#still self conscious about it but I want to enjoy my little Sweet Home bubble without feeling GUILT. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

possiamo-andare · 3 years

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Just You (3)

JJ x Reader x Rafe (love triangle)

MASTERLIST

word count: 5k

a/n: I can't believe it's been eight months since I updated this fic. y'all are probably dead by now and this will prolly get no notes lmao but I finally wrote the next chapter and it's so good in my opinion so please don't be too mad. enjoy!

Y/N needed complete silence when she was reading. If she didn’t, it was almost impossible for her to even read one page. As a child, in a room full of other screaming children, Y/N found it almost impossible to read. Most of her teachers misread this difficulty with an inability to read, which was not the case. This miscommunication actually worked in Y/N’s favour because the extra attention resulted in a greater love for reading. Y/N soon found herself reading everyday and even found it hard to put down a book. When she couldn’t get a physical copy of a book, she then went online and delved into a world where people created their own worlds and fantasies for their readers. Reading had become one of Y/N’s favourite hobbies and she could do it for hours.

Unfortunately, tonight was different. At around 6pm, just as Y/N picked up a book to read, loud music began to play from a distance. At first, Y/N tried to ignore it but soon, like mentioned before, the music began to get louder, and Y/N could not focus on the words before her. The more she tried to focus, the more distracted she became by the music. Soon, she could focus on nothing but the blaring music coming from across the street. Finally, after ten minutes of pure agony, Y/N got up from her bed and stormed down the stairs of her home. Her face is red with anger, and she desperately wants to know who the hell thinks playing loud music on a Tuesday night is acceptable. Unfortunately, she knows the answer the second she enters her kitchen.

Her parents are laughing with each other as they make their favourite snack. Every night, her parents make their favourite foods together as a way to unwind and talk about their day. Sometimes they shared it with Y/N and her siblings but on nights where her siblings were out with their friends and Y/N was the only one home, they usually just spent time with each other. Y/N hesitated for a moment and smiled to herself, thinking about how sweet her parents truly are. She wonders if the person she marries will have this type of relationship with her. She wonders, years from now, how she will look back on her time in OBX. She hopes she looks back with fondness. The moment is ruined though because her mother quickly looks up from the stove, a toothy grin on her face.

“Hello darling.” Y/N’s mother chirps. She reads her daughter's distraught face and since she can hear the music too, she knows why her daughter is upset. Without even letting Y/N speak, she answers the question clearly in her daughter's mind. “Ward Cameron’s son, Rafe, is throwing a party across the street. You can go if you want.”

Y/N snorts. “That boy has been rudely staring at me since we got here, and you think I should go to his house?”

This time, Y/N’s father turns around from the cabinet. “I hear JJ’s gonna be there.” There’s a small smirk on his face and it instantly grabs Y/N’s attention.

She tried to brush it off. “Well, I don’t really like loud music.”

Y/N’s mother scoffs. “Yes, you do.”

Y/N nods, tucking her hair behind her ears. She knows that if there’s even a hint of JJ being at the party, she wants to go. “You’re right, I do.”

Y/N had not been to a party in years. The last time she had it was in her first year of high school. She had just moved to that new school only weeks before and had made only a couple of friends. The friends she did make were nice and invited her to a party. The party was okay, and she enjoyed herself, but she was very awkward because she barely knew anyone. She promised that from now on, she would only go to parties where she knew more than one person. Now, she found herself breaking that rule just to see JJ.

Since Y/N was in her pajamas, she ran back up to her room to change. She didn’t want to waste too much time picking out clothes to wear so she quickly looked through her closet and found a white sundress with small blue flowers decorating the material. She had never worn this dress and, when she first bought it, was unsure if she liked it because it was shorter than what she was used to but now, she was glad she did.

She lay her sundress on her bed for a moment and turned to her mirror, where she kept a cabinet full of makeup. Before she even put on any makeup, she looked back up in the mirror for the second time. As she finally had a chance to breathe, she realized her breath was unsteady and her hands were shaking. It was hard for Y/N to put herself out there. Most times, she was afraid of the rejection, or even at the fact that the friends she did have would be gone. But she remembered her parents' words. She was to stay in OBX for the rest of the year. She would make friends here. She would have a life here. With a deep breath, Y/N began to get ready for the night.

Y/N keeps fidgeting with her hair. She knows the more she fidgets, the more upset she’ll be with how she looks but she seriously can’t help it. She only does this when she’s extremely nervous and she knows why. She’s two feet away from Rafe’s front door and the music has somehow gotten louder. It’s almost as if he’s continuously trying to play the music louder to get her attention. Of course, she knows that to not be true, but still, Y/N had realized that in the last twenty minutes since she had decided to get ready for the party and walked across the street, the music had indeed gotten louder. She rolled her eyes as she approached the door, the loud music getting annoying. At this rate, Rafe Cameron would be deaf by the time he was 30. Y/N pretended not to care if he went deaf at all, but a tiny voice inside her head told her that she had to care for him because no one else would.

With a deep breath, she knocks on the door. She doesn’t think anyone would hear it because of how loud the music is but it’s worth a try. She was raised to have manners and would not just enter someone’s house before knocking.

To her surprise, only a few moments later, the doorknob twisted quickly and someone on the other end of the door opened it. It was as if someone had been patiently waiting by the door all night, opening it in hopes that she would come. Of course, she knew this to not be true because the person who greeted her was none other than Rafe Cameron. And he found her annoying.

Y/N couldn’t help but admit how delicious he looked. He wasn’t dressed in his usual preppy attire, no. He wore these ripped, distressed black jeans and a fitted white shirt with a baseball cap to match. It wasn’t necessarily his style that had him looking so delightful but his face. He seemed very relaxed. In fact, this was the most relaxed she’d ever seen him. His usual straight posture was now more curled and casual. His face, which had always been pale and gray, was now filled with colour. He wore a cute blush across his cheeks and nose, and on top of the blush was a patch of light brown freckles here and there. Y/N figured he must’ve been in the sun all day. That and he was also high out of his mind.

“Y/N…” He trailed, his eyes glancing at her dress momentarily before returning to her face. Y/N feels a little self conscious under his gaze. She wasn’t exactly confident in her outfit tonight and he seemed, for the first time in forever, more confident than her. “You, um, you’re - you’re very…”

She involuntarily snickers, not realizing she’s doing it until Rafe hears it. His face changes into a dark frown and she has a deep need to apologize. He was probably just trying to be polite, and Y/N must’ve caught him just as his high was reaching its climax. “I’m what exactly?”

Rafe rolls his eyes, knowing that she’s teasing him. “You’re not invited.”

Well, she can’t say she exactly feels welcome right now, standing at the threshold of his door. He still hasn’t even let her in.

Y/N scoffs, her feelings only hurt a little. Although he didn’t look preppy, he looked just as douchy. “Well, your music’s so loud it could wake the dead. Maybe if you didn’t want uninvited people to come, don’t make it so obvious that you’re having a party.”

Rafe scoffs this time. “Aw, I’m sorry. Did I interrupt your bedtime?” He takes a swig of his beer bottle and Y/N almost forgets that he’s obviously been drinking. “Were you having a little read before you went to bed? Lemme guess; you were re-reading the Vagina Diaries for the tenth time?”

Y/N’s chest twinges with pain just a little, knowing that the book was on her bookshelf with a worn-out spine. He seemed to know her very well, but it only angered her because he got the answer right. “It’s actually Vagina Monologues, but nice try. I guess for someone who hasn’t opened a book in their life, the Vagina Monologues would be interesting.”

Rafe chuckles and she has a small urge to kiss the corners of his smile. Thankfully, once she swallows harshly, the urge disappears. “Just come in and don’t put your hippie feet anywhere near my furniture.” He finally steps aside, and Y/N takes that as the kindest invitation she’s gonna get from him.

“You mean, your parents' furniture.” She puts one foot in front of the other and tries to remember how to walk. Although it may not seem like it, she’s nervous. She’s not too good with crowds. As she passes Rafe, she can smell his cologne and she feel as though she might faint. For such an annoying boy, he really was intoxicating.

Rafe is not given enough time to throw a snide remark back in her face because someone has entered Y/N and Rafe’s little bubble. It’s another very handsome boy but this time, he’s sweet. He’s wearing preppy clothes (cargo shorts and a pink polo shirt - big shocker there) but he’s not preppy at all when he introduces himself.

“Hey! I’m Kelso; nice to meet ya!” He gives Y/N a half hug because his other hand is holding a beer, but she still gets the sentiment that he’s friendly. His hand respectfully lays on Y/N’s shoulder and Y/N actually hugs him back even though that’s not her thing with strangers.

“I’m Y/N, and it’s nice to meet you too!”

She watches as his brows go from a relaxed arch to a surprised arch instantly. It seems that whatever she has said has caught him by surprise. “Oh? You’re Y/N?” Kelso looks to Rafe for a moment, his eyes narrowing in amusement. Rafe tries to indirectly tell him to stop by flipping him off, but it only encourages Kelso. “I guess we have you to thank for this incredible party then!”

Y/N frowns, turning around to look at Rafe. They’re still in the entryway of his house and she hasn’t so much as taken in her surroundings, but this seems too important to ignore. What does Kelso mean? Did Rafe throw this party in hopes that she’d come? There was no way. Doesn’t Rafe find her completely annoying and obnoxious? If so, why would Kelso say such a thing?

“He’s joking right?” Y/N tries to confirm from Rafe but by his meek smile and his cheeks that have only gotten redder since she entered his home, she knows there’s some truth in what Kelso is saying.

Rafe shrugs, trying to come up with a lie. He had confided in Kelso as a way to relieve the stress that liking Y/N has caused but instead, Kelso just had to mess it up. “Well, not exactly.” His mouth is forming a lie before his brain can even properly think of one. “I mentioned to Kelso that you’ve probably never been to a party in OBX, so he must’ve thought I threw it for you.”

Y/N nods, confused as to why she feels a little sad. For some reason, a little part of her hoped that Rafe had thrown a party for her to notice him but alas, it had all been a misunderstanding. “Oh, well, okay.”

Except it wasn’t a misunderstanding at all. Rafe had told Kelso that the only reason he was throwing this party was for Y/N to notice him in a new light. He knew she thought he was just another annoying preppy Kook and he wanted to change that. He thought maybe, just maybe, if she had fun tonight with him, she’d finally start to see him as he truly was, a loveable dork. Unfortunately, that seems to be ruined now.

Before any more words can be exchanged, someone yells for Y/N. She instantly looks to the crowd of people in Rafe's backyard and sees JJ and Pope. The door to his backyard is open so the yelling is clear and not muddled by a barrier. They seemed to have been yelling for a while because they looked exasperated. Y/N watches as JJ stands from his lawn chair and motions for her to come sit beside them. She smiles for one of the first times tonight and nods, the pressure on her chest lifting when she sees her two friends. She wanted to take to Rafe later and get the full story because she had a feeling, he wasn’t telling her the complete truth, but she wanted to greet her friends first. She’d get to Rafe later. For now, she wanted to relax.

When Y/N departed from Rafe and Kelso, awkwardly waving goodbye before maneuvering to the back of Rafe’s house, Kelso spoke first.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me she didn’t know this party was for her?”

Rafe glared at his friend. “You really think I’d tell her that. Now she probably thinks I’m even more creepy than before.”

Kelso rolls his eyes at how dramatic his friend was. “You didn’t see her reaction, bro. I don’t know if she even knows it herself, but she definitely likes you.”

Rafe rolls his eyes. He doesn’t allow for his hope to rise because he knows it’s not true. He can’t let himself have any more hope that the new girl in OBX would want to have anything to do with him. She can’t like him because no girl like her ever has. So, instead, he steals glances at her for the rest of the night and hopes to God he can get high enough to forget about the beautiful girl across the street.

Y/N tried to enjoy herself, she really did. And to JJ’s credit, he tried to help her relax and have some fun. She drank the beer that was offered to her, danced with JJ and Pope, and even took two puffs of JJ’s joint. But, although she felt thoroughly buzzed, Rafe never left her mind. She tried to throw a few sneaky glances his way the entire night, but she couldn’t find him. She even left her spot beside JJ and pretended to get a refill on his nasty beer just to see if she could spot Rafe. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen. At first, she thought it was just because she wasn’t looking hard enough but soon, after three whole hours of not seeing Rafe even once, she realized he was avoiding her. And if he was avoiding her, it meant that he was embarrassed from their conversation at the beginning of the night. Which meant that he lied, and he had in fact thrown this party just for her.

This revelation crept into her mind slowly throughout the night but when it finally sunk in, she was speechless. She didn’t know how to react. Sure, there was a slim chance that he had been telling the truth but the less she saw of Rafe at his own party, the more she realized that he had lied to her.

JJ had noticed how off Y/N seemed. When they had seen each other earlier in the day for her surfing lessons, he had made a fool out of himself. They had been practising for a few hours before they both called it quits, deciding to pick it back up the next day. Before departing, JJ offered her ice cream for a hard day's work, and she gladly accepted. They both ordered the same flavour (mint chocolate chip - he swore they were soulmates because of this) and ate it as they talked. When they were both finally finished, Y/N went to hug him goodbye, but he instead extended his hand awkwardly for her to shake. She seemed slightly embarrassed, but he was even more so. He had wanted to hug her but didn’t want to without her permission, so he thought a handshake was the safe bet. Unfortunately, he thought wrong and now, that awkward interaction was burned into the back of his mind. He was worried that’s why Y/N seemed so detached, barely speaking. When she had gone to refill her cup, JJ looked to Pope for advice. He had never been so needy for a girl’s approval before and since Pope seemed to want everyone to like him, JJ thought he’d give the best advice.

“So,” JJ sighs and he finishes telling the story of their awkward interaction. “Do you think that’s why she’s been so quiet?”

Pope snorted. “JJ, I think it’s just you. I doubt she even remembers it.”

Although his friend tried his best to reassure JJ, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was burdening Y/N��s mind. But, before JJ could continue his conversation with Pope, Y/N reappeared with a glass full of beer and a somber face. The topic was not brought up again.

JJ had been right though. Something was burdening Y/N’s mind. It’s not everyday that a girl finds out a boy who she thought saw her as a bothersome girl actually saw her as much more. It’s a difficult experience to relate to and not a problem Y/N thought she would have. Apparently, Rafe was better at hiding his true feelings than she thought. She had always assumed that when she’d catch him peeking through his window, watching her ride her bike with her brothers or bask in the sun as she read another book, he was judging her. She assumed he was making fun of her and her hippie family. And when they had first met in the main office of her school, it only solidified in her mind that he saw her as a joke. But instead, he might’ve actually liked her. You clearly only watch people in that way if you hate them or like them and since it clearly wasn’t hate…

No. She wouldn’t let her mind go there. Besides, even if he liked her, who was to say if she even liked him? He had been nothing but rude to her, even when he had technically invited her to this party. He called her a hippie (not offensive by itself but when Rafe said it, it might as well have been), watched her from his window with a scowl, and was a complete snob. If Y/N knew what was good for her, she’d stay far, far away from Rafe and anyone he associated with. But Y/N was a dumb teenage girl and curiosity got the better of her. She needed to find another good excuse to go inside and search one last time for Rafe.

The excuse presented itself when JJ made a small remark of how thirsty he was. Y/N jumped at the opportunity to refill his drink, even though he offered to go himself. But she insisted, taking his cup from his hands before he could argue any longer. As she made her way back inside, her eyes looking for the handsome brunette, Pope leaned closer to JJ.

“See? And you thought she didn’t like you?”

JJ nodded, feeling better about the whole ordeal. Unfortunately, if he knew why she truly had wanted to venture inside, it’s doubtful he would have felt better. He probably would’ve felt worse. But he didn’t know, and he wouldn’t know for a while longer.

Y/N first made her way to Rafe’s huge kitchen where all the kegs were lined up. Half of them were already empty but the night was coming to a close and soon, half the party would leave and only Rafe’s closest friends would stick around until 5am. It was midnight now and although she didn’t have a curfew, she wanted to be home by at least 1am. So, as she filled only JJ’s cup, she decided against filling her own. She didn’t want to be too tipsy in case she ran into Rafe. Although, by this time, she thought it was very unlikely that she’d ever see him.

Just as that thought crossed her mind though, another person entered the kitchen. Y/N recognized him immediately. It was Topper. They had never interacted much, just a brief wave whenever she’d pass his house when she rode her bike. If he was outside, which he had only been once or twice, he’d wave, and she’d wave back. Other than that, they never spoke. Until now.

He stood beside her, filling two glasses with beer. His blond hair was wet and sticking to his forehead, but his hands were so full, and he was so drunk he didn’t seem to notice. Y/N had seen Rafe’s pool, but she did not find herself on that side of his house for many reasons (the pool was on the other side of the backyard, she didn’t bring a bathing suit, and her mind was busy with more important matters). Topper seemed to be struggling with refilling two cups, his hands shaking just a little. Y/N instantly registered that he needed help and decided that busying herself with assisting Topper would help take her mind off Rafe.

“Here,” Y/N offered, setting JJ’s cup down on the counter. “Let me help.” She takes one of the glasses from Topper and begins to fill it up, all the while keeping an eye on Topper to make sure he doesn’t spill the other cup.

“Thanks.” He mumbles, swaying back and forth to the music that is blaring from somewhere inside Rafe’s house. Y/N can’t help but smile a little at this giddy boy who would otherwise be embarrassed for acting so weird if he was not so drunk.

Unfortunately, not even helping Topper can keep Y/N’s mind off Rafe. She wonders that since Rafe must’ve told Kelso something about her, Rafe could’ve confided in Topper too. From the gossip that JJ had told her, Topper used to date Sarah but even after they broke up, Rafe and Topper remained friends. So maybe, just maybe, Rafe had said something to Topper about her? She figured even if she asked Topper, it would never get back to Rafe. Topper was clearly drunk and would not remember the conversation he had with Y/N. No harm, no foul. Right?

Unfortunately, that idea was quickly squashed because just as she began to open her mouth, someone else entered the room. It was Rafe.

Rafe had skillfully avoided Y/N all night, while still stealing glancing her way. He never noticed that she too had been looking for him. He was so nervous that he’d eventually bump into her that he would make Kelso check every room before he entered it. Unfortunately, Kelso was drunk by midnight and could no longer help Rafe. Rafe tried to let it go, figuring you were probably gone by now. So, he asked Topper to refill his cup as he helped Kelso into his mom’s car. But, when Topper still hadn’t returned by the time Rafe entered his home, he thought there was no harm in checking up on him. Apparently, there was a lot of harm in that.

And now, there they stood, facing each other for the first time since the beginning of the night. Rafe wanted to turn back around and leave but he had always made a fool of himself, and he knew that if he awkwardly left without acknowledging Y/N, she’d surely think even lower of him. So, as soon as their eyes made contact, Rafe awkwardly raised his hand and waved. He could feel the awkward smile painted across his face and Y/N seemed to mimic him.

“Hey.” He squeaked out, taking both cups from Topper before speaking to his friend. He figured the less he looked at Y/N, the less awkward he would feel. He was wrong. “Top, why don’t you lie down on the couch. I’ll bring the beers soon.”

Topper only nodded, slowly making his way out of the kitchen, leaving his friend and Y/N in there alone. Alone for the first time since the beginning of the night. Both their pairs of eyes were trained on their drinks; Y/N was clutching onto JJ’s and Rafe held one for him and one for Topper. No one spoke for a while. Y/N had waited all night to get Rafe alone, just so they could talk and now she didn’t know what to say. She awkwardly shifted the weight in her feet, unable to think of the first thing she wanted to say. They were only five feet apart, but they might as well have been worlds away.

Rafe was in agony and decided to get it over with. He spoke first. “So, are you enjoying the party?” He spoke so formally, as if he was chatting with his grandmother, but he was too uncomfortable to speak any other way.

Y/N nodded, relieved he had taken the first leap forward. “Um, yeah. Never knew that kids could throw parties like this.”

Rafe smiled for a moment, happy that she was so amazed at his dullest party of the year. His heart fluttered at the thought of Y/N dancing in that beautiful white dress with him. Holding onto him as they swayed to the music, pulling her close. Close enough to -

“So, Rafe, I wanted to talk about earlier.” Y/N began, playing with the skin around her nails. It was a nervous tick she had yet to get rid of.

Those eight words destroyed Rafe. At that moment, he knew she had not believed his original lie. He wasn’t too surprised though. He was a shitty liar and Y/N seemed to pick on everything he did. Although he would rather rip his fingernails off one by one than have this uncomfortable conversation with Y/N, he knew he’d have to give her the answers she was looking for. Even if that meant embarrassing himself.

Finally, he nodded. “Um, uh, okay. What’s up?”

Y/N began to speak but before she could get a coherent sentence out, someone else entered the kitchen, making a bunch of noise as he did. Their eyes met instantly and when she recognized who he was, her back straightened slightly as if she had been caught in a salacious act. It was JJ.

“Y/N, what's taking so long?” He stops just after he enters the kitchen and as soon as his eyes go to Rafe, his smile drops. He’s confused beyond belief. He doesn’t know why Y/N is speaking to Rafe. He didn’t even know they knew each other. “Uh, am I interrupting something?”

Y/N forces a smile, glancing at Rafe briefly before walking past him and towards JJ. She hands JJ his cup and he gladly takes it, a look of pure confusion written on his face. “No, Rafe was just asking me if I am enjoying my first party in Outer Banks.”

JJ's eyes shift to Rafe, whose face is pure white. “Really? How… kind?”

Y/N knows JJ is suspicious so to curve his focus back on her, she reaches up to cup one side of his face. JJ’s eyes instantly fall back onto her, a small smile back on his lips. “Walk me home, JJ. I’m getting tired.”

JJ nods sweetly, placing his hand over the one that’s cupping his cheek. “Sure. Go get your stuff and I’ll meet you at the front of the house.”

Y/N looks back to Rafe one more time, a small smile on her face. Rafe pushes his lips into a thin line, nodding goodbye to her. She does the same, leaving the kitchen as quietly as she entered. Y/N’s afraid to leave JJ and Rafe alone but she really has no reason to stay any longer. She hopes that she can get Rafe alone soon so they can have an actual conversation. Tonight, was kind of a disaster but being with JJ and having such a fun time with him made up for it. She knows JJ is the type of guy she should be with. He’s fun and carefree and they’re too much alike to not get along. Even though this is all true and she does have feelings for JJ, there is a part of her that yearns for Rafe. And that part scares her.

Once Y/N is gone, JJ’s smile drops, and he turns back to Rafe with a menacing glare. “Look, I don’t know what your game is here, but I really like Y/N. We both know you’re not her type. So do both of us a favour and leave her alone.”

And with that, JJ was gone too. Leaving Rafe alone.

Even with all these people in his house, Rafe never felt more alone.

taglist: @tovvaa @canyoubuymetoast @multisimpinghoe (sorry to these queens for waiting so long lmaooo)

#jj maybank #rafe cameron #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fic #rafe x reader #jj x you #jj one shot #jj fanfiction #rafe fluff #rafe x you #rafe imagine #rafe cameron obx #outerbanks #outer banks fic #obx #obx s2

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

Somebody to love (PART 1/2): Richard Alonso Munoz x fem!reader

Summary: Whilst your neighbour, Richard, is in love with love, you are a little more commitment averse. When he performs a small act of kindness though, your feelings start to unravel, and you wonder if you may have found somebody to love - right next-door all along.

Richard is a sweet, gentle man, and so I hoped to create a sweet, gentle story. I hope you enjoy spending some time in it!

I HAVE POSTED THIS IN TWO PARTS, ONLY BECAUSE OF LENGTH. WHILST YOU COULD PROBABLY(?) READ EITHER PART AS A STANDLONE THEY ARE MEANT TO WORK TOGETHER.

Genre / tropes: pining, friends to lovers (sort of - neighbours to lovers), getting together, domesticity, fluff, smut, nothing bad happens, ends happily, quite a slow burn for a one-shot, I guess?

Author’s note: This is part of my friends to lovers event, prompt requested by @foxilayde who I adore and you should too. Prompt was: he does something utterly mundane which shows how well he knows you, and your feelings hit you. I took some liberties with the prompt, and there is zero pressure to read this - IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BLURB! :P More of these requests in pinned post!

Warnings/ Ratings:

PART ONE (Mature, 18+ ONLY): swearing; sexual themes (erotic poetry, thirsty internal monologue, sexual tension); food themes inc. mentions/consumption; family mentions - reader has nieces but they need not be biological; brief mentions of the prison system - Richard is a Corrections Officer; exceedingly brief mention of the Holocaust in context of a non-fiction book Richard is reading (I believe this is a canon read but may be wrong); loneliness (theme, not too angsty); self-esteem issues if you squint.

PART TWO: (Explicit, 18+ ONLY): swearing; explicit sex, including - oral m + f receiving; unprotected vaginal sex; creampie; f squirting (first time doing so); well-endowed man, ahem.

Word count: 10k for part 1, 9k for part 2.

You had been thinking about the small gesture all day. You had been distracted all the way through your shift, and then all through dinner with a friend.

Richard -your neighbour to the right- had turned-up at your door that morning, before setting off on his way to work. His visit had been unexpected, and you had opened the door in a fluster, seeing him greet you with a characteristically soft smile - just visible from beneath the thick brush of his bold, impressive moustache.

He had held them out to you - in between his index and middle finger. A small book of postage stamps.

You had simply looked at him in confusion for a moment.

“For your letters,” he had stated, in his soft-spoken voice. “You said last night you didn’t have any stamps, and I found these in my drawer, so...”

It was true. You had said that. Had forgotten you’d said it. Had barely registered running into him, since it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Your routine overlapped minimally with Richard’s -though more so since his new role in the letter room had him working days exclusively- but sometimes, you would meet serendipitously, as neighbours tend to do. Last night, in the liminal space between your work day ending and your home life beginning, you had stopped to chat with him, and -you remembered now- had made some offhand comment about needing some stamps.

The topic of letters had come up; naturally, given his new position. It caused you to mention having written some letters to your nieces -packaged up with little illustrated portraits you’d gotten commissioned for their new bedrooms. Letters which you hadn’t gotten around to posting.

And so, here Richard was. On your doorstep. With stamps.

It was a little thing. So little, it didn’t even register at the time. In fact, you had bundled him off your porch with a quick, cursory “Thanks, Richard!”, prioritising finishing your morning scramble and making it out of the door on time.

It didn’t register in the moment, no; but you were noticing it now, alright.

“-so, this morning,” you explain to your friend opposite you in the pizza parlour, as she absent-mindedly dips her crusts in some hot sauce, “there he is on my doorstep, and he’d brought me some stamps.”

Your friend, Jaz, dips her chin and slowly raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows, her glossed lips curling in an amused, incredulous smile. “So, let me get this straight. He brought you some... stamps, which he already had, from his house next door,” she recaps, her smile inching wider by the second, “and now you want to fuck him?!”. Her eyebrows knit together in faux concern and she clamps a hand over yours where it rests on the table. “Sweetie, we need to talk. How low is your bar these days? Exactly how dick-starved are you?”

Ordinarily you’d be more than game for the light fun she pokes at you. Would even have a smart riposte ready. This time, though, you simply huff, your jaw twitching in minor irritation at how flippant she is being. So, shaking your head gently, you pull your hand away from hers, folding your jacket around yourself, suddenly feeling exceedingly self-conscious.

“Never mind. I’m obviously not telling it right. And, wait - hold up- who in the hell said I wanted to...” you look around the parlour, voice dropping to an indignant whisper as if anyone around you would hear or care about your hypothetical sexploits “...fuck him?” Your tone is defensive, and you shift to take a masking nibble on your straw, slurping the dregs of your soda and bouncing your leg nervously under the table.

Your friend merely raises an eyebrow, with a healthy -and not entirely unfounded- scepticism, and so, you try to rein your protestations in, lest you get slammed with a “methinks you doth protest too much”.

“Okay, okay,” Jaz concedes, holding up her hands and leaning back in her chair. “All I’m saying is, it seems like you have a hard-on for him all of a sudden. You’ve lived by him for years and you’ve never noticed the guy! It’s just stamps, baby cakes. It’s just your paunchy, kindly neighbour, who gets milkshake stuck in his moustache.”

At least he’s not afraid to make a mess of himself when he’s slurping, you think idly, your eyebrow ticking up - the thought leading you in a very particular direction and sending a sudden scorching heat to your cheeks. Also - paunchy? I like a beautiful soft tummy to rest my head on, thank you very much.

Yeesh. You are not okay. Still, before you go full feral, you shrug your shoulders in partial concession, widening your eyes in innocence. “Uh huh. Sure. Yeah.”

“Seriously?” Jaz continues, shaking her head in good-natured disbelief - blatantly seeing right through you. “Are stamps your love language now, or what the fuck?”

She’s not wrong. It is very… sudden. You’ve never felt that way about Richard before. But is it so preposterous to think you might begin to?

“Jeez! Who said anything about love?!” You swirl your straw in your cup, concentrating on puncturing the remaining bubbles and ignoring your friend’s peals of bemused laughter. “Look, okay? I guess you’re right, Jaz. Maybe I’m just dick-starved,” you suggest, a smile finally claiming your lips. “It has been… a little while. And the last encounter was not very... inspiring.” You wiggle your eyebrows at her and your shared laughter mingles in the space between you. Still, you’re more than a little keen to deflect, and you bounce your foot more furiously under the table in your haste to change the subject. “I just thought it was sweet of him, that’s all, but… forget it, okay? Tell me everything about your hot date with Jackson.”

As soon as the invitation is given, Jaz jumps on it. And, as you listen to her spill the tea on her latest hook-ups with her fancy man, you try really hard to focus - but you can’t help that your thoughts keep wandering time and again to a certain man. A man with the kindest, most soulful cola-coloured eyes. Your neighbour to the right.

You’re unsure why, but you feel a little bent out of shape - a little annoyed, even- that Jaz was so quick to dismiss Richard. Particularly that she had seemed to miss the whole meaning behind his small gesture. He was listening to you. He was thinking about you. And, as you dwell further on it, you realise that maybe -just maybe- you want the kind of guy who brings you stamps, goddammit.

Shit - maybe Jaz wasn’t too far off when she said stamps were your love language after all.

And, true, maybe you hadn’t paid the faintest bit of romantic attention to Richard -for the most part- in the years you’d lived side-by-side with him... but maybe it was time to start. Maybe, in fact, it was well overdue.

***

Granted, it hadn’t struck you right away how sweet Richard’s gesture was, but as soon as it had, you started to notice everything. To remember everything.

You remembered how he pushed a flyer through your door one evening, just in case you might be interested in the latest art exhibit going on at the local rec centre. You recalled how he had duct-taped the handle of your garbage can back together after it spectacularly broke one morning, causing your trash to spill over the sidewalk. It hadn’t seemed like a huge thing at the time, but now, as you imagine him painstakingly unfurling the roll and passing it around and around the broken piece, entirely on his own steam, it takes on a new meaning.

You have begun to notice - really notice- how he always smiles and stops to chat to you, his face lighting up as if he is genuinely pleased to see you. You have begun to notice everything he has done for you, over the years, a deluge of kindness flooding your heart. Details -little things- which seemed insignificant at the time, but which weigh heavier than gold now that you reflect on them.

And, most of all, you have noticed him.

Richard.

You have noticed his positivity. That bounce he gets in his step when he’s enthusiastic about something (which is always). The way his expressive, long-lashed eyes reveal everything he’s feeling whenever he talks or listens - his emotions and his compassionate heart pinned firmly on his sleeve, as prominent as his Corrections Officer badge. You notice how handsome he is; a fact which has inexplicably passed you by for the longest time. Perhaps, because of how understated he is? Not cocky and assured and alpha like the guys you’re usually drawn to.

Tonight, though, most of all, you are noticing that he’s not home, as you sit on your front porch steps, entirely locked out of your own house. You know for a fact that a couple of neighbours have spotted you there - you’ve observed pairs of curtains twitching- and yet no-one has come to your aid so far, mean bastards. You know, in contrast, that Richard would help anyone who needed it, without hesitation. And, it’s fair to say that sitting here, waiting for him to return and help you out, is certainly providing you plenty of opportunity to dwell on thoughts of him. In fact, you can’t wait for him to get home; not only because you wish for relief from the elements, no. But because the thought of seeing him actually excites you. You are looking forward to it.

Finally, thankfully, after the evening chill has long begun to bite at your extremities, you see Richard approaching. He whistles a jaunty tune as he comes up his drive, happy as usual. From his silhouette, you note that he’s dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and his usual ill-fitting jeans, his keys already jangling in his hand, and he stops abruptly when he sees you sat out front as though his feet are glued to the floor.

You can just about make out the smile which tugs at his lips, moments before his words do. He always seems happy to see you, and, on this occasion, you echo that feeling too, more so than ever. “Locked out?” he calls, and at the sound of his voice you stand, hopefully, clasping your purse on your shoulder, your own feet glued to the floor too.

“Yeah,” you call, throwing your voice over to him. “Waiting for the locksmith.”

You grip the strap of your purse a little tighter, as Richard takes a few steps closer, a polite but cautious smile lighting his face. “Want to wait inside?”

“Hell yes,” you gush with a relieved exhale of breath, gratefully trotting around to meet him on his porch where the security light bathes him in a halo of orange. “You’re a babe. Thank you, Richard.” You allow your eyes to gently rove over him as you approach. He’s wearing a turquoise bowling shirt, you realise. A bowling shirt with “Alonso Muñoz” stitched in an adorable flourish of red embroidery above the left shirt pocket. What’s more, he looks cute as all hell in it too. You seem to recall he’s in a casual league with some buddies.

“It’s no trouble,” he says with a warm, disarming smile, deep, pleasing creases radiating from around his eyes – and, even though you aren’t usually one to be lost for words, it is all you can do to smile back at him vacantly, clutching your purse strap tight enough that your knuckles strain.

Richard pauses too, seemingly taking a moment to remember the keys bunched and readied in his hand - as though your presence has pushed all other thoughts out of his head. “You must be cold. Let’s get you warmed up,” he says finally, snapping himself out of his stupor.

Yes please.

And so, with a bashful flutter of his long lashes as you shuffle even closer to him, Richard opens the door and guides you inside, hover-handing his palm at the small of your back.

He smiles widely as he is welcomed by his little fur ball, Lady, the white dog yipping and wagging and jumping up at his shins. Richard stoops to bundle her into his arms, the animal rasping its tongue over his shapely jaw, which he raises as he squirms away from the wet, eager kisses.

“Aw, you’re so precious, Lady,” you baby-talk, reaching out to apply fond scritches to the mop of her head. “I forget how cute you are, little bean!”

Richard chuckles with mirth, seemingly warmed by your sweet interaction with his pupper, and only when Lady gets restless in his arms does he set about plopping her down and refilling her food bowl.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Richard offers, before he briefly excuses himself, dipping away into another room and signalling he’ll be right back.

With Richard gone and Lady chowing down on her dried food, you take the opportunity to glance around the place, surprised by how at home you do feel, already, even though you’ve never set foot in here before. You’ve been in his yard before; for example, when he’s hosted block barbeques, or, when the summer sun has withered from your yard, you’ve sometimes shimmied your deck chair to be side by side with his as you languished together in the remaining patch of sun. But you’ve never been inside his home. Now that you are, you drink in the details of him, eager for any new information you can glean, and scanning over the books and paintings and photographs with particular interest. You smile as your eyes fall upon Lady’s bed, filled with a procession of carefully arranged stuffed animals and chew toys. You are warmed by the painting of a beachy, mountain-edged, palm-fronded sunset, propped against the ‘sill.

You note that his place is homely and well-tended, and you also can’t help but notice that the place signals a rather solitary existence. One plate and one fork drying on the dish rack. A perfectly placed easy chair -for one- in front of the TV, the small couch to its side covered with stacks of books and papers, as if it has been a while since he entertained a guest. In fact, you would take a seat -make yourself at home- but you don’t want to intrude on His Seat, and nor do you wish to disturb his personal papers to clear the couch.

As you ponder this, Richard re-enters, extending a soft, flannel shirt towards you. “Here. In case you’re cold.”

You smile your thanks to him (grinning like a dumbass, actually) and you gratefully slip the garment over your shoulders, feeling instantly warmed. As you wrap it around yourself, you get a waft of fresh-scented detergent. You would never have guessed that you’d be able to recognise any particular Richard-y scent, but as the shirt’s pleasant odour engulfs you, you realise it is infinitely familiar. That it is wildly comforting.

You watch, a brief moment of awkwardness as Richard self-consciously combs his fingers through his thick moustache; sweeps a hand over his already immaculate, plastered-down curls. He looks so... neat. Controlled. Restrained. It crosses your mind that you’d like to mess him up a bit, see him come undone - of course, if he wanted.

Then, noticing your seating predicament, Richard surges over to gather up the strewn piles of mess, shifting them on to the coffee table instead. “Here, take a seat,” he indicates. “Sorry for the mess- I emptied the bureau looking for the stamps. Please. Every time I think to put it back I get distracted.”

His comment is nonchalant, but for the second time since he arrived home, you are at a loss for words, and you can only stare at him as you sink your ass down, gratefully, on to the now emptied couch. He’d gone to that effort for you? And now he’s apologising right to your face for the mess of it?

“That was kind of you, Richard,” you state, finding words again, and he shuffles nervously from shoe to shoe in response. You note that his brown skin grows increasingly flushed, with a deepening undertone of crimson as his eyes skim cautiously over you. “And thank you for letting me hang here. Promise I’ll be out of your hair soon. The locksmith should only be...” You suck in air through your teeth as you un-pocket your cell and glance at the time. “Yikes. Another hour. I’m so sorry to get in the way.”

His moustache twitches with a shy smile, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you from beneath his lashes, his eyes all big and pretty. He certainly doesn’t look put-out, at least. “Not at all - it’s… really nice to have you here,” Richard insists, polite and sincere as ever. You are the one to feel bashful now, and you tug his shirt more firmly around your shoulders for comfort, the act serving to further fluster you and entrance him, it seems. He seems frozen to the spot again, and meanwhile, you’re now feeling overly warmed.

He looks a little lost, for a moment, as though it’s been so long since he had a visitor that he doesn’t quite know what to do with you. In the next second though, his practiced hospitality kicks in, his warm and affable nature shining through as he determines a course of action. “Have you eaten? I could fix you some dinner.”

You are hungry, you think, your tongue darting out along your bottom lip at the thought of food. Well, if he’s going to feed you, you’re not letting him do all the work -you decide- so you tentatively rise from your seat, clapping your palms together, signifying action. “Only if I can help you?”

“O- okay. Yeah. Thank you,” he nods; then, he comes to stand with his hands on his hips, thumbs to the front, causing his soft, rounded belly to protrude exaggeratedly from under his shirt. You’re not sure why that sends a very subtle flare of heat down between your legs, but it does all the same.

Meanwhile, oblivious to your thirsty inner monologue, Richard looks at you reservedly, until you smile and cross together to the humble kitchen, where, with another bashful flutter of his lashes he begins grabbing out utensils and ingredients. All the while, he moves seamlessly around you, so careful never to touch or to invade your personal space. The pronounced and careful lack of contact makes you realise, however -as he skims his body so close yet so far from yours in the compact space- that maybe you desperately want him to touch you. That you wouldn’t mind if his hand brushed your back, or lower. That maybe having him envelop his arms around you would feel as warm and comforting as his shirt – or even more so. That even, perhaps, if he pressed you from behind into the counter, his soft stomach leading, followed by his wide hips pinning you in place, his moustache grazing up the column of your neck, that you wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, the thought of his touch, and even the mere potential of it, fills you with an excited buzz deep in your belly. A thrill that you haven’t felt for a long time – at least, not quite like this.

Right now, though, you set these thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand. You move around each other a little awkwardly, but thankfully, the conversation flows far more easily than your bodies. Richard’s shy and gentle, but he’s friendly. Inquisitive and interesting, and he keeps you chatting. And, so, you converse and cook together, until the resulting, homely odours waft into your nose, keeping your mind firmly on your much more literal hunger; at least, for the most part.

When the steaming food is plated up, Richard invites you to take a seat on the couch and you oblige, watching him fondly and with interest as he produces various condiments, a bottle of Mr. Chimi’s Churri sauce taking pride of place on the surface in front of you. You add a healthy dollop.

“Mmm, this is so good, thank you,” you say approvingly when he invites you to dig in, eagerly wolfing down forkfuls.

As soon as Richard has plonked himself down in his chair and balanced his own plate on his lap, he flicks on the TV – likely, more out of habit than anything. A vibrant telenovela sparks to life in the background, a particularly melodramatic scene in full swing. You smile to yourself. You recognise the show - you’ve heard him talk about it too. Even get the impression he watches religiously.

Richard’s eyes fix on the screen for a moment, and he is visibly suckered-in by the unfolding plot, his food disappearing at an impressive rate as he scoops it up to his mouth while he watches. Still, he doesn’t forget you’re there. Quite the contrary.

“It’s so sad,” he explains for your benefit, between his mouthfuls of dinner, his eyes overflowing with warmth as he turns to you. “Carlos and Adela are so in love, but they can’t be together. She’s engaged to Luis. She has to stay with him to save the family home because she already signed some papers.”

You smile, Richard’s heartfelt summary filling you with warmth. He cares about people. It’s what he does. Apparently, he’s even invested in the fictional ones. You try hard to supress your good-natured amusement at quite how invested he is; however, when his gaze meets yours once again, flicking back and forth between you and the screen, he must catch a hint of it in your expression. “Sorry,” he flusters. “I can turn this off, if you like?” he offers gently, eyes apologetic.

“Are you kidding?” you respond, with a warm smile. You’re no stranger to becoming over-invested in fiction, you suppose, and besides - you like the prospect of sharing this with him. “Catch me up some more,” you encourage. “So, we’re rooting for Carlos?”

Richard smiles gratefully, nodding vigorously in response. You like seeing him like this. In his own element, his own environment, doing things he typically enjoys. It’s nice to see him living his best life, thriving on the drama of the trope-laden plot. “I hope Carlos crashes the wedding. Luis doesn’t deserve her.”

“Yikes. You’re brutal, Alonso Muñoz,” you tease, a musical laugh lilting out of you.

You chat back and forth, an amused smile twitching at the corner of your mouth for the duration, and although Richard seems somewhat entranced by the developing storyline, he seems even more invested in you. He makes sure to listen to you, even when you’re sure you must be talking over an important detail. He ensures he fills you in on any prior plot point you may need for context.

And, while his eyes do intermittently flick back toward the screen, your eyes, however, remain firmly fixed on him. On the singular swoop of his meticulously parted, grizzled curls. On his long lashes blinking, his deep eyes shining beneath them, glinting in tandem with the light from the screen. His warm, brown skin and the lines etched in it when he smiles cast with a bluish hue, flickering light and shadow ghosting over the contours of his strong nose and chin and his heavy brow. The soft, inviting rolls of his stomach as he relaxes into his chair, and the way his belly shakes when he laughs. Of course, his glorious moustache, positively flourishing on his upper lip. Last but not least, what most gets you though, are his eyes. Eyes as kind and expressive and open as this sweet man’s heart is.

You laugh alongside him, hoping he is enjoying the company as much as you are. You could get used to this, you think; used to him. Indeed, you have no idea how you have managed to overlook this man, beautiful inside and out, until now. You resolve though, that you won’t make that same mistake again.

Eventually, the credits roll, and you thank Richard once more for the food. He carries your plate over to the sink, insisting -when you offer- that the dishes can languish there for one night. And so, instead of rising, you pat the couch cushion beside you invitingly. His throat bobs around a hard swallow as he stands before you, his feet momentarily glued to the floor; yet again. When Richard finally musters movement and takes a seat next to you, he places himself as far away from you as he possibly can on the small two-seater; out of respect rather than repulsion, you are more than sure. However, the compact space affords him little chance to keep his distance, and his clothed thigh presses warm against your own. He doesn’t make any attempt to move away though, and, equally, nor do you.

“Thank you, Richard,” you say, your voice softer and far more breathy than you intended, now that he is so close to you.

He clears his throat self-consciously, before his eyes crease with a sincere smile. “It’s no trouble. Anytime.” He sounds like he means it too.

You lean back, settling yourself deeper into the worn and slightly lumpy couch cushions. His posture, meanwhile, is still alarmingly stiff beside you, his torso upright and his hands folded formally in his lap. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d say that, perhaps, you made him nervous.

“Richard, I don’t bite,” you soothe. “Sit back. Relax. It’s your home.”

He nods in concession, exhaling his tensely held breath. “Yes, Ma’am,” he sounds obediently. You don’t think you’ve ever had anyone call you Ma’am before; but you note that you don’t entirely mind it, out of Richard’s mouth. You maybe even… like it?

Anyway, outside of your increasingly feral internal monologue, Richard reaches over to flick on the soft, ambient lamp to his side -the room having grown thick with shadows- and then he is sinking back, resting his head against the couch cushions alongside you.

You turn your head and tilt your torso a little towards him. When Richard does the same, it evokes a sense of intimacy that you weren’t all the way prepared for; the rest of the room seems to disappear as you are both held in a close circle of oranged light, the TV nothing but a lulling, background hum now. “I mean it... I... I wanted to thank you properly. For the stamps.”

“It’s no trouble,” he repeats, his voice deep and resonant and close now, catching you off-guard. No trouble? Sure. Despite the fact he’d clearly emptied-out everything in his living room to find them. “Did you send your letters?” he enquires softly, his eyebrows jumping up a little.

You can’t supress the bittersweet smile which inches over your face as you respond. “I did, and I got the cutest video call from my nieces when their mail arrived.” That wouldn’t have happened. Not without him being so thoughtful. You’d have put it off and put it off. The letters would still be sat on your dresser.

Richard’s eyes light, and he looks genuinely pleased for you, his face glowing. “I’m glad.” He smiles, revealing a flash of his cute, ever so slightly imperfect (and therefore entirely perfect) teeth. Finally beginning to relax again, his hands rest flat astride his sturdy thighs and his head lolls towards you. With his next words, his voice becomes even softer. “I can tell you miss them since they moved away. Portland, right? I, uh. I really hoped you would send those letters. I know how much they can mean to people.”

“Portland. Yeah. Wow, you remember that?” You have to admit that you are a little shocked. Richard listened to you. Really listened to you. And, not only that, but he clearly read between the lines, connecting the dots between each one of your ad hoc interactions in a way which you -apparently- had failed to do thus far.

Jaz would scoff at you right now, you know it, if she could see you becoming all shy and flustered for him.

And now you want to fuck him?

But it wasn’t only that he brought you the stamps, okay? It was why he did it. He did it, because he knew what it might mean for you. Because, evidently, not only did he notice that you were sad -about something you barely let yourself acknowledge, by the way- but he also cared enough to try to make you happy instead.

The realisation that he cares is an emotional thing, causing a slight lump to rise in your throat. It should probably make you happy, but in fact, it saddens you. It saddens you because -you realise now- you have taken for granted all this time how easy Richard is to talk to. Have taken for granted the way he has been privy to so many candid details about your life.

Richard has often been the first person you’ve spoken to when you arrived home -sometimes the only person- and you have never hesitated to share your good news and triumphs with him. Nor have you hesitated to vent, sharing the more difficult details of your bad days. You’ve taken for granted just how much of yourself you’ve cumulatively shared with him; in a way you don’t often share with anyone else. Richard has been an important part of your life all these years, without you truly realising it. Perhaps because your interactions with him have tended to exist in such a liminal, peculiar space in your day. Perhaps because you were too close to see the big picture, instead of this collection of valuable, little things.

You hug your arms around yourself. You can merely repeat it again. “Thank you. For real.”

“It’s just a little thing,” he dismisses, modestly, and you are very suddenly tired of him dismissing himself. You want him to know how appreciated he is. Embodying this, your hand darts out to grip his where it rests on his thigh, and Richard looks down at this small spectacle in mild shock; and yet, he doesn’t pull away from your touch.

“It’s not. It’s a lot of things, Richard. I want you to know I appreciate everything you do. It has... It has been a long time since anyone was so sweet to me.”

Feeling self-conscious suddenly, following your outburst of affection, you inch your hand away from his; retreating, and reining yourself back in. For a moment, Richard’s fingers twitch up from his pant leg as though they might chase yours; but then, his hand stills, settled on his thigh just as before.

Then, a crease appears at his brow. “None of your Adonises are sweet to you?”

Your nose crinkles in confusion. “My... Adonises?”

“The... your... gentlemen visitors.”

Your brow creases, as you try to detect whether there is any judgement or malice in his observation, but, knowing him, you are not inclined to think there is. Still, you feel there is more to uncover. He’s noticed your dates coming and going then? He thinks they’re… Adonises? He’s surprised they aren’t sweet to you?

Still, as soon as the words are out of his mouth, perhaps realising how they might be misinterpreted, that crimson undertone to his skin flares again, this time reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. He looks like he wants the couch to swallow him up, and you can’t help but feel for him. “I just meant...”

“-It’s okay,” you say, swooping in to rescue him before he can start helplessly blabbering. He keenly takes the invitation to stop, his mouth suddenly clamping shut, ready to listen. And you? You are ready to talk. The words seem to come so easily around him. “I guess... you’re right. I’ve been on some dates but they...” you sigh, furrowing your brow as you try to find the words. “That’s all fine. Most of the time it’s really fun. Or it was. But... lately...”

“Lately?” Richard encourages, when you don’t go on, his voice barely above a whisper as he hangs on your every word.

“Lately, I think… That maybe it would be nice to have somebody who doesn’t just come and go. To have… somebody to love, I guess?”

“Somebody to love,” Richard ponders, his expression becoming wistful. His head begins moving up and down ever so slowly, gradually building to a more adamant nod. He smiles, but his eyes don’t crease at the corners this time. “That really does sound nice.”

It shocks you, but seeing him even a little sad, like that, has your hands fisting in the material of your skirt, as you resist the urge to reach out for him and offer comfort. You want to cup his face in your hand and kiss him senseless, until his eyes glow once more, imbued with his characteristic positivity. You want to care for him and protect him and make him laugh and spend time with him and…

Fuck.

You want to love him, you realise, and the thought scares you down to your bones. It scares you enough that you sit forwards, breaking this most peculiar tension. Changing the topic. And, abrupt as it may be, at least it works.

“What are you reading?” you ask, shrugging his shirt from your shoulders as a hot, cloying flush creeps along your skin and up your neck, prickly enough that it feels like fingertips. As you imagine Richard’s fingers dancing the same path over your bare shoulder blade, slipping beneath the spaghetti strap of your top, peeling it down, you hurriedly pick up the first book you can put your hands on, turning it in your palms without taking in a word written on it.

Poor Richard. You must be giving the sweet man whiplash.

Still, he leans forward in his seat too, sombrely taking the book from your hands and gazing down at the cover.

“Ah. It’s a bleak topic,” he warns. A deep crease appears in his brow. “It’s Night, by Elie Wiesel – a survivor’s account of his experiences during the Holocaust.”

Your expression turns grave and pinched and you nod, listening carefully as Richard recounts some of the key details. Then, together, you continue to pore through the pile, tackling each book in turn. You listen intently to Richard recount the various synopses, passionate and precise and sensitive in his summaries. It seems he reads a lot of non-fiction. Heavy reading, with many titles about the prison system, and atrocities - often both. But, you understand why it’s important to him. You are grateful to understand how his empathetic nature begets yet more empathy, as he seeks to expand his knowledge of experiences and histories different to his own.

At first sight, you think it’s seemingly at odds that such a positive man seeks out such dark accounts, but it makes sense to you, in a strange way. After all, he wants to understand how things can be better. He believes they can be. You don’t know anything more Richard-y than that.

Reaching for the next title, you find it is a little different to the rest. You are reluctant to segue too abruptly from such heavy topics, keen to give them the merit they deserve, but at the same time you are grateful for a little lightness as you pick-up what appears to be a slightly trashy romance novel. You smile fondly, connecting the dots between this and the telenovela plotlines that seem to grab his attention; the way he seems so in love with love. Again, you consider how the two sides of him -the more serious and seemingly more trivial - may seem at odds, but that actually, they each reveal what is at the core of him. He is interested in people. He’s invested.

“And this book?” you ask tentatively, not even trying to stifle your smile as your eyes wander over the cover, two half-dressed people locked in an erotic, sordid embrace. You are especially keen to hear what he has to say about this one too.

“Well… Like you said. Somebody to love - right? Don’t we all need those kinds of stories?”

Your eyes glow with admiration. Whilst he’s not cocky or overly assured, no, you are coming to admire Richard’s quiet confidence in who he is and what he cares about. His integrity and his lack of embarrassment in the things he chooses to value. His delight and lack of shame in the things that he enjoys. He’s not afraid to be who he is. You think that’s wonderful.

Next, your eyes flick back to the final book on the pile, partly for completeness but also out of curiosity. You feel with each title you pick-up, you are learning something about him; and, frankly, you want to know everything there is to find out. You look at it with a start however, when you realise what the final book in the pile is.

It’s your book. It’s the anthology of poetry you’d self-published around a year ago, and sold at your local readings. You reach for it instantly, almost cradling it in your hands like a precious object. Not because it’s yours - not exactly- but because it’s his. His copy looks eminently different to the spares you still have boxed-up in your house, all fresh and crisp, spines unbroken. This one looks a little worn around the edges - well-thumbed, spine broken-in. Some of the pages are dog-eared, and various makeshift bookmarks are sticking out of it. You’ve never seen one of your publications looking so… beautiful. So treasured.

“You actually read this?” you ask, a little overwhelmed, your heart hammering, and tears spiking in your eyes.

“I read it often. I told you, I really like it!”

You stroke the cover with your palm. “Honestly? I thought you were just being polite.”

When you’d mentioned to him for the first time that you wrote poetry -specifically erotic poetry- and had invited him to the reading, Richard had looked, at first, as though he was ready to die of embarrassment. Regardless, he’d still come along - your only neighbour to have done so. You vaguely remember having spoken to him the day afterward about it, but when you think of the show itself, you can’t picture him there. Now, you desperately wrack your memory of the event, searching for him. Wishing you could recall him showing-up for you in such an important way.

It had been such a blur, though. You’d had a lot of friends there. You’d had a date there, who, at the time, you’d thought was the be all and end all. Now, however, you curse yourself for overlooking Richard. You wish you could go back and root through the crowd for him. You wish you could bring him into the spotlight. Bring him into your arms. And yet, while you ponder all of this, Richard reaches for the book and gently lifts it from your hands, with a gentle hum. It practically falls open on one particular page.

“This one is my favourite,” he admits bashfully. “Salted Peach. I must have it almost memorised by now.” You turn to him, studying his face. His expressive eyes are full of a heat gentler and more nuanced than your words could ever hope to be, you think, as he pores over the page. Over your words.

“No way. Prove it, Alonso Muñoz,” you challenge, exhaling a laugh that is surprised and disbelieving and utterly delighted all at once.

You don’t expect him to take you up on it, but the man sets his face, both more determined and more playful than you think you have seen him so far, as he hands the book back to you. “Okay,” he smiles, softly. “I’ll give it a go.”

You hold your breath as his eyes flutter closed -so that you know he has zero chance of cheating- his long lashes fanning-out beautifully over his cheek. You take the chance to look over his handsome features, while he can’t interrupt your surreptitious study.

Then, he begins. His voice is hushed and unsure, yet the richness of it washes over you, right from the first line.

“Like salt kept on the lips,

To resist is to rust,” he begins, and your breath catches in your chest.

“Let me be an oiled thing under you, all fluid and opening smoothly

With keen, slick hinges.”

First, you are struck that he really does know it. That he really does remember it, almost word perfect. You exhale a breath in disbelief, your chest filling with butterflies.

“A ruined peach

Spilling nectar over your thumb,” he continues, and desire knots deep in your belly.

It’s not that the words are explicit – they aren’t. But something about the way he recites them -recounts your desire- makes them feel positively sinful, his voice quietly confident and subtly erotic as he recites your words. You don’t only hear the words, but you feel them, almost as if his thumb really has punctured you.

You are becoming slick already, feeling like a ruined, grateful fruit. You want to be his fruit, you think. His salted peach.

“You can be my stiffness

My joints

My... (my stone heart? Is that right?)” he interjects.

“It’s perfect,” you encourage, your voice trembling slightly, even as his grows ever more robust, and, as you bolster him, he sits a little taller in his seat, his posture proud and the new confidence reflected in his voice as he proceeds. As he grows, stiffer, taller, you become liquid, and you writhe your heat subtly against your seat. You press your thighs closer together.

Enraptured, you watch his lips and tongue move seamlessly around the words. The micro-expressions on his face, revealing how tenderly he wishes to portray them, every word imbued with care. With expression, and feeling.

“(Got it...) My stone heart

And I, boneless;

Bodiless flesh.”

As he continues, you close your eyes too. You stop checking the words against the book and you let yourself feel them. You let them wash over you. You let his voice wash over you; to sink and curl into the pit of you. You squirm in place, and yet this shifting makes you all too aware of your stillness – this fixed position and distance from him, when surely you should be moving and surging and undulating on him? Surely you should be leaning in and hearing the deep yet gentle timbre of his words waft into the shell of your ear, or fanning over your skin?

Surely, he should be touching you?

Your heart is racing.

“Salt me, then.

Lick your lips and taste me; sweetly.”

You want to taste him. Be tasted.

“Only on your tongue, do I exist.

Only in your hand, do I perish.”

You want to exist and perish on his hand.

“Do not keep me on your lips.

Oil me with your writhing”

You want to be swallowed by him. Oiled by him. Made slick.

“Or else I rust.”

You are rapt. His words -no, your words, spoken by him- melting you.

His voice. So rich, and so sensual, and you could swear, as you listen to him, that your words have never sounded so erotic. That you have never felt them as deeply as you do now, hearing them fall from his tongue and his lips. Hearing them flow from his heart, as he recites them in a way you’ve never heard them; an interpretation entirely unique to him.

In fact, listening to him, like this, lights a flame in the pit of you, a heat suffusing through you, warming everywhere. He warms you, even from this distance, and you can feel how much heat he has to give. And, on boy. You want to lap it up. Every. Last. Drop.

“I... I forgot the next part,” he adds, shyly, his confidence wavering, and you open your eyes, beginning to recite the rest for him.

“Oh, love,

I long to be a fluid thing;

Under you.”

It sounds… true. It feels right. It feels so right to say those words to him. So right that it knocks the air from out of you.

At the sound of your voice, you watch a soft, unfiltered smile appear on Richard’s face, his still-closed eyes creasing deliciously at the corners, his moustache animating with it.

“And yet you resist me; rust me,” you continue, voice full of fissures, and Richard’s eyes slowly peel open, pooling with heat. This time, unlike the other times his eyes have met yours, he holds your gaze - doesn’t drop his eyes from yours in a flurry of bashfulness and fluttered lashes. He holds your gaze and he holds you, in this moment. In this little circle of intimacy, his eyes glowing, all for you. Pooling with that heat, so nuanced and gentle, but every bit as hot as anything you’ve ever touched.

Your voice and your smile and your heart crack wide open as you continue.

“You are salt kept on my lips;”

You complete the last lines at the same time, eyes locked.

“Always tempting.

I seize up.”

Of all the swimming emotions rising at that moment, gratitude balls in your heart most intensely, and yet again, it is all you can do to thrust it towards him, your humble offering.

“Thank you,” you say, for the nth time that evening, a smile of the purest joy still splitting your face. “That was really beautiful.”

It’s hard to comprehend how moved you are by what just happened. You are shocked. Flattered. That someone appreciates your words, that they resonate at all, makes you feel so seen. That the person is Richard is more of a treasure than you can fathom, and it causes a flood of raw, reckless emotion, joyful tears brimming in your eyes.

In return, Richard’s eyes shine as he regards you, with an admiration so deep and yet prominent that you almost shrink back from it. “They’re your words,” he impresses, aiming, as ever, to shrink himself instead.

You shake your head. You won’t have that. “No, Richard - it’s the way you recited them. I swear you should do my next reading for me. You’re so…” You search desperately for the right words, and you can’t find ones any more fitting. “…So fucking beautiful.”

And you call yourself a poet?

Your eyes well up.

You feel entirely caught off guard and just a little silly that you are getting yourself upset in front of him, and yet Richard’s eyes narrow kindly as you try to scrub a stray tear away from your cheek. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soothing, and in the next breath he reaches out to touch you, his hand settling over the top of yours. The gesture is a little awkward, unsure, but only until his hand is in place. After that it simply feels... right. Perfect, in fact.

He strokes you, his thumb ghosting slowly, minutely over your pulse point, sending a delicious shiver along your spine. His eyes search yours, and you become thoroughly lost in the intensity of them. Lost in a way that you don’t ever wish to find yourself again. Lost in a way that turns everything on its head - has you finally feeling found.

“I loved hearing you read. It was so wonderful. You should definitely do another event,” Richard gushes. “I’m sure I could listen to you read from this all night.” With that, and the scenario it conjures, perhaps, he looks down at his hand on yours. Maybe growing self-conscious, or worried that he is overstepping; that he has lingered there too long. Suddenly, though, you don’t think any length of time could be too long for him to be touching you.

When your gaze drops to his lips, however, his moustache bristles, and he quickly snatches his hand back to his lap. “Have you written anything lately?” he asks hurriedly, scooping up the book again, his topic change giving off the same energy as yours did previously.

You wonder if he is imagining your fingers trailing over his bare flesh now too. You hope so. Oh how you hope.

At his question, though, you exhale a small laugh, pumping your eyebrows once as your face splits in a smile. You shake your head gently. “I haven’t been... it’s a while since I was, let’s say, properly inspired by an encounter,” you explain, looking down at your hands in your lap, missing his contact already. “I’m just... Hmmph. I don’t know. It’s just... missing something. Guess they don’t make Adonises like they used to,” you add flippantly, poking light fun, partly at yourself.

Contrary to your flippancy, Richard becomes more serious. A gulp trails down his throat, and he seems suddenly frozen in place; seized up. As if he needs you to oil him so that he doesn’t rust. “W-What are you missing?” he asks, his voice lower than you’ve heard it, slightly more grit to it. His chest visibly rising, breaths slightly quickened; just like yours.

You look into his deep, cola-coloured eyes.

You?

What are you missing? You’re not sure, but somehow you feel that whatever it is, Richard could give it to you in moments.

Still, you don’t answer. You can’t. Instead, you ask him a question in return. You ask him a question feeling that, somehow, in a roundabout way, both of your questions may arrive at precisely the same answer.

“Why that poem?” you question, softly, lifting your eyes to him. “Why is that one your favourite?”

“I... I think...” he swallows again, then he whets his plush lips with a flick of his pink tongue. “It’s about longing, isn’t it? About being... lonely? About... wanting... someone in particular.” He fixes his expressive eyes on a point on the table, unable to look at you, it seems, in that moment. Still, his words are telling enough alone, you think, even without you seeing that same sentiment mirrored in his eyes too.

Now, you have another question. “Do you ever... get lonely? Are you? Lonely?”

It’s not even an assumption about him, you vaguely realise. It’s a projection. A projection of how you feel, and how you never realised you felt. It’s a desperate plea for affinity. For that longing to be understood, finally.

You are the one who is rusted. Seized up.

However, as soon as the question is out of your mouth you wish you could retract it. Loneliness is a solitary thing, after all, and you have no business, you suppose, wading into anyone else’s.

“I’m so sorry, please don’t answer that,” you mutter quickly, your fingers darting out to ghost along his forearm in apology, your naturally tactile nature coming through.

He drops his gaze towards your fingers there, watching them skimming his warm skin and the soft, dark hairs on his arms. He doesn’t inch away. Instead, he lifts his eyes to you, and you know the answer before he says it aloud. You know the answer as his emotions are written clearly in his eyes. Worn on his sleeve, like his badge.

The weight of his loneliness crushes you as if it was your own.

“Me too,” you admit, nodding softly, and his mouth curls briefly into a small, sad smile as your fingers continue their slow inch across his skin.

He sits in that sadness for a moment, and then, tentatively, as a thought flashes across his eyes, he brightens, just a little – looking mildly more hopeful. “Well,” he suggests, bravely. “Maybe we can… keep each other company?”

That really does sound nice.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Richard reaches out to fumble away the single tear ever so suddenly coursing down your face, swiping a line on your cheek with the pad of his thumb, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything so tender as his touch in that moment. It is yet another little thing; like the graze of a match head along its box. A little act, charged, with all this dangerous potential for a much larger, blazing thing to ignite.

You nod, the corners of your mouth trembling. “I would like that.” You would like that a lot.

Richard searches your eyes, and, ever so slowly - always slowly- as if you don’t wish to scare him away, you dare to hook your arm into his at the elbow, and you lower your head until it is resting on top of his shoulder.

“Is – Is this okay, Richard?” you ask in a small voice, pleading inwardly with the universe that he will say yes. That it is.

“This is... perfect,” he responds, even as he remains stiff against you, and, given his affirmation, you curl and scooch your body, shuffling a little closer to him. Bolstered too, with seeming new-found confidence, Richard raises him arm over you, and he nestles you safely against him where you can better feel his warmth. Where, with your knees drawing up on to his lap and your ear coming to rest on his chest, you can feel and hear the quickened thud of his racing heart as he holds you. His beautiful, kind, open heart.

Your mouth extends in a watery smile as you are held by him. He’s right. It’s a little thing, but it is perfect, isn’t it?

Still, again, although you should feel light, you feel heavy. With emotion. With longing. And so, you reach for another topic change. You reach for lightness. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an incredibly impressive moustache?” you enquire into his shirt, another solitary tear slipping over the bridge of your nose and wetting the flourish of red stitching.

Giving yourself whiplash now, you smile, as Richard’s chest shakes beneath you with gentle, easy laughter.

“Well, not everybody is a fan.”

“Who would actually dare?” you exclaim, as if thoroughly scandalised. “Fuck them, Richard. I like it. I like it a lot.”

His fingers trace shapes on your back. “Thank you.”

You are pleased to feel him gradually relax against you, his form melding with yours, his body becoming less stiff. Less rusted; more of a fluid thing.

“Do you… do you have a little moustache comb?”

Another chuckle. “I do,” he confirms, and you don’t know why on earth that detail settles it, but you think that he must certainly be the most perfect man on earth.

You go silent for a moment, but Richard prompts you gently - “No more questions for me?”- as if he was enjoying your mood-lightening segue. You are more than happy to oblige the sweet man by continuing, and you chew on your lip as you come up with something.

“Are you on Tinder?” A cheeky smile claims your mouth again - you’d kill to see his profile.

You’d think about the fact he’d probably never send unsolicited dick pics, but… then you’d be thinking about dick pics, and that’s one dangerous road towards Feral Town.

While you ponder this, Richard laughs again, but it’s a little self-deprecating this time. “No... I... I was for a while, but I...”

“What?”

He inhales and sighs his whole breath out again - a sad sound. His tone when he speaks is equally morose. “I’m… not sure people are looking for someone like me.”

At that, you abruptly sit up, narrowing your eyes and fixing a determined, earnest stare on him. You reach up, gingerly, moved to cup his cheek with your palm, his groomed sideburn and the plume of his moustache pleasantly rough under your fingers. You make sure he is looking you in the eyes. “Richard,” you contest, with every scrap of sincerity you can muster; and then some. “I think everybody must be looking for somebody like you.”

His eyes are pierced by a peculiar emotion you haven’t seen there yet. At first it looks like pain, but then it levels off until his eyes are shining, with something resembling pride or gratitude. When a smile finally twitches his moustache, your gaze drops to his lips again, and you are no longer surprised by how easy it is to think about kissing him, desire unfurling in your belly at an alarming rate. A palpable, mutual longing eddies in the space between you.

You surprise yourself though, by dipping to press a sweet, chaste kiss into his cheek, rather than sinking towards his lips as you so wish to do. When you perform this gesture, his eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a soft, involuntary hum, the sound gathering in your very bones and setting up camp there. As you dip back from him, the edge of his moustache grazes your cheek, and you have to admit it’s sort of electrifying. You imagine how it would tickle if you were kissed by him. How it would tickle wherever you were kissed.

The lines of poetry, so to speak, are writing themselves in your mind, already. You haven’t felt this inspired in a long time, and yet, on this occasion, you want to wait. You don’t want to rush it - even though you’ve never felt the need to quell your desires on many occasions before. Life is short, after all – too short to waste. However, something tells you that Richard is the type of man you should savour. Something tells you, that you may have found somebody to love, and, you may not love often; but when you do, you love slow.

So, you pull away from Richard, and you note that his eyes have fluttered closed. When he opens them again, you know that this kiss on the cheek was the right thing to do. You see subtle tears shining in his eyes. Again, he looks pained -with first appearances- but these tears, on second examination you think, are joyful. His heart joyful yet heavy, exactly like yours. After all, when you are overwhelmed with joy all at once, with a flood of little, happy things, it can weigh you down, at first, if the measure of joy is not one which you are quite accustomed to. If you are not practised at carrying it.

At that point, contemplating joy, you are ripped cruelly from the moment, as, with the worst and best possible timing, your phone buzzes to life, vibrating against your hip until you reach to fish out the insistent device.

“The locksmith is here, Richard. I have to go.”

“Y- yeah. Okay,” he nods, despite the fact everything about him is conveying the opposite sentiment.

I don’t want to go.

“Thank you so much.”

He nods again, and, wanting to leave him with a parting thought (or, not wanting to leave him at all, but needs must), you have the bright idea to pick up your book from the table, thumbing through it quickly to find the page you want. A poem called The Flood.

“Recommended bedtime reading,” you wink, thrusting the book towards his chest and standing, grabbing your purse and making your way towards the door. “I can give you back your shirt tomorrow, right?” you say cheekily. “Maybe after dinner?”

Richard stands too, following you towards the door like he’s magnetised to you, Lady trotting along too, inquisitively, her little black nose snuffling at the air.

“A-after dinner?” he enquires, confused, as you sweep out in a little bit of a whirlwind.

“Yeah, Richard,” you smile coyly from beneath your lashes, injecting some flirtation into your tone. “I owe you dinner. To make it up to you.”

“You don’t need to make it up to...”

You arch an eyebrow at him, looking at him pointedly and smoothing your hand over his upper arm until he gets the gist. When your meaning dawns on him, he gets that adorable, excited little spring in his step. You revel in his bright toothy smile, striking and pearly from beneath the thick brush of his moustache. “I know a nice little pasta place. And there’s a great documentary playing at the Coolidge if you want to catch it?”

“Sure,” you agree, dipping forward to plant another lingering kiss on his cheek in the doorway, relishing the feel of that moustache all over again. “It’s a date.”

Evidently flustered, and in no bad way, Richard fumbles for words and finds none, omitting a mere collection of stunted syllables and unfinished sounds in response.

You wink at him, and before swooping off, you add one final thing. “Feel free to consider the bedtime reading a preview, okay? If you’d like.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up in disbelief. You get the feeling he already knows exactly what that particular poem is about. “Yes, ma’am.” he nods, looking sweetly and longingly and adoringly after you as you sashay away.

“Goodnight, neighbour to the right.”

“Goodnight, neighbour to the left.”

You allow yourself one last long look at him before you retreat, an unstoppable smile splitting your face, and, seeing him stood in the doorway, smiling after you, only cements everything you have come to learn this evening.

From now on, neither of you will be lonely anymore. There will be no more longing. Instead, there will be a flood, you think.

THE END

PART TWO IS HERE

#Richard Alonso Muñoz #richard alonso munoz x reader #the letter room #oscar isaac #richard alonso muñoz x reader

367 notes · View notes

mystic-sky · 4 years

Text

A/N: In honor of reaching 400 followers, I decided to make this into a short series. I don’t know how many parts it’ll be. Thank you guys for reading my stuff and showing me love 🥺💕 you’re all so sweet 😭😭😭😭😭 I would also like to thank @teoran for the precious idea that allowed this story to come to be ❤️❤️

✨Part 2 here✨ | ✨Part 3/4 on ao3 only✨

“So, you’ve never actually been here before?” Suguru let out an annoyed sigh as his best friend draped his arm over his shoulders.

“No, but I heard this is one of the nicer ones.” Satoru says. “Besides, none of them are hard to look at.”

“I would’ve been content going out to dinner with everyone else-

“Lighten up! You do that all the time. You’re single so why not spoil yourself a little?” The white haired male insisted.

“Stuff like this feels degrading, and some of them are topless.” Suguru really hasn’t been to a strip club before. He wasn’t a prude, but surely his respect for women had him steer clear of places like this.

“Yeah— strippers do that sometimes.” Satoru laughed, taking hold of his drink.

“And it’s not degrading- they’re hard working women. Stop talking like an old man and enjoy the show.” He added, respectfully. Suguru took a sip of his drink, watching a new dancer approach the platform. A sweet, caramel skinned girl had taken the stage, swaying around the pole in front of them.

“This is Tasty.” Someone over the loud speaker introduced her. “We recommend Tasty for new comers. She’s a bubbly, friendly dancer who feels like the girl next door. Tasty is currently ranked 3rd in our private dancer line up for this week.

“Look at her,” Satoru said, pulling his lip between his teeth. “That’s Tasty. I heard so many good things about her. She’s so much more petite and cuter in person.”

Suguru only nonchalantly took another drink, but he was definitely looking. The tan skinned girl wrapped her body around the pole, delicately twisting herself right in front of the both of them. After shaking her ass for a bit, she moved down the stage, dancing for other customers.

“I’ve got so much cash on me, Suguru-chan~! We’re gonna have so much fun.” He nudges his barely flustered friend.

“And try not to look so serious, before you scare the ladies away.” He rolled his eyes underneath his dark sunglasses.

“You think I’m scary looking?” Suguru raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah but in a sexy way.” Satoru leant forward, almost touching noses with the dark haired male. He really had no regards for personal space.

“Wait til the girls find out you’re a huge softy underneath.” Satoru laughed.

The tan stripper on the stage descended down the steps, wrapping up her routine and passing the two of them. Satoru pulled his shades down, winking at the girl, and handing her a generous tip. He watched her swoon a bit before running off, bra full of singles.

“Candy, you’re on next.” Tasty called out to you as she entered the locker rooms. You were intently positioning your false lashes on in the mirror. You heard all the girls bustling on about some attractive men who were tipping nicely tonight as you got ready.

You hum in response, bending down and adjusting your straps on your shoes.

“He winked at me, he winked at me!!!!” Tasty said, fawning with the other girls who were peaking out the doorway.

“Girl, you have to see this. They’re the hottest guys I’ve ever seen.” Tasty cooed at you.

“They’re so tall. I got so shy and ran off. I’m sure the one with the sunglasses was flirting with me. I’m gonna go give him a dance, I just needed time to collect myself.” The tanned skinned girl held her cheeks in her hand as she spoke.

“Tasty’s got a crush hmmm?” You say smugly before standing up straight. You look at the hundred dollar bill sticking out of her bra amongst the many singles. You raise an eyebrow at her before you take both of your breasts in your hands, doing a jiggle test to see if they’d pop out your body suit.

“You’ll have a crush too as soon as you see them.” Tasty rolls her eyes. You’re barely intrigued. You’d been infatuated with the same man since high school, and no one could compare to him.

Granted, the both of you weren’t actually dating, nor do you believe he had any idea about your affections or actually reciprocated them. He would occasionally flirt with you, but do not be mistaken— he was a complete asshole. You often rejected his advances, telling him to fix his off putting attitude. This led him to tease and mess with you more, but he still loves to do his best to get you flustered all the while. You couldn’t date someone who lacked so much compassion. But even so, every time you saw him, your knees went weak.

You were partially rejecting him because you were also a busy woman, and you barely had time to fraternize with him the way you wanted to during your day job. When you both were younger and went to school at the academy, he actively made you feel like you were losing to him because he was such a prodigy. Being on his team really sucked because even though you were producing proficient results, standing beside him only made you look just above average.

“Let’s see what this is all about.” You say, strutting towards the huddle your co workers created in the hall. You worm your way through, getting a glimpse of the two men that had everyone’s hormones in a frenzy.

“Oh no.”

You watched as the white haired narcissist threw his head back in laughter, conversing flirtatiously amongst the other waitresses and dancers that crowded around him.

Fucking Gojo Satoru.

“Oh no, no, no.”

Impossible. You were upset that you’d know that laugh of his anywhere. Not to mention his hair made him stick out like a sore thumb.

The only person who knew of your double life was Shoko. And Shoko wouldn’t tell a soul.

Beside Satoru was a seemingly mellow Geto Suguru, grinning softly towards all of the women around them.

You sought death. That was the only way out of this situation- on a stretcher, covering your face and body and keeping your anonymity.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You say, squatting all the way down to the floor and crawling back into the locker room, praying not to be seen.

“Candy, girl, are you okay?” Your stage manager peered down at you as you slumped behind the love seat in the corner.

“Those guys out there— the two of them work at my day job.” You mutter, burying your face into your knees.

“You know them?!” Tasty interjects.

“Unfortunately,” you nodded. “And the white haired one likes to mess with me a lot.”

“You wanna go home early?” Your manager asks. You had bills to pay, and but quite honestly, one day wouldn’t hurt.

But for some reason you couldn’t help but feel like you’d be allowing him to win somehow by doing that. It was silly- he had no idea of your existence here so this was hardly considered a competition. But this was your space, and you refused to be forced to cower within it.

You stand up, scanning the room for something unique to wear.

“I’m not letting that bastard ruin my bag. I’m getting my money tonight.” You sway towards the vanity, discovering a silk blindfold with eye sockets. You wrap the cloth around your eyes, adjusting it so you can see properly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yup.” You say confidently, fluffing your hair in the mirror. Besides, it’s only one night, you thought.

You walk out of the prep room, walking towards the steps of the stage. You walked right past the two of them, feeling so many eyes on you as you slowly ascended the stairs.

Both their heads shifted towards you, the sound of pre-cheers and compliments from regular customers ringing with your every step.

“This is Candy.” The host spoke into the loudspeaker. “All the boys want a piece of her. She’s the sweetest dancer here, and she’ll make you forget all your troubles with her playful smile. This week, Candy currently ranks number one in our private dancer line up.”

You were above the two gentleman who were posted up in the front of the stage. Just how did these fuckers find this place? You looked down at the two of them, like a queen looking towards her subjects. You started your routine, smiling your signature smile just like you always did. You wrapped your hands around the pole, swinging your body. The cheers and music rang through your ears. Dollars were being thrown at you, but you were so distracted by two of them.

The both of them had been eyeing you just like everyone else, but you couldn’t help but feel self conscious anyways. You swayed your hips, swooping down elegantly to pick up some of the money while you danced, offering winks to some gentlemen in the crowd. Your eyes caught on Satoru, whose sunglasses were tilted slightly downwards. Your eyes nearly met, and you swiftly shifted your gaze towards Suguru. He really dragged you here, you thought. Poor Guru-san.

You watched as Satoru threw a generous wad of singles towards you. You refused to pick it up.

It was a 10 minute set before you would go around and flirt with other customers. You eventually collected your earnings before you gracefully walked down the steps, flipping your hair.

“Candy~” The bastard called out towards you.

You didn’t want to turn around, but you did anyway, breasts bouncing full of bounty.

“That’s for you,” he cheekily handed you a folded wad of cash. You felt the thickness of the money between your fingers. You almost wanted to give it back to him and walk away. Unfortunately, it was custom to lurk around customers who tipped that generously. Your eyes shifted towards Suguru, who had been subtly ogling your breasts.

“Thank you.” You smile plasticly, which you don’t normally do. You were typically and genuinely nice to customers. Most of them abided by the no touch rules and were decent.

“What brings you both here?” You say, leaning on the banister, breasts in full view.

“It’s my buddies birthday.” He grinned. “I wanted him to get a private dance with this weeks number one dancer, or Tasty, if she’s not too busy.”

Your eyes panned over to Suguru, who honestly didn’t look like he wanted a dance from you. You knew better though, not all customers were forward like that, so you didn’t take it personally whatsoever. You even contemplated going to get Tasty to take your place, but something in you made you want to dance near Satoru. Knowing you could rub your hot body in his face and he couldn’t touch you turned you on just a bit. You had no idea where this power complex of yours was stemming from.

“Sure,” he had already paid you more than what the dance costed. “So do you wanna stay out here or go for a private one? I’m fine with whatever, baby.”

You could’ve cringed at yourself, calling your childhood friend baby. You tucked the wad of cash into your body suit. There was enough money here to pay for either kind of dance, possibly two of them.

“I’m good actually.” Suguru says, taking a seat on the sofa. Your eye twitches a bit, and you looks towards Satoru.

“Sugu-chan’s just shy. He couldn’t stop talking about how good you looked.” The white haired male waved his hand. It must’ve been true, because the blush on Suguru’s face was something you could’ve burst out laughing at. Keep it together (Name), you thought.

He was so reserved and gentlemanly at work. You never would’ve guessed he could look this worked up about getting a dance from a beautiful woman. You sit beside him, crossing your legs.

“If what he said is true, thank you. I’ve done my best to perfect that routine.” You said proudly, shifting your body towards him. “Do you really not want a dance?” You ask again, completely ignoring Satoru, who had been going on about something.

Suguru shifted in his seat, and he was obviously trying not to look at your breasts when you squeezed them together with you arms like that.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind one.” He breathed out. You smiled at him before standing up and spreading his legs a bit. You danced in between them, while he laid back and admired you. Satoru sat on the other end of the couch while another dancer attempted to make a pass at him. He accepted her offering, tipping her nicely as well. While she danced for him, you could feel his eyes burning a hole through your back.

You whipped your ass a round, graciously showing Suguru what you had going on. You were feeling mortified on the inside considering he was your childhood friend. However, he was undoubtedly good looking. A little part of you found some sort of sweet satisfaction showing yourself to him like this. He didn’t seem to know it was you, casually sipping while he watched you do your thing.

Your eyes met Satoru’s, who had been peering at you through the body of your fellow dancer. He could feel himself getting aroused at your womanly form, shifting in his seat. He found it hard to focus on the lap dance he was getting from the lovely woman in front of him.

So this is what she’s really like, he thought to himself.

He had been staring for so long your were getting spooked. Did he realize it was you?

For God sake’s, please no.

He offered you a wink and smirked devilishly before going right back to giving his attention towards his current dancer. Your blindfold was your safety shield, and if he stripped that away from you, you would quit your day job and the go find work in a different club.

After some time, you and your partner finished, receiving generous tips yet again.

“Thank you Candy~” Satoru hummed, thanking you on Suguru’s behalf. You waved goodbye, before going towards a new set of customers. He never did stop staring at you that night. Not until you completely removed yourself from the floor. Once your shift was nearly over, and you needed a breather, you seeked refuge back in the prep room.

“I’m glad that’s over,” you sighed, sinking your body into one of many beauty chairs. You decided you had made enough money for the night, removing your blindfold and setting it down on the vanity. Tasty trailed in moments after, swooning excitedly.

“What’s up with you?” You ask, removing your earrings as well.

“I got the dark haired ones number.” Tasty squealed. You were happy for her, considering Suguru was always a decent guy growing up.

“He’s not bad,” you throw your head back, throwing your hair out of your face.

“It’s the other one I’m particularly wary of.” You say, attempting to tie your hair into a ponytail.

“Oh yeah! The white haired one told me to give this to you.” Tasty tore another piece of paper from her bralette.

You stared at the folded strip between her fingertips before anxiously grasping it with your own. You unfolded the thing, eye twitching in agitation.

Call me, if you want ;) XXX-XXX-XXXX

This motherfucker.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #gojo smut

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stillebesat · 4 years

Text

A Hero’s Rescue (part 2)

Sanders Sides: Roman, Virgil Blurb: After being defeated in battle, the last thing Roman expects is to have a soaking wet hero show up at his doorstep. Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Superhero!AU Inspiration: This Post by @messythoughtsandscribbledplots Overall Fic Warnings: Blood, Injuries, Drugging (mentioned), Negative Self Talk, Threats of Violence, Death Talk Taglist in reblog.

Part 1

Roman had made his mother’s special soup over a thousand times. To the point where he could do it on pure muscle memory--a feat he discovered after a particularly unrememberable encounter with one of Brainiac’s mind ray beams that he didn’t want to experience ever again.

Still. Being able to feed himself with his mother’s soup even when his mind was completely blank of conscious thought was a good survival instinct to know he had...despite the circumstances.

And yet.

His master chefs had needed to take over the making of the soup halfway through after Roman had nearly sliced open his finger for the second time while dicing the onions because he wasn’t focused on the task at hand.

Now though, with the main preparation done, he’d sent them back to their slumber, leaving him alone to stir the soup on the stove while keeping an eye on the pot of hot chocolate simmering nearby. At least he hadn’t managed to burn either one...yet.

He supposed he could be granted a pass for being distracted though.

It wasn’t everyday he, a supervillain, had one of his nemesis’ over for a...well Roman had said kidnapping, but honestly, it was hardly that considering he’d left the kid alone to clean himself up without locking the door or even tying him up.

Roman exhaled, forcing his tense shoulders to relax as he reached up with one hand to check that his mask was still on.

Not that he’d let it or the crown he still wore to vanish. But he had to make sure.

Because he had a hero in his house.

He had a HERO in his House.

If any of the others ever discovered this--but no. He frowned. Someone had treated the young Thunderclap bad enough that he’d want to--that he’d come to Roman, no, to the Tyrant. To be--be---.

He let out another shaky breath, tilting his head to listen for the sounds of running water. For any indication that Whirlwind was still in the house.

For all he knew the young Rainspout had vanished as soon he was sure Roman had left the room.

Or...he could be sneaking around the place right now. Looking for the Tyrant’s Lair. It could all have been a trick. A trap--NO. Roman growled under his breath.

There had been no mistaking the despondency and then the disbelief in Sparky’s eyes at how he, as Tyrant, was willing to take him in and treat him like a decent person--which Roman honestly needed to figure out how that was gonna go down for the next couple of days having a guest--instead of well...killing him.

As Tyrant he was a lot of things…but an outright murderer? Hardly. Sure he could easily name a dozen other vile villains who wouldn’t have hesitated. To kill. To injure. To treat a hero, even a new one, like a punching bag. A dozen people Roman would need to check on to ensure they hadn’t mistreated Thunderclap in such a manner. Honestly, it really was a stroke of luck that the young hero had chosen to come to him first instead of--

Roman stiffened, hands going still on the pot as the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Static Electricity.

Did Sparky realize he gave off that much energy? Probably not.

The soft coo of his dove confirmed that his new...guest? Yah. Guest was probably the best way to think about this. Had finally arrived.

“Fifteen minutes late, Whirlwind.” Roman said, fighting the urge to again check his mask to make sure it hadn’t slipped. “And here I thought heroes were supposed to be on ti--” He turned to the young hero standing awkwardly in the doorway with the dove on his shoulder, and promptly forgot to breathe as he caught sight of Sparky’s face.

His maskless face.

Roman jerked his eyes back to the soup, heart hammering in his chest as he gestured with a hand to conjure a simple silk mask, making it the same shade of purple as the pjs he’d created earlier that Sparky now wore.

He coughed awkwardly, desperately trying to forget all the little details, all the bruises, he’d seen just from the two second glance at the, oh Crofters, he’d known the hero was young, but not a freaking teenager! What was he fourteen?!

He’d better have not been fighting a child this entire time. No, Sparky had to be at least eighteen. Please let him be an adult and not a minor. Because if he wasn’t...Roman would have to rethink his fighting strategies against his favorite hero.

He clenched his jaw. And if...if the kid was actually freaking fourteen years old...then the perpetrator who’d hurt him like this would soon come to regret their actions because there was no way the Tyrant would let them get away with it.

Still looking away, he held out the mask to where he’d seen the hero standing, sending it with a flick of his fingers to hover near him in a crimson bubble. “You uh--forgot something, Thunderclap.”

Perhaps he should have taken Sparky to a hospital first if he was so addled in the head to forget something so simple as keeping his secret identity intact in front of his enemy.

There was a soft sigh and a faint tingle as static electricity brushed against Roman’s crimson glow, like a finger poking into the side of a balloon, before the mask was pulled free from his hold. “I didn’t forget.” Came the quiet response as the hero edged closer, pausing by the oak dinner table, using it as a feeble barrier between them. “Figured you wouldn’t let me keep it on long anyways if I’m your…prisoner.”

Prisoner? Roman scoffed, moving to pull cups and bowls out of the cupboard, setting them down on the counter. “Even if I intended you to be a prisoner, Whirlwind, which I don’t by the way even if you are technically kidnapped, because otherwise you’d be in a containment bubble where I wouldn’t be risking getting myself shocked senseless by one of your little lightning bolts. I still have standards. I wouldn’t unmask you like that.”

“....You wouldn’t?”

Roman glanced at him from the corner of his eye, noting the mask was definitely still in the kid’s hands as he dished up the soup. “Of course not!” It was hardly fair play. Especially for a new hero.

As the Tyrant, Roman may have enjoyed his battles with the Waterspout over the past six months, but they definitely weren’t ‘there’ yet when it came to him feeling any sort of victory from finally tearing away the hero’s mask to see the face of his enemy.

The moment he could corner that annoying army zapping Nerdy Wolverine though? Oh, that would be a sweet sweet victory he would savor for at least a year when he finally defeated Brainiac and rightfully discovered his true identity.

Roman turned, two bowls of soup held in his hands as he carefully kept his eyes directed at the kid’s bare feet, noting that even there the hero had cuts and bruises. He fought back the flare of anger, adding a couple more potential acquaintances he’d need to pay a visit to on his ever growing mental list. “If I wanted to find out who you were, Whirlwind, I would have taken your mask off outside when you were kneeling at my feet in the rain.”

He took two cautious steps closer to the young Hurricane, watching the feet as they shifted in place. He needed to tread carefully here. Go slow. His hero had been hurt and Roman needed to prove that Sparky was safe with him here.

He took a breath, holding out both bowls to give the kid the option of choosing one, conscious of how the hero had been concerned that they could be drugged. Right. Drugged. Mentally he crossed off six names and added one more. “Beyond the fact that I would very much prefer it to happen after a long hard fought battle where I soundly defeat you, at least that reveal outside would be far more dramatic and rewarding than doing so in my kitchen of all places.”

Wind whistled in his ears as Waterspout huffed a bitter sounding laugh as he tossed the mask onto the table. “Sorry to disappoint you then. But I’m done.” The lights flickered, the static electricity around them increasing. “Done with this...hero business. I can’t, Tyrant. It’s too much pressure. I’ll just fail.”

Roman shook his head, frowning as he set the bowls on the table, gesturing with his hand to float the two mugs of hot chocolate by the stove over to them. “You haven’t failed me.” He said lightly, setting them down.

Scare him? Yes. It wasn’t every day that a hero comes to your home out of the blue asking you to kill them.

Thunderclap snorted, resting his hands on the back of the chair closest to him, his fingers turning white. “Umm. Earlier today?”

“I know you can’t make every battle, Sparky. It’s not the end of the world if you don’t show.” Roman said with a shrug as he pulled out a chair at the table and sat, pushing the purple mask closer to the kid while fighting to not adjust his own or look at the hero’s face.

Sure he’d been disappointed. He always was when Thunderclap didn’t come to face him. Their battles were far more exciting, far more challenging compared to the other heroes he’d faced over the years. “You may not want to be a hero right now. But you’re injured. Exhausted. And hopefully hungry because I made you a ton of soup.” He twisted his hand, a soft red glow surrounding his fingers as two golden spoons appeared. He was careful to keep his eyes down away from the kid’s face as he twirled the spoons around his fingers. “After you eat your fill and get a good night's sleep in a big soft bed you might find you’ve changed your mind come morning.”

He could feel the static electricity continuing to build in the room until it felt like every hair on his body was standing on end. It made it difficult to not retaliate and send up a shield of defense against the lightning bolt that could be coming his way any second.

But the kid had no reason to zap him. At least he hoped he didn’t. He just had to stay calm. Stay relaxed.

Unexpectedly, the static energy vanished like an iceberg breaking apart leaving goosebumps racing up and down Roman’s arms as Sparky relaxed his grip on the chair. “You’re...not...acting how I expected you to.”

He smirked. Good. The Tyrant couldn’t be just your predictable regular run of the mill bad guy. “Oh?”

The chair scraped against the tile as Sparky cautiously sat down, his hand resting on the mask. “You...you care far too much about...” He shakily inhaled, the lights flickering above his head as he raised a hand, presumably to scrub at his eyes judging by the movement. “Me. No one ca--but you--and--and you don’t even know who--”

No one cares? If he wasn’t certain he’d be electrocuted on the spot Roman would have pulled the young hero into another hug then and there. It sure sounded like he desperately needed one.

“Kindness doesn’t need to be shown a face, Sparky.” Roman said softly, laying the spoons on the table with a quiet clink. “Just because I’m a bad guy...doesn’t mean I’m a bad guy.”

The kid huffed another shaky laugh. “Did...did you seriously just quote Wreck-it Ralph at me?”

Roman jerked his head up in surprise. “You know--”

The hero flinched back, causing the dove on his shoulder to take flight as his violet eyes half hidden by damp bangs flashed with panic while lightning crackled at his fingertips.

Wait! Face! Gah! Roman twisted in his seat, hissing under his breath, his body tensing with the expectation of getting electrocuted. Great. Of course his love of Disney would come back to bite him at a delicate moment.

This really would be much easier if the kid would just put on the mask already, so he wouldn’t have to worry--- but Roman wasn’t going to force him to do something he obviously was reluctant to do. Sparky was a guest…even if he was technically kidnapped.

“I didn’t see anything, Whirlwind” He said as evenly as he could as the dove landed on the counter nearby with a soft coo, his mind racing as he turned his head further to stare at the pot on the stove. “But...judging from your reaction...perhaps you don’t actually want me to know who you are?”

“I--I--” There was a thunk on the table as the crackling sound coming from the boy faded. “I don’t want to...be a hero right now, Tyrant.” He whispered. “I--I can’t--not now.”

But the kid couldn’t exactly use his civilian identity in front of the Tyrant either since they were enemies. A pretty pickle. Except Thunderclap seemed to be forgetting one thing. He didn’t have to be either identity.

Roman glanced towards the young hero to see his face buried in his arms, purple mask half hidden underneath them. “Last I checked, Hurricane.” He said quietly. “There’s no rule saying that because you wear purple and white as a hero...that you can only ever wear those colors.”

It would be a dead giveaway to the villains--for the smart ones at least--if the heroes did that.

Roman gestured, his hands again glowing crimson as he created a dozen more masks similar to the purple one the table, making each one a different color of the rainbow plus some boring shades like black and brown to give Raindrops a variety to choose from.

He turned away from the display as Sparky looked up. “If you don’t want to be a hero then pick a different color mask. You can be anyone you want to be under it. I can even conjure you a different set of pajamas so you can distance yourself further from your hero color scheme while you’re here. Just…” Don’t give up just yet. He shrugged. “Pick one.”

Waterspout reached out, hesitantly touching a blue mask, before shifting to hover over a green one. “...It can’t be that easy.” He whispered. “What’s the catch?”

Roman made a face. “No catch. Pick a mask and then tell me a name to go with it.” He said, watching him from the corner of his eye as the boy lowered his head, his bangs hiding his eyes. “Any name.” He coaxed. “And I’ll call you that instead while you’re here. You won’t have to be a hero. You can just...be my guest.”

“A guest. To the Tyrant.” Thunderclap said, putting an emphasis on the name.

That--the kid had a point. Roman exhaled. How could Sparky forget he was a Hero if his enemy, the Tyrant, was still around? Which meant...he would need to create his own alter identity as well.

For the seemingly simple task of taking in a young hero and giving him soup...this whole thing was becoming more and more...complicated.

“No. Not to him. To me. Your host.” He stated, raising a crimson hand to his golden mask, altering it so that it became the same size and shape as the ones on the table, his crown vanishing as Roman made minor alterations to his appearance to keep Whirlwind from guessing his own civilian identity.

He dropped his hand from the simple red mask he now wore, heart hammering in his chest at how...well naked he felt in the thing as he turned more fully to the kid, once more back in the clothes he’d been wearing while working on recreating his Knightmare Soldiers, careful to keep his attention on the masks on the table and not the hero’s bare face. No wonder Sparky was reluctant to wear this sort of thing. It hardly felt like a disguise at all.

“You can call me Pryce.” He said, spreading his hands, fighting not to fidget under the weight of Sparky’s eyes boring into him, taking in his changed appearance.

“Pryce?”

Roman nodded, watching Thunderclap’s hands twitching over his color options. “Yes.”

It was one name he knew he would answer to that couldn’t immediately be connected back to his own civilian life.

“You’re serious about this? No heroes...no villains...just…us?”

“So long as you’re here as my guest. Yes.” If Raindrops needed a break, then Roman would give him it. Anything to keep the kid from doing--from---from repeating--.

A soft sigh. “Okay.” Thunder rumbled in the distance as Sparky plucked up a plain black mask, placing it over his eyes.

Roman blinked. Wait. Black? “Sooo...what? You going all goth on me now, kid?” He asked, slowly turning more fully towards the hero--to his guest as the boy looked up, already visibly relaxing now that Roman could look at him without seeing his identity.

The corner of his lips twitching in a half smile as Sparky ran a hand through his darker hair, ensuring the bangs still half covered his eyes. “You have a problem with me wearing black?”

Roman rolled his eyes. He was a villain who wore gold for a reason. Of course he didn’t like black. “Beyond it being such a common, dull, and boring color?” He waved a hand dismissively, vanishing the other masks. “No. Not really.”

Thunderclap huffed, shaking his head. “Then...you can call me Andy.” He said, reaching for the closest bowl of soup, violet eyes flickering to him to check Roman’s reaction.

Andy.

Roman tilted his head. Not a name he would have picked for the hero. But he supposed that was kinda the point. “Andy.” He repeated. “Nice.” Not as nice or creative as Pryce, but he’d save his critiques for the boy’s lack of originality another day. “Is it short for the Mountain range?”

Spar--Andy choked on a laugh, shaking his head as he picked up a spoon. “No--not after--No.”

“Pity.” Roman said, a more natural smile appearing on his lips as he grabbed his own bowl of soup, purposely getting the spoon to his lips before his guest to prove that the soup was safe. “After the Mints then? I would be more understanding of your emolicious choice in black if that were the case.”

Andy flashed him a smile, eyes sparking. “Only if Pryce is short for Price Tag. How much you going for these days? Two bucks?” He asked, taking a cautious sip from his bowl, only to immediately go for another spoonful.

Roman nearly choked on his own soup. Price Tag? TWO BUCKS?! How dare he insult the Tyr-- Gah! Right. Not actively being the bad guy right now. But STILL. The audacity!

No wonder he loved bantering with this kid.

“You’ll come to find, Hot Topic, that I’m priceless. You can’t afford me.”

Andy hummed, nodding like a wise old sage as he picked up the bowl in both hands, tilting it to his lips. “So your name is Less now?”

Roman clicked his tongue, watching the kid gulp down his soup like there was no tomorrow. Okay...he’d walked into that one. “No.” He said, summoning the pot over from the stove, so that the kid could get more if he so desired.

“Pity.” Andy set the bowl down, glancing to the pot then to him. “Guess I can’t think of you any Less then.” He licked his lips, meeting Roman’s eyes before he could respond. “Not after--well...thanks--for letting me...crash here for a bit...Pryce.”

Roman blinked, caught off guard at the sudden change in direction. A pity. He’d had a great retort to that earlier remark too.

He took up the ladle, filling the kid’s bowl once more. “No problem, Peppermint.” He said as he also pushed the mug of hot chocolate closer to the hero, summoning a bag of marshmallows with a twitch of his fingers. He chuckled as the kid’s eyes once again lit up. “Stay as long as you need.”

#A Hero's Rescue #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Roman #Virgil #Creativity #Anxiety #Superhero!AU #Villain!Roman #Hero!Virgil #injuries tw #drugging mention tw #negative self talk tw #threats of violence tw #death talk tw

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florenceandthemachine · 4 years

Note

talk to me about king christopher, intentionally or not, helping his two dads figure out they’re in love with each other 🤗 xoxo

cailee, you beautiful wonderful tropical fish, did you know you had a direct line to my soul with asks like this?

There was a very, very good reason that whenever anyone asked Edmundo Diaz about his son, the first word that he used to describe Chris was ‘smart’.

Chris was a caring boy, a kind boy, a kid who had known loss and grief in his life, more than any child should. He had survived earthquakes, tsunamis, surgeries, death, and that had shaped him into a kid that was incredibly sweet, empathetic, but most of all, smart.

Eddie knew it, of course; he was incredibly proud of his son, of the work he did in school, of the friends he made, of the person that he was growing into. Chris was bright, and he was bubbly, and he was whip quick in a way that Eddie sincerely wished he could be an adult, let alone as a kid—but that wit usually came as a double edged sword.

Because as proud as Eddie was of his son, Chris had a knack of thinking circles around everyone, himself included.

Eddie knew when he was being played for extra video game time, and knew damn well when Chris batted his eyes for a sick day from school, but Eddie figured that was about as far as things went. As far as Eddie was concerned, as long as his grades stayed up and he stayed happy with his friends, a little special treatment wouldn’t hurt.

So it only made sense that when Chris decided to wield his powers for good where his father was concerned, Eddie had no idea what was coming.

“Dad, can we go over to Buck’s house to play some video games tonight?”

Eddie smiled, watching Chris tilt his cell phone to get through whatever game he was playing in the rear view mirror as they made the trek home from Abuela’s. He had to admit, while the best possible thing that had come out of him joining the 118 was the easy friendship that he found with Buck, the easy friendship that Chris and Buck seemed to have made was a close second.

“I dunno buddy, Buck might already have dinner plans. Besides, you know it’s rude for us to invite ourselves over.” Eddie said, catching Chris’ eye in at a stoplight. He was thankful for their friendship, of course, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t feel a little guilty about monopolizing all of Buck’s time when they were both off the clock.

The look Chris gave him was thoroughly unimpressed as he held up Eddie’s phone, speaking like it was actually paining him to have to explain himself. “Dad, Buck was the one who asked. He says we should bring over pizza!”

...okay, Eddie might have felt bad about being attached to Buck at the hip, but that didn’t mean he was about to deny himself the pleasure when Buck was the one to initiate some time together. And Eddie definitely wasn’t going to say no when he knew that Chris was looking forward to spending time with Buck just as much as Eddie was.

Even if Eddie knew he enjoyed Buck’s company for entirely different reasons.

“Hey, thanks for having us over.” Eddie said softly, once pizza had been devoured, and Buck had his ass thoroughly kicked (With Chris, Buck definitely threw his matches—but with Eddie, well, there was no denying the cry of defeat whenever Eddie skimmed past him into first). “Chris loves spending time with you, you make his night whenever he gets to see you.”

Buck grinned back at him, that easy smile that made Eddie’s heart do things he didn’t care to identify as he shrugged his shoulders. “You know I love spending some time with my Diaz boys. This was definitely one of your better ideas.” he said easily, clearing the table, sliding the pizza box into the fridge.

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, pausing before any words could come out, a curious look crossing his face. He reached around Buck and grabbed two beers, handing one to Buck after he cracked them open. “You mean, thanks for the pizza. This was your idea, after all.”

It was Buck’s turn to look confused, swallowing a mouthful of beer as he pulled his phone out. “No, Eddie, pretty sure you sending me a message that said ‘game night, we’ll bring pizza’ was pretty clear.”

Eddie blinked as he looked at Buck’s phone—sure enough, the message was there plain as day, and he shot a curious look over to Chris, who was conked out on the couch. Buck followed his gaze, chuckling when he put two and two together, shaking his head. “Hey, go easy on him... after all, it’s not like I had any other plans.”

“Buck...”

“No, I’m serious.” Buck said, his face holding that soft, sweet grin. “After all, it’s... well, I like spending time with you. With, um, both of you I mean.” he murmured over the mouth of his beer bottle, pink raising in his cheeks as Eddie took a swig of his own. He didn’t trust himself to respond and instead linked his ankle with Buck’s beneath the table, trusting the gesture would say enough—and judging by the grin Buck shot him, the message was received loud and clear.

Unseen to either of them, Chris had a small smile on his face, peeking through his lashes as he watched the two from his space on the couch.

In retrospect, Buck probably should have asked what all was entailed in Career Day when Chris asked he and Eddie to show up to his school at 9am.

All he had expected was that he and Eddie would get to show the kids some of their tools, some of their gear, and then answer some questions. What he got was a room full of single moms (and dads) that were looking at Eddie like he was good enough to eat.

Which, let’s be real, Eddie was. Especially when he was partially suited up, PPE from the waist down, a 118 tee shirt, and the thick red suspenders to hold everything together. Saying he looked delicious was selling it short, but that didn’t mean Buck liked a room full of strangers being so blatant about it.

It was all he could do to stand back and not cause a scene as yet another mom walked up to Eddie and put her hand on his bicep, laughing at a joke far too loudly, for far too long. The only saving grace was the look that Eddie shot him while she had her head tossed back, rolling his eyes so hard that Buck thought he was going to hurt himself.

As Chris took his turn and made it up to the front of the class, Buck couldn’t deny feeling a little bit self conscious as he stood beside Eddie.

A room full of parents, with their kids, and then Buck.

He wasn’t jealous, okay?

And even if he was—

“This is my Dad, and this is my Buck! They’re firefighters!”

—Chris knocked that feeling out of him, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head as Chris started his presentation. A quick look at Eddie confirmed that he wasn’t the only one who caught the title, and he dipped his head with a little smile, not bothering to hide how pleased he was.

Pleased because he got to be Chris’ Buck. Not pleased because of the disappointed looks that he could see flicker across half of the single parents faces. Nope, that had nothing to do with it, and if it did, it was no secret that Chris was the real source of his joy.

“...they use their trucks and ladders to help keep us safe...”

Chris being an awesome kid was no surprise—Eddie was a great dad, okay?—but Buck still felt lucky that he got to see such a bright kid in his element like this, and even luckier that he got to help out whenever he could. He let his mind wander as Chris continued to speak, treading into dangerous territory. Chris had called him his Buck, so easily, like it was obvious, and for a moment Buck let himself wonder what it would sound like for Eddie to say the same.

“...and they’re super strong, too!”

Chris turned around, looking directly at Eddie, and Buck had to swallow a snort of a laugh as every eye in the room followed him. Eddie, to his credit, tried to save face, nodding his head. “Uh, we... workout every day?” he said, and Chris giggled as he looked over to Buck.

“Dad, you have to show them! Lift Buck up!”

Now it was Buck’s turn to feel every eye swivel over to him, and he was sure his face was bright red in record time. Was this part of the presentation? Did Chris mention this? Buck couldn’t be sure, but honestly, it didn’t exactly sound like something he would have agreed to. He caught Eddie’s eye and shrugged helplessly—after all, Eddie would be the one doing the heavy lifting, it was kind of out of his hands.

After a shared, barely-there nod, Eddie clapped his hands together, turning back to the class. “So, uh, this is called a fireman’s lift. It’s what we do when we have to carry someone out of a burning building, if they can’t walk out on their own. What we do is—“

“Have you ever had to do it before?” A blonde boy asked from the second row, his hand straight up in the air, eyes wide. His father, a corporate manager, didn’t look entirely pleased.

Eddie was all smiles, though, as he nodded and looked over to Buck. “We both have. Our job is to keep people safe, and this is the easiest way to do it.”

The clear hero worship may have helped Eddie become a little more comfortable, but for Buck, the situation didn’t matter—acting as a dead weight was always going to be a little weird. He sighed and opened his arms as Eddie stepped forward, and he was in the air before he could blink. He twisted his body as Eddie lifted so he could still face the class, focusing on Chris’ smile as his world went sideways.

If Buck thought it was awkward before, the dead silence that met him when Eddie spun around with Buck on his shoulders was completely deafening. It was all Buck could do to focus on keeping himself right side up, and not focus on the firm line of Eddie’s shoulders against his side, his strong hands on Buck’s thigh and wrapped around his arm—and thankfully Buck didn’t have long to follow that train of thought before there were twenty kids cheering for them, clapping wildly.

Okay, note to self; if you want to impress a room full of nine year olds, you just had to lift something heavy up.

Buck found himself smiling again, cheeks feeling permanently pink as Eddie brought him back down to the ground, turning to answer a few questions as they were swarmed with tiny bodies. He loved kids, he always had, and he was definitely in his element—but he couldn’t get the thought of Eddie’s hand on his thigh out of his mind.

He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse when the weight of Eddie’s arm looped around his waist, effectively anchoring him and sending him into another galaxy as Chris’ teacher took a picture of the three of them together.

As Buck leaned into Eddie’s touch, he couldn’t help but look down to Chris, who very much looked like the cat that got the canary—and Buck was content to assume that it was because he obviously had the coolest Career Day presentation.

After all, getting your Dad to deadlift your Buck certainly blew any investment bankers or realty agents out of the water.

“You know, if you actually want to watch a movie, you have to press play on the remote.”

“Shove it, Eds.”

His words were snippy, but Buck was all smiles as Eddie joined him in the loft, plate in hand, passing Buck a burger and a huge plate of chips as he crashed on the couch beside him. Buck had been listening to the menu theme of some action DVD that Chim had picked out for the better part of a half hour as he scrolled through his phone, his attention quickly pulled to the food. “What’s wrong, Bobby kick you off the grill again? Made you realize there was more to life than being a meathead?” Buck said with a teasing smile, and Eddie found himself laughing in spite of himself.

“Well, actually, Carla sent me a few pictures of Chris on his class trip to the zoo today, and I was going to show you, but...”

“Hey, no, what? I think it’s awesome that you’re a middle aged grill dad, you look great with that spatula, now show me the pictures!” Buck said, immediately back tracking, his pride an easy thing to swallow whenever Chris being adorable was involved.

Eddie snorted as he handed over his phone, letting Buck swipe through the photos, and if he happened to be looking at Buck more than he was looking at the photos, well that was his own business. Buck, mercifully, was plenty distracted—the sight of Chris and a peacock would do that to anyone, Eddie had already set it as his wallpaper.

“Eddie, your kid is so fucking cute.” Buck said as he looked back up at Eddie, smiling as he tapped at Eddie’s screen, undoubtedly forwarding a few of the images to his own phone. Buck’s phone was only second to Eddie’s when it came to cute pictures of Chris, and if Eddie had more than three brain cells bouncing around in his skull, he probably would have looked a little more deeply into that.

Eddie pulled his phone back as another message came through, eyes flickering over the text message as Buck took a huge bite of the burger Eddie brought him.

“Hey Buck?”

“Mmmphhgghh?”

“Say cheese.”

“Ehh, muhnuie!”

The picture was pretty disgusting, honestly—Buck had a mouth fit to bursting of burger, sauce and ketchup smeared over his cheek, eyes wide as he turned to the camera. “What? Chris wanted to see what we were doing today.” Eddie said innocently, saving the picture to his camera roll before sending it to Carla’s phone.

“Dad I need selfies of you and Buck!”

The message from Carla came through easy enough, though it was clear that Chris had taken over, and Eddie was still laughing at Buck when he read the message aloud. Buck’s scandalized look didn’t go away as he finally swallowed, and Eddie knew he was in trouble the moment Buck reached for his phone, ready for retaliation.

He couldn’t complain when he suddenly had an arm full of Buck, laughing easily as Buck fired up his selfie camera, but his laughter quickly turned into a sound of absolute horror as he felt ketchup against his cheek when Buck smushed their faces together, camera shutter firing rapidly.

“You are disgusting!” Eddie finally got out between laughs, shoving Buck aside, who looked all too pleased with himself as he furiously tapped at Eddie’s phone, undoubtedly sending the pictures to Carla (and probably Maddie, and Abuela, and maybe his own phone too).

He had to admit, when he finally got his phone back and looked over the pictures, he was a little uncomfortable—not because of the content, but because he had never known he was so fucking obvious when he was looking at Buck. He hadn’t understood the term heart eyes until now, and it kicked his anxiety up just a little bit—he needed to work on his subtlety.

Then again, the next time he caught a glimpse of Buck’s phone, he was stunned to see that the picture of the two of them had made Buck’s wallpaper...

...maybe Chris was on to something with the whole selfies idea.

“Hey Buck?”

“What’s up, bud?”

They had just finished what Buck would not hesitate to call one of the best nights of his life—Eddie and Chris had shown up with a truck packed full of food, blankets, chairs, and a huge, colorful umbrella. Buck had worried that Chris would be less than thrilled to be near the ocean after the tsunami, but his fears were completely misplaced—Chris took to the beach like a crab, and Buck’s heart felt lighter than it ever had every time he heard Chris’ laughter, getting to the point where he actually deleted a few apps from his phone to take some more photos.

The icing on the cake, though, was Chris insisting that Buck could read him his bedtime story that night. Eddie looked completely betrayed, even as he insisted it was fine.

It was fucking hilarious.

“You love me, right?”

Buck felt his brows raise into his hairline, closing the book as he nudged Chris’ shoulders. “Course I love you, buddy. You’re my favorite little man.” He said softly, the initial spike of concern easing in his heart when he watched Chris break out into a grin. He should have known it was a trap, but Chris was so cute, so unassuming, so—

“And you love Daddy too, right?”

—so damn sneaky.

Buck swallowed once he regained his bearings, nodding his head, glad for the dim light of Chris’ room to hide his blush. “Course I do kiddo. You and your dad are both very important to me.” Which, apparently, was the wrong thing to say, if the scrunch of Chris’ face was anything to go by.

“But you love him too, right? You love me and Daddy?”

Putting the long forgotten book down on the night table beside Chris’ bed, Buck pulled his arm around the kid easily, pressing a kiss to his mess of curly hair. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the only thing that would come out was the truth. “Yeah, I love you and I love your dad too.” he murmured. It was the first time he had ever said that aloud before—and even as he felt his heart race, he felt lighter, to be able to get that off his chest, a secret that had been heavy on his heart for a long time.

“You should tell him that.”

Buck almost swallowed his tongue. Like he could sense his discomfort, Chris looked up, blinking owlishly without his glasses, a small smile on his lips. “It makes me happy when you tell me you love me. I bet it would make Daddy happy too.” he said with a little shrug, and Buck actually surprised himself with a little laugh.

“How did you get so smart, kid?”

Another kiss goodnight and Buck had the door shut behind him, walking on the balls of his feet as he returned to the kitchen, where Eddie was still scrubbing at a dish—and if that wasn’t enough of a red flag, the red tint to his cheeks and the way he shyly looked up at Buck told him all he needed to know. Shy was just not a typical look for Eddie.

“Edmundo Diaz, were you eavesdropping on your sons bedtime story?” Buck asked, his voice light and teasing, even as his face heated up. If Eddie had been listening in, there was no way to tell just how much he had heard, but while the thought usually pushed Buck into a spiral of despair, all he felt now was a strange sense of warmth.

Eddie looked up at him cautiously, chewing his lip. “What? It’s not my fault, I had to make sure the story you picked was up to his standards, and that you... did all the voices, and—“

“I meant it.”

Wow, fuck, Buck just blurted that out. He felt his jaw clamp shut as Eddie’s gaze snapped to him, Eddie’s eyes as wide as his own.

“Buck...”

“I’m serious, Eddie. I meant it, I... I mean it.” Buck’s feet are moving of his own accord, closing the distance between them until Buck could reach out and touch Eddie if he wanted. Well, if he could get his arms to respond. “You and Chris, you’re the most important people in the world to me, and... and I do, I love you. And I think, I think you love me too.”

Eddie couldn’t think, couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything other than move forward and pull Buck into his space completely. Their first kiss was a little rough—bumped noses, off center, but even then Eddie could feel fireworks—and when they reconnected, when Buck’s lips met his properly, it was all Eddie could do to remain upright.

He kept his hands around Buck when they pulled back to breathe, their foreheads resting against one another, and Eddie’s cheeks were literally hurting he was smiling so hard. Buck’s little laugh was all Eddie could hear, all he ever wanted to hear for the rest of his life—so he couldn’t be blamed for failing to hear a pair of little feet leaving the kitchen, back through the hallway, or the nearly silent closing of Chris’ bedroom door.

Chris didn’t need to stick around to see the end result—adults were so gross—but he was pleased enough to see that his hard work and careful planning had paid off, knowing that his dad and his Buck would be happier than ever now that they were finally smooching (even if it had taken forever!).

His dads were a little slow on the uptake sometimes, sure, but that was okay.

After all, Chris would be there to give them a little push whenever they needed.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #chris diaz #chris diaz is a little genius #chris diaz: professional matchmaker #buddie #buddie fic #911 #flospeaks #floanswers #mutually assured devotion #buckleydiazs

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gucciwins · 4 years

Text

Always Be Your Friend

Word count: 8990

It’s easy to love your best friend but it’s not easy being in love with them. Harry and Y/N became friends from the moment they first met. Will they take a chance and confess their feelings or will they watch each other fall in love with someone else. *warning a mention of sexual harassment in the story*

Jeff had invited her to a small gathering at his house so that she could meet a few of his friends being new to the area and all, but when she arrived, she wasn't expecting a backyard full of people mingling and drinking beers. She's counted over twenty people, and she's yet to find Jeff.

Y/N was about to get herself water from a red cooler when he finally spotted her. Jeff's quick to apologize but promises that everyone is kind, and his girlfriend went a little overboard with inviting her friends. She brushes him off and lets him know she'll be fine.

If only she believed that lie.

She decides to leave but stays when she finds a small path that leads her to an opening, and she's met with a beautiful view of the sunset. She sits on white clean bench and enjoys the colors the sky is painting. She's lost in thought that she fails to hear the footsteps approaching her, but she doesn't startle when she hears a crunch of leaves breaking her of her trance.

Her gaze is locked on Gucci loafers, which she assumes are paired with Gucci socks. She slowly starts to move her gaze up to his body, a small smile on her face as she sees the purple flared pants (later on would learn he calls them trousers and soon she would as well). As her gaze reaches his face, she can't help thinking how nice the white shirt he wears shows off his tanned skin nicely. She doesn't let her eyes linger too long on his tattoos, but she thinks they are beautiful. Her favorite part of his outfit might be the blue bandana wrapped around his neck. She finally meets his eyes and decides right then and there that green is her new favorite color. The sunset makes them appear lighter. He's staring at her with a smile on his face, dimples on full display.

Y/N looks down at herself; she's wearing a wide-leg jumpsuit, a rust color, and if she's being honest, she looks really good. Thankfully, no one wants to make a first impression under-dressed; at least that was what her mother taught her.

She doesn't turn to look at him anymore and keeps her eyes in front of her.

"Never seen you before, around from here?" His voice was slow and soothing. His accent is sweet as honey.

He really surprised her with the accent, that might just have convinced her he must be the most perfect human from his tall, lean stature to the brown curls to the captivating green eyes.

"I'm new. Jeff is my friend." She pauses. "Acquaintance met him a week ago at work, and we hit it off. I've been here two weeks officially."

"Jeff's great, although his girl is quite popular."

She laughs and agrees with him.

"Sorry, I'm Harry." He approaches her with his hand stretched out.

She smiles when Harry repeats her name back as they let go of each other's hands. He then takes a seat, and they fall into easy conversation.

"I really love your tattoos, do you get them done around here?" She asks, genuinely curious eyes locked on the beautiful mermaid on his arm.

"Most, done at this shop, a buddy of mine works at. He's really talented, and I trust him. A few, I've gotten when I was traveling."

She hums to let him know she's listening.

"Got lots more than just these, but might be inappropriate to undress in front of a stranger." He says honestly, not wanting her to be uncomfortable.

"Here I thought we were becoming friends," she teases.

He laughs, shocked at her response. She smiles, glad they share the same type of humor.

"Got any of your own?"

"I've got two, but one no one knows about." She answers him honestly.

"I've got three stars behind my right ear." She pauses and looks at him before crossing her left foot across her thigh. She moves her jumpsuit higher and there on her ankle is a peach. "I got a peach when I was eighteen because I wanted a tattoo, and the reason I got a peach is still unknown to me to this day."

"Peaches are sweet. So are you."

She blushes but stills looks at him. "That's your first impression of me."

He nods. "You could have ignored me and left or not even answered me or worse answered like a jerk for not knowing your name already but instead let a strange walk into your bubble."

"I like you, Harry. Think the accent won me over."

"Oh, really," He smirks. "Wasn't the dimples or piercing green eyes."

"Eh.." She shrugs

She laughs, and Harry can't help but join her.

On a bench watching a sunset, Harry and Y/N become friends.

"Harry!" She screams as she walks through the backdoor. "I've run out of almond butter."

"Broke into my house, why?" Harry replies as he walks into the kitchen, hair wet. He's dressed in grey sweats and a black hoodie. He's got scruff growing, and as much as she loves to tease him about it, Harry knows how much she loves it.

"I didn't break in." She's spreading Harry's almond butter onto her slice of toasted bread. "The back door was open which means come right in."

Harry's standing there watching her take a bite of her toast. "Peach, how are you already eating when you've been here less than five minutes?" He narrows his eyes and looks at his unplugged toaster that sits next to his coffee machine that is surprisingly already brewing. "Did you run here with it in your hand?"

She scratches her neck lightly, index finger dragging slowly. "Umm...of course not."

"Right, you wouldn't because you live a thirty minute walk away. Running only means you'd get more germs on it."

She rolls her eyes at Harry's concern. "Are you hungry, I'll make you something. I have time on my hands before I have to run back home."

Harry grins, allowing her to drop the topic and quickly agrees because he adores her cooking. "I'll have your egg whites special, please."

She nods, kissing his forehead before moving to the fridge to get the things out she'll need. Harry stares at her and thinks back to when he first met her. He thinks it's insane he went so long without her in his life. Harry owes it all to Jeff that he kept bringing her to their outings when she first moved here. Harry will never admit that to him, he doesn't want to have to name his first child after him.

Harry furrows his brow in confusion. It's Saturday, and she always stays the weekend with him.

"You usually stay over?" He questions as she hands him his plate. "Why do you have to leave?"

"Cassie set me up on a date." She looks down at her nails and frowns seeing a few chipped and she knows it is from all the cleaning she has been doing at home because work has been slow and she needed to keep busy. "I'm going to cancel it." She decides instantly.

She takes off her sweater and settles herself on the chair next to Harry taking a drink of his coffee. She hums at the sharp taste, one she learned to appreciate after being his friend for years.

"Just like that," Harry is trying his best to hide his excitement but knows he's failing miserably.

"My nails look atrocious. It's like I'd be showing up naked" She physically shivers at the thought.

"We can do face masks and each other's nails." Harry says after taking back his coffee, knowing she'd drink it all without meaning to.

She lights up at Harry's suggestion.

"Yes, oh, can I use the candy apple one?" she asks her eyes locking with his and Harry melts in his seat at the innocent look she's giving him. He doesn't remember a time he's told her no.

As soon as she hears the word yes come out of his mouth, she's racing up the stairs to gather up the things they'll need.

He hears a thump upstairs and is about to make his way up when he hears an "I'm good." He laughs and washes his plate before heading to the living room. Harry turns the tv on and decides on parks and rec because it's their favorite to watch together.

"I got you black with glitter. Starry starry night is a beautiful color." She's admiring it as she walks down the steps with her arm full of things they might need, like the nail polish remover they'll need to take off her chipped color. "I know you were hiding this from me, which is why I will be using it on you."

Harry takes some things from her and sets it on his old coffee table. "I got it a few days ago. Honestly, bought it with you in mind." He confesses. What he doesn't admit is that when he saw it, it reminded him of the first time they laid in his backyard and although that night wasn't clear enough she told him about her favorite constellations and that if she was an artist she'd draw the moons and stars every night. Looking back, Harry can say that is the moment he fell in love with her. Not that he knew that then, no, he realized much later.

The smile on her face has his heart beating out of his chest. Harry swears she's going to kiss him. She leans in plants a big kiss on his cheek, which still makes his cheeks go pink, but his heart drops because he really wanted her lips on his.

She pouts when she catches Harry staring at her. "You're staring because I smell right." She narrows her eyes at him as if judging him for making her self-conscious. "If I go shower, will you let me borrow some clothes?"

Harry knows she has more than a change of clothes in her own drawer in his bedroom, but he agrees, and she's off once more up the stairs.

"Are you ready?" She screams walking in through the front door.

Harry had invited her out for Tuesday brunch seeing as she had the morning off, and he thinks he has the right to not be ready. He promised he'd be waiting for her on his sofa so that as soon as she walked in, they'd be off. She walks into the living room as if it's her first time there and smiles at the pictures he has scattered around. She finds a book on the couch and frowns because, of course, it's another Bukowski book. She walks up the stairs to his bedroom and walks in expecting him to be in bed, but instead, she finds him in a 'Women are smarter' t-shirt and a blanket on his lap, and she knows he's got nothing underneath. Harry's got the right earphone in, he's sitting at a makeshift table he made in his walk-in closet talking to his laptop. She assumes he's meeting with a client and is about to walk out when something catches her eye. It's a photo of her on his nightstand. Harry looks at her from the corner of his eye. He starts to fidget with a ring on his middle finger. He focuses back on his client, but he's not really listening, too busy admiring her. She doesn't feel Harry's wandering eyes on her back, but Harry knows he's been staring too long when his client repeats himself.

She approaches slowly as if the item would jump at her any second. She picked up a photo of herself from Los Angeles when they were there together in Autumn. She's smiling brightly at the cinnamon buns they made together when they were helping Jeff move into his house, and she told him she had to test out his oven. She didn't even know he took a picture of her. She's about to turn it over, but it's snatched out of her hand.

"Hey," she pouts.

"It's mine. Stop being so snoopy."

"I wouldn't be snoopy if you didn't leave your things out. I look really pretty there. I can see why you want me there to look at every morning."

Harry turns around to hide his blush. "You're there because I sent it to a friend of mine because I think you would be a good match." Harry wants to punch himself because out of all the lies, he had to pick that one.

She stares at him with wide eyes. She doesn't want a date with a stranger.

The person she wants to date is standing in front of her. Now, she definitely knows he doesn't like her because he's setting her up with someone else.

"Is he tall?" Is her first question stopping herself from asking a second.

"An inch or two shorter than me."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Well, that just won't do," she says dramatically. "My Flynn Rider is hmm..your height, or he could be taller. I don't mind."

Harry chuckles. "He's a fan of ice cream and loves Sudoku." he states two of her favorite things.

She narrows her eyes at him.

"Is he a big handsome boss like you?" She jokes.

"He works in marketing in a company that works with us."

"Marketing, I'm already bored to death." Harry gives her a pleading look. "I'll go, but only if you promise to get Anne to send me her recipe for her mince pie because I want to impress her this Christmas."

"Christmas is months away."

"I know, but I- I tried making some to practice and get better, and it was a disaster. Maybe because I'm not British, it's bad. I want Anne to like me." she says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Peach, my mum loves you. I can assure you. Those sticky buns you made on boxing day were all mum talked about for weeks after you left to spend new years with your brother's."

"Those were good. I haven't been able to make sticky buns that good. It must be the ingredients, we might just have to move to Europe, H."

"I'll book the flight Peach, just let me know when."

She walks out, so Harry doesn't see the blush on her face. She really loves this man and might die if she doesn't tell someone soon.

"I brought ice cream!" She yells, walking in.

She stops in the kitchen but doesn't see him or hear him. She checks his office, and it's empty, the same as his bedroom. She thinks he might be late getting out and starts The Great British Bake Off because their conversation from days ago is still in her head. Also, it's her comfort show after a shitty date

She hears the door unlocking and is grateful because two hours she had been waiting for him. She stands up eager to greet Harry, but as she turns around, she's met with a pretty blonde she's never met. She's dressed in a black dress that reaches mid-thigh hugging her curves in all the right places with red heels, and the only thing missing is the matching red lipstick.

Harry walks in with his hand on her back, and that's where she finds the blonde's missing lipstick. It's smudged all over Harry's lips. It’s obvious they had done a lot of kissing. She does her best to hide her shock.

The room is quiet, she thinks she can hear her heartbreaking. She reacts in a matter of seconds. Eyes wide and in panic, but she makes sure to move quickly. She shoots the girl a quick smile. She turns the tv that was on mute off, thankful to have already thrown her trash away.

"What are you doing here?" Harry practically screams at her. "Did you ditch the date?"

She's panicking, and if she doesn't stay calm, she might just pass out or better yet scream at Harry for sending her on the worst date of her life. She already let Sydney know what happened on the date but assured Syd she'd be fine at Harry's.

Oh, how wrong she was.

"I'm sorry it didn't go as planned. I'm leaving now." She picks her shoes up at the door and walks out with them in hand.

Harry follows her out and is hot on her heels.

"Did you ditch him for ice cream and movies at my house?" Harry's voice getting louder.

Harry's upset. She hasn't seen him this upset since the time she called Harry and told him she was stuck in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire and how she didn't have a spare because she kept forgetting going to the shop and buying a new one. He had let a tow truck take her home and proceeded to yell at her when she went to his house two days later.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'll send him a fruit basket."

She's in her car and in the next second driving down the street.

She wants love but not like this, it isn't supposed to hurt like this.

Harry wakes up at seven to get ready for his daily run with his Peach when he sees a few texts on his phone.

Sydney: I know you had good intentions but no more dates for her.

Sydney: Please, just do anything she wants. Give her all the ice cream she wants.

Sydney: I'm assuming it all went well, and she's still sleeping because she hasn't answered my messages.

Harry's confused and does the only logical things and calls her.

"Syd, what are your texts about?"

"The date you sent her on. She was supposed to tell you about it once she got to your house."

"I wasn't home. Peach said she ditched him for ice cream and movies at my house." He says, not mentioning the part where he screams at her.

Syd sighs clearly hearing the strain in his voice, "I know there's some information missing there, but I won't push because she's my friend first. The dude basically met her and said her outfit wasn't revealing enough, but she could make up for it the next time. Then during dessert, he moved to sit next to her instead of across. He tried to put his hand up her dress. She told him to stop." Syd paused. "Then he tried it again, and she jumped up from her seat. She almost bumped into the waitress but he grabbed her waist too tight to let that happen. The waitress saw how upset she was and had the hostess and security walk her to her car. She walked out crying because she just wanted to punch him but didn't want to cause a bigger mess."

Harry doesn't know if he wants to scream or cry. He does feel anger pouring through his veins and knows next time he sees this guy he's going to do more than yell.

"She left last night saying she ditched and that she was sorry. I'm such an idiot." Harry knows Syd will yell at him for what he did next. "I yelled at her because I brought a girl home and she was there. I practically told her the date happened, so she'd give me space."

"You suck. I thought you were better than that. That girl is the kindest person on this planet. She loves you and she always puts your happiness in front of hers."

Harry knows she isn't coming, but a small part of him holds hope she will still show up for their run together.

He sits on his back steps, waiting for her. Texts her multiple times, leaves voicemails. Yet nothing in return.

Peach: I'm busy.

Harry: Come over, please.

Peach: I can't. My boss asked me to come in. A presentation is due Monday.

Harry: We need to talk, call me or come over whenever. I'm always free for you.

It's almost been two weeks since she talked to Harry, but she's honestly embarrassed about how things happened. Harry implied he set her up on a date because she spent too much time with him. She's giving him what he clearly wanted. She also had to process what happened to her alone. Therapy was good, Dr. Stein was very kind. Dr. Stein didn’t make her problems feel small and it felt nice to let things out instead of letting it all bottle up.

It felt horrible to be away from Harry so long. Since they became friends they’d never gone longer than a day without communication. She felt empty but the image of lipstick stains on his face kept her away longer than she liked to admit. She’s going to push the feelings aside because that won’t be the reason she loses her best friend.

She's walking up Harry's steps but stops before she reaches the last one. What if he has the girl over? What if he ends the friendship? All these thoughts are running through her head and she hates having not knowing where Harry and her stand. She always hated confrontation.

As soon as she approaches the door, she sighs but squares her shoulder because she's strong. No one, not even Harry will make her feel weak. She's there to apologize for being in his home and overstepping a boundary. Then hopefully, they’ll talk it out.

She knocks for the first time in years on his door, and it feels strange, but she sucks it up because this is the correct thing to do.

She hears his light footsteps and takes two steps back.

He's surprised to see her when the door opens, but the smile he wears is bright before he frowns just as quickly.

"You don't need to knock Peach come in."

She steps in slowly toeing off her shoes carefully.

Harry approaches her and brings her in for a big hug. She stands there with her hands at her side. Harry lets her go when he feels her tense.

"What's wrong, Peach?" He frowns looking her up and down. "I've got lots of apologizing to do, but first, why'd you knock."

She looks up at Harry and pouts when she sees the eye bags he has. "You haven't been sleeping."

"It happens when your best friend is short with you for thirteen days, but it's okay because I deserve it."

"I didn't mean for that to happen, but I was giving you space because I hadn't realized how much I actually bother you."

"Hey, stop that." Harry looks at her sadly. "That's not what I meant that night."

"I can read between the lines. You don't have to hide anything. I can handle the truth."

"Listen to me," Harry guides her head to look up at him. "I was a jerk. I let my dick do the talking. You are the most important person in my life. I love you, and I don't know what I'd do without you in my life. I was going crazy this week. It felt like an entire year went by without you."

That makes her laugh. "Stop lying."

Harry shakes his head with a smile. "I mean it. My days without you are long and boring pretty Peach."

"Well, I'm here now, and I smell something good."

Harry hesitates before opening his mouth to address the reason she was at his house that Friday night.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't be the person you go to when you're upset." She tenses up just as she was about to reach for a chocolate muffin. "I'm sorry I was such a jerk the one night you needed me most. I'm your best friend, and yet I couldn't tell that you had been crying because of an idiot I set you up with."

She turns around to look at him, and there's no tears or anger in his eyes, only sadness. "One in three women get sexually assaulted. That's what Matt, Sydney's fiance, told me. He's a social worker. Women have to fear men yet are never believed or seen as a victim. I told them he didn't hurt me, but Matt told me that it was harassment. I tried to belittle it but they told me it was okay to feel unsafe because it went against what I wanted. Guess I needed someone unbiased to tell me that it's okay to be affected." She smiles. "I went to see my therapist. It felt umm…good to discuss everything that happened."

Harry has tears running down his face, and he knows they won’t stop. Seeing her in person has made his guilt really come to surface. "I'm sorry sweet Peach. I'm sorry I sent you on a date that led to this. It's all my fault."

"H, don't cry. It's not your fault he doesn't know how to treat a woman. I'm okay. I will be okay."

She's holding his face gently in her hands, and Harry falls more in love with her at this moment because she's never looked stronger. Although she was hurt, she won't let it break her but guide her.

He pulls her in and hugs her tight. Harry kisses her head, whispering I love you, and I'm here for you.

Harry knows this doesn't clear everything, but they will cross this bridge together and come out stronger.

She squirms out of his hold. "The muffins are getting cold. I want the chocolate chips melting in my mouth."

Harry is sitting in the car on another business call. He's wearing a yellow shirt he woke up in and threw his black hoodie on. His sunglasses resting on his head keeping his curls from falling forward. He was in shorts and running shoes because he was supposed to run with Peach on this new trail, except this call prevented him from doing so, and she didn't want to wait around for him. He knows she doesn't like running when the sun is high, so early mornings are their go-to. Except Harry's job calls him too often on Saturday's because they know he's awake.

He's not sure how long he's been talking, but he's upset because he missed taking pictures of her for whenever they reached the top of whatever they were running to. His passenger door is pulled open, and it's Peach plopping herself down. Shoes taken off and on her feet are her Nike sliders. Harry snaps his head back into the call.

"Look, H, I fell." She comments, not caring that he was still on his call.

Harry turns to look at her quickly and sees her knee pulled to her chest. She's rolled up her grey leggings, and there on her knee is blood rolling down. She's unfazed, and Harry knows she's clumsy but hates he wasn't there to help her up.

"This girl helped me up and offered to walk back with me, but she could have been a serial killer for all I know and told her I was fine and ran off. Good thing I was on my way down already."

Harry stares at this girl in disbelief because, of course, she doesn't trust anyone. "I know girls are less likely, but she was looking at my boobs, and I didn't like that."

"Styles, you with us." His colleague asks.

Harry looks away from her and stares back at his phone, resting on the steering wheel.

"Sorry, my girl had an accident, and I got to take care of it." They end after that and Harry takes out the first aid kit she gifted him to have in his car for emergencies. He knew she did it for herself more and who was he to object. Harry missed the blush on her cheeks when he said, "my girl," and she's thankful for that. He cleans her cut gently but quickly with all the practice he's had on her. He puts a bandage on and smiles when he's done.

"H, it's got daisies" She's smiling wide. She caressed it softly to not bother her injury.

Harry did get her different types of band-aids because a new design each time makes her smile.

“Kiss it better then I’ll be healed.”

The smile on her face has Harry leaning in close. His lips are soft as they touch her skin. She wants to run her fingers through his hair and bring him up to kiss her lips but she settles for just her knee.

"It's baking time, bitch!" She screams as she walks in with her Rapunzel grocery tote.

Harry knows they are going to bake two or three things from the size of the bag. She huffs a little, placing it on the counter. She begins to take out her items and sections them out.

"Today, young one-"

"I'm older than you."

She glares at him for interrupting. "Today, smart-ass. We are making banana bread and peanut butter chocolate chip cookies."

"Can you do it on your own, I'm busy." Harry jokes, expecting a sarcastic reply in return.

He looks at her, and she's looking sadly at a bag of chocolate chips. He frowned if she did not get the joke.

"Am I annoying you?" She questions. Harry hates how often she asks him that, but wounds take time to heal.

"Nope, I'm just a jerk."

She looks at his eyes and stares. "You're not lying to make me feel better."

"My sweet Peach, it would be an honor to bake with you and will allow you to pick all the movies we watch tonight because I am an idiot who takes a joke too far."

"Okay, sorry. I'm on overdrive in my head and came here to relax, but got too into my head."

Harry pulls her into a warm hug, and they stay like that for minutes. He pulls away and pushes her to the sink because they had work to do.

"Your peanut butter chocolate chip cookies are my drug. I watched you make them, but I feel you do something extra when I turn around." Harry says on the couch chewing on his fifth cookie. She's laying with her head in his lap, she's sure she got crumbs in her hair but is too tired to care.

"I put all my love for you in those cookies." she murmurs close to dozing off.

Harry stares at with a soft look in his eyes. If she had looked up, she would have seen it was love in those green eyes of his.

"I wish the love you put in the cookies is the love you'd give to me."

She's asleep in his lap. He knows she missed his declaration if he could even call it that. She lets out a small smile. She grabs his hand playing with her hair and pulls it to her chest. "I love you."

Harry freezes, unsure if she means it or what because it didn’t feel like the typical ‘I love you’ that she tells all her friends. Y/N's never talked in her dream before.

"Peach," he whispers, "you awake." A minute goes by, and he gets no response

This might be his chance, but it could also ruin everything if she didn't mean it.

Oh boy.

It's been a week since that night on the couch, and Harry is dying inside. He never has the balls to ask.

It's the first Friday of the month, which means dinner and wine or in her case tea.

Peach came over and had already cooked dinner claiming she had lots of time on her hand today. It usually means she didn't want to deal with Harry in the kitchen. Then proceeded to order Harry to set the table because he was no help.

The meal as always was delicious. She made spicy lemon pasta with chicken although she told him it was supposed to be shrimp, she didn't think she'd like it. Harry showed her in praise as he does after every meal. Jokes, she needs to open her own restaurant, then she melts Harry's heart by saying, "I only cook for you, darling."

Harry decided to have some wine, and she settled on tea because she didn't like to drink. Harry was giggly meaning he was a bit tipsy because he hadn't drunk in forever and was half a bottle down. She knew it wasn't fair but decided now would be a good time for some answers.

"Do you think I'd be a good girlfriend?

"The best," he replies, instantly letting her know he's not lying.

She blushes and gestures for him to go on.

"You're kind. A good cook, understanding, incredibly smart, and you've got a cute nose." Harry wants to go on and on but thinks he'd blurt out his feelings if he did.

"Would you ask me out? If you didn't know me."

"In a heartbeat," his answer shocks her.

Does Harry like her like she liked him?

She decides to get bold.

"Why haven't you taken me on a date?" She looks down at herself dressed in black sweats and a blue vintage Mickey Mouse shirt she stole from Harry. "Am I that bad looking?"

"Stop that," Harry murmurs, always hating when she comments on her looks. "I did ask you out, and I got friend-zoned. I didn't pursue more."

She shakes her head. "Stop shitting me, H." She doesn't believe him. "The first time we went out together, we split the bill."

"Think back, Peach. We always hung out in groups then I asked you to go out alone, I picked you up, opened your door and then we split the bill because you said friends met in the middle."

She sits back, her lips mouthing a silent 'oh.'

"I friend-zoned you." She starts laughing. "That's gold."

She catches her breath and stops to stare at Harry. He's wearing an old white t-shirt and can't help but look at his curls framing his face. It's slowly growing out, and she knows he's growing it out for her. She loves playing with his curls and tying it in a small ponytail that sticks up. "H, if you had told me that during lunch, I would have agreed, but you decided to keep those pretty lips shut."

Harry smirks, "You think my lips are pretty."

She sighs, giving up. She stands up. "I'll pick you up at six on Friday. I'm taking you on a date."

Harry sits there shocked but not surprised at her boldness.

"How do you even know I like you?"

Her smirk falters, and her eyes dull. Harry feels like he was just punched in the gut. He put this look on her face.

"You're right, that was insensitive of me." She's scanning the room, trying not to meet Harry's eyes. "I'm going to go." She rushes out the door in the next second. Harry is sitting there stunned before he jumps up after her.

"Wait," he screams, hoping she'll stop. She's in a hurry to leave, throwing her bag in the passenger seat. She shuts the door, but to his benefit, the window is down.

"I'm sorry." he's panting. "I'm an idiot, I know. I didn't mean that. I just like to tease you." He's looking at her, but she's looking straight ahead. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

She takes a deep breath. "That wasn't nice."

He sighs in relief. "I know, hun. I messed up. We were both being honest and vulnerable, and you surprised me by saying you were taking me out."

"I'm reconsidering taking you out."

She finally looks over at him, her eyes not shining as bright looking at him. "I’m still going to go."

"I'll let you go if you say you'll still take me out."

She looks like she wants to say no. "I'll hang here if I have to as you drive away."

"Do you.." she pauses, not being able to meet his eyes. Her hand reaches out to play with his pretty witch ring on his middle finger. "like me." she mutters.

"Hey, look at me." Harry guides her face to look at him, and he's never seen her so vulnerable. So open. What he feels like her heart is on display. "I'm crazy about you."

She can't help the blush that colors her cheeks.

"For so long, I've had these feelings, and I've gone on dates, but it's never worked out, and I've always known it was because they weren't you."

She smiles timidly. "Okay, H. I'll still take you on a date."

He leans his forehead on hers. "I can't wait."

"I really want to kiss you, but I'm a gentleman. and I want to do this right by you." Harry runs his thumb gently over her bottom lip. She releases a small sigh, her breath warming his thumb.

"Can't tonight count as a date?" She's looking from his eyes to his lips.

Harry laughs loving the extra attention.

"I like to be wined and dined, too, Peach."

She sighs. "I sure know to pick them."

A kiss to her forehead and he backs away. "Drive safe, Peach."

She drives off a smile on both their faces.

"Okay, I know I was the one who was supposed to pick you up, but I really need you to come for me."

She's sitting next to the steps that lead to her door cradling her wrist to her chest, cursing the last wobbly step she has yet to fix.

Maybe Harry will help her fix it sometime soon.

"I'm not going to ask why I'll be there in five," Harry replies.

"I live 15 minutes away!" she screams, "You better be driving safely, or I'll punch you."

"Sorry Peach, I meant to say see you in ten."

She hangs up and shoves her phone in her bag and ponders if she should get up or not.

She pulls her hand away from her chest a little and sees that it looks okay, thankfully she didn't put rings on today; otherwise, they might have been stuck on her fingers. She looks at her nails and smiles because her lilac nails didn't chip. She did them last night because Harry loves this color.

Harry arrives and gets out in a hurry that he almost trips over her.

"Watch it, H." She mumbles, playing with a rolly polly that she found next to her bag. "You almost killed Eric."

Harry stares down at her, not sure what's going on, but gives her time.

"Our date is for you to drive me to urgent care because I've had an accident." She smiles up at him like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"Can't say I've ever had someone take me there," he answers, his gaze locked on her swollen wrist.

"I know you will remember me forever and ever for this. Now help me up, my butt is officially numb."

He walks her to his car and goes as far as putting her seatbelt on for her.

"Want to tell me how it happened?"

"I was walking down the steps, and my shoe got stuck in the bottom step I have yet to fix. Instead of landing on my face, I put my hands out, and now my left wrist is hurting," she pouts, looking at harry. "I was supposed to fix it this Sunday. I got the supplies in the doorway, ready to go.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, concerned because it is swelling up and the bruising only makes it look worse.

"Nope, I got a high pain tolerance," she winks.

"I'll keep that in mind." He jokes, but gosh, that sure got him tight in his pants.

"I know it's not broken because it doesn't look weird but also not a fracture because it would hurt if I touched my fingers, but they move fine. I just want to know what kind of sprain it is. How long I need to keep it rested and all that fun stuff."

Harry looks at her, not at all surprised she knows so much about the injury.

"I wasn't always accident-prone. I did sports, and high school division one was tough. I went through lots of icing and taping. The trainer and I were on first name bases. I ended up helping her a lot. She made me take this short course where I learned the basics."

Harry smiles because although this date is unconventional, he sure is learning more about his Peach.

They are surprised to see the urgent care waiting room pretty empty. She gives her name, and she's handed a clipboard. Harry is quick to take it out of her hand and begins to fill it out.

"I should be scared that you know my social security but I'm not."

"Remember, two summers ago, you wanted to go to Lake Tahoe for a week, and we rented that cabin, and we decided to get drunk together because you didn't drink and only wanted to know how it felt. You only felt safe enough to do it with only me. Well, I decided not to get drunk that night so that I take care of you. You swore you were going to die and proceeded to sing your social security to me in a song until I could recite it back to you."

She nods as if trying to think back to that day.

"That day is nonexistent to me." she laughs. "Alcohol sucks. Don't need that in me ever."

"I drink it for the both of us to remember."

"Yeah, cause your tolerance is high; it must be the British in you," she says, bumping his shoulder softly.

She peeks over to look at the question he's on, and it's asking when her last period was. She's about to answer when she sees he wrote in the correct days. She doesn't comment on it.

"Do you believe in soulmates?."

Harry turns to look at her with his bright green eyes. “Yeah, it’s a nice thought. Have someone who completes you and understands you like no one else.”

“I know it’s our first date, but we’ve been friends for over three years and since the moment we met I was hit with this ease and safety when I’m around you. I think you might be my soulmate.”

"Oh yeah, what does being your soulmate entail?" He’s grinning because he knows she’s right.

"Lots of cookies and cinnamon rolls. Hmmm...cuddles laughs and lots of kisses. Like lots of them."

Harry’s smile goes into full bloom because they haven't even shared the first kiss, and she knows she wants this with him.

"I can live with that."

"That’s cool, I wasn't asking."

Two hours later, they walk out with a small bag from the pharmacy and her wrist wrapped in a bandage.

"Next part of our date is," she pauses and gestures to Harry to do the drum roll "Ice cream!" she shouts, and Harry cheers with her.

"But there's a twist." she turns in her seat to look at him. "You have to guess the ice cream flavor I'm thinking of, or this date ends now."

"We're going to Scoops," He sees her nod and continues on, "That is where you like to get a new flavor each time, but I know after an injury, you crave caramel."

"Final answer then, H."

"Gold Medal Ribbon"

She leans back in her seat. "That is correct," she says proudly. "Let's get some pizza too because I need food to take these pills."

"Pizza, ice cream. Then my place or yours."

She thinks about it real hard. As much as she loves Harry's bed, she needs her favorite blanket tonight. "Let's go back to mine."

Harry takes off in the direction of their favorite ice cream shop, Scoops, that is conveniently next to the place where they order their pizza.

They are lying in her bed together, moving there after watching US per Harry's choice. Harry helped her with her night routine and even tried to brush her teeth, but she reminded him she was ambidextrous. A fancy way of telling Harry she was talented with both hands. That caused Harry to go red and leave her standing in her bathroom alone.

She's getting sleepy, and she blames it on the painkillers. She doesn't want to sleep because then it would mark the end of their date. Although it was not a traditional dinner, she had a great time because it was Harry.

"I'm sorry, I didn't wine and dine you properly." She's close to tears because no guy wants to go on a date to a hospital then go home to eat pizza. "It's probably been the worst date you've ever been on, and worst I didn't get to walk you to the door and kiss you."

"Peach," he starts, and she looks at him with glossed eyes. "This was the best first date. It will always be the most memorable because it was with you."

She smiles slightly.

"Want to know a secret" he grins at her nodding her head shyly. "You're my last first date."

She blushes at his words because she knows the meaning behind it. He means she's the one he's going to be with forever.

"Then will you seal the deal, Mr. Romantic, and kiss me."

He pets her hair gently. "I want it to be perfect."

"Every moment with you is perfect."

Harry's heart skips a beat at her words. He's never said no to her before, and he isn't going to start now.

All their first date kisses have led them to this moment, the final one. All the heartbreak they went through was done so that when the right person came around, they would know how to cherish and protect that love.

She feels her heart beating so fast she wasn't able to catch a proper breath. His head that just seconds ago was declaring his emotions to her was no buzzing with anticipation. She felt his breaths on her cheeks. He watched her eyelids flutter, then close. Then their lips met.

Romance novels do no justice to how it feels to kiss the person you were waiting on forever to kiss. It's not fireworks and sparks.

It's better, it's much better.

It feels as if your soul is at peace. A gentleness flows through them at the love that is being exchanged. It's the feeling of coming home, a sense of wanting, and acceptance. It was something explainable, and they can't wait to experience more of that.

Harry pulls away far enough to look at her shut eyes and smile that's gracing her face. She opens them, and he's met with them shining as bright as the stars outside.

"Perfect," she whispers, her right hand coming up to gently stroke the dimples on his face.

Harry turns his head gently and places a kiss on her palm. She sighs in contentment. He settles on his side and brings her hand down to rest on her stomach as he intertwines their hands together. Her left arm elevated on a stack of blankets and pillows as to allow it to heal; her back pressed to his. They fit perfectly.

There under the light of the moon, they fell asleep with their hearts full.

It’s the start of a relationship, one with struggles, laughs, and many firsts together but most importantly filled with an ever growing love for one another.

December 2020

"Do you think she'll hug you first or me?"

"I'm her son, Peach," he states as if her question was absurd.

"I bet you 50," she says.

"Dollars, quid, kisses, or what" he replies with a smirk on his face.

"Spanks," she replies earnestly.

"Kinky"

"Start walking, I see your luggage that has all the presents."

Harry arrives and parks the car, and she all dives out of the car. She rushes to the front door and puts Harry's key in to unlock the door. She knows it's as much her home as it is his.

"Anne," she shouts, not seeing anyone in the living room. She takes her shoes off but leaves her coat on.

Anne walks out of the kitchen, she rushes to give her a hug brushing off Harry standing right next to her. She smirks at Harry, and he just rolls his eyes, but honestly, he might just burst from happiness at how much his mom loves his Peach.

"Can you believe our dear Harold brought his girlfriend here to meet you, and he didn't even let you know." She begins her tale trying her best to hold in her smile

Harry closes the door and is not at all surprised to see his mom pull her closer in a hug, thinking she was serious.

Well, she was.

"Hi mum, I would love a hug. Your youngest and only son is home."

"Is she serious? Where is the girlfriend?" she questions him right away. "Do you have her waiting outside?"

"You're holding her." He replies honestly to his mum.

Anne pulls back to look at the girl in her arms, and Harry can't help but laugh at his mother's face. She has a million-dollar smile on her face and nods to reassure Anne that it's true. Anne lets out a little scream before bringing her in for a tighter hug. Harry approaches, and Anne pulls him in to join the group hug. It's a lovely welcome home.

"It's not even Christmas, and this is the best gift I could have received."

Anne smiles and comes close to crying when seeing them reach for each other, like two magnets being pulled together. Hands intertwined and smiles wide. She sees their love loud and clear.

"Oh, does your sister know." Anne suddenly worried if she was the last to know.

"Nope, Harry wanted to let you know together."

"Well, she shouldn't belong. How long have you been together?"

Harry grins, "Is it crazy to say it feels like forever." Y/N grins up at him and gives him a quick peck on his cheek. "Got together in March. When the klutz got her wrist sprained." Y/N elbowed him fast and hard enough to leave him gasping for air.

There's a knock on the door, and they know it's Gemma's boyfriend because she would have walked right in.

"Darlin', go into the kitchen. We'll tell Gemma Harry wants to introduce her to his girlfriend, and that'll be your cue."

Anne's so excited that they do as they say.

It's safe to say that day was full of hugs, smiles, and laughs.

It's cold out, but Y/N doesn't seem to mind. She's got a blanket around her as she sits on the back steps of the house. She looks out and knows she'd be happy here forever.

"Peach, you're going to freeze out here."

"Not if you come sit by me" She smiles knowing he's not going to say no to her. Harry shuffles over to her quickly unwrapping the blanket to wrap them both in the warmth it’s providing.

"I meant it when I said I'd move across the pond with you."

Harry pulls her close and practically has her sitting in his lap. He rests his head on top of hers.

"I know you did." He stops to press a gentle kiss to her hair. "You've got family there and your job. I got mine too." He sighs as if he's trying to convince himself why they shouldn't

"Not to brag or whatever, but I work at one of the best companies. Top two in the nation, I'm sure they'd allow me a transfer or give me an excellent reference because not to brag again, but I'm amazing at my job.

Harry acts like he's going to drop her causing her to scream, and she wraps her arms around his neck tightly.

"You also want to expand your company. Who better to run the branch in London than the man himself."

Harry groans. "You make it sound so easy."

"That's because it is, with you, it always has been."

She nuzzles her nose into his neck, causing him to smile because it's cold, but he doesn't let her know because he likes having her this close.

"You'd move across the ocean with me," he repeats as if still not believing it. "What's the catch?"

"A promise of forever with you," she whispers, kissing his neck softly.

"With you forever seems too short."

Harry lets her lean in to peck his lips.

"I'll support you no matter what, I'm all in with you, and I'll always support all your dreams."

She lifts her arm to rest on his cheek, and she strokes him gently. He hums in content, knowing there is no better place in this world than in her arms.

"I may be your lover now, but I will always be your friend."

It’s true Harry thinks as much as their relationship has changed she always has his best interest in mind and vice versa.

Best friends and lovers.

She leans in and brushes her lips to his. She laughs a little because hers have gone a little dry with the cold, but Harry's stay soft and welcoming. He closes the gap wanting to feel the heat her kisses bring him. Their lips move in sync, a dance only they know. It's soft, and slow just like this moment. Harry pours all his love into this kiss and feels her do the same. They pull apart close enough to still feel each other's breath. Small kisses, always being shared.

There, in Harry's mother's backyard on a cold December night, Harry and Y/N promise forever and more to each other.

Thank you for reading Always Be Your Friend! I love this story that shows a story of two friends who loved each other but were never brave enough to say it until they finally did. A pinch of angst and a load of fluff later I’m still in love with loud Y/N and workaholic Harry. Thank you to @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h @andwhenshesays for creating Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge because it was a true joy to take time and write this story (even if there where times I did not like parts of my story.)

Here’s the pypfc masterlist to check out everyone else’s stories!

please please please let me know what you though of it here. I love hearing your thoughts it means so much to me. Love you all - Angie

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry styles fics #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #pypfc

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yukimoji · 4 years

Note

Oblivion 💕!! I hope you’re well, I’d like to request a cute Tanjirō x reader. Maybe where the s/o starts trying to make herself smell better, like using better soap to wash up. She’s really self conscious and wanted to try and please Tanjirō because she’s too awkward to actually just go and speak to him. They’ve been friends for a while and both like the other, even if they aren’t aware of that obvious fact. So Tanjirō eventually tells her that he prefers her natural scent. A scent of home 💕

(a/n: hi there again! thank you so much for requesting! i hope i did your request justice! i hope you’re well too and stay safe out there! <3 )

(also, beware for typos and grammar errors! happy reading!)

Total words: 1900+ words

Genre: Fluff

No manga spoilers

Warnings: None

The Aroma of Home ( Tanjiro Kamado x Reader )

For months, Tanjiro had always enjoyed your company.

He first met you during a mission, a demon managed to corner him and he could barely lift up his katana. He was battered up and was beyond exhausted. Nezuko was nowhere to be found, and he was left to his own devices. The demon lunged at Tanjiro, but the boy did not feel the pain or impact that he expected.

He could only stare in awe as a young Demon Slayer stood in front him, katana unsheathed as the demon faded away into dust. Your eyes were glowing as you stared at him, the gentle wind blowing around your hair gracefully. The moonlight mirrored your figure perfectly, giving you an elegant sparkle.

You held out a hand, and your lips curved up into a soft smile. He lifted his palm to hold onto yours, and felt his face running red at how soft your hands were. Then, your soothing voice echoed out to him for the first time that made pleasant shivers run up to his spine.

"Are you alright?"

You could say you made a lasting impression on the boy.

The last thing he recalled before blacking out of fatigue was your scent. His nose had picked up a beautiful fragrance that was so familiar and pleasant. He basked in the comfort of your aroma as your scent embraced his body with such tender warmth. It felt so calming and for a moment, it gave him a sense of security and peace that distracted him from the cruel world.

Your scent dearly reminded him of home.

After that night, he was determined to get to know you. However, befriending your seemed like a challenge.

Each time he would come near you and try to strike up a conversation, you would tense up and scurry away from his warm presence. He did not understand why, and negative thoughts started to consume him from the inside out. Did he do something wrong? Did he bother you? Do you not enjoy his presence? Do you hate him?

He would be damned if he said this out loud, but he yearned to catch even just a fraction of your endearing scent.

It wasn't until Zenitsu snapped him out of his pity party and said that you were just shy. Tanjiro mentally facepalmed to himself at this revelation. He felt stupid for thinking such negative thoughts, and the boy revised his plans for future attempts to get to know you. However, he felt the blood rushing to his face as conflicting emotions start to overwhelm him when he recalled the way you presented yourself during that fateful night.

You mean to say, that the strong and beautiful girl who saved my life is shy?!

After that, he started to approach you in a more gentle manner, trying so hard not to startle you. Little by little, you started to warm up to him. Eventually, you became close friends. You even became friends with Nezuko, and it warmed his heart so much!

He valued your friendship to a high regard, the little moments where the two of you would laugh and joke about the tiny things would always bring a smile to his face. He didn't mind that you were a little awkward and shy at times, it just made you look more sweet and adorable to him! Just recalling these random memories just makes his day, and he wouldn't trade his relationship with you for the world.

Not only that, he has great admiration for your swordsmanship and skills as a Demon Slayer. Each time you would wield your katana, Tanjiro would always seem to learn something new from you. When the two of you would be assigned together for missions, it would be a lie to say that the boy would not be ecstatic.

He would always be honored to have you as his partner, and he might not admit it, but he can't help but gawk at the sight of you during battle. The way you would just look all focused and intense during an encounter with a demon makes him feel something that would bring fluttering butterflies to his belly. The way your face contorts into one filled with intensity and determination, contrasting with your normal timid and cute face, makes the Crimson-eyed slayer feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Not only that, he couldn't seem to get enough of your cozy and homey scent. Each time his nose would catch a glimpse of your endearing aroma, the radiant energy would come back and surround his body with such warmth and tenderness.

He loved that about you. You reminded him so much of home.

But then, one day, you began to emit something unfamiliar.

He found that you were starting to smell different. Your scent had started to change to a heavy fragrance of roses and jasmines instead of the homey aroma that he loved so much. He paid no mind of this at first, thinking maybe you just did something different and experimented for the day. But as days went by, the floral fragrances intensified, and the cozy scent that you originally had fully subsided.

It was starting to bother Tanjiro. You had every right to do what you wanted with your body, and he fully respected that. But he can't help but miss your natural and snuggly scent. The longer the floral fragrances intensify, the more anxious and fidgety he grows. He begins to struggle as desperately tries to fight how his body yearns to feel the warm embrace of your natural scent again.

This goes on, until one day, his selfishness gets the best of him.

He was resting at a Wisteria house, after a particularly difficult mission. Fortunately for him, your were assigned as his partner. You became close enough with the Burgundy-haired boy that you didn't mind that you shared a room with him. It wasn't like you were alone with him too, after all, Nezuko's box just layed comfortably across the two of you.

He layed in his futon, as he was anxiously waits for your return. His mind was going haywire, as he repeatedly practices his questions towards your distinctive new fragrance. He fidgeted on his hands and began to sweat relentlessly, he felt so ashamed that he had the audacity to ask you such questions.

After what felt like eternity, footsteps rang around and you entered the room. Your hair was still damp, signalling that you came back from taking a shower. The strong fragrance of roses and jasmine becomes evident in the air, as the boy's nose scrunch from the overwhelming sickly sweet smell.

"You're still awake." You spoke up, taking a small towel to pat on your damp hair to dry it out.

"Mhm." Tanjiro barely exhales out. He sweated like a sinner in church, large balls of sweat just running down in his face endlessly.

You take a good look at him, and you were puzzled as to why he was sweating and shaking so much. Placing the towel aside, you moved in the direction of your futon, which was placed next to Tanjiro. You sat down, tilted your head slightly as uncertainty and doubt began to grow.

"What's wrong?" You asked, and Tanjiro could feel his soul just leaving his body as Shame completely engulfed his entire being.

Mustering all the courage and dignity he had left, he inhaled deeply. He sat up on his futon, and looked at you dead in the eye.

"Why do you smell so different now?"

Tanjiro immediately knew his mistake, he felt all the color drain from his face and his eyes were blown wide by what he just said.

THAT WAS NOT WHAT HE WANTED TO SAY!

Your eyes grew as big as plates, clearly taken aback, and Tanjiro just screams and screeches in the inside. He felt all the deities just look at him with utter disappointment as all the honor and moral integrity he had left completely abandoned him. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! He wanted to crawl and hide into the corner at how absolutely stupid he sounded! He felt so ashamed, and he wanted to just disappear into the ends of the Earth.

You looked down to avoid his gaze, and chuckled quietly. "You noticed, huh?" You whispered out.

The Crimson-eyed boy's mind continued to hurl out insults for his act dishonor, screaming at him to commit Seppuku to atone for his crime. Immediately, he stood in front of you, and proceeded to bow deeply repeatedly.

"I'm sorry! That question was too much! Please forget about it and forgive me!" Tanjiro shouts out, his pace never faltering as he continued to bow in front of you. You raised your hands, waving them desperately for him to calm down.

After a few minutes of constant bowing and words of reassurance, Tanjiro finally calms down. You look at him, eyes glistening with an emotion that the Hanafuda-clad slayer cannot describe. The boy can't stop his trembling, the atmosphere in the room felt absolutely suffocating as the two of you basked in the awkward silence.

"I.. I figured you would ask sooner or later." Your voice resonated, breaking the silence. You scrunch up your face, and proceeded to sigh deeply.

"When I knew about your keen sense of smell, I suddenly felt... self-conscious..." You started to explain, averting your gaze from the boy to look down at the floor. "I was worried.. that I.. that I.."

You struggled to find your words, and you could already feel the shame and doubt bubble up in you. It was embarrassing to say the least, and you couldn't tell what Tanjiro's thoughts were in his head. Negative thoughts clouded your mind, and you were more than convinced that Tanjiro was judging you at this very moment.

"I was worried that I smell bad, and I didn't really want you to deal with my disgusting scent everyday. So I started to use different methods so I could smell more pleasing to you." You felt so awkward, and you wanted to be anywhere else than here. Tanjiro didn't move or say anything, and you couldn't tell what expression he was making because you thought the ground was more interesting.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grasps your own. You whipped your head upwards and were met face to face with Tanjiro's Crimson ones, which were filled with determination.

"Please don't say that!" The boy starts, and your eyes went round from his sudden outburst. "You're wonderful the way you are! You never were unpleasant to me, in fact, it's the opposite!" His grip on your hand grew tighter, but in a comforting way as he his continued speech.

"I cherished your aroma, it really made me feel relaxed and peaceful on the inside! Every time you would be close to me, your scent would just bundle me up and wrap me with so much warmth! So, please, don't say that your smell was disgusting! I respect if you want to continue doing what you were doing, but please do consider my next words!"

He leans forward, and you could only look back in complete disbelief. Your lower lip trembles at his close proximity, and you could feel blood rushing to your face as a reassuring grin appears on the boy's features.

"I adored your natural scent because you reminded me so much of home! So don't doubt yourself because you're absolutely amazing just the way you are!"

You're holding back a choked sob, as your eyes start to well up in tears. How, how could anyone be so compassionate and caring towards you? Tanjiro engulfs you in a love-filled embrace, and you happily reciprocate. You started to cry out of the sheer amount of happiness, a wide smile of relief transforming your face.

"Thank you."

#tanjiro x reader #tanjirou x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #tanjirou kamado x reader #demon slayer x reader #moji writes

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soulmate-game · 5 years

Text

Oneshot #3

Just one (1) imagining of Mari and Damian meeting as kids.

Darkness clung greedily to every street corner, and perhaps nobody would truly know whether it was the sheer viscosity of every shadow or the scope of talent in the newest Robin, but even clad in bright greens and reds and yellows the brand new vigilante easily slunk around unseen.

A shrill scream rang out in the air, sounding young. Unfortunately (or fortunately) Robin wasn’t the only one with the ability to slink around unseen in the Gotham night. His father and mentor followed close behind as they both made a beeline towards the newest disturbance.

What they saw was… not exactly what they expected. See, they had expected a little girl in the midst of getting kidnapped. While they weren’t exactly wrong, they had not at all been anticipating the kid’s apparent mother to be there.

Or that said mother had already beaten down four of the five traffickers after her daughter with a broken mop handle from the nearby dumpster.

The little pigtailed girl cowering behind her mother was scared without a doubt, tears pricking the corners of her startlingly bright blue eyes, but she was making a valiant effort to stay brave. She was biting her bottom lip, doing her best to suck in the tears and stay as silent as possible. And when the fifth and only attacker to remain conscious managed to slice along her mother’s arm with a knife?

Well, neither vigilante about to jump into the scene expected the terrified girl to grab a little grocery bag of trash that was nearby and toss it at him.

“Don’t touch my Maman!” She yelled in heavily accented English. The weak knot holding the bag broke when it hit the guy’s face, releasing used tampons and a half-empty bottle of milk over his head. The momentary surprise and disgust allowed enough time for the clearly Chinese mother to land another smack with her broken broom handle, and for Robin to jump down and take the fight away from the two civilians.

Batman stayed back, tying up and securing the already defeated traffickers while keeping a close eye on his son. The last thing he needed was for the boy, only on his second month in Gotham, to traumatize the little girl with murder.

But Batman made the mistake of dragging the goons to the corner of the alley by the street. When Robin rose his sword to deliver a killing blow to the guy’s heart, the Bat was too far away to make it in time.

“ROBIN!” He barked, hoping the tone of his voice would be enough.

It wasn’t.

Instead, a tiny hand came out of seemingly nowhere and latched to Robin’s wrist. The boy froze. Suddenly in front of him, blocking his blade from reaching its target, was the girl. They were the same height, he realized, and her blue eyes bore into his with startling ferocity despite the tears.

“He’s… asleep,” she told him, clearly meaning “knocked out” but lacking the right words to say it in English. “No killing. Will do nothing. Will only make you bad like him,” she told him sternly, scolding the vigilante despite the clear difference between them. One, a girl who threw a trash bag and the other, a boy who would kill with a katana without a second thought. “Maman needs… doc-tor,” she stumbled over the word, but despite the accent managed to get it out decently understandably. “Help her instead of hurt him.”

“Marinette!” The adult woman had finally gotten out of her shock, one hand pressing her sleeve over her shallow but long wound tightly even as she ran over to her daughter. She started to speak in French, and was halfway through asking her daughter if she was okay when Robin sheathed his sword without a word. As soon as the weapon was put away, a bright flash of green light erupted from where Marinette still clutched his wrist.

As if stung, the kids sprung away from one another. They both blinked, and when their eyes reopened it was to their vision suddenly being sliced in half like a video game. One half was their own perspective, the one they were used to seeing. The other was…

From the kid they just met?

Robin found he was staring straight at himself in half of his vision, and Marinette realized the same thing. They were seeing from both of their perspectives at once.

Bright, green-and-pink letters flashed before their eyes in bubble text, reading: Soulmate Game! Romance, Start (but not too fast)!

“YOU’RE my soulmate?” Was the first thing Robin asked, voice incredulous and unflatteringly surprised. “But-but you’re so tiny, and clearly untrained! Far too naive, and reckless, and you are wearing a bright pink skirt at night in Gotham City. There’s no WAY you can be my equal!”

Marinette puffed out her cheeks angrily. She might not have been the best at speaking English, but she was good at understanding it. She just had trouble forming the words sometimes, her mouth being too used to Cantonese and French to easily adjust to the more blunt and enunciated American English.

“And you’re mean and dumb and scary, but I didn’t choose you! Maybe it’s my job as your soulmate to make you nicer. Here, smile!” She lunged forward with all the audacity of someone who did not know Robin AT ALL. Pinching his cheeks a bit too roughly to be accidental, she pulled them apart and lifted them up so that he was “smiling.”

He batted her hands away, albeit a bit slower than usual. The multiple perspectives were incredibly disorienting, and he found himself confused as to which one he should focus on. Marinette didn’t seem to have that issue, easily shrugging off his rude gesture and lunging forward to try her assault a second time.

This time, when he tried to knock her hands away, Marinette grabbed one and locked it behind his back.

“Wha�� I thought you were harmless!”

“Not my fault,” she cooed with false sweetness. “I never SAID I was har-harmless,” she kept his hand firmly pinned at the base of his spine, and while Robin knew he could twist away, she was still a civilian and his soulmate and he didn’t want to hurt her. Much. He did have the urge to flick her forehead though. “Maman teach me a little. She says she will teach more when I get older. See? I will be equal with you! Maybe not yet, but later!”

Damian bit his lip, forcing himself not to scowl. His grandfather had been of the mind that soul bonds were next to worthless, but his mother had a different opinion. She had raised him to treat his soulmate as nothing short of his equal. If he was an assassin Prince, then his soulmate would hold the same title. The universe paired everyone with who it deemed as the most complimentary to them. The one whose strengths would cover their weaknesses and vice versa. If he was strong alone, having his soulmate by his side would make him and his empire exponentially stronger and more stable.

So said his mother, anyway.

So he would not attack her. Not outside of a spar, that is. And they WOULD spar. He was not allowing his soulmate to only know rudimentary self defense, it was an insult to his name.

Whether he meant Al Ghul or Wayne, he didn’t know yet. Maybe both.

“Your mother TAUGHT you a little,” Damian corrected instead of insulting her like he would have normally done. Not much of a step up, but noticeable enough for his father to raise a brow behind his cowl. “Now let go, I thought you wanted us to get your mother first aid?”

Marinette huffed, clearly not pleased with his attitude still, but relented. She backed away from him, and followed him to where their parents were waiting for the police and an ambulance to arrive. The sirens could already be heard not far away. She waited until after her mom had a bandage firmly wrapped around her cut, which had also been properly disinfected, and had turned the police’s offer of a ride home down. She offered to give her statement the following morning instead.

The officers had been bemused, but Sabine didn’t care. Her daughter’s soulmate was a vigilante, and there was no way she was letting either of them run off without a talk.

“Don’t you sneak away, Batman!” The woman’s sweet but somehow terrifyingly stern voice cut through the otherwise silent air, stopping the vigilante in his tracks. He had been about to pull one of his signature vanishings, but apparently Sabine’s motherly instincts were not having it.

The little Asian woman firmly poked a finger into the much larger man’s chest, leaning in fearlessly with righteous fury in her almond shaped eyes. “My daughter is your prodigy’s soulmate, so you don’t get to just leave. Whether you like it or not, their connected now and I’m not about to let you keep them apart for her “safety” either. My little baby deserves a chance with her Destined. And that means she’s gonna be in danger because of your night life whether we like it or not, so I don’t care how painful this is gonna be for you. You’re letting us in on it. But ground rules? She’s not joining you. You might have taken other kids on this dangerous hobby of yours, but she won’t be one of them. What you CAN do is help me train her, so that she can at least protect herself from whatever danger might follow her because of this. What you CAN’T and WON’T do is ignore us once we go back to Paris and expect that I won’t hunt you down and make you regret ever trying to get rid of us. You and I are gonna make sure our kids get to have their soulbond and enjoy it to the best of their ability, and you don’t get a choice in the matter. Understand?”

Robin and Marinette were left blinking at the fearless woman as she laid into the well known vigilante and one of the founding members of the Justice League. Even more impressive, Batman didn’t seem to be capable of arguing with her. Every attempt was thoroughly thwarted until he was left with a growl of defeat in his throat and a triumphant Chinese mother smirking at him.

“Are you sure SHE isn’t my soulmate?” Robin whispered to Marinette, earning a snicker.

—*—*—*—*—*

THREE YEARS LATER

“The stadium is this way, Ladybug!” Adrien pointed the correct direction, but his heroine partner was still lagging behind.

“Hold on!” A familiar static had given her the warning she needed. Far too familiar static. “Keep going, I’ll��“

“Marinette, are you alright? Who is with you?”

The girl cursed under her breath, glad that at least she was the only one who could hear the voice.

“You’ll what? What’s wrong?” Chat Noir asked, slowing down as he looked back at her in concern. She sighed. Best to tell the truth.

“It’s my soulmate, just finish heading where we agreed! Right now he can hear everything I can hear!”

“Oh meowch,” the cat themed hero flinched. “That’s not great. I’ll just, uh,” he took an awkward step to the side before hauling tail away. Everyone knew better than to get between soulmates, especially when one was in potential danger.

“Who was that?” The icy voice of Damian Wayne persisted, and Marinette could pretty much FEEL the suspicion through their bond. At least he was still in Gotham.

“Just a friend! From school, yeah! A friend from school!” Unfortunately, though the pigtailed girl might have learned a lot when it came to combat ever since her soul bond was completed, she had never improved her ability to lie.

“Uh Huh. Suppose I believe you, What is their name?”

“Uh, Cha— Chane! Chane—“

“Marinette.”

“I’ll explain later! Gotta go, Akuma attack, taking cover!”

“If you’re taking cover then it is best I remain on audio only mode in order to make sure you get to safety.”

Marinette dropped into the stadium, a giant robot that should have only been inside the game Ultimate Mecha Strike Three slamming into the ground behind her.

“What was that? I thought you were headed to safety! That means AWAY from the danger, Marinette!” Yep, that was genuine worry in his voice. The girl winced, she’d be getting a lecture later for sure.

“Uhh, sorry I really—“ she dodged alongside Chat Noir, struggling to focus on both the conversation and fight at the same time. “Can’t talk— right now— very busy trying to get to safety!”

Another voice, completely deadpan and just as familiar as her soulmate’s, filtered in from Damian’s side of the audio connection of their bond.

“Oh really? That’s why you’re fighting a giant robot in the center of the stadium right now?” It was Nightwing, and he was in full Protective Brother Mode. Meaning, he was not amused at all and now she had double the lecture in store for her. Marinette gulped.

Her vision split in half, a sensation she had grown very accustomed to over the years since herbond was first completed. It no longer disoriented her like it had at first.

And her new perspective showed her and Chat Noir, right as she ordered her partner to try Cataclysm on it, in the stadium. Startled, she looked up to see two costumes figures standing with their arms crossed in the nosebleed section.

“Merdé, I am so dead,” she whispered to herself as she focused back on the gaming-themed Akuma. Having seen enough villain attacks in Gotham, she knew better than to assume they had won that easily. Therefore, she was not nearly as shocked as Chat when their enemy reformed his robot. Robin used the moment to drop in next to her. “I thought you weren’t coming to visit until NEXT month. You just got back from, you know, DEATH,” she hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

“I wanted to surprise you. Looks like I have good timing,” he replied equally softly. “And before you catastrophize—“ he started as all three of them pressed the red orb next to them, and jumped into the robot that spawned for them. Which… only had two seats…Robin shoved the cat hero out of the way. “—I am not angry that you are a hero. Merely surprised you did not tell me as soon as it happened. Oh, and feline boy, Ladybug and I will handle this. Just stay back and be quiet.”

“What— Who are you, and why are you taking my partner from me?” The blond asked, thoroughly caught off guard. Ladybug just got into her seat and sighed.

“Chat Noir, meet Robin. He’s one of Gotham’s vigilantes and my soulmate.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” Robin responded impatiently, his hands finding the controls of the robot easily. “And honestly, Ladybug, I suspected something like this would happen eventually. My family tends to be a horrible and very invasive influence. And it isn’t as if you lack the necessary skillset. Batman and I made sure of that much at least.”

“Uh, how are you guys doing this so easily?” Chat Noir piped up from where he watched as the two soulmates easily moved their robot with a fluidity that seemed profoundly natural. Marinette just smirked at her Parisian partner secretively.

“Robin and I are pretty used to combat games.”

Her soulmate laughed. She didn’t know if it was because of her inside joke, or the fact that he just found out their robot came with a cat saber.

—*—*—*—*—*

#mlb x dc #maribat #daminette

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casualneonglitterpainterposts · 3 years

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Profile/ Back story- “Jules” Osteen

So this is my girl Julie “Jules” ,I made her up as this girlfriend/ (s/o) for Mikey too (basically my excuse to come up with a 1978 OC and because he needs someone to love him ). But yeah I finally got round to doing her profile and back story...

Name: Julie (Jules) Augustine Osteen

Age: 20 years

DOB: 4th June

Height: “5’2” (157.6 cm)

Eyes: Golden brown

Hair: Dark chestnut brown

Family/ friends: Kristi Osteen (Mother-deceased after Julie was born), Dave Lovell (Father-deceased during Kristi’s pregnancy due to a severe head injury from his sporting career), Audry Osteen (Grandmother), Paul Osteen (Grandfather), Lawrence Osteen (Uncle), Ailson Russell (best friend) and Toni Wheeler (other best friend).

Occupation: Professional (local) baseball player/ coach

Personality/Traits: Grandiose, generous, open (occasionally), supportive, clever rebellious (only when she wants to be though), helpful, warm, loving, sweet, gentle

Likes: Yoga, baseball, coaching, drawing- portraits and landscapes especially, helping out others, horror/gore movies/stuff, self defense, taekwondo, taking care of her elderly grandparent, teaching the neighbourhood kids how to play baseball, lying in the middle of the grass in the warm sun, raspberry ripple ice cream, the colours Orange, khaki brown and golden yellow, and a certain tall/ yet quiet man known as “The Shape” .

Dislikes: wearing her glasses (she is short sighted in her left eye- though she has contacts she will occasionally have to wear her glasses for reading), rude filthy guys (she’s been whistled at before and sometimes they make comment saying how sexy her curves are (of course though Jules doesn’t like this and she can sometimes feel ashamed about the way she looks), people making fun of her height (again she will feel a little self conscious when they do so), thick headed morons, people disturbing her when she’s busy, embarrassing herself, snobs and being rushed (if you rush her she end up being all clumsy- though her clumsiness is quite adorable).

Back story: Julie is a bright, warm and loving young woman. Jules was born an orphan, her father was a big time baseball star who passed away during Kristi’s pregnancy due to a fatal/severe head injury and her mother Kristi passed away during her birth. Julie was adopted out two days after to her grandparents (Kristi’s mother and father), they loved Julie dearly and made sure to raise her well. Their son Lawrence (Kristi’s older brother) loved Julie dearly too and helped raise her also. Her uncle was a well known local sportsman in Haddonfield, her grandmother Audrey is a painter (artist) and her grandfather Paul was a carpenter, though they had busy lives- They made sure that Jules was given plenty of love, care and attention. By the time she was two Jules was found to be short sighted, so not long after she began to wear glasses (though by the time she was fifteen she’d begun to switch to wearing contact lenses- she felt a little embarrassed about needing to wear glasses and also she didn’t want to be judged by others either) . She was a very active and bubbly young little girl, she especially loved moving about. By the age of eight Jules was very warm, loving and sweet, but very Tomboy- back when she was five her uncle took her out one afternoon down to the park and taught her a bit of baseball, after teaching her- Lawrence saw what a natural she was (just like her father-since he was a professional) and two days after seeing how much she enjoyed it- Jules joined the local junior Haddonfield team and began her early career into baseball.

She would go down to the batting cages with her uncle or whenever she got the chance to to hone her skills to become great or greater than her father was (her grandparents told her stories of her parents). Beside her love and passion for baseball, Julie also got into creative arts- Jules learnt to paint and draw from her grandmother, she’d really good at it and enjoys teaching others just like her grandmother did with her. Throughout school both elementary and highschool- Jules got good grades and was seen as a model student by her teachers, she’s a bright and respected young woman.she made two wonderful life long friends Alison- a tall, slender, olive-skinned and blacker haired girly girl and Toni- slightly taller than her by four inches girl, with her hair in a short do and a strong lover of science.

As she grew into a fine young woman, Jules began to turn the heads of young males. Though Jules is comfortable about her body-she becomes very shy and embarrassed when idiot men whistle and make comments about her curves- she does like it and it makes her feel awful for wearing what she was that day- hence she tries not to show her body off or them to do so. Jules can also be a little self conscious about her height

After graduating high school, Jules went into coaching the local baseball team (the children’s one) every weekend and she was also a professional player for the female’s team too. When Jules isn’t doing her other stuff, she still goes down to her favourite place- the batting cages, she’s there mostly all the time both for fun, practice or when she’s upset and needs to let out that frustration. The girl has a killer swing and certainly knows how to smash some baseballs. She also has a killer throwing arm too. Though she’s a warm, gentle and sweet young woman Julie also has a badass side- she is a master in self defense, taekwondo and pretty damn good at survival techniques too. Jules also secretly loves horror/gore movies and stuff- when she gets all excited about that kinda stuff and people give her strange looks, Jules just rolls her eyes, shrugs her shoulders and just does her ^^

Speaking of horror, One night though as she was coming home from a busy evening down at the batting cages she was grabbed by a small gang of creeps- of course she put up a good fight to defend herself, but alas she was attacked from behind and restrained. Without her know abouts “The Shape” (aka: Michael Myers- who’d been watching and observing her for weeks- starting to have feelings for her) came out of the shadows, slaughtering these men to save her. Jules was surprised of course- a little freaked out when he first came up to her (she’s so small and Mikey is a beast- he’s a tall boi) but also shocked that he didn’t kill her. As she looked deep into his eyes, as he stared down- Julie could see right through him and she knew straight away that he wouldn’t harm her. From that night on she’d hope that they’d encounter one another's presence once again- Jules couldn't help that she’d fallen for him, but in her heart she knew he was right for her. It was only a matter of time...

Overall, Julie “Jules” Osteen is a wonderful, warm, sweet loving and giving woman. She may be small and seem fragile, but don’t be fooled by here mere appearance- That girl knows how to kick ass and protect herself and of course, she’d give her own life to protect the people she loves and cares about.

Anyways, I hope you like her and I’ll post a bunch of doodles and drawings of her soon too 😉😊��💜💕

#halloween 1978 #julie osteen #jules #my original character #profile page #back story #michael myers #my oc

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Galactica, Chapter 34 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hello, darlings! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet got one step closer to her dream.

This Chapter: Violet shares her good news, Courtney finds out about her new position, Bianca makes a request, and Katya shows Trixie who’s boss.

***

“Anything for you sir?”

“Whiskey on the rocks please.”

Sutan smiled at the bartender, who quickly left him. He was waiting for Violet at The Nomad Bar, the woman promising that she’d be there, but she was already 10 minutes late.

It was weird with Violet, something about her somehow tricking him into forgiving the fact that she was chronically late for everything that wasn’t work related. Sutan was wondering if he’d have time for a cigarette, their dinner reservation still not for another hour, when he felt someone touch his shoulder.

“Hey.” Violet pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, her lips soft, the pleasant scent of lavender washing over him.

“Hello.” Sutan smiled. Violet looked absolutely stunning as always, though she was wearing what he now recognized as her work wardrobe, a black skirt and a white silk blouse so proper he wanted to tear it off her.

Sutan expected Violet to sit down or to start chatting, or at least apologize for being late, words always spilling from her when they met up because Violet wasn’t a texter, but today, she was just standing there, an excited but secretive expression on her face.

“What’s going on?” Sutan titled his head.

“Guess.”

“Guess?” Sutan smiled. “Okay, so, what category am I-”

“You’re looking at Galactica’s newest designer!” Violet burst out, a gigantic grin on her beautiful face, her eyes shining bright.

“Wow,” Sutan laughed, Violet absolutely beautiful in her joy. “Congratulations lovely eye-”

“Can you believe it?!” Violet squealed, putting her arms around Sutan and almost jumping in place, her excitement so thick he could taste it, the poor girl almost bursting at the seams with emotions.

“I can, actually,” Sutan smiled, a hand on Violet’s hip quickly guiding her down on the chair next to him. “Bartender!” Sutan yelled, “Champagne for the lady please.”

Violet giggled. She put her hand on Sutan’s thigh, leaning over to give him a kiss, a sweet whisper of ‘thank you’ left against his lips.

“I almost wish I had a cigar.”

“I’m glad you don’t.” Violet deadpanned, and Sutan snorted, Violet looking back at him with a smile.

“So,” Sutan took the order, Violet getting her glass of champagne while he was handed his whiskey. “When is the happy day?” Sutan put a hand on Violet’s knee, squeezing it as Violet took the first sip of her bubbles.

“Soon.” Violet looked at him. “As soon as I can.”

***

“Courtney.”

Courtney looked up from her computer, where she’d been updating Miss Fame’s schedule. She checked briefly to make sure that the phone call she was listening in on, a conversation between Fame and Trixie, was muted, and asked, “Yes?”

“I need you to know,” Violet was standing right in front of her desk, “that the 10th will be my last day working in this office.”

“What?” Courtney’s eyes went wide in alarm. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Violet held up her hand, “Nothing’s wrong. I’m getting a promotion.”

“Oh!” Courtney let out a sigh of relief--now that she knew it was good news, she relaxed a bit. If anyone deserved a promotion, it certainly was Violet.

“I’m going to be working in design,” she added, an uncharacteristically proud expression on her face.

“That’s awesome, Violet, I’m really happy for you.”

“I’m glad you’re taking it this well.”

“Of course!” Courtney smiled. “I’ll do whatever I can to make it easier: helping with the job description, interviews, whatever you need.”

The more Courtney thought about it, the more excited she got. Not that she had anything against Violet, but it would be so wonderful to have a coworker who was a real friend.

“Interviews?” Violet’s brow furrowed in confusion. “For what?”

“For your replacement?” Courtney said, trying not to sound like she was being patronizing, although the answer was painfully obvious.

“Oh…” Violet just stared at her, blinking slowly, with that look she hadn’t given her for some time now, the one that said that Courtney was an alien doing a piss-poor human impression. “Huh.”

“What?” Courtney asked, suddenly self-conscious, knowing she must have put her foot in mouth but unsure how.

“Courtney,” Violet said, exasperated, in a tone that may very well have added ‘you brain-dead moron,’ “You’re who’s been hired as my replacement.”

“But...wait, what?!” Courtney's mind raced, panic filling her chest. Replace Violet? “But then who will replace me?”

“Nobody?” Violet looked like she genuinely didn’t understand. “You will be Miss Fame’s first assistant, and also her only assistant.”

“Shit.”

“Why do you think you were hired in the first place?”

“I just thought, with how much work there is, that you’d...need…” Courtney trailed off, not wanting to appear even dumber than Violet obviously thought she was, mind still reeling from this news.

Alone in Fame’s office? No one to guide her and lecture her and stop her from fucking everything up royally?

“No, Courtney. Fame has always just had one assistant.”

“But...do you really think I can do it alone?” Courtney asked, her stomach tight.

“I do.” Violet said. “Your work has been decent, even adequate recently.”

Courtney almost flinched. All she’d ever wanted from Violet was approval, and maybe some general comradeship. But this was almost too much. Could she handle it?

“You’re ready.” Violet looked at her, a small smile actually on her face. “I’ve done this alone. The workload is heavy sometimes, but who knows, in time you might move from adequate to good.”

“If you say so…” Courtney said, swallowing down a lump in her throat.

***

“Are you done yet?” Adore whined. She was sprawled on the sofa in Bianca’s office, waiting for her sister to finish working so that they could go to dinner.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is my job, that supports us both, getting in the way of your plans?”

“Yeah, I told Pearl that we’d be done early. Plus I’m starving,” Adore informed her.

“Ugh, I guess that means you haven’t broken up yet,” Bianca said with a sigh.

“Don’t fucking start, Bianca.” Adore was in no mood to Bianca’s dumb opinions aout her girlfriend...who had been nothing but wonderful so far.

“Fine, fine. So then are you still plus 2 for my party next Friday?”

“Uh, I don’t know, I might just be plus 1. Courtney’s been real busy at work, I don’t know if she-”

Bianca turned away from her computer, brow furrowed.

“But you said she was coming!”

“She was coming, but I’m just not sure she’s gonna feel up to-”

“Adore. I want her there,” Bianca said sternly, before flashing a charming smile, adding, “Consider it my birthday present.”

Adore sat up straighter. “Listen, Bianca, I know you think she’s hot, but I really don’t think you should mess with her. First of all, she’s straight, and she just broke up with her boyfriend, and she’s really vulnerable, and-”

“My specialty.”

“Bianca!” Adore’s face contorted in outrage. She knew about her sister’s reputation, of course, had seen the parade of girls with her own eyes plenty of times. But this was the first time she’d turned her attention to one of Adore’s friends, and it was extremely disconcerting, even if Courtney seemed to enjoy the attention.

“Oh, calm down, I’m kidding,” Bianca said with a laugh.

“Are you, though?” Adore crossed her arms, glaring across the office.

“Yes, asshole! Listen, I know I joke, but the truth is, I only seduce the willing. Otherwise it’s just no fun,” she explained. “I just like her, that’s all. I want her to come. Please.”

“Fine, fine. We’re supposed to hang out this weekend. Assuming she doesn’t cancel again, I’ll bring it up.”

“Adore. Darling baby sister,” Bianca cooed. “Make it happen. Or I’ll cut you out of my will and leave everything to the dogs.”

“I’ll do my best.”

***

“Go to the bed.”

Katya smiled as Trixie scrambled to obey, like the sweet boy he was. No one else was home, Pearl out for the night, and for that very reason, the toy chest from underneath their bed had come out to play.

Katya caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and she couldn’t help but smile. She was all dolled up; her hair and makeup done by Trixie only an hour before when he had artfully curled her hair and carefully applied lipstick to her lips. Katya was wearing heels and a set of black lingerie that they only brought out whenever they played a very particular game. Katya had allowed Trixie to choose today, and he had picked a bright purple strap-on that was now nestled against Katya’s stomach.

Katya took a step toward where Trixie was laying on his back, and she could practically hear the sharp intake of breath, anticipation radiating off Trixie’s body.

“Did you lube yourself up for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes I did, I did what you asked me to-”

“Ssh.” Katya was now kneeling on the bed between Trixie’s spread legs; a smile on her lips as her hand gently glided over his soft stomach, dipping into his navel, onward to his puffy chest where she couldn’t help but play a little with his nipples. Trixie’s hips bucked a little at the sensation, sending his cock bouncing. He was already so hard, so filled with excitement about what Katya was about to do that he was practically dripping onto his own stomach, a small pool of precum collecting in the valleys on Trixie’s chubby middle.

“You look so good, all ready for me.”

Katya smiled as she gently pushed a manicured finger inside of Trixie; the passage was so smooth and easy that she added another one immediately, which made him whimper.

“Sssh, you’re being so good right now, let me play with you a little, let me feel my big, strong man, who always pleases me so well.”

Trixie nodded, his eyes scrunched shut as if it would be too overwhelming to see Katya’s fingers disappear into him.

“Turn around.”

Trixie nodded again, moving so fast Katya barely had time to get her fingers out before he was on his hands and knees. Katya couldn’t help but smile and lean down to give Trixie’s lower back a sweet kiss, the red lipstick she had worn for this scene leaving behind a perfect mark.

“Are you ready for me?”

Trixie didn’t answer her question with words, but with actions instead as he pushed back against her, a high whine leaving his throat, making Katya laugh.

“That’s my sweet boy, my sweet…” Katya pushed inside, her strap-on fitting perfectly into Trixie’s ass, “…amazing boy.”

Trixie moaned as she bottomed out inside of him, and it was the sexiest thing. Katya loved this, loved to take Trixie this way. She loved all of it, the control, the respect, the trust, the way Trixie gave everything over so completely as she set a rhythm, the amount of times they had done this together making it easy for Katya to circle her hips in just the right way to make Trixie shout with pleasure.

Katya snapped her hips faster and faster, her hand in the space between Trixie’s shoulders forcing him down as she took him and used him for her own pleasure. The constant pressure against her clit made Katya join in on Trixie’s moans with real sounds of her own pleasure. But it was not until she leaned down over Trixie, their bodies pressed together and the words “I love you” leaving her mouth that Trixie came all over the bed, his eyes seeing white as he shook apart underneath her.

When Trixie came back to, wrapped in Katya’s arms underneath their duvet, it was to the feeling of sweet kisses getting pecked onto the bald spots on his head. Trixie couldn’t help but smile, his chest warm with happiness as he looked up at Katya.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sugar butt.”

***

Violet had done the unthinkable, which meant that she hadn’t done anything at all.

It was her last day in Miss Fame’s office, and she had come in at 9, only arriving 15 minutes before Fame, not lifting a single finger to complete the morning routine.

It was all in Courtney’s hands.

So far today, she had opened her email and gone to get coffee, making sure to include the peach tea for herself that she was sipping that very moment, taking notes and keeping a keen eye on Courtney, the notes most of all for show to keep Courtney on her toes.

When Violet had suggested this dress rehearsal, Courtney had looked like she had wanted to die, but so far, she wasn’t doing terribly.

Sure, she was stressing over what Violet considered simple tasks, and she had almost missed a phone call, but Fame had requested adequate, and Courtney was delivering just that, without a single irritating joke or any clownish airheaded behavior, even when she was flailing.

***

“Don’t you want some pizza?” Adore looked over at Courtney, who was on her phone, dealing with some work thing for the third time since she’d arrived. She set the box on the coffee table and took a seat.

“No… I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

When Adore didn’t get a reply, she grabbed a piece of pizza herself instead, trying to figure out what was going on in Courtney’s head.

Between Courtney’s work schedule and Adore’s blissful new-relationship bubble, they’d barely seen each other at all since Adore got back from Paris. But when they had, Courtney had been acting strange: subdued, a muted version of her normally exuberant personality. Adore wondered if she was depressed, and felt like a pretty shitty friend for not noticing sooner.

“Court…”

“Hmm?”

“What actually happened with Willam?” Adore asked carefully. “You never really told me the whole story.”

“There’s nothing to tell. He turned out to be a disgusting, lying jerk, just like every other man I’ve ever been with,” Courtney said, flinging an arm over her eyes and lying back on Adore’s purple sofa.

Adore didn’t have a lot to add to that, because as far as she knew, it was kinda true. For as long as she’d known Courtney, her bestie had had the worst luck with guys. But usually, she bounced back right away, onto the next adventure...this seemed different.

“I’m sorry,” she replied lamely.

“It’s not your fault. You’re not a douchebag,” Courtney said.

“So…hey, are you still coming to my sister’s party next week?”

“I don’t know, Dore. It’s gonna be the end of my first week in the office alone, and I’m gonna be so tired. Third-wheeling at a fancy party where I don’t have anything to wear doesn’t sound-”

“Come on, you always look great! And it won’t be third-wheeling! If anyone’s third-wheeling, it’s Pearl,” Adore giggled, reaching out to tug gently on her hair.

“Look, I know you love them, but the idea of being at a party with my boss, and Raja, and all their friends is-”

“It’s gonna be a huge party, you probably won’t even see them!”

“Right.” Courtney rolled her eyes.

“If you don’t come, Bianca will be so disappointed.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure she really cares whether I come,” Courtney said sarcastically, shaking her head.

“She does! She even asked me to make sure you, you know, have all the right info. She definitely cares. She thinks you’re cool.”

“Well…” Courtney suppressed a smile, biting her lip. “Really?”

“Yes. Cross my heart. So please come.”

“I guess I can ask Ivy to lend me a dress from the wardrobe closet at work.”

“There you go! Plus, it’ll be a great party,” Adore insisted. “I promise you’ll have fun.”

Courtney nodded, finally looking at Adore with a sparkle back in her eyes as she reached forward to grab a piece of pizza. Adore grinned, but her happiness dissolved into confusion as she then watched her scrape the cheese off before taking a bite.

“What are you doing?” Adore asked, horrified.

“I’m vegan now. You know this, I told you weeks ago.”

“You’re still doing that? Dear god, why?” Adore moaned.

“Well, I’ve been really stressed and low energy and I think this will make me feel better, and sleep better, and give me some balance back. And it’s something concrete that I can do for the planet. Did you know that the meat and dairy industry-”

“Okay, okay!” Adore held up her hand, laughing. “I don’t need a whole essay.”

After a slight pause, Courtney sighed and said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what, bae?”

“I know I’ve been in a shitty mood. I’m sure it hasn’t been fun to be around.”

“Honey, it’s okay. You just went through a breakup, it’s totally understandable.”

“It’s not even that,” Courtney said.

“No?”

“No, it’s just...work is…” Courtney sighed again. “It’s hard to explain. But I am done with men.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna come to the dark side?” Adore asked, fluttering her lashes.

“Ha. I wish.”

***

“Baby!”

“Yes?” Trixie was making breakfast, the eggs sizzling away in their pan. He turned, just to see Katya round the corner, a look of panic in her eyes. She was wearing an open shirt with a puppy print on it, her orange skirt around her hips, her hair barely collected in a loose bun, miniature pencils dangling from her ears.

“I just remembered-” Katya paused, “Hey,” she snapped her fingers, “eyes up her here,” and Trixie grinned at the fact that he had been caught openly staring at her tits.

“It’s Violet’s first day at design today. Why didn’t you remind me? I have nothing planned to celebrate and this is huge for he-”

“Hey, hey,” Trixie reassured her, putting an arm around his fiance. “I got it.” Trixie titled his head, and Katya turned to look at their kitchen table, a gigantic framed sheet of pink paper on it.

It hadn’t been easy to find photos of Violet, the woman apparently avoiding cameras like she was being paid to do it, but Trixie had still managed to find quite a few, Katya, Violet and Shangela all smiling at the brunch table on the roof.

“Did you make this?”

“I’m taking offence at that, this is a Mattel original, I poured my heart into this.”

Trixie smiled as Katya was hanging on to his shoulder, moved by her fiancé’s work. “I plan on putting it on her desk.”

“She’s going to despise that.”

“Probably.” Trixie chuckled, and Katya gave him a kiss. He had expected it to be short and sweet, but Katya pushed him against the cabinet, her hips flush with his.

“… Are you turned on by the fact that I made a collage?”

“Maybe.”

“Good enough for me.”

Tags – rpdr fanfic, thedane, veronica, galactica, vitan, bitney, trixya, violet, raja, Courtney, adore, bianca, Trixie, katya, lesbian au, m/f au, fashion au,

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #vitan #bitney #trixya #violet chachki #raja gemini #courtney act #adore delano #bianca del rio #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #lesbian au #m/f au #smut #fashion au

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sweetwritertanya · 5 years

Text

Innocent Smile

Summary: Although you are a bubbly happy person, you are insecure about your teeth due to your braces. You feel like they make you ugly and that your boyfriend Jungkook doesn’t like them nor your smile.

Warnings: SMUT! About half is fluff/plot and the rest is smut. So, be aware of: fingering, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (don’t do this IRL!), biting (just a bit)

REQUESTED: YES. A sweet reader asked me quite a while ago to do something with this specific scenario. Because I wanted the main insecurity to be the braces, there aren’t any specific body descriptions, so the reader can be chubby or slim. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 3632

“Hey, Y/N, you coming or what?” you hear Jimin’s voice call out from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, just a second and I’ll be right there!” you yell back at him.

“Don’t hurry her, Jimin. If you’re in such a hurry, just go ahead without us” an angry Jungkook proposes and you could almost see the scowl on his face and the crossed arms over his chest as he spoke.

“Geez, Kook, calm down. Jimin is just excited to go to the beach” Jin came to the second youngest rescue.

“Ok, ok, I’m ready” you immediately say, grabbing your bag and filling it up with all you had left to pack, hoping you weren’t forgetting something.

Out of the door of you room, Jungkook was sulking right behind your door, regarding with frowned eyebrows all the other six members who were lounging around waiting for you to be ready. Trying to lift up everyone’s spirits, you smile at the boys brightly as you pull the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“Who’s ready to go to the beach?” you ask happily.

“Yeah, let’s go!” Taehyung jumps from his seat and grabs Jimin and Hoseok by the shoulders, leading them out of the house and into the van waiting outside.

“It’s fine, Y/N. They are the impatient ones” Namjoon assured you, one hand on your shoulder and a dimple smile before going out as well.

“I don’t even want to go… Got dragged out of bed of bed for this, really…” you hear Yoongi grumbling lowly as he gets up.

“It’ll be fun, I promise! And the beach won’t be too busy at this time of the year, so you can nap if you want!” you promise him, smiling brightly at the tired boy.

“Fine, fine. Counting on you to keep them away from me when I’m sleeping, then” he asks of you.

“I’ll do my best” is all you’re comfortable assuring, knowing how chaotic and active the other guys were.

When everyone is gone, Jungkook comes to stand beside you as you grab the keys to close the door of your home. You look up excited at him, knowing he had been looking forward to this day as well, but he seems to be in a bad mood. You really wish he would smile more, he had such a pretty perfect smile.

“Stay close to me today, angel. And stop smiling so much at all the guys” he tells you dryly.

“O-Oh… Yeah, sorry” you murmur, lowering your head as you close the door.

Something you had always been very self-conscious about was your smile. For a majority of your life, you had crooked teeth that made you scared to smile too widely. But last year you actually went to the dentist and were able to get braces. The thought of having a beautiful smile in the near future kept your spirits up, even as your braces made you uncomfortable. However, you had the suspicion your boyfriend, Jungkook, didn’t like your braces.

You didn’t blame him, the braces were very ugly. You worried that was the main reason he didn’t seem interested in taking things further with you. All the months you have been dating and he never attempted to take things more than a few heavy kisses. When you smiled shyly at him, flushed at his tender or hungry kisses, he always retrieved himself. Seeing your braces must turn him off, was what you thought.

The whole day at the beach, you caught Jungkook looking annoyingly at you whenever you were playing with the rest of the boys, forgetting about your insecurities and smiling openly and laughing loudly with them. At one point, you tripped and fell in the sand. Your ankle hurt a bit, but nothing major. Jungkook, however, made sure you put ice on it and kept you sited beside him under the parasol for the rest of the day. He refused to leave you alone even as you assured him you were fine and that he should go and have fun with the boys.

“Really, Jungkook, you’re overreacting” you tell him, as he has an arm around your shoulders to help you walk up to your house at the end of the day.

“I’m being cautious, something you should be as well. You were so caught up playing with them that you forgot to see where you were going and hurt yourself. Really, how clumsy of you” he scolds, opening the door in your stead and leading you inside.

You pout and get away from his hold, making way to your bedroom without sparing a second look his way. He was being incredibly negative and mean today, and you had no idea why. It was like seeing you smile annoyed him, and it brought tears to your eyes to think it’s because he thinks you look ugly when you do, that you embarrass him.

You start taking your things out of your bag, getting ready to go and wash the sand out of your body, but Jungkook knocks on your bedroom door. You didn’t think he was still in the house. You open the door but don’t really look him in the eye.

“Why are you angry?” he asks with a soft voice, crossed arms and a shoulder leaning on the doorway.

“Because you’ve been angry all day with me too” you explain, mimicking his position with your arms. “I wanted all of us to have fun today, but you looked bothered all day.”

“Sorry, angel. I was frustrated today and didn’t notice you were saddened by it. Sorry” he apologizes as he steps in, holding you close to his chest. You allow yourself to feel how warm he was, how delectably summery and sea foamy he smelled like, how his strong arms kept you close and safe. But there was a question perturbing you for so long now, you just had to know.

“Was it… because I was smiling so much?” you whisper loudly enough for him to hear, head still laying in his chest. You hear and feel him sigh, his chest rising and descending. You tense up in his arms as you await his response.

“To tell the truth… yeah. It was.”

Hurt, but still glad he finally told you the truth, you extract yourself from his hug and turn your back to him, your eyes starting to fill with tears.

“B-Because my braces make me ugly, right? Sorry, I’ll be wearing them for at least another year so, if it bothers you that much m-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he interrupts your strained speech.

You turn to see the most confused expression on his beautiful sculptured face, head leaning to the right, furrowed eyebrows above his big brown eyes and slightly parted pink lips.

“My braces. Whenever I smile, it’s ugly. Isn’t that why you hate it?”

He steps inside the room, an indecipherable expression on his face as he walks slowly in your direction, making you back away until the back of your knees hit the curve of your bed. He stops, leaving only a few inches between the two of you, so close you feel his breath as he speaks.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking all day? That I don’t like my girlfriend’s smile?” his voice is low and incredulous.

Your breath is catching at your throat and you feel your skin heat up. Your hands are clasping the fabric of your dress at your sides and you answer him while staring at his chest.

“I’ve noticed for a while, now. Not just today” you confess in a hurt whisper.

You gasp as he suddenly grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to raise your head and look at his fiery eyes.

“You couldn’t be farther from the truth” he dictates.

As if to prove it, he smashed his lips to yours passionately, with a savage intensity you had yet to see from him. Taken aback by the sequence of events, you were pretty much frozen in place as he cradled your head in between his hands, caressing your mouth lovingly with every movement of his lips on top of yours.

When he skimmed the tip of his tongue on your bottom lip, that’s when a jolt of electricity ran through your body and awoke you to action. Your hands found the sides of his body, clawing at the fabric of his t-shirt, as you sighed into his mouth and parted your lips, allowing him to delve his tongue and dance with yours as the kiss deepened.

He tasted like salt and sun, made you shiver when his tongue ran across the metallic strands on your teeth. You moaned before you could stop it, pulling him closer to you. More than willing to comply, Jungkook’s hands fell into your hips and started to explore your body from there, over the thin fabric of your summer dress.

Hips, back, arms and shoulders, his hands were flattening against every surface on your body. Your lips parted wetly when you felt the slightest of pushes that made you both fall onto the bed behind you, Jungkook hovering above you with lust filled eyes, much like yours must have been.

“How could you think I find any part of you ugly, when all I’ve been doing for months is holding myself back?” he asks with a hoarse voice, a slight color on his cheeks at his admission. You gasp, bewildered at his confession.

“Why? I don’t want you to hold back. I love you” you tell him, raising your hands to cup his perfect jawline. He smiles and chuckles a bit, lowering himself down so he is only holding himself up on his forearms, face just slightly above yours. His hands, on either side of your head, are brushing your air away from your face.

“My innocent angel. I never wanted to pressure you into something you didn’t want or weren’t ready for, that’s it. Because I love you too” he explained.

“So, you don’t hate my braces?” you ask in confirmation.

“No. I think they make you that much cuter” he reassures you, dipping his head down to start leaving little ghost pecks on the skin of your jaw, down your neck and in your mostly nude shoulder. It makes your skin feverish and tingle, becoming hard for you to think.

“Jung… Jungkook?” he simply hums in response, not raising his head from where he was kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “I… I’m ready for whatever you’re ready.”

That gets his attention, as his head shots up and he look down at you with eyes as big as saucers. It was such an unusual reaction of his that it made you smile amusingly. He seems distracted for a moment before he lightly shakes his head and focuses on what you said.

“Are… Are you sure about that?”

You simply nod shyly, making him smirk as he leans down to capture your lips for another breath-taking kiss, filled with all the repressed want and longing he had for you. While tongues clash and lips meld together, his hands find the hem of your dress and start pulling it up, until it is scrunched up on your tummy. He brakes the kiss to pull the rest of it from your body, leaving you in the bikini you wore that day at the beach. You weren’t any more exposed than when you had been having fun at the sea, but his intense stare made your skin catch on fire and you were squirming a bit under him.

“You look so beautiful, Y/N. Too beautiful. I hated how everyone was looking at you” he said, tugging his own shirt out of his body.

“Is that why you were so sulked today?” you realize suddenly, half focused on his response and half focused on the bare skin of his torso. Your hands lifted before you knew, itching to feel the expanse of his chest under them. He was muscled but his skin was incredibly soft and you felt something akin with pride when his muscles tensed up and twitched under your fingertips. He hissed and pulled your wrists away as he came down to kiss you again.

“Worst of all, you were smiling at everyone” he continued, his lips leaving your mouth and starting descending through your skin. “That radiant innocent smile should be only for me”.

As if punishing you, his mouth finds the hill of your covered breasts and bites on it, hard enough to surely leave a mark. You scream, but it was both of pleasure and pain, as his tongue immediately soothes the skin he abused. His hands are undoing the lace on your back and soon the top of your bikini is pushed aside.

Jungkook groans at the sight of you and a torturous pleasure ensues, with his licks and bites and squeezes on your sensitive breasts, enticing all sorts of strange noises from your mouth. He has you hot and bothered in no time, writhing beneath him, toes curling and head spinning. Your body is highly aware of the dampness between your legs and you rub your legs together in an attempt of some relief.

Seeing your actions, Jungkook catches your knees and opens them so he can stand in between them, starting to kiss from the sides of your calves up your legs, hands softly rubbing your thighs as he moves up your twitching form. When he kisses your inner thigh, a bolt of lust sizzles in your abdomen and you whimper.

“J-Jungkook, please!” you beg of him.

He is smirking smugly against your thighs but you don’t dare look down to him. The thought of him between your legs was already erotic enough; seeing him would make you come undone.

A few more open-mouthed kisses on your soft inner thighs and he finally pressed a finger into your aching covered core. You wince at the contact, hips shaking as he presses them down with his free hand. You were certainly wet enough to dampen the bikini bottom, but he continued his teasing above the fabric in incredibly frustrating slow motions.

It took a few more begs from you for he to rid you of the unnecessary piece of clothing, leaving you naked before him. You cover your face with the back of your hands as you feel him opening your folds and looking at your most intimate spot.

“My angel is so pretty… so cute” he compliments, only contributing to your already hot face.

And then you feel the first tantalizing flick of his tongue against you, making you cry out with pleasure. Empowered by your reactions, he continued rubbing your velvet center with his tongue, slurping on the abundant juices you provided until he found a fleshy button that made your whole body shake as he lapped on it.

You were already half-gone, your mind going blank and only white noise on your burning ears, a tension deep on the pit of your stomach threatening to explode, when he slid one of his fingers inside your aching tight hole, while his tongue was busy with your clit. You wailed and arched on the bed, grasping the duvet beneath you with iron fists. A second finger joined the first and together started stroking in and out lazily, stopping every other plunge to scissor the inside of your walls, stretching you out in a delicious way. Their rubbing and the swirling tongue around your cluster of nerves soon had your slick heat spasming and tightening around his fingers, hoarse moans leaving your lips as you saw stars behind your eyelids.

You went limp for a few moments, trying to regain your faculties and coming back to reality. As you started to control your breath, you felt Jungkook leaving sucking kisses up the sides of your body, his dark hair tingling your sensitive skin. When he found a particular spot just above the end of your ribcage, you squirmed away instinctively as a laugh escaped you.

“Ha ha…!” you laugh as he chases you and brushes his fingers against your side.

“Ticklish, are we?” he asks amused, a loving smile tugging at his lips as he sees you laughing beneath him.

“Ha ha! S-Stop! Ha ha…” you struggle to demand between breathy chuckles.

He complies and, instead of kissing your sides, he returns to your mouth. The movement of his hungry lips reignite the fire inside you, your skin prickling again with his brushing hands against your breasts and the delving of his tongue back inside your mouth. Your hands explore the expanse of his back, his shoulders, his arms. He groans and presses against you, making you feel the hardening member inside his shorts.

You flush at his arousal, but bravely brush your knuckles against him, just to see his reaction. He hisses and hides his head on your shoulder, catching his breath for a moment. When he starts standing up, you almost panic and beg him to stay, afraid you did something wrong. But such doubts are immediately shooed away when you see him pulling down his shorts and, with them, his swimwear as well.

He comes back to the bed as naked as you were, shaft standing proudly erect against his stomach, flushed pink and glistening at the crown. He takes the opportunity to feel up your body from your thighs up as he climbs the bed, kissing and nibbling at your skin and flesh as he moves until he is settled between your legs, face to face with you.

Your whole body is shaking with anticipation, heat rising off of you in waves. When he rubs his length against your moist folds, you throw your head back and moan. He was so close and yet too far of where he was supposed to be. He catches your mouth for you to swallow his groans, kissing you with a searing fire telling of how much he waited for this.

Positioning himself, in one single swoop he is fully sheathed inside of you, filling you to the brim with little to no resistance. A thrill shots up your spine at the sensation of him stretching you out, more than his fingers could, and the feeling of him throbbing against your clenching walls drives you mad.

Kissing the hollow of your neck as he grasps your hips tightly, Jungkook starts to move. He pulls back and droves forward again and again, the pleasurable friction making you moan and whimper at an embarrassing high rate. He keeps plunging into your tight heat quicker and quicker, both of your breaths shallow and erratic, hearts hammering in your chests, a sheen of sweat on your skin.

You buck your hips up, trying to keep up with him, but he is hammering you with such precision that it seems like a futile effort. The tightness in your abdomen is becoming excruciating, desire cursing through your veins like fire and you don’t think you’ll hold on for much longer. Opening your eyes, you look at Jungkook through heavy lashes. He is staring right at you, much to your embarrassment, and leans down to kiss your swollen lips once more. His chest is now rubbing against your hard nipples and is just another sensation about to bring you to the edge as his thrusts don’t lose any speed.

“Smile for me, angel” he asks in between desperate breaths. “Smile for me.”

It made you so happy to hear his request, your smile being such a big insecurity of yours, that you actually feel tears in your eyes. But they were happy tears and a smile does come to your face as you pull him down to meet his lips lovingly.

He grunts as pulls on the back of your left thigh, pulling your leg up as he picks up speed with his thrusts and starts hitting at a pad of nerves deep inside that made you scream his name as it sends out bliss to all parts of your body, sparks irradiating from your pulsating core and making you cry out in pure delight. As he feels you clenching snuggly around his length, he grits his teeth and hammers three more times into you before his own body jolting and spilling inside with a stutter of his hips.

Jungkook is breathing hard as he lays his limp body next to yours, one arm managing to wrap around your waist and pull your side close to him. You still feel like you’re floating from the magnitude of the pleasure you felt, but your senses come back enough for you to look at his face, lying next to yours to your left, blinking eyes as if he was struggling not to fall asleep. You smile happily, feeling satiated, reassured and loved, more than you ever felt before.

“That exact smile” he murmurs, strong enough to point a finger at your face, even as he is very tired. “That smile is only for me. Don’t share with no one else.”

“Of course it’s only for you” you promise him, rolling to your side so you can press your naked bodies together in a warm hug. “Only you can make me feel this happy and loved, Jungkook.”

“Good. Good.” He whispers back.

You chuckle against his chest.

“Stay the night?” you ask.

When he doesn’t answer, you look up to find him already asleep, his arms possessively around your waist keeping you close. You giggle again and pull a thin sheet to cover you both on this warm summer night. You decided that your shower would have to wait for tomorrow. And, who knows? Maybe you would have company.

#bts #bts imagine #bts reader insert #bts x reader #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungguk #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts smut #bts jungkook #kpop smut #kpop fluff #request

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alwaysaslutforbakugang · 5 years

Note

Hey so I love the baku squad reacting to their curvy s/o. I was wondering if you could do them trying to reassure their flat, twig like s/o who is very self-conscious. Thank you!!!!

Summary: Bakuboys reassuring their skinny S/O who is also self conscious.

Warning: Lotta fluff. tiny bit of blood in the last one (sorry!), and lazy writing (again, sorry)

Word Count: 4493

Pairings: Bakusquad boys x reader

Author’s note: Thank you so much for being my first request! This makes me sooooo happy that you like my work, and I hope that I can keep making more work that you’ll enjoy. Also sorry for the lazy writing at the end, I started getting tired ( ಠ◡ಠ ) But yea, I hope you enjoy xoxo

Bakugou:

You always knew you weren’t all that gifted in the curve department, even when you started developing you didn’t really see much change. It was infuriating seeing all your peers grow and transform into well figured women while you still had the body of a twelve year old. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a huge insecurity of yours.

But regardless of your body, you have found yourself in a loving relationship. With UA’s very own Bakugou Katsuki even. Despite what people thought of him, he was really sweet, he loved cuddling and holding hands. He was also very chivalrous, holding doors open for you and pushing your seat in. He made you feel good, feel wanted, beautiful even. It was all going great.

That is, until she showed up… Uraraka Ochako

Uraraka was a sweet girl, never too loud or too rude. Always smiling, always so motivating. She knew you and Bakugou were a thing, she’s too nice to try and ruin that… . right?

It had started when they started working out, sparring every other day and weights every Tuesdays. You would call to hang out and have a little movie date night in his dorm only for him to decline because he was in the gym, with her.

They would study together. They would be holed up in the school’s library for hours on end. Then when he would come back he would tell you that he was tired and that you guys can hang out later.

Later never came.

What did come, though, was an assortment of insecurities. She was so happy and giggly, you weren’t. She’s strong and lifted weights, your quirk was more of a defense so you didn’t really have to be all that strong. And she was shaped to the gods, while you…well, you weren’t.

So here you stand, staring at your underwear clad body in the mirror. Your eyes are puffy and red, swollen from the tears that had fallen only mere moments ago. Your eyes scan your body in hate.‘This wouldn’t have happened if you looked better.’ You smooth your hands over your hips and feel bone, you cringe. You cup your breast and are disappointed at how they barely fill your hands. ‘What did he ever see in me?” You silently cry, staring back into your reflection.‘I hate you, I Hate You, I Fucking Ha-”

Knock Knock Knock.

Panicked, you clear the cry from your throat before shouting who is it, and turn mortified when Bakugou rudely responds back. “It’s me shithead. Hurry up, I got shit in my hands.” You rush to toss on pajamas and wipe your face before hurrying to the door. You open and find Bakugou with blankets draped over his shoulders. Pillows, snacks and those face masks you knew he liked to use held tightly in his arms. He had been dressed in his pajamas too. He pushes pass you and drops everything onto your bed. When you give him a confused look, he averts his gaze to anything but your face, scratching at his ear. “I know we ain’t been able to hang much this month, so I thought a little home date or some shit would make up for it.” When he looks back at you, he hadn’t expect you to begin crying.

Then you told him, you told him everything. You told him about how much you’ve missed him, about how much your body bothered you, about how much you envied Uraraka for her body and his attention for her. The more you spoke the more pissed Bakugou seem to get. When you finished, you sniffle as he pulls you close into his chest. What he says next catches you off guard.

“Fuck Uraraka! She doesn’t come close to you,” He lifts your chin so that your looking into those red eyes. “I don’t give a shit about you having curves or not, you’re the most beautifulest person I have ever fucking met. Skinny or curvy, I would still love you the damn same. Do you fucking understand me? Now sit the fuck down so we can watch this stupid ass movie.”

The night is spent with you in Bakugou’s lap, cuddled up under blankets while he presses kisses to your temple and give you quiet compliments.

Sero:

You and Sero have been dating for a year now, and you both seem to be really happy together. His smile becomes a lot more wider when your around, and you laugh 10x more when he’s with you. You thought that the two of you were just meant for each other, you both had so much in common. You both were funny, you both were social people, and you both were, well, skinny.

People knew you both to be a couple and found it rather funny that you both had ended up dating another skinny person. Your friends, finding it hilarious, have taken upon themselves to name you guys the Skinny Squad. It had been funny at first, you laughing along with your friends at one point but the more they used it the more it seemed to feed your insecurity. But you kept it to yourself, because Sero didn’t seem to mind the name.

But as your insecurity seemed to flourish, you started noticing things. Like how people stare at your body in disapproval, or how people whisper when you enter a room, or seeing how close Sero and Mina really are. Mina was a great person, a bit eccentric but otherwise bubbly and lovable ‘I’m not like that.’

Sero also seemed to notice, they were best friends after all. Close best friends. So close that she’ll occasionally hang off of him when they hug, or he’ll side with her when the group has a dispute. Her body was able to put yours to shame too. She didn’t have much breast, but everything from the waist down was blessed. It would get to you whenever you would see them hang out. You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that maybe…

maybe he liked Mina better?

Its been about a week and a half since you started avoiding Sero. Whenever he would try to sit with you in class, you would move. If he saw you in the halls, you would go in the opposite direction. When he would call your phone, you would ignore it. And when he would knock on your door, you simply would not answer and remain as quiet as possible. You loved Sero, with your whole heart, but you needed space to think over your feelings toward yourself. Besides he deserved better than a girlfriend who might not even love herself.

The following week had been just like the previous, quiet and filled with self loathing. Lunch was no better, you used to sit with Sero and the gang but you couldn’t bring yourself to sit with them. Not today, not right now. As you make your way to your seat, you pass a look over your shoulder in Sero’s direction. You lock eyes. He was looking at you, the entire time he’s been looking at you. You see him physically perk up, and assumes he takes the eye contact as a sign as rises from his seat. The panic in you jolts and you decide to leave. As you turn on your heel, you smack into the back of the person in front of you.

The panic only intensifies when the icy blue eyes of Monoma turn to glare at you. You begin apologizing, trying to scrape the soba noodles off of his blazer, only for him to move from you hand.

“Really, you small minded 1-A dolts need to watch where you’re going.” He swipes at his blazer, but the soba has already stained. He turns his stare at you and you shrink under that stoic look.“How about you go and do something useful, like, I don’t know, lift some weights. Heavens knows you need the extra muscle Scrawny.” He shoves you out the way forcing you to stumble into the wall. You watch as he steps off, but he didn’t get that far.

Monoma had hit the ground, face first. People around you had gathered, whispering amongst themselves and pointing at you, as if you done the assault. ‘Wait, who did do it?’

Wrapped around his ankle, the thick strip of tape had unraveled and snapped back into the elbow of Sero Hanta himself. His smile was dropped and in its place was a menacing grimace. His eyes were trained on Monoma’s fallen figure. He momentarily tosses you a reassuring glace before stepping towards your assailant.

“Apologize, Monoma. Now.” The demand behind it was frightening and made you shiver. Monoma had picked himself up off the floor and began his verbal assault on Sero. Unfortunately, it didn’t remain verbal.

Sero, along with Monoma (and the Bakusquad who had jumped in), had been suspended for four days for using their quirks unauthorized in the dining hall. You felt bad, you never wanted this to go this far, and all because you couldn’t get over the fact that you didn’t like yourself. You practiced your apology as you made your way to his room, a tin of cookies tucked under your arm as a bonus apology gift. When you make it to his door, you freeze.

‘What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he hates me after I’ve been ignoring him? What if-’ Your thoughts are cut short when he opens the door, he stands over you easily and you find it to be all too intimidating all of sudden.

“Hey.” His voice sounds surprised and you can see that he is trying his best to remain ‘cool’. He’s just as excited to see you as you are to see him. You allow yourself to exhale a laugh through your nose before nudging him into his room.

“Hi.”

You had spent the time talking, catching up on the weeks you had been avoiding him, all while devouring cookies. When he asks for the reason why, you hesitate but ultimately spill everything to him. When you finish you find that he is smiling and holding back laughter. He apologizes in between chuckles

“‘m sorry, it’s just, Mina’s gay, Baby.” Your face makes him laugh again and when it dies down, he pulls you close and rests his chin on your head.

“I love you. But I understand where you’re coming from. It gets really hard thinking you’ll still want to be with someone as skinny as me when there’s plenty of muscular guys like Kirishima and Bakugou around. But if it means anything to you, I think you look phenomenal the way you are. So…?” He holds his open hand towards you. “Skinny Squad?”

You smile, the name no longer leaving you feeling less of yourself as you slide your palm into his own.

“Yea, Skinny Squad.”

Kaminari:

There comes a time in every relationship when both participants in said relationship must meet the other’s parents. When you had met Kaminari’s parents they were very sweet and openly welcoming with you. You also found it hilariously funny how Kaminari was a perfect copy of his mother. Bright yellow eyes, electric blonde hair, and creamy colored skin. Hell, they both even had an electric quirk. Whenever you would bring it up, he would always groan but he’ll joke about it with you. It was nice knowing that they liked you, it made everything a little bit more relaxing. However, Kaminari has yet to meet your parents.

You weren’t embarrassed of your parents, far from it. Your mom was a normal stay at home wife while your dad was an accountant. You loved them both dearly, it’s just…

Your parents were shaped as if they were made by Donatello himself. Your father, despite his accounting job, was in peak shape with his muscular body and agility. Your mother was the opposite of you; her breasts large and round, her hips full and wide. She was gorgeous, and that’s made you nervous for Denki to meet her. Maybe he’ll start to wonder why you don’t look like your mom.

Whenever Kamnari would ask about meeting your folks, you would always try to avoid the question or change the subject entirely. The questions didn’t end in UA either. Whenever you would visit home on the weekends, your parents would damn near drown you in questions about the boy who stole their daughter’s heart. It was starting to get a little stressful.

One day, Kaminari had randomly decided that some fresh air would do you both some good so you pack a lunch and make your way to the neighborhood park. He had remained quiet through the walk over, occasionally tossing looks over his shoulders. When you caught onto his suspicious behavior you demanded he come clean. After a bit of hesitance, he admits to texting your mom through your phone and setting up a little meetup.

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears on the account on how quiet things had gotten. When you voice that you want to leave he politely declines.

“Love, they’re your parents. What, you think I’m gonna flirt with your mom or something”

‘Yes.’

You try again to persuade him but to no avail, he won’t budge. You can feel a panic attack building in your chest.

‘He’s going to figure it out. He’s gonna leave you because you don’t look like her. All because you aren’t pretty like her. Because you aren’t he-’

“(Y/N)! Oh my gosh, is this the Kaminari we heard so much about?”

You spend the time in the park silently sulking as your parents and boyfriend shoot the breeze. Occasionally you would look up to find Kaminari watching your mom talk, she was always so animated when she would go on one of her tangents. The envy you held for your own mother made you feel sick. It wasn’t right, but it was ever present and growing. You wished you were built like her, to have her thighs and hips, to be blessed with her bust. But alas, you weren’t. Her and her pear shaped curves lean closer into her husband and you grimace at how lovingly your father accepts her affection.

You hadn’t noticed that you had tuned out the conversation entirely till the word handsome falls from your mother’s lips. Your head whips in Kaminari’s direction and the budding blush on his cheeks twist your heart.

“Thank you (Y/L//N)-san,” He scratches his head, averting his eyes in embarrassment from the woman. “That means a lot coming from someone so pretty.”

That did it. You knew this would happen. Abruptly you stand, catching everyone’s attention. Your family speak their concerns while Kaminari gently grabs a hold of your hand. “You alright there, Love?”

You slide your hand from his grasp and start your walk to the dorms, telling your parents you’ll text them later before leaving. When you are out of sight, you break into a run.

‘You’ll never be like her. He thinks she’s gorgeous, you’ll never match her looks, you fucking stick.’

The thoughts got more self deprecating till you reach the door of your dorm. Once inside you let the tears flow freely, throwing your body onto your bed gracelessly. But you didn’t care, you wanted to sleep it off, wanted to forget.

When you woke, the neon red from your clock read 3:23am. You rise with a groan, the throbbing in your head pulsing hard behind your eyes. Your throat is scratchy and dry and you could bet money that if you looked in the mirror you would see swollen eyes. You stand to go use the bathroom when your phone chimes, brightly lighting up your room. You pick it up and squint enough through the light to read Denki’s name along with the 14 missed calls and 23 missed texts. The last one your phone receives is him begging you to pick up.

You feel a twinge in your chest, he didn’t deserve this, to be ignored when he didn’t know what he did. The springs in your bed squeak under your weight as you sit, phone in hand with your thumb hovering over the call button.

Another hour passes when you finally will yourself to press it, you feel your breath catch in your throat when the tone dial sounds. Why were you so nervous? When you hear a tired ‘Hello?’ from his end, you choke out a silent ‘hi’ before feeling the hot tears spill over again. Now fully awake, Kaminari demands you tell him where you are. After choking out that you were in your dorm, Kaminari makes it over in little time. You open the door to him heavy breathing.

Had he ran?

Before you could ask, his arms swallow you up, slamming you into his chest hard. He tells you how worried he was and how worried your parents were as he stroked your hair. You allow his hug to hold you up as you breath in his scent deeply. He walks you over to the bed and lifts you into his lap. You try not to grimace at how easy it was for him to lift you. He places his hand on your face, tracing a thumb across your cheek as he looks you in the eyes.

He tells you how he had to reassure your parents that you were okay and just needed some time, and that he had gone looking for you thinking that you might’ve ran off somewhere. Upon hearing this you let out a sniffle, but he quickly quiets you with a kiss. You feel guilty so you tell him of your insecurities. He quietly listens as you go into your history of envying your mother for her body, and when your done he presses another kiss to your lips.

“Love, your mom is pretty, but your fucking gorgeous. Like, how could you think I would flirt with my girl’s mom, that’s so weird,” He laughs, but continues. “You’re all I want y’know. You don’t have to be like your mom for me to love you, you’re so perfect. So amazing.”

Kirishima:

To date someone like Kirishima, people would think that you work out just as much as the red head, spending countless hours in the gym pumping iron and getting muscle.

How wrong those people are.

You weren’t in the Hero Course but in the Support Department, making utilities and fixing up the hero kids gadgets. That’s how you and Kirishima met, because he broke his mask and needed a replacement. When you gave it back to him, you told him that if he broke it again you would break his legs. Not even a week later he came back to you begging you to make another.

He stuck around you as you build things and romance seemed to bloom. He liked you for your assertiveness and bluntness while you found him motivating and inspiring. You both were happy.

So why were you in the gym, on a treadmill, essentially not happy? Well, you had noticed that since your boyfriend was apart of a successful rescue mission last week, Kirishima had been getting a lot of attention.

A lot of female attention.

It bugged you to no end, girls coming up to him with confession letters, some even bold enough to do it while you were with him. Although it did bother you, you couldn’t help but notice Kirishima liking the attention. He would blush before politely turning the poor girl down, or try to be nice by saying things like If only I didn’t have a girlfriend to try and soften his rejection. You soon found yourself wanting to keep his attention, and the best way for that?

Get a Banging Body™

Now you had never really dealt with your body insecurities You were a lot skinnier than the girls hitting on your boyfriend, a lot flatter in some areas too. You would usually throw yourself into your work whenever you were feeling inadequate, and you worked a lot. However, you knew that being cooped up in a classroom wasn’t gonna stop those girls from talking to him. So you would be willing to thicken up, for him.

So now you tiredly ran on the treadmill, your legs feel numb and jelly-like all at once. You were going to call it quits when the gym door open and in walks your muscular boyfriend. Followed by a throng of gaggling girls. A fire lights in your belly as you see one girl grab Kirishima’s towel from around his neck and playfully drape it onto her shoulders.

Fortunately, all flirting with YOUR boyfriend ceases when his eyes sparkle upon seeing you. He pushes his way through the shield of girls to take up the treadmill next to yours. He begins flawlessly, skipping the walking bit in the beginning to break out into a full on sprint. He smiles your way. “Since when did you start working out Babe? We could’ve done it together.”

His sharp tooth smile makes you wanna smile back, but you hold up your tired glare for the x chromosome wielding hussies watching the two of you run. You watch as he picks up the pace, having not broken a sweat yet.

You would be colored impressed if you weren’t colored green with envy as one of his groupies hops onto the machine next to him, matching his speed easily. You watched her breasts bounce with each stride, her thick thighs jiggle in little waves while her hips seem to sway even in a run. She was gorgeous and she was eyeing Kirishima.

You silently prayed that he hadn’t noticed her, hadn’t seen her plentiful body. But alas, as you glance up at him you notice his eyes innocently once her over. You felt betrayed, angry and hurt all at once, so much so that you hadn’t noticed that you stopped running and in turn had been thrown off of the treadmill. You hit the floor and bundle into yourself.

‘Fuck…’

You try to ignore the snickering coming from his entourage rise and sit on your knees. You battle the tears to stay in your eyes when you see Kirishima offer his hand, concern on his face. Instead you smack it away as you train your harsh eyes his way. You stand full and swallow back the embarrassment.

“Fuck you Eijirou.”

You storm out and fume angrily all the way back towards your dorm. ‘This is all his fault.’

You sat on your floor, screws and trinkets littering your carpet. You couldn’t shake the insecurity in your chest so you thought that making something would help. It usually did and you would even forget about what you were so insecure about. But today it seemed to not be working as you screwed with undiluted anger. ‘It’s his fault that I feel this way. His fault that I don’t like it. I was fucking fine before he showed up.’

The more angrier you seemed to get, the more forcibly you would screw. You felt the tears burn at the corner of your eyes, but you try your best to ignore it. When the bolt physically can’t screw anymore you hold it tightly enough to make your knuckles turn white.

‘I hate you so fucking much! I hate you.’

You looked up just in time to see the tears fall from your eyes in your mirror. You silently watch as they slide down your face and drop of your chin.

“I hate you.”

Your voice is quiet as you talk to your reflection.

“I hate you.”

Your a little louder now and standing, walking threatening to your mirror.

“I fucking hate you!”

Your anger bubbles and soon you erupts. The gadget in your hand slams into the glass, and as expected, it shatters. You shook with anger as the tears spilled, you felt weak and numb. It wasn’t until a knock on your door drew your attention that you even noticed the gaping gashes on your hand. You thank the adrenaline as you rush off to your bathroom, yelling for the person outside your door to come in.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” The voice is quiet but no doubt Kirishima’s. The panic in you triples as you remember the blood and broken glass on your floor. You run the hot water over your wounds and hold back a pained squeal.

“Y-yea, I’m okay!” You lie as you try to reach for the first aid under your sink. “Just a little mechanical mishap.”

The box tumbles out with a loud thud and you hope he didn’t hear it. Unfortunately, he does, and tries to open the bathroom door only for it to jiggle, indicating that it’s locked. When he calls for you, you can hear the panic in his voice and a throb of guilt sits in your abdomen.

You yell to him that you’ll only be a second as you messily wrap your hand. When he can tell that you aren’t going to open up soon, he takes it upon himself to use his quirk and ram the door open.

The scene before him is a bad one. You on the floor, red faced, puffy eyed and bloodied up.

He’s is quick to aid you, questioning you all while wrapping your hand properly. You tell him the truth about your hand and mirror, but when he asks why you were mad to begin with, you become quiet. He is practically begging you to tell him, and even though you think he deserves the silent treatment, to understand that you were, in fact, angry with him, he came all this way to check on you and had even grown concerned for you when seeing your bloodied carpet and broken mirror.

He was a good guy, and at least deserved an explanation. So you gave him one. You told him about how you felt about your body, about how you didn’t feel as pretty as the girls that followed him around, and about him eyeing the girl at the gym. You had finished around the same time he had finished wrapping your hand, so you both sat in silence. He looks into your eyes, never anywhere else, as he begins to speak.

“Babe, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize I was making you fee l that way.” He pulls you closer and you allow it, cuddle into his body on your bathroom floor. “I don’t even pay attention to those girls. They don’t compare to you. You’re so amazing, and beautiful.”

When you ask why he was ogling that girl in the gym, he gives you a little smile.

“She had on Red Riot merch Babe. She was just showing me, I promise. I would never ever look at another girl the way I look at you. You’re so gorgeous (Y/N), no matter what.”

That night, you both clean the mess you left, all while he tells you how beautiful you are to him, curves or not. And when he leaves, you hop online to search for that Red Riot sports bra and leggings that had him so excited.

#bnha imagines #bnah #mha #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #sero x reader #sero hanta #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou

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cherishtaengs · 5 years

Note

54 with Taeyang please 🥰

Taeyang - Secret

54. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Pairing: Taeyang x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2338

(Sorry this is so late! I hope you enjoy it!)

TY: Hey

TY: You wanna go for a walk?

You glanced down at your phone, seeing the new texts from your friend. It was nearly 11 pm, and you’d just gotten out of the shower, ready to head to bed. But of course Taeyang wouldn’t even be thinking of sleep yet.

You: Isn’t it past your bedtime? I’m already in my pjs.

Your reply came before you even put the phone down.

TY: Can’t sleep.

TY: You can’t say no, anyway. I’m waiting outside.

TY: Look out your window.

Surprised, you crawled across your bed to the window, and pushed the curtain aside. You couldn’t see anything at first because of how dark it was, but when you put your face to the glass you noticed a figure leaning against one of the barren trees that were scattered around your apartment. He was focused on his phone, probably waiting for a response from you.

But when he looked up and spotted you, you saw his face break into a wide smile illuminated by the dim light of his phone. He raised an arm to wave up at you. You couldn’t help but smile back; Taeyang was a little unpredictable at times.

So you unplugged your phone from where it was charging on your table and sent another text.

You: I’ll be right down.

“Can’t believe I’m gonna be out in this weather,” you muttered to yourself, not bothering to change out of your comfortable sleep clothes. You just had to throw on a jacket and you were good to go; you wished he’d given you more of a warning so you could actually get dressed, but there was no time to be fancy now. After all, you reminded yourself, it’s just a walk, not a date.

“Is it a date?” you wondered out loud, but immediately realized how dumb that sounded. You and Taeyang weren’t even together, so why would this be considered a date? It was just a nice walk with your best friend. Thinking it was anything else wasn’t a good idea, so you decided not to dwell on that thought for much longer.

Grabbing the keys that hung by the door, you close it behind you and head down the hallway to the elevator, pushing the down button. You check your phone and see that Taeyang sent you a picture. You smiled when you saw the selfie, nearly pitch black except for parts of his face that were lit up by the faint golden glow of nearby lamp posts. He was covering half of his face with his hand, and you could just make out the little grin he had. Your cheeks got warmer the longer you looked at the picture, and you almost didn’t catch the soft ding of the elevator bell as it stopped on your floor.

TY: Hurry up, I’m cold.

You stepped out of the elevator when it reached the lobby and walked outside, pulling your jacket closer around you. Taeyang was right outside, waiting by the entrance, his back to you.

“Why didn’t you just wait inside?” You ask, earning a little jump from him as he turned around. He was smiling.

“I didn’t think of that,” Taeyang rubbed his hands together, breath coming out in little puffs in front of him. “I got distracted trying to actually keep myself warm.”

“You could’ve told me earlier,” you lifted a hand to your hair, running your fingers through the still damp locks. They’d probably frozen in place by the time you got back. “I’d have dressed better.”

“You look good,” Taeyang said softly, eyes sweeping over your hair and jacket. “As always.”

Your heart shouldn’t have skipped right then, but it did. Well, obviously Taeyang wouldn’t just outright say you look ugly, so why was it so surprising to you that he said you look good? It wasn’t like he’s never complimented you before.

With a sharp gust of wind bringing you back to reality, you turn away from Taeyang and walk down the steps. “Okay, so are we going on this walk or not?”

Behind you, you heard Taeyang chuckle, and you had the urge to walk faster. What was going on with you tonight?

“Slow down,” Taeyang reached for your shoulder as you approached the sidewalk. “It’s supposed to be a relaxing walk together, not a race.”

“Not so relaxing when it’s negative degrees outside,” you try to keep your tone light, ignoring the fact that you were feeling quite warm in the face, actually. “We couldn’t have done this tomorrow?”

Taeyang looped his arm through yours, pulling you close to his side. “I just wanted to see you. I didn’t think about the weather.”

“Of course you didn’t,” you rolled your eyes, suddenly very aware of how much taller than you he was. You chose to ignore the first part of his answer; there was no way you’d let yourself dwell on that right now, no matter how it made little things flutter in your chest. “You never think much.”

“Ouch,” Taeyang glanced down at you, frowning in feigned hurt. “I think a lot, but only about important things.”

“Sure you do,” you try your best to not look up at him, grateful that it was so dark. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Well,” Taeyang started. “Actually, I-”

“Didn’t think of that, either?” you jokingly interrupted.

“-Wanted to get some snacks,” he finished pointedly, pulling you along as he walked ahead of you. “Just follow me, no more questions.”

Despite yourself, you let him tug you along the street. He wasn’t usually this touchy with you, so you weren’t sure what exactly he was doing, but you let him. There wasn’t much talking after that, you just tried to not trip until you reached the convenience store he’d wanted to stop at.

“Get whatever you want,” Taeyang nodded. “I’ll pay.”‘

You remembered the couple of bills in your jacket pocket, but it was still nice of him to offer. It was a cute gesture.

When you’d settled for a bottle of juice and he got his chips, you headed outside. Despite it being so late, there were some people out still, either coming home from work or sitting on benches by themselves. You weren’t the type to just be out and about in weather like this, but had made an exception because it was Taeyang.

As the two of you kept walking, somehow Taeyang’s arm found its way around yours, once again attaching you to his side. You felt his hand gently brush yours every now and then, but neither of you moved to separate yourselves, and Taeyang just kept laughing and talking like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Let’s sit here, I’m tired,” this time, you pulled Taeyang down onto a bench, sitting to rest your legs.

After a pause, Taeyang spoke. “So how was your day?”

You turned your head to him. Taeyang wasn’t looking at you, he was focused on the trees above him, watching their crisp leaves shake and shudder in the passing breezes. “It was okay. How was yours?”

“Better,” Taeyang tilted his head to face you, another small smile on his lips. “Now that I’m with you.”

What was the point of that? What was he trying to accomplish by being so cheesy? Did he know that he was sending your brain into a frenzy with his sweet words and cute actions? Was he aware of how beautiful he looked, all golden under the streetlight and flushed from the cold? You were glad he couldn’t tell how your breath caught in your chest for a second.

“That’s funny,” you laugh nervously, watching as the air puffed out in front of you like a little cloud. You couldn’t look him in the eye, and you thought that was stupid. “You’re funny.”

“I’m serious,” from the corner of your eye, you saw that Taeyang didn’t look away. “It’s always just okay, until I get to be with you.”

You took a deep breath, twisting the cap of your drink back and forth just so your hands had something to do. “What’s with you today? Why are you being so… weird?”

Taeyang shifted so his whole body was angled toward you, resting his elbow on the back of the bench so he could lean his chin on his hand. “Is this weird? I thought this would be nice.”

You nodded. “Well, yeah, it is. But, why now?”

Taeyang was silent for a moment, studying you carefully. His strong gaze seemed softer in the dark, and you felt very self-conscious.

“I told you,” he finally answered. “I just wanted to see you.”

Despite the chilly wind that blew into your face, you felt heat spreading up from your neck. “See, you’re being weird-”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You look up, meeting Taeyang’s eyes. He didn’t look bothered by the cold at all, and he didn’t look flustered. You guessed you were the only one who felt that anything was off, but it wasn’t in a bad way. You just didn’t know how to respond to the situation.

“I like you.”

If you thought Taeyang’s cheesiness couldn’t get any worse, this proved you wrong. You weren’t sure if you’d even heard him right, but the way Taeyang stared at you so intently convinced you that this wasn’t a dream. This was actually happening, and he had actually said that to you. Your heart seemed to be beating from every part of your body and took a moment for you to remember that you needed to breathe.

“I mean, I like you, too-” You start, fiddling with the cap on your bottle again.

“I like you in more than a friend way,” Taeyang dropped his arm, gripping the seat of the bench and stared at his feet. “And you’re right, I could have just asked you out at a normal time, like a normal person, but I don’t know I just… Couldn’t wait.”

He looked back up at you and now it was clear that he was nervous. His eyebrows were drawn together in a sharp frown and he had his bottom lip between his teeth. You held your breath. “I don’t know how you feel about me, but I had to tell you all this now. And I guess I didn’t really think this through, either.”

He paused to lift a hand to his chest and laughed. “God, I wish you knew how hard my heart’s beating right now- it’s been racing since I saw you at your apartment. Is that weird, too?”

You stared for a moment, unsure of what to say. Did you like Taeyang back? Well, if the hard thumping of your pulse in your ears and the strange bubbling in the pit of your stomach and the fuzziness in your head were any indication… Yes. Yes, you did like Taeyang. And you knew you had for a while now, but it just took this little moment for the realization to fully set in.

“It’s not weird,” you mutter, slipping two fingers against your wrist, feeling the quick flutter of your pulse. “My heart’s running a marathon right now. See?”

You held your hand out to him, hoping to ease the tension he must have been feeling. Taeyang looked up at you for a second before gently taking your wrist in his hands and laying two fingers on your skin. You weren’t sure if he actually knew how to feel a pulse, but a moment later, a grin broke out on his face and you heard him laugh.

“Was that your way of telling me you like me in more than a friend way, too?” Taeyang chuckled, sliding closer. He didn’t let go of your hand.

You bit your lip, unable to keep the giddy smile off your face. You hoped you didn’t look completely silly, but you just couldn’t look him in the eyes. “If I say yes, will you stop staring at me like that?”

Taeyang pulled your hand toward him, interlacing his fingers with yours. You could hear the teasing tone in his voice. “Say yes, and we’ll see.”

“Yes,” You turned your head to the side, not wanting him to see your smile even in the dark. “Now quit it.”

There was a quick pause, and then you felt your hair being pushed back. Taeyang’s hand was soft and warm against your cheek, turning your face back to him. “Not yet.”

You two stayed like that for a few moments, just staring at each other. You felt like the air had completely frozen around the two of you, encasing you in a moment of perfect stillness. The only thing you felt was the fluttering of emotions in your chest.

“God, you’re so cheesy,” you wiggle out of Taeyang’s arms once time started to move again.

Taeyang laughed, a full sound you loved hearing. “I should be allowed to be cheesy with you; it’s what I do best.”

“Whatever,” You playfully swatted at Taeyang’s arm and stood. “Can we go home now? It’s too cold.”

“Whose home are we going to?” Taeyang follows you and before you could start walking, he wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug. You felt the heat from his body warm you through your jacket.

“You’re gonna take me to my house,” You let yourself lean back into him, enjoying the closeness and warmth. “And then, you’re gonna go back to your house.”

“I can’t stay?” Taeyang pouted, settling his cheek against yours. “How am I going to walk all the way home in this weather?”

You laughed, shivering as a particularly chilly gust of wind blew around you. “Alright, we’ll see. I make no promises.”

“Good enough for me,” Taeyang removed himself from around you, settling to hold your hand instead. “Maybe I can convince you on the way.”

“You can try,” you lead the way this time, pulling Taeyang along the leaf littered sidewalk.

Spoiler: you let him stay.

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