#hi guys how are you *falls over and turns to dust*

[ancientschampionau]

RealAgeAu Drabble - Day in Town

The poll has ended (and as always i sneaked to see the results early :3) and this one won out! @spotaus

You guys really just like the domestic fluff of these guys trying to parent. Don't you? It is okay. They are rather sweet :D

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Lets get to it! (and for those who forgot because i did because i only mentioned the name ONCE. Crop's brother is called Straw :D) Also I had to really consider who's POV I was going to use for this one as they all would have worked but I ended up going with Killer because he is silly and hasn't had a turn in a while. At least that is what it feels like :D

*----------------*

Killer taps the door as he stares out of the window of the truck. People would assume it is crowded but it honestly isn't that bad.

Mostly because Horror is sitting in the by rider seat with Nightmare in his lap, safely seated. Cross and Dust decided they prefered to drive in the actual cargo area of the truck. Which left only Killer and Crop in the backseat.

Killer honestly also thinks that Dust specifically prefered to sit in the back as he wouldn't have to see Straw. Dust still has the most issues with seeing any other universe's Papyrus. Killer would have gone to sit with him but Cross had been faster with offering it and there is no way in HELL that Killer was going to leave Horror and Ngihtmare without a set of extra sockets.

Doesnt make the drive any less tense.

tap. tap. tap. tap.

Crop sends him another nervous glance before clearing his throat "So.. you guys are finally going to see the town! excited?"

Killer huffs "Not really. But Dusty mentioned needed actual stuff for Nighty." which is why Killer leans closer to the seat before him holding Horror and Nightmare. He looks over the side and grins at Nightmare "sup tiny boss."

Nightmare looks over and sends him a tiny glare "You should have your seatbelt on."

Killer coos "Aw you do care~ such a sweet baby."

Nightmare blushes and mutters as he hides his face in Horror's sweater. Horror sends him an amused look "Killer. stop that."

Killer shrugs and leans back in his seat. feeling very accomplished.

Killer just needs to make sure that Nightmare doesn't fall into old patterns of trying to be the adult and leader. He doesn't need to do that and it isn't healthy for the babybones. so. Time to unlearn! At least those moments have been getting less and less frequent so there is progress!

Killer still doesn't appreciate the look send their way from both Crop and Straw, Yes he knows tiny boss is adorable but if they as much as try to get closer there is going to be spilled dust.

Straw stops the truck and announces their arrival.

Crop gets out quickly and they are on a parkinglot outside a shopping street. It isn't too large by the looks of it and just shops and a bar restaurant thing, probably this universes Grillby's.

Crop smiles at them "Okay! First day out!" Crop looks almost as nervous about this as Cross looks and Cross is actively looking around and has his hand ready to grab his knife.

Crop must see it too as he and straw share a look. Straw motions towards them and the town and Crop waves it off.

Crop turns back to them and Killer grins "SOmething the matter?"

Crop is quick to answer "What?! No! Of course not! It is just. a lot. This can be a lot and i just want to be sure everything is fine!"

Killer chuckles and sees Horror shoot him a disapproving glance. Still Horror goes over to Cross and hands Nightmare over to him. Cross is quick to hug him close and Nightmare has his grumpy face on again but still holds unto Cross. Clearly comfortable.

Horror joins his side "Killer. Stop." Killer sticks his tongue out at Horror and Horror's disapprovement makes way for amusement.

Hah! Still got it!

Horror looks at Crop "This isn't first time for us. We know how to behave."

Crop nods as he rubs his arm "I figured! It is just... If this works out you guys can stay longer and have something of a base to fall back on. I am just worried because some people can be..." he searches for the words.

Straw leans clsoer "Mean, harsh and rude."

Crop sends him a glare and Straw shrugs "It is true!"

Crop sighs "Anyway." he turns back to them "Ready to introduce yourselves?"

Killer grins "And spread rumours!" He can see Dust pull a pained face again. Dust is still not a fan of the backstory they settled on but they are already commited to it after the doctor's visit!

Crop chuckles and grins "I am still curious about what you guys settled on myself..."

Killer shakes his skull and shakes his finger "No no. No cheating. figure it out yourself" and he grins.

Cross huffs as he keeps Nightmare fully against him "Lets just get this over with..."

Adn they walk into town.

People are staring which they all had expected and should be used to at this point. But Killer doesn't like the fact how many people see Nightmare at the moment, and by the looks of it, neither do the others like this. Cross keeps trying to hold Nightmare as close as possible and almost hide by Horror. Dust has started to fully shadow the two as he barely looks around.

Crop and Straw obviously see the tension and seem to be sharing more uncertain looks.

Nightmare however doesn't seem to share their issues as he happily leans away from the hold to enable himself to look around. He studies buildings and vehicles. and even just stares back at people staring at him. Clearly more interested in learning about this new place than actual worry.

Or maybe he just feels safe with them and that does THINGS to Killer.

Crop stops them near the middle of the streat "okay! This is it!" he waves around himself "It isn't a lot now as people are still waiting for the produce to finish growing. But. Generally." he points to a shop "General store. they have most things needed." he points to the shop next to it "Bookstore. self explainatory." he points to the large bar "Grillby's is a bar and restaurant. people spend most of their free evenings there."

Hah! Called it!

Crop points out a few more buildings but most of those are for farming things and supplies.

Dust nods and looks over at them before looking back to the bookstore and general store "Going to get things. be back soon."

They watch him casually walk away on his own.

Yeah no absolutely not!

Killer is already half jogging after Dust as he waves at Cross, Horror and Nighmare "You guys stick together and get a feel for other people!" After which he sprints to catch up with Dust.

They enter the general store together.

Dust shoots him a look "don't need a babysitter."

Killer huffs and grins "Says you!" and he follows Dust as Dust looks at things. Killer just doens't like any of them being alone unless it is at a secured place. So Killer will jsut stalk Dusty for a bit! It is perfect!

Dusty looks at items and ends up getting two more notebooks and some pencils. he nods to himself and gets in line to pay for the items.

Killer checks the funds and frowns. They are running out and they will either have to go to another universe to steal more and risk drawing attention or actually think of a way to make money the legal way.

A groan from upfront and Killer looks up to see a teenager panicking over the cash register. the customers before them all look angry and annoyed.

The teenager presses buttons but nothing seems to help "I am sorry. I am sorry! It just... has issues once in a while. I can fix this!" the teenager does not look any clsoer to fixing it!

Dust huffs and turns to him "Hold." and Killer gets the few school supplies pushed into his arms. Dust afterwards walks over to the front. He grabs the basket of items and pushes it into the arms of the man in front "Hold." the man goes to say something but Dust just hops on top of the counter and sits next to the register. He turns it this and that way.

Dust hums as he pulls out his pocket knife and undoes some screws. the cap opens and he looks into the darkness, a shift in his socket and his eye light now lights up the inside of the register.

He looks at the teen "Got tape?"

The teenager blinks at him before nodding.

Dust nods "Get it." and turns back to the register as he removes some wires and starts making tiny cuts.

The teen grabs it from a drawer and hands it over "Euh... sir... I don't... i mean... i am not allowed... i don't know if you can..."

Dust hums and doesn't listen at all as he redoes some of the wires and removes some of them that looked burned through. He secures things with the tape and closes the back up again. he turns the register back in place and hits the side once.

The register lights up and asks for a log in.

Dust looks at the teen "Fixed." he hops down of the counter. Takes the basket the man in front is still holding dumbfounded. DUst places it back on the counter and walks back to Killers side where he takes his own stuff back.

Killer grins at him "Nicely done. I think that is a new record for you fixing soemthign."

Dust may appear calm but Killer know shim and can see the smaller skeleton looks smug "Easy fix. just a burned wire."

Killer nods "Still a new record! Sadly i didn't have the free hands to time it."

Dust shrugs and acts like he doesn't care but Killer knows better.

The line goes a lot quicker and once it is their turn they quickly pay for the items.

The leave the store and Killer points at the bookstore "Do we need anything from there?"

Dust thinks for a moment before shaking his skull.

Ah. seems like Dust doesn't plan on expanding the classes just yet. Likely wants to see if they actually stay for longer here first.

So they walk back to the group as Dust holds a tiny bag with the new things. they see them near another store and they seem to be talking to a bunny and a dog monster.

The bunny coos as they stare at Ngihtmare and Killer feels himself glae as he rushes to their side "Hey!! Whatsup!" and he nuzzles Nightmare in greeting.

Nightmare huffs and whines "Killer! Careful for my ice cream." Killer pulls back and sees now that Nightmare is also holding ice cream. woops. Killer looks down adn yeah that is ice cream on his shirt. Oh well. he shrugs.

Cross laughs as he smiles at Nightmare "Still good to eat?"

Nightmare studies his ice cream before nodding and going back to eating it with tiny tiny licks. dust joins them again and Nightmare immediantly looks at him. Killer can spot their tiny Nightlight starting to raise an arm towards Dust but he stops himself and pulls it back.

Luckily, or unluckily, Dust is very observant and saw it right away. He gives the bag to Killer and easily climbs the haystack Nightmare had been sitting on. Dust next pulls Nightmare into his lap without disturbing the ice crema eating process.

Nightmare hums happily and leans back into the hug as a tiny purr starts to leave him.

Killer grins as he leans against the hay stack and looks at the two other monsters, who are staring very intensly at Dust and Nightmare and Killer feels... something protective rise up. still he keeps asmile on his face as he speaks "who are the new fluffballs?"

The bunny smiles brightly "Hey! I am Ellie and this is Dani, we are fellow farmers like Crop. We own a tree farm and cherry farm."

the dog, Dani, nods "Yeah! Crop asked us if we had any spare clothes so we kinda knew some people moved in. it is nice to meet you five!" she smiles brightly.

Killer nods as he keeps his arms crossed and his grin sharp. stop looking at them. stop looking at them. stop looking at-

Horror nods "Nice to... meet friendly faces. We are still...settling..."

Cross helps quickly "As Horror said, we are still getting used to things around here. we are very lucky that Horror and Crop were friends and he was willing to let us stay."

Dani looks curious "I hope you don't mind me asking... why the name change from Sans to Crop?"

Killer freezes as he tries to think but Cross shrugs "Skeleton naming thing. Normally you are named after fonts that we speak in, yes we can see fonts and yes it gets weird and yes it takes magic. We just kinda know the vibe and with magic can see those. You can named after that. problem, we all speak in the same font type. Meaning we all kinda had the same name." he rubs his neck "Two people with the same name you can work around but six gets confusing. So nicknames."

Ellie smiles brightly "Dani and I are the same! We were both named Danielle and when we met we realised this would get annoying. especially when we.. euh... got together together." she giggles "so. we are now Dani and Ellie!"

Dani looks highly amused "Our house voicemail is still, the house of Danielle however. It was too good of a joke to pass up."

Ellie nods and smiles "If you guys need anything or help let us know. We have a lot of leftover stuff from our own moving and getting settled and saved everything we could." She looks at Nightmare and Dust again and smiles "And can I jsut say the tiny one is adorable." she looks curiously at them all "So... you guys got one?"

Killer feels that portective rage turn into protective and possessive smugness as Dust answers "he is mine. we all work together." and he shrugs at the questioning look.

Cross shakes his skull at the questioning look "That... is rather personal... they prefer not to talk about it."

Killer can see Ellie and Dani share a worried look before both smile reassuring "That is fine. Take it easy okay?" Dani smiles as Ellie nods along.

They continue the small talk for a moment longer before Ellie reminds DAni that they came to get fertilizer and they two walk off hand in hand.

Crop watches them go "That... went very well..."

Horror looks at him amused "Told you."

Crop laughs adn nods "Yeah you were right. You guys totally got this."

They remain there and meet a few more people from town as they wait for Straw to finish getting what Crop and him need for their actual farm.

Killer relaxes in the sun as the day slowly passes.

When they get back Cross will probably force him out of his now sticky shirt. Killer will tease him about wanting to undress him which will make Cross sputter and blush. Killer will end up wearing aclean shirt and probably watch as Dust teaches Nightmare more about math while Horror and Cross help Crop and Straw around on the farm.

Killer hadn't expected this all to go like this but it is nice. it is quiet. and most important, they are all safe.

*------------------*

All in all? Great success!

I still don't feel like i quite nailed Killer. Killer is a curious character to write as he is very silly but also wickedly smart. mmmmh. but then again this is a drabble. *shrug*

Realistically? If this was a full on chaptered fanfic this would probably be a chapter i had to rewrite a few times. Just to make sure I get Killer's character and behaviour right. But for now it is fine :)

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[that-foul-legacy-lover]

pocket-sized Foul Legacy except you’re fragile and sickly

you met the tiny Abyssal moth when you first moved into your house- at first you thought you had a mouse problem, but you immediately know that’s not the case when you see a small bundle of armor and glimmering fabric huddled in the corner. Childe takes to you very quickly, happily soaking up your kindness and keeping you company, which turns into a wonderful bond; there’s no one he’d rather spend time with than you, even if that time is perching on your shoulder and reading the documents you write for work.

but over time he begins to notice how frail you are, how often you fall ill and are confined to your bed, the countless days you have to send a letter to your place of work apologizing for not being able to attend. yet even on the days you’re burning with fever, too sick to walk, you still smile gently to a frantic Foul Legacy, petting his head with a finger to reassure him that you’ll be alright.

sometimes a man with long brown hair drops by to take care of you- Childe’s heard you call him “Zhongli”- and Foul Legacy watches from the shadows as Zhongli makes you tea and brings you medicine. the moment he leaves, Childe attempts to mimic his actions, fluttering around the house to fetch small snacks and any pills you might need- he peeps worriedly when the food goes uneaten, nudging your hand towards it. you must eat something, you’ll wither away if you don’t!

sometimes you’re awake enough to hold him in your hands, grip weak as he leans against your warm skin, too warm for a human mortal. he hates how useless he is, how he can’t do anything as you suffer time and time again, reminding him of just how quick and fleeting human lives are. you simply smile, tired but still with so much love to give, and scritch under his chin with a finger, lulling him to sleep so he doesn’t hear the sharp, jolting coughs you let out a few moments later.

[mournings-stars]

Maybe the wrapping wings around heddies but the reader wraps their wings around the characters?

okay i rly like this but what about with characters that don’t have wings?? (lmk if yall want characters w wings cus this is kinda silly funny haha)

charlie

she loves when your wings wrap around her — every time she hugs you, she’s waiting for that extra warmth and when it comes she just hugs you even tighter

she wouldn’t ask you to do it, but if you put a wing around her in public she’s trying not to get too excited

cuddling is a must for wings. you’re sitting on the couch? she wants a nice feathery blanket. lying in bed? same thing. watching a scary movie? she’s using your wings as a shield to duck under anytime theres a jump scare

if you asked her if she’d like a wing, she’s the happiest you’ve ever seen her

“im starting to wonder if you’re just dating me for my wings,” you’d joke and she’d laugh and say, “they’re definitely a plus” while running her finger over the top of one (this girl likes to tease i know it)

she loves when you cuddle up to her and wrap your wings around her, like she just melts

she does not let anyone play with them. ever. if niffty tried to go scurrying around them, she’s taking her away faster than she can blink

your wings are hers as much as they are yours, but that’s a silent rule between you two that she doesn’t plan on voicing

she just gives “let me be your wings” from thumbelina vibes like you would have a duet like that

alastor

now if you ever need to gossip, he’s clearing his throat and you’re shielding your conversation with your wings while you two laugh and whisper

he does not want anyone touching him but if you put a wing around him he knows you guys have some important business to talk about

sometimes you throw up your wing, whisper, and he has to stop himself from laughing when you quickly put your wing down, alastor batting it with his microphone as you laughed

now if he’s ever hurt, that’s when your wings go around him, making sure no one sees so he can escape to saftey

you’d always come to his rescue even if he got mad at you for it, wings wrapping around him as you struck his attacker faster than he could summon his shadows (and he definitely gets pissed about it but hey what are … friends …. for!)

wings are for shit talking and the occasional life saver when it comes to al

angel dust

he loves the security of your wings

after a long day, you’d just lie in his room, wings wrapped around him as he held you close — he’d either fall asleep or want to sit in silence like that, but either way you were happy to help

sometimes you’d just sit at the bar, wing around him as you talked and laughed together

whenever you went out together, your wings were a strict barrier that no one dared to cross. you put a wing in front of angel when some guy approaches him? he and every other demon are backing off for the rest of the night. you’re walking down the street? wing around him and no one is approaching you

he definitely asks you to do it (in his own very special way) and he likes to tease you when you’re around other people

but you both know he treasures the safety your wings give him

pentious

my boy pentious 100% thinks you’ve turned against him the first time you drape your wings over him — you could’ve literally been sleeping and he’d accuse you of trying to smother him

“i was sleeping!” “your subconscious mind plans to kill me, too!”

he warms up to it though because the next time it happens you’re fast asleep and theres no attempt to block his airways, or whatever he thought you’d do, so he snuggles into the warmth

being a snake (i love snakes im gonna b a lil nerdy about this one) pen likes to burrow. especially at night. he’d start to curl up under the warmth of your wings and rest there until you eventually moved

some days you’d wake up and he’d be completely hidden beneath your wings. if you lift one, he’d very quickly tug it back (definitely how he found out about sensitive wings)

he felt very bad :(

cherri

wings are for parties!

they give you the best dance numbers — dramatic reveal, awesome poses, super dope flying routine…!

then they’re for comedowns because once you’re home from the club shit hits the fan and you’re wrapping your wings around her so she can even try to sleep

but then the morning comes and you brush it off cus it’s time to blow shit up!

definitely using your wings as a shield though — they’re probably dyed pink and red by now, with all the times you’ve had to cover the two of you from explosives

but she finds it super hot so…

velvette

she likes to fuck with you

1000% uses them as her personal armor — you’re basically a body guard

she’ll wrap them around herself while looking in the mirror, modeling your wings like a feather coat

“my wings are not going in your collection,” you’d have to tell her, still pulling her closer with them as you met her eyes in the mirror

“yeah, guess you’re right. can’t have anyone else getting a hold of these, can we?”

she loves being wrapped in them while she sleeps — she loves you sleeping next her, cause then she can lay them however she wants

it’s always best when you’re wings fold in and bring her closer though

definitely been used for a private moment in the office

she says they’re your best asset

vox

now this man is, under no circumstances, letting you wrap your wings around him

in public? absolutely not…

in private? well…. no! totally not!

at least not until you’re asleep and he’s situating himself beneath them. it’s not his fault a feather blanket helps him fall asleep

you’ve definitely waited until he fell asleep, draped you wings over him, and watched him relax into them

he’s not slick

like at all

not even in public

he’ll touch them and the minute one even wraps around him, his screen is buffering

speaking of in public… just wait til you’re at a party. he’s drunk and all over you, touching your wings, handling them like their his own, you have to use them to shield the two of you when he gets too handsy, and he loves it; pushing your buttons until your wings are around him and being more than satisfied by that

niffty

girl is crazy

she cleans them, climbs on them, inspects them (almost rips the fuck out of your feathers)

there’s no way you can wrap that girl up, she’s too quick

but she would love petting them and thats why shes here

[stargirl-int3rlud3]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

adults of jjk x reader

🗯 ! swearing, cuddling, snoring, mentions of the sound of heartbeats, sleepwalking, drooling, insomnia, almost being crushed by Toji !

synopsis; how i interpret jjk characters would be like to share a bed with. — ♡

GOJO; In my opinion I think Gojo snores, not like loud ass snores (well, maybe sometimes), but like soft snores when he’s deep in sleep. The soft noises he admits while asleep always tends to lull you right to sleep even if you weren’t previously tired. Gojo subconsciously cuddles you in his sleep, however, it wasn’t always like this. It took awhile for Gojo to be truly comfortable having someone else sleep in his bed because he had gotten so accustomed to being by himself. One time he even freaked out when he rolled over in bed and felt someone on the other side of his bed, you had to calm him down and reassure him it was just you. Continuing, Gojo sometimes rolls himself off the bed. When you started sleeping in his bed he’d roll to your side and then when his body realized he couldn’t roll any farther he rolled the other way off the bed.

Due to an exhausting day at work, Gojo had headed to bed earlier than usual. You quietly make your way into Gojo’s room seeing him laying shirtless with both his legs and the blankets sprawled chaotically across the bed. A tingly warmth brought its way to your face as you could never quite get over how genuinely attractive and fit your boyfriend was. Crawling into bed with as much cautions as you could muster, you hear the soft snores release from his slightly parted lips. You laid on your back staring at the ceiling until you realized your brain was still quite awake, this is when you made the decision to scroll on your phone for a few. Just as your eyes began to feel tired and had started to close, a loud THUD made your eyes widen and your body sit up. Instinctual, you look over at Gojo to find him not where you had last saw him, you scramble to the other side of the bed to see Gojo rubbing his head which you assume he hit when he fell off the bed. You place yourself between his scrunched up legs to examine his head, giving it a few kisses before looking back into the beautiful eyes you had fallen in love with. A light dust of pink is brushed across his cheeks as he gives you a laugh, you push his shoulder which then results in him pulling you to the ground on top of him. He reaches on the bed and pulls a pillow and a blanket from off of it. Placing the pills under his head and the blanket over you two, there you two fall asleep on the floor together.

GETO; Unlike Gojo, Geto gets immediately used to the feeling of you in bed, so much so that when he doesn’t feel you in his bed he gets worried. He needs to be touching you at all times when you guys are in bed. I believe Geto to be a light sleeper, small things can wake him up but he also falls asleep easily. Geto sleepwalks every now and again, you have to double check all the doors are locked so he doesn’t leave and get hurt or lost. When sleepwalking he doesn’t do anything particularly weird, usually he just walks around and then either goes back to sleep in bed or on the couch. It really freaked you out the first time you found him sleepwalking.

On one particular night you had been falling in and out of sleep constantly making it difficult to truly go to sleep. Geto had his arm wrapped around your waist to hold you in your spot next to him. While in the midst of falling in and out of sleep you must’ve not realized his arm had left your waist until you heard noises coming from somewhere outside of the bedroom. Slightly freaked out, you turn to Geto but he’s no where to be seen. Relief began to flood throughout your body as you get up to go looking for your boyfriend.

“Geto what’re you doing up, it’s so late?”

You rub your eyes as they make out Geto’s figure standing completely still in the kitchen.

“Geto?”

No response once again. At this point you were even more freaked out. Hoping he was just messing with you or something, you get closer to him and reach your hand out towards his shoulder. He swiftly turns and heads for the bedroom, freaking you out due to the fast movement. You made an executive decision to just sleep on the couch for the rest of the night.

When morning hit you were woken up by Geto asking you why you were sleeping on the couch, you explained his oddness last night and he apologized before telling you about how every once in awhile he sleepwalks. He made sure to make your favorite breakfast even though you insisted that he didn’t have to do that.

NANAMI; Nanami is also quite a light sleeper, but he needs some kind of noise to put him to sleep as well as complete darkness. Well, if you need some light because you can’t fall asleep in the dark cause it freaks you out he’ll absolutely let you do so. He prioritizes you sleeping over him sleeping. Nanami is always very warm so he usually doesn’t sleep with a blanket but instead a thin sheet of some sort and because his body is often quite warm you don’t have to worry about a blanket you just cling to him. Nanami also makes sure you have a glass of water by your bed every night in case you get thirsty.

Sleep had began to consume you when you and Nanami were curled up on the couch watching a movie and now even more so. Nanami held you up as you wobbled to your shared bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and made sure you were comfortable and cozy. A whine admitted from your mouth causing Nanami to turn back to you. You shiver and begin to rub your upper arms to show him you were cold as he was about to get a blanket, you whined again. With a soft smile on his face, knowing exactly what you wanted, he crawled into the empty space next to you and you buried yourself in his warmth. The warmth of your loving boyfriend drifted you right to sleep so much so that you began to snore a little. Unfortunately, to your dismay, you had gotten parched in the middle of the night so now here you were trying to move as slowly and quietly as possible out of Nanami’s arms. Which you somehow successfully did and were currently tip-toeing to the kitchen but as you opened the door and stepped out of the room an obnoxiously loud creaked echoed through the room instantly waking up Nanami. “My love? Why are you awake?” Nanami’s soft voice asks. “Um..I was thirsty” “Let me get it for you” He quickly gets out of bed and passes by you to get you a glass of water from the kitchen. When he comes back and hands it to you, you give him a sweet smile and a kiss on the cheek for his act of kindness. After that, you two are back to sleep in no time.

SHOKO; Sleep hasn’t been in Shoko’s vocabulary for awhile, she’s an insomniac after all. However, she tries her best to get as much sleep as her body will allow when you give her those big, pleading eyes. Who is she to say no to someone as cute as you? She has noticed that she sleeps more when she sleeps with you so now you try to sync your sleep schedule to hers, well, for the most part at least. You’ve even gotten her to take melatonin. If Shoko gets tired somewhere and falls asleep in your lap then you’ll stay there until she wakes up. To be honest, you’re just happy she’s sleeping.

You were sitting in the morgue waiting for Shoko to finish up what she was doing when you felt something in your lap. There laid Shoko’s head. You couldn’t contain your smile as you grazed your fingers through her hair. It didn’t take very long for Shoko to fall asleep, you knew it wouldn’t. She had a long day and she’d been exhausted since the minute she started. So, you spent this time admiring every bug and small feature that graced your girlfriend’s gorgeous face. Everything about her was beautiful, she’s beautiful. A few hours pass when Gojo walks in about to be his usual loud self when you give him a glare and hold your finger up to your lips. He marvels at the sight of a peaceful Shoko fast asleep in your lap. “Wow, you got her to sleep. You deserve an award for that” You roll your eyes at the man’s joke before looking back at the women in your lap. “God you’re really in love with her” In seconds, a red hue tints your cheeks as you flip Gojo off. He laughs knowing he just read you so easily, but in your mind all you could think is how could someone not love Shoko. “Are you sure you’re okay staying like that? Your legs must hurt” “I’m fine Gojo, I’d rather have her get as much as she can” Gojo leaves you two be so he doesn’t accidentally wake up Shoko and is forced to face your wrath.

UTAHIME; Utahime will never admit it but she loves to listen to your heartbeat to fall asleep. The sound just calms her so easily. Utahime is a heavy sleeper, she very rarely will wake up if you accidentally make noise. She doesn’t mind if you have your head laying on her shoulder or your holding hands when you sleep but she needs her own space. You both like to have your own sense of space but there are times where she wants to be closer (aka when she wants to listen to your heartbeat)

The sunshine soaked you and Utahime in its rays as you lay in the grass relishing in the warmth. The mix of the warm sun on her skin and the sound of your heartbeat echoing throughout her brain made her start to feel really sleep. She tried her best to stay awake but was soon succumbed to sleep. You watched as her eyes fought to stay open before fluttering closed. Her porcelain like skin shined brightly in the sun as you begin to feel yourself drifting to sleep and soon enough you are also sleeping in the warm rays of the sun with Utahime peaceful asleep on top of you.

INO; Ino is a big cuddler, to be fair he’s a big softy in general. He prefers being little spoon and will proudly admit that to the world. Now don’t get me wrong he has his moments where he wants you to be little spoon mostly because he likes the sight of you laying on top of him. Anyways, he snores AND drools when he sleeps but it’s not a lot of drool like it’s just a little bit and it’s actually so cute. He’s cute (he’s very pookie). He doesn’t exactly snore quietly but it isn’t that loud, like it’s not unbearable. He also cannot sleep without you now that you’ve started sleeping in the same bed.

Ino had been talking about how exhausted he was waiting for a call from his job so you told him, he could just fall asleep on top of you and you’d wake him up when he got a call from his job. He thanked you and in no time he was sleeping soundly. It didn’t take very long for the exhausted Ino to fall into a deep sleep and begin to snore. You had to hold back your giggles to not make the boy centimeters away from you. Not long after that he had began to drool on your chest. It was slightly gross but his cute face as he slept was far greater than any kind of grossness. You held him closer as if it might make you two fuse together so neither of you will ever have to leave each other. To both of your guys dismay, his phone rings and you’re forced to wake him up. As he blinks his eyes open and picks up the phone he realizes the drool stain on your shirt. A pinkish blush spread to his face as he scratches his head and mouths the words ‘sorry’. You kiss his free hand, letting him know that it’s okay. He smiles at you and give you a kiss on your head before returning back to his call.

TOJI; This man is pretty damn huge, he’s a fucking wall for crying out loud so the only space you ever really have is if you lay on top of him. I mean, hell, he’s not complaining. Sometimes you have to check if he’s dead because he sleeps so heavily and doesn’t make any noise. Toji does have a tendency to roll around in his sleep which isn’t always good for you cause he has almost crushed you a few times.

It was a peaceful night of sleeping. Toji had held you especially close since he had been gone for so long. Every bump and curve of your body was kissed by Toji. He hadn’t left your side since he came back, and you weren’t complaining. Once night fell and the moon came out, Toji hurried you off to bed. Toji wouldn’t outwardly admit it but he missed you sleeping on top of him. It just felt right with you and so when you weren’t there he began to sleep less. As you crawl your way on top of Toji, he smirks at you and caresses your face in his hands. Purely on instinct you push your face farther into his hand, enjoying the feeling of his skin on yours. He leans in to give you a goodnight kiss, this one lasts longer than usual but you don’t mind at all. Within no time at all you two are sound asleep. Toji is so sound asleep that he begins to turn his body, an action you don’t notice until it’s too late. Ot only takes you a few seconds to realize that there’s a giant hunk of a man crushing your rib cage. You try pushing him back over, doesn’t work. You try poking and smacking him, hoping that he’ll wake up, doesn’t work. You try wiggling your way out and that works for a few but it also takes a lot of energy out of you. You pinch him and he stirs a minute so you continue with that until he grumbles and his eyes open with an annoyed look. That soon fades (for the most part) when he realizes he’s laying in top of you. Quickly, he moves and places you back into op if his chest. You thank him and tell him to never do that ever again. He just shrugs and goes back to sleep while playing with your hair.

☆ | I struggled a bit with Utahime’s and Ino’s so sorry if they aren’t what you expected them to be!!

[deadghosy]

THANKS TO @gaylorvader FOR THIS IDEA💗💗🦆✨ lol this could be a series guys-

HAZBIN HOTEL CREW X PENGUIN! READER

prompt: after waking up, you find yourself in hell again with your friends.

Warning: light yandere feelings🔥

As Lucifer takes your small form in his, he gives you a small kiss on your head writing the letter he promised as it says. “Don’t steal what’s not yours ass face.” And left chuckling to himself closing the portal to heaven as he enters the hotel holding you up as if you were simba(💀)

“Guess who I got back~ that’s right the big boss got em back!” Lucifer says happily as Charlie looks up from her restless state as stars are in her eyes at your cute sleeping sight.

“READEERR!” Charlie exclaims making you wake up to be met with the faces of the crew as Charlie hugs you. You quack happily rubbing your chubby cheek on Charlie’s on face.

“DONT. Ever….leave the hotel during extermination.” You heard Lucifer said as you quack shocked to see Lucifer have glowing red eyes at you. He seemed to be pissed at how Adam snatch you, even if Heaven made a mistake to send you to hell. You belong in hell with them.

You nodded not wanting to see him far the king of hell himself go. Lucifer’s mood switched so quick as if he didn’t almost go full demon mode. “Good.” He says softly sitting you down to the ground as fat nuggets ran up to you happily with an oink as Angel dust was just happy to see you and fat nuggets being gossip animals again.

Even Alastor patted your small fluffy head as he smiled truly seeing you safe and sound here in the hotel again.

“I’m happy to see you my adorable fellow” alastor says as you quack happily at his face. You hugged his legs making him smirk at this. “I am pleased you missed me too..” Alastor says.

Husk immediately snatches you from Alastor as husk walks over to the bar with you. “Listen kid, I got your favorite milkshake ready. I uh..learnt it while you was gone.” Husk says a little flustered admitting he actually learnt something for you as you smiled with a blush. Just happy to drink your fav milkshake.

Angel teases husk for him learning to make your favorite drink as you drink the milkshake as Lucifer and Charlie talk to each other. Vaggie was beside her girlfriend and nodded along with the Morningstars who were staring at you.

“Aww is the big bad cat having a soft spot for the penguinnnn?” Angel says teasing husk as husk turned away from Angel onto for the said person to pull husk’s chin to Angel’s face. “Get out of my face.” Husk says.

You quacked with laughter seeing husk push Angel away from him. Husk huffed cleaning a beer glass as Angel just rolled his eyes with a smile.

As you felt at home, you felt tired having husk’s attention as he chuckles with his usual grin and poke your chubby fuzzy cheek. “Guess this one is tired from their trip” husk says gaining Lucifer’s attention from his daughter as Lucifer picked you up chuckling seeing you fall asleep instantly in his arms.

You woke up as the morning hellish sun hits your face. Lucifer snores loudly having one of his pair wings hug you. They were very soft as you quack notifying Lucifer that you were awake now and ready for a new day.

Lucifer lets you go as he mumbles getting up seeing his precious bird up and ready to be seen…..he just wanted to keep you here as he was glad he got you back. Lucifer had explained that last night Charlie and him declared your presence was back in hell and every one was excited

So excited they declared for a celebration of your return as Lucifer brought in a clone of himself holding up clothes your size. (A/n: Thanks to Velvette anyways💗)

The king of hell helped you get dressed as he put a pin on your shirt saying, “I’m back, and better than ever” it was a little corny, but you appreciated the pin Lucifer gave you.

You go downstairs seeing your friends in your new outfit as Lucifer was behind you having his usual smile. Niffty waves excited to see you again as you watched and went to go towards her with a smile.

You and niffty hugged, happy to see each other like a short duo as Charlie was telling the other staff what’s going to go down for this party.

Angel was already texting Cherri about harmless fireworks as Cherri bomb was on the go with fireworks.

A bunch of knocks hit the door of the entrance of the hotel interrupts the planning. Everyone looks at it nervously until a small voice was called out. “I’m here for the party?! Is this the right address?” The person yelled out making Charlie excited that a party was gonna happen. Charlie rushes to the door as vaggie puts on a party hat for you and for her.

“Let the party begin!!” Charlie yell as as she opens to the front doors of the hotel as your eyes shine excited to have a party.

Hour later, the party was amazing as sinners actually came in the hotel to see you again and giving you baskets of your favorite food and flowers which made you quack happily.

Music blasting, laughter in the air, and everyone was just happy in hell like it was happy day In hell indeed. Charlie and vaggie made a lot of fun party games like “pin the tail on the donkey”

Husk was giving out drink as he gave you a non-alcoholic drink of course, he can’t have you looking dumb on a party about you.

Alastor played jams, of course old jams making sir Pentious wanting to change the dial but scared to even do that.

Lucifer danced happily with you as you quacked getting lifted into the air as Lucifer felt happiness in his heart, warmth like the sun seeing your smile and penguin self.

The clocked strikes 10:30 pm as its almost curfew for the hotel staff to go to bed.

As everyone was getting ready to leave, they all waved goodbye to you as you quacked happily to see the sinners you gave mail to on the weekdays and weekends. You always left love everywhere you go.

At night everything went quite as a light shined in Lucifer’s room who had you on his bed while you play with this duck toy that moves when you clap. Lucifer made it incase the “rescue” mission succeed. Which it did as Lucifer smiles at your happy nature. Lucifer turns off the light, taking away the toy as you tiredly quack. “Yes yes…it’s time for bed my little bird.. sweet dream.” He said lastly giving you a forehead kiss.

You sleep peacefully by Lucifer who had you in a cute duck gown as you coo softly in your sleep feeling warm by the king of hell.

MEANWHILE IN HEAVEN

The angels were sad, some weeping at the loss of their cute new angel delivery boy..who would give them fresh cookies and mail….as the angels weren’t taking the news lightly that you were missing. Someone had it worse.

Lute was pissed…no..not pissed. She was feral and livid at the fact her sunshine, her sweet baby was kidnapped from a god’s creation gone wrong.

Lute started to flip tables screaming about going down there and kill Lucifer herself. Throwing things off table and literally throwing a chair. Barely missing Adam’s head.

Sera sighs rubbing her hand over her head as Emily looks uncomfortable seeing lute freak out this way. They never seen Lute look this angry before.

“Lute please calm down. This isn’t the holy way to act when upset…” sera says looking at lute. Sera and Emily had came to check up on Lute as angels had heard crashing noises in lutes’s place after news got out you were missing. More like “kidnapped” as Adam’s woke up to see the note and rush over to tell sera this news.

“YOU THINK I WANNA CALM DOWN AFTER A PERFECTLY, GOOD, KIND SOUL ANGEL GOT KIDNAPPED AT THE HANDS OF THAT DISGRACE?!” Lute yells angrily as Adam flies down to her. He also didn’t look impressed as he just stood there.

Sera gave a stern glare to lute, “Adam. Control your lieutenant.” Sera says not taking the yelling towards her lightly as Emily looks away with embarrassment at this high tense moment.

Adam could tell that lute wasn’t calming down. Adam also wanted to spill out his mind but oddly he was being more quiet then spilling out his bullshit thoughts.

“Chill the fuck out lute…” Adam says putting his hand on lute’s shoulder. “This isn’t over at all…We still got time to snatch that cute lil shit from those worthless bitches.” Adam says smirking as his mask glitches thinking about you being locked up in heaven with him.

TO BE CONTINUED….OR NOT DUN DUN DUNNNNN!!!

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 4.8k words

fic masterlist previous part pt four next part

violence + mentions of blood and injuries (this is quite visual ha); angry + kinda ‘blood lust’ miguel; someone gets electrocuted, reader kinda does (small amount—I’ll be honest I don’t know how getting electrocuted exactly works, so for the purpose of the story ignore if the way it happens isn’t realistic, thank you!) — when you’re left alone in the tech room, many spiders out on missions, something unexpected happens. when miguel finds out his face falls and his claws twitch in anger. after the incident, you find miguel walking down the hall, calling to him he asks you questions, and you offer your help with something.

It was silent. For what felt like too long. Besides the tap of your fingers on the keyboard—which had begun to slow.

Usually you’d hear distant conversations or the sound of web shooting, but instead only silence greeted you. Unease began to make your body turn, your chair spinning with you.

You weren’t sure if you were just being paranoid. You were alone in the office. Which wasn’t anything strange, but it meant that your growing paranoia festered a little stronger.

You edged closer to the door, finally hearing what sounds to be rumbling. Low and too vague for you to decipher. Your hand reaches out to the door handle, but just as your fingers brush the smooth metal, you’re forced back.

Your body flies, coming to a bruising hit on your hip, making you hiss in pain. But you’re quick to get up, rushing to a clear wall, and away from the explosion. You breathe heavy as you slump against it, your ears slightly ringing, while your gaze stays blurry against the random scraps of metal and dust.

You look to the communal intercom, quickly rushing towards it. Someone or something that isn’t supposed to be here is. You have to warn the spider-people who are out on missions.

But where are the others?

Just as you reach the com, the sound of quick scuffling boots can be heard to your left. You snatch up the intercom, slipping under your desk, tucking your feet into the dark just as multiple pairs of unwelcome boots come into view.

Your shrink further into yourself. You couldn’t speak in warning to the spider variants or these guys would hear you. Your eyes narrow on the bottom of their legs. All black, but so far appearing humanised rather then some large monster. An anomaly?—you think to yourself—multiple?

You clutch the intercom mic tighter, your finger grazing the on button. And that’s when they begin to speak.

“Get the tech.” A gruff voice says. “Now! We can’t waste our time!”

You can hear more scuffling of boots as the sound of unplugging, or more so ripping follows.

“Boss, they’ll be back.” One of them said. You try to get a good look at them, but your movements will cause too much attention, so you grind your teeth and listen harder.

“If you pick up that damn monitor we might have a chance to get out quick enough.” What you assume to be the gruff voice of ‘boss’ says.

“Who even made you in charge?” One grumbles out.

“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”

“Not all of them, though.” One adds. You try again to peak out. You manage to scale the bodies of three, all in black, with…masks. Damn it. They looked worn out—handmade.

“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.” Boss agitatedly says.

And as if luck is still on your back-burner, your foot slips, only a fraction, but enough to knock a piece of stray metal across the floor.

“What was that?” One of the masked men asks.

The silence now following sounds threatening. You place your hand over your mouth, to quieten your breathing, as the scuffs of boots draws closer.

;;

“Ben!” Exclaimed Miguel, just as static breaks through his ear. He hisses, not expecting it, as he holds the earpiece, brows furrowed. Then the static grows clearer.

“Get the tech. Now! We can’t waste our time!”

“Boss, they’ll be back.”

Miguel narrows his eyes as he listens, confused at first. When he looks to the other spider-people they’re are all holding their own earpieces, trying to comprehend what they’re listening to.

“Who even made you in charge?”

“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”

“Lyla, what is this?” Miguel asks. She appears by him, tapping away at screens.

“It appears to be coming from a communal intercom.” She says.

“At HQ?” He asks, already flexing his claws. “Which one.”

“I’m just finding out. The connection is muffled.” More tapping.

“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.”

The voices still infiltrate Miguel’s ear. “Lyla.” He sounds impatient. “Which one?”

Then she stops tapping. “Y/n y/l/n’s.”

Miguel freezes, looking at Lyla as if she would be one to crack a joke. Then he hears the knock of something metal through his ear piece, followed by a ‘“What was that?”’. He can now hear your heavy breathes, slightly muffled, as heavy boots hit the floor.

Then all sound is gone.

He doesn’t wait for anyone, pressing his wristband to open the portal to HQ. But Jess stops him. “Miguel, think about this. What if it’s them?”

Miguel glances at her, shrugging her grip off his arm, as he taps at his wristband again, the portal opening up. His expression is downcast, one could easily say terrifying.

“Miguel! You have to think this through.” Jess persists. “We have spider-men and woman back at HQ—”

“Who are clearly too distracted to do anything.” Miguel grunts out, webbing towards the portal. But Ben intercepts this time.

“She’s right, Miguel. Don’t worry about the tech, we can get it back, or even get new ones—“

“The tech?” Miguel actually sounds in disbelief. “You think I’m fucking worried about the tech?!” His red eyes gleam, and Ben gulps.

“Then what are you worried about, Miguel?” Jess asks, exasperated. “Because I don’t see anything else that needs urgent attention. The tech is the main—“

“¿Tú no? The tech is the last of my worries, Jess.” Miguel interrupts. But this time he isn’t yelling. This time it’s toned down, and somehow that makes him appear much, much scarier.

“Miguel.” Jess tries to calm him down, not understanding what he could find more worrying. Data had been saved on that tech, important data. She places one hand on his wrist, but he immediately shrugs her off, glaring.

“Get out of my way.” He snarls. She doesn’t move, crossing her arms. “The reason why you aren’t hurt against that wall is because you earned my respect. That’s slipping, Jess.”

“Miguel you’re frantic.” She says.

“Call it what you want. I’m getting to HQ.” He webs past her, and Jess finally has the mind to let him go. Though she still stands there worried, and confused about what could have made Miguel so urgent to get to the scene.

;;

You tighten your hold on the intercom, now switching to use it as a possible weapon, as the boots near. You prepare yourself by silent deep breaths and a focused gaze.

The boots stop in front of you, pausing for only a moment. Then the desk is being flung to the side. You choke a gasp, managing to slam the intercom down into the guys shin, the harsh metal side bruising and buckling his leg.

He exclaims in pain as you scramble to your feet. You can finally see the detail on the three mens’ outfits. A dark green weaved into the fabric. Then you see the claws for hands, and all three of their masks turned to you. Shit.

“Who are you guys?” You manage to get out, as you reach behind you for a keyboard.

One looks at the other before looking back at you. “Were you here the whole time?”

You say nothing, edging closer to the exit. It’s silent from them for a moment then “…kill her.” The gruff voice of ‘boss’ says. And they’re quick.

You try to rush away but one yanks you back by your hair. You angrily swing around and knock the metal keyboard across one of their heads. Some of the pieces shatter against his mask.

But then one is grabbing your neck, pushing you against the wall. “Sorry—boss says no tattle tales.” The guy tightens his hold, and your hands scramble against his in an effort to intake air.

There’s a moment where your vision blurs. But there’s also a moment where his knee shifts letting your leg harshly kick out. You’re glad to find him humanised in his pants as he doubles over.

You rush away from the wall, heaving. One of the masked men is already trying to grab you and as his clawed hand wraps around your arm, he’s pulled back, a shining orange web yanking him straight into a monitor, his head smashing against glass.

The speed makes his claws cut across your flesh but your adrenaline is far too prominent for you to care. You notice the other guy stalking towards you, making you swiftly gaze around at your environment, Weapon. Weapon. Weapon. You stop on a machine, wires poking out, sparking with electricity. Holding a certain point you pull two out, ripping the electric wires, before stabbing them into his stomach, the electric current making his body shake and twitch.

You soon have to let go as they grow unbearably hot, leaving scolding burns on your fingertips and palms. That’s when you notice the owner of the orange web. Miguel has ruined the guy he originally threw into a monitor, his body now a bloody pulp.

You have to quickly look away to the second guy who had obviously gotten up from your kick and landed straight into Miguel’s palm. Miguel is retracting his claws from the masked man’s body, blood tainting the tips of his fingers, as he breaths harshly but somehow still controlled.

Miguel looks to the guy knocked out in front of you, still occasionally twitching from the strong current of electricity. You feel light headed, placing your hands on your knees as you try to slow your breathing.

But then you feel a hand. And not a friendly one as the masked man passes on some of the electricity moving through his body into your thigh. You scream, the half electrocuted guy—his hair frizzed and slightly cinched—stumbling to a stance, just as you fall to the floor.

Then you hear a crash and a curdling scream—not from you.

Miguel inserts his claws into the guys neck, practically ripping his throat out, as the guy chokes on his own blood. The blood sprays across Miguel’s face, leaving slight speckles as he rips the rest of the man with his teeth, letting him drop to the floor.

It was animalistic in way, as his tongue licked his fangs, his breathing now harsher—angrier.

But then he sees you drifting from consciousness on the floor.

Miguel doesn’t know what breathing is, or the meaning of the word slow, as he reaches your side in a millisecond, his hand coming to grab your face between his fingers—maybe a little harshly but his entire being was still on overdrive.

Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks as he slightly shakes your head. “Y/l/n.” He hisses. “Wake up.“

He’s gentle now, realising that you’re a human and not some villain he needs to hurt, as he checks your pulse not wanting his claws to cut you. “Y/n!” He finally exclaims, as you get roused awake.

Your leg feels painfully numb, as your eyes flutter open. A thin layer of tears is making your eyes sparkle as you finally meet Miguel’s gaze. You try to slow your breathing, shutting your eyes to reassess.

Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks. “No, no. Open them.”

You do, though they stay hooded. “I’m just…tired. No need to sound so harsh—shit.” The lasting electricity still spasms up your leg, as the hold of Miguel’s hand makes the tears fall.

You begin to shake your head, partially trying to get out of his hold. “Stop.” You say.

“Stop what?” Miguel instantly replies, his gaze shooting to your thigh.

“Just—“ you breathe. Then Miguel finds the deep scratch mark on your arm, his hand grabbing it as his eyes dart. “It’s fine. Just a cut.”

“Y/n, you just got attacked. You’re a weak human, don’t try to sound so tough.”

“You’re not helping.” You hiss, tilting your head back as you try to keep the tears in, not wanting them to fall. “And that was kind of mean.” You mutter the last part just for the sake of it. Using your pain induced state as an excuse to blurt out your annoyed feelings with Miguel.

Miguel grabs your chin, trying to pull your gaze back to his, but you resist, keeping it tilted away. “Stop.” You say again.

“No.” He answers, successfully pulling your chin back, and holding it there. “Why aren’t you looking me?”

Your eyes are darting around, before you choose to close them. “Y/n.” Miguel is stern, but underlying that he sounds almost desperate—almost.

You can feel him move closer to you and you place your hand out to stop him, your palm ending up against his chest. “Can you not—“

“What—not help you?” He asks harshly.

“Can you look away.” You say, finally opening your eyes. “Please.”

“Why?” Miguel isn’t budging, staying close to you. He’s already dialled in medical on his wristwatch.

“Jeezus Christ, Miguel! I don’t like fucking crying in front of people. It’s a weird thing I can’t get rid of. I hate it. It makes me feel embarrassed—“

“Embarrassed?” Miguel interrupts.

“Yes. Embarrassed.” You hiss harshly. You couldn’t find your filter, your tone far more aggressive then usual with the throbbing pain in your arm and the spasm of your thigh.

“Well, that stupid.” He says.

“Yeah, it is. But it’s not going away. So if you could just look away and let me…I dunno…recompose myself.”

“Recompose yourself?”

“Yes! Stop repeating what I’m saying!” You exclaim, only to follow with a groan of pain as you try to sit up.

Miguel knows your mind is frazzled and your body is reactive. He pushes you back down, grabbing your cheeks again.

“You got partially electrocuted and cut—deep, I’d think you’re a psychopath If you didn’t cry.” Miguel says, his volume dropped to one almost soothing—almost.

“Doesn’t make me hate it any less.” You mutter.

“Wow…I’ve never seen you this annoyed before.”

You narrow your eyes on him. His hand that was gingerly inspecting your thigh had slipped over your waist, partially caging you in.

You try again to sit up. But Miguel yet again, keeps you pressed to the floor. “O’hara.”

He leans closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “Stop moving.”

“I’m fine.”

“No your not.” He easily answers, which earns him a half hearted scoff. “You know I think I prefer you trying to suck up instead.”

You meet his gaze glaring. “I have not been sucking up, I just like—“

“This job. Yeah I’ve heard you.” He interrupts.

He can hear commotion behind him, but the voices of rushing spider-people makes his shoulders relax. The medical have arrived, and as you notice the new people you quickly wipe your cheeks, brushing against Miguel’s hand, as you get up.

Miguel finally let’s you, by slipping his arm around the back of your waist. You try to swat it away—any physical touch usually induces the waterworks you desperately wanted to keep at bay—but he tightens his hold, resulting in your side being flush against him.

The medical spiders inspect your bruised body. “It’s her thigh and upper arm…” Miguel begins telling the spiders. Then he grabs your hands holding your palms out. “And hands.” The burnt marks look raw, and you hiss as Miguel had to slightly stretch the skin to show.

He immediately lets go upon hearing the sound of pain. “Thanks Miguel, we’ll take it from here.” A medical spider says, already at your side checking your cut.

Miguel narrows his eyes on the spider variant, watching as you bite your lip as they inspect your wound. He sighs, finally getting up and letting your waist go. At the sudden shift your hand flies out to his leg, or more specifically his thigh.

Your quick, tight grip has Miguel stopping. You change your position, not having realised how much you were using Miguel as physical support, before you’re quickly taking your hand away and coughing.

You give him a brief nod. “Thanks for the help.”

Miguel scoffs. “Help? I did a bit more than help.”

You’re praying to get some anaesthetic soon so that your pain won’t make you loose your job. You press your lips together harshly. “Of course. You did spectacular.” You say.

The sarcasm isn’t lost on him. He eyes you once more before he’s walking out the exit.

You sat there, finally taking a proper breath. You don’t know why you were holding it for so long. …maybe you did have a clue. The image of Miguel ripping the guys neck out, blood staining his face is still fresh in your mind.

You’ll be honest, it scared you. He kind of scared you. But not in way you’d think he’d hurt you, just one that made him seem unpredictable. I mean what happened just then, with his touching and softer tone was something completely unforeseen.

If someone told you he would be do that today you’d actually laugh. Miguel was unpredictable and intimidating in general, sure, but what seemed to scare you more was the way he looked when his eyes shone with blood lust. His eye colour seemed fitting now.

You also happened to be scared of the way the sight made you feel. Something that settled far too low in your stomach.

;;

Miguel went straight to the lobby where a spider variant he kept high up in the ranks resided. “You. Get up. Now.”

The spider variant immediately stood, as he nervously followed Miguel to his office. The orange tech screens were the main thing lighting the place.

And as Spider-Man took a breath he lost it as soon as Miguel slowly turned to him. Blood still stained his skin and claws and suit, and the spider-man felt the urge to run.

“Where were you today?” Miguel asked, leaning back against a table and crossing his arms almost too casually.

“I was…here, Miguel.” He said steeling his spine. He knew where this was going.

“Were you?” Miguel asked, his eyes trained on the spider.

Spider man gulped. “I’m really sorry, Miguel. I didn’t hear any sort of explosion. I didn’t get any awareness. Which…shouldn’t happen.”

“You know what ‘shouldn’t happen’?” Miguel asks, now twirling an empty glass on the table. “Spider men and woman shouldn’t only rely on that “tingle thing”.”

The spider hangs his head lower in apology. “Someone could have died today.” Miguel continued. “And you would have what—been too busy playing poker?”

The spider variant winces at his words. Miguel knew of his addiction, always using his free time to gamble.

“Do you get that?” Miguel asks.

“I do. I’m sorry.”

“Sadly that’s not gonna cut it.” Miguel says, making spider man look up. “I left you in charge while I was gone. You failed miserably.”

“Miguel. I didn’t mean to only rely on my usual awareness, it’s a force of habit. That’s never happened before. I can always sense when danger is close.”

“But you didn’t.” Miguel says. “There’s someone in medical right now who got injured—badly. And she was all alone.” Miguel has stood up, stalking towards him.

“Now for personal reasons I may find her annoying.” He quickly mutters out. “But that certainly doesn’t mean you can let her die. Do you hear me?”

Spider man quickly nods. “Of course. This’ll never happen again.”

“No it won’t.” Miguel turns away, and the finality in his voice makes spider man’s eyes widen.

“Miguel—“

“Go home.” Miguel cuts in, stepping up to his screens. Anger still seeped from every pore.

;;

You woke up, feeling a dull ache in your body, but for the most part you felt alright. Better, a lot better. You swing your feet off the medical bed, realising that the lights were out.

Your feet hit the cold floor, before you quietly step towards the exit door.

Making it out to the hallway you were grateful you were already on the high level, no need for a long travel up the stairs.

You needed to rest. Alone. Not surrounded my medical items. You slowly headed to your room, but stop upon seeing a familiar body walking away.

“O’hara.” You say, making the figure freeze.

You quicken your steps, reaching him. He turns and you have to stop the intake of breathe at the reminded visual of the now dried blood.

“You didn’t want a shower?” You joked, forcing a chuckle.

Miguel just scans your body, narrowing his eyes, his expression is it’s typical, solemn and moody. “You should get back to bed.”

“I was actually heading to my room. But I just wanted to…thank you.” You say, finally making Miguel meet your gaze.

“You really did help me back there.” You spare him a small smile and a nod. Then your gaze gets caught back up in the blood stains, as you gulp.

“You saw, didn’t you?” Miguel suddenly asks.

You look up. “Mm?”

“The reason I’m covered in blood.”

“Oh.” You say. “It was…quite impressive.”

“No it wasn’t.” Miguel says making your brows furrow. He steps a fraction closer. “You didn’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

Another step. “You thought I looked animalistic. Scary.”

You dart your gaze down to his slowly moving feet before quickly looking back up. You shake your head. And in return Miguel nods.

“You think I’m scary.” Everything he’s saying is statements. He knows, but you keep shaking your head.

“Don’t do that. Don’t lie.” He says, much, much closer now. “You’re terrible at it.”

You stop the shake of your head, blinking a few times. “O’hara—“

“Just be honest.”

“I am.” You say, straightening your spine. And as your eyes dart you notice a deep cut running across his thigh. The dried blood, his.

You step closer. “Why didn’t you get that checked out?”

He glances down at his wound. “It’s fine.”

“Oh come on, don’t do that. Don’t act like your above it all, including pain, and infection.” Your blatancy makes Miguel raise a brow.

You pause for a moment, mulling over potential decisions in your head. Then before it could get later and before you could back down you speak. “Follow me. Let me help.”

Miguel stares at you. “It’s fine—“ he goes to monotonously repeat.

You just grab his wrist, pulling him towards your room. Miguel grabs your wrist in turn, preparing to pull your hand off.

“Hey. You made me go to your room, now I’m just returning the favour.” You say.

Miguel stares at you, scoffing. You let go of his wrist, knowing you don’t have the strength to pull him. “If you’re scared I don’t know what I’m doing, then know that I studied to be a nurse before I found out about…all this.”

“Why?” Miguel asks. “Why help?” He elaborates.

“I just told you.” You say, beginning to head to your room. “I feel weird if I’ve seen your room when you haven’t yet seen mine.”

“That’s not a good reason at all.”

“But your walking my way aren’t you?”

Miguel hadn’t realised that he’d moved to your door without the permission of his mind. He curses under his breath as your scent floods his senses, your room making it ten times worse. This is the last thing he needed.

But you’re already shutting the door and ushering him further in. “You can um…” you look around. “You can just sit on the bed.”

No—Miguel thought. God, no. But you were already getting out an older looking kit from under textbooks—your stuff having been brought to you from your universe.

He slowly sits, trying not to get one bit comfortable. You reach his side placing the kit on the bed, as you drop to your knees.

Miguel’s breathing stops at the visual. You’re directly by his thigh…kneeling. No, no.

Miguel clicks his jaw, looking away. He looks back down, to see your hand is midway from touching his cut thigh. “Why are you doing this?” He can’t fathom why you would actually want to help him.

You sigh. “I just feel kinda bad.”

“Bad?”

“Mhm.” You nod.

“For any particular reason?” Miguel pushes.

“No.” You sarcastically scoff. “You’re just generally a person everyone feels bad for.”

Miguel narrows his eyes as you chuckle. He shifts on your bed. “Stop doing that.”

Your hand stops by his cut, thinking it’s the touching of his wound, when in actual fact it was the way your ‘chuckle’ had sent a strange vibration through him to somewhere he desperately didn’t want you to notice. He was right. This was a terrible idea.

Then you’re touching him. Delicate and gentle, as you pull away his ripped suit. You begin to dab what looks to be an alcohol cloth onto his wound, and in response Miguel snarls, his grip tightening around your sheets.

“Sorry.” You mutter.

“Dios.” He mutters, closing his eyes a moment. “Stop being nice.”

You look up at him. “I have to say, I’ve never heard someone say that. Usually it’s ‘stop being mean’.”

His face is tight as you continue to clean his cut. “Someone said that to you?”

You pause. “No actually. But I just mean in general. And I’m not being ‘nice’ to you. I’m returning a favour.”

“Ah.” He hums, before all his muscles tense. “Can you hurry up.”

“You’ve never let anyone touch you up before, have you?” Catching onto the fact that he’s clearly cleaned his past wounds himself.

Miguel glares at you. “So, you can stop.” He reaches to take the cloth from you, but you lean away resting your hand on his knee for support.

“You can just sit on the bed.” Miguel grits out. He couldn’t watch you being on your knees for him any longer. Not unless he’d do something he’d end up regretting.

“That’s okay, it’s an easier angle here.”

God. You had to stop. ‘Easier angel’? Yeah, Miguel definitely wasn’t thinking about you cleaning his cut. He runs his hand through his hair.

You quickly reach out grabbing his wrist. He looks at you, expectantly. “You have uh…blood on your fingertips…claws.”

Miguel darts his gaze across your face. “And you’re worried about it getting my…hair dirty?”

You shrug. “Well, now you’re making me sound stupid.”

“I don’t need to do that.” He quips, and you shoot him a glare. “But um…” he drifts off, as you look up at him, now waiting expectantly.

“Did you find me…scary, or whatever?” He asks, and surprisingly there’s a hint of…vulnerability hidden in his tone? No—you think to yourself—that can’t be right. “Before. With the anomalies.”

You dab a fraction harder, making Miguel hiss a groan. You ignore the way it vibrates through your body. You shake your head.

“Why do you keep lying?” He asks.

You sigh. “I just—“

“Just?” Miguel seemed to really want to get an answer out of you. He shifts closer. And when you don’t answer, continuing to focus on his wound, he grabs your jaw, pulling you up to meet his gaze. You gulp, his large hand nearly reaching to wrap around your neck.

“Do I scare you?”

Your chest picks up a quicker beat. He leans closer, pulling you towards him, your chest hitting his leg. “Do I—“

“Yes. Alright.” You quickly say. “A little bit…yes.”

His grip tightens around your chin a fraction. “Because of what you saw?”

“And the way you talk to people.” You mutter out. Why were saying this? This isn’t something you say to your boss.

You hadn’t noticed at first but one of his claws had begun to brush back and forth against the skin of your jaw, his eyes not leaving yours. You were utterly frozen. And there’s a moment that you just catch where his gaze darts down to your lips, his breath feeling extremely close.

But then he’s leaning away, his jaw clenching as he looks to the door. “Are you done?”

You quickly look down to his cut, rushing to get out a bandage. “Uh, almost.” Your entire body was buzzing.

While you stayed focused on finishing him up, Miguel’s gaze went back to staring at you. He almost gave in—almost. He wouldn’t, though.

You were scared of him. He knew you were somewhat so, but now hearing you say it confirmed that you’d never see him how he had gradually started seeing you. He had to stop. Now, before he dove in far too deep.

He couldn’t let himself go any deeper. Because at this rate he’d certainly drown, and if he was going to die, it wouldn’t be from some silly little crush.

okay, I’m sorry, I lied. there is nothing sexual in here. but I didn’t think adding anything like that yet would work. since a lot of you guys asked for a slow burn

again, I hope this is up to a good standard for you guys to continue reading. I wanted to add something a little different then the usual Spanish lesson then Miguel’s end of the deal. I needed some action of some sort.

and ofc, part five will come soon x love you all MWAH

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taglist #2 taglist #3

[revasserium]

death before decaf

opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms

summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.

a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.

one.

“How long did you say?”

“Two weeks, max.”

“Nah… you think?”

“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”

Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.

“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”

Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”

Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.

“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.

“Can I get a decaf latte with —”

“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.

You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.

Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.

“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.

“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”

Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.

“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”

Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”

Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.

“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.

You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.

“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”

Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.

You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.

“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”

“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”

“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”

“Princess.”

“Edgelord.”

You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.

“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.

Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.

“I’m gonna be late for practice.”

You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.

Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.

“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.

“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”

“Alright then, you’re on.”

Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”

two.

You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.

“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”

Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”

You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”

“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.

You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”

Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.

“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.

“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”

“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”

You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”

Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.

“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”

You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.

You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.

But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.

“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.

“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”

At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.

“Have I ever denied that I was?”

You let out a noncommittal grunt.

Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.

“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.

You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.

“So what?”

“Tell me about him.”

You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“

“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.

“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.

“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.

“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”

Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”

Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.

“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”

Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”

Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.

“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”

“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”

You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”

Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.

“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”

You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.

“Wait — what?”

Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.

“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”

You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.

“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.

“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”

Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“

“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”

You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.

“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.

“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.

“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.

When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.

“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”

She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.

“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.

“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.

Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.

three.

You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.

“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”

You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.

“N-no.”

“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.

You narrow your eyes.

“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.

You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.

Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.

Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.

You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting —

Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.

You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —

What happened to your arm?

You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.

The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.

“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.

Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.

“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.

“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”

And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.

You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.

four.

Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.

“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.

“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.

You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.

Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.

You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.

Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.

“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”

Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.

“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.

Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”

You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.

“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”

“Fuck — okay.”

You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.

Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.

“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”

“And it’s now Tuesday.”

Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.

“It’s been five days!”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”

You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.

“Ow.”

You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.

“You strained your Rhomboid.”

“Gesundheit.”

You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.

“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.

Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.

You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.

“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.

He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.

“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.

Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.

“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”

And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.

five.

Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.

“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”

You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.

On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.

And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.

Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.

And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.

“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”

You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.

You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.

When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.

You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.

When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.

You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.

You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.

Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”

You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.

Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.

“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.

Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.

“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.

Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.

“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.

You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.

“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”

Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.

“Still counts.”

You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.

He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”

Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.

“I always like my —”

They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.

“I — it — wh —”

Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”

You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.

six.

Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.

“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.

You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”

At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”

You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”

Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”

You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”

Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”

You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”

“So?” she asks.

“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.

“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”

You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.

“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.

“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.

“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.

You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.

You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.

“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”

You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.

“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.

“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”

“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.

“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.

You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.

“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”

Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”

You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.

seven.

Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.

You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.

“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.

You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.

But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.

You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.

When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.

He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.

You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.

“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.

Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.

“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”

You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”

He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.

You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.

“I —”

Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.

“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”

Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —

“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”

Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.

You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.

“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”

Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”

You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.

He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.

You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.

“What —”

“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.

“Yeah, well —”

“Wait — no —”

Zoro cocks his head, “No?”

You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.

“We — your shoulder —”

“Fuck my shoulder —”

You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”

You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.

“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.

You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.

“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.

“Mine. It’s closer.”

eight.

His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.

It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.

You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.

“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.

You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”

Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.

“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.

Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.

“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”

Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.

“I still won.”

His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.

Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.

“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.

“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”

Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”

And then, a long moment later —

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”

You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.

There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.

“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”

You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”

Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”

You make no move to leave.

“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.

You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”

He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”

“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”

“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”

You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”

At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”

“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.

You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.

“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.

Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.

“What about breakfast?”

“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”

You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.

“I…. guess.”

Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.

You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.

You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.

“God, you’re gorgeous…”

Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.

“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”

“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.

You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.

“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.

You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.

nine.

Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.

You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.

“Oh… hey.”

Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.

He clears his throat.

“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”

You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.

“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”

Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”

He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.

“So… breakfast and coffee?”

Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”

You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.

“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.

You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.

When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.

But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.

“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”

Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.

“Whoa… so much better.”

You smile, satisfied.

Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”

He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.

“You’ll freeze.”

Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”

You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.

“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”

Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”

Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.

“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.

“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.

You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.

Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.

ten.

There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.

You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.

When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.

“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”

Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.

“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.

“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.

You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”

Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.

“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”

Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.

Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.

Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.

“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”

You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.

You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.

He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.

It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.

“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.

Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”

You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.

“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.

Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”

You scoff, “Says who?”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”

You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.

“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”

You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.

“Kay, whatever you say.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.

Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.

“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”

Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.

“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.

“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”

Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.

She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”

Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.

“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.

“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”

You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.

Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”

Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”

feedback always welcome :) reqs are closed.

[hotyanderedaddies]

The School Bully Loves You, Pt. 0:

When Blake Fell in Love with You

Part 1 │ Part 2 │ Part 3

[Yandere! Bully x GN Nerd! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

You heard the other students chant over and over that there was a fight, and judging by the "Ooohs!" and "Oh shit!", you could tell that someone was getting their butt kicked.

You didn't want to be associated with any of that stuff, so you did your best to steer clear of any drama.

You were only in fifth grade, but you were pretty wise in a certain retrospect in that you did not want to be involved in any sort if unnecessary drama that would add stress to your life. In fact, this was so prominent in your attitude that you were deemed to be a bit anti-social (shy was more apt).

However, since the crowd of chanting students was in the same direction that you had to take in order to get home, you were forced to walk towards the commotion despite your apprehension.

The closer you got, the more you could see the fight that was going on.

One guy had another pinned to the ground, and the one on top was wailing on the other one with both fists. The sounds of flesh against flesh banged out, and you cringed at the onslaught you witnessed.

"Teacher!" a random kid shouted out, pointing towards the school where one of the fourth grade teachers poked her head out to scream at the crowd to disperse.

Everyone scattered, leaving the one kid who'd been wailed on in the dust.

He stayed on the ground, coughing a little bit as he tried to catch his breath.

You didn't move from your spot, ignoring everyone else as they ran off, leaving just you and the apparent loser of the fight.

A part of you said that it wasn't your responsibility, that you should've just walked home and tried your best to pretend that you didn't see anything at all.

But your conscience told you otherwise.

Swallowing your nerves, you called out, "H-hey!"

The guy remained still on the ground.

You didn't have a phone yet (thanks Mom and Dad), so you couldn't call 911. Therefore, you rushed forward and up to the other guy, your eyes widening at what you saw.

You didn't recognize him. He must've been in a different grade, maybe older because he seemed really big and tall (even from his lying position). His cheek was bruised up and his right eye was swollen shut. He had a cut on his arm that was bleeding a little bit-- not too bad, but enough to where it might ruin his leather jacket.

"Are you okay?" you asked, immediately feeling stupid because he obviously wasn't.

"...yeah," the guy grunted, turning his head away from you, blushing a little bit.

You bit down on your lower lip, not knowing what you could say to help out the random dude who'd gotten his butt kicked. Therefore, you did the only thing that you could think of.

"Um," you mumbled, "um, I have a band-aid...?" You cringed a little, but still dug through your backpack for a band-aid to give him. Your mom made you carry a box with you to school since you were pretty clumsy and always seemed to manage to fall down and skin your knee, hence your box of Hello Kitty Band-Aids.

You pulled out a band-aid with Pompompurin and peeled off the back, carefully sticking it to the guy's cut arm. Out of instinct, you bent down and pressed your lips to it, giving it a little kiss like what your mom does to all of your ouchies.

You froze, having no idea why you'd done that.

"Uhh..." you mumbled. "I hope you feel better!"

Thinking quickly, you shot up to your feet and sprinted away as quickly as you could, scurrying in the direction of your house.

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

As Blake watched you run off, he looked down at the band-aid on his arm that had some random cartoon character on it.

He snorted and was about to pull it off, but then froze.

His skin still tingled from where you'd kissed him and simply thinking about it made his heart flutter in his chest and his breath get all ragged.

He recognized you from school, recalling how you'd typically keep to yourself and how you were a Grade A nerd.

...and how cute you are.

That'd been it initially-- Blake had thought that you were sorta cute, not paying too much attention otherwise.

But as he watched you run off, he couldn't help but stare in wonder.

Why had you helped him?

Why did you care?

And, ultimately, why weren't you his yet?

"They'll be mine," Blake promised himself. "Sooner or later, I'll make them mine."

He smiled as looked down at the Band-Aid you'd given him and placed his hand over where you'd kissed him, smiling to himself.

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

From then on, Blake made it his mission to make sure that you were protected at all costs.

He heard someone talking shit about you or thinking about messing with you?

He kicked their ass.

He heard someone say something negative about you?

He kicked their ass.

Someone cut you in line during lunch?

He kicked their ass.

Someone was wanting to ask you out on a date?

He kicked their ass.

Just that simple act of kindness that you showed the school bully had him wrapped around your finger. You didn't know it, but he was one-hundred percent devoted to you.

He walked you to and from school everyday, making sure to keep a little bit of distance in between the two of you. He knew that you were shy and that you didn't want to be involved in any sort of drama.

Plus, Blake wasn't delusional. He knew that he had an extremely negative reputation surrounding him, and he didn't want to drag you down with him. Everyone looked at him with fear in their eyes, and if you were associated with him, then he'd inadvertently ruin whatever reputation you'd built up.

In his mind, you're an angel, and he didn't want to taint you.

Hence, he kept his distance and made sure to admire you from afar.

But still, if anyone were to ask, Blake would say that you're his. He loves you after all, more than anything in the world.

And he promised himself that eventually he'd confess to you... all he needed was something to push him to do so...

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: mentions of throwing up/having a hangover, cursing, mentions of cheating for an exam, Sam Hwang (long, blond hair skz Hyunjin is who I had in mind for Sam), jealousy, alcohol, explicit content: mentions of jungkook fingering oc with his cum, of oc having sex with hobi

☆word count: 12.1k

☆a/n: the end of the power outage :') hope you guys love this one <3 thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, February 16th 

It takes most of Saturday before the power comes back on. You’ve been anticipating the sun slipping under the horizon, wanting it to disappear so that you can go back to what it was like yesterday night. Because, when the sun rose this morning, Jungkook disentangled himself from you, and he hasn’t touched you since then.

Maybe because he too realized the enormity of what you did yesterday. But you’ve been expecting the sunset, hoping it would bring you back to what yesterday night was…

The lights in your apartment flicker to life as you sit on the couch, under your bed cover and Jungkook’s. You’ve been reading a book – he’s still on that same book you saw him read on Thursday – and you blink a few times as if not quite believing that the power is back.

That whatever happened between you and Jungkook will now have to be put in the past.

“Finally,” Jungkook says, and he turns his head towards you, as if expecting you to agree. 

You don’t say anything, pursing your lips as your eyes dip down to your book, remaining stuck on a word that doesn’t make any sense to you.

If Jungkook senses your unease, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he says, “Can I turn on the TV? I miss having some sound around here.”

So he’s not leaving. For some reason, you expected he would. It reassures you, and you offer him a smile.

“Sure,” you answer. “But don’t put on one of your lame anime.”

Jungkook’s mouth falls open, and he frowns in offence, fake or real. You can’t really tell, because it makes you laugh, and the moment you start laughing, the expression melts on Jungkook’s face, replaced by a softer look.

“Anime isn’t lame, I’ll have you know,” he says. “You just don’t know how to enjoy superior cinematography.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Oh, can’t I, now?”

He nods forcefully, and he grabs the remote control where it was abandoned on the coffee table. “I’ll show you an anime you’ll actually like.”

“Good luck,” you tease.

He throws you a no-bullshit look. “As if I need any luck.”

You hate that he was right. You hate that, a little under two hours later, you’re crying, trying to hide it from Jungkook. Though, when you glance towards him, you see fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and it makes you forget all about your own tears.

“Are you crying?” you ask, voice so surprised it startles even you.

“I can’t help it!” Jungkook lets out. “I love this movie.”

“Jeon Jungkook crying over some anime?” you tease, and you start laughing. “Why is that so adorable?”

Jungkook chuckles, drying his cheeks. “You think I’m adorable?”

The way he says it makes you flush red, and you quickly look away. “No. But crying over the movie Your Name is.”

“You just said that I’m adorable,” Jungkook singsongs.

You shake your head. “I did not.”

“You did.”

“You’re annoying.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing, and he gently pinches your cheek. You try to shrug him off, but when his fingers linger on your cheek, you turn to meet his gaze. 

You don’t think you were ready for the seriousness of his features. Because it feels like you hit a wall of bricks, and your own smile slowly dies down.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, and you gulp around the sudden lump in your throat.

Jungkook frowns, and his hand falls on top of the blankets between you and him. “Nothing?”

He says it like a question, and it makes you worry at your bottom lip. You wait for him to say more, but his gaze slides away to the TV screen. An awkward silence rises between the two of you, and you think this is it.

This is where the little idyllic whatever-it-was ends.

“We can’t pretend we’re just doing this for warmth anymore,” Jungkook says matter-of-factly. 

“Right,” you let out.

He nods once, and he flashes you a grin, though it’s lacking the authenticity of the smiles he’s shared with you since the start of the power outage. “So, let’s go back to normal now.”

He says it as if it’s the simplest thing in the universe, and it strikes deep. You wonder, were you the only one who felt like you did? 

Did you imagine the whole thing?

You must have. Because a moment later Jungkook is getting up from the couch, claiming he wants to check if the gym has power as well and go work out if he can. You watch him go, dumbfounded, not knowing what to say.

Not wanting to admit that him leaving like that, him pretending that he doesn’t care, hurts. But then again, he’s Jeon Jungkook – why would he care?

When he comes back to the living room with his gym bag and phone in hand, Jungkook offers you a smile. It’s tentative, fake, and you wonder if he put a mask on.

Because this is not the man you’ve spent the last two days with.

“Gym has power, so I guess I’ll see you later,” he says.

You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding once. “Okay.”

He doesn’t say anything else, instead moving to the closet to grab his coat from it. He’s put his boots on by the time he glances towards you again, and he offers you a smirk. “Don’t miss me too much, peach.”

You want to punch him for that sentence alone. It feels like it means more. It feels like he’s telling you, ‘Yes, I put my mask back on. What will you do about it?’ And you know there is nothing you can do. He’s Taehyung’s best friend, and though you’ve enjoyed the days you’ve spent with him, they weren’t real life.

And though the wake-up call is unwanted, you think you badly needed it. 

So you nod once, letting your lips grow into your own smirk, before you reply, “Don’t worry, there’s nothing to miss.”

You see it in his eyes. The temporary flash of hurt, or maybe insult. But he pushes it away, just as well as you, and just like that you know he wanted you to say something, wanted you to chase him. But you don’t chase men – the last time you did left you with a severe fear of running into a certain Sam Hwang. So you don’t do it anymore, and you think it’s more peaceful that way.

Because no matter how great hanging out with Jungkook was, you know it’s just a matter of time before Taehyung comes back and you have to return to your previous distant relationship.

Sunday, February 17th

“Bitch, you went full-on MIA,” Ria says. “You can’t tell me nothing happened.”

You’re in a study room at the library, and Ria has been bothering you ever since Jungkook showed up to his shift, nodding stiffly at the sight of you. You’d waved, and he’d smiled, but he’d then wandered off to do whatever it is that his job here implies.

Obviously, Ria noticed the exchange, and she really doesn’t want to let it go.

“Genuinely nothing did,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “He’s Tae’s best friend.”

“But he’s Jungkook,” she counters, sighing dreamily. “The rumours about him in bed…”

You flush red, and you throw an eraser at Ria, who starts cackling like she’s crazy. “Shut the fuck up,” you tell her.

“No but,” she insists. “You’re blushing. You cannot tell me nothing happened.”

“But I am,” you answer. “Drop it. I’m only blushing because you want to talk about his sex life rumours.”

“I hardly call it a rumour when Shelly’s been so vocal about it.”

It takes you a moment to connect the dots. A moment too long, but then you remember the texts Jungkook had received. 

Shelly. The girl he ghosted on Valentine’s Day because he was with you. Because you ended up kissing him, straddling his lap on a kitchen chair, and he’d later fingered you with his cum.

You push the thought away. You push it so far away you wish you’d forget it, and then you reply, “Who’s Shelly?”

“She’s the two-doors-down dorm neighbour, remember?” Ria supplies. “The one we got shitfaced drunk with before Halloween last semester.”

You barely remember the girl. All that you can think about is her dark skin and the pretty almond eyes that had lured you to your demise. Indeed, you’d thrown up before you’d even reached the party, and to this day it’s still the worst hangover you’ve had in your whole life.

Because obviously, she provided you with plenty enough of shots at the party after that, too.

It’s strange. To realize that you know the girl Jungkook’s been fucking. Before he fucked you…

Another thought you push away. Because did he really? The distance that’s reappeared between you and him is a clear indication that you probably just dreamed up the whole thing.

“Don’t remind me of the Halloween party,” you whine, and Ria bursts out laughing.

“Not your proudest moment.”

You jokingly glare at her, and then you look down at your laptop again. “Where’s Nabi anyway?”

Ria laughs. It’s an innocent laugh, a laugh that means she’s up to no good. Your eyes immediately snap up to her face, and you lean towards her. “What?”

“Not telling you,” she says.

“No way.” When she remains silent but grins wildly, you add, “No fucking way! When?”

“Friday.”

You squeal, and even though you’re in a study room, you earn a disapproving look from the girl sitting at the table outside. You wince in apology, and then meet Ria’s gaze again.

“What did they do?”

“They went on a walk,” Ria admits. 

You wonder if they saw you and Jungkook. Though you figured you would have heard about it if they did.

“And?”

Ria shrugs. “She told me she wanted to tell you herself.”

“Bruh.”

Ria laughs at your expense. “You should have just come yesterday, she would have told you everything. But no, you were too busy doing God knows what with Jungkook, but obviously nothing happened…”

Your eraser is gone when you reach for it to chuck it at Ria’s face. “Holy fuck, let it go,” you groan, but all she does is laugh.

Because if there is one thing that can describe Ria well, it’s her easy laugh. Indeed, you think that’s why you became so close to her so quick – she’s good at changing your mind, at making you smile. And though she definitely is able to have a serious conversation if needed, she’s also easy going, and it’s a relief to have a friend like that when your other closest friend is anxious as can be.

But you love Nabi to no end as well, needless to say.

“I’ll let it go if I can also find someone to fuck,” she says, sighing dramatically. “It’s unfair that you’re both getting some when the last time I did was in December.”

“I’m not getting some,” you grumble, resting your arms on the desk in front of your laptop so that you can hide your face in them.

“Hobi?” Ria lets out.

You’d forgotten all about Hoseok. It surprises you so much that you straighten, meeting her gaze. “Oh. Right.”

She snorts at your expression, before saying, “I tried hitting on Yoongi, but that guy’s colder than ice.”

“He is,” you agree, nodding your head. “But I’m sure he’s a good guy if you make it through all the ice.”

“Not my type,” Ria says. “I don’t want to have to chase.”

“Amen!”

On that note you both burst out laughing, before focusing on your studies again. You both have midterms next week, and though the power outage was a needed respite, you need to get your mind in the game again. At least both of your exams aren’t in your hardest class, especially considering Namjoon provided you and Nabi with a… rather well-guided study guide for the biochem midterm.

Not that you’ll look at it before you’re convinced you could ace the test anyway, if you have to be honest.

And so you study with Ria, the minutes ticking on the clock. Soon enough the minutes turn into an hour, and when Ria suggests taking a break to go grab something to eat, you immediately jump on the occasion, needing a break anyway.

You’re almost out of the library when you run into Jungkook, and Ria stifles a laugh next to you when Jungkook steps to the side, letting you pass. He frowns at the sound your friend makes, and you punch her in the shoulder, which only entices her further.

You roll your eyes, before meeting Jungkook’s gaze. “Ignore her.”

He nods. “Noted.”

And though you should walk away, you can’t bring yourself to take a single step forward. All you can do is hold his gaze, remembering his lips on yours and the way that he touched you like he knew the maze of your body by heart already.

Pink tints your cheeks, and you wish you’d find something to say. Unfortunately, all you can do is watch as a pretty girl, all lean limbs and flowing hair, stops next to him. 

“Hey, JK, I need your help with something,” she says. She barely spares you a glance, and Jungkook nods your way, before turning towards her.

“What’s up?” he tells her, and then they’re walking away.

You’re out of the library when Ria hums, before snorting. “What was that?” she asks.

“What was what?” you counter back, even though you know exactly what she’s referring to.

The longing look exchanged between you and Jeon Jungkook was pretty noticeable, wasn’t it?

“With Jungkook?”

You sigh. “Honestly, nothing,” you answer, and it sounds so genuine you realize that maybe it truly was nothing. Maybe what happened meant nothing, and you need to let it go. “I guess we’re sort of friends now.”

“Sort of,” Ria repeats in a teasing tone.

“You really are a pain in the ass, aren’t you?”

She links arms with you. “And that’s why you love me.”

You begrudgingly agree, letting her lead you outside into the frigid air, towards the café on the other side of the street closest to the library building. She pulls you inside, and the warmth is a relief, as are the aromas of coffee and pastries swimming through the shop. You breathe in, and you follow her to the bar.

You think you almost drop dead when you see the barista on the other side, waiting for you two with a smile plastered on his face.

On those pretty lips you’d worshipped once, and that had turned to poison before you could realize it.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” Sam Hwang asks. 

He freezes when his gaze connects with yours. Maybe he only noticed Ria – you wouldn’t be surprised, Ria is drop-dead gorgeous – but when Sam Hwang sees you, he physically blanches. You wonder what he’ll do or say, if you should turn around and leave, but then Ria orders a latté and a sandwich, and she turns towards you.

“What do you want, I’ll pay for you?”

You still haven’t looked away from Sam. You loved him, deeply. You believe some part of you will always love him. But he hadn’t wanted you. Had taken what he could and left, claiming that he wanted to be single to have the full college experience.

You think about the girl you saw him with at the party a few weeks ago. Is she his new girlfriend, or just someone to give him the full college experience he so desperately wanted?

You gulp, looking away from him. Your eyes fall to the vitrine on the counter where pastries and sandwiches are shown. You blank for a few seconds, and then you motion to an almond croissant. 

“I’ll have this please,” you say.

Ria furrows her eyebrows, looking at you in confusion. “Anything to drink?”

“Just water.”

Her frown deepens, but she shrugs it off before turning to Sam. “That’ll be all.”

He nods, and he punches the order in on the cash register, making her pay before he starts getting everything ready. Ria pulls you to the side as he does so, and you avert your eyes from her, not wanting her to know.

You’ve never told them about Sam. You didn’t see how mentioning a seventeen-day long summer fling would amount to anything, so you just didn’t tell them. And maybe it’s dumb luck, but before this day you were never really faced with Sam. He’d always been easily avoidable, and so it really wasn’t necessary to tell your friends.

“What’s wrong?”

Ria’s question goes unanswered as you keep avoiding her gaze, looking towards the tables. You motion to one in the back, as far away from the counter as possible. “Do you want to sit there?”

Ria doesn’t even look that way. She grabs your wrist, gently, trying to gain your attention. “Girl, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie, and you offer her a tight-lipped smile that you know doesn’t meet your eyes. 

No, your eyes are filled with memories of the past, of a summer that meant far too much and yet meant nothing, or at least you’ve been telling yourself that ever since you moved in with Taehyung and left your hometown behind.

You think it’s a sick and twisted trick of fate that Sam is going to the same college as you. But then again, you’re not surprised – it’s one of the best colleges in this part of the country.

“Bitch,” Ria lets out, but then Sam calls her to say the order is ready. She frowns, before telling you to go get the table.

You do, mostly because you can feel Sam’s gaze on you, and you really don’t want to have to interact with him anymore. So you head to the table, and you sit with your back to the rest of the café even though you usually prefer sitting in a position that allows you to see the whole place.

Ria is quick to meet you at the table, and she puts down the tray of food in front of you, before plopping down in the chair across the table from you. You watch as she rids herself of her coat, and you mirror her, draping yours over the back of your chair, avoiding glancing towards the bar.

“Who’s that?” Ria asks once you’re facing her again. 

You watch as she grabs the plate with her sandwich and her latté before pushing the tray towards you. You busy yourself with biting in your croissant, but soon enough you know you’ll have to answer.

You just don’t want to revisit your story with Sam. Maybe because it was so short, yet hurt so fiercely you decided to forgo relationships for a good while.

“Just someone from my hometown,” you tell her.

She cocks an eyebrow. “And?”

“There’s no and.” 

You say it sternly, authoritatively, with not a single ounce of teasing. It makes Ria’s eyes widen, and she glances towards Sam. She doesn’t say anything for a while, taking a sip from her latté before she looks at you again. 

“I’m assuming we hate him.”

You sigh, looking down at the croissant in your hands, before sliding your gaze to the cold world outside. “Honestly, not really. We just don’t speak of him.”

“Yeah, that’s it, I hate this dude.”

It makes you snort, and you slightly shake your head. “You know I love you, right?”

“Don’t get sentimental, ew,” Ria teases, though she smiles a wicked smile when you roll your eyes at her. “I love you too.”

After that, you carefully drive Ria away from the subject as you eat, and by the time you’re returning to the library, this time with the goal of meeting up with Hoseok and Yoongi, Ria seems to have forgotten all about it. Or she’s just being a good friend, not pressing you on a subject she can sense is sensitive.

You reckon it’s stupid that it is, but you can’t really control your feelings, can you?

You walk in the library, eyes skimming over the place. Yoongi and Hoseok claimed to be in a study room, yet your eyes don’t go towards them, instead turning towards the counter where you can rent books. Jungkook is sitting there, looking bored as all hell, scrolling through his phone mindlessly.

As if he can sense you, he raises his head, and his lips spread in a small smile even in the distance. You reciprocate it, and thoughts of Sam slowly dwindle away as his smile broadens, and he waves at you. You’re about to wave back, stifling a laugh, when Jungkook’s smile dies, and even in the distance you can see him clenching his jaw.

You only understand why when Hoseok stops next to you, draping his arm over your shoulder.

“Hey girls,” he says, and he pulls you in a little closer. 

You don’t look away from Jungkook as you give Hoseok a half-assed hug, before stepping away from him. Yet Jungkook doesn’t seem relieved, doesn’t seem happy…

Does he care?

You’d ask him. You would ask him what he thought about the last few days, but then again you reckon you shouldn’t. Because he’s your brother’s best friend, but also because he’s your roommate. You can’t afford things growing awkward between you and him, not when you don’t feel like moving to the dorms.

You’d rather keep your apartment, thank you very much.

Hoseok explains that he was on his way back to the study room from filling his water bottle, and Ria and he fall into conversation as he leads you two to where Yoongi is already sitting. Yoongi offers you a curt nod, but he doesn’t smile or say anything, going right back to what he was doing.

He’s got headphones on, and you assume he’s mixing something for a production class from the sight of the screen of his laptop. You end up sitting next to him, as Ria claims the spot next to Hoseok, which you don’t mind all that much.

You think you’ve had enough of men for today, even though Hoseok didn’t do anything wrong.  

So studying it is.

*****

It’s late when you finally decide to head home, figuring you’re done cramming information for your midterm. You’re starting to get a headache, so you decline your friends’ invitation to grab a drink before heading home, and you make your way home alone, hands hidden deep in the pockets of your coat, searching for a small hint of warmth. 

Needless to say, they don’t find any, and you get home feeling like you’ve turned into an icicle. To your surprise, Jungkook is sitting on the couch when you get there, and from the shoes by the door, you understand that Jimin is here too.

You didn’t even notice Jungkook leaving the library. But then again, his shift probably ended a few hours ago, so it makes sense that he came home.

Are you a little disappointed that he didn’t even tell you? Maybe. Do you feel foolish for it?

Definitely.

“Done studying?” Jungkook asks, and he takes a sip from a beer. 

You nod, shrugging your shoulders. “I can’t retain any more information,” you joke half-heartedly. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

Jungkook smirks. He fucking smirks, and you want to punch him, yet you stay rooted to your spot. Even more so as he says, “Maybe I could help you with that.”

He’s a mystery. A real fucking mystery, and it’s driving you crazy. You glance towards the bathroom door, but you know the walls are too thin. You know you can’t admit that yes, Jungkook could help.

So you reply, “You wish, JK.”

He pulls at his piercing, his eyes trailing to the bathroom door, before nodding once, as if understanding that you can’t say more because Jimin is here.

“Want a beer?” he suggests.

And though you said no to your friends, though you should say no to Jungkook, the way his big doe eyes hold yours make you fold, and you nod your head. Jungkook smiles, and you think you see a hint of what you saw during the power outage, but it disappears like it was never there when Jimin opens the bathroom door.

“Hey, Y/n!” he greets you.

You begrudgingly look away from Jungkook. “Sup, Jimin.”

He motions towards the living room, and your eyes trail back to Jungkook. “Want to chill with us?”

“Just a beer,” you answer, and Jimin smiles brightly.

“Well then get out of your coat and go sit, I was heading to the kitchen already.”

You thank him, and you do as he says, shrugging off your coat and kicking off your boots. You hang your coat in the closet before walking to the living room. Jungkook is sitting in the middle of the couch, and you sit on his left, as far away as you possibly can. 

If he notices he doesn’t say, instead motioning to the neatly folded blanket on the coffee table that he’s undoubtedly brought from his room. 

“Feel free to grab this if you get cold,” he tells you, offering you a smile. 

You see the glint in his eyes. Not quite mischief, but recognition. Like he knows what the last days were, like maybe he did feel something as well. You gulp, unable to hold the weight of it, and your eyes drop to your lap.

“We should talk about…” you whisper, not finishing the sentence in fear of Jimin hearing.

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say. Because you feel Jungkook tense next to you, and you know his big eyes have probably narrowed as he frowns from your words. 

“What about it?” he asks, not bothering to lower his voice.

You shoot him a warning glance, and his lips tilt in a lazy smirk. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else, though you don’t have time to say something either as Jimin comes back from the kitchen, with a beer for you and one for himself in hand.

He gives you yours before sitting back next to Jungkook, and you find yourself watching an episode of an anime you don’t know, sipping on your beer, trying to pretend that you didn’t notice Jungkook shifting a little closer.

That you don’t notice how he pressed his thigh against yours, not once looking at you. It makes you feel far too warm, but you know it’s too late now for you to claim you’d rather head to bed than drink your beer. So you suffer through the episode, even as Jungkook slowly leans into you.

Jimin will notice. It’s all you can think of. When you’ve finally had enough and you scooch away from Jungkook, he throws you a confused look.

You just glare at him, and then resume your attention on the TV. It goes like that for the whole episode, and you’ve never been as thankful as you are right now about the fact that anime episodes are so short. Because as soon as the episode ends, Jungkook straightens, acting as if he wasn’t half sprawled on you.

Jimin doesn’t comment on it. But you know from his momentary slight frown that he noticed, and you can only hope it won’t reach Taehyung’s ears.

You’re as good as dead if it does.

“Well,” Jimin says, glancing at his phone. “I’ll need to go, Sera is waiting for me.”

“Sounds good,” Jungkook says. “Thanks for coming.”

You wave Jimin goodbye as he gets up from the couch, taking a sip of your half-empty beer. Jungkook walks him to the door, and when Jimin finally leaves, Jungkook turns around to look at you, leaning back against the door.

“So you wanted to talk?” he says, cocking his head to the side.

Your throat feels dry, so you take another sip of beer before nodding once. “Yeah.”

“I’m listening.”

You wonder if he’s told that to a lot of girls in the past. Jungkook is the type to run at the first sign of emotion from a girl. You know it, you’ve seen the results on campus. But he can’t really run from you when you share an apartment, can he?

“What should we do about Taehyung?” you ask, pulling at some dry skin on your bottom lip.

The space between you and Jungkook fills with something you’re not quite sure you like. It’s cold, bitter, and it tastes awfully like regret. Especially as Jungkook answers, “Nothing. We just pretend nothing happened, no?”

For that is the logical solution – you know it just as well as he, but for some reason, you don’t like it. Don’t like the way your heart clenches in your chest at the thought.

“Is that what you want?” you ask him.

He slides his hands in the pocket of his pants, shrugging. “Yeah. I don’t see why it would need to be a big deal.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you say. “I’m not trying to make it into a big deal.”

He lazily smirks. “Right.”

You shut your eyes in annoyance, slightly shaking your head. “No, for real,” you insist. “If you want us to just pretend that nothing happened, then we do that.”

“You awfully  sound like that’s not what you want.”

His tone has changed. It’s not playful anymore. It’s serious and you wonder, is that how Jungkook ends things with the girls he fucks? Pretending like he doesn’t care, like you’re just another name to add to the long list?

“I just don’t want things to get weird,” you choose to reply, though your first instinct is to agree with his statement. “Since we live together.”

“Don’t worry about it, peach,” Jungkook says, and he sounds more like his usual self now. “I won’t make things weird.”

You nod, meeting his gaze again. There’s a moment where it feels like the distance between you and him dwindled to nothing, like you’re about to fall into his big doe eyes. You think you spy sadness in those eyes, emotions hidden beneath a thick wall, but he blinks and it’s gone, and you’re back on the couch in a reality you’re not sure you like.

The distance feels grander somehow. Like, maybe the couch moved back. Like a crevice was formed, and you don’t know how to cross the distance anymore. But it’s safer here, safer not to admit to Jungkook that being with him made you feel something. Not only because of Taehyung, but because of Sam Hwang, and of your life before, and of all the little fucked up things in your head that make it so you just aren’t the type of person to date to begin with.

You’re not delusional enough to think Jungkook would want to date you anyway. You were just the forbidden prize, and now that Jungkook has had you, you’re pretty sure he’s just going to move on to the next.

The thought hurts, and you wonder if he sees it in your eyes. Because he’s still there by the door, carefully watching you as if his gaze can convey what words can’t.

But life doesn’t work that way, does it?

You blink, sliding your eyes away from him and down to the beer in your hands, and you take a long sip, letting the bitter taste chase away the aftertaste of the conversation. It doesn’t really do anything, but Jungkook decides to leave, wishing you good night with a half-smile over his shoulder.

When he’s disappeared into his room, you let out a long sigh, trying hard not to reminisce the blackout, and the moments you’d spent in his arms. 

Yet that night, when sleep evades you, you think about that first kiss. About the weight of the emotions, about the way he’d held you. And you feel like, maybe he blindsided you all along.

Maybe you were stupid to think Jeon Jungkook had a heart.

Friday, February 22nd

The bar is filled to the brim with drunk party-goers, and the music is loud enough you can’t hear your thoughts anymore.

“This is a frat party,” you state as Ria grins and nods her head to the beat.

She shrugs. “Who cares, you love frat parties.”

You chuckle, and your eyes slide to Nabi. “Are you sure you want to stay here?”

“Namjoon said they’re in the back,” Nabi replies, but you can tell she looks uncomfortable with the amount of people present. “I’ll tell him to come get us.”

You watch her as she types away on her phone, glancing towards Ria.

“What’s the plan tonight, baby?” she says mischievously when your gaze connects. “Hobi, or do you want someone else?”

Ever since Ria’s learned about Sam, she’s been pushing you towards Hoseok even more. Maybe because she wants you to forget, or maybe because she thinks Hoseok is what you want. And though sex is always good with him, you haven’t reached out since the power outage and the evening of studying you’d spent at the library with him and Yoongi.

He hasn’t reached out either, so you figure it’s all good.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “I’ll see where the night goes.”

Ria nods. “I desperately want to get fucked tonight.”

Nabi surprises you by bursting out laughing. “Saw Jeon Jungkook get in before we did, just go to him.”

You keep your features cool and composed as your gaze slides to Nabi, before going back to Ria. Ria watched the whole thing carefully, yet when you don’t say anything, she replies, “Honestly, I might. Shelly said he’s free to hit on now.”

Because of course Shelly had called dibs on Jungkook. Not that you knew, and not that you cared. You’ve never considered her a friend to begin with, and you’d be lying if you aren’t a little happy that Jungkook decided to stop seeing her after he had sex with you.

Even if you’re pretending nothing ever happened. And he’s good at that – barely even speaking to you except for the formalities, though he did tease you once about looking tired. 

You clench your jaw as the memory fills your mind, and you believe you can hear him say, ‘Need help with that’ all over again. Which, you reckon, you might. Because every night, like clockwork, Jungkook invades your thoughts, and you’re forced to relive the moments he’d breathed against your skin, fucking you like he had all the time in the world.

Maybe then he did. Maybe he even believed it, though he’s been good at pretending he didn’t. So have you. Or at least you hope so.

“Then my plan is to fuck him tonight,” Ria declares solemnly. “I want to know what all those girls are on about.”

You know. You know exactly what they’re on about, yet the jealousy feels like it’s searing through you as you do catch sight of Jungkook when you look away from your friends.

He’s looking this way. He’s leaning against the bar, a pretty long-haired girl next to him. His arm is behind her, and she’s tucked into his side, saying something you’re pretty sure he’s not listening to. Indeed, he doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away, his eyes burning on you. So you make a show of eyeing him up and down before looking away.

Do you feel a certain sort of satisfaction when you notice Hoseok heading this way, which means Jungkook will see you with him? Maybe. 

But you’d never admit that in a million years.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, leaning against you.

He reeks of alcohol, and you reckon you probably won’t have sex with him tonight. But when he goes in and presses a drunken kiss to your temple, you let him do it, eyes sliding back towards Jungkook.

Even in the distance you see how Jungkook clenches his jaw. He’s quick to compose himself though, features relaxing as he turns to the side, facing the pretty girl. She beams at his attention, and your nails dig into your palms as he pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek.

Ria and Nabi hug Hoseok in turn, and they both earn the same kiss you did. It makes you laugh, though Jungkook doesn’t see that, his attention fully on the girl. Hoseok tells you all to follow him, and then he leads you to the back of the bar, where you find Yoongi, Namjoon and Seokjin. Namjoon’s gaze immediately connects with Nabi’s, and he mouths an apology as he motions to his current position as an explanation as to why he couldn’t go get you and your friends by the door.

He’s stuck next to Yoongi, and you highly doubt Yoongi wanted to get up. Yet, you feel like you are intruding on the mute conversation between Nabi and Namjoon, so you look away, your eyes landing on Seokjin.

Seokjin is attractive. Handsome, in a simple, elegant way that only people born into money have. When he smiles at you, nodding his head once, you echo the gesture, though you let Ria slide into the booth so that she can sit next to him.

Because if there’s one thing that you know, it’s that Seokjin is right up her alley. And if that means she won’t go for Jungkook…

You don’t explore that thought further, instead sitting next to her. Yoongi begrudgingly gets up to let Nabi sit next to Namjoon, and Hoseok goes to the table next to yours to ask if he can borrow a chair. He comes back with one, sitting at the head of the table.

Conversation slowly starts around you, Seokjin and Ria speaking with Namjoon in front of them. Nabi is silent, but she listens intently. You can’t bring yourself to join in, instead meeting Hoseok’s gaze and smiling secretively.

His eyes dip to your lips, though they do not darken the way that they usually do, probably from the alcohol in his system. 

“How were midterms?” he asks, with that same slightly slurred speech he sported earlier.

“It was chill, but I’m glad they’re over now. You?”

He chuckles. “Got fucked in a couple of them, but I honestly don’t give a fuck.”

You snort, and before you can say anything, Yoongi chimes in, “Is that why I found you crying the other day?”

Hoseok turns a colour of red so deep you think it’d put a tomato to shame. “I did not!”

Yoongi snickers. “Right.” His eyes slide to you, and you think it’s the first time he’s ever regarded you with something other than animosity. Indeed, he’s got a playful light to his eyes, and you reckon he looks good like this.

You can understand why Ria tried to hit on him.

“He totally did,” Yoongi says, and then he lets out a small, pained sound from the kick Hoseok undoubtedly landed on his leg.

“I hate you, man.”

Yoongi winks, and you burst out laughing, slightly shaking your head. “Honestly, Hoba,” you say once your laugh has dimmed, “there’s nothing embarrassing about crying over your grades. I did it all the time when I was younger.”

“I wasn’t crying!” Hoseok insists.

You and Yoongi exchange a glance, before bursting out laughing again. Hoseok pouts, a frown clinging to his features. Though you don’t really feel bad, you still brush his thigh under the table, and he goes wholly still, his frown melting away.

“Anyway,” he says, clearing his throat. “You want anything to drink?”

You do. You’re thirsty for something to smooth the stress of midterms and Jeon Jungkook away. So you nod, smiling wickedly.

“Lead the way.”

Hoseok chuckles, and you end up taking everyone’s order before getting up to head to the bar behind Hoseok and Yoongi. You’re squeezed behind Yoongi, Hoseok on the other side of him, as you wait at the bar a few minutes later, eyes skimming over the array of alcohol on the wall. You’re planning to order a pitcher of sangria for you and the girls, and Yoongi and Hoseok are taking care of two pitchers of beer. They’re deep in conversation, and you just stand behind them awkwardly, unable to hear them over the sound of the music.

You don’t mind. You focus on your phone, trying to see if Taehyung has replied to the message you sent him earlier. It was late for him in Paris, so you’re not surprised to find he hasn’t, the message only showing delivered. You turn off your phone and slide it back in your purse, before stepping closer to the bar as Hoseok and Yoongi get what they ordered.

“Do you want us to wait for you?” Yoongi asks, taking you by surprise.

Since when is Yoongi friendly with you?

“No,” you answer, eyes darting to Hoseok who’s just smiling with his cheeks flushed red. “All good, I’ll meet you guys back at the table.”

They nod, and you slip past them to lean against the counter, trying to get the barman’s attention. He’s currently on the other side, serving a suspiciously familiar tattooed hand, and you feel like rolling your eyes as you realize Jungkook is clearly buying a drink for the pretty girl at his side.

You forget all about Jeon Jungkook when a certain Sam Hwang slides into your vision, leaning against the counter right in front of you.

You startle. Eyes going wide like a deer in headlights, heart rate picking up to an uncomfortable level. You don’t like that he still has a physical effect on you, and it only increases tenfold when he breaks into an easy smile.

“Y/n!” he says, as if there aren’t months between you, as if on that dreadful day in August, he didn’t just leave. “I thought it was you.”

You freeze. You don’t know what to reply, only look at him as if he’s a jack in the box that’s just exploded in your face. He takes it in stride, chuckling lightly in that gentle way of his that used to make you go crazy.

“How have you been?” he asks, features falling a little more serious, brows slightly scrunched as if your answer will be the most important thing he’ll hear all night.

“Why are you talking to me?” you blurt out, and he slightly widens his eyes as if in surprise.

“Should I not?” he replies, easily tilting his head to the side in that nonchalant way of his. His blond hair falls like a cascade, and you can’t help but averting your gaze to it.

“You don’t wear your hair in a ponytail anymore?”

You want to curse yourself for the stupidity of your question, but Sam’s always been nonchalant. Someone that goes with the flow, that likes the weird things in life. You think maybe that’s why he had been interested in you back then. 

Until he wasn’t.

“No, ponytails are cold in the winter,” he jokes. 

You can barely smile in answer. You wish you hadn’t told Yoongi and Hoseok to go back to the table, and you glance over your shoulder, hoping that they’d sense your unease and come back. They’re nowhere to be seen though, hidden by the crowd populating the bar.

“Are they?” you say, not a single ounce of joy in your tone.

Sam nods. “Yeah. But enough about that. How are you?”

“I’m okay,” you lie, because frankly standing in front of him like this is making you feel anything but okay. You don’t want him to know though, so you try to plaster an indifferent mask to your features.

You highly doubt it works. Because it never works with Sam Hwang.

“I’m glad,” he replies, smiling softly. He turns his head to the side, and you only then notice the barman has stopped next to you. “I’ll have a rum and coke and she’ll take…” he trails off as he looks at you. “A Soho cocktail?”

You blink once, not really believing that he remembers. That though you lasted all of seventeen days, he still remembers your favourite cocktail.

Needless to say, you haven’t drank any since he walked away that night.

“A pitcher of red sangria and three glasses,” you say, looking at the barman. “Please.”

The barman nods once, and then busies himself with making the cocktails. You try your best not to look at Sam, but his piercing gaze lingers on you, and you can’t help but glance his way.

“You don’t drink Soho anymore?”

“This is not a Japanese inspired bar,” you say, trying to avoid the truth. “Highly doubt he’d know how to make a good cocktail with it.”

You know Sam can tell you’re lying, but he shrugs it off. “Oh well. How’s the bio major going?”

You purse your lips, gulping once. Because why does he remember so much? He’d made it pretty clear that he didn’t care… did he?

“It’s not too bad,” you answer. “You? The college experience is up to your expectations?”

If he hears the bite in your voice, he doesn’t care. Instead, he chuckles lightly, shaking his head, before saying, “I really was an ass last summer. I’m sorry.”

It’s like the world stops turning. Like you’re taken back to the warm summer evening, to the docks and the group of friends you hadn’t seen once after that night. You still feel the warm breeze, still can smell the salt in the air, and you almost believe you can hear the waves.

“What?” is all you manage to get out.

He laughs, like it’s the best joke you’ve ever said in your entire life. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. I was a dick.”

“Honestly,” you say, feeling your heart constricting in your chest, “I don’t want to be talking to you right now.”

He furrows his brow. “Oh, come on, Y/n. It’s water under the bridge.”

But it’s not. Because that night he left you alone, and you were far from home not knowing how you’d get back. You’re lucky nothing bad happened – one of the dock workers happened to be your mother’s ex, and he drove you home telling you that the docks weren’t a playground and that you shouldn’t be hanging around there.

You didn’t have the courage to tell him that you had been with friends and had gotten dumped out of the blue.

“Is it though?” you answer, and venom starts to sip into your tone. “You left me alone that night.”

“I know,” he says. “And I’m sorry about it.”

“So, did you get the college experience?” you ask, crossing your arms on your chest. 

Sam scoffs, looking up to the ceiling as if searching for salvation. “Come on, don’t be petty.” He looks back at you, that same insufferable smile on his lips, and he shrugs. “Not really. I realized that none of them compared to you.”

You think the sun has flared and the consequential magnetic storm has fried Sam’s neurons. Because it doesn’t make sense. After months it doesn’t make sense, and you don’t want it. Yet it makes you freeze, and you remember the texts you’d sent him. You remember calling him, even showing up at his job because you wanted to apologize. You remember the embarrassment of his coworkers laughing at you, remember leaving and promising yourself you’d never chase after a man again.

To this day, you’ve held up to your promise.

But his words send you tumbling down a steep slope, and you think you’ll splatter on the rocks at the bottom. Your heart hurts so much it’s hard to breathe, and you wish you could grab a glass on the counter and throw it at his pretty face.

The violent instinct makes you recoil, and you take a step back, only to bump into someone.

“Hey, everything okay here?” Jungkook says, his familiar voice like a safe haven. 

You glance over your shoulder, and at the look on your features, he immediately steps even closer to you, mindlessly wrapping an arm around your waist. 

It’s worth the shocked expression on Sam’s features. His eyes dip to Jungkook’s hand, now resting on your hip, before looking back up to your features. His eyes widen, and he barks out a short, bitter laugh that resembles nothing of his usual cool charm.

“You’re fucking your brother’s friend?” Sam says, and his words hit like darts straight on the board, though the board is your heart. He hits bull's eye, and you immediately push Jungkook off of you.

“I am not,” you reply. “Maybe he just tried to step in because you can’t fucking take a clue, can you?”

Sam seems so startled by your words that he falls silent, mouth wide open. He looks like a fish, a stupid fish, and you wonder how you managed to actually love him once.

“Excuse me?” he finally says.

“You heard the lady,” Jungkook jumps in. “Fuck off.”

“I don’t fucking need your help,” you throw towards Jungkook.

You feel bad. You feel bad the minute the words are out, especially as you watch Jungkook’s features crumbling into a frown. You hold his gaze, slightly shaking your head as if to say ‘Please understand that this is nothing against you’. You’re not sure he understands, and before he’s able to say anything else, the pretty girl who was with him earlier appears, pulling on his arm.

Sam laughs bitterly, all at your expense, as the girl pulls Jungkook away, saying something about how she’s been waiting for him. Jungkook looks like he wants to resist, to stay by your side, but the look on your face does the deed, and he turns away from you, heading to wherever the girl is bringing him.

From what it seems, they’re heading to the bathroom, and it makes you feel like you’re going to be sick, like you might need to run outside to breathe in some air.

“You know,” Sam says, attracting your attention. “I was right when I dumped you last summer. You’re fucking crazy.”

He leaves without another single word, not even waiting for his drink to be ready. You just stand there, stunned, only shaking out of it when the barman says something next to you.

“Oh,” you let out as you glance towards him. He’s put down Sam’s drink and the pitcher of sangria on the bar, and you don’t know what to do for a few seconds, blinking back tears. “Uh, I’ll pay for everything, but I won’t need the rum and coke.”

You assume the barman has seen the entire altercation as he shrugs. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll keep it for myself, no need to pay.”

You offer him a tight-lipped smile, and you pay for the sangria before stacking the three glasses, leaning them against your chest to make sure you won’t drop them on the walk back to the table with your friends. You’re lucky – the trek back to the table is uneventful, and you put the pitcher and the glasses down amidst your friends’ chatter.

Nabi glances at you once before saying, “What’s wrong?”

Maybe you didn’t realize your eyes were filling with tears. But they sure are, and you furiously blink away, plopping down next to Ria.

“Nothing.”

Nabi furrows her brows, right as everyone’s focus slides to you. The embarrassment of suddenly being the center of attention thankfully pushes your tears away, and you shrug once, taking a deep breath.

“Just some asshole at the bar,” you vaguely explain at everyone’s curious expression.

But it wasn’t just some asshole. There was Jungkook too, and you know you owe him an apology. Yet you don’t know how to apologize to him. Not when the grounds between the two of you are so uncertain, like one wrong move will send you straight to the bottommost pit of the ocean. 

“If you tell me it’s that dude from the café I will go feral,” Ria grumbles next to you.

Right. She knows about Sam.

“As much as I’d love to see you going feral,” you tease, “let’s just drink.”

“So it was him?”

You purse your lips, refusing to answer, as the boys all intently listen to the conversation. 

“It was who?” Nabi asks, looking confused.

You’d assumed Ria would have filed her in, but it seems she hasn’t, for Nabi clearly doesn’t know about Sam Hwang. Not that Ria knows a lot to begin with.

“Someone from her hometown,” Ria mimics in her best impression of you, which only makes you snort.

“Let’s just drink,” you insist, and you immediately busy yourself with pouring the three glasses.

Your friends look like they want to press you for further explanation – especially Hoseok – but no one says anything. It’s a little awkward, but the moment you clink your glasses together, the weirdness fades away, replaced by a will to revel like only college kids revel.

And so you do. You lose track of the amount of alcohol you’re drinking, taking shots after shots after shots with Ria, while Nabi cheers on you standing right next to Namjoon. Namjoon, who stands just a tad too close to Nabi for it to be casual. You’d make jokes about it, but Ria drags you away, and you find yourself squeezed on the dancefloor, letting Ria grind on you as people look your way.

You don’t care. You can’t bring yourself to care when you’ve drank so much, when all there is is the music and the lights and the throng of bodies that endlessly moves like countless waves on the ocean, the pull and push of the moon inevitable. At low tide, when the crowd disperses in the night, you find yourself blinking, realizing that Ria is not with you anymore.

As a matter of fact, you suddenly can’t see any of your friends, and if it wasn’t for the alcohol in your bloodstream, you’d be worried. Instead, you pull out your phone from your purse, furrowing your brows at it.

[00:56 am] JK: what’s ur problem lol

You stare at the text, not knowing what to reply. Not trusting your drunken fingers to convey a good enough apology. So you ignore it, instead aiming for the group chat. 

[02:54 am] You: wher arr u

You press send, uncaring for the typos, trusting your friends to be able to decipher. To your luck, Hoseok immediately shoots you an answer.

[02:54 am] Hobi: I’m outside with yoongi, idk about the others

And so you make your way outside, stopping at the coat check to grab your coat. While you put it on, a too-familiar blond guy, along with two friends you recognize from last summer, arrives and Sam shoots you a look, lips slightly curling in disgust.

You frown, and unable to resist, you close the space between the two of you, pulling on his arm.

“What’s your fucking problem?” you tell him as he turns towards you.

“What do you want?” he fires back.

You feel your throat closing up, yet you can’t stop. Not when old emotions resurface, though you reckon they aren’t all that old to begin with. “Why did you leave me alone at the docks?”

He freezes for a few heartbeats. Long enough for his friends to retrieve their coats, and then they turn to look at you. The redhead you recognize for being there that night, yet you don’t direct the question at him. Not even as he sneers at the sight of you, as if you’re just some disgusting trash.

“Y/n,” Sam lets out, and you tell yourself that he sounds apologetic. 

Otherwise you don’t think you’ll make it. Not when you loved him like you did, like only a heart that’s never been broken can.

“Why though?” you press him. “It was dangerous. I could have gotten hurt.”

Sam purses his lips in a thin line, shrugging. “Was it though? You seem perfectly fine.”

You blink away tears, and in a surprising moment of memories of you and him, Sam truly does look apologetic.

“I was in love with you,” you whisper, alcohol forbidding you from preserving any ounce of dignity.

Sam glances over his shoulder. His friends seem to get the cue, because they disappear, heading outside. “Listen, I know,” he says. “I was a dick. That’s why I approached you earlier, but you weren’t really looking to speak to me.”

You take a deep breath, nodding once. “You took me by surprise.”

“Do you want to grab coffee soon?” he suggests.

You’re a fool. A drunken fool, because you say yes. You say yes and to text you whenever, and Sam promises he will, before leaving you alone, like he’d done once all those months ago. But when he leaves, you notice Hoseok by the door, close enough to have heard the conversation.

Your eyes are still brimmed with tears, and Hoseok offers you a tight-lipped smile. 

“Everything okay?”

And because this is Hoseok, because he’s already been in the aftermath of what Sam was to you, you shake your head no, unable to keep the tears from rolling down your cheeks.

“Let’s get you home,” Hoseok gently says as he crosses the distance between you and him, gently pulling you into a hug.

He rubs your back as you sob into his chest, gently rocking you from side to side. Or maybe it’s the alcohol, and the ground feels like it’s tilting under you. But Hoseok doesn’t let you go, and he lets you cry in his arms until the bouncer tells you you have to go out.

You do, eyes undoubtedly red and stained with your runny makeup, yet you don’t care. You really are drunk, and you think maybe you won’t even remember all of this tomorrow.

“You think we can drop her at her apartment?” Hoseok says, and you offer him a confused look, only to realize that he’s speaking to Yoongi, who seems like he’s been waiting outside this whole time.

“She can hit the couch,” Yoongi suggests, shrugging. “I don’t think the Uber driver will be down for the detour.”

And even if you don’t say yes or no, it’s still what you end up doing. You go home with Hoseok and Yoongi, and Hoseok holds your hand while rubbing soothing circles on the back of it. You’re not crying anymore, instead feeling empty and oh so tired. Hoseok helps you out of your coat once you’re in his apartment, and Yoongi goes to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water.

He meets you and Hoseok in the living room, where Hoseok pulled you after you finished removing your coat.

“Here,” Yoongi says, offering you the glass.

You thank him with a slight bow of your head, grabbing the water and downing it in one shot. Hoseok and Yoongi chuckle lightly at the sight, and then Yoongi plops down on the couch next to Hoseok.

Maybe you’re a little too drunk to notice Hoseok leaning into Yoongi, and Yoongi draping an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder. Maybe you’re a little too gone to realize you’re sitting alone on your side of the couch now, but you don’t care.

“Who was that guy?” Hoseok gently asks.

You take a deep breath and then launch into the story. You spare them no details – you reveal everything about how you’d met through friends from high school, most of them not having followed you here to college. You’d met at a party, had a love-at-first-sight moment, and you’d spent the following seventeen days glued to his side. You tell them about the docks, about what he’d told you, and about the way he’d left you there, with no way to go home. Hoseok bristles as you tell them, but he stays silent as you continue, admitting that you said yes to grabbing coffee with him.

“No way you’re going on a date with him,” Hoseok says, and he surprisingly sounds offended.

“I don’t know,” is what you reply.

“Y/n, that guy is an asshole,” Yoongi intervenes before Hoseok can say anything else. He tightens his arm around Hoseok, and you furrow your brows. “You deserve better than that.”

You look at Hoseok, before sliding your gaze to Yoongi, and then back to Hoseok. And then, even though your brain is foggy and you’re confused, and nothing seems to be making any sense, you blurt, “Is something going on between the two of you?”

Hoseok startles, sitting up from where he was leaning against Yoongi. He flushes deep red, and Yoongi lets out a low chuckle. You’re not surprised when Yoongi says, “So what if yes?”

You meet Hoseok’s gaze. He looks apologetic, like he’s somehow doing something wrong, but you start laughing. Maybe it’s an anxious laugh, like a ‘what the fuck is this evening’ kind of laugh, but you still laugh, and Hoseok just looks at you like you’ve grown horns or something.

“I’m going to need an explanation,” you say once your laughter subsides. “Not that I’m not cool with it.”

“See,” Yoongi says. “I told you it would be okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” you add. “I am actually so relieved.”

“Relieved?” Hoseok lets out.

You shrug. “I didn’t want to hurt you more,” you admit. 

And it’s true. You think, the moment you slept with Jungkook, you knew you’d never have sex with Hoseok again. Not that you didn’t like it, but Jungkook is Jungkook, and you reckon you’ll need a moment before you can fuck someone other than him.

“You weren’t hurting me,” Hoseok says, and he looks down at his hands in his lap. “Maybe in November, yeah. But not this time around.”

“I made sure of it,” Yoongi offers as an explanation. 

You slightly shake your head. “Wait, wait, wait. What happened?”

“Power outage,” Hoseok offers as an explanation, and he’s still so red you think he’ll burst into flames. 

You almost blurt out ‘same’, yet you keep it down at the last second. Maybe because you’re sobering up, or because the subject is sobering you up. Maybe because there’s something just so strange about Yoongi and Hoseok together, especially after you’ve been with Hoseok too. But then again, if he’s happy, then you’ll be happy for him.

Realization hits you a second before you say, “Is that why you haven’t been a dick to me anymore?”

Yoongi bursts out laughing. You’ve never heard him laughing like this, and there’s something so cute about it that you get it.

You get why Hoseok would be into him. And you also get why Ria wasn’t able to ask Yoongi out – he’s been into Hoseok all along.

“Maybe,” Yoongi says, shrugging. “Honestly… I was jealous of you for a while.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Dude, I thought you hated me.”

“I did a little,” he admits sheepishly. “But not anymore.”

“Can you guys stop?” Hoseok bursts, and he hides his face in his hands. “Fuck, this is so awkward.”

You laugh along with Yoongi, leaning forward to pat him on the shoulder. “Sorry, I guess as people that both fucked you, we immediately get along well.”

“That’s crass,” Hoseok whines, while Yoongi just keeps on laughing behind him, though his cheeks have turned pink.

“But it’s true!”

Hoseok shakes his head, and then finally looks up to you. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

The sudden seriousness makes you rein in the joking tone, and you offer him a small smile. You hope it’s as genuine as you feel, though with you being drunk, you wouldn’t be surprised if you just look dumb.

“Of course I’m okay with it,” you reassure him. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He tentatively smiles, nodding once. “We are.”

And maybe you’re just relieved they offered a change of subject from Sam Hwang. Especially as Hoseok glances towards Yoongi, his eyes probably conveying unsaid words because Yoongi gets up, wishing you good night. 

You watch him go, and once he’s out of sight, you turn your head back towards Hoseok.

“How did it happen?” you ask with a small voice.

“We got a little drunk on Valentine’s Day,” he says, shrugging, his cheeks still deep red. “I think I said something about you…” His eyes trail to the screen of the TV in front of you, and it reflects you and him like a black mirror. “Yoongi confessed. Said he’s tired of watching me get hurt. I was drunk and I kissed him.”

It reminds you of Jungkook. Of the way he’d gazed at you the instant before he’d kissed you. The weight of the emotions in his eyes had been too much to bear, and you wonder if everything was just a mistake anyway.

“And?” you press, trying to avoid thoughts of Jeon Jungkook and Sam Hwang, though you know it’s useless. 

They’ll come haunt you as soon as you’ll close your eyes tonight.

“And then…” He chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah. It was my first time with a guy. I didn’t even think I could be attracted to men.”

You smile wisely. “College is all about trying new things and discovering new things about yourself.”

“Amen,” he echoes, and you share a short laugh. Once it subsides, Hoseok leans back into the couch, turning to look at you. “Be completely honest with me though. Are you really okay with this?”

You nod, your lips gently curving upwards. “Of course, Hobi. If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.”

He sighs in relief, and it seems like a weight has been taken off his shoulders. “I’m happy. I never saw it coming, but the last few days have been great.” He pauses for a few seconds, letting out a small laugh that’s only meant for himself, and maybe Yoongi if he was still here. “It’s still early to tell where this will head, and we don’t plan to tell anyone before we’re sure of it but… I figured you at least needed to know. Considering our history.”

You nod. “Makes sense. I promise my lips are sealed.”

“Thank you.”

The following silence is broken up by a yawn, and you hide your mouth behind your hand as to not look like a fish out of water. Once you’ve blinked a few tired tears away, you say, “Does that mean I can sleep in your bed and you share one with Yoongi?”

Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, smirking playfully. “Wouldn’t you like it?”

You cock an eyebrow, snorting. “Are you not sharing a bed?”

“Not yet,” Hoseok admits. “We’re really trying to take things slow.”

And it would make sense. Especially for Hoseok, you reckon.

“Fair enough. I’ll miserably sleep on the couch then.”

He laughs, pushing you playfully. “I’ll have you know this couch is really comfortable.”

“Will you at least give me a blanket?” you ask, pouting and bashing your eyelashes, trying your best to look like a begging puppy.

“Stop,” he says, laughing again. “Yeah, I’ll get you a blanket.”

You thank him as he gets up, heading to his room to grab something for you. He comes back with a sweater and a blanket, offering you both without saying anything.

“Sweater?” you ask, unable to form a full sentence.

“If you want to change out of your clothes.”

Ah. Makes sense.

“Thank you,” you say. 

He nods, smiling softly, and then turns around to head back to his room. Before he’s out of the living room, he turns back around, meeting your gaze.

“What about you though?” he asks.

You furrow your brow quizzically. “What?”

“What happened during the power outage?” he specifies. “You just disappeared.”

You keep your features as blank as your drunken ass possibly can when you reply, “Nothing happened. Just didn’t bother to charge my phone.”

“I saw how Jungkook looked at you at the library last Sunday,” Hoseok says. “You can’t tell me nothing happened.”

And maybe because this is Hoseok, maybe because you think he’s becoming the closest friend you have, you reply, “I don’t think it really matters if something happened.”

“Why?” he asks, leaning against the wall as his hands disappear in the pockets of his pants. 

“He’s Tae’s best friend,” you explain, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s not like I have any future with him.”

“Right.” Hoseok purses his lips, holding your gaze as you let him read the truth in your eyes. “The only thing I have to say is, please be careful. Jungkook doesn’t really have a good reputation.”

You gulp around a sudden lump in your throat. “Fuck, I know. I’m a mess.”

“You aren’t,” Hoseok reassures you. “You said it yourself, college is all about trying new things. Some of the things won’t necessarily work out, and that’s okay. Just try not to put yourself into situations where you’ll only get hurt.”

“Jungkook wouldn’t hurt me,” you say, quick to defend him even though you know he totally would. Even though he already did, when he asked you to pretend like nothing happened.

“Maybe.” Hoseok wets his lips, scrunching up his nose a little. “Or that Sam guy would.”

The reminder of Sam Hwang makes you hide your face in your hands as you groan. “I really am a fucking mess.”

“Don’t go out with him,” Hoseok says. “I’m sure there are plenty of other guys out there that would like to go out with you. Don’t settle for someone who’s already treated you like shit in the past.”

“So, don’t go for Sam or Jungkook, is that so?” you say, laughing awkwardly.

Hoseok frowns. “Don’t. Or do. I’m not your mom. But as a friend, I’d say you deserve better.”

“We’ll see,” you say after a few seconds of silence. “Thanks, Hobi.”

And you mean it. Because you know he cares, even though you might only be a friend now.

“Of course,” he says. “And I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

He looks behind his shoulder, towards what you assume is the door to Yoongi’s room. “About me and Yoongi. About the fact that it happened on the day we were supposed to go on a date.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you reassure him again. “It’s really okay.”

He nods once, before pushing up from the wall. “Good. Yeah. I guess I’ll head to bed, then.”

There’s awkwardness in the air. Maybe because a little over a week ago you would have gone to bed with him, would have gotten your guts rearranged by him. But somehow you don’t feel any ounce of disappointment or regret at the thought that it’s done. Maybe because he truly has become a friend, and you reckon you need friends more than you need to get fucked.

“Good night, Hobi,” you say, offering him a small smile.

“Good night,” he echoes, and then he disappears into his room.

Once you’re alone, you quickly change into his sweater, wrapping yourself up in the blanket. You realize you don’t have a pillow, but you figure it’ll be okay, not wanting to bother Hoseok or Yoongi right now. So you lie on your back, looking up at the ceiling, frowning slightly.

Right. You forgot to turn off the light. You get up to do so, and once you’re lying back down, you grab your phone from your purse. You’ve gotten a few more texts in the group chat, from Ria saying that she told you she was leaving and you’d said it was okay. You frankly don’t remember, but maybe that’s because you had been too busy dancing with a group of girls that had welcomed you in their ranks as if you weren’t just a stranger.

It doesn’t really matter. What matters is the text that Jungkook sent you, and with a sigh, you click on it again. The conversation thread opens, and you scroll up, just to see that the last thing he texted you was something about getting gochujang sauce for him at the grocery store one of the rare times that you went. That text dates back to December, and the text before that was about him asking to go pick him and Taehyung up at a party in early October because Taehyung was too drunk for an Uber ride.

Taehyung had ended up throwing up in your backseat, and you made him clean three times before you’d forgiven him.

You reread Jungkook’s latest text. And you wonder, what was your problem? Why were you so inclined to bite at him, too, when he was just trying to help? It’s a haunting question, and you can’t bring yourself to apologize yet. 

You tell yourself you’d rather do it in person, but as you try to sleep later, the real reason taunts you, haunts you, forcing you to lie awake late in the night.

You’re just too much of a coward to face Jeon Jungkook.

Prev | Chapter 5.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

What did we think of this one? I don't think a lot of people expected that yoongi x hobi twist hahaha I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think:)

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 4

Shoutout to @bloomingconflagration for the title!!! And a HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments or gave suggestions!! I love you all you amazing, silly humans <3 <3 

There comes a time during a long work shift were your average overworked and underpaid employee starts to think they’re hallucinating. 

In Gareth’s case, it was when Steve Harrington walked through the doors of Palace Arcade, making a beeline right for him. 

“Gareth?” Steve asked, like he was the one out of place. “What are you doing here?” 

As if people just randomly stood behind the counter of retail and entertainment spaces with a nametag on. 

You know, for fun.

With a great deal of restraint, Gareth managed to hold the sass back, instead opting for a far more polite; ‘I work here, Harrington. What are you doing here?” 

Because no matter how much Hellfire had adopted Steve into its fold, Gareth could just not see the guy choosing to spend his free time at the local arcade. 

Not of his own free will, anyway. 

“Pick up duty.” Steve said, proving him right not even a second later. 

“Of what?” Gareth asked, puzzled, right before Steve’s name was shouted in stereo.

A miniature stampede took place as several children proceeded to swarm him like oversized puppies, most of them trying to talk at once. 

“One at a time, we talked about this!” Steve barked, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “You’re giving me and Gareth here a headache!” 

He waved his hands in a “calm down” gesture, shaking his head and looking at Gareth in exasperation. “Probably giving the people in the video store next door one too, lord.”  

“Wait.” A curly-haired kid said, looking between the two older teens like he was watching the laws of the universe rewrite themselves in front of him. “You know Gary? How?”

“We are not close enough for you to call me Gary.” Gareth said dryly, for what felt like the fifteenth time that day. 

This was a regular battle between him and the kids who haunted the arcade.

(One had overheard Grant call him Gary the last time he was in, and ever since, every single child that graced this fine establishment with Cheeto-dusted fingers and candy-induced sugar rushes had decided to replace his actual name with his nickname.

The fact it clearly frustrated him only egged them on. )

“We go to school together Dustin,” Steve said, as if he were talking to someone particularly dense. 

“Yeah? You go to school with lots of people. You bitch about most of them.” Dustin fired back.”Plus Gary’s a total nerd. I bet you call him names.” 

"Hey, language!" 

Gareth’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the little fucker. He was definitely going to remember Dustin (and equally going to watch and see what arcade games the younger teen played-- and top the score chart of every single fucking one.

He might be a nerd but he wasn’t gonna take that shit from a middle schooler.) 

“Hate to break it to you brats, but your babysitter here just joined our D&D club.” Gareth replied, if only to finally one-up the little bastards. “Our DM is building him a character as we speak.” 

(Which wasn't even a lie. Eddie was building a character for Steve. The guy just refused to give any input on grounds that he "wasn't going to play anyways." )

Abrupt and sudden silence, as several stunned faces stared at him. 

“Oh goddammit.” Harrington cursed, as the entire herd of children turned on him in unison like some kind of hivemind horror monster. 

“You joined the D&D club,” Dustin said slowly, outraged. “And you let them make you a character sheet, but you won’t play with us!?” 

“What the hell Steve!” The sporty-looking one whined, clearly hurt. “You won’t sit in on our games! You said they were lame!” 

“They are lame.” Steve defended immediately, pushing at sporty-kids head. It was fond though, the kind of gentle shove an elder brother gave to a younger one. It caused the kid's camo banana to fall into his eyes, which he adjusted quickly with a grumble. “Turns out the high school version’s cooler.” 

“He’s lying.” That from the bitchy one, whose arms were crossed over his chest, a glare on his face. “Steve probably paid Gary to say that” 

Gareth had seen that exact same stance on Steve at lunch that day, and wondered if the little asshole knew who he was copying when he did it. 

“Who cares about D&D?” This from the redhead, standing with another girl giggling in her ear. “I’m just amazed Steve has friends.” 

“Really Mayfield?” Steve said, looking almost betrayed. As if he thought she was going to be the one to defend him in this weird little showdown.

The girl leaning on her giggled harder, making Mayfield grin (even if she tried to hide it.)  She whispered something, which the redhead outright laughed at before repeating; “Adult friends even!” 

“Okay.” Steve said, clearly cutting the kids off before they could embarrass him further. “Thank you, unwanted peanut gallery, for all of that lovely commentary. Now go back to playing the games you little shits robbed me of all my quarters for, or we’re leaving.” 

Henderson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were here to pick us up?” 

“Oh I’m sorry, did Jonathan magically appear behind me in the last five seconds?” Steve turned around pretending to search the parking lot through the windows. “No? Then I guess we’re still waiting. Unless you, Lucas and Max want to leave first.” 

“You’re such an ass.” Dustin huffed, rolling his eyes. “Why aren’t you waiting in the car anyway?” 

“It’s raining, it’s cold, and I thought I’d come in to say hi to my friend.” Steve replied, so quickly it took Gareth a moment to realize what Steve referred to him as. 

He'd gotten the friend title before Eddie. 

His best friend was going to fucking freak. 

“Are you done drilling me or are you going to let Max kick your ass at DigDug again?” 

“Shit!” Henderson cursed, spinning to intercept the redhead as she bent to put a coin in said arcade machine. “Max, you said you’d let me keep my leaderboard score today! Max!” 

“I know you said you watched kids, but this wasn’t exactly what I was imagining.” Gareth said, slumping against the counter.  

(He'd been thinking of Steve watching much younger kids for one, and two, he was starting to get the idea the babysitter thing was used as an insult. 

Gareth knew a big brother vibe when he saw it.) 

Steve gave him a tired look. “Me neither man. Me neither.”

 Then; “You fucking owe me for that D&D comment, they’re never going to shut up about it now.”

Gareth winced. “Sorry. I was trying to help.” 

Steve blew out a breath. “I know. I appreciate the attempt.” 

Which was better than Steve bitching at him for it, not that he’d really ever done that to Gareth. 

The two of them hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to be playful like that with each other, though they had occasionally jumped in on opposing sides to arguments Eddie caused. Gareth figured they’d get there in time, but even with all the progress Steve made, he still had more off days than on. 

It was a fragile line to walk with him. Especially when there wasn’t a single member of Hellfire who wanted to ruin the progress they made. 

(Even if half of them would never admit to it.) 

“Steve?” A voice interrupted, quiet in a way that contrasted directly with how loud the rest of the brat pack was. 

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand as if to starve off a headache. 

“Yes, Baby Byers?” He asked after a long, painful pause, turning to look at the saddest looking kid in the bunch. 

“Is there actually a D&D club at the high school?” 

The kid looked at Steve like he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer, but was hopeful for the outcome he wanted anyway. 

It was the kind of thing that pulled even on Gareth’s heartstrings, and he was almost immune to anything involving giant, sad eyes after a solid year of working at the arcade. 

(Never mind Eddie’s own puppy dog looks.)

Steve’s voice gentled, in a way Gareth had never quite heard him use before. “There is. You’d love it, it’s called Hellfire. I’m sure it’ll still be there next year when you come in as a freshman.” 

He nudged him with his shoulder playfully, smiling when the younger boy perked up. “If you’re nice, Garebear here might even put in a good word for you.” 

“Garebear?” Max repeated with a burst of laughter, appearing behind Steve like a fucking ghost. “Oh my god.” 

“No.” Gareth said, bolting upright from his slouch as he stared at her in horror. “Do not call me that.” 

“Sure thing, Garebear.” She outright cackled, as Steve sent him a wide-eyed, apologetic face. 

“What did you just call Gary?” The sporty one--Lucas, asked, a wide grin overtaking his face. 

“I swear to God.” Gareth threatened, as Steve took another dramatic look over his shoulder. 

“Hey look Jonathan’s here!” He yelled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he started quickly walking backwards. “Come on, dipshits, we're leaving!” 

“Bye Garebear!” Lucas and Max sang together, following after him. 

“Harrington!” Gareth howled, as Steve mouthed ‘Sorry’ over his shoulder, all but bolting out the door. 

“I like Garebear a lot better than Gary.” Another, random child informed him with a grin as he sauntered past, arcade tickets in hand. 

Steve Harrington, Gareth decided, was a dead man. 

Not even Eddie’s fucking crush on the guy could save him now. 

xXx

“Did you know Harrington has a literal pack of kids he watches?” Gareth asked a few hours later, messing with his drum kit as he set up for band practice. "He even drives them around." 

More than that though--he’d seemed almost normal around them. That was the most Gareth had seen the guy banter or act relaxed since Eddie had dragged him over. 

“He’s mentioned it multiple times.” Grant replied, tuning his bass. “You have ears Gareth, use them.” 

“Gareth? Listen?” Jeff teased as he dragged an amp into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.” 

"Oh screw you guys.” Gareth growled, winging a drumstick toward his friends for the insult.

Grant, long used to Gareth's tantrums (and Eddie's dramatics)  didn't look up from his bass.

Not even when the drumstick hit the wall with a bang!-- allll the way near the opposite end of the couch, entirely opposite of either him or Jeff. 

"As usual, your aim is dead on." Jeff appraised sarcastically. 

"Like I'd ever actually hit you." Gareth grumbled with a pout. "I was gonna say the kids are older than I expected."

He reached down, blindly fishing for another drumstick from the bucket of them next to his kit. 

He came up empty. 

"Hey Grantman." Gareth asked, tone changing to something mildly embarrassed. "Could I uh, could I get the drumstick back?" 

He got a flat stare back. "No." 

"What did I do to get stuck with such dramatic friends?" Jeff joked as he began moving all the amps he’d pulled in back into their usual places. 

They hadn't had time to unload anything other than the drums after their last show and the regret was real. 

"Eddie’s been standing on tables since seventh grade, you knew what you were getting into." Gareth fired back, making grabby hands for his drumstick. 

"And you never grew out of being that dorky middle schooler who snuck into Hellfire games and screamed we were all going to die every time anyone made a bad play." Jeff shot back. "Yet here I am, once again wondering if I should just permanently confiscate Eddie's snacks, your drumsticks, and now Harrington's fricken spatula." 

"One year. I am one year younger than you and you act like it's an entire century!" Gareth muttered, as Grant relented and leaned over to fetch said drumstick. 

"We all know Eddie chucks food at people, but what'd Steve do with a spatula?"  Grant asked as he tossed it back to Gareth.

He missed and nearly took out a cymbal in the process. 

"He had a snit while we were making chocolate roulade cause it wouldn’t roll right. Flung the spatula around so much it splattered whip cream on his ceiling." Jeff shook his head as he finished hooking an amp up to his guitar. "I had to rescue it from him." 

"His ceiling?" Gareth said in disbelief. "Wait, you were in Harrington’s kitchen?" 

"Yeah?" Jeff looked up to find his friends staring at him. 

Grant blinked. "The fuck?" 

“Can we just play?” Jeff complained, just as embarrassed as Gareth had been.

“No.” Gareth said, retrieved drumstick nearly falling from his hands in shock. “You don’t get to casually drop that you went to Harrington’s house to help him bake and then try to get us to play right after!” 

Jeff, who had done exactly that, blushed, skin darkening as he fiddled with his guitar.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” He said finally with a shrug, as if this was something he did all the time and not the groundbreaking revelation that it was.

“Did you meet his parents?” Grant said, sitting up from the couch. “What did his house look like?”

Jeff finally gave up the pretense of playing his instrument.

“I didn't, and it was kinda sad, actually.” He said, as if he didn’t live for this kind of shit. 

Gareth knew better than anyone how much of a fricken gossip Jeff could be. 

“His house was enormous. I only saw the first floor, and his kitchen is huge.” He set his hands apart at a good distance, showcasing just how large “huge” was, before continuing. 

“But it was weird. It was like a model home. No pictures on the walls, no art, no personality to the place at all.” 

“What are we talking about?” Eddie asked, finally returning to Gareth’s garage from where he’d been gathering up all the wires they’d thrown haphazardly into his van. 

“Jeff went to Harrington’s house.” Grant and Gareth tattled as one. 

“To help bake stuff for this Friday!” Jeff defended, the blush creeping back onto his face. “I was curious about his chocolate roulade recipe and he invited me over!” 

“When was this?” Eddie asked, staring at Jeff like he’d grown a second head. 

Or more likely, Gareth knew, in jealousy. But he wasn’t going to call Eddie out on that just yet. 

“Yesterday. We got to talking about it in the parking lot after school.” Jeff said with an embarrassed shrug. “He said he wasn’t the best at explaining how to do things and that he’d rather show me instead.” 

“Kinky.” Grant deadpanned, making Jeff sputter. 

“You sure you didn’t see his bedroom, Jeff? It’s okay if you fell for the ‘wanna see my music collection’ line. We won’t judge you.” Gareth waggled his eyebrows, ducking with a laugh when Jeff went to whack him. 

“Shut up, we just made the chocolate roulade!” Jeff’s ears were red now, and huh, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only person with a crush.  

“Guys.” Eddie reprimanded, tone warning. 

“Sorry Eds, you know we don’t mean it.” Gareth soothed. Of course, his best friend's anger was less about the gay comments or Steve’s reputation as Hawkin’s man whore than it was about Steve fucking Jeff (and not Eddie) but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated if he pointed that out either. 

Eddie didn’t respond, eyes already back on Jeff. "Details, Jeffery, give us the details!"  

He dropped onto the couch, flapping his hands at Jeff in his version of a "sit down" gesture. 

Jeff sighed, but repeated what he'd just said for Eddie as he took a seat on the edge of an amp, placing his guitar down gently. 

 "I think Wayne was right. I don't think anyone else lives there but Steve. Not full-time anyway." He finished. 

Which sounded like the best fucking thing ever until Gareth thought about it for more than two seconds. 

Tried to imagine what his life would be like if his parents and siblings were gone. Not for a day, or even a weekend, but always. 

How silent his normally loud house would be. 

Thought instantly that he'd be inviting Eddie, his friends, and hell, l even Wayne, over as often as they could handle. 

"The way he looked when I showed up, and how quiet he got when I left I just…" Jeff fiddled with his guitar’s strap. "I think he's lonely." 

The four of them sat in silence for a long moment as they digested that. 

“Hargrove kicked his ass right? And Byers?” Grant said finally, breaking the silence ad he stared up at the ceiling. 

“Old news.” Eddie replied absently, jiggling his leg.

“You think his parents were around for that?” Grant continued, slowly.

No one answered outside of Eddie's leg loudly jiggling faster. 

 "Did you see the kids hug him or anything?"

"They're like thirteen. I seriously doubt they're pestering Steve for hugs." Gareth answered flatly.  

 "So he got his ass kicked, his parents are gone, he was supposed involved in that whole has leak thing…" Grant trailed off with an air of someone who expected the end of his sentence to be obvious. 

“You’re doing that thing again where you think what you’re saying is obvious and its fucking not.” Eddie grumped. "Just spit it out." 

His friend's head finally tipped back down from the ceiling, to face the rest of them. “Maybe the flinching is because no one ever touches him anymore unless it’s to kick his ass.” 

“Oh.” Eddie blinked, body going rigid. “Oh shit.” 

“That…would make sense. A lot of sense.” Jeff said slowly. 

Grant put on a face that read “Duh” loud and clear. 

“So what do we do about it?" Gareth asked after a moment. 

"Touch him, obviously." Grant replied, like he couldn't believe the drummer was even asking.

Gareth and Eddie shared a look while Eddie rolled his eyes.  

"The guy almost fell down the stairs last time I tried that." Gareth pointed out. 

Never mind any other time Steve got weird over the lightest of touches. Eddie couldn't even clap the guy on the shoulder without getting major side-eye. 

"No."  Eddie cut in, sitting up suddenly. His eyes had gone bright, "We're going to trick him into it." 

"We're going to trick Harrington into being okay with, what? Shoulder pats?"  Gareth echoed, like Eddie might hear himself if his words were repeated back to him. “You realize how stupid that sounds right?" 

"Shut up, listen. It's like getting a stray to trust you. You just gotta be calm and so obvious about it that they get confused and let it happen." Eddie had begun practically vibrating, causing his friends to trade uneasy glances. 

They knew that look. Eddie only got it when he thought up a plan that was going to cause problems. 

"Eddie, that makes zero sense." Jeff told him.

Gareth just shook his head, because only Eddie Munson could compare Hawkins golden boy with a fucking stray animal. 

Even if the guy kinda acted like one sometimes. 

"I just need an opening." Eddie continued, the little hamster wheel spinning in his head so fast the rest of the band could almost hear it. 

If Gareth had been told two months ago he was going to be sitting in his garage, discussing the best way to acclimate Steve Harrington to casual touch, he’d have actually smacked whatever idiot dared spew such nonsense with his drumsticks. 

"I did tell tell the kids today you were making him a D&D character." He said, before his best friend could truly go off on some half cocked plot. 

Eddie lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Gary, I could kiss you."

Gareth made a face. "Please don't."

He clapped hard before springing to his feet. "Huddle up boys, I've got a plan." 

"God help us all." Jeff muttered. 

(He huddled up anyway, any thoughts of playing guitar that night fully forgotten.) 

Bonus: 

"Why don't you just get high and watch a movie with Steve? You're a fucking cling-on when you're high." Gareth complained the next morning, when Eddie swung by to pick him up for school. 

Mostly because the plan Eddie had come up with was ridiculous.

 Eddie took both hands off the wheel, pressing them against his chest in mock offense while he stared at Gareth and not at the street. “That would be taking advantage of him and I, as a gentleman, would never." He gasped, dramatically. 

In his normal voice, he added: "Plus it doesn't count." 

“Eyes on the road!” Gareth yelped, swatting an arm. “And you know I didn’t mean it like that. People relax more when they're high and maybe Steve needs something like that as an excuse to allow it. Hell he doesn’t even need to be high, just you.”

Which Gareth personally thought was a very insightful thing to say, so of course he had to ruin it with; “or whatever.” 

"Do you recall how you kissed Jeff on the cheek when you were high and then spent the entire next month swearing up and down that you weren't attracted to men last summer?" 

"That was different. I was discovering myself." 

Eddie outright cackled. "Discovering yourself? What self help book did you pick that gem out of?"

"I was quoting you, you moron!" Gareth sputtered. 

"If I said anything like that then I was definitely high and it just proves my point. Steve would just be uncomfortable."Eddie stuck his tongue out. "So there." 

"Fine." Gareth sighed. "If we ever get high with Harrington, I'll sit in his lap."

Eddie's eye twitched. "No you will not."

Thrilled to have something to tease the elder metalhead about, a smile graced Gareth's face. "In fact, I'm calling dibs." 

"You can't call dibs on a lap! And besides, you don't even like him like that!" 

"So?" Gareth retorted. "It's a nice lap, looks comfortable. You don't want it, so I'll take it."

Eddie grit his teeth, grasping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white. 

"I know what you're doing Gary. This is some bullshit reverse psychology shit and I will not be falling for it." 

"Oh contraire, this is sibling bullshit, Munson. You want it, so I want it." Gareth crossed his arms and looked at Eddie smugly. "And unless you do something about it, I'm getting it." 

"I hate you." 

Gareth grinned, delighted. "I know." 

[yoisami]

˚₊‧୨୧ ATTRACTED TO YOU !

[૮₍ ˃ࡇ˂ ₎ა]: how your favourite blue lock character flirts with you/shows you his affection—high school edition ! this was 100% brain rot but i had fun writing this 乁⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠o⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠ㄏ

tags. isagi, kunigami, kaiser, nagi, rin, sae x gn!reader (separately), 1363 wc, just fluff, high school romance, unestablished relationship, reader is called “pretty” and “cute”, kunigami is the favourite child today, not proofread

ISAGI doesn’t necessarily flirt since he’s more of a genuine guy (??), but he regularly compliments you (they’re hints that he likes you). he’s a perceptive guy, so he’ll notice little details about you and will let you know that he likes them. he’s also the type to compliment your handwriting (real), and as your seatmate, he does pay attention to the way your brows furrow when the teacher puts up a harder equation on the board. he’s not great at mathematics himself, and will ask you to explain the concept to him, hence seizing the opportunity to tell you that you’re so smart ! also, isagi isn’t afraid to let you know that you look nice—he’s not bold about it, but he’s not completely shy about it either. this normally happens in the morning though—just as you’re placing your bag down onto your desk, and pulling out all the textbooks you need for today, he’ll greet you good morning from behind, and tells you that you look really pretty today in a very nonchalant manner (you’re left blushing profusely until you notice that the tips of his ears are bright red) !

KUNIGAMI prefers to show his affection towards you by doing things for you. his method of flirting is by offering you a hand when you need help, or even just completing the whole task for you. such as classroom duty—you’re paired with him this week to ensure that the classroom is left spotless after class, and while there’s multiples tasks you both have to do (sweeping the floor, wiping the blackboard clean, dusting the windows), he simply just tells you to take a rest and he’ll do it all. you refuse though, since he’s also had a long day too, so you remind him that the responsibility is shared between the two of you (he falls even harder for you after this). when the school’s volleyball team coach asks you to fetch the box of jerseys that’s placed on a high shelf, kunigami offers to go with you ! since it’s a bit too high for your reach, you use a ladder to give yourself some bonus height, and kunigami’s standing right behind you, hands hovering over your waist, ready to catch you if you fall (you don’t lol) !

bonus (!): the teacher has forced all late students to run laps around the field as punishment in the morning, and unfortunately, you were one of them. you’re heaving as you’re running with your bag, but you feel someone tugging your bag off your shoulders—it’s kunigami ! while the teacher is questioning why he was running too (he came early), all he says is that he wants to train his stamina as he takes your bag, throws it over his shoulder, and continues to run beside you ! (i watch k-dramas ok)

KAISER flirts openly. very openly (canon). but it’s clever—the way he’s able to string a few words together and it’s as pleasing as a bouquet of purple lilacs, leaving you a blushing mess. it’s almost like he flirts strategically, and every word and action he executes has a purpose—which is to make you fancy him ! kaiser will throw in compliments here and there, but he prefers to show it to you, such as deliberately reaching for the same item just to make sure your hands touch. and he pretends to reel back his hand, muttering sorry, but internally, he’s satisfied with his accomplishment, because you’ve turned away to hide your cute blush ! i believe that you will find kaiser annoying, so it’s a breath of fresh air when the two of you share a conversation about your dreams, and his hand is already right beside yours (with your pinkies touching !!), itching to hold yours. kaiser’s a proud individual, and he will show off at any given moment, making sure that you’re watching. it’s a lunchtime game of soccer, and he knows you and your friends are sitting close to the field. after being challenged by an upperclassmen, he agrees, but first he “accidentally” rolls the ball to your direction. instead of asking you to kick it back, he approaches you, saying, “watch me, yeah?” with a very charming wink as he jogs back with the ball in his hands !

NAGI isn’t the type of “flirt” either, but instead acts almost friendlier to you, and you can tell he’s intrigued by you by staying close to you. he’s not clingy, but he definitely likes to stay within your vicinity—while you’re sitting at your desk at lunch, trying to finish the history homework that is due today, nagi will not leave his seat beside you, and will merely pull his phone out and start gaming. he doesn’t talk much, but does engage in the conversations you share with him by nodding his head, letting you know that he’s paying attention to what you’re saying ! nagi’s unintentionally flirty sometimes—he doesn’t know that sharing earphones is somewhat a romantic gesture, but offers to give you the other earpiece when you ask him what he’s listening to; he doesn’t understand why you’re blushing when he’s resting his head against the table, blankly staring up at you, but indulges in how cute you look. it’s raining and you’re already beginning to walk out of the school gates, but nagi runs after you as he takes cover under your umbrella, clothes looking damp from the rain. he’s slightly panting, and you’re asking him why on earth he didn’t just pull out his own umbrella. all he says is that it’s bothersome to do so, but in reality, he just wanted to walk you home.

RIN likes to admire you from afar (hear me out)—this means that stolen glances are really common between the two of you, and you catch him staring most of the time. in response to being caught, rin looks away at the speed of light, making you doubt yourself and wonder if it’s simply your mind playing tricks on you. rin will also defend you if he notices someone gossiping about you ! story time: you’re pretty close to one of the popular guys in your class, and sometimes the two of you eat together at lunch. you also have a friend from chemistry and you consider yourselves as good friends, but a few months back, some girls were gossiping about you, claiming that you were “two-timing”. of course, rin overheard, and he immediately stood up for you, belittling those girls with a cold expression before he walked off and left. there are moments where he does talk to you, but he’s not the greatest at continuing the conversation, so he opts to watch you from a distance. there are moments where you’re laughing heartily with your group of friends, and he can’t help but let that little smile appear on his lips. he reckons your smiles are contagious, but honestly, he just enjoys looking at pretty things (you) !

SAE’s “flirting” method is a bit stiff—you can tell he’s clearly not experienced in the field of romance, but you enjoy his efforts ! he’s terrible at giving compliments, and once had offended you in the process of trying to tell you how nice your hair looked today. he doesn’t seem shy, but he definitely keeps some space between you two, because most of the time, he’s trying to think of an excuse to talk to you ! when he’s feeling bold, he will seize the moment to be physically closer to you—such as if you’re reading in the library, he’ll take the seat opposite of you without saying a word, and pretends to be reading the back page of some random autobiography he picked up from the nearest shelf. he looks invested in it, but it’s all a facade as he steals frequent glances at you ! he’s also very much the type to leave you drinks from vending machine without letting you know it’s from him ! he’ll buy you a can of your favourite juice, and will leave it at your desk during lunch break—a small gift to congratulate you on achieving the highest mark in the class.

© yoisami 2023. plagiarism, translation and distribution of my works outside of tumblr is not permitted.

[disneyprincemuke]

invisible string * ms47

unbeknownst to you, there was a force that was pulling you and mick together your entire lives

pairings: mick schumacher x fem!reader

word count: 5.4k

notes: hi guys i missed mick so here's a mick fic pls ignore the fuck ass ending, i didn't know how to end it ok

(f1 masterlist)

21 years ago

you sigh tiredly, cheeks pressed against your father’s shoulder as he weaves through the busy crowd moving in several directions. and you must have dozed off for a bit, letting the stuffed bunny you held in your hands fall off in your slumber.

because when your father had buckled you into your car seat, the fluffy white stuffy was missing from all the action.

“where’s bunbun?” you ask softly, rubbing your eyes as he buckles you up.

“honey,” your father says softly in confusion. he takes a step back and looks around his feet if you had dropped it. “you were holding bunbun while i carried you back.”

you whimper as the sleepiness wears off. have you really lost your best friend in a stuffed animal? “what?”

tears quickly well in your eyes, lips quivering as you feel a sob bubbling from your gut. “i lost bunbun?”

“aw, i’m sorry,” your father sighs, sitting on the floor of the car. he cups your cheeks and wipes away the tears now falling excessively. “but, honey…”

you’ve lost your favourite toys before, one time even leaving behind a doll at the airport cafeteria when your mother was in a rush to head to the boarding gate. you’ve even lost a toy phone once.

none of that is ever as serious as losing your stuffed bunny.

“we need to find her, daddy,” you cry, rubbing your eyes roughly. “i’ll miss her! she’s my best friend!” you kick your feet in frustration. “let’s go back!”

your father sighs, looking back at the crowd pouring out of the grandstand exit. he looks back at you. “maybe bunbun will have a new best friend to make memories with?”

“no! she’s my best friend for life!”

is there even a way to console a four-year-old when she loses her favourite stuffy at a formula one race? he doesn’t even know he knows where you’d dropped it.

“you know, you’ll make new best friends,” your father hums with a small and hopeful smile. he brushes the hair out of your face as you cry. “i’m sure you will reconnect with bunbun if you’re really meant to be best friends.”

you stifle a sniffle, folding your arms over your chest. your father didn’t make any sense to you. but you’re tired of explaining yourself over a stuffed bunny.

so you just nod and turn your head, grabbing the stray blanket on the backseat of the car. you’d spend the entire night — and the next two entire days — mourning the loss of your best friend, bunbun.

on the other side of the grandstand, there’s a small boy running around as his older sister chases him around with a giggle and her hands in the air.

“i’m coming for you, mick!” she giggles, slowing herself down when she finds herself eventually catching up to the little legs that were trying their best to keep him away.

he screeches as he tries to get away from her, their mother in the far back craning her neck to see where her children are running off to before resuming her conversation.

he comes to a slow stop when his eyes are able to make out the small bundle of white on the ground. his sister bumps into him lightly, not expecting him to suddenly stop.

“what’s this?” he asks, bending down carefully to pick up the soft toy. he turns around to his sister. “cat?”

“no, silly,” she laughs, dusting off the stuffy lightly. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the animal, but her brother is still young. “it’s a bunny. look at its ears.” she takes it into her hands and holds it by its long ears to show her brother. “see? long ears.”

“cool.” he takes it back into his hands, wrapping his arms around it. he holds it against his chest and grabs his older sister’s hand. “mama will let me keep?”

“maybe! let’s go ask her!”

he tries to follow his older sister’s pace as they run back to where their mother stood.

“hey!” she greets them, immediately dropping into a squat and her arms wrapping around them. she notices the object in her son’s arms, knowing well that he had not left her running with that. “what do you have here?”

he points to where he had picked it up from. “gina and i found this over there,” he explains, nuzzling himself into his mother’s arms. “can i keep it?”

she presses her lips together, contemplating the safety and cleanliness of it altogether. “are you sure? papa and i can just get you a new one.”

he pouts his bottom lip out and bends slightly. “please, mama? it’s a bunny,” he whines, holding it in his hands to show her. “please, please?”

“okay, fine,” she laughs, rubbing his back gently. “give it to me first, okay? we’ll wash it when we get back.”

“yay!”

mick would wind up bringing that stuffed animal everywhere he went for the next couple of years, refusing to fall asleep without the softness of its fur by his side. he ended up naming it ‘stitches’, inspired by the off-white stitching it has right between its legs.

14 years ago

“hi!” you look up from your book, finding a girl towering over you with a smile. you’re about 10 now, sitting on a bench in the backyard of your school during recess. you’re newly transferred after moving into another town. and well, you didn’t really have any friends yet. “we’re playing tag and we need one more person — would you like to join us?”

your eyebrows shoot up in shock, looking around you to make sure that she’d been talking to you in the first place. you don’t want to be one of those people. “um, are you sure? i’m not really a runner.”

“that’s okay. neither are we,” she smiles. “i’m shannen. you’re the new kid, right?”

you nod shyly and say your name. you slot your bookmark between the pages before closing the book. “yeah, i came from a few towns over. this school’s closer to our new house, so i transferred.”

“oh, cool!” she beckons you over to join the rest of the kids gathered at the school playground. “come on and join us! i’ll introduce you to my friends.”

“alright.” you follow her hesitantly, hanging your head low as she introduces you to her friends. you were never great at approaching people by yourself, which is why you’re typically by yourself. you’re typically adopted by the extroverts and you didn’t mind that one bit.

you would spend the next two or three years, up until graduation, attached to the hip with shannen. she spends time in your house, and you go over to hers to swim in her pool with her friends outside of school. you’re best friends, even, up until you were in secondary school.

but for some reason, life had gotten too busy to keep the friendship. eventually, you drifted apart, as you had with several other friends. at some point, you’re just social media mutuals who don’t talk anymore. but the times you spent together still make you smile.

10 years ago

mick snorts, throwing his head back. “mate, let’s go! we’re the last ones there!”

“i can’t find my phone! hold on!” the girl shrieks, digging through her bag for her phone. there’s a fire alarm drill, and they had to stay back because she couldn’t find her phone. “go ahead!”

“your phone really shouldn’t be your priority in a fire!”

“it’s not even real!”

“what if it was?”

“i don’t care! i’m not standing in the sun for an hour without anything to do,” she grumbles under her breath. she throws a notebook out of her bag and digs some more. “i found it!”

she holds her phone triumphantly in her hand and waves it at mick. “see? i found it. it didn’t even take me long.”

“shannen, mate,” mick laughs, shaking his head. he yanks her into the hallway, blending in with the mass majority of the student body on their way to the stairwell. the fire alarm bounces around, prompting both mick and shannen to cover their ears.

“if this was a real fire, we would both have burned to death, you know,” mick points out as he rolls his eyes jokingly. he bumps into shannen lightly with his shoulder. “good thing this is just a drill.”

“you are so dramatic.”

mick and shannen spend the rest of their secondary school years together. while they’re not necessarily friends outside of school, they keep a casual friendship — often hitting each other up on social media every couple of months years after their graduation.

they swear to each other that if they were to ever get married, an invitation would definitely be sent.

7 years ago

you hum with a small smile, picking up the grey kitten into your hands. you coo as it purrs against your chest. “oh, i love her. thank you so much,” you grin, nuzzling your cheek on the kitten’s head. “i’m sorry it took me forever to get back to you. i’ve just finished settling into my new apartment.”

“oh, it’s absolutely no problem,” the woman smiles, watching you bend down and put the kitten into the carriage you’d gotten just for the kitten. “just remember to give her plenty of fluids. you don’t want her getting a uti.”

“of course,” you smile, picking up the carrier from the bag. “thank you again for waiting for me. i’ve been looking for a kitten forever, and when i saw your listing on instagram, i immediately fell in love.”

the woman shrugs, walking with you to the door of her home. “well, you seemed very determined to adopt a cat. i had to reserve one for you.”

you drive home with the grey cat in your passenger seat. you name it ‘concrete’ because it’s grey, giggling as she hesitantly comes out of the carrier to venture into her forever home. concrete falls asleep on your chest that night after dinner.

you wake up the next morning with a text message from the woman you’d gotten concrete from, telling you that she’s accidentally given you the wrong cat. she had only realised because the guy looking to adopt the last cat of the litter arrived and noticed that the cat he’s bringing back didn’t have the white patch of fur in the shape of a heart above its tail.

you sigh and ask her if you can just keep concrete since you’d already bonded in the day that you had her. much to your surprise, she agrees and says she’ll find a way to convince the other adopter otherwise. then you hang up and get up, preparing concrete’s breakfast.

meanwhile, mick sighs, holding the phone up to his ear. “well, they already gave the kitten to someone else, gina,” he explains softly, looking over his shoulder at the woman also on the phone. “the kitten really looks identical to the one you wanted. it’s not really anybody’s fault.”

“what?” gina says softly, as if she’s in the room with mick. “but that’s what really drew me to the kitten — the heart in its fur. is there really no other way?”

“the cat was taken home like yesterday… do you really wanna ask for a kitten back from somebody like that?” mick raises an eyebrow. he looks down at the kitten that’s walked up to his feet, dropping on its belly above his toes. “this one’s just as cute as the one you showed me.”

truthfully, he’s never really been a cat person. he very much preferred dogs over them, but the light grey kitten that’s plopped over his toes is convincing him otherwise. the kitten’s green eyes look up at him with a soft mew, making his heart skip a beat.

“ah, forget it, mick,” gina sighs over the phone. “you’re right. but i don’t think i want the cat anymore.”

she quickly hangs up. he puts the phone into his back pocket as he squats down to pet the kitten on its head.

“you’re very cute, aren’t you?” mick coos, smiling widely when the kitten purrs against his finger. “you know, i’m not a cat person.”

the kitten simply blinks at him, before closing its eyes as he scratches its chin.

“um.” he turns around, smiling at the older woman now walking towards him. she has worry written all over her face, and it only tells him that his sister will never get the cat that she had spent weeks swooning about. “i really tried convincing the other person…”

“it’s no problem,” mick grins. he stands up with a soft huff. “i’ll adopt it nonetheless.”

that’s how mick schumacher ended up with a cat instead of a dog.

5 years ago

“where do you reckon we should go for dinner?” mick asks, tapping on his phone. he looks over to his side, his smile dropping when he sees arthur holding up his phone with the front camera open. “arthur, hello?”

“quiet for one second,” arthur mutters, moving the phone around and sporting different smiles to try and get a good picture. “charles is asking where i’ve gone without him.”

mick raises an eyebrow. “charles or your secret girlfriend?”

“my brother, of course!” arthur scoffs, snapping a quick picture. he slows down his pace slightly and sends the picture. he looks up and turns to mick. “what were you saying about dinner?”

“where to eat, mate.” mick shoves his hands into his pockets and presses his lips together. “remember? robert asked us to choose where to eat tonight.”

arthur looks around, lips pursed together with a small smile. “i mean… we are in silverstone... what’s there to eat here?”

“i don’t know! that’s why i am asking you for help with the thinking.”

arthur momentarily turns away from mick as a pair of girls walk past him. his face lights up as he turns back to his friend.

mick, noticing that the distraction was caused by girls, smacks arthur on the shoulder. “focus! on dinner! not girls!”

“no, mate! you’ve got me wrong!” arthur laughs. “i know where to eat!”

but what mick hadn’t noticed, is that you had been the pair to walk past them, your arms linked with your best friend’s.

“oh, i heard there’s this really good restaurant up ahead. it’s got 4 stars on google — bar and grill or something?” you had said to your best friend as you looked down at your phone for options to dine in. “are you up for that?”

“sounds like a great idea!”

that night, mick would spend dinner in silverstone bar and grill in the far back of the restaurant with arthur and robert. all the while, you’re by the booth by the front doors of the restaurant with your best friend.

you would catch arthur’s eye as they flood into the restaurant, but by the time mick looked in your direction, you’d returned your attention to the menu for something to eat.

4 years ago

“ah, you look so pretty!” you shriek, holding yourself up on the sink in the toilet of the club. you put a hand on the shoulder of the new friend you had made. “you’ve got to tell me what lip product you’re using!”

“oh,” the woman laughs. ”it’s the too faced melted matte lipstick.” she reaches into her purse. “do you want to try it? i’m sure it looks good on you!”

you shake your head with a giggle. “no, don’t be silly! we can’t just share lip products like that anymore.”

you squeeze her shoulder endearingly before you step back at an attempt to pull yourself together. getting shit faced drunk was never part of the plan, yet here you are, four cocktails and three shots in, befriending the unassuming girl in the toilet.

she just wanted to wash her hands. it’s just unlucky, in your opinion, that she ended up next to you while you’re in a chatty mood.

“what are you in the club for?” you ask, reaching into your own pocket for your lip gloss. “celebrating something?”

“yeah, actually,” she laughs. “my brother won a championship earlier tonight. it’s a big thing — formula 2, if you’re asking.”

you stare blankly at her through the mirror, halting your application of your lip gloss. you don’t follow racing as much as you did when you were younger. in fact, you kinda despise it after you’d lost that damned stuffed bunny at one of the races you attended with your father.

or maybe it’s the alcohol, because you had no idea that something like formula 2 existed.

“oh, that’s cool…”

she laughs, patting you on the back. “it’s okay if you don’t know what that is.”

you hurriedly apply your lipgloss, recapping it then turning to her. “i’m sure it’s cool! i mean, congrats to your brother! you must be very proud of him!”

“i am, thank you,” she laughs. she taps you, her eyes shining bright. “can i follow you on instagram?”

you shriek again, stumbling back as you fish for your phone. “that’s genius!”

you give her your phone and watch her type her name into it. though you’re sure you wouldn’t remember her name — or the fact that you even followed her in the first place — in the morning.

she puts the phone back into your hand, squeezing it gently. “i’ve got to run, my brother’s waiting for me outside. it’s nice meeting you! and, my name’s gina.”

you wave at her giddily, watching her exit the toilet. you look down at your phone and hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the account that’s on the screen.

it doesn’t have a profile picture, or many followers. but you’re intoxicated. so you shrug and shove your phone back into your purse, returning to giggling giddily as your best friend stumbles out of the cubicle she’d been stuck in, puking her dinner out.

gina steps out of the bathroom, met by a stoic expression from her brother. “what took you so long?” mick grunts, guiding her through the crowd back to the table that his friends had gotten. “i waited almost 10 minutes for you.”

“i met the cutest girl inside,” gina laughs. she grunts and rolls her eyes when mick shoots her an unimpressed stare. “you wouldn’t get it.”

you have no recollection of meeting gina schumacher, and she never really posted anything on that empty account she gave you. she deactivates that account eventually, erasing the only evidence of the friend you made in the bathroom on a night out in abu dhabi for one of your friend’s bachelorette party.

2 years ago

mick follows the girl into the apartment, shaking his jacket off his shoulders. “cool apartment.”

“thank you,” cindy grins. “just give me a second, okay?”

mick nods politely, watching as cindy disappears into the apartment. he scans the apartment, overwhelmed by the vast differences between his and the one he stands in.

is this how drastic apartments are between guys and girls?

there’s several decorations, magazines on the coffee table, vases of flowers and pots of plants on shelves and–

interesting. a ferrari cap sits on the third level of the glass cabinet by the tv.

he walks over to it with a small smile. he hears footsteps behind him, prompting him to turn and glance at her momentarily. “i didn’t know you were a ferrari fan.”

cindy presses her lips together. “i’m… i don’t follow racing,” she says softly, pointing at the cap. “that’s my roommate’s.”

“oh, i’m sorry,” mick hisses to himself, taking a step away from the glass cabinet. “i didn’t… i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine,” she laughs, shaking her head. “um, so, here’s an umbrella you need to get home. be safe.”

“thank you,” mick smiles, receiving the umbrella with a grin. “i will… text you so i can return this to you.”

“good — it’s good investment to make sure you talk to me again.”

mick looks down at the umbrella tilting his head. “aw, it’s got cats on it. i love cats.”

cindy presses her lips together. “it actually belongs to my roommate. she’s got a cat,” she explains with a small smile. “i prefer dogs.”

“oh,” mick trails off. he’s not saying he’s so shallow to judge someone just because they don’t really like cats, but it’s really starting to sound like that in his head. “that’s okay.”

cindy takes a deep breath. “just… that’s my roommate’s,” she laughs, pointing at the umbrella. “i’ll need that back soon.”

“i’ll return it to you, i promise,” mick smiles. he raises his eyebrows as she leads him to the door. “on our second date? friday night?”

downstairs, you’re pulling up into the the street where your apartment complex is. you hum to yourself as you drive down the street, squinting your eyes as you try and see through the droplets falling on your windshield.

while you’re waiting for somebody to open the gates of the parkling lot of the building, you glance outside the window. there’s mick, leaving your apartment complex with a familiar looking umbrella.

you would walk into your apartment and sigh, asking your roommate if she had taken your umbrella with the cat prints again.

she would apologise for lending it to the man she’d gone on a date with, but swears she will get back for you. and she does — thank you, mick — and she briefly moves out about 4 months later to start her new life elsewhere with her boyfriend.

her boyfriend that doesn’t end up being mick, simply because she can tell that they’ve not got much in common. she breaks up with mick about a month later.

3 months ago

you squeak, hands on your cheeks as you look down the hallway. “concrete,” you say out loud, trying to make out the shape of your cat through the tears flooding into your eyes.

you had left your door open too long, according to a cat owner, as you struggled to bring your bags of groceries in. in the short three minutes that you struggled, your cat must have slipped out.

the worst is that you’d only realised about 10 minutes after you shut the door behind you that the house is suspiciously peaceful.

“you wouldn’t survive as a stray — you need to come back,” you frown, starting to walk down the hallway. “i don’t wanna get another cat.”

you have her bag of kibble in your hand, shaking it occasionally. as if your cat would reappear out of an non-existent nook out in the hallway.

you had never thought to get concrete chipped, of course. the cat had only started getting curious about the bigger world on the other side of the door recently when someone else with a cat moved in two weeks ago.

there’s a ding that echoes in the hallway, completely unbeknownst to you as you’re hunched over and still trying to lure your cat out with treats. the doors slide open, mick appearing with a grey cat in his arms.

“i don’t suppose this is your cat, right?”

you shoot up and whirl around, coming eye-to-eye with your green eyed cat. “you fuck ass feline! where have you been?” you scold, scowling as she comes into your sight.

you feel yourself soften up at the reunion with your car, relief washing over you. “why did you run away like that?”

you drop the bag of kibble to your side and step forward to take concrete into your arms. “thank you so much! where did you find her?”

“i saw her outside the apartment complex, meowing at people,” mick laughs, stepping back to watch concrete nuzzle her face into your chest and purr. “i was gonna house her for a bit until i find the owner — i didn’t know she lived right on the floor my friend lives at.”

“oh, thank you thank you,” you sigh, bending down to pick up the bag. “i really don’t know what i would have done if i lost her. i’m not a bad cat mum, i swear, she slipped out as i was bringing groceries in!”

“i don’t doubt that,” mick laughs. “i have a cat of my own at home. sneaky little devil, that one.”

you glance down at concrete and sigh in relief. a weight feels like it’d been lifted right off your chest. “is there any way i repay you? money?”

mick raises an eyebrow. “coffee?”

you stop dead in your tracks, a small smile playing on your lips. “are you hitting on me?”

“yeah? is that okay?”

you smile, nodding. “yeah, that’s okay.”

mick pretends he doesn’t notice the blush creeping up your cheeks as you continue to walk slowly. “how does wednesday night sound?”

you and mick would wind up getting coffee immediately after he’s done meeting his friend. your neighbour, dino, whom you actually are on greeting terms with when you come across one another out in the hallway.

you would spend the rest of the evening in that small coffee shop right at the corner of your street, talking about everything. this eventually leads to a second date, then a third, and then a fourth.

suddenly he’s telling you his full name, sending you into a shock as his name registers against the list of famous people in your head.

“ah, don’t mind the mess,” mick mutters, holding the door open for you as you slip off your shoes. “i wasn’t expecting to have anyone over so soon.”

you laugh under your breath as you put your shoes on the rack. “it’s not your fault there’s a storm bad enough to strand me,” you hum as you start taking off your jacket. “i’m sorry to be a bother when you weren’t expecting company.”

“no, no!” mick shakes his head quickly. he shuts the door behind you with a hand behind your back to guide you inside his apartment. “i mean, i was gonna invite you over soon anyway. we’ve just been so busy.”

“well thank you for offering me to stay the night anyway.”

he takes your jacket from your hands, disappearing momentarily into a room and comes back out emptyhanded. he jogs around his living room, picking up stray pieces of clothing and trash from the ground. “i’m really really sorry. i swear i’m not this messy. my schedule has been a little tight since i got back.”

you shrug and hunch over, picking trash from the ground with him. “i understand. if you look at the state of my apartment, i’d be the one apologising.”

mick does a double take when he glances up at you, noticing you helping him clean his living room. he shrieks softly, jumping over to you. he wraps his arms around you and drags you over to his couch. “what are you doing?” he screams, sitting you down on the couch and then taking the trash from your hands.

you look up with your head tilted. “i’m helping you clean!”

“don’t do that! make yourself comfortable,” he cries before walking away from you again. “don’t get up from that couch unless it’s to do something a normal person would do in someone’s home!”

“don’t be ridiculous. cleaning is fun to an extent,” you giggle, watching him walk back towards you with a small smile. “don’t worry about it.”

he huffs, looking around the objectively cleaner area. “do you want something to drink?”

“sure! just some water,” you smile politely. you look around the small apartment. it’s fairly clean, actually, even before mick had started picking stuff up from the ground.

you get to your feet and start navigating through the living room, admiring the picture frames right by the entryway with a small smile. mick has always been cute, it seems.

one picture catches your attention in particular, making you tilt your head in confusion. you lean forward slightly and squint your eyes.

“hey, mick?” you call out, eyes still scanning the picture of a toddler mick with his family in the paddocks. “you had a stuffed bunny as a kid?”

mick walks over to you, handing you the glass of water you requested. he puts a hand on your back and looks at the same picture. “yeah! he’s my favourite,” he says. “i have him in my bedroom, let me show you.”

you turn around with a grin, waddling after him. “i used to have one too! exactly like the one in the picture, actually. i lost it when i was like 4, but i loved that stuffed bunny like my best friend.”

“really?” mick asks from inside the bedroom.

you stop right by the door and lean against the door frame. “yeah, she had this stitching right between the legs. my cat tore it apart when i was 3. so there’s this really poorly done job of stitching it up where it tore.”

“that’s weird,” mick presses his lips together, appearing with a bunny in his hands. he flops it around in his hands, its ears flopping around as he shows it to you. he pulls the legs apart, showing the off-white stitching. “mine’s got that too.”

“oh, my god!” you shriek, taking it into your hands. you trace over the stitching, counting exactly 10 — the number you had known to be how many times your mother sewed it up for your impatient toddler self. you lift your head to look at him again. “this is weird. did you get this from somewhere?”

he laughs airily, towering over you. he puts a hand over yours and presses his lips together. “yeah, gina told me that i picked it up at one of my dad’s races in the paddocks when we were playing.”

you perk up. “i lost my bunbun at this one race my dad and i attended when i was 4.”

“oh, what a coincidence?” mick smiles with a soft laugh. “do you reckon this is the one you dropped?”

you puff your cheeks, tears welling in your eyes as you fight back a smile. “absolutely. the cracked eye… the ten stitches… this is bunbun!”

the world has a mysterious way of bringing you together with people you’re meant to be with.

you would spend the rest of the night, after taking a shower and cozying up in one of mick’s shirts, talking about your past. you joked that there’s clearly someone in the universe that thought you’re meant to be together.

to you, it’s the only way that bunbun would have ended up with mick in the first place. cause here you are, lying back on his couch with the first best friend you’d made in your life, all thanks to mick.

you spend the rest of the night, until sunrise, giggling over the invisible string that seemed to tie you together your whole lives.

“wait. i thought you said you had a cat?”

“oh, she’s at my sister’s,” mick explains. “i’ve been pretty busy — i haven’t had the time to pick her up yet.”

“you should pick her up soon! let’s set our cats together for a potential play date!”

@cashtons-wife @darleneslane

honourable mention: @localwhoore

[mochiwrites]

couldn’t help writing a lil thing from @plumadot’s arts (linked here and here!)🥺👉👈 third life scarian possessed me so hard I broke out of my burn out for this reblogs would be really cool and awesome okaythankyou

——————————

“And how are preparations for Doom Day going, my good sir?” Scar’s voice is a light sound behind him, tone cheerful and inquisitive all at once.

Grian turns around from where he’s knee deep in sand, a small hole dug out in front of him. Scar comes to stand beside him, red eyes staring down at him. His gaze is soft, far too soft for a man who’s meant to be anything but.

With a soft noise, Grian pushes himself up to stand while dusting off his hands. He leaves his shovel in the ground by the hole. His wings flutter.

He hums, surveying the area. He gazes at the holes of sand, where the tnt will be set down, at the place where a bunker will be built. “Not bad, I’d say. I think this place’ll be ready by tomorrow or some time ‘round then.”

Scar whistles, moving to casually wrap an arm around the green life’s shoulders. “Amayzin’!” His lips lift in a smile. “Man, those Dogwarts guys won’t know what hit ‘em!”

“That’s if this trap even works, Scar,” Grian mutters, unable to hold back the bitterness in his voice. His traps have hardly worked all game, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t worried about this one failing too. “It has to,” he says, brows knitting together, “there’s too much riding on this one.”

His eyes trail over to Scar, who doesn’t seem to share his worries.

“Aw, c’mon G,” Scar starts as he pulls the other toward him. He tugs so that Grian’s facing him, their faces a few inches apart. Grian can feel how warm Scar is this close, can see the way his chest rises and falls. “I have total trust in you and your trapping skills. So relax a little, yeah?”

Grian frowns at him in turn. Speculation and trust aren’t good enough when up against his fail rate. He needs one hundred percent certainty. But he can’t just test this one. It’s a one time pull. “Scar—”

Careful fingers grab his chin, rough and calloused from the harsh conditions of the desert but still far too careful. Red names aren’t supposed to be careful or gentle, and yet here Scar is.

“I trust you,” Scar says again, and Grian doesn’t think this is how things are supposed to go. It’s not the first time he’s had this thought, and he’s sure it won’t be the last (provided they both survive this, that is). “You really do worry too much.”

“One of us has to while you’re off gallivanting around without a shirt on,” Grian grumbles while reaching for the edge of Scar’s cloak. He holds onto it, fingers digging into the fabric.

Scar lifts a playful brow at Grian’s comment, “Does that mean I look good while valligaggling?”

Grian snorts, the action laced with too much affection. “That’s not even a word, Scar,” he replies with a little laugh, one that makes Scar’s grin widen.

“It’s close enough,” the man hums in answer, their faces moving closer. His hand drops to Grian’s elbow, the other drawing him in closer by the waist. Red eyes flutter shut as his breath ghosts over Grian’s lips. “And it made you laugh.”

“Your priorities are seriously mixed up,” Grian’s voice is hardly above a whisper as watches as Scar draws in closer.

Their lips meet seconds later, chapped and warm. Grian stares at Scar’s face, the way the creases in his forehead smooth over and relax. He looks so content, a funny feeling to express when the powder keg is seconds from exploding.

It hardly takes any time at all for Scar to deepen the kiss, raising his hand from Grian’s elbow to hold the edge of his jaw. His thumb settles too close to Grian’s throat, yet not an ounce of fear runs through him. His eyes shut as he presses his lips back against Scar’s, a bit more pressure than the other applies. He catches Scar’s wrist in his hand, and his grip is a little tight at first (too tight for a green name). He has to remind himself to loosen his hand, but Scar never gives a reaction.

He simply angles Grian’s chin up slightly, hand shifting to cup his cheek. His fingers tangle in his hair, brushing against his ear.

It’s kind of a shame they’re blowing up the desert. He wouldn’t mind sharing more kisses with Scar out in the open chilly air like this.

Scar kisses him like he’s something fragile, something precious. He kisses him like he’s afraid of breaking him, and really it’s laughable how gentle he is with Grian. His eyes say he shouldn’t be.

(Ironic then, that Grian is wearing more red than him.)

It’s with a soft sigh that Scar pulls back, setting their foreheads against one another. So easily, so fluidly, he holds Grian’s face in both of his hands, one of his thumbs brushing along his cheek. There’s a fond smile on his face, and Grian feels a little dazed by the sight.

“Gri,” Scar says quietly, a moment shared for only the two of them, “I need you to know, I—”

Some kind of alarm rings in Grian’s head, and he knows he cannot let Scar finish that sentence. Panic runs down his spine like electricity, zapping him. He sets his hands on Scar’s front, gently pushing back as he turns his head away.

“H-Haha, we’ve wasted enough time, haven’t we?” he questions, some kind of desperate attempt to change the conversation. “We have a war to prepare for, remember?”

He doesn’t watch Scar’s face as he turns away, unable to face it. He turns his back to Scar, wings twitching behind him. Grian purposefully looks down at the sand before him, reminding himself of what he’s meant to be doing. “We, uh, have much to do still,” he says, trying to focus on anything but Scar. “I mean, unless you want me to lose my first life!”

Grian goes to say more, but two hands land on his shoulders, stopping him. He jumps just slightly, startled. Yet it doesn’t last long as he feels Scar’s warmth against his back. “…Scar,” he mumbles.

Arms wrap around him proper, holding him close. He feels Scar bury his face in his hair as the smell of lilacs and poppies flood his senses. “Just a little longer, okay?” the red name murmurs so softly.

Let me hold you for a little longer.

Stay with me for a little longer.

Pretend this’ll last for a little longer.

How selfish, Scar is. Grian looks down at the sand below, its mocking grains. He grabs hold of Scar, keeping him right where he is. “…I’m not going to die, Scar.”

“Promise me.” Scar’s arms tighten around him, giving away how much he needs Grian to stay alive. How much he treasures Grian, both his partnership and company.

Grian squeezes him. He supposes he’s a little selfish as well. “…I promise.”

Scar lets out a shaky breath, burying his face further into Grian’s hair.

They don’t move for a little while. A gentle red name and a green name clothed in far too much crimson. Together they stand, selfishly.

[sluts4matt]

Do you take requests if you don't can you make one where y/n is dating chris and she is slowly realizing that she's in love with matt and one day has her and chris are fucking she moans matts name and chris gets upset at her, then another day when she's touching herself all she can think about is matt, but she doesn't have the heart to break up with chris to be with matt.

If you want you can make her break up with chris and then she gets with matt and fucks him.

WHAT THE HEART WANTS

pairing: mean!chris, sub!matt x reader

summary: falling for your boyfriend's brother was one thing but moaning his name during sex? that's a whole new story. but maybe that was the little push you needed to finally do something about your feelings.

warnings: SMUT, fingering, mommy kink because im a sucker, p in v, praising, oral (female receiving)

word count: 2052

author's note: i'm sorry this took so long @outerbanksstorys, i'm almost certain i may have ended up changing a few things up but i hope you like it. xx 🫶

you couldn't help the way you giggled at matt's joke. you were on your boyfriend, chris' knee, his arms wrapped securely around you as matt told the two of you, plus nick about his day.

chris wasn't paying attention, not at first, too busy watching as matt's body language changed. his posture becoming a bit more confident at the giggles leaving your lips.

your giggling only stopped when you heard chris clear his throat. you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "is everything okay, chris?"

he simply smiled at you, nodding his head. "of course, baby."

you smiled back, turning your head back to matt, only for him to no longer be in the room.

the small frown that grazed your lips made your heart pang in guilt. "can we go to bed?" chris asked, rubbing a hand along your arm.

"i'm gonna get a drink first, and then we can, okay?" with a kiss on the cheek, you slipped out of his arms, walking over to the kitchen.

you opened the fridge, taking out a water bottle, and closing the door.

as you took a sip, you jumped at the sudden voice. "he's a lucky guy, huh?" matt commented. you narrowed your eyes confused, "what?" you mumble, bringing the glass of root bear to your lips.

"i said, chris is a lucky guy, i mean look at you. anyone would be lucky to have you," he said, a hint of something you couldn't place in his tone.

your cheeks dusted a faint pink as you mumbled a "thanks," in return. you quickly walked back to chris' room, slipping under the covers beside him.

not even thirty minutes later chris had your ass up in the air, his fingers digging into the meat of your hip bones, fucking into you from behind.

your face was buried into the mattress, muffling the noises coming out of your lips.

his thrusts were relentless, making you cry out in pleasure. "matt, fuck," you squealed, pushing your hips back into him.

you were too caught up in your own pleasure, you didn't even realize you let matt's name slip.

it didn't register until the movement behind you stopped. "what did you just say?" he growled. your head was yanked from the mattress, "what did you just fucking say?!"

your eyes went wide, "no, no, chris, i didn't-" "save it, just save it." he grumbled, pulling out of you, and grabbing his boxers off the ground, sliding them on.

the way his hands went up to tug at his hair made you feel guilty, your eyes watering. "chris," you say softly, though you don't make movement towards him.

scared that he'd lash out like guys have done in your previous relationships.

"fuck, why would you- god." he groaned, walking out of the room, and slamming the door behind him.

tears fell down your cheeks. how could you have been so stupid?

you grabbed a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, sliding them on, and grabbing your phone.

as much as you didn't want to, you knew it was best if you stayed away for the night, instead going home.

"hey," matt whispered, looking up from his phone as he heard you come downstairs. your eyes were puffy, and your cheeks were flushed a bright red.

"everything okay?" he asked, his phone dropping from his hand as he stood up to comfort you. "mhm," you hummed, shrugging him off. you knew if chris came out seeing his brother, who you just ended up moaning's name, comforting you all hell would break loose.

"i'm gonna go, i'll see you later." you smiled softly, not giving him a chance to argue as you left.

as soon as the door closed, chris stepped out of the bathroom. "you're fucking dead," he glared at matt. "what the fuck did i do?" he scoffed, his expression going from his previous worried one to one of confusion.

"she called out your name, dick!" he yelled. "i can't even have sex with her without your fucking name coming from her mouth." he jabbed a finger into matts' chest.

"maybe you should revaluate yourself then bud," he said, a sense of pride washing over him. "if she likes me better, then what does that say about you?"

and with that, chris was swinging a punch, landing a hard hit to matts' jaw. "are you fucking joking," matt scoffed as he held his jaw. nick came down the hall, turning into the living area.

"what's going on here?" he questioned. "nothing." they both said, glaring at each other as they walked away.

--

you sighed, leaning your head against the back of your sofa. it had been a few days since everything happened. the only messages you were receiving from chris were 'goodmorning' and 'goodnight' texts.

what hurt worse than anything was the guilt eating you alive at the fact that maybe, you had more feelings for matt then you let yourself believe.

you weren't sure when it started, but you had found yourself staring at him more and more, catching yourself wondering what it would be like if the lips touching yours every night were his instead of chris'.

how he would act if the two of you were more than friends. you felt so incredibly guilty. but that didn't stop the thoughts of him. that didn't stop the fantasies.

your hand trailed down your stomach, your hand dipping into the front of your shorts.

"oh, fuck," you groaned, imagining it was matts' long fingers rubbing circles against your clit. his voice whispering sweet praises in your ear.

"just like that," you whispered to yourself, a finger teasing your entrance.

"god," you cried out, sinking the digit into yourself. your eyes shut tightly, as you pumped the finger in and out.

"more," you whined to yourself. your free hand trailed up your shirt, grabbing onto your breast.

your breath was coming out in short pants, you could feel the coil in your lower stomach tightening, as your finger moved faster. your fingers pulled and twisted at the pink bud on your chest.

"f-fuck, yes," you moaned, the coil inside of you snapping. as you rode out your orgasm, your legs trembling, your brain went to one person.

"matt."

you laid there for a moment, catching your breath, and thinking about what you had just done.

"shit," you sighed.

you couldn't stay with chris if all you thought about was his brother. that was wrong, and chris didn't deserve it.

"chris," you called, knocking on his front door. the sound of the tv could be heard from the outside, the sound of a football game playing.

you were about to knock again when the door was opened. you were met with a shirtless matt, his hair disheveled, an amused expression as he staired down at you.

you couldn't help the way your eyes trailed up his torso, going to his left arms. his tattoos had always driven you crazy, so crazy in fact you almost had chris talked into getting some of his own.

"i uh, is chris here?" you cleared your throat, meeting his gaze again. it took everything in you to keep eye contact, not wanting to be the first to break.

"uh yeah, he's in his room," matt said, his eyes flickering over your body, his eyes lingering on the exposed skin where your shirt was riding up.

you nodded your head, walking past him and going to his room. when you got the door you could hear the boy's grunts, small noises coming from another female.

your heart sank. you weren't even broken up. i mean obviously moaning his brothers name during sex was one thing, but to go and have sex with a complete different person was another.

you backed up, walking back up the stairs. "where's chris?" matt asked, as he saw you coming up the stairs. "room." you muttered, pushing past him and making your way to the front door.

"i thought you were talking to him." he stated confused, "yeah, well he seems busy," you laughed bitterly, opening the front door.

"wait." he called, walking after you.

"what, matt?" you sighed, turning to face him. his hands cupped your face, and he pulled you in, his lips pressing against yours.

your heart thumped in your chest, your eyes wide, as you didn't move, frozen. once he realized you weren't moving, he pulled away.

"shit, i'm sorry." he mumbled.

"matt," you sighed, looking down at the ground.

"no, no, i get it. i'm sorry."

you looked up at him, seeing his eyes trained on the ground, and his cheeks a dark red. the next thing you did was unlike you. you ran your arm behind his neck, tangling your fingers in the brown locks tugging his head up.

the submissive eyes the boy gave you made you crash your lips into his again, this time the two of you kissing passionately.

his hands went to the backs of your thighs, picking you up and carrying you to his room.

"fuck, i've waited so long for this." he groaned, sitting down on his bed, you on his lap.

your lips attached themselves to his neck, sucking and biting at the soft skin. he whined, his hips bucking forward.

"shit," he groaned, as you ground your hips down on him.

he pulled your shirt over your head, throwing it to the ground, and immediately attaching his mouth to one of your nipples.

"god, yes." you moaned, his hands running up and down your sides. his lips trailed across your collarbones, his hands pushed your hips off of him, pulling the sweats you had worn down, tossing them somewhere in his room. he tugged you back on top of him.

"need you to sit on my face," he mumbled, laying back against the bed. his hands pulled you up his torso until you were hovering over his mouth. he placed kisses against the fabric of your underwear.

"please," you whined. he hummed against the material, his finger hooking into the side of the clothing, pulling them to the side.

"fuck," he groaned, licking a strip through your folds. "so wet for me," he murmured, latching his mouth around your clit.

"oh, fuck," you groaned, holding onto the headboard of his bed. his hands were gripping at the backs of your thighs, as his tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves.

you were a mess above him, grinding down against his mouth. his mouth was relentless against you, the tip of his tongue entering your cunt.

"matty," you moaned, the coil in your stomach tightening.

"i'm close," you whined.

"cum on my tongue, baby, please," he moaned.

"oh, oh, shit." you moaned loudly, your thighs shaking around his head. he helped you ride out your orgasm, lapping up all the juices, that fell from your cunt.

you climbed off his face, and down his body, pulling the sweats and his boxers off his hips, and tossing them to the floor.

"fuck, condom," he cursed, going to reach into his nightstand. "i'm on birth control." you stated, "you clean?"

he nodded his head, "yeah, fuck, i'm clean."

"me too, we're good." you grinned. his cock stood proudly against his stomach. the tip leaking pre-cum, his shaft was long and had some girth to it, though not like chris'.

you wrapped a hand around his cock, slowly stroking him, a thumb swiping at the beads of pre-cum.

"shit, shit, stop, you're gonna make me cum," he groaned, his hips thrusting up. "already?" you taunted, raising an eyebrow.

"fuck, you've had me waiting for years. i've been thinking about this moment for years." he groaned. "now sit on my cock." he ordered, grabbing your hips, and helping you line up with him.

"oh, fuck," you gasped, lowering yourself down.

"holy shit," he groaned, his nails digging into the skin of your hips. once you bottomed out, you stayed still, letting yourself adjust.

his head was against the headboard as he stared up at you. "move," he groaned.

"so impatient," you sighed, moving your hips up, and dropping them back down. his mouth fell open in a silent moan, his head falling back.

"such a good boy," you moaned, as he started to meet your thrusts.

"fuck," he growled, "yes, mo-" he cut himself off, "what was that baby?" you teased, slowing your hips down.

"shit, nothing, fuck, keep going," he whined, his own hips picking up the pace, as his eyes squeezed shut.

"no, no, use your words, pretty boy." you groaned, your own eyes shutting at the feeling. "i was gonna say m-mommy," he moaned. "there we go," you grinned, "good boy, being honest."

his hands reached up, grabbing onto your breasts, and kneading the skin. his teeth dug into his bottom lip.

"fuck, look at you." you praised. his cheeks were flushed a bright red, his pupils blown, a layer of sweat covered his body.

"so beautiful, all for mommy, aren't you?"

"yes," he nodded his head, his eyes opening. his mouth was parted open, a string of curses leaving his lips.

his breathing was coming out in pants, his hips moving erratically, chasing his release. "fuck," you squeak, burying your face into his shoulder as his hips thrust up and his cock hits the spot that has your mouth falling open and you seeing stars.

"right there," you cry out, his hips snapping into the same spot. your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving red crescent marks on the pale skin.

"'m close." he whimpered. "me too." you mutter breathlessly.

"mommy, please," he whined. "come on, baby, cum for me."

with a few more thrusts he was spilling into you. the warm liquid coating your insides, his head against the headboard.

"good boy," you cooed, bouncing on his cock. the overstimulation was making him a whining mess.

"fuck, come on, mommy. cum on my cock." he groaned, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves.

"shit," you cried, your orgasm washing over you, his name falling from your lips. your legs shook, his hands holding your hips down, keeping his cock inside of you.

"sh, i've got you." he whispered, as you collapsed onto his chest. "that was so fucking hot."

you giggled, looking up at him. "can i take a picture? i promise i won't share it."

"mhm," you nodded your head, sitting up. he grabbed his phone, turning on the camera, and taking a picture of the two of you.

your face was hidden in his neck, your back being on full display. your body was glowing in a sheen layer of sweat. his eyes were focused on the camera, a grin on his face.

"you're so pretty." he complimented, showing you the photo. he set the phone down and kissed you softly. "can we cuddle? then maybe take a shower?"

"of course, pretty boy."

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[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Five

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.2K

Series Masterlist

"I still can't believe he's actually taking me on a date," she said as she searched through her wardrobe for something to wear, her phone pressed to her ear.

Although she couldn't see it, her friend rolled her eyes. "Are you sure he's not gonna murder you and ditch your body in a... ditch?" She asked.

Y/N laughed. "I do know the guy. But, if my body is found in a ditch somewhere, you get all of my stuff," she said and pulled a nice top out of the wardrobe. Paired with some nice jeans, she could look pretty good, she thought as she looked in the mirror, holding the top against her body.

"I've got to go," her friend said. "Keep me updated through the date, okay? If he is a murderer, let me know."

They said their goodbyes and Y/N threw her phone onto her bed. She looked at herself in the mirror again, looked at how the top looked against her. Pretty good, she thought. She made light work of getting changed and started on hair and makeup.

At seven o'clock, Lando arrived at her house. His car was incredibly fancy, maybe to the point of overkill. He pulled the classic Porsche up outside of her apartment and climbed out.

Immediately he regretted it. Her neighbourhood wasn't exactly the nicest, he was so sure that somebody would steal it if they came across it.

Pulling his business card from his pocket, he left it on the dash for everybody to see. Just his name alone would scare anybody out of trying to steal it. He straightened his jacket and started up to her apartment.

Lando had the address memorised. He'd been there more than he liked to admit, watching over her apartment. Surely, if she'd lived somewhere a little nicer, he wouldn't be by her apartment every night, watching over her.

Who was he kidding? Lando was enamoured with her. Plus, him watching over her kept his mind off of his sister and it kept him away the club, where he was drinking far too much and doing whatever was dusted over the table.

He sucked in a breath and knocked on her door.

"Coming!" She shouted. She ran through her apartment as she attempted to put her earrings in. With the back of the earring between her lips, she pulled open the door. "Hey," she grinned, placing the back of the earring where it was supposed to be.

"You ready to go?" Asked Lando as he offered her his arm. She grinned and took his arm. Pulling her apartment door shut, she locked it and followed Lando down to his car.

His incredibly expensive classic Porsche.

She let out a low whistle as she stepped out of the apartment building. "Is that yours?" She asked. She knew Lando had serious money. Like, he owned his own strip club! What kind of guy owned his own strip club? Of course he'd have some crazy car.

Lando just offered her a smile as he pulled the door open for her. The car smelt incredible. It was hard to describe, but there was nothing that could beat the smell of a classic car. That mixed with Lando was amazing.

The engine rumbled to life. It sounded like a dream. She let out a low whistle as Lando pulled away from her apartment building, heading further into the city. "Is she yours?" She asked, patting the dashboard.

"My dad's," Lando answered. "But she'll be mine soon, I guess," he muttered under his breath.

"Are you sure you wanna park her in the city?" Asked Y/N, raising her eyebrows at him. "Something might... happen to her."

Lando shook his head. He pulled into a car park and, once again, left his business card on the dashboard before climbing out. "I'm not worried about that," he said and pushed the door shut.

Walking around to the other side, he opened the door for Y/N, took her hand and helped out of the car. "You're a weird guy," she muttered, but she was still wearing a smile.

"Thanks." He linked his hand with hers and led her away from the car park, towards the restaurant. Lando could have booked it out. He had that level of power around here. But he didn't want to scare her off, especially not before she joined him in Spain.

The dinner was rather uneventful. They talked and laughed like this wasn't a date, like they were just in the back room of his club. Lando ordered for the both of them, which she thought was a little strange, but she didn't mind. He had good taste.

(Actually, no. Lando rarely had good taste. His pallet was that of a child. He was putting on a brave face for this date).

"How about we get out of here?" He asked after they had finished the main course. The dessert was incredibly fancy and Lando wanted something less.

She grabbed her bag and reached for her purse. Lando held up his hand, halting her. "It's already been taken care of," He said with a grin.

The look she gave him with sceptical. "You're not like... a mob boss or something, are you?" She asked quickly.

The way Lando's heart was beating, shit he thought he was going to die. But then she laughed and he visibly relaxed. "I paid on the way in," he confessed (it didn't matter that it wasn't true).

They strode out of the cafe, arm in arm. Lando led the way out of the restaurant, towards a dessert shop. It was just around the corner, one that Lando's family owned the building to. He got them two thick milkshakes, incredibly unhealthy and topped with cream.

They sat in the park, drinking their milkshakes. The stars appeared above them and the air turned cold. "Here," Lando said as he took off his jacket and handed it to her. She took it gratefully and pulled it onto her body.

With the sleeves pulled over her hand, she held her milkshake and leaned against Lando. "You paid for everything tonight and I feel shitty," she mumbled against him.

Lando laughed. "Trust me, it's fine," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "Just... thank you for agreeing to come to Spain with me next week."

Suddenly she pulled away from him, just enough that she could look at him. "Is this a thank you date, because I agreed to join you in Spain? Or is this a real date because you actually like me?" As nice of a gesture as it was, she didn't do thank you dates. Not when she had already caught feelings.

Lando shook his head. "It's not a thank you date, I swear," he said quickly. "I invited you to Spain because I actually like you. This date sounded like a good way to... start things off," he said.

She couldn't hide her grin. Leaning against him once again, she closed her eyes and let out a content sigh. "So, you could say that Spain will be our second date," she mumbled.

Lando kissed the top of her head.

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[lovelinoss]

nonidol!seungmin x afab!reader

college!au

Warnings : smut. MDNI!! adult content below, brat tamer seungmin?, use of pet names, enemies to lovers trope?, unprotected sex (no not do this), tutor seungmin, etc.

a/n : this has been stored in my drafts for so long unfinished.. but i decided to finish it and its so bad?! im gon sob. Butttt… my inbox if always open for req so feel free to ask !

wc: 5k (5,069)

“Can’t you see where you’re going?!” the guy in front of you said. More like above you, since you were on the floor with your books everywhere and your spilled coffee to the side. It was so embarrassing, trying to get into the library’s “office” room for people who study or work to get some work done when you ran into this guy on his way out.

I mean what a jerk, right? It was your fault, but a person who was thinking straight and is a decent human being would have said “it’s okay” and help you up!

The concrete floor was cold, the winter days adding more of this chilliness. Your bottom hurt from the fall. You just looked up at him to see his face in an annoyed scrunch. He noticed you staring and he met your gaze. He sighed.

“C’mon, get up,” he said, reaching his hand out for you to grab. You looked between him and his hand. You reluctantly reached out for it, grasping his hands. He tugged backwards for you to get up.

“Thanks.. i guess,” you said, dusting off your coat and crouching down to pick up your books.

“Is that how you thank someone?” He said, catching you off guard. You stood up after picking up your books.

"What?" You responded, staring at him. He raised his eyebrow, making it seem like he was intimidating you.

"Want me to say it again?" he said, crossing his arms with his backpack slung over his shoulder. "is. that. how. you. thank. someone?"

"Fucking no!" you yelled out of frustration. "What as in is that something to say to someone? Are you this rude on a daily basis?"

“Whatever,” he shrugged, bumping into your shoulder as he left his own way. That was so obvious that it was on purpose! You could feel the way he smirked once he walked away.

What the fuck. Who even was he?

You’re mind was on this random guy the whole time you were trying to study. Trying to right down your notes in your notebook would just lead you back to slamming your fist on the table out if frustration. You sighed, leaning back against the chair you were sitting in. It’s been 2 hours and you barely got your work done. You were tired. You were frustrated. You need a break.

You left your stuff as is on the single desk. No one in the library cared enough to steal stuff. It was never said so, but everyone knew that no one steals stuff in the library.

You walked into the nearby convenience store once you got out, wanting to get some snacks and some coffee to keep you awake all night.

You reached the area where they kept the drink when you spotted your favorite brand of coffee sitting on the shelves. Lucky for you, it was the last one. You cheered mentally, walking over to grab it.

However, when you were reaching your hand out to grab it, another hand reached it first, grabbing it off the shelf. You turned to your left to see who stole your coffee. And nonetheless, it was the guy that you bumped into earlier in front of the library.

“You!” You screamed, glancing over to the coffee in his grasp. He was tossing it up like he won a battle or something, like a victory prize.

He groaned.

“Not you again,” he sighed, turning around to head over to the register.

“Wait!” You screamed, making him turn back to face you. You really didn’t mean to call him out like that. But you were desperate. No other coffee brand fit your taste. “Give me that coffee.”

“What? Are you fucking crazy. Finders keepers, losers weepers,” he said. “Go cry to your mommy about it.”

This son of a bitch.

"C'mon. Give me that coffee. Be a gentleman, would you?" you told him, reaching your hand out.

"What, no." he shrugged, shaking the can of coffee in his hand right in front of your face. "It's mine now."

This infuriated you. Who does he think he is?

You snatched his hand away. He looked a bit shocked for a second, before his "O" shaped mouth turned into a smirk. How could anyone be this annoying?

"FINE!!" you yelled, crossing your arms. "keep that stupid coffee all for your stupid self."

He shook the can in front of you for a second before dropping his hand, knowing you would swipe it away again.

"Okayy~" he said. "My stupid self will take this stupid coffee and leave~" he mockingly said. He turned around and walked to the register, laughing.

You cursed him in your head a million times, opening to fridge door to get a random cup of coffee you never tried before. This'll have to do.

୨ৎ

"fuck!" you screamed, jumping out of bed turning off your alarm clock. You were late. Late for your last class of the season before your exams. You sighed, running over to your bathroom to get ready.

Finally after around 7 minutes, you surprisingly got ready in comfortable sweatpants and a sweater, fitted nicely for the cold weather. You rushed toward your class building, running in and finally reaching your lecture hall.

"Ms Y/LN, you're late." your professor, Lee Minho, announced for the whole lecture hall to hear. Embarrassed, you bowed to him quickly, a way for you to say sorry, and quickly found your seat next to Felix, your best friend.

"Were you on your phone all night again?" he asked you as you sat down next to him, sighing.

"What? No!" you exclaimed, crossing your arms and glaring at him. "Who do you think I am?"

"Then what were you doing?"

Before you could answer him, your professor hit his pointer stick on his desk to get everyone's attention.

"You guys all remember about the exam you guys are taking in 2 days, yes?" he asked, followed by a unison of yes's. "Well good. I know some of you are having a bit of trouble studying. This is why I have a special guest."

That was when a figure walked through the lecture hall door dressed in a simple oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, followed by a backpack slung over one of his shoulder. You groaned when you saw the figure's face, sighing as Felix looked over to you for any answers. It was the guy that you kept running into. That jerk who had no manners.

"This is Seungmin, everyone." Mr lee announced, putting a hand on his shoulder. So that was his name. "He was top of the class last semester. He did leave.. worst decision, am i right? But he did agree to help students who are having trouble with the exam, since he too had to take it before."

That was when you noticed that he noticed you in the small crowd of people sitting in the lecture hall. He smirked. He fucking smirked.

"Do you know him?" You heard lix saying.

"Remember that guy I told you I ran into? That's him!" You complained, hiding your face into the palm of your hands as you let out a loud sigh.

"Oh girl.." he said, letting out a small airy laugh.

"If you are having trouble, sign the paper that is sitting on my desk at the end of the class. You'll have small, extra classes with Seungmin whenever you choose to, since the sign up sheet has time slots for each person. You could choose whether to have a 1 on 1 or a small group study session." Mr lee explained while Seungmin went over to his desk to hold up the sign up sheet.

"Stop." You whispered to Felix. "I need help. Like what the fuck are those questions on the study guide? ughh, but I can't ask him." you complained.

"Of course you can. Let's just sign up together for a group study session and we could stick together, yeah?" He offered. You accepted, knowing you had to get help in some way.

After class, Mr lee dismissed you guys so that you guys can either go and be free or sign up. You had to pack up, so Felix, who was faster than you, went ahead to sign both of you guys up.

You caught up with him soon after. His expression seemed bad.

"uhm.. so. Every group session that was available was full.. so I just signed up for a 1 on 1.. and that's the only option you also have."

"What!!'" you exclaimed, making way for you to see the sign up sheet for yourself. You groaned, looking at all the names that were next to the group study sessions. Well what choice did you have? You really did need some help to pass this exam.

୨ৎ

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! You repeated in your head while you were standing right in front of the door of the small mini lecture hall that is provided for students. Students such as Seungmin to tutor.

Based on the sign up sheet, you were the last one he was going to be tutoring. The campus was silent, with everyone being in their dorms or professors doing their own stuff.

You straightened your clothes, making sure he wouldn’t look down on you again, literally.

You pushed on the door, trying to make it open. Instead, a figure opened the door the other way, making you bump your head lightly and fall backwards. You fell, landing on your ass.

“Pfft” you heard. You looked up a bit, placing a hand on the spot on your forehead that got hit. It was yet again Seungmin who was looking down at you with a pair of glasses sitting lightly on the bridge of his nose. “Did you seriously try to push? It says pulls right below the handle.”

Oh.

“Ugh, whatever..” you protested, getting up by yourself, dusting your clothes off. “Why were you even coming out of that room? Now I have this bruise on my forehead..”

“I saw you struggling through the window,” he shrugged, going back into the mini lecture hall. “Come in when you’re ready.”

You groaned. This was not going to be a delightful hour.

୨ৎ

“Move this bla bla move that bla bla and the exponent bla bla graph this and the answer is….” Was all you heard while Seungmin sat in front of the desk you were sitting at, using his pencil and scribbling all over the paper. “Now you try.”

“Huh.”

“Huh,” He said mockingly, pushing his glasses higher. “Were you seriously not listening to me?”

“Not really..”

“You think you’re gonna pass the exam like this?”

“No..”

“Ok here. Let me explain it again. You see the first digit? Get that and multiply these to get the term. These terms are common, yes? Multiply them.”

He continued to explain, saying how this is a part of the easier questions.

“You try.” He said, placing the pencil he was holding in front of you, glancing at the pencil indicating for you to start.

After about 3 minutes, you placed the pencil down. Seungmin turned away from his own study to look at it.

“Nice. You got that right. Let me give you 3 more questions.” He said, quickly jotting down numbers, letters, and symbols. “There. Can you try these?”

You nodded.

10 minutes passed, and you handed the paper to him. He looked over your answers, nodding at some and squinting at others.

“This one’s wrong.” He explained, turning the paper so that you could see it and pointing at the second one you did. “Look at it again. Can you point out what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. It looked right in your eyes, but obviously it was wrong.

“On the second step you made a mistake. Simple mistake. You multiplied these wrong.”

“Oh.” you simply stated, grabbing the paper again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Unless you’re apologizing for how you’re wasting my time.”

“Whatever, jerk.” you fought back, grabbing your pencil and fixing your mistake.

Quickly, you handed him back the paper.

“There.”

“Ok.. that’s better.” He said, taking off his glasses. “Time’s up. Come back tomorrow, same time, yeah?”

You groaned loudly, loud enough so that he could hear you.

“Do you not want to pass your exams?”

“Never said that! It’s just a pain in the ass to be taught by you, especially.”

“Seems like someone doesn’t want to pass.” He remarked, packing his backpack with the books he had.

“No i do!” You said, packing your own things in your bag. That’s when you noticed him taking something out of his backpack.

“Here. For you.” He said, sliding over a can of coffee, your favorite brand, across the table.

“Ew.” you said, gliding it back.

“Didn’t want to say this but this girl that has a crush on me bought it for me. Gross! Take it. It’s gross like you.”

You scoffed.

“I don’t need coffee from someone like you.” You remarked, sticking your tongue out at him before running away and leaving the classroom.

“Brat.”

୨ৎ

“How was tutoring?” Felix asked you as you sat down minutes before your lecture with Mr lee started.

“It sucked! Total pain in the ass, yknow.”

“Well me personally it did help. I understood it more,” Felix said, patting your shoulder to comfort you. “He even said i was good enough that I don’t have to come back today!”

“Lucky!!” You exclaimed, pouting at him. “He told me I had to come back today. I suck.”

“It’s fine. As long as you pass the exam, yeah?”

“I guess.”

That’s when Mr lee tapped his pointer stick on his desk.

“I heard some students who signed up yesterday did very well! And i also heard some students still need more help. If you have any questions, feel free to go ask Seungmin in lecture hall 4a after this lecture is over.”

Obviously you knew you had to go again. He said it himself. How you dreaded for the moment lecture ended.

୨ৎ

“Ughhh. You’re back.” Seungmin said the moment you walked in through the door. He was leaning back against his own chair, legs crossed with a simple sweatpants and a white tank top with a windbreaker on.

You scoffed.

“You told me to be back, idiot.” You said, sitting down in your seat you were in last time.

“idiot?” Seungmin said in disbelief, letting out an airy laugh.

“Yes. Idiot.” You spat out, crossing your arms along with your legs, leaning back against the chair.

You were wearing a denim skirt today with tights underneath it with a white tank top, topped with a thick jacket over it. You were planning to hang out with your friends later that day, just to get some stress off before the exam tomorrow. With your legs crossed, your skirt rid up your thighs, making you more exposed. You didn’t care, you barely even noticed.

But he did. Seungmin did.

Your plush thighs wrapped around the tights had him staring for a second, looking back up at you in your eyes with a glare.

“Fucking brat.”

What? What did he just call you?

“What?” You said in disbelief, rolling your eyes and glaring up at him. “What did you just call me?”

“You really aren’t the type to listen, aren’t you?” He said, walking closer to you. “I said you’re a fucking brat.”

“What the fuck? Why are you so-“ you started to say. But before you could even let another word out, he leaned down, putting his face as close to yours as possible. You felt his breath every time he exhaled. You were squirming in your seat. Why was he so close? It was obvious that Seungmin was the good looking type. It was a fact. You even overheard some girls while walking to your lecture saying how hot he was. You never really saw it until he put his face close to yours until it was only a centimeter away.

His eyes were dark, alluring you into his deep, dark brown eyes. His nose was pretty sharp, with light, natural blush covering his cheeks. You looked down even more. His lips were as plush as marshmallow. So plush. So soft to the point you wanted to kis-

What? Why were you thinking this? You don’t like Seungmin. You hate him. So why was your core pulsing around nothing and wetting your panties every second.

“Tell me you don’t want this” he said under his breath. “I’ll stop.” But you didn’t answer, staring into his deep eyes, wanting him.

“please..” you whispered. You heard a faint brat before grabbing your chin with one hand, placing the other on the desk next to you to steady himself, and leaning in to kiss you.

Why the hell did he kiss you?

Truth be told, he liked you ever since he glanced over and saw you studying your ass off one day during his library visit. You looked cute. Your round glasses perched on your nose bridge that you got rid of when it was day time with a lollipop in between your pink, plump lips.

Then, he saw you sometimes in the hallways, all flirty and talkative with your gfs and your friends. You seemed so bratty with the way you talked with your friends. It was hot.

When he bumped into you that one day, he couldn’t help but be happy. That was also when he realized that you were definitely a brat.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he sometimes came to him dorm, lock himself in his room, and jack himself off to the thought of you. To the thought of him brat taming a bitch like you. You under his hands squirming while taking in his cock in your tight cunt. Imagining this would only lead to soiling his clothes he was wearing.

He couldn’t help it.

You were already hot enough when you didn’t wear make up, but seeing you all dressed up would make him go crazy. Like you were all dressed up for him. For his cock.

Your lips were like cushion against his. So soft. So warm. So hot.

You whimpered into the kiss, which he quickly swallowed. His tongue caressed your bottom lip, making you slightly part them, allowing his tongue to intrude your mouth.

Out of breath you pulled back with a saliva string still connecting you and Seungmin. You were panting, looking up at him.

“J-jerk” you managed to stutter out, not sure why you said it. He got face to face with you again, landing light slaps onto your cheek.

“Are you gonna listen to me, brat?”

You whined a bit at the pain you felt on the right side of your face. He chuckled.

“You like pain? Are you a pain slut?”

You nodded slowly. No one knew this. It was your own little secret. But the stare Seungmin gave you was so endearing it just came out of you. He smiled, grabbing you by the wrist to pull you up. He swung you, making you hit the edge of the table. He leaned closer yet again. “Gonna let me do what I want?”

You smirked a bit, nodding slowly yet again.

He leaned in to make out with you again. Which you gladly accepted. Mid-kiss, his hands slowly went down to grab you by the waist. He lifted you up, placing you to sit on top of the desk. He pulled away. You were squeezing your thighs, trying to get some friction to your core. That was when he took his hand and started to grope your plush thighs. You let out a sigh of a moan.

“Open for me, yeah?”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You said, glaring at him.”

“You’re such a fucking brat.”

You did as he said contrast to your words, slowly spreading your legs out for Seungmin. He grinned. Oh how you wanted to slap the fuck out of him. He took his jacket off at that time, too, revealing his pretty slender arms with muscles hidden underneath. It wasn’t very visible, but him being so close to you, you saw the hidden veins in them and it turned you in more.

His slender fingers started to rub your clothed core, making you whine.

“W-wait.” You looked up to him. “What if we get caught? The door is unlocked.”

“Better keep quiet than, yeah?” He smirked, grinning a proud smile as he made his way toward your tight’s waistband, until you heard a loud RIP.

“What the fuck?!!” You exclaimed looking down to see a big, gaping hole in your tights in your crotch area. “You better pay for those.”

All he did was shrug, before bringing his fingers closer to your panties, gliding his digits over the lace on the fabric.

“Lace, huh?”

He slid his fingers over your clothed cunt, gathering the wetness that was dripping out of you, making a wet patch on your panties.

“You’re so wet. All wet for me baby?”

You nodded, looking down at his fingers go to work on you. They were long, in general, his hand size was huge.

“Can I?” He asked while tugging slightly at your panties. You looked dazed, not even wanting to fight it off. You wanted this. He took that as a yes, sliding your panties to one side, the cold air now hitting your warm cunt. You winced at the feeling. You felt his digits going below, but without any warning, his cold finger penetrated your warm cunt, making your whine out at the feeling. It really was long. The cold added an extra bit of sensation. Seungmin chuckled, landing a peck on your cheek.

“Baby can’t handle one finger?”

You shook your head. Who did he think you were.

“I c-can” you muttered out, which allowed him to slide in a second finger. You grabbed onto his bare forearms to balance yourself. He curled his fingers in and out of you, making whines and moans fall out of your lips. His long, slender fingers reached your g spot, making you bend over with high pitched whimpers falling out of tour mouth.

“Shh,” he quieted you. “Remember, there still might be some people outside.” You covered your mouth with your hand, making him laugh, still curling his fingers deep into you. He knew there was barely any people on the campus at this time, let alone this building. But why would he tell you that?

He pulled out his digits, making you cry from the feeling of loss.

“Seungmin, I want you.” You whined, but he shut you up with his fingers that were just inside of you. You groaned at the taste of yourself, looking up at him with teary eyes from both pleasure and yearn.

He felt his cock grow harder in the confinements in his pants. You teary eyed with your mascara running loose slowly but surely.

“You’re gonna get me, alright? Just be patient, brat.”

He pulled away his digits out of your mouth, giving a small kiss on your lips before pulling his pants down.

It was hard to see due to the bagginess of his sweatpants, but his growing bulge was clearly visible to you now. He was big. Or at least you could tell from the angle you were sitting in. Oh how badly you wanted his cock to penetrate you so deeply-

“You’re staring.”

You woke up from your thoughts, looking back up to look at Seungmin’s eyes. He’s smirking. He could tell what you wanted.

“Get down.” He said, nodding to the floor in front of him.

“What?” You fought back. “I’m not doing that! That’s gonna spoil my-“

“Didn’t you hear me? Get on the floor.”

A shiver was sent down your spine, along with the feeling of your panties getting wetter and wetter.

You obliged, slowly scooting off the table before you got on your knees, feeling the cold floor hit your warm skin. You were now face to face with his crotch, still confined. You looked up at him.

What was with you always below him and him always looking down at you with that condescending look?

He hooked his finger through the waistband of his boxers, pulling it down slightly, making his cock bounce up, his tip hitting his abdomen, and it was right in your face.

It was big. His cock was long with a bit of girth with veins running along his length. His red tip already spilling out some precum.

You looked back up at him to see him smirking the shit out of his face.

“Suck me off and I’ll see if you could have my cock, ok?”

You wanted to beat the shit out of him. Who did he think he was to control you like that.

But you couldn’t help it.

You leaned in a bit, now with your lips only a few centimeters away from the tip of his cock. You stuck out your tongue, coming in contact with his salty tip covered in precum. You winced at the taste. You wrapped your lips around his tip, now slowly taking in more and more of his length. You heard him groan. You smirked, still having his length in your mouth.

You slowly lifted your head, then going back in, repeating this movement while still hearing him slowly pant out.

“Fuck- you’re so stubborn” he grunted out before he grabbed your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He bobbed your head on his length himself, making you moan along with him grunting with the feeling of your warm lips wrapping around his length.

You moaned around his length, causing vibrations to hit his girth. He grunted.

Seungmin pulled you off his length, making you cough a bit, wiping the saliva that was dripping on your chin with the palm of your hand.

He pulled you back up, tugging your hair with his hand that was still tangled up in a makeshift ponytail. He brought your face closer, giving you a kiss before setting you back up on the desk.

Your pussy was throbbing, begging for attention. You pouted at Seungmin, who had a thirsty look in his eyes while eyeing your figure up and down while you were sitting there, neatly on his desk.

"Just fuck me already, min." you argued, looking up at him with a pleading look.

"Be patient, fucking brat." he retorted. Despite his words, he took his cock in his hand, stroking it slowly while staring at your face who was basically drooling at the sight of his tip disappearing and reappearing in the fist of his hand. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to get some friction on your cunt. He chuckled, noticing your expression and your movements. "You're eager, pup. I'll give what you want, just be patient, okay?"

The pet name made you squirm. Who knew you were such a slut for meager names?

He slapped your thigh, indicating you to open your legs so that your sweet cunt could be exposed for him. You obliged, opening them slowly until your wet pussy was out just for him.

"You obey easily, don't you? Just like a loyal dog." You nodded, eagerly, only focused on what would his cock feel like when he stretched you out. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan awaiting to come out just from the desire of his length.

He got closer, leaning in to give you a kiss on the lips, distracting you while he brought his cock closer and closer to your tight pussy. He pulled away, looking down to focus on you. He slapped your pussy with his hot length, making you wince from the sensation. It wasn't enough. You wanted more. No. You needed more.

"Just fuck me.. you're so slow, min," you pouted.

"Stop fucking complaining," he hissed, before lining his length against your hole and thrusting in without warning. You gasped, feeling his cock penetrate you so deeply. He grunted himself, feeling your tight walls engulf his length. "fuck- you're so tight pup."

You mewled as he pulled his length out, just for him to thrust back in, deep inside your soppy cunt. He thrusted for a bit, making you pant and a chorus of moans and whimpers fall out of your lips. He, too, let out groans.

He pulled you by the hair, forcing you to look up at him. Your eyes swelling up in tears as his rhythm didn’t stop.

“Look at me, pup.” You did. Focusing your attention on Seungmin’s face. He smirked. “Good little puppy, yeah?” he said before bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. Spit everywhere, drooling down your chin, teeth clashing as he thrusted into you. You whimpered, the pain in your scalp as he pulled you in closer. He let go, a spit string connecting both of your guys’ tongues.

“M-min,” you managed to whimper out. He hummed in response, grabbing you by the waist to thrust in deeper. You mewled. The knot in your stomach began to tighten, making you grip along the edge of the table you were so nicely placed on.

“Gonna cum, little puppy?”

you nodded fastly, moving your grip onto his tank top. It tightened, your grip as long as the knot in your stomach.

He maneuvered your right leg a bit higher, and with a final thrust, you came. Your jaw dropped, eyes shut as pleasure overwhelmed you as he kept hitting your cervix.

With a few more, he too, came, coating your walls white. You both breathed heavily together in unison. Looking at his face filled with pleasure was so.. so alluring. His eyebrows scrunched together with his eyes closed.

He pulled out, shoving his length back in his cock as he packed his bags.

“M-min?” You said in confusion, still practically naked sitting on top of his desk. He looked back up at you with his backpack hung over his shoulder.

“C’mon. Round two at my place.” He said it so casually, but also as a sort of question.

“Uh..” you muttered, hopping off the desk, smoothing out your skirt. “Yea-“

Before you even finished, he grabbed you by the wrist, turning off the lights to the mini lecture hall and leading you out the door.