#he needs someone with humour and quirk

[nathanprscott]

deciding who to date has never been harder than in baldur's gate..

[netegf]

Hate It When You Leave

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. he's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want... including him.

warnings: 18+, best friends to lovers trope, use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and past drug use, non-graphic references to violence, some angst & jealousy, fluff and smut (public sex, teasing, oral female receiving)

word count: 6.5 k

There are parts about wearing your heart on your sleeve that no one ever talks about.

For instance, that it's hard to fix your face when the threads keeping that heart together feel like they're getting tugged, cut, and re-bunched into an ugly knot. 

The water bottle you're holding hardly has any life left. Even Kelce comments as much when he rounds his kitchen island, limbs swinging and loose thanks to the red Solo cup in his hand. He takes one look at the tight smile on your lips and tilts his head to the side, fingers twitching upward to your chin as he turns your head to face him. 

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asks, voice a little slurred, but thick with concern.

That was Kelce. Polarizingly good at getting to what someone was hiding underneath. 

But appearances went a long way for him. And he was so agreeable, it made him easy to lie to. Especially when he and Topper had practically begged you to come to this party, his first one since graduating college. Everyone would be there, he'd said.

And he was right, they were. 

"Nothing, Kels, it's just my stomach being a little funny." You tell him with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. You gaze at him warmly and quirk a brow, smiling genuinely. "How do you always know?"

"We've known each other our whole lives!" He barks in a laugh. "There's nothing I don't know about you."

You feel your heart squeeze again, like there's a too-tight belt around it. But you humour him with a sweet giggle and convinced nod, and it's all Kelce needs before he's walking away to mingle with another. 

How shocked he'd be to know that there was something you were hiding. 

You keep the water bottle you're holding close to your body as if it would fall straight out of your hands otherwise. When you watch the brunette seated next to Rafe on the couch squeeze his bicep again, you think it might just fall anyway. 

Some things don't change. 

The sun goes up and down. The moon makes a nightly appearance. Kelce never dresses for the weather. Topper claims everyone else is cheating when he loses. 

You love Rafe Cameron.

"Fucking sucks, doesn't it?" A voice rings next to you.

You slowly turn your head from where you're sitting on the kitchen island to see a familiar face lounging on one of the high-chairs. 

Topper, apparently, had always had an inkling. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Top." You grumble, casting your eyes away from the blonde protagonist of most of your dreams. Some of your nightmares, too. 

You watch as Topper rolls his eyes without so much as glancing at you, a small scoff escaping his lips. He takes a hearty sip from his cup of brown liquid. Tracking his eye-line, you're unsurprised to find that he's staring wistfully at the very same blonde's sister. 

Sarah Cameron is dancing in the corner of the room with John B., her boyfriend. 

A Pogue at a Kook party... the thought still makes you skeptical.

Not because you didn't like John B., or more accurately, like him for Sarah. But because a few short years ago, all this seemed entirely impossible.

Nonetheless, Sarah was important to all of you. 

And, like she'd said, Rafe listened to you better than he did anyone else.

When you explained to him how smitten his sister was with the boy, and considering how their relationship had endured far past those murmurings of 'young love' to, what was at this point, years together, he'd begun to understand that John B. wasn't going anywhere. 

Much to Topper's devastation. 

He promised he was over her, and he dated like it, too. But there were those moments where he had a few drinks in him and it made you think otherwise. 

"Oh, okay. My fault." Topper replies sarcastically, downing what's left in his cup and finally turning away from the couple he's burning holes through. "I thought we were being honest."

"I am being honest."

He glances at you sharply. 

"Uh huh. Hey, don't freak out, but, your nose is like, growing really long. Never seen anything like it before. It's like in that movie! What's it called, again? Puppet boy? No, that can't be right..."

"Very funny, Topper." You say dryly, but the hint of a smile on your lips sells you out and he chuckles next to you. 

"I was thinking Pinocchio." He fake recalls, nudging your elbow. 

This time, you laugh with your chest, and when you lift your head up to take it all in again, your eyes meet familiar blue ones from across Kelce's living room.

By now, you know how to mediate the warmth that blooms at the base of your spine and consumes you completely. 

There's a comfortable silence between the two of you before Topper starts speaking again. 

"You know he would do anything for you, right?" 

You chew on your bottom lip, still holding eye contact with Rafe who gives you a crooked smile. The girl next to him leans in to whisper something in his ear. He keeps looking at you. 

"Yeah, I know." You mumble half-heartedly. "I just feel like I might need to cut my losses at this point." 

Topper frowns for a moment, then stands up from his seat. 

"Well, you suit yourself." He pinches your cheek affectionately. "Because I, for one, want to crash and burn."

You snort at Topper's words and just as quickly watch him round the kitchen counter to grab another drink. 

Preoccupied with the way he extends that gesture to you, fixing some gross concoction of different sodas for you to sip on, a shiver rolls over your skin when it feels like Rafe's smouldering eyes are still lighting a fire on your face. 

Aron Andersen is a douche, but he means well. 

At least, that's the excuse you aways placate Rafe with when Aron inevitably runs his mouth, the blonde's fists tightening nearly every time in conjunction.

Typically, you opt for the pacifist approach because blood is a bitch to clean, Rafe whines when you clean him up with saline, and frankly, Aron isn't worth it.

But tonight, he seems to enjoy testing your threshold for patience like no one else before him. 

You suppose he's not entirely to blame. Kelce makes his drinks strong, and half of Figure 8 is sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

Maybe that was why Rafe had almost swung on John B. only a few minutes prior, claiming the younger man was feeding his sister lies about him. Perhaps it was just one of those nights. 

Still, you sigh when Aron drunkenly makes his way over to your new spot in the backyard, and press your lips tight together when he shoves a beer in your direction.  

"I'm not drinking tonight, Aron." You tell him plainly. 

Aron haphazardly plops down into the lounge chair next to you with his glossy, red eyes narrowing.

He grudgingly pulls the beer back from you and takes a sip that pools around the sides of his mouth, then drains down his throat slow and loud. 

"That sucks. You're more fun when you do." He scoffs.

Your mouth falls open as the words leave his lips, head spinning to meet his annoyed gaze. The faraway look in his eyes makes you gulp.

In no particular mood to be berated, you have half a mind to scoff back and get up to leave. But there's something about the way he speaks completely unadulterated that keeps your body locked in place.

Like you're dying to know what someone really thinks of you.

"Why not?" He presses, gesturing with his finger accusingly. 

"I'm driving."

He continues to stare at you blankly.

"I'm driving." You reiterate, irritation seeping into your tone. "And drunk driving is illegal, Aron. You do know that, right?"

Unintentionally, your eyes flicker to a slightly rowdy and staggering Topper across the room. Aron zeroes in on that and rolls his eyes emphatically. 

"Now it makes sense. You're taking your boyfriends home." He pitches the word in a scornful taunt, squinting over your shoulder. "Where is Cameron, anyway?"

You feel your heartbeat rage in your chest, tongue numb and mind in disarray. 

"Don't be a dick, Aron. They're my friends." You bristle. But he seems unfazed, lazily quirking an eyebrow. 

"Please don't tell me you're that stupid, Y/N. Friends?" He laughs obnoxiously. "I get you're in love with the guy, but you run around for them like a maid. You ask me, the least you should be getting out of it is a good fuck."

Your fingers twitch at your side as you shoot up from your seat, really and truly considering that pouring his beer over his head might be the best option.

Given that Aron routinely takes up two parking spots to park his Range Rover and cheats on his girlfriends, you think it might be a long time coming. 

His words hurt for more than one reason. Of course, because he'd sooner die than recognize that you very much could maintain a healthy, platonic, and meaningful relationship with your friends of over a decade.

But also because, when it came to Rafe, he was goading you with a kind of intimacy you knew you'd never be able to access. At least not in the way you wanted. 

When a firm hand grips Aron's shoulder strongly and whips his body around, you soon realize you don't have to resort to such a physical display. 

While it was true that Rafe's face didn't make him look particularly kind, he'd only been seriously pissed off, to the point that his stomach felt like caving in on itself, a few times. Like in those months right after he'd graduated high school and felt like a big question mark. Every time his dad looked at him disapprovingly, it affirmed that sinking feeling in him, and he learned that he sometimes articulated his sadness in anger.

These days when he's mad, he mulls the feeling over a few times in the interest of scraping for another feeling underneath. 

Now, though, all Rafe feels when he meets Aron's arrogance with an intensity of his own, is unbridled rage. 

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Rafe speaks at a low register that makes your breath quicken. His movements are a little clumsy, blue eyes slightly glazed over, and his dirty blonde hair kisses his forehead that's speckled with sweat. Cheeks dusted red in that way that you love, more prominent when he's inebriated.

His fingers are still pressing harshly into Aron's shoulder, pressure concentrated and steady if the way he winces is any indication. For a second, his eyes flit over to you and the frown on your face, and they begin to soften. But then Aron is sputtering and stealing his attention and he hates him all over again for it. 

"My bad, bro." Aron offers lamely, hands jutting upward in surrender. He attempts to step away, but Rafe keeps him locked there. 

"Yeah, it's your fucking bad, bro." Rafe sneers.

He roughly shoves Aron backwards as he lets go of him and the man quickly scurries away knowing that if he sticks around, Rafe will probably force him through clenched teeth to apologize to you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest for a different reason.

Your mind is trapped in a loop, repeating every word you said to Aron over and over again, wondering how incriminating they were, and debating how much exactly Rafe had heard.

And if he had, if he was coherent enough to either dismiss or believe the accusation that you loved him. No, not love, you shudder... in love. Aron had said, verbatim, that you were in love with him. 

"I would've handled it." You mumble with your arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe sighs as he turns his body to face you, rubbing a hand over his jaw, now partially relieved of the tension it was holding. He chews on his bottom lip cautiously, like it'll help break the fall of the words bound to spill out of his mouth, a little too unrestrained in his drunk state for his liking. 

"I know that." He nods slowly. "I just wanted to help to help you... handle it."

He stumbles a little as he moves toward you and you instinctively wrap an arm behind his torso, holding him against your body as a human splint. 

"Plus, I kinda have a reputation going for me. No one's losing their shit if I fight a guy."

"Or two." You say pointedly, thinking about his almost altercation with John B. earlier in the night. 

Rafe buries his head into your shoulder, groaning loudly into the bare skin as it heats up and vibrates. 

"Fuck, not you, too."

He lifts his head up to continue, and you lug his body towards the living room where you spot Topper talking with Kelce and some others. Without speaking, Topper seems to understand what you're saying, nodding then pointing to himself followed by the stairs. 

He'd driven you to Kelce's and you promised to stay sober and drive him back home. But now, it seemed like the plan was going to shift.

Topper would stay the night at Kelce's and take his car back in the morning. You would take Rafe's truck back to his place and walk the rest of the way. You were practically neighbours, anyway. 

"If she wants to talk shit about me to her boyfriend, that's one thing. But him, talking shit about me, to her? What's he trying to do? Turn my own sister against me?" 

"I get it, Rafe. I really do." You nod, an amused smile on your lips as you tug him out of the front door and towards his truck. "But you promised Sarah you'd be nice, remember?"

"I am being nice." He protests with his hands tapping at his chest. "I didn't even fucking touch him."

You scoff lightly as you strap Rafe in his passenger seat, noting the way his eyes begin to flutter shut. Humming softly, you poke a cold finger at his cheek and watch as they blink open again. 

"I'm taking you home, okay?" You murmur gently. 

"No!" He objects, large hand circling your wrist. He rubs his forehead with the other one, trying to remember something. "Got a meeting in the morning. Ward is gonna flip if he thinks I've been out all night fucking around."

You look at him uncertainly, waiting for the thing that you don’t want him to say, but know he will.

"Your house? Please?"

There was a time when sleepovers with Rafe were a common practice. Sometimes, after parties like this, with Kelce and Topper.

Other times when you convinced the boys to binge a new movie or TV series, usually ending with at least two of them falling asleep. Rafe made a habit of grumbling his critiques of the things he watched, but always stayed up with you. 

For a while, when he hit an especially rough patch with his dad and spent more nights than he would've liked getting high out of his mind.

As much as he'd tried not to pull anybody else into it, he found himself seeking comfort in the warmth of your bed. It helped that you always received him with open arms, even when his early morning phone calls were disorienting and he cried silently into your shirt in the hours after. 

Those nights felt so distant, and yet, like you could touch them if you reached out just far enough.

Rafe had girlfriends on and off, and sometimes that version of him felt like a stranger. You felt a strange pity for yourself when you realized that it might've been a good thing. That he was getting better and without falling back on a crutch, even if that crutch was you. Suddenly, him sleeping at your house felt weird and misplaced more than anything else. 

"I don't know, Rafe...," you begin to trail off, but the blue desperation in his eyes makes you reconsider. He's still holding tenderly at your wrist. "Fine. But if you puke on my sheets, you're done. Do you hear me?" 

Whether or not Rafe hears you is unclear, but you take the delirious smile forming on his lips as a non-verbal affirmation. He huffs out a long breath as if he can feel himself finally relaxing. His eyes start to close again, too, as you start his truck and drive the short way to your house. 

"Don't even think about falling asleep on me, Cameron. I am not lugging you up the stairs."

"You're strong." He reasons smoothly, lids still shut as he smirks. "You were about to deck the shit out of Aron Andersen when I found you."

Getting Rafe up to your bedroom goes better than you'd imagined, now with a few years of experience under your belt. 

You get him to sit down on your bed, and he fiddles with the items on your nightstand while you rummage through your armoire for an old pair of his pajamas. He complains when you throw him a pair of sweatpants and a sports t-shirt he used to wear in junior high, claiming that it'd be too tight over his arms and chest.

Plus, he'd added, it was far too hot to be wearing a shirt, anyway. 

"I love these." 

Changing into sweats of your own, you exit the bathroom to find Rafe sitting up in your bed, part of his bare torso obscured by your white sheets. His attention is fixed on a small group of rings on your bedside table, silver and gold hues reflecting under the dull rays of your lamp.

He slowly picks one up.

"Yeah, I'd hope so." You snort, tentatively slipping into bed next to him and painfully aware of the sorry excuse for space between you. "You got them all for me... kook."

Rafe cracks a sleepy smile, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You wouldn't tell me which one you wanted." He shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world. 

He sets the ring back on the table and switches off your lamp, blanketing the room in a stroke of darkness. Rafe lies on his back and you opt to turn to your side, facing the wall.

Looking at his face only a few inches away from yours, when he's about to sleep in your bed, feels like it will be too much. 

"Asking for what you want is weird, Rafe. Nobody likes it."

You chew on your bottom lip in the dark.

"I do." He says in a scoff that turns into a yawn. "How else is anyone gonna know? People don't usually stop you and beg to find out."

You swallow roughly. That was true enough, they didn't.

But Rafe did. He always did. You revered him for it.

There's a long silence between you and all that echoes against the wood framing of your bed are the heavy and sometimes irregular sounds of your and Rafe's breathing.

Against your better judgement, you think he might've fallen asleep and almost turn around to check. 

"Is it me?" He asks quietly, voice scratchy with exhaustion. "... what you want?"

You feel your shaky breath hitch in your throat. 

"Because if it is... you don't have to ask."

His words linger in the air for as long as it takes your wildly beating hard to calm down.

By the time your body regains some feeling, the sound of Rafe's soft snores pierce the oddly crisp air clouding your room, and the choice to unpack what he said right now, or in the morning, is made for you. 

A shiver runs down from the nape of your neck to the tips of yours toes. 

Rafe is gone by the time you wake up.

The harsh but comforting sound of rain clangs against your roof, and you stretch your limbs to the thought of a cloudy and obscure summer day. 

It's better this way, you think. The absence of Rafe's warmth next to you would feel worse if the sun was shining, teasing. 

Your fingers play underneath your comforter to locate your phone. Scrolling through your notifications, you frown seeing that none of them are from Rafe.

In his defense, it was only about 9AM now, and he'd probably just had enough time to take a quick shower, get himself the smallest bit presentable, and still barely make it to his meeting with a client.

The used bathroom towel in your hamper and flannel pajama pants hastily thrown on his side of the bed are compelling indicators. 

In his defense, he was drunk, and there was no telling if he remembered anything about last night. 

Drowsy proclamations of desire and confession, included. 

You wrestle with the idea of calling him and letting it all spill out.

Kissing him on your front lawn, in the rain, with dewy blades of grass nipping at your feet. Hands threading through his wet hair and tugging, hungrily, because you're starving and happy, and these are liberties you can afford in imagination.  

But you settle on seeing him later tonight, in person. It's your dad's charity after all. 

"I just wish you would have told me earlier." Your disappointed words hang in the air for a few moments as you play with the hem of your silky baby blue dress.

Your father had mentioned to you once before that his new business partner had a son about your age, newly graduated from UC Irvine. 

He hadn't mentioned, though, that this mystery guy would be attending the charity tonight, and he'd offered you up as his own personal tour guide.

Your father hadn't used the word date explicitly, but that's what it felt like when you were handed an odd-smelling bouquet of flowers, standing awkwardly next to the brunette who you were apparently to keep the company of all night, though he might as well have been a stranger. 

Daniel was nice enough.

He complimented your dress and your makeup, smiled and pulled out your chair before you sat down at your assigned table.

But it felt weird accepting praise and chivalry from him when your heart was busy beating erratically at the simple thought that your dress matched Rafe's eyes.  

The venue is extravagant like it always is, what with it's elaborate crystal chandeliers, ice sculptures, and floral center pieces larger than your head. 

At your table, you note your and Daniel's name cards labeling your seats. Next to them, are Topper, Kelce, and Rafe's. There's a sixth seat that has no label and you tilt your head to the side thoughtfully, considering that Topper or Kelce must be bringing a date. 

"This place is incredible. Your dad is so impressive." Daniel says in awe from the seat next to you. His eyes trail around the room, wide in amazement, reflecting back all the vibrant lights in the brown of his pupils.

You smile weakly at him, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear that always seems to take flight despite your attention to detail.

"Yeah, he's really something. Likes to orchestrate a big show. You should see him at the winter ball. Live doves, and everything." 

Daniel nods, moving on to say something that starts to sound unintelligible when something else piques your interest. Someone else. Multiple someones, entering the banquet hall. 

Craning your neck, you make out Topper and Rafe. And a girl. 

No. Topper... and Rafe and a girl. She has her arm tucked around Rafe's as he escorts her in the direction of your table. He's wearing the grey tux you like, the one he wore to Rose's sister's wedding with the ornate thread detailing. His smile makes the two halves of your heart squeeze together. 

"Hey, you okay? You're squeezing that wine glass pretty tight there."

Daniel likely means well, eyeing the way your fist clenches around the stem of the glass you've yet to take a sip from. You shoot him an embarrassed smile and release your straining fingers.

An emotional support water bottle sounds like it would be really nice right now. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nervous... my dad always gives a speech at these things." You explain.

As the trio begins to approach, you realize it's Shelley Thompson gripping Rafe's arm, a sweet girl you knew from the Kook Academy.

Even now, she always waves when you run into her at the Island Club, and she has a swing on the golf course like no other.

She's a good match for Rafe. You hate to admit it, but it's true.

When Daniel speaks again, you can barely hear him.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Daniel chuckles. "I have a hard time imagining that your dad would be bad at anything..."

Topper, having heard the tail-end of your conversation, plunks himself down in the chair across from yours and rubs his forehead tiredly. You shudder at the way he smiles empathetically at you. Like there's something to be consoled about. 

"Hangover?" You ask, shoving the shaky feeling down and shooting him a teasing smirk.

He groans loudly and buries his face in his hands.

"That's the understatement of the year. Feels like I'm getting my skull bashed in." He mutters through the skin, then he peels his head away and grimaces at the screechy music being played. If there was one thing your dad was bad it, it was decent music taste. Topper laughs heartily, shaking his head. "Then again, maybe I am." 

The lightheartedness is interrupted for a moment as Rafe and Shelley pull up to the table, taking their seats accordingly. Rafe rakes his eyes over Daniel for a few seconds, but otherwise stays silent and it makes you frown. You look at him, desperately trying to uncover if he remembers any details from last night, but his expression is unreadable.

Shelley, on the other hand, grins at you enthusiastically and starts to chat with you about the time she interned at your dad's company. 

You find yourself glancing at Rafe every so often, each time catching him staring blankly ahead or at his lap, and always fidgeting with his fingers. 

"Who's this?" He asks suddenly, nodding his head at the man next to you. 

"Oh." You swallow. "This is Daniel."

Finding that insufficient, Daniel takes it as an opportunity to formally introduce himself. 

"That's me." Daniel waves sheepishly, gently squeezing your shoulder with his other hand. "Y/N's been showing me around. Well, her and her dad. I really love what Mr. Y/L/N's been doing with his company. He does some incredible work out here. It's not often that you see-,"

Topper snickers when he cuts him off. 

"Maybe he should've been your date."

Daniel laughs it off, blushing slightly and concealing it in a short cough. But you kick Topper under the table in retaliation, ignoring the way he holds his shin and groans out a soft "Ow!". 

After that, Shelley, Topper, and Daniel divulge into conversation, shifting from topic to topic and at some points, sharing boisterous laughs together.

Rafe keeps his lips pressed together and his words concise. While you fiddle with your utensils, you feel his eyes on you, igniting heat under your skin. 

He stares at you hard, like he's waiting for you to say something. Begging, even, with the way his forehead tenses and his brow stays quirked.

But you didn't know what to say.

Or maybe you didn't know how to say it. Especially not here. Especially not when he had a date. 

Rafe rolls his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek, standing from the table abruptly, the movement making the cutlery tremble.

"Hey, I have an idea." He says while tugging on Shelley's hand. "Let's dance."

You watch as Shelley squeals with excitement, jumping from her seat to follow Rafe towards the center of the large room where the music is playing. 

"Couldn't pay me to get closer to that band." Topper mumbles offhandedly. You're sure he's trying to make it sting less, but some pains don't have a perfect antidote. 

Daniel sends you a look, silently asking if you want to join them. 

"Maybe later." You reply quietly. 

Watching Rafe wrap his arm around Shelley's waist, you feel your heart sink slowly into your stomach.

In the middle of Daniel's rambling and Topper's occasional acknowledging hums, you rise from your seat and stumble into the courtyard for some fresh air.

Surely, your heart would keep sinking if you saw any more, and your heels were too tight to fit anything else. 

The courtyard is a beautiful mix of greenery, fairy lights, and concrete statues, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest. You sit on a stone bench and try to control your breathing with your head between your knees. 

Though it's turbulent and shallow at best.

"What's wrong?"

You know it's Rafe without looking up. Sighing into the palms of your hand, you slide them down from your face and lift your head up. Surely, your makeup is smudged, and the thought makes you more miserable.

"Nothing." You say more sharply than you intended. "Nothing's wrong. Just go away, Rafe."

He looks at you completely scandalized. 

"Are you... mad at me?"

You let out a deep breathe, averting your gaze to the ground as you collect yourself. "No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?"

Rafe scoffs, entirely unconvinced. He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. 

"Well, fuck, if this is 'not mad', then I don't want to see what mad looks like." 

"Can you just drop it? Please, Rafe? Drop it?" You beg, sniffling slightly as you stand. You hadn't noticed when your cheeks started to get wet. Likely too much in denial.

Despite the way it's honoured you in the past, crying was offering no release at this point. It's not like any of this was Rafe's fault. Even if he had gotten your hopes up last night, he wasn't obligated to act on drunken pillow talk. Maybe he hadn't meant it in the first place and was only trying to make you feel better.

"You won't talk to me." He says sadly.

You bite down on every explanation you want to give him. Chest pain heavy and unrelenting.

"Just... go back to Shelley, Rafe. She's probably waiting for you."

Rafe looks puzzled when the words fall weakly out of your mouth.

Then, he nods, like something finally clicks for him. He meets your eyes with fervor as he presses his lips together.

"So, this is about Shelley?" He asks.

Your head hangs and silence intensifies between you. It speaks for itself.

"The same Shelley that's been fucking Kelce on and off for the past two years?"

He watches your mouth fall open and eyebrows furrow, continuing as you stare at him.

"Kelce promised to take her out on a real date, but then he got caught up at work... asked me to keep Shelley company until he showed up. We didn't come here together, together, Y/N. I thought you knew that." 

Your mind buzzes as he speaks, bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

So, he wasn't here with Shelley. And he probably did remember both what he heard and said last night if he could recognize that you were jealous.

Jealous. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The feeling was always two-fold. A person would feel jealous, then humiliated that they had. You don't know which one is worse.

You peak an eye open, chewing through your words. "Why couldn't Topper do it?" 

"Have you met Topper?"

That was a good point. 

Still reeling from the new information, you look down at your lap pensively.

"But you did." Rafe begins after a few beats of silence. When you frown in confusion, he clarifies. "... come here with someone."

You crane your neck up to look at him. There's something you can't place in his eyes, but it's cloudy and all-consuming. His hair is a mess from the way he's been ruffling through it, and his cheeks are flushed and tight.

"What, Daniel? Are you kidding me? I only brought him because my dad ask-," you begin to explain, but Rafe cuts you off. 

"I don’t care why he thinks he can touch you. I just want him to stop.”

Despite the small gust of wind that blows past you both, you feel a warmth at the base of your neck... in the palms of your hands. Maybe it was the beams of light overhead, illuminating your bodies amidst the greenery.

Or, maybe it was just Rafe's words.

The intensity of his gaze. The way he steps towards you as he speaks them, warm hand eventually reaching out to graze over your cheek in a way that makes you gasp in a mixture of shock and excitement. 

For a moment, you think about yourself and the many soul-crushing nights spent watching Rafe talk to and touch and kiss other people, the overlapping visuals making you queasy. 

"I know the feeling." You say quietly, hot breath fanning over his face.

Rafe frowns a little, soaking up the meaning of your words. He nudges his face closer to yours, until your noses are touching and his lips just barely graze over the pair he desperately wants to taste. He draws back suddenly, suspending all the air in your lungs. 

He eyes you cautiously, challenging silently as he licks his lips.

"Not gonna do anything unless you ask." 

You nearly cry out in response. "Rafe, please. I... I want you." Ignoring the way your desperation makes your skin feel tingly and your head spin, you shut your eyes tightly, realizing that only really skimmed the surface. You try again, gulping. "I've always wanted you."

"Fuck." He breathes out, eyes fluttering shut. "Never stop saying that." 

Stifling the sound of another whine from your lips, Rafe kisses you feverishly.

He moves his soft lips in tandem with yours, swallowing each of your breathy moans. One of his hands traces over the swell of your jaw while the other stretches tenderly around your throat. "Know what I wanted to do when I saw you sitting there next to him?" 

You nearly scream in protest when Rafe pulls his lips off yours, but fall silent when he trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck and collarbones, sloppily sucking the skin then laving his tongue over the afflicted areas. Unsatisfied until your pushing his head away from the sensitivity. 

"Wanted to knock his fucking teeth out." He murmurs with his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and leaving searing kisses. "But I don't do that shit anymore. So I'll ruin his night a different way."

Rafe moves your body with his until the backs of your knees hit the concrete bench. Your mouth falls open as he sits you down on it, kneeling in front of you. He presses a ticklish kiss to your knee and his bright blue eyes peer up at you through his lashes. When you nod, he parts your thighs and pulls your panties down in a single unbroken movement, committing every second to memory.

He stares longer than he should, groaning at the way your wetness collects on his finger when he traces a finger over your slit, spreading you apart. 

"Can't believe," he moans into your mound, running the flat of his tongue over your center again and again. "... you kept me from this pussy for so long." 

You throw your head back at the sensation, finding nothing but air and Rafe to support you as pulls you closer to his mouth.

"That," you say in a broken moan at the feeling of Rafe's tongue inside you. "That's your fault, remember? I was always here — shit! Waiting for you.”

Rafe hums against your pussy at that, neither agreeing or disagreeing. His nose nudges your clit as he tastes you greedily. You tug at his hair to dissipate some of the energy building inside your core, but it only makes Rafe work harder. 

"Didn't think I deserved you." He admits, pink lips mesmerizing and wet with your slick and his spit. Rafe takes your clit into his mouth and sucks obscenely, the slurping sound sending a flash of heat through you. "Doesn't matter now. I'm good at making up for lost time..."

Your thighs clamp around Rafe's head as he fucks you with his tongue. It's only now, as gasps and high-pitched sounds fall wantonly from your lips that you come to the reality that you're letting Rafe eat you out in the courtyard, and anybody from the party could come here and find you. Still, you moan less controlled than you would have hoped when he suckles at your clit again, drinking at your sopping pussy.

"Hey, have some common decency, huh? There's some very nice people in there trying to enjoy a party." 

Rafe smirks when you pull at his hair even harder, mostly at the thought that you think it could be reprimanding when he likes it so much. His teasing does more to turn you on than you'd care to admit and he can tell with the way you gush around him.

"One of em's your date." He adds, laughing slightly as he curls his tongue inside you. Entranced at the way it makes you whimper and writhe like putty under him. He starts rubbing your clit with his thumb at the same time, chasing the crest of your orgasm. "C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Come all over my tongue." 

Your release makes your back rise off of the slab of cement you're seated on, thighs slotted over Rafe's shoulders as he licks you through your climax.

The pleasure is insurmountable, your mouth falling open and your eyes screwing shut as that familiar feeling completely overwhelms your senses, the burn of your elbows against the cement keeping you anchored to the ground. 

Rafe smiles when you pull him by the belt of his dress pants to capture his mouth in a long and sweet kiss. It helps clean up the residual wetness. 

By the time Kelce makes it your father's charity event, he sighs tiredly into the crown of Shelley's head, pressing a wet kiss there in greeting. On his way in, he got trapped in a conversation with your father and some guy he'd never seen before named Daniel who was more inclined to kiss your dad's ass than he was to breathe.

Finally taking his seat next to a very drunk Topper, he squints his eyes at the sight before him. You and Rafe, unable to keep your hands off each other, giggling at nothing in particular. And when not giggling, kissing.

"Are you seeing this shit?" Kelce asks Topper, gesturing towards his two closest friends shoving their tongues down each other's throats. Shamelessly, at that.

"Dude." Topper groans, sighing like this was no surprise to him. "Where the fuck have you been?"

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!

[delirious-donna]

The Duality of Men [Part Five]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: Being cooped up all day with Kento isn't as easy as it sounds. Time to tempt the stick in the mud out for a drink. What could go wrong?

pairings: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: suggestive, mentions of previous masturbation, humour, two idiots pining, mentions of alcohol, toxic male behaviour (not Kento), misunderstandings, white knight Kento, also very oblivious Kento

Part Four | Series Masterlist | Part Six

The morning dawned–bright and fresh. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the events of the previous evening almost felt like some lucid dream rather than reality. Only the dull ache that remained between your thighs served as a reminder of your toying fingers. Whilst you might have found release, it was temporary at best, and the encounter with Kento in the kitchen had only served to rekindle your desire for the man who was quickly becoming less of a stranger to you.

In an attempt to occupy your mind, turning it onto more pressing matters other than the slew of questions about the stoic male—his interests, occupation, and preferences in a far more intimate manner—you decided that focusing on schoolwork would be for the best.

That was how you came to find yourself seated in one of the two tall chairs that lined one side of the kitchen island, your coursework spread out in a sea of paper and textbooks. It was an organised mess, or so you would say, others might disagree, but it worked for you and that was all that mattered. Or it might have been had it not been for the appearance of your host.

Kento shuffled into the kitchen, his hair dishevelled from sleep and yawning widely. A glance at the clock told you it was an early start to the day for someone who was meant to be on vacation. He reached his arms overhead into a delicious looking stretch, and paused when his eyes blinked open to spy you fully dressed with a pen between your teeth.

“Morning,” he offered once he too glanced at the clock with a slight squint. It made you wonder if he needed glasses and if so, why didn’t he wear them? His voice was gruff, laden with sleep, and you did your best not to squirm at the effect it caused in your stomach. “You’re awake early, no?”

“I could say the same to you. Didn’t you say you were on mandated vacation? Oh, and good morning. There is coffee in the pot if you’d like some?” You added, leaning your cheek onto your fist whilst you admired him, emboldened by the knowledge he wasn’t awake enough to notice.

He grunted in response. Deliberately not looking whilst you smacked your pen against your pursed lips, and instead made a beeline to the source of caffeine that had roused him from his slumber in the first place. He admired your dedication at being awake to study so early. The question of what you were studying tickled the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. The more he knew, the harder it would be to keep his distance as he had vowed to himself.

Lazing in bed wasn’t on his agenda, it would be a waste of time when he could be reading or getting in a morning run on the treadmill. Perhaps in another life, he would have savoured the idea of remaining nestled within warm sheets, the morning sun streaming across the rumpled bed from the gap in the curtains, and… He paused, knowing that his mind was conjuring another body beside him, one that was across the room from him.

A distraction was what he needed.

“You study like… this?” Kento asked, nose wrinkled in distaste.

The pen in your hand was no longer gently patting at your lips, it was smacking hard against the marble counter edge and his eyebrow quirked at your clear irritation. He fought the smile that tried to rise, wisely hiding it behind his mug whilst he took another long sip.

“It… makes sense to me.” Your eyes narrowed, shifting your hips forward on the chair to lean over the counter, pen wagging in admonishment.

Kento held up his unoccupied hand in surrender, not wishing to cause you any further annoyance and longing for a slice of solitude that he wasn’t going to find in here. “Let me get out of your hair, I wouldn’t wish to distract you from your studies.”

You scowled after him, annoyed at yourself for finding that you were fixated on the dips at his lower back and the way his muscles shifted and bunched as he moved away and out of sight. It was far worse in the clear morning light; you could no longer fool yourself into believing that the broad expanse of his shoulders and the strength of his torso was simply a trick of the low lighting. It was simply him, and you rested your head on your folded arms while you processed that nugget of information.

The rest of the morning was spent in some semblance of peaceful cohabitation. Kento contented himself with running in his home gym, earbuds in place and you wondered what kind of music he enjoyed on your trip to the bathroom, peeking inside only for a moment before darting away, scared to be caught.

It wasn’t until lunchtime approached that he reemerged into the living room, fully dressed in a cream sweater and navy trousers.

By this point, you were curled up into the far corner of the couch with a book in hand. Whilst peeking over the top, you watched as he manoeuvred around the kitchen to make lunch. You must have read the same passage at least a dozen times and still, the words wouldn’t sink in. It wasn’t until he turned to eat, that he froze–plate in hand.

Of course, your coursework was still splayed out and possibly looking even more disorderly than before if that was at all possible. You waited, counting internally for the snarky comment, but as you reached fifteen… you glanced at him again.

“Are you really standing over the sink to eat?”

“I’m sure you have a suggestion as to what I should do instead,” he sighed in resignation with the plate balanced on his palm and half his sandwich clutched in his other hand.

“You could, y’know, sit on the couch like a normal person,” you chided with a roll of your eyes. “Or are you that afraid of crumbs that you’d rather stand over there?”

If truth be told, he did despise crumbs and unnecessary dirt. However, he wasn’t about to get into it with you about something you’d find trivial and likely tease him over. As if accepting your challenge, he marched stiffly to the other end of the couch from you and rested his plate precariously on his knees to finish his sandwich. His forehead wrinkled into a scowl, and you fought the urge to tell him to ease up or he’d prematurely wrinkle his face. Something told you he wouldn’t take too kindly to such an accusation.

Unfortunately, the calm of the morning didn’t last into the afternoon. For such a spacious apartment it felt awfully cramped when the two of you tried to focus on your individual interests. It was like walking on eggshells and your nerves were on a razor's edge for no good reason. More often than not you found yourself studying the uptight man rather than reviewing your seminar notes.

Nanami prowled from room to room like a caged predator, one that was not accustomed to enforced captivity and was losing its sanity with each continued tick of the kitchen clock. You were certain he had sat on every part of the couch, first seemingly engrossed in the newspaper delivered to his door but it didn’t last. Before you knew it he was back on his feet and standing at the panoramic window with both hands clasped behind his back.

He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, ignoring the beautiful sight of the late afternoon sun turning dark and fiery across the city. It would have been what you studied in his position but no, Kento watched the hundreds of commuters down on the streets. Was he… envious?

It appeared that way and he only strengthened the idea when he huffed, leaving a cloud of breath against the clean glass and turned on his heel to retrieve his discarded newspaper. The crisp pages snapped apart harshly under his grip and you nearly laughed at what you could only describe as rage reading.

You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time and threw down your pen in defeat. After stretching your arms overhead and rotating your stiff wrists, you gathered your courage and rounded on the man who couldn’t settle into anything remotely relaxing.

“Wanna go grab a drink?”

Kento paused on the sentence he had already read ten times over. Was he hearing you correctly? “Pardon?”

Hopping down from the stool you’d sat at for most of the day, you approached slowly and shrugged. “It’s been a long day and I think we could both use a drink to relax us a bit.”

Why would you need to relax? He was the one wound tighter than a spring-loaded toy but he couldn’t even blame you, not rationally anyway. You’d spent the day studying diligently, only breaking to stretch your limbs, refill your water bottle or read your book. A book he was unfamiliar with, squirrelling away the title and author to look up later.

After his morning run and shower, the day had slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. No matter how tightly he tried to cling to them, the minuscule grains escaped through the cracks until the hours were lost and he felt a sick sensation in his stomach. He tried not to consider the accounts he could have handled had he been in the office, or the clients he could have snared if he’d been permitted to admit the conference as planned. It wasn’t worth the turmoil it caused.

“I have a well-stocked liquor cabinet and there is wine in the fridge if it’s a drink you’d like,” he offered, moving closer to you and ignoring the desire to splay his hand at the small of your back to guide you towards his prized collection.

You shuffled your feet looking decidedly more nervous. His head cocked in curiosity, noting your habit to chew on your lips. He bet they tasted sweet.

“Kento… can we get out of the apartment? I bet there are a few nice bars around here, and well… c’mon, I don’t want to go alone.”

He may as well have sighed at the sound of his name on your lips for the second time. You might not know it, but he would have agreed to just about anything at that moment. For that reason alone, he found himself perched on a bar stool in a noisy but thankfully well-lit bar a few streets away from the apartment complex.

Your face was a picture of excitement, and he laughed discreetly whilst you leant on the bar waiting for the bartender to notice and take your order. Kento did his best not to appreciate how your light blue jeans hugged your backside, averting his eyes to admire the décor instead. He scolded his rapidly diminishing restraint, feeling more like a hormonal young man than he did when he was a hormonal young man.

“Vodka cranberry please, light on the ice. What would you like, Kento? It’s my treat.”

Oh hell no. He wasn’t about to let a student pay for his drink, no matter the circumstances. Meeting the eye of the young man behind the counter, he bristled at the amusement that was evident in his expression.

“Laphroaig, neat. Make it a double, please,” he rattled off whilst fishing his card from the wallet in his back pocket. At his side, you were beginning to protest, tugging on his sleeve and damn near bouncing on your stool. The bartender nodded and wisely chose to remain silent as he accepted the card and hurried away to fulfil the order.

“Nanami, I said I was going to pay!”

Kento huffed. “So, I’m Nanami again… where did Kento go?”

Two glasses were set down on folded paper napkins and it was enough to distract you, your fingers slipping free from his sweater. The amused bartender returned Nanami’s card with a receipt and discreetly moved away. Another wise decision.

“You’re a student and I am not. End of discussion,” he said with enough finality in his voice that you nearly acquiesced–nearly.

You couldn’t help but gawk at him in incredulity. Was he so unaccustomed to such gestures that he didn’t realise this was your attempt to say thank you for letting you stay in his apartment? He swallowed a long sip of his whisky that you had already forgotten the name of, but you were sure was extremely expensive. His Adam’s apple bobbed and your mouth ran dry.

“It was meant to be a thank you, dummy,” you groused, pouting as you raised your straw to your lips and sipped the crimson concoction you’d ordered. “Y’know, for letting me stay at your place?”

“Did you know that you say y’know rather a lot?”

Blinking, you met his hazel eyes and nearly whimpered at the warm glow that shone from their depths. It was like standing before a roaring fire, logs popping merrily from the leaping flames and they had a way of making you feel… special. His face softened when he teased you like this, with no scowls wrinkling his face. For a man who was definitely manly–all sharp jaw and angular cheekbones–those mischievous eyes cast a boyish charm over him and you found yourself leaning closer, your elbow resting on the bar until he cleared his throat and looked away.

Thankfully, you were able to navigate the rough seas of casual conversation without incident. Kento spoke about his work with a passion that didn’t seem likely for what sounded like a rather mundane office job. You teased him for his dedication and the long hours he spent behind a desk with limited social interaction. He took it well, or perhaps it was the alcohol that loosened him up.

His cheeks were warming nicely whilst the bar picked up around you. The steady stream of corporate slaves traipsed in and out with colleagues in tow looking to warm their bellies with a drink or two before the final trek home. Kento spoke fondly of his sister and told you enough embarrassing stories from their childhood that the simmering hurt from not even knowing Karin had a brother, melted away.

The atmosphere was a pleasant one and Kento was a pleasure to converse with when he wasn’t acting like he had a stick up his butt. In fact, it was surprisingly fun to goad him into huffing and puffing at whatever nonsense took your fancy, simply to see him stiffen and frown, his chest barrelling in indignation until he realised you were baiting him and easily so.

Kento couldn’t recall a time he enjoyed more than this one right now. He was never one for taking up the invites from colleagues to go bar hopping on a Friday night, often staying late in the office and catching up on emails rather than drinking himself into a stupor. Only now did he wonder if he was missing out on something better than what he thought would be no more than a nasty headache and clouded memories. Perhaps, if the right people—or person—it could be enjoyable.

You were funny, animated and scathing but not in a cruel way, or at least that was his interpretation. He appreciated your wit and your unique take on the world caused more than one or two belly laughs, which were worth it just to see how your face lit up in reaction. You were clever too, always quick off the mark when he deliberately tried to trip you up and honestly… he was falling.

Love was far too soon to even consider but mild infatuation? Maybe.

With your drinks now empty, he asked if you would like another and after giving an enthusiastic nod, he ordered two more before standing to find the restroom. The solitude gave you a moment to collect your thoughts, staring into the depths of the polished bar edge as you wondered how to proceed. You liked him, that couldn’t be denied now but it still felt too soon, not to mention the guilt you felt over lusting after your best friend’s brother.

Your reverie was interrupted when fresh drinks were set in front of you and a presence settled by your side. Glancing sideways you expected to find Kento but it wasn’t him. A young man in his early twenties smirked at you, swiping a hand through his slicked-back black hair. He was suited and booted like the majority of the patrons but you stiffened instinctively with how closely he leaned into you.

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?” He offered, clearly ignoring the fresh set of drinks under your nose whilst his arm draped over the back of your chair. The tips of his fingers brushed your shoulder, making you shudder and twist your torso away so he could no longer reach.

“No thanks. I have a drink and that seat is taken.” You pointed to the one he was occupying after lifting both drinks in what you hoped was an obvious show of disinterest.

The man laughed; a dirty smoker’s laugh that raised the hairs on your arms and roiled the contents of your stomach. “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t lie. Liars aren’t as cute as you. I bet you bought both drinks so no one bothered you, right? I’m too smart to fall for that, all the girls are doing that these days.”

Every warning sign and alarm blared obnoxiously loud inside your head. If your instincts hadn’t tipped you off, his words certainly did. You were not the first woman to be subjected to his unwanted presence and you prayed that no one had fallen victim to his overbearing advances.

Undeterred by your previous movement to escape his touch, the man turned his body into you and this time, instead of trying to put his arm around your shoulder, he landed a heavy palm on your thigh. You openly grimaced at the unsolicited move, brushing his hand away and crossing your legs. Any sensible man would understand this as a sign to quit but of course, he seemed to only take it as some kind of sick challenge.

“Someone’s a little frigid. Let me warm you up a bit, I promise to be gentle,” he sneered, showing teeth stained from years of cigarettes and lacklustre oral hygiene.

You caught the eye of the bartender, he was watching closely and you were grateful that he was attentive.

Your mouth snapped open to retort sarcastically about his lack of perception skills, but at that moment the bartender, who you considered your safety net, moved away to the other end of the bar to serve a new customer.

What you didn’t know was that the man behind the bar knew that you were completely safe, he had seen what you had not. Nanami Kento was striding across the room and he was pissed.

At first, he had waited to see how you reacted to the man and his clear advances, unsure if you were into this kind of thing or not, but the second he could see your grimace and how your entire body leaned away from the man in his seat, fire filled his veins. The very second he touched you without invitation and continued to advance when it was obvious you weren’t interested, he saw red.

He would never understand the self-righteousness of some men, and their seeming belief that all women were fair game if they tried hard enough. It was not foreign to him, and this wasn’t the first time he stepped in to ensure the safety of a woman, often women he didn’t even know. This time was different and he was consumed with both rage and confusion at his reaction.

You weren’t his, he reminded himself as he stopped behind the man still leering at you.

A dark shadow fell over your harasser and your head snapped up at the same moment the man glanced around when someone tapped his shoulder. Nanami’s face was twisted with barely restrained fury, a thick vein popped on his temple and you gasped as the heavy waves of anger crashed outward from his stance. It was potent stuff, enough to tighten your chest when the edges licked at you just for being so close to the source.

Kento appeared broader, taller, and more angular. It must have been a trick of the light, but your heart pounded all the same. You weren’t even watching the man suddenly swallow dryly in the wake of Kento’s fury, no, you couldn’t rip your eyes away from him. The second heartbeat from the previous night was returning with vigour and you crossed your legs to draw your thighs tighter together.

“Leave.”

One single word imbued with enough power and natural dominance the man turned tail and ran for the door without even a backward glance.

“Are you alright?” Kento asked, retaking his seat and throwing back half his drink in one swallow. You watched as he sucked his teeth, his fingers digging into his eyes as if he were suddenly weary of the entire world. Not until he turned to you in question, gaze searching your face with uncertainty did you realise you hadn’t answered.

It was your turn to swallow the runny saliva in your mouth. “Yes… yes, don’t worry. He was a jerk but it could have been worse. I mean, it doesn’t happen often—”

“It shouldn’t happen at all,” he interjected.

“I know, but it’s okay.”

He grimaced but said no more. His anger was still palpable, but once where the flames had licked at you for daring to be too close, they now seemed to cocoon around the pair of you and it was a comfort. A comfort you fought against leaning into, failing when your frame swayed closer and your eyelids sagged.

The thought of how you might act if he were your man rose like oil on water, swirling images of clutching the front of his expensive cream sweater to pull him into a kiss that demonstrated a sliver of your gratitude. The kaleidoscope of colours shifted to the interior of his apartment, kicking hastily out of shoes whilst your tongues tangled and your hands roamed with abandon. Decadent heat caressed your chest, prickling your skin and causing you to squirm in your seat, all to the carefully guarded gaze of Kento.

He didn’t know what to make of your sudden shift in demeanour. You were jittery where you once had been perfectly comfortable, he wondered if perhaps you were experiencing a delayed reaction to what had transpired but what he didn’t expect was for you to reach out and run a finger along his forearm.

It was a bold move and one that you didn’t fully think through before you were in full flow. To hell with being Karin’s brother, you wanted to take the chance of seeing if you were compatible. He was ticking more and more boxes the longer you remained in his company and honestly, you wanted to know if he’d loosen up for you if given the right incentive.

“Do you make a habit of coming to the rescue of damsels in distress?”

His nostrils flared and immediately you knew that these were not the right words to use. “Don’t… I’m not interested in pity.”

All you could do was stare, slack-jawed at the absolute stupidity of this man. Did he honestly think you were the type to come on to any guy that came to your rescue? The anger that leaked from Kento seeped into you, fuelling your own and you puffed your chest in response. The man was dense, that much was clear but it was the slight against your assumed reasoning that bothered you the most.

“Are you for real? You think I would do this to just anyone that came along and helped me out of a bad situation?” You hissed through clenched teeth, letting your anger surround you like armour.

Nanami blinked, once and then again. He loathed to be seen as some heroic white knight figure, especially when he didn’t feel like one. Doing the bare minimum should not be praised, not when it is the very least all decent humans should be doing. It wasn’t the first time a woman had tried to proposition him after he chased some creep off, but it was the first time when he actually knew the woman in question.

Perhaps he misread the situation, yet that couldn’t be true either because that would mean that you were interested in him and most likely from before he had returned from the restroom. His head was pounding and it had nothing to do with the music in the bar or the alcohol that filled his stomach.

“I don’t–”

The legs of your chair scraped across the floor as you pushed up and out, halfway towards the door before he could even react to your hasty exit. It was your turn to be pissed and boy did you let it show. A couple leapt apart as they blocked your exit, and Kento was quick to down the final swallow of his whisky and threw down some cash on the bar before jogging after you.

You heard your name being called and knew that he was right on your heels. The feeling of foolishness made you want to cry and that only intensified how furious you were. How dare he make assumptions like that without warrant. A hand caught beneath your elbow and you whirled around only to be met with those uncertain eyes once more. Exhaling deeply through your nose, you reined in your temper and waited.

“I’m sorry?” Kento said, dropping his hand away from your elbow and rubbing at his neck sheepishly.

“Are you? Sorry, that is, because that sounded like a question to me. If you don’t mean it, don’t say it.” You tapped your foot against the pavement, holding his stare with unwavering determination not to be the first to look away.

“I made an assumption and that was wrong of me. This isn’t… it's not the first time I’ve been spoken to like that and I reacted out of instinct.”

“Yeah, well, I bet they hadn’t…” You clapped a hand across your mouth, startled by what you very nearly admitted and so casually too.

As quickly as your anger arrived, it dissipated just as fast. Instead, you were overcome with the memory of bedsheets twisted around your knees and your fingers busy between your thighs. You throbbed, remembering how you imagined Kento’s handsome face between your thighs, his chin and mouth swollen and sticky from the mess he’d made, and your fingers tangled in his hair to encourage him.

The image of your fantasy Kento blurred with the man standing in front of you looking perplexed. How on earth could you have nearly admitted stuffing yourself with your fingers whilst thinking of him and what it might be like if you invited him into your bed? It was comical, really it was.

“Hadn’t what?” Kento asked in confusion, if not at the sentence you left hanging then the way you seemed to double over as if you were in pain. You waved away his attempts to step closer, and he wasn’t certain if what he heard was a delirious giggle or a noise of anguish. What hadn’t those other women done that you had? There were a hundred possibilities surely, and yet, what popped into his head was the sticky mess he had made last night whilst thinking of you.

No, it couldn’t be that… it would be stupid to even think that you might have both sought relief whilst so close yet so far, only a wall keeping you apart. It was wishful thinking on his part, or so he thought. The way you burst into spontaneous laughter gave him further pause. He was grateful when you straightened and bumped your shoulder into his arm, and walked with him back to the apartment. Your anger forgotten and the atmosphere between you clearer than it had been moments ago.

But what if..?

[diagonal-queen]

Omg you're backkkk<3 I hope uni's going well for you!

Maybe the Hunting Dogs with a s/o who's kind of mean/petty?

Hunting Dogs with a mean S/O

♡ pairing: Fukuchi Ouchi, Jouno Saigiku, Tecchou Suehiro, Teruko Okura (platonic), Tachihara Michizou x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: How are the Hunting Dogs with a mean and petty S/O?

♡ cw: Swearing, u r a BULLY >:((, dw it's pretty chill though, non-graphic NSFW with Jouno, teensy bit of NSFW with Tachihara, mentions of violence, crime and torture

note: ahhh hello yes i'm back! uni's pretty great actually. i love being able to tell people i go to law school lmao, it makes me feel smarter than i am. uhh but i've been swamped and a bit busy, and i'm going back home for a week so i might not be super active over the next couple weeks, i'm so sorry my babies </3 but i'll still be lurking in case you wanna chat! as always, apologies for errors and i hope you enjoy x

Fukuchi:

Mf you think he cares?? He hired Jouno and Tachihara because they committed crimes, and he's more than happy to keep Teruko around. Bro doesn't give a FUCK that you're mean

If you're dating Fukuchi you clearly do give a shit about the welfare of society and world peace, so your individual quirks are just that. Quirks

He will fully let you just be a dickhead sometimes, because...like, why not?

I feel like Fukuchi is obviously often a very intimidating individual who strikes fear and commands respect from everyone else. But you? You just walk all over him

In some ways for him it's probably kind of refreshing to have someone around him who doesn't idolise him at all, or look up to him as a superior. It gets exhausting, for sure. Sometimes he just wants to be humbled and that's so okay Fukuchi, you deserve it actually /mean-spirited and condescending

Don't get me wrong it's not like you're an abusive partner! You're still obviously nice to your partner and you love him, but you definitely don't go out of your way to sugarcoat things or try to avoid any necessary confrontations

And Fukuchi genuinely really respects that about you. He's pretty similar like that, though still definitely goofier than you

I mean he won't want you sitting around with an RBF when he's at formal events and whatnot, because that really wouldn't have the best impression, but he's usually very gung ho about letting you be yourself

You're lucky he loves you man...lmao

Jouno:

He loves it. Full stop.

You two are just sadist central over here. Like he'll be torturing a suspect and you're just watching. Bored. Not a care in the world

(Jouno, I don't think you're legally allowed to invite your partner to watch you do your job- much less one like this, but...eh...)

You two are always just talking shit about people to each other, and like when you're out in public on dates you're just whispering to each other and judging people T-T

Lowkey kinda gets turned on when you guys argue. He thinks it's hot when you get heated and angry. Usually it ends in rough "passionate hugging", and the pillowtalk is when you both actually resolve the issue (dumbasses)

He might even purposefully rile you up sometimes because mf is just THAT much of a horny degenerate. You guys can call him classy and gentlemanly all you want, but we all know he's secretly deranged

Like an angry, horny goblin with a knife...someone stop him

Tbh you should probably bully him a little bit every now and then. I think he needs to be taken down a peg sometimes

Hey, he's more likely to listen to you than Tecchou, isn't he? Besides, it's nothing genuinely malicious. Just couple's banter

Oh, you guys are fucking LEGENDS at the couple's banter. Though you never do it in public, because a lot of the times the things you both tell each other as jokes can come off as really cruel jabs

Nah your senses of humour are just not family-friendly (violent and malicious)

You guys have very strange ways of showing your love and affection. But, hey, it works for you and that's what's important :)

Tecchou:

Ah yes, arguably the least meanie of all of the Hunting Dogs. Yeah uh he doesn't really like you at first

Tecchou doesn't understand being mean just for the sake of it. I mean like, for Teruko, she uses it in her career, and Jouno is sadistic and weird and also uses it in his career. You're just petty because you can be

But the more time you spend together the more he realises that you're really not that bad- you're really just more of the loveable asshole type

An acquired taste, yes, but this is Tecchou we're talking about! That's his thing!

He learns to appreciate the things about you that many others would probably consider flaws. He influences you for the better definitely...

...BUT you also kinda make him worse

He will adopt your 'deal with it bitch' attitude sometimes, but it doesn't hinder his relationships or work so it's fiiiiine

(Jouno isn't a huge fan of it though...but at the same time he kind of respects you)

Tecchou probably won't admit it but he really likes to listen to you rant and bitch about people you don't like. He just likes to listen to you be angry about trivial things, he finds it equal parts endearing and entertaining

If you're mean to someone who deserves it? Well I mean...who is he to stop you?

At the end of the day you're definitely emotionally self-sufficient, so that's one less part of you for him to fret over. All's well that ends well or some shit idk

Teruko (platonic):

You guys are literally the best of friends

She's the loud fiery kind of mean and you are the 'I will straight up meticulously ruin your life' kind of mean

You on some r/nuclearrevenge type shit and she fucking loves that for you

Like she's fully willing to plot and scheme with you and do whatever mean shit you suggest. You two are menaces and she should absolutely not be a military soldier

Teruko WILL smite your enemies. And by smite your enemies I mean she will actively do what she can to ruin the lives of people you don't like, with absolutely no remorse (pretty sure she actually commits crimes to do this)

She LIVES for your cruel one-liners and clever insults. Every time she hears one she absolutely hollers

Teruko enjoys it when you're mean to the other Hunting Dogs (except Fukuchi). They can handle a couple bitchy words so it's not a huge deal, but she's just extra amused by it

For the record you're not *mean* mean, you're just...humbling them (which let's be real they could use from time to time (Jouno, again, looking at you))

Nobody is surprised by your guys' friendship really

You're a dangerous pair. Please stop

Teruko kinda likes that you hold grudges so frequently because she'll never tire of hearing you shittalk the same exact people and events over and over again

She'll shittalk them too

Dia doesn't approve of this friendship

Tachihara:

You guys know that scene in B99 where Jake says that he can't decide if he's scared of Amy or turned on by her and then decides that he's both? Yea, that's Tachihara with you

He is a good person at heart, and outside of his mafia gangster persona he's really not that mean, and as such he does not encourage mean behaviour. But like, when you do it? Mm...

Bro is WHIPPED

Lowkey he probably gets some of his mafia persona ideas from you 💀

His mafia coworkers have no questions about how you two get along, and they generally like you. The other Hunting Dogs have a few more questions

Tachihara isn't some shy, quiet introvert, but he is generally pretty chill and a nice person. They like to playfully tease him about how different the two of you are (though if it gets too far he knows he can count on you to rip them a new one with no issue)

Dw they still like you though! Especially Teruko

He has absolutely no problems with you for being cold and blunt. It's nothing he himself can't handle, and in some ways it actually makes talking to you easier

Again, I'll stress that you're not mean to him, you're just not the most lovey-dovey person out there. But you DO put effort in and that's what Tachihara cares about, even if it isn't in a stereotypical way

If anything else, you're certainly loyal!

Tachihara loves you for all of your different eccentricities, and he's also kinda turned on by them. Win-win? Win-win.

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen

[gukkie01]

Pair: Racer! Jungkook x Police officer! Fem reader

Rating/Genre: 18+, smut (little to no plot), humour (I tried but failed again 😐)

Words count: 5 649

Warning: explicit content, oral sex (F receiving), semi-public sex (I guess??), penetrative sex, vaginal sex, jungkook is a very very hot racer, fingering, car sex, sassy Y/n, dirty talking, unprotected sex (pls don’t be dumb like them)

Summary: Y/n was starting to get bored of being a police officer. She needed the thrill. Thank god, Jeon Jungkook was there to help her.

Note: very much liked writing this one. It was inspired by a book I read on wattpad (that I forgot the name of :/) but I switched the roles and decided Y/n was going to be the police officer 👍. Hope you guys enjoy this one! Sorry for any typos :(

💞 quick little reminder that comments and likes are appreciated 🥹. Enjoy! 💞

Can’t Catch Me

Being a police officer was not your dream anymore. For the solemn reasons that it was boring as hell. Nothing like in the movies. There weren’t any arresting criminals and interfering in mafia cartels and saving the day.

No. It was sorting documents and sometimes, if you were lucky enough, arresting cars. But where was the thrill in that? The excitement?

Sitting down behind a desk clearly wasn’t saving anyone or helping in that case. It was just making phone calls, watching some people here and then to make sure they didn’t leave. You never had to interrogate anyone. You didn’t even have your opportunity at playing the mean cop!

Because there was no doubt that you would’ve been the mean cop. You let no one step over you or cross any boundaries.

So yeah, being a cop or police officer if you would, was not thrilling at all. It was a shitty job that paid just enough so you could survive the month. Just enough. In the end, you always had to ask yourself if it was even worth it. And most of the time, your answer ended up being no, not at all.

Your superior was not even—

Speaking of, you suddenly received a phone call from him. Picking up, you cleared your throat, trying to sound as professional and calm and cool as possible. “Y/n,” he said and shifted a little. “I need you in my office. Now.” He ended the call, not giving the slightest bit of details.

But you were used to that. Didn’t make it less annoying though.

With an exasperated sigh that earned a few amused glares from your coworkers, you got up and made your way to your boss’s office down a little hall. Three knocks and a barely audible ‘come in’ later, you were sitting down in front of him, Mr. Kang or Monkey Face as you liked to call him.

“Yes sir?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow and shifting to the edge of your chair. Were you in trouble? You couldn’t see how that was possible. How could sitting all day bring you in trouble?

Monkey Face, without once letting his eyes divert from his laptop, clicked his tongue. “I’m assigning you to a new route,” was all he said, typing away on his laptop and munching on his gum a little too loudly for your taste.

“What? Where?” The idea of finally leaving this hell of a place brought interest into your features as you wiggled more on the edge of your chair. It was embarrassing really. It wasn’t like you were arresting criminals but at least, you were going to be outside, arresting cars.

Give or take. And you decided to take.

“Route 30. You can go now.”

So, apparently, route 30 ended up being more of a stretch of highway rather than an actual route. By the time the moon set, you saw two cars, and they were exasperatedly slow. But there was no one else behind so you let it pass.

You were sitting inside your car, radio playing but you paid it no mind. It was just nice having some background noises that stopped you from falling asleep although let’s just say it wasn’t doing its job right.

When you glanced outside, the sky was pitch black; no stars, no moon. It was like someone purposely painted it black. It made the outside much darker and duller.

You sighed and decided to exit your car. Take some fresh air. You stood outside, kicking rocks with your boots and after some time, you even started playing soccer against yourself.

But you quickly got bored once again.

It turned out that being assigned to patrol a road was worse than you thought. Sitting in your car, switching the radio multiple times until you’d get so frustrated you would just shut it.

At one point, you got so bored you were on the verge of tears. Which was pathetic but true.

You started singing off-tune to a song that you vaguely remembered, singing as loud as you could before that too would become boring.

And that was when the universe heard your wishes.

Your ears perked up at the ramble of an engine, far in the distance but no doubt getting nearer pretty fast. Too fast. With your heart thumping almost loudly, you buckled your seatbelt and waited until the roaring got closer and closer and you finally saw it.

It flew past you so quickly it was like it was never there in the first place. You flicked on your lights as well as your sirens and started the car, following as closely as you could.

It was hard. Whatever car it was surely surpassed your own speed. And if it didn’t slow down any time soon, you’d lose sight of them eventually.

They made a turn to the left so quickly that you almost couldn’t follow. Your car had been on the verge of driving off the road. You weren’t really on the highway anymore but more on a small route hidden by immense trees.

You were breathless and nervous but driving that fast was the biggest thrill of your entire life and it was so liberating.

Finally, the car decelerated soon after, swerving into the side and parking swiftly. With how fast it had initially been going, you were impressed with how smooth it parked. Whoever it was behind the steering wheel, they were clearly experienced.

Slowly, all the while trying not to make a fool of yourself, you pulled up behind the bright neon blue car. You stepped out and approached the vehicul, taking in deep breaths. Be cool, be cool.

You knocked on the window three times before it slid down and goddamn it—

Your heart literally stopped beating for a fraction of a second when your gaze met a pair of doe eyes. Your own trailed lower until it stopped at a particular shiny object on the driver’s face. A lip piercing.

For a moment, you completely forgot what you were here for, too dazed by the same piercing being bitten and played with. You shook your head, regaining your composure. Or more like tried to.

Question number one.

“Do you know how fast you were driving?” You asked, trying to muster the scariest voice you could. His pierced eyebrow raised up and he smiled innocently. He had this little bunny smile that made you giddy despite trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry officer, I wasn’t paying attention.” He was amused. It was clear in the way his eyes twinkled and the mocking tone of his so fucking deep voice. You gulped a lump in your throat, trying with all your might not to look at any of his piercings and maintain your professionalism.

Question number two.

“License and registration?” You managed to ask without stuttering and the driver reached into the glove box compartment and handed you his papers.

You glanced down at them, letting your eyes trail along the information.

Jeon Jungkook. Born September 1st, 1997. He was a year older than you. His hair in the picture of his license was shorter and lighter. More like a soft brown whereas now, it was almost black. You didn’t know why you were even paying attention to that. You didn’t deign a look at his registration papers and gave them back to him.

He arched an eyebrow, clearly finding the whole situation amusing and to his advantage. He must have known just how much he had an effect on you right now.

Your inner thoughts consisted of:

I’m gonna get fired

But he’s so hot, I don’t care

I wish he could take me right here, right now

I am so getting fired.

Jungkook’s smooth husky voice quickly pulled you out of your thoughts. It was kind of funny how your heart dropped at how deep and soft his voice sounded. There was this little witty and sarcastic tone behind it.

“Aren’t you supposed to use these?” He asked, wiggling his license and registration in his hands. It was then that your eyes caught the tattoos hiding every inch of his skin. It was covering a big part of his hands and went up under his sleeve and you found yourself wanting to see more. You needed to see his entire full sleeve tattoo.

You cleared your throat, the air around you thickening by the seconds. You wondered if you were the only one feeling it. The tension. The want. The desire. Maybe it was only your brain playing tricks on you. Telling you that Jungkook’s eyes definitely trailed down your body, mentally undressing you.

Yeah, your mind was clearly playing tricks. Maybe it was his little grin tugging at the corner of his lips or his sweet cologne that made your brain alter like that. Surely, he had done something to you.

After a couple of seconds, you realized you still hadn’t answered him. You straightened up, flattening your hand on the top of his car, glancing down at him with what you hoped was your most serious glare. “I’ll let you off with a warning, Jungkook.” It was a little strange saying his name out loud, but you quickly found out that you liked it. A lot.

“But I better not see you here again or it’s a ticket,” you continued and saw his smile widening.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ok, your mind was definitely going a little crazy. You had just seen Jungkook sending a little wink your way. You probably imagined it. Yeah, it was all your brain.

He gave a little nod and started his engine once again. It roared loud and hoarsely and you had to admit that it was nice to the ears. You took a step back and watched as Jungkook drove away, ignoring your words from mere moments ago and going fast.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

You had told Jungkook to never come back here but deep inside, you wished to see him again.

A week later, the job didn’t get better. If possible, it probably got worse. You hadn’t arrested one single car yet and all you did was sleep in your car. You knew that if your boss found out, he’d surely fire you and it would be over. He was paying you to work, not sleep. That would be his words.

You sighed for the millionth time this afternoon, whistling along the song playing on the radio. The sun wasn’t bright today. Your mood was down.

The radio was on as per usual and you could hear some of your coworkers communicating with each other, wishing you could do the same. You had nothing to say, nothing to warn. Today was pretty boring.

But then again, someone seemed to have heard you and a loud roar could be heard at the far end of the highway. Your heart thumped loudly and you felt your chest vibrate. Finally. You felt a smile curve up your lips as you turned your car on just as a vehicle flashed before your eyes.

You quickly drove away from behind the small bushes you were once parked at and started your pursuit. But it was quickly over. The car parked on the side road after a short while and you did the same a couple of meters behind. You stood outside your car, looking around quickly before jogging and knocking against the tinted window.

“Do you know how— Jesus! You?”

Fucking hell. Of course it was him. Jeon Jungkook. You should have known by the unique rambling of his motor and at the speed he went earlier. You should have known since the start. This job was seriously making you lose some brain cells.

Jungkook grinned. It was a little devilish and teasing and smug. He leaned on the inside of his door, looking up at you. Fuck. He had dimples.

“Hi to you too, officer…” his eyes trailed down to your badge, “Y/n.” The way your name rolled off his tongue so well made you shiver. His voice had gone an octave lower. It had that little rasp to it that almost made you drool. You secretly wished you could hear it right to your ears.

Just the thought of it gave you goosebumps.

“Jungkook, it’s the second time I catch you exceeding the speed limit. I have no other choice but to give you a ticket this time.”

You didn’t really want to. If you could, you’d let him off with another warning that would actually never get anywhere. He was too pretty to have a ticket. Too fucking perfect.

Jungkook’s wicked grin didn’t falter once even after your words. If it made sense, it seemed to only get wider. Was he finding this entire situation funny? It made your blood slightly boil. You felt like you were getting laughed at. Humiliated maybe. But there was also this little feeling, this tightness at the pit of your stomach when Jungkook got closer.

His cologne hit your strong and gosh, you wanted to breathe it forever. Bath in it. It smelled so good on him.

“Is there a way I could pay? I don’t have money right now.” His tone was suggestive and it took you a while before you got the proper meaning behind his words. And to say that you were shook was an understatement. You choked on nothing, face flushed and so warm, it was embarrassing.

Jungkook didn’t miss the way you suddenly avoided even looking at him, focusing on his steering wheel instead. You heard a low chuckle that shouldn’t have sounded this good. It shouldn’t have made your knees slightly fold.

Jungkook was an attractive man. You couldn’t deny it and it was pretty hard to miss. It was also hard not to stare at his piercings, at his pink lips that looked so soft or at the tattoos that were much more visible than last time. They peeked from his white top and reached the middle of his neck. They were simply magnificent. You wanted to let your fingers run along each of his tattoos.

But even with his fucking god-like appearance, you had to stop yourself from even thinking of further things about him. It was not professional to let your brain wander at these places.

So, in other words, you were a little too close to taking his offer.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have a week to pay, so if you don’t have the money on you right now, it’s no worries.” You replied, mentally high-fiving yourself for keeping your cool.

Jungkook shifted closer, and the tip of his index grazed your arm. It was covered with your uniform but it still sent a wave of fire through your entire body. “But I would really like to pay now. I have something better than money.”

Shit.

Fuck.

No, no no.

He shouldn’t have said that. You were on the verge of saying ‘yes’. On the verge of letting him take you right here, in the middle of the highway. His words were very powerful and from the way his eyebrow arched, he knew it.

“Do you know what you’re implying right now, Jeon?”

Something in his eyes twinkled when you said his last name. He smirked. Literally smirked. “I know that very well, officer. So, what do you say?”

Oh my god.

You couldn’t say yes, even with how much your heart—or more like your cunt— begged for you to accept his offer. But that would only bring you trouble. You didn’t need that.

“I say we’re going straight to the station, Jungkook. Come out.” His smug expression dropped for a moment, and you saw how disappointed he was. Maybe he thought that his sexiness and his pretty voice and pretty tattoos and piercings would have saved him, and it almost did. But you had to remember that you were the mean cop.

He sighed and opened his door, standing up in front of you.

You breath hitched when you realized how easily he was towering over you. He looked so intimidating from this angle, you almost dropped to your knees. It was then that you realized he was wearing a white top that was so tight you saw the entire shape of his pecs. He had a racer vest on top—blue with black lines and his name written on the back.

He looked at you for a second, toying with his lip piercing before eventually turning around and putting his hands behind his back.

“You know officer, it seemed like you were ready to take my offer. What made you change your mind?” So cocky. His ego was so big and normally it would piss you off, but with Jungkook, it was almost like a part of his charm.

“Stop talking,” you ordered in your most stern voice although it only made him chuckle. You unclipped the handcuffs from your uniform, ready to wrap them around his wrists.

“So bossy. I like it.” You swallowed on nothing over and over again, losing focus. The more he talked, the more you were overthinking. You wanted to push him in his car and let him fuck you.

“Jungkook, I said stop talking.”

“You like having control, hm? I bet you’d love to control me, even for just a few minutes…” And then, well, you kind of snapped.

You handcuffed his wrists together harshly, your fast movements making him take a sharp breath. You turned him around, slightly pinning him to his car door. “I told you to stop talking. You’re only bringing yourself further into trouble,” your voice was simply a mere whisper directed to his face. Jungkook bit his lips, bowing his upper body to reach your level.

“One thing you should know: I love trouble,” he said and his voice was suave and smooth and warm on the side of your face. His knee touched your crotch and he pushed it between your legs. You sucked in a long breath and let out a muffled moan.

Well shit. You were doomed. Because now, you couldn’t stop thinking about how his knee felt so good pressed against your pussy and how much his cock would be even better.

“Seems like you’re enjoying yourself,” he commented, looking down at your lower half grinding on his knees. He pushed it up more and added some pressure to your core. You were wet. Wetter than you’d been in a while and all because of a little asshole named Jungkook. He had his proud face on, enjoying the way your face darkened in a deep shade of pink and the way you obviously shook. He knew you wanted to go further.

“Remove those handcuffs, sweetie.” He said suddenly and his face was dark, serious and so dominant. You really couldn’t say no to that face.

So you nodded, taking out a key from your front pocket, fumbling with it clumsily until the handcuffs were off and Jungkook’s hands found their way on your waist.

He didn’t wrap his arms around you. He simply let you feel his hands for a while, getting used to the burning feeling they left even on top of your entire uniform. It tickled as if he touched you straight through your clothes, right on your skin. Thinking about it, you were dying for some skin to skin contact. To touch his tattoos while he was pleasing you.

Jungkook’s eyes were staring straight into yours. You knew right then that he had been thinking about that moment for a while now and to say that it turned you on was an understatement.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep eye contact without failing but it was hard. His stare was deep and intense and the way he continually licked his lips made it difficult to keep your eyes up there. They looked so soft.

You briefly wondered how they tasted before Jungkook’s voice interrupted your train of thoughts.

“Are you gonna stare at them longer before you finally kiss me?” You hated how his voice made your inside wiggle and giddy and your heartbeat accelerate.

You hesitated, on the tip of your toes. You were so nervous. And Jungkook seemed to catch in, as with a wide grin, he plunged down, lips crashing against your, and teeth colliding. His cold lip piercing touched the corner of your lips and made you gasp.

He snorted into the kiss, this time, wrapping his arms entirely around your waist and exchanging your positions. You were the one pinned on his car. And quite honestly, you liked this position way more.

“I’ve been waiting to do that since the moment you knocked on my window.” His sudden confession stole the air out of you. Just like you, he had been waiting to touch you and feel you up.

Fucking butterflies. You hated how they swam in your stomach and made it difficult to keep up with the kissing without feeling like you would pass out. Jungkook was a good kisser. Scratch that, he was fucking amazing. He moved his lips with expertise against yours.

You guys weren’t really taking your time but you still enjoyed it very much. They way it was heated and impatient and filled with want made it all the more exciting.

You wanted him so bad.

“Let’s take this further in the car, hm?” He mumbled against your lips, struggling to open the car in the position you were both in, but after a while, you were swiftly thrown in the back seat.

Jungkook hovered over you like a scary predator ready to attack and eat its prey. And you were very glad to be his prey.

His right hand lifted up and stopped at your cheek, letting his thumb rub over the softness of your skin. He was in literal awe as he let his eyes trail around every feature of your face. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Can’t wait to ruin you.”

If it wasn’t hot enough, it became too much. You were sweating, desperate to get out of your clothes and let the AC of the car wrap around you. And even more desperate to get Jungkook to fuck you.

Jungkook’s rough hands explored every inch of your upper body until he got tired of your clothes. He sat you up and as fast as he could, succeeded in removing the top of your uniform. His eyes twinkled as if he was a kid that just received his favorite toy for his birthday.

You let him touch you everywhere, he squeezed and massaged your breast until you were whimpering. He pinched your nipples, earning multiple cries from you. He seemed to love every second of it, considering the smile—worth probably a million of dollars—plastered on his face.

He didn’t linger on your breasts too much, though. You could see in the way his fingers always found themselves at the waistband of your pants, that he was more excited about what was down there.

He looked up at you, stopping his hands that were ready to slip off the last item of clothing (except your panties) covering your body.

“Can I remove them?” He asked and it warmed your heart that he remembered to ask you before going any further. You gave him a shy nod and kept in your breath when the cold air hit your lower body, more specifically, your inner thighs.

Jungkook’s hands covered your skin almost immediately. His nails slightly scratched your skin as he ran his fingers up and down your entire legs. But his eyes were stuck on the wet patch on your panties.

“Aren’t you a little excited, huh? Soaked even when I barely even started.”

You moaned. It was a small moan that was more due to your embarrassment and your need for him to touch you, combined together.

It was music to Jungkook’s ears.

He let his finger push on your clothed core, breathing in loudly when he felt the dampness. And then he slipped his fingers in your panties without any second thoughts or any warning.

He settled on rubbing his middle finger on your clit, looking up every now and then at the way your face contorted in pleasure. You were moaning continuously, asking him for more but he wouldn’t give it.

Jungkook loved teasing you and even though you barely knew him at all, that information was pretty obvious from the way he enjoyed slipping in snarky little remarks from the first moment you saw him. He loved how your face became red instantly, how you avoided his eyes. He felt so confident around you.

You liked the tease. You liked feeling on edge every time his fingers almost entered your pussy but then he’d move them away.

“Be patient, babe. You’ll get what you want soon enough.”

Babe. You wanted to hear him say that again on repeat.

“Jungkook,” you mumbled with closed eyes, internally screaming when he avoided your hole again, “I need more. Please.”

He chuckled, stopping the motion of his fingers. “Look at you begging for me. I should have known you’d be an impatient little slut.”

You whined at his choice of words. Dirty talking never failed in turning you on, although it was clear that it depended from who.

And it seemed to fit Jungkook very well.

“Please,” you asked again, not even caring how pathetic you sounded.

“Aw, you’re asking so nicely.” He slipped one finger in and you involuntarily arched your back. “So good for me, so tight too.” Another finger. “Are you gonna come from just my fingers?” A third digit, this time, curling inside.

The stretch hurted a bit. But it was good. It felt so amazing. It only added onto the pleasure and after a while, it wasn’t even uncomfortable anymore.

Jungkook’s eyes were plastered on your pussy and the way you swallowed his fingers so well. You were so wet, it dripped down your inner thighs. He kept biting and licking his lips, moving his head down by the seconds.

And then you understood what he wanted to do so bad. He wanted to eat you out.

“Do it,” you told him, wiggling and pushing yourself closer to him, his fingers hitting a particular spot that had a little yelp come out of you.

“What?” He furrowed his eyebrows, slowing down his fingers. You straightened up a little bit and took his wrist, pulling his three digits out of you. “I know what you wanna do. Eat me out. Please.”

He swallowed and nodded, pushing you further in the back seat and against the door. He properly positioned himself between your legs, tapping on your right thigh. “Open up,” he signaled, pulling them even more apart until you were wide open in front of him.

He licked his lips and plunged his head right in your crotch. Locks of his hair fell on your thighs, tickling you and making shivers run up your entire body. And then his tongue touched you. So warm. So soft. So pleasurable.

He licked the lips at first before slipping his tongue inside, grunting. He had mumbled something but with his face between your legs, the words came out muffled and unclear.

“Fuck, it’s so fucking good. Please don’t stop.” He dug his fingers in your thighs to keep them apart. He thrusted his tongue in and out of your cunt, sometimes, keeping it in deep, filling up all the right places, grazing all the right spots until you were wiggling, and legs wrapping around his face, bucking your head up.

He let you do it. Let you suffocate his face until your juice rolled down his mouth and he pulled himself away. White liquid covered his lips and something in your belly tightened at the sight.

It was so obscene but so hot. You pulled him by his vest to smash your lips on his and taste yourself. He slipped off his vest in the process, tearing down his top and struggling out of his black baggy pants, his boots already off.

He was left in those Calvin Klein sinful briefs that allowed you to see is bulge and fuck, he was big. Perfect length and thickness and that had you drooling literally. You wanted to touch every inch of his body. He was perfectly sculpted.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good, babe. Can’t wait to fuck you into oblivion.” He whispered in your ear and let you remove his boxers until his cock sprung free and stood proudly.

You were astonished and couldn’t tear your eyes away. You were never one to find dicks beautiful, but with Jungkook, you could stare at it and a suck it all day.

But not right now. There were more important matters. Like your desperation to have his cock fuck you.

“Jungkook, I need it inside. Please.”

Jungkook couldn’t get enough of your begging. He wanted to go as far as recording it and jerking himself off at night.

He aligned himself right in front of your entrance and looked up at you. “Are you okay? I really want to fuck the shit out of you but if you changed your mind—“

You cut him off with your finger, grinning at him. “I’ve never wanted something more in my entire life. So please, do it already.” Jungkook’s face brightened up at your response. He liked how you had shut him up and ordered him.

You pushed yourself against his cock just as he began slipping it in slowly, groaning and snuggling his face in the crook of your neck, biting right under your jaw.

“Oh my fucking god, I won’t last long,” he mumbled, sucking in multiple sharp breaths. One of his hands was holding himself beside your head and the other was wrapped around you, securing you in his grasp.

When Jungkook was fully in, he stayed still for a couple of seconds, enjoying the way your walls were so warm and perfectly wrapped around his cock. But then, he slowly slipped out until the head of his dick was at your rim and slammed back in. “Oh fuck—”. You bucked your hips up, meeting his thrust and letting out a scraped moan along with Jungkook’s groan.

“If I knew it was this good,” you started but cut yourself off when he picked up his pace, squeezing your flesh, “I would’ve accepted your offer from the beginning.”

He chuckled, looking down attentively as his cock disappeared in and out of your pussy, being soaked with your slick. It was warm and it drove Jungkook crazy. He wanted to stay inside forever.

“Well, I wanted to fuck you the moment I laid my eyes on you,” he admitted and slowed down his thrusts.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion until Jungkook flipped you over and you were straddling him. From this position, everything felt so different. He felt so much deeper, as if you could feel him with your hands if you touched your belly.

He gripped your hips tightly to the point when it almost hurted and glanced up at you. “Ride me like the naughty little slut you are, hm?” His voice was so hoarse compared to earlier, and so much more seductive and his sinful words rolled off his tongue in a way you found so satisfying.

You nodded and wrapped your hands around his neck. As you bounced up and down, your breasts followed the rhythm and they were practically jumping in Jungkook’s face, basically calling out to him to suck on them.

Which he ended up doing, letting go of your hips and licking, biting and squeezing the sensitive skin of your chest. He marked your entire cleavage until he was happy at how dark and red it looked.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, earning a strangle moan out of you two and then a moan from Jungkook when you clenched again.

“Is my little slut already so close?”

“Y-yes. It’s so good, I can’t hold it in much longer.” His hands grasped your waist and slid you down his cock until it was buried so deep, you couldn’t find the voice in you to make a sound. He was fucking you so well.

“You’re taking my cock like a good girl. I think you deserve to come.” He mumbled, moving his head closer to yours and nibbling on your bottom lip.

“Please, Jungkook. I want to come so bad. Please please.”

“Fuck, begging like that, I don’t think I can last longer too.”

His words made you keep going, bouncing on his length over and over again to the point where you reached some overstimulation, shaking violently in his arms.

Your voice was loud and the only word that was heard was Jungkook Jungkook Jungkook.

Your cum ran down his length, to his thighs and made his skin glisten in white. Your head was dizzy and your eyes hazed as you glanced down at Jungkook. Your stomach kept tightening every time he moved his hips upward.

He came no longer after, slamming you down his cock and keeping you there for a long moment, moaning how good you were and how hot you looked.

You leaned on his chest after a moment, catching your breath although it proved to be a difficult task. Your lungs felt empty, devoid of any air. But it was fine because you had just been fucked by Jeon Jungkook. And it was the best sex of your life.

After Jungkook regained his composure, he wrapped his arms around you and looked up. One of your hands was running along his tattoos and the other was busy, combed in his sticky hair. Jungkook was a fucking piece of art.

“So,” he started, pushing a few locks of hair away from your face, “Do I still need to pay for that ticket?”

“Heck yeah.”

[strlingsav]

Idek if you will see this but i been reading your work and its amazing!! You’re genuenly so talented in writing. but could you maybe do a fic on Ghost and y/n jus having a steamy makeout sesh, don’t matter the context or backstory but just to include a lot of kissing. 🫣🫣

Thank you! 🤍 I can definitely do this!! Steamy make-outs are underrated.

Alone

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— You're left alone with Johnny's friend Simon.

Johnny had offered to help you move over the weekend, offering Simon's help too, in exchange for a case of beer. You were happy to oblige, eager for the extra help and a chance to see Simon again.

Johnny talked a lot about him. It was a given; they worked so closely together, and near-death experiences could really bring people together. You'd grown to know Simon through Johnny, enough to find yourself attracted to the brooding man.

Aside from your developing crush, you were glad Johnny had someone watching his back. Someone that seemed reliable and trustworthy. It was part of the reason why you'd so quickly accepted Simon's help. The way Johnny spoke of him only had you even more intrigued. Every story he told let you piece Simon together, bit by bit. You were starting to take interest in the puzzle of a man.

He was quiet, not much of a talker and his humour was dry. Most people would be off-put by his demeanour, but you liked it. Being so close with Johnny meant that sometimes, a break from the incessant talking was nice. Enjoyable even.

"Just leave it there, I can take it to my room," You said, waving your hand to dismiss Johnny carrying a large box full of sheets and blankets.

"You sure?" He asked, his brow quirked as he lowered it.

"Yeah, yeah," You replied. "It's not heavy. Won't need it tonight anyways."

Johnny nodded, leaving the box on the floor before joining you at the kitchen island.

You handed him a beer, taking a sip of the one in your hand.

"Thanks again," You said.

"Not a problem. Simon's done most of the work anyways."

"I expected as much," You hid your grin.

"Y'can find someone else to move your shite then," He scowled, moving around to sit on the chair. "You like it here?"

"It's not bad. Roomy. Only a few minutes from work."

You sat on the sofa, curling your feet up under you.

"Aye," He nodded. "Better than the last."

Simon stepped out of the spare room, rolling his shoulders before settling beside you.

"'S'all moved in there," He said, lifting his arm to the back of the couch.

"Thanks," You smiled softly. "Let me grab you a beer."

You came back with a beer in hand, passing it to him before sitting back down.

"Cheers," He nodded.

You looked around the room, still cluttered with boxes and random items you'd have to find a home for. Your head fell back, groaning softly.

"I still have a ton of shit to do."

"Wish I could stay an' help," Johnny said, setting down his empty beer. "I've got myself a dinner with my maw. I can stop by after."

"It's alright. I'll stay up and get it done before Monday."

"Maybe Simon could help ya?" Johnny's eyes shifted to Simon, who swallowed a sip of beer.

You avoided Johnny's gaze, knowing he'd be staring at you as your cheeks flushed, suspecting something of your bashful reaction. He'd sensed the attraction between the two of you; you were both too stubborn and proud to admit it.

Simon breathed in, "No plans tonight. If you need the help-"

"You really don't have to," You insisted, your eyes locking with his.

"Don't mind."

Johnny watched the interaction with a small smirk, enjoying the discomfort he created. You sighed, turning to Johnny with wide eyes and an expression that read, 'I'm going to murder you'.

"That's really nice of you," You smiled. "I'll owe you one."

Johnny left not long after, leaving yourself and Simon to unpacking the many boxes left in your living room.

It was silent between the two of you, hardly satiated by the quiet sound of the music in the background. You glanced over every so often, amused by the sight of him hunched over on your floor, rummaging through a box of plates and cutlery.

"Thanks again." Your voice was louder than anticipated, shattering the silence. "For staying to help."

He looked up at you, expressionless, though his eyes softened.

"Not much to do when I'm home," He said. "Beer and company ain't bad."

You nodded- a small smile crawled over you face as you tried not to read too much into his simple statement. You turned back to the box, taking a soft breath in.

"Johnny talks about you a lot," You said.

"He's a good mate."

"Seems to think the same of you."

"You known each other long?"

"Since college."

Silence ascended again, busying yourself with tidying and unpacking.

You blew out a harsh breath, looking over the array of boxes, half-opened around the cluttered living room.

"Don't think this'll be done by Monday," You huffed. "Let's just call it."

Simon smiled, not enough that you'd noticed, but he was amused.

He'd accepted Johnny's offer in hopes of spending more time with you. He despised civilian life. He didn't know how to function in a world without gunfire or imminent death. Despite that, he was okay doing mind-numbing tasks if he could sit and talk to you.

Part of him knew he owed Johnny a thanks for giving the two of you time together, though the other wanted to kill him for putting him on the spot.

You stood up, Simon following, and your foot caught on the nearest box. Simon's hand reached out to steady you, grabbing hold of your bicep before you fell forward.

"Y'alright?"

You nodded. Though inside, you could swear there was a tidal wave of nerves igniting with heat at the touch of his hand.

You stepped around the box, grabbing another couple beers from the fridge.

You rested your back against the island, sipping slowly, your eyes following Simon as he stood across from you. Your fingers nervously tapped the bottle, rhythmic, soothing- it didn't seem to work.

"You- um," You spoke up again. "You like this music?"

He could tell you were grasping at straws, looking for anything to fill the awkward silence. He wasn't one for idle chatter, and he didn't mind the silence, but he could tell his presence had you on edge. He knew you were trying to cover up the nervous habits you had; chewing your lip, bouncing your knee.

"Not bad," He nodded.

"Do you like being in the army?"

He furrowed his brows at the sudden subject change, an amused smile forming across his lips.

"That what you really want to ask me? 'Bout my work?"

"Just making conversation," You shrugged.

"Yeah, it's alright," He tilted his head. "You always so nervous makin' conversation?" He'd struck a nerve; your eyes flashed to his, wide and unblinking.

"Not really," You smiled. "Not really sure how to talk to you," You breathed out.

"I make you nervous?" He set the beer down beside him, moving slowly, predator-like as he inched toward you.

"You make everyone nervous," You teased.

It was a pathetic reach for comfort, for something to ease the building tension in your stomach as he stood before you.

"Don't think that's the case here," His lips were parted, stillness in the air. "You have somethin' else you wanna ask me, sweetheart?" He had his hands planted on the counter, trapping you within the confines of his body.

Sweetheart. The word rolled off his tongue, soft, smooth- it nearly made you melt. Your jugular pounded in your throat- he was flirting with you.

"Do you want another beer?"

He chuckled, low and dry. His head shook, before his eyes landed on yours.

"Would y'let me kiss you?"

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, your heart threatening to jump out of your throat, palms tacky with sweat.

"Yes," You said, barely above a whisper, void of any tone, focused solely on his lips as he brought himself even closer.

His lips touched yours softly, hardly enough to feel, though it created sparks in your abdomen. He was gentle, creating a fleeting touch that made you chase after his lips when he pulled back.

Your eyes opened to find his, searching your face, appreciating the flush on your skin, the lust-filled glaze over your eyes.

He didn't hesitate this time, his lips making firm contact with yours, still apprehensive but savouring how good you felt against him. He let out a satisfied but restrained sigh, basking in the utter pleasure, while his hand mindlessly moved to your waist, delicately holding on, pulling you just a bit closer.

You had to crane your neck, nearly stand on your toes to reach him, your wobbly disposition worsening when forced to balance yourself.

He noticed, pulling away and lifting you swiftly onto the countertop. You parted your thighs, making room for his torso, accepting him closer than before.

Your lips reconnected, feverish and greedy as you devoured the bitterness and surprising softness on his lips. For an army man, he had miraculously smooth lips, addictive and warm.

His hand held onto your waist, the other resting on the top of your thigh, holding you close, aching for the feel of your body under his grip. They engulfed you, swallowed you whole, erased any other thoughts aside from the heat swarming inside you.

Your own hands had travelled around his shoulders, feeling the taught muscles surrounding his neck, your palms gliding up to lay against the nape of his neck. He was solid- strong and authoritative-it made your stomach churn with excitement.

Your tongue grazed his bottom lip, a teasing stroke that made his grip tighten. Your back arched into him, letting your tongue caress his lip until he reciprocated, gliding his against yours.

Like lighting a match, the sparks in your body lit up, creating a burn in your stomach.

His hand slid down past your hip, grabbing a handful of your ass as he pulled you off the counter to his hips. You inadvertently wrapped your legs around him, still moving your lips against his as he walked past the pile of boxes to lie you down on the couch.

He towered over you, removing the restrictive jacket he had on, his biceps flexing as he yanked them from the sleeves. Your gaze moved to see the tattoos covering his arms, the way his T-shirt fit so perfectly over his well-worked muscles.

He, in turn, had his eyes glued to you. Your hair splayed out on the pillow, your swollen lips now red with irritation, your eyes in the dim light of the room, how the baggy T-shirt you wore fell taught against your breasts when you breathed in. He could see the swell of your breasts, your perked nipples through the white fabric, and when you reached to grasp his shoulders, he felt heat travel to his groin.

His hands trailed from your hips, diving beneath your shirt to feel your smooth skin, the dip between your ribs. A bit further up, he ran teasing fingers over your breasts, eliciting a quiet gasp from your parted lips.

"Simon," You whispered, a fleeting announcement of pleasure that echoed in his head.

"Bloody hell," He said, low and guttural. "You been drivin' me mad, love."

You grinned, "That so?" You quipped, eager to learn more.

"Since I met you."

You hummed with satisfaction, sitting up to press your lips against his, to wrap your hand around his neck and pull him into you. He chuckled into your lips, his hand settling above you on the couch.

Your eyes drifted shut, toes curling with the feeling of his lips leaving soft kisses across your neck, before he reached your lips again.

He pushed his torso further between your thighs, unintentionally grinding his pelvis against yours. You moaned softly into his mouth, nipping at the plump flesh of his lip. He breathed out, his hips driving into yours, hitting just the right angle to grind against your clit. Your whimpers against his mouth had his cock hardening against you.

"I don't have any condoms," You said shyly, a blush creeping up your neck.

"Eager, are you?" He leaned in, his nose gently nudging your head aside so he could kiss the smooth skin of your neck. "'S'alright- rather take you out 'fore any o'that."

His body was flush with yours, lips connecting with unbroken ferventness. Your hands pulled against his shirt, forcing him into your body, holding him hostage.

"Y'make it real difficult to wait, sweetheart."

Your eyes brows crested, yearning for him, in his entirety.

"Sorry," You sighed. "Better take me to dinner soon."

A knock at your apartment door made your heads turn. It must've been Johnny, back from dinner.

"Open up, kid."

[definitelynotstable]

Trouble [Ghost x fem!Reader]

AN: hurt/comfort will ALWAYS be my fave.

Synopsis: You find yourself caught in an explosion during a mission. Ghost looks after you. Words: 1.2k Warnings: swearing, injuries Ghost x fem!reader (callsign Fern): Not explicitly romantic but there’s certainly a spark. SOFT GHOST <3 Slight hurt - lots of comfort. 

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

You knew something felt off about this mission. But you weren’t gonna sit this one out based on a mere hunch. Maybe you should’ve. Because now you were buried under a heap of rubble, ears ringing and head heavy. 

“Fern?” A voice called from somewhere in the distance. You didn’t know what was up and what was down. Gun shots echoed nearby.

You swallowed, coughing as dust clogged your mouth and nose. “Y-yeah?” You rasped as loud as you could. Comms were useless. 

“What’s your status, soldier?” Ghost.

You wriggled slightly, stopping as a flash of pain radiated up your leg. 

“Leg’s fucked, might be broken and a concussion.”

“Can you move?”

You bit your lip as you tried again, nothing budged. “No, sir. Something’s got me pinned.”

“Alright,” his voice called back, calm and stoic as usual. “Price? We need backup, Fern was caught in the blast, need some extra hands to move rubble.”

You couldn’t hear the reply. Your comms hissed with static in your ear. Blood dribble from your temple, down your cheek and into your mouth. The sounds around you were fading. Everything ached. You could rest, right? Just for a moment?

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

You woke to a searing pain with a cry. Someone was moving the beam which compressed your leg. 

“Fern?” A Scottish accent called out from somewhere behind you, “we found what’s got you pinned. Try not to move while we shift it.”

You groan as it shifts again. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to, Sarge.”

The scot huffs, chucking a chunk of concrete into the pile behind him. “Humour me, Fern.”

You cough again as a cloud of dust forms from the moving rubble. “Where’s LT?”

There’s a heavy thump and Soap groans with effort, finally uncovering your twisted form. He squats in front of you with a grin, patting your head lightly. “Getting a spinal-board - you sure are trouble.”

You squint up at the man and mirror his grin. “So I’ve been told.”

“Soap!” 

The man in front of you turns to the side and you see Ghost running, gun across his back and a spinal-board tucked under his arm. Soap gestures to where you lie amongst the debris.

“Hey LT, look who I found!”

Ghost doesn’t laugh, pushing past the scotsman and coming to kneel beside you. He pulls his glove off, tossing it to side. His scarred hand brushes your hair from your eyes. 

“Always gettin’ yourself into messes, aren’t ya?” He murmurs, fingertips ghosting the laceration on your temple. You wince but your lips quirk up. His hand lingers on your cheek for a moment, cobalt eyes intense as they meet yours. 

He stands, hand dropping away as he turns to Soap. 

“We need to get to EXFIL now, I’ll need your help to move her.”

Soap nods, shifting his gun to sling it over his back and out of the way. “What do you need me to do, LT?”

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

They manage to roll you onto the stretcher, Soap mumbling apologies while Ghost swears lightly under his breath at each noise of discomfort you make. 

They manage to get you to the truck waiting at the extraction point. Gaz is behind the wheel, engine running, while Price squats behind the open side door, his gun poised. 

You make to get of the stretcher, Ghost holds you down, eyes stern. “We’ve gotta rule out a spinal injury, Fern. Stay down.”

There isn’t room for argument in his eyes, Soap helps the Lieutenant slide the stretcher into the bed of the pickup. Ghost settling in beside you, his gun now in his lap as he surveys the area behind you. Soap joins the Captain and Gaz in front and the vehicle spurs forward. 

It doesn’t take long to get to the safehouse but everything feels bruised twice over by the time the truck comes to a rolling stop. 

“Please tell me I can get off this fucking slab of plastic, LT. Everything hurts.” 

Ghost looks down at you, eyes softening slightly. “Just let Gaz look you over first. Then I’m sure we can find you a bed or a couch to settle on.”

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

There’s a bang as someone lowers the side of the pickup bed. 

“Let’s see the wounded soldier then,” Price’s voice barks, his hat and beard coming into view, smiling but his eyes worried, “what’ve you done this time, love?”

Soap and Ghost slide the stretcher off the pickup and make for the safehouse. You look up at the Captain with a sheepish expression. 

“Picked a fight with a wall.”

“Oh yeah? Who won?” Price inquired, holding open the door for you, looking down with a grin.

“The wall.” Ghost interrupts as him and Soap lower you to the floor, Gaz brushing past with a med kit. 

You scoff as the younger sergeant wraps a cuff around your upper arm, taking your blood pressure.

“Put up one hell of a fight by the looks of it,” Gaz quips, moving your neck gently from side to side and getting you to squeeze his fingers and wriggle your toes. He cleans and wraps you leg quickly, a scarred and pale hand squeezes your shoulder as the antiseptic burns. Ghost.

“Thank you Gaz,” you huff, letting him ease you up as he gives the ok. Ghost silently moves forward to wrap an arm around your waist and helps Gaz deposit you onto the rugged couch against the wall. 

Price and Soap’s laughs echo from the makeshift kitchen, cupboards opening and closing as they look for food. Ghost settles on the arm of the couch and you slump against him, too tired and sore to sit up straight. He stiffens slightly before relaxing, moving to shift you over and slides off the arm of the chair to settle next to you.

Gaz rustles around in the med-kit before popping a few pills into his hand, offering them to you as Soap appears next to him with a glass of water. 

“Take these, I’ll give you more in a few hours. They should tide you over till RTB.”

You swallow them, sculling the water. Ghost takes the empty  glass from your hands, handing it to Gaz who returns to the kitchen with Soap where Price has managed to turn on a radio that looks older than you. 

Jazz crackles through the cabin and the hiss of a kettle sings as dishes clink. You sigh, sinking deeper into the couch and the warm body beside you.

Ghost clears his throat. You look up, pulling back. 

“Oh shit, sorry, LT.”

“’S’alright,” his chest rumbles, an arm pulling you back into his side. “Rest, Fern. You did good.”

You don’t have the energy to refuse. He is so warm and safe. You feel yourself drifting off, the murmur of voices in the background lulling you into a peaceful haze. You feel him shift beside you and your limp arms are threaded out of your vest. Someone tosses a blanket into your lap and Ghost whispers harshly at them to fuck off. Probably Soap. The lieutenant shakes it out before tucking it around you.

A hand brushes through your hair.

You sigh.

Everything fades to black.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

Masterlist

[gettinshiggywithit]

ok so I saw your post abt wanting to write for pjo but you don't know what and you've only read the books so I figured I'd send a request or sum. now idk if you do headcannons cause I haven't followed you for long, but headcannons abt a relationship with percy? 🍓

🌊Dating Percy Jackson~ (HCs)🌊

Summary: what’s it like dating the son of poseidon and resident blue-enthusiast

Pairing: percy x gn!reader (i think I kept it pretty gender neutral!)

Genre: fluff

T/W: none

A/N: Hi nonny! I hope you like this! Thank you for the request and for getting me out of my writing slump! Pls lmk what you think of it if you feel like it and until next time ciao!

Warning! Not proof read🥹🙏apologies 🥹

I think its a given that percy is the epitome of boyfriend material

I mean the man literally gave up immortality for annabeth!

But this isnt about annabeth,this is about you!

So for the sake of this post let’s assume you both met the same way!

The moment percy saw you he was entranced!

It was a normal day of practice and he was out in the practice pavilion to try his hand at archery(this was when he was still unclaimed)

He was struggling to even hit the target when he turned his head to talk to his instructor from the apollo cabin,only to see you sparring with the camp’s best swordsman,luke castellan!

You were expertly dodging and blocking his advances and while luke seemed to be getting frustrated,you looked smug and excited almost. It was then that perch jackson developed a hugee crush on you

Over the next few days he made attempts to talk to and interact with you,he joined you at the campfire and during these little interactions was when he realised you weren’t just pretty,you had a personality as bright as the sun and your sense of humour was elite!

When he got claimed you helped him accept it and even though you were still unclaimed it really helped him. You listened to him when he needed a friend and helped him see the brighter side of things.

And over time even you seemed to fall for him, i mean what wasnt to love,he was funny,sweet,supportive; everything a girl could ask for!

So when you confessed to him during a sparring session after having just beaten him,he was both confused and overjoyed!

You helped him up and he confessed to feeling the same.and as you both got older,your bond grew stronger.sure there were little hiccups along the way but you always made it work.

Percy noticed everything about you, your little quirks, your little gestures; everything

He was the first to notice when you were feeling even a little bit down and he always had your favorite snacks on hand for when you needed cheering up!

He always took you down to the beach or near the river,exploring both in his little protective bubble was the coolest,most awesome thing you’d ever experienced and even though you felt scared at times,he’d hold you close and not let go until you were on dry land.

Making blue food together in the off season and spending time at his and his mum’s apartment was heavenly,especially your home didn’t exactly feel like a home in the first place.

Sally loved you! She always teased the two of you when you curled up on the couch to watch movies and was just happy her son found someone.

During quests he always had your back but also knew you were perfectly capable on your own,i mean you practically taught him how to sparr yourself!

Through the losses and the gains,the battles and the hardship,you stayed together and helped eachother grow.

You loved him with all your heart and he the same. He was loyal to fault and would never judge or criticize you,if he did it was merely constructive criticism,nothing to belittle you or make you feel insignificant.

He helped you through your moments of insecurity and made you feel whole,like you were worth his love and like you were perfect the way you were.

In conclusion,being in love with percy Jackson means, unlimited support and love and a companion for life🫶

All rights reserved © 2023 gettinshiggywithit. Please do not repost, modify or claim as yours. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!j

[mirrored-movements]

Home Pt. 2

(Yandere!Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader)

Synopsis: You've always had the ability to travel through universes, there was never a reason as to why and you never paused to question it. However, there was someone else who began to question it.

Warnings: Obsessive behavior? Horrible writing probably <3

Part 1 Here

“And you’re 100% sure you’re qualified to do all of this?” Finding yourself seated on a medical chair with the sleeve of your arm rolled up and a tension banned wrapped around your forearm, you stared at Miguel wearily.

Over the past few days, you’d been stuck with the man going through some tests in order to determine your ‘danger level’. Most of them unfortunately coming out inconclusive leading the man to declare that he needed a blood sample.

“How many times do I have to tell you- I am qualified.” Rolling his eyes with an exasperated sigh Miguel shook his head, one hand holding an alcohol wipe while the other readied a needle.

Rolling your own eyes in a mockery you let out a huff. “Qualified with what though? I’ve been stuck in your presence for almost a week now and I barely know anything about you. What happened to some small talk or something?”

His head shook from side to side once more, the man merely humming to signify he was somewhat listening all the while taking a quick blood sample. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you; you seemed like an outgoing person, and got along with most of the people that happen to stumble across you within the HQ.

It was just the fact that he didn’t know if you were an anomaly or not and didn’t want to risk getting attached nor risk the multiverse.

He couldn’t go through any of that again.

“Well, what exactly do you want to know? I might feel obliged to humour you.” Pulling away from your arms and passing you a small bandaid, Miguel twisted around to set the vial of blood into a centrifuge. His gaze flickered towards you from the side awaiting whatever your little mind might come up with.

As if not expecting this response you hesitated for a second, suddenly every question you had before left your brain and only one stupidly basic one remained. “What's your favorite colour?”

Blinking almost dumbfounded at the simple question he fully turned to face you, mind wondering why out of everything you could’ve asked that you asked that.

“I don’t have one.”

“What about favorite animal?”

“No.”

“Favorite season?”

“None.”

“Are you just going to say no to all my questions or are you going to answer one of them?” Finding that he wasn’t answering anything no matter how simple you crossed your arms with a disgruntled huff.

Seeing the way you grew annoyed with his replies Miguel's lips barely quirked up, one of his thick brows raising. “Well, are you going to ask any actual questions?” Retorting back with that he then rose up from his seat, eyes remaining fixed to where you sat.

“Ok fine, if you weren’t bitten by a spider how come you’re still a Spiderman?”

“I’m not answering that.” Taking the vial of blood from the small machine Miguel had to hide his amusement at the way you’d begun complaining. Your smaller form quickly jumping up from your seat to begin berating him trying to come to a conclusion to your own question.

“But you said-” “I said I might feel obliged.”

“So you were never going to answer in the first place?!” Gasping dramatically at the realization you laughed in disbelief at the sort of sneaky smirk that’d curled across the man's face.

Maybe there was a reason you’d gotten mixed up in all this multiverse madness.

--

“Lyla,” Calling out to his AI, Miguel awaited her appearance. The holographic image right away questioned him on what he needed. “Check in on (Y/N).” The command was simple to follow, and despite the small teasing from the AI a screen had popped up before her.

“Mm looks like she’s chatting with some people.” Musing that out Lyla bobbed her head, her small form flickering to the side as Miguel peered over at the screen. A part of him wondered who you’d found yourself talking with.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the sight of Ben leaning over a pillar dramatically, whatever being said presumably incoherent as yourself and the form of Peter both shared a look before bursting into laughter.

His chest rumbled.

“Lyla, assign those two to a mission.”

Looking over at the man with a brow raised she made a pop noise with her lips. “There are no missions curr-” “Make something then. Tell them to investigate something or someone or just- do something.” His hand waved through the air as he spoke, “And tell (Y/N) to come here.”

“Roger that.”

Watching the small hologram fade away he let out a breath, tongue running across the elongated canines within his mouth before another huff left him. Heavy steps bringing him back over towards the microscope he’d been occupied with for the past few hours.

Eyes peaking through it once more at the sample that rested below, watching the small cells dance around. The genetic makeup of them seemingly assimilating with the atmosphere around them, matching with the structure of those from that universe.

It was a breakthrough in his opinion.

A serendipitous breakthrough.

--

“Damn room is always so damn dark.” Stepping into the room that housed Miguel's strange floating office you grumbled under your breath about the lack of light, eyes struggling to adjust to it. “You know ambient lighting is a thing.”

“The light hurts my eyes.”

Practically jumping out of your skin at the sudden appearance of the hulking man you let out a forced laugh. “Does that have to do with your spider bite-less Spiderman abilities or something?” 

“It does actually.” Without skipping a beat Miguel clicked his tongue, gaze drifting across the plain look stretched out across your face at the response, it looked like you hadn’t expected it either.

“Oh, ok thats, thats something I guess.” Clasping your hands together you nodded your head, praying that your face gave off the ‘what did you call me here for’ look.

To be honest, you didn’t mind Miguel. He was very intimidating upon your first meeting however it seemed like as the testing progressed and you were stuck with him for a while he seemed to loosen up. As much as he could at least, there were still some things that freaked you out a bit.

Such as the way he could just appear out of nowhere and scare the literal soul of of you as well as his temper. You’ve only seen it once since being at HQ, it was short but nearly ingrained into your brain as in that moment you’d come to find that perhaps he was more spider like- then the spider-people.

Fangs. He had fangs is what you meant, and claws- you think.

“You shouldn’t socialize too much with everyone here. They might question why a civilian is here.” Chiding that in absentmindedly he outstretched one of his arms towards the floating platform, a practically glowing web being shot from a device around his wrist allowing him to gain access to it.

Blinking at what he’d said then what he did you opened your mouth to speak only to shut it right after as that same glowing web shot down attaching to the front of your shirt. With a short yell in surprise, you were whisked onto the platform, Miguel's hands planting onto your shoulder to steady you as soon as you’d landed.

“A little warning would’ve been nice.”

“I’m going to swing you onto the platform.”

Giving him an ‘Are you serious’ look you’d dropped it rather quickly. He seemed different compared to when the last time you both chatted. More…willing to speak and joke around with you if that makes sense.

Before he seemed to keep you at arms reach but now it felt like he was trying to make up for lost time.

“Ok well we’re on the platform now, what did you want to show me? Or why did you need me.” Somewhat growing anxious with the sudden silence you watched him press a few things against a glowing orange keyboard, a pair of large circles popping up. 

“Do you know what these are?”

Starring at the two things your brows furrowed. “I don’t know a cow pattern?”

“This one,” He pointed towards the one on the right, “Is from your average day civilian. This one,” the other one was pointed to. “Is from you. Notice any difference?”

“Yes?” He gave you an incredulous look and you corrected your response. “No, I don’t.”

“Exactly. From this, we know you’re not an anomaly.”

Perking up at this you stared at him in disbelief, heart beginning to race a little at the prospect of being allowed to leave. “So does that mean I can go home now? That we’re done testing?”

He didn’t quite like that implication.

“You are home.” Seeing the way your hands fell back to your sides he added on as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “This is the average citizen from here, Earth-928 and, your genetic code- this here,” He motioned back towards your circle. “Matches here.”

“Whatever home you had is here now. You belong here, it is set in stone.” There was no way he was going to mention how your code blends in with whatever universe you found yourself in.

Why go somewhere else, when you could stay there?

Blinking while trying to process what he was saying you began to shake your head in disbelief. “Well, your data is wrong then. I wasn’t born here, so I can’t stay here.” Stepping back you shook your head at him, mind still trying to wrap around this. “You said I’m not an anomaly so I can just continue to do what I was doing before coming here.”

“But what if you leave here and then become an anomaly? What happens then? It is proven that breaking what is meant to happen ruins worlds.”

“Now you’re just trying to psyche me out. I know I don’t belong here Miguel, whatever tests you did are wrong.”

Clicking his tongue he watched you carefully, eyes sharp, almost predatory now compared to how you recalled them being. However, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, you can go.”

“But do you even know where home is?”

Your mind paused at this, unwilling to quite process what he’d said. You’d been traveling around for so long- did you remember where you lived? Was there ever actually a place you called home or was that something you made up in a sort of last-ditch effort to seek self-comfort?

But, despite all that- you surely weren’t going to be stuck in one place. That’s not how you did things.

“I’m sure I can manage.” Choosing your words carefully noting how Miguel had become ridged you felt as though it was in your best interest to open a portal. “It was nice to meet you, Miguel.”

“You get lonely traveling around.” Once more he spoke, hand leaning out to press a key on the keyboard, your voice playing through some speakers of a conversation you’d had with Peter on one of a few occasions. Maydays father becoming some sort of comforting face you found yourself returning to for advice- despite his advice being close to unusable. “Never fitting in. People alienating you. Seems like you’ve had more fun and made more friends here than, say the hundreds of dimensions you’ve been to.”

“Am I correct?”

“Why are you suddenly so interested in everything? You weren’t like this the first time I came here.”

“I didn’t know if you were going to be stable here. But now I do.” Whatever was running through his mind left him letting out another breath. “And I know where you belong now. All this time, all these portals- led you here.”

“To me.”

Stunned. Shocked. Confused. Speechless.

Those were only a few words you could use to describe how you were currently feeling. Just an overall ‘What?’ could sum up everything. 

“Miguel,” Raising a hand as though you were trying to tame some sort of wild animal you sucked in a breath. “I barely know you. You barely know me. We barely know each other.”

Taking a step the man hummed nodding along, something you previously took as a friendly manner now seemingly less friendly and more of a way to keep him from lashing out. “Then we get to know each other. It’s not too late.”

“It’s never too late.” Despite his tone sounding hopeful, the look he gave sent your nerves buzzing, a hidden challenge almost. Cocoa hues flickering a ruby hue the longer you seemed to remain silent- say something.

Seeing that you weren’t answering Miguel glanced up at the ceiling, the last bit of his patience wearing thin- not that it was very big, to begin with. “I’ll give you a head start,” A step forward from him was a step back for you, the airy laughs leaving him sounding hollow. “You can go anywhere you want, any dimension. But if you can’t find where your ‘home’ is by the end of the day?”

“I’ll come and get you. And bring you home.”

----------------

<Unedited again>

Casually wrote the three things on my account in one day <3 anyways if you have any issues with my writing or anything, sue me IG idk.

Anyways lemme know if you want a part 3- I might feel inclined to write more for my lovely lovely Miguel <3

[i-wanna-die-like-now]

Bnha x dp Headcanons:

Danny absolutely loves to spend time with Tokoyami because he just gets his dead jokes and dark humour (and reminds him of Sam who he misses)

When he takes the entrance exam he's overwhelmed with the need to protect everyone even though he's 80% sure UA wouldn't actually put them in any real danger. His obsession doesn't understand that though.

Midoriya has a field day learning about his 'quirk' and when he's finally revealed to be half dead he has a million questions about ghosts and the zone, Danny really enjoys talking about it because his parents don't listen and he is a scientist too damn it.

He bonds with Todoroki almost immediately because he knows what it's like to hate his power (ghostly wail) and he knows what it's like to not want to end up like someone. He ends up also bonding over some trauma about their home life later on.

He helps Uraraka with the nausea she gets because he's been there.

Eri reminds him of Dani and it caused him to have a breakdown when he was alone, he begged Clockwork to let him go home to see her.

During the first part of the sports festival he could have just created a portal or telported to the finish but he wanted to watch everyone so he flew over them and finished 4th.

Bakugou absolutely hates Danny because there's just something off about him that only HE is seeing apparently, he can feel him holding back in every fight and Bakugou can't help but get pissed off at that. When Danny's halfa status is revealed he loses most animosity he has towards him. (Because ofc Danny was holding back he's op as fuck)

Aizawa hates that his quirk doesn't get rid of any of Danny's and he hates how Danny is the type of hero to sacrifice himself to save the people he's saving (he has his hands full with Midoriya) when it comes up Danny had actually died he feels his blood run cold and Oboro flashes in his head.

When Danny started joking and doing quips in fights he gets mixed reactions but because he does them everyone enjoys watching. (Bakugou took that as a sign he wasn't trying hard enough)

Danny has chronic pain in his arm that touched the portal and has a glowing green lichtenberg figure that runs up to his shoulder. Sometimes he can still feel the electricity and it can send him into a panic attack.

^Kaminari makes an effort to never touch Danny after he found out about that, which makes Danny feel horrible because he knows how touchy the blonde is.

He sometimes just goes to Koda and sits with him in silence because his senses are getting overwhelmed and he has animals he can pet.

When Sato or Bakugou cooked for him the first time he made an off hand remark about how he's glad it didn't come to life and it made everyone freeze.

Mirio is in awe of how Danny can keep his senses and clothes when he's intangible and it made Danny realise how lucky he was. When he made Mirio intangible by touching him it made his day and then multiple people asked him if they can try it.

^He also gets asked if he can make them fly and invisible so they can experience it too.

Danny can make Hagakure visible because double invisibility evens out (idk just think it'll be fun), they tired it because Midoriya was curious of what would happen and it made Hagakure cry.

[fungusgnat444]

König tropes I want to burn with hell fire

sorry for this unprompted rant but some of you guys are starting to ruin my favourite comfort character (CW mentions of noncon/r*pe, mentions of xenophobia, mentions of n*zis, general problematic behaviour, mentions of bad disability/mental health representation)

-1. Casual xenophobia- I’ve lost count of the amount of content that depicts König as a n*zi and I kinda feel like I shouldn’t have to tell you why that’s not ok. These things should not be fetishised and doing this is overall just super ignorant. That’s probably the worst instance of this kind of things but there are a ton of examples. Like a lot of people seem to think that every German speaking country is exactly the same. And to codify him as a German speaker everyone seems to think they can just slap on whatever offensive stereotype they want. As someone who has visited German speaking countries multiple times and knows native German speakers personally, believe it or not not all German men are rude, humourless, cruel, alcoholic perverts who treat women like shit and have a bunch of super fucked up kinks and no understanding of consent. If any of you had ever met someone from this part of the world you’d know that in general they are very polite and friendly people. If you want to use a stereotype there are plenty that aren’t offensive and ignorant that could be fun character quirks (eg. Germans always having to have the windows open, having a sweet tooth, having three different drinks with breakfast (water for hydration, coffee for energy, juice for nutrition. Trust me it’s a whole thing lol), being obsessed with always being on time (also works because he’s in the military) etc.). Like please at least try to be a little respectful. And if you’re going to show him speaking German at least learn the basics. Duolingo is free lol.

2 mental health/disabilities- as someone who actually has autism I think it’s kinda cool that some people have written him as autistic or having adhd etc. but if you’re going to do this can you please just do a little research so you get the symptoms right and not over generalise. Like autistic people can in fact understand humour and sarcasm most of the time we’re not robots. It’s 2024 like can we stop this trope please. A lot of people write him having anxiety or ptsd, which again I think is super cool but it’s often used as an excuse for him being aggressive/violent. Like this isn’t cute, if someone is treating you like this regardless of if they struggle with mental health or not there’s never an excuse for violence.

3 r*pe/non con- this point is kinda about fanfic in general but I see it a lot with könig especially. People need to understand the difference between a cnc kink and just plain assault. Cnc is a consensual agreement with safe words and boundaries and aftercare and mutual enjoyment. What most of these fics say is cnc is literally just him being a sexual predator. For a lot of people this is super triggering and romanticising r*pe is just disgusting.

again sorry for the rant guys but I really just needed to get this off my chest. Like this stuff has gotten in the way of my own writing and is really starting to ruin the appeal of his character. Like I beg of you can someone please write something where he’s just a sweet anxious Austrian guy who’s kind and respectful despite his reputation? Like I really don’t think I’m asking for much.

[hunnysnoops]

˗ˋ𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤ˊ˗

Chapter Four: History Eraser

Kyle Broflovski x fem reader

They made their paints by mixing acid wash and lemonade. In my brain I rearrange the letters on the page to spell your name.

Also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Premise: A birthday party takes an awry turn

Warnings: crude language and humour / blood / injury / marijuana usage

MASTERLIST

Adam's blood was still soaked into the turf by the time track and field practice was in the process of giving you heat stroke. Each gust of humid wind burned at your throat a little more than the last like someone had set fire to your lungs.

While everyone else was jogging around the track in a leisurely manner, you and Kyle were sprinting like you were headed for the sun.

"What was that?" You call behind you, turning your head just the slightest "I can't hear you, you're falling behind."

"I didn't say anything," Kyle runs up beside you, matching your pace. Ginger curls were sticking to the sweat on his forehead and neck, glistening under the fading light of the day.

"That sounds like something that someone who said something would say," you respond, glancing down at your sneakers pounding against the track before quickening your pace.

"What?" His eyebrows furrow in confusion.

With each step, you fell into a steady rhythm, feet pounding against the track with determination to be just a little better than the boy trailing you. You felt the familiar burn in your muscles, the exhilarating rush of adrenaline as you pushed yourself harder, faster.

The wind whipped through your hair, cooling the sweat on your brow as you pushed past your limits, your lungs burning with every sharp breath. You ignored the overexertion gripping at you, the nausea creeping up like little hands of wind pushing at the back of your throat.

Your thoughts focused solely on the rhythmic beating of your feet against the turf and Kyle. It took what must've been a God's power not to glance around every few seconds to see how close he was to you, how steadily he fell into tempo with your pace.

That day was shaping up to be a particularly nasty one and you were quite literally trying to run away from it. Though no matter how far your legs took you, you were still on the track, Kyle only feet behind you.

It only added to that lingering thought that rested in the back of your head that you weren't anything special, you were just as good as everyone else and you needed some way to prove them wrong.

"Aw, look they're running together," Red says from her spot on the bleachers where she sits with Leslie. You can hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice.  

"Ew, what the hell," you pause looking at Red, you see Kyle ahead and awkwardly jog backwards to create more distance, you only stop completely when you're in front of Red. "We were not."

"So you were racing?"

"No," You scoff "But if we were I would totally win."

"Um, okay, I believe you" She gives Leslie a quick side glance "Are you coming over later?"

"I have a thing," You answer, hands on your hips while you press your lips into a thin line.

"A thing?" Red quirks an eyebrow "Bebe won't be there if that's what you're worried about."

"No, like I actually have a thing," You Answer "Sheila's having a birthday party and I'm obligated to go by my parents."

"Oh," Red nods like everything coming together "A swingers party." She had run a few laps before something more interesting caught her attention then she eventually settled perched on the bleachers with Leslie beside her and a redbull in hand.

"Your parents are swingers?" Leslie asks, dark bangs pinned away from her face.

"No, they're not," You deadpan, any amusement dropping from your face "My parents aren't swingers, they have never swung and they never will."

Red sucks a sharp breath through her teeth before a smile cracks onto her face "Touched a nerve there.”

"No shot," You cross your arms, chest rising and falling as you catch up on lost breath, a group of long-distance runners brushing past behind you.

"I just can't believe you're ditching me for Kyle," Red draws out a deep sigh, teasing you.

A subtle heat rose to your face though you chose to ignore it entirely "Dude, no, I'm ditching you for Kyle's mom." At this, Leslie turns to whisper something to Red before you quickly interject, throwing out one hand in her direction "What could you possibly have to say? I don't even know you."

Leslie swivels her head back to look at you, unsure what to say. Red silently mouths 'Oh my god' one hand slapping over the black headband on her forehead pushing her bangs back. "Sorry?" Leslie breaks the silence.

"Yeah, you should be," You say before bringing your attention back to Red and cutting Leslie out from the equation completely "We still on for Sunday?"

"I'm going to strangle you," Red says, disregarding the question, still stuck on your utter bluntness.

You stick your chin up, exposing your neck "Go ahead." You even brush the stray hairs aside to display your throat like you're ready for her to sink her teeth in. An uneasy quiet settled over the conversation once more as you waited for Red to stay true to her words and strangle you. Of course she doesn't, she just stares at you something like disbelief playing in her eyes. You look at Leslie "We cool?"

"We are." She answers, lips pursed.

"Okay," You say, backing away and carrying on with the run you had initially been focused on, leaving Red and Leslie to watch you lose your breath all over again.

While the younger kids were free to bum around in the basement and play video games, you and Kyle were on the edge of seventeen, not yet adults but you were close enough to intermingle with them and nod with a polite smile while they drone on and on about insignificant things that are massive in their eyes.

After your mother had shown you off to the partygoers in the gauzy white sundress that you reserved only for occasions like this, you had found yourself settled at the dining table amongst the food, scribbling down notes from your binder onto your biology project.

Kyle seemed to have the same idea, he pushed one of the three charcuterie boards aside to make space for his half of the project. He sat silently across from you, the farthest he could get without being dragged into another mindless conversation with someone who held him while he was a baby.

Between the two of you is an abundance of food, everyone seemed to have brought a dish for Sheila's birthday, you couldn't imagine that it would all be finished in one night. You had, of course, a little bit of everything piled on a side plate.

As you worked away, being sure your drawn diagram was perfected and every word had been spaced apart perfectly, you tried your best not to glance at Kyle who seemed absolutely undisturbed while he chewed absent-mindedly on his brownie.

"Oh, look at you two," your dad walked into the dining room with a smile on his face "I can't believe you're getting along."

"Me neither," Kyle answers without looking up from his work. While your mother had stuffed you into your Sunday best, Kyle was looking ready for church that he didn't attend, a white button-up tucked into black dress pants.

"Whatcha working on?" Your dad scooped some pasta salad onto his plate and proceeded to peek over your shoulder, peering down at your paper before nodding like he understood. "Nice, good job, kiddo," He gave you a firm pat on the shoulder before pointing a finger gun at Kyle "And Kyle, looking sharp."

"Thank you, sir," Kyle offers him a tight-lipped smile. In recent years he had almost mastered charming other kid's parents, especially yours who gushed on and on about how good of an influence he was.

"Oh, no need for that, buddy," Your dad waves him off before leaving the room.

"Sir?" You look at Kyle, an unimpressed look clear across your face "Kiss ass."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," He says, shifting his focus to the project in front of him.

"You just did, pretentious douchebag," You mutter under your breath, looking down at your own work. "Dignify," You mock, reaching back for the brownies. Something about them had tasted familiar, somewhat nostalgic like those organic sweets your mother would bring back from the grocery store, which you had written off as being gluten-free or something along those lines.

After roughly forty minutes you had finished not only your half of the biology assignment but all of your homework for your other classes as well. You had looked past the doorway, heard the voices of middle-aged parents, and the grating sound of obnoxious laughter and decided to bum around on your phone.

Empty-headed, you stared drowsily at your timeline, constantly refreshing it in the hopes that something more interesting would pique your interest. It was only seven, the sun was still in the midst of setting yet you felt the strong urge to sleep, maybe it had been over-exertion from track or boredom telling you to close your eyes so you could wake up to something better.

You were too in your own head to notice Kyle who had long finished his assignment and now had his arms crossed in front of him flat on the table, chin resting on top of them, head slightly tilted while he stared at you through the plethora of food.

His mouth abruptly stretched with a yawn, this brought your attention over to him. "What the fuck are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Kyle pushed himself off the table until he was back sitting straight in his chair. He put one hand on his back while he stretched, his neatly tucked-in button-up coming loose from the hem of his pants in the process.

The familiar photo of Remy the rat was now displayed on your dim phone, the meme of him choking that had been floating around the internet since 2007 "Do you think Ratatouille has themes of racism and prejudice?"

"No," Kyle answers, ripping the leg of a rotisserie chicken away from the carcass and tearing the flesh away with his perfect teeth.

"No one thinks a rat can cook, sound familiar?"

"No."

"Anyone can cook," You state the quote like it emphasizes the odd point you're trying to make.

"Ratatouille is not about racism."

"How about when Remy's dad says 'This is what happens when a rat gets too comfortable around humans' and then he's like 'We look out for our own kind, Remy,'" You made sure to throw an awful Italian accent over Djangos parts.

"A movie about a rat making spaghetti is not racist."

"I didn't say it was racist, I said it has themes of racism and prejudice."

"It doesn't."

"Immigration and assimilation perhaps?"

"Stop."

"Why?"

"Because I can't think right now, I'm so tired," his hands find their way into his curls while his elbows rest on the table.

You narrow your eyes at him "Are you on drugs or something?"

"No, it's fucking late, I'm tired," He repeats.

"It's seven," You answer, face straight though your eyelids were growing heavy like they were being pulled down. You rub the back of your hand over your eyes like it's going to wipe away the feeling of daze and set you straight.

Weary you lean back in your chair, slamming your phone face down on the table. You put one hand to rest on your brow like a salute to block out the overwhelming light overhead. It was this moment where you craved nothing more than your bed, to lay your head down on satin pillowcases and let sleep consume you completely.

"This is fucking stupid," You look down awkwardly at the neckline of your dress, your chin pressing against your chest as you do so, you then use one hand to gesture to Kyle in his once wrinkle-free button "We look like we're in a cult, the kind that drinks Koolaid,"

"It was Flavour-Aid actually," He corrects.

"What the fuck is Flavour-Aid?"

"Koolaid, basically."

"Okay," You say, sinking deeper into the uncomfortable spruce chair.

"Who am I really, beyond my thoughts, memories, and experiences?" Kyles's eyes are squinted as he stares past you into absolutely nothing, his thoughts entirely somewhere else.

"Kyle Broflovksi."

"Yeah, what?"

"No, that's who you are, fucking idiot."

"Ah," He nods and the two of you fall back into stillness. Neither of you acknowledged each other for a few minutes, you had forgotten Kyle was there at all and his mind was beginning to fill with existential dread.

"Hey, dudes," In walks your uncle Richie, a cheesy smile across his face, from this alone, you can tell he's been spreading his corny humour. "Didn't know you two were still in here," He was your mother's youngest sibling, being in his mid-thirties; also known as your grandparent's accidental pregnancy.

"Nice," You answer like it's cohesive in any way.

Richie doesn't seem to gather any issue from your response, he just grabs a paper plate and begins to fill it up with all of the goods though he pauses when his eyes fall on the brownies, smile faltering. "Who put these here?"

"My mom," Kyle says.

"His mom," you point at him, repeating his statement.

"Shit, these are for the after party if you know, you know," Richie puts his plate of food down in exchange for the brownie platter "Did you guys catch who ate these?" He must've been the most under-dressed of everyone at the party with his grey sweatpants and Metallica tee poking out from beneath his red zip-up.

You and Kyle stare dead straight at each other, the realization washing over you. It wasn't sleep threatening to take you under but marijuana causing your vision to move in frames and lull you to rest and loosen your tongue.

Richie doesn't fail to catch this exchange "C'mon guys," He sticks a hand out in exasperation and you can't miss the disappointment on his face.

"Uh, we didn't know they were laced," You narrow your eyes at him, never did you think you'd side with Kyle.

"I know, I know, this is just fucked up," He runs a hand through his hair, forcing it through any tangles.

"Fucked up?" Kyle's eyes are half-lidded though he still seems furious. "We're high on my mom's birthday and there's like thirty fuck ass adults in the other room, we're getting busted."

"Nah, it's cool," Richie says and you're unsure if he's assuring you and Kyle or himself. "You're a hophead anyway so you should be a pro at pretending to be sober." He gestures at you and then turns his attention to Kyle "We've been to a handful of barbeques together and I don't think either of us wants to get in trouble right now."

"This is fucking sick," Kyle mutters, burying his head into his hands.

"I know," You nod with the glint of a smile playing on your face. As nervous as you were over the fact you would have to act sober until the party wrapped up, you couldn't ignore the comedic aspect of the situation.

"No," Kyle shoots you a glare "Not sick as in cool, sick in a bad way like I'm sick."

"You guys are teenagers, you do these things it's like a rite of passage and your parents did it all the time when they were your age," Once again, Richie tries to shrug off the circumstances.

"Get accidentally drugged by their uncle?"

"No, uh-not that, I meant getting high in general."

"How much is in them anyways?" You ask.

He shrugs "Like roughly twenty-five mg or so."

"In a single brownie?" Kyle presses for clarification with wide eyes to which Richie nods.

"Twenty-five milligrams?" You tried not to yell, this had shaken you to what felt like sobriety for only a few seconds  "I didn't know you were fucking Walter White."

"Hey, man, I left them wrapped up in the fridge with a sticky note that said 'do not eat', I didn't think his mom was gonna put them out."

"Why wouldn't you leave them in your car, dude?" You're looking at him with a tilted gaze, head resting in the palm of one of your hands.

"Temperature sensitive," he says pointing out the fudgy brownies melting into brown sludge like it had been nuked in the microwave.

"What the fuck?" Your mouth falls ajar "Have you ever made a brownie before?

"They usually don't melt," Kyle adds.

"Watch it," Richie had taken this sting straight to heart "They're supposed to be fudgy and you two are the ones who ate them."

"Oh my god, we ate them," Kyle says under his breath, eyes focused on the oak table in front of him, studying each groove. His attention breaks, and he glances around at the food laid before him then reaches to scoop some macaroni onto his grubby paper plate.

"Slow down greedy gut, did you forget you're diabetic?" You slap his hand away from the cheesy macaroni.

"Yeah," He puts the spoon down "I did."

Richie takes a deep breath out "Man, you guys are roasted."

"Time for the family photo!" Sheila yells from the living room, her distinct accent rising over the seemingly endless murmurs.

"Okay, guys, just remember to be cool and act sober, okay?" He tries for a smile, sticking his thumb up and glancing back and forth between the two of you for confirmation "Sober, so good?"

"Relax," You push yourself up from the table, brushing any crumbs away from the skirt of your dress "We're fine."

"Alright," Richie turns on his heels, exiting the dining room with the tray of brownies still in hand.

The moment you and Kyle walked through the doorway, you felt like everyone was staring at you despite not one person turning their head in your direction. Kyle's family had already been sorting themselves out for the photo, he quietly slipped in there, giving his mom a quick hug before smiling at the phone which was being held by Sandra, a woman with far too much wine in her system who took the temporary role of photographer far too seriously.

You settled against a wall next to Weston who had also been suffocating in overly formal clothing. One thought ran through your mind as the Broflovski's smiled for their picture, don't act high.

"What are you doing?" Weston asked, looking up at you with a sneer.

"Huh?"

"You look like taxidermy, why are you doing that with your face?"

You hadn't noticed that the idea of sober you were trying to project was eyes as wide as the moon and a stone face. At Weston's words, you squinted your eyes slightly and began to grin like this was any more natural than the other face you had been making.

"You're weird," Weston tells you before he looks back at the Broflovski family. He wanted to duck back down into Ike's room to hide from everyone as much as you wanted to steal your dad's keys and drive to Dairy Queen.

"Okay, now let's do a silly one," Sandra smiled brightly, she had really drawn this out much longer than it needed to. After the family scrambled to do something vaguely comedic, Sheila motioned for your parents to join.

After what felt like a century, Sandra finally handed the phone back off to Sheila. Just when you're sure that the exchange has ended, Sheila speaks up "I want a picture of the kids together."

Your mom makes a pouty face, placing a hand on Sheila's shoulder "That's a great idea, we haven't taken one of them all together in ages."

"Let's get you two in the back then Weston and Ike can go in front," Sheila's directing you in front of an audience of coworkers and family friends.

Weston had one arm slung around Ike who did the same while Kyle stood stiffly behind his brother. You kept your tradition of keeping your distance from Kyle, standing one metre away from him and your brothers, hands clasped in front of you.

"Sweetie, you aren't in frame," Sheila tells you.

You nod but don't do anything beyond that, you just stay in the same spot that you had initially been in. "Jellybean, maybe you should move closer to Kyle," Your mom smiles softly, though her eyes are telling you that you should probably listen to her.

Taking a step that must've taken you a distance of an inch, you smile at the camera like this has resolved the issue.

"Um, Jellybean," Your mom had a begrudging smile on her face "I meant to stand next to him, behind your brother."

"I'm okay," you say and for a change have no animosity behind your words, you truly were okay with where you were.

Weston's eyebrows had furrowed in confusion as he watched you with a blissfully ignorant smile on your face. His arm was falling asleep, intertwined with Ikes. Kyle was staring at you, just as everyone else who had paid a speck of attention to the photoshoot was.

"Nope, closer," Your mom gestures for you to move in.

She does so rapidly until you take another side step, albeit larger than your last one though you still stood awkwardly out to the side like you were photobombing.

"For fuck sake," Your mom utters under her breath so quietly that no one had picked up on it. "He's not poison, get in there."

"I believe you meant to say venomous," You shuffle your feet again until you are standing next to where you should be, an awkward gap between Kyle where you were meant to be posing behind your brother.

"Don't do this right now, Jellybean," She says through gritted teeth, trying to uphold her composure for the sake of Sheila and the grace of your family.

"Just one quick picture," Sheila tells you, she's still holding up the phone, finger hovering above the shutter button.

Before you can pull any more nonsense that seemed perfectly reasonable in your altered state, you feel a hand slink around your waist. Kyle's hand rested on the outside of your midriff, fingers sinking into your soft skin. Your mind hadn't even processed this fact when he pulled you into him, your body briefly crashing against his. Kyle flashes the camera a movie star smile while you stare up at him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes incredulous. You looked like you were gearing up to yell at him.

Click!

The very second the picture is taken Kyle drops his hand from its spot on your waist and turns to walk away. While the others disperse, you stand stationary and watch Kyle disappear into the blinding light of the kitchen. It was impossible to ignore the heat creeping up your neck and the warmth flushing your cheeks as your hand retraced where his touch lingered.

Against better judgment, you follow him into the kitchen, unsure of what your plan is, but you do it regardless. He's alone in there with a middle-aged man who's speaking to someone on the phone and pays no attention to where Kyle rifles through the fridge.

"That had to be a misdemeanour of some kind," You say, arms crossed while you stand behind the fridge door.

"What are you talking about?" He looks up at you, grabs a jug of water and closes the fridge door.

"That is really fucked up," You add.

"You're kind of in my orbit right now," He holds a hand out and moves it in a circle.

"Then release me, boy." You watch as Kyle reaches into the cupboard to pull out a glass and pour water from the jug into it until it's on the brink of overflowing. He puts the jug down next to his glass and uses one hand to lean against the island.

He swishes his free hand around like he's casting a spell "I release you," Kyle then reaches for the jug instead of the glass he had poured and takes a long swig.

You shake your head watching him drink from the pitcher as if it were a cup "That's not right." You weren't sure what Kyle's tolerance was, you had never smoked with him before, only seeing him take a couple of hits at parties.

"You're not right," He answers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and putting the jug back down on the marble countertops.

"One time I made you in the sims and then I made you go swimming in the pool so I could take the ladder out and kill you," You say, leaning against the kitchen island. The man on the phone takes a brief time to cast you a judgemental glance before going back to his phone call.

"Did I die?"

"Nah, they took that feature out so you kinda just climbed out from the side," You answer "I did make you bankrupt and homeless though."

"So I just wonder the streets?" He asks to which you nod "I bet I'm fighting crime."

"No, you just walk around and your hygiene is really bad, you're like visibly dirty."

Kyle freezes for a second, staring past you, he blinks his eyes out rapidly and holds a dinger out to hush you "I think I can hear myself blink." He continues to open and close his eyes "It sounds wet and squishy."

"Gross," You say, letting yourself lean in deeper on the island until you're almost bent in half, across from Kyle.

He runs a hand through his hair and then begins to twirl one finger in his ginger curls before he pats the top of his head "I think I need to cut my hair."

"I think you need to cut yourself," The words fall from your mouth like honey melting from the sun to weigh down the wings of Icarus. His mouth is slightly ajar when you look up to meet his wild gaze. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't say that, don't cut yourself," Had you been sober, you wouldn't have apologized, you would've doubled down and made the statement a million times worse.

"You're an asshole," He says simply.

"So are you," You respond, voice lazy and words drawn out. The man on the phone ends his call, gripping his cell phone like you were going to try and take it from him. He struts past you and Kyle, glaring at the both of you.

"Did we just blow our cover?"

"No, that's Marty, he's an alcoholic so if he tells anyone anything I'll say he's been drinking again," You shrug the question off.

"Is that right? Like morally," He clarifies. "Should we just admit we're high? or maybe that would be bad morally if we got Richie in trouble for something he didn't do." You can see the gears turning in Kyle's head, the way he's analyzing the situation like it's the equation that'll either end the world or save it "Nah, I don't wanna get grounded on my mom's birthday, that's kinda gay."

"That's super gay."

"It's so hot in here," The topic switches once again as Kyle is working on unbuttoning his shirt, taking a deep breath. The very second you notice your eyes linger a moment too long on his hands your head swerves to look at a sign that reads 'This kitchen is seasoned with love' You remember when Sheila bought it, she thought it was hilarious and brought you into the kitchen to see it.

Your mind trails back to the compromising state you and Kyle had been discovered in after the little forest expedition. The interrogation you had to endure, not only with Mr. Waterman but with Wendy as well made you want to hammer nails into your ears. "If it was anyone else but Wendy and our fucking teacher who found us, the rumours would be nuts."

"And that's the worst thing?"

"People thinking that we've slept together? Yeah, it is the worst thing. I'd probably shoot myself and write your name on the wall in my blood."

"How high are you right now?" he squints his eyes.

You shrug "Higher than I think, perhaps."

"Your eyes are kind of insane right now," He points at your face and in turn, you just rub them, too lazy to go check.

"Yours are almost as bright as your hair."

"This isn't even my final form yet."

"What the fuck," You stare at him blankly. You let yourself down the side of the island, spine scraping against it until you drop to the cold tile floors. The frigidness pressing against the back of your calves.

You tuck your head into your hands like it'll magically make you sober. You didn't want to be high anymore or at all that night. You needed a clear head, for your limbs to not feel so loose so you could go back to shutting your thoughts away, so they would die in your throat and never be said.

Kyle has plopped himself onto a stool by the island, peeling a banana from the fruit bowl with precision like he was defusing a time bomb. It seemed like he had entirely forgotten that you were there the second you went out of his sight.

It was nowhere close to your first time smoking though you had taken a little tolerance break for the sake of finals and it was hitting you hard. Everything seemed like it wasn't real like you were in a set where things were hand-crafted to fit the scene. You look down at your hands, balling them up into fists to see if you can feel anything. When all the sensation you receive is a light tap, you put one finger into your mouth and bite, there rested the confirmation that you weren't in a simulation.

What your mind was really craving was a two-leader bottle of diet coke and to curl up on the couch, shrouded in darkness and watch Over the Hedge. You reach a hand up the edge of the countertop to pull yourself up, in the midst of doing so, your foot slips and you are sent toppling over. Your body careened forward, face heading straight for the unforgiving edge of the countertop. There was a sickening crack as your nose collided with the hard surface, followed by a sharp, searing pain that shot through her skull. You collapse back down to the ground, eyes scrunched shut and hand covering your surely felt like a mangled nose.

"What was that?" Kyle turns his head to where he was sure you were though you were no longer in sight. He pries himself away from the stool and makes his way around the island to investigate "What's-oh my fucking god."

"Do you think it's broken?" You ask, moving your hand away to display the nose. The nasal bone itself seemed to be fine, but what rang as concerning was the gash over it that was leaking blood.

"Holy shit, we need to get your parents," He immediately moves to leave but you grab his leg to keep him in place.

"No," you say in what you intended to be a firm voice though it came off as more scared than anything else "We're high, underage, I hate hospitals, and urgent care is expensive."

"You're bleeding from your fucking face."

Gingerly, you poke around the area you had hit, fighting the urge to wince to prove that it wasn't that bad "See? We're good, just a bit of blood." The marijuana had eased the pain in just the slightest by offering the distraction of everything all at once, you were sure it would feel like hell the second you shook your mind clear.

"No, we aren't good, you're fucked up," He says.

"Kyle," Your tone shifts, absolutely serious "My dad will beat the shit out of me if he finds out I'm high, I'll go in the morning if it's actually bad," Truthfully, your dad probably would do some damage if the truth came out. Not only that, but he would bar Richie from seeing you or Weston ever again and your mom was something of a snitch who shared every waking thought with your dad.

He looks down at your figure on the floor, one hand pinching your nose to catch any blood that threatened to spill onto your white dress. His rational thoughts were telling him to rat the both of you out and get you to a hospital though the side of him hazed said it was fine. "You have to go in the morning."

When you move your hand, the blood begins to gush not only from your nostrils but the gash on your nose bridge like juice from cherries that had been torn apart. Now you had a red dress to match your red eyes.

"Yeah, okay cool," You say with a sigh of relief, awkwardly turning on the ground to push yourself up without having your face be inches away from Kyle's. "I need to go upstairs in the bathroom and fix this," What you were trying to get across was that you needed to at least bandage it with the first-aid kit, discreetly.

"What are you going to tell your parents when you go home and you have a huge honker on your face?"

"Um, that I got a nosebleed or that-I don't fucking know, I'll figure it out, fuck face," You answer as you stand up. With a yawn, you shifted to get up, your elbow swinging out in a careless motion. Unfortunately, Kyle had chosen that exact moment to lean forward to grab his phone off the counter, his face perilously close to your elbow's path. Adding another notch to the misfortune of that night, your elbow collided with Kyle's left eye with an audible thud.

Kyle recoiled, his hand instinctively flying to his injured eye as he let out a pained grunt. Your eyes widened in horror as you realized what you had done "Oh my god, it looks like I hit you."

"You did hit me," The anger in his voice isn't unmissable, it's dripping with something that borders between irritation and rage.

"Not on purpose," You retort, quickly wiping away the blood where it pooled above your lip. It had already made it down your face to dribble down your neck and chest before it soaked into the neckline of your dress.

Kyle winced as he gingerly touched the tender skin around his eye, his breath catching in his throat at the searing pain pulsating beneath his fingertips. "Fuck," he mutters.

You felt a tickle in your nose, the pressure builds, the discomfort intensifying with every breath then there came the dreaded sneeze. Instead of the usual sense of relief, there's only pain. A sharp, searing pain radiates from your nose, sending shockwaves of agony through your skull, a splatter of blood from your nose now on Kyles's once pristine button-up.

Your eyes squeeze shut, tears instinctively beginning to push from your eyes as you struggle to regain your composure. The sound that escapes your lips is not the usual sneeze, but a strangled gasp, a testament to the torment wreaked upon your nasal passages. "Fuck, oh my fucking god!" You scream, hands moving upward to cover your nose in the position of a prayer. "Fuck, that fucking hurts, pussy licking cunt face, fuck!"

"Jesus Christ," His voice is breathy, he hadn't entirely comprehended what you had said, his hazy brain was more focused on the throbbing pain enveloping his eye and the blood splattered on his white button-up.

A woman swings around the corner, Alysha, you barely remember what she looked like eight years prior before she bleached her hair to the point it was fried and filled her face with Botox and fillers. "Is everything okay in here?"

"No!" You shout, the vexation wasn't intention but you never thought sneezing would hurt so bad.

"What the hell," Any rage in Kyle's voice was replaced by fear as he stared at Aylsha's face. He looked like a deer caught in headlights though he couldn't bring himself to look away from her pillow face. She had so much filler to the point where her skin would turn loose if it were to be dissolved, her lips were the most obviously overfilled, looking minutes away from bursting. "I think as a society we're way too okay with that."

You brush past him, grabbing his wrist to pull him along. "we're going to the hospital." You're opinion on going to the hospital had changed in an instant. You could've managed if you hadn't sneezed, it felt worse than the initial break. Your senses are overwhelmed by the intensity of the tormenting sensation.

"Why do people do that to themselves?" He lowers his voice.

"Doesn't matter," You dismiss, dragging him into the living room where the majority of the partygoers were gathered. "Danger!" You shout and everyone turns to look at you, startle clear across their wrinkled faces. You split into a grin "There's actually no danger but I need to go to the hospital."

"Jellybean, what happened?" Your mother places her wineglass on the coffee table and rushes over to you, cradling your face in both of her hands while she examines you. Your father isn't far behind, jogging slowly like he was in an action movie, it would've been more efficient to walk over to you.

"We need to go to the hospital," You say simply, clamping your eyes shut so she won't see the redness.

"Kyle!" Sheila exclaims, eyebrows furrowing as she approaches him. She looks up at her tall son, gently touching his swelling eye, red from irritation "My little boy, what happened?" Sheila looks at you, the gash on your nose and the slightly crooked look of it "Did you two fight?"

"No," you answer abruptly, pointing at Richie who was working through a slice of cake "He's sober, he can take us to the hospital."

Richie responds with a nod before he goes back to his cake "Ready to go when you are."

"I just don't understand how this happened," your dad remarks. With each passing second that you weren't on the way to the emergency room, you grew more irritated.

"Kyle, did you hit her?" Gerald stands behind Sheila, his face stony.

"No," You interject "I hit him actually, on accident and I fell and smashed my head on the kitchen island and it really fucking hurts so can we please go?"

"Are you high?" Gerald leans in the slightest to see your red eyes to which you inch back.

"Are you?" Your dad's demeanour changes as he crosses his arms.

All eyes fell on you and you quickly scrambled for an answer, glancing at Richie who looked as panicked as ever before you fell to the conclusion "No, we're teenagers."

Everyone looks either around or at you in confusion over your chosen words. They wondered what exactly you meant by that and you wondered "So why are your eyes red?" Your dad asks.

"It doesn't matter, they need medical attention," Sheila tries to dismiss the topic.

"It's called life, little bro," You clap your hands together like you said something groundbreaking, a small smirk playing on your blood-stained face.

"This is ridiculous," Your dad shakes his head. You glance over at Kyle who's fallen nonverbal, letting his mom poke around his face.

"Because life isn't just all flowers and sausages but we're making the most out of it Gerald so why don't you live a little?" You raise your hands up in the air; in your mind, you are trailblazing by delivering this odd string of words to a crowd of wrinkled faces who watch you like a spectacle. "I would like to get my nose sewn back together.”

"Jellybean, you are acting so strange," Your mother says, catching on to the fact that you might be under the influence.

"It's because of blood loss," Richie cuts in, beginning to usher you and Kyle to the front door. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of them."

You turn your head to stare down your parents as you leave though Kyle's lanky figure blocks them out entirely. He trails behind you, one hand on the small of your back to keep you moving forward. You nearly shudder under his touch but don't make a fight to shake him off.

Sitting in the sterile confines of the hospital waiting room, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and anticipation. Just moments ago, you had emerged from the emergency room, your broken nose carefully repaired by the skilled hands of doctors. Now, as you awaited your discharge, a sense of tiredness was creeping up on you. You had been there entirely too long though the edibles had yet to wear off.

Your nose was still tender, wrapped in layers of gauze and tape, a constant reminder of the trauma it had endured. But beneath the bandages lay four stitches are what was sure to be a nasty bruise. All you could process was that you really wanted a cigarette.

Kyle walks into the waiting room, he scans the few other people in there before his eyes settle on you. He stood still for a moment, thinking whether or not it would be weird if he sat next to you, he decided that it was and opted for the row opposite to you.

Your eyes wander down to his hands where he clutches a little orange bottling, rattling slightly with movement from the pills inside "You got meds already? They just gave me a slip to take to the pharmacy."

"Yup," He shakes the bottle "Did you know that you cracked my cheekbone?"

"No," you narrow your eyes "I don't have X-ray vision."

Silence hangs between the two of you, the only sound being background noise from other patients and nurses. Now that the heat of the painful moment had disbanded you were left unsure of how to talk to Kyle. You didn't even know if you had only shown him the smallest speck of kindness or if he had put his hand around your waist purely from the influence of the drugs.

"I can't believe my dad thought I would hit you," Kyle said the first thing that came to mind, staring at the bandage in the center of your face.

"I can't believe my parents cared more about me being high than having a mangled nose."

"That was kinda crazy."

"This is all kinda crazy," you answer, trying to keep your face as still as possible to avoid the pain of scrunching or moving your nose. "Are you going to tell everyone that I hit you?"

"Not if you don't want me to."

"Please don't," Your voice is hardly above a whisper when you ask this. "It was bad enough when I hit Cartman," That was true, Cartman had made you out to sound like a violent criminal in every rendition of the story he told. He had fabricated so many aspects of it that it seemed more like fiction than reality, even if people didn't believe him, it wouldn't stop them from spreading it.

"Okay," His tone matches the softness of yours "I won't."

"Thanks," You turn your gaze toward the ground, scraping your mind for something else to say so you don't feel like you're drowning beneath unsaid words. "We should smoke and then enter a hotdog eating contest."

"That's a good idea."

"Do you think we're the only ones who've had that idea?"

"I think if we smoked and went to a hot dog eating contest, everyone would be high."

"Do you think I would be a cat or a dog?" You change the topic again, not on purpose but because that was how your brain was functioning.

"I think we would both be dogs," He says with sureness.

"Yeah, maybe you would be like an Australian Sheppard and have gross crusty shit in your eyes because your owners hate you and they never clean you."

"I'm not Australian."

"Well, they don't have Jersey shepherds because I'm pretty sure you can't give dogs spray tans."

"I think I would be a Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever."

"You're not Canadian either and don't make up fake dog breeds, man," You cross your arms.

"It's not fake."

"Totally is, actually, you would be one of those fugly bald dogs that shake all of the time and people adopt them out of pity."

"All dogs are beautiful to me, actually," Kyle says in a matter-of-fact tone like you wouldn't believe his statement.

"Consumerism is so out of hand because how many water bottles do you really need?" You mind once again wondered to things that you had seen online hours prior. What was haunting you was a video of a woman who had collected 78 colours of a reusable water bottle, defeating the purpose of the eco-friendly aspect of it.

He genuinely thinks long and hard about your question "You need one good water bottle, maybe two depending on the circumstances."

"Hey, I have a joke, it's really funny and I just thought of it."

"Shoot."

"If Kyle falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, did he make any sound at all?" You crack an awkward, faltering smile. The second you said it out loud you realized that it wasn't as funny as intended. It was like you were teetering on the verge of sober, your mind so incredibly close to acting like yourself again before it slipped back into the haziness. "Yeah, it was pretty loud actually."

To your surprise, Kyle actually smiles. His lips curve upwards in a perfect arc, revealing a set of teeth that gleam like pearls against the backdrop of his sun-kissed skin. Each tooth is straight and even, with a dazzling whiteness that seems almost too pristine to be real. You couldn't think back to the last time he smiled at something you said without being sarcastic. Digging through your brain you weren't sure that he had ever smiled at you.

You furrow your eyebrows, mouth pulled back in a grimace, eyes squinting like his perfect grin was an offensive sight "Don't smile at me like that." You could feel your jaw tensing "Jesus, don't smile at me at all."

"Hey kids," Richie had returned, coming to your rescue just when you thought you were going to shatter from the conflict in your mind "Brought you these, a little souvenir from the gift shop," He tossed both of you a Garfield stuffed animal. Garfield looks almost frightening, his half-lidded eyes uneven, weird body emaciated, and fur pale like he's been experimenting. You loved it.

"Thanks," You smile up at your uncle, being careful not to let Garfield touch your blood-stained dress. Kyle has a small grin playing on his face as he holds it in his large hands.

"You got it," He gives you a quick thumbs up "So if everyone is in the clear are we good to go? You and Kyle both nod and Richie turns on his heels, swinging an arm in motion for you to follow him, his car keys jingling in one hand.

The automatic doors slid open as the three of you neared them, the night on the other side of them was brisk. As you and Kyle slipped into the back seat of Richie's prius, you couldn't help but cast one more look at him; a final look at the curve of his nose and sharp jaw while you could still write it off as being high.

[boxboxlewis]

“Hello! Welcome to Self(help), and please do shout if I can be of assistance,” George says, and of course the words are rote but hopefully he also sounds warm and welcoming or whatever. He’s sitting behind the till, doing some online shopping, not really focussed on the customer who’s just come in.

“Do you really only sell self-help books?” the customer asks, and—that voice is familiar. George looks up and nearly falls off his stool, because that face is familiar too: there in his shop, real and breathing and somehow taller than George had expected, is Alex Albon. He’s got giant sunglasses on, and a trendy little scarf around his neck, but as a disguise it’s hardly adequate; Alex is probably one of the most recognisable people in the world, especially since his Oscar win last year. George tries to casually push the hair back off his forehead, and is so distracted he almost slaps himself in the face. 

“Er,” he says. What was Alex’s question? Oh right, self-help books. “Yes, is the short answer,” he says, and then for reasons known only to his frontal lobe keeps talking. “I had a really hard time getting a loan to start the business, because the banks were all like ‘Do people even buy self-help books anymore now that there’s Google,’ but we’re doing really well now, actually. It helped a lot when Brené Brown gave us a shoutout on Instagram, but even before that—er—sorry, you don’t care about any of this, do you. Well. If you need any help—or any self!—just let me know!”

Alex is just staring at him. George does a tight little sorry-I-fucked-up-socially smile, and turns his attention back to the chinos on his computer monitor, heart racing.

Lando emerges from the back of the shop. “George, if I do any more work I’ll literally die,” he says earnestly. Or maybe sarcastically; George doesn’t really understand Gen Z humour, probably because he refuses to join TikTok. “I shelved, like, an entire box of books, so I’m just going to honour myself now and take some time to self-care. I’m going out for a coffee if you want anything.” He notices Alex standing in the middle of the shop floor and flashes him an artificial smile. “Welcome to Self(help), if you take a picture for socials remember to hashtag us!” 

“Flat white,” George says automatically. Lando nods and leaves the shop. He really hadn’t clocked Alex at all, which is surprising at first, until George considers how monumentally self-absorbed Lando is at all times. 

“Is that your employee,” Alex asks. 

“Yes,” George says, “I did something wrong in a past life, it’s very—do you like candles?”

“Candles,” says Alex Albon, who is still very much in George’s shop.

“We’ve got a lovely selection,” George explains.

Alex pauses thoughtfully. “No,” he says, and then, after a long-ish pause, “thanks.” 

George nods.

Alex says, “Look, I only came in here to get away from some teenagers who were taking pictures of me.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” George says, as if that’s a very universal experience that he naturally has shared.

“So I’m just going to—” Alex gestures towards the door, and the road.

“Yes,” George says. “Of course. It was lovely to—er. Encounter you.”

Alex’s mouth quirks up. He says, “It was lovely to encounter you, too.” And then he walks back into the outside world.

George is still dazed about the whole thing when he goes out a few minutes later to get himself a flat white, Lando having arrived back in the shop bearing only a drink for himself (“Oh, shit, I forgot you wanted something… I’d offer to go back out but my legs are really sore now, so…”). He’s not really looking where he’s walking, so it’s jarring but not surprising when he knocks into someone and spills his newly-acquired coffee down their chest. It’s surprising but somehow inevitable when he realises that someone is Alex Albon.

“You again. I’ve got to say, this encounter is less lovely,” Alex says, mopping irritatedly at his sopping t-shirt with his tiny scarf. George joins in, patting with his bare palm at Alex’s chest as if that’s going to help at all, then pulling his hand back like he’s been burned when Alex raises his sunglasses up so he can level George with a look.

“I—sorry! God, right, I swear I’m usually less of a mess”—this is untrue—“but I actually—if you want to get changed, into, you know, a non-drenched shirt, I actually live just over the street—”

Alex exhales, and slides his sunglasses back onto the face. “I’m fine, thanks. I’ll just… go on my coffee-covered way.”

“You can’t,” George says, “think of the headlines—‘Alex Albon in caffeine frenzy’—‘he didn’t realise you’re meant to drink it, sources say’—my house really is so close. We can get you all cleaned up in no time.”

Alex considers him for a long moment. “Give it to me in metres,” he says. And that’s how the rest of George’s life begins.

for @onadarklingplain, who suggested that notting hill au george would own a bookshop that only sold self-help.. nothing has ever been truer!! kay thank you for reading this over & for talking about galex with me 💓

[mint-yooxgi]

For The Hell of It - Ateez X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Crack!Fic & Idol AU

Genre: Fluff, Humour, Crack

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 7,178

A/n: So, this was inspired by my own frustrations as both a tall and chubby girl and always seeing indicators about how “small” the reader is compared to the love interest in reader insert fics. It’s time to pin THEM against the wall! They swim in YOUR clothes!! Hehehe As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Disclaimer: This fic isn’t meant to ‘call anyone out’ if they use these tropes or do these things the reader rants a bit about to start. This is just me writing out some of my feelings and expression emotions surrounding my own frustrations. If you aren’t tall or chubby, you’re still most definitely welcome to read this! It might put some things into perspective for you, who knows! Also, as a reference, I'm literally as tall as Mingi, so that’s how I pictured heights in this lol there may or may not be smuts to come of this later in the future, but that’s still undecided. ;)

Summary: San finally gets to live out one of his fantasies... yet, so do all of his friends.

A Friday night unlike any other. Well, for the most part. You finally had an evening where all of your schedules lined up, so you agreed to spend the night drinking with the guys. They were all celebrating a successful tour wrapping up, and the start of a month long vacation to rest after their most recent comeback. You, on the other hand, are celebrating a promotion at work, with a generous pay raise to boot.

You’re just happy you can all find jobs that you love, and still find time with each other to spend hanging out. You haven’t been best friends for years for nothing.

“No, I’m serious!” You continue, noticing you have every single one of their gazes transfixed on you right now. “I can’t count the amount of fics I’ve read that someone has sent me where it’s supposed to be a second person point of view, only for it to say some shit like, “you looked up into his eyes” or “character tilted your head up to meet his gaze”. Don’t even get me started on the “swimming in his clothes” trope.”

The way you snort is echoed by both Yeosang and Wooyoung.

“Literally, it’s so annoying when you’re reading something, get almost fully immersed in it, only for the “he towered over your small frame” to get thrown into the mix.” You continue, gesturing at yourself with your hands to emphasize your next point. “Like, what part of me is small?”

You laugh, incredulously, and most of them can only blink at you in shock.

“Listen, if I want to imagine myself, I don’t know, sword fighting with Zoro, I’m definitely going to be eye level with him.” You rant. “I’m literally taller than he is!”

“You read One Piece fanfiction?” Jongho asks, a teasing glint in his eyes as he takes another sip of his drink.

“There is a serious lack of Shanks reader inserts, and I am devastated,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Wooyoung leans forward, a mischievous quirk to the corner of his lips. “So, then, have you ever read any fanfiction about us?”

Your eyes gleam, “wouldn’t you like to know, loverboy.”

Mingi snorts out a laugh, right alongside Yunho as Wooyoung pouts.

“My one friend sent me a Changbin size kink one once,” you recall, scrunching your nose. “Weirder when you know the person, but like, I’m literally double his size. Was hilarious when my friend tried to explain to me how that was supposed to work when there’s no way in hell he could ever make me feel small.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong leans back onto the couch. “Don’t need to know that.”

“I can’t wait to tell Binnie about this,” Wooyoung cackles, already pulling out his phone to text said male.

“Like, I know it’s not the worst inclusion issue that reader inserts have,” you comment, shaking your head. “Don’t even get me started on the descriptions of skin tone or hair type. Yet, it just gets so frustrating when every fic you read isn’t as inclusive to you as you’ve been lead to believe.”

“Write your own,” Yeosang shrugs, offering a solution.

“I do!” You reply, and you watch as nearly all of their eyebrows disappear into their hairlines. “Though, half of the time it’s easier said than done.”

They nod, seemingly in understanding as you continue to rant.

“Literally, for once I just want to read a fic where the reader pins the guys against the wall.” You take another sip of your drink. “Have him wear my clothes for a change, and see how he swims in my hoodie.”

You fail to notice the way both Seonghwa and Jongho shift slightly in their spots, both swallowing thickly.

“And don’t even get me started on a lot of the chubby reader type fics out there.” You sigh, shaking your head once more. “I’m more than just my insecurities, but that’s all chubby people seem to be known for. Like, I’m fat, not ugly.”

The guys all tip their drinks in acknowledgement at that, agreeing with you wholeheartedly.

“Do you know how venerating it was when Resident Evil Eight came out, and everyone and their mom started simping for Lady Dimitrescu? Confidence boosting to the max. The fics that came out of it were immaculate.” You lift your hands in front of you for emphasis, touching your pointer finger to your thumb.

“Oh yeah, Sannie boy had much to say about her,” Wooyoung teases, and you notice the aforementioned man turn bright red.

“Hey!” He reaches over to hit Wooyoung’s knee harshly.

“Boy wanted to be pinned to the wall so bad he asked me to do it for him,” Yunho chuckles, only causing the younger male’s blush to deepen.

“Did you do it?” You raise a brow, pure mirth dancing on your features.

“No,” Yunho chuckles, shaking his head. “I didn’t.”

“Neither did I,” Mingi adds, grin stretching across his features and causing his eyes to crinkle at the sides.

You turn to Seonghwa who just shakes his head in response.

“Wow, some friends you are,” you laugh, turning your gaze to a pouting San in the next moment. “Still want to be pinned to a wall?”

Suddenly, he can no longer meet your gaze, embarrassed sputters escaping his lips. Yet, he doesn’t deny it.

“Wait, have none of you ever been pinned to a wall?” You look around, seeing as they all shake their heads in response. “Received a kabedon by someone you like?” More denials fall from their lips. “Then, I’m assuming you’ve never been lifted against a wall, either?”

“Can’t say that I have.” Jongho grumbles, lips tugging downwards in the corners as if the thought greatly distresses him.

“Seriously, you guys are missing out.” You take a sip of your drink. “Though, can’t say that I have, either. In fiction, though, apparently I’m a goddamn feather.”

A brief moment of silence passes over all of you as you collectively take sips of your drinks. Then, you’re turning to look at San.

“Do you still want to be pinned to the wall?” Your brow quirks as you ask him this for the second time, noticing how more than just San shifts slightly in his spot.

He averts his gaze, suddenly finding the coffee table between you the most fascinating thing. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you stand, stretching your back out as you do so. “Let’s go.”

His head immediately raises to look at you, mild shock pulling at his features. It’s most apparent in the slight way his eyes widen, lips parting as he meets your gaze.

“I’ll pin you to a wall if you want,” you shrug stepping out of the sitting area and cracking your neck. “I am taller than you, and as long as you’re okay with it-“

“No fair! How come San is the only one that gets to be pinned to a wall by you?” Wooyoung complains, quite loudly at that.

“Oh, my offer is open to all of you,” you huff out an amused laugh. “If you want.”

The way you see them all straighten has the grin on your lips widening.

“I can’t promise I’m who you want to pin you, but just picture it’s someone else if you’d like.” You shrug. “But I’m willing if you are.”

Wooyoung physically hops off of the couch before attempting to male his way over to you. Only, he gets harshly pulled back down into his spot by Yeosang in the next moment.

You quirk a brow.

“The offer was for San first,” Yeosang grumbles, and though he tries to hide it, his cheeks begin turning the slightest bit darker as a blush dusts his features.

“So,” you trail off, tilting your head slightly to the side, “is that a ‘yes’?”

Both Yunho and Hongjoong quirk their bros at you, while Wooyoung nods eagerly. At the way Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Mingi blush, you know you have them, too.

“Well, if you’re offering,” Jongho shrugs, tossing the remaining contents of his drink back as he settles fully into the couch.

Wordlessly, Mingi pours him another one.

“Make it sound like I’m forcing you, why don’t you,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “Just say you don’t want to do it. You don’t have to give in to peer pressure, bubs.”

“Oh no, I’d love to see this.” Jongho grins, a sudden gleam to his eyes.

“Well, I’m first!” San immediately pops up onto his feet.

You grin, “someone really is eager.”

“It’s only been the biggest fantasy of his for-“

A hand gets clamped over Wooyoung’s mouth curtesy of Yeosang.

If your eyes could go any wider, you swear that they’d fall right out of your head.

“How do you want me?” San asks, moving beside you near the wall.

“Those are dangerous words, Sannie boy,” you smirk, turning fully to face him and noticing how he glances up into your eyes. “This is all about your comfortability though. The second you want space, or anything, you let me know. Okay?”

“Okay,” he nods his understanding.

“Do you want a full immersive experience, or just what you signed up for?” You ask, taking a step towards him while he takes one back.

The sudden dark look in your eyes makes his lips part, excitement strumming through his veins. At the way you quirk a brow at him, he realizes he still has yet to answer you.

“Uh,” how is his brain already this fuzzy when you haven’t even done anything to him yet? You’ve been close before, San clinging to you more often than not. However, it’s just so much different when he’s on the receiving end for once. So much more intense.

“Immersive! Immersive! Immersive!” Wooyoung begins to chant, followed shortly by both Mingi and Yunho. Even Seonghwa cannot help but to lowly add in his voice to the chanting.

San swallows, licking his lips. “Immersive.”

A cheer rising up from the other males in the room greets your ears, and it only serves to boost your ego for the moment.

Again, you quirk a brow. “Ready?”

A nod is all the confirmation you get before you’re bringing a hand up to firmly press it against the wall beside his head. The sound of your palm making contact is synonymous with the way his breath hitches as he watches you lean into him.

Slowly, you bring your opposite hand up to rest your fingers lightly against his chin. Your eyes hood over as you lift his head to make sure he’s staring deeply into your gaze.

You shift closer, the corner of your lips quirking upwards.

San’s breathing deepens, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows again thickly. Briefly, his eyes dart down to your lips. A fact of which, you seem to notice.

“Quite a different feeling when you’re on the receiving end, huh, Sannie?” You lean in, breath ticking the shell of his ear.

A shudder wracks his entire body, goosebumps trailing up his arms as his chest just brushes against your own with each breath he takes. His lips clamp shut, suppressing the moan that wants to escape him.

“Do you want to wrap your leg around-“

The question hasn’t even finished leaving your mouth when you feel him lift his left leg to loop it around your side. Your hand immediately finds purchase on his thigh, and you can physically feel the way he trembles within your touch.

A chorus of ‘oh’s echoes behind you.

“Shut up!” San snaps, turning his head to glare at his group mates.

Unfortunately for him, the movement causes you to drop his leg, backing off of him shortly after.

San’s lucky to turn back around to face the others the moment you move off of him, for you fail to see the way he slaps the sides of his cheeks with both hands. The way he can feel his skin continuing to heat beneath his own touch only adds to the fire burning within his soul from these turn of events.

He knows you said he could picture anybody pinning him, but the fact that it was you somehow made it so much more intense. It was - you are - perfect in every way, and this has just made him realize that. How could you fit together so easily, like this was a position you had always been meant to be in with him?

The worst part is, it’s over, and he may never get to experience this type of euphoria again.

“Alright, who’s next?” You turn to the remaining males, not noticing the crisis San seems to be having against the wall behind you.

“Oh, me, me!” Wooyoung, again, eagerly pops up from the couch, only to be dragged back down by Jongho this time.

“I’ll go,” Yunho surprises you by standing to his feet. At the curious looks both Hongjoong and Yeosang send him, he’s shrugging. “What? I’m intrigued.”

“Alright, Beanpole,” you motion him over using two fingers in a ‘come here’ gesture. “You’re next.”

He mumbles slightly under his breath about you calling him ‘Beanpole’ again, stating how you’re no different, seeing as you’re practically eye-level with him. Though, with the way he eagerly steps over Mingi who still rests on the floor, you can tell he’s attempting to maintain his composure for now.

Finally, San walks back to his spot beside Seonghwa, almost as if in a daze. Only when the elder male pats the younger on the shoulder does he seemingly snap out of it. In the next moment, San sits back on the ground, pulling a pillow over his lap as he leans forward.

“If my back gives out, you guys are paying for my medical bills,” you casually comment, turning towards Yunho who leans against the wall.

“Are you planning to lift us?” Hongjoong asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Possibly,” you shrug. “Depends on if you want the full immersive experience or not. I’ve got ideas for all of you.”

“Oh, so you’ve thought about this before?” Yunho’s familiar smug grin begins to pull at his features.

“Not necessarily,” you hum. “It’s just more interesting this way.”

“Then, please,” he meets your gaze, “immerse me.”

The moment those words escape his lips, you’re in front of him. Your hands gently grab his waist, before stepping directly into him. Your brow quirks just as you hear his breath hitch.

“When I tell you to jump, jump.” You say, a playful gleam shining in your eyes.

He nods.

“Jump.” 

The moment your hands settle on the skin of his thighs, you press yourself fully against him. The way your chest feels rising and falling against his own sets his heart fluttering in his chest. Not to mention the way you quite literally have him pinned against the wall in your arms. 

His eyes are wide, breath hitching in his throat as the full reality of the situation comes crashing down upon him. Never has he imagined that he could be the one being held against the wall like this. The way your eyes shine as they continue to stare into his own only make it that much more intense.

Yunho swallows as he hears you giggle. 

Shit, he really wasn’t prepared for this.

“What’s the matter, Yuyu?” You tease, breath tickling the skin of his neck as you lean into him. “Tall girl caught your tongue?”

A few hoots and hollers are heard from the others as Yunho’s ears turn bright red. His lips part in answer, but no words escape him, too immersed in the feeling of your warm, plush body pressing against his own. The way that you’re suddenly slightly even taller than before as you hold him against the wall, his legs wrapped around your waist, has a pleasant shiver running down his spine.

A moment later, and you’re dropping his legs back to the floor.

You smile, patting the side of his gobsmacked face gently. “There ya go, beanpole. Now you know what it’s like.”

Turning around, you see Mingi practically rush to his feet. “Me next.”

You chuckle at his eagerness as Yunho slowly walks back to his spot, caught in a trance.

Just as San was before him, Yunho cannot help but marvel at the feeling of having you pin him to the wall. He never really thought about it before, and it was simply to sate that curiosity in his mind, but the fact that it was you, and that he enjoyed it immensely because it was you, is making his head spin.

He swallows thickly.

“Come on, Big Boy,” you extend your hand out to Mingi in offering, to which he gladly takes.

A giddy smile rests on his features as you guide him over to the wall. The eagerness you can sense radiating off of him is contagious, and you cannot help but to mirror his expression.

Your lips part in question, but Mingi beats you to it.

“Immersive.” He confirms with a firm nod, only causing you to chuckle lightly in response.

“I think it’s safe to say we all want the immersive experience right now,” Seonghwa voices, and you spare a glance back at the group to see all of them eagerly nodding at you.

“And here I thought I was touch starved,” you joke, a giggle to your words.

“Hey!” Wooyoung complains. “When you have a pretty lady offering to pin you to the wall, call us, and then see how you feel.”

Compliments from them, especially Wooyoung, are not unusual. However, something about this time feels different when he says this. Perhaps it’s the way he never breaks eye contact with you, or perhaps it’s the way you can just feel how sincere his words are. Still, it shocks you to your core.

You let out an amused puff, turning back to face the male trembling in excitement against the wall.

“Woah, there, Big Boy,” you grin. “Don’t be turning full Chihuahua on me.”

“Oh, leave the poor man alone,” Hongjoong joins in on the teasing. “He’s just excited.”

“It’s not like I’m giving him a lap dance.” You chuckle, stepping in closer as you watch Mingi’s face turn a bright red.

“Are you offering?” Wooyoung sounds just a tad too hopeful.

“Don’t even joke about that, Woo,” San throws the pillow in his lap at his friend.

“Yeah, cause you probably wouldn’t be able to hide your boner next time.” Yeosang deadpans.

A beat of silence.

Laughter erupts throughout the room as San turns bright red once more, stuttering out denials all the while. 

“You won’t be laughing when it’s your turn!” He shouts, pulling his knees up to his chest as a pout pulls at his lips.

“Hey, no judgement here,” you grin, raising your hand nonchalantly in his direction. “Huge confidence boost when knowing you can turn someone on like that.”

San sticks his tongue out in Wooyoung’s direction as if to say, ‘so, there.’ 

You chuckle once more, taking the time to casually lean against the wall right beside Mingi using your one hand. The way you see his whole body freeze for a moment as his breath gets caught in his throat has a smug grin pulling at your features.

“By the way, are we still on for movie night next week?” You ask casually, completely ignoring the male beside you for the moment.

“I swear, if you make us marathon Star Wars again,” Hongjoong jokingly turns to glare at Seonghwa.

“Oh, give the guy a break,” you comment. “It’s his favourite series.”

“Have you seen the new Lego Death Star that just came out?” His eyes light up, looking around hopefully at each of the males scattered around the room.

Yunho nods, somewhat aware of what the elder male is talking about as the topic of Legos is discussed.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Mingi finally calming down. Though, the slight pout that pulls onto his features has you leaning in to his ear.

“Don’t worry, Min, I haven’t forgotten about you,” you whisper, lips but a hairsbreadth from his ear. He shivers again, and you smirk. “Immersive, remember?”

In the blink of an eye, you’ve shifted your position to stand directly in front of the male. Your head is still buried in his neck, nose barely brushing against his skin as his breath hitches once more. Again, your hands settle on his hips as you lean into him, and he swears he can feel you smirking against the side of his throat.

The room goes silent, watching the scene unfold before them. The others seem just as caught off guard as Mingi is by your sudden shift in position.

Yet, why are Yeosang, San, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong suddenly all feeling jealous?

You pull away form Mingi’s neck only to move in impossibly closer. Your one leg slips between his own, nose brushing against his as the corner of your lips tugs upwards. In the next moment, you’re lifting a hand to cup the side of his face.

The way your thumb tenderly strokes along his cheekbone as you step away mirrors how your touch fades from his skin. A fact of which he doesn’t like all that much, body attempting to follow yours as you pull away.

“Someone likes attention more than I thought,” your voice is light, a teasing glint to your eyes as Mingi begins stuttering before you.

“You can’t blame the man,” Jongho takes another sip of his drink. “You’re acting hella intimate with us all of a sudden.”

“I said immersive, remember,” you playfully wink at the youngest, noticing how he hides the lower half of his face behind his glass in the next second. “If you don’t want it, I won’t do it. I told you, I’m not trying to make any of you uncomfortable.”

“Well, more for me, then,” this time when Wooyoung stands up, neither Jongho nor Yeosang stops him. “Make it as immersive as you’d like, Darling.”

“As long as you can handle it, Baby Boy,” the moment the words slip passed your lips, a chorus of ‘oh’s reach your ears again.

Just as Wooyoung happily bounds over to you, you notice Mingi trudging back over to his spot on the floor.

Mingi cannot help himself. He’s distracted, mind reeling with the revelations of the past events that he’s just experienced. The only problem is, now, he wants more. He wants you to hold him against the wall like you did Yunho. He wants you lean into him again, just like you did with San. Only this time, he wants to feel your lips on his own.

He shakes his head. What is he thinking? You’re one of their closest friends. He shouldn’t be thinking about all the other ways that you can pin him, and then how he can pin you to the wall. Perhaps, even to the bed…

“Oh, this is going to be good,” San shifts forward, eagerly watching as his best friend finally gets to experience what he did only a short while ago.

Wooyoung is eager. In fact, he’s the most visibly eager out of all of them so far. Well, that you can tell. He even goes so far as to reach out for you, back not quite pressed against the wall.

Before he can so much as touch you, though, you have his wrists in your hands, pinning him to the wall. You lean into him, body towering over his smaller frame as a choked moan manages to escapes his lips. From the way red begins to creep up his neck, you know that he did not mean for that to come out so suddenly.

“Did I say you could touch me?” Your voice lowers, head tilting to the side almost mockingly.

His eyes go wide, and you’re surprised how willingly he shakes his head ‘no’.

The corner of your lips raise. “Good boy.”

This time, the moan that escapes him is much louder than the first. You watch on in amusement as he begins squirming beneath your hold, hips shifting slightly against the wall as you keep the lower half of your body distanced from his. He whines slightly when he realizes you aren’t budging.

Behind you, the rest of the guy’s jaws drop.

“You were just waiting for this, weren’t you?” You hum lowly, feigning concern for his current state. “Desperately wanting someone to hold you like this against the wall?”

Wooyoung bites down on his bottom lip, nodding shamelessly.

You step in closer, and you can physically feel how his body melts into yours. You lean into his neck, lips ghosting the skin just below his ear. “Good boy.”

The moment you back away from him, Wooyoung lets out a whine in protest. As soon as you release your hold on his wrists, he reaches for you, but you easily dodge his hands. A chuckle falls from your lips as you see him pout.

“So,” Hongjoong’s voice draws your attention to his smirking features across the room, “you’re a domme.”

“What was your first clue?” You quirk a brow back at him, amusement dancing in your eyes. In the next second, you shake your head, noticing how Wooyoung begins to walk back to his spot in a haze, that pout still tugging on his lips. “When I want to be, I can do both. Not that any of you will get to experience either.”

“Not that we’d want to,” Jongho rolls his eyes playfully.

You point in his direction, “hurtful.”

“Never say never,” Seonghwa breathes, seemingly lost in his own world for the moment.

Your brow raises, mild surprise painting your features as he seemingly comes back to reality. The tips of his ears begin to go red once he’s realized what he’s just said.

“Well, I think our eldest here should go next, then.” Yunho claps the male on his shoulder, giving him a firm shove forward all the while.

“Yeah, come on, Hwa,” San encourages, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “It’s much more fun than it looks.”

“It looked to me like you were having a lot of fun, there, San,” Seonghwa’s eyes sharpen slightly as he pushes himself to his feet.

“I can’t watch,” Yeosang shakes his head playfully, standing to his feet and heading down your hallway in the next second.

Your eyes follow the movement, amusement shining within.

Seonghwa stepping towards you draws your attention.

“I’ve never been a fan of getting pinned to a wall.” He states, somewhat bluntly.

“I don’t have to pin you to the wall, you know.” You grin, nudging his shoulder lightly with your own.

“I thought the whole point of this was to ‘show us what it feels like’,” Jongho comments, placing his now empty glass onto the coffee table before him.

“There are other ways to encapsulate the same types of feelings,” you reply, placing a gentle hand onto Seonghwa’s shoulder.

“And just how do you plan on doing that?” He raises a brow curiously at you.

“Wrap your arms around my shoulders,” you begin, already moving to lean into him to prepare yourself for what you’re going to do. “I’ve seen videos of you guys doing this with each other, but,” you shrug briefly, “context.”

Seonghwa’s brow furrows, but he still does what you ask of him.

The moment you feel his arms wrap around your shoulders, you’re bending down and lifting him into your arms.

“Oh, Jesus, I wasn’t prepared,” you wobble slightly, now carrying him bridal style in your grasp. “How the fuck do you guys make this look so easy.”

“Are you saying I’m heavy?” Seonghwa pouts, resting quite comfortably in your arms for the moment.

“No, I’m saying I’m surprised my noodle arms haven’t given out on me yet without the wall for support.” You reply, a slight chuckle to your words.

“Should we start preparing those medical bills of yours?” Hongjoong teases, though you notice there’s a certain glint in his eyes that has never been there before. Well, not that you’ve ever noticed. A glint that has only appeared due to the fact that he’s witnessing you be so close with the others. Others that aren’t him.

“Hey, can I borrow a sweater?” Yeosang calls from down the hallway. “I’m cold.”

“Go for it!” You call back, shifting your hold on Seonghwa slightly as he peers out at the rest of the guys while still held in your arms.

“You know, you’re right,” he hums, nuzzling himself deeper into you. “This is quite nice.”

“It’s the old ‘Uno reverse card’,” you chuckle, setting him back onto his feet just as Yeosang comes meandering back into the room. “You don’t realize you want it until it’s happened to you.”

Yeosang stops just beside you, blinking at the way Seonghwa slowly returns to his spot. The way the eldest glances almost longingly back at you from over his shoulder while doing so does not go unnoticed by any.

Turning your head, you finally notice that Yeosang has opted to clothe himself in one of your largest hoodies. The material quite literally drowns him, the hem reaching the middle of his thighs.

“Now, this is what I’m talking about,” you motion to Yeosang’s body, nodding approvingly.

“Yeah, yeah, we all know you like Yeosang,” San rolls his eyes, cheeks puffing slightly as he rests his chin on his knees.

“First of all, I like all of you,” you reply, a playful snort escaping you as you smile. “No, I meant the clothing difference. This is what ‘swimming in their clothes’ means. It’s nice to be on the receiving end instead.”

“But you’re not the one wearing the clothes?” Mingi’s brow furrows, confusion shining on his features.

“You know what I mean,” you wave him off. “Literally, I can understand certain size kink fics now where the character fucks their love interest in their hoodie, and nothing but their hoodie.”

“Are you saying you want to fuck me in nothing but your hoodie?” Yeosang quirks a brow, a wide grin tugging at his features.

“Depends,” you hum in response, and you watch as Hongjoong spits out his drink, choking on the liquid in the next second.

“On?” He tilts his head curiously, blinking innocently.

“You wanna wear my thigh highs, too?” The way you see his eyes nearly bulge out of his head at your words has all of you bursting into laughter.

However, what you fail to see is how Yeosang goes quiet, cheeks flaring with colour.

“Well, this is certainly a game of truth or dare I never expected to get into.” Wooyoung cackles, tossing another drink back.

“I think we’re learning more about your interests tonight than in all of the years we’ve known you.” Yunho laughs, leaning back in his chair.

“You’ve never asked,” you shrug his words off casually, mirth dancing within your eyes.

“Who’s turn is it, anyways?” Yeosang grumbles, hiding his hands deep within the sleeves of your sweater.

“Yours.” Your response causes another round of heat to spread across his cheeks.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Wooyoung nudging Jongho beside him. A male of which is clearly annoyed by the elder’s actions, but who nudges back, nonetheless.

“I don’t know how I feel about being pinned to a wall,” he raises his hands in front of himself in caution, backing away from you slowly. 

The way his hands are hidden by the long sleeves of your sweater has you smiling lightly.

“If you don’t want me to, that’s quite alright,” you reply with a nod in understanding. “Like I said, I’m not about to force you guys into something you don’t want.”

“Oh, believe me,” Wooyoung chuckles, hiding somewhat behind Jongho as Yeosang takes a threatening step towards the younger male in warning. “He wants it.”

“I’ll believe it when he says it,” you tilt your head in acknowledgment in Yeosang’s direction, meeting his gaze once more.

The room goes silent, all of you turning to look at Yeosang once more.

“Uh,” he blinks, turning to look at any one of the other guys for help. Only, the way they simply watch on in glee lets him know they’re not going to do anything.

“Welp,” you turn back to the seven guys seated around your living room. “Maknae, leader, which one of you is next?”

“I’ll do it.” Yeosang’s voice from behind you draws your attention to him once more.

“Oh?” The smug grin on your face says it all, and he swallows thickly.

“Not against the wall, though.” He replies.

“That’s fine,” you reply with a nod, walking closer to him in your next breath.

You motion him closer, and he steps into you quite eagerly. Though, he does attempt to hide it, he doesn’t do a very good job.

“When I tell you to jump, jump into me,” you whisper lowly into his ear, and the way you feel him shiver as you lean away from him has that familiar smirk tugging at your lips. “Jump.”

Yeosang hesitates only a moment before quite literally leaping into your embrace. Your hands come to settle on his thighs, pulling him closer into you as he wraps his arms around your neck.

“Kind of different when you’re on the other end, isn’t it?” You smile, eyes crinkling as you watch him nod, somewhat amazed for the moment.

The way you can feel him tighten his legs around your waist has you chuckling, turning back around to face the other guys.

“This is… different than I thought it would be,” he mumbles into your ear, chin resting on your shoulder as he buried his face into the side of your neck. “It’s quite nice.”

The way you raise you eyebrows in agreement says it all, that same knowing look shining on your features. 

Slowly, you lower Yeosang back to his feet, but he doesn’t release his hold from around your shoulders. Of course, you lean down slightly, allowing him to embrace you for as long as he wants.

“Another perk to it is simple things, like hugs.” You say, just as Yeosang finally pulls away from you.

Of course, you notice how he avoids your gaze now as he walks back to his spot on the couch.

“What do you mean?” Mingi inquires, knocking back the rest of his drink shortly after.

“Chest height.” You shrug, to which he immediately starts coughing at your answer. “What? You’re telling me you wouldn’t take full advantage of burying your face in your significant other’s chest if you could?”

You notice the gears in San’s head turning, before a devious look is shining in his gaze. “Does that mean I can have a hug, then?”

He starts to move, only for Hongjoong to reach over and quite harshly tug him back to the ground.

“Ow,” San begins to rub at his ass. “The fuck was that for.”

“You’re not as slick as you think you are,” Jongho rolls his eyes, standing up from the couch next.

“She didn’t deny it!” San counters, pointing in your direction all the while.

You shrug, “maybe next time.”

The way they all turn to look at you, eyes full of both mild surprise, but also excitement has you chuckling in response.

“If that excites you, you guys should all really try thigh riding,” you joke, and you notice how Jongho stumbles over his own two feet just before reaching you. “Oh, someone’s eager.”

“Shut up.” He grumbles, leaning back against the wall closest to you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Is that a challenge?” You quirk a brow, turning fully towards him now as you take a step forward.

“I doubt you’re up for it,” he quips, the corner of his lips twitching upwards.

“You’re right,” you smirk, hand landing right beside his head as you lean into him. The way his breath hitches has your voice dropping slightly. “I’ve never really liked brats, but that doesn’t mean I’m not up for taming one.”

A mixture of loud, boisterous laughter, and pointed ‘oh’s can be heard from the others around you.

You huff, clearly amused by how silent Jongho gets. His arms fall to his sides as you step in closer, noticing how red begins to creep up his neck as he attempts to maintain his composure.

“What’s the matter, Baby Bear?” You feign concern, your nose brushing against his neck as you lean further into him. “All bark, and no bite?” He shivers as your breath caresses his skin. “Pity.”

His one hand moves to grab your hip, but you’re much quicker.

In the blink of an eye, you have his wrist pinned against the wall, your one leg sliding between his own.

“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you,” with the way your head tilts and the angle you find yourself in, you manage to be looking up at him through your lashes. 

Jongho has never felt smaller in his entire life. The position he finds himself in with you, combined with your words and the way your looking at him has him melting into your touch. So, when his body sinks slightly, allowing himself to rest on top of your thigh between his own, you let him.

The worst part for him, though, is when you pull away.

Jongho just manages to catch himself before he stumbles forward, not expecting you to release him so suddenly. He can only stand there, staring intently at the floor for a good thirty seconds in order to compose himself as you turn back to the other guys.

“Goddammit,” he curses lowly. “How are you so good at this?”

You giggle, and the sound fills the room with a vibrance unlike anything before. Yet, why are their hearts suddenly racing?

“It’s nothing more than the shock of your first time experiencing something like this, probably,” you shrug him off, proud smile pulling at your features. “Or you’re all just secretly in love with me.”

This time, it’s Seonghwa who spits out his drink in response, choking on his breath soon afterwards. Comfortingly, Yunho pats his upper back.

“I’m just playing,” you chuckle, arms crossed loosely over your chest as you shake your head.

“Seriously, you were right,” Wooyoung voices, staring directly at you while Jongho slowly moves back to his seat. “I never knew I needed this until now.”

“San was right to want this,” Yeosang corrects, shooting a brief look at the aforementioned male out of the corner of his eyes.

“I’m glad I could be of service,” you salute lightheartedly, two fingers pressing to the side of your forehead before letting out a small click of your tongue as you flick your wrist.

“Hang on, you’re not done yet.” Hongjoong stands to his feet, and immediately, there’s a sudden tension that fills the room.

“Never said that I was, Captain,” you wink playfully, and you almost miss the way he loses his footing just as he steps over Mingi for the moment. Though, you chalk that up to him simply misplacing his balance.

The moment he steps before you, a silence unlike ever before fills the room. All of the guys watch on eagerly to see what you have planned for their leader, and just how he will react to it, too.

“So, I take it you want the immersive experience?” You quirk a brow teasingly.

“Give me everything you’ve got,” he replies, breathlessly.

“I don’t think you’re ready for that, yet, mister,” you poke his upper chest lightly, noticing how he tilts his head upwards slightly to meet your gaze.

“We’ll save that for later, then,” he grins, noticing how you slowly begin to back him up into the wall.

“Who said there will ever be a later?” You hum, tilting your head slightly as you watch him lightly hit the wall behind him.

His breath hitches as he looks up at you through his lashes, the corner of his lips tugging upwards slightly.

“I just did.”

This time, when you place your hand beside his head, it’s slow. The movements are precise, keeping your arm straight for the moment as you casually lean into him.

“Oh, really?” You quirk a brow. “What makes you so sure that I’ll agree?”

Hongjoong smirks, his one eyebrow twitching upwards slightly. “I’m positive you’re just as curious as I am.”

“Am I?” You hum, taking a step in closer to him and noticing how his breathing deepens. “Curious of what? Are you sure you’re not just projecting, Joong?”

The way you say his name, your lips curving around the one syllable, is like music to his ears. He cannot stop himself, he goes to reach for you, a shameless whine getting caught in his throat.

Like every time before, you’re quicker. Only, this time, instead of pinning his wrist to the wall beside his head, you raise it, holding it above him as you lean over his entire body.

“You boys are very touchy tonight,” you tut, shaking your head as you lean the slightest bit more into him.

“Can you blame us?” He replies, staring up into your eyes. “This is the first time we’ve experienced a temptation like this before.”

The room remains deadly silent, as if the other seven are fully agreeing with the words Hongjoong is speaking to you right now.

“Yes, the heat of the moment can do that to people,” you chuckle, stepping the slightest bit closer to him so that he can feel your body heat against his own.

It’s slight, but you feel him arch forward in your grip, pressing his body flush against your own.

“We both know it’s more than just that,” his tone is low, sultry as he melts into your touch.

The corner of your lip quirks upwards smugly, pushing him flush against the wall.

“Is it really?” You feign innocence, leaning in to press your forehead against his own. Your noses brush. “I guess we’ll never know.”

In the blink of an eye, you’ve stepped away from him, releasing his wrist and letting it fall back to his side.

“Well, that was fun!” You chirp, completely unaware of how Hongjoong’s dark gaze never leaves your figure even for a second as you move to finally return to your own spot. 

He licks his lips, clearing his throat lightly. Taking a step back towards the seating area, he blinks, refocussing his vision. The sound of laughter reaches his ears, and you all continue on as if nothing happened.

Yet, how can they just act like nothing happened when you’ve fulfilled desires within them that they didn’t even know that they had? This has certainly made them all change the way they view things, especially the way they see you.

All that they do know, is that now, they want you. In ways more than just a friend should.

[honeymoonblues]

If only you asked...

Remus Lupin x Professor!Reader

Summary: Remus is deciding wheter or not to ask you out, and you're having a bad day. (Gender neutral reader)

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: A little continuation to my other Remus fic 'Crash!' can also be read as a stand-alone. Let me know if there are any spelling errors, English is not my first language.

A few months had passed since you became a professor at Hogwarts.

At first, it had been hard to get the students truly engaged with the subject. Of course you understood that history could get boring, but slowly and with a lot of effort, the kids were inspired by your own enthusiasm. You were eccentric enough to catch their attention for the whole hour, and stern enough to make sure they were actually learning.

Now, the relationship with your coworkers was an easier task. You got along with them just fine, having quickly learned about each of their personalities and being mindful of their own little quirks.

You knew well to treat Severus with respect, to call Minerva by her first name, to never interrupt Sprout while she was teaching and to be open minded to whatever Trelawney had to say, even when she spoke the most peculiar of facts.

Surely, there was also Remus. Whom, no matter how many odd quirks, could never get on your nerves. Even with his strange way of acting every once month, you thought he must have his reasons. Your bond was warm, a friendship disguised under pure professionalism (or so you thought).

You see, it was always:

“Oh, professor Lupin, you must come with me to Hogsmeade this weekend!”

And Remus would never turn down an offer from you. He would say:

“That’s very convenient, you see, I was just thinking that I need to go to the quill shop.”

 It turned cartoon-ish after a while. You’d invite him to the village, he’d suddenly remember that he also has to go the village, so it would be foolish to refuse, and you’d both smile brightly to each other. Now, Remus was quickly running out of stores he ‘needed’ to go to, and your invitations were so regular that they didn’t seem ‘just friendly’ anymore.

The truth is, you were fooling no one. Except maybe yourselves.

If anyone should ask about your relationship, you were kind to answer:

“Of course professor Lupin and I are friendly, we’re coworkers!”

And Remus didn’t hesitate to respond:

“Yes, I’d say we’re good acquaintances, why do you ask?”

In the staff room, Severus would raise his eyebrows every time, which is the most expressive you’ve seen him. Then Flitwick would sip on his tea, and Dumbledore would grin. Nevertheless, the professors were still indifferent to whatever-might-be-going-on with you two, Merlin knows they don’t need anything else to get involved with.

The students, however, do love a little love story. They would throw each other glances every time you stepped in Remus’ classroom, whisper excitedly when they caught you two talking animatedly, and roll their eyes whenever you’d invite him to Hogsmeade.

It was painfully clear! You both fancied each other, why couldn’t you just date, and get over it! The truth is, you were both phenomenal cowards. The ‘what ifs’ were clouding your minds. Also was it even allowed for professors to date? (No one cared!) But since the pair of you decided it would be best to ignore these feelings and not talk about it, the months just kept on stretching out and neither dared to make a move that wasn’t inside the usual routine of Hogsmeade’s strictly-professional-and-maybe-a-little-friendly strolls.

Remus’ heart raced just by thinking of asking you out for once. He smiled to himself, looked at a fixed point in his office, and ignored the papers he was supposed to be grading for a moment. He was thinking of you. Your humour, then your laugh, then your smile, then your blushing cheeks, then your twinkling eyes.

‘I’m absolutely done for.’ He thought, snapping out of his mind.

There was someone at his door.

“Minerva, please come in.”

Behind her glasses, McGonagall had a sharp glint in her eyes, and her mouth showed a faint smirk. She had come all the way to Remus’ office to discuss the little outing he was planning for the fourth years’ class. And she did just that, but in the back of her mind there was something else. She decided it was time to help her former student a bit, after all, she’d always had a soft spot for Remus.

“Winter holidays are getting closer.” She remarked, as she was getting up.

“A much needed break for everyone, isn’t it?”

“Of course...” She nodded with her usual poise. “Any plans for this winter, Remus?”

“Oh, Minerva, whatever could I have planned for winter? You know me...” He chuckled, shrugging and pointing to his office with his hands. Accompanying her to the door, he said. “I’m quite the dull man, after all.”

“I was just asking, since I’ve been seeing you out in Hogsmeade every weekend, I thought you could have...” She smiled, and Remus stuttered a bit before Minerva spoke again, softly but surely. “If you asked them, Remus, they would say yes, you know...”

Then she left, still grinning when she closed the door behind her. Remus stood there, lips tightly closed and feeling like he was caught red-handed. He sat down, then stood up again, and finally decided to sit down again. He also shook with laughter for a while as if he was insane, but kept quiet for a long time after that.

“I’m fucked.” He concluded out loud.

You loved the atmosphere that winter had brought to Hogwarts. The holidays were just around the corner and the kids seemed excited, ready for a break just as much as the professors were.

The students got more distracted this time of the year, but no one could really blame them. At the same time, exams were the last obstacle between them and the enchanting, needed rest. But it was surely a lot of work. You had so many papers and tests to grade that you started to wonder if it would be possible to have two history teachers instead of just one. Two whole stressful weeks where you didn’t even go out on weekends, and your free time was basically nonexistent. Merlin, you were almost out of your mind.

Hugging yourself in your heavy winter coat, and sipping on your hot tea, you made your way to your classroom. You were late because you’d accidentally slept in, after staying up late trying to decipher some bizarre students’ essays. But no matter how late, you were not about to miss breakfast or you’d surely pass out in the middle of the class, so you went down to the kitchens, asked politely for a cup and took off as fast as you could.

The thing is, today was not your day at all. But it could get worse, and it did! 5 minutes before the end of your first class, you tripped slightly, as you tend to do, but your worn out boots simply decided it was enough, and the heel on one of them broke. You just stared at your mutilated shoe for a moment, standing in a weird uneven stance, uncharacteristically quiet. You sighed, looked at the attentive students and dismissed the class for the day.

There were 35 minutes before the next class started, ‘enough time to cry a little’, you thought. But you shook your head, and sat down at your desk, examining your shoe.

“Certainly broken boot will not bring me down.” You spoke to yourself.

“I don’t see how it could.” Said a soft voice.

You snapped your head forward, and watched Remus entering your classroom, a shy smile on his face.

“Is this a bad time?” He asked, unusually bashful.

“No, no! I was just...” You held the boot for him to see. “Trying to fix this...”

He chuckled at the poor state of your shoes and got closer to take a look.

“I really should go to Hogsmeade, and see if someone can patch them up for me.” You mumbled, quite discouraged at your own chances of reapairing it. “Would you like to accompany me, professor?” The question was soft, hopeful, and it got a smile out of both of you.

“That’s very convenient, you see, I was just about to ask you on a date."

[trashytoastboi]

Hi mate! :D If ya have time, Can i ask hcs for Hawkins, Law, Kid and Killer reacting to seeing s/o's face for the first time?, (male, pirate ally s/o) Since his very conscious of the big scar on his forehead reaching to his chin and why he always wear a mask

Hiya! Of course! Sorry for the long wait on this and hope you enjoy 🍞🍀

Headcanons: Hawkins, Law, Kid, Killer x Male! S/O – Reacting to seeing their S/O's face for the first time

(Male Pronouns)

Basil Hawkins

🔮 {Name} and Hawkins had hit it off so well that Hawkins fell pretty hard in a short amount of time. He truly was so charmed by {Name}, his personality and his little quirks or his witty sense of humour all became points that Hawkins really enjoyed about his partner. Some people brought up the curious question if Hawkins had even seen {Name’s} face as having it constantly covered created a very mysterious impression of him. 

🔮 The mask did have some difficulties such as eating and drinking restrictions, {Name} mostly ate by himself as the mask was not flexible enough to eat with it on. Hawkins never really minded so long as {Name} was comfortable. Hawkins being himself over held immense curiosity for anything unknown to him. Earlier on in the relationship he had the impulsivity to ask his cards for reason, even considering scrying to learn of {Name’s} appearance. Though he decided against it in respect for his partner. 

🔮 {Name} cautiously looked around the room, making sure no one was around before he took off his mask. Desperately needing a drink of water to ease his thirst in the oppressive heat wave. The mask was hot enough without the heat wave making it feel like an oven. His face was covered in sweat and he felt like he could breathe properly. {Name} reached for a towel to wipe the sweat, failing to notice when Hawkins had walked into the room and for the first time locked eyes with his partner without the mask. 

🔮 Hawkins is surprised to see {Name’s} face. By all means he really found {Name} attractive, but seeing how he panicked and tried to cover his face made Hawkins worry. “I didn’t want you to see it…” {Name} murmured sadly. The thing in mention was a rather prominent scar on his face, one that ran along the length of his face. So many people avoided {Name} and mocked his appearance that it became easier to conceal everything. He grew to hate his reflection just for the sight that was reflected back. He always assumed that others would hold an even harsher outlook. 

🔮 Hating oneself was not exactly a foreign concept to Hawkins, and while he could say from where he stood that {Name} shouldn’t have minded the comments of others he knew it was not as simple when on the receiving end. {Name} tried to awkwardly shuffle to where he left his mask and ended up tripping due to the poor visibility. Hawkins helped {Name} up and passed his mask to him. Hawkins felt a sliver of happiness finally being able to see the face of the one he so dearly loves, but his happiness is irrelevant if it caused {Name} so much distress. 

🔮 {Name} secured his mask on. Hawkins placed a kiss on the mask, an affectionate gesture the two of them developed. “I know it’s hard for you my love, but truly, you are still so beautiful in my eyes” Hawkins awkwardly said, attempting to comfort {Name}. Seeing his efforts really made {Name} happy, he felt a little more trusting and confident in slowly getting used to the idea of showing his face a little more around Hawkins. 

Trafalgar Law

🍄 Seeing someone with an out of ordinary fashion sense, was actually pretty normal amongst the various pirates. {Name} didn’t stand out even when wearing a mask that entirely concealed his face. Law is a very thoughtful person, physical appearance didn’t hold the first and foremost consideration of his partners. He wanted someone who resonated with him on an intellectual and emotional level. 

🍄 {Name} had yet to work up the courage to show Law his face. {Name} knew Law, and knew that Law most likely wouldn’t react badly when he discovered the scar on his face. {Name} flinched every time he thought about revealing his face. Picturing Law’s disgusted face or his expression when he saw his scar, {Name} pulled himself back and away from the idea of showing his face. 

🍄 Unfortunate for {Name} but a situation in which Law saw his face did arise. Law noticed his partner being out of sorts that in turn led to discovering that [Name} caught a cold and was running a very bad fever. Law had the savvy to get {Name} to bed to rest as quickly as possible. Law insisted on him removing his mask so he could have water, medication, and breathe properly without the masks’ obstruction. Law was not in any way rude about it, but was a bit forceful purely out of worry for {Name}, he did offer to leave the room or turn around if it would make {Name} feel better. 

🍄 {Name} could feel the genuine concern from Law over his health and decided to remove his mask. The entire lead up felt nerve wracking, so much so he wanted to hide or cry. It had been so long since anyone saw his face, and {Name} dreaded the idea of Law feeling repulsed by his appearance. After he removed his mask he averted his gaze, waiting for the gasp of shock and horror. {Name} felt a cool hand press against his forehead. “Your temperature is really high.” Law stated with a worried tone. 

🍄 Law smiled softly, his hand cradling {Name’s} face. He understood {Name’s} hesitance to show his face due to the large scar that ran from his forehead to his chin. A rather deep and grizzly scar that more than anything had Law concerned over how badly it must have hurt {Name.} Not only in the physical sense but in the psychological sense to completely conceal his face for years. Without thinking Law leaned in and softly kissed the scar, {Name} backed away slightly out of surprise. 

🍄 {Name} felt so reassured that all of his worry and expectation was shattered by Law’s honest and gentle affections. Law didn’t flinch or think it was disgusting, rather he showed concern and sadness for the reasons that had to do with his care for {Name}. Law comforted him with constant reassurance and telling him how handsome he looked. It created a safe space where {Name} slowly felt he could be accepted and grew comfortable enough to start removing his mask around Law.

Eustass Kid

🛠 Kid is direct and insistent that even if he didn’t care about {Name’s} face since he already liked him, he still wanted to sate his deep rooted curiosity of seeing {Name’s} face. Kid would never force {Name} to show Kid his face, but still he sometimes would tell {Name} about the kind of ideas he formed in his mind of his appearance. The lizard man was an interesting theory but {Name} did outright deny that one. To give Kid a crumb, something hopefully enough to satiate his curiosity {Name} explained how he looked, his features, some random marks or how some people have commented on his appearance. 

🛠 “So you’re a handsome bastard and you’re bragging about it?” Kid replied after his takeaway from {Name’s} explanation. “I also have a really large scar…It doesn’t look so nice…” {Name} explained running his fingers over the mask where his scar lay underneath. Kid stared at him with absolute shock, he frantically gestured to his face showing off his own scars. “So you don’t like my scars?” He asked, {Name} stumbled over his words saying it was different. 

🛠 “How so?” Kid questioned, well it came apparent in the way they regarded their scars. Kid wore them proudly, boasted the fact that he clashed head on with an emperor of the sea and survived with his life, one arm lighter and covered in the evidence tattered all over his body. Even if it hurt, it stung his pride that he lost in the first place he turned them into his point of pride. [Name} was the opposite, his scar became a point of insecurity and shame, he covered it and hid it away from others and himself. 

🛠 “So, are you going to show me or what?” Kid grinned, almost trying to challenge {Name}. Well, nothing to lose, Kid was practically covered in scars and it probably wouldn’t be anything new for him to see. {Name} slowly removed his mask, feeling awkward and a little regretful that he gave into Kid’s provocations so easily. Kid closed the distance to look at {Name’s} face from close up. Kid sighed. “It’s a crime covering up a face like that. Your scar barely affects how good looking you are.”  

🛠 “What..?” he muttered, confused over what Kid said so plainly. Kid’s hand grabbed {Name’s} face and pulled him into an unexpected and deep kiss. Kid grinned, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” {Name} could feel the heat rising to his face, trying to process the last few minutes of compliments and the sudden kiss. “Oh? You can make a face like that huh?” Kid jeered, his grin only growing wider as he loved seeing the diverse reactions {Name} had to offer. 

🛠 Kid made a point of asking and encouraging {Name} to have his mask off around him, of course he relentlessly teased and flirted with {Name} including a stolen kiss or two. Kid’s abrupt and nonchalant attitude towards {Name’s} scar actually made him feel better about it, realizing that it did not encompass everything about him. There was so much more to him that just appearance and with Kid’s constant comments about how {Name} is actually good looking. 

Killer

🍜 Killer and {Name} occasionally got a few odd looks when they went on dates, two fully masked men awkwardly trying to eat or drink with their masks on without removing them. Killer and {Name} could equally agree they had a deeper understanding of their insecurities, more so than others. They often confided in one another about the things that troubled them or what they didn’t like about themselves. These discussions usually ended in a lot of back and forth of one another trying to explain that they were more than their insecurities. 

🍜 Killer and {Name} had been discussing the possibility of encouraging each other to remove their masks. In their own space when they each had the courage to do so. People may not have understood the courage that hiding behind a mask provided, or that you may have seen a person in a more genuine manner when they could differentiate themselves away from what they disliked. 

🍜 The act of showing each other their faces held a much deeper meaning than just curiosity, it was a form of vulnerability and trust between them. “One, two, three…” In unison they spoke, counting to the moment of their reveal. {Name} and Killer removed their masks. The surge of self-doubt came up. {Name} was happy to see Killer’s face, the joy of which eased his own distress. Killer looked up to {Name’s} face, he saw a large scar and could see {Name’s} aversion to his gaze. 

🍜 Killer didn’t want to dismiss {Name’s} insecurity over his scar, but on the same hand he failed to see anything wrong with {Name}. He is still as wonderful as he always has been in Killer’s eyes, if anything more so now that he had a face to put to him. Killer’s hand reached up to touch the scar, running his fingers along its length. “I know this won’t mean much, but your scar isn’t everything. You still have some of the prettiest eyes I’ve seen, and…-” Killer was cut off by {Name’s} laughter, “I appreciate it Kil” Seeing how Killer recited this like a romance novel actually convinced him all the more of the sincerity and truth all the more. 

🍜 {Name’s} initial worries had easily been laid to rest, though he still couldn’t deny that years of his growing distaste towards his appearance would not be so easily overturned. He found comfort in Killer’s attempts to reassure him and his awkward arguments of convincing {Name} that he was still so wonderful, regardless of his scar. Killer had an almost resonating understanding of how deep insecurities could go, how deep they could burrow in your mind and entire identity. He is still determined to try to encourage and comfort his partner. 

🍜 Killer and {Name} started to spend time together without their masks, getting used to the idea of being more comfortable without them. Killer grew a little more affectionate with this deeper sense of trust and intimacy. Not to mention having easier access for the occasional kiss or two.