#literally calling me an idiot because i fold my jeans instead of hanging them up??

[merriclo]

hannskfka vent in the tags

[vgilantee]

The Manager || Platonic! Sunset Curve x Reader

Requested by anon

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: the guys swear because nobody can tell me that a bunch of 17 year olds in a rock band in the 90’s didn’t swear. I know i said fluff but i had an angst idea and it was too good not to add (i’m sorry). and while i don’t bother with adjusting to the american spelling most of the time, I did for ‘mom’ and ‘flavor’ and i hated it every time i typed it. final note: if i were to do more parts it would become a series rewrite, so if that’s something that interests you, let me know!

Warnings: character death, unhappy home life (no details)

While being the manager for Sunset Curve often felt closer to being a parent sometimes, it’s not a job you would trade for the world. Well, less a job because you weren’t really getting paid, but it was a good gig. You got to see some awesome venues and other small musicians, you quite often got free food from venues, and of course, got to hang out with your favourite boys. They gave you a place in the world, somewhere where you felt at home. They were family. Plus, Luke had graciously allowed you to crash in the studio with him when things got bad at home. 

You swing the door open, duffle bag over your shoulder, and march into the studio. It’s late, again, but your parents had started going off while you were trying to study and your father had mentioned your name, so you grabbed the emergency bag and climbed out the window. Luke looks up from his page and watches as you drop the bag on the ground and flop face down on the sofa. 

“Again?” You hum and nod into the pillow before flipping onto your back. 

“Dad said my name and mentioned something about grades and the band and I left before they could drag me into it further.” You glance over to see he has closed his journal and is resting his forearms on the acoustic in his lap. 

“Smart move.” You laugh and shift again to lay on your side. “The guys are in the house getting food by the way.” As if on queue, Reggie walks in with a stack of pizza boxes, Bobby has his arms full of bags of various snacks, and Alex is carrying an open cooler full of bottles of soda. 

“Oh hey, Y/N!” Alex raises the fingers on one hand in a wave before putting the cooler on the ground in front of the sofa. 

“Parents again?” Bobby gives you a sympathetic look before dropping the bags next to the pizza boxes Reggie had put on the coffee table. 

“Yep!” You pop the ‘p’ sound with false enthusiasm.

“You may as well just move in at this point.” Luke says it like a joke, but it’s been a joke for so long that you all know he says it seriously.

“You know what?” You sit up quickly and give a short nod. “My parents both have work tomorrow, you lot are gonna help me grab what I need.” It was that simple. The boys all make varying statements of agreement before sitting on the miscellaneous chairs around the coffee table. 

--

Luke had suggested you all dress in black for the heisting of your belongings, and as Alex was the only voice of reason, you all ended up head-to-toe in black. 

“Shh.” Luke whips around and presses a finger to his lips when you swing the door shut behind the group.

“There is literally nobody home Luke. And also this is my house. We don’t need to be quiet.” You gesture around the entrance with your hands as you speak, and Luke turns around and pulls the black beanie he insisted you wear, down over your eyes. You swat him away and he shushes Reggie as he laughs at you.

“It’s a heist! You gotta be quiet.” You roll your eyes after putting the beaning back in place on your head, before walking towards the staircase. “Everyone remember the plan?” Turning around you fold your arms and roll your eyes again. 

“School stuff.” Bobby salutes Luke, who nods. 

“Blankets and pillows!” Reggie copies Bobby’s salute, and is also nodded at. Alex rolls his eyes, and with far less enthusiasm holds his hand in a salute.

“Stuffing and zipping up bags.” Luke nods once more then turns to you with an expectant look. 

“Toiletries and underwear.” He taps his foot and clears his throat dramatically, staring at you, waiting. “Oh, right.” You salute him as well.

“And I’m on clothes!” You hear the noise of his hand hitting his forehead as he salutes with a bit too much force. “And if we hear the ‘rents, we move to Y/N’s room as quietly as possible, where we will finish packing what we have and bail out the window. Let’s move out!” You aren’t sure if he expected you all to go separate ways, but you move as a group up the stairs and into your room so that everyone can collect bags. Bobby takes your school bag, Reggie a duffle bag, and Luke and Alex reef a suitcase out from the top of your wardrobe. You swing a drawstring bag over your shoulder as you watch Luke nearly drop the suitcase on Alex, who promptly swears at him. 

With a final salute, you all part ways. You hear Bobby thundering down the stairs as you walk over to the bathroom, rolling our eyes at him. Grabbing your toiletries, including spare deodorants and toothpastes, before moving back into your bedroom where your drawers have been pulled open and clothes are being tossed onto the bed by Luke. You can only watch in horror and amazement as your clothes are thrown out of the drawers, and Alex folds them at an incredible speed. You want to ask him how he is folding them so quickly, but you don’t want to break his concentration. Instead you move to the unopened drawer and collect all your underwear, shoving it into the bag in your hands on top of the items already in the bag. You grab your hairbrush, adding it to the bag, before pulling the strings on the bag and closing it. 

“Need a hand, Alex?” He looks up after placing a folded shirt neatly in the suitcase. He opens his mouth to respond but instead snorts as you are hit in the head with a pair of jeans.

“Shit, sorry!” You pull the jeans from over your shoulder and glare at Luke, who has his hands covering his mouth.

“Screw you.” You flip him off, then fold the jeans and place them in the suitcase. 

The three of you managed to empty all your drawers and were in the process of sorting out what heavier jackets to take from your closet when you hear a door close, followed by thundering feet. The door is swung open and Bobby leans against the doorframe. 

“Mother.” Is all he manages to get out before Reggie tries to push past him and they both tumble into your room, making a thump as they land. 

“Shhh!” You and Luke push your index fingers to your lips, shushing the guys at the same time, but it’s too late.

“Y/N?” You all freeze as your mom calls out for you. You turn to the guys, left index finger still pushed to your mouth, as you point to the window with quick and sharp motions. They all nod and collect the bags and suitcases (a second was grabbed at some point in their packing) and move to the window. You don’t want your mom to know you are home to avoid whatever argument will undoubtedly occur, hence the attempt at silence, but when Reggie drops the suitcase he’s carrying with a echoing thud, you realise that won’t be possible.

“Shit. I’ll meet you at the car. Go!” You whisper harshly at the guys as he raises his hand to apologise and you leave your room, shutting the door behind you to hopefully muffle any more noises they make and buy them some more time. “Yeah mom?” Your mom waits at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded, as you make your way down. “What’s up?” You try to mask your anxiety about the whole situation by leaning against the railing.

“Don’t ‘what’s up’ me. You disappeared last night, and while I know you were at the studio with the band, you could have at least called to let me know that you were okay. Because really I didn’t know for sure because you didn’t call! You could have even called me this morning to say you were coming home. I had no way of knowing if you were safe, or, or, or if something had happened. I didn’t know!” 

“Mom-” You try to say something to calm her down but she interrupts, clearly not finished with her lecture.

“And you’re letting your grades slip! Running around with those stupid boys in that stupid band. You say you’re their manager, but it’s not a job and it’s definitely not a career! You need to pay more attention to class instead of going to clubs and venues with them. Which isn’t safe! Running around Hollywood with those four idiots in the middle of the night, sometimes not even coming home. There are all kinds of dangerous people out there and with no adult supervision anything could happen!” 

“Mom!”

“No. Your father isn’t right about a lot of things but he’s definitely right about not letting you see them again. Being friends with them is dangerous, not because they are, but because none of you have any common sense or self preservation!” 

“Mom, enough.” You rarely stood up to her, and you had never scolded her before, but calling the only four people that truly felt like family ‘idiots’ was the last straw. “I know it isn’t a job, but they are my best friends, and I enjoy going to those venues! I know it could be dangerous but the five of us are always together. My grades haven’t slipped, except maybe a couple of classes by one or two percent. But it’s not going to ruin me. And-”  The door slams shut and you look up quickly from your mother to see your father in the door. 

“Y/N.” Your father speaks very even and monotone, and his moves are all calculated. But his hands are clenched and his eyebrows are furrowed.

“Hi dad.” It was overly formal, and your brain screams at you to run, run from this conversation. But you can’t. You need to make sure the guys are as far away as possible, hopefully even at the car. You don’t think your father would track them down to stop you, but you don’t want to tell your parents you are leaving, and really you weren’t actually sure he wouldn’t track them down and drag you home. “How was work?” Poking the bear was very stupid.

“You disappeared last night, didn’t bother to leave a note or anything and scared the shit out of your mother!” You flinch slightly as he raises his voice. “You won’t be seeing that ridiculous band ever again, I can promise you that.” You glance at the clock and quickly decide that the guys have had enough time to get to Bobby’s car parked in the next street over. So you nod along in faux understanding. “You’re grounded, and you will spend the rest of the night until dinner studying.” You scoff and try to act pissed off, storming back up the stairs. To add to the act, you slam the door shut behind you, before grabbing a hoodie and climbing out the window.

You sneak around the house, watching your parents carefully as they move to the living room. They seem to be arguing again, almost certainly about you. You hop the fence into the neighbours yard then book it down the street to the waiting car. The engine is going and the second Reggie sees you, the windows are rolled down and they are yelling at you to hurry up, Bobby leaning over to open the passenger-side door. You laugh as you dive into the passenger seat. The door is barely shut when Bobby revs the engine and you drive away, a rock song from a mixtape you had made Bobby for his birthday playing loudly through the speaker and the five of you singing along and laughing. 

--

“Boys I have excellent news!” Wrong notes are played and a drumstick is dropped as you fling open the door with a piece of paper in your hand. 

“Christ, Y/N.” Bobby places a hand to his heart as Alex leans down to pick back up his drumstick.

“What’s the news?” Luke places his guitar on a stand and slides over to you. 

“Sit sit!” You gesture your boys towards the sofa on the opposite wall. “I won’t just tell you, there’s no fun in that!” They groan but comply, squashing together on the sofa, Alex with his legs over Luke’s, Reggie sitting cross-legged with his feet under him, and Bobby putting his feet up on the coffee table. 

“Well?” Luke leans forward over Alex’s feet and rests his elbows on his knees. 

“As you know I have been going around to potential venues to get you guys a show that isn’t in a bar that perpetually smells like puke, while you are playing your puke-scented shows and writing new hits.”

“Yeah.” They all reply at the same time and your smile grows.

“And I am also the best manager in the world, especially because of the fact that I am your manager.”

“Yeah yeah. Just tell us.”

“Bobby, quiet. I am building suspense.” Reggie swats his arm as if to say ‘yeah Bobby’. “Anyway. You also know that you are all incredibly talented and you will become the biggest band every.” The guys are all leaning forward and staring at you, waiting for you to finally tell them what news you’ve bought. “Alex, drumroll.” He immediately complies with an enthusiastic drumroll on Luke’s back. “You’re playing the Orpheum!” You throw your hands up as the guys all jump up and celebrate. “Are you serious?” Bobby grabs the piece of paper with the show contract as Reggie picks himself up off the floor after tripping over his feet trying to stand. 

“How did you do that?” Luke is jumping on the sofa and Alex is shaking you by the shoulders. 

“I’m just that good.” You manage so say through the laughing and shaking. 

--

“Size beautiful.” You roll your eyes as Alex groans and Reggie hands the poor bartender the shirt and demo. 

“Thanks.” She laughs as she holds up the Sunset Curve shirt before tossing it over her shoulder.

“I am so sorry about him.” You say genuinely to her, stood between Reggie and Luke.

“No worries. I’ll make sure not to wipe the table down with this one.” She offers them all a polite smile that you can tell is a forced customer service smile.

“Oh, good call. Whenever they get wet, they just kinda fall apart in your hands.” Alex gestures with his hands and you hear Bobby sigh.

“Don’t you guys have to go get hotdogs?” Oh? You realise that Bobby very likely wants to flirt with Bartender Rose and is trying to get rid of you all, finding his bandmates embarrassing sometimes. Luke pushes him back and nudges you with his shoulder as he leans over the bar, giving it a quick drum with his hands.

“Yeah, he had a hamburger for lunch.” He bounces then walks away, and Reggie shoves his shoulder.

“See you before the show.” You elbow him as you follow after Luke and Reg, and Alex bounces to catch up to you.

--

You eye the hotdog as it is handed over to you. You trust the guys but you don’t trust this hotdog ‘vender’ who is the sauce bottle sitting in his engine. You watch as Alex tells him that he spilt pickle juice into the car as you add sauces and toppings to your own. The vender says that it will help and laughs as Alex sputters, looking at you mumbling about how that doesn’t sound right. 

--

“That’s a new flavor.” You nod, continuing to chew as Alex says what you are thinking through a mouth full of hotdog.

“Relax,” Reggie looks over at him, “street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” The logic is sound enough so you all take another bite. 

-- 

You stomach hurt, god it hurt. It was like being punched in the gut over and over again, and your stomach was turning, and with every breath in your sides hurt. You could hear Reggie and Alex groaning over your own noises, but you couldn’t hear Luke anymore. You felt the tears rolling down the sides of your face but you couldn’t move your hands away from your stomach. You barely heard the paramedics arrive over the sound of the blood rushing through your ears, and while you could hear them talking you couldn’t decipher words. 

You let out a sob as a paramedic leans over you. You barely register being lifted onto an ambulance bed, but you turn your head and watch as Alex is lifted into one. As they wheel you out you see a black bag being zipped up. 

You feel light headed as they lift you into the ambulance and you hear Reggie gulp in a breath, before the paramedics swarm over to him. Alex is wheeled in next to you and you see his hand reach out to you. You forcefully peel your hand away from your stomach and hold his hand. You squeeze your eyes shut and hear the paramedic sigh, defeated. You let out a groan, then a sob, and squeeze Alex’s hand as you struggle to breathe. He lets out a pained noise and squeezes your hand back.

Then it’s all gone, and your body is rising. You turn to Alex and see your body, and Reggie’s body, with a version of him floating above his body. You stare at him wide-eyed but he looks past you at Alex. You both watch as the paramedics give up on you and move over to Alex as the heart rate monitor gives a solid high beep. And then he’s rising and looking at you and Reggie. The three of you rise above the ambulance and you hear Alex whisper Luke’s name, looking above just you. You catch sight of him for a second before he disappears. The second he does you feel the pulling that was simply causing you to slowly float up, gave a harsh tug and you were suddenly in a black room. 

Alex cried when he arrived, and you felt yourself panic. You were dead. You just died. You and three of your best friends had just died. Reggie was pacing and Luke had just sat on the ground, head in hands. Your own hands were shaking and you couldn’t look at one spot or person for longer than a second. 

The pulling feeling returns after a while and you are falling, the four of you screaming before landing on a carpet, a girl around your age screaming back at you.

---

Taglist: @parkeret​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @amazing-socks​ (if you want to be added to a tag list, send in an ask!)

[ohmy7hearts]

i don't need protection but you have to know everyone lies

when the sky kisses the earth: 3

"I don't get why you're so attached to him."

"I'm-"

"The way I see it he's a suicidal bastard who doesn't know shit about the world."

"Jean-"

"I mean, okay boy, go ahead and join the survey corps but stop going around and preaching about you wanting to kill all titans. It's so presumptuous."

You sigh, forehead planted on the palm of your hand, as you stared at the bread in your hand. No thoughts, head empty. 

"Huh? At least I have a goal in my life. What the hell are you even living for?" Eren growled from behind you. You sat up straight, glancing behind at him - teeth gritting and fists clenched. "And as far as I'm concerned, she can hang around anyone she wants. Or is your insecurity talking and you're so afraid that the people you call friends will leave you for your shitty attitude."

Eyes widening to saucers, you leaped up from your seat, a direct and literal intervention between the two before Jean retorts and it spiralled again. "Enough."

Eren's eyes rolled to you, taking in the annoyance etched onto your features, and he huffed. You pulled Eren out of the cafeteria by his arm and he followed albeit reluctantly. 

"Oi!" The scrapping of chairs and his foot stomping after you two halted when Marco tried to placate him. 

You slammed the door shut. In the dim light of the oil lantern, his eyes shine like that of a predator with fire reflected off the green panes of his eyes, watching your every move and unmoving, unblinking. 

"You have to stop doing that." He raised an eyebrow at that and you could see, predicted down to the letters, of the words on the tip of his tongue propelled by the anger coursing through his veins. "I know. He started it but you don't always have to entertain him."

Eyebrows scrunching, he muttered, "Huh?" He took a step back, did a deliberate analysis from your head to your toe and back up across your folded arms and into your eyes, glaring daggers at him. "How can you stand him? He called me presumptuous but he's worse! And-and he talks as if you're some kind of inanimate object that belongs to him! So what if you hang around me? What is his problem?"

You grabbed his arm, ceasing his pacing away and back to you with arms gesturing wildly to shake off the energy bubbling underneath his skin, and forced his attention to you. "I can handle Jean. You don't have to get angry on my behalf over something you don't understand."

He squinted at you, eyes blazing with unbridled anger, "Whatever is going on between the two of you doesn't give him the rights to talk about you like that."

"He doesn't talk about me like in any way you think he is." Exasperated, you raised your voice in tandem to the racing heart lodged in your ear and all you could hear is the blood rushing as fast as the memories flashed past your mind. You jumped before he could say a thing. "Stop finding reasons to fuel the ego war you and Jean are having. I'm fine with the way things are." You let go of his arms, taking one last glance at him - features softening to one teetering between confusion and defensiveness - and stormed back to the girls' quarters. 

In the company of the night, your memories and thoughts consumed you. Heart brimming with emotions that you couldn't pinpoint. Most of them lie in the realm of melancholy and you grunted in annoyance when the sound of falling footsteps sounded in crescendo after you. 

"Please, just leave me be."

"I just want to apologise." Jean replied. 

You swung back. Air caught in your throat when his passive face stared back at you. You blinked. "For what?"

He sighed, eyes flitting sideways as if his thoughts were painted in the shadows. "The way I try to intervene between you and Eren."

Your eyebrows shot up before furrowing then you shut your eyes and faced the sky, hands rubbing at your lids. "Jean-"

"No listen, please." Releasing a deep sigh, you looked back at him, eyes gleaming in an otherworldly fashion because that is not the Jean you know especially when his lips flattened to a frown in the manner he was doing at the moment. You pursed your lips. "You don't have to stick by me just because my mother saved you or that we took you in. You're not obliged to do anything for me or with me just because you feel like you owe my family something." He fidgeted. "And I'm sorry if I ever step out of my boundaries as a br-friend."

You frowned. He broke the eye contact and he left before you could fully comprehend what he said, mind set on drawing that boundary line and setting the distance. You groaned. Boys.

You chased him and with a calculated timing and location, you swung one leg around and hit the jackpot. 

"WHAT THE HELL?" Jean whirled to face you, ire curling around him like a snake as he spat out at you. 

"You're being an idiot."

His eye twitched at your blase reply. "I told you to stop doing that!"

"Then stop being an idiot." You rolled your eyes, pivoting on your feet and walking to the destination in mind. "Come on idiot, let's go."

He released a disgruntled scream, rubbing his ass, but followed you nonetheless, stomping after you to show his displeasure. 

"You're such an idiot you know?" You huffed, arms clutching the basket with the breads, and stubbornly facing forward instead of him. 

"Huh? You're the idiot. How can you just let someone talk to you like that." He clicked his tongue, hands shoved into his pants and eyes glaring at any lingering eyes, trudging after you. "You can't even protect yourself."

You swiveled back to him, eyes hardening and lips curled into a snarl. "I'm not some girl you have to protect Jean-boy. And even of I do need protecting, it won't be you because you're the biggest dumb dumb I know who always get in trouble and are always always always the one who needs protecting." You stomped your foot as the gavel to your conversation and huffed one last time as confirmation. 

You continued your trek home. Your supposed 10 minute errand has stretched to include a stupid 20 minute waste of time thanks to Jean. Why did he insist so much on coming along anyways? He never helped to carry things nor did he make your life easier in any way. You huffed in irritation. 

"You'll see."

You peered over your shoulder. Jean was pouting that's for certain - that usual sideway glance along with his clenched fist and rigid form as a defense mechanism in literal form. 

"I'll be part of the military police and I'll be able to protect anyone."

You blinked once, then twice, and you nodded, humming in agreement. "Good luck with that."

He recoiled, eyes blinking rapidly to assure himself it's reality. He ran after your disappearing form, "is that all you have to say? I thought you wanted to join the army too!"

You looked at his inquisitive face by your side, "yeah, but I don't know which regiment to join."

He blanched, "don't tell me the scouting regiment."

"My brother's in that!" You countered, eyes squinting at him; face blanking and eyes hollow, muttering, "right."

Your heartstring tugged, did you say something wrong? "Jean?"

He shook his head, legs stretching out further and the next thing you knew you were trying to keep up with him. Through the huffs and puffs you're exhaling and the thundering beating of your heart in your ears, you called out to him. 

"If you want to be part of the scouting regiment, you should keep up or you'll be titans' food." Your blood froze and your heart fell to your stomach, he never spoke to me like that and you felt like you've committed a great sin. 

"We're going to get in trouble." He spoke, breaking the silence, eyes squinted at you through the darkness. 

"So you're coming or not?" You tilted your head at him, more of a challenge than a question. He gave you a face before passing you and walking into the watchtower. 

"What's your fascination with Eren anyways?" He leaned on the railings and you following suit - arms touching in an attempt to mess with him - but he didn't say anything, merely looking out at the mess of cadets migrating back to their quarters. 

You mulled over your thoughts, "it's not fascination. More like admiration."

A second passed. He swiveled his head to you, features morphing into an ugly scowl. "You get to pine over Mikasa and I can't even have an eye candy? My, my Jean-boy, how selfish."

There were a myriad of thoughts which pass through his head, reflected by his ever-changing features, but he spoke none into existence and choosing to huff in indignation. 

"Imagine that Jean! You and Mikasa, me and Eren. An unstoppable quartet. How sweet." You teased, looping an arm around his and poking his cheek with the other.

He grimaced before it fell. "We're already enough as it is."

Heart leaping, you ducked your head forward, itching to get a closer look at his face. "Yeah, of course. We're the stronger duo together."

He raised an eyebrow, eyes shifting to find yours and his gaze burnt into your mind; you prayed that your face is not as transparent as his. Heart squeezing and your mind filled with voices screaming over one another, you muttered, "realistically speaking, I can't beat Mikasa though. And I have to get to the top 10 to get into military police."

"Don't get any ideas." His voice has been the softest it has been throughout the night but his conviction peaked and you faltered, but gained your strength a second later - hopefully fast enough that he can't prod at it. 

You laughed, voice carried over by the wind away from you two and hopefully your hidden promise along with it, "who'll take care of you if I'm not there?"

[gamerwoo]

Seventeen headcanon: Seventeen as mall workers

a/n: I’ve always lowkey wanted to do some sort of mall series but never actually had a solid plot so we gonna just do this instead. and Pentagon will be mentioned bc I wanna do one for them and I want them all to work in the same mall and no one can stop me 😤

-

Choi Seungcheol

currently works at GameStop

he quit his job at GNC a few months ago because he decided he hates working out

while he hates having to restock things or go into the back for stuff, he at least likes video games

definitely not the dude you want to end up yelling at on the phone

there have been so many times he’s had to give the phone off to Wonwoo or another co-worker because he would definitely lose his job

too high of a temper to work at GameStop tbh

but he knows what he’s talking about, so

has definitely recommended you games even before he worked in there

you’d just happen to be in there when he was and he’d notice you looking between two games and he’d tell you which one was better suited for you after asking what you normally play/what you like

now that he works there, he always puts in his two cents and will give you his discount on top of your own

-

Yoon Jeonghan

the current manager at Starbucks

he used to be the manager at American Eagle but he hated working there because retail sucks

unfortunately, the only other job he could snag was in -- you guessed it -- still retail

but at least he gets yelled at slightly less in Starbucks

and it’s probably only because he makes everyone else do things for him so he doesn’t have to

will take his sweet ass time making a drink

refuses to work the register

would rather stay off toward the back and make the drinks than deal with the people

always says he’s too busy to do things because he’s still training Yanan even though Yanan’s worked there longer than Jeonghan has

he’s also slightly salty at Yanan because he might be the better looking barista

one time he asked you if him or Yanan was cuter and you said him so he gave you your drink for free

refers to you as his “favorite customer”

-

Joshua Hong

works at Guitar Center

between him, Jihoon, and Jinho, he probably knows the least about instruments

pretty much only knows guitar things

but all he does is sit at the counter and play the guitar and sing

you are literally the only person who likes hearing him sing Sunday Morning

Jihoon told him to stop before he smashed the guitar over his head but you were in the store to kill time before your break ended and you said you were enjoying it

so Josh smirked and continued while Jihoon rolled his eyes

“’customer’s always right’ my ass...”

whenever you come in or he sees you walk by he’ll be like “got any requests?”

has offered to give you guitar lessons but you're always busy with work so you say “maybe another time”

but he continues to ask

-

Wen Junhui

works at the pet store downstairs

there hasn’t been a single time you’ve gone in there or walked past there and he wasn’t holding an animal in his arms

loves all the animals

also makes animal noises at the animals but it’s weird because he actually sounds like the animals

notices you come in to play with the animals during your break so now he always tries to get you to bring one home

“it’s not for the business, I just want them to find homes”

once got yelled at for actually getting in one of the puppy pens to play with them

-

Kwon Soonyoung

currently works at Hot Topic

the only reason being that store could not give less of a hell what goes on

he’s been fired from literally every other place at the mall

got fired from Starbucks for drinking too much coffee and shaking so badly all the time that he would spill drinks

fired from Build-A-Bear for exploding a bear with stuffing and making a child cry

fired from Bath & Body Works for dropping candles and spraying perfume in a customer’s mouth on accident

dropped and broke a guitar at Guitar Center

basically his last hope was Hot Topic but if Wooseok can work there and do absolutely nothing, Soonyoung was safe working there

he does attempt to do his job, it’s just that when it comes to basically existing, he’s bad at it

knocks things over, trips on things, is the loudest thing in the store

but he’s friendly and he does his job so who can complain

-

Jeon Wonwoo

the manager at GameStop

the youngest one working there but he’s in charge

usually the one to deal with the shitty customers but Wonwoo is thankfully good at containing his anger

well, at least until he hangs up the phone or the person is gone

goes in the back to yell about it to whoever is back there, even if they’re listening or not

Shinwon and Seungcheol give him a hard time for being the manager and always laugh and go “glad we’re not you!”

but he does love his job because he gets to work with video games

lowkey not very good with the girls who ask him for help though

gets blushy and can’t look them in the eyes

actually he’s really shy with people in general so tbh he’s always somewhat flustered

but he’s always feels happy when he helps someone find a new game or something so he likes his job

he’s usually the one who checks you out at the register and he’s the one who signed you up for a rewards card because you were in there so often

you don’t know this but before the rewards card, he would just give you his discount because you were literally always getting games or stuffed animals or pop figures from there

-

Lee Jihoon

the manager at Guitar Center

again, the youngest at his store, but the one in charge

his assistant manager, Jinho is slightly angry about it

but Jihoon knows everything about everything

any instrument you need fixed or need info on, he’s your guy

he comes off as very serious and not too friendly, but if you make him crack a smile, he suddenly seems super approachable

if he sees you having lunch at the food court when he’s on his break, he joins you sometimes

“you don’t give me a headache”

you assume that’s a compliment

some customers don’t take him seriously because they’re rude and assume he’s “a child”

but of course he schools their asses in his knowledge of instruments, so

sometimes his work is so satisfying lmao

-

Lee Seokmin

works at Bubble Bee

between him and Kino, it’s no wonder they get a lot of business

they’re both so cute and sweet and smiley

there was a short period of time where Soonyoung worked there and tbh those two were a mess

suddenly they only shared one braincell and poor Kino was stuck cleaning up their messes

but Seokmin and Kino work well together

not to mention Seok looks really adorable in the uniforms

always makes really good bubble tea

likes when the straw color matches the color of the drink though

you’ve never spoken to him much but he’s always smiling and cracking jokes and tbh you’re soft for him

-

Kim Mingyu

he was hired at GNC like, a month ago

he used to work at Starbucks but he got fired

because even though he made good coffee, the poor big idiot is clumsy as hell and kept spilling things and dropping things and knocking things over

Hongseok and Matthew knew him sorta so Matthew decided to hire him

he doesn’t really know what he’s doing but it’s fine

Hongseok’s training him while Matthew does most of the work since he’s manager

people started calling them the Big Tiddy Committee which you think is kinda funny

he’s usually in there when you go in to hang out with Hongseok and he’s really sweet

a lil dumb, but sweet

-

Xu Minghao

works at Lush

he originally planned to work at Sephora because he’s good with like, fashion and stuff

but he didn’t feel like dealing with that and Lush seemed less...annoying

he does seem kinda quiet and a little cold at first because he doesn’t really smile a whole lot except when politely greeting someone

but it’s easy to make him laugh

and he has a cute laugh and a really pretty smile

so when you first went in there to get a bath bomb and he asked if you needed help, you were really tempted to just say you were just looking

but you let him help and you got to talking and Minghao was really sweet

sometimes he has lunch with you, too because you just like talking to him

you found out he’s friends with Jun from the pet store and Yanan from Starbucks

it seems like a weird group of friends but hey, you also thought Minghao was a lot colder than he turned out to be

he always texts you when your favorite items are in stock and he may or may not use his discount and set them aside for you to pick up

“cash app me later it’s fine”

-

Boo Seungkwan

works at Sephora

he really wants to do makeovers but he’s not allowed to lmao

mostly just works the register and like lowkey judges everyone’s makeup

he will hype the hell out of you if he thinks you did something well

“your eyeliner is insanely sharp, oh my god”

“your eye shadow is beautiful!”

“that lipstick color looks so good with your skin tone”

has no frickin idea what to do with his discount because he doesn’t wear makeup

you once went in there and asked him for help and he just blinked at you and went “okay, let me find someone who knows what they’re doing”

at least he’s honest

-

Chwe Hansol

works at FYE

makes playlists to play at work in the store

literally just always vibing

the chillest worker in the entire mall tbh

one time he helped his manager, Hui make you a mixtape because you were looking for new music

so then he got interested and started talking to you as well about music

at this point, you’re going to befriend the whole store

looks like he doesn’t do much because he’s usually sitting at the counter and vibing

but he loves helping out customers and picking out music for them or fining things for them

he just loves to help out and talk about music

-

Lee Chan

works at American Eagle

when you see him in those jeans, you get it

he’s like a walking billboard because damn he looks r e a l n i c e

usually working the sales floor so folding and getting things from the back if someone can’t find a size

doesn’t work the register too often

so whenever you go in, he’s usually who greets you at the door with his beautiful smile

honestly he just looks like he should be working at that kind of store y’know? he fits

he doesn’t mind the job even though Jeonghan couldn’t stand it

despite that, he still is human and understand that shit is expensive

and since he recognizes you as a fellow mall worker, he sometimes goes up to the store you work at and let’s you know when they’re having special sales and stuff

[city-writes]

A Little Honesty

You know who was real fucking annoying?

Ok, yeah sure, Nasch. That one was a given, but nowadays? Alit was really gunning for the title of 'annoying asshole'.

Warnings: Post canon Pairings: One-sided Alit/Yuma; One-sided Alit/Kotori; One-sided Vector/Yuma; Alit/Vector if you squint

Read it here on AO3! Commission info here!

________________________________

Vector groaned at the sound of hurried feet made its way across the upper floor of the mansion yet again, this having been the 5th time it'd happened in the past 20 minutes while he was trying to watch his damned tv show. The ginger was trying to be good, and not go upstairs and put a stop to the noise itself, but as the sound occurred again for the 6th time in a row, Vector clenched his fist and exhaled heavily through his nose.

You know who was real fucking annoying?

Ok, sure, Nasch yeah. That one was a given, but nowadays? Alit was really gunning for the title of 'annoying asshole'.

Sure, Alit joined him sometimes when pulling pranks around the mansion, especially ones against Mizael and Durbe, but nowadays he'd been particularly irritating. And it was usually before he'd gone and done something stupid like hang out with Yu--

"Hey, Vec!"

Vector slowly turned his head at the sound of Alit's voice coming from the entryway of the mansion's living room, glaring daggers at the tanned teen cuz honestly, why couldn't he be left to watch his tv show in piece? But Alit either didn't notice the death glare or just flat out didn't care, because he continued to speak.

"Does this outfit look alright?"

Alit was dressed in a dark blue sleeveless workout shirt that was just the slightest bit tight looking, showing off the muscles on his arms, as well as his chest thanks to that slight tightness. He was also wearing a pair of black jeans that were also the slightest bit tight. When Vector failed to answer, - instead giving Alit a pointed look of unamusement which again the brunet seemed to either not notice or not care about - Alit slowly turned, showing off the outfit from all sides. There was a thick stripe of white on the sides of the shirt, under the arms, that reached the edge of the shirt. When Alit moved, the back of the shirt also helped to accentuate the tonedness of his back, and his pants (jesus christ above why did Vector need to see this) helped show off his ass, the slight tightness to the jeans showing off some curvature.

"Why ask me?" Vector growled, turning his attention back to the tv, trying to focus on it. "Why not ask Gilag?"

"Cuz!" Alit said, his hands curling into excited fists as he lifted up and down on the balls of his feet, "Gil's at the gym!"

"Then ask Merag, Durbe, literally someone other than me!"

Alit huffed and stopped moving excitedly, folding his arms. "Rio and Ryoga are in their rooms! Durbe's at his college and Mizael is probably with him, helping him study. And c'mon, its been like, almost 7 years, you can at least call Nasch and Merag 'Ryoga' and 'Rio' now."

"Nope." They'd always be Nasch and Merag to him. They'd never complained or made him try to call them anything different, so why should he bother catering to their newer, modern names? "Also, you look like shit. Leave me alone." With that, Vector raised the volume on the tv, hoping that was the end of the conversation.

Unfortunately for him, it wasn't.

Alit groaned and walked over, yanking the remote from Vector's hand, the ginger giving a "Hey!" of contempt. He then paused the tv show and looked to Vector, putting his hands on his hips. "C'mon, just be honest, alright? Unless that's too hard for you."

"Why would I bother feeding you a compliment, you idiot?" Vector tried to swipe the remote back from the hand at Alit's hip, but the ex-gladiator was too quick, and effortlessly moved his hand back, out of Vector's reach.

"A compliment, huh? So I do look good?" Alit flashed Vector a toothy grin then, and Vector growled, standing up from his spot on the couch to try and get the remote back.

"I said you look like shit, you asshole, now give me the remote!" Vector tried again to swipe the remote from Alit's hand by lurching towards the hand holding it, but Alit tossed the remote up in the air, sidestepping so that Vector's lurching caused him to fall forward, falling face first into the floor. Alit then caught the remote as it fell, whistling a single note as he took in the sight of Vector flat on the ground.

"Wow." Alit clicked his tongue, and playfully tossed the remote up and down, catching it repeatedly. "You really wanna watch this show, huh?"

Vector seethed as he pulled himself into a sitting position, only to look up and be met with Alit's gaze, a single emerald green eye positively glowing with mischievousness. At that, Vector pulled himself up, and stomped to Alit, who quit tossing the remote into the air. They were in each other's faces for the most part, Vector being an inch or so taller than Alit, and he sighed. "Fine, you look like half-way decent shit."

"I'll take it." Alit said with a grin, handing the remote back to Vector, who snatched it up angrily. "See? A little honesty can do you some good."

"Fuck you."

"Maybe later," Alit chuckled, "if I'm not dating an angel by then."

At that, Vector groaned, his head rolling back as he closed his eyes. "Not this shit again."

Alit pouted. "What shit?"

Vector looked pointedly at Alit then, before plopping back onto the couch. "This 'angel' shit. It's always 'Yuma, Yuma, Yuma' with you, or 'Kotori, Kotori, Kotori'. Just give up." He then turned his attention back to the tv. "Like you said, it's been almost 7 years. If they don't want you by now they're not gonna."

"You don't know that for sure, though." Alit said with a smile, clearly not fazed by Vector's words.

"Yuma's waiting for Astral to come back." Vector said, looking at Alit for what he hoped would be the last time for this conversation. "That's why he hasn't given you the time of day. I don't care about Kotori, nor do I want to, but there's bound to be some reason she doesn't want you either." With that, Vector unpaused the program, and resumed watching the television.

Alit was silent, and for a few moments, Vector was convinced the conversation was indeed, over. But from the corner of his eye, he watched as Alit stayed out, the ex-gladiator's arms folding as he smiled knowingly.

"At least I'm honest with myself about my feelings."

What?

Vector paused the program once more, looking to Alit unamusedly. "What?"

"I'm just sayin'." Alit continued, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke. "I'm honest with people and myself when it comes to my feelings for them." That knowing smile was still plastered on Alit's face, and he spoke once more. "Too bad you can't say the same thing about yourself and Yuma."

What.

Violet eyes bore into Alit then, Vector trying to fight the heat rising to his lightly freckled face. But no such luck was on his side, as Alit began laughing and pointing a finger at Vector's blushing. Alit's laughter promptly stopped, however, the second Vector suddenly lunged at him and knocked him down to the ground.

Vector landed a solid punch to the side of Alit's face, though his pride at landing a blow to the younger male was short lived as he felt himself being lifted and knocked into the wall of the living room, pain blossoming through his back as he made contact with the wall. A punch to his gut knocked the wind out of him, and he choked on air, his hands flying to his stomach as he lurched forward from the pain. Alit had been knelt in front of Vector when he'd delivered the blow, but as Vector was hunched over in pain, he stood up, wiping his hands against each other and beginning to walk away.

He hadn't expected Vector to recover so quickly, nor had he expected the ginger to have grabbed him by the ankle, causing him to fall forward into the floor. With a 'thud!, Alit landed on the ground, and he felt Vector climb over him and turn him over, the ginger going for another punch to the face. Alit however, moved his head in time, Vector's fist pulling back after coming into contact with the carpet and not flesh, and Alit used that to grab Vector by the shoulders and roll him over. Vector mimicked the action, and attempted to roll over again so that he could be above Alit instead of below him, and the two fought for the position, rolling into the wall more than once.

"What the hell is going on down here?!"

Even at the sound of Rio's voice, the two young adults kept fighting, and it wasn't until pairs of hands pulled them away from each other that they stopped.

"What the fuck are you two fighting about?" Ryoga spoke this time, holding Alit from behind, his arms going under Alit's, and wrapping back upwards to hold at his shoulders.

Both males were silent at the question, each struggling against their fellow ex-Barian's holds. Vector growled and tried to yank himself away from Rio, but she was alot stronger than she looked, and was able to keep him locked in place.

"I'm not gonna ask again," Ryoga said threateningly, "What are you two fucking fighting about?!"

"Ryoga," Rio spoke up, looking over Vector's shoulder at her twin, "The last thing I need is you fighting too. Now," Rio looked at Alit. "Who threw the first punch?"

Alit pointed at Vector as best he could from Ryoga's hold. "Vector."

"Of course he did." Ryoga muttered with disdain, glaring at the ginger.

"Shut the fuck up, Nasch."

Rio tightened her hold on Vector at that. "Why'd you punch him?"

Vector turned his head to look at her. "Because he was being a fucking asshole!"

"I was just talking to him about the importance of honesty!" Alit said all too innocently, which got him looks from both Rio and Ryoga. "Then I was going to go see Yuma and Kotori!"

With dual sighs, the twins let both their captives go, though Ryoga was quick to grab onto Vector when he lunged for Alit again. "Nope. Not happening."

"You do realize Alit can beat the shit out of you if he wanted to, right, Vector?" Rio asked, he hands on her hips as she walked to the ginger, looking him in the eyes.

... Oh yeah. That was right. He was on a wrestling scholarship. ...Maybe he shouldn't have thrown that first punch.

"Whatever, I can kick his ass!" Vector yelled as he struggled against Ryoga's hold.

Alit merely laughed, beginning to walk out of the living room and towards the foyer so he could reach the front door. "Sorry we bugged you guys." Alit apologized to the twins, giving them a small wave before he disappeared into the foyer, and the remaining three inhabitants in the house heard the front door close.

At that, Ryoga let go of Vector, who scoffed and dusted himself off. The two shared a look of mutual loathing, before folding their arms and looking away from each other.

"Maybe we should have let Alit beat the shit out of him."

"Ryoga." Rio chided.

The three young adults' heads turned towards the foyer at the sound of the door opening up again, and after a few seconds, Alit's head and part of his upper body popped into view from the entryway point of the living room.

"Oh, just remember, Vector." He said, amusement dancing in his gaze before speaking again. "A little honesty can do you some good."

Ryoga had to restrain Vector once more, as Alit left again, walking out the door laughing.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Mixed Signals

Summary: Blaine Anderson is the new transfer at McKinley High. He quickly becomes fast friends with Kurt Hummel—Glee Club diva, straight A student, Cheerio extraordinaire. He plans to win his heart, but there’s just one problem: he can’t make heads or tails of Kurt’s personality, as it seems to change every hour or so...

A/N: So uh, I don’t really know what this is I haven’t written anything in literal years and I just popped this trash baby out so... yeah enjoy

* Blaine follows his new show choir director into the choir room, which he notes is significantly less grandeur than the one at Dalton, but he digressed. McKinley was supposed to be a new start and although leaving Dalton isn’t something he was ever too keen about, he knows he has to try and find the silver lining of it all, at least for his parents’ sakes.

Said silver lining presents itself in the form of a pale skinned, blue eyed boy wearing a cheerleading uniform who caught Blaine’s eye as he took center stage of the room to introduce himself. “Hello everyone,” he waves to the eclectic group of students with one hand and keeps the other safely in his pocket. “I’m Blaine Anderson. I just transferred here from Dalton Academy.”

It seems he has unnamed male Cheerio’s attention, he can practically feel the boy’s gaze quickly traveling up and down his entire body, as if assessing him. “Let’s all give Blaine a warm welcome,” says the teacher—Mr. Shue, he remembered. He gestures to the chairs in front of them as the thirteen other members applauded. “Take a seat wherever you’d like.” It doesn’t m take long for him to make his way towards the empty seat next to Cheerio boy and claim it. It also doesn’t take long for the rest of the New Directions to exchange a multitude of glances that range from surprised to suggestive to sly.

The boy offers Blaine a hand and an almost bashful smile. “My name’s Kurt,” he introduced himself. “Kurt Hummel.” After fifty minutes of solos, rehearsing, and casual chatter, Blaine is definitely intrigued by Kurt, to say the least. He learns that Kurt and Finn are step brothers after the latter had come up to him and asked what they were having for dinner. “Oh, you two are dating?” Blaine had asked, not so smoothly and unable to keep his interest discreet despite his best efforts. This caused the tallest of them all to laugh heartily, throwing his head back. “No, we’re brothers. Kurt’s dad married my mom. I used to be kind of a dick, but our brotherhood kind of changed that. Did you know that grilled cheesus never said anything about gay people—“ Finn goes on for several more minutes about all he’s learned about gay rights in support of his brother, and Kurt watches and listens with equal parts pride and amusement. Not everything he says is entirely accurate, but neither Kurt nor Blaine have the heart to tell him that. Instead, they just exchange bemused glances every time it happens and let the leader of the New Directions continue on, blissfully ignorant. The bell finally dismisses them, and before Blaine leaves, his new friend is practically bouncing over to him. Blaine notes the hopeful look on his face as he gnawed on his bottom lip nervously. “I know this might be a little forward, but,” he reaches out and pulled his arm towards him, rucking up Blaine’s sleeve. He tries to stay calm as he watches the purple pen move furiously, scrawling out seven digits on Blaine’s forearm. “We should hang out.” He can’t keep the smile off his face. “We should.” * The next time Blaine sees Kurt, he’s changed out of his Cheerio’s uniform and opted for a subdued gray tee shirt paired with a blue hoodie. He can’t say he’s not surprised at the disconnect between Kurt’s effervescent personality and muted fashion sense, but he’s excited to share calculus with him nonetheless. He throws his hand up in a friendly wave towards the boy and is slightly confused when he receives nothing more but an angrily puzzled glare in return. Offset, but not entirely discouraged, he sits right behind him. The lesson continues and Blaine is taking immaculate and thorough notes about the square root of negative integers when Kurt bursts out in disbelief. “Woah, woah, there are imaginary numbers now?” He scoffs, and Blaine is startled at how much lower his voice is. “Are there unicorns in the next lesson?” “Mr. Hummel,” the teacher scolds, folding his arms. “Are we going to need another chat with principal Figgins?” “No but we might need one with the people in charge of educating the nation’s youth.” He mutters. Blaine is absolutely floored at the jarring contrast between the Kurt he met two periods ago and the one sitting in front of him right now. Still, he doesn’t want his new friend to get into trouble, so he places a gentle hand on his shoulder, earning a flinch from the other boy. He whips around to face Blaine. “What?” He hisses. “Nothing, I just... don’t want you to get into trouble.” He admits.

He looks at Blaine like he’s never seen him before this moment, absolutely bewildered. “Thanks,” he says, not an ounce of actual gratitude in his voice. “But I can handle myself just fine.” And he turns back around to face the board. Blaine sits there, stirring in his confusion. He hadn’t know Kurt could be so... abrasive. At least, not based on his interactions with him earlier that day. He brushes it off with a shake of his head. Maybe he was just having a bad day. He’s sure it’s a one time thing. * It’s not a one time thing. Blaine slowly realizes over the course of more than a few days, that it’s an actually very regular occurrence. And normally, this would be the sort of thing that makes Blaine run for the hills, but the fifty-percent of the time Kurt is being his normal optimistic self (he quickly thinks, what if he just assumes that’s Kurt’s default personality because it’s the first one he met, but he pushes the thought aside) he is really into him. He hasn’t been this into a guy since... well, ever. He’s seen Kurt stand up to several jerks with comebacks that had the power behind them to instantly disintegrate anyone who dared to try and shoot any homophobia in his direction. He isn’t used to this kind of bravery, mostly because it wasn’t needed at Dalton, but here it definitely is, and Blaine admires courage like that. Kurt was there when he had first gotten slushied, willing and more than prepared with all the needed grooming supplies to help get the sticky sweet ice out of Blaine’s unfortunate hair. They had even sung a few—admittedly flirty—duets for their glee club assignments. That was the Kurt he liked. But he’s also seen Kurt crumple up the cute note he’d left for him on his desk and immediately toss it into the wastebasket. He’s seen him mock fellow Cheerios when he’s not in uniform with “Two, four, six, eight! Heard you like to fornicate!” and a sarcastic grin. But what he can’t fathom is how Kurt from glee club, who never fails to ask “Mr. Shue, may I?” ever so politely, and Kurt from history, who refers to Bill Clinton as “came-a-lot”, are the same person. He’s made serval mental notes to help him unravel the enigma that was Kurt Hummel, dividing the two versions of him into “Glee Kurt” and “Calculus Kurt”. Glee Kurt likes to talk, likes to learn everything he can about Blaine. So he tells him everything from piano lessons at age four, to his annoying older brother Cooper. He also likes little intimate touches—a hand on the thigh after a good joke, the grazing of each other’s hands, leaning into each other’s shoulders. Blaine never complains about this, if anything, he encourages it by reciprocating every sign of interest Kurt shows, especially since they’re gone just as easily as they come. Calculus Kurt speaks in a lower register than Glee Kurt, and after trying to reach for his hand during the few minutes before class and earning an outraged swat in return, Blaine’s learned to practically avoid any contact with him at all during that class, whether it be verbal or physical. He only steps in when he thinks Kurt’s snide remarks might get him into too much trouble. It’s confusing, to say the least, but Blaine Anderson is not a quitter. * “God my brother is driving me crazy,” Kurt moans as Blaine walks him down the hallway. Blaine chuckles, unable to imagine what Finn could have possibly done this time. “Was his late-night Call Of Duty tournament keeping you up too late?” Kurt looks puzzled. “He doesn’t play Call Of Duty,” he replies. Blaine’s forehead creases in confusion because he’s sure he’s heard Finn boast about his marathons on that video game on more than one occasion. “No, his laptop died and he refused to give me back mine so he could work on his journalism project.“ Blaine had no idea that Finn was so passionate about writing, but he supposes Kurt knows his own brother better than he does. * It takes a few weeks, but Blaine finally figures it out. It’s the Cheerios uniform.

He’s been sheltered by all those years at Dalton, so when he came to McKinley he didn’t understand right away, but now he does. Status is everything to the kids at this school and if you’re wearing a Letterman jacket or a Cheerios uniform, nobody’s going to screw with you.

But if you’re not... well, Blaine is certain that Kurt’s built up walls of his own to protect himself from the idiots like Azimio and Langanthal when he doesn’t have the Cheerios uniform to do it for him.

It’s the only logical explanation.

At least it is until he walks into the choir room and Kurt is wearing black jeans with a bright yellow raincoat.

“Wow,” Blaine greets him, mostly out of surprise from how different this outfit is from Kurt’s normal wardrobe. “Do you like it?” Kurt takes his usual seat next to Blaine.

“I-I think it’s great,” Blaine stammers, hating how hard it is to make heads or tails of the boy sitting next to him. “It’s just so different from your usual get up.” “I know.” Kurt chortles. “Sue had them sent out for dry cleaning, so we get to freestyle dress today.” So, Blaine supposes, it’s not the Cheerios uniform. * Blaine sighs as he walks into calculus. This is a bad idea. He knows it’s a really bad idea because Kurt is always in a bad mood for this class, but he doesn’t care. He’s hoping that if he can get Kurt to act like his normal self now, he can do it indefinitely and he won’t have to worry about it anymore. He takes a steadying breath and walks right up to him. “I usually know to wait until you’re out of this class, but I can’t take it anymore. Will you go to dinner with me?” Kurt looks up at him like he’s the dumbest creature on earth. It stings. “Sorry,” Kurt spits without an ounce of remorse in his voice. “I’m not gay, but if I were, I don’t think you’d be my type.” Blaine feels like he’s been punched in the gut. His hurt quickly morphs into anger and he retorts back, “You know, I get that you’re capricious, but I never took you for a coward,” before pushing past him and taking a seat in the very back of the class. He doesn’t see confounded look on the other boy’s face and doesn’t hear him whisper, “What the fuck,” to himself. * The situation gets a hundred times more confusing when Kurt comes up to him in the hallway a few days later. “Hey!” He calls out to Blaine. Blaine tenses. He so does not want to have this conversation right now, and certainly not in the middle of the hallway. He keeps walking, keeps avoiding Kurt. “I am talking to you!” Kurt finally catches up with him and grabs him by the shoulder to force Blaine to face him. “You’ve been avoiding me for days and I want to know why!” Blaine is dumbfounded. “Look, Kurt,” he scoffs. “If I had known you were still in the closet, I would’ve probably backed off. But you came onto me! I get not being ready to come out, but I really like you and I don’t know how much longer–hmph!” Before he knows what’s happening, Kurt is pulling on the front of Blaine’s jacket, bringing their faces together. And it’s... nice. It’s really nice. The pressure of Kurt’s mouth against his own is warm and even, and for a moment Blaine forgets all the crazy that seems to revolve around Kurt Hummel because all he can think about is the world of possibilities this kiss is opening up. Kurt pulls away, leaving him in a daze. “Would someone who’s in the closet do that?” “I guess not.” Blaine responds airily, head still spinning. * When Blaine sees Kurt at the end of that day, shoving some books into his locker, he can’t keep his stupid grin off his face. Blaine comes up behind him and grabs his waist playfully, spinning his around. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” He says before pulling them together. If he’s being honest... it’s not very good. He can feel Kurt grimace and tense up by the time their lips meet, and he’s about to pull away and ask what’s wrong before Kurt beats him to the punch. He shoves Blaine’s chest, splitting them asunder. “What the fuck was that?” Blaine can see that Kurt is absolutely seething. “I just thought- after earlier today—” “In case I haven’t been very clear before, I’m gonna be completely transparent now,” he fumes. “I never want to see your face again. Stay the hell away from me!” Blaine watches in a melting pot of emotions as Kurt turns around and all but sprints away from him. What the hell was that all about? * Blaine knocks on the Hudson-Hummel household door vigorously. He knows Kurt told him to stay the hell away from him, but his stubborn frustration tells him they are going to talk about this god dammit. The door opens and Finn can barely get out a friendly greeting before Blaine busts pats him. “Where’s your brother?” He demands. “Uh, which one?” “Don’t play dumb, Finn!” The taller boy only looks at him expectantly. “Kurt!” Finn sees the look in Blaine’s eyes and knows he’s searching for some kind of answer, probably one he can’t give him. “Uh, Kurt!” He calls. “Your boyfriend’s here and he looks kinda pissed off.” Kurt comes down the stairs, face lighting up when he sees Blaine. “Hey—“ he starts, but Blaine wastes no time getting to the point. “Are we gonna talk about that kiss or not?” “What?” “I should go.” Finn points out uncomfortably. “I thought it was nice, right?” “It-it was not nice.” Blaine exhales. “You said you didn’t want to see me again.” “Am I missing something here?” “I have no idea why I’m still here.” “I’m getting a lot of mixed signals from you, Kurt!” Blaine finally explodes. “In glee club all you want to do is flirt and hold hands and banter which I am all for, believe me! But then in calculus you seem like you want nothing to do with me!” “Calculus?” Kurt’s face twists up in a lack of understanding. “We don’t have that class together. I don’t even take calculus, I’m in statistics—“ And then it hits him. He doesn’t take calculus, but there’s one person he knows who does. “CARSON!” Kurt screeches so loudly that even Blaine, seething just a moment ago, is startled. Blaine hears another set of footsteps rush down the stairs accompanied by a familiar voice. “I swear to god if you called me down here while I’m in the middle of editing my college entrance essay to tell me how unflattering my wardrobe is again I’m gonna—“ The boy stops dead in his tracks when he sees Blaine, and Blaine blanches. “Oh, my god.” He mumbles. Standing in front of him is an exact replica of Kurt, wearing the same blue jacket he’d always donned in calculus. He looks at Kurt, then back at—Carson. It all makes so much sense. Kurt didn’t have a dual personality, Blaine was just an idiot. Twins. Fucking twins. “Oh, my god,” Carson says, turning to Finn and Kurt. “It’s that weirdo I was telling you about!” “Wait, this is the creepy guy who has a crush on you?” Kurt asks in bewilderment. “I thought you were just expressing your closeted homophobia a la Finn circa sophomore year?” “Oh,” Finn rolls his eyes. “You just have to bring that up again.” “You know I’m not homophobic,” Carson retorts, ignoring his stepbrother. “This is that guy that gave me that note, asked me out, then kissed me without warning!” “You kissed Carson?” Kurt and Finn ask in unison. “I thought he was you!” Blaine defends himself. “For a month?” Carson asks, unconvinced. He scoffs. “Convenient.” “Don’t flatter yourself,” Kurt growls back at him. “Dude,” Finn interjects, voice beginning to bubble up with laughter. “They look nothing alike.” “Finn, they are literally identical twins!” “What, did you just think Kurt was really fickle?” Carson asks incredulously. Blaine opens his mouth to respond but snaps it shut immediately because even though he now realizes how utterly absurd that sounds, it’s exactly what he thought. “Oh, my god.” Finn, Kurt, and Carson all chorus in realization. The horror of the situation dawns on Blaine and a white-hot embarrassment starts burning in the pit of his stomach. “I have to go.” He says, eyes wide as he turns to leave. Kurt grabs his hand. “What? You don’t have to leave,” he explains. Blaine shakes his head incredulously. “You’re not done with me? After all that?” “Of course not!” He laughs as if it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “Do I think you can be a little ridiculously oblivious? Of course. But I really like you, Blaine. Besides, this will make a great story one day.” From behind them, Carson rolls his eyes. “Can I fucking go now?” Kurt shoots his brother a glare then immediately turns his attention back to Blaine. “But if you ever kiss my brother again, we’re through.” Blaine lets his head fall forward and huffs out a laugh. “Deal.” 

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

The Proposal Plot

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 5146

Summary: Baz is planning to propose to his incredible idiot boyfriend. Hopefully his plot goes off without a hitch. Based on "a confession" request.

Read on AO3

AN: So I know I'm churning these requests out now, but that won't be forever because in June I start working full time. I hope to get through these requests before then but no promises. Just wanted to warn you guys so you won't be freaked by a sudden lack of my fics lol. Anyways, enjoy!

———————————————-

Baz

Okay, Baz, just breathe, don’t be nervous. You’ve planned everything out. This isn’t even a big deal. You and Snow have been together for seven years now. You two have already decided how you want to spend your lives together. Marriage won’t be that different. It’ll be like normal, just including a ring and a new title for each other. Well, plus a wedding. And first I have to actually propose...

I’ve planned literally everything. Every detail is accounted for. Simon will be home in approximately six minutes. I let him know we’re having a nice dinner tonight this morning. The steak is already cooked, the roast potatoes and greens have just finished, and the scones are keeping warm in the oven. I found the perfect plate for my idea too. It’s a white ceramic platter that Daphne gave us as a house warming present when we moved in. There’s a little circular indent in the centre, which is odd for any usual use, but perfect for hiding an engagement ring under a pile of scones.

It’s a dumb idea. A dumb, romantic, sappy idea that Simon will adore. I’ve learned over the years that he loves romantic gestures big or small. I took him to the London Eye for our first anniversary and he couldn’t stop grinning the entire time. But he looks the same way every time I put on his favourite shitty pop song while we do dishes. So he’ll love this...right? He could hate it. What if he thinks it’s a dumb idea? What if he laughs in my face? What if-

I’m jolted out of my thoughts by the phone ringing. The caller ID says “Best Aunt In The World”. (Fiona stole my phone a few months ago, and I haven’t gotten around to changing it.) Against my better judgement, I press the green phone button.

“What is it? You know I’m busy tonight,” I snap.

“I sensed a disturbance in the Force,” Fiona replies. I can hear the smirk in her voice.

“You’re a witch, not a Jedi.”

“Okay, true, but I know you. And you’re currently overthinking, aren’t you?”

I drum my fingers slowly on the counter, answering slowly. “No.”

“Liar” she hisses. “Stop freaking out and relax. It’ll go great.”

“You said my idea was dumb.”

“Yeah, but I said it with a smile.”

“And that’s better because...?”

“Because, it’s a dumb, sweet, romantic idea. You love the Chosen One enough to act like a sappy idiot. That’s wonderful, so I’m happy for you and want you to go through with it.”

I smile slightly. “Thank you, Aunt Fiona.”

“Now, stop panicking and have fun, love. Oh, and don’t let any numpties ruin it!”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, will shut up abou-” The phone clicks off. I can’t believe she still says that to me. It’s been literal years since I was kidnapped but she won’t ever let me forget it.

I sigh and hang my head down. Despite her words of encouragement, I’m still nervous. Even though I’m pretty sure Simon will say yes, I don’t want to fuck this up. Snow is a hopeless romantic who I love dearly. He deserves a stupid, sappy proposal. And I desperately want to be the one to give it to him.

The door slams shut and I nearly jump. There’s a low groan from the entrance way that I know has to be my lovely graceless boyfriend’s.

“Oh my god, work was a nightmare today!” He shouts. “Do you know how many children insisted on having their noses wiped? Are they not capable of doing it themselves?”

“No, they’re not, Snow. They’re two,” I reply while walking towards our front hall.

“Well, they could learn!”

“You could teach them.”

“Yeah, like I have the time. I’m a daycare worker, I’ve got 30 kids to look after.”

“Then don’t complain.”

I stop at the end of the hall and lean on the wall. Simon is struggling with his sneaker, hopping on one foot while nearly falling over with the weight of his bookbag. There’s finger paint all over his face and snacktime stains on his shirt. He looks like an idiot who just survived a toddler hurricane.

Crowley, I love him.

He finally wins his battle with his sneaker, then looks up at him with a soft smile. We walk towards each other like always. His arms wrap around my neck, I hold his waist, and kisses me. It’s just a little firmer than a peck. And even after all these years it still makes my pulse stutter.

We pull apart and he looks over my shoulder. “Wow,” he says, “when you said nice dinner, I didn’t think you meant this nice.”

Truthfully, it’s not that nice. Growing up as part of a rich British family means I’ve been to much nicer. But I didn’t want to go overboard and give away what I was doing. In hindsight though, it’s pretty nice for us. There’s placemats, properly folded napkins, nice china, low lighting. I thought about using candles, but that seemed a bit excessive. So I went with some nice warm lamps instead of our bright LED overheads.

“I decided we deserve a nice meal every once in awhile,” I say thankfully without a nervous voice crack. “Normal people prefer china plates to plastic, y’know.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, a very Bunce-like gesture. “Sure, Mr. Fancy Pants. And speaking of pants, I should go change out of these child destroyed clothes. I feel so messy compared to you.”

I chuckle. I’m not that dressed up, wearing a loose white shirt and and jeans, but it’s more than a sweatshirt and trackies. (Which I’ve learned more are relaxing to wear around the house than jeans.) I did pick these on purpose though. Like Hell if I’m proposing to the love of my life in lazy clothes.

“Go get changed love,” I say, pressing a peck to his cheek. “I’ll get supper ready.”

Simon kisses my cheek as well, then saunters off to our bedroom. I walk to the kitchen. Everything is still warm, it won’t take long to set up. So I take a minute to open the everything drawer. It’s where we put whatever doesn’t have a place, and right now it’s home to a little red velvet box. I run my fingers over the fuzzy surface, then quietly open the snap hinge. It’s not a flashy ring because Simon isn’t a flashy person. And that’s not a slight against him, it’s just who he is, and I know that. It’s something that he’d like to wear, a simple gold band with circles carved around the surface. I had the inside engraved as well. Niall faked gagged when I proposed the idea while we were ring shopping. He called me tooth rotting sweet. I hope Simon thinks so too.

I shake out of my thoughts and snapped the box closed. No, I can’t dwell on that. The time will come. Instead, I focus on making dinner. I arrange the plates in a showy manner I remember seeing from my childhood. I check on the scones, which are still warm in the oven. I’ll leave them alone until they’re big debut.

Just as am I placing down the plates, Simon walks out. Surprisingly, he’s not wearing his typical loose t-shirt and track pants, but a clean green button down and denim. It’s some of his nicer clothes. Guess he wanted to dress up along with me.

“Dinner is served,” I say overdramatically. He laughs, and it makes me smile.

We sit opposite each other at our small table as usual and dig in. He doesn’t eat as quickly anymore, since he feels more assured that his meals won’t vanish or be his last now. I don’t cover my mouth when I eat anymore either, because I’m no longer afraid of him seeing my fangs. We discuss all the usual things. How work was, funny things we saw, which coworkers we want to stuff down a toilet. All filled with laughter and smiles. It’s so normal. And miraculously, it’s our lives. Our normal, happy life together.

“Oh man,” Simon groans happily, holding his stomach, “that was incredible.”

“Glad to hear it,” I say as I clear the plates. “Hope you have room for dessert.”

He perks up very quickly at the word ‘dessert’. “I love you so much.”

“Of course you do. The way to your heart is through your stomach.”

He stick his tongue out, but he’s still grinning. I smile back just as I enter the kitchen. Once the plates are dumped in the sink, I take the scones out of the oven. They smell delicious. I must remember to send Cook Pritchard a massive bouquet in thanks for her recipe. I take out the platter, and then I take out the ring. I can’t help but simply look at it. I want to spend the rest of my life with Simon no matter what, and I already know he feels the same. But I want to get this right. Because we never thought we’d get this far, and we deserve to have a stupidly romantic proposal.

I place the ring in the centre of the platter, then carefully arrange the pastries over and around it. It’s hard to hide it while making the scones look natural. Once I’m satisfied with appearance (mostly), I take a deep breath and re-enter the dining room. Simon’s looking at something in his lap. But when I clear my throat, his head snaps up. He looks deep in thought for a moment before sees the scones and smiles.

“Sour cherry scones?” He asks playfully.

“What else?” I reply as I carefully set the plate down on the table.

He immediately snatches the one on top, and I take the one below. I don’t even attempt to talk to him while he’s inhaling his scones. I look at him though. My stomach’s in knots, both from nerves and anticipation. I take one more and let him have the rest. Soon, there’s only one left, the one that’s covering the ring underneath. He finishes his latest scone. He’s going to reach for it. Crowley, this it. I take a deep breath, and...

He’s stopped. Why has he stopped?

“Uh,” I say, “do you not want the last one?”

“No you can have it,” Simon replies with a grin.

Oh Merlin and Morgana, it’s Watford all over again; Simon Snow messing up my plots. “No, no, I’m full. You can have it.” Eat the fucking scone, Snow.

“No it’s fine. I’m full too.”

We sit in silence and stare each other. It’s a true British politeness stalemate. After many minutes of uncomfortable moments, I lean forward, but so does he.

“Simon, I-

“Baz, I-”

We both say it at the same time, blinking at each other slowly for a minute. Simon is the one who breaks the silence this time.

“Oh you go first, sorry.”

I shake my head. “No, no, you go first. It can wait.” It really can’t, but I want Simon to be focused when I ask him.

Simon slowly nods. He takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders. Hm, whatever he wants to say seems to be causing him tension. That’s...odd.

“Okay, so,” he starts, obviously trying to keep his voice calm, “Baz, we’ve been together awhile.”

“I’m aware,” I reply with a smirk I can’t help. He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, prick. So, we’ve been together for seven years now, and I gotta say I’ve been...really happy. Like, it hasn’t perfect of course, but overall it’s been pretty amazing. And you’re pretty amazing. The first few years after Watford I was a complete mess but you stuck by me. I will always appreciate that so fucking much. As well as everything else you’ve done. You make me really happy all the time.” He reaches across the table and puts his hand over mine. “I-I guess what I’m trying to say in too many stupid words is that, I love you, Baz. I really mean that.”

I squeeze his hand, loving the way it feels. But where is he going with this? “I love you too, Simon.”

He takes another deep breath. “What I’m also trying to say, is that I love our life. And you’re the love of my life. And I want to tell and show everyone. So...”

Oh...oh Crowley, is he doing what I think he’s doing?! He uses his other hand to reach down into his lap. As he slowly raises it back up, my heart beats faster and faster. And when he places his hand on the table, it stops entirely.

It’s a box. A black velvet ring box.

“I was going to save this for later,” he says sheepishly, “but this dinner was so good, and the moment felt right, so I’ve decided to just go for it. So, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch,” he uses his strong fingers to open the box with one hand, “will you marry me?”

I’m speechless. It’s been years since I was this speechless. I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open wide enough to catch flies. I keep staring at the ring. It’s...gorgeous; a thick men’s band, mostly jet black with a line of silver in the middle. It’s sleek, elegant, and dark. Exactly something I’d love. I know that I know Simon well, but sometimes I forget just how well he knows me too.

I look back up at him, and he looks very nervous and very scared.

“If you don’t like the ring, w-we can get a new one,” he blurts out. “I just saw it at a shop near the daycare and it looked so perfect that I had to buy it. I’ve been agonizing over a way to ask you. I know this is sort of impulsive, but also not really. We already want to be together forever and I think marriage would be nice. But if you don’t want to I understand. I- I just thought... And you’re so-”

“Snow, stop,” I say softly. He lets out a long breath, staring at me with wide eyes. I smile as kindly as I can. “Just, eat the last scone, love.”

He frowns adorably. “What? This is more important than scones, Baz.”

The fact that Simon bloody Snow loves me more than sour cherry scones is absolutely incredible and deserves to be shouted to the rooftops. But this is more important.

“Simon,” I say slowly, “trust me, lift up the last scone.”

He’s still frowning, but shrugs and moves to the last scone. He lifts it up nonchalantly, and promptly drops it to the ground. Of course, sitting in the middle of the crumbs and sugar granulates is the golden ring. It’s Simon’s turn to gape, mouth comically wide. He looks from the ring, to me, back to the ring, and back to me.

“You,” he whispers, “you were...this is- This is an-”

“Engagement ring yes,” I chuckle. “It’s the reason for the nice dinner and pile of scones.”

“You were going to...”

“Propose? Yes, that was the plan. But it seems you beat me to the punch, darling.”

“Oh my god I’m sorry,” Simon groans, putting his head in his hands. “You had this lovely sweet plan and I ruined it. I’m such an idiot.”

“Snow, no, it’s absolutely fine.” I rush over to his side and kneel next to his chair. I pull his hands away from his face, clutching them tightly. “I’m not mad at all, understand? I’m very, very happy. Your proposal was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. And the ring is goddamn beautiful.” I hold his chin and look him right in the eyes. “The answer is yes, Simon, I will certainly marry you.”

He looks at me nervously for a moment, but I sigh with relief when he smiles. We both giggle and tap our foreheads together. This is incredible. Sure, it didn’t go as planned, but what in our relationship has? And godammit I’m so happy, and so is he. That’s what’s important.

“So what was your proposal speech?” Simon whispers. “I bet you practiced it in the mirror a hundred times.”

I frown. “No I didn’t.” (Lie. I did, every day. And with Fiona.)

Snow gives me a knowing look, and I sigh. I stand up and grab the ring off the platter, still holding one of his hands.

“Simon,” I say firmly, “I’ve known you for more than half my life. And I know you are the bravest, most kind, most incredible man on the planet. You amaze me every single day. I never thought I’d have a real life, let alone a happy one. But my time with you has been just that. We may have started out rough, but we've come a long way. We’ve seen each other through our lowest and highest points. I want to spend our entire lives together, no matter how long mine may be.” He squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back. “So, I ask if you would do me a great honour, and allow me to promise such in front of everyone we know and love.” I get down on one knee, because why not? I’ve already embraced the cheesiness. “Simon Snow, will you marry me?”

He doesn’t actually answer. Rather launches himself forward to bloody tackle hug me to the ground. I ignore the fact that all the air has been knocked out my lungs. He buries his face in my neck, and I can feel something wet against it. I understand. I’m pretty sure I’m crying as well.

“Is that a yes?” I chuckle.

“Yes,” he says into my skin. Then he raises his head, sniffling and crying with a giant smile. “Yes, I will marry you, you incredible bastard.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Bastard? Is that really something to call your fiancé?”

Red spreads across his freckled cheeks. Something about the word ‘fiancé’ obviously sets him off, because next thing I know he’s kissing me so hard I see stars. He holds my jaw tightly while his thumbs press into my cheekbones. I bury my hands in his his bronze curls, tugging them on slightly. Simon moans into my mouth, and if I weren’t already on the floor I would’ve collapsed at the feeling. It’s sloppy, passionate, and absolutely wonderful. I love him. I love him more than anything. And he’s my bloody fiancé. Aleister Crowley, I’m living the most charmed life.

“You,” he whispers between our mouths, “are such a hopeless romantic, Baz Pitch.”

I pull back so he can see my frown. I don’t like my reputation insulted. “Am not. I’m a scary evil plotting vampire, remember?”

Simon traces a finger over my cheek. “Basil, how long have you been planning this?”

Oh shit. He knows me far too well. I can feel my blush spread all the way down to my neck. Crowley, I don’t want to satisfy that big smug grin on his face. I’ve already embarrassed myself quite a lot tonight, but this is the tipping point.

“Awhile,” I mumble.

“Be specific, Pitch.”

“Fuck off. You’re going to laugh at me.”

He lowers his head to kiss down my neck. I let out a shaky breath. Oh Merlin, he’s such a wonderful bastard. He knows how vulnerable I am to neck kisses.

“How long, Baz?” He whispers in a sing song.

“Ugh, fine,” I mutter. “Six months. I’ve been planning for six months. And I had help from many people to prepare.”

He giggles against my neck, and I love the vibrations he creates. Even if he’s being a smug bastard. “Of course, you plotting hopeless romantic vampire.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Simon pulls back, looking down at me with his gorgeous wide smile. He’s illuminated by the soft lamps, making it look like he has an orange halo and shimmering hair. He really is an angel. And he’s all mine.

“Make me,” whispers.

That sets something off in me. I grab his arms and easily flip him over onto his back. He yelps in surprise but that quickly turns into a giggle. I waste no time in undoing his shirt, almost ripping the buttons off. I kiss down his sternum with furious urgency. He chuckles and runs his fingers through my hair.

“Eager, hm?”

I growl, having undone shirt and moved onto his jeans with too many buttons. (I swear he wears these just to torture me.) “Shut up , Snow.”

“I told you, Basil, ma- Oh, oh yes. ”

His fingers tighten in my hair. He doesn’t exactly shut up, but he doesn’t say any actual English words either. It’s a collection of incoherent exclamations and moans. Mission accomplished.

———————————————--

Snow and I are curled up together on the couch. After spending so long on the floor, my back is killing me, but it was very much worth it. We’re only half dressed, shirts and pants still open. But we’re far too dazed to even try to look presentable. Who cares anyway? We’re alone in our flat, and we’re too busy basking in the happy afterglow of our engagement. Well, also the sex, but the engagement is the more important event obviously.

“So who was it?” Simon asks from where his head rests against my chest.

“Hm?” I reply.

He turns his head so his chin digs into me. He looks at me with a lazy smile. “You said people helped you with the proposal. Who was it?”

I sigh, running my fingers through his messy hair. “Well, Fiona helped me with speech. Though ‘helped’ may be too generous. Mostly she laughed at me and insisted I change all the adjectives. Dev sent me a hundred different possible recipes to make for dinner. Except for the scones, of course. That was Cook Pritchard. She sends her congratulations by the way. And Niall was actually very helpful when finding a ring. He has surprisingly good taste.”

“So did Niall pick it out? Should I be marrying him instead?”

I flick his nose and he snickers. “No, arsehole, of course I picked it. He just knows the good jewelry stores from when he proposed to his girlfriend.”

“Ah, I see.” His brow furrows. “Y’know, maybe we should actually put those things on.”

“Mm, good idea. Go get them.”

“Why do I have to go get them?”

“Because you’re on top right now and my back hurts too much to move.”

“Old man,” he grumbles as he gets up. I’m too relaxed to remind him that we’re the same age.

He returns quickly, then motions me to sit up, which I do reluctantly. We sit facing each other. He’s examining his gold ring with great interest.

“It’s very pretty,” he says with awe.

I smile smugly. “Look on the inside.”

Simon gives me a curious expression, but shrugs and slowly spins the ring. I can tell the exact moment he sees it. His blue eyes go incredibly wide. Niall said it was too cheesy. But I knew Snow would love it. He lets out a breathy laugh and smiles, wiping a tear from his eye.

“You giant sap,” he says.

“Would you like me to put it on?”

He nods vigorously and holds out the ring. I take it, and gently place my hand under his. It slips onto his ring finger perfectly. Simon snorts and sniffles very unromantically as I do it. But my heart's still beating out of my chest.

“Your turn,” he says, holding up his ring.

“I suppose,” I reply with a smile.

This time I offer my hand to him. The ring fits perfectly on me as well. I’m surprised he found a men’s ring that fits my bony pianist fingers. But he did, and I’m just so fucking happy.

“This is gorgeous as well,” I say.

“It’s not engraved though,” he grumbles. “I didn’t think of that, sorry.”

“Simon, it’s absolutely fine.” He still looks upset. I sigh, and tug on his arm. “Come here.” He flops forward onto me as I lay down. I work my fingers into his hair and kiss his temple, feeling him sigh against my chest.

“I don’t care if mine is engraved, because I know you love me. And because I meant what I engraved on your ring,” I whisper, and he chuckles, which makes me feel relieved. I repeat the words I had etched into the metal, the ones I’ve meant for our seven years together and even longer beforehand. “Simon Snow, I choose you.”

He sighs and holds me tighter. I can tell he’s about to fall asleep. Realistically, we should get up. There’s dishes to wash and this couch isn’t exactly comfortable to sleep on. But Snow is curled up against me, breathing softly. I can feel the cool metal of his ring pressed against my skin. Everything feels too perfect to move. So I just hold Simon, my fiancé, closer, and let myself drift off into sleep.

———————————————-

“What was so important that I had to get up at 6:30 in the morning for?” Bunce grumbles. She’s glaring at us through the screen, glasses askew and giant cup of coffee in hand.

“Well,” Simon says slowly, “take a guess.”

“Simon, I’m not a fan of guessing games. Especially this early.”

“It’s the afternoon for us,” I say. She glares even harder.

“Fine,” she grumbles, leaning back in her chair. “Let’s see. Simon, you’ve got bags under your eyes, and Baz, you keep rubbing the back of your neck. Meaning you two had a fitful sleep on that bloody couch Simon refuses to throw away.”

“I like it,” Simon mumbles with a pout.

“But, you’re also smiling excessively. Even Baz looks happy, and that takes quite a lot to achieve. So I’m guessing you tried some amazing sex thing on that couch and decided to be arseholes and wake me up far too early to tell me.”

I roll my eyes at her sarcasm, and Simon sticks his tongue out. “No, we’re not that evil, Pen," he says.

“You are close though. We slept on the couch, but we actually did it on the floor,” I interject, earning an elbow jab from Snow and a fake retching from Penelope.

“Okay fine,” Bunce groans, “you’re both gross and I’m tired. I give up. Just fucking tell me or I’m hanging up.”

Snow and I both share a look. We’ve been pointedly hiding our left hands. He wiggles his fingers in silent question. I nod.

“Well,” Simon says, “we ended up on the floor-”

“Gross.”

“Let me finish, Pen. We were on the floor because we were a tad over excited. Since Baz gave me this last night.”

He lifts up his hand, making sure the ring is in frame. Bunce’s jaw drops to the floor and her coffee mug nearly falls. She grips her laptop screen and leans forward.

“Nice, huh?” Snow says. “Baz has good taste.”

“Aleister fucking Crowley! Basilton fucking proposed?!” she shouts, loud enough to distort the sound

“M-hm. We had a nice dinner and he hid it under a pile of scones. He had a speech prepared and everything, like the romantic he is.”

“Awwww, that’s adorable.”

I glare at the screen, but Bunce keeps smiling. “Well, Snow is one to talk,” I say, “he proposed with his own adorable rambling speech before I got the chance, foiling my very well thought out plan.”

I show my own ring. Bunce just throws her head back laughing. Simon blushes and kicks my foot, but he’s still smiling ear to ear. Bunce tries to get a hold of herself, still chuckling and wiping a tear from her eye.

“Crowley,” she sighs, “of course that’s what happened. You’re both giant disasters.”

“Shut up,” Snow replies with a smile. “Why are you even surprised? You knew I was planning to.”

I look at him curiously. “She knew you were going to propose?”

“Of course I did!” Penelope shouts. “He called me the second after he bought the ring. I told him he was an impulsive idiot and to wait until the right moment. Which I assumed would be at least a week later, not two days.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Well, it was the right moment, but that was because I made it.”

“And Simon foiled your plot.”

“As usual,” Simon says. We look at each other, and I see nothing but utter joy.

“Okay,” Bunce says, “you two need time to be adorable and engaged, so I’ll leave you to it. But let me know when you pick a date because I will be coming back to England at least two months before to help with everything. You’re going to need it.”

“Oh we will?” I ask with one eyebrow raised.

“Considering how the proposal went? Yes. Bye you idiots, love you!”

She hangs up before I can protest. Simon snorts with laughter. I huff and cross my arms. “She always has to have the last word, doesn’t she?”

“Of course she does, she’s Penny. Now,” he throws his legs over me and sits on my lap without ceremony, “we’ve got the whole weekend free. What should we do, my dear fiancé?”

“Well,” I sigh, running my hands up his sides, “you insisted Bunce know first, so we still have to call my parents, Aunt Fiona, Dev and Niall, and Wellbelove.”

“Okay, sounds good. And afterwards?”

“Hm, we could go for a walk, see a movie, have a nice dinner out.”

“The walk sounds nice. But,” he leans closer, “how about instead of a movie and dinner out, we just order in and watch something on TV? I want to spend time with you. Just the two of us.”

I smile, pulling him closer by the small of his back. “I think I’d like that. Though we’re not sleeping on the couch again. Bunce is right, it’s terrible. My neck is going to have a kink for days.”

“Fine, fine, you big vampire baby, we’ll make sure to get to bed.” He brings his mouth next to my ear. “And then we won’t leave it until Monday.”

A shiver runs down my spine. Merlin and Morgana, seven years together and he still drives me absolutely crazy. “I think I can find that agreeable," I whisper. "My dear fiancé.”

He pulls back to show his smirk. I lean up and kiss it off his face. It’s a slower, calmer kiss, just a lazy slide of lips. It’s so familiar, and it feels like home. Snow presses his left hand right over my heart, and I put my own left over it. Our rings touch with the tiniest clink.

There’s no place in the world I’d rather be right now.

———————————————

AN: I struggled with what counts as a confession, so I did my best. Baz admitting to the six months of planning (lol what a dork) is supposed to be the confession if that wasn't clear. I think that satisfies the prompt. And after the amazing trial that was "Time on Our Side", I needed to write something fluffy and simple, so I decided on a stupidly adorable proposal. Now I've written a proposal and a morning after the wedding fic. All that's left is an actual wedding fic. Hmmmmm I'll have to think about that :)

PS: This is Simon’s ring and this is Baz’s

[floralseokjin]

— off limits | 04 (m)

you’ve been lusting after your brother’s best friend for a while now, ever since you met him at a house party, flirting it up a storm as you failed to realise who the other was. That was months ago now and things are still awkward, but you can’t ignore the sexual tension that’s simmers between the two of you…and it keeps getting worse…

pairing | kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings | smut, dare I say fluff…?  words | 12,051

» 01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: 07 :: 08  ✓

“Y/N!”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, grumbling to yourself instead as your tensed up, hoping the calling would stop for definite, watching the white cursor on your laptop screen silently mock you, rubbing it in that you’d paused your episode of Gilmore Girls for the third time in the space of five minutes.

“Y/N! Get your ass in here for a minute—I need your help!”

You cursed loudly, finally having enough and slammed your laptop closed, rolling off your bed childishly. No little than thirty seconds later and you were storming into Kyuho’s bedroom, your face like thunder.

“What?” You barked.

There should have been a part or you who felt guilty for agreeing to continue fooling around with Seokjin behind his back, but when he was as annoying as this, it made you unfazed. Your conscience hadn’t kicked in again yet.

“What do you think looks better, red or blue?” He asked your opinion, sounding unbothered by your attitude. He either hadn’t noticed, or he didn’t care. Probably both.

You stared at him, finally realising he was topless while holding two t-shirts attached to coat hangers up against his chest. His hair was styled, gelled upwards, not a usual look for him and his room stunk of aftershave.

“You did not just make me come into your room to tell you what colour shirt to wear,” you exclaimed, disbelief in your voice. “I’m busy, why didn’t you ask mom, she’s downstairs.”

“Mom is old,” he shrugged and you rolled your eyes at his offending attitude. “She’d probably make me wear a collared shirt and tie.”

“Why? Where are you going anyway?” You asked, and nudging your head back at the t-shirts he was holding up.

Upon further inspection, he had the crispest pair of jeans on, ironed to the seam and his brand new sneakers he’d been displaying in their cardboard box ever since he’d bought then two week ago. He was definitely out to impress tonight.

“I have a date. A double date actually,” he added.

“A double date,” you scoffed, folding your arms and leaning against the door frame.

What was he, living in some high school drama?

“Yeah,” he carried on, oblivious once again to your attitude. “Me and Jin are taking these girls out we met on a night out a couple of weeks ago…”

Just like that the room began to spin and you were thankful you’d chosen to lean your weight on something anchored to gravity. Jin? He was going on a double date with Jin? What did that mean? Your throat suddenly felt very dry, and you hoped Kyuho sensed no obvious changes in your composure.

“A double date?” was all you could get out, your voice croaky.

“Yeah, there’s this girl I met and we hit it off. I text her but she’d only go out with me if she could bring her friend, so she suggested a double date. I lowkey think said friend wanted a reason to see Seokjin again—she was all over him the entire night.”

Your hands fell from your middle, swaying beside your hips. You felt unexplainably nauseous. You mean, you were only messing about with Jin, he didn’t owe you anything, but he had said the other week he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. Granted, it didn’t mean he was sleeping with anyone, but even the thought of him flirting with another girl made you feel strange. The idea of him with a girl hanging off his shoulders made your chest feel heavy and suddenly, you just wanted to get of Kyuho’s bedroom and be alone with your thoughts, but just like always, he kept on talking.

“Only trouble is, I literally had to beg on my knees for him to go. He really was adamant he didn’t want to. I had to use the ‘friend card’ and when that didn’t work, I had to bribe him with food—not only do I have to pay for mine and my date, but for him and his too! How is that fair?!”

You had a moment of clarity. That one small flash of hope that made you feel a tiny bit better. Jin hadn’t wanted to go. Jin wasn’t interested… or was that just wishful thinking?

“I honestly don’t know what’s up with him,” Kyuho carried on. “It’s not like him to turn down a date with a hot girl, especially ones that’s so into him…ah, sorry,” he trailed off, catching the look of discomfort on your face.

He’d obviously taken it as some sort of distaste at the turn in conversation, apologising for oversharing. He wasn’t to know the truth behind your predicament.

“So, what colour?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Uh,” you got out, needing a moment to collect your thoughts. “Blue…it’s your colour,” you smiled softly.

You heard the front door slam downstairs, signalling Kyuho had left for his date and you sighed, rolling onto your back, the tv show you’d now been too distracted to watch, droning to itself in the background. Your mind was a mess. You’d tried to tell yourself it was no big deal. In fact, you didn’t have a right to be bothered, but here you were, feeling something that could only be described as jealously, simmering inside of your body.

It had been four days since the party, even though it seemed like a lifetime ago. Even though he’d said he would see you soon, he hadn’t been able to. You got it. Of course you did. You guys couldn’t just meet up when you felt like it, it would be impossible. Seokjin lived with Yoongi and well…you lived with your mom and Kyuho… He’d text you a lot and told you about how he couldn’t stop thinking about you, but that was that—and besides, you’d tried not to think about that.

You were afraid that he only meant in a sexual way, while you, when you replied, were conflicted. You missed the way he felt and smelt and the pleasure he seemed to so easily give you, but deep down, you were beginning to think that maybe you just missed…him… You found yourself wanting to hang out with him more, not just sex, but everything else. You wanted to get to know him properly… and that scared you because he probably didn’t think the same way.

Especially if he was going out on dates.

Even if he didn’t want to go on them, he was still there right now. The thought made you feel a little sick. Was he making her laugh? Was he flirting with her? Even if he didn’t like her, it didn’t mean he only wanted you. It could mean a number of things, mainly that there was plenty of other girls that could catch his eye. Plenty of other girls he could like…better than you.

You groaned, covering your face in your hands. Why were you such an idiot? Stuck home worrying about a boy that didn’t have the decency to let you know he was going on a date…but why would he…? You weren’t involved other than sexually. Maybe with that break he’d grown bored of you, regardless of what happened in the party… but then you thought about all the messages he’d sent you since… he couldn’t have grown bored of you.

So then, why was he on a date right now?

You rolled back over to your stomach, grabbing your cell before you could think properly. You’d probably regret this if you overthought what you were doing, so you quickly brought up Seokjin’s name, scoffing at the last message he’d sent, a vague ‘I dreamt of u last night ;)’ and began to type your own out, your thumbs passive aggressively thumping the screen.

21:22pm [You] 

— are you enjoying your date?

Seokjin heard his phone buzz, instantly pulling it out of his pocket without thinking. It was like habit and besides, he didn’t really want to be here right now, so his ability to care was out the window. His eyes widened when he saw your name and then he choked a little when he read what you’d put. He should have known you’d find out. Kyuho was your brother for crying out loud. He was stupid to think he could leave that vital piece of information out. Were you mad at him right now? Upset? Maybe he was too vain. Maybe you didn’t even care what he was doing, maybe you just wanted to tease him… but he couldn’t take that chance because a big part of him didn’t like the idea of you being mad or upset with him…

21:24pm [Him] 

— im sorry… I guess kyuho told you? — its not what it looks like, I promise

He paused, about to add an ‘if you care” but he thought better of it. Would that look desperate? Was he actually desperate? He’d only just got you back after the party and the last thing he needed was this. He’d been annoyed the past couple of days because he hadn’t had any time to see you, and now here he was, on a some cringey double date, when in reality he could have used this time to be with you.

Fuck himself and his conscience, but then he realised how hypocritical he was being… He was fucking his best friend’s little sister after all…

“What are you doing?”

Kyuho’s voice in his ear made him jump and he quickly hid his phone under the table and locked it, hoping there wasn’t any way he could have seen your name on the screen. Fuck, this was too much for his heart to handle. Why was he such an idiot? He should have just stopped whatever was happening between you and him after that one time in the kitchen.

The kitchen… even just the memory of that made his dick stir. It was like you had some sort of spell on him. He could still remember the sheer bliss of being inside you finally after all those months of waiting… Yeah, thinking about it now, there was definitely no way he could have stopped it after that. If he was going to hell…

“I had a message,” he explained, finally looking Kyuho in the eyes.

“I’m sure it’s not important, so you can put your cell away.”

He hissed the last part and Seokjin narrowed his eyes. Why was Kyuho so adamant on keeping face? Was he trying to pretend he wasn’t just in this to get inside Jun-what-ever-her-name-was pants? He could have his phone out if he wanted, but then he heard a tiny cough opposite him and looked up at his date. She smiled at him timidly and Seokjin groaned inwardly. Okay, maybe it was rude. He made motions to put the device back in his pocket when it buzzed again and he knew then and there, he couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t ignore you.

He cleared his throat, desperate for a distraction and thankfully Kyuho started talking to Jun…yeah, he still wasn’t going to remember it. Come to think of it, he didn’t even know his dates name. Seokjin took the chance to peek at your reply, unconsciously biting down on his bottom lip, chewing on the skin.

21:26pm [Y/N] 

— what does it look like? i’m confused — am I supposed to care?

He blinked slowly, confused by how he was supposed to take this. On one hand, you really might not care at all, and he didn’t want to admit how strange that made him feel. But on the other hand, you could just be bluffing… You had after all, text him during this so called date…

21:27pm [Him] 

— if you didn’t care u wouldn’t be messaging me rn

He decided to play sassy, hoping it would entice your true feelings out, all the while trying to act inconspicuous. He realised Kyuho was adding him into the conversation and he laughed loudly, trying to appear enthusiastic, even though he had no clue what was being said.

21:27pm [Y/N] 

— I don’t think nows the time to be cocky

You replied instantly, much to his glee. He had baited you out and he was right, you had been bluffing. He replied quickly, at the same time joining in on a conversation about veganism.

21:27pm [Him] 

— im not, you should tell me how you feel

“And Seokjin, how do you feel about meat?”

He could hear his name being called but he was mid text and then a silence washed over the table, finally catching his attention. He looked up and around, realising it was his date who has asked him and he opened and closed his mouth a couple of time, trying to recall the question. It turned out it was her who the vegan and she did not look best pleased when he answered.

“I love it. Chicken is my favourite. It’s a wonderful animal, so tasty and it gives us eggs. Truly magical.”

The silence turned even more awkward after that and thankfully Jun—blahblahblah, changed the subject.

“I think I’ll have the spinach salad.”

Seokjin took the time to send his message, not bothering to check it when he felt Kyuho kick him under the table. He ignored it.

21:28pm [Him] 

— are youi madat me

It wasn’t long before his cell was buzzing again.

21:28pm [Y/N] 

— why are you typing weird — is your date on her knees blowing you under the table

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t but couldn’t help but grin. You were cute when you were jealous. At least it was obvious right now.

21:29pm [Him] 

— just admit that your jealous, it’s ok, it’s cute

21:29pm [Y/N] 

— I am absolutely not jealous — it’s just if I had got the memo I could have gone on dates too, i didn’t realise it was allowed

He didn’t like that. It made him almost feel almost…angry when he thought of you going on a date. And one person flashed through his brain. That guy from the party. He’d been all over you that night and he’d been forced to watch. Seokjin knew guys like him. He was sure of it. They acted all sweet and innocent but they were only after one thing.

The thought of you going on a date with him boiled his blood. Going on dates was definitely not allowed. He almost text that back straight away but then he remembered…he was on a date right now, texting you under the table. It did not look good on his behalf. Granted, he’d only done this out of loyalty to his best friend, but he was still here… He knew how he’d feel if he found out you were on a date and he guessed you must be feeling the same way right about now…

“Jin, what are you doing? Who’s on the phone?”

He jumped again, the annoyance in Kyuho’s voice a lot more prominent now and he looked around to meet three pairs of eyes staring at him in different levels of judgement. His date, who he definitely could not remember the name of, looked like she was highly regretting her life right about now and Seokjin couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t spoken more than a few words to her since he got here and when he did that was to insult her beliefs… Jun…still-can’t-remember, was back to looking at Kyuho, with that infamous ‘why are you friends with this guy?’ look and Kyuho, well, he was staring daggers in his direction.

He said the only thing his stupid mind could think of.

“My mom.”

“Your mom?” Kyuho asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Yeah, her cars broken down. I’m going to have to help her.”

Before he could think, he was getting up, shoving his cell in his pocket and grabbing his jacket. He didn’t even know what his plan was. He took one last look at Kyuho, who was staring at him open mouthed.

“Sorry about this, man—girls,” he apologised, taking one last look at them and then off he went.

It was when he got to his car that he realised Kyuho was going to kick his ass afterwards. His mom lived an hour and a half away, there was no way he going to help her out. Kyuho knew he was full of shit.

He still didn’t know what his plan was ten minutes later when he was outside your house. He felt a little bit better when he realised you mom wasn’t there her car nowhere to be seen in the drive, and as he got out of his own vehicle and slammed the door, he could only hope that Kyuho wasn’t following behind, mad that his date had been ruined. Hopefully he was still there trying to salvage what was left, although Seokjin was very sure he had fucked up any chance Kyuho had. He felt guilty, but he couldn’t help but feel selfish at this point. He didn’t want to fuck up what he had with you. He was too panicky to wonder why he was so desperate.

It took you three consecutive knocks to answer, and by the time you did, he already had his cell in his hand about to phone you to come outside. He sighed in relief when he finally saw your face and your jaw fell open when you saw it was him.

“Seokjin? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I don’t know—I mean, I do know. I came to see you,” he fumbled, aware he had no real clue why he was here. Things seemed easier when he was in the car ride here.

“What happened to your date?”

He couldn’t ignore the way you sounded so annoyed, defensively crossing your arms around your chest, your mouth bunching up into a slight pout that he was sure you had no clue you were making. For some reason, all he could think of was how much he wanted to kiss it off you. His conscience didn’t seem to like the fact that pout was all because of him…

“I walked out…and I used a shitty excuse so I’m very sure Kyuho is going to be on my ass when he gets home.”

“You walked out?” You repeated, your eyes widening in shock, your body language softening a little bit, but you seemed to realise quickly, your mouth becoming a stern line. All he could do was nod and you sighed, craning your neck to look down the road.

“What if he comes back right now and you blow our cover?”

At this point he didn’t care at all. He didn’t know why he was acting so crazy. Getting found out would be a stupid idea but he wasn’t thinking straight right now, hence his impromptu call at your front door.

“I just wanted to let you know that I only went on that date for your brother. I’m not interested in going on dates at all.”

You surveyed him, narrowing your eyes a little, making him anxious. “How am I supposed to know you’re telling the truth? What if you just don’t want me to date other people?”

Seokjin felt his chest tighten at the nonchalant way the words fell out your mouth, retorting again before he was able to think it through.

“And who do you want to date? That guy at the party last week?”

You scoffed immediately, making him regret it straight away. He was making this a bigger deal than it should have been. All he had to do was apologise but you were purposely trying to wind him up.

“What am supposed to think?” He added, his voice strained and he watched your features soften as you took in his face.

“Actually, I don’t want to go on dates with anyone,” you admitted, your voice small, maybe slightly embarrassed. “I thought we agreed to be exclusive last time we saw each other.”

He knew you meant exclusively fucking, that’s what you had both said that night and he still stood by it. There was no reason to see other people, not when you satisfied him enough. In fact, if he was being honest, no girl he’d ever been involved with had satisfied him this much. Even just knowing you existed was enough for him, it wasn’t just sexually…which was odd for him and not something he wanted to dwell on too much. He didn’t have the time or courage to reflect on himself.

“We did agree,” he nodded, moving closer to you, one foot on the threshold and thankfully you didn’t move away. He successfully hooked his arm around your waist before he carried on. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just didn’t know how to…what if you didn’t care and laughed at me for taking things too far?”

There was a moment of silence as he waited for a reply, feeling a little embarrassed and by the time he heard your rampant laughter he was sure he was blushing. He didn’t know why you made him like this.

“You’re nothing like I thought you were, do you know that?” You noted and he had nothing to say. Whatever curiosities he had, he bit his tongue because he was sure what you were asking was rhetorical anyway.

“If it makes you feel better, I would have liked to know…. maybe I was…jealous earlier…if you didn’t already guess…” you mumbled, stepping outside to move into his body further.

He welcomed it, loosening his grip on your waist to hold your hip instead.

“Just because we’re…just-fucking,” you rushed, not meeting his eyes, “doesn’t mean I want you to see other girls too.”

He was silent as he took your words in, agreeing wholeheartedly. Seokjin liked to fool around yes, but when he committed to one girl, he didn’t continue to play the field…whatever commitment meant in this sense. Committedly fucking his best friend’s younger sister…? It almost sounded comical—actually, it was comical. But he was too far gone to stop. You’d already gotten this far with a few setbacks, he didn’t want anymore. He didn’t want anyone else…but you…

“I agree… Just because we have all this hot sex doesn’t mean that’s all I care about…,” he joked, adding “I don’t want you dating that Sejun guy or whatever he’s called.”

He made it seem like he didn’t know that guy’s name when in truth all he could hear was the way it rolled off your tongue at the party as you said goodbye to him. It haunted him more than it should have. Thankfully, even if you did notice his jealously, you ignored it and scoffed, hitting his chest playfully before wrapping your arms around his neck.

He took a few deep breaths, basking in your citrusy scent. You must have had a shower earlier. You smelt all fresh and your hair was slightly damp, your make up free face looking radiant in the moonlight and once again he was knocked off his feet by your beauty. He liked being this close to you.

“What?” He asked after a minute or so, noticing the slight pout on your face was back.

“Nothing,” you quipped, shaking your head and pulling away slightly.

“No, come on,” he insisted, curious now. He wanted you to be able to tell him anything.

He watched you look at your feet, a light blush scattering across your cheeks. “It’s silly really…” you muttered, but he waited patiently for the rest, your eyes finally catching his.

“Tonight just sort of made me realise that I’d like us to spend more together… like normal people. Waiting for you to call me so we can sneak around makes it seem sort of sordid. I don’t like that…”

Seokjin was silent for a moment, stunned. He never wanted you to feel dirty over this. He guessed he could see how it would happen. Every time you’d been alone it had been in secret and always just hooking up. There was a massive part of him that wanted to get to know you more, in a different setting—in a different way.

“I’m sorry, it was a stupid idea,” you apologised, pulling further away, but he tugged you back, keeping your arms wrapped firmly around his neck.

“No, it’s definitely not stupid at all,” he told you. “I agree. Maybe I should take you out on a date instead?”

He shocked himself a little, and you, it seemed, by the widening of your eyes, but you paused before nodding slowly.

“I’d like to get to know you more,” you grinned shyly.

He felt his heart bloom, a feeling he hadn’t felt before, he was sure of it. All he could do was kiss you. He didn’t know what else to do with himself. Your lips were soft and he revelled in them, smiling into the kiss as he wrapped both his arms around your waist, crushing your body against his.

“Okay…” you smiled, pulling away, even thought it was obvious you didn’t want it to stop. “I think you should go now, my mom is due back any minute and this will be hard to explain,” you explained, signalling between your two bodies, but he gripped you harder, not wanting to let you go. You giggled, but pushed at his chest playfully.

“Or something worse—what if Kyuho’s on his way back?” You teased.

He admitted defeat, letting his arms drop, knowing he would have to leave. There was no way he could carry on seeing you without the use of his kneecaps… He turned to leave, falling back when you tugged at his sleeve and called his name.

“Seokjin? See you soon, I can’t wait for our date… to get to know you better…”

He grinned, stepping closer once more to bop your nose with his finger. “I’ll give you a preview… I like it better when you call me Seokjin.”

For the rest of that night all he could think about was the way your face beamed at him after he said that, even after Kyuho phoned him later on to chew his ear off…

It was the weekend when Seokjin organised your little date… you still felt weird calling it that, but you guessed that’s what it was. He was taking you to some restaurant down town and you were beyond excited. It also maybe had to do with the fact he’d told you to bring an overnight bag too. It seemed Yoongi was staying over his girlfriends, so for the first time ever, you got to spend the night with Jin. It almost scared you with how excited you felt, but this had never happened before and you’d only ever had the chance to daydream about it. Sleeping next to him just seemed…exciting! It made you giddy!

He picked you up a couple of neighbourhoods down from yours, it probably not a good idea for his car to be seen anywhere near your house and then you found yourself at the surprisingly fancy restaurant. You mean, it definitely wasn’t gourmet or anything but it was something your first year college ass wasn’t used to.

“This place is really nice,” you admired, taking a seat where the waiter had placed you.

“I come here sometimes when my parents visit me,” he explained and you smiled.

He looked good tonight. Not that he didn’t always, but tonight he was dressed in all black, his shirt buttoned and revealing his thick neck. His hair was also styled different and you had trouble keeping your eyes off his face.

“Ah, the mom you had to drive an hour and half to the other night to help?” You teased and he looked confused for a moment, wondering how you knew, until you burst out laughing.

“Honestly Seokjin, you really are something else,” remembering to use his full name.

The nickname just came easy to you because you always heard your brother use it and even your mom called him it too, but you felt flattered and somewhat special now that he had told you he liked Seokjin better coming from you. You liked it too.

“Hey, I panicked. It was for you anyway,” he defended.

“Don’t blame your idiocy on me,” you quipped, a coy smile appearing on your face as you teased him and Seokjin rolled his eyes, but you saw the slightest smile as he caught your eye, and for some reason your stomach began to flutter.

“I really hope this date goes better than that one, I think I owe Kyuho for the next decade… I can’t believe he let it slide so easily…” he carried on, picking up the menu as he flicked through it.

“It’s because he’s a good person,” you replied, and it was true. He was a good person, it almost made you feel a little guilty as you looked over at Jin, but you ignored it. You had become good at that. Maybe that made you a bad person?

“Are you saying I’m not?” Seokjin questioned, attitude in his tone, his eyes bulging comically and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“That’s what we’re here for, right? To get to know each other,” you teased, another smile appearing on your face as you caught his eye, reaching over the table to take the other menu.

You both browsed in silence. It was comfortable though. You were actually surprised. Even though you’d known Seokjin for a while, it was only ever in passing and even then, you had tried not to pay him much attention because it was like being stabbed with a hundred knives of sexual tension when you were near him. Regardless of the nature of your relationship at the moment, you were glad to have this time to get to know him like this and you were surprised how easy it was—how natural it was to joke around with him.

“Hm, I think I’ll have the spinach salad,” you said aloud, acting casual and you looked up to see him looking at you dumbstruck and you couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Oh god, please don’t remind me!” He practically wailed.  “Did he tell you everything? Have you enjoyed laughing at my expense?”

“It’s pretty funny, come on!” You exclaimed, thinking back to how annoyed Kyuho had been when he came back from his ruined double date. He’d told you everything in the process, to which of course you laughed at. A very large bit of you was just gleeful Seokjin had run off and left. You didn’t know why, but every time you thought about it, it made you grin like an idiot.

“I blame you! I was texting you under the table after all…” he shot and your eyes locked again in a flirty glance, making your cheeks heat up a little.

The night passed by quickly, without any hitches or awkward silences. It was almost unbelievable how easy it was to converse with him. You already knew that Seokjin and you had a sexual chemistry, but now it seemed like your personalities matched too. Even if this couldn’t be classed as a proper ‘date’, it was the best one you’d ever been on in your whole dating history. You kept conversation up continuously, talking about your college courses; he was majoring in Business while you were pretty sure you were going to stick to your English. You were surprised to find out that you had similar tastes in books and movies and that actually, there was much more to Kim Seokjin than met the eye. He was actually incredibly serious when he wanted to be…and incredibly sweet. You were touched when he talked about how much he admired your mother. But more than that, he was also incredibly dorky. You should have realised that by his laugh you’d heard for a while now.

Facing him across the table now, it was almost silly how you had only been only blinded by lust when it came to him. It was obviously still there (no way was that going away…), but at least now there was more of a connection. There was an actual person behind the handsome body you were fucking. And it felt good. It felt fantastic actually. Even more so knowing he was just as happy to get to know you. It put all your doubts at bay, and you tried your best not to over think anything or cast a shadow on the night. You were there to enjoy.

“Seokjin! Oh, my god! You’re going to choke to death!” You exclaimed, stifling your laugh as you watched him shovel the biggest pile of spaghetti into his mouth, half the strands sticking out, his cheeks bulging and his lips protruding out. How he still looked so good was beyond you.

You watched him chew them into his mouth, amazed, and as you giggled, looking around to see if anyone had noticed sitting near you, you saw a familiar face sitting right in the corner with his family, it seemed.

“Oh, shit…” you said out loud, eye wide as you turned to face Seokjin again.

“What is it?” He asked after a momentarily paused as he rushed to eat all his spaghetti and swallow it.

“Sejun is here with his family—right over there!” You whispered furiously, eyes shooting in his direction, panic harsh in your tone.

You watched Seokjin look in the corner, his eyes darting around until he saw Sejun. When he turned back his attitude was defensive.

“So what?” He shrugged, seeming unbothered.

“So what?! So what if he’s noticed us?! I knew this was a bad idea!”

“I doubt he’s seen us, and besides, does he even know who your brother is? Does he even know I’m your brother’s friend?”

You were silent as you thought things through. There was possibly little chance Sejun had even see you here tonight. He was a good eight tables away from you, right in the corner. And Seokjin was probably right. There was no way he could have known who your brother was, not really, and if he did, there was definitely no way he knew Jin was his friend…except …

“Well he knows you were the one who told me my brother wanted me when it was pretty obvious that wasn’t the case.”

Something else was bugging you too, but you didn’t say it. Maybe you felt too guilty… For you, it had been obvious Sejun maybe liked you… He’d been flirting with you and you stupidly had done it back because you were upset over Jin. You knew Sejun had seen you and he have a moment before you left the party, which meant he could only guess what happened upstairs. Did he think you were a bitch now? Had you upset him? These questions were probably pointless, but you knew you felt guilty for leading him on, even if it was only for a fraction of a second.

“So what?” Seokjin shrugged again. “He has no clue who I am. To him we’re just on a date. Quit panicking.”

His tone was telling you to stop worrying, and you supposed he was right. You smiled, admiring him, his mouth etched into a straight line. You liked when he was serious. It was pretty hot…and once again your mind was in the gutter…

“I suppose you’re right….”

“Let’s finish our food and then we can go back to mine, okay?” He smiled lightly, placing his hand over your and as he squeezed your heart began to flutter, remembering you were finally going to spend more than a couple of hours with him…

“So this is your room? The mystery is finally solved,” you teased, following Seokjin through the door, copying him when he kicked off his shoes.

Surprisingly his room was really tidy, or not too surprisingly, you didn’t know him that well to form an opinion. You admired some of the posters on his wall, movies and games you were familiar with, a massive Super Mario poster that was pinned beside his bed. It was pretty cute and nothing at all liked you imagine him. You couldn’t imagine him bringing back girls here to get lucky with, even more so when you noticed the little figurines that adorned his bookshelves.

“Yup,” he nodded, diving onto his bed, flat on his back as the bed bounced a little. “This is where the magic happens.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a step further into the room as he continued.

“As in, me and my hand every night when I think of you,” he grinned, his tone pleasant as if he was trying to give you a compliment.

You chuckled, amused at his confidence. “Is that supposed to get you in my pants?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you come over here and we’ll see,” he retorted, stretching his hand out for you to take.

You complied, gasping a little when he pulled you forward and you quickly caught your balance, landing on him, your free hand pressing palm first on the hard muscle that protected his chest. Your stomach began to flutter as you caught his eye. They sparkled with mischief and before you knew it he had let go of your hand to wrap it in your hair, pushing your head down to latch his mouth onto yours.

The kiss was slow at first, just tasting each other, your tongues gliding against one another as you enjoyed the first time where you didn’t have to be quick, or worry about being caught. The exhilaration was still there, but it was different tonight. You straggled his body as the kiss deepened, hearing him hum in approval. It felt like you hadn’t shared a kiss in ages and last time it hadn’t felt nearly this good. In fact, you hadn’t felt this close to him before. Granted, maybe it had to do with the fact you were lying on top of him, feeling his heart beat against yours, but it was something else altogether tonight. Seokjin wasn’t just your brother’s hot best friend anymore…  He was someone you were getting to know now… and you were liking it.

He pulled away slowly, his hand falling to your cheek as he pulled back his face to look at you, his crotch bumping into yours as he lifted his hips up.

“You’ve got me hard already,” he mumbled. “You’re magic.”

You giggled, pecking his mouth once again before shuffling until you were sitting up. He was right. He was hard, you could feel the tell-tale signs pulling at his pants and rubbing against the thin material of your tights. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought it was cute he’d gotten hard over something so gentle and slow…

You wiggled your hips over him a couple of times and he groaned, chuckling breathlessly as he threw one of his arm over his face, the other hand gripping your hip. From this angle you could only see a bit of his nose and his massive, plump lips parted as he revelled in the sensations you were giving him. You felt almost powerful watching him speechless under you, but then he spoke and you obeyed straight away.

“Take your dress off.”

You pulled the fabric over your head straight away, revealing your black bra and sheer tights. His arm dropped from his face straight away as he took your body in and you ground your hips down on him some more as watched you, enjoyment in his face. He seemed to just enjoy you gyrating your hips on him as he grew harder against you core and you felt the heat begin to build up, the friction making you grow wet. You hastened your pace, chasing his reactions, but more so his words. You wanted him to say something. You also wanted him to get naked—or tell you to get him naked, either one. You just wanted him to do something.

You grew impatient, taking initiative to undress him yourself as you leaned over him, fingers fumbling with his shirt buttons. He let you unbutton it all the way down, untucking it from his pants as you revealed his bare chest. You paused, not knowing what to do. Taking initiative like this wasn’t something you were used to, especially not with him. It was hot, but you wanted him to be more vocal. You wanted him to take charge. Maybe there was an obvious pout on your face as you surveyed him, your hands caught in the cotton of his shirt as you fiddled with it nervously, and he looked up, eyelids lifted in confusion.

“What is it, baby?” He asked, his voice low, having the ability to rumble through your body.

You stayed mute, not sure how to form your thoughts into words, but you guessed by the shit eating grin on his face, he already knew what the matter was, and he was loving every minute of it.

“Don’t you want to take charge tonight?” His tone dumb.

It wasn’t that. You could take charge you guess, if you wanted to. It was just you needed a little validation. Something that showed you he was enjoying it and something to get you more turned on in the process. Sometimes when you were alone you thought of all the things Seokjin had ever said to you and that was enough to make you blush and squirm right there. No guy had ever spoken to you like the way he did that night in your kitchen and you grew even more turned on as you imagined what more filth could fall out of his mouth. You whined out loud unexpectedly, tugging at his shirt caught up in your fists like a grown baby.

You wanted him to give you something.

“What is it?” He repeated. “What do you want from me?”

This time you whined again, dropping your head into the crook of his neck as you bent over him. He was stubborn and he wasn’t giving in. He knew exactly what you wanted but he wanted you to say it out loud. You were shy when it came to stuff like that and you had no idea what to say. It was only going to come out silly—and it did.

“I want you to…tell me stuff…” you mumbled into his neck and you felt the rumble of his chuckle as he wrapped his arms around your body.

“Tell you what?” He hummed into your ear, his nose brushing against your hair. “How good the weather’s been lately? How I aced that one test last week without studying at all? Hm?” He prodded, hearing you sigh in annoyance. “What is it that you want me to tell you?”

You groaned, pushing his chest with your hand. Why was he making this so hard for you? He was obviously loving it.

“I’m not good at this stuff,” you admitted, leaning your head to look him in the eye, and suddenly the grin was gone from his face, replaced with an intense stare.

Your breath hitched as his hands slipped to your waist and gripped them hard, pressing you down into his crotch, his erection still there, sending shockwaves up your body, burning between your legs.

“You like it when I talk dirty to you? Does it turn you on? Does it make you wet?”

You nodded immediately, already feeling the effects of his words, however simple they were, even more so when he began rubbing his crotch against yours.

“No one’s ever done it before, right? I’m the first?” He questioned and you nodded again, feeling him lift you back into seating position as you did so. He joined you momentarily to take off his shirt and you wanted nothing more than to grip onto his broad shoulders and kiss him, but before you could, he was shuffling backwards, bringing you with him. He grabbed a pillow to prop his head up as he laid back down. Before you could think to speak he was talking again.

“Take your bra off.”

His command sent pleasure straight to your core, excitement bursting through your veins as you obeyed quickly, not even wanting to take your time. You threw the garment off the side of the bed, feeling the cold air hit your breasts. You shivered when you felt Seokjin’s large hand reach out and brush over you stomach, gliding over the curve of your breast to cup it. His grip was gentle but it could set you off, every nerve vibrating. He was only touching a minuscule part of your body but you instantly felt warmth all over you, and coldness took its place when he pulled back. You watched him being his index finger to his mouth, wetting the pad with his tongue before he brought his hand back to your breast and circled the digit around your nipple. You gasped quietly, your body acting on instinct and you bucked into him, chasing the feeling—chasing for more. The wetness was cooling against your scorching skin, your nipple hardening even more as you arched your back, his other hand coming out to grip your hip bone, gently rocking you, creating a tantalising rhythm.

“You’re so beautiful,” he admired, your heart fluttering while your body only wanted sinful things. “Really, how did I keep my hands off you for this long? When all I could think about was how good it would be to fuck you. How did I think it would only be a onetime thing? I can’t ever get enough.”

You wanted to agree with him, but the ability to form words was failing you. Especially when he pinched at your perky bud causing you to moan, the loud, throaty noise startling you. You were losing yourself. You felt like you were going to combust watching him through your lidded eyes, lashes obstructing your view, but it just made him look sexier, as if you were watching him through a seductive hue, his shoulders and biceps flexing as he continued to feel you up. You were growing wetter by the second. Your tights feeling uncomfortable as the arousal seeped through your panties and soaked the nylon, making everything stick to you as his bulge continued to rub against your core, swollen and sensitive with need. It was crazy how aroused you were, but desire coursed through your veins, excitement for the rest of the night joining it. In the back of your mind, not only were you wanting to have sex with him again, you also wanted to sleep beside him. You didn’t know what that meant… but you weren’t going to think too hard about it. There was no point. You were going to hell anyway.

“Please moan again,” he asked, pinching you harder this time and you hadn’t realised, but you practically humping his clothed crotch. You were shameless, but ask and he shall receive; the moans left you like musical notes, filling his room.

“Remember we’re alone, you can be as loud as he like,” he told you. “I really want to hear your pretty little moans.”

“Seokjin,” you practically whined, your hands gripping his thighs. You couldn’t take it anymore. You just wanted him.

“Mm, say my name again,” he hummed, closing his eyes to revel in the sounds.

“Seokjin,” you repeated, this time breathier, trying to turn him on even more and make him snap.

All you could think about was feeling him inside of you again. Thinking about it, you’d only had sex with him three times up until now, and you knew deep down that no amount would ever be enough. You would always keep coming back for more and getting to know Seokjin more personally would just further fuel it. You moaned again, it sounding off into another high pitched whine as the burning between your legs got too much. The material between your legs itchy as it rubbed into your swollen sex.

“What’s up with you?” He teased, dropping his hand to your waist and soothing it over the skin, causing you to shudder, falling more and more pliable at his hands. “You’re so whiney—what do you want me to do, huh?”

“I want you,” you told him, your voice barely audible, but he heard you and chuckled lowly.

“Yeah, I figured—but what is it you want me to do?” He murmured, his hands sliding up your ribs and caressing the underside of your breasts, before pushing them together, moulding them in his palms. He watched them with hooded eyes, clearly enjoying himself.

At least one of you was.

You didn’t understand how he could be so calm and collected. Was his whole body not burning with a ferocious need like yours? You rolled your hips into his again, this time hard, looking down at him as you spoke, needing to play him at his own game. It was the only way.

“I want you to fuck me, please.”

You used your best puppy dog eyes, wide as you pleaded with him. You knew he liked it when you had to beg for something as he’d shown almost every time you’d had sex and his eyes flashed with desire, his hands falling to the waistband of your tights, his fingers playing with the elastic.

“I think you should work for it,” he smirked, pinging the waistband against your skin before he curled his large hands around to your ass, grabbing each cheek and moulding them together, each movement harsher than the one before. “You need to show me how bad you want my dick—take everything off.”

Your heart began to thud in excitement at his words, not needing to wait a second longer before your tugging at your tights, panties and all to rid you of the annoying material. You kneeled to the side of him as your peeled them down your thighs, needing to sit on your butt to get them all the way off, your legs wobbly from the anticipation. Seokjin continued to lay there casually but you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move as you continued to strip bare.

“Good girl,” he praised when you were naked and you felt yourself blush, feeling coy but even more turned on. “Now, come here. Get back on top of me.”

You obeyed, straddling his waist again but he stopped you when you tried to sit, making you kneel, his palms on your spread thighs. The air between your legs felt good, but the ache to be filled was still there, or just touched—anything.

“You look really good like this. I like this view best. Would you like me to fuck you like this?” He asked slowly, carefully studying every curve of your body.

You nodded the same time a whimper fell from you, just imagining what it would feel like to be fucked from this position, to feel his strong hands hold you down as he thrust up deep inside of you. You were so turned on by the thought you were surprised you weren’t dripping down your thighs.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and you buckled in surprise when you felt the pads of his forefinger and middle finger brush against your mound. “So beautiful…and this wet already… Do you think you could take my cock right now? I don’t think you could…”

You wanted to tell him you most definitely could. You could take anything he could give you but you were rendered speechless when he began to lightly circle your clit. You were so swollen the slightest of touches were sending you into a spin and you wanted to cry. You collapsed over him, your hands coming out to catch you and grip onto the sheets beside his waist, willing yourself to keep up as his digits travelled along your slit, spreading your arousal around the entrance. You gritted your teeth, your breathing becoming pitched as you willed yourself to stop pulsing around nothing, the need to be filled physically painfully.

“Please, Seokjin,” you begged, losing the will to stay sane. “Please, just do something.”

“But why?” He questioned, one eyebrows cocked as he played innocent. “We have all night…”

You groaned, your body acting on its own as you began to grind against his hand, the relief barely there as you fought for it. He chuckled, pushing you back upright and slid his hand away from between your legs. You wanted to cry. Maybe it showed in your face because he began to soothe your hip bone lightly, his thumb rubbing circles into the flesh.

“Stop pouting, and show me how you’ll take my dick. You need to practise first.”

You were confused for a second, your mind already in a haze of desire until you followed his eyes, seeing his forearm resting on his thigh, his hand under your core as the tips of his digits sparkled with your juices. You slowly looked back to his eyes to see them on you now and he nodded his head in encouragement. He was telling you to use them. He wanted you to sit on his fingers. He wanted you to finger yourself with them…

You shuffled closer, trying to find a suitable way to do this, even though you felt a little embarrassed, you wanted him so bad you were willing to do it. But that all changed when he lifted his forefinger to your entrance, running it along your folds. You gripped his wrist without thinking, carefully sinking down onto the digit. The stretch was minimal, but the relief was enough for you to sigh in pleasure, your walls pulsating around him. When you realised he wasn’t going to move inside you himself you bravely began to rise up, falling back down quickly to create a rhythm. You kept your eyes trained on his hand and you watched him place another finger up to your hole, pushing it in to meet his other one. The pleasure instantly became ten times stronger and you grunted out, shuffling on your knees to try and get comfy. The position was uncomfortable as you continued to fuck yourself using his fingers, your thighs burning as you tried to keep upright, looking at him as he grinned, panting loudly, your mouth parted.

“Look at you fucking yourself on my hand. You love it. I knew you would.” He commented.

Your grip on his wrist tightened when you felt him curl his digits up inside of you, brushing against your g-spot and sending waves of pleasure up your spine. Each time you brought your ass down he curled and you began to groan, trying to hold your breath as you willed yourself to hold it together.

“You can’t be out of breath already… if you want it to be my dick, you have to learn to ride it like a big girl. This really won’t work… Are you even able to stretch around my dick? It’s always such a tight fit, and from this angle it will fill you right up…are you sure you can do it?”

“Yes!” You practically cried, your body buckling as you fell into his chest, your hand falling from his wrist as his fingers rested inside of you. You were out of breath, exhausted from the teasing and you were this close to pleading with him to fuck you. You didn’t care. You just needed him to fill you up. Before you could find your voice though, you felt his other hand grab your ass, holding you down and then his fingers came to life.

He began to finger you hard and fast, alternating between curling his pads against your sweet spot and scissoring them apart, stretching you out, getting you ready for his dick. You cried out, your face hiding against his chest as the slick sounds of your arousal filled the room, ringing in your ears with each squelch. You could feel it running down your thighs and you imagined the sticky liquid was trickling down his wrist too. He lifted his knees up, pressing his thighs into your ass as he held you to his body, thrusting his hand lightning fast inside of you. You were sure if he kept this up you were going to come hard; each snap of his wrist was hurtling you closer the finishing line.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, just you wait,” he warned, the words rumbling in his chest and you moaned loudly, shutting your eyes tight, concentrating on the feeling of his skilled digits, trying to put bay to the excitement that threatened to consume you by just imagining his cock inside your swollen sex. But it was no use…

“Seokjin, please fuck me now,” you pleaded shamelessly.

He stopped suddenly, surprising you with the animalistic growl that left him and you looked up at him, mouth open. His hand left your ass and found your face, cupping your cheek tightly as he looked at you intently.

“Nothing would give me more pleasure,” he told you, and with that his fingers were sliding out of core, making you empty again, but you didn’t mind half as much knowing you were seconds away from getting what you truly wanted.

He fought to get his arm out from between your bodies, shocking you when you watched him bring his two fingers up to his mouth, swallowing his lips around them as he sucked loudly. His juices shone in a trail down his hand, drying in the air and you watched in awe, doubting if you’d ever seen anything as hot before in your life. He removed them with a pop before he was bringing your lips to his, kissing you eagerly and desperately, moaning loudly. It seemed his resolve was finally slipping tonight…

“Fuck—baby, get me naked,” he husked, pulling back, a line of saliva breaking that had once connected you two together. It landed on his plump bottom lip and you watched him lick it away.

You paused, your heart hammering in your rib cage before you pulled back, crawling backwards to sit over his knees, pulling at the zip of his pants. You ran your hand over his erection a couple of times, unable to help yourself. He was rock hard, it felt almost painful and you wondered how much self-control he had to endure that for so long. He moaned loudly, shocking you, the sound going straight to your core, making it throb in fresh want and you quickly finished undoing his fly, tugging at the waistband. You pulled once, twice, a third time as he lay motionless, seemingly in a daze himself, his hands running through his hair as he watched you, before you got him free, underwear and all.

His dick bounced out, the tip angry and distended, resting on his stomach, the slit shiny from the beginnings of his own arousal. You guessed with one squeeze the drops would just fall right out. You slid a little off the bed to peel everything off completely and when you sat up, you weren’t surprised to see him with his dick in his hand, slowly jacking himself off. You hovered over him, enjoying the sight before you as he smirked up at you. Upon further inspection, his breathing was also pitched a little, his chest heaving slightly and he hadn’t even entered you yet.

“C’mere, baby girl,” he growled with a nod of his head and you squealed a little in excitement, straddling him.

You moaned quietly when he rubbed the tip of his throbbing erection over your slit, circling your clit before he brought it back to your entrance. You didn’t need to wait for him to ask if you were ready and you slowly began dropping down onto him, your hole swallowing the head as it stretched around it. His breath hitched as his eyes stayed glued to your vagina, watching you take him inch by inch until you took a deep breath and slid all the way down. He moaned, his mouth stretching open in pleasure as your walls spasmed around him, and he dropped his hands to take up place on the tops of your thighs instead, holding you down.

With this position he was incredibly deep, hitting places he hadn’t been able to hit in one shot straight away. The angle took some getting used to, the burn fuzzing away into pleasure as you sat on him for a couple of moments and then you began to rock your hips back and fore, getting used to the pleasure that flowed in waves through your body.

“You’re doing so well, babe. Like my dick was made for you.” He praised.

You moaned, nodding your head in agreement as you felt him begin to rock you faster. You let him take control, knowing he knew how to make this 110% pleasurable for you. You didn’t get how he knew your body so well with how little he’d been around it… You could only agree that his dick was probably made for you. It was the only possibility. You couldn’t remember a penis ever feeling this good inside of you, having such an effect on you like this, but then again, it was attached to Seokjin, so… it sort of made sense. He drove you wild in every shape and form.

You felt him begin to thrust inside of you lightly, holding you still so he could slide in and out of you. You closed your eyes, concentrating on the feeling and tilted your body back, revelling in the heavy breathing that was coming from Seokjin’s nose as he tried to control himself. You would have never been this open in the past, ass naked in front of someone like this, but with him it just felt natural. Especially now that you had begun to get to know him better. It helped to know he wasn’t a bumbling buffoon like some of his friends seemed to be from the outside looking in. Actually, Seokjin had many sides, some you were positive you hadn’t seen yet, but it excited you to know that there was a possibility you might in the future… In fact, you wanted to get to know everything about him, and you hoped he felt the same about you… however dangerous that was.

With this new position, he had the ability to fuck you harder, taking the chance now that you had gotten used to the feeling and you moaned out louder, getting lost at the sound of skin slapping against skin, his thrusts becoming more powerful and pleasurable. You gripped onto the sheets under you, clutching hard until your knuckles turned white. You were aware that Seokjin was moaning wildly now too, encouraged by the sweet noises that were falling from your lips, enjoying your pleasure. His hands slid to hips, helping you slump your weight on him a little as he continued to snap his hips into you.

He began to go so fast you were sure you were seeing stars. The slick noises filling the room, followed by Seokjin’s pants. You moved your hands to place onto his chest, needing to change positions as the feeling of his dick inside you began to get too much, your thighs shaking around him. You watched him as he kept on thrusting, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his top lip shining too. His mouth was open, noises leaving him without any control as you moaned in unison, fuelled by each other. His chest was sticky with perspiration too as you dug your nails into the soft flesh.

“Mm, you like this, right?” He grunted out, watching your face, his hands squeezing your sides as he kept his pace going, each thrust making you cry out in pleasure.

“Hnng—Seokjin, you feel so good,” you moaned.

It was true. Maybe even too good. Each snap of his hips sent his dick hurtling into you with a ferocious intensity. You could feel it everywhere, but most of all against your g-spot. The feeling was building up and up and you could feel your orgasm nearing but for some reason it wasn’t coming. You were stuck on the edge, each thrust just adding to the pressure. It was frustrating and made tears prick at the corners of your eyes. The pleasure unbearable. Your body was boiling hot, each nerve ending so delicate you felt as if you were vibrating.

“Are you going to cum? I can feel you squeezing around my cock so bad,” he husked.

Your body was working on its own accord, your walls spasming like crazy around his hard member but for some reason you couldn’t come. You needed something more.

“I-I need…” you tried to get out but nothing would come, your mind clouded.

“Use your hand, baby,” he told you, realising instantly what you meant. “Make yourself cum all over my dick. I want to feel it. C’mon.”

You were so desperate you didn’t even think twice, unlike the last time, you didn’t feel embarrassed about pleasuring yourself in front of him. You brought your hand between your legs and sighed at the instant relief. This would be enough to drop you over the edge, the double stimulation just what you needed. You sat back up, letting Seokjin slide in and out of you easily. He was huffing and puffing under you, exerting himself to help you along. One of his hands snaked up your chest to play with your breast, cupping the soft flesh tentatively and then pulling at your nipple. You buckled, your body sensitive and he continued, praising you as you fully lost yourself. Your thighs were trembling like crazy, your body tense as you felt the wave of pleasure build up. You clenched your eyes shut, concentrating on each thrust of his cock filling you up and then you exploded. You saw white, holding your breath as the pleasure took over, your fingers slowing against your clit almost instantly the orgasm was so strong, oversensitivity appearing straight away as his cock continued to move inside of you.

You were aware, despite the ringing in your ears as you tried to calm down, that Seokjin was moaning loudly as you clenched around his dick, the pressure building up as your walls became too much for him to handle. He began thrusting slowly inside of you just at the same time you collapsed on top of him, your face in his neck as you tried to control your breathing, even though it was still coming out in pants. His wasn’t any better, his hands now cupping your butt as he tried to calm himself, his movements so light inside you, you could barely feel them. You were only semi-aware you were mumbling his name into his ear and he whined loudly, turning to try and kiss you.

You fumbled a little, catching his lips in a sloppy kiss, your tongues tangling together as you laced your fingers in his hair, clutching him to you, running out of breath, an intimate embrace. The feeling was overwhelming, lost in your own little world. You almost forgot you were having sex until he spoke again, practically in pain as he cried out against your lips.

“Where do you want me to cum?”

You answered before thinking, the words falling off your tongue as you pulled back. It just felt right, especially when you could feel the effect you had on him, his dick twitching inside of you and his stomach clenching madly under you, the veins straining in his neck and his face overcome with pleasure.

“Inside of me. Please Seokjin, I want you to cum inside of me.”

There was a pause in his reaction, his eyes wide as it seemed he was mulling over your request and you worried for a moment you had said something wrong. All the times you’d had sex before it seemed he was adamant not to come inside of you. You had no idea why, you had never questioned it. But now you had asked him something you didn’t know he wanted to do and you panicked, even more so when he pulled out of you.

Before you could say anything, he was gripping your hips and spinning you around, pinning you into the bed. For a split second, you thought he was going to come on your stomach but then he was back inside of you, thrusting back into you madly. The last thing you saw before he was kissing you again was his blown-out eyes, practically black with desire, his face contorted with pleasure.

His hands were everywhere as he kissed you madly, caressing every curve of your body. As fast paced as the kiss was, this time he seemed to be taking his time to taste you and feel you. You had never kissed him like this before and once again, your mind was clouded with thoughts you didn’t understand. You had no clue what was going on right now, all you knew was that something felt different, intense. Small whimpers left him as he kissed down your neck, sucking marks into the skin that had goosebumps forming each time he moved to another spot.

He was silent other than the noises that left him so the only indication you had that he was about to come was when you felt his body stiffen, a long, drawn out groan leaving him as he filled you up. You felt all warm and fuzzy inside, your heart pounding lowly. It was a strange feeling, definitely not because of your raging sexual desire for him and you had to take deep breaths as he stayed inside of you, kissing own your chest hungrily and soothingly, his large hands cradling your body.

You don’t know how long you stayed there kissing with him still inside of you, it seemed to be forever, like you were in your own little world. When he finally pulled out and cleaned you and him up, you were in a daze. Your breathing had long since regulated but your heart hadn’t, you felt each thud intensely and you were trying to form words when you heard him giggle at you, looking at you questioningly.

“Earth to Y/N,” he called, waving his hand in front of your face. “What’s with you? I get that I’m just that good in bed, but c’mon, please control yourself,” he joked.

You shook your head, willing to clear it, forcing yourself to chuckle as you rolled over to face him. You hadn’t even realised he had placed the covers over you… You shook your head again. This was silly. It was just sex. Sex with Seokjin. You just hadn’t been expecting him to come inside of you by request. It had taken you by surprise. It felt good, but that was all. You were just floating on cloud 9 from the pleasure, but at that thought, just remembering his face and how he had acted made your heart flutter again…

You took a deep breath, laughing once more, but this time more at yourself. Seokjin looked perfectly normal now. Perfectly unaffected by what just happened. Why were you making such a big deal out of it? Somewhere in the back of your mind you could hear your brother’s annoying voice tell you “it’s because you’re a girl.” How sexist and closed minded of him. He was wrong anyway. You weren’t affected… It would pass in the morning, you were just riding the waves of pleasure still. It was fine. Everything was fine. You were fine…

“What are you doing?” You asked Seokjin, watching him fiddle with his phone as he sat up in bed, trying to distract yourself.

“Setting my alarm so I can wake up early and make you breakfast before Yoongi comes back,” he replied sweetly, turning to face you with a smile and your heart just about melted.

You were most definitely not fine… 

[autisticsheith]

Uh. I have nothing to say for myself and absolutely no idea where this thinks it’s going, but it it’s brought to you by the fact that shaggy, long-haired!Shiro/Kuron/whoever apparently makes me crave Sheith-flavored punk AUs, featuring grungy punk Shiro and beleaguered college student Keith.

I literally tossed it off in about an hour-and-a-half, so there is absolutely no plan here and I promise absolutely nothing because I don’t have a clue what I might or might not be promising in the first place. Your guess about what happens next is as good as, if not better than, mine.

Unbeta’d, but it’s really not even a complete fic anyway. Pretty tame, though it contains a few references to casual drug use.

“Okay, guys. How about let’s take it from the top again? And, uh, try to sound better this time?”

Even though he knows the people tormenting him can’t hear him, Keith groans and slams his fist against his desk. The cheap, secondhand lamp rattles, briefly threatens to fall off the edge, then settles down. Rubbing his eyes, Keith glares down at his notes on Jane Eyre, and they might as well be in Ancient Greek, with how much they’re swimming for him right now. Another yawn slips loose as he glances at the alarm clock beside him. Its red digital display reads back 04:06 AM like it gets some perverse joy out of Keith’s current misery. Knowing his luck, it probably does.

For the umpteen-thousandth time tonight, some loud, boisterous asshole in the garage below his shitty little apartment calls out, “And one! Two! One, two, three, four!”

The drums come first, banging out a rhythm that Keith couldn’t make heads or tails of, even if he had gotten a decent night’s sleep this week. Next, comes the keyboardist, who makes no sense as part of a punk band (last Keith heard, this genre was supposed to be stripped down or something), but at least they actually know how to play. If not for constantly interrupting his ability to rest, Keith could probably forgive the bassist, who only sounds garden variety inept. But the lead guitarist charges into the song like a stampede trampling an entire row of china shops. Whoever they are, they make their instrument wail like a cat that’s having its neck broken, and can’t stay on-tempo to save their life.

Keith never made it far in music lessons. His second set of foster parents had tried to make him learn, but Keith had failed to understand a lick of anything his poor teacher had thrown his way. Lessons ended after one afternoon’s practice, when his red plastic recorder had wound up mysteriously embedded in the basement wall. Still, even he can tell that it takes dedication to suck as hard as this band’s guitarist.

“Are you sure those Galaxy Garrison punks are really all that bad?” Allura asked him over lunch the other day, after she’d spent the majority of their Gothic Literary Traditions And Society lecture nudging him so he wouldn’t fall asleep. “I certainly don’t begrudge you being annoyed that they’re so disrespectful. But perhaps you might enjoy the music more under other circumstances.”

Not to be spiteful or anything, but Keith wishes that she were here right now. That’d settle the matter pretty easily. About the only redeeming feature of this alleged music, is that the singer doesn’t suck. Sure, their diction leaves a bit to be desired, and if they helped write the lyrics, then they could’ve done better than all of this derivative man, fuck the system but not in a nice way garbage. But vocally, they’re almost decent.

Still, if Keith could spare the cash, he’d literally pay them to stop singing.

He’s twisting the tab off another can of Mountain Dew as the song abruptly stops. The drums drop out first, then the keyboards, then the strings. The singer cuts short a scream that Keith guesses is supposed to sound artfully anguished. Keith almost lets himself breathe easier. But the chorus of yelling is ten times worse:

“Hey, what’s going—”

“Dammit, Lance, you missed the cue again!”

“Don’t look at me! I was following Pidge!”

“Whoa, hey, excuse you! Since when are your screw-ups suddenly my fault?!”

“Dude, you have to get the cue right or I won’t know when the tempo-shift’s supposed to happen!”

“Stow it, guys! Battle of the Bands is in two weeks, and we’re not gonna beat The Ultraviolents unless we work together and focus on the practice.”

Cringing, Keith digs his fingers into the bridge of his nose. In the back of his mind, a voice that sounds way too much like Allura’s Dad tells him not to grind his teeth, but that only makes Keith do so harder. Whatever, Coran’s not here to chastise him in person, and he doesn’t have to deal with these jack-offs for several hours every single night. He, and Allura, and her Father get to live in a nice penthouse uptown, in a swank building that Keith can’t even look at without feeling underdressed and vaguely nauseated. If anyone like Galaxy Garrison ever tried to hold their shitty band practice at this hour of the night, Alfor and Coran could call the cops and get an actual response.

Keith, on the other hand, can only rely on himself. It’s always been that way, but has gotten truer since he moved in here.

Although the singer’s attempt at a rousing speech should’ve cut this nonsense off, the other three keep shouting. Keith hears the words, but for the moment, they make no sense. Next thing he knows, he’s stomping out into the hall. He doesn’t slam the door, because it might bother Rolo and Nyma in the other flat, and unlike some people, Keith at least tries to respect his neighbors, even when they’re overly friendly and perpetually stink like weed and stale hot dogs.

But that’s about the only thing that Keith can spare a thought for, heading to the rickety stairs, practically on autopilot. He’s halfway down before he notices that he isn’t wearing shoes. God, he hopes there isn’t too much broken glass around tonight.

“Guys, listen up!” the singer cuts in again, as Keith pauses on the bottom stair to yawn. “I know we’re all tired, and I know we’ve all been working hard. But none of us is any better or worse than the others — and we’re only as strong as our ability to work together. This band can’t do well by our music, much less win anything, if we’re fighting like Lennon and McCartney all the time, okay?”

“Oh my god, fucking Beatles references? Really?” groans another one. “Dude, could you sound any more like my abuela?”

“Lance, I’ve known your abuela since we were six, and I have never heard her once talk about the Beatles, or speak anything but Spanish.”

“Totally not the point, Hunk!”

From the sound of it, this Lance one kicks a can against the nearest wall. Keith huffs, closing in on the door.

“All I’m saying is that I can’t get my cues right if Pidge keeps trying all this overly complicated bullshit and—”

“Do you assholes have ANY idea what fucking time it is?!”

It’s not until he’s spit it out that Keith realizes how loud he was. Hovering in the doorway into the garage, he almost regrets that. But he can’t show these punks any weakness or they’ll keep on doing this. So, he glares at them. First, at the big guy behind the drums (who’s cute, actually, with his floppy hair and his belly and his big, strong arms; he looks like someone Keith might not mind, under other circumstances). He wilts as Keith frowns at him, and the way he hangs his head kicks Keith in the regret again.

The petite, bedheaded keyboardist calls a glare her way next, but only because she pipes up, “Excuse me?”

Seething, Keith steps out of the doorway. “I said, ‘Do you assholes have any idea what fucking time it is’?” He folds his arms over his chest. “It’s not a hard question, thanks.”

“Well, what if we don’t want to answer it, man!” The one called Lance is tall and spindly, and looks like a guy Keith might consider going home with, if he’d had a couple drinks and felt particularly lonely. “I mean, who the Hell are you to tell us what time it is, anyway!”

“I’m the guy who lives upstairs, jackass,” Keith snaps. “I’m the guy who lives upstairs who would rather be asleep, instead of dealing with you little shits at four in the fucking morning—”

“Hey, we talked to the other two, and they didn’t mind—”

“I’m not them, though, am I? And unlike them, I can’t afford to knock myself out on cough syrup just to sleep through all your goddamn racket.”

“‘All our goddamn racket’?” Lance drawls back in a mocking tone. He even folds his arms like Keith and cocks a hip. Glancing over at the singer, he says, “Asere, come get this! He sounds even more like my abuela than you do. What’s next, man? Are you gonna tell us to get off of your lawn?”

“I don’t have a lawn, you idiot. I barely have an apartment.”

As Lance and Hunk and Pidge barely manage to hold back their laughter, it occurs to Keith that maybe he should not have taken that insult literally. His cheeks flush hot, and his ears start tingling, because of course, his entire head has to blush in situations like this. Whatever he’s doing, it makes the Pidge one snicker, and when he glares at her again, she doesn’t even try to stop.

Hugging himself tighter, Keith groans and turns toward the singer, ready to verbally eviscerate him, since as far as Keith can tell, he’s the ringleader. The other three respect him (more or less), and in the past few nights’ rehearsals, he’s the one who’s made the most decisions about what songs to go over and who was right or wrong about which dispute or other. This means that he’s the most responsible for this mess out of all of them, and the one who most deserves Keith’s outrage. But the words all die before Keith’s even spit out one of them.

The guy in front of him probably has a good six inches on Keith in height, and the body of someone who you wouldn’t want to mess with. Sure, his ripped jeans hang low on his slim hips, but his weathered Pansy Division crop top shows off a pretty toned set of abs. Even worse, the ripped sleeves highlight a really nice set of arms. There’s a gnarled, nasty-looking scar on the right one, up by the singer’s shoulder, and another one, Keith notices, that goes across his nose and cheeks. Now that he sees it, he can’t believe he’d ever miss it, but in fairness, the singer’s hair falls to his shoulders with a devil-may-care ease about it, mostly black, except for the shaggy forelock that he’s bleached white.

Keith frowns as he takes in the guy’s face. Something about it seems… familiar? But that makes no sense, or does it? Whatever it is, Keith can’t place it. He would remember a jaw like that, and definitely that scar… Maybe he has one of those faces? Or maybe he was in a local commercial? Or—

“Keith?” the singer says, his voice soft and his eyes wide. His lower lip quivers and he knots his brow…

—and realization slams into Keith, and makes him freeze. No, that can’t be right. This singer can’t be who Keith thinks he is, and that person can’t be here — this cannot be happening, because that’s bullshit — even if it weren’t, things like this don’t happen to Keith — this cannot be happening—

“…Keith, right?” he says again. “Keith Kogane?”

Hunching his shoulders, Keith whispers, “…Shiro?” — but he knows it can’t be, because that’s stupid, because Shiro’s gone and things like this don’t happen to Keith. They just do not. Ever. Never, ever in his life has anything like this happened, so why would it decide to happen now.

Except the singer beams at him, and Keith would know that smile if he were blackout drunk. He wrestles his guitar off of himself and hands it off to Lance, and before Keith knows which way is up, there’s a heavy hand on his shoulder. That lasts for maybe half a second, then he’s getting pulled into Shiro’s chest and hugged around the shoulders. Keith’s heart is going so fast, it feels like maybe it just stopped beating. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. There is no way in Hell — Keith must’ve bummed some Nyquil off of Rolo after all, and now he’s passed out upstairs, and he is dreaming some truly fucked up dreams, because this. Shit. Cannot. Be happening.

But Shiro squeezes so tight, it starts to hurt. He lets up and mumbles an apology when Keith wriggles, then tells him, “I thought I’d never see you again…”

It takes Keith a moment to nod, then another one to even think of saying anything. When he gets his mouth around the words, all he can come up with is, “I didn’t… Me neither.”

Dimly, Keith’s just glad that Shiro buries his face in his shoulder instead of asking why Keith sounds weird right now. Keith might be on the spectrum, but even he knows better than to admit that what he’s really thinking is more like, Oh, fuck my life.

[codename-bewareofthefangirl]

Konnichiwa! May you get the marks you desire, can I ask for a ficlet? AoKawa with the #11 dialogue? ^-^ I need some rareship hell to get into, see?

Hi dear! You can’t even understand how happy you mademe with this ask! I can’t even express it! Obviously, I’m also very anxiousbecause I don’t know if I pictured them as well as they’re in my mind and alsobecause I really hope you fall in love with them too. For a minute, I wanted towrite a “serious” or romantic ff, but no. I chose a funny, fluffy and crazyepisode as they are in my mind: AoKawa’s Confession. You are going to findreferences to past events because, well, they’re references to my other ideasabout their whole story that unfolds in my head!

I hope you enjoy it and start shipping them too!

 Shooting  Stars

That night, Aomine was peacefully relaxing before going to sleep, sprawled on the couch in his shared dorm apartment, when he heard his roommate leaving the bedroom. He glanced up from his Mai-chan’s magazine and found an excited Oikawa, completely dressed and with his leather jacket on, in the middle of the living room.

Now, Aomine’d had the time to learn a lot of things about that guy during those months.

First, they were made to argue with each other and they rarely found something on which they both agreed: he was a workaholic, volleyball’s lover, aliens’ maniac and brilliant student; Aomine was a lazy genius, lived for basketball, had posters of cicadas and studied just enough to pass his courses -a kind way to say he was dumb. However, they somehow had managed to adjust to each other and now they were… friends; they even hung out together in their free time, much to their own and their friends’ surprise.

Second, Oikawa was the type of guy who always seemed perfect, polite and composed outside but inside was the worst, childish, crazy, bubbling guy Aomine had ever met; at the same time, the brunet managed to be a scheming, passionate and proud player. A complex mystery Aomine wasn't sure he would ever completely understand. But, if there was something they had immediately recognized in each other, was their sports talent.

Third, he was always up to no good no matter what and, without supervision, he was bound to disturb, annoy or even harm himself or other people: a walking calamity. Unfortunately for Aomine, due to Iwaizumi’s absence, the role of supervisor had been passed to him and that was a tragedy since he couldn’t even properly take care of himself, imagine of another -sly- human being, but it had become a matter of survival.

“Where are you going?” Aomine asked Oikawa yawning, with his brows knitted. If he wanted to go practicing again then he was mistaking.

Two weeks ago, Aomine’d had to go to the gym at half-past eleven because Oikawa had entered his paranoiac phase of “not being enough” and was wearing himself out with an endless session of extra practice; he'd literally had to drag him home by force before he could hurt himself. It had happened before, but Aomine hadn't arrived in time: a worried and angry Iwaizumi, at the time out of Tokyo, had called Aomine so that he could go and bring back the injured idiot who had collapsed on the gym and couldn’t even move due to his aching knee. That had been the first time they had properly opened to each other, since Oikawa was too dejected and in need of comfort to put up any resistance against Aomine’s blunt insistence.

So, even if he had to forcefully push the boy down and tie him to the bed, Aomine wasn’t going to let him overworking himself anymore; he had enough of midnight trips to the gym to save his ass.

Oikawa pouted, probably reading his thoughts, and averted the brown eyes.

“To see the stars, you rude worrywart. As I’ve been saying all week long, ” He answered shrugging as he slipped on his shoes.

“You always talk about stars, alien and shit like that,” Aomine smirked, even if he was now recalling the brunet say something about it, “Where?” then he inquired, lowering the magazine and straightening a bit. He heard the boy huffing, but, from the sound, Aomine knew he was smiling.

“From the rooftop,” Oikawa replied blankly, with just an amused glint dancing in the eyes, but Aomine furrowed his eyebrows.

“Ah? The door to reach it's closed at night, Shittykawa,” he reminded the brunet, calling him by the nickname that Iwaizumi had officially allowed him to use.

The boy stood up and glanced at him from upon his shoulder.

“Who said I’m going to use the door, Dai-chan?”  he teased grinning widely before he opened the door and left the apartment quickly, not letting the other the time to react.

Aomine stared at the empty hallway for some seconds, then blinked slowly and finally realized what it meant.

“Fuck! That idiot!” he cursed, throwing the magazine on the couch and rushing towards the door; he put on his shoes and then tailed him outside, down the stairs and in the backyard.

As expected, he found Oikawa in the garden at the back of their complex, looking thoughtfully at the iron, folded emergency staircase hanging from the wall, midway between the earth and the roof.

“Tell me you’re joking,” Aomine grunted, reaching him with long strides. Oikawa didn’t even bother to turn, he was sure Aomine would have followed him.

“Absolutely no, it’s the only other way to the rooftop,” he explained calmly, trying to understand if he could really reach the first step by jumping as higher as he could, and then use his weight to pull down and unfold the stairs. He had thought it was a perfect plan, but now that he saw closely the stairs, he was starting to doubt it.

“Can’t you look at the stars from the garden?” grumbled Aomine, exasperated by the brunet's antics, putting his hands in the jeans’ pockets. It was still a chilly night, even if the sky was clear. Part of him just wanted to turn on his heels, go back on the couch and resume enjoying his Mai-chan magazine; the other weak-willed part was mocking him because he damn knew that, lately, he just couldn’t leave Oikawa alone.

Oikawa looked at him wide-eyed as if he had just said a blasphemy.

“Tonight, it'll be possible to see shooting stars, Dai-chan. You don’t watch shooting stars from a small, badly illuminated garden,” he explained slowly, as if he was talking to a dumb child, and Aomine felt the usual desire to punch his pretty face.

“Shooting stars?” he opted to say instead, rolling his eyes.

“Exactly. If you manage to see one, one of your wishes will come true,” Oikawa bubbled excitedly, taking some steps back and scrunching his nose in concentration as he tried to measure the approximate distance. Yes, maybe he could do it.

“And what wish is worth a broken leg?” Aomine mocked him, glancing amusedly at his movements. That was going to be such a failure.

“That’s a secret, Dai-chan!” he smirked allusively, winking at him. Aomine snorted, shaking his head, and decided to let him fail in peace and then bring back the corpse.

Oikawa took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and when he reopened them, he wore the focused expression of the determined setter he was. The first thing about Oikawa that had struck Aomine and made him regret Oikawa didn’t play basketball.

The brunette took the same run-up he used when serving; crouching like a cat, he elegantly moved forward and then suddenly spread his arms like wings; he jumped high, hands stretching towards his aim.

But he missed the step, slamming face-on against the wall, and fell backwards on his butt.

Aomine burst into a loud, animal laughter that echoed in the garden.

“Shut up!” Oikawa whined, still laying on the ground.

Aomine was laughing too hard to help him, a pity he hadn't recorded it.

Oikawa, blushing furiously, stood up and brushed his pants, trying to find again his dignity.

“I’m not going to surrender,” He pouted, lifting his chin, and returned to his initial position.

“You can’t do it,” Aomine said chuckling, watching him running and slamming into the wall again.

At the third failed attempt, Aomine thought that now they could return home; maybe, to comfort his hurting pride, he would let Oikawa watch one his aliens movies with some ice cream, only for that night. Maybe.

But as always, Oikawa never ceased to surprise him.

He returned to his spot, but instead of running, he analyzed carefully the wall. An evil grin spread across his face.

“Dai-chan,” he called sweetly and shivers ran down Aomine’s spine, “Who lives on the second floor?” he asked pointing his index at the balcony near the staircase.

The other tilted his head, perplexed.

“Uh? Why do you need to-” the boy started saying when the sudden realization hit him, “Fuck no,” he roared, glaring menacingly at him.

Oikawa pouted, crossing his arms.

“Come on, Dai-chan!”

“I’m not going to ask our neighbors to let you use their balcony to jump on the stairs,” He refused, rubbing his temples, and Oikawa gave him a death look.

“Party-pooper,” he murmured disappointed, reaching the wall and standing exactly under the stairs, frustrated. He just wanted to see his shooting stars.

Oh no, the dejected look. Fuck, Aomine was weak.

Oikawa heard the other guy sigh and growl something, and thought he had run out of patience for that night and was going to drag him inside or, worst, abandon him there. Instead, Aomine finally reached him, scratching his neck both out of annoyance and embarrassment; he already knew that was going to be a bad idea.

“You’re really a child,” his roommate complained and Oikawa blushed even more, offended.

“Said the guy who asks my help to stuAAAA-“ Oikawa’s words melted in a loud screech as Aomine suddenly bent, grabbed him by the knees and lift him up.

“Shut up! You are waking up everyone!” Aomine hissed, face pressed against Oikawa’s tights, “We shouldn’t even be here.”

“What are you doing?” Oikawa panicked, swinging back and forth in his arm, in a precarious equilibrium.

“I help you to reach your stupid stairs,” And he was the dumb one, “Stand steady.”

Finally, Oikawa calmed down and straightened properly, soft giggles escaping his lips.

“You don’t have to do this, you know?”

“I wish that was true,” He replied in a low, annoyed but amused voice. And maybe, sometimes, he truly wanted to go back as it was before meeting the brunet, but it wasn’t possible anymore. He had fallen too deep.

“You softie,” Oikawa laughed petting his blue hair and he snorted.

“You're heavy, Oikawa. Move your ass.”

“First, I still can't reach it,” he pointed out, “Second, I'm not heavy.”

“You shrimp,” Aomine pinched his tight, making his squirming, and growled, “Put your hands on the wall.”

“I’m average height, tall even. It’s you who’s huge!” the brunet whined, puffing his cheeks, but did as he was told.

Aomine didn’t bother answering and slowly moved his hands under Oikawa’s feet. That was dangerous, but he trusted the player’s good reflexes.

“Alright, when I push you up, grab the step. Try not to fall, I’m not bringing you to the hospital,” he warned and Oikawa rolled his eyes.

“You rude guy. You’re going to see how amazing I am,”  he boasted, glancing fiercely at the stairs, “You let me go and move back immediately,” he added and the boy nodded.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” Oikawa replied with a smirk and Aomine pushed him up with all his strength.

Incredibly, everything worked out. Oikawa grabbed the step and Aomine moved out of the way before the stairs unfolded with a loud, crashing, metallic noise. The brunette landed safely on the ground and staggered. Aomine instinctively caught his arm to prevent him from falling.

Both looked at the stairs, the horrible noise still echoing, and then exchanged a horrified glance.

“Move, before they find us,” Aomine growled and shoved him forward.

“You don’t need to tell me,” Oikawa snickered, starting to climb in a hurry. He heard Aomine following him and a small smile blossomed on his lips. That idiot didn’t even like the stars.

 When they finally reached the rooftop, Oikawa emitted an excited and enthusiastic exclamation, bouncing around and spinning on himself with arms wide open. Aomine just stared at him, the corner of his lips curling up.

“See? It was worth it!” Oikawa told him, gesturing Aomine to join him in the middle of the rooftop.

“Yeah…” the other muttered, averting his gaze from him. Damn, he could see more stars in Oikawa’s eyes than in the sky.

They sat down together, in silence. Oikawa brought his knees to the chest, hugging them, and stared at the sky with a content, awe-struck smile. Without Aomine telling anything, he started listing name of the constellations and pointing them out for him, who merely nodded and followed his finger.

It had passed more than half an hour when Oikawa stopped his rambling to breathe.

“You’re not even listening, Dai-chan!” Oikawa sounded more giddy and amused than offended; he was already surprised that Aomine had followed him and remained silent.

“I’m,” the boy objected with an unusual quietness, but his eyes were locked on him instead of the sky.

Oikawa blushed under his stare, realizing that he couldn’t tell when his roommate had started watching him; a sort of soft warmth and resolution bubbled in his stomach.

He fidgeted, clasping more tightly his knees, and then mumbled something.

“Uh?” Aomine frowned, but Oikawa buried the face in his arms.

“I said I’m cold," he whispered a little louder, without his usual whining tone.

Silence.

“I told you it was still too cold to wear that jacket, idiot,” Aomine instantly blurted, bringing back a conversation about Oikawa’s clothes they had during the week.

The brunette's head perked up and he grimaced, glaring hard at him.

“You Ahomine!” He cursed, standing up with flaming cheeks, “You have just lost your chance to be a gentleman!” he hissed before moving to sit a bit further, showing the boy his back

Aomine laughed, enjoying the embarrassment and the dorky side of Oikawa, who whispered some more insults at him; then, in his slow-paced, feline way, he stood up too and walked towards him.

“I don’t need some cheesy, drama’s lines to be romantic,” he smirked, making Oikawa roll his eyes, “I can do better,” he murmured alluringly.

Catching Oikawa by surprise, he fell seated behind him and, before the boy could react, wrapped his arm around his waist; he pulled Oikawa against his chest and caged him between his legs.

“This is warmer…” he whispered in his ear, brushing against the earlobe with his lips.

Oikawa blinked once, twice and then burst into laughter.

“Wh-What are you laughing at?” Aomine pulled away from him, offended, but Oikawa leaned back again in his arms, covering his mouth with a hand to muffle the spontaneous laugh that bubbled from his throat.

“That was so damn embarrassing, Dai-chan!” he giggled with shining eyes and red cheeks.

“Shut up,” Aomine growled again, as the shame started to kick in, and buried his face in the crook of Oikawa’s neck.

“Good confession,” The brunet playfully mocked him.

“Who says I’m confessing?” Aomine replied.

“You are confessing,” Oikawa repeated in a quite menacing way and Aomine immediately corrected himself.

“I’m confessing,” he assured with a snort.

“Nobody is gonna believe me,” Oikawa sighed happily, thinking of Iwaizumi and Kise’s faces after would tell them about Aomine’s cheesiness.

“Don’t you even try to.”

Oikawa giggled again, caressing lightly his short, blue hair.

“This is your punishment for making me feel stupid and hopeless before,” he accused, poking his cheek.

“It’s just too fun messing with you,” Aomine replied with a smirk, “And why did you think I would follow you here, if not for this reason? And don’t answer “stars”, I don’t give a damn,” Aomine reassured him in that brusque and rash way of his.

“So rude, I love stars,” Oikawa whined, but was still smiling, “And you should have done this before.," he complained, gazing at his beloved sky.

“That wouldn’t have been fun. You’re cute when you’re hopeless. And damn, you tried your best to seduce me during those weeks.”

“Are you trying to make me blush?” Oikawa replied, thinking of all his “failed” attempt to understand if Aomine liked him or not. Unfortunately, his everlasting rival was a big breasted idol. Not the easiest person to defeat.

“I’m making you blush,” Aomine corrected him, grinning slyly, and Oikawa huffed.

“Don’t play the Latin lover, cicada-guy.”

“Shut up, alien-freak.”

“Make me.”

Aomine froze, pulled a little away and stared at Oikawa, who was showing him a confident and attractive smile.

“You were waiting to say this line, weren’t you?” Aomine grunted amused, arching an eyebrow.

Oikawa smiled angelically.

“From the first time you told me to shut up.”

Aomine smiled, tilting his head, and Oikawa could only think that damn, his eyes were the same blue as the night and seemed full of stars as he looked fondly at him.

“Then I’ve made you wait too long,” Aomine answered before leaning in and finally kissing Oikawa. A bit rough as his words, a bit goofy as his personality, definitely passionate as his playing style.

Oikawa closed his eyes and grabbed Aomine’s hair to pull him closer; he had desired this for some months now. And it was stupidly embarrassing and incredibly amazing as Aomine was.

He simply loved it.

When they divided, the brunette rested against his chest with a content smile on his lips and Aomine held him tight, savoring the warmth of his body.

“Oi, Tooru,” Aomine called him, making his heart jump.

“Yes, Dai-chan?”

“What is your secret wish? Except for volleyball related things,” he specified, knowing that his love for basketball could only be compared to Oikawa’s love for volleyball.

Oikawa giggled and gave him a peck on the lips.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter anymore,” he replied sweetly, winking at him.