#sorry for the length of this but this conversation popped in my head yesterday and I had to scribble it out before I finished up other art

[wigglebox]

Sad Bois’ Story Time

Bonus:

[sheloooveswomen]

dancing - headcanon

masterlist

prompt: when/where/why/how they do it + mini scenario where you dance with your girlfriend.

includes: billie dean howard, audrey tindall, ally mayfair-richards, wilhemina venable, and alice macray.

☆ billie dean howard ☆

• she knows she's good

• her hips do not lie

• you end up stopping and just watching her because how could you not

• she always leads when dancing (even with men, it's funny to see their reaction)

• flips her hair a lot

vacation

• your girlfriend takes you to spain

• after having dinner on the balcony she can't help but pull you close and dance to the music playing from one of the nearby clubs

• who knew the medium has an affinity for latin dance?

(( sorry if you're hispanic and billie is explaining your culture to you lmao / translations in double parentheses ))

Y/N POV//

"How loud do you think the music is playing for it to be so clear all the way up here?" I ask.

Billie brings our drinks in from the balcony, "People go for dancing not conversation," she waggles her brows, a little tipsy, "they talk with their bodies instead."

Equally tipsy, I grin, "Oh of course."

"Have you ever tried bachata?" my girlfriend asks.

"Didn't we have it yesterday?"

Billie smiles, "No, honey, that was horchata. Bachata is a dance." she finishes the last of her wine before placing the glasses on the coffee table, "From what I remember it originated in the Dominican Republic, but it has Cuban and Caribbean influence."

My medium dances her way towards the balcony, opening the door wider to let in the music and Balearic Sea air.

"I'll teach you. It goes perfect with what they're playing. The basics are a three-step followed by a tap and a little boop," she pops her hip and I am gay, "on the 4th beat."

Billie demonstrates at arms length and I stand in gay silence. Is there anything this woman can't do? Her silk slip dress ripples in the breeze, swaying along with her hips before she has me try it with her.

"There you go." she smiles, counting as we do it again, "One two three and four- you're a natural, querida mía." ((my darling)) the pet name she's taken to since we landed on spanish soil rolls off her tongue. A habit she has anytime we go somewhere new.

"Hardly." I watch our feet in effort to follow her lead.

"Don't think so much, bachata has technique but for now we can focus on the more...hm" Billie steps her right leg between mine, "sensual part."

I look up into her deep brown eyes while she whispers the counts, our thighs pressed, her hand a comforting pressure on my lower back to keep me close.

Billie speeds up as the song playing from outside changes, "You really have to feel your partner...anticipate their movements as well as the changes in the music." she steps back and lifts our joined hands over my head to spin me.

"You've been to the Dominican Republic a few times, right?" I ask.

Billie has me spin her this time, "Twice. The first time was mainly for the show—I want to say season three—but when we went for our usual follow up with the family we were able to enjoy the culture more. That's certainly a benefit of my travels."

"Can you speak any spanish?"

"Only greetings, some dirty words and swears and sweet nothings like any respectable adult." Billie laughs, "I'm kidding. I probably know more than the average person simply because I like to speak without the interpreter when I want something to come directly from me. Can I memorize something for future use? Sí. Could I carry a proper conversation? No. I'll say that in spanish, too, no."

I twirl a strand of her hair around my finger, "Funny."

"I try." a giggle only wine can bring out erupts.

I tuck the strand behind her ear, "Who there taught you to dance like this?"

"The great-grandmother if you believe it. She was about 80," Billie smiles fondly, "I spoke to her husband for the episode and she showed me the basics—a less promiscuous version—of what they used to do together."

"That's sweet." my finger traces from the dimple in her chin to her diamond earring.

"It was. But then she passed me off to her grandsons. They all called me 'reina' or 'rubia' so it was fantastic for my ego. They took the crew into town for real dancing once we wrapped. Locals came up to us clueless Americans saying '¡baila conmigo!' and dragged us to the dance floor. So dance we did. It was fun, it was sexy, people would have a temporary connection with a total stranger just to never see them again." ((queen, blondie, dance with me!))

As one song fades into the next Billie leads us in a side to side 3-step, still emphasizing each beat with her hips. She turns, passes my hand into her other hand behind her back, and rolls her body into mine once she's facing me again. She outstretches our joined hands to our sides and up so my arms fall around her neck while her hands continue lower to pull me closer by my waist.

The music eventually slows and we sway in each other's arms to the guitar instrumental echoing from the building down the street.

"You gettin sleepy, babydoll?"

I lay my head against her shoulder, "A little. Few more minutes of this?"

"Sure, baby."

I tilt my head to kiss the part of her neck nearest to my lips. Billie rests her chin on top of my head, her hand running up and down my back as we dance a little longer.

☆ audrey tindall ☆

• she loves to dance

• surprisingly good

• wanting to be a well-rounded performer she took lessons in various styles (all listed on her résumé)

• loves to slow dance but prefers more upbeat and wild dancing, gets her whole body involved

at home

• audrey will perform a song like she's being paid to do it

• one of her favorites is Love Is Strange from Dirty Dancing

• your girlfriend fully expects you to stop what you're doing and reenact the scene from the movie

(( lyrics bold/italicized ))

Y/N POV//

The familiar guitar intro sounds from the living room speakers, announcing my sleeping beauty is awake and ready to dive into a dance that happens every time she returns from filming.

I feel Audrey's eyes on me before I can feel arms around my waist, a chin on my shoulder, and a soft kiss behind my ear.

"Good morning." I tap the last egg against the edge of the counter before cracking it over the pan.

"Morning, my darling, sleep well?" she asks.

"Very. I'll have to get used to the weighted blanket, though."

Audrey lifts her face from my neck, "We don't have a weighted blanket."

Love

Love is strange

Lot of people

Take it for a game

I hold my hand at her height, "It's this tall, about 125 pounds."

"Ha. Ha. You have me in stitches." she pokes my side, "What're you making?"

Once you get it

You never want to quit, no no

After you've had it

You're in an awful fix

"Eggs, bacon is done, the croissants are in the oven. Should all be ready in less than ten."

"You're too good to me." she opens the fridge, "Which are you in the mood for: coffee, tea, or juice- did you just go shopping?" she looks at me with a slight pout, "you're the sweetest- oouu! Babe!" she holds up champagne, "Mimosa?!"

"Whatever you'd like, my love."

Many people

Don't understand, no no

They think loving

Is money in the hand

She finds our flute glasses in the top cabinet and dances her way through the drink making process. Humming, shimmying, and singing until she's back behind me, "Your sweet loving is better than a kiss. When you leave me, sweet kisses I miss. Did you miss me, my love?"

"A ridiculous amount."

Audrey pecks my cheek and my jaw repeatedly, "I don't know if I believe you because you've yet to kiss me properly this morning."

"I kissed your forehead when I got up." I retort.

"Blasphemy!" Audrey shakes her messy blonde hair, "Sing with me." she tries to turn me around.

I release the pan handle and try not to drop the spatula, "I'm trying to make breakfast, woman!"

Audrey pulls me closer, not an ounce of personal space in sight, "But it's not a solo! Cmon cmon cmon cmon—"

I place the pan on a back burner and concede, "Audrey?" I sing.

She brings a hand to her chest and bats her eyes, "Yes Y/n?"

"How do you call your lover boy?" I smile, leaning onto the kitchen island.

Absolutely giddy—but still in character—Audrey beckons me with her finger, "Come here, lover boy!"

"And if he doesn't answer?" I cross my arms.

"Oh lover boy?" she walks around the island and my eyes can't help but follow her as she climbs onto the counter.

I lay my palms flat on the marble separating us, "And if he still doesn't answer?!"

"I simply say," she seductively crawls to me as she sings, "Baby," her laugh breaks through when I play air guitar, "oh baby! My sweet baby!" Audrey brushes my hair from my face as my arms encircle her waist, "You're the one." she sings softer.

I bury my face in her cleavage just as the scene goes and a giggling Audrey lifts my head from her boobs to meet my eyes once she's seated on her bum, "Baby, oh baby!"

"My sweet baby, you're the one!" I shake my shoulders to the beat, keeping my face serious in hopes of earning that beautiful laugh of hers.

☆ ally mayfair-richards ☆

• having no rhythm has never stopped her

• ally: say yes or i'll start dancing right here

y/n: don't you dare

ally: i can't help it, babe, my body just has to move *does the robot*

date night

• you and your girlfriend have weekly movie nights (at her house, in a theater, or at a drive-in)

• since her soccer game was canceled tonight you decide to have an impromptu game night instead (video games and board games)

• ally is an awful dancer but that won't stop her from playing Just Dance 2

(( high school!ally - based on other headcanon ))

Y/N POV//

"Are you ready?" my eyes follow my girlfriend through her routine warm up.

Ally stands, "Yup," she stretches her arms up high and folds to touch her toes, "Rihanna S.O.S first?"

"Sure."

"Usual rules and wager: first to five wins and winner gets to pick the next three movie nights?" she asks, ever competitive.

I cue up the wii, pressing the necessary buttons to get to the song, "I already have my list made."

"Don't get too cocky, now." she pulls her hair back into a little ponytail.

"You sound very confident for someone who can't dance for her life."

"I have a new strategy," she pulls her jersey over her head, leaving her in a sports bra and spandex.

Oh so she's playing dirty, "That's—"

"There's nothing in our rules regarding attire. Besides..."Ally smiles to herself, "it's all in the wrist." she winks, securing the wii remote around said wrist.

We take our positions and press A for it to start.

Ally sings through the whole song aside from her occasional "Dammit!" "No fucking way! I totally hit that!" when she gets a good instead of perfect.

(( time skip / it was all in the wrist ))

Ally throws her hands up in celebration, having won the tie breaker, "Oh yeah uh huh" she starts doing the running man, "get it get it get it!"

"I blame you and your boobs."

Ally does the wave, "We won fair and square."

"What're we watching tonight?" I flop back onto the sofa.

"Devil Wears Prada, The Skeleton Twins, or A Simple Favor."

"At least you have good taste."

"Excellent taste actually," she lays her head on my stomach and moves my hand to her hair, "winner gets head rubs, too, it's in the fine print—"

"Of your imaginary contract. How's your wrist after carrying the rest of you to victory."

"She'll live, now play with my hair, all of that winning exhausted me."

☆ wilhemina venable ☆

• the music she likes doesn't really call for dancing

• therefore mina doesn't dance so much as she nods her head to the rhythm (sometimes without realizing)

prom

• met when she helped you in the library, you kept going back

• "Do you actually need a book or are you here to stare at me?"

• she's (somewhat) mean to everyone except you

• started dating when she was a junior and you were a sophomore so her prom takes place about a year into your relationship

• though she's reluctant to go, a secret part of her wants the cliche experience of the promposal, corsage, taking photos, and going with a partner

(( high school!wilhemina - based on other headcanon ))

Y/N POV//

March 14th

It's a typical Monday afternoon. Having done her homework during her library shift, Wilhemina is sat comfortably, reading of course, while I finish my homework.

"Your senior prom is coming up soon." I keep my eyes on my algebra to aim for nonchalance.

"Is it?"

"They mentioned it in the announcements today." When I peek at Mina she's turning the page, the slight crinkle of her brow the only indication she heard me, "It's in 2 months, I think."

"Is it?" the corners of her mouth hint to a smirk.

"Babe." as always the pet name earns a genuine smile

"I'm only teasing," she marks her spot with one of the gifts I got her for our 6 month anniversary: lilac, wisteria, and hydrangea pressed flat and enclosed in a resin bookmark, "Is there a particular reason you're bringing prom up?"

Wilhemina says it with confusion instead of distaste so I don't back down, "Do you plan on going?"

"You're answering my question with a question."

"And you're avoiding mine."

"Touché. I'm not one for school events. I'm not exactly akin to the rest of the student body, as you know." she tilts her head, trying to read me like one of her books, "I'm not opposed to prom and what it entails, congregating aside. So to answer your question: in an ideal world I would go if it could be just you and I there. Admittedly I can appreciate the need for a typical high school experience, the romance and novelty within it. Now my question, is there a reason you're asking?"

"Nope." I smile, happy with her answer.

"Mhm." Mina looks at me over the rim of her glasses before returning to her novel, "I'm sure I'll find out soon enough."

April 20th

I planned Wilhemina's promposal using some of her favorite books and ending with one of her favorite poems.

The welcomed rhythmic tapping of my girlfriend's cane announces her entrance, "Hi sweets." she kisses the top of my head.

"Hi, how's your day been?" I ask.

She sets her tote bag on the table, "The usual."

"Wanna play a game?"

Her eyes widen and her cheeks tinge pink, "Here?"

"Wha- I- not that kind of game!" I sputter, my own face reddening, "I'm talking about a scavenger hunt of sorts."

"Of sorts. What's my incentive?"

"Your prize?"

"Mhm."

I simply smile in response.

"I see..." she pushes her glasses up her nose, "may I have my first clue?"

I place an index card in front of her that says: The happiest place on earth for you is whatever book you decide to step into. You say you'll never step foot in Florida, so fuck Disney, you'd rather spend your time in pages scribed by good ole Ginny.

Mina heads for the english women in literature section, "Shall we?"

There's no real search for her to locate one of her favorite Virginia Woolf novels, Orlando. Wilhemina eyes me as she finds another card inside the book cover.

She reads aloud: "This story focuses on two sisters despite there being three. Both in need of a husband and funds for their family. The elder finds love while the other finds scorn. One practices logic and the other sensitivity, both have been taught to remain in the margins of the social standing brought on by their family torn." Mina glides down the isle, tapping her chin as she thinks, "El...Mar...sensitivity..."

"Stumped?"

"Never." she pauses briefly in front of the A's before plucking Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility off the shelf, "Dear Elinor and Marianne Dashwood."

My redhead thumbs the corner of the newest card as she rereads this letter for possibly the hundredth time in her life, the only difference being her name added in place of Susie: Willie, forgive me Darling, for every word I say — my heart is full of you, none other than you is in my thoughts, yet when I seek to say to you something not for the world, words fail me. If you were here — and Oh that you were, my Willie, we need not talk at all, our eyes would whisper for us, and your hand fast in mine, we would not ask for language...

"Willie?" she smirks.

"Sue me, it had to fit. I don't plan on making it a habit. I much prefer Mina, it's so close to mine and I think we both enjoy that."

"You incessant flirt." grinning (for her), she drags her finger across the spines of the D shelf, stopping when she reaches the final book, Open Me Carefully: Emily Dickinson's Intimate Letters to Susan Huntington Dickinson. The final card holds her favorite poem That I did always love by Dickinson.

That I did always love

I bring thee Proof

That till I loved

I never lived—Enough—

That I shall love alway—

I argue thee

That love is life—

And life hath Immortality—

This—dost thou doubt—Sweet—

Then have I

Nothing to show

But Calvary—

Mina looks up before speaking the final line, "Now I have one plea, and that's for you, my love, to attend prom with me..."

I pull a small bouquet hidden in the top shelf. Offering her the larkspurs, babies breath, lavender, and lilac wrapped in lace ribbon with a nervous smile.

"You're serious?" her fingers tremble as she accepts the flowers.

"Deadly."

"Yes, I-" she lets out a girlish giggle, surprising us both, "I'll go with you. Yes." Mina smiles, opening her arm up for a hug.

I gently wrap my arms around her waist, "Thank god."

"Kiss me my hands are full." she says, and I do. 

May 20th

Since she made me promise not to spend too much I pick her up in my own car. When she opens her front door I greet her with a matching corsage (for myself) and a boutonniere (for her). Which I instantly drop when I notice the cutout in her high neck sheer blouse that highlights her cleavage beneath the velvet purple suit.

I decide to lay on the chivalry. Opening doors, offering my elbow to her as we walk. Her hold on my arm tightens but eases as we pass the main entrance, "Wait- where are we going?"

"The library." I answer.

"What?"

"You said your perfect prom would be just the two of us." I lead her into her favorite space, now decorated with twinkle lights, "I figured we could have a dance, go down the hall to the actual prom for the photo booth—so we can say we went—and then have dinner."

"If I didn't already know, I'd be sure I'm in love with you now."

Grinning like a fool, I press the necessary buttons to get her favorite songs playing, then offer my hand for her to take. She leans her cane against the table as I secure my arms around her waist.

Mina's arms settle around my neck and I lead us into our first dance. She momentarily seals the remaining gap with a gentle kiss, "Thank you."

"You deserve a special prom night."

Her eyes start to water but she blinks her happy tears back, "Does that mean I'm gonna get lucky?"

"Are you feeling lucky?" I laugh.

She pecks my nose, "Incredibly."

☆ alice macray ☆

• growing up conservative meant alice was sheltered from a lot of things, for example: provocative dancing

• she was taught how to ballroom dance and other simple classics for attending banquets/dinner parties growing up

• has a little happy dance

gloria steinem's birthday party, 1970s

• mrs america AU

• alice met gloria and a few others at a womens' rights convention and eventually joined their group

• alice's eyes almost pop out of her head when gloria points you out and she sees you 'gyrating your hips' on the dance floor

(( as i'm writing i realize this could count as a mini prequel to my one shot good morning indeed / the names mentioned are characters i barely remember, i used google / lyrics bold and italicized ))

{ your dress if you'd like + alice's }

ALICE POV//

"Here, let me take your coat." Jill helps me shrug it off.

"Oh thank you," my hand comes up to check my hair is in place, "I was worried that I'd be overdressed or underdressed even."

Jill links my arm with hers, "Nonsense. You look lovely, Alice. Now come say hi to everybody."

I exchange hugs and air kisses with those standing along the walls and by the in-home bar.

"Hi Flo, Marge, Gloria- happy birthday!" I squeeze her shoulder.

She bows her head briefly, "Thanks."

Margaret grins, "I'm glad you came, sister!"

"She was worried that she was too dressed up." Jill nudges my side, "I'll see you ladies, I've got to make my rounds."

"You feeling as good as you look?" Flo asks.

"Well- yes, if I'm being honest. It's nice to finally be working, making my own money- making new friends." I shrug, enjoying the camaraderie.

"I'll drink to that." Gloria raises a glass, "I saw you having a deep conversation last week with Y/n. Didn't realize you're friends"

"Oh? Oh- yeah. We were talking about fashion, actually, bell-bottoms and unnecessarily large sleeves. She's easy to talk to." just thinking about it makes me smile.

Gloria eyes me as she swallows, "You don't have to answer but are you single, Alice?"

"She's asking for a third party." Margaret adds.

"Who?" Flo furrows her brow at the two women.

Margaret rolls her eyes, "Who do you think?"

Flo's eyes dart somewhere behind me before she flashes her gap toothed grin, "Good luck, cupid." she adjusts her signature cowboy and leads Margaret to the bar.

I remain beside Gloria, both of our backs against the wall, "A year ago if someone told me my friend, Gloria Steinem, would be setting me up with someone I would've checked them into a hospital."

Gloria bobs her head side to side, "You're both dear friends of mine, good people. If I didn't think it could work out I wouldn't bring it up."

"Is she here? Have I met her?"

"Yes to both." she gestures to the dance floor, "It's Y/n." her smile widens at my shock, "Surprised?"

I swivel my head around to see if I can spot her. There she is dancing on a coffee table with Brenda, "She's interested in me?"

"Incredibly," Gloria offers a lopsided grin, "you're exactly her type."

I wonder what her type is...

Gloria chuckles, "She doesn't know I'm mentioning this to you, though, so no pressure."

My eyes find Y/n again, "No I- she's...yeah." my mind turns to mush as she moves to Dancing Queen.

"She's a good time, a sweetheart, and though I'm cursed with liking men I know she's gorgeous. Real laid back when you get to know her, so get to know her."

"We've chatted a fare amount of times- I'd say we're friendly but I never would've guessed."

"Y/n wouldn't make a move on you unless she was sure," Gloria chuckles fondly, "this is a party, Alice, so have some fun. I'm sure she wouldn't mind a dance." she pats my shoulder, "Let's get you a drink, loosen you up."

"That sounds like a good idea." hopefully she can't feel my gaze burning a hole in her head.

_________

(( these boots are made for walkin by nancy sinatra ))

Thank go for liquid courage. Without it I probably would've melted into the floor when we made eye contact.

You keep sayin' you've got somethin' for me

Somethin' you call love but confess

You've been a'messin' where you shouldn't've been a'messin'

Y/n smiles- blushes just a bit, like she was the one caught staring. Her fingers flutter a wave my way and I wave back. She beckons me towards her, mouthing the words to the song.

And now someone else is getting all your best

I shake my head, pointing to my drink in hand.

She rolls her eyes and laughs when I shrug dramatically.

These boots are made for walkin'

And that's just what they'll do

One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you

Y/n swings her arm like she's winding and releasing a lasso around me. She pretends to tug and a jerk forward a step. I look down as if confused by my movement. Y/n once again mimes a pulling motion and I feign reluctance as I cross the room towards her.

Ya

Every beat is punctuated by the swish of her hips.

You keep lyin' when you oughta be truthin'

And you keep losing when you oughta not bet

She smiles when I sing and dance along, shimmying my shoulders to start.

I press my pointer finger to her chest, "You keep samin' when you oughta be a'changin'"

Now what's right is right but you ain't been right yet

Y/n's lips part slightly and it's then I remember the deep cutout in her dress.

These boots are made for walkin'

And that's just what they'll do

With a mind of its own, my finger traces down her abdomen till it hits fabric again, “One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you”

Y/n's eyes flicker between my hand and my eyes, "You keep playin' where you shouldn't be playin'"

My smile grows with the tension, "And you keep thinkin' that you'll never get burnt (ha)"

"I just found me a brand new box of matches, yeah" Y/n bites her lip to suppress her own smile, immediately drawing my attention to her lips the same time her eyes glance at mine.

And what he knows you ain't had time to learn

I stand closer to her so we're chest to chest, hips pressed, practically grinding to the rhythm.

These boots are made for walkin'

And that's just what they'll do

Y/n tilts her chin up a fraction, her nose almost close enough to nudge mine.

One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you

"Cake time!" Jill yells from the front of the room.

I am going to cut Jill, "To be continued?" I ask.

Y/n drops her forehead to my shoulder, shaking with laughter. The tips of her ears turn pink as she tucks her hair behind them, "To be continued."

Are you ready, boots? Start walkin'

I watch her out of the corner of my eye as we sing happy birthday, our joined hands surely covered by the feathers of her sleeves. Only letting go when we applaud Gloria's candle extinguishing abilities. When I peek at Y/n again she's already looking at me.

To be continued indeed.

[melancholymetropolis]

No Idea

Pairings: Athlete!Kirishima x PlusSize!Reader

Summary: College AU The reader is Kirishima's History tutor and they kinda have a crush on each other. It takes an afterparty filled with horny guys and a skin-tight dress for Kiri to realize he wants them all to himself.

Warning: Do I even need to say it at this point? It's smut, obvi. Kinda unedited. The reader and her best friend are black. Kirishima is a football player; he's VERY possessive over the reader. Her best friend is a little gay for her as well.

Author's Note: This was a commission!!!!! The client gave me this insane prompt and I had no choice but to go over the word limit. If you want to commission me, click here! Your support really means the world to me. Enjoy!

Word Count: 5,300

“You’re back early!” My roommate, Liza, yelled from the other side of the apartment-style dorm room. The sound of her chair scraping the floor followed shortly after, along with the light footsteps of her sock-clad feet. “I left you a plate in the microwave, in case you were hungry. I could heat it up, if you’re too tired— why the long face? What happened?”

“He didn’t show up,” I sighed as I dropped my books on the table and sank into a chair.

“How can he not show up?” Liza fumed crossing her arms. “His GPA is already in the gutter from all the other quizzes he seemed to fail before the semester even started.”

“I know,” I replied in a bored tone.

“He’s on academic probation—”

“I know.”

“One more hiccup and he’ll be off the football team—”

“I know.”

“Not to mention how you practically have to bend backward to make time for him—”

“Mhm.”

“Just for him to flake on you for the third time! I just—”

“Liza, please,” I rose from my seat and stood in front of her. “You don’t have to be angry with me. It’s truly okay.”

“No! It’s not okay!” She stormed to the microwave and pulled the cover plate from the inside. She removed the foil and pushed it back into the device, before pressing the start button four times. She turns to face me and forces an angered sigh from her lips. “He likes you, you know that right?”

I lifted my books from the table and walked to our shared room. I took in the words that she threw at me with each step and digested them. Kirishima liked me. It wasn’t as though I didn’t have an inkling that he may be, sorta found me attractive. Although I wore glasses, I wasn’t blind. At least with them on. I saw the way he looked at me when we were less than a foot apart. Shoulders practically touching as we slouched over the Advanced American History textbook. Our hands brushing against each other’s ever so often. The sparkle in his eye when he looked at me longer than a few seconds; the blush on his cheeks when I smiled at his corny jokes. His persistent tendency to walk me home, although most times, we finished our study sessions just before dusk. The way he stayed glued to my side during the journey to my dorm. How he’d carry my books on the way. I noticed it all and practically welcomed it, since I too found him attractive. The spiky redhead just had a way of making everyone swoon over him. Kirishima was genuinely a nice person, not because there was something in it for him, but just because.

The beeping from the microwave brought me back to reality. I placed the textbooks on the designated space on the shelf and fixed my scattered stationery from that morning. Liza shuffled in with a bowl of baked fetta pasta, and a piece of toasted garlic bread a few minutes later. She placed the bowl on the desk, with a fork, a can of sparkling soda, and my favorite metal straw.

“What did I do to deserve you?” I said with a tired smile.

“Helped me pass ‘Text and Ideas’ with an A-,” Liza smiled back and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Oh right,” I took a seat at the desk and forked the starchy dish in my mouth. “This is heaven-sent.”

“I knew you’d like it!” She deemed walking to her own desk. “I got the recipe from tiktok.”

I hum in response and continued to stuff my face. After a few minutes of silence, I grab the phone from my back pocket and unlocked it. A new message from Kirishima was the newest notification from many and it said:

Hey, I am sorry for not showing up. My teammate got shitfaced and decided to take a dive into the fountain. It took three of us to pull him out. It sucks because I was really looking forward to seeing you.

Since my mouth had already filled to its brink with pasta, I opted for a tight-lipped smirk instead of a toothy one. Kirishima all but admitted that he missed me. My hunch was right: the feelings are mutual. I swallowed the pasta and swiveled around in my chair to look at Liza. Her eyes were glued to her phone, but she snapped her head up to laugh at the content on her screen. Once she was down laughing, I picked my phone up and pointed it in her general direction. Reaching forward, she grasped the device and quickly read the message.

“Don’t respond to him,” she said, handing the phone back to me.

“Why? I thought you were shipping us together?” I asked whilst forking more pasta in my mouth.

“That’s why I’m telling you what I am telling you!” Liza rose to her feet and in a split second, she stood in front of me with a sickening smile.

“I am afraid to ask,” I said with a sigh.

“You don’t have to; I’m gonna tell you anyway,” she squats between my legs and widens her smile. “That boy is already wrapped around your finger, all you need to do is pull away. Just a tiny bit and he’ll come running.”

“Liza. . .”

“Hear me out!” She rose to her feet again and walked to the closet. “Remember when I went thrift shopping last week and I picked up that cute bodycon dress?”

“Yeah. . . ?”

“Well, I washed it and realized that it didn’t have the BODY to fill it out properly.” She pulls the dress from the closet and turns back to me. “And since the Homecoming Afterparty is at the Quarterback's house tomorrow night, I thought it would be the perfect time for you to wear it.”

I eye the dress, taking in its extremely short length and strappy detailing on the front. One wrong move and my breasts would spill right out of it. But, one right move would have them fall onto Kiri’s lap. I tried my best to list the pros and cons of the situation. Pondering what I could get out of the ordeal going to the lion’s den dressed as a gazelle. Yet, all I could imagine was me twerking on someone’s son and taking him home afterward.

💘🖤💘🖤

The dress fit like a glove: perfectly tight, almost like a second skin, but very breathable. I paired it with some hoop earrings, a few bangles on each wrist, and 3-inch kitten heels. My goal was to dress to impress, not nurse my aching arches by the end of the night. The entire ride over to the nicer part of town was nerve-wracking, for one, the Uber driver wouldn’t stop staring at my cleavage from the driver’s mirror. And, secondly, Liza practically had phone sex with her boyfriend, who was going to meet us at the party. I stared down at my phone the whole time, rereading Kiri’s message and the ones he sent afterward. It was true, he was wrapped around my finger. He didn’t double text; Kirishima sent five messages in a row.

Hey, are you free tomorrow? I wanted to talk about yesterday.

I’ll buy you that weird thing you like from Starbucks.

The drink you said that tastes like the moon.`

And I’ll get you those cake pop things.

My heart couldn’t help but flutter; I didn’t know he was paying that much attention to me. I only mentioned that Starbucks drink once in his presence, quite a while ago. It had to be a little over a month ago, yet he still remembered.

The car stopped and Liza popped right out. Her 34 inch Brazilian, straight swaying behind her as she closes the door. Still chatting with her boyfriend, she motions me out of the car with an eager smile. Reluctantly, I detach myself from the cool leather and tug on my dress as I closed the door behind me. I looked up toward the mansion before me, white paint and overwhelming size almost frightened me. But, when I saw a familiar, spiky-haired, redhead, all my potential fear left my body and warmth replaced it.

Kirishima’s back was to me; he was having an intense conversation with his best friend, Bakugo, one of the team’s Linebackers. The blond was so close to popping a fuse but Kiri was struggling to keep from laughing directly in his face. I approach the porch, slow and sensual, my eyes glued to him the entire walk over. Kirishima briefly turns around to address a comer of the group, Sero, an offensive player, when his eyes come up the steps. The humorous expression on his face drops and is replaced with awe. The other two boys look in the direction of his eyesight and replicate his reaction.

“Hi—” I lifted my hand to wave, but it never made it past my abdomen. Liza appeared right in front of me and captured my wrist.

“Girl, it’s our song! Hurry up!” She said as she proceeded to drag me into the house.

“Bye—! Wait, damn!”

Liza pulled me to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room of the home. She starts to bop side to side, swaying her hips in place. It takes me a few seconds to register that “34+35” was blasting the speakers. Liza twirls around me in a fit of giggles and continues to bop along to the music.

“I thought you liked “positions” better than this track?” I questioned as I matched her rhythm.

“I do! I just had to get you out of there,” Liza answered as she swayed her head back and forth. Which made her hair move in an angelic wave behind her bandeau top and pencil skirt. “Those three guys looked like they wanted to run a train on you.”

“ELIZABETH!!!!” I screamed with a shocked smile.

“What?! I’m not lying!” She gives me a bashful smirk. “You look so good, mamas! Shit, you're making me rethink my relationship with Shinso.”

“Oh my god!” I laughed. “I can’t take your ass anywhere, for real!”

The song began to fade out and bleed into “Pussy Talk” with the infamous City Girls. Liza’s soft bops began to move into full booty bouncing. Soon her hands are on her knees and she’s throwing her ass back on my lap. I press my hand flat on her back and lift my other hand in the air. She whines her waist and looks back at me as her inner hot girl is threatening to make an appearance. Shortly after the first verse, Liza straightens her back and dances around me as I bop to the side, bouncing my ass to the music. A smile comes to my lips as my favorite part plays on full blast.

“Pussy talented, it do cartwheels,” Liza and I screamed in unison. “And he pay ‘cause he like how that part feel.”

“Pussy give speeches, heartfelt,” I continued, popping my back against my friend.

“Yuh,” Liza ad-libbed.

“Said the pussy really talk like it Garfield,” I rapped as I felt Liza’s hands glide up my sides.

“It do!”

We danced around each other for the rest of the song and pulled away from the floor, desperately needing to hydrate. We practically stumbled toward the makeshift bar across the living room. We reached into the cooler and pulled out two bottles of water. We chugged the water and tossed the empty bottles in the trash.

“Only water, ladies?” Mineta asked as we turned back towards the dance floor. “You don’t want something a little. . . stronger?”

“Get lost, grape juice,” a familiar voice suddenly came out of nowhere.

Just a few feet behind the purple blob stood Kirishima and Shinso. If looks could kill, Mineta’s body parts would be staining the marble floors and messing up my fresh pedicure. The poor excuse for a human scurried away as both football players approached us. Shinso instantly wrapped his arms around Liza and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Having fun, baby girl?” His low voice sounded sensual against the harsh music.

A seductive smile falls on Liza’s face. “I would’ve had even more fun if you actually danced with me for once.”

“You know I don’t like—”

“Too bad!” She pulled Shinso to the dance floor.

Leaving me alone with Kirishima. I turned to look at him and offered him an awkward smile. “How was your diving lesson?”

The redhead returned my smile and scratched the back of his neck. “So you did read me my texts? I was starting to think you were mad at me or something.”

“Not at you, per se,” I replied thinking of my words carefully.

“Then who were you mad at?” Kirishima closes the distance between us and puts a finger under my chin. He redirects my attention to his face and gives me a smirk.

He looked good and he knew it. He wore a simple white t-shirt and black ripped jeans. But, he paired it with a burgundy leather jacket and a Cuban link silver chain. He had a gold wristwatch on his left wrist and a simple chain on his right. And his cologne. . . it danced in my nostrils. It wasn’t too heavy or suffocating; you simply had to be close to him to smell it.

Kirishima was playing a dangerous game and he knew it.

“At the people that take you away from me,” I looked at him with doughy eyes and slightly parted lips. A look of innocence was written all over my face.

Kirishima clenched his jaw and briefly looked away. A blush starting to form on his cheeks. “Well, I—. Shit.” He remained silent for a few seconds, gathering his words, before saying “You don’t know what you do to me, Y/N.”

“And what’s that?” I asked while removing his hand from my chin and bringing it to my lips. I gently kiss his bruised knuckles, never breaking eye contact while doing so.

The redhead opens his mouth to speak but is rudely interrupted by a yelling Liza.

“GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE, BITCH!!!! THEY’RE PLAYING OUR SONG!!!!”

While I was talking to Kirishima, the music seemed to slip away. I had no idea what was playing until I refocused my attention on the blaring speakers. “Come on, Kiri. Duty calls.” I drag him to the dance floor.

Liza unlatches herself from Shinso and twirls around me. “I’m not shy, I’ll say it. I’ve been picturing you naked.”

“I’m a little faded, you look like a fucking painting,” I continue the verse as I glide my hands along my body. “Big doe eyes, amazin’. She’s everything I’ve been prayin’.”

Liza walked up to Kirishima and glided her hand along his chest. “Me and your girlfriend playin’ dress-up house.” She pressed two fingers against her lips and poked her tongue out. “I gave your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch.”

Kirishima blushes a bright red, nearly matching his hair. It takes everything in me not to laugh.

I look back at Shinso and he’s just shaking his head with a smile on his face.

“Go get your girlfriend, before she devours your teammate,” I said giggly quietly.

“Go get your best friend before she kills your loverboy,” Shinso counters looking down at me with a smirk.

“He looks like he's gonna pass out,” I replied, struggling to contain my laughter.

“If you think that’s bad, you should’ve seen him when you were twerking on Liza,” Shinso jested while leaning closer to me. “Eijiro looked like he came in his pants.”

I smacked his arm and leaned against his chest. “You’re lying!” Laughter overcame my body; tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes.

“I swear to god,” Shinso struggled to say while laughing. “Then, when Bakugo called you hot. . . Eiji almost went feral.”

“Stop. . . I can’t breathe. . .”

“You better fuck him like the world is ending. . . I can’t keep stopping him from. . . fighting the entire team over you.”

“You and Liza. . . perfect for each other. . . I cannot. . .”

The song swiftly faded out into another. Yet another one of Liza’s favorites: Buss it by Erika Banks.

The young woman peeled herself from Kirishima and began walking to her boyfriend. I distanced myself from Shinso and walked over to Kirishima. I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. “Are you okay, Kiri?” A smile painted my lips.

His eyes darkened and he gripped my waist firmly. “I want you. . . so bad right now.”

“How about we get outta here?” I suggested with a raised eyebrow.

“Go say goodbye to your friends, I’ll bring the car around,” Kirishima asserted with a smirk. He pressed a kiss to my forehead before detaching himself from me and walking out of the living room.

I turned back to Shinso and Liza, who were seconds away from eating each other’s face off. I tapped the loving couple and cleared my throat. They both pulled away and stared at me.

"We're leaving," I said simply.

"About fucking time," Liza replied with a smirk. "You better come back to the dorm in a goddamn wheelchair, if not, I'm sending you back to his place."

"You have like zero chill," I shook my head and waved goodbye.

"Don't forget to use protection!" Liza yelled after me.

A chuckle fell from my lips as I walked out of the front door. I found Kirishima exactly where he said he'd be: parked in front of the massive house, within a bright red mustang. He exited the car and walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle. He opened my door and helped me get in. Kirishima made sure I was buckled in and comfortable before entering the car on the driver's side.

He starts the vehicle, and places his right hand on my thigh. He gives the plush fresh a securing squeeze before pulling away from the curb.

The drive was short and sweet, averaging around ten minutes. We parked across the street from the boys’ dorm hall and exited the car. Kirishima opened my door and helped me out of the vehicle.

"If you don't want this, I could always take you home," he said as he shut my door. "I don't want to pressure you into anything."

"I want this more than you know," I responded while gripping his hand. "But, if I ever feel uncomfortable, I'll let you know."

Kirishima nods and smiles. "Good girl. Now let's go."

The moment his dorm's door closed, his body was pressed against mine and his hand glued to my waist. His lips massaged against my own, slow and sensually. I moaned against the kiss, and pressed my body closer to his. He felt so good attached to me, almost like he was meant to be against me. His searing hot kisses inched down my jawline and to my neck. Kirishima's hands slid up my abdomen and to my shoulders, he slipped the straps from the curved surface and pulled away just enough just to allow me to remove them from my arms.

He kissed the other side of my neck, leaving little bites here and there. The redhead ran his tongue against my collarbones and I swear a flood rushed to my nether regions. Kirishima kissed down and left my breast, gathering the anticipation that swirled through my body before latching his lips on my nipple. A throat my moan fell from my mouth and my legs jolted slightly. My mind continued to fog as he nestled against the sensitive bud, while happily moaning against the soft flesh. I pressed one hand against the front door and another in his hair.

Pants left my lips as I began to squirm underneath his body. "Take me to the bed, please," I begged while looking down at him. " I want you so bad, Kiri."

The redhead detached himself from my breast and gripped my chin. "Say my name, baby." His red eyes stared deeply into my brown ones, taking in every little detail of my expression.

"Eijiro," I said breathlessly.

"Say it again," he broke eye contact and gripped my waist.

"Eijiro."

His hands slipped down the curve of my rear and to my legs. He lifted limbs from off the ground and wrapped them around his waist. I wrapped my arms around his leg immediately afterward and giggled.

He walked further into the dorm room and passed through another dorm. He sits me on the extra-long twin bed and falls to his knees between my legs. Kiri unlatches my strappy heel and tosses it to the other side of the room. While he does the other foot, a smirk presses against his lips.

"What?" I asked while looking down at him.

"I'm just thinking about how this started," he said while smiling. "How my shifty grades gave me the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Stop it," I counter with a blush on my face. "You're exaggerating."

"Baby, I mean it with every fiber of my being when I say this," he leaned forward. "I've wanted to be with you for a while now, I just didn't know if you'd like me back. And I was kinda ashamed of taking so long to say something because you're so sweet and you really helped me a lot with Advanced American History. I didn’t want you to think I was using you for information or anything."

I leaned forward and pressed my lips on his forehead. "I liked you even before I officially knew you. When you beat the shit out of that guy that tried to home a drunk girl."

"I don't even remember that."

"It was during a Halloween party last year, that was when I first saw you. And I thought, "wow I wish more men like him existed in this world"."

"I can't believe you remember that."

"How could I not? You basically saved that girl's life and dignity. You were the only human being in a room full of predators. That's when I knew I wanted you for myself."

Kirishima laughs. "Greedy, little Y/N."

I shrugged.

"Come here."

I gathered the football player into my arms and pressed my lips onto his. Taking in every ounce of his kiss. Sucking on his bottom lip. Slipping my tongue within his mouth. Tugging against his collar to close the distance between us. After a few seconds, Kirishima kissed down my body again until he was face to face with my heated center. He scrunched the dress around my waist and pulled my panties off my legs before spreading my legs wide open.

"Oh… look how wet you are, baby," he kissed the soft skin in between my thighs. "All for me."

Kirishima dipped his head between my legs and took a long swipe at the sticky mess between them. A shiver ran along my spine, Arching my back, I released a soft whimper and spread my legs further apart. He dipped his tongue into the smooth canal repeatedly, bobbing his head as he completed the action. His calloused hands slid up my legs once more and hooked around my thighs. Kiri moved his hot mouth from the very bottom of my womanhood to the top, leaving a long string of spit along the way. The redhead sucked on the protruding bud tenderly; with hollowed cheeks, he looked up from my heat and stared into my eyes. I bit my lip and moaned loudly.

“Fuck, you feel good,” I arched my back against his mouth and bucked my hips slowly.

Kirishima released my bud with a silent “pop” and began lapping the rosy, pink button in great haste. My legs jolted at the new source of stimulation and a throaty whine fell from my lips. Squeezing my eyes shut, I squirmed underneath his mouth, desperately wanting to add more friction. Kiri noticed my slutty movements and began to move his tongue even faster.

“Ah. . . just like that, don’t stop,” my fingers gathered my bosoms and gave them a firm squeeze. The walls of my slick cave began to clench and release themselves at a faster pace. Tingles rose up my body, swirling against my lower abdomen, almost numbing my lower half entirely. Then, a searing sensation ripped through me, causing my hips to raise from the bed and my knees to shake. A low scream left my mouth as I felt the throbbing of my bud increase tremendously.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” My hips fell on the bed again and my legs shook violently. Kirishima steadied them as much as he could before a whole another wave hit my body and my entire being went still.

“Ah! Eijiro!” I screamed as the pleasure shot through my body for the last time. Pants left my throat and short spurts, just as sweat dripped from my forehead. I looked down at Kirishima, who had just pulled away from my spasming cunny. He had a look of astonishment on his face, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. He looked down at my wrecked body, taking in the shaking limbs, the thin layer of sweat upon it, and the scrunched-up dress at the waist.

“You sounded so hot screaming my name,” he finally said after a few seconds of silence. “No one has ever made it sound so good as you.”

“Well, grab a condom and I’ll scream your name for the rest of the night,” I replied with a smirk. “If you can last that long.”

“Oh, baby,” Kiri’s smile widened. “You have no idea.”

He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a box of condoms from the top drawer. He ripped one off the sleeve and walked back over to me. I pulled the scrunched-up dress over my head and tossed it to the side. I looked over at Kiri and he’d already stripped himself of his T-shirt. He was currently unbuckling his belt with the condom packet in his mouth. His massive bulge immediately caught my eye and I moaned in anticipation. Kirishima rips the packet open with his teeth and rolls latex down his throbbing shaft. My walls clench at the delicious sight and I could feel my nipple begin to stiffen

“If you’re still tired, we can wait a little—” Kirishima begins to say before I cut him off.

“Eijiro, stop being nice and fuck me like a slut.”

His lips were on mine within the next heartbeat. His hands roamed every crevice of my body, taking in the soft tissue and stretchmarks lovingly. His throbbing member slowly slid into me with little to no friction. He made sure to thumb my clitoris while inserting himself, just so he wouldn’t hurt me. And I swear, I was seconds away from asking him to marry me. He gently moved his hips backward, and then pushed forward again. Highlighting his first stroke. He looked at the crimson hue on my face and leaned down to kiss me.

“You are so pretty, princess,” Kiri groaned softly, as he moved his hips at a gentle pace. “So, so pretty.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him again. Our tongues danced together as his member tenderly kissed my sensitive walls with each thrust. Kirishima moaned against my lips, as he took in every part of that union. He hiked up one of my legs and hooked it around his waist while he cradled the back of my neck with the other. He looked into my eyes as he increased the pressure of his strokes and their depth. My mouth hung open, and drool poured from the side of it as he kept up the sickening pace. My eyes began to roll back as throat moans rose from the depth of my body.

“Oh God. . .” I slurred as the pleasure increased within my body.

“Aww look at my pretty baby,” Kiri grunted as he rested his hand on my neck. He pressed his thumb between my lips.

I sucked on the digit and looked into his eyes. He moved his hips faster and my lips separated from around the finger. Pants fell from my lips as I felt his member sensually assault my cervix. After a few minutes, Kirishima suddenly pauses and hikes one of my legs up to his shoulders. He readjusts his body, leaving his hand on my neck and placing his hand on my clit. Kiri began to rock his hips in a powerful, but steady motion. He rubs the throbbing bud in a gentle motion, slowly gathering every ounce of pleasure within my body. The pace of my breathing increased rapidly, as the pool in my stomach began to inflate. Whimpers fell from my lips as I gripped the sheets underneath me.

“I’m so close. . .” I whispered through tight lips. “Please don’t stop. . .”

“You’re squeezing me so deliciously tight, baby,” Kirishima grunts as a droplet of sweat drops from his brow. “Milking my cock for everything it’s worth. What a greedy little cunny you have.”

“Eijiro. . . I wanna cum so bad,” I whimpered through pants. “Please let me cum, baby.”

Kirishima curses under his breath and releases his hand from my throbbing bud. He places both hands onto my neck, thumbs pressing against my jaw. He eases his body forward and keeps his sickening pace. “You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

I sucked in a breath and wrapped my hands around his forearms. I furrow my brows and pant with my mouth open. “You make me feel so good, Eiji. So fucking good!”

“You’re mine, you hear me?” He drops his hands from my neck and presses his forehead to mine. “You don’t get to fuck anyone else. . . . .You don’t get to be with anyone else. . . .My name will be the only name you moan for the rest of your life, do you understand?”

I nod. “I understand.”

“You’re mine and no one else's.”

He pulls me into a searing hot kiss. Drinking in all the love and energy throughout my body. I hook my arms around his neck and moan against his lips. Suddenly, I felt an intense rush of adrenaline pass through my body and everything seemed to go silent. A low ringing noise sounded in my ear as my mouth fell open. I dug my arms into his back and clung to his body. Every fiber of my being tensed and my mind went completely blank for several seconds. Then, slowly, my body released itself and collapsed onto the bed. I opened my eyes lazily to see Kirishima’s eyes tightly closed and his hips slightly shaking. Once he finished his ride, his body relaxed and he lowered my leg from his shoulder. He pulled me into an embrace and pressed another kiss onto my lips.

I pulled away from the kiss and looked into his crimson eyes. “Were you serious about calling me yours?”

“Ugh. . . yes?” He replied hesitantly. Then, he added “If that’s okay with you! I don’t wanna force you—”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I cut him off with a smirk.

“Oh, I was worried for a second.”

“The only thing you should be worried about is your Advanced American History grade.”

“Oh, right. . .”

“You miss another one of my sessions, I’ll ignore you again.”

“Please don’t! I will be present at every session.”

“Good. And you have to be Starbucks.”

“The drink that tastes like the moon?”

“Matcha latte with 2 pumps of chai. Yup.”

“And two chocolate cake pops.”

“Mhm. You know me so well.”

[multiplefandomsblog]

S/O who lost a bet to Kokichi, punishment being a Maid’s Dress

request; Ooooo, Requests are open! Could I have a female S/O who lost a bet and now has to wear a sexy maid outfit? And Kokichi is just. Eating. It. Up.

warnings; reader lost a bet and has to wear a maid dress, reader uses female pronouns and names, reader uses master(non-sexually), cussing, had to make kaito the ‘bad guy’ for trope reasons lmfao, kokichi gets jealous and possessive, they goof off a ton at the end, overall just fluff without much plot, and i.. i dont even know how to say this, i used this phrase i found from the internet “top 15 embarrassing things to say to strangers” so like,, watch out for that..! ahahahaha-

note; omfg i hate this one so much- most out of all my works, i stg i am the most disappointed in this one. please don’t even read it- i could’ve done so much better ;-; man, i just butchered this like a fricking idiot-- sorry anon!!!! you seriously deserved so much better, i am so sorry. there are so many issues with this- the ending, the cringe, the messiness, the fucking clichés- seriously, please please forgive me. although you probably shouldn’t, i am just so so sorry T_T please don’t be afraid to ask me if you want this rewritten, i am like, BEGGING YOU TO ASK ME TO REWRITE THIS SAVIBVDHBSDKJ

word count; 2.1k

You took a deep breath before leaving your dorm, mentally preparing yourself for the walk of shame to the dining room where you had to… you didn’t even want to say it, nor acknowledge it. The bet you had lost the day before with Kokichi, had left you with nothing but bitterness in the end. Your eyebrows were permanently creased, an expression of pure regret on your face as you shuffled unenthusiastically down the hall in your frilly maid’s outfit. 

Shuichi greeted you as soon as he noticed the dress, a concerned, confused and albeit a bit flustered expression on his face as he did. “H-hey S/o! Um, so are you going to the dining hall?” He asked an obvious question, just so he could somehow get you to talk about your huge dress. Only nodding shamefully, you stifled a sigh. 

Shuichi only made a noise of acknowledgement, letting the conversation go stale as he was too afraid to address the elephant in the room, himself. You were both silent, Saihara standing in front of you, awkwardly planted on his spot while he looked at everything but you. 

He didn’t say anything, only occasionally sparing glances at your dress as he stood like a tree. Getting irked from the silence, you deadpanned, “... You want to know why I’m wearing a maid’s dress.” He flushed at even the mention of the word, as if you had said something terrible.

“Y-you don’t have to te-” Disrupting his excuse, you looked him dead in the eye, and uttered one word, “Kokichi.” Shuichi blinked at the name, before nodding in pity. After your short response, he required no further questions, the single name was all it took for the realization to wash over him. Even if he wasn’t a detective, it wouldn’t take less than a second to know what was going on. 

As if the said-Kokichi had been waiting for you to say that, Kokichi suddenly popped out of nowhere, scaring the two of you at his sudden appearance, “Oh? What’s my maid doing with Saihara-chan? Not wasting time I hope~” He laughed sadistically at your suffering, “Chop chop my maid! Since I’m your master, you’re gonna have to follow my every order! So don’t even try to disobey me; cuz I’m sure maid-chan knows what happens when she does, right? Nishishi!” You cringed at the nickname, ere sighing in defeat and letting him drag you to the dining room where you’d soon meet your demise.

You looked back at Shuichi one last time, mouthing a, ‘Help me.’ as Kokichi dragged you away. Shuichi only sent back a sheepish and apologetic look, in which you glared at him, betrayal overtaking you.

A couple of minutes later of countless teasing and judgemental looks sent your way, you were finally at the dreaded destination. To your surprise, Kokichi eagerly kicked the door to the dining room open before you could even prepare yourself, the entire class turning around at the loud noise. Kaito was first to speak up about the dramatic entrance, ‘Kokichi!? What the actual F-! … f-ffffffffffuuhh..” Kaito trailed off, his attention shifting off Kokichi, to focusing on you in a maid’s dress. 

Despite wanting you to feel the pure unfiltered humiliation, the sadistic bastard definitely did not love the way Kaito was eyeing you. Smile faltering for a second, he considered dragging you to his own room and having you perform a private show for him instead of these assholes. Shaking his head, he tried dispersing the thoughts of… jealousy? No, that can’t be it. 

He decided he’d delay his feelings of conflict for later, and unfortunately for you, focusing back on your nervous figure. Peaking at the look on your face, he couldn’t help the twinge of worry for your well-being. 

Noticing him stare at you with a small concern, you furrowed your brows in suspicion, that wasn’t really like him. Only then, did you notice the desperation on his face. He looked like he was choosing to either say, “Are you okay?” or “Pleaaaase!” He watched you, eyes wide with worry yet looking as if he had been begging you. Choosing your fate, you sent him a reassuring, but solemn nod, deciding to do the act he had been looking forward to for the entirety of yesterday; the day you lost that damned bet. 

You sighed defeatedly at his pouty expression, you were weak for him and he knew it.

“Alright.” He looked up at you with expecting eyes, holding back a shit-eating grin, “Alright what..?” You sighed for the 2nd time within the span of 45 seconds, “Ugh... Master.” The single word uttered out from your pretty lips had his entire body shuddering, fighting back the blush on his face, he leaned his back towards you teasingly, his ego had been very clearly stroked, “That’s right. I’m your master; so come on and get to it! Don’t make your master wait~” He added, clearly enjoying your misery. You pouted, where did the worried Kokichi go?

Turning to face the crowd that seemed to be staring at you while you flirted talked normally with Kokichi, you felt your frills shuffle with each movement you made. You closed your eyes in preparation, making a mental note never to make a bet with Kokichi, ever. “Do I have to get on my knees?” He smiled cheerfully, “It’s part of the deal~” ‘Nishishi’ing as dread washed over your face.

Everyone watched in anticipation, some with concern, but mostly the former— as you got on your knees, the skirt neatly pleating on the ground. 

Disgruntled, you uttered out a small, “If you tickle me, I will… I- “ You looked back at Kokichi, a look of, ‘Do I have to do this?’ contorting on your face as you stared at him pleadingly, dying inside when he nodded frantically like a child at a candy store.

“... S-say hee hee and prance around like a rainbow lollipop on a cloud of unicorn wishes.“ You flinched , the entire class had suddenly started howling and rushing towards you—most likely to tickle you—, but right before a giddy Angie and a determined Tenko could get their hands on you, Kokichi suddenly spoke up, stopping them in their tracks. “Hey! She’s not allowed to be touched by mutts like you, so get back!” He brutally spat, voice scratching from the force of his words. 

Kaito immediately took the opportunity to ask you out as Kokichi’s occupied with the others, not hesitating for a second. Tapping on your shoulder, a shy smile adorning Kaito’s face as he awkwardly shuffled, “Hey S/o..! Do you maybe wanna, um..” Kokichi swiftly popped out from underneath your skirt as if this was a routinely thing, standing in between you and Kaito. “What the hell-” Kaito recoiled back in shock, had he just been hiding under there?? Kokichi looked at you, before looking back at him. 

You were sure if looks could kill, Kaito would’ve been dead a year ago. “Hey. You know she’s mine, yeah?” Kokichi spoke with a dead-cold look on his face, before almost immediately contorting back into his usual mischievous smile, “... My personal maid, of course! Nishishi!” Kaito stared Kokichi down, in which Kokichi simply glared back in amusement, the same smile staying onto his face. Irking, Kaito discontentedly walked away, shortly after Kokichi had won the stare-down. 

Exhaling loudly, his smile fell off his face as well as the breath he kept in, a neutral expression replacing his grin as he stared back at you, “You know, this whole thing is getting kinda boring, let’s just leave.” He tried putting on his signature charming grin, but you could see the way his teeth clenched. It seemed Kaito asking you out had a bigger effect on him than he wanted to admit. 

Despite teasing and asking him if he was worried and/or jealous on the way to a secluded area, he persists, staying stubborn and brushing it off. “It just wasn’t as fun as I thought! Now stop nagging me and hurry uuuuup! You’re such a slowpoke.” Perking up, he suddenly remembered something, “Oh wait! That’s an order, right? So you have to obey.” Rolling your eyes, you jolted as an idea suddenly found its way to your head. 

Flashing a mischievous smirk in his direction, you left him bewildered as you started sprinting across the field. “Wh- Hey! Haha, what the fuck!?” He cackled at how stupid you looked, throwing your heels across the field somewhere as you stumbled from the length of the dress, still running to god knows where. 

His laughing suddenly halted as he witnessed the way you took a large leap and stepped on your dress, tumbling down as you did.“Stooop! You’re gonna actually hurt yourself, seriousl-! …” Kokichi suddenly fell silent as you fell on your face, only sounds of him choking back holding back his own loud laughter. But the boy could only hold back for so long, and as you raised your head from the field, you could hear him just fucking losing it. 

Turning around and glaring directly at him, you stumbled back to your feet, jogging towards one of your lost heels before hurling it directly at Kokichi’s stomach. “Take that you little shit!” Now you were the one laughing at his misery. In the end the heel didn’t do what you wanted it to, as he just kept on laughing, only now wheezing from the hilarity of the situation and for the air you knocked out of him. 

Hearing his crazy horse laughter fill the air, you couldn’t help but laugh just as loud, along with him. You jogged up to his hysterical figure, falling down next to him, your own giggles mingling in with his. He turned his head to you, pointing at your face weakly, before throwing his head back and laughing even louder. 

Eventually, the laughter calmed, both of you just bathing in the afterglow of the extreme euphoria you both had felt. Kokichi turned his head again, staring at you in thought. Noticing his eyes, you took your eyes off the sky, catching his seemingly whipped gaze, “What?” 

He smiled, “Even though you look like a maid who had just went through hell to try and escape her traumatizing slave prison life, you still look cute.” Admitting with no hesitation and way too many details, he watched in amusement as your face flushed. “And borderline sexy too. I am loving the sexy prisoner look.” He added, catching you off guard as you flushed even harder. 

He sighed lovingly, “You know, I’d gladly pay you to stay in that dress... And I’m not lying.” You scoffed and looked at him in disbelief, Kokichi frowning back, “Hey! Don’t look at me like that! You know damn well, you look hot in those tights.” He drifted his eyes lower and lower, tilting his head to get a better view- before you suddenly chopped him. 

Wincing from the hit, he started bawling, “Uwah! How meeeaan! And to do that to your master too! How could you!?” Here come the waterworks. You only grimaced, right before decreasing your face in defeat, deciding to play along, “Fine. I’m sorry then,” Sighing, “Master.” You groaned out, clearly unhappy with the title Kokichi had forced on himself. Kokichi went light-headed as soon as he heard that word come out your lips, smiling like a goof, he only gawked at you. 

Shooting your head back to him, you were concerned as to why he was suddenly quiet. Was there something wrong with him? Did he pass out? “Master?” You called him by his title, shaking his tiny figure. The expression on his face showed pure bliss, “Just kiss me already.” 

He snapped out of it for a second, eyes darting to yours. You glared at him, in which he simply glared back, a challenging smirk on his face, differing greatly from his expression from earlier, “That’s an order~” 

Blinking at the statement, you gave in to your demise, slowly leaning down to kiss his forehead lightly, a flush on your face. Pressing your lips lightly against his skin, you pulled away shortly, lingering no longer than you had to. However short it was, that alone seemed to do it for him, as you swore you saw hearts shoot out from the spot in which you pecked. 

Giggling strangely, he rested on the field, completely surrendering his body to the earth as he went limp. “Nishi… My maid loooves me!” You stayed silent at the bold remark, wanting to refute but you knew he’d just figure out your lies. 

... Even so, you refused to admit it, “You fucking wish.” Snorting, you pushed his face away from you gently, cackling as you heard his whining.

[comfortwriting]

Call Out My Name - F.W.

Fred Weasley X Reader imagine inspired by the song ‘Call Out My Name’ by The Weeknd.

Part 2 , Part 3

A/N: Your Feedback will be greatly appreciated! 

About: Fred is constantly in a ‘on and off’ toxic relationship and he uses the reader when he is lonely, overtime she falls in love with him but because she isn’t Fred’s girl - she has no choice but to walk away.

Themes: Heartbreak, unrequited love, sadness, longing.

Warnings: indication of smut, raw feelings of worthlessness, depression and anger.

Staring out of the train window trying to think of something to doodle in your notebook you couldn’t help but feel over the moon that you were going home for the summer, you had never felt like this before and you hated that you did - but after years of being strung along by someone and not being able to stay away from them - this feeling was bittersweet, hell, everything you had gone through was now nothing but bittersweet memories you just wanted to forget, almost like it never happened.

You fell in love with Fred slowly but the more time you spent with him you fell head over heels for him. This whole fiasco - whatever it was you had with Fred started three years ago, your first time spending the summer at The Burrow. Fred’s on and off girlfriend split up with him for the first time, Fred became withdrawn, not wanting to take part in his usual pranks or plan any new inventions with his brother George. At first, you believed that Fred wanted you around because he valued your friendship (a budding romance) and because you made him happy, but overtime you realised that this wasn’t the case at all - unfortunately you were just a stepping stone for him, someone to use when he couldn’t get what he wanted from the ‘love of his life’. 

You put your head in your hands and sighed deeply, the tears slowly pricking at your eyes, slouching in your seat you covered your house scarf (the one that Fred bought you) over your eyes, the memories flashing back to you like they happened yesterday.

We found each other I helped you out of a broken place You gave me comfort But falling for you was my mistake

Fred sat in his bed, his eyes red and puffy from all of the crying “I don’t know what to do, she doesn’t want me anymore” seeing him in such a state made your heartache, you had never seen him like this before - you were used to him bouncing around, always laughing and getting up to no good, not crying in bed too sad to be himself.

You sat on his bed and stroked his short hair that had been cut a few weeks ago “It’s going to be okay” you smiled at him softly “I know it might be too much to ask but why don’t we go for a walk? Get away from all the noise in this house, just this once.” you encouraged him.  

Fred contemplated your offer for a moment and then nodded “I can do that” he smiled, slowly getting out of bed. What started off as ‘just this once’ turned into routine - you and Fred going for stupidly long walks every morning you were at the burrow. 

Remembering the first time your hands brushed up against one another used to make the butterflies in your stomach soar but now all it does is hurt worse than before - rain now pattering down on the window.

Within months you and Fred did everything together, morning walks, quidditch in the afternoon basking in the warmth and orange glow of the sun, and then in the evenings you two would sneak downstairs whilst everyone lay asleep in bed.

“Hey Y/N” Fred whispered through the crack in the door, trying not to wake everyone up “fancy popping on one of those muggle horror movies you keep telling dad about?” 

You turned over, the landing light shining in your eyes and smirked at Fred, mirroring him “go on then.” 

Clutching your chest you could feel the pain of this memory hit you like a tonne of bricks, taking deep breaths you tried so hard to bring yourself back into the present moment... on the way home... leaving Hogwarts...but it didn’t work, like a leaf in the wind you were pushed back in relieving what you just wanted to forget.

The old and scratchy patchwork blanket sat over you and Fred, out of the corner of your eye you caught Fred glancing at you and smiling to himself. Turning to face him you asked what was so funny “nothing” he replied, yet he leaned in closer, his nose almost touching yours. Giving in, the two of you shared your first kiss and you could’ve sworn you felt sparks igniting within you. 

You brushed your fingers over your soft lonely lips reminiscing more of the memories that popped into your head as if they were being played on film. 

A few evenings later you and Fred were on the same sofa, covered by the same scratchy old patchwork blanket in the dead of night, yet this time instead this kiss lead to something much more, instead of sparks simply just igniting, burst into the biggest and most beautiful firework as you and Fred shared such an intimate moment together.

George had to admit that although he felt left out, he couldn’t deny how much happier Fred became when you were around - he started being himself again; pranking Ron and annoying Percy like it was going out of fashion.

But you had no idea that whatever you had with Fred would turn into the most intense rollercoaster ride you had ever been on.

I put you on top, I put you on top I claimed you so proud and openly

For the first time in your life you put another person before you and you deemed such an act ‘worth it’ at the time because you made mistakes out of your pure love for Fred, but you realised all you were doing was burning yourself out to keep Fred alight. Instead of getting perfect grades, you found yourself in enough detentions for everyone in your house.

In your mind Fred was yours, your boyfriend and he made you feel on top of the world and all you wanted to do was share your feelings and relationship to the world. Every Saturday morning you would be sat waiting at the Quidditch pitch to cheer on Fred, regardless whether it was a match or just practice.

You would write to your family and friends, telling them all about the soft haired troublemaker who swept you off your feet. “Looks like you’ve got another letter” George mentioned one morning over breakfast, your owl swooping up ahead delivering a reply. 

You smiled widely and nodded “Of course I do!” you giggled “My parents can’t wait to meet Fred this Christmas!”

George’s face dropped at your excitement, he cleared his throat awkwardly “I’m really sorry Y/N but did Fred tell you?” he asked, giving you a deep look of sympathy. 

You scowled and shook your head wondering what would get in the way of your perfect plans “tell me what?” 

George stayed silent for a moment but he tried his best to let you down gently “He’s back in contact with his ex, they’re working things out.”

And when times were rough, when times were rough I made sure I held you close to me

And for the second time, Fred came crying into your arms looking like he had been torn apart “She doesn’t think it’s going to work out, she said that it’s not the right time” you held him in your arms, cuddling on the sofa in the common room, rubbing his back with one hand and stroking his now long shoulder length hair with the other, you reassured him. 

“It’s going to be okay Freddie, you got yourself back on track last time and you’re capable of going it again sweetheart” you reminded him “you’ve got me and George, remember.” 

Within the months that came after, you two were inseparable once again, going to Hogsmeade on the weekends raiding Honeydukes and sharing a butterbeer or two in the Three Broomsticks but as always and like George predicted, once Fred’s girl came back into the picture, he dropped you again. 

You managed to break from your flashbacks for a moment, removing the scarf from your face. Checking your watch you had another hour or so until you would be arriving at Kings Cross Station, you slumped back down in your seat and doodled broken hearts and tears onto your open love letters to Fred, now hidden in your notebook.

So call out my name (call out my name) Call out my name when I kiss you so gently I want you to stay (I want you to stay) I want you to stay, even though you don't want me

“Well from the sounds of things you’re not in a serious relationship” you mentioned to Fred, taking off your muddy robes. George shook his head at you almost telling you off but you were both getting frustrated, the only difference is that you didn’t want to keep quiet anymore. 

“Not yet but I’m waiting for her” Fred said eagerly removing his robes too, George could feel the tension in the air and went to the common room.

“So what about us?” you asked bravely, your heart begging to hear what it wanted most. 

Allowing the last of your confidence that Fred had wiped away overtime, you walked towards him and cupped his face, kissing him softly, trying to convince him that you were the one worth waiting for but no matter what, deep down in your heart you knew Fred was thinking about her.

Fred kissed back and chuckled “us?” he flashed you a confused look “we’re the same as we’ve ever been, as we’ll always be” you felt crushed, this wasn’t the answer you were hoping for (and you now owed George all of your exploding bonbons) but you accepted your fate and left to find George so you could cry in his arms. 

“He never truly wanted me, did he?” You asked George, tears running down your cheeks. 

George shook his head “It’s always been about her Y/N, I’m sorry” you hugged George and cried into his chest whilst he held you.

“why can’t I be Fred’s girl?” 

Torturing yourself beyond repair you couldn’t stay away from Fred, no matter how hard you tried. You still found yourself supporting him at Quidditch, helping him study, you even engaged in conversation with him about his girl, how amazing she was and how happy she made him. You knew if he had the chance Fred would transform you into her if a single project came down to it.

Girl, why can't you wait? (Why can't you wait, baby?) Girl, why can't you wait 'til I fall out of love? Won't you call out my name? (Call out my name) Girl, call out my name, and I'll be on my way

Clutching your date and dancing lazily to the music you stared at Fred having the time of his life with the girl of his dreams on his arm, beaming up at him. You hoped this ball and your date would help you find a new spark and create new fireworks yet with every opportunity to do so all you did was wish for Fred, stare at him and act as if he were to realise you were the one with any coming moment - but it didn’t happen yet, it would never happen. You kept wishing over and over in your head for Fred to turn around, meet your gaze and to become blinded by your beauty when you had another admirer trying to break down your cold persona. 

I said I didn't feel nothing baby, but I lied I almost cut a piece of myself for your life Guess I was just another pit stop 'Til you made up your mind You just wasted my time

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Fred asked, taking a bite out of his toast “Mum and dad are really keen to meet her and she’s never been able to visit over the summer before and with everyone else there we just wouldn’t have the room.”

The two of you continued to walk towards the castle, George following not far behind.

Fred was now inviting his girlfriend to stay with him at the burrow this summer, something you had always done up until this very moment - this was the moment you realised that everything had been a lie, Fred never cared, he never loved you, he had just used you each and every time the love of his life got bored, only to drop you as soon as she wanted him back. 

“Yeah it’s fine, I understand completely” you lied, feeling anger, despair and insecure like you had never before “I’ll just see you at the shop once the ball gets rolling.” Earlier in the year Fred offered you a job to help out with him and George at the shop, placing your own career plan at the ministry on hold.

“Oh bugger” Fred stopped his tracks looking a bit stressed “that's another thing i forgot to mention, we won’t be needing you to help out anymore as-”

“she’s helping out instead” you cut Fred off, finally reaching your breaking point you ran away from Fred and went to your dorm, packing your trunk. 

You're on top, I put you on top I claimed you so proud and openly, babe And when times were rough, when times were rough I made sure I held you close to me

“Are you seriously running back to him after what he did?” 

“He isn’t like that! you don’t understand, you can’t judge him - you don’t even know him!”

So call out my name (call out my name, baby) So call out my name when I kiss you So gently, I want you to stay (I want you to stay) I want you to stay even though you don't want me Girl, why can't you wait? (Girl, why can't you wait 'til I) Girl, why can't you wait 'til I fall out of loving? Babe, call out my name (say call out my name, baby) Girl, call out my name, and I'll be on my way, girl I'll be on my

Jolting awake the train came to a stop, you had finally arrived at the station. Taking a deep breath you picked up your trunk and notebook, getting off the train your scarf slipped off but you were too busy trying to spot your parents to notice. This was it, no more Hogwarts, you didn’t want to look back.

Feeling faint you ran into the toilets, throwing up the last of your pumpkin juice from the ride home, you stared at yourself in the mirror, washing your hands and splashing your face.

“Why can’t I be Fred’s girl?” You asked yourself.

On my way, all the way On my way, all the way, ooh On my way, on my way, on my way On my way, on my way, on my way (On my)

Reaching the exit of the station you spotted The Weasleys, welcoming Fred’s new girlfriend into a tight hug with delighted expressions on their faces. You looked to George and he gave a sad smile, he wanted to say goodbye but even that would be too painful for you to handle; after all, you weren’t just losing Fred, you were losing George, Molly and the rest of the family you loved so much.

Before you could turn around and continue to look for your family, Fred noticed you, he stopped for a moment and waved, holding your scarf up in his hands and shaking it. 

You wanted more than anything to run to Fred and collect it but instead you didn’t wave back or smile, you shook your head and spun on your heel, acting as if he were never there at all. 

[suganovakawa]

hey!! if you’d like, I’d like to request an iwaizumi x reader where he’s always seen his crush w long hair but one day they come to school and they chopped it all off and it’s now a over their shoulders?? It’d mean the world to me as i just chopped all my hair off but it’s totally ok if you don’t want to! Have a nice day love

this prompt is the break i needed from abusing hajime thank u for this i finally get to write some fluff for the one person i just keep h u r t i n g

cut to perfection.

✧ ｡ pairing : hajime iwaizumi x fem!reader.

✧ ｡ genre : sweet sweet fluff it’s about damn time—

✧ ｡ synopsis : after secretly crushing on you for some time now, hajime builds the confidence to approach you, after you come to aoba johsai one day with a fresh, short haircut.

✧ ｡ word count : 1.5k

gen masterlist.

— gen taglist ( open ) — @yams046 @janellion @avylee @kac-chowballs

⠀he was the first one to notice. the way you had ended up getting your hair chopped off, perhaps a day before. he blinked, once or twice, when he observed you walking through the school doors. at first, the difference didn't hit him. something was different about you, hajime was just too muddled in his mind to think straight.

reading your actions as you spoke to your friends, his eyes trailed to your fingers, noticing how every few seconds, they'd entangle within the strands of your hair, before returning them back at your sides. the pattern continued for a little bit, and the realization hit him before he could feel embarrassed about watching you for so long - you had cut your hair.

he considered bashing his head into a wall for being so oblivious to the obvious change, just him ogling and staring like a creep for no reason, when he couldn't even recognize the change of hair length. of course, he wasn't close enough to listen to your conversations, but watching you smile and laugh at jokes he had no involvement in, still made his heart aflutter.

he thought about your new hairstyle, comparing it to the last. there were moments he had imagined you with new hair in the past, but now that it was actually real, he couldn't imagine you with long hair again. the way your hair came up and shaped around the contours of your face, watching the revitalized and clean cut ends of your new do moving around the blades of your shoulders with a subtle bounce, signs of its breathtaking rejuvenation.

iwaizumi wanted to go up and compliment you, the corners of his lips protruding a guilty smile as he marveled in your new haircut, admiring it from afar. you two were friends, of course, but something about you scared him to the core. maybe it was a fear of being rejected by you? the internalized panic was in vain, he hadn't even asked you out to go anywhere, nor was he ever planning to; at least, not anytime soon.

"you're being creepy, iwa-chan." the ace jolted out of la la land at the teasing voice of his volleyball captain, the smirk stretched such pompous lips, easy to see. clicking his tongue, oikawa shook his head as he let out a light laugh. "y/n will think you're a creep if you just stare like that. clean yourself up, i think you're drooling a little bit."

"shut up, i was not staring." his lips forming a slight pout, iwaizumi's cheeks tinted a pinkish hue as his eyes slid away from both you and the fellow third year sitting next to him. "don't be saying such things, i'll kick your ass."

"y/n's hair looks really nice today, doesn't it?" ignoring the threat completely, tooru chuckled as he rested his chin on his hands, tilting his head to face you next. hajime's eyes followed his direction, noticing that you had noticed and waved in their direction. oikawa simply waved back, while iwa panicked and looked at his lap. "she got it done yesterday after school, she's been pretty self-conscious of it today, though. she's been so used to having her hair long that this is a strange adjustment for her."

"self-conscious? why is she self-conscious about it?" his head popped back up almost immediately, his face confused. "her hair suits her perfectly. i think she looks... wonderful." he was bashful of his own bluntness, his voice slowly dying down as he realized the words that were leaving his mouth.

"yeah, but you know, it would be better if she actually knew you thought that way. can't just say it behind her back and expect her to read your mind."

"what, are you saying that you went up to her today about her hair?" rolling his eyes, he shook his head and scoffed.

"i did, actually. i made sure to tell her that her new haircut was beautiful." grinning proudly, he nodded his head almost in a bragging matter, his arms crossed loosely after he fixed the sleeves of his uniform. "she thanked me, but she asked me on how you felt about her hair though, iwa-chan."

"she what?" hajime's eyes popped open as tooru simply shrugged. taking him forcefully by the shoulders, shaking him determinedly. "don't you dare give me the silent treatment, shittykawa. what did you say? tell me, what?"

"i simply told her that the only one who can tell her of your opinion on her hair is you, of course." he whined a bit as iwaizumi flicked his forehead with an annoyed glare, shaking his head in disbelief as oikawa rubbed the sore spot. "what? i wasn't going to tell her your opinion for you. stop being such a chicken and do it yourself."

"i'm going to get you back for this." muttering quietly as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, hajime stood up hesitantly. he walked away after tooru flashed him a thumbs up.

"iwaizumi!" you noticed him immediately as he bashfully made his way towards you with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his uniform trousers. his lips were quivering slightly, but you paid no mind to it as your own nerves were running a mile a minute. "how are you?"

"i'm doing alright, thank you." he replied quietly, his eyes finding it hard to maintain on you. your face began to heat up at the awkwardness, but because you had cut your hair, you had a harder time hiding your embarrassment behind the safe confines of your hair. "there's something i wanted to mention quickly, though. before i end up psyching myself out."

tilting your head quizzically, you moved your hair out of your eyes and looked up at him. "what's up?" you asked.

"i think your new haircut looks amazing," he said quickly, as if saying it in anything less than one breath would be the end of him. "you're... very beautiful. beautiful then, beautiful now."

you were stunned, your face revealing genuine surprise as your jaw dropped slightly, your lips parting as your system shut down in an attempt to register everything that was said. hajime noticed your malfunction and reached forward, concerned with your reaction. "y/n, are you okay? was that too much? i'm so sorry, i didn't know how else to - "

"thank you!" you rebooted quickly enough to pull him into a quick hug without thinking, your face glowing in both joy and fluster as your heart light, a smile taking over your lips. "gee, i was terrified you wouldn't like it."

"it suits you perfectly, y/n. i didn't even realize you had cut your hair at first, it was that well-fitting." iwa laughed after you broke apart from the sudden embrace, his hand sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "either that, or i'm just an idiot. it's probably that."

shaking your head immediately, your arms fell at their sides comfortably. "nonsense," you responded lightheartedly. "it makes it easier for me to get used to this new cut, now that i know you like it." realizing what you said too late, your hands made way to your mouth, clasping it shut. "oh that's humiliating..." you grumbled, muffled by the barricade provided by your hands.

"actually, i... i've been meaning to ask you something, too." you lowered your hands and watched hajime smile wider, reaching forward to take you by the hand, a move that not even he thought he had the guts to do. "i could, uh... take you out after school? it wouldn't be much, maybe out to a cafe or something... as like, a study date or just.... a date..." stumbling over his words, he turned his eyes to the wall, unable to keep eye contact with the awkwardness of the situation. "of course, it doesn't have to be a date, i'm just suggesting - "

"i would love to, iwaizumi." his head faced you once more, taking a deep breath once he had a view of your approval grin. "a date it is. i'm free once the final bell rings."

"right, right. me too." letting go of your hand to place his own back in his pockets, he shrugged shyly. "i'll see you after school?"

"after school." you nodded in agreement, your elated action showcasing your excitement. "i'll see you then, iwaizumi!"

"yeah, bye." after watching you head off, hajime silently punched a fist to the air, feeling victorious as he walked back to the others, a large smile spread across his lips as he awaited the final bell.

his smile went away the moment he caught mattsun and makki handing over money to oikawa, who was busy laughing and waving the yen he won in iwaizumi's direction. shaking his head as he made his way over to the three, he looked to the clock and sighed, knowing he'd be stuck with these nincompoops for even longer.

however long he had to wait for the final bell to go off, every second was worth the time he spent with you after school.

[taleasnewastime]

The village

Summary: When Min Yoongi turns up in your village you battle with whether you should tell him you know who he is. But when you start to hang out with him, and you can start calling him your friend, things get even more complicated.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 11.1k

Authors Note: Buckle in, that is not a typo this indeed 11,100 words! It has taken me a while to write but I really enjoyed it, so I hope you enjoy reading it too. This isn’t going to be the new normal, but I do have some ideas for some other longer stories. Let me know if you like the length or whether you think I should just stick to shorter fics, would love to hear your thoughts. Anyway, this is a fluffly story about Yoongi having a vacation in a small village.  

Cup on tea in hand you look out through the window. Winter was fully setting in and rain fell gently against the window causing drops to slowly run downwards. With the café you were currently in being at the top of the hill your window seat provided a good view of the village. With the rain constantly pouring down not many people were walking through the village, so instead of your normal people watching you look at the rain drops fall down the window.  

Taking another sip of your drink, you look down and notice that you can nearly see the bottom of the mug. Glancing out the window again you consider ordering another drink just to avoid going outside for another few minutes. These thoughts are long forgotten when you remember that you promised you would meet Molly to help her lock up the shop. She had asked you yesterday when she found out that Matt, her only store assistant, couldn’t help her.  

You look across the café to see the time, you still had 10 minutes until you had to be at the shop. Not enough time to order another drink. Instead you nurse your current drink, eyes going back to the beads of water on the glass.  

You down the last dregs of your drink, setting the mug back on the table, you start to shrug your coat on. Heading for the door, you pick up your still sodden umbrella, shaking it slightly out of habit.  

“See you soon, Fiona,” you call across the café to the woman sat behind the counter, signifying your departure.  

“Lovely to see you dear, come back soon,” the lady shouts back at you, giving a gentle wave.  

With that you open up the door, taking a small step out before immediately opening your umbrella. Hood up, umbrella as close to your head as possible, you shuffle down the road towards Mollys shop.  

The rain was almost horizontally lashing at you, so to avoid the majority of the drops getting on you, you have to place the umbrella almost as a shield. Though this works in stopping you basically having an outdoor shower, it does prohibit your vision. There should, therefore, have been no surprise when you collide with a solid mass. What you don’t expect is for that solid mass to start talking.  

“You should watch where you’re walking,” a gruff voice sounds out barely audible over the rain.  

Raising your umbrella so that it is above your head and you can finally see, you take in the person in front of you. Having lived in the village for almost all of your life, and with the village being as small as it is, you know everyone there. No one seemed to leave and hardly anyone ever seemed to enter. The person currently standing in front of you however is someone you have never seen in your life. He wears a hat tightly pulled over his head, a few dark strands of hair poking out, a big coat that swallows up his body, and big black boots on his feet. His face is round, and his cheeks puff out slightly from under his hat.  

“I’m so sorry,” you apologise, your voice so soft you worry that it won’t be heard over the wind and rain. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly,” the man scoffs.  

Rain continuing to lash down on you, and the coldness of the air starting to hit you, you are not up for listening to some stranger's moodiness. Instead you give another quick, blunt apology and start walking off again in the direction you were heading.  

When you finally reach the shop, you stomp on arrival. Attempting to get some water off yourself and umbrella was pointless, but the stomping was at least getting rid of some of the annoyance that had risen up within you from the rude man on the street.  

“I’ll be with you in a second,” comes a call from the back of the shop.  

“It’s just me Mol,” you shout back, hearing a few crashes in return.  

The crashes die down when you hear some footsteps which turns into the appearance of Molly. “What has you stomping around? Don’t think I’ve ever heard you that loud in my life.”  

You roll your eyes at her, “I’m not being that loud, just trying to get some water off me,” you say. Dumping your umbrella in a pile at the door you peel your hood back before taking your coat off entirely. Feeling more human now you are somewhat dry and not bundled in a mass of clothes you head over to the till where Molly is stood.

“Thanks for volunteering to help me,” Molly says.  

“I don’t know if I would use the word volunteer, more like black mailed?” Molly rolls her eyes at you. “And anyway, you know I’m always free to help.”

“You may not want to offer that service, I’d have you here every night if I could,” she says. “Right, down to business, all I need you to do is stack that last box ready for tomorrow. I’ll start counting up the money and then we can both do a final sweep of the floors.”

“Perfect,” you reply, already heading to the box in question.  

You plonk yourself down on the floor by the box and slowly unload its contents, occasionally reading the labels of the miscellaneous tins. The job was a tad mind numbing even if it was just the single box you needed to unload, though you did find it somewhat therapeutic, allowing your mind to tune out to the world. A hum starts to leave your mouth without much realisation.  

“Is that ABBA?”  

You almost drop the tin that was in your hand, not realising anyone but Molly was in the shop. The deep voice that had just sounded out was definitely not Molly. Slowly turning your head and from your seat on the floor, you notice the big black boots first. That alone was enough for you to guess who was stood in front of you, but you continue to move your eyes up his stature. As if you had any doubt your guess was confirmed when you met the eyes of the rude man you had previously met in the street.  

“Yeah,” you answer his question, eyes going back to the tin in your hand as you feel annoyance start to rise up within you again. “Mamma Mia,” you say the name of the song as you place yet another tin on the shelf.  

“I’m more of a Dancing Queen man myself,” your eyes shoot up to him, his eyes now on the shelf in front of him, a small smile threatening to escape his lips.  

You roll your eyes at the man, focus once again returning to the stacking of the shelf. “If you really want to get into superior ABBA tracks then we all know it’s Voulez-Vous,” you say deadpan, not sure if he was mocking you with his earlier comment.  

He simply hums in agreement letting out a simple “good choice,” as he over analyses the writing on a packet of rice.  

Your face heats up slightly, still unsure if he was mocking you or simply complementing your taste in music. A few more moments pass in silence, just the light tapping of tins going onto the shelf. The man however doesn’t leave his spot, towering over you.  

“So, do you work here?” He finally speaks out. He means it to come out casual, but instead it comes out awkward and stilted, and you can’t help the small smile that comes to your face.  

“No. Just helping a friend,” you say. “I do it from time to time when she’s desperate.”  

“So, you live here?” He asks. “I mean, you live in the village?”  

You finally look back up at him to find his eyes already on you. “Yeah, live towards the bottom of the hill. Are you passing through?”  

“I guess you could say I’m on a holiday of sorts.”

“You’re staying here?” Your eyes almost bulge out of your head in shock.  

“Is there a problem with that?” He gives a slight chuckle at your reaction, though it does unnerve him slightly, was there some sort of problem with this village he’d stumbled upon?

“No, no,” you are quick to reassure him. “It’s just that people never really come to this village.”  

“Should I be worried? Maybe take my holiday somewhere else?”  

“Depends,” you say. “If your idea of a good time is talking to old people all day, only being able to visit a small café and convivence store, and taking long meaningful walks around some woods, then I would say this is the perfect place for you.”

“Well when you put it like that,” he smiles.  

Before your conversation can go any further Mollys head pops out from the end of the isle, “5 minutes until the store closes,” she announces, disappearing back to where she came from just as quickly.  

Having jumped slightly at the interruption your focus goes back on your work, realising you still have half the box to unpack and not much time left to do it. Though you were helping Molly out and she was your best friend, she did ever so slightly scare you and you did not want to be on the receiving end if she finds out you’ve been talking rather than doing your ‘job’.  

The man next to you has also somewhat livened at the announcement. Hands grabbing a few items off the shelf, bundling them into his arms as he makes his way to the till.  

Just before he fully rounds the corner he stops and turns to look at you. “I’m Yoongi by the way, should maybe have said that earlier,” you look to see a light blush covering his cheeks.  

He remains stood there as you stare at him, smile on your face, a tin in hand half way to the shelf. “Y/N,” you reply. He gives a curt nod before walking off, disappearing behind the shelf completely.  

“Do you know who that was?” The words shoot at you like bullets, an almost franticness to them. As you head towards Molly with your now empty box you can see that the words are not the only thing frantic about her in that moment, her whole body almost shaking. You stop dead in your tracks taking her in.  

“Yoongi?” You mind whirling with thoughts about what could have gotten her in that state, was he some ex-lover? Maybe even just an old friend? Someone she’d seen on the street before, maybe he had treated her the same way he had treated you when outside. Maybe she wasn’t even talking about Yoongi, maybe someone else had come into the shop without you seeing. All these thoughts and not one of them was what actually came out of Mollys mouth.  

“Yes Yoongi, or SUGA,” your face still blank she continues. “From BTS?” She's almost desperate at this point.  

“BTS, that’s a boyband, right?”  

“Jesus Y/N. Yes, BTS is a boyband, it’s the biggest boyband in the world,” if there wasn’t a table between the two of you, Molly would have tried to shake some sense into you.  

“Oh right, well good for him I guess,” you try to feign being cool, and though you still weren’t entirely sure who Yoongi really was, you couldn’t pretend to not know who BTS were. Heat started to rise to your face as you think about how you spoke to some famous pop star and didn’t even realise. How people would have killed to be in your earlier position and there you were getting slightly annoyed that he may have been mocking you about humming an ABBA tune.  

Taking the empty box, you head towards the recycling, Molly hot on your tails.  

“Are you not even the slightest bit curious about why Min Yoongi was in my shop?” Molly almost bounces off the walls as she follows you.  

“He said he was taking a holiday,” you shrug.  

“A holiday? Here?” Molly says it as if it’s the least appealing thing she has ever heard.  

“Maybe he likes talking to old people,” you reference one of the selling points you’d told Yoongi earlier.  

“Well, he’s probably long gone by now,” Molly finally settles down, bouncing turning more into a small bob. “Maybe I should have asked for a picture when I had the chance.”  

“I say let’s just sweep the floors and head home,” you take one of the brooms that was resting against the wall and shove it in her arms.  

“Let a girl have some fun,” she pouts at you.  

You didn’t give Yoongi much more thought that night, nor the following morning. Like Molly had said, he was probably long gone now. Instead you go about your daily life, wake up, make a tea, and then head to your mini studio. You’d wanted to be an artist for as long as you could remember, and you were lucky that you earned enough money, from commissions and putting some work in galleries, that it supported you enough to live. Though you didn’t live an exuberant life, you were happy enough in your cosy two-bedroom house. Having converted the second bedroom into your studio also meant that you could cut costs on having to rent a separate space.  

Flowers were your thing. Though not drawn realistically in all your works, you always drew inspiration from them. Whether that be their colours, their shape or simply their place within a space. Flowers were definitely your thing, and that was no more evident than in your studio. Flower pressings littered the walls, pictures of flowers you had taken on walks joining them, there were even some fake flowers in some pots on shelves and in corners. That was all before you had taken in your actual works. Your studio was basically just one big headache of colour, and you loved every inch of it.

The rain from yesterday was still lashing down outside, and you sit on a stall by the window with your mug for a second, watching the beads run down the window just as you had done in the café. Before you get too carried away you kick yourself into action and start to do some actual work.  

You could normally work a full day, especially when you had a few commissions or pieces that were needed for galleries. Today was one of those days, two commission pieces underway you didn’t find it hard to get stuck in and paint the day away.  

Trying to stick to a traditional 8 hour working day was hard when you were your own boss. You found you would get to the end of your day and still have stuff to do and as it was your business, you would want to stay and get everything done. This had resulted in late nights and early mornings in the past, essentially eliminating any chance of a social life, which was pretty non-existent anyway. However, it is still what drove you to start being stricter with more formatted days.  

So, as it neared stopping time, and although you still had things to do, you diligently put your paints and brushes away, clearing up for the day. You could always fit in an extra hour in the evening if you felt like it. Otherwise everything would still be where you’d left it tomorrow. You had also found that coming back to a painting with fresh eyes always helped. The secret to painting was knowing when to stop.  

Looking out the window confirmed that the rain was still falling. With Molly still having a few more hours to work at the shop, and wanting to get out of the house you decided the only option was to go back to the café. A coffee right now sounded ideal anyway.  

So, you head up the hill. Coat back on, umbrella over your head, you try to avoid as much rain as you could. When you finally make it, you dump your umbrella in a wet heap by the door. Ordering a coffee, you give a smile and hello to the other customers as you head over to your normal seat by the window.  

Taking in the world outside, your mind tunes into some of the other conversations around you. Much like the small village, the coffee shop was never that busy and always full of old people. Your ears flick between the only two conversations going on, one about the troubles their grandchildren were having with potty training, the other about how they had seen another villager walking around with a green hat on, apparently it was scandalous.  

You try to disguise the giggle that rises within you by taking a sip of your drink. However, what definitely kills the giggle is the words spoken by a deep voice.  

“Thought I recognised the umbrella by the door.”  

You almost spill your drink as you turn from the window to the man stood beside you. Heat immediately rises to your face, heart rate increases tenfold, as you look at Yoongi. He simply stands looking at you with a small closed mouth smile on his face, mug of coffee in his hands.  

“Oh, hi,” are the only words you managed to splutter out at him. He remains stood looking at you, and you’re not sure what comes over you when you offer him to sit with you. He accepts and you watch as he places his mug down and takes the seat opposite you. Hair now out of the hat he was wearing yesterday, you take in his dark, almost black, locks that fall just long enough that they touch his eyes, but don’t cover them. His skin is clear and light, puffing out slightly into squishable cheeks that are lightly pink from the storm blowing outside. His lips are plump, and the perfect shade of pink, a shade that you wish you could replicate in your studio. Then you meet his eyes. A deep dark coffee colour, the colour almost blending into his pupil.  

“You stayed,” you dumbly state.  

“Well you did such a good job of selling the place, I didn’t think I could leave,” he smiles.  

Your heart rate still high, you do everything to avoid his eye contact. Your eyes look around the room and notice that all other eyes in the cafe are on the two of you, surely curious about the man sat opposite you that they had never seen before. The village rumour mill must already be whirling. Your eyes finally land on your coffee, deciding that’s the safest place to look.  

Though you would like to think that the only reason you were being so awkward was because you now knew he was famous, in reality you would be like this around any good-looking guy. What with the small village filled with old people, hot guys were a very infrequent occurrence. However, the fact you now knew he was a member of BTS definitely made the situation worse.  

“What have you done today then?” You manage to ask.  

“Not much, just settled into the house I’m staying in. Unpacked and went to get some more food,” he says. “What about you?”  

Your eyes dare to look up at him and find that maybe he isn’t as scary as you initially thought, though you are still unable to hold eye contact for more than a second. “Just worked,” you answer.  

“And what do you work as?”  

“I’m an artist. I paint,” you add to clarify your point.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, a reaction that you were used to by now. “What do you paint?”  

“Flowers,” you say, a small smile coming to your lips as you start to think about your art and how much you love it. “Of sorts. They’re all abstract so you wouldn’t necessarily think they are flowers. But it’s where I draw inspiration.”

He smiles at you, watching as you seem to almost glow when you talk about your work. You cringe under his stare, looking out the window you gather the courage to ask, “what do you do for work?” curious to see what his answer would be.  

“I make music,” he says simply.  

You raise your eyebrows, mocking surprise. “Anything I would know?” Again, curious as to whether he would admit who he was.  

“If ABBA is your idea of good music then I doubt you would have heard any of my songs,” his lips pull back showing off a gummy smile.  

You roll your eyes and pout your lips slightly. “Must not be that good then,” you mock annoyance and you hear a chuckle leave his lips.  

“I’m glad I managed to bump into you again actually,” he says and you raise your eyebrows in genuine shock this time.  

“In this village I think it would harder to avoid someone then bump into them,” you say.  

“Noted,” he smiles. “Anyway, I wanted to ask about those woodland walks you mentioned yesterday.”  

“Oh right,” you say, feeling a bit disappointed though you are unsure why. “They are literally at the bottom of this hill. Just walk down the road and you can’t miss it. Theres a map at the start so you shouldn’t get lost.”  

“Great. Thank you,” he says.  

“You going to go in the rain?” You nod your head to the window to emphasise your point.  

His eyes turn to the bleak day outside. “Maybe I’ll wait to see if it’s drier tomorrow,” his face turns back to you. “Fancy joining?”

Your heart almost stops beating at the offer and you manage to stutter out a “urm.”  

He gives you a small smirk, “you don’t have to if you’re busy.”  

“I mean, I guess it would be nice to go on a walk. I could go around midday?”  

“Thank god, because I definitely would have got lost,” you laugh at his comment, his words making you feel more at ease.  

He takes a final sip of his coffee, finishing it off, and then slowly pushes his chair back from the table. Standing up he shrugs his coat on and then puts his hand in his pocket, pulling out his phone. A few clicks on it and then he is holding it out to you. Sensing your confusion he simply says, “for your phone number,” and then quickly adds, “if that’s OK?”  

You reach out taking the phone from him, smiling at the blush that has taken over his cheeks. “Very smooth Yoongi,” you say, causing the shade of his blush to deepen.  

Handing him back the phone he does a few more taps, causing your phone to ping. “Now you can text me your address too,” he doesn’t let you reply to that, but you can see a wide gummy smile take over his face. Grabbing his bag as he heads for the door. “See you at midday tomorrow.”  

“YOU ARE GOING ON A DATE WITH MIN YOONGI?” Molly screams in your face after you tell her about your previous café encounter.  

You groan, placing your head in your hands. You had weighed whether it was worth telling Molly or not, but ultimately had decided that she would find out eventually and if it didn’t come from you she may just kill you. However, as you sit in your living room, Molly screaming in your face, you almost regret telling her anything.  

“It’s not a date,” you reply.  

“You are going on a walk alone with Yoongi, he has your phone number, hell he even has your address. Mate, you are going on a date.”  

“He just doesn’t want to get lost and knows I’m local,” you try to reason.  

“Literally nothing you say is going to change my mind.”  

“Ok, but nothing you say is going to change mine,” you say just as stubbornly as Molly had. “Can we just not make a big deal of this, I’m am just going on a walk with someone that happens to be a man, no big issue.”  

“Alright, alright,” Molly subsides. She knows your track record with men and, even if it wasn’t a date, going for a walk with a man was a massive step for you. So, if it made you feel better about the situation, she would stop teasing you. “But you still have to tell me every detail about it.”

“I promise,” you sigh, already knowing she would want a full blow by blow.

You almost pour liquid caffeine down your throat the next morning. Having had broken sleep due to the anxiety caused by a certain man, you needed anything you could get to help you stay awake. Opting instead for a strong coffee you head up to your studio to at least attempt to get a few hours of work done.  

As expected, work is the last thing your mind can focus on. Worrying instead about what you should wear later, and how long you should give yourself to get ready, you didn’t want to go covered in paint. Then your mind would try to reason, what does it matter what I wear it’s just a walk, you wouldn’t dress up for a walk with Molly. But you are going on a walk with Min Yoongi, this is completely different.  

As all these thoughts whirl through your brain, the morning actually flies by. Though not much work was achieved, you manage to look semi presentable by midday. Though the rain had stopped it was still cold so you had opted for a hoody under a jacket, with some well fitted black jeans and boots. Not dressy at all, but compared to what you would normally wear it was positively Met Gala worthy.  

Even though you are stood waiting, the doorbell still makes you jump when it rings out. You take small steps to the door in an attempt to not look too eager. Opening the door, you see Yoongi leaning against the front garden wall. All in black, he looked like a model pulled out of a magazine, and you have to try and push the thought away that says he basically is just that.  

“Hi,” you say softly.  

“Hey,” he stands up straighter, eyes taking you in. “Ready to go?”  

“Yep, let me just grab my keys,” you duck into the house quickly grabbing your keys, before going back out and locking up your house.  

“After you,” Yoongi points his arms to the front gate as a gesture for you to go first. “You are my guide after all.”  

You smile as you walk past him. Taking a right towards the woods, Yoongi quickly falls into step with you.  

“Did you manage to get any work done today?” Yoongi asks, sounding genuinely interested.  

“A bit,” you lie, then follow it up with some truths. “I have two commissions on at the moment so just trying to get those finished before I start anything else.”  

“Do you get many commissions?”  

“Enough to get me by. Obviously, I would love more, who doesn’t aspire for me, but I am just happy that I make enough to support it as a career. I can’t really complain.”

“Being an artist is hard,” you hum in agreement at his words. “How do people hear about you? I guess I mean how did you become an artist?”

“Just the standard art college, university. Kind of got lucky I guess, a lot of people I studied with couldn’t support themselves enough to make it their job,” you downplay your achievements, always one to be modest.  

“Shows you must be good,” he says, which you shrug at, unsure how to reply.  

“This is the turning,” you are thankful for an excuse to try and change the topic. You stop by the map of the woods, a few different coloured lines make loops showing the different trails on offer, each varying in distance. “How far do you want to go?”  

“The short one looks good,” you nod in approval starting to head in the right direction. “As you have work to do this afternoon, would hate to be the reason you get nothing done.  

If only he knew, you think. “And what about you? Working on any music currently.”  

“No,” he says it sharply and you worry that you said the wrong thing. Realising his mistake, he sighs. “I’m on holiday to try and clear my mind,” he explains.  

“We all need some time away sometimes,” you say softly.  

“And what better place to be,” he widens his arms at the trees around you and you laugh at him.  

“Hawaii would be nice,” you joke.  

“Not all it's cracked up to be,” he plays along.  

“At least there’s sun there.”

“Again, not all it’s cracked up to be,” a big gummy smile takes over his face at these words.  

“Are you some sort of vampire or something?”  

“Maybe,” he laughs. “This seems like a very Edward and Bella location.”

“A Twilight fan?” You raise your eyebrows at him.  

“Oh, come on. Who hasn’t seen Twilight? You’d have to be living in a cave to avoid it,” he rolls his eyes at you.  

For the proceeding few minutes you discuss whether you are team Edward or Jacob. Have an intellectual conversation about whether the books or films are better. And talk about the following careers of several of the actors. It takes you almost by surprise to realise how easy it is conversation to have a conversation with Yoongi. Fully settled into it, you don’t even think about who he is or the fact that he is wildly attractive, you are just engrossed in the light and funny conversation.  

In no time you are back outside your gate. Nervously you swing the gate lightly in your hand.

“Thanks for coming with me today,” Yoongi says.

“It was a nice break from work, thanks for letting me tag along,” you smile.  

“I hope you have a productive afternoon. Maybe I’ll bump into you around the village,” he says, turning with a slight wave and all too soon he’s gone.  

“I need details,” Mollys voice sounds out through the phone that evening.  

“It was nice,” you reply. “It was normal.”  

“What did you talk about?”

“A bit about work, a lot about Twilight, I don’t know just a range of topics that naturally came up.”

“And are you meeting again?”

“No plans, he just left it saying that he’d maybe bump into me.”

“You should text him,” she says it rushed, as if it’s an amazing idea that she’ll forget if she doesn’t get it out.

“What?” Slight panic in your voice.

“You have his number right? You should ask him to do something with you.”

“Do what? There is nothing to do here,” you are trying to get out of it but your words are also true. You’d both already hit all the main attractions of the village together.

“Invite him round to yours,” you hear the excitement in her voice at her idea. “You can say you’ll cook him dinner.”  

“I hardly know the guy, do you not think inviting him to my house is a bit forward?”

“Invite him out for a meal somewhere then. You could drive to el forno,” she suggests your favourite restaurant which is a few minutes drive from the village. 

“I don’t know, sounds even more like a date than inviting him for food at mine,” you stress.

“Jesus Y/N. Just don’t overthink it. Ask him to go on another walk with you. Or even just text him to say that you enjoyed today. As long as you text him something.”

You hum, still not sure. “I guess a text to say I enjoyed our walk wouldn’t be so bad,” you reason.  

“That’s it then. Do it now. And let me know what he replies,” and with a quick goodbye the phone line is dead, Molly gone.  

Before you can overthink it you take Mollys advice and open up your messages with Yoongi. So far the only messages being his ‘hi’ and you giving him your address. A deep breath to settle your nerves and you type out a message.  

Just wanted to say thanks again for today. It was nice to go round the woods with company for a change.  

You read over the message several times, scrutinising every word. When finally your finger hovers over the send button, tapping down. Delivered. All you could do now is wait.  

Trying to ignore your phone was easier said then done. You felt like some silly school girl checking your phone every minute to see if he had replied or even read your message. After a good 10 minutes of this you decide that you needed to leave your phone completely so head up for a bit of late night painting in an attempt to take your mind off it.

This works up until you hear the distant ding of your phone. You almost chuck your paint brush at the wall in an attempt to get to your phone quicker. Picking it up and opening the message you don’t care if you come across keen.  

I enjoyed the company too. We should do it again sometime.  

So he does want to see you again. The smile that spread across your face at that news was possibly the biggest smile you’d ever had. Typing out a reply you don’t hesitate in pressing send this time.  

I’d love that.

As soon as it’s delivered it appears as being read showing he had your chat open. Dots appear showing he way typing.  

Tomorrow too soon?

Again your typing is fast.  

I can do lunch time again?

His reply just reads,

I’ll meet you outside yours again.  

You manage to sleep better that night, and are actually productive in the morning. Compared to your first meeting you have your nerves under control. And when Yoongi arrives you find that you both fall into easy conversation. And when you finish your walk, Yoongi outside your house he suggests it becomes a regular occurrence and you happily agree to continue your lunch time walks.  

It’s on one of these walks a few days later that he says, “I would love to see your art one day.” He says it so offhandedly that you aren’t expecting it and struggle to respond. “You always sound so passionate about it whenever it comes up in conversation. I guess I’m intrigued,” he smiles down at you.  

“Yeah, sure, I guess you can come and see my art,” you say.  

“Whenever you are ready,” he says, not wanting to push you into anything.  

“I’ve actually nearly finished my commissioned pieces, so maybe when they’re done,” you suggest. “Then you can see something that’s fully finished.”

“Perfect,” he replies.  

“So if you’re seeing my art, does this mean I get to hear some of your songs?”

He chuckles at your question. “I’ve actually been working on some new stuff recently.”  

“I thought you said you don’t like to work on holiday?” You say shocked.  

“I guess inspiration struck,” he shrugs.  

“Well, I would love to hear it.”

“We will have to see,” he mumbles before changing the topic of conversation.  

You are sat with your legs crossed on one of the counters in Mollys shop, chocolate bar in hand as you watch her stood by the till. You’d been discussing, amongst other things, your lunch time walks with Yoongi.  

“I still think you should invite him round,” Molly says.  

“I’m going to,” you say it with such confidence that Molly almost chokes on her own spit.  

“You are?” She says in disbelief.  

“I finished my commission pieces the other day and I said that he could come and see them. I just need to actually invite him.”  

“Please don’t chicken out of it this time.”

As she finishes her sentence the door to the shop opens and in walks the man in question. Molly widens her eyes and shouts out a greeting, Yoongi gives a small wave before disappearing behind a row of shelves in search of something.

“Perfect timing,” Molly mumbles under her breath, jabbing her head to where Yoongi was stood for emphasis.  

You shoot her daggers a warning to not embarrass you. And when Yoongi rounds the corner with some tins in his hands you both have to scramble to look normal.  

“Hey Min,” you cringe as the words come out of your mouth, never having called him that before. “You’ve met Molly before right?” You try to recover.  

He gives her a small smile, placing his tins down on the counter by the till. “I believe I bought some rice off you once,” he says extending his hand for her to shake. “Yoongi,” he introduces himself. “Or Min, it seems,” he glances at you giving a cheeky smile.  

Your eyes dart to the floor, heat rising to your face.  

“Well it’s nice to properly meet you,” Molly saves you, scanning through his items. “Are you enjoying your stay in the village?”

“It’s great. I’m used to a much faster pace of life so I am appreciating the laid back feeling here.”

“Laid back, slow, boring. It’s thanks to all the old people,” Molly jokes.  

“You can’t hate it that much if you live here,” he hands over some cash for his items.  

“I guess I’ve gotten used to it, don’t really know much else,” she explains handing him back his change.  

“Well I think it’s great here,” he says and Molly hums in acknowledgment. Picking up his items he turns to the door saying, “see you guys around.”  

His back to you Molly gives you a hard nudge, widening her eyes at you. Before you can think you shout out his name causing him to stop just before the door, turning to look at you. “I finished my paintings if you still want to come and see them?”  

“Of course I do,” a smile breaks out on his face.  

“Tomorrow evening work?” You ask, glancing down at Molly for reassurance before you say, “you can stay for some food too?”

The smile on his face remains as he accepts your invitation. He says “see you tomorrow,” before turning and leaving the shop.  

“He is smitten,” Molly turns to you once he is gone.  

“He just wants to see my art, I talk about it all the time, he’s curious.”

“And he could have just asked to see a picture. He didn’t need to come to your house to see it, he didn’t need to accept a dinner invitation to see it.”

“He’s being nice,” you sigh, unwilling to believe her words. “Can you just help me decide what to wear and cook?”

She rolls her eyes at how oblivious you were being, but agrees to help you out. Both of you spending your evening contemplating different outfits as well as brain storming meal Ideas.  

Due to the fact he was coming to yours that evening you call off your lunch time walk, and instead text him a time to come to yours. You spend your day wisely, doing work but also preparing food and cleaning up you house a bit. By the time you hear the distinctive tone of your door bell, there is a nice smell of food in your house and the place looks clean.  

You have to stifle a gasp that threatened to leave your lips when you opened the door. Stood in black jeans, a well fitted shirt with the top few buttons undone and a jacket, he looked effortlessly perfect. You couldn’t help but check him out as he walks past you into your house and takes his jacket off. Nearly catching you, you manage to peel your eyes away as he turns to look at you.

“I bought some wine,” he says holding up a hand with a bottle in it.  

“Thanks,” you say as you take it off him and head to the kitchen.

“Something smells amazing,” he says leaning against the door frame.  

“I hope you like lasagne?” You scold yourself for not checking he liked it sooner, but the worries are instantly gone when Yoongi confirms he does indeed love lasagne. You pour out two glasses of wine and head over to Yoongi handing him one.  

“Do you want to see my art now, or after food?” You ask, taking a sip of your wine to try and calm your nerves.  

Taking a sip of his wine Yoongi looks you in the eye before saying, “now?”  

You give a bashful smile before nodding and heading off in the direction of your studio, hoping he got the clue to follow. Your heart rate is impossibly high as you head up the stairs, thoughts of him not liking your work going through your head. Your art was such a personal thing to you, something you pour your heart into, the thought of the man currently walking behind you not liking it would shatter your heart.  

You pause at the door, hand on the handle. It’s almost as if you are pausing for a more dramatic effect but it’s purely due to you wondering whether this was such a good idea. Yoongi being ever patient just stands waiting, allowing you the time you need. You finally manage to kick yourself into action, deciding you were being stupid and that if he really wanted to he’d be able to google your art and find it in galleries.

Swinging open the door you step inside and make room for Yoongi to come in next to you. You avoid looking at his face not wanting to see his reaction in fear there will be disgust there. If you had looked though you would have seen his eyes full of wonder, lips popped open.  

The silence is deafening to you and it only increases your worry as you still avoid looking at Yoongis reaction. “It’s not everyone's cup of tea,” you panic feeling the need to fill the silence. “The bright colours don’t agree with everyone I guess. And flowers are quite -”

Yoongi cuts you off by placing a hand on your shoulder and getting you to look at him. “It’s amazing,” he says. Looking at you he can see the worry and insecurities written all over your face so he continues. “Seriously, I think they are beautiful. I would actually like to see more of your work, see how all the pieces differ.”  

“I have pictures,” you pull your phone out and open up the album with all your art work in. Handing your phone to Yoongi you let him scroll through. You watch as he takes in your work, humming out at times, fingers pinching the screen to zoom in on certain works.  

“I’d actually love to buy one,” he says when he’s finished looking through them. 

Never in a million years would you have expected him to say those words, and you are anything but professional when you stutter out a, “you don’t have to.” Thinking he was just trying to be kind.  

“I’m being serious when I say I really like your work, Y/N,” he says. “I wouldn’t say I want to buy a piece if I didn’t genuinely want one.”  

“I mean I guess I could give you some form of discount,” you mumble out.  

“I don’t want any favours or discounts. I just want to be a normal customer, pay the normal price, go through the normal steps, and get an amazing painting at the end of it.”  

“Ok,” you give him a bashful smile. “I guess I could fit you in,” you open up the calendar on your phone. “I normally sit down with someone who’s commissioned a piece so we can discuss what we both want to achieve, make sure that we are both happy with what’s going on. So when’s best for you?”  

“I’m actually heading home for a few days this weekend, but I will be back next week,” he says.

Up until this point you’d not really thought about the fact that this was just a holiday for Yoongi, that he had a life outside this village. Obviously you knew that he did, but you hadn’t thought about the inevitable day when he would leave. So when those words leave his lips it suddenly hits you that he won’t be around forever, that one day your life will go back to how it used to be, Yoongi free.  

“Tuesday morning?” You ask.

“I’ll be here,” he replies.  

“Great,” you say as you tap the appointment into your phone. “Food?”  

“Yes please, I am starving.”  

Yoongi settles onto the small table in your kitchen as you expertly slice the lasagne, taking the two plates to the table you sit down opposite him. He pours some more wine into your near empty glass, and you both tuck in.  

“What are you doing when you go back home?” You dare to ask.  

“Just have some work stuff to go to,” he replies and you hum out in response. “Some of it is actually about those new songs I’ve been working on,” he says casually and your interest is piqued.

“Oh yeah?” You fully focus on him rather than your food.  

“Yeah. I think some of them are actually quite good so I need to talk to my management about them.”  

“That’s great,” you give a genuine smile. “And then you’re coming back?”  

“Just for another week,” he looks you in the eye when he says this and you feel your heart crack slightly at the words but try to not let it show on your face.  

“Two weeks in this village? You must really like it,” you try to joke.  

“There are some pretty sights,” he shrugs still looking directly into your eyes. “Plus I still have some of the woodland walks left to do.”  

“Don’t forget about the café. I’ve heard you are Fionas new favourite customer,” you reference the fact you’d heard people constantly talking about Yoongi around the village. You’d had so many questions yourself, was he your boyfriend? Why was he here? How long was he staying for? All of these you’d tried your best to shrug off.  

“That’s just because I compliment her cakes every time I go,” he explains.  

“Hum, I’m sure it’s more to do with the fact you’re a young attractive man.”

“You think I’m attractive?”

“Fiona thinks your attractive,” you say though your face still heats up. He hums, clearly not convinced. “Anyway, you should do more than just walk around the woods. I can send you some suggestions, there's a place not too far away with more exciting shops for example.”  

“Yeah sure, that would be nice thanks,” he says.  

The evening flows nicely, the easy flow of conversation you two had mastered causing it to become late quickly. By the time Yoongi is stood at your door, coat now on, you feel slightly tipsy with all the wine you had drunk.  

“I guess I won’t see you until next Tuesday?” You say.  

“Yeah, no lunch time wood walks together over the weekend.”  

“Good luck with your work stuff, can’t wait to hear how it goes with your manager.”  

“Thanks,” he says, not making any attempt to turn and leave.  

Maybe it was a need to do something to fill the silence, or maybe it was the wine you had consumed that caused you to step forward and wrap your arms around Yoongi into a hug. There is a moment where he doesn’t return the gesture, remaining stiff, and you worry about what you have just done. But then his arms wrap around you, pulling you slightly closer to him. Nose against his chest you breathe in his scent slightly and wish you could somehow turn it into a candle to make your whole house smell of him. Before it becomes awkward you step away from him.  

“I’ll see you next week,” you whisper, slowly closing the door on him. You hear a faint goodbye before he disappears from view.  

You would never have guessed that you would miss Yoongi, but over the few days he is gone he occupies all your thoughts. It gets to the point on Saturday night where you decide to google him. Sat on your sofa, you are surprised it has taken you this long to google him.  

The first thing that comes up when you press enter are news articles about BTS performing at the MAMAs in Japan. So that’s the work commitment he was talking about you think. A casual weekend in Japan, performing in front of thousands if not millions of people, no big deal. As you go through the news articles you feel the weight of who the man you had been hanging out with weigh down on you.  

You flick instead to his Wikipedia page. You read briefly over the section about his early life and how he got signed to Big Hit Entertainment. Scrolling down the page you see the personal life section, seeing that it talks about him buying luxury apartments. Again you start to grow slightly anxious at the words, it all adding to you wondering why he has been bothering to do things with you, or even stay in this village.  

Again you move on from the Wikipedia page, this time to Spotify where you type in BTS. Here you feel slightly more comfortable, feeling less prying. You spend your evening listening to some of their songs, after a while flicking into his solo projects.

By the time Tuesday rolls around you had listened to almost all of his discography and it almost made you feel like you were on an even footing with him, he had after all seen your art, it was only fair that you got to listen his.  

When Yoongi knocked on your door you greeted him and took him to your studio where you had set up a small table and two chairs. You wanted to act as professional as possible. Though you were dying to ask him about his weekend, at this moment he was a paying customer and therefore questions about his weekend could wait.  

The session went well, you showing him more in-depth photos of your work, giving some insight to them. You got him to pick the paintings he liked the most, asked what he liked most about them, asked him about the colours he would like included, the size of the canvas, all questions you would normally ask to gage the style of painting the person wanted.  

What surprised you was that he came prepared too, half way through the meeting he whipped out his phone and pulled up some photos of flowers. He flicked through them and asked whether you would be able to somehow use them. Of course, you agreed, it was his painting after all, and you could use the images for inspiration on texture and colour.  

Overall the meeting went smoothly and you told him that you would send him updates throughout the process. Again, just as you would any other customer.  

Once over, and as you head down the stairs, you ask whether he wants to stay for a coffee, the perfect opportunity to ask how his weekend went. So, as you settled onto the couch with your mugs you did just that.

“How was the meeting with your manager?”  

“Yeah, great. He liked the songs, which is always great.”  

“So when do I get an exclusive listen?”

“You can listen when everyone else gets to hear them,” he smiles at you.  

“Which will be...” you continue to dig.  

“You will just have to be patient,” he laughs.  

“And here was me thinking that painting for you would mean I get some sort of perk.”  

“Is this how you treat all your paying customers?”  

“Just the ones I think I can get something out of,” you joke.  

“And you think my music is that something?”  

“Well you haven’t let me listen to any of it yet, so I can’t be sure,” you act as best you can. “Anyway, how was the rest of your weekend? Your other work stuff go ok?”

“Yeah, nothing too exciting,” he says.

“Really?” You are surprised, not hiding it from your voice, remembering that you had read he had been at the MAMAs performing, surely that was exciting.

“You’re not very subtle, love” a smile graces his face as you look at him dumbfounded. “I know you know who I am.”

“What do you mean?” You play dumb.

“Always asking about my music?”  

“I’m interested in what you do,” you cut in.  

“You called me Min even though I’d never told you my last name,” he carries on.

“A lucky guess?” You croak out, feeling that you are losing some sort of battle.  

“Your friend Molly also definitely knew who I was when I first went to her shop, so I suspected she’d tell you.”

“If it helps, I still don’t really know who you are.”

“You don’t know who SUGA is. I think we’ve hung out enough for you to have a good idea who I am,” he corrects you.  

You start to grow awkward at his words, feeling almost trapped by him admitting he’s somewhat caught you out.  

“I liked the fact you treated me as a normal person,” he senses your unease and tries to reassure you. “And I thought it was cute when you acted like you didn’t know who I was even though you clearly did.”

Heat rises to your face, nerves causing you to almost shake. Yoongi reaches out to take your hand in his, thumb gently stroking your palm in an attempt to get you calm down.  

“I really enjoy spending time with you,” his voice has dropped, both his hands now holding your one hand, playing with your fingers.  

Both of you have your eyes on your entangled hands, watching as Yoongis fingers gently stroke yours. The tension in the room is thick, the silence only making it worse.  

“I’ve really liked being with you too,” you whisper out.  

You dare to look into his eyes, his pupils dilated so big there is almost no coffee coloured iris left. He drops your hand, instead reaching out for your face, thumb now caressing your cheek. Your eyes close at the feeling, heart pounding so hard you’re worried it might escape your chest. Taking a deep breath, you open your eyes again, eyes flicking between Yoongis to his lips.  

He leans in impossibly slow, forehead resting against yours, then nose brushing yours, before finally his lips touch yours. Lips move together slowly, acting as if they were made for each other, as if they had never tasted anything so sweet.  

All too quickly Yoongi pulls away, light puffs of air leaving his lips as he rests his forehead against yours.  

“I really like you,” his gummy smile comes out and you wish you could stay like this forever.  

You lean in to kiss him again, this time the kiss is more heated, more desperation behind it. When you feel his tongue poke your lips you moan out and he uses the opportunity access to your mouth. His tongue explores your mouth before dancing together with yours.  

When you pull away this time, heavy pants leave both of your lips, as if you had just finished running a marathon.  

“Wow,” you breathe. “Can’t believe I just kissed the Min Yoongi,” you joke and a big laugh leaves him, head falling backwards and you get a glimpse of your favourite teeth.  

“If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get to do it again,” you hum as he pecks your lips a few times before fully pulling away.  

Sitting back he takes you in. Lips now slightly red, hair ruffled, eyes wide. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so beautiful.

“So, when did you figure out I knew who you were?” You ask.

“Let’s see,” he has a broad smile on his face as he pretends to think back. “As soon as I left the shop after first meeting you. I wasn’t sure you knew who I was when I was first talking to you but as soon as I was served by Molly I knew if you didn’t already know, you soon would.”  

“Well, if it wasn’t for her I would still have no idea who you are,” you say it almost as a defence. “And like I said, I still don’t really know who you are. Though, I did listen to some of your songs this weekend,” you decide to come clean.  

“You did?” He seems a bit surprised, though you’re not sure why, who wouldn’t nose about on the internet after discovering someone they met is a celebrity? “What did you think?”

“You were right, nowhere near as good as ABBA,” he laughs hard at your comment. “I liked them, there was some really beautiful lyrics. I can see why you have such a big following.”  

He smiles at your words, growing a tad shy receiving your compliments.  

“So now it’s all in the open, and you know, that I know, that you’re a multi-millionaire pop star, does this mean I can charge you double for my painting?” If you thought the laugh he gave earlier was big, it was nothing in comparison to the one he gave now. Leaning forward he tackles you so that your back falls against the sofa, him leaning over you, pinning you in place.  

“Careful love,” he says before kissing you again.  

The remaining week that Yoongi stayed in the village felt like you were living another life. Your lunch time walks continue, but on top of that he comes round to yours for dinner most nights, and also occasionally sits in your studio while you work. He brings his work along to the ‘studio dates’, as Yoongi dubbed it, and though you ask he still won’t allow you to listen to his new music. And towards the end of the week, he even starts sleeping over at yours.  

That’s how you wake on his final day, in his arms. Feeling a light kiss to the top of your head you groan as you realise that this would be the last day that you wake up like this. Though it had only been a few days, and you still didn’t fully know the guy, you aren’t sure how you are going to cope when he finally leaves.

You both try to spend your remaining day in blissful unawareness, ignoring the fact that this will be your last day together for who knows how long. Seoul wasn’t far away, but it wouldn’t be as easy to see him after today.  

It’s when he packs his bag into his car and pulls you into a hug that your barriers break. All the emotions you’d been keeping at bay that day come crashing out and you cry in his arms. He holds you slightly tighter, hand stroking your hair in an attempt to soothe you.

“It won’t be long until we see each other again,” he whispers into your ear. “And we can call and text all the time.”  

“I know, I’m just being stupid,” you blubber at him. ”I’m just going to miss you so much.”  

He pulls your head away from his chest, gently run his thumb under your eyes to rid you of tears. “Firstly, you aren’t being stupid. Secondly, I’m going to miss you too. I’m going to miss our lunch time walks, coming to yours for dinner, watching you work. I’m going to miss waking up to you in the mornings. I’ll miss all of it.” He places a light kiss to your lips after the words and you melt into him.

Foreheads resting against each other, he whispers out, “I should probably get going.”  

Taking a deep breath, you slowly nod your head. A light kiss is placed on your lips before he fully pulls away. You watch as he gets into the driver's seat and then drives off into the distance.  

You cry yourself to sleep that night.

“Why don’t you just move to Seoul?” Molly says after witnessing a week of you moping around.

“Because I like it here,” you reply.

“Don’t be dumb, no one likes it here.”

“Then why do you stay?”  

“I own a shop here.”

“Well I own a house with an art studio in it,” you pout.

“You can move that art studio anywhere,” she rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh yeah? You want to explain how I would be able to afford the prices in Seoul?”

“I’m sure Yoongi would help you.”

“I don’t want him to help me. It’s not his responsibility to help me.”

“Would you at least just look into it? I’ll come with you to look at places. Please. I have never seen you as happy as you were when he was here. I want you to always be that happy, and moving house should be a small price to pay for that happiness.”

“It’s not just moving house though. He doesn’t live in Seoul. He travels around the world, he is busy, he doesn’t have time for me.”

“Doesn’t have time for you? Then how do you explain the texts he sends you almost every second, how do you explain the fact he has already tried to get dates to see you? You are making excuses for this to not work. You need to stop worrying and jump straight in. You won’t know if it will work or not until you actually give it a go.”

You hum at her, unsure how to respond to her words. They rung true in your head, maybe you were pulling away from Yoongi, as much as you liked him you had insecurities and his life style really brought those out in you. But you also did want to try and see where it could go, you didn’t want to let your insecurities get in the way of something you had never felt before.  

“Let’s just look. You aren’t committing to anything, you are just looking,” Molly says.

After a small pause you agree.  

You’d had a full day of looking at different spaces around Seoul. Ranging from flats that could house you and a studio space, to flats that didn’t, to separate studio spaces altogether. To say you were exhausted was an understatement, but as you hugged Molly goodbye and she got in her car to drive home, you made the trip to Yoongis apartment.  

On arrival you were swept into hugs and kisses. It was a welcome you could get used to.  

“I missed you,” Yoongi says between kisses, slowly dragging you into the house, eventually finding his sofa.  

“I missed you too,” you say in your new position, which was basically being pinned down by Yoongi.  

After some catching up physically, Yoongi eventually lets you move enough to sit up. He quizzes you on the places you had visited today, commenting on locations, asking for pictures of the places. You could tell he was excited by the prospect of you moving closer to him, and though you had told him that you’d been thinking of making the move way before meeting him, saying it would help further your art career, you knew that he knew the real reason behind the move, him.  

You asked about his day, listened when he told you about his early start, his dance practice and an interview he did. Thinking you’d had a long tiring day now sounded like a whiney excuse.  

“And,” he pauses for dramatic effect.

“What?” You start to grow worried at the suspense.

“I got you a present,” he smiles, slowly standing up.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” you grow a tad embarrassed.

He leaves the room and then renters just as quickly, hands now behind his back.  

“Close your eyes,” he states and when you don’t comply he repeats it with a small pout and whine so that you do it. “Now, hold out your hands,” his voice is now much closer.  

You feel something solid but light press down on your hands, and your heart rate picks up as you sense what it might be.

“Now, open your eyes,” his voice comes out as a whisper this time.  

You slowly peel your eyes open, and they widen in shock at what is in your hands. You shake slightly as you grip the CD tighter in your grasp eyes flicking over every inch. You slowly peel off the note that is attached and read it.

An exclusive for my biggest fan. Sorry it’s not more like ABBA.  

“You used my art?” Tears prick at your eyes instantly at the sight of the painting you did for him on the front of the album.  

“It’s kind of why I commissioned it,” he says. “I thought a piece of art by the person that inspired all the songs would be very fitting.”  

“You what?” Words fail to commute in your head as you take in what he says.  

“I came to your village for a break. I was struggling to get inspired to write music and the company decided that they could free up some time and I could go away and try and get back on track I guess. I wasn’t necessarily intending to stay in the village for that long, but the place interested me. You interested me. And the more I spoke to you the more I found myself being able to write songs.”

“You wrote songs about me?” It still was struggling to make sense to you.  

“I probably wrote enough songs about you to fill five albums, not one,” he chuckles lightly.  

You look back down at the CD in your hand, tears still falling down your face.  

“This is the nicest, sweetest thing anyone has ever done,” you drop the album onto sofa next to you and instead pull Yoongi into your arms.  

Yoongis arms encompass you into a tight yet soft hug. And in that moment you know that the decision to move to Seoul was right. That you wanted to try as hard as you could to be with Yoongi. That although it would be hard, it was a journey you were willing to take. Because even if it didn’t work out, any minute you got to spend with the man would be worth a lifetime.  

[ccsthemovie2]

(I think it's a word over 500, but:)

"Speaking of Tsukishiro, how's he doing?", Eriol asks. Frying pan to fire to volcano.

"He's good," Touya says quickly, before Sakura can say anything. Yukito is not even in the ballpark of "good". Yesterday he called Touya and begged him to bike over and said it was important and when Touya showed up he was asleep, and stayed fast asleep right through to the next morning. He keeps trying to make appointments with doctors, and then falling asleep before he can call, or, when Touya calls for him, before he can make it out the door. Privately, Touya isn't sure how much good a doctor can do for him, but anything has to be better than this, right?

"Really? I'm glad to hear it." Ugh, how much has Sakura told him. Not that she doesn't have a right to talk to her friends, but, come on, would it kill her to least keep it between her and Tomoyo and the funny looking cat.

He's good, that's an obvious lie. Ruby has said Yukito could barely stand upright at school. Every inch of Touya Kinomoto is packed full of magic. Sooner or later, Eriol figures, either Sakura will be powerful enough to sustain him, or Yue will have to get over himself and just eat already. Touya can't actually do anything with his magic, so it's not like Yue, even weak as he is, will have to face much of a struggle to take it. (Aside from competition with Ruby, of course. There's something to that, right, articles and studies about animals being healthier if they need a bit of careful planning to get their food? Yes, so this works out nicely.)

Or maybe- oh, that's probably it. Yue's on to him, isn't he? He's just being stubborn as usual, figuring sooner or later Clow will appear via Eriol and save him. He can imagine how surprised, overjoyed, grateful Yue would be, if Eriol showed up and saved his life. He can imagine Yue's head resting on his neck as clearly as if he had kept Yue well-fed with magic a thousand times in his lifetime. It would be nice, in the short run, but it wouldn't be right, no. Clow is dead, and Yue needs to learn to live with that. If he knows what's good for him, he will take responsibility for his own life, and if he doesn't...

Ahh, well, maybe it's Clow's old sentimentality, maybe Eriol is just warming up to Sakura's moon guardian all on his own, but he can't bring himself around to the idea of letting Yue just die. He'd save him, if it came down to it. But, he tells himself sternly, only as an absolute last resort. He's just worrying because he misses Yue and wants to get to know him better all at once in that past-and-future way- it's worth a visit, soon. Yes, a nice little visit, and Yue will never even have to know it happened. Just to check in.

(sorry the formatting got weird when i copypasted lol!)

hiiii thanks for the ask!!!

if we talk about this convo we need to back up and talk about how it got here. this should give you some idea of how badly this needs to be under a cut for length lol.

so it all starts with the bit about how someone falling and being caught is something that happens a lot in ccs. how with eriol, it's purposeful, and with fujitaka (and i misremembered it but since found out she fell *on* him and not *caught* by him, which lolol i hope he broke a bone, but also its fine the fic's already marked canon divergent, or maybe the story gets misremembered, whatever, in any case), it's an echo of clowriol's intentional artificial-trustbuild-dangersaves but without the magic or purpose to back it up (just like fujitaka himself!), but it's a situation he quickly makes favorable to him, because it may be a blank slate but it's made of the same material.

this whole convo was part of one of the very first chunks written, but everything was going to go in a very different direction at first. (there's a lot of Cut Content from this fic, some that i just didn't like, some that wasn't connectable with the rest of the fic after it took the shape it took but might pop up somewhere else one day idk). in this particular bit i cut the later half of the conversation because i really didn't like what i'd written, but then even though the direction of the story changed the conversation was still going so it had to bounce somewhere else, so it bounced to yukito. here we are answering your ask 2 paragraphs in!

yukito, iirc in the anime, did catch her from a fall, (in the manga, which made way more sense for why she had to change her clothes and rest so much, he saved her from drowning, again iirc because who can trust a memory) and at a point where eriol still has some investment in making yuekito/sakura (ewwwww) happen, he's going to try and draw on that symbolism to nudge her in that direction, right?

so all this said, SPEAKING of yuekito. how are they doing.

bad, obviously. touya's freaking out. i imagine that part of what's stopping yukito from seeing a doctor is yue, though- he knows it wont help, and i dont think yukito has, like, person insides that will stand up to medical tests, and yue would pick up on yukito like, not wanting to be outed to the doctor as a magic construct because he, like, doesnt actually have a real heart that pulses, just a repeating heartbeat sound. doesn't for real have blood etc to test, just records of blood type (for personality reasons).

and also touya's a very like keep-ur-problems-not-everybodys-business type so hes like imagining sakura venting her fears to this weirdo and getting pissed off. but that didnt actually happen, eriol knew all on his own lolol. touya you have to say something nice should happen to sakura to make up for wrongly suspecting her now

and this bit on eriol's end is all wrong information and inaccurate conclusions and i was really worried ppl would take it at face value but i hope nobody did. in ccs we get moments where eriol wants sakura to take power, or to learn that power can be taken- his final battle with her, for example, where the answer to his light and dark puzzle is to use kero and yue's power, except that's not something she would ever Want to do or would even Occur to her to try. the power is gifted to her by kero and yue (and syaoran!) because they love her.

same concept, here- the answer to the 'yue is dying' puzzle is to eat touya's power, and he can't imagine the real reason why he won't just do that, and when he thinks about it too long it goes right to his ego- yue looovvvvesss clow, and by extension me. he wants meeeeeee to save him. he wants to neck kissy MY magic soo sooooo bad. but yue isn't considering any of that at all. he's thinking about yukito and what touya means to yukito and why that would make yukito hesitate to reach out, and that no way in hell will he just ambush his other self's crush down a dark alley and take his magic, even to save both their lives. he's a lot more selfless than clow and eriol ever realize. maybe- this is just a half formed thought right now, i dont know if im like certain about it, but- maybe they feel his devotion to clow was a form of selfishness, that he Wanted Love as a thing he could hold and own, whereas pretty much everybody else who meets him goes like YOU SELFLESS MAN YOU CANT JUST DIE FOR PPL YOU CARE ABOUT YOU GOTTA TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF TOOOO

and there’s also that bit of teacherliness intrinsic to the three of them again: im doing this to teach him a lesson. im letting ruby do her thing without telling her what’s going on to help and encourage yue, etc.

anyway, that (in terms of fic weaving itself into canon) solidifies his decision to do uhmmmm a thing that creeps me out real bad in the anime (knocking yue out to have a moment with him, and oh, ding, there's another 'you fell but i caught you' moment!). eriol loves this manner of hanging out with people, you see it later in this fic, even:

It's important to say what's in your heart to the people you want to say it to, even if you have to make sure the other person never hears it. It's important for your own emotional freedom.

he loves to spend time with people exclusively on his terms, to the point where the other party never even knew he was there, because he knocked them out, or because he was just staring creepily at the outside of sakura's house while she did homework, etc etc etc.

tldr: it's all connected, aaaaaaaaa

[lemonpeter]

Day 6 - Dry Humping (Peter/Tony)

Sorry this one is getting out a bit late today! As I mentioned with my post yesterday, I decided to totally restart this one because I wasn’t satisfied with it at first. So I had to finish it. Now....I hope you enjoy 🧡

Warnings: age difference, college aged Peter, Tony calling Peter ‘kid’, dry humping, sort of power bottom!Tony, very nff but do I need to say that it’s kinktober

————

God, Tony Stark’s ass.

Peter knew fully well that he was supposed to be focusing on other things. Like his homework he had come to the lab for. Or his suit, which had quickly become Mr. Stark’s priority. Or maybe he could focus on the fact that it was wildly inappropriate for him to be nearly drooling over his mentor’s ass.

But he couldn’t focus on anything other than how absolutely perfect it was.

Framed perfectly by tight jeans, every curve shown off through the thick material, Peter couldn’t help but stare.

He was lucky that he didn’t get caught. Every time Mr. Stark started looking his way, he looked to something else.

He couldn’t get caught. That would be beyond embarrassing. And he would probably be kicked out of the lab forever. Tony would never let him come back. So he kept his thirsty thoughts and wandering eyes to where he wouldn’t be noticed. It was safer that way.

———

Tony noticed. Of course he did. Peter wasn’t sly. He wasn’t careful. Tony could feel the younger man’s eyes on him.

He knew the kid was watching him. And kept eyeing his backside. Was he bothered? Absolutely not.

And he decided to have a bit of fun with him, even.

He sort of arched his back, ass popping out more than it already did. Then he leaned down against the table where he was working on Peter’s suit. His elbows were braced against the table, leaving him in a stretched out position.

He bit his lip to keep from grinning at the soft noise he heard come from Peter. A person didn’t need heightened senses or superpowers to figure out that the kid was turned on.

“Peter,” he said suddenly. “So, how’s school going? Do I sound old? All I know to ask you about is school.” He hummed, ignoring that Peter hadn’t answered at all. “Maybe not school. I’m sure you’re doing great at that...don’t even make me say it.”

Peter cracked a small smile even though his cheeks were flaming red with the sudden conversation that tore him from his thoughts. “It’s just ESU, Mr. Stark. You can say it. It’s just three letters. Like MIT.”

“Don’t even dare to compare the two,” Tony said dramatically. “But yes. That. Im sure you’re doing great.” He stretched out more, pretending to stretch his back. “Sorry. Getting older is hard, kid, I feel like my back is always tense.” He grinned. “You ever get that problem?”

The younger man shook his head a little. “No, sir. I don’t. Unless I just got done with a twelve hour patrol or something. And I don’t do that much.”

Tony hummed. “Unfair. But I guess it makes sense.” He sat up suddenly. “Actually, would you mind rubbing my back real quick? Take some pity on an old man. I’ve been leaning over this table for forever and it’s hell on my spine.”

Peter blinked quickly, looking at him. His brain couldn’t seem to keep up, not taking in anything he was just asked. But that could have been due to how much Mr. Stark had said in such a short amount of time. “Sir?”

“A backrub, Parker. Please. It seems like fair payment for working on your suit, which is why my back hurts.”

“I thought you said your back hurts because you’re old,” Peter mumbled playfully, moving behind his mentor slowly.

Tony laughed. “Oh hush. That’s the one time you decide to listen to me? Step to it, underoos, we need to keep working on this suit so you can go home soon. But I’m not lifting another finger until-“

Peter moved his hands to Tony’s shoulders shyly, cheeks flushed.

“That’s a little high, kid. Unless you need a lesson in basic human anatomy, I think you know where a back is.”

Peter did know anatomy. Which was the issue. Because the back is very very close to the plump flesh that he had been eyeing for the better part of two hours. But his hands slowly dropped, resting on Tony’s back.

“Good.” Tony had been mildly worried that he misread the whole situation. Of course, he hadn’t. “Now, don’t be too gentle, okay? I can handle it. I like it rough.”

That phrase shot straight through Peter, blood quickly surging to his already half-hard dick. Fuck.

“O-okay,” he stuttered, thumbs gently moving to dig into the tight muscle.

Tony relaxed into the touch, smirking to himself when he was absolutely sure that Peter couldn’t see him. He groaned softly at a specific dig of the young man’s thumb into his back. He had meant to have a few well placed noises to get Peter’s attention, maybe get him thinking a little more, but that one had been completely unintentional.

Peter froze at the noise, biting his lip. “Everything okay?” He asked timidly, trying to press his legs together where he was standing. He was so hard, balls thrumming in time with his heartbeat. Some sort of friction or relief was needed. Of course, he couldn’t get much without touching himself and there was no way that he could do that yet.

“All good, Pete,” Tony breathed, pressing back into the touch more. “Don’t worry. That was nice. Keep going.”

The young man nodded slowly, sucking his bottom lip under his teeth and chewing it as he tried to focus. What they were doing was completely innocent. He was thinking wrong and needed to get his mind out of the gutter.

Then Tony was making more noise, the sound that left him barely something other than an outright moan.

Peter shivered, his entire body trembling for a second. He didn’t even realize how he began gravitating closer to Tony again. His hips were only a couple inches from his mentor, the soft swell of his bulge at the front of his jeans almost touching the very place he had been fantasizing about.

And Tony was running low on patience. But wasn’t he always? He arched his back again, leaning back against the table. Which pushed his ass right against the hard-on of the man behind him.

Peter had to quickly bite back a groan at the contact, hands pulling away like Tony had burned him. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” he stuttered, face burning. He slowly pulled away. “I’ll leave. I’m sorry. You were just wanting me to do this innocent thing and-“

“Hold it right there, Parker,” Tony said lazily, hips swaying slightly. “I’ve known exactly what was going on the entire time. I’ve got a hold on this situation.” He paused for nothing more than the drama. “And I want this.”

There was silence for a moment, which was a real feat given the two people in the room.

Then Peter cleared his throat, slowly moving into the position he had been in before. But he placed his hands on Tony’s hips instead. “So this is okay?”

Tony pressed back a little, smirking when he felt the obvious bulge against him. “Get those jeans out of the way and it will be. And actually-“

He stood up straight one more time, undoing his own and pushing them down to his thighs. The action left him in tight briefs that showcased his assets even better than the pants had. “There. Much better.” He cupped his own cock through the front of the thin fabric, humming in a satisfied way before bending over again. “Now I’m ready.”

Peter stared at him, brain seemingly short circuiting. “You...huh?”

“Peter Parker you’ve been staring at me the entire time we’ve been here. And I’ve caught it before too. Usually I’d question your judgement, but I’m too worked up now to do anything but let you faux fuck me into this table. Got it?”

“Got it,” he said meekly, blush still burning from his ears to his chest. But it was a miracle he could manage the excess blood in his face at all with how hard he was. He awkwardly unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off quickly, erection straining against his loose boxers.

Tony wiggled a little, trying to be enticing. He grinned when he felt strong hands on his hips again and a huge cock against his ass. “That’s it. Now have at it, honey.”

That was all the further encouragement Peter needed.

He started thrusting quickly, cock fitting perfectly between the cheeks of Tony’s ass even through the two layers of fabric. He groaned at the sight, fighting to keep himself from blowing his load right then.

The older man hummed, helpfully pressing back and grinding against the heavy length. “That’s it,” he praised gently. “I know you’ve been wanting this. I saw how you stared at me. Just couldn’t help your dirty feelings, could you, Pete? How long have you wanted this?”

Peter whined softly, not wanting to answer. Then he slowly started talking as he kept his hips moving at an even pace. “I-I’ve wanted this a long...long time. Too long. Since before I even knew you,” he admitted shyly, breathing hard.

He was embarrassingly close already, balls drawing up tightly as he kept moving and thought about how he was finally getting something - someone - he’d wanted for so long.

Tony hummed, pleased. “I know, baby. You just couldn’t help yourself. Have you touched yourself? Thinking about me?” His tone was teasing, but he obviously wanted an answer.

“Every time,” Peter choked out.

Tony moaned at that, rewarding the answer with a hard grind back. “You’re perfect...such a good boy. Aren’t you, Peter, you want to be my good boy?”

Peter whined softly, the previously swift and even movement of his hips getting rough and choppy. “Wanna be your good boy,” he answered obediently. His cock twitched at the admission, due to how hot he found the words and how close he was to his end.

“I know you do,” his mentor cooed, rubbing against the younger man in a way that made his toes curl with pleasure. Tony knew that he wouldn’t be able to get off from the action, but he was okay with just making Peter cum. That was all he needed for the moment.

Then he got an idea. “Take out your cock, kid.”

Peter moaned loudly. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the command or the highly inappropriate nickname for the occasion. “W-why?”

“I want you to cum on my ass,” Tony stated like it was a well known fact. “So do what I said, Peter. I know you want to.”

Peter nodded quickly, halting his movement to push his boxers down. Then he took his cock in one hand, free hand moving from its place on Tony’s hip to gently cup his balls. He whimpered softly, hips thrusting to fuck into his fist.

“Now cum, Peter,” Tony ordered. He didn’t know that it would work, he told himself that he wouldn’t be disappointed if it didn’t. It wasn’t like they had trained or anything for the young man to be able to finish on command.

But of course, as absolutely perfect as he was, he did.

His cock twitched almost violently in his hand just before his orgasm hit. The first spurt of his cum shot straight onto Tony’s back and he realized in the midst of his high that some more aim was needed. So he aimed himself better, slowly stroking himself through the high as more of the warm cum spurted onto the desired area, soaking Tony’s briefs and making them nearly translucent as they clung to his skin.

Once he rode out the high Peter slowly took his hands off of himself, panting quietly. He looked over the sight of his mentor, biting his lip. “Woah...”

“You’re like a fucking firehose,” Tony mumbled, turning to try and look. “I couldn’t see it unfortunately, but I could feel....jesus, you made a mess of me.” He grinned, looking at the other man. “I wish I could have watched. But you did so good,” he praised again, standing up straight and turning to face him.

Peter watched him, shyly pulling his boxers back up to hide his softening cock. “I did?”

“So good. So good that...” Tony hummed, tapping a finger to his chin. “You’re free tomorrow, right?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday, sir. So yes.”

“Perfect!” He clapped his hands together, ignoring the way that the wet fabric clinging to him was started to bother him. “You’ll come over tomorrow. Because I need more of this. And as good as it was, it wasn’t quite...” he gestured to the remaining tent in his underwear. “Fulfilling for both of us, hmm?”

“Who...who said we had to wait ‘til tomorrow?” Peter offered suddenly, eyes not leaving the bulge.

Tony chuckled, watching him. “Oh, I think I like where your mind is going. Better just spend the night tonight. Let’s claim it’s for research purposes.”

“Research purposes.”

It was going to be a long night.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Male!Werewolf (Rhys) x Human! Reader (Modern AU) 2

Part 1  -  Part 3

Some swearing, just be warned, but mainly fluff.

Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing Part 2

The light caught your eyes as you had finally come around to waking up: the sunlight streaming through the gap between your curtains so happened to land on your eyes as you had opened them, making you squint away with a soft groan.

Having rubbed them, you had taken in what had happened to have you ended up in your bed once more, rather than on the sofa from where you had left a wounded Rhys.

Guilt is what you would’ve felt: for ditching him, but you had remembered your conversation that he had said it was fine for you to go to sleep in your bed, leaving him to sleep on the couch:

‘I don’t think I could make it to the bed, sugar. As much as I want to come back with you to cuddle, I think the effort would be too much for both of us.’

You had immediately gotten out of bed, your bare feet padding softly in carefulness across the wooden floor as you come to your living room once more, your eyes landing on the lump underneath the blanket you had given out to use.

You reached behind him noiselessly, until you could see the wisps of dark hair sticking out from beneath the blanket, and you felt your heart soften at the scene.

And he looks like a completely different person when he sleeps. You studied, looking over his features: soft and untroubled, with his eyebrows relaxed and mouth partially open, the man resting there was a completely different person that day he had saved your dog.

Gingerly reaching to trace his locks with tenderness, you witnessed the sight in front of you with soften eyes and a small smile on your face. Rhys was beautiful, and he has a beautiful soul only a few are lucky in seeing.

You jolted when a sound resounded behind you, making all the hairs on your skin stick up in the abrupt startle. 

You turned towards the entrance to your front door, your heart swiftly hammering: when did you ever get knocks on the door if it wasn’t pizza deliveries or Max coming round?

Taking a glimpse back over at Rhys, you waited noiselessly before tiptoeing over to get to the front door, scolding yourself for the foremost, not getting a peephole installed for you to spy on whoever was at your front door.

Another jarring knock came from the outside once more, more immediate and forceful than the first: as if knowing for sure you were wasting their time in making them wait for this long.

Hastily and praying for your life, you quickly opened the door to have it reveal and tall towering man stand close to the door. He was wearing all leather and had a familiar build to Rhys, and... he looked very similar to him too actually, the more you looked at him.

You braced yourself against the door, looking up at the threateningly tall man standing there with a large scowl.

His arms looked like they could wrap you into a headlock, and keep you there. There were much more burly and muscly than you had ever seen on a man before; eyes a seething amber, hard with age and maturity.

He stared down at you with little hesitation to want to knock you down with a backhand. “Where the hell is he?”

His voice was quaveringly deep and low as if there was a growl that was resonating inside his throat and close to barking out shouts. Your knees quivered, hands shaking on the doorknob as you tried to find your voice once more.

“Who?” hit the door with the side of your shoulder.

He pushed past you hard, his shoulder didn’t even graze you, but you were sure you had been knocked back with his washboard abs, hidden underneath a black shirt, watching in terror and dread as he charged his way in like a whirlwind into your living room, moving until he got to Rhys, still sleeping on your sofa.

Reaching out to him, he elbowed him awake with one hard shove. “Oi, wake up.”

Rhys keened and jolted awake, his eyes groggily opening as he stared down the stranger looming above him, barely fazed. “Nik, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Rhys, you know him?” Your voice brought the bad boy werewolf to look back over you, caramel eyes that had hardened immediately at the male in front of him had softened at the sight of you once again.

“Yeah, unfortunately.” Rhys, sat up, holding himself as he held his side. “He’s one of my damn brothers.”

Oh, that makes sense. They look the same. It was uncanny now, and you could see the similarities in their hair and how it fell to one side, apart from Rhys’ hair was shorter in length.

The man known as Nik looked back over his younger brother, the same scowl didn’t seem to leave his features. “Is this where you run off to? You know what happened last time.”

It made you question what occurred the last time in which Rhys had possibly gotten injured; maybe even worse than yesterday. If that was correct: you studied, looking over Nik, seeing the faint swelling mark healing; that would mean Rhys had fought with this guy. And I’m certain I know who lost.

“You leave her out of this. I didn’t want her knowing either, but,” He hissed momentarily to sit up straighter, and when he looked back on you, there was such a look of wanton that swam in those honey-brown eyes, “I trust her.”

Your heart was pounding still at this home invasion of a werewolf relative, and when you heard the booming laugh come from the tall male you were wanting to get away from, you could only feel the blush bloom on your cheeks.

“So, you’re the one my brother goes on about.” Rhys’ brother scoffed, almost comically at the sight, before sighing in defeat, being the better person and outstretching a hand towards you. “Nicholas, sorry for the intrusion.”

“S’fine.” You uttered your name back loud enough for him to hear, staring back in silence over the interaction of the two brothers:

“The others want you back.”

“Tell them they can shove it. I ain’t coming back for a while.”

“You should be pissed with me, not them.”

“They still stuck up to you, like they were your bitches.”

Nicholas sighed heavily, “You’re sounding like pops, you know? Being unreasonable again.”

Rhys didn’t seem bothered, snarkily rolling his shoulders back as if untamed. “Nicholas, always the serious type. Never one to have fun once in his life, and always living with a pole up his as-”

“You never take anything seriously, do you? You fight and never want to resolve anything. Heh, so much for maturity, Rhys.”

Rhys grovelled as he watched Nicholas smirk, knowing that his comment had dug deep. 

“I’m gonna be outside.” He shifted back to you: all beast and no man. “It was nice meeting you.” He said your name, smiling and leaving for the door.

You heard the door shut, heavy footsteps leaving - the storm residing and the aftermath left in your hands, as you heard a growl come back towards the couch. “Rhys.” Your words came out in a hushed whisper. “You can’t let his words affect you.”

“You fucking don’t know him. He’s been like this for as long as I could remember.” Rhys snapped suddenly at you, and the man was no longer resembling anything you had seen before. His muscles looked more bulging, thicker - as if ready to pounce on the nearest breathing thing.

“Marshall, Theo, Jackson -- they’re all fucking pawns to him: obeying and always picking sides, so they can see who wins. And they all mock whenever I lose.”

You slowly and carefully moved towards him until you were standing before him, and quietly, you bent down to his level, resting between his thighs. Taking his fingers, you squeezed on them to gain his attention, snapping him out briefly out of an episode.

“Don’t be at his beck and call, Rhys. You’re your own person, and you’re always welcome here if you need to let off steam.” You brought his fingers towards your lips, kissing lightly on the knuckles. "I'm here for you.”

Rhys looked surprised by the act, reluctantly chuckling to himself. “What would I do without you, sugar?” He pulled you up into his lap, cuddling you like you were some plush, feeling him calm down before you as you felt the skin mould back to its original shape.

“Thanks, sugar.” Rhys softly pecked the top of your head with such tenderness you didn’t expect from him. There was a deep rumble that resonated in him, making you wonder how it would feel again to have him in his wolf form cuddle up with you. “I needed that.”

-

Nicholas returns in spin-off fic, The She-Wolf of Water Creak, Antonia. 

[j-reau]

There’s something I want to talk about that’s been sitting in my head for a few days now. I kept telling myself not to talk about because tumblr struggles with the line between feelings and drama, between change or growth and confrontation and vauging.

That’s not what this post is for me. It’s not drama or a vague post. It’s trying to work through how I feel, trying to talk to the community at large about stuff I think we can do better, or at least stuff I want for me and for my friends and writing partners. 

I think somewhere along the way, in its inability to wrestle with grey areas, tumblr as a whole lost the middle ground between self care and hurting others, and in doing so turned communication into confrontation. I’ll be clear about something to start this off; you don’t owe strangers on the internet anything. You don’t owe someone an explanation as to why you don’t follow them. You don’t owe a mutual an explanation as to why you write with someone else more or where your muse goes that day. You don’t owe anyone your time. You don’t owe anyone your mental health. Curating a safe space is important. Creating boundaries is healthy whether they’re for you or for someone else. I believe all of that to be true and I think that it’s important that on tumblr we absolve some people of the pressure put on them by themselves. I was once stalked by someone who I had never once talked to on this website who demanded to know why I wouldn’t write with them. I did not owe them explanation. Not for why I didn’t follow them and certainly not for why I eventually blocked them. And once they messaged me over and over from different accounts, my boundaries had been crossed and I felt very uncomfortable. So I understand the importance of making sure people know that that kind of pressure is fucked up. Because of my decision not to follow them, that person posted at length about how I was an elitist, unfriendly, etc. They even threatened self harm and guilt baited. And it is instances like that where I think it’s important that we make clear over and over and over that you don’t owe people an explanation. 

With all of that said, I think somewhere along the way we started applying all of those posts about how to deal with toxic people and strangers and started applying them to our friends. And that’s where things get uncomfortable for me and worth talking about for me. So I guess that’s what I want to do. Because to me, you absolutely owe your friends some communication. You owe your friends a reason. Even if it’s as simple as “hey I think I need some space, please don’t contact me for a while.” Relationships come and go and on a website like tumblr we get very close to some people fast, or we talk a lot and share a lot, not everyone is going to click. Not everyone is going to jive and that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that. But in relationships, communication is a crucial and important part of adult hood. Ignoring problems isn’t adult. Failing to communicate isn’t mature or conflict free. My best and closest friends are the people with which I can communicate. And in some relationships you’ll learn that your communication styles don’t match. And that’s okay too. But communication is important to any friendship, partnership, etc. Something as simple as “hey can we not talk about that? It makes me uncomfortable.” Something as simple as “will you do me a favor and blacklist your posts about _____ because seeing them makes me anxious.” Or even communicating needs for validation like “I’m feeling really sad and anxious today. It’s nothing you’re doing but could you give me a little reassurance?” Or “hey I’ve been busy this week. It’s not you but I need some space away from discord.” Communications don’t have to be arguments. They don’t have to be confrontations. They’re just expressing a feeling and allowing someone else to then accept the boundary or need you express and meet it, ask questions if they need to or whatever it may be. Like for example, “sure I can give you space. Do you want to just hit me up when you feel better or should I reach out in a few days?” 

I think maybe part of it is about how we place value on “friendships” and on partnerships writing on tumblr. And maybe that’s where some of us differ and I also think is an important thing that should be communicated. For me, I write with hundreds of people. I love writing with people. I love having tons of partners and writing with any of my mutuals who want to. When it comes to writing and people who I have writing partnerships with, my communication style is pretty straight forward. And it starts from jump, communicating if we want to ship or not, communicating what kinds of plots we like. And then later when someone has to say “hey can we drop this thread and start a new one?” Or “Sorry I vanished for a month do you still want to write this?” All of those things are communications and to me, come with trust that you will be honest and receive the other person in good faith. of course, in hundreds of people that doesn’t always happen. Sometimes it doesn’t go well, and that’s fine. These are writing partners and while my communication style will always be the same and be as honest and straightforward as I can give it, it may not mesh with someone else’s. But then there are friends -- good friends. And by good friends I mean the people you talk to frequently. The people you talk to about how you feel, about what’s going on in your life, about your insecurities or whatever it may be. The people you write with frequently or have built a relationship with, the people you tell with your words that you love or that mean a lot to you. Maybe some people on tumblr use words like that lightly. I don’t know. But for me those are meaningful things and the people I consider good friends are not the same as strangers and are not the same as casual writing partners. 

Something is exchanged when we RP. I talked about this in my last post. I talked about how it’s not “just tumblr RP” how there are feelings and intimacy that is personal and terrifying in writing with people and sharing your creative work with them and opening yourself up to rejection and insecurity. When you RP, when you talk a lot, when you become friends with someone even if it’s on the internet, just as in real life, you’re exchanging trust. You are opening yourself up to vulnerability in expressing your feelings, in sharing your world with someone and they are doing the same by accepting that, caring for that, sharing their own, etc. To me, once you hit the point of having exchanged trust with someone, that’s when you owe communication of some kind. It can be as small as “hey I can’t talk today” and as big as “this thing you did yesterday hurt my feelings.” But it’s so important to do it. That’s important for a number of reasons. It’s important because maybe there is a misunderstanding that can be cleared up. It’s important because maybe that other person may not even know they hurt you and could apologize. It’s important because vocalizing your own feelings is an adult point of growth for you. And a number of other things. 

And I GET IT. Trust me, I do. Communicating is uncomfortable. What about how anxious it makes you? What about how you feel panicked and sweaty and your heart races and you worry that it won’t be well received. Trust me, we all have been there. It happens to everyone and it fucking sucks. But the only way that gets better is with practice. I can already hear the tumblr mentality that says “you shouldn’t have to feel that way if you don’t want to,” and there’s some truth to that. But any therapist will tell you that communication is the key to coming to the other side of that and that the more you do it, the better it’ll be, the easier it’ll feel. Having been in several relationships with people that projected their feelings onto me or held me accountable for their happiness, learning to communicate boundaries, learning to communicate feelings versus intention and all of that were huge for me. This isn’t something I popped out of the womb understanding. It’s something I’ll surely fail at a thousand times. But it’s definitely something important to me to learn. And I think it’s something tumblr can benefit from. Because while “let people block you” is an important mentality for strangers, for abusers, for toxicity, etc it’s not a good mentality for friendships and relationships. Ghosting your friends is really hurtful. Cutting people who mean something to you out with no communication or explanation causes a snowball of bad feeling and anxiety in allowing you to have closure on your terms and the other party to have none. Expecting people to handle hurt and confusion and sadness in private without ever talking about it to anyone is really fucking isolating. Tumblr mentality likes to push that we should be able to axe people without consequence, that they should not ever wonder why, that they can not talk about it to anyone else, or express their sadness. But isolating people in their feelings isn’t healthy and it isn’t adult. There’s a lot of hurt that could be avoided on this website by people learning to communicate and by accepting that sometimes conversations have to be had, even if we don’t like it. Or at the very least, taking ownership for the fact that if we don’t want to have a conversation, that that is on us and not on the other person for feeling confused and not knowing what happened.

So I guess where I’m at here is that I just wanted to talk about that area, and open the floor a little to remind people about communicating. And what I mean when I say friends vs. strangers vs. partners is that I think we also need to be honest with each other and ourselves about who our friends are. Because once you open that trust with someone, there’s responsibility there with what you do with that trust. So be aware of where you open that trust. Be aware of what you say and how you treat people. You don’t have to be best friends with everyone you run across on the internet. I certainly am not. Even people I love writing with may not be my close friends, but I make sure that those are people that I’m not being vulnerable with and sharing feelings about things with and expressing how important they are to me. They are of course still important, but it’s different. Don’t fake friendship with people. Don’t love people into the safety and security of trust and communication that you’re not willing to have. It’s okay if communication isn’t your thing, but understanding that and understanding how you treat people because of it is important. Because communication is important. To friendship, to partnerships, hell even to relationships with coworkers and family members. As a community, I think it’s really important that we encourage being more communicative, and that communication isn’t conflict, and that sometimes having a quick conversation about something where both parties get closure or can say their piece or clear things up is the absolute best way to handle things. 

[angelaiswriting]

I Love You | Fuze x fem!reader

✏️ Pairing: Fuze x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: The five times he thought he loved her, and the one time he told her. (Inspired by the lovely @kind-wolf​, who also provided prompts since I lack in the fluff department lol)

✏️ A/N: I’m rusty af but there you go, someone please bring back the X times they thought they loved their person and the time they told them trope, thank you very much. Alice, I hope your day will be better than yesterday, thank you for all the help 💛 @sazafraz​ I hope you’ll enjoy this as well :’)

✏️ Warnings: just what I hope is fluff (+ it’s almost midnight, I proofread this as best as I could, forgive any mistake pls)

✏️ Word-count: 4,887

ONE

The first time he thought he could love her was when everything else felt cold and distant.

 If it wasn’t for the fact that she picked up the call right before the third ring, he’d have one more reason to sulk about the past shitty forty-eight hours. First, a mission almost gone wrong and that has left him battered and sore. In pain would probably be the best term, but Shuhrat doesn’t like to complain too much. Then, a fight with a couple of operators he doesn’t know that well but that he has by now labeled as dickheads, thus turning them into people he won’t be looking forward to hanging out with—not now, and surely not even any time soon. Then, problems with his flight, which have led to him landing in Moscow five hours later than anticipated.

And if that isn’t enough, he’s almost considering turning on his heels and hopping down the five flights of stairs that separate him from the chaos of the city out there. He has his duffel bag in one hand and an umbrella that decided to break at the wrong damn moment in the other. And truly, he doesn’t know why he’s still holding onto it but some part of him buried deep inside his brain makes him believe that everything’s going to shatter if he lets it drop.

But he’s ringing the doorbell for the third time now and he thinks that fuck it, maybe I should really just leave. And if it weren’t for the fact that the anniversary of his brother’s disappearance is coming up, he would crash at his parents’ place; he’s missed them, after all. However, right as he’s about to truly turn around and start his descent, there’s commotion coming from inside. Barking. Someone groaning. And then the sound of a dog whining and grumbling at an order it doesn’t want to take.

“Hey!” She’s panting, trying to hold back a white and brown dog by its collar. “Sorry, this big baby just came back covered in mud from his walk and I was giving him a bath.”

“It’s…” Shuhrat eyes the big hound dog and for a moment, he wonders how on earth she’s managing to keep him from jumping through the threshold. “No problem.” The smile he gives her is just half there, and he’s painfully aware of it. If it were another time in his life, probably twenty years or so ago, he’d let the tears run freely down his cheeks, but he knows how to keep himself in check now. “Sorry it took me so long. I couldn’t find a taxi, so I had to take a bus.”

But she’s grinning, and the happiness so clear on her face makes her eyes squint. “God, I’m so happy you’re here, Shuhrat! It’s been forever! Come in, you’re soaking my doormat,” she adds with a chuckle.

Walking into her apartment proves to be quite the feat, with the dog—Buran, she says with great pride in her voice—barely moving from the spot he seems to have rooted himself in right in the entrance. He doesn’t move; he simply stands there, with Y/N trying to drag him at least a step to the side, and stares at him, muzzle wrinkled in preparation to snarl, but the aggression never comes. After a long moment of contemplation, Buran takes a step forward, boops his thigh with his nose, and then turns back toward his owner.

“He’s a big boy,” she says when she lets go of the dog’s collar, “but he’s never hurt anybody. Sometimes I think it’s all for show.”

“Is he…”

She nods, and the discussion ends there. He doesn’t ask how she’s been holding up after her grandparents’ death, and she doesn’t tell. What she does, though, is wait silently as he takes his boots off, the only sound that of Buran drinking water in the background.

When he looks up, she’s staring at him and there’s the shadow of a frown on her face, her head slightly tilted to the side as she studies him. He almost feels like a specimen in a laboratory, and there’s this knot slowly forming in the back of his throat that just… chokes him, in a way. He has nothing to complain about, but the stitches on his left thigh sting like a bitch, and he’s exhausted, and all he wants is to sleep curled up under heavy blankets for at least a month.

She doesn’t inquire, though. She doesn’t ask him possibly uncomfortable questions: they’ve known each other for far too long that they now know when it’s time for questions and when it’s not. All she does is offer him a smile—one of those half smiles of hers that always used to make him wonder how much, exactly, she knows.

“You look like you could use a hug.” She doesn’t step forward as she says that, and he doesn’t either, but her eyes never leave his.

“My clothes are wet.”

“And your point is…”

When she does hug him, it’s like being trapped in one of those moments where the body moves faster than the brain, and he finds himself wrapping his arms around her before he even has the time to utter a word. She’s warm and solid, in a way, and it’s almost like he’s being given permission to just let go for once and forget about anything that’s not part of the here and now.

It’s then that the thought pops up unsolicited in his mind. They’ve been growing closer again, and it’s like the time they spent growing apart when he was engaged didn’t even exist in the first place. Her texts are what he wakes up with a smile on his lips for, even though Sanya pokes fun at him at times, and he often finds himself subconsciously longing for her calls.

He’s hugging her, his forehead pressed into the crook of her neck as he soaks her clothes, and he thinks that fuck, if he could open up enough to fall in love again, why not with her?

*

TWO

The second time he thought he could be in love with her was on Skype.

 “Is that my sweatshirt?” The urge to grin is tugging at the corners of his lips and he does his best to suppress it, truly, but it’s a hard task when at some point Buran jumps up on her bed and all Shuhrat sees is his wet nose and hairy snout.

“C’mon, baby, sit back,” he hears her groan as she drags the dog back from her laptop and against her pillows. “Jesus, I hadn’t expected for this bear to fall in love with you so fast.” These words are followed by a jokingly eye-roll and a cheater whispered right against Buran’s ear. “But yes, Agent Eagle Eye, it’s your sweatshirt.”

“The last time you wore my things, we were still in school.” He misses those days—kinda. He’s glad he doesn’t have to put up with teachers and classmates anymore, doesn’t miss tests or having to study, but there’s still nostalgia laced with those memories and for a moment, it tastes bittersweet, until she answers back with one of her jokes.

They talk about everything and nothing at once for a long while, spend long minutes catching up over what happened in the past three weeks, after he’s finally gone back to Hereford after the month he’s somehow managed to spend in Moscow. Bunkered up for most of the time in her apartment with her dog is more like it, but these are details he has no problem overlooking.

Timur is nice and although he never says an ill or sarcastic word about how Shuhrat’s leave has gone, there has always been a smile on his lips that wasn’t there before that godforsaken mission. Sometimes Shuhrat thinks his friend knows something he doesn’t—like right now, as he gets dressed in a nice suit to go out on a date—, at least not yet, but he also doesn’t want to ask questions whose answers he might not want to hear, so he always keeps his suspicions to himself.

He does sigh, though, when Tima pokes his head from behind him and smiles at the girl on the screen. This man’s always blabbing about you—or something like that; Shuhrat is too busy worrying about his burning ears and how they’d better not be blushing to actually pay attention to the quick exchange between his two friends.

There’s silence after that. Timur leaves the dorm room after Maxim popped his head in, and it’s just Y/N and him once again. They stare at each other and she’s smiling and he’s trying to force his brain to think because fuck, he’s okay with long silences, really, but not with her. It’s Buran’s soft bark that encourages the conversation to flow again, and she asks if he’s received the package she’s sent.

He has, and when he recovers it from under his bed, where he’s been storing it in wait for one of their video calls, she prompts him to open it. His chuckle makes her chuckle because damn, sometimes she just goes to sweet lengths for him and he never knows what he’s done to deserve such a friend.

“I hope you still love korovki,” she giggles and when he picks up a handful of korovka candies, that giggle turns into a soft laughter that seems to ring even through the speakers of his old laptop.

“You even remembered about slivy v shokolade…” The smile is more in his eyes than it is on his lips, and he knows it, he feels it somehow. It’s a nice feeling and it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside, and for the first time ever he wishes he could push himself into his screen and out of hers just to give her a hug. “Why?” he wonders out loud and before she breaks out into a huge smile, he has a brief couple of seconds to scold himself for asking that question. Even though he has no reason to, really.

“You were feeling down,” she explains, “and you also sounded a bit pissed. I thought candy would make you feel a bit better again, since I clearly can’t ship this ball of fur all the way there.” She ruffles Buran’s head as she says so and the dog licks her face before settling down and laying his heavy head on her belly. “He sends something as well, in case you feel lonely, since you basically became snuggle buddies.”

He chuckles, both at her words and at all the time Buran has spent on his lap in the time he’s spent crashing at Y/N’s place. “Not my fault I give nice cuddles,” he shrugs as he digs through candies and chocolates.

There’s a rabbit plushie in there and while it’s been washed, it’s clear who its previous owner is. An ear is slightly off, a little more down the head compared to the other, and it’s proof that Buran played with it a bit too roughly one day and tore it off. The ribbon around the rabbit’s neck is new, though, a vibrant sunflower yellow color that matches almost to perfection that of the dog’s collar.

“I thought this was his favorite,” he muses, holding it up so that both she and Buran can see it.

The dog woofs once before he snuggles his human and a paw accidentally moves the laptop enough to turn it to the side and pick up his wagging tail. A moment later, though, Y/N is back into the frame.

“I told him to pick a toy to send to you, and he chose that. Don’t question his choices, Kessikbayev. My baby knows what he’s doing.”

“Alright, alright!” But they’re both smiling, and it truly does feel like being kids all over again, when they played with his brother and her sisters in the park.

“There should be something else on the bottom,” she says after a while, more seriousness in her voice, and she sits up a little straighter to lean against her pillows. “I know it’s probably silly, but I remember when our parents took us to Kazan when we were eight and we said we would be friends forever. We both lost our bracelets swimming two years later, but…”

Her words fade as he opens the rectangular plastic box he missed just minutes before. There, stretched out open, lies a white bracelet with a single aquamarine bead. It is exactly like the one they had gifted each other a lifetime ago and even though almost twenty-five years have passed, it still feels like yesterday. The blue sky, the birds chirping, and the condensation of their breaths mingling in the air as all they could think about was the fritters they were going to buy soon with the rest of their money.

“Burya and I went back to visit one of my aunts, and when I saw it in the shop window, I thought, why not?”

He doesn’t tell her he won’t be able to wear it, not for the majority of his time at least, but he still has days off, and he still appreciates her lovely gesture. He appreciates it more than he can tell and when he looks up from the bracelet to thank her, all he can think about is how light he feels when he’s with her. Even through Skype.

*

THREE

The third time he thought that maybe he was truly developing romantic feelings for her was when she came to visit.

 It’s the week before his birthday, the only one she’s managed to take off from her work at the vet clinic, but he swears he already feels like the birthday boy on his special day.

He’s rented a room for her in the bed and breakfast closest to the base, but they both know he’ll end up spending more time there than he will in his own dorm. The guys will probably start asking questions, but he knows Timur has his back and that he’ll come up with something—like he’s always done in the weeks that have followed his Muscovite leave. For once, though, he doesn’t mind the questions: he would still prefer not to answer them, for he’s not sure he’d have answers to give anyway, but somehow he doesn’t mind the idea of people he’s (kind of) close to wondering about what’s going on between him and a woman.

Which he… doesn’t know, but he guesses that he’s ready to find out.

That’s what he thinks about as he lies in bed next to her. His thumb is slowly brushing along the two-word tattoo on the side of her ribcage, below her breast, but he can’t exactly focus his mind and actually read it, for he’s too busy wondering how they ended up in that situation in the first place.

“What are you thinking about?” she whispers after a while, gaze focused on the wooden beams of the ceiling visible in the warm light of the dimmed bathroom lights they left on before they even had the chance to towel themselves dry.

His answer is preceded by a low hum that seems to reverberate right in his chest. His lips press a light kiss to the side of her boob before he props himself up on an elbow to look down at her. He smiles and then, with a tingling sensation still in his lips, he whispers back, You.

Her hand comes up to cup his cheek and right as she lets out a soft sigh, her thumb wipes across his cheekbone once. “What are we doing?” she asks, her eyes never leaving his as she does her best to even out her breathing. She will be sore in the morning, but Shuhrat doesn’t know yet.

He shrugs his shoulders once and for a moment, he almost regrets staying over. He should have gone back to the base; he should have accompanied her back to the bed and breakfast, of course, and then gone back to the base. Stayed up with the guys for a few drinks, watched football on the huge flatscreen in one of the common areas, and then slept in his bed.

“I think we…” Her tongue briefly comes out to wet her lower lip and he finds himself unable to look away. “We could do it again.” The tone of her voice is hesitating and it falters toward the end of the sentence, somehow making it sound more like a question than an affirmation.

Shuhrat smirks and when she tentatively pulls him down to kiss him, her lips press against the scar above his lip for a moment. “Now?” he asks, voice raspy but eyes twinkling as one of his hands trails down her side and over her hip.

“No!” Her laugh is weak and breathy, and she closes her eyes for a second before she shakes her head. “I want to be able to go on that hike with you and your friends in the morning. But when we’re back… Who knows?”

He’s leaning against the frame of the bathroom door five minutes later, dressed only in his birthday suit and arms crossed against his chest. He’s watching her brush her teeth and absentmindedly listening to her recount something Burya did the day before she left him at one of her sisters’ place, but his eyes keep on getting trained back to the tattoo on her ribcage.

Two words. An exclamation mark. 

The smile that tugs at his lips is hard to contain and even to conceal, and its reflection in the mirror is what makes her turn her head in his direction as a confused expression settles on her features.

“I used to always say that.”

She spits mouthwash in the sink before asking back, “What?”

“So mnoj!” he smiles. “With me! Growing up.”

It takes her a moment before realization dawns on her and her eyes trail down her body in the mirror. “Yeah, I know, that’s why it’s there,” she smiles.

*

FOUR

The fourth time he thought he was starting to fall in love with her was at a paintball game.

 The early spring air is still chilly when they decide to play paintball on the ground of Timur’s dacha. It’s a way to pass time—and to give Timur and his girl a few hours alone. Glazkov doesn’t say it—he never does, truly, he doesn’t complain—but his broken leg is bothering him a little and he needs to look after it a bit more instead of hiding his discomfort behind a finger when his friends are with him.

If anything, Y/N has been a great addition to the group—and Buran has managed to bring a smile on everyone’s face countless times with his playful antics and his oh-so-sweet nature around his human. But even though he would love to participate in the game, Y/N has ordered him to stay back on the porch in fear that he—or anyone else, for that matter—might get hurt somehow.

She’s teamed up with Alexsandr and despite the fact that they have already lost three games, they’ve still decided to go for the same tactic one more time. They’re hiding behind a different set of bushes, sure, but he and Maxim can hear them giggle at some pun one of the two must have said, and a victory has never been easier.

They stand still for a while, listening to their hilarity, but before they have the time to take a step forward, Buran dashes across the grounds of the dacha and flushes them out. There’s a rapid sequence of Burya! and Party pooper! and I can’t breathe! that makes both Shuhrat and Maxim laugh out loud, paintball guns still in hand and pointed toward the bushes.

Tachanka is the first to get out of his hiding spot. He crawls across the cold and hard ground trying his best to keep breathing through his laughter as Burya playfully shakes his leg in his usual way to play fight. “Soldier, you’re giving out our position!”

“You should know how to play this game better than this, Sanya,” Maxim exclaims and the second after their friend has managed to stand back up on his feet, he shoots a green paintball right in the middle of his chest. “Dead.”

When Burya runs up to him, Shuhrat can’t help the happy laughter that bubbles up in his chest. “Good boy,” he coos, glove-clad hand petting his head. “Now go drag your mama out.”

He stops for a moment as the dog runs back behind the bush and in that brief minute, he realizes for the first time that he has never felt like this, at least not in a long while—like he has finally opened up, even if only to those close to him.

But then Y/N’s pleas of surrender take him back to the present moment and he smiles because damn, he thinks this is thanks to her as well. Her and this happy dog he’s grown so attached to.

“I promise I won’t shoot, Solnyshko!” and even though Max is chuckling under his breath in a way that would lead to thinking the opposite, he still lowers his gun and takes a step back.

Back at the dacha, as Timur’s girlfriend places all kinds of sweets on the table to pair with their tea, Shuhrat takes Y/N to the side for a moment and sits on the porch with Burya staring at them from the porch swing. It’s just the two of them, like after a whole day spent playing and all the other kids went home, but just… a bit quieter, with the first stars starting to twinkle in the approaching darkness of the evening.

“I’m so bad at paintball,” is the chuckle that distracts him from the never-ending horizon. “But Sanya surely wasn’t helping!”

“That’s no excuse, love.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders—earning a low warning whine from her dog—and pulls her closer into his side. “You’re both bad, that’s just the truth.”

The playful slap he earns to his knee is weak and light. “I should have teamed up with Maxim. I think we would have beaten your sorry ass, then.”

She grins up at him and he smiles down at her and for a moment all he can think is Fuck it! before he tilts his head and kisses her.

*

FIVE

The fifth time he thought he was in love with her, without a doubt this time, she had kids tackling her to the ground.

 Tanya’s fifth birthday party is going strong and after the mermaid-themed cake and an endless hour spent opening presents of every kind imaginable, all the kids have gone back to playing. It is a tag game this time and as Burya plays with them, running around the garden and barking happily every once in a while, Shuhrat and Y/N watch the scene with the biggest grins on their faces.

She’s sitting sideways on his lap and he’s probably holding her closer than he ever has. It’s been a while since they stopped wondering what it was and just… embraced it. It’s nothing official, everything’s still off the record, but he has clothes at her place and a mug in a cabinet in her kitchen and when he’s over, the leather armchair in the living room becomes his and Buran’s favorite spot to snuggle and relax.

“I didn’t think your family could get any bigger,” he confesses when she pecks his freshly-shaven cheek.

“I have five sisters,” she giggles, snuggling closer and resting her head on his shoulder. “If we fly low and go for an average of three kids each, I will end up with fifteen nephews! But as you see,” and she points at her sister Marina and the baby bump she’s sporting, “we’re not flying low at all.”

He laughs at that and hugs her closer with one arm as he brings his beer bottle to his lips with the other. “Have you ever thought of…” He shrugs. “Adding some of your own to the bunch?”

She looks at him lost in thought for a while, taking the beer from his hand to steal a sip, before she eventually shrugs her shoulders in return. “I don’t know, I haven’t considered it yet. I’m happy with just Burya and you so far. He’s like a baby to me, he’s just not in human form.”

He doesn’t have time to say anything. Little Kolya drags her away by her right hand, and Masha follows suit and grabs her other hand.

Shuhrat watches with a smile on his face as she goes back to being the babysitting auntie and just as seven children gang up on her and drag her to the floor, Anastasia sits next to him and sends him a knowing smile.

“I’ve never seen her happier than when she’s with you.” Her confession somehow catches him unprepared and although there’s nothing wrong in the words leaving Y/N’s eldest sister’s lips, he still feels the urge to tear his eyes from her. “And I know I haven’t seen you in forever, but I remember you being at your lowest and I’m glad you’ve both pushed each other back to the surface.”

*

SIX

Then, there finally came the time he told her.

 All Shuhrat can do is look at her, simply stare at her dance in the pouring rain that has caught them by surprise after a whole afternoon spent playing with their dog on the beach. He knows the quick and sudden summer downpour isn’t bound to last long, but the intensity of the rain and the deep gray of the sky almost make him think otherwise.

Their Ukrainian vacation on the Black Sea has felt like a dream so far, the best leave he’s had in forever, probably. Nothing has managed to disrupt his peace in the past week and if anything, he’s spent these days getting closer to his girl and Burya. Whether in the apartment they have rented or out exploring, nothing has ever felt so much like home, not even in a foreign country, than it feels like with her.

She’s twirling and laughing now, though, face turned up toward a steely sky and arms open wide, almost as though she could somehow take flight. The ringing of her laughter is drowned out by the raging pitter-pattering of the downpour that is soaking him to the bone, but he swears he can still hear it. Buran is barking by his side, unable to stay still or to stop his tail from wagging wildly against his shin, and there’s something so indescribable in the scene he’s witnessing that his heart feels like it’s being held in a grip.

It is one of those moments when the time feels like it finally stops, if so for just a moment, and something clicks. There’s this one piece that finally finds its place and a light turns on, and everything is clearer than it’s ever been. Not that it hasn’t been before—because it has, even with him not being able to fully admit it to himself—it’s just that it feels… actually real, this time. Like that’s the truth and there’s no hiding it anymore, not when it’s clearly brighter than the sun.

The realization seeps into his limbs like the rain that’s soaking his clothes and he just… smiles. It’s only one side of his lips at first, a smirk that tries to conceal the smile he can’t contain—in vain.

When she stops right in front of him, still giggling like a child, her breathing is all over the place. Fast and almost messy, and she is panting, desperately trying to catch her breath as she shakes her head a couple of times, trying to make the world stand still once again. She has hair sticking to her face and he can see her black bikini through the soaked-through fabric of her summer dress.

He somehow thinks back to the day he rang her doorbell three times. And to the hug she gave him that day, the one that almost cracked his tough exterior right open, and he realizes that he doesn’t really mind feeling like that with her. That he doesn’t really mind being vulnerable in her presence, and that he enjoys feeling like he belongs with her.

It is then that he says it out loud, and it feels good and almost warm inside as he stands there, teeth clattering from the cold. But the rain is too loud, and when she screams over its sound and over that of the howling wind that picks up suddenly, he finds himself kicking aside all the fears he has at the idea of opening up completely.

“I love you!” He screams it in the rain, with the wind slapping water in his face, and it feels better than it ever has in the past. And he’s blinded by the raindrops but even despite that, he sees her face light up in one of those bright smiles she’s never able to contain.

“I know!” she yells back before spreading her arms again. “That’s why I’m happy: because I love you, too!”

I’m a hoe for feedback in case you wanna leave any 💛

Original picture: https://www.pexels.com/photo/bunch-of-petals-on-white-surface-4041274/

[danadeservesadrink]

Do You Believe in Fate Chapter 7

I’m Sorry, Is Fox There?

In which the M rating for this fic is justified. Read on AO3 here 

Tagging @today-in-fic 

“Dana Scully speaking”

“I’m sorry, is Fox there?”

“Who is this?”

“This is Special Agent Diana Fowley. I should be asking who you are, and why you’re answering my partner’s personal phone”

“What - shit ”

“Actually I don’t much care. Either way tell Fox that I need him in the office in 45 minutes.”

“He’s busy right now, why do you need him so urgently”

“Well Miss Scully, I’m unfortunately not permitted to share details of the Bureau’s affairs, even if Agent Mulder has, erm , flashed you his badge.”

“I’ll let him know you called”

“Thank you Miss Scully. Maybe one day you’ll be promoted to secretary.”

“Agent Fowley?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Dr. Scully”

Mulder was in fact not very busy. He was asleep. She, however, conveniently decided not to wake him.

She herself had awoken to the sound of the cell phone ringing, and out of habit reached over to the nightstand and answered. She was used to receiving calls at odd hours, as a doctor there were often emergencies, and she served her time in the ER. What she was not expecting was the cool haughty voice, on the other end, all “ Fox ” this and “ Fox ” that.

Secretary my ass. That bitch.

She laid in bed, staring at the familiar ceiling just thinking after she hung up the call. She should probably wake him. She wouldn’t want him to get in trouble. But she couldn’t help but let her mind wander as she adjusted to the morning glow of her surroundings.

It was strange, waking up in a room so familiar yet not. Coming home last night she had been so engulfed by Mulder’s flame, his lips, his tongue, his hands, all over her. She barely had a chance to acknowledge how when he backed her down the hallway, eyes shut and hands preoccupied, she had known exactly where to step so she did not trip over the raised entrance to the bedroom. Now Mulder’s hands were tucked under his sleeping figure, unable to dominate her thoughts.

She pulled the sheets closer to her chin and inhaled the strong scent of him, reminding her once again that everything here was his. It was cleansing in a way, having him wash away all the evidence of her time here with his presence, leaving only the memories in her own mind. She snuggled deeper into the covers, hoping maybe the overwhelming Mulder-ness of the room now would enter her brain like a magic eraser and wash clean all the terrible thoughts that rose with the sun. But as the window-pane pattern of the east-facing window crawled slowly across the floor she couldn’t stop herself. She wondered how long the police were in here, tearing the place apart at her mother's request. She wondered how long it took them to clean up the blood. Even with the full duvet wrapped around her she still felt herself shiver.

Mulder stirring next to her was a welcome distraction. She felt his bare foot come in contact with her shin as he stretched, and then the bed shifted as he rolled over, draping his arm over her torso, overlapping their shoulders to tuck his chin into the crook of her neck, placing a lazy kiss on whatever skin his lips could reach.

“Good morning” he whispered, his voice still gravelly from sleep, and she immediately felt heat rise to her cheeks. It was an incredible talent of his, to take up all possible space wherever he resided, especially if that space was her own mind. Thoughts of Agent Fowley and abductions vanished as she shifted underneath him, instead being replaced by the feeling of his weight on top of her, pressing her into the mattress, and then his lips on hers.

There were a few things she had learned about Fox Mulder as of yesterday evening, and one of them was that his oral fixation was quite strong. Simply put, Mulder was a kisser, and she certainly had no complaints. After she had practically dragged him back to his own apartment, a move she rarely pulled and was quite frankly mildly embarrassed by, she had expected the progression from kissing to undressing to sex to be fairly quick. But when he led her into his bedroom, she found that her clothes remained on far longer than even she would have liked. He kissed her long and hard, until her lips were red and tingling, and she was panting his name, desperate. He pulled at her lips with his teeth and then darted his tongue out to soothe them afterwards, kissing her just long enough to drive her mad.  

Fox Mulder was an excellent kisser, and she wanted nothing more than to wake to him every morning.

She was sure he had invented his own language, by the way he spoke to her through the simple act of pressing his lips to hers. The relaxed brush of his hand on her cheek said “ Good morning, Scully”, the gentle demand of his tongue parting her lips said “ Thank you for last night, Scully ”, and the firm grasp of his other hand on her ass said “ I would very much like to repeat the events of last night, Scully”.

Or maybe she was getting that last one from the hard length that was pressing quite insistently into her upper thigh.

Reluctantly, she broke away, chuckling softly as she watched his face scrunch into a pout.

“You got a call from your partner this morning” she explained, and his pout transitioned into an eye roll. He didn’t change positions, instead nuzzling into her neck. She tilted her head to allow him easier access.

“You answered my phone?” he whispered in between nibbles.

“Only because I thought it was mine. And it woke me up.” She laughed and she felt it vibrate against his lips.

“I’m sure Diana loved that” He was alternating between wet kisses and sharp bites and she found herself slowly losing interest in the conversation at hand.

“She said she wanted you in the office in 45 minutes” He pulled back and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“And when did you receive this call, Scully?”

“15 minutes ago”

She raised an eyebrow back at him and took the opportunity to snake a hand between them, subtly grazing his erection. He let out his breath in a low whistle and propped himself up on his elbows over-top of her.

“She said that I may get promoted to secretary, but I guess I’m not very good at delivering messages”

They both chuckled, Mulder letting his head fall so his forehead rested on her sternum.

“And what did you say to that?”

“I told her I’m a doctor and hung up”

That earned her a full blown laugh, hearty and wholesome, and he once again let his weight press into her as he placed a kiss to the inside of her breast, left revealed by the wide neck of the shirt he had offered to her last night. She pressed up into his body, grinding into him until she heard him gasp.

Yeah, Agent Bitchy can wait.

He held her with such passion, gripping her waist in hands so large they almost wrapped around her completely. She could feel the pads of his fingers pressing into her bare skin, fingerprints of fire down her sides. He shifted in between her legs, still focusing his lips on the skin surrounding her breasts, and god the second time is always her favorite.

First times are kept in little lock boxes, stowed away as precious memories, pristine and perfect. First times are filled with promise and tenderness, things Mulder had an endless supply of. He laid her down easily on his bed last night and his eyes were all sorts of reassuring. She remembered them in the low light cast from the setting sun, staring up at her as his cheek pressed into her inner thigh, practically begging . First times were for asking and giving and, yes, Mulder was so good at giving.

But the second time. Second times were for taking.

Mulder is just as good at taking, and Scully was more than happy to give. She locked her hands in his, pressed him into her, and his lips worked under the soft fabric of the shirt, pushing it away to reveal her hardened nipple, which he graciously took into his mouth. She threw her head back in bliss, a gasp escaping her lips. She felt his tongue swirl around it as he sucked, teasing her sweetly. She scratched her nails against the back of his scalp as he carefully allowed his teeth to graze her.

“Shit” she swore, and the man had the nerve to laugh into her tits, still teasing her nipple with his tongue. One of his hands left her waist and moved to cup her other breast, his fingers brushing over her chest softly before her groped her with determination.

“Mulder ” she managed to gasp out, and he murmured an “mmhmm”  as he released her nipple from his mouth with a pop. She looked down her chest and met his eyes, and while of course there was still a reverence, a tenderness Mulder could never quite lose with her, the primary look he was giving her was that of pure hunger. Wild, instinctual hunger, a feeling she was quite sure he would be satisfying promptly.

“Fuck me. Now.”

Scully was quite good at taking, too.

He practically ripped off the panties she had slept in, discarding his own boxers before sliding his knees up between hers and spreading her wide. She needed to touch him, so she placed a hand to his chest and another one on his cock, feeling it hard and ready for her. She traced his length from base to tip with just her fingernails and his eyes rolled into his head. On the journey back down she wrapped her hand fully around him and he shuddered as she stroked him.

Not one to be outdone, he let his hand wander to play with her labia, softly tracing its outline before dipping in to brush against her clit, forcing her to stop all movement to let out a sharp moan.

“So wet for me baby… ” he mumbled, again leaning over, sucking her nipple back into his lips, his perfect lips. She whimpered and he took the opportunity to grasp his own cock and rub it along her slit, sending heat flying down to her very core. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you”  and oh God, yes, she wanted him.

She found herself babbling strings of “yes, please, yes, Mulder, shit, yes” until he finally pressed into her and filled her completely. He exhaled into her ear and remained sunken in her until she rolled her hips against him. He started a rhythm, pressing kisses to her neck, her ear, her cheek, her lips. Their pace increased and she kissed him for all she was worth while he fucked her.

Strings of words passed between them, curses and pleads and names alike. They traded promises as he smothered her in everything he was, all fire, hunger, and Mulder. She came with his name the only thought in her mind, like a big neon sign that took up permanent residency on the inside of her eyelids, and he cooed into her ear how good she was, how that's it baby cum for me. As her walls spasmed around him his resolve weakened until he was cumming hot inside of her and the sounds of sex that echoed of the walls into her ears were replaced by his breath in her neck as he laid on top of her, sated.    

She stayed in the bed as he headed into the bathroom and gathered his things. She watched him pull his slacks on, much to her dismay, followed shortly by a slightly wrinkled button-down and tie. He leaned over her and kissed her once more, and she felt practically dirty laying naked in his bed as he was fully dressed for work. She quickly pulled his tee-shirt back on.

“I’ll be back tonight. You still going to that hotel?” She smirked at his confidence.

“I dunno, the hotel has pretty good room service”

“Scully you’re killing me”

“I’m just sayin', a girl’s gotta eat”

“Whatever you want, it’s all yours” He made his move to get up, but she pulled him back down by his collar.

“And what if I want you?”

Kissing him never got old. It sent the same shiver down her spine, the same pounding in her chest, the same heat to her very center.

“Then you can have me.”

It took him another 15 minutes just to leave the apartment.  

[the-cashewpeia]

Enchanting You (Sakasaki Natsume x Reader)

Fandom: Ensemble Stars

Additional Character(s): Hibiki Wataru, Harukawa Sora

Genre: Fluff

Words count: 1635

Request:

Note: I think I should apologize for taking a really long time to finish this fic 😭 and I hope you like it! ><

⚡

"Wataru-niisan, for a genius magician like you, you must have a very good suggestion for this disciple of yours."

It was a usual sunny day in Yumenosaki. The sun was shining brightly, illuminating all the rooms in the school, except a certain chamber in which its curtains practically covered the light from entering.

"Hm? Natsume-kun? Fancy seeing you before my eyes like this."

There, inside the said room were two young men facing each other. One of them had back-length light blue hair, who was sitting on a chair, and the other one was a redhead, who just barged into the room.

The one who was called Wataru stood on his feet, before twirling a single red rose in his hand. "I, your very own Hibiki Wataru, am very pleased to be your acquaintance. How could I assist you, my dear Natsume-kun?"

No response from the younger boy. His pair of golden eyes landed on the flower which had the similar color as his hair. He was so focused that it made Wataru chuckle in amusement.

"My, my. It seems like the beautiful rose in its full bloom caught your eyes. However, I assume that--"

Just before the question spilled from Wataru's lips, the younger man locked eyes with him.

"I think I have found the missing piece of my mind. Thank you, niisan."

And with those parting words, Natsume dashed off of the room. His figure disappeared quickly from his sight just like a prey that was running away from its predator.

A smile found its way to Wataru's lips, as he opened the curtain as if nothing happened.

*

Three days? Or four? Maybe five?

Natsume was already spending some days cooped up with his experiment, that he spent all of his available time to focus on it. It was nothing unusual for his classmates to see him less in class, but not you. He was growing more distant that he lessened the time to talk to you and... it made you sad yet worried at the same time.

Did he eat yet? Did he get enough time to sleep? Did he....

Wait.

Aside from all questions that whirled in your mind, why did you care? He was just a friend right? Someone who nagged you as his daily schedule, who stole your home-made snack during lunch break, and someone who would set aside whatever he did for you when you needed a hug after a rough day.

Yep, definitely a friend. A little bit special, but still... just a friend.

He was the same like any other friends you had. And you should remember that.

"Oh, hey Natsume!"

Speak of the devil, just when you were thinking about him, the said boy appeared from nowhere. He seemed deep in thoughts, that he failed to notice your presence, and marched the way down towards the building.

Assuming that yelling his name once again just wasting your breath, you chose to continue your way to the cafeteria. After all, it was break time and your stomach begging for some nourishment.

While getting the food you wanted to eat, you remembered the way your redhead friend completely ignored your call and it dampened your mood. That memory took over your mind that you did the same as Natsume, when someone popped up before your figure.

"Producer-senpai, your color became dark. Something must have happened, right?"

"Eh, Sora? Sorry, I was daydreaming, haha." A nervous laugh slipped past your lips, as the blond beamed a blinding smile to you.

"Ho Ho~ no problem! But Sora wishes he could help his friends when they needed someone to talk to!"

You replied to his concern with the brightest smile you could muster, even though it couldn't reach your eyes. Unfortunately, Sora was quick to grasp how low your spirit was, that he refused to put off his concerned expression.

"Producer-senpai, is it about Shisho?"

"Eh?"

The question that slipped past his lips caught you off guard, that your smile dropped and bare your true emotion to the younger boy. However, it made him look delighted when he realized that he guessed the right answer.

"Is it right? Is it right, Producer-senpai?" He was practically bouncing in place, eyes gleaming like a child who saw interesting toys.

"Uh, I don't know what do you mean by it...." You averted your eyes so that Sora couldn't see your red face.

When you felt someone's hands caught a hold of yours, your feature turned to face the innocent look of Sora who had his hopes reflecting in his eyes.

"You know, Producer-senpai, Shisho is doing his experiments that he forgot about anything else. Sora and senpai are worried about him, but it's almost like Shisho is in a different world than us...." His voice grew quieter by the end. Just when you wanted to say something to lift his mood up, he raised his head and shot you his dazzling smile.

"And Sora knew that only Producer-senpai could help Shisho! Anyway, Shisho had a cr--"

Much to your dismay and curiosity, the blond stopped in his track and a grin was plastered on his face.

"Natsume had a what?"

"Hehe~ it's nothing! Sora should find Shisho for now. See you, Producer-senpai!"

And before you could stop him, Sora already marched towards the building, totally ignoring your repeated call and confusion.

*

It was another beautiful day when you had a cloth-covered box in your hand and you forgot where the room you were searching was. You were sure that you already memorized which room was which. But when you were reminded of what Sora said yesterday, you couldn't help but be a little lost in the hallway full of doors.

Was the Game Research Club here? Or was the door at the end of the corridor leading to the right room?

That was when you spotted a sign board above the nearby door, the said club name was written on it.

Seemed like you need to get a grip of yourself more. After all, why did what Sora said to you made you forget the simplest thing? Was it because Natsume was mentioned?

Wait, no. Why would you care that much about someone who was just a friend?

Well... maybe a little bit....

"I don't think that today of all days would be my luckiest day, since you must be here to see me, Koneko-chan." Someone's voice and a light tap on your shoulder were enough to make you let a shriek out.

When you realized that it was just Natsume and his usual antics, you huffed jokingly, "I do hope that it was a compliment."

The redhead was chuckling, while entering the room and let you follow after him. Just when the door clicked shut, he turned to face you, as a mischievous smile plastered on his face.

"You came at the perfect time. I already finished my experiment and needed someone to test it. And to top it off, you bring some snacks, right?"

"Wait, what?" A shocked expression was painted across your face, as you tried to find the explanation of how he knew the contents of the box in your hand, "how do you know?"

Instead of answering your train of questions, Natsume was humming while doing... well, you didn't know. All you saw was that he entered a secret passage in the club room and came out with a tray minutes later.

The pleasant fragrance of fresh rose filled the room and it reminded you of the school garden. The flowers there must be blooming beautifully at this moment, and it would be a perfect spot for a date.

Wait, scratch that.

"You sure wait patiently like a good kitten. As a reward, I'll join you in this experiment of mine." Your red-haired friend set up the teapot and mugs on the table. And now you were sure where the floral scent came from.

As Natsume poured the tea into each mug, the burbling sound calmed you down, as well as the loud beating of your heart. And when you tried to start a conversation, you caught a glimpse of a smirk plastered on his face, which made your chest feel full of the unanimous feeling that haunted you all the time when he was nearby.

"So first, let me explain this experiment of mine." He bowed like a certain blue-haired butler. "I made a potion that would make someone enchanted to me and I--"

"Wait, what?" You blurted out the exact same words as several minutes ago.

Natsume smirked, almost letting a laugh slip when he saw the crimson red adorning your face. He took the sign as your understanding of his short explanation, that he put one of the mugs down for you and he himself took a comfortable sit on the opposite chair.

"Well, I'm pretty confident with my ability and skill, but I still need to test the potion I made." A smile was plastered on his face. "If you're so unsure, I'll drink this first to prove that this is not a poison."

You watched the red-haired boy gulped the tea down and it made you sure about something.

The tea was definitely something that wasn't poisonous, like what Natsume said. But the other thing that poisoned you would probably be the way Natsume kept an eye on you while drinking his beverage.

At last, the rose fragrance took over your sense of smell and you knew about something else that you realized in this experiment.

Natsume maybe could make any potion or use his magic spell to make you fall for him. But he didn't need them, as the young magician already invaded your mind a long time ago, even though you kept denying the unbreakable feelings that bloomed in your heart.