?” Ragh looked at her with such desperation that she couldn’t turn her back on him like she had last time. 

“Come on Ragh, I have important things to do for Galilea.” 

“You hear the boss, important god cleric wolf stuff to do. I’ll call you, bye!” Ragh almost ran out the door past her, leaving the poor elf boy pouting at the table, wondering what Ragh meant when he said ‘call.’ 

“You need to work on your taste in guys, my dude,” Tracker said with a shake of her head as she slid into the driver’s side, glancing over her shoulder at the half-orc hiding in the back seat. “At least stop choosing the clingy ones?”

“Please, just drive.” 

In the end, it was Ragh himself who found his god, as was strangely right. 

The small town they had stopped in was, by far, their favorite stop so far. Mostly high elves, sure, but high elves strangely welcoming, much more like Adaine then the others they had met so far. A few other species were there too, half elves, a few fairies, and even a couple of gnomes that had taken residence in a nearby cave, turning it into a mix of apartment complexes and work stations. It was the most welcoming town they had been in; it almost felt like home. 

And, centered in the middle of town, were their shrines. 

It was common for towns this small, Tracker had learned, to not have a temple dedicated to every single god worshiped in the area. While for some towns that meant only one temple, maybe two if there were multiple families with influence, other towns had too many to count, each family or inhabitant following their own deity. So, instead, they had a shrine building instead, each deity with their own table and candles and cushions in front of them so those who worshiped them could pray. 

It was there, after he had gone missing for hours on end, that Tracker finally found him. He was just sitting there on one of the cushions, staring at the flickering candle, eyes both vacant and seemingly touched with a new found peace. He didn’t even notice when she sat down next to him, only starting out of whatever trance he seemed to be in when Tracker put her hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. 

“This is him,” Ragh immediately said, his face lit up with almost the same happy glow as whenever he reminded people he was gay and was met with acceptance instead of the hatred he thought he would find. “I was curious what was in here, so I walked in and thought it was some kind of weird like, massage parlor, but I found my guy, and this dude totally rocks, Tracker!  Hoot growl, up high!” 

Tracker immediately gave him his high five, giddy with excitement for her friend. And taking a look at the shrine they sat before, she couldn’t help but agree that it fit. Torm, god of courage and self-sacrifice, a provider of protection. Symbolized by a white gauntlet raised against a coming sword. For her bodyguard and best friend, yeah, it felt right. 

Of course, finding the god was only the first step in becoming a cleric. Then there was the training. 

Not all clerics were as blessed as she and Kristen were (though, of course, no one was as blessed as Saint Kristen Applebees, chosen and denier of Helios, creator of the planatar YES!/?, healer of the Goddex Cassandra). Some clerics had to work to gain their deity’s blessing, to prove that they were good enough vessels of the gods’ holy power. Some were just pains in the asses to get a hold of. 

Luckily, Torm seemed to approve of Ragh. 

It took a while, a few days after they left the town, Ragh standing between her and a weird lizard creature neither of them could remember the name of, for Torm to finally respond to the prayers Tracker had been teaching him. An almost imperceptible white light seemed to surround Ragh's hand as it came down against the lizards' jaw, just bright enough that Tracker's wolf enhanced eyes caught it as she bit deep into the creatures' tail. And each time he fulfilled his role of protector, showed courage as he walked by her side into the temples of Galilea, took up his weapon to protect her against whatever else Fallinel had to throw at them, it grew a little bit brighter. 

Until one day, without even thinking about it, he cast a Sacred Flame at an enemy on the other side of their camp site, the burning bright light zapping into the creatures' side, sending it scampering back into the wilds of the untamed woods in the far reaches of the country. Together they quickly finished off their enemies, Rahg wielding his weapon and a new found spells with an enjoyable ease, taking joy in the blessing of his god. 

She remembered that feeling, the power and joy from being blessed by one of the gods, the sudden innate knowledge of exactly what to do to make everything perfect and wonderful and right. 

The fight eventually ended, Ragh having taken the brunt of the damage, though one of them did get a slice at her flank. Before she could shift back and heal it herself, Ragh had reached out and touched her shoulder. Another burst of brilliant white light, something she would have to teach him to control later, raced through her veins and across her skin, invigorating her and closing most of the wound, leaving a scratch where before there had been a gash. All while Ragh stared in awe, eyes and smile wide, though clearly he was exhausted from the small use of magic. 

Another moment and she was back in her human form, healing him herself as he sat back, staring at his hands as his wounds closed around him. 

"Tracker..."

She raised her head from examining her work, making sure there wasn't something she had missed. 

"This fucking rules." 

An easy smile shared between them, Tracker knowing exactly what he meant. 

"Yeah it does."

[tackletofset]

NAGINI, an INDONESIAN

I was looking for stuffs Nagini in her tags and all I found was shit. You know the fact that Nagini was an Indonesian canonically, and that’s why I, an Indonesian, wants to make her a focus of my future arts and fics. But all I can found was all these not-even-slightly-Indonesian people making self-righteous political speeches how she should not be an ~Asian~ woman because she’s Voldemort’s “pet” snake??

NOW LET ME OFFER YOU AN OPINION FROM AN ACTUAL. INDONESIAN PERSON.

I know that the Nagini representation in the FB2 movie, is flawed, undeniably. But not because she’s revealed to be an Asian Indonesian woman, but because she’s supposed to be Indonesian, but yet was played by a Korean actress !!

A lot of Indonesians, even if we’re unheard of on Tumblr, was deeply disappointed by this.

We know that they tried to cast Acha Septriasa, one of our actresses to play Nagini but she had to refuse because she got pregnant at that time. Then why cast a Korean actress?? There are plenty of english-speaking Indonesian actresses (some of us recommending Tara Basro, f.ex), why must they cast a Korean?? THAT IS OUR CONCERN. (Even most of us still can’t let it go several months later, you can find plenty of “nagini” comments in Acha’s Instagram)

And yet, (most of) the Good & Noble SJWs™️ on Tumblr decided to erase our concerns entirely and replaced it with “asian woman being the pet of the white man”.

Here’s some reasons why I find that opinion lazy.

ASIAN PEOPLE ARE NOT INTERCHANGEABLE !!! 1000x. We have Filipinos, Singaporean, Japanese, Vietnamese, Thai, etc and you should never lump it into one “Asian person/woman”. An Indonesian would likely have different experiences/thoughts from a Singaporean, they are not interchangeable, and that’s why Nagini’s casting is a bad idea! And yet the Good & Noble SJWs™️ of Tumblr decided to never mention Nagini’s identity as an Indonesian, they lump it altogether as an ~Asian woman~. We’re already being dicked over by the casting and now Good & Noble SJWs™️ are simultaneously erasing her actual ethnicity in their every posts.

Nagini isn’t just Voldemort’s “pet snake”. Saying she’s his pet is degrading itself. Yes, it might be so from the pov of other Harry Potter characters, including Harry himself. But we never even got to explore the dynamics of their relationship from Nagini’s or Voldemort’s POVs!! For all I know, even Dumbledore said that he’s FOND of her! The HP wiki said: “Voldemort had strong feelings for Nagini that he had not for anyone else; she was the one living thing that he had ever cared about”. Not even Bellatrix. He was never violent with her or punish her like he did with the Death Eaters, and in the movie he even referred to her as “my friend”, not my “slave/lackey/etc”. For her being a horcrux thing, we knew that he could communicate with her in Parseltongue, and I’m sure the entire time she knew what’s going on. Canon facts aside, I don’t think that Nagini “turned bad”. INSTEAD, I think that after the curse transformed her into a snake entirely, Tom Riddle/Voldemort was the only one who regards to her as an actual person. You know, as most of the “good guys” in Harry Potter series tends to demonize anything which associates to Snakes/Slytherin/Parseltongue. And perhaps she, too, was fond of him. Maybe they relate to each other for being called “freak”/equivalent in their earlier years. IF ANYTHING, it’s that circus guy who abused Nagini, NOT Voldemort. He kidnapped Nagini from her home in Indonesia (which clearly was under the Dutch colonization at that time) and brought her halfway across the world only to be used as a circus attraction!! If Nagini doesn’t want to deal with Voldemort so bad why not leave him when he’s defeated in his spirit form?? He was weak back then anyway.

Yes, the Nagini/Naga myth is related to the Hindu culture/religion, and Hindu originated in India. BUT DID YOU EVEN KNOW, that the Hindu religion had assimilated with the local Indonesian culture & religion since 100AD??? NO?? Yes, the Hindu-Buddhist religion has deeply rooted in Indonesia, we even have our own versions of Hindu mythologies such as Ramayana, Mahabharata, etc. Indonesians DID use Sanskrit in the past !! (Like srsly it’s a fucking elementary history class material). So you have no right to scream ‘cultural appropriation’ tumblr SJWs™️. Absolutely no right. I can only find one available video on youtube about the Indonesian Nagini Mythology, she’s a princess of a mythical snake kingdom, her father, the snake god-king also has Indonesian name. If a character is named “Kudo Shinichi,” should he not be Japanese?? Can’t they be a person once, should he be confined in the form of an animal, just because people OUTSIDE OF THEIR CULTURE believe they better off like that?? That is racist within itself. Besides, it’s not even the first time we have stories about female snake Siluman (Siluman is an equivalent of animagi). We have 1950s horror movies featuring female Snake Siluman so why are you screaming so hard that it’s “racist” NOW??? XDDD so fucking laughable.

INDONESIANS DO WANT NAGINI TO BE INDONESIAN. And we will still change the casting if we could. Indonesians are NOT offended with Nagini being Voldemort’s pet loyal friend snake. Let me repeat it again. It’s the CASTING we’re troubled about. “But voLDeMoRt!!” If you’re NOT an Indonesian and wants to be an ally, you should start by voicing out things that we’re actually concerned about. Ask around to the people who’s actually being represented in the media, and if there are no Indonesians available nearby you could start by simply doing RESEARCH. NOT by some flawed arguments based solely on your assumptions. And if you’re still not able to do any of those two then shut the fuck up. You have no business telling us about HOW should WE FEEL about a representation of someone of our own culture. Nagini’s said to be specifically Indonesian. An Indonesian can tell another Indonesian if they’re offended by it, then we can talk, but not you. Not when you don’t give a single damn to even ask or do a small research.

Therefore. Nagini IS an INDONESIAN and I’ll continue to treat her as one.

EDIT: Never really understood what White Feminism™ was about till the Nagini controversy. White Feminists™ and every other ethnicity-erasing Feminists™ being self-righteous while making political speeches about Nagini, an Indonesian character, while ignoring the voices of poc in question. And thus, making it about themselves.

I thought it was just sjws being assholes (well that too, but also) but in truth, it’s the complete manifestation of White Feminism™.