#yeah i like nighttime. i’m gonna go clean the long day off of me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pahtoosh · 1 year

Note

Imagine y/n manages to down a cup of coffee while daddies!stucky is trying to calm them down while chasing them throughout the house

ugly shirts and caffeine crazies

masterlist

summer celebration masterlist

18+

wc: ~9800 words

warnings: maybe a little 🤏 too long. baba calls you a brat🫢 daddies take off their shirts later for silly reasons

a/n: thank you, lovely anon for this suggestion! i am actually very sensitive to caffeine myself so this really spoke to me hehe😁 like i cannot drink coffee at all or i will be a bouncing wreck and i can’t have tea after 5pm!! or i wont sleep!! i need my daddies to help me cos sometimes i forget and i get a nighttime boba with my friends and then i don’t sleep until 5am😳

pairing: stucky x gn!little!reader (Dada = Steve, Baba = Bucky, Daddies = both Steve and Bucky)

summary: Bucky and his baby have a disagreement over a shirt. while baby runs away, they manage to drink Steve’s coffee

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Steve whistled a happy tune as he began making his morning coffee. Because of the serum, he didn’t need the caffeine to get through the day, he just liked the routine. As he waited for it to cool down slightly, he began preparing breakfast.

It was a lovely, quiet morning. The sky was slightly overcast and birds were chirping. Unfortunately, peace in your house could not last for long.

“No! I don’t wanna!”

“It’s your only clean shirt right now, Angel.”

“It’s ugly! I hate it! I hate it!”

“Hey, we don’t use that kind of language here. Now put on the shirt or you’ll be getting a time-out.”

“You can’t make me, Baba!” You escaped your argument with Bucky, dodging past him to run into the living room.

He groaned and followed you out of the room, finding you hiding behind the couch. “Baba’s not messin’ around. Come put on your shirt. Now.”

His strict baba voice should’ve been a warning, but you were not putting on that shirt. The colors were all wrong and the printed design was incredibly thick, making it uncomfortable to wear.

“No! You can’t make me!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “We’ll just see about that, won’t we?”

“You have to catch me first!” You ran away again. This time, Bucky chased after you instead of following at a walking pace like before. He almost caught you but you threw a pillow at his face and ran into the kitchen where Steve was trying to ignore your fight.

You froze, not expecting to see your Dada. Just then, Bucky came right behind you and trapped you in his arms. “Gotcha.”

“Noooo!” You squirmed, trying to escape his grip.

Steve couldn’t help but laugh after seeing the two of you. Bucky was out of breath and his hair was messed up, you were half-dressed, and both of you looked so angry at each other while Bucky practically hugged you from behind.

“What’s going on here?”

“This one,” Bucky said, not breaking his staring contest with you. “Is being a little brat and refuses to put on a shirt.”

“Not just a shirt! It’s the ugliest shirt in the whole wide world!”

“We don’t have any other clean shirts for you, remember? You. Have. To. Wear. This. One.”

“I. Don’t. Wanna!”

“God, the both of you are so stubborn,” Steve said.

At the same time, you and Bucky stopped glaring at each other to say “no I’m not” and “nuh uh”.

Steve threw up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Well, let’s just see this so-called ‘ugliest shirt ever’ and then see where to go from there.”

You nodded. “Yeah! And then Dada will see how ugly it is and I don’t have to wear it!”

“Or Dada will see that it’s just like any old shirt and you have to wear it anyway,” Bucky teased.

“Buck, no.” Steve freed you from your vibranium trap and got down on your level. “I’m gonna help you, okay sweetness?”

You nodded smugly and stuck your tongue out at Bucky. Dada was on your side, not Baba’s.

The three of you made your way to your room. While walking, you noticed your daddies giving each other certain looks. It was like they were having a silent conversation. Maybe Dada wasn’t looking out for you like you thought he was. Maybe he was only saying that to make you stop fighting.

In reality, Steve was making fun of Bucky for his childish behavior and Bucky was silently arguing back, demanding Steve to not tell anyone about this.

No matter what they were talking about, you couldn’t take that risk. You let go of Steve’s hand and ran off again, confusing your daddies.

“What the-“

“Baby, where are you going?”

Bucky put his hands on his hips. “Not so easy, is it?”

Steve groaned. “C’mon, we’ve got a runaway to catch.”

Meanwhile, you were frantically looking for a place to hide. Behind the couch wouldn’t work, Baba found you there last time. Maybe the kitchen! The island was a good size to hide behind and if your daddies came up on one side, you could sneak your way around the island in a circle and they’d never see you.

You went behind the island and sat down, trying to catch your breath. All this running around was making you tired and thirsty. Above your head, you spotted a mug on the counter. You checked to see if the coast was clear and took a sip. And then almost spat it out. It was the worst, most bitter-tasting drink you’d ever had.

Although, it was beginning to make you feel better. You drank as much as you could handle and then put the cup back before returning to your hiding spot. You could just barely hear your daddies looking for you in the living room over the sound of your own heartbeat.

“Where could they be?”

“I don’t know, but I’m starting to- wait, do you hear that?” Your daddies halted their movements.

You placed a hand over your nose and mouth, hoping that the air purifier in the living room was enough to distract them from the sound of your breathing.

Bucky sighed. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s just find that little troublemaker and then we can get on with our day.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

Catching you was a very, very difficult task. Your hatred for the shirt combined with the energy from the coffee allowed you to beat out two supersoldiers. Steve and Bucky were exhausted, both of them laying on the living room floor while you jumped from one hiding place to another.

“What’s gotten into them?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m starting to think we’re not winning this fight. I mean, our baby’s running circles around us.” He looked at Steve. “Think it’s time to throw in the towel?”

“Ugh, maybe. It’s kind of embarrassing that our adversary is screaming and dancing around the house while we’re just trying to catch our breath,” Steve joked.

“We’re getting too old for this.”

“Ya got that right, pal. I’m gonna go drink my coffee. Hoping it’ll give me a second wind.” Steve got up and went to the kitchen. When he saw his partially empty mug, he connected the dots and facepalmed.

“Buck, we’ve got a problem.” He returned to the living room. “That little sneak drank half a cup of black coffee.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and he sat up. “How?”

“I guess I left it on the counter? And they were hiding in the kitchen for some time so..”

One of your giggles cut through the tense conversation.

Bucky sighed. “Alright, I’m done fighting the beast. It’s team no shirt until that laundry machine gets fixed.” He got up off the floor and brushed off his hands before taking off his shirt.

Steve laughed. “What are you doing?”

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

Your two shirtless daddies met you in your playing room. You were hiding behind the coloring table.

“Are you in here, sweetheart? Daddies are here to throw in the towel- or shirt, I guess.”

“You win, babydoll.”

You carefully peeked over the table. “You tellin da truth?”

“Yeah. Look at us, team no shirts just like you. Can you come out now? We missed being with you all morning.”

You squealed and ran to hug them, bouncing excitedly. “Yay! Yay! Yay! Now we all don’t wear shirts! Can we do this all the time? ‘Cause then we don’t wear shirts and then we only wear pants and then when we don’t wear shirts we don’t have to wash shirts and then we don’t have to fold shirts and then we only have to wash and fold the pants and that’s so-“

“Woah, woah there. You’re talkin’ so fast, your mouth is about to fall off,” Bucky said.

You gasped and held a hand over your mouth.

Steve poked him in the side. “Baba’s only joking, baby. No mouths are falling off. But we do have to fix the problem of you drinking coffee.” He held your shaking hands. “Do you feel different right now? Maybe super energetic and excited or nervous?”

You kept bouncing on your feet. “YEAH! I feel like I can run forever! And I can run fast! And I can talk fast and my heart goes fast too!”

“Yeah, it’s fun for a little bit but it’s not good to feel like this for too long. We’re gonna take you to Uncle Bruce for a little check-up, okay? Maybe he can help get you back to normal.”

“OKAY DADA! Can Uncle Bruce be team no shirt too?”

Steve sighed. “I forgot about that, I don’t think we’re allowed down there without shirts on.”

You tried breaking away from Steve’s grasp, but he learned his lesson and was not letting you go.

“I not wear da ugly shirt! No, no, no!”

“Please, baby? Just for one hour?”

“NOOOO!” You stomped and turned every which way, trying to free yourself.

Bucky looked down at the floor, trying to wonder how you all got into this mess when he got an idea.

“Angel? What if you wear Baba’s shirt, hmm? It’s not as ugly as your last shirt, I hope.”

You stopped squirming. “Maybeee.”

“Just try it and if you don’t like it, we’re bringing a baby in a blanket down to Uncle Bruce.” He carefully put the shirt on you, starting with the neck hole and pulling the sleeves over your arms.

You marveled at the feeling of the soft, lightweight fabric. The sleeves were extra long, letting you curl your hands up inside them. Best of all, it smelled like your Baba.

“I love it! I love it soooooo much! Oh! Can I wear your shirts all the time, Baba? I promise I give them back! And Dada too! I wear Baba’s shirt today and Dada’s tomorrow! And the next day is Baba and the next day is Dada and the ne-”

“We’ve gotta see Bruce.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

One check-up later, Bruce gave you a special medicine to cancel out the effects of the caffeine. You were now tired from the whole ordeal of running away from your daddies all morning.

After lunch, the three of you cuddled on the couch. You read a couple of books and took a nap. Nap time was especially cozy with both your daddies there and because you were still in Bucky’s shirt.

Eventually, the laundry machine would get fixed, but you still loved wearing your Dada and Baba’s shirts from time to time. You insisted that you all trade shirts because it was so fun. Usually, it’d just be you wearing one of your daddies’ shirts, but sometimes you could initiate a three-way trade and see one of your daddies wearing your shirt. It was so funny seeing a super soldier wearing a t-shirt with a dinosaur riding a bicycle on it, especially when the shirt was a size or more too small.

#stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #fluff #oneshot #sfw regression #agere fic #marvel agere #littlespace fics #ugly shirts and caffeine crazies #ugly-shirts-and-caffeine-crazies #requests

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clementinehoneyblossom · 10 months

Text

FOCUS-DISTRACTION | previously | masterlist

pairing: idol! lee heeseung x idol! fem reader

warnings: none

word count: ~1k words

a/n: hi hi! sorry for disappearing! enjoy this part as a peace offering <3

part five: bad ideas

You and Heeseung walked to the convenience store by the dorms, the same one he suggested the other day. You only agreed since it was late enough, plus that convenience store rarely had people visit it.

You let out a long sigh as the cool nighttime air hit your tired skin. The sharpness of the breeze instantly made you both feel better after a long day. When you got to the store, Heeseung jogged up to the door, beating you to it.

“Ladies first.”

You gave him a playful nudge in order to compensate for the butterflies in your stomach. Just as you expected, the store was barren. Only the cashier who had fallen asleep on the job.

“So, do you prefer your ramen extra spicy or more on the tame side?” you asked. Heeseung huffed as he scanned the large selection.

“More on the spicy side. Sometimes I switch my extra hot noodles with Jake’s just to get a reaction out of him,” he admitted, “but I think I’m gonna go with these tonight.”

Heeseung proudly presented his choice of spicy chicken noodles. You smiled.

“I think I’ll join you.”

Heeseung paid for the food, even after much protesting from you. The two of you sat down and began enjoying your steaming hot ramen.

“So, an interesting song choice for a duet,” said Heeseung. You cupped your cheeks.

“That’s one way to put it. How do you want to split up lines?”

“To make things simple, I’ll take the lines that say ‘girl’ and we can just do every other from there. Does that sound okay to you?”

“Perfect.”

You continued to slurp on your noodles, starving from the long day. Heeseung watched fondly as you ate, a smile creeping on his face. Your eyes looked up at him, mouth full of food.

“Here, you got a little something there.”

Heeseung took his napkin and gently wiped your cheek, cleaning off the stray soup. You tensed up, feeling a rush of embarrassment and butterflies as he looked at you with loving eyes.

“Sorry…” you mumbled.

“Don’t apologize. I'm glad you’re enjoying the food,” he smiled.

You looked down at your bowl, hiding your flustered face.

“May I ask you something,” you said.

“Anything.”

You played around with your utensils before looking up at him.

“Even after what I told you yesterday, you still seem to want to spend time with me… why?”

Heeseung tilted his head before chuckling to himself. He leaned forward slightly, over the table.

“Because I like you and I want to get to know you better.”

Your eyes widened.

“Y-You like me?”

“Of course I do,” he said calmly.

“Can you elaborate on how exactly you are defining ‘like’ in this situation?” you pleaded, your head shaking with confusion. Heeseung chuckled.

“That’s for you to figure out. Come on, I better get you back home.”

Heeseung walked you to the dorms just as he did the night before. The walk was silent, but the kind of silence that was soothing. He walked close to you, occasionally your arms brushed against each other, causing you both to smile nervously. Once you reached your front door, you stood on the top step allowing you to be eye to eye with Heeseung.

“Thank you for everything,” you said softly.

“It was my pleasure.”

Heeseung’s big brown eyes never broke away from yours. The glare of moonlight shone on his face at just the right angle as if all the stars cast down a spotlight on just you and him. Heeseung took a small step toward you. His pinky finger brushed up against your hand, causing you to flinch.

“Hee…”

You wanted to take his hand. You wanted to know how his fingers would feel intertwined with yours. You wanted to know what would happen next if you leaned in just a bit closer.

But those were all bad ideas.

You stepped away from Heeseung, your eyes now focused on the ground.

“I should go…” you whispered. Heeseung sighed softly, nodding.

“Yeah me too. I-I…goodnight.”

Heeseung quickly turned around and walked to where he came from. You almost went after him, but your feet refused to move.

“Goodnight…”

You waited for one of your members to let you in. Myeong opened the door.

“Y/N! Y/N…what’s wrong?” she asked. You kept your head down, heading straight for your room.

“Just tired, headache.”

You closed the door and fell straight onto your bed. This was exactly what you didn’t want to happen. You didn’t want to hurt Heeseung and play into a fantasy that will always be just that, a fantasy. You rubbed your eyes, sighing.

“Everything alright?”

Myeong opened the door and sat down at the edge of your bed. You covered your face.

“When someone tells you they like you and wants to get to know you better, what does that mean?” you muttered. Myeong giggled.

“It usually means exactly that.”

She brought your hands down, smiling at your completely distraught face.

“Is this about Mr. Lee Heeseung?” she asked, but already knew the answer. You huffed.

“I just- I just don’t know what to do…”

“You worry too much Y/N, just let things happen on their own.” You shook your head.

“No no I can’t- the last thing I need is to catch feelings for him, or even worse he catches them for me. I have to tell him I only see him as a friend before this gets out of hand,” you insisted. Myeong looked at you, sighing.

“I think you’re just afraid of letting him in.”

Myeong got up from the bed, heading for the door.

“I know you love sticking to the rules, but you’d be surprised with what you can get away with if you have enough determination. Now I’m not saying you should get yourself in trouble, but I don’t think there’s any harm in seeing where this could go. And I don’t think listening to your heart is selfish either. You’re a human before you’re our leader, don’t forget that.”

Myeong quietly left the room, leaving you to contemplate her words. You groaned, grabbing your phone.

y/n : i’d like to get to know you better too

You tried not to peek at your phone, telling yourself that he was fast asleep and wouldn't see it until morning. Nonetheless, when your phone gave the familiar buzz, you checked immediately.

heeseung oppa : are you free saturday?

#enhypen #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x y/n #citrus.s #lee heeseung fic #heeseung x reader #enhypen heeseung #enhypen x female reader #kpop #heeseung fic #heeseung #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #citrus.sweets

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fivelakesinwriting · 3 years

Note

barry wanting to play with his partners nipples but without him knowing, reader got their nipples pierced so they're all swollen and barry helps soothe them

Author's Notes: Ugh. I want mine done so bad, but I practically slid off the table for my belly button I got so sweaty and nervous I don't think I could handle it. If this was your request - I hope you love it!! Please let me know what you think! xoxo

Warnings: Talk of a new piercing (I warned for this last time, just in case. Might make some people uneasy!) Sexual references - sexual innuendos

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

She had been avoiding him all day, and Barry could sense it. Any time he got close to her, his hands reached out to touch her body she would recoil and walk away with a mumble about needing to organize or clean something.

As the nighttime approached, the moon rising on the house, Barry had more than enough of his girlfriend skirting away from him. Avoiding his advances while his fingers pinched at her skin.

Barry made his way towards the back of the house to the bedroom, his hands in his pockets and leaned against the door frame as he watched her get ready for bed.

"You avoidin' me?" Barry grunted as he looked his girlfriend from head to toe in just one of his t-shirts, and a pair of panties.

"Not at all, baby. Why would you think that?" She asked as she ran her fingers through her hair and made her way over to him across the bedroom, stepping over discarded pants and underwear.

"Haven't let me touch you all day." Barry glared as he looked down at his girlfriend, but let her put her hands on his stomach beneath his shirt.

"I've been busy with cleaning the house." She replied as her fingertips pulled off of his stomach, her eyes downcast to his feet.

Barry grunted in response while his eyes looked her over, taking in every hair on her head. Down, down to her toes. He took the chance to grab hold of her hips, hoping she wouldn't swat him away like she had been all day. He released a sigh of relief when she let him hold her close. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, forgetting he had been upset with her as he began to push his hands up the front of her shirt to finally grab at her breasts like he had been dying to for the entire day.

"Barry, wait!" She hissed as she grabbed his wrists as he reached for her nipples with his index and middle fingers.

"What's this?" Barry growled, his eyes dark as he ever-so gently tugged on the steel bars through each of her nipples. His cock twitched in his shorts at her meek little whine.

Barry grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. He couldn't contain the moan that rattled in his chest at the sight of his girlfriend's nipples, barbells through them. They were so pretty, and just begging for his mouth to be all over them.

"Oh, baby. Not yet. They're so sore." She whined as she grabbed his hair, pulled back at the nape of his neck, when he surged forward to press his lips to the top of her left breast, sucking a light bruise to her skin.

"I can't touch?" Barry grunted as his fingertips dragged down her bare back to make her shiver, her nipples hard and pressed against his own chest.

"The girl that did them said specifically to not let my boyfriend tug on them." She whispered as she pushed her fingertips into his hair from the nape of his neck.

"What you tell her about me?" Barry smirked as he pulled his lips from her chest to look at her little pout.

"That you're grabby, all hands." She responded with a small shiver as she felt him reach his left hand around to her front, tracing his index finger under the swell of either of her breasts.

Barry breathed out a laugh while he nodded. She wasn't wrong. If he could have his hands on her, he always did. He grabbed at whatever he could, quite literally, get his hands on. It just had to be her.

"How long you gonna make me wait?" Barry asked as he kept his eyes on her breasts, hard nipples with surgical steel through them, while he kept his hands on her hips.

"Not long, baby. She said the swelling will go down in a few days, and then my boyfriend can tug all he wants. Says the pain is a little different for everyone. But it's really just the swelling and keeping them clean." She replied, her eyes following his line of sight to her sore breasts.

"Can I help?" Barry muttered as he dipped his head down to kiss along her neck again, his hands reaching for her backside to pull her against him.

"If you keep your tongue to yourself." She nodded as she trailed her fingertips over his shoulders.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that." Barry grinned against her neck with a firm smack of her backside.

"Just for a few days you have to keep your tongue and fingers away from my nipples." She laughed as she pulled at the loose hair around his face.

"We can still have sex, right?" Barry questioned, a concern look on his face as he pulled his face up from her neck. They had only gone two days without sex their whole relationship, and Barry thought he would die. Or explode. He preferred death.

"Barry, I didn't get ...that pierced. Yes, we can still have sex." She scoffed with a blush as her fingertips touched his jawline.

"Oh my god. Don't put shit like that in my head." Barry growled with a hot kiss to her lips, the tips of his fingers creeping into the waistband of her panties.

"Baby, don't. Please." She whined, grabbing at his wrists when he instinctively reached for her breasts.

"I'm sorry." Barry breathed out placing his hands on the top of his head as he pulled away from her. He looked his girlfriend over, standing in front of him in just a pair of underwear. His heart was racing in his chest, his shorts getting tighter by the second.

"Can help me clean them, if you want." She whispered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other under his gaze. It felt like he had not blinked in over one minute as he stared at her breasts and then the top of her underwear.

"Yeah?" Barry asked, his eyes flickered to hers with his hands still on the top of his head.

"If you're really gentle." She nodded as she reached for the strings for his shorts and pulled him closer.

"Can be gentle." Barry mumbled as he looked down at her, letting her pull him against her again. He couldn't contain the whimper that burst from the back of his throat as his erection rubbed against her.

"C'mon, baby." She smiled softly as she released his strings and walked towards the bathroom, still topless. Barry released a heavy sigh, pulling his hands over his face as he followed after her.

As they stood in the bathroom together, his girl leaned against the pedestal sink and Barry in front of her, he gently dabbed a warm cloth over her nipples. He furrowed his brow in concentration, barely flinching as he felt her nails slowly pull over his shoulders as she winced.

"Hurts?" Barry grumbled as he finished cleaning her piercings with warm water then placed the cloth on the edge of the sink.

"A little bit." She nodded as she placed her palm flat on his shoulder, uncurling her toes.

"Will ice help?" Barry questioned as his pulled his fingertips down her back, feeling her shiver against him.

"Yeah, but I think it might be more for you than for me." She shivered as she grabbed at his hair at the back of his head.

"I'll do whatever I gotta do to tug on those nipples again." Barry growled as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, before he all but ran to the kitchen to get ice to soothe his love.

Hotties:

@starkey-babie @fashion-fasting @barrysjumpsuit @babeyglo

@rottenstyx @pogueslandia @whcclxr @beauvibaby @soph0864

@sodasback @plutooryectors

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

#barry obx #outer banks barry #obx barry #barry x reader #barry x reader smut #barry outer banks #obx barry request #barry baddies #outer banks imagines #outer banks fic #outer banks requests #obx fic #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks imagine

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

I think it would be really interesting for leo and sirius to talk ab how they both didn’t go to college and how they both joined the nhl at 18 but had v different upbringings

Ooo, I like this one! I’m always down for some Cap and Knutty bonding. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentioned bad parenting

“Kinda weird, isn’t it?” Leo said, breaking the nighttime silence after many long minutes of just their breathing. Sirius hummed in question. “Starting all this so young.”

Sirius made a noncommittal noise and Leo shifted, never taking his eyes off the sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars properly in Gryffindor, but the roof of the rink didn’t have a bad view; the planes flying overhead brought pinpricks of brightness to the indigo blur.

“Was it hard for you?”

He heard Sirius’ coat move. “Was what hard?”

“Starting the NHL at eighteen.”

There was a long beat of silence. “Sometimes.”

“I didn’t know if I would make it,” Leo confessed, still barely above a murmur. Nobody else was around, but it didn’t feel right to talk in normal voices. The whole world was muted, save for the noise of the city below them. “There was just so much to do.”

Sirius laughed softly. “I hate to break it to you, rookie, but that doesn’t change.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Before, or now?”

Leo thought for a moment. “Both.”

“Before, I would go home and shoot pucks until I was too tired to stand up. Sometimes I would read.” It wasn’t a secret, but it still made Leo’s heart hurt to remember. Nobody as kind and hardworking as Sirius deserved that. “Now, I make myself some food, take a shower, and steal Re’s softest hoodie.”

Leo could hear his smile in the dark—it echoed his own. “Nothing better, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Finn’s fit me best,” he mused. “But Lo’s smell better.”

“Ah, he finally discovered deodorant?”

“Shut up,” Leo teased, elbowing his ribs. Sirius laughed a little louder; in the light of the streetlamps and the absence of his granite-hard focus, it was easy to remember that he was only 26. Leo had worshipped him as a kid, but now he just saw Sirius for what he was. His captain, who guided him through the playoffs even when his personal life was crumbling apart. His older brother, though Sirius certainly wouldn’t think of him that way. His friend.

“Really, though, it’s important to have those connections,” Sirius said when they both calmed down. “Being alone is good, but only if you know you have people to talk to when you need them.”

“Was it easier when you weren’t living with someone?”

“No.” The answer was immediate.

“Sometimes I want the apartment to myself.” Leo lowered his voice unconsciously, then sighed. “It’s not because I don’t want them there. I just need to be alone. Wash the dishes. Clean my room. Call my mom.”

“You should tell them.”

He turned his head slightly; Sirius was still scanning the sky. “Is that what you did?”

“It took a couple hiccups, but yeah. If one of us needs some alone time, the other will go to the grocery store or take a walk, maybe hang out with friends. You just have to make sure your boys know that it’s not personal.”

“You’re freakishly good at sage advice.”

Sirius snorted. “Merci, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.” He raised his hands, as if outlining a marquee. “The Eternal Rookie, starring Leo Knut.”

Leo stuck his tongue out, feeling rather petulant about the whole thing. “Watch it, Cap, I’m gonna sic Dumo on you.”

“My own father?” Sirius gasped dramatically. “How could you?”

“Did you ever get homesick?”

The question was out of the blue—he didn’t blame Sirius for faltering. Honestly, Leo was kicking himself for asking in the first place, though he had been keeping it in for ages. Unspoken rule of the Lions #1: Don’t ask Cap about his childhood.

“I…” Sirius fell silent once more.

“I’m sorry,” Leo apologized, and he meant it. “That came out of nowhere.”

“I missed Regulus,” Sirius continued carefully without acknowledging him. “But no, I didn’t get homesick. I didn’t have time, or a real reason.”

Alone in a new city, finally out of a horrible living situation, but desperately missing the little brother he left behind… Leo couldn’t even begin to imagine going through it when the NHL by itself was already overwhelming to his teenage brain. He scooted an inch closer until their shoulders touched. “I get homesick every couple of months.”

“You have a kind family.”

“Have you even met them?”

“At the party.” Sirius’ smile was practically audible. “Your mother was very excited to see me.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned. “What happened?”

“She—“ He broke off with a laugh. “She was very nice, I promise, but I think I surprised her because she squeaked when I said ‘hello’.”

Leo shook his head. “Did you sneak up on her?”

“I’m six two, I can’t sneak up on anyone!”

“You walk like a fucking ghost, dude! It’s creepy!”

“Okay, rude.”

“I swear, you and Loops need to be belled like cats,” Leo huffed.

They lapsed back into comfortable quiet for a few more minutes as a train rattled past on one side and the metro busses rolled down Main Street on the other. It had taken Leo a long time to figure out Gryff’s layout, and even longer to get used to the sounds of the city.

“What does it feel like?”

Leo blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. “What?”

“Being homesick.” Sirius shifted again and folded his hands over his stomach. “I didn’t notice much of a difference in practices when I started the NHL, and going back to my parents’ house wasn’t my exactly a highlight of my year.”

Curiosity overrode his tact and reasoning skills. “You never asked Logan?”

“Non. It was different, with him. He had already left to go to college before I knew him, and spent four years away from his family.”

“Right.” Leo forgot about that on occasion. That Finn and Logan might be five years older than him, but they had only been rookies a year or two prior. Not everyone went straight from their city select team to an official draft. “It’s hard to describe.”

Sirius made an understanding noise, but he couldn’t entirely mask his disappointment. Leo licked his lips and tried again.

“It’s like a piece of you isn’t where it’s supposed to be. And it keeps tugging on your chest, but you never know when it’s going to start and stop so you just… deal with it. You ignore it some days and you think about it other days.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The hard days are when you remember you can’t go back to the way things were before. I don’t even call my mom sometimes, ‘cause I know it’ll make me sadder.”

“The way things were before?”

“Yeah, like—like all my classmates are in college, and I’m laying on a roof with one of the most famous hockey players in the history of forever.” That drew a light laugh from them both. “I’m gonna go back to my reunion in a couple years and have literally nothing in common with the people I used to be friends with.”

“Sometimes I wish I went to college,” Sirius said. “But I would have missed so much if I did. I don’t think I would have been happy there.”

“Finn and Logan get weird about college.” Maybe he shouldn’t be talking about it, but Leo had the feeling none of their conversation would leave the rooftop. “It was hard for them, with all their shit.”

“Re does, too.” He recognized the sad edge in Sirius’ voice; it was the same as his own. “For a different reason. It started good, and ended bad.”

“I’m glad I missed out on that,” Leo said, biting down the urge to scream at the universe for putting their significant others through so much hardship at an already-difficult time. None of them deserved the pain they went through. “Besides, it’s not like we need degrees to play hockey, and we’ll have plenty of money afterward.”

“I never thought about my life after hockey until my ankle.”

“My parents always pushed me to make sure I wanted to do the NHL instead of more school.”

“You’re lucky to have them.”

“I wish you did.”

The words hung suspended between them before Leo could swallow them back down, somehow dangerous and calming at the same time. It wasn’t like he had never thought about it before; he just hadn’t said it out loud. The first time he had seen Sirius’ parents across the rink had given him a case of the heebie-jeebies so strong he had to shower twice. All the times after that just made him angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sirius’ voice was quiet, but not upset. “You’re not the first person to say it. I’m glad you feel like you can be honest with me.”

Leo frowned. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

“I try really hard to not be an asshole captain, so it actually does mean a lot.”

“I don’t think you could be an asshole if you tried.”

The barking laugh that split the night startled Leo so bad he nearly jumped out of his skin; Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth, though he was still snickering. “Sorry, sorry, I just—holy shit, I forgot you didn’t know me before. Mon dieu.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Leo protested. “Pots said you used to be grumpier, but that’s it.”

Sirius shook his head, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I was such a dick. There’s not a single picture of the whole team where I’m smiling for about two years and I was such a stickler for the rules.”

Leo gaped at him. “You followed rules?”

“To the fucking letter. It was awful.”

“What happened?”

Sirius shrugged. “I got friends. Idiot friends who did things like showing me the easiest way onto the roof. Pots used to drag me up here every Friday.”

“Really?”

“Ouais.” Mischief flitted over his face. “He skipped date night with Lily once on accident, and she tracked us up here like a bloodhound. It was terrifying.”

“What did you do?” Lily was one of the nicest people Leo knew, but he knew better than to get on her bad side.

“Lied to her face while James hid behind that strobe light.”

“Did it work?”

“Are you kidding?” he snorted. “She called me a liar and suggested getting a better best friend. That was after she told James he’s better have something nice planned for their next date if he ever wanted to get in her pants again.”

“And yet you didn’t listen to her.” Leo tsked. “Of all the people on the team, you chose the hot mess.”

“Trust me, rookie, James had his whole life figured out compared to me.”

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and but his lip. He had pushed his luck a lot already; who knew if one more question would be the tipping point? “Did you ever think about coming out? Even just to Pots.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “After every single game.”

“For seven years?”

“Up until the day those pictures were leaked. Even more after Re and I were together.”

“How old were you when you knew?”

“13. You?”

Leo exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure. I think I had an idea of it as a kid, but didn’t really get it until I was in high school. My parents were even more worried about the NHL after I told them.”

“They worry a lot about you.”

“Only child, and I was going for a wildly unstable career path with no guarantee that I would ever see the ice.”

“They’re proud of you. More than you know.” Sirius’ watch beeped. “It’s ten o’clock. Are you supposed to be home?”

“I should probably make sure my boys haven’t burned down the apartment.” Neither of them made an attempt to move. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course.”

You’re like a brother to me, he wanted to say. I don’t know who else I can talk to like this. “Thank you.”

“Any time. We don’t have to do extra practice beforehand, either.”

Leo nudged him gently. “You’re the best captain ever.”

“You’re the best rookie, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Yeah, I am, he thought as they laid side-by-side in silence once more with the past behind them and the future ahead. And if I end up like you, it means I did something right.

#leo knut #sirius black #coops #oknutzy #finn ohara #logan tremblay #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #friendship #cap and rookie

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crackheadgeminibby · 3 years

Text

mistakes were made

pairing: chris evans x black!reader

warnings: language, age gap, angst, mentions of sex TW body insecurities and talk of weight gain

word count: 2.9k

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape or form or reposted on any other platform

picture credit: screengrab from "Captain America Dinner Party" on youtube

You finish getting dressed and pick up everything you need to go for a run. As you’re walking down the last steps, you see that Chris is sitting on the couch, working on something on his computer. You come up behind him and softly kiss his temple before saying,

“Hey baby. I just put Emma to sleep and I’m gonna go for a run. Can you just pay attention and make sure she doesn’t wake up, please?”

Chris absentmindedly nods and mutters a “be careful”. You faintly smile and roll your eyes at his unwavering concentration but make sure to turn the volume of the baby monitor all the way up before leaving.

You go out through the garage and smile up at the sky, feeling the heat of the sun warming up your face.

You start to run the route you used to before getting pregnant with your baby girl. Last Sunday, it had been five months since your bundle of joy had been born. As much as you utterly adored her and the experience of carrying your own child, you had not appreciated the effect that the pregnancy had on your body.

On the contrary, most mothers-to-be were described as glowing and full of new energy but while you were pregnant, you always felt like you were about to get a cold and you had put on so much weight that you could barely recognize yourself. You had thought that it was only the pregnancy hormones changing your body that way as you were still very young, but today, five months after giving birth, your body had stayed the same and that certainly was not helping your confidence.

You weren’t sure if Chris had noticed your insecurities that manifested themselves by you eating almost the same meager meals every day and pushing away all sorts of sexual interactions with him. Since he had never mentioned anything or ever seemed frustrated with you, you thought he simply didn’t notice it or just didn't mind it.

Lost in your thoughts, you’re back home before you know it. As you’re entering the garage, you faintly hear Chris’ voice travel through the house all the way to you. Slightly confused, you assume that he must have forgotten to tell you he had an appointment or something, so you make sure to be as silent as possible to not disturb him.

“Bro, I know, it’s fucking crazy. I actually have my own child now.”

You smile softly at his excitement. You’re downing a bottle of water you took from the fridge when your ears perk up at your name coming out of Chris’ mouth.

“Oh, Y/N? Yeah, you know, she’s fine, she's good.”

Tilting your head slightly, you try to understand the sudden shift in Chris’ mood: even from two rooms away, you could feel his energy change.

“No, it’s fine, it’s just that she’s been kind of weird since the baby.”

You frown at hearing Chris say that. He never mentioned anything to you so why the hell was he talking about it with whoever was on the other end of the phone?

“No but like bro, look, it’s like this. I’ll be out all day doing whatever, and then when I come home, she’s all over me, being super clingy and all. Like, she will literally not let me go anywhere. But then, whenever I try to ease the mood into, you know, something more sexual, she just shuts down and says that Emma needs some food or something and she leaves. Then, when she comes back, she’s practically running from me like I have the fucking plague or something!”

As Chris is listening to what the person on the phone is responding, you start to feel a knot in your throat and you know that if you don’t do anything soon, you’re going to be full-on sobbing. As you’re working on your breathing and a plan, you hear Chris say,

“Dude, I literally thought the same thing. I swear. But, when we went for her check-up a little after she gave birth, the doctor said we couldn’t have sex for 6 weeks. It’s been like 20 weeks now!”

Unable to contain your emotions any longer, you leave your water bottle on the counter and run back to the garage, as silently as you can. Once in the safety of the garage, tears stream down your face as you let out a sob that brings you to your knees. You let yourself cry for what feels like forever, but you know it must not have been more than 5 minutes.

When you start to calm down, you focus on finding a plan to make sure Chris didn’t know that you were eavesdropping on his phone conversation. You take deep breaths before wiping your face and fixing your appearance as best as you can while using the rear-view mirror of your car.

Once you’re certain that you can’t do anything more, you take a final breath before opening the door and slamming it loud enough for Chris to hear that you’re in the house. As you’re approaching the living room, and thus, the staircase leading to your room, you faintly hear Chris say, “Yeah, man. I’ll talk to you later.”

You pass behind him while keeping your head held high and not giving him a single glance. As you start to climb up the stairs, you see that Chris is turning towards you.

“Hey baby, I didn’t hear you come back. How was your run?”

You take a deep breath before answering as calmly as you can, “Fine. I’m going to take a shower.”

Chris hesitates for a second before responding, “Um, okay, I’ll start dinner then.”

You don’t answer and run up the last couple of stairs as you feel your resolve crumbling. You hurriedly take some random clothes and a towel before locking yourself in the en suite bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you put your hand over your mouth as a cry escapes you again. You put your clothes and towel on the counter before sitting in front of your bathtub. You don’t know how long you stay there, stifling your cries, but you suddenly hear the doorknob jiggling before a loud knock resonates through the bathroom.

“Y/N? You okay in there? I heard some weird noises.”

You clear your throat as softly as you can before answering, “I’m fine, I just stubbed my toe.” You cringe as your voice breaks halfway through your sentence.

The doorknob jiggles again before you hear, “Are you sure? And why is the door locked? You never lock it.”

“Uh... I'm on my period.”

You roll your eyes at your dumb and illogical excuse but it was going to have to do for now.

Before Chris can say anything else, you start the shower, rapidly take your clothes off and step inside. Both Chris and you knew that when the shower water was on, it was almost impossible to hear anything else in the bathroom.

You spend at least an hour under the scalding water, and you finally get out as you see a glimpse of the time on the bathroom clock: 6:45pm. It was time to start getting Emma ready for bed and you knew that she rarely slept through the night if you weren't the one to put her to bed. Knowing that this meant that nobody in the house would really get any sleep, you reluctantly turn off the shower water and get out of the shower.

As you’re toweling off, you can faintly hear music coming from outside of the bathroom. You put on the clothes you had taken from your room and put them on.

How ironic. You were wearing the same shirt from the first time Chris had told you he loved you. You smile bitterly as you look at the shirt in the mirror and pick up the rest of your things before getting out of the bathroom.

You walk into your shared bedroom with Chris and immediately recognize “Wicked Games” by The Weeknd. You roll your eyes as you remember the time you had told Chris that, for whatever reason, The Weeknd’s 2010s phase could always get you in the mood. You take your time doing your skincare routine before taking care of your workout clothes.

After finishing in your bedroom, you close the door and head to Emma’s room to get her ready for bed. However, you frown confusedly as you see that everything in Emma’s room is clean and organized. Emma is clearly changed, dressed in her nighttime pyjamas, tucked in and soundly asleep while Dodger is snoring in front of her crib. You smile softly. Even before Emma was born, Dodger was extremely protective of her and when she was born, he was practically attached to her hip. Wherever Emma was, Dodger was also there.

You’re watching Emma and Dodger sleep, a seemingly permanent smile on your face when you suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn around rapidly and slightly jerk away from Chris when he attempts to put a hand on your arm. He frowns slightly before saying,

“I got Emma ready for bed and dinner’s ready downstairs.”

You sigh and walk around Chris before making your way downstairs as you hear his soft footsteps behind you. When you turn the corner to enter the living room, your breath slightly hitches as you see that Chris has set a candlelit dinner table. Chris softly sets his hands on your shoulders and starts to gently massage them as he says,

“I made spaghetti with chicken parm, your favorite. And extra cheese, just how you like it.”

As your resolve starts to crumble, Chris’ words from earlier in the day echo in your mind. The memory makes you instantly tense up and you let out a shaky breath while trying to control your emotions. To take the focus off of you, you sit down and start to serve Chris and yourself some water. You hear Chris sigh loudly before he sits down in front of you. He serves you a hearty serving of pasta with a whole chicken breast before serving himself. Chris looks at you, clearly hesitating to say anything for a couple of seconds while you’re poking at your food before saying,

“So, I thought you would like the chicken parm tonight since you seemed kind of down after your run.”

You let go of your fork, which loudly hits your plate, and put your head in your hands before you say, “Oh my God, Chris, I can’t fucking do this.”

“Woah, Y/N, you can't do what? What's wrong?”, Chris asks, shocked.

“What’s wrong, Christopher, is that I heard you on the phone this afternoon. Talking about how I’m supposedly clingy and never want to have sex with you anymore.”

Chris visibly tenses up as he hears your statement and stammers trying to find an excuse to justify his behavior.

“Wait, I… I can explain.”

You hold your hand up, signifying to Chris that you’re not done.

“First of all, you have absolutely no right to talk to anybody about our sex life without at least asking me first, which you know I would absolutely not agree with. Second of all, you should know by now that if you have any problems with me, you come to me. You don’t go talking to some random person about it behind my back.”

You angrily get up from the table and narrow your eyes at Chris as you continue.

“And third, not that you deserve any justification whatsoever for me not wanting to have sex with you, but I gained weight, Chris. Way too much weight. I find myself fat and gross and I didn’t want you to see my body and think the exact same things I think every single time I see myself in the mirror.”

You sniffle as you realize that you had been crying.

“And you can help yourself to the couch tonight.”

You walk up the stairs and, mindful to not wake Emma up, you softly close your bedroom door. You immediately snuggle into the covers while soft sobs rake through your body. You’re not sure how long you lay there crying but you eventually fall asleep from exhaustion.

You groggily wake up a couple of hours later while the sun is starting to rise as you hear Emma’s cries on the baby monitor. You rub your eyes as you get out of the bed and head over to her room. You take Emma out of her crib and immediately identify that her diaper is full. You feel your headache from crying developing further as you’re changing Emma.

When you’re finished, you take Emma in your arms and bounce her up and down while softly humming to help her fall back asleep with Dodger dutifully following you.

You head downstairs in search of painkillers for your headache while continuing to hum to Emma. While passing through the living room, you can see Chris’ head resting on the couch armrest. As Dodger spots him, he heads over to him and whines softly before setting himself at the end of the couch, prepared to fall back asleep.

You chuckle slightly before downing the painkillers and heading back up to Emma’s room, ready to put her back in bed. You set her down and tuck her in before exhaling softly and heading back to your bedroom.

Your headache and the painkillers had effectively made you exhausted again as you fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

When you finally wake up for the day, you groan at the faint traces of your headache still present. You look over at your nightstand and see that it’s now 7:30am. You roll your eyes at this. You had barely slept an additional hour.

Figures. You never really slept that well when Chris wasn't in bed with you.

As your senses start to really awaken, you smell some coffee and hear the shower running for a couple of seconds after which, it stops.

Before you know it, Chris walks out of the bathroom, body steaming, with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. He suddenly stops in his tracks as he realizes you’re awake.

God… Even when he pissed you off, he was still hot as fuck.

He lightly clears his throat before saying, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. I just wanted to take a shower after my workout.”

You gently shake your head before responding with a raspy voice, “You didn’t wake me, it’s fine.”

Chris nods his head once before tightly smiling. You can feel the tension in the room as Chris stands in front of the bathroom door and looks anywhere but at you. After a couple of seconds, he softly sniffles and croaks, “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You sit up in the bed and lean on the headboard as you frown softly. Chris makes his way to you and softly sits on his side of the bed with his head hung. You can see from the various expressions that are passing on his face that he’s trying to find the words to talk to you

“I didn’t really sleep last night because I kept thinking about what you said. And I realized how much of an asshole I was.” He balls up his fists as he shakes his head and continues, “I never should have talked about any of those things with Matt and I’m so sorry that I did. I’m also sorry that I never came to talk to you, like a grown man, and instead just talked about you behind your back.”

Chris hesitantly reaches for your hands and takes them into his when he sees that you’re not negatively reacting to him while tears are dropping on the covers.

“Above all, I’m especially sorry that I ever made you feel like I wasn’t there for you and like you couldn’t come to me. I really didn’t know how you felt about yourself and it breaks my heart that I let you go through this alone when I should have been there to support you after Emma was born."

He shrugs gently before finishing with, "And for what it’s worth, I think you’re as beautiful now as you were while you were pregnant and before you got pregnant.”

Chris looks up at you with red eyes as he waits for you to say something. You open and close your mouth multiple times as you’re trying to find the right words to respond to him.

You finally settle on, “I don’t know that I can forgive you right now, Chris. What you did really hurt me. Like a lot.”

Chris’ head slightly hangs down before you finish with, “However, I don’t think it would be beneficial to our family for us to be apart right now.”

As soon as he hears this, Chris’ head snaps up, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“I’m gonna need space and time to work through this but I believe that our relationship is stronger than this.”

Chris nods excitedly and bites his bottom lip before asking, “Is it okay if I hug you?”

You lightly nod your head and chuckle slightly as Chris practically throws himself at you. He rests his head in the crook of your neck before whispering “I love you so much, Y/N.”

Without hesitation, you whisper back, “I love you too, Chris.”

If there was something that you knew would never change is that you loved Chris, forever and always.

#chris evans #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfics

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smellsfaintlyofvanilla · 3 years

Note

I wanna wrap Hange up in a blanket and tell them they are doing their best 😢 if you don’t mind can you write Hange and reader taking a bath together and it being fluffy.

I just know they reek to high hell

Still love 'em though

Soft

(Zoe Hange x Reader)

AU: Unspecified

Warnings: None

Category: Fluff

Summary: Finally fed up with Hange's poor hygiene, their S/O forces them to bathe with them. Chaos ensues.

Words: 1.6K

"Y/nnnnnnn!"

"No."

"But c'mon!" Hange whined, throwing their arms around your shoulders. You quickly pushed them off, walking away in an act of defiance, despite the little voice in the back of your head telling you to give in to their demands.

"Hange, you reek." You scoff, crossing your arms and giving them a disapproving look. They had finally finished their long day of work, and immediately went up to you for your usual nighttime cuddles, but you had refused—they hadn't bathed in over a month at this point, and you were starting to get sick of it. It wasn't even the actual smell, more so just a concern for your lover's lack of hygiene.

"Just for tonight?" They bargained, "Just tonight, I'm really tired, I'll bathe in the morning."

"You always say that, but you never do, y'know." You muttered, turning away.

A beat passes, and neither of you say anything.

Finally, you sigh, breaking the silence.

"I'll bathe with you, if that'll convince you." You mumbled, and Hange's face immediately lit up, excited by the offer.

"That works!" They grinned, already unbuttoning their shirt and pulling it over their head.

You raise an eyebrow. "Don't look so excited." You mutter, turning to leave. "I'll go start the water."

You shut the door behind you, heading towards your shared bathroom. Seldom was the bath itself used by anyone but you, so you already had all the soaps and shampoos organized perfectly to your liking. You flicked on the knob, putting your hand under the water until it turned hot and plugging the drain to let the bath fill.

While waiting for the bath to fill, you slowly undid your shirt as well, discarding it, and the rest of your clothing, to a neat pile on the floor, wrapping your bare body in a towel to fight the cold air of the room.

A few loud knocks on the bathroom door brought you out of your thoughts, making you jump.

The perpetrator, Hange, didn't bother waiting for an answer, pushing the door wide open, causing you to flush bright red.

"Hange, close the door!" You whisper-yelled, rushing over to shut the door. Luckily, both of you were wrapped in towels, so if anyone did walk by, they wouldn't see much, but you still wanted complete privacy in that moment.

"Sorry, sorry..." They whispered back, laughing a bit to themselves.

When you had turned around, Hange had already removed their towel, dipping their leg into the bath and swirling it around a bit, testing the temperature.

"Feel okay?" You asked, walking over to them and setting a hand on their shoulder.

"Yeah, it's pretty nice actually..." They sighed, climbing in and resting against the edge of the tub. You joined them silently, discarding the towel and slinking in right after, sitting on the opposite side of the tub.

"You're right... it is really warm." You exhaled, leaning back to take in the feeling of the hot water against your skin. A nice relaxing bath, plus Hange, and it was almost therapeutic. "Still," you muttered, sitting up and causing the water to slosh a bit at the movement. "We don't have forever until it gets cold. Turn around."

They cocked their head to the side, gazing on in confusion until you pulled out a bottle of shampoo, squirting a bit of it into your hands. "Well? Are you gonna come over?"

"Oh, right..." They mumbled, scooting over to turn their back to you with an uncharacteristic awkwardness.

You rub the soap together in your hands briefly, spreading it across both palms before moving your fingers to work their way through Hange's hair, massaging their scalp in the process.

"Oh wow..." They sighed, leaning their back against your stomach fully and closing their eyes in relief.

You raise an eyebrow, continuing the lather the soap through Hange's greasy hair. "What's so 'wow' right now?"

"I've never had anybody wash my hair before... it feels nice..."

"Hange, I would be surprised if you even remember what it feels like to wash your hair in general." You chuckle, causing them to scoff in faux offense and rise a little in the water, turning their head to the side.

"Come on now, don't move so much, you're gonna get the soap in your eyes." You warn, grabbing them gently by the cheeks to face them in the same direction they were facing mere moments ago.

They close their eyes once again, not bothering with a response as your fingers work through their hair with the gentle caring of an angel.

Having finished spreading the soap through their hair, you took a small scoop of water in your hands, pouring it over your lover's head, rinsing the soap from their hair. Teasingly, you take a scoop and dump it directly over their face, causing them to jump, snapping out of their relaxed trance to turn to look at you with bewilderment.

"What was that for??" They questioned, moving the hands up to swipe away the soap that roamed dangerously close to theirs eyes.

"Oh, I don't know," You smirked, leaning back against the porcelain tub with a cheeky expression. "Just felt like it I guess."

"You little...!" They growled, swiping their arms to splash a gush of soapy water in your direction. You jumped out of your spot, desperately wiping the soap from your searing eyes.

"Owww... Hange!" You half-groaned, half-laughed, glancing up at them with a mischievous look. It's on.

You splashed back at them, sending a powerful gush of water in their direction, but they managed to block their face with their arms just in time to send another wave of water back, equally as powerful.

The water fight was passionate, but short lasting. After a few minutes of back and forth, you had realized just how much water had left the tub and soaked the floor around you two.

"Oh my god, Hange, look at this mess." You groaned, leaning over the edge of the tub, annoyed at the prospect of all the future cleaning.

"You started it!" They laughed, draping an arm around your shoulder and yanking you against their chest.

"Oof- Hange!" You groan, wiggling in their arms. It was no use, though, as their strength outmatched yours, locking you in against their chest.

"You're stuck here, whether you like it or not." They giggled, tugging at the back of your head to pull you into their shoulder, hugging you warmly like a beloved stuffed toy.

Now having access to Hange's collarbone, a sinister idea formulated in your mind. Without warning, you bit down on the soft flesh, emitting a surprised yelp from Hange.

They yanked your hair, pulling you away from their collar with an annoyed expression. "You're always scheming something, aren't you?"

You laugh out loud, shooting them a look and shrugging your shoulders. "What can I say? You present too many opportunities."

"Oh yeah? What are you planning right now then?" They tighten their hold on your hair, moving your head in tandem with theirs, only to stop inches away from each other.

You don't answer, instead lurching forward to crash your lips into theirs, and putting your hands on their shoulders to push them back-up against the tub.

As soon as you pull away, opening your eyes and catching your breath, Hange gives you a smirk before shoving you against the opposite end of the bath and leaning over to straddle your thigh.

"No fair," They whine playfully, "I wanna be on top!"

"Hange!" You punch their shoulder jokingly, face heating up at the dirty remark. "Jeez, way to make it awkward..."

"I'm not the nervous one here, you are." They reminded with a smirk.

"Just shut up and kiss me." You exhale, leaning forward to connect your lips once again. They ease into the second kiss immediately, moving against you fluidly, having long gotten used to the feeling of your colliding lips.

Suddenly, they pull away from the kiss, moving to drop their head on your shoulders, a hand slinking down to entwine your fingers in their own.

"I love you... so much..." They mutter into the crook of your neck, causing you to shudder, but run a soft hand through their hair anyway.

"I love you too, Hange." You smile, leaning down to peck them on the top of their head.

They move up from your shoulder, leaning in once again, but this time, they rest their forehead against yours, closing their eyes and taking a long exhale.

"Seriously. I love you so much, you don't get it." They sigh, moving against you to press your bodies even closer together. "You're always taking such good care of me... making sure I'm okay... what did I ever do to deserve someone like you?" They chuckle, but you hear the slight waver in the noise.

"Hange, you're amazing. Don't ever doubt that for a second. I take care of you and stay with you because I love you, you're the most important person in my life. You're really amazing, you know?" You smile warmly at them, wrapping an arm around their neck to tug their parted lips teasingly closer to your own.

"Yeah, of course..." They mutter, their heart beating faster and their mind swarmed with the feelings of love that seemed to exude off of you whenever you were around. "I love you, darling."

"I love you too." You sigh, moving your head to connect your lips once again, chapped lips, yet kissing so softly.

Anyway, goodnight y'all. I need sleep (and grass lmaooo)

#aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #snk x reader #hange zoe #hanji zoe #zoe hange #zoe hanji #hange x reader #hanji x reader #hange zoe x reader #zoe hange x reader #hanji zoe x reader #zoe hanji x reader

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ofmythsandmadness · 3 years

Text

to be called beautiful | d.h.

❛ do you ever miss, having someone around to love you?❜

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SUMMARY: vigilantes!au. you push the boundaries of your relationship, and ask for a wish you know won't be given back. (or — it's late, and after another night of patrol, loneliness sets in deep.) WARNINGS: slightly nsfw??? mentions to sex, no descriptions. it's not a sexual story, just a part of an inner monologue. WORD COUNT: 2.6k+ NOTES: reposting this in hopes it shows up this time (pls pls pls i'm gonna cry). i've been writing a whole other series that is a totally different writing style, but i've been trying to work out my emotions in small, focused pieces like this one when i can't focus. i might develop this into a small ficlit series of it's own, bc i think it's kinda fun — but we'll see how this goes.

THE BEAST THAT IS YOUR LONELINESS has been your burden for too long to say.

It's hold on you is a familiar ache, one you've felt for years, like a chronic tight tugging on your heart that refuses to give in no matter what you try. But you still refuse to name it for fear of coming to terms with the implications of it all. That you're really alone in this life and you're terrified of what that means and the fact that you can't have what your childhood stories promised would be yours.

Like the fool you are, you cling to the idea that it's just passing notions. You'll get over it one day. The flitting daydreams of a fairytale romance better fit for a vanilla Hallmark flick suck, but one day they won't hurt so bad. You'll numb and find a way to fill the void. And you try, you really do, pushing it down for the quick release of meaningless acts and walks of shames and cold bedsheets.

Sex is a toxic friend. You choose it's pull when your heart aches most and the loneliness begs for your breath to the point where every gasp of air is a privilege, not the bare minimum. It's not what you crave. There's no romance, no love. It's a trade and one that always leaves you feeling robbed of something you're not sure you ever even had.

You rarely remember their names. You know they probably won't remember yours. And why would they? The shudders, the whimpers, the cold moans that amount to nothing but crumbs of a supposedly passionate act only pass an hour, then they're gone. Or you're gone, if you're lonely enough to risk it. A bit of fun, a breath of pink and white and the feeling of someone pulling you closer, begging for your skin against theirs.

And then, it's all grey again. And you're alone at your apartment, washing your body free of the marks some stranger dared to press into your wilting skin, wondering what it would feel like for a lover to kiss you that same way. Running your fingers over every inch that has been caressed by so many faceless guests, trying to hold yourself in the way your foolish heart pounds for. But it's never enough. Your hands don't cup your flesh, don't mould and kiss and promise the carefully knitted lies any lover had dealt you in the past. And you're as cold as ever when they fall back to your sides. Nothing enflames your skin like you wishes it could — like those you wish would.

It's a discontent you live with. Just as you're sure millions of others do. That's what life is; you push yourself through the day, through your mundane day job and your taxing nighttime hobbies (because you sure as hell can't claim what you do as real work if your only pay is in blood and tears). You cling to the good times that happened too long ago to remember clearly, and make the moments that you're alone with your thoughts as small as possible.

But there's no time to consider all that now.

You scrunch your face up as tight as you can, squeezing your eyes shut to the point where you see stars, exploding like confetti in some absurd black void that hides behind your lids. For a moment you hold the pose, watching the stars erupt, until the position hurts too much and you have to release.

Surroundings blur and then clear as your eyes readjust from their disassociation. You stare blearily at the random coffee shop you and your 'associate' chose for the night. It's just as generic as the last five visited, a thousand shades of brown and red and weary smiles the bored baristas wear just for a cheap check that'll barely cover their asses. It's worn and empty; no one's hear except the two of you and the workers who probably hate you for being here so late.

Normally, you would feel like an asshole staying so late. But you can't bring yourself to move, or even suggest to. It's all too heavy. And even if it's in brooding silence, you don't want to leave your partner. Not yet, you beg the universe, just a few more minutes.

And, speaking of—

"What's got you so blue today?"

You blink. Look over to him, only to see him already watching you.

There's really no point lying. He always unravels you too quickly, too easily — it's the detective in him, unravelling anyone and scooping their truths from shivering flesh. Some sort of childhood trauma response he developed into another super power.

You used to hate it. Now...if you concentrate hard enough, his sharp gaze feels like one of a lover's.

"Don't know what you mean," you tell him, foolish and flustered. "I'm just fine."

"Bullshit. You've sighed a dozen times in the last five minutes."

"Tch. No I haven't."

"Did too!"

His teeth glint, white and clashing against the full pink of his lips. You wish you could denounce all the times you wondered what it would feel like to have them graze against your keening skin — but not even all the gods could cleanse of you of those thoughts. Those desperate, pleading, melancholic memories stain; he can't see them, but you do when you look close enough. And you can't escape it, much as you try.

"Seriously, though. What's up with you?"

Your gaze falls down to your hands, eager to escape his allure, though it's not a great distraction. It only makes you more bitter, really, taking in all the flaws that litter your weaponised limbs. They're calloused from a million fights. Your knuckles are scarred, aching from wounds you reopen every other night. A thousand scars from a thousand scrapes, cuts, slashes and grazes linger on once perfect skin. You don't know how many there are, anymore, only that you wish you could wipe them off. Start over, have a clean slate. Erase all your mistakes and be beautiful again.

"I'm just tired," you lie. It's tense and pitiful; you know you've screwed it up the second the words leave your lips. "S'all."

"Ri-i-ight, and I'm the goddamn queen of England."

The absurdity of his retort makes your lips twitch. It's not enough for a smile, your self-inflicted misery makes sure of that, but it's a seed of something. "Wow. Didn't know I was in the presence of royalty."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut it."

"My apologies, your highness."

"Shut up, you little shit," he grumbles, but it's as soft as you get from him. It's practically a cry of love — or your foolish mind paints it as such. You take his teasing insults as promises of adorations and his arguments are poems of lust and infatuation that tug on your heartstrings in ways you know they shouldn't.

You're partners, for crying out loud. Professional coworkers (if you call the bloody mess you two create work). You don't get to miss him, or crave him, or love him like you do.

"Something happen to you?"

You watch his own hands fold and unfold on the table. The long, delicate fingers stand out on a man like him; someone who paints himself in only sharp angles and cutting lines. But you think they match him well. They promise life. Bleed hope, even in the raised scars that lace his skin like your own. You've watched those fingers grip a blade, launch it into flesh, pull and push and dig and rip and take and committed acts of atrocity most people would run from. You know he probably thinks of his hands the same way you do. But you think they're beautiful.

"Nah. It's...it's nothing. Really."

You can't see his face, but you imagine his narrowed eyes and furrowed brows asking for an answer you're just not willing to give. "C'mon, just tell me. Can't be that bad."

Your body laughs. You hear it from some place far away. It's cold and hoarse; you wonder how long it's been since you've heard a genuine laugh from yourself. You wonder if he notices (and wishes he did, foolishly, frivolously...).

It's probably stupid, but you go for it.

"You ever miss having someone?"

Something creaks; his chair, groaning as he shifts his weight. One of his fingers taps against his empty coffee cup; idle music for a restless soul.

"Like, in what way?"

"I..." Your nails dig into your palms. This was a mistake, but one you have to follow through with. He won't accept silence after something like that. "In the cheesy, domestic sorta way? That whole, havin' someone to come home to, someone who you can talk to, someone who..." the words stick like molasses in the back of your throat. Try as you do, they refuse to give themselves to him, so you have to substitute. "Just, someone who likes you, past your body or, or whatever."

"Oh."

"Sorry." It's your turn to shift in your seat, awkwardly searching for something to occupy yourself with as this uncomfortable energy you've created carries on. But your cup's empty, and you don't have the cash to ask for another overpriced latte. "Forget about it. Let's talk about somethin' else, yeah?"

He doesn't answer that. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all for a moment, long enough to make you wonder if you've just crossed the line of no return. You can't bring yourself to look at him, hell your cowardice is painful enough to make you wonder if you should just make a run for it, say au revoir! to the bond you've built with this knife-obsessed robin hood and crush your heart forever.

It's tempting, and you consider it, but then he fills the silence.

"I miss Eudora sometimes."

Finally, your gaze tilts up. Your eyes meet his lips. He's not smiling anymore.

You guys don't talk about exes together. It's a forbidden topic, same as family or childhoods or the number of people that have cut you open and bled you dry for fun. It's too personal, and in this line of work, personal doesn't fly. But you know Eudora Patch, because this line of work requires a couple run ins with people like her, and because your partner in crime has never learned how to stop his emotions from bleeding into his expression.

"Not because I still love her, but y'know..." his fingers wave aimlessly. "It was nice, when it worked. I liked having someone to sleep with. In a non-sexual manner." His lip curls a little. "Guess the sex part was nice too, though."

You nod. "Yeah, I get that. It's...it was nice, having someone who knew you. Who wanted to make you feel good, not just for themselves but 'cause that sort of things matters."

"Mm."

"Y'ever consider pursuing that sort of thing?"

He shakes his head. His adamancy is a truck smashing into your heart — though you know you should have expected no less, it still hurts. "I can't. It never works, with people like us. Y'know?"

"Yeah. Makes sense." You want to say more. You probably should say more — but you doubt he wants to hear your woes about intimacy, and the pathetic ways you crave affection you probably don't deserve. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Hm?"

His brows knot. "Why're you asking? Someone do somethin'?"

"What? No."

"Cause, like, if someone's hurt you, I'll—"

"I'm fine," you promise, and without thinking, you reach across the table to pat his hand. To reassure him like one would a lover. But just before your fingers meet his, the bitter reminder that he's not yours sets in and you draw back. Your hand falls a couple inches from his own. "And I can take care of myself, if I wasn't. Don't worry."

He chuckles mirthlessly. "Y'sure about that? You're still the dumbass that tripped over her own feet twice walking down an empty sidewalk, and—"

"—oh, you are such an asshole, why can't you just—"

"—so if you need someone to cut a bitch, I'm available."

You soften slightly. Try to smile, even if it's a false promise and probably hangs like a broken door on mismatched hinges. "I appreciate that. But I'm okay. Think I'm just tired, and a little lonely."

"What, I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

Bitterness seeps onto your tongue; it speaks before you can shut your lips around it. "You're fine as a partner against crime. But you're not anything otherwise, are you?" It feels like a taunt. You hadn't meant it to be — though, maybe you had.

If he takes your jeer poorly, though, it doesn't show on his face. He's still smiling and watching you, eyes simmering with a joke you wish you were in on.

"It doesn't matter though. Having someone's too complicated, 'specially for fools like us. Sometimes it's just..." you don't have a good answer. Not one he'd want to hear, anyways. "I just miss it sometimes. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to, or eat breakfast with in the mornings."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Was nice, having another body around."

"Yeah. Ha. I," you stutter out a chuckle. Tug at your lip, nibbling at the cracked skin that comes with your long nights. "No one prepares you for how lonely adulthood is. Like, I'm half tempted to make friends with the takeout guys, just so I have a friend at all."

"We're friends."

"You know what I mean," you mumble, swallowing the bitter 'are we?' that almost makes its way off your tongue. "It was just nice when I had the time, to have a person around. Someone to like, hold hands with, or-or call me beautiful, sometimes. I-I can't remember the last time called me that, any..."

Fuck.

You hadn't meant for that last confession.

He wasn't supposed to hear that. It's too personal, too personal, too fucking personal for someone you don't even know.

Everything trembles; you're shaking like an avalanche, ready to sweep it all away under some snow drift. Never to be seen again. But you can't do that, there's no taking back the way your voice cracked as it reaches it's last word, and how your hand slips into a fist, ready to charge even though there's no punching your way out of this fumble.

You crack. Stumble out of your seat. Before he can talk you're moving, throwing a couple bills (too many for your poor wallet, you'll pay for that later) down and mumbling something about heading home. Your head's spinning and you just want to sit down again, pretend like this never happened and ask about some meaningless moment in a meaningless day that you wish could be yours and his, not just—

"—text me when you're goin' out again," you say, high and nervous. "I'll be around."

You turn.

"You don't have to leave."

"I got work tomorrow. Early."

"Thought you had the day off?"

Fuck, la deuxième acte. "Taking a shift for someone."

"Oh." He doesn't believe you. He would be a fool to. But he agrees anyways. "Okay."

"See ya, Kraken."

He doesn't answer you back. It's probably better that way.

BONUS

Many hours later, you're in bed, finally dozing off. You've rinsed off the filth of the night and resigned yourself to a barely adequate rest alone, too tired to consider what usually makes your mind race. It's been a long day; let future you contemplate all the ways you've screwed up.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, however, there's a small ping! that immediately wakes you up A notification sound reserved for only one person.

You groan but still roll over. Your heart may be a humiliated, burning mess, but it still beats for him, much as you've tried to stifle it.

kraken // 2:36 am. you available at 11p tomorrow?

kraken // 2:37 am. got word somethin going down at east docks, wanna check it out before it gets bad.

Relief is a sweet blessing. You exhale and smile into the darkness. He's still a professional, even if you seem unable to understand what that means.

you // 2:40 am. for sure. meet me at my place whenever and we can prep.

You leave it at that. Whatever he has to say after that, cannot be too important to waste your precious hours of sleep. So you roll over and shut your eyes and let yourself forget about the empty space that fills your place.

It's a decision you regret the next morning, when you wake up and realise what you missed.

kraken // 3:31 am. you ever get lonely for someone, feel free to let me know.

kraken // 3:32 am. might not make a great boyfriend, but i'll eat breakfast with you. so long as you're cooking.

A/N - I had a whole idea for two tired vigilantes (like what Diego does in season one, but partnered up) who both are really lonely and tired of life and all it's shit, and rely on each other more than they'll ever admit, and...I'll probably never write it, but this was a fun bit of that. two lonely emotionally deprived assholes who can't accept that maybe they can be loved and the person who wants to is right in front of them. :)

#my writing #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #tua x reader #tua imagine #diego hargreeves imagine #hargreeves imagine #hargreeves x reader #gender neutral reader

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chocosvt · 4 years

Text

⚬ pairing: junhui x reader ⚬ word count: 8125 ⚬ warnings: none! ⚬ genres: secret relationship, some slice of life uni moments, FLUFF, very light angst, spice, roommates!wonhui.

✧✎ synopsis: you’re friends with junhui - but also, not really. it’s friends and a little bit more than that. it’s difficult keeping your relationship a secret, especially when you’ve never loved someone the way you love him.

✧✎ a/n: NOBODY MOVE! I WROTE A JUN BDAY FIC ;_; this is really just me projecting all my years of love onto a word doc. enjoy!!

It was midnight, and the apartment was dark, unmoving. No one had bothered to clean the blue cereal bowl left in the sink and there remained bread crumbs on the countertop from lunch. As you flicked through the strange glimpses of late-night television, yawning in an outrageous width, there was a hunger pang, accompanied by an immediate craving for some sort of sweet candy.

So, you did what seemed best: fit into your sneakers and a windbreaker and push open the door to Jun’s bedroom while he was curled up on his side watching his drama. Wonwoo would usually be occupying the adjacent bed, though he had stayed over at Joshua’s dorm to study for his next history summative. Yet he’d left his beat-up, decaying textbook on his pillow.

“Put on your slippers or something, we’re going to the convenience store.”

Jun didn’t say anything, rather he continued holding out his phone, the bedsheets pulled taunt to his nose. Looking at Jun’s desk that sat next to the door, you picked up the rubber band ball he’d been adding to since his twelfth-grade year and threw it at his shoulder.

“Ow!” He squeaked dramatically. His head then poked over his shoulder as he attempted to see where the ball rolled off to.

“Put on your slippers,” you reiterated, “I want strawberry tangs.”

Without much effort, Jun quickly gave up looking for the elastic ball and returned to watching his drama, establishing his comfort while somehow still persisting to ignore you. He was very much so a homebody, and if it weren’t for you guiding him out the apartment like a grandchild taking their elderly for an afternoon walk, then he might’ve never left his bedroom apart from his class schedule. Yet, you knew exactly how to persuade him, weaken his heart that was already soft and golden.

An immediate whine rumbled in his throat when you jumped on the bed, pulling at him until he finally rolled onto his back, at last pressing pause on his phone. You tossed a thigh over each side of his silhouette and gripped the boy’s wide shoulders, gazing unflinchingly past his black fringe and into those big, glistening eyes.

“Come with me to the store,” you weren’t sure if you were offering or demanding, “please?”

“I-Isn’t it a little late for that?” Jun stumbled through his laughter. “Why do you need me?”

It was a surface-level question really, but nonetheless, your heart still skipped a beat. In only a second or more the silence was bearing down too heavily and it felt like your heart was a book with all its pages out. Jun’s eyes were twinkling as he blinked up at you.

“Walking around alone at night? Hello? Do you have no concern for me?” Came your joking counter.

He tossed his head back, the black fringe bouncing from his lashes. His capitulating yelp of, “fine, fine, I’ll come” was satisfactory enough for you to remove yourself from the boy’s tiny waist, where you stepped on the floor and nearly sprained your ankle due to that dumb, elastic ball. At least you found it. While you returned the toy to his desk, Jun quickly threw a worn jean jacket over his black long sleeve and didn’t bother bending down to fix his sneakers, his heels jutting out the back.

At the convenience store, the only shoppers were you, Junhui, and this lady wearing a huge pair of sunglasses, though you figured she was far from the strangest of the midnight stragglers.

It was rather quiet, even with the fluorescent lights buzzing and the battery-powered fan keeping the cashier cool at the register. You grabbed the first package of strawberry tangs while Jun sorted through the other flavours very meticulously.

“What about blue raspberry?” He said. “You don’t want that?”

“I don’t know, I just really have a craving for strawberry.”

Jun detached a bright green package from the rack. “Sour apple? What about that?”

“Not tasty at all. Pass.”

He grabbed another package and quirked his eyebrow. “Sweet cherry? Come on. That sounds good.”

You lightly hit his arm with the strawberry candy, your laughter echoing over the shelves, “I just want strawberry! If you think the sweet cherry sounds good then you buy it!”

But Jun just shook the black fringe from his playful gaze, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Tangy zangys are the bottom tier of gummy candy. No way.”

“So shut up then.” The words were harsh, yet your smile was no more menacing than a butterfly.

Since it would be impossible for Jun to leave the store without stocking his snack collection, you shopped for longer than expected, filling a basket with spicy chips and hard candies and a few chocolate bars. Heading home down the nighttime street, beneath the moonlight, the infinite expanse of a blackness that felt like a cocoon, you had already ripped open your strawberry tangs while Jun tore the corner off a tiny pouch of bubblegum poprocks.

They crackled loudly on his tongue, in which he made sure to hover in close proximity to your ear, ensuring you could detect every small fizzle. Each time it warranted you to shove him away, muttering a cheap laugh about how it wasn’t required that he lean in so generously, though you couldn’t evade that one nervous thought ticking at the back of your head: you wanted to kiss him, wrap your palm around Jun’s neck and taste the electric bubblegum from his heart-shaped mouth.

“Aren’t you glad you came with me?” You asked, suckling the sugar off a red candy strip.

Jun swallowed his poprocks. “I guess you can word it like that.”

Standing at the living room fish tank, you opened the tab to the flake box and shook the food into the water, your pink guppy who you had so fittingly named, Princess Pebble, swimming toward the surface in order to nip at the flakes. Wonwoo observed you from his seat at the kitchen table, dragging his spoon through the remainder of his cereal, scooping out the last soggy pieces.

“I feel good about it,” Wonwoo hummed, referring to the history test he wrote yesterday, “I think I might’ve left out some information on the essay question.”

You closed the fish flakes and returned to the table, where you left your cup of tea.

“Eh, who cares,” you mumbled behind the rim, “you’re gonna get like a ninety-five anyways.”

The boy shrugged, pressing a fingertip to his glasses, moving them higher up his nose. He had always been diligent with his studying, though he often left the apartment to write notes at the library or a classmate’s dorm. It was difficult to accomplish much when Junhui would distract him, and rather than reading his textbook, Wonwoo would always end up playing computer games with the latter.

“Did you hear Jun come home last night?” You asked, gulping the rest of your tea.

Wonwoo set his bowl into the sink and filled it with water, smiling. It irked you somehow. You were only curious about whether or not he heard Jun return from his dance practice.

Joining him at the sink to clean your mug, you bumped his elbow. “What’s so cute over here?”

“Nothing,” he hummed dismissively, “I heard him crawl into bed, that’s pretty much it.”

“And that’s funny or something?”

“You ask about him quite frequently.” Wonwoo turned to you with a suspecting glance, one that made you subtly desire to dump a cup of water over his head. “You know that, right?”

The morning air was cool, yet your face felt immensely heated, almost prickling.

“I ask because we’re fri—”

“Friends. Yeah, yeah.” Wonwoo huffed, the omniscient smile creeping back toward his mouth, to which you could do nothing apart from gawk at your roommate despite his reiteration of a musing that wasn’t at all unfamiliar. “I’ve always loved you for your innate sense of comedy. It’s priceless.”

It’s what everyone assumed anyways. You and Jun fought tooth and nail to articulate your friendship, to paint with the colours that would lead everyone to believe it was true. Most often your explanations worked, yet there remained some who were particularly stubborn. Wonwoo was an evident case. But he was too close, too eagle-eyed, and he saw that you and Jun behaved in a manner completely beyond friendship. Despite the likewise feelings, something unbeknownst kept you apart.

“I know exactly what that means, idiot!” Echoed your shout as Wonwoo disappeared down the corridor, hoping to take refuge in his bedroom.

“I’m glad!” The depth of his voice reverberated into the kitchen, and you heard his door quickly shut.

No less than a few seconds later did Junhui reveal himself from around the corner, clean and freshened up after a steamy shower, one he desperately needed upon immediately passing out, sweat-soaked and exhausted in his bed the night before. Soonyoung definitely hadn’t taught their lesson with any degree of ease. Pretending you weren’t just quipping at Wonwoo, you smiled.

“Were you two fighting?” Jun asked, pulling out a frying pan from the cupboard. He usually whipped together an omelette for breakfast.

“No, not at all. We never fight, remember?”

Jun scoffed while opening the fridge, removing an egg carton and a plastic wrapping filled with vegetables. Still hungry, you started peeling open a tangerine from the fruit basket and stood next to him as he organized the produce onto a cutting board. Ever so faintly, you could smell the crisp scent to his aftershave. It was peculiar how a bit of foam could render your chest that cottony.

“In fact, when’s the last time you even remember an argument Wonwoo and I had?” You prodded.

“Two days ago,” Jun laughed, “when Wonwoo wanted to watch that exploration documentary on King Tut, but you changed the channel so you could finish the last season of Home Makeover.”

Pressing his rose lips together, Junhui casted you an innocent glance. “So there’s that.”

Separating a small slice of tangerine, you gently pushed the clove into the boy’s mouth. He smiled softly as he began to chew. With the gentle tang of citrus in the air, you set a hand on Jun’s shoulder and buried your face against his warm neck, whispering, “yeah, and it was definitely worth it.”

Quite frankly, neither you, Jun, Wonwoo, or Joshua were fairing optimally at the library. While Wonwoo sat on the opposite side of the table helping Joshua organize his economics presentation, you were neglecting your biology packet, instead choosing to sketch a tiny Princess Pebble in the paper’s upper corner. Jun had been tasked with reviewing his latest theatre script, yet he hadn’t even flicked through it. He was intrigued by one of the numerous mangas he’d saved to his phone.

“Take the last point off here,” Wonwoo said, peering over Joshua’s shoulder at his laptop, “there’s too much text, and this isn’t a major branch of your topic anyways.”

Joshua sighed as he made a few clicks on his keyboard. “Dude, I don’t think I can edit another word. This class is so boring.”

“Mr. Canning is just a boring professor,” Wonwoo sympathized, “it would be best if it were someone who weren’t so… dry. I guess is the right word.”

Slumping back in his chair, Joshua huffed, “he’s like a human chalk stick.”

Desperate to discuss something that wasn’t related to his lacklustre econ class, Joshua spared a glance at Jun’s unopened script. “Shouldn’t you be learning that?” He asked.

Jun didn’t look away from the phone in his lap. “I can’t do it here.”

“That means he’s going to open it for the first time at one in the morning, the day of his performance.” You chuckled, outlining the sketch of your guppy using Wonwoo’s pink gel pen.

Harshly, Jun’s hand smacked your knee under the table and you couldn’t help but laugh, garnering an over-the-shoulder glare from a student in the corner who’d been trying to focus on their colossal textbook. Wonwoo smiled at them apologetically while Joshua feigned as though he were typing something on his laptop. However, Jun’s hand didn’t leave your knee, and your laughter became an immediate drought, to which the sole thing you could feel was his palm creeping higher up your leg.

Attempting to be subtle, you turned your head slightly and looked at the boy with a bit of a warning expression, though Jun simply continued to scroll through his manga.

“I’m going to check the world history section,” Wonwoo announced, rising from the table, “anyone want to come with?”

Joshua pushed out his chair. “I’ll come just so I don’t have to stare at this shitty powerpoint.”

As soon as the boys walked beyond earshot, you pinched the edge of Jun’s ear. He finally tossed his phone onto the table, though he didn’t exactly appear compassionate, rather he was smirking, for he knew if you truly didn’t want his hand touching your leg then you would have bumped it away.

“You can’t do that.” Nonetheless, there surmounted a need to establish some insignificant boundary, one that neither of you were going to follow through. “Not when they’re so close.”

“But they didn’t see.” Jun replied, squeezing your inner thigh. “It shouldn’t matter.”

“It does. What if Joshua saw?” At that point, Wonwoo was fairly conditioned to your lingering fingertips, grazes and stares. He usually pretended not to notice them. However, Joshua was a risk.

Jun shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t you worry too much? I always touch your leg.”

That was the problem. People trying to convince other people that their relationship was wholly platonic didn’t linger in such an intimate way. They didn’t creep fingertips up the other’s inner thigh beneath a tablecloth, or possess a gaze that traced the other’s lips like a delectable piece of candy when they spoke. There shouldn’t be any whispers pressed quickly against the other’s ear when no one else was looking, or the dire urge to climb into the other’s lap when their legs were wide open.

Both of you were afraid. Neither of you wanted to break the question that would thrust your relationship into the light. You kept waiting for the right time, but it always seemed one step ahead.

The movie theatre was nearly empty as the longwinded credit screen continued rolling, the last few congregations throwing their soda cups and empty packages into the garbage on their way out. Still, the floor of practically every row had been scattered with butter popcorn or melted m&m’s, shiny chocolate wrappers left crinkled in the recliners like the employees were supposed to take them home as gifts. Wonwoo put his hands on the back of his head, examining the disastrous rows.

You sensed he was feeling rather lucky about not being scheduled that night. Jun forced himself from the recliner and picked up his cup of fruit punch, jammed with way too many ice cubes.

If no one else was going to comment, you might as well. “That wasn’t the worst.”

“Agreed.” Wonwoo said, pushing up his glasses. “The murderer’s ploy was difficult to follow at times. I started getting confused when he left his car in the woods.”

“What?” Jun gawked. “That’s when you got confused? I didn’t even know what was happening after the first half hour.” His eyes gleamed in astonishment.

“Same.” You admitted. “I guess you’ll have to explain in the car.”

Reaching into the cupholder, you pulled out the package of strawberry tangs with nothing but a tiny amount of the powder-like sugar left inside.

“Thank you for picking up your trash,” Wonwoo sighed, taking the lead down the stairway while the credit music still played, “I’d hate to be working tonight.”

The wide corridor was completely vacant by the time you exited the theatre. Ever so slightly you could hear the galactic sound effects from the arcade machines. That buttery scent of popcorn seemed to waft no matter where you stood in the cinema. Wonwoo announced that he was going to check the concession counter to see who was on cash, but assured he would meet you and Jun at the back exit. Jun hurriedly downed his fruit punch in a large gulp before you emerged into the night.

You were confined to the small overhang by the doorway, for a hard rain was pelting against the concrete and turned the night air considerably cooler. Not one of you had checked the forecast beforehand, and you would undoubtedly get drenched straight through to the flesh in your thin long-sleeve.

“How are we going to make it to the car?” You groaned.

Pulling up his hood, Jun only laughed. “Now is a good time to be able to teleport.” He then stuck out his hand for a moment, the raindrops hitting his palm.

“Does it feel like bullets?”

“No. It feels kind of nice actually.” He remarked.

Curious, you rolled up your sleeve and extended your arm into the downpour. Jun was right, it felt satisfactory as each of the brisk droplets splashed your skin. However, you prematurely discovered the rain wasn’t so appealing when Jun suddenly shoved you from beneath the overhang.

“Hey— what the hell?!” You squealed upon the immediate repercussions, the cold water already leaking through your top while Junhui slapped his thigh, cackling.

Wanting to erase that luminous grin of his, you attempted wrestling the lanky boy into the weather, but no more than a few harmless drops skimmed his shoulder. Yet, with another brute shove, Jun stumbled, feeling the silver needles of rain pour down from the night sky and swirl at his dampening sneakers. He was laughing as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you hard against his chest before you were even cognisant that an immense wetness was soaking through your every article.

You wished it had been indignance drumming in your heart rather than affection, because it was taking every single fibre of your being not to kiss him. As the droplets beaded down his skin, he was like a springtime flower caught in the morning dew, and when he carded back the wet, black hairs plastered to his forehead, you thought it was possible to fall into him and never feel that concrete scrape your knees. Gently, his hand touched the small of your wet back, his breaths deepening.

He urged you in tighter as his tongue ran along his bottom lip, tasting the rain.

You were shivering, frigid, though your blood was far too warm to let yourself take note. Instead, you moved your head closer, closer, Jun’s cold palm cupping your cheek and your eyes fluttering shut and your soft mouths just brushing together— until Wonwoo appeared from inside.

Instantly, you two pushed away from each other. With his eyes widening, Wonwoo stuttered.

“I-I’m… I’m going to pretend as best I can that something weird didn’t almost happen.” He stated, swallowing thickly. “Just… Why did you two have to get soaked? You’re sitting in my car, y’know!”

At last, you felt that icy shiver trickle down your spine.

“S-Sorry.” You hummed, teeth chattering.

“I guess it’s fine,” Wonwoo sighed, “I have some towels under the passenger’s seat.”

Not long after returning to the apartment, Wonwoo gathered his laptop and slipped into his pyjamas. He proceeded to flop onto the couch to edit his research paper, though it didn’t take much for his eyelids to start weighing down, his dense paragraphs blurring together on the screen. More often than not you would take advantage of Wonwoo’s midnight crashes in the living room.

After exchanging your damp, terribly cold clothes for a warm t-shirt and sweatpants, you found yourself cozied beneath Jun’s comforter for the umpteenth night. The boy’s head rested against the crook of your neck, where his slow breaths were cool to your skin, though they occasionally became heavier when your fingertips stroked at his smooth hair. He was much like a kitten who loved a thorough scratch behind the ears. You swore that he purred whenever you rubbed the right spot.

Holding out his phone, he’d been finishing an episode of his drama before bed. You tucked some of the black locks behind his ear, noting how much it’d grown over the months. Then your gaze wandered over every detail that shaped his face, as though he were a textured oil painting.

His eyes were always glimmering, seemingly innocent and curious, yet you knew just how much that earthly shade could darken when he fell into his professions. When Jun acted on stage, his gaze lost its untainted nature. It moulded into the role of the sinister characters he preferred playing. When he danced in blazing lights, those eyes were sharp enough to consume, to cut, almost like a razorblade.

But then you studied his lips, his heart-shaped cupid’s bow, the small constellation of moles that dotted his skin like kisses from past soulmates. You thought back to the mist and the rain, his hand resting against the small of your back, how close you were to tasting the flavourful, fruity mix of his drink. In fact, you wondered why you didn’t just kiss Junhui whenever you wanted. What was stopping you, in that moment, from turning his head toward you so that your lips could press to his?

Suddenly, the boy laughed at his phone screen, to which you felt the brassy reverberation erupt in his chest, his eyes glinting and his mouth stretched into a box-like smile. You pulled a few strands of hair from his forehead as he seemed to be glowing, his cheeks rosy.

Jun mewled in surprise when your fingers threaded rather tight through his black locks, feeling you tilt his head up until his gaze was burning into yours.

You didn’t hesitate. Leaning forward, you kissed him sweet and slow.

Jun’s eyes fluttered as the pressure warmed his mouth, a small whine getting caught in his throat upon the gentle sting of your hand tugging at his tresses, his scalp tingling. His phone sunk into the bedsheets, and instead he was gripping your t-shirt, moving his head with yours as the kiss deepened. He tasted like mint, and his small whines were silky.

How on earth could you have ever shied from kissing him when it felt so relieving? Nothing else held any significance to you apart from making his pretty lips shine.

However, you needed to catch your breath. Releasing the firm grasp on his hair, you detached your mouth from his, your chest rising and falling in great lengths. The boy’s eyes couldn’t be more glazed, his lips shimmering, flushed garnet and slightly swollen. Neither of you uttered a word. The blankets fell from Jun’s shoulders as he straddled your waist eagerly. Again, his mouth slotted with yours, and your hands slid up his caramel thighs, imprinting his flesh with the curve of your fingernails.

If you kept quiet enough, then perhaps Wonwoo would remain asleep until morning.

Standing amongst the crowd in the cramped performance hall, it was inevitable that you would get bumped around like a tiny, flying pinball. After rutting into Wonwoo’s shoulder for the third time, he seemed dauntingly close to losing his indolence and snapping, though he realized it wasn’t your fault that others were pushing toward the front of the stage and bit his tongue.

It became tradition for Soonyoung and his students to rent the downtown performance hall and host a fundraiser. The event typically lasted a few hours, with a few short interludes where the dancers would retreat backstage to catch their breath. Being Jun’s roommate, you and Wonwoo were always granted access into the small dressing room, and though you never admitted it, you loved experiencing that small flash of pride whenever the moonstruck audience watched you slip away.

The next interlude was closing in. Despite the different dancers on stage, you really, truthfully, only watched Jun. Each time he captured the centre position, you couldn’t help but cup your hands around your mouth, being one of the first to cheer overtop the deafening music as he moved so fluidly, with poise. He was a completely different person when he performed. Somehow, his tender-hearted nature would peel back and he’d emerge a domineering beacon.

As soon as the stage ended, an uproar rippled from the audience and resonated deep in your ears, to which you couldn’t help but slightly bury your head against Wonwoo’s shoulder to muffle the cacophony. Nonetheless, you were clapping, smiling, staring fondly as Jun grabbed his collar and fluffed it out, welcoming a slight gust of humid air. His skin was dewy with sweat, and yet he glowed beautifully, even when he was breathing so heavily through his nose.

Soonyoung was speaking into his microphone, but you missed half his speech, and before you knew it you were being dragged by Wonwoo through the crowd toward the backstage entrance. The room was at least big enough to accommodate the dancers. Jun was in the corner, gulping down his water.

“Only three more songs,” Wonwoo smiled, “you guys really stepped the level up this year.”

It took a moment before Jun replied, the column of his neck glittering as he completely crushed the plastic bottle in his hands.

“Yeah,” he burst out, “I’m freaking dying.”

“It’s for a good cause at least.” Wonwoo reasoned, ignoring how you stepped on his foot.

After Jun rolled his eyes, he was staring at you.

The air grew much too thick, and you had to clear your throat. “S-Seriously, you’ve improved so much. I can’t believe it.”

“Thanks,” Jun replied, scratching his nape, “it’s nothing special, really.”

“Uh? Nothing special?” Wonwoo quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t Soonyoung say you’re one of the best in the class?”

When Jun innocently flitted his gaze toward a distant spot and pressed his lips together, Wonwoo merely huffed, announcing he was going to the lobby for a drink of water. You watched him wind between the busy dancers, either wiping down their sweat or fanning themselves, until he disappeared out the door. When you faced Jun again, you looped your fingers through the satin collar of his stage outfit and kissed him quickly, knowing everyone was too occupied to take note.

He squeaked, “what happened to being careful?”

“This is your fault.” You eagerly pinned it on him. “Try being less hot.”

“That’s horrible advice. And also not possible. Which makes it worse than horrible.”

You weren’t sure whether or not you wanted to feel his mouth again or whack the side of his head with his deflated water bottle. Opting for latter, you stole another kiss, though you tensed in surprise when Jun wrapped his arm around your waist to secure your body firm against his. Hastily, you pushed at his toned stomach, your heart drilling manically as you looked over your shoulder toward the dancers. It didn’t appear as though anyone had seen and you breathed out in relief.

Suddenly, Soonyoung poked his head through the doorway.

“Ten minutes!” He shouted before disappearing.

Jun was staring at you with the most ingenious twinkle.

“That was your fault.” He purred, tapping your thigh with his water bottle. ��Try being less hot.”

You did feel a small sliver of guilt. After all, Wonwoo had been waiting back at the apartment for approximately an hour, twiddling his thumbs, wondering why you and Jun required so much goddamn time just to buy some hot fudge sundaes. The molten taste of the chocolate, the vanilla ice cream, cold and sweet, was completely stolen from your lips by the boy whose lap you were occupying. Wonwoo’s sundae sat on the dashboard, dripping slowly beneath the evening sunlight.

And yet, that infinitesimal sliver was plucked straight out when Jun latched onto a sensitive patch of your neck, softly digging in his teeth and swirling his tongue. Your fingers sheathed through the black hair and pulled up at the roots, knowing how much pleasure he took from the dull sting. Button by button, Jun started to simultaneously open your shirt, to which you questioned if this was really happening, if you were really going to sort of out the complications of intercourse in his car.

The device abandoned in the passenger’s seat buzzed. You already knew the name to the text. As Jun kissed his way down to your collarbone, licking and suckling, you reached for your phone, feeling it buzz again with another impatient text. The guilt from earlier began to resurface.

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] This is suspicious now. WHERE ARE YOU? >:(

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] Actually screw that. WHERE IS MY HOT FUDGE SUNDAE?

The screen blipped with yet another message.

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] I know you’re reading these… Answer me or I won’t feed Princess Pebble!!

“J-Jun,” you piped up, hearing his low, husky mumble while he continued to mark your collarbone, “I think we need to go home now.”

The boy splayed a few more open-mouthed kisses against the skin before peeking up at you, his eyes wide and glimmering, lips flushed a deep magenta. With half the buttons of your shirt hanging open and your heart blazing, you had to snip the venereal longing in its bud.

“What’s wrong?” Jun hummed, pushing his fingers through the loops on your jeans. “Who’s texting?”

“Wonwoo. He’s been waiting for almost an hour, and his sundae is gonna be a puddle at this rate.”

He blinked a bit cluelessly, though still in musing. “There’s no way to be quick about this, is there?”

Rebuttoning your shirt, you shook your head and laughed. “Let’s wait before we ruin the car. I’m sure there’ll be a better time in the future.”

Jun nodded in agreement and relaxed back into the seat, a ray of sunshine that bled golden slanting through the windshield. Somehow, Wonwoo’s sundae wasn’t a complete pool sitting in the plastic cup, but that didn’t negate the fact he was still going to start his theory on responsibility and trust the moment you stepped onto the welcome mat. As you finished clasping the last buttons, something had caught Jun’s eye out the window, for he immediately panicked and tightly gripped your waist.

“Oh my god, g-get off my lap,” he grunted, to which your head bumped against the ceiling during the hurried shuffle and your knee whacked the gearstick.

“Ow! Okay, I’m going! Jeez, could you not give me a warning?”

“No,” Jun remarked, looking quickly to the rear-view mirror to straighten out his hair, “it’s Jeonghan and Soonyoung. They just came out of the store.”

When you glanced out Jun’s window, you noted the duo making their way across the parking lot, some plastic bags filled with groceries hanging from Jeonghan’s hand while Soonyoung appeared to be texting someone. To both your dismay, Soonyoung immediately recognized Jun’s car. You watched as the blonde bumped Jeonghan’s shoulder, how they took a slight detour on their way over.

“We have to talk to them?” You whined. “Are you kidding? Lock your window.”

Jun’s brow pinched together. “How is that going to help? They already saw us so just relax.”

“You’re telling me to relax? You practically threw me off your la—”

“Shht,” Jun snapped as the two boys drew nearer, “just shhhhht okay?” And with an incredibly large gulp, he plastered a happy-go-lucky smile to his mouth and let the window slide open.

“Jun?” Soonyoung called, leaning down slightly to peer inside the vehicle. “What’re you doing out here, huh? Back from shoplifting?”

Jeonghan bent down too, grinning snidely. “You looked a little frazzled or something.”

“Me?” Jun pointed at himself. “No, I’m fine. Just – we have to leave. Wonwoo is waiting.”

“Wonwoo?” Jeonghan seemed excited. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Hey, tell him I’m still appreciative for writing my World History paper on the Persian Empire.”

You knew it was best to stay quiet, but you couldn’t help your slight choke. Wonwoo had come home one day saying that one of his classmates offered him seventy-five bucks if he’d write their history paper. He wasn’t going to oblige originally, but cracked after listening to his classmate type out their introduction in the library, that it was just so bad Wonwoo felt piteous and decided to pitch in.

Gaping at Jeonghan, you exclaimed, “that was you?”

“Yeah. I mean, I still dropped that class. And Wonwoo definitely thinks I’m a dumbass. But I didn’t have to do a spot of work, and now I’m getting smooth nineties in English. You just have to make up some shit and do a couple fancy indents and you’re set.”

Jeonghan paused, then leaned in a little further to look you up and down. “Y’know, I’ve never seen you before. How easily do you give out your numbe—”

“We really have to go,” Jun interrupted, already clicking the button to roll up the window, “see you at practice, Soonyoung. Bye Jeonghan!”

The two boys didn’t really have any other option apart from stepping back, allowing Jun to exit the parking space and turn onto the road. Not that it would help much, you turned on the air conditioning until it felt like the wind was pure ice, hoping that you’d be able to preserve Wonwoo’s melting fudge sundae. You made sure to text him on your whereabouts, that you were heading home, and churned up a white lie about how you ran into Jun’s friends who held a persistent conversation.

It wasn’t entirely false. And yet, Wonwoo still managed to see through it.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: Just say you were making out.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: Btw, I fed Princess Pebble.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: I’m not a sinner. Unlike you guys.

Later that evening, after delivering Wonwoo his melted cup of chocolate ice cream, after Jun quickly threw some extra clothes into his backpack and ran to his late-night dance practice, you were standing at the fish tank with some new plants you bought for your guppy. As the bright lights of the tank reflected across your face, there was a strange feeling inside you. It seemed like turbulence, confusion, your heart experiencing one sentiment but your brain thinking another.

You hadn’t realized you were absently standing there until Wonwoo came into the dark living room, holding a crumpled tube of toothpaste and his toothbrush. Watching the pink fish swim in between her new seaweed arrangement, he asked you if there was an extra tube stored in your bedroom.

“Don’t think so. Text Jun and ask him to stop at the store when his practice ends.”

“I’ll do that…” Wonwoo sighed. “Hey, you know I already fed Princess Pebble?”

He accompanied you at the tank. For some reason, you refused to look at Wonwoo. You felt unusually vulnerable, like a fragile shell that could be cracked open even by the gentlest hands, and the more you thought into your emotions, the harder your heart started pounding.

“I-I know,” you smiled weakly, “but I got her some new plants today. I just put them in.”

Wonwoo could always tell when something was off-kilter. You almost hated how sharp his senses were, that he was able to detect with such accuracy how you were being eaten up inside. Softly, he touched your shoulder, urged you to turn toward him so he could see the honest colour in your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned, pushing up the bridge of his glasses.

You felt terrified, but there was no sense in pretending.

“How do I tell Jun that I’m in love with him? That I don’t want us to be a secret anymore?”

It was a weighted question, and you knew that. But it was also the truth. As much as it could be invigorating to maintain a secret relationship, you were beginning to feel the brittle side effects that came with keeping such love behind closed doors. You didn’t want Jun to push you from his lap just because his friends might’ve seen you, nor did you want to keep an eye out for whether or not you should knock his hand off your thigh in public. The secrecy had been fun, but it wasn’t enough.

Scratching the blue collar of his shirt, Wonwoo appeared uncertain.

“I’m not sure, honestly. I just think you shouldn’t repress this. You need to be upfront.”

“How?” It sounded like a desperate plead. “I don’t know how, Wonwoo.”

“Stop overthinking it,” the boy advised, grabbing onto your shoulders and giving your frame a small, grounding shake, “you know Jun. You know he isn’t a rash person. You know if you tell him he’ll hear every word of it. It doesn’t take a genius to see you’re all he thinks about.”

Wonwoo brushed at the side of your cheek with his thumb. “Don’t hurt yourself like this, okay? The next time you’re alone, just say how you feel. I promise it won’t be as bad as you’re hypothesizing.”

You inhaled a deep breath and nodded. Overthinking was a poison to you. It shouldn’t be that difficult to be honest, especially when you knew how attentive Jun was, the manner in which he always adapted himself to be of a comforting presence.

“Okay,” you attempted to draw together some confidence, “I’ll do that.”

“Good.” The boy grinned, still fiddling with his empty tube of toothpaste. “It really doesn’t bother me that you guys run around together. Just… please… never do anything weird in my bed.”

The next time you were alone with Jun, it was all but a desirable circumstance. Once you came home from work and heated up some leftover dinner in the microwave, you decided to feed Princess Pebble, though your jaw unhinged as you noticed something a little unorthodox about her tank: a pink blotch floating against the surface of the water. Immediately, the tears welted hot and stinging against your eyes. You had to use the small net to scoop your guppy out from the water.

Remarkably, Princess Pebble had lived a long life for a fish. You remembered walking with Jun to the pet store one summer afternoon, after you two finished your last day of eleventh grade and had just escaped a brutal chemistry exam. Rather than studying beforehand, you spent ample time researching different types of fish, and would often send Jun pictures asking him to choose which one he thought was cutest. Yet, at the end of it all, you chose a guppy with the prettiest pink scales.

“Don’t most people want a puppy? A kitten? And you choose a boring fish.”

Jun had teased, sounding awkward and a bit lisped through his braces.

Somehow, Princess Pebble had managed to live a five-year lifespan. Wonwoo told you most guppies live for two years, three years if the owner takes good care. Sitting at the kitchen table, you placed her body onto a piece of paper towel, the thick tears dripping down your cheeks while your sinuses grew wet and congested. You didn’t know if it was petulant to be your age, crying over a pet fish. In fact, you didn’t even possess the heart to rise from the table and discard her body.

It wasn’t much longer until Jun returned home after his theatre class, to which you heard his key rattling in the lock. Wonwoo was scheduled for a shift at the cinema, most likely handing out overpriced popcorn and chocolate and having to reject every person who asked for his number.

“Hey,” he called, shouldering off his backpack, “Wonwoo texted me. That weird thriller we were looking at is playing next week. We should—,”

Jun paused the moment he heard your runny sniffling. He didn’t realize that your fish was sitting on the paper towel until he took a few steps closer. You felt embarrassed Jun had to see you like this. If you were crying, it had always been over something with a little more gravity, like the time you were distraught about flunking your laboratory practical, and Wonwoo couldn’t persuade you to open your bedroom door no matter how frequently he stood outside, pleading.

Plucking at the collar of your shirt, you used the fabric to clear away the tears. Without a word, Jun grabbed another chair from the dining table and pulled it next to you, scooting in close. As soon as you felt his arm drape around your shoulders, it was like someone had pulled the plug on a bathtub filled with water, to which you pressed your face against his neck and sobbed harder.

“I’m so sorry.” Jun whispered, hugging you tight to his comfortable chest. “It’s okay to be upset. I know how much she meant to you.”

He drew soothing strokes down the back of your head, and he sat with you until those wet pearls ran dry with salt. You knew it wasn’t wise to keep her body out in the air, that you would have to discard her somehow, yet the thought of having to flush her away seemed too cruel. Jun wiped the soft glisten from your cheeks with his sleeve, his fingers then tracing up and down the side of your face.

“I-I don’t want to flush her.” You blubbered.

The boy shook his head. “We won’t do that. We’ll find a good way to handle it.” His thumb brushed tenderly below the fragile skin of your eye for a moment, and he seemed to be in musing.

“Wait here.” He announced, suddenly running into his bedroom.

You could hear Jun shuffling through his closet, moving around clothing hangers and pushing aside boxes still filled with some of his old belongings from homelife in Shenzhen. When he remerged into the living room, he was holding a particular tissue box, one that you hadn’t seen since twelfth grade biology. You, Jun, and Wonwoo had painted and decorated the box as part of an optional project, to see if you could grow any plants from the packets of radish and tomato seeds your teacher had.

Nothing ever grew. Wonwoo claimed there had been some green sprouts when it was his turn to look after the makeshift garden, but that his cat snuck into his room and ate them all. Jun always kept a multitude of random things that dated back to your adolescence. As awkward and bumpy as those times were, seeing the tissue box reminded you that there had been precious moments too.

“Why do you still have that?” You laughed, even if your chest was aching.

“Because that was the first time us three did something together.” Jun said, returning to his seat beside you. “It was one of the first memories I made after moving away from home.”

You fondly looked at Jun while pulling the tissue box toward you, slathered in old, chipping acrylic paint and obnoxious, starry glitter.

Licking the dry salt off your lips, you smiled. “Princess Pebble would love this.”

“It can be her shrine. When Wonwoo comes home, we can find a good place to bury it.” Jun explained. “I know I called her boring five years ago, but I didn’t mean it. I loved her too.”

In the pensive silence, you thought back to your conversation with Wonwoo, recalling his firm grip on your shoulders as he reiterated the importance of freeing your heart, of not bogging yourself down with too many untold truths. Then, you glanced at Jun. You thought about that fluttering feeling when you kissed him, when you ran your fingers through his hair, listening to his deep-chested laughter whenever he gleefully buckled over into your lap after telling one of his hit-or-miss jokes.

The boy tensed slightly as you pulled him into a hug, though he quickly came to ease and warmth. You thanked him, because it just felt like the right thing to do for his compassion.

And then you told him something else.

“I love you.”

Without missing a heartbeat, he murmured against your hair, “I love you too.”

It was late, unreasonably late, the past-midnight late where the entire world falls still like an unperturbed pond. Downtown was completely hushed. Every so often the wind picked up, though it inevitably withered away in between the buildings and emerged a pitiful whistle onto the street. And yet, despite the fact you should be tucked in bed while the moon protected the silence in her silver hands, you were pushing outside the convenience shop with Jun close behind.

He took the end of a straw into his mouth and slurped at the sweet, cherry-flavoured slushie that was beginning to empty. Immediately, he crinkled his forehead and his face contorted.

“How many times have I said not to do that?” You laughed as he passed you the slippery cup.

“I don’t know. Three?” Jun replied with a grimace. “I can really feel it. Wait, I need a moment.”

You stopped next to the traffic post at the end of the street. Jun grabbed at his hair and squeezed like it was some miraculous remedy for curing a brain freeze. Directing the straw into your mouth, you sucked up the cherry syrup and crushed ice until you felt the distant ache thrum inside your head.

“Okay…” Jun concluded, brushing the long, black fringe from his eyes, “I’m good now.”

Thrusting the drink back into his hands, you couldn’t help but huff: “you’re such a baby.”

As though to prove your point, Jun started whining. “My head is so, so cold. It’s freezing.”

“So put this up or something.” You teased, reaching around the back of his neck to pull the boy’s hood over his head. Giggling slightly, you grinned at him as he shot you a questionable glance.

The streets remained quiet, and the sky was remarkably clear, no more than a few ragged and thin clouds drifting over the stars. The last time you had been on this corner, you were licking the strawberry sugar off your fingertips while Jun crumpled his last packet of popping candy. You remembered tracing the rose tint that warmed his lips, each fibre in your muscle twitching because you just wanted to wrap a hand through his locks and kiss him like he was your last breath.

You didn’t understand how you could love one person so much. Why love often fused itself into your bloodstream more than functionality. Your heart knew how to beat, yet it stumbled whenever you gazed at him. Your lungs knew how to filter the air, yet they closed up whenever you caught his eye. Your tongue knew how to articulate, yet it tied itself in a knot the moment he’d touch you.

“Hey,” you mumbled, patting his arm, “can I ask you something?”

Jun looked away from the stars, sipping at his drink again. He nodded.

The moon probably wanted to crush your heart in her hands for how loudly it was thumping.

“What if I told you that I want people to know we’re together? What would you say?”

Despite your anxiousness, you weren’t as afraid as you anticipated. Maybe it was because Jun didn’t immediately sour or attempt to disparage your sentiments. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he blinked at you, but it didn’t matter. When it was most important, Jun picked his words carefully.

“I’d tell you that I want the same thing,” he admitted, his tone deepening and the amber in his cheeks sparked with pink, “that I want people to know how I feel about you… That I’ve always been in love with you.”

You smiled wide, like a kid who just got their braces off. Unable to contain such a rapturous energy, you stepped in close to Jun and held onto his shoulders, dotting the corners of his mouth with small kisses before you pressed your lips against his. You felt him smirk, though it seemed too devious. Jun had suddenly wrapped his arms around your lower back, pushing you in chest-to-chest. You melted as he kissed you, your fingertips ghosting along the soft hairs at his nape, the moonlight on your skin.

When you arrived back at the apartment, you could hear a few of Wonwoo’s gentle snores echo from behind the bedroom door. Just before you slipped away into your own room, Jun left a goodnight kiss to the top of your head, his hand thoughtfully squeezing your hip.

“I-Isn’t it a little late for that?” Jun stumbled through his laughter. “Why do you need me?”

You finally knew what you should have said.

“Because I love you.”

✧✎ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SWEET PRINCE!! never would i have imagined that someone who’s on the opposite side of the globe could mean so much to me ;_; mr. moon has been such a healing presence, and it’s bc of him that i have found so much happiness these past five years! whenever i see him smiling and laughing and have good ol times just being himself, all my worrisome thoughts somehow fade away and i feel only joy!!

anyways, i don’t want to ramble for too long (i could really fill a page with my cloying sentiments r.i.p) but i hope this was a wholesome fic!! the stars aligned and for once i was able to write a fic for a member’s birthday :_)

#svt fanfic #jun scenarios #seventeen scenarios #jun fic #seventeen fics #seventeen imagines #jun imagine #jun x reader #svt x reader #wen junhui #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #junhui scenarios #jun fluff #junhui fic

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kindahoping4forever · 4 years

Text

Watch Me Bloom: A Few Months Ago // Ashton Irwin

I’m so excited to finally share this with everyone! As I mentioned, the week leading up to Superbloom really inspired me. It was so hard to believe that just seven months prior, we were living the ups and downs of CALM’s release while this was a essentially a never ending parade of self-reflection and joy. My fic Release explored a relationship dealing with CALM and I thought it’d be fun to see what the Superbloom experience might look like thru the lens of a relationship. (I wouldn’t say it’s a sequel - in my mind, they’re different relationships- but you could call it a thematic companion.)

As always (but honestly even more so this time because omg this section especially changed again and again), my eternal love and gratitude to @cal-puddies for always offering direction, notes, encouragement and a good roast when I need it.

Warnings: What a surprise, it’s Boyfriend!Ash. Brief quarantine mention. So much fluffy smut you’ll wonder if I’m alright. Oral sex performed on a female. Unprotected sex within an established relationship. This is the tame chapter, folks. The calm before the smutty storm, if you will.

Word Count: 3319

Watch Me Bloom Masterlist

Masterlist // Taglist // Ko-Fi

Let me know what you think!

You sleepily roll over to snuggle your boyfriend but instead of being surrounded by the warm firmness of Ashton’s back, you feel cool air and the beginnings of a falling sensation. Your body jolts awake to catch itself, your brain making the unpleasant discovery that there’s no one laying next to you and you’re about to tumble off the couch. You shake your head upon realizing you once again fell asleep in the living room, watching TV.

It was a bad habit you fell into once Ashton got busy with his new project. You still hadn’t gotten used to falling asleep without him and a part of you can’t help but long for the early days of quarantine, when you spent the majority of your time lazily wrapped up in sheets and each other.

But as time went on, you started waking up alone and finding him sitting outside with a coffee, scribbling away on a notepad. Other days you’d wake up to the sounds of him already in the shower, singing gibberish words to fill out gorgeous melodies he dreamt of and is trying to perfect while he gets ready to take on the day.

He eventually showed those scribbles and shower songs to his housemate, Matt, who helped him shape them into demos, which they then decided to make into fully produced tracks. After weeks of rearranged furniture, strewn about instruments and dodging cables running through the hall, Ash gleefully shared that he planned to release these songs as his own album. You’d kissed him happily, shared in his joy and teased him relentlessly that it took him this long to tell you. You couldn’t have been happier for him and you loved seeing him excited about work again, especially after the frustration surrounding the band's album release earlier this year, but every night when you go to bed alone, you just miss him.

You shuffle into the kitchen and dump the rest of your long forgotten tea in the sink, turning on the tap to wash the cup. While you wait for the water to warm up, you cartoonishly stretch your arms over your head and loudly yawn.

“Long day?” A voice asks from across the room.

You chuckle and turn to greet Matt, who’s headed towards the sink with an armful of various mugs he and Ashton must’ve used for tea, coffee and water over the course of the day.

“Well, I got up earlier than usual and Ash had already made his side of the bed, so I’m sure it was nowhere near as long as yours,” you comment, reaching out to take the dishes from him.

He silently thanks you with a kind smile. “Yeah he was up and at it even before me today,” he admits, shaking his head. “Had quite the breakthrough today, though. I’m sure he’d love to tell you about it if you wanna pay him a visit.”

You lightheartedly scoff as you quickly wash the cups. “And also he’s just moved from your studio down to his and you think I can talk him into actually getting some rest?”

He laughs at how well you know your boyfriend. “I told him I was gonna call it a night but I don’t think he’s taking the hint,” he admits.

“Sounds like our guy,” you shrug, setting the clean mugs on the rack to dry. “I’ll pop by and check on him before I turn in.”

You head for the bathroom and quickly go through your routine; you mentally cheer when you turn on the light and see Ash’s green henley draped haphazardly over the bathtub. It smells like him so he must have just tossed it aside when he showered earlier; you inhale deeply as you slip it over your head and throw on a pair of sleep shorts before heading down to the basement where he’s working.

You tentatively make your way down the stairs, not wanting to startle him. As you suspected, he’s intently focused on his computer screen, dragging and dropping components of a track, trying to layer the elements just the way he wants, something he was recently so proud to tell you he had learned to do.

You knock quietly on the wall when you reach the bottom. He turns around to investigate and exclaims your name with far too much enthusiasm for the late hour. He opens his arms, which you know means he wants you to come sit on his lap. He greets you with a sweet kiss as soon as you sit down and hums when he recognizes the scent of your nighttime skin products. “Bedtime already?” He asks, sounding slightly disappointed.

You jab his side playfully. “Already? It’s pretty fucking late, dude,” you tease. “I fell asleep on the couch again.”

“Aww, baby, no,” he commiserates, stroking your arm empathetically. "You weren’t waiting up for me again, were you?”

“Maybe subconsciously,” you shrug. “Missed you a lot today. Dreamt about you last night. Dreamt about you while I was asleep right now. I dunno, it’s weird.” He hugs you tighter to him and you rest your head in the crook of his neck. “Matt said you had a good day, though?” You say in a bright voice, trying to compensate for your sad admission.

Ashton softly smiles and squeezes your leg, indicating he knows you wish you hadn’t told him what you did. “Yeah, it was crazy, I woke up with this song in my head and I had to rush down here before it went away,” he explains. “It was so clear in my mind - every instrument, every aspect of the production - and it took all day but we’ve almost got it exactly how I imagined it.”

You rest against him while he clicks around on the computer, playing you different files and explaining each step they took in their process that day. You watch him, instead of the screen, admiring the way he lights up when he talks about his art, the way his dimples just keep sinking deeper and deeper as he delights in telling you the inventive tactic they came up with to get the guitars to sound a certain way.

You peck at his cheek, enjoying the scratch from his light beard. “I’m so glad you had a good day,” you coo. “Think you might want to head up to bed with me now, though? I love seeing how happy this makes you but you’ve still gotta take care of yourself, babe. Still working when I go to bed and getting back at it before I wake up? It’s happening a lot and I get worried sometimes.”

He plays with the hem of your - his - shirt while he listens to your concern. “I know. It’s just easy to get caught up when it’s going good. And it’s all been going so good!” His wide smile turns to an understanding nod when he sees you lovingly shake your head at his excited excuse. “But I know you’re right, baby, I promise I have been trying to be mindful. Today was just the perfect storm.”

“OK,” you murmur, believing him for now, knowing you’ll surely be having this conversation again in a few days’ time. He tilts your chin up to him and moves in for a soft kiss. You sigh as his lips gently move over yours and you reach up to run your fingers through his hair; because of the lockdown, he’d been letting it grow and you were loving it. You’d convinced him to let you trim it a few times to keep it healthy and now you were obsessed with getting your hands on it all the time.

He starts to pull away but you let out a slight whine and bring him back in, deepening the kiss while you’re at it. He lets you lead the makeout as he wraps his arms around you, holding your body against his. You shift yourself in his lap so that you’re straddling him in the chair.

“Is this your plan to tire me out so I’ll come to bed?” Ash grins.

"Thought this was your plan," you tease, tugging his lip between your teeth. "You asked me to sit in your lap, I know your style."

He giggles as you start nipping at his jawline before making your way down his neck and settling in to kiss up and down his collarbones. He sits back and lets you work, running his hands up and down the back of your top, occasionally letting his hands wander down to appreciate how tight your sleep shorts fit over your ass.

“You’re markin’ me up, baby,” he laughs, attempting to detach your mouth from his chest.

You allow him to bring your mouth back up to his, darting your tongue across his bottom lip before saying with a smirk, “Something to help you remember me while you’re locked away working.”

Before he can respond, you move in to kiss him again and as you feel him growing hard underneath you, you lazily begin grinding on him. He groans and moves against you a few times before running a hand up the leg of your shorts.

He raises his eyebrows when he feels how wet you already are for him. “Aww, you really have been missin’ me, huh?” He teases, eyes shining in the dimly lit room. “You know you can always just tell me when you need me, that’s part of the fun of working at home.”

“Don’t wanna interrupt the artistic genius process,” you tease back, sitting further back on his thighs so you can palm him through his shorts. “Plus, I don’t think Matt would appreciate that very much.”

“I’d love it if we didn’t talk about Matt while your hand is on my dick,” he jokes, lifting his hand out of your shorts and up to his lips to lick. You roll your hips impatiently as you watch his lips suck your essence off his fingertips. “Mmm, sweet tonight, baby,” he murmurs. “Think I’m gonna need more.”

Ashton grips the backs of your thighs and suddenly he’s standing to lift you off of his lap and onto the desk in front of him. He deftly uses one hand to move his laptop and various hard drives to the side and uses the other to start tugging your shorts and panties down.

He drops to his knees and the surprise of that sight gets a low moan out of you. When he licks a stripe up your center, you take on a much whinier tone. “Babyyyy,” you try to reason with him, tugging on the collar of his white t-shirt. “I don’t wanna keep you awake any later than you need to be, let’s just fuck and get some sleep.”

He sits back on his heels, peeling off his shirt, flinging it behind him. “Heard my girl was missing me,” he counters, dragging a finger slowly through your wetness. “Gotta make sure you can make it through the day tomorrow.” His thumb plays gently at your clit while he runs his beard along your inner thigh - he’s learned you love the scratch - before fixing his mouth on your skin, clearly intent on leaving a large hickey.

You shiver when without much fanfare, Ash starts softly licking at your clit with just the tip of his tongue. “That’s my needy girl,” he says in a low voice that gives you almost as much of a chill as his mouth just did. Your brain constructs a witty reply but you’re not entirely sure the mumble that came out of your mouth made sense; his tongue is fluttering against your clit now and his hands are forcefully spreading your legs wider while somehow also tenderly massaging your skin.

You pry your hands off the edge of the desk where you’ve been bracing yourself and wrap them in his hair while his mouth works you, loving how his eyes dart up to thank you every time you brush a wayward curl off his forehead. It’s a great juxtaposition to the warning look you get when you start bucking your hips against his face. You didn’t mean to start getting rowdy but he slipped his fingers inside you at just the right angle and at the same time his beard dragged across your skin and his lips finally enveloped your clit - you couldn’t help yourself.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he soothes, sliding his hand underneath your shirt and laying his palm flat across your stomach to settle your movements. “Need it that bad? Could’ve sworn I had you the other night, you’re acting like I haven’t touched you in weeks.” His tone is the perfect blend of condescension and care and his words tease you almost as intensely as his fingers curling inside you.

Your reply is interrupted with a surprised moan when he fits his lips over your clit once again and starts sucking rapidly. “Maybe… having you… just makes… Jesus… makes me want you… mmm-more… fuck, babe, I’m cumming.”

You’re shocked by how fast and strong your orgasm hits you - maybe Ashton’s teasing wasn’t too far off and you are just that needy. You lay back on the desk, tugging at his hair, biting your lip to keep from crying out too loudly; try as you might, you can’t ignore the urge to grind against his mouth and the vibration from his groaning only adds to your pleasure.

He keeps at it until you push him away and you whine when he withdraws his fingers from you; you’ve just barely caught your breath when you squeeze his arm to get his attention, craving him near. He, of course, knows what you need and stands to tend to you. He brushes his fingers across your lips before cleaning the rest of your wetness off of them with his own mouth.

You’re pretty sure you see his cock jump in his basketball shorts as your tongue peeks out of your mouth to sample what he’s shared with you. “Taste good, baby?” He asks with heavy breath.

“Tastes better when I’m mixed with you,” you counter, pulling him in.

He moans into your passionate kiss, one hand trying to lean you back on the desk and the other yanking his shorts down. You resist his attempt, catching him off guard by pushing on his shoulders, guiding him back to his abandoned office chair; you climb in his lap to straddle him again, explaining, “Been wanting you like this all day.”

You take his cock in your hand and give it a few strokes before lifting yourself up and tapping your clit with the tip; you play like this for a minute, using him to tease yourself, rubbing your pussy on him, coating him in your wetness until he grabs your hips and sighs your name in a soft plea.

Smiling to yourself, you think maybe you should rib him about being as needy as you, except you don’t want to wait any longer to get him inside you; he watches intently as you balance yourself on the arms of the chair to line up and sink down on him. You groan together in lustful harmony at the feeling and you begin tentatively rocking your hips, enjoying the familiar stretch of him filling you.

You’ve got a moderate rhythm going when Ash starts playing with your nipples through your shirt; you slow your pace a bit and reach to pull the henley off when he stops you. “Leave it on,” he requests with a glint in his eye, fingers swiftly undoing a few buttons to expose more of your chest. “Now whenever I wear it, I won’t be able to stop picturing you riding me.”

You grin at him and lean back on his thighs, grinding slowly on his cock, trying to find that perfect angle. His hands are all over you, under and over the shirt, running over the tops and inside of your thighs; his grip eventually settles on your ass, kneading it and helping you bounce yourself on him.

You ride him at varying speeds, paying attention to the sounds he’s making and the way his body responds to your movements; you can’t get enough of seeing his jaw clench as he struggles not to fuck up into you, trying to let you have your moment.

He squeezes your ass so hard you know there’s bound to be finger shaped bruises in the morning. “Fuck, Ash,” you whisper, mouth against his ear. Your tongue flicks out to toy with his earring and the gasp you get in response is as satisfying as you’d hoped.

“Gettin’ close,” he strains, lifting his hips against yours slowly, thinking if he’s subtle enough maybe you won’t mind.

“God… same,” you tell him, speeding up and bringing a hand between your legs. “Wanna cum with you, babe.”

Ashton takes that as permission to be more blatant with his thrusting and as your breath starts stuttering, he even throws in a few slaps across your ass cheeks; his instincts are correct and within seconds you’re pulsing around him. Your eyes squeeze shut and flashes of white are all you see; you can tell by the tone of his voice he’s praising you as you orgasm but you can’t process what he’s saying.

His arms wrap around you and he holds you close as you squeeze his cock. You rock against him, working yourself through it when he buries his face in your chest to muffle an exhausted grunt as he cums inside you. You stroke his hair, murmuring how good he feels; he catches his breath and his embrace tightens around you as he pulls you into a soft yet sloppy kiss.

“Love you,” he says quietly, resting his head between your breasts again, beard prickling your skin.

You play with the thin chain he’s wearing, admiring the way the silver contrasts with the dark ink on the back of his neck. You’ve seen this side of Ash more in the past few months than you had the entire time you’d been together and it still takes you aback every time it comes out. “Love you too,” you whisper in reply.

He helps you off of him and you excuse yourself to the adjoining bathroom. When you return a few minutes later, he’s redressed, the desk is back in order and all his equipment is shut off.

“Bedtime?” You ask, pleasantly surprised.

He grins. “Like I’d be able to think about anything else tonight,” he reaches for your hand. There’s a comfortable silence as he starts to lead you out of the room before pausing at the foot of the stairs and turning to you. “You know I miss you too, right? When I’m working all the time like this? I think about you a lot.”

You lift your joined hands, kissing his knuckles. “I know, babe, I’m sorry if I made you feel bad when I said all that, I was just tired,” you frown slightly.

Ash slings his arm around you, kissing the top of your head. “Can I tell you a secret? This shirt was actually clean, I sprayed it with cologne and left it out for you,” he laughs, tugging at your collar. “Wanted to wear tomorrow and spend the day having you close to me.”

“Ashhhh, that’s so sweet it’s almost gross,” you aww. He chuckles as you hop onto the step in front of him and peck rapidly at his lips. “Bold of you to assume I’d let you have it back, though.”

He snorts and follows you up the stairs. You turn to him at the top. “Make you a deal: if you’re still in bed with me when I wake up tomorrow, the shirt’s yours.”

He spins you around and gives you a gentle swat, directing you to the bedroom. “Deal.”

————-

@mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower @pxrxmoore @loveroflrh @ghostofmashton @sexgodashton @spookydaddycal

@castaway-cashton @ashtonlftv @cashtonasfuck @megz1985 @ashdork-irwin @angelicfluffs @findingliam-o @abadaftertaste @youngbloodchild @irwinsbetch @ashsun @everyscarisahealingplace

@wiildflower-xxx @metalandboybands @another-lonely-heart-blog @realisticnotes @makeamovehemmings @golden166 @burstintocolor

@mfartzzz @babyoria @saphseoul @petunias-pet @youngblood199456 @notinthesameguey @seanna313 @calumftduke @zhangyixingxing1 @stardust-galaxies @zackoid

@queenalienscherrypie @lovelybonesetc @Obey-Kaylin @xsongxbirdx @justhereforcalum

@laura66sos @calumrose @karajaynetoday @pilunb @jazzyangel242 @babylon-corgis @heyheyhaleyd @calmsweetcreature

@spicycal @talkfastromance4 @holystxne @myloverboyash

@meetmedowntown @ashtonangst

@irwindoll @cheekysos @carrielfisher @lukedorkyhemmings @creampiecashton @lovelywordsblog

@trix-arent-for-kids @uh-huhh-honey @tobefalling @aladyofalbion

@likehuhdude @curlycalums @cxddlyash @reddesert-healourblues

#5sos smut #5 seconds of summer smut #ashton irwin smut #ashton smut #ashton irwin fic #Kindahoping4forever #smut #kh4f fic #Watch Me Bloom #WMB: A Few Months Ago #For real I cannot tell you how much help Cass was - I rewrote this from scratch at least twice #Please let me know what you think #Feedback is appreciated #and apologies for it being so long in between fics - ya gettin 3 this week (and i have at least one more ready to go at some point) so #you'll be sick of me soon enough 😂#Part 2 on Wednesday!

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hogarthwrites · 3 years

Text

house sitting for two chapter 17

chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 16 pairing: Sam Drake/Reader (m/f) genre: smut, slow romance, mutual pining warnings: graphic sex, alcohol words: 2,901 summary: You're unsure about dating someone else and it makes you guilty about still being in love. You make your mind up when you run into a certain someone one night.

Sam and Sully had gone to Las Vegas. “Just because,” Sam reasoned. He needed to forget how empty he felt whenever it was nighttime and he was lonely in bed.

Instead, he and Sully gambled, outsmarting each other in their own games. At the end of the night, Sam would go to the nearest bar to drink. That’s where he was reunited with Victoria, an old flame he had just before Panama.

Victoria – or Vix – as he called her, was a nice enough woman. She was as loud as he remembered her and he genuinely did have fun with her, and there was an understanding between them: it was just sex.

He'd take her to his RV every night, and every single time he fucked her, he thought of you. As he dug his fingers into the soft skin of her hips, he closed his eyes, imagining you, drowning out the sounds of her moans. He couldn't understand how he became so attached to you but no other person.

It was then the telephone started ringing. Sam sighed, considering his options. He wasn't close yet and he wasn't in a hurry so he got up and hobbled to the phone.

“Yeah?” Sam leaned against the wall, expecting it to be Sully calling from his five-star hotel room, but there was no response.

“Come on, Sam, don't keep me waiting,” Victoria whined. “I was so close.”

“Just a second,” he turned away from her. “Hello? Hello?”

The line cut out, leaving Sam confused. Must've been a wrong number.

He drove Sully back to California the next day, feeling a little sad about being back in Paso Robles. It didn't stop him from looking around as he drove, hoping to get a glance of you – that is, if you stayed in the area.

“I've gotta say that was the first Vegas trip I've been on where I haven't made any life altering decisions,” Sully mused. “Hell, that was the mildest experience I've had.”

“Jeez, Victor, sorry I made it lame,” Sam joked. Deep down they knew they were too old to get shit faced drunk and make horrible decisions just after a few nights in Las Vegas.

“Ah, maybe next time,” Sully picked up his bags as Sam parked in front of his mid-century style home. “What's next for Samuel Drake?”

“Uh,” Sam thought. “Gonna visit a special lady named Irene, then hopefully my business partner can find another job for us.”

“Oh, Irene,” Sully chuckled.

“Ah, so you know her,” Sam smiled.

“The ‘70’s were a wild time, Sam,” Sully winked, confirming yours and Sam’s suspicions.

“Well, good for you, Victor. She's still single, just so you know.”

“Right,” Sully laughed. “Hey, maybe you should go up to Los Angeles, just see the sights. Weather’s nice this time of the year.”

Huh , Sam thought to himself. He hasn't been in LA in years. It won't hurt to stop by.

“Sure, Victor. I'll send you a postcard.”

“There's an open house this weekend,” Stephen said over the phone. “I hope you understand.”

“Yeah, I'm totally cool with it.” You lay in the hammock of your backyard, smoking a cigarette and mindlessly scrolled through social media. Sam was always on your Instagram, giving you just a glimmer of hope.

“I'll call as much as I can. I love you.”

You paused, chewing on you lip. “I'll see you soon, Steve.”

You felt the tiniest pang of guilt as you felt a bit of relief to be away from Stephen for two weeks. As much as you tried, you couldn't love him. Sam was still in your mind and everytime you had sex with Stephen, you thought about Sam. It just didn't feel as good.

It didn't stop you from being racked with guilt. You didn't want to be with Stephen, but you didn't want to be lonely.

I'm a horrible person and I had the audacity to call Sam a selfish bastard, you let out an angry puff of smoke. Maybe we are a lot more alike than I thought.

You groaned as you slid off the hammock hanging on your back porch and padded your way into your kitchen to get a drink. The silence was overwhelming while you poured yourself a glass of orange juice.

You retired to your room and climbed into your cold, empty bed. You hated the silence. You missed Sam’s voice as he talked on and on about something that excited him.

You read and reread the letter he wrote you in the hospital. It was short but it was enough to make you miss him every time.

I'm sorry. No one's ever done anything like that for me and I feel horrible. Please get better. I'll make you pancakes like I promised long ago.

I love you,

Sam

The landline phone caught your attention. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to hear his voice just for a bit.

You hastily got up and walked to the phone, mind racing as you picked up the receiver. You assured yourself it was fine and that Sam never had a caller ID.

Here goes, you held your breath as you dialed his number, dreading the ringing tones.

It kept ringing and you were scared it'll go to voicemail, but after a while, Sam finally picked up.

“Yeah?” He was out of breath.

Just that one word made your heart leap. You opened your mouth to say something when you heard someone in the background.

“Come on, Sam, don't keep me waiting,” a woman said in a sultry voice. “I was so close.”

“Just a second,” Sam called out. “Hello? Hello?”

You hung up. That was a terrible idea.

Irene was overjoyed to see Sam, peppering his face in kisses.

“Oh, you've grown so tall!” She joked. “It's so nice to see you, Sam.”

“You know I can't stay away from my favourite weed lady,” he chuckled.

“Are you staying long?”

“Nah, just dropping by to say ‘hi’.”

“Well ‘hi’ to you too,” she smiled.

She gave him a pan of banana bread (and some weed) before he left, asking if he ever got to see you. He wished he did.

You lay on the floor of your living room, music blasting on the stereo as you had a pity party. You had to end things with Stephen as the guilt was becoming too much for you to bear.

You had put the ring back on, staring at it as you held your hand up. You needed a drink.

The fluorescent lights of the store were a little too bright for you and you trudged to the fridge, ignoring the guy manning the cashier.

“You look like shit again,” he remarked.

“‘Kay, thanks for the input, Troy,” you muttered. Asshole.

You grabbed a few bottles of beer, hugging them to your chest. Just another Friday night.

“Sorry, I need a pack of cigarettes… Or two,” you heard a familiar voice. You peeked behind a shelf of condoms.

It was Sam. What the hell is he doing in LA and in this particular store too?

Fuck. You began to panic, glancing down at yourself. The grey sweatpants and your stained DIY shirt you painted years ago wasn’t the most flattering outfit and it didn't help that your hair was a mess.

You wanted him to just go, but through your panicked state, you dropped one of the bottles in your arms, catching Sam’s attention.

“Y/N?” He looked at you curiously.

“Heyy, Sam,” you sheepishly stepped away from the mess on the floor.

“Clean up on aisle two,” Troy mumbled, grabbing the broom and a mop.

“Sorry, I'll pay for that,” you tiptoed past him.

“No, I'll pay for it,” Sam looked at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. Your heart leaped when you met his gentle eyes. “That's a lot of bottles.”

“TGIF, right?” You awkwardly laughed. Idiot.

“Can't argue with that,” Sam smiled.

Troy totalled up yours and Sam’s purchases after a lot of whining. Sam helped you carry your bottles of beer.

“Where ya heading?” He asked.

“Home. It's not too far from here.”

“Come on, I'll give you a lift,” he nudged you.

“No, it's fine,” you shook your head.

“You don't wanna see my snazzy new tiny home?”

“Tiny home,” you chuckled. “Yeah, sure I'd love to see it.”

Sam had a nice little RV with his motorcycle secured on it. It wasn't too fancy inside; his books were neatly organised on a small shelf by the sofa/dining area, the plants you left him on a box by the window, and a large bed in the back with just a curtain for privacy.

“Wow,” you looked around. “What made you wanna get an RV?”

“Eh, just wanted to be able to move around easier,” he shrugged as he sat in the driver's seat. “It's not permanent, but it's been alright so far.”

You took the seat next to him, fastening your seatbelt.

“Where to?” Sam asked.

“Its just a few blocks away. Go west.”

It was supposed to be a short drive, but it felt longer to you. You didn't know what to say and neither did Sam, just Spandau Ballet softly playing on the radio filling in the silence.

“So,” Sam cleared his throat. “LA… Why? You planning on being in Hollywood?”

You shrugged. “I've always lived in smaller towns, I thought a bigger city might be an experience.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Do you like it?”

“It's been alright,” you shrugged again. “I haven't gotten around to exploring as much. Oh, it's just here.”

You pointed at the one-story Spanish revival house you've been staying in. Sam parked in front and you picked up your paper bag, heavy with the bottles.

“Let me help you with that,” Sam reached out, his hand touching your arm. It was enough to make you feel hot all over.

He locked eyes with you and for a moment, you thought he was leaning in to kiss you. You instinctively closed your eyes, waiting, but nothing happened.

When you opened your eyes, Sam was holding the paper bag and walking towards the door.

Oh, you were disappointed. What was I expecting?

He walked you to the door, his eyes on you the entire time.

“I missed you,” he said, making your heart leap again.

“Sam,” you looked up at him as you reached your door.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I just… Couldn't get you out of my mind in months, I had to say it.”

“I missed you too,” you softly said.

This time, you felt his lips on yours, and you instinctively kissed him back. There were butterflies in your stomach, but the moment didn't last.

Sam stepped back, his face a little flushed. You felt your cheeks heat up as well.

He held out the paper bag to you. “Um, good night.”

“Good night…” You whispered as he turned to go back to his RV. “Sam, wait–”

He looked back, and you walked towards him.

“You can park in my driveway for the night… Or however long you're going to stay here.”

“I don't want to be a burden–”

“What? Sam, it's me. I…” You bit your lip. “I want you here. Maybe we can hang out.”

“Okay,” he smiled.

You took a deep breath as you closed your door behind you, your heart still racing. Sam kissed you and for the first time in months, you felt… Happy?

You placed the bottles in your fridge, no longer interested in drinking them, then changed into cleaner clothes for bed. You peeked out your window and saw the lights were still on in his RV.

You wanted to go to him, to kiss him more, to hold him again, but you thought of Stephen. True, he wasn't your boyfriend officially, but he trusted you. But still…

You found yourself in front of Sam’s door, and as you were about to knock, Sam opened the door.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

You stood, staring at each other as if you both couldn't believe it. Sam pulled you into his arms, and you kissed him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you in, closing the door behind him with his foot.

He sat you on the table, his hands sliding down to your ass.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his lips moving down to your neck.

You sighed as he left cool kisses on the hot skin of your neck. He pulled you close and you wrapped your legs around his waist again.

“Sam,” you whispered as he began lifting your shirt.

“What–what is it?” He rested his forehead on yours.

“Should we be doing this?” You asked, trailing your finger down his chest.

Sam kissed you. “I don't know, but it feels so right.”

Your shirt and your shorts were discarded somewhere around his RV and Sam had your legs over his shoulders as he kneeled in front of the table. He gave your clit a few licks, his eyes on yours the entire time.

“God, I missed this view,” you ran your fingers through his hair.

“What, your new boyfriend doesn't eat you out?” He gave you a smug smirk.

“He’s not my boyf–”

Sam continued licking your clit, closing his eyes as he pushed his face further against your pussy. It was getting too much for you and you tugged at his hair.

“More, Sam, more,” you moaned.

You felt him smile against you as he began sucking on your clit softly, switching between sucking and licking. You bucked your hips against him but he held you down.

Sam gave a satisfied hum as you came, your thighs squeezing his head.

“How was that?” He stood up, leaning over you on the table. It was then you noticed that he was still fully dressed, but the tent in his grey sweatpants was hard to ignore.

“I think I've been missing out on Samuel Drake,” you chuckled.

He pulled you up and carried you to the bed bridal style.

“Wait, Sam,” you sat up as he climbed over you.

“What?”

“I've been having sex.”

He blinked at you. “So?”

“And you have too, I assume?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “So?”

You pushed him away. “So put a condom on.”

Sam gave you an amused smile. “You know you're the only person I've never had safe sex with.”

“Good to know,” you stuck your tongue out. “But put one on.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, standing up.

Sam held the condom up before climbing on top of you to kiss you. “Happy?”

You took off his shirt and he climbed out of his sweatpants, cock glistening with precum. It was enough to get you wet.

He ripped the condom packet open and slipped it on with ease. Sam gave you soft, sweet kisses as he began pushing inside you.

You both gasped at the sensation, Sam had his lip pinned between his teeth as he pushed deep inside you. He began to thrust slowly and gently cupping your cheek.

“Harder,” you whispered, desperate for more.

Sam groaned as he began pounding into you, his hands sliding up your body to cup your breasts. He kissed you hard as he collapsed on top of you, rolling over so you were on top of him.

“I wanna see you,” he said, moving your hips against his. “I wanna see you fucking me.”

You placed your hands against the headboard, bouncing on his cock. You moaned out his name loudly; something you've been wanting to do for months. It felt so good to finally have him under you and all you wanted was to make him feel good, to make up for all the lost time.

Sam pulled you in to kiss you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I missed you too,” you sighed between kisses.

“I forgot how good you feel,” he kissed your neck.

His hands slid down to your ass, spreading then as he rammed his hips up against yours. You grabbed at the pillow at his head, crying out loud. His finger dipped into your asshole and you moaned out.

The dual sensation was enough to make you cum, and Sam wasn’t far behind. He kissed you hard as he came, holding you close.

You were breathless as you rolled off him and he took the condom off, dunking it into the trash.

The bed dipped as he climbed back in, lying on his back next to you.

“Wanna see something cool?” Sam smiled.

He pressed a button and the rather large sunroof opened up, letting in more of the moonlight and the dim streetlights.

“Oh, that is cool,” you grinned. “Why didn't you show me before we fucked?”

“I don't think your neighbours would be too happy seeing us fornicate if they happened to look out the window.”

“You think they can really see us?”

Sam shrugged, putting an arm under his head and stared up at the sky with you.

“Do you wanna go out tomorrow?” You asked.

“Are you gonna give me the Grand Los Angeles tour?”

“Honestly, I haven't even toured it myself,” you sheepishly said. “It hasn't really felt like home.”

“Well,” Sam looked up in thought. “Maybe we can start with Santa Monica? I believe it isn't too far from here.”

“Okay,” you took his hand in yours.

#sam drake x reader #sam drake #samuel drake #oh shit here we go again

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ratmonky · 4 years

Text

Stairway to Devotion

I’m quite certain that if a character is very like me, I just write them ooc and turn it into vanilla self indulgent fic.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: none

The abandoned warehouse was quiet for the most part. Demons were lurking in the shadows and in the forest, ready to attack unassuming humans and that was why this small town had been declared as dangerous. Humans didn’t come here to avoid being killed. Yet for a stray like Denji, it was welcoming enough to call home.

Denji had been to many places but he liked this warehouse the best. It provided him the security he desperately needed to sleep at night and most importantly, the electricity was still working. He had gathered many simple kitchen gadgets and a small heater thanks to the people who had thrown them away despite them functioning properly. But that was life, he thought. He would be thrown away by Yakuza soon if he didn’t make enough money. No matter the fact if he was giving results or not, just like the electronic junk he kept finding in the dumpsters.

With the little money he had, his dinners consisted of a slice of bread and very rarely the leftovers he found in the trash behind a restaurant if he was lucky enough.

He ate when there was enough and slept when there wasn’t. But even in his desperate state, he made sure to feed his demon dog, Pochita.

Pochita ate almost anything, even go as far as nibbling on Denji’s arms when he was sleeping at times but sometimes even he, a demon, gave his single slice of bread to Denji out of pity.

In the last years, Denji had sold his body parts to the black market. He had thought he had made quite some money out of his kidney and eye that he sold but he had no idea how they paid him only the half amount of money.

And now, he was trying his best to live for another day with Pochita. Chop woods, kill demons and sell more of his body parts to pay his debt to the Yakuza.

His paycheck wasn’t great and that debt collector of his was a douche but he never complained. Even if his paycheck only allowed him to buy bread and nothing else.

Because at the end of the day, when it was nighttime, he always found peace in the small store he bought bread from. Not because the prices were so low that he sometimes managed to buy two loaves of bread or how they let the customers read the magazines before buying and although he never bought the magazines, he liked to entertain himself and sometimes check the newest porn star’s spread open legs so he could go back to the warehouse and wrap his hand around his cock as he closed his eyes to remember what that looked like-

Ahem…

No, Denji liked this store because of the cashier.

Someone so sweet, someone so kind, someone so loving and someone so beautiful-

“Hii, Denji! You’re late today!” you smiled as the boy entered the store. Stopping sweeping the floor for a moment, you crouched down and gently petted the small dog that had run up to you. “Aww, Pochita, I missed you too!”

Pochita happily whimpered and leaned into your touch as his tail kept hitting the floor out of joy.

“Came to buy bread?” you asked, looking up to the young man. He nodded sheepishly and crouched next to you to pet his dog. “Well, it’s good that I was waiting for you two just in case then.”

“Oh, sorry…” Denji lowered his head. “We were too deep in the forest so coming back to the city took a while. Don’t wait for us if ya gotta close the store.”

“It’s alright, I kinda memorized how often you came to buy bread so I guessed you’d be here. And where would you buy bread from if I had closed the store, huh?”

Denji couldn’t answer.

“Exactly!” you giggled, scratching under Pochita’s chin. “Ahh, he’s so friendly today. Didn’t you feed him?”

“I did! He ate my share too! He started running down the damn street when he realized we were gonna buy bread,” Denji said. “He just likes ya better than me.”

“That’s because I always have this in my pocket!!” you giggled as you pulled out a beef jerky from your pocket.

Pochita started wiggling his tail rapidly and barked excitedly. You tore the packaging open and let the demon dog nibble on the snack before standing back up again.

Your eyes met Denji’s while he was pouting. A soft smile spread across your face, “What?”

“I told ya, didn’t I? If ya keep feeding those he’s gonna leave me for ya!” Denji slowly rose up to his feet, completely unfazed by your puppy eyes.

“Admit it, you’re just jealous,” you said, playfully hitting his chest.

Denji blushed slightly, “I ain’t jealous!”

“Yeah, sure!” You walked behind the counter after picking up the small broom. The lights flickered as you crouched to put the broom away and disappeared from his view for a second.

Denji’s eye landed on Pochita who was still munching on the beef jerky and then back to the counter before he went to grab a loaf of bread.

He wondered how much longer you would be waiting for them if Denji hadn’t taken the bus. His paycheck was almost finished. That bus ride hadn’t been cheap and he would have to sleep instead of eating dinner for a couple of nights, Denji wouldn’t hesitate to take the bus here again. It was outrageous for a nobody like him to make you wait. Although he knew you were doing this because you had a soft spot for his dog but Denji couldn’t help himself. He enjoyed having someone greet him with a smile and talk to him as if he was their friend. It all made him feel welcomed.

With you, he felt like this world wasn’t just rotten.

When he put the loaf of bread on the counter, there was a large plastic bag full of food next to it. You were smiling at him with the biggest smile he had ever seen.

He wanted to flash you a smile matching yours but remembering how yellow his teeth were, he resisted the urge. “What are ya smiling at?”

You shrugged. “Is that all?” You put the loaf of bread in a plastic bag.

“Do ya even have to ask?” Denji scoffed, taking out the thin envelope that had the rest of his paycheck money in it. He reluctantly took out a bill and gave it to you.

“You never know!” You gave him his change. “Maybe you’d wanna spice things up and buy hot coffee or something!”

“Heh, if I could I’d buy meat buns and beer.” Denji shook his head. By the time he took his bread, Pochita was done eating. He was about to turn around and leave the store when you called out to him.

Whipping his head around, Denji’s eye landed on your nervously fidgeting figure holding the large plastic bag of food.

“What is it?” he asked.

You took a deep breath and held the plastic bag out for him. “Please accept this.”

He stared at the bag for a moment longer than the normal. “What’s in that?”

“Meat buns, beef jerky, beef, and everything I knew you’d want.”

Denji gently grabbed the bag from your small hands and felt his chest tighten. “I don’t have enough money for all-”

“It’s a present from me!” you said.

“For what?” He couldn’t believe the amount of food a plastic bag could carry. There was enough food to feast on for months if not weeks.

“For being a loyal customer!” you chirped and put your hands on his shoulders to start leading him out of the store. “So don’t you ever stop shopping here! There’ll be a bigger present next time!”

Denji’s lips curled up into a smile. “I may be stupid but I’m not an idiot. We can’t accept this.”

Pochita growled at his owner in irritation.

“Stop that,” Denji told his dog. He then turned to you. “Thank you but ya really should return these.”

You weren’t going to give up that easily.

“I can’t! We have a no return policy, I already paid for them.”

“Haa? Why would ya buy shit for me with yer own money?” Denji didn’t sound upset even one bit. Only surprised. “Ugh, nevermind!” He put the plastic bag down and picked Pochita up. “We’ll be going home, ya should take that to your place if yer unable to return it.”

“Can you at least help me carry it back to my place?”

Denji was going to say no but seeing the way your lower lip quivered, he was unable to.

“Alright but I’m doing it because it’s too heavy!”

~~~

“Please! Next time… rent a place with an elevator or… on the first floor!” Denji wheezed when he finally reached to your apartment.

You giggled and let Pochita down, “You’ll get used to it.”

“What does that supposed to mean?” He caught up to you with his wobbly legs as you opened the door.

“Have you two had dinner yet?” you asked, ignoring his question.

“Ah...” Denji rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and avoided answering your question but his growling stomach gave him away.

With another friendly smile, you opened your door wider, gesturing them to enter. “I should at least thank you two for walking me home, right?”

“We should really head back- ack! Pochita!” Denji shouted after Pochita who ran inside of your apartment. “You bastard,” he mumbled.

“At least one of you are honest.” You took off your shoes and watched Denji huff in defeat before taking his own shoes off.

~~~

You stole a quick glance in his direction and snorted when you saw him still stuffing food in his mouth.

Pochita had already passed out from overeating and you wondered how long would it take until Denji joined him on the couch.

“You’re still going?” you giggled as you placed a can of beer in front of him.

“Of course!” Denji chirped in between bites. “It’s soo tasty!”

You blushed at the compliment, “I’m glad you liked it. I have some leftovers if you’d want them.”

He nodded rapidly and continued wiping his plate clean.

Once he was done eating, he cracked his beer open, holding it towards you. “Thank you for the food!”

You clinked your beer can with his, “My pleasure.” Momentarily you looked at Pochita and snickered. “He’s out cold already.”

“Pathetic, he should’ve eaten until his stomach started bloating. He’s never gonna get this much food again.”

“Dogs have a smaller stomach, Denji,” you giggled. “He probably ate as much as his little body allowed him to.”

“Do you live alone?” he asked suddenly, it was clear that he was only curious but from the moment he stepped into your apartment he had been looking at the framed pictures or any decoration you had in the living room to figure out what kind of a person you were.

“Y-yeah,” you said softly. “What about you? Where do you live?”

“I live in some abandoned warehouse next to the forest with Pochita.”

You would have laughed thinking it was a joke if it wasn’t the pained tone he said it in.

“Thank you,” he said weakly, his voice didn’t come out as confident as he thought, “I’ve never felt this way before.”

Stunned, you looked at him with a faint blush coloring your cheeks. “D-Denji? W-what are you talking about?”

“You’re the only person who makes me feel welcomed in this world.” Denji smiled sadly. “I… I know it’s pathetic but I have feelings for you.” Denji could never willingly let you be involved with him completely. If he did, you would be involved in deep trouble. You didn’t deserve him, you didn’t deserve human trash like him.

Your eyes widened and you stumbled on your words. “Oh… I don’t know what to say-”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Denji sighed. “I wanted to let you know, that’s it.”

“That’s not it!” you protested, your voice trembling. “Don’t think so lowly of your feelings, idiot!v Why do you think I care for you? Why do you think I started working night shifts?”

“(Name)...”

“It’s because I like you!”

It was quiet.

The kind of quiet right before a storm.

Denji’s cheeks flushed bright red and he looked unsure of what to do or say. He was prepared in case you rejected him but you had gone and accepted him right away.

You looked up at him with your cheeks tinted with a faint red, “I like you,” you admitted meekly again.

Another moment of silence passed.

You couldn’t stop blushing. It wasn’t your plan to confess your feelings to Denji tonight but you had done it. There was no going back now. You had to say something else, you had to do something because that damn idiot looked like he stopped functioning.

“Do you want to have sex?” you dared to ask.

He started to tremble, then his eye widened. He stared at you and he looked so utterly confused. “With who?”

You blushed even harder and pointed at him then at yourself.

Denji pointed a finger at himself and then at you before he looked at you for affirmation.

You nodded slowly.

Everything happened within a minute.

You got up from your seat and offered a hand to him. He gently held your hand, intertwining your fingers as he followed you into your bedroom and closed the door.

Both of you were blushing and didn’t know where to start.

He wanted to touch you everywhere, your face, your neck, your breasts, your stomach, your waist, your thighs and your… your-

The image of the pornstar spreading her legs to reveal her pussy flashed before his eyes.

Whether it be the years of sexual frustration suddenly exploding or his crush trembling in lust and need, Denji’s body moved on its own. He could already feel himself lose control.

Denji put a hand on your shoulder awkwardly, his eye locked on yours. You were looking at him with anticipation, waiting for him to make a move… no you were desperate for him to make a move.

Oh, he wanted to do so many things to you but he didn’t know where to start.

He gave you a shaky smirk to cover his own embarrassment. You looked at him as if you knew what he was thinking and beamed at him, making his already hard cock twitch impatiently.

With the way you looked at him, he could see the attraction you felt towards him.

He cupped your cheek in his hand and you leaned into his touch, rubbing your cheek into his palm.

Audibly, Denji gulped. He leaned in to press his lips on yours. You moved your lips softly against his, encouraging him to open his mouth and when he did, you gingerly snaked your tongue into his mouth.

Denji, as someone who had only seen people kissing in pictures, followed your lead.

The kiss was short, tongues timid and teeth clashing. Nonetheless, it left you breathless. But when Denji leaned forward for a second kiss, that changed everything.

This time, he wasn’t shy, his mouth moved hard against yours as he savored your taste. His hands started moving on their own, his fingers went under your shirt and up to feel your clothed breasts. He moaned into the kiss when he finally groped your tits, they were softer than he had imagined, he wanted to touch them without your bra on. He needed to feel them completely.

His clothed erection was poking at your stomach You moved a hand up to his hair and stroked his cock over his pants with your free hand.

A gasp left Denji’s lips, he broke the kiss and stared between your bodies.

You were touching his dick.

You really were touching him.

“Should we go to bed?” Your voice was as soft as your touch.

Numbly, Denji nodded but he couldn’t move a muscle when your finger very slightly brushed against his bulge, he buried his face in the crook of your neck instead.

You huffed as if you were disappointed but then with a giggle, you removed your hand from his cock and dropped onto your knees.

Denji squealed in surprise and covered his mouth in shock. “(Name)... w-what are you doing?”

“What does it look like to you?” You fumbled with his belt and when it came undone, you hastily pulled his pants down along with his boxer briefs, making his cock bounce free.

“It’s weird...” he whispered, about to take a step away.

You licked your hand to coat it generously with your spit, ignoring his cry. You wrapped a hand around his cock and looked up at him after noticing why he had been so insecure. “It’s fine,” you said reassuringly, pumping his cock.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, Denji held his voice back. Your fingers stroked his cock gently as you ran your tongue up following a vein before kissing the sensitive pink tip. No matter how good it felt, he couldn’t help but move his hips, begging for you to take him into your mouth.

Denji placed a hand on the back of your head and you smiled, stroking him harder. His legs started to shake. Deciding that you might have been teasing him too much, you kissed the tip of his cock once again but this time you sucked his cock into your mouth.

He groaned loudly against his hand. His cock throbbed, nearly cumming because of your hot mouth closing around it. You put a hand on his thigh and bobbed your head slowly.

“Ahh.” He bit his lip. “Your mouth feels so good.”

You chuckled, the vibrations coming from your throat made him shiver in pleasure, almost making his knees unbuckle.

All of Denji's remaining self-control disappeared at that moment.

His hand that was on the back of your head shoved you onto his cock until he could graze the back of your throat. Your eyes teared up as you resisted the urge to gag, instead, you tried to push him away with your hand on his thigh.

Denji’s hips started moving, he thrust forward and moved you to meet his thrust halfway until your nose brushed on his pubes. He kept you there as long as he could to enjoy the view.

Your cheeks bright red, eyes filled with tears and his cock buried deep in your throat.

He had only imagined what it would look like in his dreams but now that he had seen the real thing, he wanted to see more of you. Like how you would look under him.

Decidedly, Denji pulled you away from him, the strands connecting your lips to his cock broke as you inhaled deeply. You opened your mouth to scold him for carelessly forcing his cock down your throat, he picked you up and threw you onto your bed.

Your body bounced against the mattress and you watched him climb on top of you, just like a predator stalking its prey.

His unkempt hair was sticking to his forehead, his clothes were a mess, his eyepatch had slipped slightly and his breathing was uneven. It made you wet seeing Denji look so… messy.

Though you were about to undress, Denji moved quicker. He hoisted your skirt up and tore your pantyhose to reach your now soaking wet cunt.

Quickly, Denji undressed.

“Can you?” Denji leaned forward, his fingers gripping the hem of your shirt.

Biting your lip, you nodded. You sat up and with one swift move, took off your shirt and moved to remove your skirt along with your now ripped pantyhose with your panties. Finally, you reached back to unclasp your bra. As you slid your bra down your shoulders, Denji’s eye didn’t look away from your tits even for a second.

You folded your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your breasts.

“Don’t hide yourself,” he pleaded. His hands gently unwrapping your arms.

A moan left your lips when he squished your tits together, mesmerized by them. He stopped moving for a second and blushed. He kneaded the soft flesh slowly until he heard you moan again.

“Do you want me to stop?” he took a staggered breath as you laid on your back.

“No,” you stammered. There was no way you could deny how aroused you were. Not when your juices were leaking out from your pussy and soaking your thighs. “P-please be gentle.”

“I don’t think I can.” Denji’s words left you petrified. “I can’t hold back, sorry.”

“Denji,” you softly sighed, nodding sheepishly. “Do as you like.”

Pausing for a second, he looked at you and swiped his thumb across your lower lip, he pressed it on the corner of your lip and gently pulled it down to slightly part your lips. Then he lowered himself over your face, pressing his chest against yours until his lips met yours.

The kiss was soft and warm, only a distraction as he was lining himself up at your entrance. You wrapped your arms around his neck, moaning softly while he ran his cock between your folds, coating it with your juices.

To let him know that you were at your limit, you spread your legs wider, welcoming him completely.

Denji broked the kiss and abruptly pushed himself in. He froze inside you, his cock twitched in pleasure as the gummy flesh of your walls wrapped around it.

This felt so different. It was nothing like your mouth.

He took a moment to steady himself, he wasn’t sure if he could last longer than a minute.

You let out a whimper, your lips parted and you moved your hips, begging him to move.

“Gimme a second,” he choked out.

You didn’t listen.

Moving your hips, you tried to slam yourself onto his cock.

With a loud growl, Denji grabbed you by your hips and snapped forward, forcing a moan out of you. He had finally pushed himself balls deep into your pussy, filling you up to the brim so perfectly.

Another moan left you as he tentatively pulled back and slammed himself back into your twitching pussy. And again and again-

Each thrust of his hips was deep and penetrating enough to make your toes curl and wrap your arms tighter around his neck. His cock was stretching you so well, you had never felt like this before.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and your fingers twirled around his long straight hair, moaning quietly into his neck each time he hit a sensitive spot. Denji’s thrusts became stronger and more animalistic each time you screamed or whimpered.

Denji’s lips clumsily found yours to muffle some of your noises. He sloppily kissed you, sucking your tongue in his mouth while he humped your cunt like a desperate dog in heat.

He grabbed your hips even tightly, his nails digging into your skin as he mercilessly began pounding in your pussy. Your legs started shaking in pleasure, your hips kept moving to meet his and your walls tightened around him.

Your nails dug into his shoulders when the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix, you dragged them down, leaving red streaks on his back.

“Denji,” you whimpered. “I’m close.”

He nodded knowingly, his eye rolling up as your walls tightened around his twitching cock and pushed inside of you for the last time. Your walls pulsated against his dick and sucked him in deep as Denji spilled his seed inside your unprotected fertile pussy with a loud growl. You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist with no intention of letting him go as the warmth of his seed completely filled your belly.

Right after sliding out of you, Denji lazily fell onto the bed next to you, exhausted and breathless.

It took him a few minutes to collect himself and as he was about to open his mouth to say something awkward, you pressed your lips onto his for a short kiss, taking his breath away.

He pulled you into his arms as soon as you finished the kiss. His hand cupped your tit and his nose nuzzled into your hair to inhale your delicious smell. He moved closer to you while you were busy trying to pull the blanket over the two of you.

Once you managed to get under the blanket, Denji gave you a chaste kiss against your hair before you drifted into slumber.

~~~

“I told ya, didn’t I? You made him into a softie! He can’t even cut as sharp as before! His chainsaw broke!”

“It’s your fault for not feeding him well,” you said, hugging Pochita tighter. “Besides everyone needs a little embrace sometimes to work harder.” The dog licked your cheek in response.

Denji wheezed out for air as he reached on top of the stairs, nearly dropping the groceries.

You laughed and put Pochita down, “Geez, you’ve soaked your shirt in sweat!”

“Because it’s too damn hot!” Denji furrowed his brows as he tried to catch his breath.

The weather was too hot compared to any other summer months. Although it was nearing the end of September, the sun was still blazing hot.

Denji faintly remembered how you had told them that here the weather was always warm.

He liked the warm weather, he liked this place too but the damn stairs… they were going to be the death of him. He didn’t even know why he climbed them so hurriedly each time.

Leaning down, you planted a kiss on Denji’s cheek, “You’ll get used to it.”

Dumbfounded, he stared at you and when he saw you smiling at him so brightly he remembered why. “Ya keep saying that!”

#oof this is so embarrassing gaddamn so self indulgent #ugh and i am the first person to post reader insert for denji omg ughhhhh #people are gonna point at me and laugh #ugh i am sorry i just love him so much fuckk #denji x reader

375 notes · View notes

bopbopstyles · 4 years

Note

if u expanded on the cum in the mustache dream i think i would die

you ask and you shall receive. as always, i am here to please the people (but also myself bc whOoWeE this is hot). note: in this concept y/n and h are not in italy/france bc nobody should be travelling rn :)

You had grown used to the sight of Harry with a beard during quarantine. At first you were a bit unsure of your feelings, not being used to the feeling of his longer whiskers against your cheeks, but with time you discovered that the feeling sent shocks through your body. And obviously the minute Harry discovered how hot you found it, he decided he wouldn’t be shaving any time soon.

On a relaxed Wednesday night, you laid in bed, curled up reading a True Crime novel that your mom had sent you to read during quarantine. Harry was in the bathroom taking a bath and doing his nightly skincare routine, which rivaled yours in complexity. Your shared nighttime playlist played through the speaker in the bedroom, your body completely calm in an oversized shirt of Harry’s you were wearing to sleep.

You looked over at the clock. It was nearly eleven, and you wanted Harry to come into bed and cuddle with you. He’d spent nearly forty-five minutes in the bathroom, and while he definitely took his time, this was absurd. “H?” You turned off the playlist and put a bookmark in your book to hold your place. “Almost done?”

You waited for his reply, but got none. Unusual. So you got up, padding over to the closed bathroom door. He loved steaming up the room when he took hot baths, despite your annoyance. You were about to open the door when you heard a low buzz coming from inside the room.

He was fucking shaving.

That bastard.

“Harry, I swear to God if you are shaving--” You swung the door open, and found a fully naked Harry, clad in just a towel around his waist, staring at you in the mirror.

And in one hand, low and behold, was his electric razor. That sneaky, sneaky man. “Hi love,” he had the audacity to quip, keeping his eyes steady with you as he raised the razor back to his face.

Only then did your eyes actually fall to his mouth, to where his beard was. That was when you saw what he had done: he had shaved off most of the beard you had grown to adore, and left just a mustache on his upper lip. “Did you...shave off your beard...and leave just a mustache?”

“Mhm,” he murmured, unable to speak as he swiped the razor down his soapy skin.

You were leaning against the doorjamb, taking in the sight in front of you. Quite frankly, you weren’t quite sure how you felt about it. You had never seen Harry like this and it wasn’t bad, per se, just not at all what you were expecting. At first, it honestly reminded you of a 70s porno mustache, but the more you studied him the more you softened to the idea.

And began considering how it would feel against you.

You shifted, and closed the distance between yourself and your boyfriend, your hands moving around to his chest so you could tweak his nipples slightly. He stiffened in your hold at the feeling and you grinned cheekily, knowing how quickly it got him going. “Almost done?”

Harry nodded ever so slightly, and you leaned your chin on his shoulder, watching him finish up in the mirror. With a few more swipes of the razor, he flicked it off and set it on the counter. His face was all soapy and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it all off. So you did, grabbing a washcloth, wetting it, and motioning for him to turn.

He followed your directions immediately because let’s face it, he was wrapped around your finger. You brushed the cloth to his skin, the soap disintegrating under your touch and leaving his clean skin behind. “I kind of like it,” you said, and the corner of Harry’s lips turned up at that.

“Yeah? Was scared you’d hate it.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

He shrugged. “Always wanted to and I never have it this long. Thought if you hated it that much I could always just shave it all off and start over.”

You hummed at the prospect before wiping off the last bit of soap. You studied his new mustache and decided that it definitely had some interesting plus-sides. “I want to try one thing before I’m completely decided.”

Harry’s hands rested on your waist as you set down the cloth, rucking up his shirt on your body so that he could feel your bare skin. “And what’s that?”

You ran your forefinger down Harry’s chest, watching his skin prickle at your touch. “I’d like to feel it between my legs,” you murmured. “Against my pussy,” you added, words barely a whisper between you two.

The reaction from Harry’s body was immediate. His grip tightened on your hips, knuckles turning nearly white, a heavy groan falling from his lips. “Think I can do that,” he mumbled, words tripping over each other. He licked a tongue across his bottom lip and you watched in rapture, desire pooling in your center.

Harry pushed at his towel and in an instant was pulling your legs up and around his waist, carrying you to the bed. Your lips found his, desperate to know what the new mustache felt like against your face. It was a bit rough, since he hadn’t had time to moisturize, but you didn’t mind it. Liked knowing he’d leave a bit of irritation behind, something to remember him by in between kisses.

When he dropped you to the bed, you scooted back immediately and Harry followed you like a cat on the prowl. However, when he reached you, he flopped to the side, back hitting the duvet. His hands grabbed at your skin and then he said, “Come sit on my face, darlin’.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. Your legs swung over his chest, his hands fastening to your thighs, and helping you inch up his body until your center sat directly over his lips, just an inch or so between your lips and his. “Haven’t done this in a while,” you reminded him. You’d missed it too.

“Because I cum everytime I do and then I can’t be inside your sweet, sweet, pussy,” he replied, ending each sweet with an open mouthed kiss to your inner thigh.

You were squirming in his grasp, knees pressing against his temples in desperation for him to move. And when he did, you spat out a curse mixed with his name. “Fuck, Harry, fuck.”

He pulled you flush against him as he licked against your center, and that was when you finally felt his mustache against your skin. It brushed against your clit and you keened, head tipping back as he moved his tongue over you. Your hands were in his wet curls, holding his head to your center and without even thinking about it, you were moving your hips against his lips, unable to stop yourself.

You were chasing his mustache, the way it nudged at your skin and set it on fire. That combined with his tongue darting inside of you and curling had you a blubbering mess above him. “Harry, please, please, please...” You could do nothing but pant, mumble nonsense as he made pleasure roll through you like a storm.

Overwhelmed by his touch, your fingers pulled on his hair and he moaned--the combination of the vibrations against your skin and the roughness of his mustache left your spine arching. His hands left your thighs and move upwards, pushing up the shirt of his you wore in search of your breasts. You helped him, tugging at the fabric until it was on the ground, and Harry found what he was searching for, rolling and tweaking your nipples and leaving you moaning in response.

His mustache was going to be the death of you, you thought as he tilted his chin ever so slightly and it rubbed against your clit. It was almost simulating the brush of fingers, delicate, coming and going with no rhythm. It continued to surprise you and you were panting his name, telling him to Please don’t stop--fuck--don’t stop--yes--H--please.

You could feel the tension tightening in your belly, the way your legs started to shake on either side of his head. Your wetness was pooling, you knew, all over him. You didn’t know if you had been this wet in a while, the combination of his saliva on your skin and your own juices making a mess on him.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” You felt the vibrations of his words and heard them, despite the fact that your hips were flush to his face.

And fuck yes, you were going to cum. It was hurtling towards you like a freight train and each time his head tilted and his ‘stache brushed another fraction of your skin it was like a shock of lightening. Harry had always been good using his tongue, skilled beyond belief, so the feeling of his tongue licking in and out of you, lapping at you without abandon, combined with his mustache was a recipe for an orgasm like no other.

“Yes,” you moaned out for him, pulling hard on his hair when he sucked at your clit.

“Want it,” he said, words muffled but not intelligible, “give it to me, yeah? Want it all over my face. All over me, baby.”

That was all you needed. Your whole body shook in his grasp, back arching and falling, spine curving as you supported yourself ever so slightly on your knees. But mostly, your entire weight was balanced on Harry. He was holding you steady on his face and in his hands, and you were perfectly happy to never move. The crest of your orgasm had you coming harder than you had in the past few days, the feeling leaving you unable to even think.

And then he turned his head from side to side, just slightly, and your sensitivity mixed with his whiskers directly moving across your clit had you buckling, body convulsing above him.

You heaved a breath and slipped your hands from his hair to the bed. Pushing your weight into your hands, you were able to clamor off of him, moving down so your center sat on his hips, not his face. And what you encountered there was just as you expected.

“You came too,” you said in an exhale.

“Course I did.” And then your eyes lifted from the ropes of cum on his stomach to his face. His lips were glistening, set in a wide, fucked out smile as he looked at you. But your gaze was caught specifically on the slick in his mustache, and you realized he had your cum in his ‘stache.

“You’ve got my cum in your mustache.”

What he did next had you breathless. His tongue darted out and ran across his mustache, collecting your juices and then slipping his tongue back into his mouth. You watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Tastes delicious.”

You pressed your lips to his and you collected the rest of your cum when you licked your tongue into his mouth, his hands gripping your hips as you kissed him. You could taste yourself on his tongue, smell yourself as you kissed him, remnants of your juices still on his mustache. And you fucking loved it.

“So,” he said when you pulled away, hovering above him, eyes on his. “What do you say? Like the ‘stache?”

“Hate you,” you mumbled and Harry let out a laugh before caging you in his arms and holding you close, just as you had wanted all night.

literally send me straight to fucking hell

#concept night #this is straight smut and i love it all #anon #answered

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harryhandstan · 4 years

Text

onding

onding (n.)-a heavy fall of rain or snow (in this case snow!)

this was inspired by this request and I thought it would be perfect to include in the A Very Merry Styles Fic Challenge! I cannot take full credit for this one as @tbslenthusiast helped guide me as my wonderful creative director, @taintedwonder was my amazing editor, and @bfharry was my lovely beta reader! honestly owe the title to miss tanya @sunflowers-styles cause she was a huge help with that! I appreciate you all so much ❤

hope you all enjoy!!

word count: 1.6k

writing tag | masterlist

Snow falls rapidly from the sky as you and Harry drive to your destination, neither of you noticing just how fast at first. You were both too excited at the idea of getting away from your busy schedules to celebrate the holidays with Harry’s family for the week.

His hand rests on your leg as he drives, fingers tapping along to the Christmas music playing from the radio. Occasionally offering a gentle squeeze to your thigh and a sweet smile; relaxation already flowing through his body and wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

The snowflakes seem to get larger and fall faster as you get closer to your destination and, as much as you don’t want to burst through his bubble of contentment, you begin to worry about the quick escalation of them. Your mind starts running through all the many possibilities that could go wrong at the idea of the weather worsening the further you travel.

“Harry..are you sure we shouldn’t stop for the night? It’s getting a bit late and those snowflakes aren’t getting any smaller..”

He ducks his head down slightly to look out the windshield and a deep sigh falls from his lips as he returns to his upright position. You don’t miss the way his fingers grip the steering wheel a bit tighter when he says, “Hate to admit it but, maybe you’re right.”

He still hums along to the songs filling the space, but there’s a significant drop in his mood as he takes the next exit with the most promising hotel options. Your hand trails upwards to work over the knot you can already feel forming on the back of his neck from the stress of the situation as he decides which place would be better suited for the two of you to stay in.

You know his source of frustration only lies with the fact that you’re supposed to be at Anne’s house for Christmas dinner the following evening. You can only hope that the weather permits you to be able to still make an appearance on her doorstep at the time she requested you be there. You know she would be just as happy to see her baby boy a day later than he promised, but it would hurt Harry’s heart deeply not to live up to his word.

The clerk flashes Harry a knowing look when he hands over his card and tells him he only needs one bed for one night. It has Harry’s own smirk returning to his face and a blush spreading across yours at the implication. You suppress a giggle as the rest of the transaction is processed, but it bubbles up out of you the second you’re in the elevator on the way to the 4th floor where your room waits for you. Your laughter rings through the tiny space and only stops when you let your head fall against his chest. He loops the arm that isn’t supporting his duffel bag around your body to pull you even closer, smacking a kiss to the top of your head.

“Someone’s sleepy,” He mumbles into your hair, “Y’only get this deliriously happy when you’re tired.”

You pull your face away from his chest to look up at him, “Or when I’m spending the weekend snowed in with my rockstar boyfriend.”

“Y’really think we’ll get snowed in?”

You shrug, “Maybe. Would it be so bad to be stuck here together for a few days?”

He scrunches his nose at you, “Nah..we’d miss dinner and presents at Mum’s though.”

“Anne’ll forgive us.”

He nods in agreement, “Yeah, know she would. Can’t control the weather, can we?”

You try to restrain the yawn that creeps up but you fail miserably and cover your mouth as it stretches across your face. It had been a long day; an early morning flight and the new international time zone making your eyes drop closed just until the ding indicates you’ve reached your intended floor.

You keep yourself pressed close to Harry’s side as you make your way down the hallway to your room. He fiddles with the key for only a moment before you almost tumble through the open door and his hand catches your waist quickly to steady you. Luckily the bed is close by and you plop down across the bottom of it, your own duffel tossed aside on the floor, arms extended wide across the cream colored duvet.

He tugs on your wrist and you quietly whine before you peek one eye open to look up at him. Before he can say anything, your stomach growls, outraged at the idea of not being fed since the quick lunch you’d been able to grab much earlier in the day.

“M’hungry, Harry, think we could find some dinner before we crash for a few hours?”

“Doubt anything’s open this time’a night. Let’s do a shower first and then we’ll raid the vending machine, yeah?”

You’re both too tired to do anything much more than actually get clean under the spray of the hot water. It feels like a blessing on your skin and you let it rinse away any worry you might still have about the weather outside. His long fingers work over your scalp to ensure all the suds from your shampoo have disappeared and your eyes droop closed without your consent. You have to splay one hand firmly on his chest to keep from falling into him and knocking you both down in your exhausted state.

He steps out first, careful to keep his eyes on you as he works a towel over his body to dry off, grabbing another one off the small shelf mounted on the wall to wrap you in before he lifts you lightly up and over the edge of the tub.

“Arms up.” He’s already dressed himself quickly in a loose pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt and you silently curse yourself for being too tired to enjoy the view. He gently assists you in completing your own nighttime ensemble by slipping your oversized night shirt over your head and guiding your arms through. You sink into the soft piece of clothing as your fingers dance across the hem of the shirt.

“Hey. Y’forgot something,” He chuckles when you look down at your outfit, confused by what he means. “Up here, love. Kiss?” He requests and bends down so you don’t have far to reach up and indulge his offer. It’s a quick peck, mainly to the side of his mouth, but he doesn’t complain; fingers gently guiding your chin to center his lips over yours, a satisfied hum vibrating through his chest just before he pulls away.

You’re more alert now as you make your way to the small vending area that the two of you had passed earlier on your way to the room. He digs some change from his pocket with the hand that isn’t laced with yours, transferring some of it over to your free hand, before jingling his portion around while he surveys the options in the machine. You’re already loading your coins in, poking the numbers on the keypad, and you eagerly await your snack as it makes its way out of the coils to drop down into the slot.

“Knew you’d go for those.” There’s a lazy smile working its way over one side of his mouth as he watches you bend to retrieve the bag of pretzels.

“They’re my favorites,” You mumble and you tear the bag open, unable to wait until you get back to the room. You rest your head on his shoulder while you wait for him to decide on his own snack, “What’re you gonna get?”

“Well seein’ as you snagged the last bag of those, ya g’nna hafta share.”

“Gladly.” You pluck one from the now partly empty bag and bring it to his lips. He bends to accept it, crunching as he finally adds his coins in the machine.

“I’ll get somethin’ sweet for us to split, how’s that sound?”

You hum in agreement, exhaustion working its way through your body again, your brain too tired to form words at the moment. The coils around his selection unwind, dropping it with a clatter, and you move with him when he bends to collect it.

You’re again thankful for the short distance back to the room and a whispered “oof” falls from his lips when you trip over nothing but your socked feet. His hand loosely clutches a handful of the fabric of your shirt to help steady you until you’re falling back on the bed and scooting up to the top. You tuck yourself under the heavy layers of the sheets and duvet and don’t bother waiting for him as you burrow as deep as you can to get warm.

You don’t make it to dessert, passing off the now half eaten bag of pretzels to him, preferring the comfort of the pillow against your cheek over the bite of chocolate he offers you.

“Reckon y’were right about us stopping when we did,” He mutters as he stares down at his phone, the weather app casting a glow onto his face in the now dimly lit room, “Pretty big snow storm blowin’ through. We might be here a lil’ longer than one night.”

“Hmm.”

He knows you’re mostly gone, sleep overtaking any conscious response you may have been able to provide, and he shakes his head at the sleepy smile on your face. Just as your soft snores fill the space between you, his heart swells at the sight of you resting peacefully; knowing there’s no one else he’d rather be snowed in with than his sweet, sleepy girl.

#averymerrystyleschallenge #harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing #sorry it’s so short!#hopefully will have a couple of other things done for y’all later

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magniloquent-raven · 4 years

Text

See What This is Worth

Harringrove Week of Love: Day 4

Teacher AU || School Dance

Rated: T

Read on Ao3

Billy is not, by nature, the kind of person who likes to be overly helpful. He doesn’t go out of his way for people he doesn’t know. He’s not especially charitable.

And yet here he is, taking time out of his Friday night, setting up tables and supervising idiots with no upper body strength who think they can move a whole stack of chairs on their own. He has better things to do than hang out at work and chaperone a bunch of middle-schoolers trying to score their first kiss to some truly grating top 40 shit.

He didn’t even like school dances when he was a student. As a middle-schooler he was too fucking terrified that some girl might ask him to dance, so he just never went. And in high school...well. He ended up more the type to get high in the parking lot and ditch with whatever chick was too drunk to notice he didn’t put out.

There was never a boy he liked well enough to do this shit with. Get dressed up and pretend not to want to dance and get flustered when he so much as touches a hand. No one in school was worth suffering through this shit for.

Until now, unfortunately.

He’s a grown-ass man and somehow feels like a dumb, lovestruck teen and it’s all Steve Harrington’s fault.

Him and his fucking face, and his ass, and his looking unfairly good in a suit.

He looks good in his stupid dorky khakis and paint-splattered apron too, but holy shit Billy never really got the phrase cleans up nice until he saw Steve in formal wear. His hair all combed neatly for once, wearing a blazer and slacks that have clearly been tailored.

Billy is seriously considering sending a thank you note to whatever tailor Steve visits, because they are very good at their job.

Good enough that Billy’s spending half his goddamn time staring at Steve’s ass instead of setting up. He’s bossing some volunteers around, gesturing animatedly about crepe paper and streamers and it’s so distractingly endearing that Billy kind of forgets he’s supposed to be doing anything other than watch Steve work.

And he gets caught. Steve turns, spots Billy staring. Scowls. Which is kind of his default expression when looking at Billy.

As much as Billy secretly wants to have Steve look at him like he can actually stand spending more than five minutes in the same room, the irritated frown kind of suits Steve. It’s cute. And when he gets pissed it’s hot. His eyes get all intense, mouth set in a firm line and Billy may or may not have had a fantasy or two about Steve making that exact face right before absolutely destroying his ass, so...Steve might not like him, but Billy’s dealing.

By being annoying, but still.

He wiggles his fingers in a sarcastic little wave, leaning a little more pointedly. He’s been lounging against the wall for way too long, his shoulder is going numb, but he’s not about to scramble to look like he’s doing something just because Steve spotted him.

Steve’s shoulders heave as he sighs, eyes rolling skyward. He hands his clipboard to the nearest volunteer, whispering something before turning on his heel and marching over.

Billy’s inspecting his nails when Steve reaches him. Stops a few paces away and folds his arms.

“Something I can do for you, Harrington?” He knows the bored tone gets to Steve, so he plays it up.

“Yeah. You were supposed to be helping Nancy put chairs out. You know, the thing you signed up for?” There’s still an edge to that statement, has been since Billy walked into the first committee meeting with a big, shit-eating grin and Steve glared at him looking like he was about to pop a blood vessel. He always says it all accusatory, like he’s not sure Billy even did sign up, and he’s just hanging around to be a nuisance.

Which, he is, but he’s doing it officially.

Has his little chaperone badge and everything. It’s pinned to his jacket, which he isn’t actually wearing, but he has it.

“Got tired,” Billy says with a dramatic weariness, head lolling to the side, rolling back against the wall. He looks up at Steve through his eyelashes. “I’m allowed to take a break aren’t I?”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hargrove, you’re telling me moving flimsy plastic chairs tired you out? You’re built like a brick wall.” He puts his hands on his hips and gets the same look he gets when his students start throwing clay around.

“Are you objectifying me?” Billy puts a hand on his chest with mock-offence, the corners of his mouth turning upward with genuine delight. His grin brightens when Steve’s cheeks flush, gaze darting away, the annoyance flagging a little, replaced with something else for just a moment.

“I’m stating a fact. In a completely...imparted way.”

��Think you mean ‘impartial’.”

The flush darkens, a splotchy red instead of the petal pink he was a moment ago, and his mouth twists. “Whatever,” he mutters. “You’ve been standing here for like ten minutes, man, get back to work.”

He stalks off in a huff, leaving Billy wondering how the hell Steve knew how long he’d been slacking off for.

Then again, he is in charge, so. He’s probably keeping tabs on everyone. At least that’s what Billy has to tell himself so the butterflies in his stomach don’t get any ideas.

He wanders off, back to where he was supposed to be, but Wheeler doesn’t actually need his help. She got most of the chairs in place while he was checking out her ex. He gets an impatient brush-off when he half-heartedly asks her if there’s any more work to do.

She never did like him much.

Not that he’s bothered, he doesn’t care for her either. She’s too snooty. Up her own ass. Self-righteous. ...and Steve’s ex.

Rumour has it Steve’s finally over her, but Billy will believe it when he sees it, the man hasn’t been on a date since Wheeler tore his heart to shreds three years ago.

Heather gossips, okay. She’s nosy, and her family knows Wheeler’s family, who know Steve, and word gets around. These upper class assholes never have anything better to do than talk behind each other’s backs. Especially when the only son of a wealthy family is, at 28, single and teaching snot-nosed brats how to fingerpaint.

And Billy has a vested interest, sue him. He asks some pointed questions here and there.

God, he’s never gotten this fucking desperate over a guy before. Pining away. Putting up with Nancy Wheeler bossing him around at meetings because he doesn’t want to piss her off too much just in case that’s the final straw for Steve. The thing that tips their rapport from not-friendly to outright hostile.

Because for some reason the guy still gives a shit about the ex who cheated on him. Fucking martyr.

Billy’s not sure if he’s jealous that she gets forgiven and he gets angry glares for no goddamn reason, or if he’s just flabbergasted that anyone would be that self-sacrificing. Both, maybe. It’s a little impressive, honestly. How far out of his way Steve will go to forgive people.

Except Billy.

Who still doesn’t know what he did wrong in the first place.

Not that it bothers him. No, not at all. He’s just constantly thinking about it, and trying to hold on to every detail of the early days of their interactions so he can analyze those moments for clues, and sometimes lying awake at night wondering if he’s just fundamentally unlovable and he’s never gonna figure out what he did wrong because he just is wrong.

He’s fine. It’s fine.

Thank god Steve is occupied for the rest of set-up. Always finding someone who isn’t Billy to boss around when he isn’t physically doing something himself. Gives Billy some room to breathe. And watch, like a weirdo.

He gets a couple weird looks from other volunteers but that’s nothing new. Wheeler glaring at him. Heather smirking. That one parent chaperone who’s here early and was making eyes at him at first, but it’s devolved into side-eye.

He thought maybe the dance actually starting would be a distraction, but it’s just loud. He’s still constantly stealing glances at Steve. While he’s making small talk. While he’s repinning some streamers that got knocked loose. He looks gorgeous, even under the harsh fluorescent lighting of a school gym, and Billy really wishes he had a flask on him right now.

Yelling at some rowdy kids doesn’t help either. Just earns him a dirty look from that one overprotective chaperone mom. No one asked you, lady, the kid was bouncing around like an over-caffeinated gerbil, someone was gonna get hurt. It’s Billy’s job to break that shit up.

He needs a smoke. This is unbearable.

Slipping out of the gym unnoticed is easier than he thought it would be. No one seems to give a shit that he’s sidling out, which is a little insulting, honestly. But useful.

The hallways are quiet. Empty. It’s always a little creepy being here at night. The squeak of his boots on the linoleum, the artificial white light keeping the nighttime gloom out, it always feels a little dream-like. Nightmarish maybe. Liminal.

He props the door open on his way out, with a chair he lifted from a nearby classroom. The last thing he needs is to get locked out. Embarrassing. He’d probably just leave, but then he’d get chewed out for ditching.

He sighs, turning his face skyward for a moment to breathe before he lights up.

The cool air is a relief after being cooped up with so many rambunctious pre-teens. Billy’s still not a fan of Indiana weather, and he probably never will be, but anything is better than being in there another goddamn second.

This was a terrible idea. It was barely an idea. An impulse decision that got his ass stuck babysitting on a Friday night just so he could spend more time staring at Steve.

Pathetic.

Maybe he should just ditch right now.

He’s weighing the pros and cons when a familiar voice cuts into his contemplation.

“Hargrove, where the hell did you—” Steve’s face appears when he pokes his head out the cracked-open door. His pinchy annoyed face. He wrinkles his nose when he spots Billy, and the cigarette in his hand. “Seriously?”

Billy shrugs. Puts the cigarette between his lips and takes a pointed drag, cheeks hollowing.

Steve, who was trying to sidle out past the chair, trips. The chair clatters to the ground, Steve stumbling in the opposite direction, arms out and flailing.

The door slams shut behind him.

Billy gapes, incredulous gaze flicking between Steve, frozen in place, and the closed door. “Seriously?”

“...Shit. I—” Steve grimaces. Runs a hand through his hair, tousling his neatly combed locks. “You have your key, right?”

The glare Billy levels at him is positively icy. “Yeah, no, of course I do, the chair was there for fun. I wasn’t worried about being locked out at all.”

“Okay, okay, Jesus. You don’t have to be such a dick about it.”

“Don’t I?” It comes out far more bitterly than intended. Steve stares at him.

“No? What kind of—” he huffs, loud, frustrated, “What the fuck is your deal, Hargrove?”

Well. That’s a layered question. One he isn’t going to answer even a little bit. He scoffs instead, turning away and taking another angry pull off his cigarette. It warms him but does nothing for the pit in his stomach.

They stand there in silence for a beat. The muffled noise from inside is muted, distant.

“Fine, whatever,” Steve mutters. “I just don’t get why you hate me so much.”

And he sounds hurt. He sounds sad, and it throws Billy for a loop. Knocks him down a little. But then his chest gets tight, his heart flip-flopping around in the clutches of something caustic and resentful.

He flicks ash in Steve’s direction with an emphatic gesture, a petty vindictiveness. “You’re kidding, right?” he snaps. Steve’s jaw drops, just for a second, surprise passing over his face, before his expression hardens, his mouth snaps shut, jaw clenching.

“Alright, fine, I get it, what’s not to hate.” He clutches his elbows, not quite folding his arms. It looks more like he’s hugging himself. “Good talk.”

Billy squints at him. The tense line of his shoulders, the way he can’t quite meet Billy’s eye. He’s struck with the absurd urge to pull Steve into his arms. The impulse just pisses him off more. “You know what, princess, you get what you give, alright? You can’t treat someone like shit from the jump and then get mad when they don’t want to be your best fucking friend. Fuck you.”

“What? I never—”

“Oh, you never? You never asked Heather why she ‘puts up with such an asshole’?” He tosses his hands in the air, air quoting around the phrase, and takes a step towards Steve. “The day after we met? And you never talked over me at my first staff meeting, right? You would never.” Another step. He doesn’t think about it, doesn’t do it on purpose, but he ends up standing inches from Steve. The cold air mists their breath, and it mingles in one seething cloud between them. “You’ve been treating me like the dirt under your shoe since I got here, Harrington, don’t you dare act like you haven’t.”

Steve sets his jaw, a stubborn tilt to his chin. “You were an asshole. I still don’t get why she puts up with you!”

Billy grinds his teeth. He’s asked Heather that himself. With varying degrees of seriousness. It stings hearing it from someone else.

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be people pleasers,” he spits, hands clenching into fists at his side. To channel his anger, more than anything else. He isn’t seventeen anymore, he can’t just start throwing punches at a co-worker.

His nails bite into the skin of his palm, sweat stinging the shallow scrapes, and his hands tremble, itch.

“I’m not—you know what, I’m not doing this with you.” He steps back. Just like that. Like it’s that easy to walk away. Like none of this matters to him, and he’s just...venting frustrations that have nothing to do with Billy. Because Billy doesn’t matter to him. This is about getting locked out of his own stupid party. Or Wheeler saying something bitchy maybe. Or any number of things going on in his life that Billy doesn’t know about because he’s not a part of it.

And the tumbling, tangling web of twisting thoughts wrap around each other ‘til none of them make sense, ‘til he doesn’t know what he’s upset about he’s just gutted, just standing there in the cold staring at Steve, his eyes stinging and his toes going numb because he didn’t wear his good socks today.

He shouldn’t give a shit about this either, but he does.

Story of his fucking life, apparently.

Steve’s gaze wanders, looking for what, Billy doesn’t know, but his profile lit up by a dirty streetlamp has got to be the most beautiful fucking thing Billy’s ever seen. He wants to kiss Steve so badly it hurts.

And he hates that he still does, even when he’s angry. Even bitter and hurting he still wants.

He flicks his cigarette butt away and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“The fuck are you looking for, Harrington,” he asks flatly, as Steve cranes his neck peering around the building.

Steve shoots him a glare. “Trying to remember if any of the doors got left unlocked.” He shivers violently, and sticks his hands in his armpits. “It’s freezing out here, in case you didn’t notice, and I’m not really into the idea of frostbite, so.”

“What, Mr.Born-and-raised-in-Indiana can’t handle a little snow?” Billy sneers. It’s petty, he knows. It’s not fair. Because Steve is out here in a dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, dressed to be in a sweaty, crowded gymnasium. Billy at least grabbed his jacket before he came out here, knowing he was going to be a while, and he’s still clenching his jaw against the urge to let his teeth chatter.

The look that earns him is withering, though it’s undercut slightly by the awkward way Steve shuffles his arms around, trying to unroll his sleeves without exposing his fingers to the cold.

Billy rolls his eyes. “Forget it, pretty boy, Wheeler made her boytoy check all the doors before the dance started. Either wait ‘til someone notices you’re gone or break a window.”

“Great,” Steve mutters, and shudders again.

“Why do you still talk to her, anyways?” He tries for casual and misses by a mile. Steve’s eyebrows shoot upwards and Billy tries again. “Just making conversation. We could be out here a while.”

“And that was what you—whatever. She and I are friends. Why wouldn’t I talk to her.”

“C’mon,” Billy scoffs, “Plenty of reasons. You still hung up on her or something? Hangin’ around hoping for another shot?”

“Definitely not.”

It shouldn’t make Billy’s heart leap but it does. Just because he’s not still sniffing around after Wheeler’s granny panties anymore doesn’t mean he has any interest in Billy. “Really now.”

“Yes, really, Jesus Christ. Why do you care.”

“I don’t.” Billy lies, and looks away, affecting disinterest. He sniffs. “It’s just weird, is all. I sure as shit wouldn’t hang around someone after they cheated on me.”

Steve is staring. Billy can feel his gaze boring into the side of his head. He glances out of the corner of his eye, watches Steve furrow his brow and frown. “It wasn’t—It was more complicated than that. I wasn’t...good. We weren’t good together.” He stops himself, biting his lip, and shakes his head.

“Hm.” Billy chews his thumbnail. It almost feels like they’re getting somewhere, but it’s so fragile Billy’s afraid to open his mouth and ruin it. The silence stretches, filled only by Steve’s rustling shivers, and Billy’s own unsteady heartbeat. “My car keys are in my jacket pocket,” he ventures, after long enough that the silence has gotten awkward.

“What! How long were you going to keep that to yourse—”

“Do you want to take advantage of my heater, or not.”

“Jesus Christ, yes.”

“Alright.”

They don’t talk on the walk over. Snow crunches beneath Billy’s boots, and Steve slips a few times on patches of icy pavement.

And Billy feels somehow nervous. Like he’s invited Steve to his goddamn bedroom or something.

Or maybe he’s just worried this tentative peace will end with their conversation going where it always does, blowing up in his goddamn face. But they’ve never actually spent that much time alone, he has no idea how this is going to work.

Best case scenario it ends with Steve half-dressed in the backseat of his car, but he’s not stupid enough to hope for that.

Fantasize about it, sure, but…

Steve actually being in his car is a surreal experience. Filling the small cab with his clean laundry scent, sweet and subtle, faint enough to be a tease, and he has to restrain himself from taking big embarrassing sniffs to satisfy his sudden craving for more.

He wonders if the smell will linger. How long Steve will be a phantom presence in his space.

Waste of time to think about it now, while he’s actually here.

Billy distracts himself by keeping his hands busy. Fumbling with the keys in his stiff fingers. Poking the overhead button to flip on the interior light. Flicking the dials on his console. The heater’s fan drones almost as loudly as the engine. Somehow the white noise makes the silence less stressful.

Steve rubs his hands together in front of the nearest vent, hissing through his teeth. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t feel my goddamn fingers,” he mutters, the hair on his forehead flopping as he moves.

“You weren’t out there that long,” Billy chuckles. Steve’s clumsy flailing is stupid endearing, Billy is shamelessly turned in his seat to watch him, the doorhandle digging into his spine, his knee pulled up and leaning on the seat’s backrest.

“Oh come on, you grew up in California, how are you fine right now?” Steve groans, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. His gaze darts up and down Billy’s form before flicking away again.

It’s common knowledge where Billy is from. He doesn’t exactly hide it. There’s a goddamn Malibu postcard tacked up in his office, pictures of his old surfboard. But it still makes Billy a little giddy that Steve pays enough attention to know that.

“I run hot,” Billy says casually, and grins, tongue between his teeth. Truth be told, he wasn’t fine, he was fucking freezing, he’s just good at hiding physical discomfort.

Steve’s cheeks flush a little pinker, and his gaze gets suspiciously focused on the vent in front of him.

“So…” Steve licks his lips, pausing, “Uh. What was it like? California.”

Billy blinks at him. “Warmer than this shithole, for starters.”

He feels off balance suddenly. First-date-jittery. Which is ridiculous because he’s never gotten first date jitters. And this isn’t a date. Not even close. But still, when Steve laughs quietly it gets the butterflies in Billy’s stomach far too excited. Like he’s ten and discovering the wonders of holding a boy’s hand all over again.

“I uh. Can’t go back there.” Billy chews the inside of his cheek, watching Steve closely.

“Why, you a wanted criminal or something?”

Billy snorts. “Glad to know you think so highly of me. No, I meant...lotta shit happened there that I’d rather not remember.”

There were good things too. More good memories in California than after they moved, but that doesn’t stop the awful shit from tainting the whole goddamn state for him. Just makes it harder that it does.

Hard to want to go back to a place where you almost died, no matter how many times your mom took you to the beach there.

Steve meets his gaze, his eyes soft, and it punches the breath from Billy’s lungs for a second. “Yeah, I get that.” He hums, and tucks his hands between his thighs. The position makes him look oddly demure. “I, uh. Have some experience with avoiding bad memories, y’know. Doesn’t end well. Repressing that kinda shit.”

“Pff,” Billy leans his head back against the window. The cold seeps through his curls. “You sound like Kali.”

“...Who?”

“Biker boots. Side shave. ‘Bout yea tall.” Billy waves his hand around his shoulder. “You met her once. I brought her to that stupid Christmas party couple years back.”

“Oh.” Steve looks down at his lap. “Your girlfriend.”

Billy chokes on his own spit. “What?”

“...Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, no, uh. No. Not even a little bit, man,” Billy laughs a little hysterically.

“She was your date to that party though, right? Did it not work out, or…?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, and rubs the back of his neck. Steve’s staring, all wide-eyed and confused and fucking adorable. He weighs his options. Wonders how much he should divulge. The easiest way would be to just say no, and move on. The safest way. They’re stuck out here alone and he doesn’t know how well Steve would react to finding out he’s stuck alone with a queer.

It’s something Billy tends not to take risks on. If guys can’t figure him out on their own, he isn’t going to tell them. But in this case...he’s just annoyed that Steve hasn’t noticed yet.

And besides, Steve spends half his time hanging around Robin Buckley—who Billy has his suspicions about—so it’s not like there’s no chance Steve would be okay with Billy being gay…

He takes a breath. Exhales slow and stares at the roof of the car. There’s a burn mark next to the rearview mirror where he might’ve stubbed out a cigarette. He’s had this damn car so long he doesn’t remember doing it.

“She’s a friend, Steve. And I borrowed her from her girlfriend that night,” he says, testing the waters. Steve blinks a little, lips parting, but doesn’t react any more than that. Doesn’t seem angry, or judgemental, or disgusted. “I’m not really ready to be out at work. So.”

“Wait, Robin was right?” Steve blurts, sitting a little straighter, eyebrows shooting up.

“Of course she noticed,” Billy mutters, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket. He doesn’t ask why Buckley was talking to Steve about him in the first place, let alone about his sexual preferences. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“I mean, she kept going on about lesbian psychic sense, and I told her if anyone’s got a lesbian psychic sense, it’s El, not her, but—” he cuts himself off, flushing. “I, uh. Oh. Huh. Guess I shoulda listened to her when she told me my gaydar was busted.”

Well. That’s...something. Not the reaction he was expecting. Not that he did know what to expect, but still. “Yeah, you usually need to be queer to spot one,” he shrugs. Like he hasn’t been hoping Steve would pick up on his not-so-subtle hints this whole time, while dreading the possibility with equal fervour.

But Steve freezes then. Shoulders going stiff, his hands stilling. And Billy’s heart leaps.

“I...” Steve fidgets, his palms rubbing together as he shifts his thighs. “Um. Am. I am. I’m bi.”

“Huh...” Billy licks his lips. “Well, shit, Harrington.”

He wonders how well he pulled off cool and unbothered. It’s usually something he’s alright at, but he’s not usually reacting to the goddamn man of his dreams telling him he’s into guys. His whole chest feels like it’s gonna explode.

“Mhm…” Steve hums, staring at his own hands, his face frustratingly neutral.

“So.” Suddenly their childish rivalry annoys Billy. When Steve was just a straight boy he was pining after it felt good to punish him for being unattainable. Be up in his space without being too obvious about why. Get him all flushed and bothered in the only way he could. But now… “Why did it take us this long to get here?” Billy asks quietly. He knows his side of the story. Knows his own stubborn asshole nature played its part. But Steve…

His anger from earlier resurfaces. Steve treating him like he wasn’t worth his time, running on a loop in his head.

He draws his knee up, hugging it to his chest, but keeps the bitterness out of his expression. It’s too likely to end up looking like sadness on his face right now.

Steve shrugs. “Haven’t we already been through this?” He turns to stare out the window. Billy glares at the back of his head.

“No, Steve, we haven’t. You called me an asshole and then said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“What else is there to say?”

“How ‘bout an explanation? What exactly did I do to you, pretty boy? And don’t give me that, you were a dick, bullshit, because you hated me from the jump. Way before I did anything to deserve it.”

And he did, eventually, deserve it. He knows that. Doesn’t make the immediate brush-off feel any better.

Steve’s back is stiff, and he’s crossed his arms. And he still won’t look at Billy.

Feels like they’re right back where they started, and Billy wants to crawl out of his own skin. He grits his teeth, and hisses, “Listen, I know you come from a family of fuckin’ bigshot lawyers or what-the-fuck-ever, but it doesn’t give you the right to treat people like dirt if they don’t—”

That, at least, gets Steve’s attention. He whips his head around, stares at Billy with his mouth open. “Is that what you think—Billy I haven’t had a real conversation with my parents in nearly ten years, I don’t give a shit about all that.”

“Then what—”

“You make me feel dumb! Alright? Happy?”

Billy blinks at him. “What?”

Steve groans, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You—you show up here all, all hot and—” he waves a hand, gesturing up and down Billy’s body, “like that, and it was annoying enough that you knew that, strutting around like you own the place, but then you go and open your mouth and—” Steve buries his face in his hands, sighing, rubbing his eyes. “The first time I heard you talk you were explaining some shit about—about—nemo devices or something—”

“Mnemonic.”

“That! That right there, that thing you always do. I get it. Okay? You’re smarter than me. I’m just a dumb art teacher who gets headaches when he tries to read.” Steve throws himself back against the headrest, all furrowed brow and expressive hands.

And Billy stares. Frozen in place. He is, for once, at a loss for words. His mouth works soundlessly as he searches for something to say. But what falls out of him is, “You think I’m hot?” and he mentally slaps himself.

“Really. That’s your takeaway?”

“No—no, well, I mean. Kind of. Yeah.” He wets his bottom lip. Tongues his cheek.

Steve groans, “Seriously?” He tugs at a stray lock of hair. “No one who wears pants that tight doesn't know they’re attractive, alright, why is this surprising. I have eyes.”

“Because it’s you.” Billy’s brain slams to a halt the second he says it, shock freezing him in place. Apparently his filter is just fucking broken today, Jesus Christ.

“...What. Y’know what, fuck you, I’m not that unobservant—”

Billy snorts a disbelieving laugh, “Are you sure about that.”

“Alright, fine, I didn’t realize you were gay, for like, a really long time, but you didn’t notice that I’m queer too, so there!” Steve looks at him, triumphant, like he’s won the argument—if that’s what this even is. And Billy scoffs, stupid, irrational competitiveness tightening like anger in his chest, and—

“It’s not the same, Harrington,” Billy says flatly, heart pounding.

“And why not?”

“Because you haven’t been after my dick this whole time! You didn’t care if I knew that you’re queer,” he’s almost shouting, frustrated and not even sure what he’s trying to prove, arms thrown wide to punctuate his dumb and nonexistent point, until exactly what he just let slip sinks in. He lowers his hands, clenches them into fists resting on his thighs. Steve hasn’t said a word, he’s just staring, jaw slack.

“Wait...so—”

“Don’t.”

“But—”

“Harrington,” Billy growls.

“Jesus Christ, Billy would you let me—”

“No.”

“I have been though!” Steve yells over him, and it stuns Billy enough that he falls silent. “Dumbass, I have been into you this whole goddamn time, are you kidding me?”

“...What.”

Steve runs restless fingers through his hair, making even more of a mess of it. “Listen, do you have any idea how irritating it was that you’re as hot as you are? I wanted to badly to hate you because you were so fucking annoying, but you were all—” he gestures to Billy, waving his hand around wildly, “like, a fucking...walking wet dream, so.”

“Gee, thanks,” Billy responds, utterly bemused.

“And then I find out you’re a great teacher, and really smart, and kind of funny when you aren’t being a douche, and suddenly I’m head-over-heels for a guy I’m pretty sure hates me, because I have no self-respect apparently, and—” He stops, chest heaving, eyebrows drawn, and curls in on himself, folding his arms.

“I never hated you.”

Steve scoffs, dipping his chin ‘til his face is shadowed by his bangs.

“Listen to me,” Billy scoots forward, wedging his knee over the cupholders between their seats. He hesitates, a hand hovering mid-air while he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. And then touches Steve’s elbow. He jolts, looks up at Billy from under the fall of brown hair hanging over his forehead, his eyes are wide and questioning. Billy presses his fingertips firmer to the warmth of Steve’s skin under his starched dress shirt. “You care about your friends a ridiculous amount, it’s mind-boggling. Honestly. I grew up around people who would’ve barely given a shit if I died, and here you are worrying about everyone in your life, like it’s your fuckin’ job. You’re a good goddamn person, and I wanted…” he pauses, and bites his lip. “I was pissed that I wasn’t one of the people you cared about, alright. Fuckin’ Wheeler gets to be, but I...” He trails off, gestures vaguely.

Steve’s fingers are cold, sneaking up from under his folded arm to touch the back of Billy’s hand. “You were. You are.” He ducks his head again, the ghost of a smile just barely visible before he disappears into shadow again. “I came out here to check on you, didn’t I?”

“I mean…I was supposed to be helping out inside—”

“Billy, there’s, like, eight volunteers in there, they can handle a bunch of middle-schoolers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Steve lets out a quiet breath. “I, uh. I’m sorry. I never thought you gave a damn about my opinion, to be honest. I didn’t—I was just…”

“Insecure?”

Steve grimaces. “Yeah.”

And that’s something Billy’s more familiar with than he’d like to be. He squeezes Steve’s forearm. “You’re not stupid, you know.”

“It’s fine, I know I am. Everybody in my life is some kinda damn genius, so. Someone had to draw the short straw.”

“Shut the fuck up, Steve.” That gets his attention, surprised eye-contact, and Billy tilts his head to maintain it. “I don’t give a shit that your goddamn friends can speak five languages, or understand organic chem, or any of that crap, they aren’t better than you, alright, they’re just nerds.” Steve snorts, and rolls his eyes, but there’s a grin tugging at his lips and it makes Billy smile. “Look, you play guitar, right. And you taught that dweeby little friend of yours the chords to his weird song about physics. Wouldn’t have been able to pull that off without at least a couple brain cells floating around under all that hair.”

“I mean, that was just—”

“That was just something you’re good at. You don’t gotta be able to read Shakespeare to have smarts, you’re just smart about other shit.”

A blush colours Steve’s cheeks. “I—thanks,” he murmurs.

Billy doesn’t get a chance to respond.

In the front seat of his beat-up old Camaro, with snow starting to fall outside, gathering silently on the dimly illuminated windshield, Steve Harrington kisses him for the first time. He’s still holding Billy’s hand. One second he’s glancing down shyly, smiling small and crooked, the next…

His lips are soft. Gentle. He kisses like he’s asking permission, barely touching Billy at all.

Despite the light brush of a kiss, Billy feels it everywhere, lit up with a jolt of electricity right through his chest. He chases Steve when he pulls away, with a hasty press of his mouth, kisses him again.

And again.

His free hand comes up to cup Steve’s cheek, holding that warmth in the palm of his hand, trying to keep him close for as long as possible. Steve makes a quiet noise against his lips, and his heart clenches, his breath catching in his throat.

They part eventually, Billy still basking in the phantom sensation of Steve’s smile pressed to his, leaving him tingling and warm. Their foreheads touch, resting together, the point of contact is grounding, the only thing stopping him from feeling like he could float away at any moment.

“So,” Billy says after a moment, “Fair warning, I’m gonna have to start complimenting you more if that’s how you react to it.”

Steve laughs quietly. His eyes are still closed, so Billy starts counting his eyelashes.

“This some kinda fairy tale, Hargrove? I kiss you and you turn into a polite human being?”

“Hardly. But I’ll see what I can do about the happy ending part.”

“The Disney kind, or the massage parlor kind?”

Billy kisses Steve again, grinning. “Both, if I’m lucky.”

And he was.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #a raven's writing desk #harringroveweekoflove #hello yes im still doing these #i have one for each day of prompts and they're GETTING written im just slow lmao

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