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stardustbarbarians · 2 years

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I'll Just Wipe Off My Neck

Chapter 3 (ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 4)

A Jake Kiszka/Daniel Wagner & Samuel Kiszka/Daniel Wagner Fic

Summary: Nothing can come between brothers. Except when your older brother steals the person he knows you have feelings for.

Tags: pining, unrequited love (maybe), angst

Trigger Warnings: brief mentions of drowning

A/N: Sorry this took me months to update! But, I updated the cover! Title taken from Drop the Guillotine by Peach Pit. Also this chapter is dedicated to @dannythedog as she encouraged me to update this fic. As always, enjoy!

Words: 4.6 k

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After his talk with his siblings, he attempted to talk to Jake. However, it had seemed to become increasingly impossible. With each passing hour, Jake and Danny were becoming closer and closer. One place Jake went, Danny would follow and vice versa. It was one of the most infuriating yet painful things for Sam to watch. The pitying looks he kept receiving from Ronnie and Josh weren’t helping at all.

On top of it being practically a hopeless venture, the activities that occurred that day proved to be Sam’s bane. Right after breakfast, Sam’s mom sent her children to the grocery store to get fresh produce for that night’s dinner and Danny tagged along with them. Sam liked to think that it wasn’t intentional, but almost immediately Jake and Daniel split off by themselves to try and find the tomatoes and whatever else they needed while the other three were left to search for the other items.

Sam could hear Danny’s boisterous laugh from aisles over, cackling at whatever Jake was doing. Each time it happened, Sammy just looked over at where the sound came from forlornly, pining after the warm feeling that usually took residence in his chest when he made Danny laugh in such a way. It was replaced with a bitter yet empty remorse.

“Jake has the dullest sense of humor, how can he even be laughing that much?” Sam spat, his grip on the shopping basket so tight, he could actually feel the plastic buckling under his grasp.

Ronnie looked over from checking over the list she was given, scanning her little brother’s body language and feeling the heavy sympathy sinking within her like an anchor in the ocean. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Sammy.”

“I got it,” Josh said to his sister, “usually someone only laughs that much or that loudly when they’re attracted to them,” Josh explained insensitively. The look Sam shot his brother was enough to slaughter ten people.

“Oh, I had no fucking idea! Thank you so much, Joshua!” Sam hissed, trying his absolute hardest not to clock Josh with the basket in his hand. Seemingly guessing Sam’s intentions, Ronnie stepped between her brothers, arms out and facing the youngest.

“Ok, that’s enough. Sam, give me the basket and go wait in the car. I know that this whole thing with Jake is shitty, but you can’t take it out on Josh,” she delegated, holding her palm out so Sam could place the plastic grocery basket into her hand. He did so, the black plastic leaving a dust on his hand as well as angry red marks from how hard he was clutching it earlier.

Without any further words to his siblings, Sam followed his sister’s order and went to go sit in the car. Except, he was locked out. And Jake had the keys.

Angrily kicking the tire, Sam decided to just sit on the roof of the car and wait for everyone there. The metal was burning the skin of his legs that he had crossed in order to fit them comfortably on the car, but it was a far cry from the boiling rage festering under his skin. He truly loathed the way he was reacting to the whole situation, but he just couldn’t help it. He was just so fucking mad. Even though it felt justified, it was only a hollow victory.

All he wanted was for Daniel’s happiness. And even with his hunch that Jake didn’t actually like Danny and was just using him, the evidence disproved that. Sam hung his head, looking at his hands fidgeting in his lap. The only time he had felt this conflicted in his entire life was the moment he realized he was bisexual.

Strangely enough, he was watching Pirates of the Caribbean for about the thousandth time because Jake was able to pick the movie that night. As per usual, he thought Elizabeth was absolutely stunning; who didn’t find Kiera Knightly attractive? Also as was usual for a viewing of this film, Sam admired Will and his dedication to Elizabeth. It was only meant to be a passing joke to get maybe a few laughs from Ronnie or the twins, but it ended up shattering his entire world view.

“If he asked me to, I’d totally go gay for Will.” It was only meant as a joke.

“Y’know, if you say you’d go gay for someone, it typically means that you are gay,” Ronnie piped up while flipping the page of the magazine she was reading. She had said it so casually and unbothered just as if she would have talked about school work she needed to get done. Despite her tone, she had just completely shattered Sam’s world view with one sentence.

Sam had felt the ground shift beneath his feet as that sentence sank its claws into his conscious brain. He couldn’t see his own appearance, but if he had been told that he looked as though all the blood had been drained from his body, he would’ve believed it. His hands felt like TV static, his feet following soon after. He felt cold suddenly, his eyes unable to move from the spot they’d been in since Ronnie had spoken. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that.

“Sam? You ok?” Josh asked, shaking his little brother’s shoulder. That finally roused him from his trance. He looked over at Josh, seeing concern written all over his face.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Before anyone could stop him, Sam got up and shakily ran outside. He needed some air; he felt as if he was suffocating.

Am I gay??

The grass was cold underneath his bare feet, the September night air chilling his lungs as his long legs carried him deeper into the wilderness that surrounded his house.

I can’t be- I like girls…

He finally stopped when his arm caught a tree, leaning against it to catch his breath and to support his unstable legs. His hair was hanging down into his eyes, his panting breath visible in the chill of the night.

…right?

Turning over so that he gazed up into the sky, he contemplated why he felt so completely gutted; why he felt like Ronnie was able to see something in his soul that Sam couldn’t even see himself. He’d hoped that the stars would be able to calm him down, but it was cloudy. Regardless, he watched the clouds float across the sky, swirling and dancing into different shapes before his very eyes. He felt his breathing slow as he continued to gaze upon the swelling and dissipating shapes thousands of feet above him. His mind was still racing, but he at least no longer felt like he was going to faint.

Sam had no idea why he was freaking out so much. His parents weren’t the type to kick him out for being gay and his siblings wouldn’t think of him any different, but there was something eating away at the back of his mind that told him he should be worried. But… he didn’t even know if he was gay, so there’s no reason for him to be so worried… right?

“Jesus, there you are! We’ve been calling you for half an hour!” Jake reprimanded, approaching his brother while trying not to trip over any loose sticks that were covered by the vibrant autumn leaves burning with orange and yellow color. His footsteps crashed through the leaves, the loud crunching reminiscent of static.

“Sorry, I just-”

“You can’t just run off like that, you little bastard! We were all worried about you!” Before Sam could answer, Jake pulled him into a tight hug, his head being crushed underneath his big brother’s arms as they embraced. Out of all his family members, Sam expected to be missed the least by Jake. He didn’t know why, it was just what he thought.

“I’m fine! Goddamn; I won’t be for much longer if you keep suffocating me!” Sammy yelled, lightly smacking Jake on the arm. He was finally released, dramatically gasping for air as he pulled away. Jake gave him a look that told him to stop being such a drama queen, but there was a smile threatening to break out on his lips.

“What got you so spooked that you felt the need to run away and live a life of solitude in the woods?” Jake crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a tree near Sam.

Sam froze up, not wanting to answer that question. How do you casually tell someone that you’re questioning your sexuality?? “Oh. Well-”

“Was it what Ronnie said?”

Once again, Sam froze.

Noticing his brother’s defensive posture, Jake sighed. “I told her not to say anything to you and let you figure it out yourself.”

That caught Sam’s attention. It made about a thousand warning bells go off in his head.

“You… You what?”

Jake’s gaze darted away from Sam’s when he tried to make eye contact. He knew that what he had just admitted was a huge bombshell and implied a lot more than Jake even understood.

“You guys knew?! You-”

Suddenly, Sam was both flabbergasted and angry at his family. He found himself looking at the clouds once again, measuring out his breaths so that he wouldn’t explode on his older brother and say something he regretted. It took a moment, he eventually got to a spot that was calm enough. Jake waited Sammy out; he had no other choice.

“Do mom and dad know?” the youngest eventually asked, refusing to take his eyes off the clouds swelling above him.

Jake made a noise that could’ve been the start to a word, but it sounded as if it got tangled inside his vocal cords. Trying again after clearing his throat and taking a breath, he answered. “Yes. They know.”

It was only three words. They shouldn’t have made tears come to his eyes. Despite all the logic in his brain telling him that crying was irrational, his emotions stubbornly refused to pay attention. He felt ridiculous as the hot tears rolled down his cold cheeks.

“Sam, you know nobody gives a shit, right?”

That was what finally snapped Sam’s restraint. He whipped his head around, his hair nearly whipping his own face as he faced his brother. He felt a rage on his blood that was unfettered, his hands readying for violence as they balled into fists. He clenched his jaw so hard, he was afraid of shattering his teeth.

“Yeah? Well, guess what, asshole?! I DO! I fucking care that you guys have been discussing my sexuality behind my fucking back! Am I nobody now??”

The older brother went to open his mouth thinking that Sam had finished, but he didn’t get to even take a breath before Sam cut him off.

“Do you understand how invasive that is?? Or did you not even care? No, I bet you all played a little game over it. Did you bet money?? Who won? Veronica? Is that why she ‘pushed’ me along?? So she could win the prize?!”

“Samuel!” Jake cried, reminding Sam of how Josh would sound when screaming. “Just calm down, alright? We didn’t bet on your sexuality.”

Jake was holding out his arms in a placiting manner. It was as if he was trying to calm a startled horse; acting calmly but afraid of being violently struck if something went wrong. He tried walking closer to Sam, but he approached very slowly.

“Ok, I’ll admit that we did talk about you behind your back, but it was for a good reason.” Sam felt the disgust and self-preservation surging in his veins as he watched Jake get closer, but he didn’t move.

“Are you gonna start talking?” Sam impatiently snapped after Jake remained quiet for a moment.

“We talked about you because we were trying to discuss how to be supportive of you when you do come out,” he finally explained, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

Immediately, that struck Sammy in the heart. He’d gotten mad over them talking about his sexuality when it was for a wholesome reason. Suddenly, he felt awful. Tears pricked his eyes once again and he looked away from his brother.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hiding his face in his hair. He felt ashamed. How could he think so horribly of his family like that?

“Sam, it’s ok. You don’t-”

“No, you don’t understand! I thought the worst of you guys when all you did was be supportive,” Sam cried into the darkened forest around him. The only response he got was that of the trees shivering from the cold September wind.

It was clear Jake didn’t know how to handle seeing his baby brother cry, so he just stood there awkwardly. He eventually put a hand on Sam’s shoulder as a way of comforting him.

“You’re right; I don’t understand. But I don’t have to understand. My job is just to support you and be there for you,” Jake reassured, the hand on Sam’s shoulder sliding across his back so that he was able to hug Sam.

Knowing neither of them had any appearances to uphold, Sam leaned into his older brother and just let his tears fall. They both stood that way for a moment, the night air causing goosebumps to form on both of their skin. It was Jake who broke the silence.

“We’ll catch a cold out here, let’s go inside.”

Sam tensed up. He didn’t want to face the rest family yet. He himself wasn’t 100% sure that he wasn’t straight. He wasn’t aware that he was actively shaking and he couldn’t blame the temperature.

“You don’t have to see everyone just yet; I’ll handle them,” Jake offered, pulling his brother just that bit closer to him to reassure him.

“But-”

“I won’t mention anything about why you ran. You have my word,” he promised, making sure to look Sam in the eyes.

Sam was reluctant. He knew that Jake was telling the truth, but there also was a part of him that didn’t know who he could trust anymore. He looked deep into his older brother’s eyes, gaging how genuine he was being. Finally, he decided to put his faith in Jake. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go through this by himself after all.

Jake had kept his word. He guided Sam back into their house and dealt with their family as the youngest curled up under his covers in an attempt to rid himself of that dangerous chill that had seeped deep within his body from being outside improperly dressed for the weather. The younger twin managed to deflect all questions about why Sam had run and the subject wasn’t brought up again. Sammy didn’t officially come out to anyone in his family until he told Ronnie a few months later.

Where did that Jake go?

“Hey, princess! Are you deaf?!”

Sam was jolted out of his own thoughts as Jake banged on the hood of the car. There was an amused smile faintly pulling at his mouth when Sam nearly jumped out of his skin and almost fell off the roof of the car.

“What, Jacob?” Sam snapped, annoyance in his veins at the sight of Jake’s smirk. He could feel his hands involuntarily clench into fists; there was also a death glare aimed right at Jake but he didn’t know that.

“Unless you wanna be strapped to the hood like a deer, get the fuck off the car so we can leave.” He looked at Daniel to see his reaction, a smile on Jake’s face at the expense of Sam. To his dismay, Danny was giggling along with Jake.

The anger simmering in his blood intensified tenfold. Underneath it all was a feeling of betrayal.

Without saying a word, Sam climbed off the car and slid into the back. He stayed silent the entire car ride. No one acknowledged him.

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The water of the lake glimmered like glitter as the waves caught the blistering sunlight in their undulating waves. They weren’t big enough to have any white caps by any means, but the waves were just enough to rock you and make you feel the need to hold onto anything you could inside the boat. The boat cut through those sparkling mounds like a sharp knife through paper; gliding right across the surface and leaving a white trail behind it like it was leaving bread crumbs in the forest in case it would get lost. The wind was a welcome feeling as it hit Sam’s Sunkissed skin, the watercraft moving too fast for the sluggish heat to touch him. Even though he knew it would be nothing but a fight for him later, he left his hair down and allowed it to get tangled into all kinds of snarls and knots. He faced the bow of the ship, watching as trees and land would approach as they reach a bend in the lake. He wasn’t driving, his mother was. She was watching the water as well as her husband for any direction he might give her.

Danny was attached to the back of the speedboat, grinning widely. He was enjoying himself but he was also gripping onto the handles of the inner tube with a white knuckle grip. Jake was watching with a smile on his face, waving at him and encouraging Daniel to let go of the handles. He had already had his turn on the tube, a towel wrapped around his shoulders and his long hair haphazardly twisted up in a bun.

Danny just kept laughing at Jake’s attempts, shaking his head. The smile never left his face and he was laughing for his entire ride. After about five minutes he signaled Mr. Kiszka to cut the engine so he could get back aboard the boat.

“Alright Sam, do you wanna go next?” Ronnie asked him. There was something she was trying to tell him something with her eyes, but he couldn’t tell what.

“Uhh,” he stalled, still scanning her eyes for her subliminal message, “sure,” he eventually answered.

It was the one she was looking for, apparently. Her eyes glimmered and her smile grew. “Get on, then. What are you waiting for?”

Sam, more than a little confused, climbed into the innertube while Josh held onto the rope to keep the tube from slipping out from under him. Once he was secure, Sam signaled for Josh to shove him off away from the boat and its propeller.

“Danny, why don’t you watch Sam for us?” Ronnie asked. Sam saw Josh look at his sister over her shoulder, a smile on his lips. They had something planned and Sam was suddenly very afraid of being on the water. Danny nodded, his blinding smile gracing his lips and making Sam’s heart stutter momentarily.

“You hear that, Sam? Your life is in my hands!” Daniel yelled across the water, cupping one hand close to his mouth so his voice would project.

“No safer place for it!” Sam called back. He didn’t even realize he had a dopey look to his face, but Josh and Ronnie noticed it.

“Are you good to start?”

Sam sent his best friend a thumbs up. A spike of fear lanced through his chest as he realized that Daniel turned to Ronnie who then told their mother to start. That meant that Ronnie was essentially controlling his mother’s every move. The engine kicked up, the propellers beginning to spin once again. Sammy would never forget the devious look in his sister’s eyes as she waved at him.

He had the right to be nervous. As the ride continued, Sam realized that Josh would periodically distract their father at the same time that Danny would look away to talk to either Jake or Ronnie. He wouldn’t know why until he realized the speed increased all on its own accord. He looked up just in time to see his sister lower her hand from making their signal to speed up at their mother. It was getting harder to hold onto the raft, the waves rocking Sam a considerable amount. He made the signal to slow down, but the only person who saw him was Ronnie. Daniel and Jake were engaged in their own conversation the same as Josh and their dad. The youngest was really starting to get nervous as they approached the bend in the lake, his grip tightening even further as the watercraft began to turn.

It all happened so fast.

Sam slammed into the side of a particularly large wave, sending the tube flying into the air. In a panic, Sam made the vital mistake of letting go of the handles and was launched into the air. He only had a brief second to gasp before he was violently plunged into the rocky waters of the lake. He was disoriented while submerged, unable to find where the surface was. That only made his panic spike as he struggled to emerge his head from the water to breathe. He somehow managed to surface, taking in a huge gasp and removing his hair from his face and eyes. He saw the boat stopped a few yards ahead of him as he tread water, looking around for the innertube that would pull him to the boat. He was able to find it to the left of him, grabbing onto it as he coughed.

Daniel jumped up, pulling the slack rope in and by proxy his best friend. He wore a face of pure concern that Sam noticed as he approached. His hand was warm as Daniel heaved him into the boat, his arms wrapping around Sam and pulling him into a tight hug. Sam wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and he returned the hug. Maybe he closed his eyes and let himself divulge in the intimacy of the moment, but you can’t fault him for that. Daniel was warm and welcoming; and hell, they were both shirtless so Sam also got to enjoy knowing what Daniel’s bare chest felt like against his own.

“Sammy, I’m so sorry,” Danny rushed, his arms tightening around Sam as he buried his face into the crook of Sam’s neck. “I should’ve been watching.”

Sam’s own arms pulled Daniel in closer, his heart clenching at the wavering voice of his best friend. Despite wanting to tell Danny that yes, he should’ve been watching Sam instead of flirting with his older brother, he bit his tongue. It was a conversation to have after all the high emotions of the moment subsided.

“Sam, are you alright?” Sam heard his father ask. He went to look at his dad and let go of Danny, but the man wouldn’t let go of him.

“I’m alright, I wasn’t under that long. I’m just shaken up, is all,” he answered. He didn’t think it was possible, but he felt Danny’s arms get even tighter around him.

“You were under for nearly half a minute,” Daniel informed him, whispering it into his ear.

At the information, Sam felt his blood turn cold. It hadn’t felt like that long, but in retrospect, maybe it was. He was going to kill Josh and Ronnie for this. They endangered his life all for a stupid fucking-

“Daniel, you take care of him. Let’s go back to shore,” Josh posited, his hand landing on Sam’s shoulder as a way of comfort.

Oh, that’s why they did it

Danny nodded his head, finally detaching from Sam. He felt cold when his best friend let go. Daniel led Sam over to the spot where he was sitting, urging him to sit down and even wrapped his own towel around Sam’s shoulders. He pulled Sam into him, tucking Sam’s head beneath his chin. He kept rubbing his hands up and down Sammy’s arms, occasionally squeezing his arms around his best friend. Sam didn’t do anything, just breathed as Daniel held him.

In fact, no one spoke as Mrs. Kiszka drove the boat to the shore.

Sam would open his eyes every once and a while to check his surroundings, his eyes always landing on Jake. He wasn’t looking at Sam and Danny, instead out at the water behind them. The way his jaw was set tipped Sam off that he was annoyed; more than annoyed. Reveling in the vindication of seeing Jake so sour, Sam smiled and snuggled into Danny a little more. He was so warm and solid. To Sam, he was the very embodiment of summer.

Daniel never left Sam’s side for the rest of the day. Everywhere he turned, his best friend was always within sight. He’d never felt more content in his whole life, his heart feeling ready to burst each time he took in the sight of Daniel’s smile. His mind supplied him with the thought that this is what it would be like if he was dating Daniel. Suddenly, there was a consistent thrumming of pain in his chest each time he shared a look with his roommate.

Jake had tried to get Danny away from Sam on multiple occasions, but it never worked. Daniel was attached to Sam’s hip. Sam guessed he had Josh and Ronnie to thank for that and they both knew. Each time they passed the two best friends, they each gave Sam this look that made him want to shiver. And while he was thoroughly enjoying all this attention from Danny, he still needed to talk to Jake.

While they were out in the hammock, laying side-by-side as they gently swayed back and forth on the temperate summer breeze, that’s when Sam talked to Daniel. “Hey, Daniel.”

Danny lazily hummed in response, shifting his head up to gaze at Sam with an easy smile on his lips. Sammy’s heart thundered in his chest as he lost the ability to breathe momentarily.

“I-I really appreciate you hanging around me and all, but if you don’t mind I gotta talk to Jake about something,” Sam hesitantly hinted, tripping up his words as his brain was filled with thoughts of Daniel and how soft his lips would be if he kissed them.

Sammy felt awful as he watched Danny’s smile falter. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s really important,” Sam rushed, a hand coming up to Danny’s curls and petting them absently.

“No, it’s alright. I understand,” Danny reassured, sending Sam a smile as he sat up in the hammock, “I'll go get him for you.”

“Tell him to meet me on the dock please,” Sammy requested, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around Daniel and pull him in for a kiss on the cheek.

Daniel nodded, the hammock shifting as his weight was removed. Sam, watching his best friend enter the house, sighed both out of weariness and contentedness. Shaking his head, he climbed out of the hammock and made the trip down to the dock, captivated by the burning vibrance of the sunset on the water. Mentally, he was preparing to relinquish Daniel over to Jake. he was severing all the ties he could so that it wouldn’t hurt quite so much when he would tell Jake that Daniel was all his and that Sam wouldn’t make any moves.

As he dipped his toes into the water, he waited for his older brother to show. Tears painfully burned his eyes as he prepared his speech. On the breeze, he whispered his goodbye to his best friend, his chest aching Sam he spoke his name. And that was how Jake found him, ready to break some hearts.

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Taglist:

@doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @ageoferin @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @strugglingtodoshit @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @mintysammykiszka @writingcold @tearsofbri @teddiie @gardensgatedaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan @lightmyloverry @kenzie18 @gotavansleep @roosterbbradley @freckled-wonder @flower-power-anthem @gabyvanfleet @sarakay-gvf

Taglist Form

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #sam kiszka #samuel francis kiszka #sammy gvf #danny wagner #daniel robert wagner #danny gvf #sam x daniel #sanny gvf #jake x danny #janny gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf

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the-haunted-office · 1 year

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Rules

⭐ General

DON’T PANIC!

This is multi-fandom blog, but some primary influences you may find are The Stanley Parable, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and the works of Stephen King, as well as anything horror. I routinely poke fun at tropes, themes, and other elements of storytelling while attempting to introduce elements of horror.

My blog is part roleplay blog, part writing blog.

For the writing part of my blog, anybody is welcome to follow. I welcome anybody who finds themself interested in my muses and the little world I've built for them. If you want to read along and send in asks and anything like that, that's all fine and I am happy to have you.

For the roleplaying part of my blog, it is Private and Mutuals Only - this means that we must be mutuals to roleplay together. You are welcome to follow me first, but I will check out your blog to make sure we are a good fit before I decide to follow you back. If I choose not to interact with you, please don’t take it personally. I have my reasons for being private, and I choose to be private so I can keep my rping space fun and comfortable for myself. Please don’t let that stop you from inquiring, though! Odds are if you’re 27+ and open to rping crossovers and with OCs, I’ll rp with you.

That said, I prefer to rp with folks closer to my own age, and so to interact you must be at least 27 years of age. If you are under 27, I'm sorry, this is purely for my own comfort and isn't anything against you personally. I do have partners who I interact with who are under 27, but I we've been interacting since before I put the age minimum in place.

I’m not a terribly strict person, so things on this blog will probably not be terribly strict either! I’m just here to have fun. Mostly I don’t take things too seriously - so most things will be lighthearted and will trend on the silly side. I do love to write dark humor, though, so there will probably be some of that. Anything that is a serious trigger, I will try to tag appropriately (I sometimes forget though, so please forgive me! Please message me if I miss something in this regard and I will fix it).

I’ll interact with muses from pretty much any fandom. The only caveat is that if your muse is from a fandom I am unfamiliar with, I may need some information from you in order to understand things better. Otherwise, bring in your little ponies and your stubborn test subjects and your space-exploration team! And, oh yes, your OC’s and self-inserts. Bring them all!

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I, the Mun, am in my 30s.

I am also a mother to a nine-year-old and I babysit my baby nephew during the week. Sometimes I get very busy, but I do try to stay as active as I can.

I go by the name of Thursday! My muse Thursday started off as a self-insert but she broke away from me and ran off into the sunset. She decided to keep my name, but we are both completely different people.

I rp only on Tumblr. While I am comfortable with chatting and plotting on Discord, I am uncomfortable with roleplaying on Discord. This goes for one-on-one rp's, private servers, small servers, large servers, just any rping on Discord. I prefer to keep all roleplaying to Tumblr, please.

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⭐ NO METAGAMING

This means using your personal real-life knowledge to influence your character’s decisions. It honestly takes the fun out of roleplaying for someone’s muse to “know” everything and always make the “right” decision because of it, especially if it’s to manufacture or kindle a relationship or manipulate things in your favor.

PLEASE NOTE: The exception to this is if we agree to breaking the fourth wall (due to the nature of The Stanley Parable or another fandom) or crack threads. Information obtained via ask memes is okay! I'm also okay with muses who can read minds or who are super intelligent and geniuses at reading others - I just need to know about this before we start a thread.

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PLEASE NOTE: Some of my muses are more dangerous and violent than others - and a couple of them are intentionally overpowered. If you are uncomfortable interacting with these muses, please let me know!

⭐ Replies

I try to reply within 1-3 days, but sometimes I get busy and can’t keep to that time frame. However, if it has been a week or longer, please feel free to reach out to me. I may have overlooked your reply or didn’t get the notification. Some threads are easier for me to reply to than others and so those may take longer, but I will answer as soon as I can!

On the flip side of the things, I will never ask or remind you about a reply, thread, plot, or anything like that - regardless of how long it's been - unless we have discussed that you want me to.

I understand that roleplaying is a hobby, so if at any time for any reason you want to drop a thread or anything, that's fine. You don't need to tell me. I do ask, though, that if something in thread has made you uncomfortable, that you do please tell me so that I can correct myself going forward. I understand that I can't force you to do this, but your comfort is important to me and I'd really like to make sure I don't accidentally cross any boundaries going forward.

For the most part I will roughly match length for length, although sometimes my post lengths will run longer or shorter. I don't expect anyone to match the length of my longer replies, but please give me enough to work with. A couple of short paragraphs with some dialogue and descriptions should be enough. Most importantly, please remember the all-important "yes, and-" aspect of roleplaying. If there isn't enough for me to work with, then I will likely drop the thread.

⭐ Shipping

While I do enjoy shipping, it is not the main focus of my blog. If your primary interest in roleplaying is shipping and you want to ship right off the bat, then it might be best for you to seek interactions elsewhere - this isn't anything against you or shipping, it's just that I'd rather us both be up front about it and not waste each other's time.

That said, if you're here for all other kinds of interactions and you get an idea for a ship or one starts to develop between our muses, I'm all for it!

My blog is multiship. That means that my that all of muses may be shipped with more than one character and from different verses, AUs, or even in the same verse.

I prefer to ship with chemistry.

I also prefer to let things develop naturally through rp threads, but I am always open to hearing your thoughts and ideas if you have a ship in mind. I'm perfectly willing to work towards a ship via plotting if the chemistry is there. I will always be 100% honest about whether or not I think the ship dynamic would work.

My muses want to get to know your muse and form bonds with them, but more often than not this takes time. Ships with my muses tend to be slow burn and don't happen within a thread or two. If you are looking for expedient ships, then ships with my muses aren't for you. If you're willing to take the time and patience to get to know my muses, then let's ship!

Also, please don’t ship with my muses just to collect ships or if you don’t intend on ever developing the ship with my muse. I have had too many people want to ship and then never do anything and it’s very frustrating.

Please be mindful of my muse’s ages when interacting with them! I will not allow Anons or ANYONE who is a minor to interact romantically and/or sexually with them, even in jest. It’s inappropriate and makes me uncomfortable.

⭐ Plotting

I am open to plotting! Usually I let things unfold as they go, but I do occasionally have plots running and little situations for my muses to get into. If you want to be involved or want my muses to be involved with your plots, feel free to ask!

If it's a plot that I am running on my blog and you have chosen to have your muses involved, please understand that I will keep the plot running at my pace. Others may be involved as well and aside from that I'd like to keep my overarching plots moving at the pace that I set for them.

If it's a plot we have going between us and our muses that we have worked on together, then I am happy to take things at whatever pace you like. I'll reply as you are available whether it's days or weeks or months out. I won't ask you about replies or dropped threads or anything like that unless we've discussed that you want me to.

Please do not feel obligated to participate in my plots. Also, if we are plotting and I pitch a plot to you and you don’t want to go with it, you are welcome to tell me no and we'll move on.

⭐ Trigger warnings/content warnings

I will tag the following items as indicated below. They’ll be tagged as CW - for example: CW blood. If you have any particular triggers, squicks, or things that make you feel uncomfortable, please tell me so that I may add it to this list and remember to tag them for you!

animal cruelty animal death animal injuries blood body horror death dermatology (talk of pimples, blackheads, cysts, etc.) eye horror gore horror (generally speaking, this will be used for posts that include particularly frightening content like you’d expect to see in a horror movie/book/etc.) infidelity mind control pet death pregnancy religion (posts including things such as demons, ouija boards, etc.) self harm self harm mention (used if self harm is mentioned as a past thing or muses talking about it) slugs snails snakes (pictures of) suicide suicide mention (used if suicide is mentioned as a past thing or muses talking about it) terminal illness

Suggestive content will just be tagged as suggestive.

⭐ Stuff I am NOT comfortable with roleplaying

Smut. I am not really into rping smutty stuff. Suggestive or dirty humor, implying things, flirting, mentioning it, saying it happened, asking questions about my muses’ sex life, and suchlike is all fine - just nothing overly explicit, please. I don’t mind other people rping smut and following those who do; I am just uncomfortable rping it myself. If in any case an rp starts going in that direction, I’ll have it fade to black or skip ahead.

Excessive violence towards children. It’s okay if it’s part of a muse’s past, and in threads I am also okay with some angst and general childhood things like skinned knees and the like. But I am not comfortable rping actual threads where there is excessive harm being done towards children.

Toxic/abusive relationships, especially ones being handled like it’s romantic or sexy. I don’t find abuse romantic and I will not portray it that way. If you do, that’s fine, I’d just prefer not to be a part of it. Thank you.

⭐ Stuff I am comfortable with

Violence? Sure. Blood and gore, let the viscera ooze forth. Cursing? Fuck yeah! Crude humor? Of course! General horror - definitely!

⭐ Blocking

I don't block people easily, except in cases of racism, homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, pedophilia, etc. If I have an issue, I will come talk to you about it first and give warnings prior to blocking. I much prefer to talk about things and try to work things out before blocking.

If I find you’ve blocked me, though, then I will also block you so your blog doesn’t keep coming up as a suggested blog.

I ask that if you truly don’t want to rp or talk ooc with me anymore, please hard block me instead of soft blocking. Tumblr has a glitch that randomly makes you unfollow people sometimes, so if you soft block me I’ll assume it was the glitch and follow you again. Hard blocking will communicate to me that you don’t wish to interact any further with me at all and I’ll get the message.

And finally...

⭐ Communication

This is a big one for me.

I do my best not to cross anyone's boundaries, but I am not a perfect person and I will make mistakes, as we all do. It’s important to me that if you have any issues with anything that you please tell me, so that I can do better going forward. It doesn’t matter how big or small - please bring it to my attention. Don’t let it fester. It is always better to talk about it than to try to shrug it off. I will do the same - if I have any issues, I will bring them to your attention.

If at any time you want to stop writing together, I understand. Sometimes muses fall out and even mun chemistry can go sour or you lose interest for one reason or another. All I ask is that if you truly don’t wish to rp together anymore, please let’s decide to peacefully part ways. Please don’t force yourself to keep replying to me out of a sense of obligation. I would rather us go our separate ways than for you to feel obligated to reply to me when you aren’t into it anymore.

If all of that sounds good to you, go ahead and drop your muse into my ask box! Or shoot me a PM. I can even write up a starter for you. However you’d like to start!

#rules #new post with the same rules for better formatting! x3

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bubblywriter0 · 3 years

Text

I’m your biggest fan! Bakugou x reader x Todoroki

Word count: 2.6k of filth

Warnings: non-con, smut, degradation, double-penetration

tagging: @twynity @tommy-braccoli

You were his secretary. Katsuki Bakugou, the hot-headed, incredibly stubborn, and undeniably handsome Ground Zero. Being the number three Hero's secretary had its perks, as well as its (rather exasperating) responsibilities. Which consisted of late nights, piles of paperwork, and plenty of arguments with the short-tempered Hero.

But you loved it.

You couldn't deny that it had you completely stressed most of the time, or that you were up till ungodly hours of the night more than once a week cleaning up his messes. But there was something charming about the snooty blonde, however hard it was to admit, and you could proudly say no one could match his outrageous temper the way you could.

Your manager could confirm this first hand, as she had been caught in the midst of one-two many yelling matches between the two of you and always silently thanked you afterward for being able to keep him in his place.

You held your own with the number three Hero, and though he would never admit it out loud, you were one of the very few people that could get him to see reason when his temper took over. You were a strong, independent woman. Which is why you never imagined yourself in this position, at least not in this way.

—

Katsuki Bakugou was undeniably attractive. And an insatiable tease. He could (to your annoyance) read you easier than you anyone, and he had made your knees go weak too many times with his low-tone remarks or "accidental" intimate touches. But, you never gave in.

You never took action on the desires that bubbled right underneath the surface. Not when you were fuming, inches away from each other from some dumb, long forgotten argument, the tension so thick anyone who walked in would slam against it. You even humored the thought of going out on a date. Just two colleagues going out for a drink after work, if not only to scratch the itch of something more.

But the blunt hero never took the bait, couldn't seem to ask you out like a regular person. Instead, he had to drive you insane with teasing touches and suggestive remarks, that damn smirk and low voice carrying into your bedroom late at night when you were by yourself. Yet, being the responsible little secretary you were, you never gave in.

And then today, he finally seemed to snap.

It started in the middle of your meeting. Some bastard was going on and on about some dumb policies and Bakugou couldn't be less interested. He internally groaned as he checked his watch just to find that he would have to sit through twenty more agonizing minutes of this. Tch. If this shithead pulls out one more Venn diagram I'm gonna fucking lose it. He fought the urge to prop his feet up on the desk, instead letting his gaze lazily wander to you.

Aw. Look at you, such a good little secretary. His good little secretary, his brain added possessively. He chuckled quietly to himself, noting the way your pencil was tucked behind your ear, your brow scrunched in concentration as you scribbled down notes like a diligent student. He smirked as his eyes wandered down to see your pretty little skirt hiked up those cute thighs of yours. He licked his lips as he watched you bounce your foot gently, your thigh slightly jiggling from the movement. God, he just wanted to sink his teeth into you.

You barely caught the movement in the corner of your vision, too busy watching the presentation to pay attention to Bakugou -besides, you were more than used to him getting antsy during these long meetings. So it was safe to say you didn’t take note of the large hand making its way towards you.

You almost squealed when you felt the warm palm slide into your lap, your mouth dropping open in surprise. You practically burned up on the spot, immediately panicking and trying inconspicuously to pry it off. This only encouraged Bakugou, prompting him to squeeze the plump flesh, his thumb dragging slow, precise, and agonizing circles into your inner thigh as you squirmed, his teeth flashing as he grinned manically. He was going to enjoy this.

You couldn't focus on a word said after that, which was rather inconvenient considering you were supposed to be taking notes. The warm blush on your face hadn't left but your heart finally had slowed to a normal pace as the meeting came to an end.

You stood quickly and smiled at the men and women leaving, unsettlingly aware of the metal chair scraping away from the table and the flooding warmth as Bakugou shuffled across the room to stand next to you.

He grunted out less friendly goodbyes, echoing you lazily, and your eyes flew wide as you felt a hand sliding up the back of your thighs to your ass. You tried to swat his hand away but he caught your hand easily, pinning it against your back, clicking his tongue disapprovingly in your ear as he stepped up behind you. You let out a small whimper of protest and his grip on your wrist tightened painfully, pulling you with it so your back smacked against his chest, eliciting a surprised yelp from you.

He didn't even seem to care that the last man who was about to shake your hand flushed almost as bright as you, and you squirmed helplessly as Bakugou glowered over your shoulder at the hand that was still held out. The dumbstruck man didn’t move, Bakugou’s patience wearing thin as he bared his teeth and let out a low growl,

“Are you just gonna stand there shitty extra? You waiting for a damn show, wanna watch me fuck her real good or something?” Bakugou taunted cruelly, a hand wrapping around your neck as he leaned down to you. ‘Wadya’ say princess? You wouldn’t mind, would you? Bet your fuckin soaked right now, thinking about this shitty loser watching me bounce you on my cock, bet you’d like that, Hah” But all you could do was whine pathetically, trying to hide your red face, looking anywhere but at the flustered man.

“Oh?” His crimson eyes narrowed at the man who was still standing there. “So you do want a show? That’s fine with me, but let’s make sure that princess here is okay with it,” he grinned again as you were suddenly thrown forward, bent over, the blood rushing to your head as you felt rough hands traveling up the back of your thighs curiously. “Let’s take a little peek and see if I’m right, hm?”

But the poor man was already backing away, practically tripping over his feet and muttering apologies over his shoulder as he burst out of the conference room, his face bright with embarrassment and arousal judging from the obvious tent he was shielding in his pants as he made a bee-line for the bathroom.

As the clear door swung shut you were suddenly picked up from the waist, and it took a moment for your spinning head to adjust before you started kicking your legs out in an attempt to escape. “Tsk, such a fucking brat,” Bakugou growled as he swatted at your ass, a painful sting following as you let out a yelp.

“Stay fucking still slut.” You felt a tear drip down your cheek as you gave up your attempt to evade his grasp, your small body not standing a chance to the pounds of muscle you were up against.

Bakugou flopped your body onto the glass table, pulling your ass towards him and flipping up your skirt onto your back so he had access to your plump behind. His heated fingers traced the exposed skin and you bit back a groan as he ran a finger down your slit. Your body automatically shivered when he yanked your panties down, hiding your head in your hands as you felt cool air tickle your dripping folds. He was right. You were sopping.

“Aw, look at this,” you wined with embarrassment at his coos, his husky voice going straight to your exposed heat. “All wet and needy for me, huh baby?” You practically sobbed, your head nodding with shame. “Don’t worry pretty baby, I’ll take care of this mess” He pulled your legs apart and cooed again at the way your messy cunt dripped down all over the table, running a finger up your leg to collect some of your juices, popping the finger in his mouth and groaning at your taste.

“I’ll make it all better, yeah?,” he hummed, chuckling at your incoherent mumbles and sobs. He leaned forward so his hot breath fanned against your ear, smirking as he growled in a low voice, “I asked you a fucking question slut.” You gulped at his harsh tone. “You know how to use your words, right bitch?” You nodded violently, terror making your voice tremble stupidly as you tried to answer in between hiccups, “m’s-sorry, I c-can-” He clicked his tongue, cutting you off. “I-I I’m s-sorry,” he mimicked you, sneering at the way you trembled.

“Sluts who can’t follow simple orders don’t need to talk, do they?” You shook your head no shamefully, your cute little sobs and whimpers going straight to Katsuki’s already tight pants. “Good girl,” he cooed at your obedience, smirking as he undid his navy tie, pulling you towards him roughly. He reached around to your face and grabbed your jaw, his thumb prodding at your bottom lip. “Open,” he demanded, and you complied.

He smirked with satisfaction at how good you were being, how easily you were letting him handle you. Such a good little slut for him, he repeated the thought again as he coaxed the handmade gag all the way into your open mouth, drool seeping down onto your chin. “There.” He grinned at the image of you looking all fucked out, cunt all messy and oh so needy, throat stuffed full, with mascara running down those pretty cheeks. “Isn’t that better baby?” He rasped as he kneaded your hips, grinding his clothed cock slowly against your dripping sex. You whined around your gag as you squirmed, fresh tears running down your stained cheeks as your body begged for more, begged to be filled by something, anything.

Luckily for you Bakugou seemed to understand, fingers attacking your swollen clit as he humped against you lazily. “Need something pretty baby?” He laughed at your silence, but made quick work of unzipping his slacks as he pulled himself out of his pants, jerking himself once before spreading your cheeks. He groaned at the sight of his fat cock slipping between them as your needy cunt sucked him in, your body finally relaxing a bit as he slid inside you fully.

He gave you no time to adjust, pulling out halfway just to slam back in, making you squeal around your gag. You rocked yourself back and forth on the table, chasing your much needed release as Bakugou used you, pulling your hips back to try and fit more of him inside you, your eyes rolling back at how good he felt. He almost didn’t notice how close you were, focusing on the way your weeping cunt kept sucking him in, squeezing around him whenever he growled filthy obscenities into your ear.

But when you started babbling mindlessly around your gag, pushing back against him, he caught onto what you were doing, smirking at how quickly he’d reduced you to this. “Gonna come for me pretty baby? You gonna come around this fat cock?” You nodded, sobbing at how close you were. “Go ahead, make a mess slut,” he growled against your ear, teeth grazing your skin as his warm tongue slipped out and prodded at it. You shivered uncontrollably as your body convulsed, giving into the intense pleasure as you focused on the heat between your slick thighs combined with the way Katsuki’s mouth was working down your neck, your orgasm racking through your body in euphoric waves, your cunt squeezing around Bakugou's dick as you came.

You trembled as you slowly came down from your high, your sticky fluids sliding down your cheeks as Bakugou continued to pound into you. Everything felt so sensitive and suddenly the immense pleasure you were feeling mixed with something else and it was, “too m-much Katsuki, please s’too much,” but your cries were muffled and there was no way in hell he was letting you go now, grabbing your hips tighter as he thrust in and out of you, the lewd squelches from your dripping pussy making him feral.

“Aw, you can take it princess,” he grunted with a sick grin as you tried to crawl away from him, squirming hopelessly on the glass table. “You’re not going anywhere, you’re gonna stay here and take it all like a good girl, you hear me?” He slapped your ass hard, emphasizing his point while his hips drove forward to meet your messy hole, groaning at the way your cheeks tinted pink from the impact, spanking you again to hear to feel you squeeze around him even tighter. “You like that slut?” He sneered, “Of course you do.”

But you were too distracted by the flash of red and white that caught the corner of your vision.

You raised your head slowly, only to be met with the inquisitive gaze of- You gasped. Shouto Todoroki. The Shouto Todoroki, the number Two Pro Hero you’d watched on TV for years, fawned over, and now...

Bakugou could only assume your small gasp was from how good he was making you feel, and he smirked at this, driving his hips into you wilder with a new sense of inspiration and pride feeding to his unbelievably large ego. But how wrong he was.

Your breath caught in your throat as curious blue and grey orbs traveled along your form, his gaze cutting through the glass and heating your whole body up till you were almost positive it was on fire. You felt so exposed, so humiliated, and so utterly turned on.

His eyes slowly raised back to meet yours and you swallowed nervously. His pink tongue darted out to lick his lips and his mismatched orbs held yours with such intensity and curiosity, it was so..dominant.

And it was making your legs feel weak. It made you feel all hot and bothered as he watched the Ground Zero fucking into you without hesitation, shamelessly watching every move. And it didn’t take long for Bakugou to notice.

Bakugou was observant, and the sudden reactions your body was having to him was a pleasant surprise, but a little random, and it didn’t take long for him to realize your attention was focused outside the room, which annoyed him. “Oi, shit head whadya..” he trailed off as he caught sight of the red and white boy standing outside of the room, and he suddenly remembered he had a meeting with him scheduled for this afternoon, in this room.

He had half the mind too cover you up and go tell the icy-hot bastard off but, what was this? You certainly seemed to be enjoying the way the dual-colored Hero was watching you get fucked. Did this.. Get you off? A shit eating grin spread across Bakugou’s face at the realization, the wheels already turning in his head.

So his pretty little secretary wanted to act like a whore, huh? Then he’d treat her like one.

You hear Bakugou chuckle darkly, yanking your hips back to gain more leverage, sneering at the heat rising to your face. Lips brush against your ear and a raspy voice whispers, "Oh look, it's your favorite little hero, Shoto Todoroki. Wave to him, princess"

—

Hope you enjoyed! Part 2 coming soon:)

#bakugou smut #bakugou x reader x todoroki #todoroki smut #shoto todoroki #shoto smut #bakugou headcanons #bakugou katuski x reader #mha smut #mha todoroki #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha smut #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #todoroki shouto #mha imagines

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viastro · 3 years

Text

catch me | lee jihoon

ミ★ synopsis: jihoon didn’t want any weaknesses, he couldn’t afford to have any. that’s why he ended your guys friendship. he couldn’t risk your life because of how dangerous his lifestyle is, but everything seems to crumble the moment he saves you for the first time.

ミ★ genre: best friends to strangers to lovers!au (kinda?), spiderman!woozi, action, angst, some suspense, some fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: since this is a superhero au, there will be violence in this oneshot as well as the mentions of some weapons (knives and guns). some suggestive jokes, minor character death

ミ★ word count: 13,787

ミ★ pairings: woozi x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! sorry this is so late, but here’s my 2,000 follower celebratory oneshot <33 i remembered how much you guys liked my spiderman!joshua oneshot, so i decided to write another one. i’d like to thank @thepixelelf for giving me the idea to make spiderman!woozi <33 i’m not very good at writing fighting scenes ?? and i feel like more could’ve been done, but this is the best i can do with my busy schedule ! sorry if it’s not up to par </333 this shit is long as fuck though holy shit why do i write so much helPBJEKSBRGKD anyways, make sure to give woozi lots of love ! thank you for 2,000 followers again, i’m so grateful to you all.

“You’ll never catch me!” You squeal, running around the playset as fast as your small legs will allow it. The similar sound of other children laughing and screaming from joy just by being at the playground ring in your ears. You turn back to see if your best friend is close behind you, only to let out a scream when you see him close enough to tag you.

“Uji! Go away!” You say with a laugh as you run under the slide, moving to sprint up the stairs. You’re only stopped once you feel Jihoon’s small hand grab onto your wrist, and you let out a whine. Turning your head, you see Jihoon standing behind you with a toothless smile.

“I caught you, yn! I’ll always catch you, remember? You have to tag me now, we only have time for one more game because it looks like our moms are tired.” You pout at him, and he giggles, reaching out and patting down the flyaways of your hair.

“But I hate being the tagger.” You whine, looking down at the ground to try and appeal to your best friend. Jihoon only smiles, shaking his head at you as he releases your hand from his grasp. He motions for you to cover your eyes, and you let out a sigh, before nodding your head.

“Count to ten. Okay, yn?” Jihoon asks you, and you find your lips morphing into a smile, nodding your head. You raise your hands up to your eyes, and Jihoon immediately begins to find a hiding spot. He turns his head to glance back at you as he runs, smiling when he hears you call out:

“One!”

You gasp awake, staring up at your dark ceiling. Your bedroom is silent, except for the quiet sound of your humidifier, a stark difference to that of the squeals from the playground. You roll over with a groan, reaching out and checking the time on your phone, just to let out a tired sigh.

“Six in the morning? I don’t need to be awake until nine.” You whine, raising your hands up to cover your face. The remaining bittersweet feeling from the dream slowly drifts away as you feel your fatigue begin to take over.

Before you drift off completely, you find yourself hoping that you’ll fall into the same dream again. For it’s the only place where you can speak to your ex-best friend, Lee Jihoon.

“Woozi, we have a quiz today! I can’t keep saving your ass from the professor.” Seungcheol says in exasperation as he attempts to keep up with his friend, internally wondering why no matter how hard he tries to match Jihoon’s pace, he’s unable to.

“Well you have to if you still want my mom’s kimchi! Please, I’ll make it up to you. Something came-”

“Something came up, I know, I know. Just text me when you get back to your apartment, okay? I’ll give you my notes later.” Jihoon quickly turns back to glance at his friend, letting out a grateful smile and nodding his head.

“Of course! I’ll see you later, Cheol.” Jihoon calls out in response, hurrying towards the exit of the university. Seungcheol just watches until that black head of hair disappears, before sighing and walking in the direction of their building.

“Gonna make him buy me bbq this time, I swear to God.”

You tiredly enter the bank, needing to deposit cash from your recent tutoring job. Holding back a yawn, you walk over to the shortest line and step behind the last person. You pull out your phone and scroll through Twitter, beginning to question why you haven’t asked the parents if they could just pay you through Venmo.

“Open the vault if you don’t want a bullet in your head!” Your eyes widen when you hear the loud voice boom in front of you. Glancing around, your heart falls into your stomach when you see a few of the other people who you presumed were also waiting to be helped by an employee, are now holding guns up towards innocent people.

Your thumb moves on its own across your phone screen to call the police, but the cold sound of a click next to your ear makes you freeze. You don’t dare to move, staying frozen as you watch the other gunmen shove the innocent employees of the bank towards the corner.

“I suggest you give me your phone and go join them if you don’t want your head blown to bits.” The man behind the gun says to you. Biting the inside of your cheek, you slowly move your phone in his direction, and he snatches it out of your hand. He nudges you with the butt of the gun, and you quickly make your way to the other people, sitting down beside one elderly man on the floor.

“We’ll need to take all of your phones. For our safety, of course. I suppose for yours too, considering that if you call the cops then we’d have to kill you.” The man who pressed the gun against your head says with a smile, and you watch as everyone slowly reaches into their pockets or purses and holds it out. You presume he’s the leader when the other people in the group take the electronic devices and throw them into a box they stole.

You look down at your trembling hands, intertwining your fingers together in an attempt to stop them from shaking, but to no avail. You sit in silence as you listen to the robbers discuss when their ride will get here, wondering how cold hearted they must be to not even care.

“Someone. Please help us.” You quietly plead, feeling the elderly man begin to shake beside you as he holds back his own tears.

“I don’t think that money belongs to you.” Your ears perk up at the sudden voice, looking up when you hear the sound of the front doors close. Your eyes widen when you see the familiar dark red and blue suited figure, the one you’ve seen on the news.

“Spiderman.” You mutter, watching as the gunmen all turn towards him, guns aimed at the superhero’s head. The presumed leader of the group tilts his head with a laugh, still holding the backpack full of money in his hand.

“And who are you to decide that?” The man asks, lazily switching off the safety of his gun as he holds it in Spiderman’s direction. You watch as the superhero shrugs his shoulders, looking like the definition of ease as he leans against the wall.

“I pay my taxes.” Spiderman responds, and you bite back a laugh when you notice the twitch to the leader’s eye. The amusement almost immediately turns into fear when you watch the leader’s finger press on the trigger, and you unconsciously reach out towards the superhero.

Everything moves faster than you can imagine.

Within seconds Spiderman has the leader’s hand trapped onto the wall with the spiderweb, and knocked the guns out of half of the robbers hands. You watch as he fights with a few of the other guys, and you hold back a scream when you hear the sound of a gun go off. Your eyes widen when you see one of the men fall to the ground, blood pooling around him. Your gaze trails over towards the leader, seeing him staring at the body with an indecipherable look on his face.

“We have to go while they’re distracted, come on.” You turn your head away from the sight and look up at the elderly man, watching as he holds his hand out towards you. You look around and see the other hostages speeding towards the exit, knowing that the superhero gave them the signal to run.

You nod your head, reaching out and grabbing the elderly man’s hand. The two of you quickly walk towards the doors, the sound of grunts and fighting being heard from behind you. You’re about to reach the exit when you’re yanked backwards by the collar of your shirt, choking you in the process as an arm wraps around your neck.

You almost let out a scream until you feel the familiar feeling of cool metal being placed on your temple, and your body immediately turns rigid in the hold of your captor. You flinch when you hear him whistle beside you, gaining the attention of the superhero.

“Spiderboy! I suggest you don’t make any move to come closer unless you want a bullet in their head.” The familiar voice of the leader rings in your ear, and you clench your fist at your side. You take notice of the fact that Spiderman freezes the moment he looks in your direction, and you blink back tears when the head of the gun is pressed harder against your temple.

“So you do listen to commands when someone’s life is at stake, good to know.” The man says, and Spiderman just stands there, staring at the two of you as the rest of the robbers lay on the floor. Either knocked out or held in place by the strong web that was shot at them.

“Let them go.” Spiderman seethes, and your captor simply laughs, causing you to flinch. He tightens the grip he has around your neck, and you let out a squeak, causing the superhero to take a step forward.

“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t want to lose an innocent life today, don’t we?” Spiderman halts his movements when the man turns off the safety of the gun. The tears slip past your eyes from the sound, and you look at the superhero, silently begging him for help.

Spiderman tightens his fist at his side from the sight of your tears, before tearing his gaze away from you and looking at your captor. “What do you want?”

“Let my men and I-”

“Me and a few of my men.” The captor pauses, tilting his head at the superhero, wondering if Spiderman really just corrected him on his grammar in this situation. You even have to hold back a snort, which is an odd thing to do considering that you’re on the verge of losing your life if you make one wrong move.

“Let me and a few of my men take a few bags of money and go. I’ll let this,” Noticing the red and blue flashing lights coming through the windows, the man wiggles his arm around your neck a bit, constricting your airway as you let out a gasp for air. “This civilian, go.”

The two stare each other down for a bit, before Spiderman loosens his fist, nodding his head. Your eyes widen at the superhero willing to protect your life by letting the money be stolen. Your captor lets out a chuckle, before releasing his hold on your neck. You immediately fall to your knees, gasping for air as the tears fall from your eyes onto the tiled floor.

“No funny business, Spidey.” The leader says, grabbing two backpacks full of money and nudging a few of the guys until they wake up. Spiderman doesn’t respond, instead rushing over to you and grasping your face in his hands.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you badly?” The superhero asks in concern as he checks over your features, but you don’t respond. Instead you stare at him in silence, suddenly wondering why his voice sounds so familiar, and why he’s holding your face so tenderly.

“Who are yo-”

“Oh! Spiderboy.” The two of you glance over towards the leader and a few of his men, now holding quite a few bags full of stolen money. Your eyes widen when he raises the gun in your direction, and Spiderman sharply inhales when he realizes what’s about to happen.

“Never trust a conman.” The leader states, before pulling the trigger.

The loud echo of the gunshot rings around the room, along with the sound of the doors opening and closing as the robbers try to escape. Your eyes slowly open when you don’t feel any pain, and you realize that you’re being held in the arms of Spiderman, hanging high from the ceiling.

He slowly lowers you both back to the floor, and he lets you go as soon as your feet touch the tile. You slide down onto your knees, feeling dazed as to what just occurred.

“Don’t get yourself into trouble again.” Spiderman says in a soft tone, and you slowly look up at him. The two of you stare at each other in silence, and you wonder if he’s always this worried about other people he saves.

You open your mouth to respond, only for the doors to slam open. You freeze, fear crawling up your throat at the thought that it may be the robbers, only to relax when you see the police and FBI enter, already beginning to make arrests.

“Are you okay? Someone get this person a blanket!” An FBI agent orders once they walk up to you. They help you up off the floor, and you turn your head to look for the red and blue suited superhero, only to see that he’s disappeared without a trace.

“Thank you, Spiderman.” You mumble, before getting escorted out of the bank.

“Fuck.” Jihoon cries as he limps towards Seungcheol’s apartment, hand clutching onto his thigh in an attempt to stop the bleeding. As soon as he left the bank, he realized he didn’t leave unscathed as he flew through the city. He changed once he got to the alley where he put his stuff, and made his way to Seungcheol’s.

Once Jihoon reaches the door, he immediately slams his fist onto it, desperately needing his friend to help him. “Woozi, I already told you how my neighbors feel about you banging on my front door.” Seungcheol says with a grin as he opens the door, having not looked up at his friend yet. It’s only when Jihoon practically crumbles onto the door frame that Seungcheol realizes the state he’s in, and he immediately pulls him inside.

“What the fuck did you do?!” Seungcheol asks as he practically carries Jihoon into the bathroom, placing him onto the toilet. The blonde scrambles through his drawers, searching for the first aid kit. While Jihoon just grimaces in pain, rolling up his pants with a shaky leg to reveal the gunshot wound on his thigh. Seungcheol’s eyes widen, the first aid kit falling from his hands at the sight.

“You got shot?!” Seungcheol hisses, and Jihoon just lets out a tired laugh, beginning to feel a bit faint.

“I’ll explain later, but I can’t go to the hospital. I know you’re only an intern right now, but you’re the only one I trust. Please.” Jihoon pleads, and Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek harshly, before nodding his head.

“I swear to God if you’re a drug dealer Jihoon-”

“I’m not a drug dealer, you fucking buffoon.”

“Oh my God.” Jihoon quietly eats the instant rice, letting Seungcheol go through the five stages of shock. He glances over at the blonde, finding him still staring down at the table with wide eyes.

“My best friend is Spiderman.” Seungcheol mutters, his hands going up and gripping his own hair as his eyes widen even more. Jihoon nods his head, reaching over and taking some kimchi, placing it into his mouth.

“That’s why he always left class at the most random times.” Seungcheol whispers, hands trailing down to cup his cheeks as all the pieces begin to come together. Jihoon continues to eat in silence as he lets his friend go through an existential crisis. He glances down at the stitches on his thigh, before looking back up at Seungcheol from across the table.

“Thank you for stitching me up. The hospital would’ve asked a lot of questions and I couldn’t afford that.” Jihoon says, placing the empty bowl of rice on the table. Seungcheol finally looks up at his friend, and he runs a hand through his hair.

“Is that why you suddenly got really strong in high school?” Seungcheol asks, completely missing the fact that Jihoon just thanked him. The black haired beauty nods his head in response, taking a sip of water.

“Got bit by a weird spider on that field trip in junior year, and suddenly my hands were sticky and I could break sinks easily. It was a strange moment in my life.” Jihoon answers, and Seungcheol runs his hand through his hair again. Jihoon rolls his eyes, reaching out and slapping the blonde’s hand, making Seungcheol yelp.

“You’re gonna go bald if you keep pulling your hair like that.” Seungcheol frowns, before leaning back in his seat and letting out a sigh. He glances over at Jihoon and raises an eyebrow when he finds him with a furrow to his brow.

“Now you’re the one who looks like you’re going through an existential crisis. What’s on your mind?” Jihoon looks up from the table to find Seungcheol staring at him in concern, and he lets out a breath. Jihoon takes another sip of his water, before pursing his lips.

“Yn was one of the hostages at the bank robbery today.” Seungcheol’s eyes widen at the mention of your name, having not heard Jihoon utter it since your guys’ falling out in high school. “I don’t know why the fuck the guy chose them to get to me, but he did.”

“Is yn okay?” Seungcheol asks, and Jihoon nods his head. He looks off to the side, remembering the frantic look in your eyes as tears trailed down your cheeks. Biting his bottom lip, he stands up from the table and limps over to the couch.

“Woozi.”

“Yn’s fine, Cheol. I made sure of it. The stupid guys all got caught by the police and FBI outside anyways, I saw the blue and red lights. It’s the only reason I let them go. They can’t get to yn either, they don’t know shit about us.” Jihoon says with a sense of finality, laying down onto the couch and closing his eyes. Seungcheol nods his head, knowing better than to push his friend for more answers.

“Spiderman doesn’t have any weaknesses that the public knows of. Yn’s safe.” Jihoon adds, soon falling asleep while clutching the throw pillow on his side. Seungcheol looks down at the table, wondering if Jihoon is saying that with confidence,

Or in an attempt to convince himself.

You walk to your next class on campus, feeling self conscious from everyone’s stares as you do so. Reaching into your pocket, you turn up the volume on your earbuds, trying to block out everyone’s whispers.

Everyone on campus knows of what occurred at the bank, and you’ve become a hot topic since you were saved by your friendly neighborhood Spiderman. The thought of his voice still lingers in your head, and the feeling of his hands cupping your face remains even if it’s been a week since the incident.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you look down at the ground as you walk, attempting to pick up the pace so that you can get a seat in the back row of the auditorium. You’ve always been clumsy though, as you soon find yourself accidentally slamming into the shoulder of someone walking past you, making the person drop their books behind you.

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, quickly pulling out your earbuds and bending down to pick up all the textbooks that fell onto the ground. Once you’ve grabbed all the books, you glance up, only to freeze when you look into those familiar brown eyes. Slowly you stand up from the ground, books in your arms as you and Jihoon stare at each other in silence, unsaid words being exchanged through your gazes.

“Jihoo-” The black haired beauty takes the books out of your grasp, and simply nods his head at you.

“Thanks.” He mutters, before continuing on with his day, not another word or glance back at you as he does so. Your eyes trail after him for a moment, before you purse your lips, nodding your head at the sad reality that is,

You and Jihoon aren’t best friends anymore.

You walk towards your apartment with the bag of takeout in your hand, feeling tired from the eventful day you had at university. Letting out a breath, you glance up at the sky for a moment as you walk, staring up at the cloudy skies.

“When will the sun come back?” You mutter, wondering if a smidge of sunshine will be able to lift your spirits. Looking back down at the pavement, you freeze when you feel something sharp be pressed into the side of your stomach.

“Give me all your money.” Tiredly, you turn your head, seeing a man with a black ski mask over his face as he stares at you. Glancing downwards, you find that he’s pressing a dull knife into your side, before boredly letting your eyes trail back up towards his face.

“Are you kidding me? Another robbery?” The robber tilts his head in confusion as to why you’re not afraid, watching as you look up towards the sky and send a middle finger towards the clouds.

“God. You know that I’m a poor fucking college student, yet you continue to put me in these money stealing situations not once, but twice in the span a week?!” You shout, and the robber flinches slightly at the anger in your tone. Letting out a sigh, you turn back towards the masked man, staring at him for a moment.

“I hope you can still have children after this, but then again, you shouldn’t be robbing people. Especially broke college students, have you even looked at my backpack? So you know what? Fuck you actually.”

“What?”

Without another word, you rest both hands on the robber’s shoulders, and with as much force as you can, knee him right in the crotch. The man lets out a shriek, falling to his knees, knife hitting the sidewalk as they clutch their poor genitals.

“I fucking hate it here. My backpack literally has holes in it and I have a bag of takeout from the cheapest restaurant in town. Are you dumb? Why would you try to rob me?” You rant to yourself as you take the knife and chuck it down the alleyway. The man calls out to you, and you shoot him a glare, before turning around and walking away.

“Sick and tired of this bullshit.” You grumble, about to turn the corner when you hear footsteps coming from behind you. Your eyes widen, fear taking over as you impulsively start to walk faster, wondering if the man already healed from the fact that you destroyed his chances of having children.

You’re about to break into a full on sprint when you hear two bodies collide behind you, followed by a grunt of pain. Slowly you turn your head, just to find the robber hanging upside down in a web from the top of the streetlight, and your eyes slowly trail down to see the red and blue suited figure staring at you.

“Spiderman?”

“I thought I told you not to get into any trouble again.” The superhero states, walking towards you after making sure that the robber is unconscious. You raise an eyebrow, holding yourself back from rolling your eyes. “You think I’m trying to get robbed and murdered?”

Spiderman shrugs his shoulders, now standing directly in front of you. “Considering that this is the second time I’ve come to save you in a span of a week-”

“Are you complaining about your job to me right now, Spiderman?” You ask with a grin, and the superhero pauses, before letting out a sigh. You chuckle, tilting your head at the red and blue suited figure standing before you.

“Just. Be safe, please.” He says in a softer tone, and you feel warmth flood your face slightly. You stare at him for a moment, wondering why he seems so familiar, and why he cares so much for you.

Jihoon searches your eyes through the mask, somehow feeling both heartbroken and happy. Heartbroken because him being in the suit is the only reason he can speak to you right now. Happy because he’s able to see you, even if it’s only for a brief moment.

He nods his head before you can ask any questions, preparing to shoot a web to swing away, but you reach out and grasp his wrist. Jihoon sucks in a breath, turning back to glance at you, “Yes?”

“If I happen to be in a situation like this again-”

“Which you won’t.” Spiderman states, and you nod your head, but give him a small smile.

“Will you come save me?” You ask, and the red and blue suited figure stares at you in silence for a second, before nodding his head.

“Of course.” Spiderman mutters, and you bite the inside of your cheek, letting go of his arm so that he can swing away. You raise your hand up and wave at him with a smile on your face,

“Bye, Spiderman.”

Jihoon’s heart warms at the sight of your smile, sending you a wave as he shoots a web towards the top of the building.

“Bye, yn.” You watch as Spiderman swings away from you, staring until he’s out of sight. Reaching into your pocket, you call the cops to make sure that the robber gets arrested, before walking in the direction of your apartment.

It’s when you’re about to enter the building that you pause, turning back to glance behind you when you realize.

“How does Spiderman know my name?”

“You said their NAME?!” Seungcheol yells from across the table, and Jihoon flinches back from the volume. He lets out a frustrated sigh, slapping his own face for his stupidity in the moment.

“I didn’t mean to! I don’t even know why I said their name! It just slipped out when they waved at me with a smile on their face!” Jihoon responds, looking out the window as he recalls the warm look on your face as you stared at him. His expression morphs into a scowl, wondering why he let himself do that.

“As long as yn doesn’t get into trouble again, it should be fine. I won’t have to run into them anymore.” Jihoon mumbles, letting out a sigh as he rests his forehead down onto the table. Seungcheol watches as his friend’s shoulders slump forward in exhaustion, and he takes a sip of water.

“If you ran into yn again as Spiderman, it’d be sus too. Enemies might look at them as your weakness if it happens too frequently, so hopefully yn getting into trouble was only a two time thing.” Seungcheol adds, and Jihoon glances down at his hands, remembering the harsh reality he has to live as a superhero.

“I hope so, or else the pain of ending our friendship would’ve been for nothing.”

“Cheol, do you know where Uji is? I’ve been trying to reach him for the last week but he hasn’t replied to my text or calls. I even went to his house multiple times but he won’t answer, and when I’d walk up to him during class he’d mutter an excuse and leave.” You explain, fumbling with your hands as you wonder why your best friend hasn’t contacted you. Seungcheol stares at you with a sad look to his eye, before pointing with his chin in the direction of the parking lot.

“Jihoon just left to go to his car, he should probably still be there.” You nod your head, giving Seungcheol a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Cheollie. I’ll text you later!” You call out as you run to the parking lot, and the black haired beauty simply watches until you turn the corner, now out of sight. He lets out a small breath, pursing his lips as he tilts his head to the side. Closing his locker, he looks back up in the direction you left in.

“Woozi, why are you hurting yn like this?”

You push open the front doors, and let out a hopeful smile when you see Jihoon’s car still in its parking space. You run towards the vehicle, tapping on the glass of the driver’s seat window when you make it. Your best friend turns his head to look at you, and you frown when you see a tired sigh leave his lips. Jihoon rolls down the window, looking up at you from his seat.

“What?”

“Why have you been avoiding me? You’ve been missing out on our weekend movie nights and my mom’s been asking for you-”

“Yn, we’re about to be seniors and you’re this dependent on me? You expect me to free up my schedule all the time for you?” Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at Jihoon, curious as to why he’s being so cold. The black haired beauty sighs again, turning on the engine to his car.

“I think it’s best for us to not be friends anymore. We’ll probably go to different universities anyways.” Jihoon states, taking one last glance at you before backing out of his parking spot. You clench your fists at your sides, heartbroken and angry at the complete bullshit you just heard.

“Just like that? Ten years of friendship gone just like that?!” You yell out, and Jihoon glances at you. You suck in a breath at the iciness to his gaze, never having had that look directed towards you before.

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t care anymore either.”Jihoon simply rolls up his window and drives out of the parking lot after his harsh words, leaving you standing there alone. Harshly biting the inside of your cheek to stop the tears from falling, you walk back towards the school, not sparing the vehicle another glance.

You lean back into your seat at the memory, wondering why your ex-best friend has been on your mind for the last couple weeks. Letting out a quiet sigh, you stare down at your notes for statistics, suddenly feeling a weight of exhaustion lay itself on your shoulders.

“I’ll take a small walk then.” You mumble, standing up from the table you’ve been occupying. Stretching your arms above your head, you begin to take a walk around the university library. Unconsciously, you head towards the manga section, wondering if you could possibly rent a sailor moon manga.

You walk into an aisle and look around the assortment of manhwas you can choose from, and a bright smile forms on your face when you find the next volume of the sailor moon manga you wanted. You take a step forward and grasp it, only to freeze when you look up and lock eyes with those familiar brown eyes in the aisle in front of you.

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a moment, before you look away first, grabbing the manga and walking out of the aisle. Clenching your fist at your side, you head back towards your table, now feeling more angry than exhausted.

Jihoon lets out a breath as he watches you sit down at your table, opening up the manhwa and beginning to read. He walks over to a table by the window, sitting down into the comfy seat and opening up his laptop. His eyes slowly trail up towards you again, and he curses to himself, looking down at his assignment.

“Why’d I even come to the library to study when I have my own apartment?” Jihoon asks himself quietly, but he already knows the answer. He glances up in your direction again, finding you still reading the manga as your foot taps the carpeted floor beneath you. He lets out a soft smile when he catches you giggling quietly, his heart warm just from seeing you.

Jihoon just wants to protect you.

You stir slightly, your vision blurry as you blink your eyes, trying to remember where you are. You gaze around the room, before sucking in a breath when you realize that you’re at the library. The manga you were reading lays open in front of you, and you cringe at the small drool mark left on the table.

Frowning as you inconspicuously wipe away your drool with a tissue, you recall the feeling of being poked. You glance up from the table, just to squint when you see a familiar figure walking towards the exit of the library. Your eyes widen when you realize who it is, and you quickly shove your stuff into your bag, rushing towards the exit to catch up to him.

Jihoon steps out of the library, walking down the steps. He let you sleep for around half an hour until he received a text from Seungcheol letting him know of what seems to be a dangerous drug deal occurring near his apartment complex.

On his way out, Jihoon carefully poked your shoulder until you began to stir, before exiting the library. He only stayed at the library for so long to keep an eye on you, as you have been a magnet for trouble recently.

“Jihoon!” The black haired beauty’s eyes widen at the call of his name, refusing to turn around and instead continues to walk towards the crime scene he needs to go to. “Lee Jihoon!” He picks up the pace when he hears your footsteps draw nearer, only to stop when your hand grasps his shoulder.

“I know you heard me.” You breathe out, and he slowly turns to look at you, trying to appear as uninterested as possible as he does so. Jihoon sighs, “Do you need something, yn? I’m busy right now.”

“Why did you stay at the library while I slept? Did you wake me up?” You ask, and your ex-best friend chuckles, shrugging your hand off his shoulder. Your arm awkwardly falls back to your side, and you clench your fist.

“It’s embarrassing to drool on the library table.” Jihoon answers, and you scoff, turning away from him to look up at the sky. The black haired beauty raises an eyebrow at your reaction, “What’s got you so annoyed?”

“Why would you care about whether or not I was embarrassing myself?” Jihoon stares at you, unable to answer your question. Looking up at the cloudy sky, you let out a bitter laugh, before looking back down towards him.

“You said you didn’t care about our friendship three years ago. You said you didn’t care about me, but your actions right now are fucking confusing me!” You shout in frustration, raising your hands up to your head as you stare at Jihoon. Tears fill your eyes the longer you look at him, and you bite your bottom lip when one escapes your left eye. Jihoon’s gaze follows the single tear, watching as it trails down your cheek.

“You ended our friendship without any remorse, acting as if ten years never mattered. You left me, Uji. You left me! You can’t just suddenly come back into my life and act like you care when you fucking left.” You hiss, stepping forward and poking his chest with each enunciation. Jihoon just stays quiet, feeling nothing but remorse as he watches the tears fall past your eyes. The pain is obvious in your gaze and your words, but he can’t tell you the truth.

He can’t risk your life.

“Fucking pick one. You either care about me or you don’t. If you choose the latter? Then fucking leave me alone, please. The pain is still too much to bear.” You state, before wiping away the tears from your face and turning around and walking away. Jihoon’s eyes follow after you, and he clenches his fist at his side once you turn the corner, now out of sight.

Letting out a breath, the black haired beauty shakes his head as if it’ll clear his thoughts. He turns back in the direction of the drug deal going on and continues on his way, knowing damn well he’s already far too late.

He somehow can’t bring himself to care right now, though.

Jihoon swings from building to building, heart still heavy from the conversation the two of you had a few days prior.

Is it bad for a superhero to despise being one?

Jihoon never asked to be bitten by a radioactive spider and become your friendly neighborhood Spiderman. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to lose you, one of the people he cares about most in this god forsaken world.

Jihoon never asked for this.

“Ah, but my morals won’t let me just not use this power for good.” Jihoon mutters to himself as he swings onto the top of an apartment complex, staring down at the streets as the stars shine brightly above him and the car lights shine from below.

Removing the mask from his head, he pats down his hair, just looking out for any trouble going on from below him as he does so. He lets out a sigh, letting his legs dangle off the ledge as he stares out across the city, somehow feeling lonely.

The sound of your voice from afar rings in his ear, and he looks down to find you waving off a guy. Reaching over and putting on his mask, he squints his eyes when the guy tries to grab your shoulder.

“You’re really attractive, can you just give me your number?” You hold back from rolling your eyes, instead just shaking your head and giving him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m not interested.”

“You don’t have to be a bitch. Just give me your fucking number-” You’re about to yell back when a flash of red and blue lands right in front of you, blocking you from the stranger’s advances. The guy’s eyes grow rather large, and you hold back a smirk of amusement as he takes a step back.

“They said they’re not interested. Did your parents teach you nothing about consent?” Spiderman asks coldly, and your eyebrows furrow.

The man takes another step back, having suddenly lost all of his confidence as he shakes his head. The superhero gestures with his chin, waving the guy off.

“Leave while I’m asking nicely.” Spiderman states in an icy tone. The creepy man doesn’t need to be told twice, as he practically sprints away, not sparing another glance back as he does so. The red and blue suited figure turns back towards you, tilting his head at the sight of your frown.

“Are you just a magnet for trouble or something? Why do you always-”

“Jihoon?”

The two of you stare at each other in silence, you with wide eyes, and Jihoon with his mouth dropped open behind the mask. Your eyes trail over his physique, the pieces suddenly coming together as you realize Spiderman and Jihoon have the exact same body type.

Why Spiderman was so stunned to see you at the bank, why his voice was so familiar, why he was so adamant on you being safe, why he’s always there when you’re in a bad situation.

It’s all because it’s Jihoon.

Your ex-best friend is Spiderman.

“Who?” Jihoon asks, trying to play off that he wasn’t shocked at all by the fact that you just uncovered his identity. You continue to stare at him in shock, and you raise a hand to your mouth that you didn’t make the connection sooner.

“You’re fucking Spiderman?!” You whisper-shout, and the superhero runs his hand over the top of his mask. After a moment, Jihoon extends his hand towards you, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Let’s talk about this somewhere else, yn.” Spiderman, no, Jihoon says. You stare at his hand for a second, before your eyes trail up towards his mask. Letting out a breath, you reach out and grasp his hand, and he pulls you closer so that your arms have to wrap around his waist.

“You trust me?” Jihoon asks as he shoots a web towards the top of the building.

“No, not since you left.” You answer, and your ex-best friend lets out a breath. He turns to glance at you, and you look back at him, aware of the close proximity between you two.

“Hold on tight, yn. I won’t let you fall.” Jihoon tells you, and you slowly tighten your grip around his waist. His hold on you is strong as well, and before you know it, the two of you are flying up into the air, swinging around.

“Oh my God!” You shout, holding Jihoon’s body even tighter as you close your eyes to the sight below you. Before you know it, the black haired beauty has landed the two of you on top of a building, but you keep your eyes shut.

“Yn, you can let go now.” You hear him say, but you refuse to let go, still holding his waist as you keep your face in the crook of his neck. Jihoon’s aware of how fast his heart is beating from the fact that you’re basically hugging him right now, but all he can hope is that you don’t feel it.

“Yn-”

“Just. A few more seconds, please.” You plead, voice shaking slightly from the overwhelming emotions you feel as you hug your ex-best friend. Jihoon bites his bottom lip, nodding his head as he keeps one arm wrapped around you.

After a moment, you pull away and stare at the masked figure. He lets out a breath, knowing how dangerous this is, but he was already caught red handed by you. Slowly, he reaches his hand up and takes his mask off, revealing that familiar face you’ve always known, just with his black hair sitting messily atop his head.

“We need to talk, Jihoon.” You state, and he nods his head, turning to look out towards the city.

“Let’s talk then.”

“So you ended our friendship to protect me, not because you suddenly decided to be an ass?” Jihoon purses his lips at the term, knowing that he did act like a bitch. Nodding his head, you turn back to look out towards the city, letting out a sigh.

It’s been almost an hour since you realized that Jihoon is Spiderman, and the two of you are currently sitting on the ledge of the building. He just told you everything that you didn’t know, and it gave you all the answers to the questions you’ve been asking yourself for the last three years.

That doesn’t mean you’re not pissed off though.

“You could’ve just told me the truth.” You mutter, and the black haired beauty beside you immediately shakes his head, no. “No one knew I was Spiderman until the day I saved you the first time. I had to tell Cheol the truth because he was convinced I was a drug dealer when I collapsed into his apartment with a bullet hole in my thigh-”

“You got shot?!”

“So he was the first person to ever find out the truth after three years of me keeping my identity a secret. You were able to figure it out though.” Jihoon finishes, ignoring the fact that you’re staring at him with a shocked expression on your face, very concerned at the fact that he got shot. The superhero is fine though, it healed nicely.

“You really hurt me, ya know.” You state, turning to glance at Jihoon. He looks away from you, feeling ashamed for what he felt that he had to do. He nods his head, staring out at the lights in the city, watching them shine brightly.

Jihoon thinks that they could never shine as bright as you, though.

“I know that my apology probably means nothing in comparison to what I destroyed and how much I hurt you, but I’m so fucking sorry, yn.” Jihoon says, the regret very clear in his tone. He doesn’t turn back towards you, but you understand. He’s never been good at being open about his feelings, let alone apologizing.

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” You mutter, turning away to look out at the city alongside him. The two of you stare at the lights from the cars and buildings, seeing how alive Seoul is at night.

“I missed you.” Jihoon whispers after a moment of the two of you just sitting in silence, and you hold back a smile from breaking out onto your features as you glance down at the busy street below the two of you. Nodding your head, you let out a sigh, looking up at the stars as your vision soon turns blurry.

“I missed you too, Uji.”

Seungcheol practically drags himself to his apartment door after the insistent knocking continues even though he originally ignored it. The blonde wipes his eyes as he opens the door in an attempt to wake himself up more, only for his mouth to drop open.

“Yn and Woozi?!” Seungcheol gapes, and you give him a smile, raising your arm up and waving at your old friend. “Hi Cheollie!”

Seungcheol nods his head at you, mouth still dropped open as his gaze falls to Jihoon, who is just giving him a sheepish smile. The blonde steps to the side, allowing you and Jihoon to enter his apartment as he closes the front door.

“Would you like any food, yn?” Seungcheol asks as he slowly walks over to the kitchen, and you nod your head as you look around your surroundings. “That would be great, thanks.”

Seungcheol grins, before grabbing Jihoon’s wrist and yanking him into the kitchen without another word. You bite back a laugh, choosing to walk over towards Seungcheol’s couch and sitting down, allowing the two to catch up on what just transpired.

“Yn KNOWS?!” You glance over towards the kitchen when you hear Seungcheol’s voice ring out. Finally letting out a giggle when you hear him shout in indignation from what you presume was Jihoon’s slap.

After a few more minutes pass, the two finally exit the kitchen with a fresh pot of ramen, which Seungcheol places on top of a potholder onto the coffee table. Jihoon hands you a bowl and chopsticks, to which you gratefully accept and begin to eat.

“So. You know.” Seungcheol begins, and you nod your head as you slurp up more noodles. The blonde nods his head back at you, looking away and eating some ramen himself. “Good for you, good for you.”

The sounds of the three of you slurping up noodles fills the strange silence that has settled itself over Seungcheol’s apartment. You share a glance with Jihoon, who just looks both amused and annoyed, before sneaking a peek at Seungcheol, who still appears to be in a state of shock.

The latter turns to look at you again, “You and Jihoon are friends again?”

As you chew the noodles, you take a look at the black haired beauty, only to end up catching his gaze. You tilt your head at him, wondering the same thing, and he just gives you a close-lipped smile. Taking a sip of the soup, he gestures towards you with his hand.

“I don’t think I have the right to decide that after what I did, not to make that sound like I don’t want us to be friends again. I missed you a lot, but it’s your decision on whether or not you want to be friends.” Jihoon explains, and Seungcheol nods his head in agreement. You poke your tongue into the inside of your cheek, having appreciated Jihoon’s response.

Leaning onto the back of the couch, you reach your hand up and rub the back of your neck, shrugging your shoulders. The two look at you expectantly, waiting for your answer as you take a sip of water.

Giving them both a small smile you say, “Yeah. Jihoon and I are friends.”

Jihoon smiles softly at your answer as he stares down at his ramen while Seungcheol lets out a cheer, beginning to happily catch up with you on everything the two of you haven’t been able to discuss. His eyes trail over to you, seeing the bright smile on your face as you converse with the blonde. While Jihoon is happy that you’re in his life again, deep down, he’s worried for your safety.

For good reason.

Unbeknownst to the three of you, on the other side of the city, people are talking.

“I think Spidey knew who they were, that’s why he let us go that day.” The man reports, sliding over the photo of you and Spiderman standing before each other from a few hours prior. The leader clicks his tongue as he easily recognizes you, surprised that you’re still alive even after he shot his gun in your direction.

“So the superhero does have a weakness.” The leader says, amusement written across his features as he stares at the photo of you and Spiderman for a second longer. Placing the picture down onto the table, he looks up towards his underling, giving him a smile.

“Do more research on that person and get back to me when you find out where they frequent.” He orders, softly stroking the photo as he tilts his head. Letting out a chuckle, he leans back into his seat, eyes trailing over towards the window, seeing the lit up Lotte World Tower shining back at him.

“Can’t let Spidey’s weakness just slip out of our fingers, can we?”

Sitting on a blanket laid over the grass at the university forum, you type out your lab report on your laptop with the soft ost instrumental playing through your earbuds. As you do your assignment, you fail to realize that the sun that was shining on you has been blocked for a few minutes now. It’s only when you look away from your laptop to grab a grape to snack on that you notice the pair of sneakers standing right in front of your blanket.

Your eyes trail up the body until you lock eyes with Jihoon, and you let out a bright smile at the sight of him. Raising your hand up slightly, you wave at the pretty man.

“How long have you been standing there? Come sit with me.” You say, scooting over on the blanket and grabbing the bag of grapes. Patting the space beside you, you look up at Jihoon expectantly, who grins softly down at you. He places his bag down and slips off his shoes before sitting down next to you on the blanket, taking a glance at your laptop screen.

“Studying?” You shrug your shoulders at the question, typing out the last sentence of your lab report. Shutting your laptop, you turn and send a wink towards the black haired beauty. “Not anymore, I just finished. Now I don’t have any bio homework for the rest of the day.”

Jihoon turns away when you wink at him, feeling warmth flood his face at how cute you looked. Confusion and discomfort settles over him after a second, wondering why he felt so flustered when you winked at him. It’s nothing new, you always used to wink and act cute whenever you were excited or wanted something from him.

So why is Jihoon’s heart racing right now? Why has it been racing every time he’s seen you recently?

Oh my God, am I having a stroke?

“You’re having a stroke?!” You ask, sitting up onto your knees to check over Jihoon’s face. The latter’s mouth drops open slightly, having not realized he said that out loud. He immediately raises his hands up and shakes his head at you, “No! I’m fine, yn. Don’t worry.”

You let out a breath of relief, plopping back down beside him. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, just appreciating each other’s presence while the sun basks the both of you in warmth.

It’s been a couple weeks since you realized that Jihoon was Spiderman, and the reason why he ended your guys’ friendship so abruptly. At first, he was too afraid to approach you, as he wasn’t sure what the protocol was now that you guys were friends again. However, the two of you quickly become comfortable, falling into a dynamic similar to what you once had three years ago.

A similar dynamic, as the two of you have realized one thing incredibly different.

You unconsciously turn your head to take a peek at Jihoon, just to lock gazes with the pretty man. You’re about to look away, only to stop when you see the hint of a smile forming on his face. You tilt your head at him, wondering what he’s thinking as he lets out a breath, turning away from you.

“Wanna go do something since you don’t have any more homework to do?” Jihoon suggests as he looks around the square, noticing all the couples that surround the two of you. Glancing down at your shut laptop, you nod your head, finding the idea of spending the day with Jihoon to be rather lovely.

“What would we do though?” You ask as the two of you stand up from the blanket, packing all your things to bring back to your apartment. Jihoon places your laptop into your bag, before zipping it up and throwing it over his shoulder along with his own backpack. He gives you a grin, “I have an idea in mind.”

Pursing your lips as the two of you begin to walk off the grass and onto the cobblestone pathway, you find yourself wondering what his plan is.

“Sounds suspicious. I’m in.”

“I’m concerned at what your thought process was to come to that conclusion, yn.”

“Don’t worry about it, Spidey.”

The sweet flavor of the ice cream hits your tongue, making you let out a happy sigh as you look up at the night sky. Jihoon turns to glance at you, grinning at how content you look while holding your ice cream cone.

“Now that idea wasn’t bad, now was it?” You smile at the sentence, nodding your head as you remember the events of the day.

Jihoon took you both to the movies, where you both thoroughly enjoyed the new Disney movie as you shared a bucket of popcorn. There were a few cliche moments where you would both reach for the popcorn and grab each other's hand, only to jerk away and just not attempt to get a handful of popcorn for a few minutes.

After the movie ended, you went to go and get dinner where you both just joked around like old times. An argument ensued where the two of you fought over who’s paying the bill, only for Jihoon to sneak the waitress his card while you weren’t looking. This resulted in you almost going back to the waitress to request a refund so that you could pay for the meal (which isn’t how it works at all), only for the two of you to come to a compromise.

Now here you both are at 11 pm, walking along the street towards your apartment complex as you each eat ice cream that you paid for.

“It was rather fun. It reminded me of our old movie nights.” You respond with a grin, turning to glance at Jihoon. He chuckles at the old memories of the two of you meeting at each other’s houses on Friday evenings to watch movies, and he nods his head in agreement.

Jihoon opens his mouth to make a joke, only to pause when he realizes you’re no longer beside him. Turning around, he sees you standing a few feet behind him, a look of awe on your face as you look up at the sky, ice cream in your hand long forgotten. His eyes look over in the direction you’re staring in, and he lets out a soft smile when he sees the full moon surrounded by billions of stars.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper as your eyes sparkle happily upon the sight of it.

Jihoon feels his breath get taken away when his gaze trails over to you, the light from the moon shining onto you, giving off an ethereal glow. His heart pounds against his chest, and he feels warmth flood his face when a smile forms on your face. Slowly, he looks back over towards the moon, swallowing the lump in his throat as he answers softly,

“The moon was always beautiful.”

“Jihoon! Stop banging on my door, I’m coming! Jesus Christ-” Seungcheol calls out as he walks over towards his door. The blonde is seriously contemplating just giving his friend a key to his place due to how often he comes over nowadays.

Seungcheol swings the door open, just to find his superhero best friend looking incredibly dazed and confused. He raises an eyebrow when Jihoon just walks inside the apartment without being let in, and he sighs.

“Can I come in, Cheol? Yeah, of course I’ll let you in Woozi! Thanks for asking so nicely. Of course, you’re my best friend, Cheol! Oh really? You’re my best friend too, Woozi.” Seungcheol bitterly roleplays as he watches the black haired beauty walk over towards his fridge and grabs a can of cola. He tilts his head to the side, wondering what has his friend so distraught as Jihoon mindlessly drinks the battery acid in a can, before crushing it in his hand once he’s finished.

The two stand in silence for a moment. With Seungcheol staying a few feet away for his own safety as he’s never seen Jihoon act like this, and Jihoon just staring absentmindedly down at the floor with wide eyes.

“You good, Woozi?” Seungcheol asks after a second, and his friend finally looks up at him, making the blonde squint at the state Jihoon’s in. “Woozi-”

“I like yn.”

The two stand across each other in another beat of silence. With Seungcheol gauging the incredibly out of the ordinary information that was just bestowed upon him, and Jihoon staring at him with wide eyes.

Seungcheol gasps, raising his hands to his mouth after the confession suddenly hits him. He raises his hand up and points at Jihoon, and the latter winces slightly at what he knows is about to happen.

“YOU LIKE YN?!”

“Stop squealing! You’re hurting my ears.” Jihoon grumbles, but the upwards tilt of the corner of his lips shows that he’s anything but angry at his friend. Seungcheol just lets out another squeal in response, and the black haired beauty sighs as he leans back while taking a sip of water.

Jihoon finally admitted the truth that he had been avoiding since the moment the two of you shared underneath the full moon.

He likes you.

Lee Jihoon likes you.

This could either be a very good thing or an incredibly terrible thing depending on what he decides to do.

“You should confess!” Seungcheol exclaims, causing Jihoon to look at him with a look that says, are you crazy?! without actually saying it. The blonde runs a hand through his hair, opening his mouth to go on but Jihoon simply shakes his head again.

“No.”

“Hear me out, Woozi-”

“Absolutely not. I just got yn back in my life and you want me to quite possibly ruin our relationship a second time? I don’t even have the right to have feelings after what I did to them.” Jihoon snaps, gulping down more water to try and soothe his anger.

“But yn likes you back!”

All the water is now on the table as Jihoon coughs rather violently from the news Seungcheol just delivered, while the blonde just sighs and walks over to the kitchen to grab paper towels. Jihoon punches his chest, inhaling deeply to try and calm down.

“Yn what?” Jihoon asks once Seungcheol enters the living room again, wiping the water that the superhero coughed all over the table. He watches as his friend scratches the top of his head, giving him a smile.

“Okay, so yn may not have actually admitted that-” Jihoon stands up from the table and walks over to the front door to leave, only to halt when he hears Seungcheol shout out towards him.

“But I can see it from the way they look at you!” His hand rests on the doorknob, waiting for Seungcheol to continue so that he can decide whether or not to leave the apartment and pretend this whole interaction never occurred. The blonde quickly throws away the used up paper towels and steps closer towards Jihoon, knowing that he only has a few seconds to explain what he meant.

“What you did to yn was awful, they know that, you know that, we all know that.” Seungcheol begins, and Jihoon purses his lips. “But you apologized and told yn the truth, and you know what? They forgave you. The two of you have been hanging out almost every time you’re not out there saving the city. I wish you could only see that the way you look at them, is also the same way they look at you when you’re not looking.”

Jihoon stands by the door in silence for a moment, gauging the information that Seungcheol just dropped on him. He looks down at his socks, trying to remember the times he caught you staring at him when he wasn’t looking. Tilting his head, he begins to wonder if the sparkle he saw in your eye is only there when you look at him.

Jihoon lifts his head up towards the ceiling and lets out a sigh. Seungcheol waits in anticipation, finally grinning in excitement when Jihoon turns to look at him with a furrow to his brows.

“If you’re wrong, I’m going to stick you to the ceiling.”

“I know.”

“Okay, good. Now help me figure out how to confess to yn in a cute way.”

You walk through campus, a smile on your face as you look up at the bright blue sky, feeling happy with the weather. You’ve always enjoyed the sunshine, it always automatically uplifts your mood.

Glancing over to the side, you see a familiar blonde head of hair walking while looking down at his phone, making you raise an eyebrow in amusement. Quietly, you sneak over to where he is and rest your hands on his shoulders as a means to make him look up at you.

“Who the fuck-”

“Seungcheol!” You greet cheerfully when his eyes lock with yours, and you watch as his look of confusion melts into one of joy when he recognizes you.

“Yn! Were you heading this way?” You shake your head, no, at his question. Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at you, and you just grin. “I just wanted to say hi before I head over to my next class. Have you seen Jihoon today?”

Seungcheol bites his tongue to prevent himself from spoiling the whole surprise, and instead gives you a smile and a shrug of his shoulders. He looks off to the side, just to see the man in question heading over in your guys’ direction.

“No not yet, why?” Seungcheol asks, and you purse your lips, wondering why you asked that question as well. When you open your mouth to respond, you jump up slightly when a hand softly rests on your shoulder, making you turn to see Jihoon smiling at you.

“Uji! I was just asking about you.”

“Mmm, talking shit?”

“Of course.” You respond cheekily, making the black haired beauty roll his eyes as you let out a laugh. Seungcheol and Jihoon share a glance, to which the blonde shoots him a quick nod of his head. Seungcheol raises his arms above his head, and you look over to see him giving you a regretful smile.

“While I would love to stay and hangout with you guys, I gotta go do my internship. See you two later!” You grin and wave at your friend, to which he waves back. Seungcheol pats Jihoon on the shoulder as he passes by him, and soon the two of you are left alone.

“Are you busy later?” Jihoon asks you suddenly, and your eyes widen slightly. After a moment of thinking of any possible homework, you shake your head in response. “I haven’t been assigned any homework that’s due anytime soon, so I’ll be free. Why?”

You squint when you notice the pink tinge on Jihoon’s cheeks, watching as he runs a hand through his black hair. While avoiding your inquisitive gaze, the superhero mutters something that you’re unable to decipher.

“Heh?” Jihoon almost lets out a sigh, feeling too shy to ask a second time, let alone a bit louder. He finally looks back into your eyes, and you feel your heart stutter within your chest at the warmth to his gaze.

“Meet me at the ice cream shop we went to a couple weeks ago at around six. I have something to tell you.” Jihoon says, and you tilt your head to the side with a teasing smile on your face. You watch as he scowls at your expression, making you let out a giggle.

“What?”

“Why are you edging me?” Jihoon chokes on his saliva from your out of pocket question, causing you to laugh loudly and reassure him that you’re just joking when he doubles over. The black haired beauty looks back at you with a look of disbelief once he’s calmed down, but you smile when you see that all the traces of nervousness have disappeared from his face.

“I forgot how out of pocket your lingo is, Jesus Christ.” Jihoon mutters, and you shrug your shoulders with a chuckle. Glancing down at your phone, you notice that it’s almost time for your lecture, and you let out a breath.

“I have to go to class, but I’ll definitely meet you at six tonight!” You reassure, and Jihoon nods his head. Beaming, you walk past him to head to your class, his eyes following after you. He raises an eyebrow when he sees you stop a few feet away, watching as you turn around to face him again.

The sun shines down on you, casting a pretty glow on your skin as you smile at him from afar. Your eyes sparkle prettily at him as you raise your hand up and wave at him, causing warmth to flood Jihoon’s face as he reaches up and waves back at you shyly.

“See you at six, Uji!” You call out with a wave, before turning back around and heading to your class. Jihoon sighs, feeling his heartbeat go back to normal once you’re out of sight. Running a hand through his hair, he goes back on his way towards his apartment, a soft smile forcing itself out onto his face at the thought of you.

Shoving your hands into your pockets, you walk towards the ice cream shop with a content smile on your face. The night air is warm this evening, adding onto the remains of your happy mood from earlier in the day.

Tilting your head, you wonder what Jihoon has to tell you that he had to wait until the evening. You pause your movements, suddenly realizing how stupid you are.

“Yn, he’s literally a superhero. He’s Spiderman! He has other priorities, that’s why he had to wait. Don’t be dumb.” You remind yourself, shaking your head as you continue on your way towards the ice cream shop again. Feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, you pull it out, seeing that Jihoon’s texted you.

uji: i’m here

want me to order your ice cream ?

You smile down at the message, seeing that he’s a few minutes early. Glancing up, you notice that you’re about a block away from the shop and nod your head. “Might as well order for me already.”

you: awe are you paying for me? <333

uji: sigh

i suppose....

you: AWE<3333

uji: are you almost here? i don’t wanna order your ic if you’re still far

you: i’m about a block away !

btw what did you wanna talk to me about?

uji: you’ll find out when you get here stinky

see you soon

you: booooo okay

see you soon <333

Grinning down at your phone, you place it back into your pocket. You look up to start walking faster towards the ice cream shop in order not to keep Jihoon waiting, only for everything to turn black.

Panicking, you reach up to try and remove the bag that’s over your face, only to let out a garbled scream when an arm gets wrapped around your neck. You’re pulled backwards, and you claw at the arm that’s wrapped around you, about to scream more when you hear the sound of a van door open behind you.

“Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart. I’d stay silent if you want to live.” Your blood runs cold at the familiar voice near your ear, making you halt your movements. You’re thrown into the van, and the bag gets yanked off your head once the door closes.

You’re about to break through the window of the van when the familiar sound of a click resonates next to your ear, and you know that you’re fucked. Slowly, you glance over to your side, just to lock eyes with the leader of the failed bank heist. He lets out an amused smile, nudging your head with the gun.

“So I see that you know Spiderman?”

Jihoon panics as he walks around the block, raising his phone to his ear as he calls you for the upteenth time.

You were only a block away. You told him that you were only a block away.

An hour has passed and you’re nowhere to be found.

“Yn, please. Please pickup the phone.” Jihoon begs as he crosses the street, trying to give himself excuses of what could’ve possibly made you late. He curses to himself when the call goes straight to voicemail, and he lowers the phone so that he can call you again.

He’s about to press on the call button when his phone rings, and he lets out the biggest sigh of relief when he sees that it’s you calling him. Immediately, he presses the phone to his ear.

“Yn! Where are yo-”

“Spidey! You’ve been calling yn’s phone so much I almost wanted to break it.” Jihoon’s blood runs cold at the voice, any sense of relief he felt now down the drain as he stares at the sidewalk with wide eyes.

“Who the fuck are you and what have you done to yn?” Jihoon asks icily, looking around for any suspicious vehicles. The man on the other end lets out a shocked laugh, and the superhero squints his eyes.

“Now, now, Spiderboy. I’m a bit offended that you’ve forgotten me so quickly.” Jihoon’s mouth drops open when he hears the incorrect name, only having heard it from one person so far. He bites his lip harshly, anger running through his veins.

“You’re the guy from the bank. The conman.” Jihoon mutters, looking up and beginning to head towards his apartment so that he can change into his suit. “Ah, so you do remember.”

“Yeah, thought you were in fucking jail. Guess the police couldn’t do their goddamn job right again.” The black haired beauty says angrily, already blaming himself for having left you alone.

“True. You know, the police really aren’t all that great at catching us bad-”

“Cut to the chase. Tell me where you’re holding yn and I’ll go there.” Jihoon cuts off, and the man on the other end lets out an amused chuckle. Tilting his head, the conman turns to glance back at you, smiling when he sees that you’re still passed out.

“We’re at the top of the Lotte World Tower. Be here by 8:00 or else.” The man says with a smirk, and Jihoon clenches his fist at his side as he begins to sprint. “Got it.”

“See you soon, Spiderboy.”

Jihoon climbs to the top of Lotte World Tower, the only thing on his mind being that he has to get you out of here. He knows that the police and FBI are on their way, having called them while he was swinging over. Looking down at the busy street below him, Jihoon sees the flashing red and blue lights a few blocks over, and he purses his lips.

Jihoon’s about to pull himself onto the rooftop, only to pause when he overhears a conversation, staying where he is.

“Boss, don’t you remember how fast he was able to unarm us? There was double the number of our team at that bank heist than there is here. He’ll be able to-”

“Shut up, Doyoon. Remember your place.”

Jihoon lets out a breath, before pulling himself onto the top of the building. He locks eyes with the leader of the group, who only smiles cheekily when he lays eyes on the superhero. The conman glances down at his watch, seeing that it’s 7:58 pm.

“You made it with two minutes to spare. Good job, Spidey.” He announces, voice laced with sarcasm. His four men all turn with their guns pointed towards Jihoon, and the superhero lets out a scoff.

“I let you guys go with your money and yet you’re calling me back here? Do you have a fucking deathwish?” Jihoon asks through clenched teeth, and he has half the mind to hold back his chuckle when he notices the worried glance two of the guys share.

“Ah, ah, ah! Remember Spiderboy, I can push yn off this building at any given moment.” Jihoon’s gaze trails over to find you tied up in a chair close to the edge opposite of him, tears filling your eyes as you stare at him.

“Yn.” Jihoon breathes out, about to take a step forward, and you shake your head at him. You bite your bottom lip, looking down at your lap to try and hold back your sobs. Jihoon clenches his fist at his side, before turning to look back at the leader.

“What do you want, whatever your fucking name is?” Jihoon asks, and the conman laughs loudly. He paces back and forth in his spot, grinning at the superhero.

“My name is Kangdae.” He answers, and Jihoon sucks in a deep breath, beginning to run out of patience.

“Well, that’s one question answered and that was the most useless one of the two. Now tell me what you want from me, I’m impatient.” Jihoon practically commands, eyes flitting over towards you after every beat. The conman, now Kangdae, simply lets out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders as he looks up at the night sky.

“I had everything planned for the day of the robbery. My men and I planned it for months, it was fool proof.” Kangdae begins, and Jihoon almost lets out a scoff, but holds himself back as he simply just calculates how to snatch all four guns at the same time. The conman chuckles darkly, “We never expected the supposed superhero of the city to appear, and I never expected for him to kill my brother either.”

Jihoon’s head snaps towards Kangdae, and the leader of the group smirks to himself. He looks down from the sky, locking eyes with the superhero behind his mask, silence passing between them.

Jihoon remembers someone getting shot that day, but he was never the one behind the trigger.

“I didn’t kill your brot-”

“Bullshit!” Kangdae’s voice booms, staring at Jihoon like a rabid animal. He chuckles darkly, raising up his hand to scratch his head. “You were fighting him when it happened. There’s no other way my brother would’ve died except by your hands.”

Jihoon just stands there, not knowing what to say as he knows it would arise a reaction from Kangdae either way. The man laughs as he stares at the superhero, before he hears a quiet cry from beside him. Jihoon’s eyes widen when he realizes that Kangdae has remembered that you’re sitting in the chair close to the edge.

“I tried looking for any type of weakness from you, but there was nothing and no one I could find. Until my men discovered how often you saved yn, that I finally found your weakness.” Kangdae states, slowly looking up at Spiderman with bloodshot eyes. Jihoon glances over at you, seeing your eyes widen when the conman turns to look at you.

“This will serve as a reminder to never have a weakness in this field.” Kangdae practically mutters, and Jihoon snaps his head to look at the man. The leader turns and grins at Spiderman, before motioning towards his men. “Kill him.”

Kangdae turns back to face you and grabs your chair, tuning out the sounds of your screams and cries for help as he drags you closer to the ledge. You sob loudly, trying to stop the man from getting any closer as you try to plant your heels into the ground.

Jihoon’s already moving, having unarmed the four men right away. His heart pounds loudly against his ears as he hears the sound of your screams, fighting the men with his instincts doing everything for him as he just blindly punches and kicks.

“P-Please. Please don’t do this.” You beg, hiccuping as you let out another scream when you realize that you’re able to look down over the tower. After a moment of just listening to your hiccups, Kangdae tightens his grip on the back of your chair, before bending down and cutting the ties around your wrists and legs. You’re about to ask what he’s doing, feeling a sliver of hope rise in your throat. He grabs your arm tightly and pulls you up so that you’re standing.

All hope goes down the drain when he looks at you with sad eyes, “It’s what I have to do.” The conman mutters. Your eyes widen when he pushes you, and suddenly you’re falling.

“YN!” Jihoon yells when he sees you fall off the edge, finally knocking the last guy unconscious before sprinting over and shooting a web down to your body. You reach out towards it, feeling the web hit your stomach so that you’re no longer falling. Panicking, you look down, seeing how high up you are from the ground, and you hold on tightly to the web.

“Oh God. Oh my fucking God. I’m gonna hurl.” You whisper to yourself, looking up at Jihoon to give him a thumbs up that you’re okay.

Jihoon lets out a breath of relief, quickly tying his end of the web to the ledge. Right as he finishes, he’s shoved onto his side. His eyes widen when a sharp blade comes straight down towards his face, and he dodges it, immediately standing up to fight Kangdae properly.

“You’re ruining my plan.”

“I didn’t kill your brother.” Jihoon mutters, eyes flickering over to the web to make sure that you’re still okay. Kangdae notices this, and he lets out a grin. “Yeah, and I didn’t kill yn.”

Within a second, Jihoon is fighting for the knife from Kangdae. Knowing that if he doesn’t get the weapon away from him, then he won’t be able to protect you. Jihoon lets out a hiss of pain when he doesn’t dodge fast enough, the blade slicing a bit of his arm.

“I don’t want to kill you.” Jihoon mutters as he continues to dodge all of his stab attempts. Kangdae chuckles darkly, staring at the superhero with hatred in his gaze. “You didn’t show my brother that mercy.”

The two begin to fight again, with Jihoon simply dodging the knife as swiftly as he can with his wounded arm. He kicks Kangdae’s legs out from under him, making the man fall hard onto his back, letting out a wheeze.

“Stop this, Kangdae.” Jihoon orders, staring down at the man below him. The conman simply chuckles, slowly standing back up as his eyes trail over to the web that’s tied to the edge of the rooftop. Kangdae looks back up towards the superhero, and lets out a smile.

“You’ll never catch yn.”

Kangdae quickly steps over and slices the web, only for his mouth to drop open in horror when he loses his balance and begins to fall over the ledge himself. The superhero quickly shoots a web towards Kangdae’s foot, keeping him from falling to his death as Jihoon sprints and leaps off the building to catch you.

“YN!”

“JIHOON!” You sob, reaching out towards him with your hand.

Jihoon positions himself to fall faster, panicking when he sees how he won’t make it to you in time. In a last ditch attempt, he shoots a web towards you, almost letting out a cry of relief when he sees you catch it. Jihoon pulls you up with the slim string, watching as you outstretch your arms towards him once he’s close enough.

Jihoon wraps his arms tightly around your body once you’re within grasp, before turning and reaching out his hand, shooting a web towards the top of the Lotte World Tower. Your bodies jerk when the string attaches itself to the ledge, and he swings the both of you towards the building beside it, the wind blowing against you as Jihoon safely lands the two of you onto the rooftop.

Once your feet touch the ground, you cling to Jihoon’s body tightly, sobs wracking your body as you refuse to let go, even though you know you’re safe and sound. The superhero holds you just as tight, tears falling from his eyes at how close he was to losing you.

“I-I’m so sorry.” Jihoon mutters, his own body trembling as he reaches his hand up to cradle the back of your head as you continue to cry. You shake your head into the crook of his neck as a way to tell him it’s not his fault, unable to find any words at the moment as you just want to hold him.

“I caught you.” Jihoon breathes out after a moment, tightening his hold around your waist as you sob loudly into his neck. You nod your head, letting out a wet laugh, hands still shaking as you hug Jihoon tightly.

“You’ll always catch me, Uji.” You mumble. He closes his eyes, the feeling of relief flooding the both of you as you hold each other underneath the night sky.

“I caught you, yn.”

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sailtoafarawayland · 3 years

Text

Alpha/Omega Ficlets Ch. 6

A Heart Full of Love II: A Bite-Sized Preview of Toddlerhood

SUMMARY: A collection of alpha/omega OS and drabbles. All kinds of fluff, angst, humor, and smut will ensue. Chapters are not following a particular universe, so expect to see varying interpretations. I will rate as an M for what I'm sure will be eventual smut, but individual chapters will range from G up. Check each chapter heading for ratings/relevant tags.

AO3 - FF

Rating: G - Family Fluff

A Heart Full of Love II: A Bite-Sized Preview of Toddlerhood

“I'm sorry?” Killian said, his words edging slightly higher with surprise as he stared at the woman in front of him. “Our son did what?”

Ariel opened her mouth to respond, but a small, brown-haired child made a run for the doorway from somewhere behind her, and she had to stoop and snatch the child around his waist, sending him gently back into the classroom with an admonishment. Huffing out a breath and rolling her eyes at the near escapee, she tossed her red hair over her shoulder and turned her attention back to Killian.

“He bit one of the other kids today during free play,” she repeated, glancing over her shoulder to make sure there were no more escape attempts in the making. “Have you noticed any aggressive behavior at home lately?”

“No, not at all,” Killian faltered, failing to think of a single instance.“He's incredibly gentle with Hope, and Emma and I as well. We've never once seen him bite anyone. I'm sorry, but I've no idea what came over him. Was there an altercation of some sort – something that provoked it perhaps?”

“Play seemed to be quiet and calm. I regret that I wasn't in the room myself, but my co-teacher didn't see anything that would indicate it was provoked. We did look back over the classroom cameras just to be certain, but he seemed to be played nicely with Hope and another child. He simply leaned over during play and bit the other boy on the hand.”

“Honestly, I don't know what to say...”

Killian wasn't sure whether he was supposed to be upset or embarrassed, but he settled on confused. What the teacher was saying didn't align with the Liam he and Emma knew at all.

“Luckily he didn't break skin, and the other parent was very understanding. We spoke with Liam about how biting is not an appropriate behavior to engage in with his friends, but it would be helpful if you and Emma were to underline that in a home setting where he may be more receptive. He mostly seemed upset afterwards. Obviously, we also want to avoid any negative connotations when it comes to biting, while still stressing that in this situation, it's inappropriate. I think that's a conversation best left to you and Emma, however.”

“Aye,” Killian murmured, feeling more out of his depth than he had the first time he juggled both twins together as pups. “We'll certainly have a talk with him tonight. Is there any way I can apologize to the other parent? I know both Emma and I would be distraught if either of ours came home with a bite.”

“Unfortunately, we don't share 'who bit who' in these circumstances, but I'll happily convey the sentiment to them. As I said, they were very understanding – these things sometimes happen in a daycare setting as much as we try to prevent them.”

“Well, again, my apologies. Hopefully tomorrow will be free of any such incidents.”

Ariel smiled and nodded, kindly reminding him not to forget the twin's lunches before returning to the rest of her charges. By the time Killian walked back to the car, a pile of artwork pressed between his wrist and chest, and two lunch bags in his hand, he still hadn't come to terms with the fact that their child had actually bitten someone.

“Everything okay?” Emma asked as he slipped into the passenger's seat beside her, picking up the scent of his agitation before she even noticed the slight furrow of his brow.

Ariel had never asked either of them to return to the classroom for a chat after they'd gotten Liam and Hope settled into their car seats, usually giving them all of the highlights of the day while the kids got their shoes on, so he knew Emma would be curious as to what was going on.

“Aye, why don't we get these pirates settled in at home though, we'll talk then,” Killian suggested, tucking the bags between his feet and thumbing the edges of their artwork thoughtfully. He didn't want to have this conversation about their son while he listened. “Everything's fine, just...we could use a bit more privacy.”

“What's privacy?” Hope wheedled, elongating her vowels as she tested the new word, her fingers drumming on her seat.

“What do you use it for?” Liam followed. “Can we have some?”

“Privacy is time that mommy and daddy have alone while you and your brother play quietly.”

“Killian,” Emma interrupted, pressing a finger to her head and biting back a smile, “I think that concept might be a little beyond them.”

“Like when you do the dishes after dinner together?”

“Aye, lad, now who's hungry? The faster we get home, the sooner you'll get fed.”

The enthusiastic response from the twins soon devolved into a loud argument as Emma pulled out into traffic, Liam voting for apples slices and peanut butter, while Hope tried to convince him they should get the potato chips that Emma kept hidden on the top shelf.

“I don't understand,” Emma muttered, gaze flickering to where the twins were sitting in front of the television watching a movie about sheep who were playing soccer with llamas, both of them laughing ecstatically whenever one or the other kicked the ball. “He's so calm, and gentle. I mean, if she'd told me it was Hope...are we sure it wasn't Hope?”

“It's not as if they're easily confused, Swan.”

It was true. Though they'd both had blonde hair as pups, by the time they were a year old, Hope's had fallen out completely and had soon regrown the same near-black as her father's. By the age of three she had a soft set of curls that fell around her chin – the chin was Emma's, as was her stubborn, and at times, combative nature. Liam looked just like his father, down to his dimples and the eyebrows that simply never stood still, but his hair was Emma's flaxen gold, and his temperament veered more towards quiet and observant than aggressive.

“Right. Yeah,” Emma muttered, pausing in her attempts to cut the carrots in front of her so small that neither toddler would notice them mixed in with the rice. “It just doesn't make sense.”

“I know, but we'll have to have a discussion about it tonight with him. He can't do it again. The other parents might not be so understanding a second time.”

“Is it normal for kids to bite like this? I don't think Mary Margaret has ever mentioned Leo biting...”

“Perhaps we can check with their pediatrician, but I'm hoping it was just an experiment that he won't repeat. Do you think after dinner is a good time?”

“No, before. They both stink, and baths are just going to make bedtime too hectic for a serious talk...maybe I shouldn't have gone back to work,” Emma sighed, watching with a soft smile as Liam fed Hope half of the extra large potato chip he'd found in the bag. “Maybe they're just too young to be in a group setting like that. Maybe they miss me.”

“I really don't think that's it, love – not that they don't miss having you around all day, but they've been in Ariel's class now for months, and they've been thoroughly enjoying it. You see how happy they are to share their adventures each day. It's good for them.”

“Yeah, but not for whatever kid Liam decided to snack on.”

Emma had thought Liam understood.

Unsurprisingly, given how proficient he was with the English language, Killian had found the right words to have a conversation with a three year old about biting – a loaded topic. He'd explained that there was a time when biting was appropriate, and a time when it wasn't, and that either way, it wasn't a behavior for children, and certainly not something that you did to your friends. Liam had nodded his head, and scrunched his brows, and itched his ear, and just been so damn cute with his hair flopped over his eyes that Emma wanted to scoop him up and tell him not to worry about a thing.

He was her baby, and clearly if he'd bitten some other kid, the kid probably had it coming.

But then her mom brain reminded her that if either Liam or Hope came home with a bite, she'd be pretty pissed, and she and Killian owed it to whoever that other kid was to make sure Liam understood.

She really thought he'd gotten the message.

But apparently she'd not only been wrong about that, she was also wrong about the other kid deserving it – because the little video screen she'd asked to see was paused in front of her, Liam's mouth latched very firmly around a small boy's arm as he tried to take a seat for circle time.

“I'm so sorry this happened again,” Emma stammered, unable to take her eyes off the image or her mind from the thirty seconds of video that had played before it – Liam and Hope had been sitting quietly for a story, and then a third child tried to sit down next to Liam. Sure, the kid had shoved a bit to get into the small space, but nothing that should have warranted an actual bite. “We talked with him last night and really felt he understood...he seemed to feel really bad that it happened at all.”

“I know this is a tricky thing to handle,” Ariel said. “It's not the first time we've had issues with biting, but it does cause health and safety issues for the other kids. Have you thought about taking Liam in to see his pediatrician? Sometimes things like gum or dental pain can cause this.”

“We haven't seen any signs of that at home, and we're very good with brushing, but maybe a visit to his doctor wouldn't hurt. We'll set something up. Is he – are the kids still okay to come in?”

“Absolutely, we just ask that you guys keep this issue at the forefront and continue to have a discussion with Liam about it. We'll do our best to prevent it from happening again, but of course we can't see everything each child is doing every second they're here, so...”

“Yeah, I totally get that,” Emma sighed. She had a hard enough time with just the twins. She couldn't imagine an entire classroom. “We'll let you know if we have any updated information. I'm just really hoping this is a phase or something...”

“And that is a frequent explanation,” Ariel smiled. “Hopefully it's nothing more than that and it will pass.”

“Emma?” Killian hollered up the stairs, slipping into his own leather jacket and dodging Liam as he ran into the living room with a toy ship in his hand. “Are you ready yet?”

Hope thumped down the stairs and raced past him, making tight circles around the kitchen table, her dark curls bobbing up and down as she ran.

“Mommy's brushing her teeth,” she sing-songed, clipping a chair with her foot and sending it crashing into the one beside it.

Killian sighed and got ready for Hope's next loop, snatching her and lifting her from the ground when she came within reach. “Listen here, you little scoundrel,” he mock-snarled, rolling her against his chest as she shrieked, “what have I told you about running in the house? I think it's time we make you walk the plank.”

“No, daddy, don't!” Hope cried, squirming against his grip as he pretended to heave her back and forth.

“Right, tickles it is then,” he growled, burying his nose in the crook of her beck and blowing raspberries as she fought him off with giggles that veered far closer to screeching.

The sound of small feet slapping heavily against the hardwood was the only warning Killian got before he felt Liam barrel into his legs, the blow quickly followed by the sharp sting of teeth clamping down on his thigh. He yelped, more in surprise than pain, and scrambled to both maintain his balance and set Hope down safely, all while not falling on top of Liam, who had darted out of the way, his hand clutching the edge of his sister's shirt.

The urge to snap at Liam died on his lips when he looked at his son, taking in the utter confusion and fear on his face.

“Okay, all ready,” Emma announced, bounding down the stairs in much the same way Hope had. “Did I hear something about tickles...”

Her words faded away as she took in the scene before her. Killian stood very still, his hand rubbing a circle on his thigh as he stared at Liam, and Liam was clutching Hope as if he were terrified.

“Where are we goin'?” Hope chirped, effectively breaking the tension as she dragged her brother to the front door where their coats waited, still crumpled on the floor from their morning jaunt in the park. Liam's eyes lingered on his father for a second longer before sliding away.

“Killian?” Emma nudged, the slight uptick in his musk alone alerting her that something was wrong. “What happened?”

“He bloody bit me, Swan,” Killian ground out, careful to keep his voice as calm and even as he was able, his fingers still pressed against the damp indentation on his jeans.

“Well,” Emma drawled, biting her own lip to stop the half-smile that wanted to break free at how hurt and put out her alpha husband looked, “it's a good thing we're on our way to the doctor.”

“Everything looks good to me,” Dr. Parsons said, flicking off the small light in his hand and dropping it back to the desk. “Now, you could always bring him to the dentist for an x-ray, but I'm not seeing any indications that Liam's experiencing oral pain, and since he's said as much himself, I wouldn't be too worried.”

“That's good, of course,” Killian sighed. “Is there any explanation you can give us for the sudden biting?”

“What has Liam said when you've asked him?”

“It's happened three times – the last just before we got in the car to head here, but that's the only time we've seen the behavior ourselves,” Killian said, rubbing at his thigh to indicate just who had been the victim this time. “He said he didn't know why he did it, and he seemed extremely upset and sorry over the whole thing.”

The doctor hummed, reaching for a stack of books nearby and handing a sticker book to Liam while he sat on the exam table. “Do you think you can put all of the car stickers on the road for me, Liam?”

“I like boats,” Liam asserted. “Daddy has a boat. We go on it when its warm and not bedtime.”

“Ah, maybe you can take a look for any boat stickers in there,” Dr. Parsons suggested, making sure Liam seemed involved in his task before turning his attention back to Killian and Emma. “What was going on when he bit you. Were there any situational cues?”

“I was upstairs,” Emma said. “I missed the whole thing. Killian?”

“Hope and I were playing,” he shrugged, motioning toward their daughter who was sitting in one of the nearby chairs flipping through a book about animals. “Nothing out of the ordinary at all.”

“And was Liam engaged in playing with the both of you?”

“No, he was in the next room with some of his own toys.”

“And then what happened?”

“He threw himself into my leg and bit me. I nearly dropped Hope on top of him.”

“It sounds like you were carrying Hope?” the doctor asked, and Killian nodded in confirmation. “Is it possible that Liam thought his sister might be in some sort of danger?”

“Danger?” Emma scoffed. “Killian was tickling her. He tickles them both every day. It's one of their favorite games.”

“Well, I did threaten to make her walk the plank before that,” Killian muttered, wondering if perhaps the doctor was on to something, “but again, it's nothing Liam hasn't heard or seen a thousand times before.”

“What about the first two times he exhibited this behavior?”

“The second time was when the kids were sitting in a circle at school,” Emma said. “Another kid tried to sit next to Liam, and he bit his arm. The first time...I don't know – the teacher said they were playing in a close group and they weren't sure there was anything that happened.”

“Was Hope nearby in both of these instances?” Dr. Parsons asked, his fingers tapping on the keyboard as he made a few notes on Liam's chart.

“They're never far apart,” Killian interjected.

“Yeah, Hope was sitting next to Liam the second time, and the other child was trying to sit in a small space between them. The first time it was Liam playing with Hope and someone else.”

“I think that Liam is in perfect health,” the doctor reaffirmed for them. “My suspicion is that he is just going through some very early development.”

“What does that mean?” Emma asked, worried about what this would mean for their son.

“It's not very common, but sometimes traits that would have a normal onset during the early stages of puberty can start earlier. Even though someone may not identify as alpha, beta, or omega until their teens, the body has already started developing accordingly. For instance, the alveoli in the gums that an alpha possesses to transfer the compounds of their musk into the scent gland of an omega, while not fully developed in young alphas, are still present in an immature state from birth.”

“That's all very interesting,” Emma said, “but how does it explain what Liam is going through? His teeth look normal for his age.”

“I think Liam may be experiencing some over-protectiveness, courtesy of his genetic makeup. As I said, it's not common, but it does happen. We tend to see it most often in lines with a strong alpha heritage in the males. Is that the case for either of you?”

“Aye,” Killian hedged, “all the males in my family have been alpha.”

Emma shrugged, looking elsewhere and taking a step closer to Killian as her discomfort rose to the surface, tinging her scent with a bitter edge that caused her husband to wrap his arm around her shoulder. She was never fond of this line of questioning. “I wouldn't know – I don't know my family history.”

Dr. Parsons simply nodded and made another note on Liam's chart. “I think the reason Liam is confused and upset by the incidents is because he truly doesn't understand why he's done it. There's no reasoning that he's aware of, it's simply a primal reaction to something his body perceives as a threat – maybe a child reached too close to Hope, or pushed her trying to get a seat. With you,” he said, motioning to Killian, “you were roughhousing as normal, and Liam reacted instinctively to his sister's outburst.”

“Okay, that all sounds very...I'll have to take your word for it,” Emma smiled, “but what can we do to keep it from happening? I get that it's normal – if a bit earlier than we anticipated dealing with something like this, but it can't keep happening at school.”

“Aye, how can we help him get through this?”

“Well, we can run some labs to be sure, if you'd like. Though if my suspicions are correct, the hormone imbalance responsible will most likely even out in a few weeks, and the phase will pass. For now, I would suggest having a conversation about how school and home are safe places, and that going to an adult if he is worried about his sister is more appropriate than biting. It may also help to explain the difference between actual danger and something more benign, like an unintentional push.”

“At least we have a possible explanation,” Killian sighed. “Is it a simple blood draw for the labs?”

The doctor nodded. “Absolutely, I can have the nurse come in when we're done and take care of that right here if you'd like?”

Killian glanced at Emma and she nodded. It wouldn't be Liam's first blood draw, and it would be better to have a solid answer just in case there were any other unforeseen complications down the road. They thanked Dr. Parsons, both kids looking up from their books just long enough to wave goodbye, and waited for the nurse to come in. It didn't take her long, and in a matter of minutes she had a small table laid out with the equipment used to draw blood.

Emma held Liam on her lap while the nurse made a game of finding a good vein in his arm, tapping different spots and making silly noises until she found a vein she claimed was the 'biggest and strongest'. Hope was still completely enthralled by the pile of books next to her on the other side of the room, seemingly oblivious to everything.

“Now, there will be a little sting,” the nurse warned him, “but it will be very tiny, I promise. Then, I'm going to use this to take just a little bit of your blood.”

“What do you do with it?” Liam asked, brows scrunching comically together as he waited for an answer.

“We run it through a big machine with lots of hoses, and buttons and noises. Isn't that cool?”

“I guess so...” Liam hedged, still uncertain, but determined to be brave.

“You ready, bud?” Emma whispered, smiling as their little boy squeezed her hand hard and nodded.

“Yup.”

“Okay, here we go – just a little pinch,” the nurse said, sliding the butterfly needle cleanly into Liam's arm, red blood filling the line and pooling in the sample tube she quickly attached.

Though both Emma and Killian had expected it, Liam's sharp intake of breath and clenched jaw still made their hearts leap – but what they hadn't expected was Hope's book falling to the floor as she leapt to her feet, both her arms crossed tightly in front of her chest as she glared at the nurse.

“Hey, you! Don't hurt my brother!” she scolded, looking for all the world as if she wanted to launch herself at the nurse.

“Well, that's interesting,” the nurse teased, clearly unused to seeing vocal, brazen little girls in her office.

“No, that's just Hope,” Killian beamed, wrapping his arm proudly around Emma. “She takes after her mother.”

END

If you’d like to be added/removed from my tag list, please let me know. Keep in mind I maintain one list for all updates/previews.

Tagging: @donteattheappleshook @justanother-unluckysoul @kmomof4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop @karlyfr13s @elizabeethan @rkrbirdgirl @batana54 @ilovemesomekillianjones

#Captain Swan #cs fanfic #CS fic #Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics #sailtoafarawayland #alpha/omega #ficlet #omegaverse #fluff #captain swan kids

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bukojuiice · 4 years

Text

cuddle buddy! 🧸 chapter 22: seeing is believing [katsuki bakugo x f! reader smau]

˚* ੈ✩‧₊ series masterlist

(PLEASE READ TIL THE END!)

- (Y/N) is a soft, kind-hearted, quirky, and meme queen university student who lives alone in a cute little apartment complex. She mistakens Bakugo Katsuki for her old neighbors; an old woman and her granddaughter whom she absolutely adores. She leaves a giant teddy bear every day before the sun rises for the little girl to see. Not knowing that they had moved out suddenly, Katsuki who had just moved in had never seen such a huge fluffy abomination all his life that it nearly gives him a heart attack. Chaos ensues and you try your absolute best to make it up to the explosive cutie that is your next door neighbor.

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female! reader

genre: social media au, college au, normal/quirkless au, fluff, romance, crack, humor and lots of memes. lots of them.

warnings: strong language

status: updating

☆ asks are finally open and taglist is open! (would love to hear your thoughts and what not! c: to those who have asked to be in the taglist yet i have not responded to nor added please do message me or send an ask then i’ll answer privately! i’m really sorry! my notifications are a mess and i had no idea tumblr deleted asks from notifs 😭 another thing i’d like to add is that, to those who have already sent asks and are waiting to be tagged, i leave them unanswered so that i can remember everyone’s usernames to add to future chapters! will immediately reply once i’ve added you to the next one so don’t worry!)

[♡: first, i’d like to thank everyone for helping me reach 450 followers!! i did not expect i’d gain so much in just two months and i am forever thankful! <//3 so this chapter is basically an interest check to see if you guys would want some “special illustrations” such as the bakugo pics in this chapter? i really enjoyed making him on the sims 4 and tbh i find him really hot HSHSHSUHSUA

I am also thankful that there are so many s4 content creators out there who do such amazing work to the point you could let your imagination run wild with all the custom content. i hope that my bakugo sim actually looks pretty decent or at least handsome? i really tried my best! see you on the next chapter where chaos ensues again!]

[✿ psst if you wanna read my lame attempt on writing hcs for the three main bnha boys, feel free to read it here!]

[taglist: @themagical1sa, @loxbbg, @webkinzfroggie, @melanieacademy, @bakubae-boom, @bakasbitch18, @ravenkake, @softiehawks, @sansiemwah @sizzlingbarbarianglitter, @moon-spirit-yue, @thesuitelifeofafangirl, @spicyhokage, @softpinkangels, @faithfulferns, @bubbzibubbles, @cleverroadscissorscloud, @foreverren, @unknownweeabo, @little-kity, @bakugousflowerprincess, @torilovesmiraculous, @yn-tingz, @sokka-simp, @tired-bat, @omgevaclark, @tsumu-core, @jazzylove, @tarasaoristark, @sailor-earth-1, @fukyouthink, @mini-moni12, @punicorn999, @lavender-moon13, @whalerus, @the-shota-king-masayuki, @ak-may, @yammmers, @dabisdominion, @nightlygiggless, @xomegash, @ynfics, @athenarosaline]

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

Text

THINGS YOU MAKE ME DO

Prompt: Inspired by the song Things You Make Me Do by Devil Doll

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, angst, heart break, manipulation

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @akiko-tanaka , @wickedsunfire , @sassymox , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan , @auawdo , @lustyromantic , @babydee17 , @yungbludjazz360

Notes: This song is amazing, this band is amazing and I missed my main man, so enjoy lol ❤️ If you’d like to check out my other works, you can find them on my Masterlist 😉

I've got a secret plan to love you and I do so night and day

And I always stand right by you, have your back in every way

And you wish that I could save you and I wish that I could too

But if you cause too much pain for me I'll leave if I have to

He stood up from the hotel bed and began to get dressed, and as she stared at his figure, she wondered until when was she going to put up with this

But I think about you constantly all through the night and day

And I toss and turn in bed at night and hope it goes away

But it never does and when I wake and you're not next to me

I remember where you are, I hope your girl forgives me

“Are you leaving already?” She asked

“You know I have to” He looked at her “We can’t have people suspecting this” He motioned to the space between them “I would be fucked if they did” He scoffed

“Excuse me?” She asked, hurt by his lack of emotion “What do you mean by that?” She couldn’t have felt more offended, even if she chose to

“What, Y/N? Look, we fuck every once in a while, we have a good time but that’s it!” He chuckled, as he tied up his sneakers “Don’t try to turn this into something that it isn’t” He stood up

“Like what?” She asked angrily

“You know what? I’ll see you later” He winked, and walked out the door of her hotel room

Do I need you?

You seem to think I do

Can't seem to see through anything that you do

Oh, ooohhh, the things you make me do

Y/N was walking down one of the dark arena hallways, when a pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind, pushing her inside of one of the locker rooms

“Aren’t you gonna talk to me?” He asked, with his lips glued to her ear

“No, and let me go! I have work to do”

“You’ve been ignoring me for three days straight! Why is that, baby?” As his lips made contact with her skin, trailing down her neck

“Roman, just let me go. This is not the place and DEFINITELY not the time”

“I miss you” He whispered “Y/N, baby, you hurt my feelings when you treat me like this” He buried his face in her hair and caressed her body softly

She scoffed “As if you had any”

“Hey” He turned her around so she could face him “What’s the attitude about?” He looked into her eyes, and saw the resentment they held

“Is this because of what I said in your hotel room?” He sighed

“If you know, then why play dumb?” She spat

“C’mon Y/N, I’m sorry, ok?” He hugged her waist “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m an asshole! Please forgive me?” He pouted “Please, baby? I hate when you get mad at me” He begged with his eyes

“You don’t deserve it, you know” She crossed her arms in front of her chest

“Don’t be such a bitter bitch...It’s hotter when you’re MY bitch” He teased

When she tried to hold back a cackle, he knew he had won again

I should know better than to follow your lead wherever you go

Through the raging rivers, stones and alley ways we go

Sometimes I wonder if you really know where you take me to

But your radio is on so loud I can't get through to you

But if everything's ok with you then it's ok with me

You are such a little boy with you're big philosophy

But I'm not a little girl, I am a woman, don't you know?

I'm packing up my toys, I don't want to play anymore

“I don’t want to do this anymore” She said, watching him turn around and get dressed again - as he did every time.

“What are you talking about?” He frowned, as he looked for his shirt

“I don’t want to see you anymore, I’m done with this bullshit”

“You’re breaking up with me?” He laughed, in disbelief

“Well technically, in order to break up with someone you need to be with them in the first place”

“Not this again” He rolled his eyes in annoyance “Why do you always have to get feelings involved, huh? For fucks sake, can’t you ENJOY a one night stand like everybody else?” He threw his hands up in the air

“One night stand?” She widened her eyes in surprise “Do you call fucking almost every night for two years straight a ‘one night stand’ ?”

“Sexually speaking, we couldn't be any more compatible if we tried - so what the fuck do you want me to do? You’re a good fuck to me and I’m a good fuck to you! Why would I search in clubs and bars for something I have next door?” He tugged on his hair out of frustration “I don’t have to date you to like you, Y/N” He sat down beside her on the bed, and caressed her face delicately “You know I like you, don’t you, baby?”

“Yeah I know” She slapped his hand away “You like me when your dick is inside of me”

“Y/N” He sighed

“Get the fuck out” She kicked him on his lower back, in a repeated attempt to shove him out of the bed “Get out!”

“I’m leaving!” He said, grabbing his jacket

“Out!” She threw one of her heels at him, and her aim made it so it nailed him sharply in the hip

“I said I’m fucking leaving” He grabbed the door handle “Crazy bitch!” He said loudly enough for her to hear as he left

But what he didn’t hear were her sobs, which lasted the entire weekend

Do I need you?

You seem to think I do

Can't seem to see through anything that you do

Oh, ooohhh, the things you make me do

Six months had passed. Y/N had transferred to Smackdown, leaving Roman and all of their bitter memories together with Monday Night Raw, and for once in her life, is truly happy. That night, as she approached her car in the parking lot, she spotted none other than Roman himself leaning against the drivers’ door of her vehicle

And how can you smile at me when you know just what you can do

And it's not fair to me cause you know that I can never have you

How can you make me feel so good but then you make me feel so bad

You know that you are the baddest love that I've never had

“Hi, baby” He smiled sheepishly “I missed you” He tried to hug her, but she dismissed him

*It’s not going to be as easy as I thought* He mentally said to himself

“Can I talk to you for a minute? I wanted to apolog-”

“What are you doing here, Roman?” She asked sharply

“I got transferred to Smackdown”

“Good for you” She nodded once and continued “Now, if you excuse me, I’m really tired” She pointed towards her car

“Y/N” He cupped her cheek “Please, just hear me out? I regret everything I did, baby. I mean it! I should have never treated you like that, you don’t deserve it! You’re a beautiful, smart, sexy woman and it was a huge mistake to take you for granted” He brushed his lips softly against hers “Tell me you forgive me, I beg you, please, baby”

“I forgive you and then what? Everything goes back to what it used to be? You treating me like shit? No, Roman. This is not fair to me” She shook her head

“And you’re absolutely right! That will NEVER happen again! I give you my word, baby. Just give me one more chance and I promise I’ll make it up to you” His long fingers stroked the back of her neck lightly, making her miss what they once had.

That was until her phone rang, and the first chords of the Davy Jones Locket song echoed through the parking lot, remembering her of what she had now.

She smiled, as the song continued “No, I have to go” She took his hand off her face and entered the car to go meet the owner of that ringtone.

I've got my own man now, he treats me the way that you never could

And now you're all like "I should’ve, could’ve, would..."

But I'm afraid you've missed the train, you were too busy playing games

And now our story comes to an end, you ain't my lover or my friend

And when I am walking down the aisle oh so happily

Then you'll be saying "it could’ve, should’ve been me."

“Rumor has it, you’re getting married” Roman said, leaning against her office’s door

“Wow, news travels fast in this business, huh?” She answered, not paying too

much attention to him

“Can I see the ring?”

“Why? Want to buy a new one for your wife?” She scoffed

He decided to ignore her tone “Can I know who the lucky guy is?”

“Will it change anything if you do?” She continued to read her papers

“Can you stop answering my questions with other questions?”

“Will you stop asking me personal questions then?”

He chuckled softly “I missed that acid humor of yours”

“What do you want Roman?” She glared at him

“Your happiness” But this time, he meant it

“Now, that’s a bad taste joke” She laughed bitterly

“I know you don’t believe me, but I do”

“Right” She said dismissively

“Can you tell me who it is?”

“I figure, if you know I’m getting married then you also know who the groom is. Why hear old news again?”

“It’s Drew, isn’t it?” He asked defeatedly

She sighed “Yes, Roman. It’s Drew, are you happy now?”

“When is the wedding?”

“October. Why are you suddenly so interested in my love life?”

“I need to know how much time I have to kidnap you before you commit the biggest mistake of your life” He joked, but deep down, he meant it

“I’m pretty sure I’ve already committed that one” She said, intentionally making eye contact with him

“I love you, Y/N. Always have”

“You have a funny way of showing it” She murmured

“I’m sorry, babe...but I felt trapped. I didn’t knew how to express what I was feeling and I was so confused” He locked his gaze with hers “I would do everything different now, I swear I would”

She ignored his pleading eyes, and returned her gaze to her paperwork “I’m afraid that time is gone, Roman...There’s nothing left to do”

If you need me, I will not hear thee

Stay away from me, trying to decieve me

Oh, oh, ohhh the things you make me do

Oh the things you'll never make me do

Oh the things you’ll never make me do

Roses are red, violets are blue and so are you

One year later, Y/N is gathering her personal belongings from her office, her pregnancy doesn’t allow her to travel with the company any more, so she’s going to be working only from her home office for the foreseeable future. A knock on her door made her look up

“I heard the stork will be visiting you soon” Roman said

“Yeah, apparently she will”

“How far along are you?” He approached her carefully

“Just turned four months”

“Baby is popping out of nowhere, huh? Until a week ago you had no bump at all, and now” He reached his hand to touch her belly, but stopped midway

“It’s okay, Ro, you can touch it” She encouraged him

He smiled widely and rested his big hand against her tiny bump

“Do you know what you’re having?” He asked softly

“Girl” She smiled brightly “Regan”

“Even got her a name already? Damn baby, you’re fast- Sorry I shouldn’t have called you that” He said weakly

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it” She tried to hide the nostalgia the pet name brought to her

“I wish...” He trailed off

“Don’t. Don’t go there, please”

“You can still run away with me, you know?” He smirked, teasingly

“I’m sure you would look great holding a female version of Drew” She tried to joke

“As long as you birth it, I don’t care who made it. Although I wish it was me” He tried, one last time

“Maybe in another life, Ro” She smirked sadly, as she reached the door

“Do you promise?” He asked

“I’ll see you around” Smiling widely, she made her way out the arena doors, leaving him behind, for the second time (in that life).

But who knows what can happen in the next one?...

Please, if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

#roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns imagine #wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe one shot #masochist writes #Spotify

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argylemnwrites · 3 years

Text

Fight or Flight - Chapter 15: Hiccup

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4300

Rating: PG-13 (brief language)

Summary: Almost four weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: And we’re back! Since it’s been ages... Previously on Fight or Flight - Hana had learned that Barthelemy and Godfrey were working with Auvernal from Kiara, but Liam didn’t seem motivated to take much action regarding that fact. Leo had gotten money and belongings to Riley, who shared an intimate moment with Drake when she returned to their hotel.

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Liam let out a sigh as he changed the channel back to CBC. He needed to be actively watching, probably should be taking notes, in all honesty. This hour of programming consisted of discussion with three of the most connected political pundits in the country. It was the easiest and most reliable way to get a feel for the leanings of both the journalists and the common citizens, and it aired every weekday, so it was far more up to date than waiting for the biweekly polling.

The issue was that the panelists were revelling in the recent turn of events with such glee. It was understandable, he supposed. This was the most exciting political turn of events this country had seen in centuries. It put the mild speculation that he was Bridget’s biological father, a rumor had surfaced around the time of his announcement that Drake and Riley’s child would be heir and had briefly flared again at Bridget’s first public appearance when people had seen that she indeed looked like a child with some East Asian heritage, to shame. This wasn’t just baseless gossip and stirring the pot to increase ratings. This was true turmoil, plain and simple. There was a relative unknown carrying the power of the Crown, the current Queen-regent had been “kidnapped” and not seen in weeks, citizens were protesting daily, and this was all expected to last for months until the Conclave, where all the tension and drama would culminate in a vote among the five major noble houses to name a new monarch. The journalists and talking heads had a seemingly endless feast in front of them. All of it at his expense.

He took another sip of his scotch as he tried to focus on the screen ahead of him. If he could figure out how to gain a majority of the public’s support, then he could apply some pressure to Kiara and Landon prior to the Conclave vote. Not that he was naive enough to think that would be enough to assure that he would regain his title, but at least it would be one more piece of ammunition in his arsenal.

“The protests outside of the Capital aren’t going to be as easily quieted as the ones in Valtoria, Victor,” Francine Giorano stated, leaning forward and gesturing across the table to Victor Blussé. Blussé was the moderate on the panel, while Giorano was a staunch traditionalist. “They have had fears about the role the essentially-American Walkers played in our government for years, and look how right those fears turned out to be.”

“How is any of this the Walkers’ fault, Francine? This can all be traced to Barthelemy Beaumont!”

“The Conventus Nobilis was written into our foundational laws for a reason, Victor,” chimed in Willa Hyllop, the final member of the panel, added to the program in the past year to bring in a more modern, pro-democratic viewpoint.

“Surely you aren’t saying you are on the side of Beaumont, Willa! He represents an even less progressive faction than Liam Rys ever did.”

“I may not agree with everything he stands for, but I will always support measures that place some checks and accountability on our monarchy,” said Hyllop with a shrug. “Besides, the fact that Rys surrounded himself with yes-men and granted titles and appointments on the basis of friendship since he ascended the throne did little to convince me that he was the ‘progressive king’ he swore he was. He was more of the same, just without the aggressive rhetoric of his father.”

“And look how that turned out! Lest we forget, he stood by while Auvernal brought warships to our shore last year,” added Giorano.

Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Giorano and Hyllop were never on the same page about anything, and here they were, agreeing that he had been an ineffectual king. He tuned out Blussé’s response, knowing that some lukewarm rebuttal from him was going to do little to bolster his confidence. The fact was simple - his fall from grace was widespread. There were few left who saw him as worthy of the title of king. He had failed, completely and entirely.

“Liam?” Olivia’s voice cut over the television.

Liam opened his eyes to find her staring at him from the lounge’s doorway, a frown cutting across her face. He forced a smile as he gestured for her to join him. “Just taking a little break from hearing how incompetent I am.”

Olivia’s green eyes narrowed at his poor attempt at humor, but she strode over to him, joining him on the couch, undoubtedly taking in the blank notepad, the untouched stacks of documents, and the glass of liquor that sat on the table in front of him. “Well, that’s the perception we’re going to have to work to change.”

He tipped his head to rest along the back of the couch, sighing as he did so. “I know, Liv. It just seems so impossible at the moment.”

She didn’t say anything for several excruciating seconds. He rolled his head to the side, taking in her face, concerned eyes boring into him as she slid a hand around her neck, her blood-red nails digging into her skin. “We’ve got months still, Liam. Calling our goal impossible is premature.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right, and I’m all ears if you have any recommendations for where to start.”

“Well, I got confirmation that Landon and Emmeline’s driver is loyal to us, so Ray is going to approach him at the Derby this weekend to see if he might be willing to earn a little extra cash by divulging some secrets. And their new head of kitchen has a brother with significant gambling debts, so that’s another lead worth pursuing.”

“Sounds good, Olivia.”

“Now, as far as next steps for you, I was hoping you might give reporters a few minutes for questions before the derby.”

Liam swallowed, his brain scrambling to come up with a reason, any reason, against her suggestion, when his phone vibrated on the table, the name “Bastien” flashing across the screen.

“Why is he calling you?” Olivia asked. All Liam could do was shrug as he leaned forward, grabbing his phone and swiping to accept the call.

“Bastien?”

“I don’t have long,” he started, not even taking the time for a greeting. “I don’t know if you are in touch with Drake, but if you are, you need to let him know that they need to get out of Athens.”

“What are you-”

“Rashad is negotiating with Greek authorities right now to allow the King’s Guard to be the ones to make the arrest. We are waiting on the tarmac for clearance to fly to Athens.”

“How-”

“He’s requesting Greek surveillance of their hotel until we get there. They need to leave now.”

“Bastien, what-”

“I have to go.” And then, the line was dead.

Liam sat there, numb and frozen, trying to process the slew of information that had just been dumped into his lap by his former head of security.

“What the hell is going on?” Olivia’s voice drew him out of his daze, prompting him to set down his phone on the couch, digging frantically through the stacks of papers.

“I need my burner.” He heard his voice as if he were an outsider observer. It was thin and shaky, frail and panicked. His hands shook as he felt around the table in front of him, knocking over a pile containing reproductions of the accounts of the last Conclave, dozens of papers spilling onto the floor.

“Liam, what the fuck did he tell you?”

“They know where they are. We have to warn them.” All his frustrations and pain related to Drake and Riley suddenly felt so petty, so ridiculous. The stakes were higher for them, always had been higher for them. They were about to get arrested over wanting to keep custody of their daughter. And while they left him to fend for himself, left Cordonia in a state of political upheaval, he knew that was a price that was wildly unfair.

“Who knows where they are? Rashad?”

“Yes,” said Liam, shoving more and more documents around the table. Where was his burner?

“How does he know?”

“I don’t know! Where the fuck is it?” Liam swiped his arm across the table, books and papers flying, the sound of glass breaking echoing through the room as his scotch tumbled to the ground.

A strong set of fingers with sharp red nails slid around his wrist, holding him still. He took a rough breath as he turned to face Olivia, who was eyeing him as she tugged her own burner out of her pocket, only breaking his gaze to glance down at the screen, tapping three times before holding it to her ear and looking back at Liam.

The few seconds of silence on her end were maddening, but then she was speaking, her voice curt and all business. “Drake, authorities are coming. You gotta go. Now.”

Liam tried to rein in his rapid breathing, tried to calm his heart rate down to something more human. “The King’s Guard is flying into Athens. They are leaving now. Rashad asked for Greek surveillance until-” but Olivia nodded at him, cutting him off.

“I don’t know how. But your hotel is about to be under Greek surveillance until the King’s Guard arrives, so you guys have to get moving. Good luck.” She hung up at that, letting out a massive sigh. “Shit,” she breathed out after a few seconds, her eyes bouncing back and forth before she slammed them shut, clearly planning and preparing.

Liam felt her fingers trembling around his wrist for just a second, but then she let go. She pushed herself off the couch with a flourish. “Find your burner. I’m gonna make some calls, but we need to destroy any evidence that we were in contact with them,” she said, nearly jogging towards the door.

“Olivia…”

She spun around and let out a little breath before walking back towards the couch. Her hand settled on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze as she gave him a nod. “We warned them as soon as we could, but we need to be the ones worried about the big picture right now. And things will only be worse for them if you and I are arrested, right?”

All he could do was nod. She was 100 percent correct.

“Okay, so find your burner. I’ll be back in a little bit, Liam.” And with that, she was off, a woman on a mission, leaving him sitting there, shaking on the couch, just trying to find his footing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hana shook hands with the final citizen, a woman in her late 40s who had been born and raised in Valtoria.

“Thank you so much, Your Grace,” she said, smiling as she returned the handshake.

“Of course. Just because our country is going through a period of transition doesn’t mean that I am going to ignore the needs of Valtoria’s citizens.”

The woman thanked her again before turning and exiting the formal dining room, the location Hana had chosen for the first Citizen Open Forum she’d scheduled. The large table provided ample seating, but the room was close enough to the main entrance to make it unlikely that anyone could wander into private areas of the estate without being caught by staff.

Olivia had been irritated when Hana had told her she was opening up the estate to the public. “You are giving Barthelemy’s people free access,” she told her. But Hana knew that she couldn’t just sidestep her duties as a duchess. Not only would that weaken people’s perception of Liam by association, but morally she just couldn’t do that. The country was in such turmoil because of a few members of the nobility trying to wrest power from some other nobles. For her citizens to be left neglected due to the whims of the highly privileged was ethically something she couldn’t allow to happen. So she’d hosted the forum, hearing directly from Valtoria’s residents what she should prioritize to improve their lives, but made sure to instruct her staff to notify her immediately if anyone was caught wandering too far from the dining room or bathroom. It was the best she felt she could do under the circumstances.

However, the last citizen had now vacated the estate, and Hana couldn’t help but let out a contented sigh. It had gone well, she thought. She had clear budgetary priorities to request at the upcoming meeting between the social season’s derby and the stop in Lythikos. Plus, one of the leaders of the protesters in front of the estate had come, and conversation with him had been productive. Obviously, she couldn’t outright tell him that she wished she could be right out there with them, carrying a sign that said “She’s their kid,” but he had given her a knowing smile when she told him she saw no reason to intervene when Cordonia citizens were just exercising a right to free speech. He had all but promised her that the protests would stay peaceful and would not target her for her assumption of the role of Duchess of Valtoria.

As she wandered into the kitchen to make herself some tea, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. She turned on the tap to fill the kettle with one hand as she moved to answer the call with the other.

“Olivia, how are you?” she asked, watching the kettle fill.

“Do you not answer your phone anymore?”

Hana frowned, pulling the phone away from her ear and swiping the screen. “I don’t have any missed calls, Olivia.”

“Not this phone. I’ve called you no less than ten times.”

She turned off the tap and set the full kettle on the counter, a nagging thread of anxiety and fear worming its way into her heart with that statement. “What’s wrong?”

“Turn on the news.”

Hana spun around, finding the remote laying on the island and turning on the television mounted in the eat-in nook.

“-these exclusively obtained photos show a woman who appears to be the former duchess, Riley Walker, conversing with the former Crown Prince, Leo Rys, at a bar in Athens.”

The screen filled with a low-quality image, clearly zoomed in several times. The lighting was a sort of orange color, and the faces were grainy and fuzzy, but there was Riley, although her hair was clearly dyed a much lighter color. Leo’s face was only seen in profile, not as identifiable, but he was obviously talking to her. The screen changed to a new photo, Leo a bit more recognizable in this one, passing Riley something.

“Oh no,” said Hana, leaning against the counter.

“-clear evidence of collusion between the former Crown Prince and Riley Walker, who has been charged with treason and kidnapping of the monarch,” the anchor droned on, but Olivia’s response drowned out the quiet volume of the television.

“Yeah, that’s an understatement. So what was so pressing that you were ignoring your burner?”

“I had the forum with the citizens, and I thought if I was carrying two cell phones, that might-”

A massive groan from Olivia cut her off. “Whatever. Well, you need to destroy your burner. Now.”

“But what about Riley and-”

“I warned them. Hopefully they are able to get out of Athens, but nothing else we can do there. It’s time to protect ourselves.”

“Olivia, what-”

“I gotta go check on Liam. Destroy the phone, Hana. And don’t call me.”

“Why can’t I-”

“-Liam is definitely going to be questioned since Leo is now known to be involved. We can talk at the derby, but if they start monitoring our phone records, I don’t want to give them any reason to think we are scheming.”

Before Hana could as much as tell Olivia she understood, she heard the line click dead. Taking a few seconds for some calming breaths, she centered herself before she climbed the stairs to her quarters, a pit of dread cementing itself firmly in her stomach with each step. She reached her room and opened the top drawer of her dresser, pulling the burner phone out from underneath her nylons. Sure enough, she had dozens of missed notifications from Olivia, and a couple from Maxwell as well. Well, she knew what those were regarding. No need to deal with them at this point. Instead, she walked over to her dressing table and grabbed her manicure kit.

She wandered down the hallway towards the lounge, taking in the quiet and calm. It was odd; the estate probably had more people in it currently than it had for most of the time Riley and Drake had lived there. Hana didn’t feel compelled to aggressively minimize the staff presence like they had, far more used to having employees around from her upbringing. But staff were expected to be as discreet and silent as possible, to make themselves scarce, particularly in the private quarters.

No one had ever called Riley quiet. There was a certain vibrancy she brought to any room, and her voice and laughter were always echoing through the halls. And even though Drake wasn’t the most talkative, he certainly would quip, snark, and joke in the privacy of his own home. Of course, once Bridget was born, there was more noise and energy and life than ever before. Now, it was just Hana and the corgis. The estate felt hollow and soulless.

Once in the lounge, Hana shut the door behind her firmly. Anderson glanced up, but quickly draped his head back over Vera, all the dogs curled up on their giant cushion in the corner. Hana knew that the maids had cleaned the lounge yesterday, so she was unlikely to be found there. She sat down in one of the armchairs, and pried the cover off the back of her phone using her cuticle pusher. All the electronic components stared up at her, ready for her to do her worst. But before she could bring herself to kill the only connection she had to her best friend, she flipped the phone over and sent one last message to Riley.

I love you all. Stay safe. I’ll find a way to get in touch when I can.

Letting out a sigh, she turned the phone back over. She spent the next 15 minutes prying off motherboards and any chips and cards she could find, dropping them one by one into her container of acetone nail polish remover. Then, she removed the battery before placing the remaining elements into the fireplace. She would just have to store the battery under her floorboards until she could figure out how to safely dispose of it.

She started a fire, then curled up on the couch, tugging a quilt over her lap as she watched her only connection to the first person to show her unconditional love melt and warp, eventually turning to ash. Tears started trailing down her cheeks, dripping onto her blouse and the quilt, but she didn’t care. She was devastated - for herself, for her found family, and for her country. At some point, Anderson jumped up to join her, nestling in against her legs.

“I miss them so much,” she said, dropping a hand to the top of his head. “So, so much.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bridget was wailing in her crib, but Riley didn’t have time to calm her. She needed to pack. Now.

When Drake had called her, she knew something bad was happening. He’d left with their passports this afternoon to take them to a cousin of a friend of someone Drake had met at the restaurant, someone who was supposed to be able to help with fake documents and forgeries. The plan had been to change their names and their country of origin, allowing them to catch a flight to the States without getting stopped at the airport. The final destination once there hadn’t been decided. Drake had wanted to go to Texas, but Leona’s presence scared Riley. She had already sold out their safety for a quick payday once before.

But that debate was a moot point now. So was the uncertainty about this unknown forger on whom they were relying. Drake had called, frantic and alarmed, clearly running and somewhat out of breath as he spoke to her. Telling her Olivia had called to warn them they were about to be arrested. Telling her to pack. Telling her they needed to run.

So Bridget was unceremoniously dumped into her travel crib as Riley tried to shove everything into the duffel bags from Leo. She knew she should leave the impractical things, like the framed photos, but those would incriminate their friends. So they had to come with. Toiletries seemed essential, too. Some of the clothes were going to have to get left behind. Some of the toys as well. She had to be able to carry everything in one trip. She had to get to the car as quickly as possible.

She knew it had probably been less than five minutes since Drake had called, but it felt like she was moving too slowly, taking way too long. Drake hadn’t given her any sort of time frame. Who knew if Olivia had even given him one. But for all she knew, police were rounding the corner, waiting for her in the hallway, about to burst through the hotel door. So she shoved and crammed and squeezed everything she could into the duffel bags and the diaper bag. Those would go over her shoulders, the crib would collapse and go in one arm, Bridget in the other. That would have to be good enough.

Once she was sure that the bags were as full as they could be, she pulled Bridget out, placing her on the floor as she scrambled to collapse the crib, fumbling with the locking mechanism for just a few seconds before it folded in on itself, allowing her to tuck it into her elbow. By some mad miracle, Bridget was hanging close by, not trying to crawl away to explore and cause trouble. Maybe she was frightened by the way Riley was acting. Regardless, it was a blessing.

Knowing she was as ready as she was going to be, she loaded everything up and grabbed Bridget, pausing just briefly to juggle their possessions as she opened the door. She didn’t bother closing it behind her, just moved as quickly as she could with her load down the hallway, down the stairs, through the lobby, and around the corner to the street where their car was parked. No one tried to stop her or talk to her, so she took the time to toss everything on the ground and properly latch Bridget into her car seat. Then, she threw everything in the hatchback before climbing into the passenger’s seat and locking the doors behind her. Bridget continued to cry, but there was little Riley could do to comfort her at this point. All that was left to do was wait for Drake.

Drake had told her to meet him in the car, but she didn’t like feeling exposed, sitting where anyone could see her during broad daylight. Add to that the fact that she was in the passenger seat, so she wouldn’t even be able to make a quick getaway if need be. Her piss-poor driving skills were just one more area where she was making their life harder, but there was no way to fix that right now. All she could do was hang tight. She was contemplating what in the car she could use as a weapon if it came down to it when her phone buzzed. She swiped to answer instantly when she saw it was Drake’s number.

“Drake, where are you?”

“Around the corner from the hotel. You in the car?”

“Yeah. How did-” but before she could get her question out, she saw Drake through the driver’s side window. She let out a little yelp of surprise before reaching over and unlocking the door, handing him the keys as soon as he sat down.

He didn’t even bother to say anything, just started the car and eased off the clutch as he shifted into first gear, pulling out onto the road. Bridget quieted soon after they got moving, but Riley didn’t feel any better as the yelling and screaming subsided. She just stared at Drake, one hand braced on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift, his neck and shoulders so tense and coiled, he looked ready to burst.

“Where are we going?” she finally chanced asking.

Drake shook his head, never taking his eyes off the road. “I don’t know. Out of Athens.”

“Then why are we making so many turns?”

“Don’t know if we were being watched or followed. Gotta lose anyone who might be tailing us.” His voice was clipped and frayed. He sounded about five seconds away from losing it completely. Riley wanted to hold his hand, to comfort him in some way. But she didn’t want to distract him, both from driving and from the tiny amount of control he had over his emotional response to everything that was unfolding. After all, they weren’t safe yet. So she just nodded and grabbed her phone off her lap.

“I’ll pull up some maps, okay?”

He nodded and let out a rough breath at that. “Thanks, Walker,” he said before flipping on the radio. “Can you try and find us a news station?”

“Drake, I won’t-”

“I’ll translate.”

And so they were off, unsure where or how far they needed to go to be safe. All they could do at this point was keep moving forward.

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

TRR/TRH: @twinkleallnight @iaminlovewithtrr @mskaneko @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know @iplaydrake

FoF: @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby

#drake walker #drake x mc #trh au fanfic #trh au #trh fanfic #king liam #olivia nevrakis #hana lee #choices fanfiction

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emotionalcello-makefanfics · 3 years

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Disclaimer tho, all my knowledge of the fandom is strictly from fanfic and google. I don't read the comic or watch the anime. I only have some vague knowledge of what's canon or not and making this fanfic has been somewhat of a fever dream.

Tags: Fluff and angst. Attempt at humor. Crying. Probably ooc. No smut, just holding hands and some hugging and some kissing. Shouto smokes, and probably incorrect depictions of smoking. Implied child abuse (you know who). Lowkey Fuyumi bashing.

Warning: In character cussing from explodo boy.

Summary:

They found each other in coinciding vulnerability. Shouto was smoking, Katsuki was crying. Miraculously, no one died. It seems that vulnerability is exactly what they need to get through their respective problems, because vulnerability makes them do the one thing the two boys are allergic to do, opening up.

Or, Shouto and Katsuki cope with each other. It miraculously didn't end in explosions, just a lot of physical affections and crying.

Words: 10.9 k

You don’t have to take life so seriously Shouto! It can be whatever you want to be, it’s yours!

Shouto knocks his head back and parts his lips. White ribbons bleed to the orange sky. The clouds are pretty pink instead of white. The smoke doesn’t blend in with the white clouds anymore like a few hours ago. He taps the amber ash on the portable coffin-shaped ashtray. More than a dozen filter buds crammed there.

He should go back to his room. Any darker then it would be noticeable when goes back to his room. But there’s always that small whisper at the back of his head: Maybe after one more. This spot has been his salvation from overstimulation. It’s the highest building in UA, the rooftop of the dorm. He’s been here for two years and has always been alone.

The door slammed open.

High on nicotine, Shouto passes through shock to immediate acceptance that he’s busted.

Only, he’s not busted. The next sound that came is sobbing. The first thing he sees is awry blond hair and a tear-streaked red face. Soon came the already red blood-shot eyes, staring at him with a sadness that not even in Shouto’s wildest imagination can imagine on Bakugou’s face. It takes a few seconds too long for the default glare and anger to return.

“The fuck are you doing here!” He yells, his voice croaks in a not angry way. Wet and breaking at the pitch.

Shouto, still a bit floaty and relaxed from the nicotine in his system, nor is he yet to register the shock from seeing Bakugou’s tears, just points down towards his fingers.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” his voice is scratchy, a tad bit deeper. He never smoked so many that that happened. Then again, today is a special day.

Seemingly just as shocked, Bakugou seems to still. Shouto expects crackling hands, bared teeth, or maybe a ‘TELL ANYONE AND DIE’, but never that he strides his way and sits on the floor beside Shouto.

“Still have one of those?” Bakugou leans back.

Wordlessly, Shouto digs the last pack from his pocket. There are six left. Bakugou takes one, and Shouto lit a fire on the tip of his thumb towards Bakugou.

“How do you do this?” Bakugou says, eyeing the fire.

“You’ve never done this before?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I have Icyhot! Now fucking tell me already.”

“You put it between your lips, and inhales a bit as you put this corner on the fire.” Shouto crowds him cupping the end of the smoke with his palm and keep the fire controllably small. It feels like Deja Vu, but this time, Shouto is showing someone how to smoke instead.

Bakugou tries, and before Shouto can say to take it slow, Bakugou already choked and doubled over coughing. Shouto pats his back.

“What the fuck was that!” Bakugou roars and grimaces when he sees the stacks of cigarette buds on his ashtray. “How the fuck do you smoke that many!”

Shouto shrugged, “I’m used to it.” He puts out his bud on top of the pile and picks up the mostly one-piece cigarette that Bakugou chucked to the floor and lights it up. He feels eyes on him as he put the filter on his lips and lit it up in one smooth move.

With the cigarette properly lit, he offered, “Wanna try again?”

“No! That shit’s nasty.” Bakugou snarled at the hand holding the smoking cig.

“Suit yourself,” Shouto takes a deep drag and sighs. Surprisingly, Bakugou doesn’t up and leave, and more so that Shouto doesn’t mind the silence.

Alas, it only lasted exactly 33 seconds.

“How the fuck did you get in here!” Bakugou grumbles, “The door was locked.”

“I made ice stairs from my balcony.”

“Like how Elsa did?”

“Exactly like Elsa did, she was my inspiration.”

Bakugou snorts. No sadness left, just a condescending smile, which is better than the ghostly tears in his eyes.

“How did you get in through the locked door?”

“How else would you think?” Bakugou lifts his hand, cradling a small cluster of explosions.

Shouto face palmed, dragging it down.

“What?” Bakugou barks.

“Well when they figured out the door broke then they gonna figure out that someone’s been here, don’t they?”

“That nicotine is already killing your fucking brain cells.”

“That’s not how it’s-”

“Let’s get the fuck outta here before anyone finds us you loon.”

“But I-”

“You’ve burned through enough death sticks, let’s go!” Bakugou grabs his hand and pulls him up.

“Fine fine, let me tidy up.” Shouto could barely close his ashtray with all the buds in it, and he dusted the ashes that drops to the floor.

Shouto already makes the stairs down to his room before looking back at Bakugou, “Want me to drop you to your balcony?”

“I don’t know,” Bakugou narrows his eyes dangerously, “Will it suddenly melts away as I walk on it?”

Shouto huffs, “You have no faith in your favorite sparring partner?”

“The only thing I learned these past couple of years with you being shoved at my face as my sparring partner is that you’re a little shithead.”

Shouto makes the stairs towards Bakugou’s room first, reveling in how badly Bakugou tried to cover his amazement at the stairs.

“Just like Elsa’s, right?”

“You want me to give you Elsa’s number 1 simp trophy?”

Shouto melts Bakugou’s step and lets him fall blond head first into his balcony.

“YOU’LL FUCKING PAY FOR THAT, COCA-COLA SHITHEAD!”

Bakugou roars, and Shouto giggles as he jumps upstairs to his room with explosions fading behind him.

Not until he’s laying in bed that night that he thinks about Bakugou’s tears again. Rest assured, his imagination spiraled to ‘what could it be’ until 4 am.

++++

I don’t understand why your dad wants you to be number one when he should’ve want you to just be happy. Nothing in life really matters unless you’re happy.

Shouto loves everything about living in the dorm, but it has one and only one weakness. He can’t smoke as freely.

His dad knows and just rant about how it’ll affect his performance.

Now, Aizawa knows, and he’s at the principal’s office.

Shouto instantly knows how. Bakugou broke the rooftop door. Iida must’ve found it, reported it to Aizawa-sensei. Maybe his homeroom teacher has magnifying vision too because Shouto could’ve sworn he left no trace.

Yet Shouto can’t find it in him to blame anyone. He knows as an aspiring hero he shouldn’t smoke, those reasons never matter at those desperate times he needed to smoke.

“Tea?” Nezu raises his pot of pink teapot, Shouto narrows his eyes at the paw (how did that paw hold the teacup?)

“Yes, thank you.” The cup is equally pink, with two cheerful yellow flowers on each side. This looks like a tea set Eri had.

Shouto sips the possibly herbal tea, trying to ignore the glare Aizawa-sensei is sending his way from beside Nezu.

“Todoroki, how long have you been smoking?” His sensei’s voice gravels, like he just woke up from bed, his bed hair supports the theory.

Apparently a little mental, Shouto said, “Overall or in school?”

“Both.”

“Started when I was in first-grade junior high school.” As soon as he has any time away from home. “In UA, as soon as I stayed at the dorm.”

“Now, Todoroki,” Nezu put his paws together, “You know someone as young as you shouldn’t smoke. You’re underage, and an aspiring hero on top of that...”

Nezu then continues his PSA on smoking. Nothing Shouto hasn’t heard. Every word goes in the left ear and came out the right. He also isn’t surprised that Aizawa will be taking his stash of cigarettes. It doesn’t suck as much because Shouto doesn’t have a lot left anyway, nor is he been regularly smoking. He smokes when he’s stressed and nothing else could calm him down. He never reached out to the cigs first. The coffin-shaped portable ashtray reminded him that.

As soon as he’s back at the dorm, he’s greeted with a cheerful environment. Half his classmates are hanging in the living room. There’s a group playing Mario Party, a group that’s putting on nail art, and a group that seems to cook something ambitious. Shouto usually joins the group, but not today.

“Todoroki!” Iida comes from the hall, “Aizawa-Sensei came earlier and ran through your room! He seems to confiscate a pack of cigarettes. I’ve tried to tell him that it’s all a misunderstanding-”

“No, it’s mine.”

“Todoroki! At our young age as aspiring heroes we sho-”

“Nope, sorry not today Iida. Good night.”

Todoroki feels a few eyes on his back, but he walks on. With him naturally keeping things to himself, his friends tend to worry but they trust him to reach out to them in his own time. When it gets too long they usually check up on him. Shouto wished they never will.

+++++

You have the power to be whatever you want, but why are you following the wishes of someone you hate? I know he’s your dad, but your life is yours, Shouto.

Shouto’s wish didn’t come true when Bakugou bugs him on the rooftop again two days after he was raided.

It’s Deja Vu, but fewer tears from Bakugou and Shouto isn't a pack and a half deep in cigarettes.

“I fucking know you’d be at my spot again!” Bakugou spat scathingly.

“Excuse you,” Shouto scowls, “I’ve been smoking at this spot since the dorm opens. This is my spot.”

“Well, I’ve been- I’ve been-” Shouto should’ve known that Bakugou would turn red and explodes instead of admitting he’d been caught emoting, “What the fuck are you doing here anyway! You’re doing nothing!”

“No thanks to someone.”

Bakugou narrows his eyes, confused at the implication, but his exploding friend is smart, so he figured it out, and isn’t happy with what he figures out. “The fuck, get your accusing eyes away from me discount Sans, I don’t tattle.”

“No, but you exploded the door which leads to Iida reporting it, which leads to Aizawa inspecting the premises, and him figuring it out that smoked here.”

“That’s just your fucking fault for not covering your trace clean!”

Shouto inhaled indignantly, but then too tired to justify himself. There’s no ending of arguing with Bakugou, and Shouto had learned to choose his battles.

“How about you? How did you get in here?”

“Stole a key from Iida.”

“Are you here to cry again?”

Bakugou’s palms explode, his face an embarrassed flush and teeth bared in anger, “WHOS FUCKING CRYING!!?”

“I have eyes.”

“You’ve been sucking on those death sticks way too much.”

“I wasn’t smoking that type of substance.”

“Whatever, I’m not dealing with this,” Bakugou turns to step away.

“I don’t get it, it’s not a big deal!” Shouto raises his voice a bit, for some reason his heart rate picks up when Bakugou starts leaving. “So what if you sweat through your eyes? Midoriya does it almost every day, sometimes twice a day...”

“Don’t fucking compare me to fucking Deku you fucking fried ice cream!”

“...And Midoriya beat you at this year’s Sports Festival,” Shouto dismissed.

Bakugou grits his teeth, but his eyes watch over Shouto. “Stop stalling and tell me what you want from me,” Bakugou growls.

Shouto’s eyes widen at the sudden honesty, he nibbles on his bottom lips, “Stay here?”

For a second, Bakugou glares at him, but after two years of being his classmate, Shouto can confidently say that they’re friends. He knows Bakugou isn’t angry at him. As to prove his point, Bakugou sits beside him, a bit closer than Shouto expects him to, though still with that permanent scowl. Shouto moves his palms from his pocket, letting go of the aluminum ashtray. Shouto tests the waters and moves closer so their shoulder bumps. No explosions, no snarl, success.

Instantly, Shouto relaxes. Focusing on the pressure of their shoulders, the light shifts Bakugou does (because he can never fully stay still), and the clouds moving. No thought, just being alive.

Alas, no quiet ever lasted long with Bakugou, he expected it though.

“No wonder Aizawa figured it out, this place still stinks of tobacco.”

“It does?” Shouto takes a deep sniff, all he smells is Bakugou’s sweat that always smells sweet because of his quirk. “I didn’t smell anything.”

“Yeah no shit scar head, your nose is probably numb at this point.”

“I don’t smoke that much.”

“Said someone who smoked more than a dozen in one sitting,” Bakugou’s nags turns to worry, “Damn, was it really in one sitting?”

“Is that worry I detected?” Shouto deflects.

Bakugou grits his teeth, “I’m not worried! Go die off lung cancer I don’t fucking care!”

“Good, then, because yes it was, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Fucking hell it’s not! What the actual fuck are your lungs made of? I barely suck it past my throat and I almost coughed out my insides.”

“I missed your dramatics,” Shouto says genuinely, and he waits for an explosion to come. Bakugou doesn’t do well with praises thinly veiled with snark.

It never came, Bakugou watches him closely instead, “Yeah? And who’s fault is that?”

Shouto dared to glare back, but it didn’t last long, he knows the answer. Shouto had come out of his shell nicely, as Momo had put it. He’s still awkward, can’t really quite grasp ‘pop culture’ and how to correctly implied it, but he regularly hangs out with his friends. As of late, he’s noticeably withdrawn. Going straight to his room after class, and opting out of game nights, nail nights, and even soba nights.

They had been giving him space, which he finds endearing. Of course, Bakugou isn’t one to give anything liberally.

“Mine...” Shouto admits, and Bakugou looks surprised.

The fun part of befriending Bakugou is that Shouto could be a bit of a bitch and Bakugou would be a bitch back, and it wouldn’t matter. No one’s feelings were hurt, and Shouto can let go of steam without guilt. Shouto could’ve been in denial, said that Bakugou should step off his dick and no feelings would be hurt.

But he had enough of space, though admittedly, he should’ve confessed that with someone that wants to be in his space.

“Finally, you’re done moping around, everyone’s been on my ass worrying about you.”

“Why would they be on your ass?”

“Hell would I know.”

“Was that the reason you cried?” Shouto is just teasing, but the grim in Bakugou’s face isn’t a familiar one.

“I told you that didn’t happen!” he growls lowly.

Shouto considers, clueless yet curious. “I’ll tell you about me if you told me about you.”

“Just because you’re vomiting your crisis that I didn’t ask for, doesn’t mean I’m obligated to do the same!”

“Okay, that’s fine too.”

“No, shut-”

“My mom and dad are getting back together.”

Bakugou’s expression mellows to confusion, “That sounds convoluted as hell. Didn’t they just got a divorce or something?”

“They never got a divorce. She’s just sent to a mental hospital and never came home, doesn’t mean the marriage is legally broken.”

The fact seems to sink slow with his explosive friend, “What the fuck.”

Shouto sighs, looking down his jittery hands, his mouth dries. “Last year when I visited my mom, we were talking about the future. She said she’d filed for a divorce, and I’d live with her.” Shouto feels oddly numb, but there’s this dull ache deep in his chest that’s constant. “I should’ve known. She said that before he ‘tried to change’... she said that when everything was still bad, she thought it still happened.”

“What still happened?” Bakugou sounds angry, but he always does.

“I got hurt a lot when I was a kid, because of training. She thought he still hurts me.”

He felt the shoulder beside him tensed. Beside Shouto’s jittery hands is Bakugou’s clenched shaking fist. Shouto looks up from their laps and finds that Bakugou’s face... an eerie stoic.

“Hmmm,” Bakugou hums, and a chill runs down his spine. “When did you start training by the way?” not even a curse in that sentence.

Shouto realizes then, this is Bakugou truly angry, even though Shouto can’t figure out why on earth would he be.

“The day after my quirk manifested.”

His childhood is unforgettable. The day his training starts with fear and pain, then ends with exhaustion and anger. The day Touya never came back, the day his mom left, the longing stare towards the backyard wanting to play with his brother and sister. He remembers it all, like a tattoo in his memory.

“We been knew that Endeavor was an ass but I didn’t know he’s a fucking child abuser.”

The words snap him away from his musing. This time, Bakugou looks angry angry. Teeth-gritting, scowling, boiling anger.

Oh, that’s why he’s angry.

“It was training.”

“Not at five fucking years old you e-boy himbo!” Bakugou barks.

“That’s new, what’s a himbo?”

“Not the fucking point!” Bakugou takes his shoulder away, and suddenly Shouto feels cold. Then he’s held by his shoulders, pinned by sharp maroon eyes, and the lack of warmth turns cold when a growl says, “You’re telling me that your dad’s been abusing you, and no one stopped him? And he’s fucking getting away with it??”

There are so many things wrong with that question and implied statement. One is that it was not abuse. Two is that no one could’ve stopped the then number two hero. Three is that Shouto didn’t tell him any of that but Bakugou assumed anyway.

Shouto doesn’t get to say all of it as Bakugou lets go of him and takes deep breaths. Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly displeased at what he’s thinking.

“Why did you think your mom wants to get back together with your dad?”

Shouto feels relieved now they’re back on topic, “I don’t know. It feels like one moment she’s afraid of him, and now she wants to be with him again. I guess... he did ‘try to be better’. Everyone else seems to forgive him, but I can’t.”

Then Bakugou does something that he didn’t expect, he defends them, “I mean... He’s not that much of a dick now, right? He’s a dick but he was pretty alright when we have a work-study at his agency. And your mom’s better, so maybe they could make it work?”

Shouto knows it’s technically true, but displeasure clawed him still, his blood boiling.

“I don’t care whether it works! I hated that she forgives him so easily!” Shouto shouts.

“Well, that’s selfish of you, isn’t it! It’s her decision, not yours!” Bakugou barks back.

“What the fuck do you know about it?” Shouto spats, he stands up, “They’re going to destroy each other, and what then? Do they want me to just look at their trainwreck while they insist everything is okay? No! I’m not going through that again!”

“You’re just not trusting your mom! Things changed!” Bakugou stands up too, he looks exceptionally angrier than ever.

“No, I don’t. Especially after she said she wanted to get a divorce with him then changing her mind only a year later. Of course, I don’t trust her!”

“But isn’t it better to have both your parents together?”

“No, it doesn’t especially when she’s not happy!”

Bakugou doesn’t bark back, and Shouto only realized how Bakugou’s question was laced with a cracked voice. Shouto looks, only partially surprised that the eyes that look back thinly veiled with tears. The heat in his bloodstream wanes out, more worried/horrified that Bakugou is now openly crying.

This is the worst. Both of them are socially awkward lone wolves that have no idea how and what to do with emotions. So, Shouto does his #best.

“You can tell me.”

Bakugouu glares. Okay, so maybe Shouto’s #best isn’t what he needs.

“Only if you want, if you don’t then it’s okay too.”

“Shut the fuck up, thermostat.”

What else do you do when someone cried? Shouto racks his memories of times when he was crying a lot when he was little, trying to find examples he could follow. He remembers his mom.

“Come here.”

“The fuck are you trying to-”

Shouto cuts him off with a hug. It’s as awkward as it comes. Shouto has his arms around the broad shoulders, his chin hooked on the right side. Shouto doesn’t know how tight he should hug, but it’s enough to press their chest together. Then one of his arms, the left one, rubs Bakugou’s back, emitting a slight warmth. In two languid swipes, Bakugou’s tenseness bleeds slowly.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Shouto says, mimicking what his mom had said once upon a time when he’s upset. “But it’ll be okay. Maybe it’ll take a long time, or it’ll be really hard, but you...” have me, you don’t have to deal with everything alone, was what his mom finished with. He doesn’t know if Bakugou would see him as reliable, but Fuyumi had said that intentions are the most important. “You have your friends, and you have me. I don’t know what will help, but I’ll do it if you asked.”

Shouto surprised himself that he means it. When he encounters an emotionally fragile situation, he usually gets Midoriya, or Urakara, or Momo to handle the situation. With Bakugou however...seeing that his usually prickly friend tipping at the edge like this, Shouto felt like he wants to help. Perhaps it was the camaraderie of the S.S. Emotional Constipation that makes him reach out his personal hand towards Bakugou.

Shouto found another surprise when Bakugou hugs him back, his spiky blond head tucked at the crook of his neck. Shouto also didn’t expect the reflex tears pooling in his eyes at the feeling of tightening arms around his torso. He’s being held, tight and needy. When was the last time he’s held like this? Tears pours without his will when he realized the last time someone hugged him was Touya as Dabi when he was about to burn himself along with Shouto.

They stay there on the rooftop just holding each other as if they’ll fall apart if they don't. When Bakugou lets go, his eyes are even redder than it already is. When those red eyes look up, he noticed the tear streak down Shouto’s face and doesn’t comment about it.

Instead, Bakugou says, “My parents are splitting up.”

Shouto says nothing, only to pull him in his arms again.

They say nothing else as they sit at the same spot on the concrete floor leaning on each other, hand in hand. Shouto instinctually teared up again when he remembered the last time someone holds his hand was his mom as she walked him to a park, all those years ago. Other than that, it was for survival and fighting.

Bakugou leans his head on Shouto’s shoulder first, Shouto says nothing about it. He then leans his face on top of Bakugou’s hair, it feels like a bed of grass, Bakugou says nothing about it too. Shouto realizes that Bakugou can be vulnerable as long as no one points it out. Being untalkative, Shouto can do just that.

The future is scary, especially when their supposed foundation is changing. Bakugou’s foundations are breaking apart, while Shouto had grown accustomed to the torn apart pieces now move together crossing fingers that they fit.

But the future is for tomorrow. The changes are not theirs to make. All they can do now is hold themselves together as everything changes, hoping they don’t break in the process.

Eventually, nightfalls, but none of them moved. Shouto suspects that Bakugou might be sleeping on him.

It’s a suspicion no more when Aizawa found them there, and Bakugou doesn’t stir from being found. Those tired eyes already look exasperated as he finds Shouto’s tear-streaked eyes looking back.

Aizawa sighs, “Is it life-threatening ?”

Shouto knows that the teacher is prone to worries despite his appearance. Their stumble at first year seems to scar him and made him extra vigilant with his students ever since.

“There’s nothing we could do about it,” Shouto says, which is true, but seemingly a wrong thing to say.

“That doesn’t answer my question, trouble child.” Aizawa scowls, which means his worry cranked up to max. “Are the both of you facing a problem that harms you, or threatening your life?”

“It’s nothing like that,” says the bundle of blond in his shoulder. Bakugou sits up and stretches, yawning so big his jaw seems to unhinge a bit. He doesn’t look angry, just tired. “It’s family drama, you know how it is.”

“Is it really just drama?” Aizawa squints at Bakugou, too knowing for someone without a mind-reading quirk.

Bakugou looks at Shouto, searching and prodding. Shouto doesn’t understand what he could be looking for, or what he wants. Bakugou just sighs, “Yeah, just drama.”

Aizawa looks at Shouto too and softens. “If you two need to cuddle you can just do it in your respective room.”

“Nah, too many nosy people.” Bakugou starts to leave.

Shouto follows with a “Good night Sensei.”

Aizawa grunts.

“We can use my Elsa stairs,” Shouto pipes in as he walks alongside him.

Bakugou looks at him and huffs, “Turns out you’re not a himbo after all.”

Since Bakugou won't tell him, Shouto looks up ‘himbo’ himself. This raises a lot of questions about how Bakugou has been seeing him, but Shouto decides that he’d be offended by it.

++++++

You could still be lonely even though you have tons of sibling, or even when they really love you. I guess they just don’t know how to show us they love us.

He really should’ve known. He really should’ve fucking known.

The thought spins in his head as he smoked the last cigarette on his freshly bought pack. No one to catch him this time. It’s the weekend and he’s supposed to be at home, but it’s unbearable to be in the same room with his family. Usually, he could just slurp his soba in feigning ignorance but not now.

He’s sitting by the bench of a lonely park. He’s been sitting here since sun down. He has no idea what time it is. His phone in his pocket is on silent, he hasn’t checked on it since he walked out.

He should’ve stayed at the dorms, fuck the family dinner.

It’s not that Shouto wants things to end up badly. It’s not like he doesn’t want to be home, especially since his mom finally comes home after so many years. Everyone is happy that she’s back, even Natsuo, even his dad. Everyone except her. It looks so hard for her to be there. Shouto can see in her face that some places still hold strong bad memories for her.

His mother is strong because she pulls through. She holds herself through it all even though it seems only barely.

Yet why is he still so angry at her? Maybe not angry, frustrated. Shouto wants to ask her clarity. Why is she doing this? Why did she change her mind? Why come back here? Why not grasp the independence she had been telling Shouto she strived for? Was she coaxed to be here? Was she feeling some kind of responsibility to go back here? To salvage that sham of a marriage she had with Endeavor?

Shouto wants to ask, wants to understand. He crowded her with questions that moment when they said they’d be getting back together, only for his mom to wince, eyes widen, and quickened breath. For the second time in his life, his mom had looked at him with fear. Today, Shouto could barely meet her eyes again.

Is he really such a monster in her eyes just because he’s half his father? Then why go back to his father at all?

Shouto bought half a dozen packs as per tradition. Also because of his self implied tradition, he puts all the ashes in the coffin-shaped ashtray, even though there’s a park ashtray right beside him.

“You carry that everywhere,” Says a groveling voice that Shouto would notice anywhere.

Bakugou is in casuals. Black jeans and a grey hoodie seem like he’s out in a hurry. Just like Shouto.

“You’ve got to stop stalking me,” Shouto inhales deep, watching red amber burns till the filter and sighs.

“Who fucking stalking you Zuko.”

“Zuko doesn’t have-”

“Shut up,” Bakugou plop his ass beside Shouto, sitting waaay too close. He snatched the coffin tin, inspecting it. “Even when you didn’t smoke you carried this.”

“How did you know?”

“It shows your pocket, not big enough for a phone.”

Shouto knows he can’t get away once Bakugou began prying. “My first friend gave it to me.”

“That fucking Deku???”

“No,” Shouto chuckles at the image of Midoriya taking the role of what his first friend did. “It’s someone I met first-year junior high. She gave me this after introducing me to cigarettes.”

“That’s so fucking passive-aggressive I would’ve punched her in her teeth,” Bakugou grumbles, putting the ashtray to Shouto’s lap. “And why the fuck would anyone smoke at thirteen anyway!”

“Exactly because we’re thirteen, Katsuki, just because,” Shouto chuckles again at the memory. Seemingly too carefree from the nicotine, Bakugou had become Katsuki in his tongue. Katsuki bristles at his given name, but says nothing about it. It mysteriously made Shouto very happy.

“Among everything though, she was my first best friend, she teaches me a lot of things that make me who I am. She made me realize that I didn’t have to follow my dad’s wishes. That I can be what I want to be instead of what I was born for. That it’s valid to be lonely even though I technically have a big family. That it’s okay to not strive to be the best and just to be... happy.”

Shouto closes his eyes, remembering her lessons always fell bitter-sweet. But he’ll hold it in his heart forever.

“What you’re born for?” Katsuki says scathingly.

“Yeah, you know about this.” Shouto was told that Katsuki had eavesdropped on his conversation with Midoriya. Shouto was born to fulfill another man’s vendetta. A purpose first, and a son last.

“Seem like a wise person for a thirteen-year-old,” Katsuki sneers.

“She was, I loved her,” Shouto’s confession brings Katsuki’s face to a red grimace.

“Shit, I didn’t ask you to tell me your fucking secrets.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“Oh, really?” Katsuki spat bitterly, “Then why are you hiding your girlfriend from us?”

So many things wrong with that question. Shouto raises his eyebrows in surprise, “She’s not my girlfriend, and I’m not hiding her. She’s dead.”

The grimace fell like a hot potato, it would’ve been fun watching how Katsuki splutters if he didn’t look like he’s legit choking. “Holy fuck, that's... fuck, then why the shit you’re so stoic talking about it,” Katsuki seems appalled.

“It happens a long time ago. She seems accepting of her death that I... well I want to respect her decision.” Shouto knows it’s weird to not feel mournful of the departure of your closest friend. He still misses her, but she had been so positive until the very moment she left. Shouto was sure that she’s happy, so Shouto wants to be happy for her.

Katsuki paled, horrified, seemingly to misunderstand again.

“She had a terminal illness. Very likely no chance of survival. She chose to live her remaining time normally instead of undergoing treatment.”

“There’s... There’s no way her parents let her do that.”

“They’re economically challenged. They tried though, just too late in the end.”

“Fuck...” Katsuki cursed, running through his hair roughly. “Never thought you’d be the type of person to have life-changing moments like that.”

“A lot of people have proven to me that everyone has potential to be unexpected, and that’s just how it is.” Shouto looks pointedly at Katsuki, who glares at him in retaliation. “There’s a reason why we’re both here instead of home.”

“Yeah?” Katsuki mumbles, clearly not wanting to talk.

Shouto doesn’t too, to be honest, and yet keeping it in feels more exhausting, “My mom’s home.”

“No shit?” Katsuki was mildly surprised, “So it’s really happening huh.”

“It’s like walking on eggshells with her. I wanted to ask, but last time I did she flinched at me. I couldn’t look at her today.”

Katsuki sighs. This time, Katsuki is the one that scoots over till their shoulders touched all the way to their thighs. The contact makes Shouto breathes easier, he’s drawn to it like moths to a flame. His body goes limp as if it’s been too tense too long from holding itself together, and he drapes himself on top of Katsuki. Shoulder pressed together, his head heavily falls on Katsuki’s shoulder. Instinctually, his hand looks for another hand. Katsuki snakes around his hand and clasps it with his. It’s uncharacteristic, but Shouto finds himself grateful for it.

It’s warm, it’s damp, it’s grounding. Like lying on even earth after running away for so long.

“I don’t want her to be with him under the obligation that parents are supposed to be together for the kids. She’s been through so much, I would’ve understood, but I didn’t know how to say it without triggering her.” Silence follows, and Shouto realized what he said. “Sorry, uh, I’m not insinuating-”

“Shut up candy cane, I know.” Katsuki leans closer, his head on top of Shouto’s.

It’s warm, just what he needs in the middle of an emotional crisis at the beginning of November. It’s a bit out of character for Katsuki to do this, nor Shouto, neither of them are known for physical contact or talking about their personal lives. Yet here they are.

And Katsuki speaks anyway, “They’re fighting.”

Shouto, contrary to what Katsuki called him, isn’t a himbo. He knows who they are and he knows what a fight could entail.

“Did they hurt each other when they fight?” Shouto asks, then mused even if they did, could Katsuki do anything about it? Shouto couldn’t back then.

“No!” Katsuki says, indignant, “Of course not, they’re just bitching at each other about... about... I don’t know, it’s fucking stupid.”

“Hm, that’s good.”

“Fucking hell it’s good, they’re being idiotic!”

“They’re not hurting each other.”

Katsuki paused, his hands clenched tighter, “Did he hurt your mom when they fight?”

Shouto takes a deep inhale at the surge of memory. The fear that settles is old, he knows. Just leftover trauma that never went away, still, it bubbled to the surface, makes his skin cold.

Not trusting his voice, Shouto nods.

“They were fighting about me,” Katsuki says after a while, his voice a bit shaky, and Shouto knows better than to point it out. He keeps his head on the shaking shoulder and listens. “They didn’t know I was listening, they never did. They never... Turn-Turns out they didn’t even plan on having me.”

Katsuki holds his hand tighter and trembling.

“I’m a fucking accident,” Katsuki spat, venom dripping in every word. “Then they had a shotgun wedding, they didn’t even love each other at all.”

Shouto hears one escape of a sniff and lets himself relax, feigning clueless that Katsuki must’ve been crying. He lets the silence stretches until the hand holding his relaxed and the shaking subsides. Shouto had the same breakdown before. It downs to him that they’re not so different after all, children of a loveless relationship. Though he wonders if that instantly means he’s unloved. It had felt that way, but now... now it feels so much complicated than yes or no.

“Does it matter why we’re born?” Shouto hears a deep inhale of an incoming rant but he cuts it off with, “We’re our own person, with our own lives, and our own dreams. No one can tell us otherwise. Not even the one who makes us.” Shouto pauses and listens, what came to his ears is soft breathing, so he continues. “So what you’re not planned? That doesn’t mean you’re unwanted,” Shouto rubs his thumb over the damp knuckles, “You’re not unloved.”

Because Shouto had been to the Bakugo residence. Bakugou Mitsuki is as explosive as he is, but he can see her adoring stare at her son even when she’s scolding him. Bakugou Masaru is softer, always trying to calm both of them and giving small smiles when Shouto tells him stories about his son at school.

“What the fuck do you know, water dispenser?” Katsuki lowly growls, but it doesn’t have that biting hate, he doesn’t move away from Shouto.

So Shouto only hums and lets the silence stretch. He grabs the ashtray with his other hand, rubbing the plain surface with his thumb, remembering her, thanking her.

“What’s her name?” Katsuki says after minutes of silence, his voice with less snarl.

“Arisu.”

“... I’m sorry you lost her.”

And that’s what happened, isn’t it? Shouto may be able to let her go, but she’s still lost to him. Still hurts, Shouto still mises her. “Thank you.”

They didn’t let go of each other until Shouto’s phone rings. It’s Natsuo. His brother is just as unhappy about their parents' reunion, though for him it’s more about hating their dad and less about questioning their mother as Shouto did. Natsuo called to offer to spend the rest of the weekend at his place. Shouto immediately agrees, then he remembers Katsuki.

“Is it okay if I bring one of my friends?”

Katsuki instantly glowers at him.

“Who?”

“Katsuki.”

“Who??”

“Bakugou.”

“Oh, yeah sure. Buy some dinner on the way, I didn’t get to eat much.”

“Okay, me too.”

As soon as they hang up, Katsuki bares his teeth.

“Who says I’ll go with you, Pokeball?” His voice raised a bit, his arms crossing defensively.

“I’m not, I said if. You don’t have to, but if you want, you can.”

“No one fucking asked you for shelter,” Katsuki scoffs, facing away.

“I know...” Shouto knows Katsuki would rather leave than accept help. The only way he accepts it is that if no one acknowledges it. He knows Katsuki can take care of himself, but Shouto is the one that doesn’t want him to leave just yet. Shouto knows he’ll go back to Natsuo’s place only to hear him bitch about Endeavor when the real problem is with their mom and her odd decision.

“Can’t you just stay for dinner?” The desperation in his voice is real, Katsuki seems to notice it and is bewildered by it. “Please?”

Katsuki’s eyes widen at the magic word because no, Shouto doesn’t say it often, much less towards Katsuki, he had enough ego already.

Nose flared and fist clenched, Katsuki finally barks, “Fine! But we’re cooking instead of ordering take-out, I fucking know what you’re gonna get you soba simp. Your brother better has a kitchen.”

“He does,” Shouto replies, the upbeat tone in his voice is rare. Can you blame him? He’s excited that he’s not coming home, and Katsuki goes with him with his admittedly superior cooking.

At Natsuo’s apartment, Shouto helped Katsuki cook, nothing more than chopping stuff. Natsuo gave him a brief summary of what happened at home after Shouto left, but thankfully, he’s not saying too much because Katsuki is there. Once Natsuo finished talking and left to get beers, Shouto gives Katsuki an arm squeeze of thanks. Katsuki only grunts.

Dinner is ‘simple’ in Katsuki’s opinion. Stir-fried vegetables, miso soup, and hamburg steak. As always, it’s delicious, and Natsuo who’s none the wiser to Katsuki’s God-like cooking skill is blown away.

They’re in the living area on the sofa watching TV when Shouto scoots closer again. Natsuo is in his room studying.

“You can stay here for the rest of the weekend if you want,” Shouto says, bumping shoulders.

Katsuki frowns, eyes on the screen. “I don’t have my change of clothes with me.”

“You can borrow mine, I have some here.”

“Ran away a lot don’t you?” Katsuki sneers.

“You have no idea,” Shouto admits.

The sneer falls, “Why?”

“Just because I finally can.”

“You couldn’t before?”

Shouto shakes his head, finding his head heavy, so he lays his head on Katsuki’s shoulder again. “Before he was number one, he insists on using all my free time on training. If I didn’t, he’d take my phone, or the internet, or my manga, even burned them on some occasion. He even flushed my pet fish, rest in peace Kiya. Then he’s number one, and the dorms are established... so...”

Shout shrugs. He doesn’t reach for Katsuki’s hand this time, just pressed against him, afraid if he pushed then Katsuki would retract. Shouto doesn’t want to stop his newfound comfort just yet.

Then his hand is grasped by a firm clammy hand. Shouto keeps thinking of how Katsuki’s sweaty hands must be because of the nitroglycerin of his quirk. If he’s not thinking about Katsuki’s quirk then he’d think about how it makes his heart skipped a beat that Katsuki initiates the touch again. So yeah, clammy hands that hold him tight.

“Why didn’t you tell anybody?” Katsuki says, weaker than he’s accustomed to. It makes Shouto wary.

“I don’t know what is there to tell.”

A groan stretches, “What do I do with you?”

“Hey...” Shouto mock complains “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Does he still train you like that?”

Shouto feels a bit of whiplash with all these questions. Katsuki has been asking personal questions left and right, and Shouto doesn’t understand why answering it doesn’t feel as hard as usual.

“No, not since he became number 1.”

Katsuki scoffs, “Got what he wanted didn’t he?”

“Sometimes I wonder if that’s the case. When he got it, he didn’t seem happy, just angry. Then he started wanting the family he broke to get that number one spot.”

That renders Katsuki to another bout of silence. He knows Katsuki strives to be number one too, and at first, Shouto had ridiculed him about it. Why does a superficial title mean so much anyway? Katsuki changed over the years though, with Midoriya being the main cause of it.

Heart on his throat, Shouto dare asks, “Hey, Katsuki? Why do you want to be a hero?”

Katsuki tensed, but Shouto holds him tighter, “Why are you getting nosy all of the sudden?”

Shouto knows he’s not getting things easy, “I just wanna know.”

“Yeah, that’s nosy.”

“No, I just want to get to know you.” Shouto bites his lips as soon as the words left, was that too forward?

They’re not looking at each other, but Shouto can feel the glare directed at him. “Why?”

“We’ve been friends for a while...”

“We’re not fucking friends-!”

“...But I feel like I’m taking you for granted. I didn’t even know you’re going through something so big.” Some friend I am, Shouto broods.

It takes a few seconds, but Katsuki defeatedly sighs, and Shouto smiles in victory, “At first, I just want to be the best.”

“Best at what?”

“Everything...” Katsuki muses, his head knocked back, “Then I realized that it was an impossible goal... Did a lot of thinking, did a lot of uh, self-reflecting. Started talking to Ito-san too. I realized that I just want to be needed.”

It makes sense why Katsuki is here then. Shouto wished he could outright say that he needs him so Katsuki would stay longer, but just imagining him doing so already makes him pink in embarrassment.

Ito-san is the school counselor, her doors are open for every UA student. Shouto had half the mind to go to her, but there’s always this weight of silence from being a son of a high-profile hero. Endeavor always drilled him about secrecy and how he shouldn’t say anything about his family to anyone or it’ll ruin everything. It’s the reason why Arisu was his only friend, she was dying, and she did take his secret to her grave. Shouto still feels guilty about that.

“Have you ever talked to Ito-san?” Katsuki asked as if reading his mind.

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

“Everything that comes out of my mouth is tabloid-worthy. Endeavor had drilled me from way young that I can’t run my mouth about our lives. He’s right about that at least, I didn’t want paparazzi swarming us demanding half-assed rumors if I can help it. It had happened before, someone even sneaked into my mom’s hospital to reach her. I guess... that’s also why I never told anyone at all about anything.”

“You told Arisu didn’t you?”

Shouto bites his lip, guilt gnaws at him, “Because I know she won't carry my secrets long enough.” Please don’t hate me. Shouto’s grip on Katsuki tighten.

“But you told Deku, you told me.”

“Well, I trust you,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing. “You sure you don’t want to stay over?”

Katsuki leans away, and the cold strikes immediately. Shouto leans back, pointedly not looking at red irises.

“Fine.”

Shouto quickly looks up, then he finds Katsuki’s face odd. There’s something familiar with it. He’s... smiling, only slightly, but it’s a smile, and his eyes aren’t furrowed or angry or glaring. His eyebrows relaxed and he looks.... soft. Maybe Shouto fell asleep and currently dreaming.

“I’ll need to call my parents first,” Katsuki says after clearing his throat, looking away a bit flushed.

“Sure, I’ll get you settled.”

Shouto is half excited half worried. He told Natsuo that Katsuki will be borrowing the couch, which only replied with a hum while his eyes doesn’t leave the book. His brother is not unfamiliar with runaways. Shouto isn’t the only one seeking shelter at his place.

Shouto passes the balcony where Katsuki is screaming at his phone. Shouto can only hear muffles, but he gives Katsuki some privacy and gets some spare clothes. When Shouto sees that Katsuki is still on the phone even after ten minutes have passed, he takes the liberty of taking a shower first.

When Shouto walks out, he finds Katsuki sitting by the sofa, his hands suspiciously inflamed. He faces the screen but looking particularly nowhere. Shouto had seen those empty looks before.

“Katsuki?”

He jerks slightly as his name is called. Katsuki schooled his expression to a careful stoic, walls up. No matter, Shouto thinks, sometimes you don’t need to tear down walls to help a person, just hold their hand through the gate.

“Go take a shower, bath’s warm.”

Katsuki nods, taking the towel Shouto offered and the spare clothes. Shouto makes tea, for him, his brother, and Katsuki. Shouto delivers the cup of tea to Natsuo’s room, seems like the books are multiplying around his brother.

“Tea,” Shouto says before putting it on a coaster.

“Thanks.” Natsuo finally looks away from the book and takes a sip. “That Bakugou, how is he?” Natsuo asks, knowing that Shouto only brings his friend here in a dire situation.

The only other person he brought was Kaminari, believe it or not. Kaminari had said he didn’t want to come home for the weekend because he was scared of facing his parents after he came out via text. From the replies, it hadn’t been good. Kaminari spent the rest of the stay switching between sobbing and full-on crying. Only God knows why Kaminari asked him instead of any of the Baku-squad, but Kaminari is still his friend too, so Shouto provides.

But today with Katsuki is different though. Shouto had to beg him to stay, whether it’s for the benefit of him or Shouto the line had blurred.

“Hopefully he will be,” Is all Shouto can offer. Natsuo nods before going back to his book.

Shouto lays out his futon in the living room adjacent to the sofa. He’s laying down, scrolling at his phone. Putting his dad on read and ignoring Fuyumi’s and mom’s chatbox. He opted to look at cat videos instead. Soon, Katsuki came out of the bathroom, drank the offered tea, and laid down on the sofa.

They spent probably an hour separately looking at their phones when Shouto finally calls it a night. He turned off the lights, and tuck himself in. Before he said goodnight, Shouto thinks and his desires take.

“Wanna hang out tomorrow?” he asked.

Blood red eyes look at him from the screen, “Where?”

Shouto shrugs, “I don’t know, just around, get my mind off things. There’s a cat cafe I’ve been wanting to see, then we’ll go from there.”

Katsuki stares, seemingly thinking it over, “Have you ever been to a rock climbing gym?”

“A what?”

Katsuki smirks, sharp-teethed and evil, “Oh you’re in for a fucking experience, red velvet oreo.”

Shouto is a bit suspicious, even so, he finds himself looking forward to tomorrow.

+++++

I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but you shouldn’t think that way. Of course you’ll have more friends. You’re more lovable than you think, Shouto.

Something changed between them after that weekend. Comfort grows between them. Comfort that they don’t want to let go just yet, perhaps not anytime soon.

The bad thing about it is that everyone notices. Everyone.

To their friend's credit though, they came to school together, walking very close to each other. It was fully initiated by Shouto, but Katsuki didn’t snap or push him away, so he assumed everything is okay.

Everything is absolutely not okay because the moment he walks to class everyone has eyes on them. Shouto thought it won’t matter to him, but Katsuki tends to be defensive. When Katsuki is defensive, he pushes people away. Shouto tried not to watch Katsuki for the whole class.

Momo noticed, of course, but she notices more than superficial things.

“Shouto,” Momo whispers, “Everything alright?”

Shouto gives her a smile and nods.

It’s not until they’re getting up for lunch that Shouto is tested in a form of Kirishima.

“Bakubro! How long have you been dating Todobro?”

The world screech halt, and Kirishima tensed at the sudden chill he’s feeling. When Kirishima found the source of burning in his back, he sees Shouto, glaring hard and terrifyingly at him. Face darkens, pupils small, ready to kill.

Kirishima squeaks, “He-hey, uh-”

“Back off Kiri, it’s none of your business,” is all Katsuki says. Not even a scream, just a conversational tone as if he’s bored. No defensiveness, no snarling at Shouto in retaliation. “The fuck are yall extras staring at? Move outta my way, I’m hungry!” Then he left.

No one is barging Shouto with questions instead. It’s out of character of his classmates to not poke their nose in something juicy, but as he drops his butt at his chair, he finds himself alone in class.

Shouto is left in class with a big wave of relief, so much that he couldn’t stand. Why is it that the thought of Katsuki pushing him away scares him this much?

A hand landed on his desk, he looks up to find Momo’s honest stare, “Something is not alright.”

Shouto sighs, “No.”

Unlike Katsuki, Momo never pries, only assuring that she’s there for him. Unlike Momo, Katsuki understands that some things can’t be fixed, wherein if he opens up to Momo and some others, they tried to help by fixing. The number of times his friends told him, again and again, to go to Ito-san when they found out about Dabi being his brother is an exhausting amount. Maybe that’s why Shouto has been more comfortable with laying his problems to Katsuki.

So he eats lunch with Momo in the silence of comfortable company, and there’s just that.

+++++

Thank you for being there for me. You’re the bestest best friend I could ever wish for. And you won’t be lonely for long, you’ll see.

Shouto has peaceful days following that first Monday. His comfort with Katsuki doesn’t change. Though they don't get together on the rooftop anymore (Iida never let go of his key since Katsuki managed to steal it), they still gravitate towards each other whenever they don’t feel particularly great.

Katsuki would approach and say things like, “They want me home this weekend.”

“You wanna stay at the dorms or my place?”

“Can’t. I know they wanted to talk to me about who I wanna stay with.”

“We can make up an excuse if you want.”

“Hm.”

Then they spent the rest of the day together, just sitting at the school’s lawn, looking at particularly nothing. And if they sit too close together and their clasped hands only partially hidden by their legs, no one pointed it out.

Shouto would approach and say things like, “Fuyumi wants to call me, I know she’s just gonna talk about how I’m tearing the family apart.”

Katsuki snaps from his bed towards the window where Shouto is stepping down from his Elsa stairs.

Katsuki’s shock then turns to fury, “Your sister, Fuyumi, THAT Fuyumi said that to you?”

“She wanted the family together. I think she’s frustrated that I keep making my parents' union difficult.”

“You know what, her spicy mapo tofu isn’t that delicious anyway!” Katsuki barks his hands clenched down mini-explosions. It’s one of Katsuki’s outbursts that Shouto doesn’t understand, nor does he understand why her mapo tofu is related in any way, so he doesn’t comment.

“I’m gonna head up to the roof, wanna come?”

“No, you’ll just smoke and you’d give me fucking cancer.”

Shouto feels cold, Katsuki had never said no from hanging out before, “Fine.”

“Who said you can leave? Come here!” Katsuki held his ankle from the balcony, gripping tight.

Shouto blinks, remembering what Aizawa-sensei had said some days ago. “Oh, are we gonna cuddle?”

Katsuki’s face set aflame, “Just fucking come in here Katy Perry, before I yank you by your stupid Poland flag hair.”

Shouto finds himself obeying at the thought of cuddling, but then confused, “Why Katy Perry?”

“Hot and cold.”

“I guess that’ll make sense if I know who Katy Perry is but.”

Katsuki spat a curse, “Alright, time for a session of pop culture.”

“But I already had them with Mina and Sero”

“And they’re doing a shit job about it if you didn’t know the person that shapes a whole ass generation.”

It started with a music video of Hot and Cold by Katy Perry and ends with a retelling biography of Lady Gaga. Who knew Katsuki is so knowledgeable about female pop stars.

“TELL ANYONE AND DIE,” He said after Shouto pointed it out.

Most important of all, they did cuddle. They were sitting on the bedside then suddenly they’re laying down side by side. They’re watching a gameplay video of a Swedish man playing a horror game, another important role in pop culture as Katsuki said. It’s an old video, and Katsuki said that the man owns some part of Antarctica, which Shouto knows it’s some kind of an inside joke.

The nights getting late, and Shouto is reminded of the text on his phone, how it vibrates occasionally. Shouto has been in Katsuki’s room for four hours, but he doesn’t want to go back to his room.

Katsuki notices him lingering, “You wanna stay here for the night?”

Shouto looks up from Katsuki’s phone with big sparkling eyes, “You sure?”

“Tch, I wouldn’t have offered if I don’t.” Katsuki looks away, exposing his neck that seems red to the tip of his ears, “It’ll be a little cramp though with my single bed.”

“I don’t mind it. Just don’t kick me out of bed.”

“No promises.”

Katsuki didn’t. He curled away from Shouto as soon as the blankets tucked. Their backs pressed against each other because of the small space. Shouto finds it hard to fall asleep, could be the new environment or the gnawing anxiety.

He’ll admit that Fuyumi is his favorite sibling. She’s there for him when he was condemned in that lonely manor only to train and study. Fuyumi stays back for him, tend to his wounds, cook for him, keep him company. Natsuo had left and rarely come back, even though he’s there for Shouto in the end.

Then his dad had a bootleg redemption arc and Fuyumi dropped him like hot potato and shoved both of them together despite what Shouto feels about his dad. When his parents are getting back together, Fuyumi stopped consoling Shouto and started to support them blindly. So desperate to have their family together. Doesn’t she know that there’s nothing to salvage? Doesn’t she remember what he did?

“I can hear you from here, air conditioner,” Katsuki grumbles, his back vibrates, “Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying.”

Shouto can’t stop thinking, can’t stop getting angry and getting hurt. It hurts when his sister is pointing the blame at Shouto, it hurts even more when it’s kind of true. It hurts that despite his fear of facing her, he still owes her a call at least. He’ll never be ready for what she’s about to say, never be ready to be hurt by her. Shouto turns around and buries his face at Katsuki’s back, ducking under the cover.

“What is it?’ Katsuki asks, not demanding, but Shouto’s floodgates are opened.

“I don’t understand how they could forgive him. He hurts mom, he hurts Touya to a point that he left and hates us, and he... he hurts me. It’s just training but-but- fine, okay, it hurt and I was scared most of the time that he’s not gonna pull his punches. Fuyumi forgives him so easily, and mom just went back in there even though they were never in love in the first place. It’s like they’ve forgotten what he had done, how deeply he scars all of us. Like what- like what happened didn’t matter.” Shouto’s voice breaks the whole time, a sob escaped in between the jumbled words and he’s trying so hard, so hard not to cry.

Katsuki turns around, his arms wrapped around Shouto’s hunched shoulders. A burnt sweet scent hits his nostrils, his face pressed against a defined neck and collarbones. All tenseness bleeds away when Katsuki starts rubbing his back, and tears break from his eyes without his will. Shouto wraps his arms around his friend’s torso, feeling his chest constrict when Katsuki mercifully says nothing about the silent tears landing on his chest.

He shuts his lips, pressing tightly because he’s not sobbing to Katsuki’s chest. They’re comfortable with each other but not that comfortable... right? Shouto’s tolerance to breakdown cries is thanks to exposure to crying most of his childhood, the same can’t be said for Katsuki. The hug is enough, it’s everything. Shouto never realized how much he craved being touched until that day Katsuki sits way too close to him.

His lips pressed tight keeping from sobbing, but his hands tremble on Katsuki’s back instead.

“Damn, you’re touch starved aren’t you,” Katsuki sighs to his hair, his face buried there.

“I didn’t know,” Shouto’s voice shaking pathetically, breaking at the edge and Shouto is too torn to care about it.

“Me too.”

Shouto doesn’t know which one Katsuki meant, but neither let go until they sleep.

++++++

I love you too, Shouto. Don’t be scared of letting people in, okay? Not all of them are gonna leave you, I promise.

Things get rough, but their comfort pushes each other through.

Katsuki chooses to stay with his dad, but he’s co-parenting with his mom. Katsuki spends his weekends at both their house, switching every weekend. There’s still tenseness between his parents, and Katsuki explodes whenever his dad or mom asks Katsuki about the other. ‘Stop fucking asking me! If you wanna know so much then you shouldn’t have gotten the divorce!’ Katsuki doesn’t want to hear their reasoning, feeling better to just accept the change and move on, but Shouto thinks he’s just not ready to hear it. Sometimes Katsuki stays at the dorms with Shouto or the Todoroki estate when he gets overwhelmed.

Shouto finally talks to his mom. At first, it didn’t go anywhere. She’s as unsure as Shouto, but her willingness to try and salvage the marriage is as honest as it comes, even though her feelings might not be there yet. It feels like hearing Fuyumi talk, hearing the same desperation and blindness in putting things together. It’s hard to understand her foolishness, but Shouto tried to trust her. Shouto’s opinion might have been persuaded a little when his father announced that they’ll be moving houses due to mom’s tense reaction to the place. It’s a plus that his dad is willing to do that for his wife, but Shouto is still keeping an eye on them.

Then things get better, but their comfort doesn’t stop. Shouto is comfortable in following his desires without questioning them, but he quizically finds that Katsuki seeks him too even though he no longer approach Shouto with that near tears scowl, and situation bomb.

“How’s your mom?” Katsuki asked out of the blue under the summer blue sky. They’re sitting by the school lawn, their backs to a tree trunk, their friends strangely been leaving them alone.

“She’s fine.”

“Then why did you want to meet here?” Katsuki murmurs, looking down at the comic book Shouto lends him but not reading it. The tips of his ears are red.

Oh, Katsuki is testing the waters, “I just want to be with you.”

Katsuki flushes, “Ew, where the fuck did you even get that cheesy line.”

Shouto pays the snark no mind. “We haven't had any excuses for being together lately, do we?”

Katsuki hums.

“Do you not like it?”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki grumbles.

“Say... If I ask you to go to a cat cafe this Saturday, will you go?”

“Satan in hell, cat cafe again? I still have fucking fur on my black jacket from the previous visit! I felt like we’ve been to all the cat cafes in the country!”

Shouto pouts, “That’s not possible.”

“Let’s go hiking instead.”

“Okay.”

Katsuki twist his head towards him, “You would?”

“Just us two right?”

“Obviously, there’s no way I’m taking those extras. Those nature documentaries made them wimps.”

Shouto only listened to the first word he uttered, “I’ll go with you.”

Then Katsuki looks him that way again. Soft eyes, relaxed eyebrows, fond stares, and the most devastating of all, a small genuine smile.

“Cool. Come to my place, we have to wake up early. I miss seeing the sunset there, it’s awesome.” There’s light in his maroon eyes, excited to go, and he’s taking Shouto with him to his hobby, his precious place.

Shouto feels warmth radiating from his chest all the way down to his toes, a smile blooms on his face. He’s been feeling this mysterious warmth pretty often lately, only now has he realized that Shouto is happy and that he hasn’t been lonely despite his current family strain.

Katsuki’s rambling about his favorite hiking spot is cut short when Shouto leans in to kiss the corner of his lips. The smile is exchanged with shocked parted lips. Shouto feels himself shrink by the silence of Katsuki’s loud mouth and the pinning stare of his sharp eyes. Blood rushed to Shouto’s cheeks, knowing that he’s blushing up a storm, suddenly nervous.

“Is that okay?” Shout asks, too cowardly to say that he wants more, closer, to continue being together for no reason at all other than just because.

“No.”

He’s grabbed by the face, and a pair of lips pressed against his. Shouto expected to be bitten, his head clawed, and his lips bruised. But the weeks he spent with Katsuki should’ve made him know better. Because the gentle hands cradling his face, the complete capture of his lips, and the soft nips are all unsurprising. Shouto melts away, leaning his whole weight so they’re chest to chest. He grabs Katsuki by the hips, pulling closer, kissing back.

Katsuki hums, and the vibration echoes on Shouto’s body deliciously. Katsuki’s lips taste sweet and hot as it moves to nibble Shouto’s bottom lip. The hands cupping his face moves past his neck. One is clutching his back and the other plays with the hair at the back of his head. Fingers card gently around his nape and Shouto has a whole body shiver.

Then the lips go missing, and Shouto goes limp in Katsuki’s arms, gasping for breath on his chest.

“And that’s how you kiss, Strawberry Shortcake,” Katsuki says smugly, patting Shouto’s back condescendingly.

Shouto scoffs and leans back. Katsuki still has that fond eyes as he looks at him, but now paired with a cheeky smirk. Shouto wants to kiss that too, and Shouto does.

From then on, it’s expected that he sometimes steps down his icy stairs just to cuddle with Katsuki, and it’s perfectly acceptable that Katsuki barges into his room and starts pulling his hand towards wherever he wants.

They’d still bicker sometimes, and sometimes Shouto unintentionally steps on some lines that set Katsuki to explode. Sometimes Katsuki is frustrated with him. Those days they fight makes him nervous.

But they always say their apologies eventually. Katsuki always comes back and tries again with him. Even when the fights are between them, they eventually get over it and get better while they’re still leaning onto each other for comfort.

Eventually, Shouto keeps the coffin ashtray in his keepsake instead of his pocket.

He’d like to think that he can finally let her go now that she’s proven right.

Shouto finds someone that loves him, someone that makes him happy, and someone that doesn’t leave.

++++

nicknames that didn't make it: Colgate toothpaste, hot pocket, tide pod, dry ice. nicknames that I magically forgot: Half and half.

Tag yourself as Shouto’s nickname, I’m water dispenser.

#todobaku #bakutodo #todoroki shouto #todoroki shōto #bakugo katsuki #todobaku fic #todobaku fanfic #Todobaku fanfiction #emocel's #I'm crying #i googled shouto's nickname for this #I saw 'Strawberry Shorcake' and I lose my mind #I saw a trope that Bakugo smells like caramel becs of his quirk and i lose my mind #todoroki shoto fluff #boku no hero #boku no hero fanfic #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

Text

Murder Is Not On The Schedule (Ron Speirs x Reader)

So this is loosely based on a prompt I found on Pinterest about murder not being on today’s schedule and immediately thought SPEIRS! I also wasn’t feeling great this week so I wanted to write something lighthearted...ya know? So this is what my brain came up with.

Warnings: some swearing, sexual tension (cuz i can’t seem to write Speirs without it...sorry?), my poor attempts at humor

Words:2500

Tag List: @happyveday @sydney-m @saritanotserena

The sound of mortars and 88s followed me as I walked into the room being used for Captain Speirs' office in Haguenau. Those same sounds should be terrifying but no one flinched anymore thanks to Bastogne. The office was in the back of Easy HQ, looking towards the river. All the walls and windows were still intact, even if the place was dreary and drafty, it fulfilled its purpose.

Speirs, who had been staring out the window in parade rest, turned around to lean back against the window and looked over at me. "Lip in bed?"

"Yeah. Finally convinced him that I could handle it." I dropped down onto one of the two chairs. Both chairs were placed at the table which occupied the center of the room.

Lipton was an admirable man, second only to Winters himself. But Christ Almighty, he had to be the worst patient with his perpetual refusal to rest. I did not envy any of the medics who were diligently trying to take care of him. It pretty much took both myself and Luz to drag him to one of the cots in the back and me swearing in blood that if I needed help, I would find him.

And if I threatened him a little, no one needs to know, right?

"Well, I appreciate you stepping up and taking over for Lipton while he is sick."

I shrugged, already looking at all the paperwork spread out on the table. "He kept us together while in Bastogne. It's the least I can do. Besides, I used to be a secretary before joining up. It's not a problem."

"Lucky us." He murmured, distractedly. One of his hands tapped a repetitive pattern on his thigh as he seemed to stare at nothing.

I knew there was to be a patrol tonight. A prisoner snatch. From what little I had overheard and observed, it weighed heavily on both Lipton and Speirs. My guess was all the names had not been chosen yet on who had to go. Glancing at Speirs, eyebrows furrowed just slightly, repetitive tapping, biting just the inside corner of his lip...he was working on the list in his head.

I could not help it as my eyes traced his jawline...his messy hair that looked so damn soft...those dark eyes that pierce your soul but also lit up like a beacon when amused. He looked like a rugged, dirty Greek god with an affinity for bloodlust. Even his hands looked perfect to hold my--

You are here to help. NOT OGLE YOUR CO!

Even if he is pretty.

Handsome?

Gorgeous?

Wet dream worthy?

Whoa! Too much. Pull up, you buffoon!

With all my willpower, I turned back to focus on organizing the reports on the table and checking to make sure we had enough paper. Who knew the army used so much paperwork? Everything had to be documented. I could see why it seemed Winters never left his office...or Nixon. Without Lipton's help, I doubted Speirs would ever see his men. I absent-mindedly wondered if I should offer to help out more often.

Obviously out of the goodness of my heart and not to ogle the handsome devil currently before me.

Nope.

Several minutes later, there was a knock on the door. After Speirs bid them enter, two replacements stepped into the room. Their ODs were clean, helmets practically sparkled in the sunlight, eagerness written all over their faces. They did not carry the weariness from the Ardennes on their shoulders. They still looked like boys wanting to play soldier with the other neighborhood kids. All I could figure was they had gotten dropped off with the other soldiers returning from the hospital.

Both rapidly saluted Speirs, who only lazily saluted in response, still leaning against the window.

"Captain, sir." The shorter of the two spoke first, practically bouncing on his toes. "We were wondering if we'd see some action soon."

The other one chimed in, a proud smile exaggerating his chubby cheeks. "Yeah, we heard a rumor there's a patrol. Sir, we're ready to get our rifles dirty by killing Krauts, sir."

Christ. These two are greener than the Jolly Green Giant.

I quickly muffled a snort by turning it into a cough. It must have not been as subtle as I hoped with the side-eye Speirs gave me.

Speirs sighed, crossing his arms across his chest. "Your platoon leader will let you know. I suggest you head back to your OP… and try not to get hit by mortars or snipers on your way there."

The two glanced at one another, seeming to remember that Nazis were just as likely to kill them. A necessary reminder. After another round of salutes, they hurried out and closed the door behind them.

"Jesus Christ! If I hear those two asking about killing Krauts again, I'll shoot them both…. And murder wasn't on my agenda today."

"Murder usually isn't on anyone's agenda." I murmured, making notes on a supply list. We definitely needed more ammo...and chocolate bars. There might be a mutiny if we did not receive more chocolate bars and cigarettes.

"No, it's on mine. Just not until Thursday."

Wait….

...What?

My head whipped up to stare at Speirs. I honestly was unsure if he was joking or serious. I mean, hell, we all knew the rumors about him. With his signature serious expression, he held my gaze, as if waiting for me to question him. I chose not to. Really, I believed him. He would be the one to throw a grenade near his men to get them to pay attention. Or get bored and sneak into the enemy's camp to steal their rifles or something just to mess with them.

Then I saw the twitch of his lips, forcing back a smile.

At that I laughed, shaking my head. "No offense, sir, but I think we need to find something better for you to do with your time."

"Oh?" He tipped his head slightly, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Like what?"

Me.

Shit. Don't say that aloud.

"Mmm…" I tapped my lip with my finger, pretending to think about it. "Preferably something other than terrorizing your men."

"Ah, but it's fun. You should join me."

I shook my head, not even trying to suppress the indulgent smile on my face. What had my life become? Here I was joking with CAPTAIN SPEIRS about committing murder…. for fun? Later I should question my sanity, but right now, I was more than amused to see him in this new lightheartedness. I had only ever seen him always stoic, poised, ready for anything in war. I found this new side of him only increased his attractiveness.

Damn it.

"What are you doing on Thursday?" He probed, still watching me with a hawk-like gaze.

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. If he was going to joke around, I felt I could return the favor. "Maybe I'm going on a date."

"With who?"

"Whoever can afford me, I guess."

He laughed, widening my own smile. I had never heard him laugh before, and if I could admit it to myself, the world was missing out without that sound. He shoved off the window, to come sit on the corner of the table, one leg dangling off the side, almost touching the chair I sat on. "And what would a date with you consist of?"

I thought back to before the war. Back before I was weighed down by pain and death. What my life had once entailed. "An elegant dinner at the best restaurant around. Pictures or dancing afterwards. I'm not picky. Then after all that, if I had a very good time, I might be tempted to bring him back to my apartment for some late-night drinks and, well, we'd see where it went from there. But don't tell my mother that last part."

"Sounds like you've got it all planned out."

"I'm a lady who knows what she wants."

"Mmm…" He ran a hand over the stubble growing on his jaw. "I need to change my schedule for Thursday now."

This information you are trying to process does not compute. Please try again.

"You taking me out on the date?" I teased back, leaning back slightly in my chair. Mentally, I prepared for him to make a joke about killing whomever was taking me out for the company's sake or something along those lines, since the idea of him having interest in me was preposterous.

In one swift move, he shifted over so his leg was between mine allowing him to lean forward and hover over me. The air between us suddenly felt hot compared to the rest of the room. Those dark eyes scanned me, as if slowly undressing me with both the utmost care but also unbridled passion. "Yes. Though we might have to skip with the elegant dinner. I'll share the better parts of the K rations. We also might need to skip the pictures or dancing. But I am positive I can steal some of Nixon's Vat 69 and we can go straight to the late-night drinks. Of course, I'll be a gentleman and let the lady decide what happens after." He finished with a cocky wink at me.

Holy mother of-

I was not ready for that.

I could only stare at him for a long moment. My body practically throbbed for him with the image he painted in my mind. The way his voice became so smooth and sensual. The peak of his tongue as he quickly licked his lips before speaking. Now he sat there, his leg dangling between mine, keeping me glued to my seat. Subtly, I tried to press my thighs together to alleviate some of the pressure building. Not that it helped with his intense gaze making my heart beat faster and his lazy smile telling me he KNEW the effect he was having on me.

Act cool.

Act cool!

Play it off!

I leaned forward, smirking. "Do you always offer to take your executive officers out on a date? If so, I can see why Lipton likes you so much."

He chuckled, eyes alluring and heated. "No, not all of them. Just the ones that I've been admiring for some time."

Well shit.

Abort.

Abort!

Don't you dare, you've dreamed about this man before. Ride it out, you coward!

I blinked in surprise but before I could respond, he had already made his move. He leaned forward and braced his hands on the arms of my chair, hovering over me. His face now was only inches from mine. I was positive he could hear how fast my heart was beating. My lips parted, trying to encourage breath into my lungs that were struggling to send oxygen to my brain. His eyes drifted down to my lips and lingered there. As if in compliance, my own eyes glanced at his lips, how soft they looked, even slightly chapped still from our time in Bastogne. His hands slid ever so slowly further up the arms of the chair, stopping just next to my elbows. Now I could see the faint lines around his eyes. His hair slipped forward, calling my eyes upward. I struggled to not reach forward and touch it. To see how it felt with my fingers running through it. A soft chuckle had my eyes snapped back to his, as he watched me with an intensity that border-lined frightening and lascivious.

I gulped. "Captain Speirs…"

"No," he just barely ran the tip of his nose over the shell of my ear. His hot breath caressed my skin. My eyes fluttered closed on their own accord; my body unable to handle the pleasurable sensation. He whispered into my ear, voice fully commanding and salacious. "No, you call me Ron when we're alone."

Mission control. We are going down. I repeat we are going down in flames!

My underwear was not prepared for this!

"Ron." I liked the way his name rolled off my lips. If the quiet, sharp inhale from him said anyway, he liked the way it sounded too. Tilting my head just the slightest, I could look up into those dark, smoldering eyes. Our lips though...I could taste his breath on my tongue. I could feel the warmth from his skin radiating onto mine, turning me into a puddle of desire.

Oh God, he smelled like everything that is beautifully masculine. Not the nasty, sweaty teenage boy but the pheromones that make your ovaries take notice and your uterus demands for something to be done with it. How was that possible?

"I'll...um, I'll make sure to add this to your schedule on Thursday." I whispered, almost able to feel his lips ghost over mine as my lips formed each word.

"Excellent."

His hand trailed up my arm, setting fire to my nerves. Gently, he wrapped it around the base of my throat, his thumb rubbing a pattern into my skin. The whole time our eyes remained locked. His pupils dilated, desire coloring them and I wondered if mine looked the same. The small amount of air between us was thick with tension and salacity. My body screamed for me to drag him down and crash our lips together. To see if he tasted as good as he looked. My hands were stuck in my lap though. It felt like we were in a stalemate, unable to move forward, to take that next step.

If something does not happen, I swear I will spontaneously combust!

Then someone knocked on the closed door.

Dear universe. That was NOT what I meant!

With a sigh, he slipped his hand up to rub his thumb along my bottom lip for the briefest of seconds. I swear the regret coursing through my veins, I could see mirrored in his eyes. Ever so slowly he retracted his hand and leaned back, but stayed on the edge of his desk, his leg still between mine.

"Enter." He called out, only turning his heavy gaze from mine when the person stepped through.

First Sergeant Talbert walked in, opening his mouth then hesitated for a second as his eyes seemed to take in but not fully comprehend the scene before him. "Um, sir, there's a couple of replacements asking about a patrol…"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

I laughed at Speirs' pained expression. Quickly, I jumped to my feet and brazenly patted his chest, my hand lingering on the feel under my palm. "I'll take care of it before murder happens."

"That's not till Thursday." He looked at me with a wry grin. His hand subtly reached forward to skim my hip before grabbing the edge of the table.

"Remember, you're busy now. Murder has to wait."

"Fine. Friday it is then."

"If you have the energy after." I winked at him. I only caught a glimpse of the hunger that flooded his eyes before I turned on my heels and headed out the door. The whole way out I could feel his heated gaze on my back, like his fingers were trailing down my spine. I shivered in anticipation for what it would really feel like.

I'll make sure he doesn't have the energy to terrorize Easy… I'm definitely doing this for their sakes… completely self-sacrificing… yep, I won't enjoy this at all.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #ronald speirs #ron speirs #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #ww2 #world war 2 #mzwrites

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honeytae · 4 years

Text

I can’t believe you killed me on my birthday.

ok hi i love this concept :( and i just loved it even more for jin’s birthday fic. playing in the snow with seokjin is just a dream of mine, i guess. i know this is a bit late but happy belated birthday, jinnie! tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

word count: 2.3k

Your original plan for this day was to spend it rightfully pampering your man; something that should’ve been simple enough with the genuine desire you had to do just that.

However, the universe was, evidently, not on your side from the moment you’d woken up to a strange yet familiar brightness straining your eyelids, goosebumps raising on your arms from the low temperature of your bedroom.

At first, you assumed that maybe you’d slept in later than you expected to. However, you quickly ruled that option out without shifting from your place in bed.

Despite your grogginess, you knew you had set an alarm last night, and you were sure you plugged your phone in before going to sleep.

Reaching over to your nightstand to feel around the surface for said device, your fingers fumbled over the object before bringing it closer to your face, eyes squinted at the screen.

And that was when the day took its first bad turn.

According to every news source in Korea, the biggest snowstorm of the year just happened to hit during the early hours of this morning, coating the city in white and slicking the roads in a dangerous sheet of ice; effectively ruining all plans you’d had to leave your home for Seokjin’s birthday celebrations today.

Looking back at the man spooning you from behind, you pouted at his soft and innocent expression. Exhales puffed out of his slightly ajar mouth, his chest rising with each deep inhale as the tip of his nose scrunched slightly in his sleep.

Reluctantly unraveling his arms from your body, you sat up out of his grip, keeping your eyes on him as you paused for a moment to make sure he was still asleep before deciding it was safe to stand up when he remained unmoving.

Climbing out of bed with a huff, you slid your feet into your slippers, shuffling to the kitchen with a yawn and a rub of your eyes. Mind occupied with new ideas of how to try to make his day memorable, you momentarily pushed aside the disappointment you felt on behalf of Seokjin still cuddled into your empty mass of blankets.

Just when you were beginning to accept that you would have to move your plans indoors, the lights began flickering above your head; your intentions of making the birthday boy breakfast in bed pushing you to scurry around the kitchen in an attempt to get something made before it was too late.

However, in a matter of seconds, the power in your building had gone out completely, leaving you near tears in front of your blank oven, feeling quite hopeless as all your new ideas had just been finished before they even started.

So that is how you ended up pouting in your freezing cold apartment on Seokjin’s birthday, cuddled in bed with your boyfriend to combine your body heat to make up for what your furnace would be doing; you know, if your power hadn’t gone out.

To Jin, it didn’t make much of a difference at all. At least you two were together, safe and sound, albeit a little chilly from the lack of heat in your shared living space.

He found it a bit humorous that you were so worked up about a simple date on the calendar, already having consoled you this morning when he found you pouting in the kitchen by yourself.

As you reclined on the mattress together, his arm looped around your body and pinned your back to his chest, head tucked into your shoulder as he happily nuzzled into your skin.

You sat up slightly in his hold, reaching for your phone to check the time and groaning at the timestamp. It was now approaching an hour more suitable for a proper lunch, and so far today, you had only shared a packet of cold pop tarts with Jin.

To say you felt like a complete and utter failure would be an understatement.

“My battery is running low.” You huffed, tossing your phone to the end of the bed as your boyfriend’s chest rumbled against your back. He rubbed his hand up and down your side in reassurance, chuckling softly into your ear as he lifted his face to peek at your own.

“Well, if Jungkook hadn’t stolen my portable charger, I’d give it to you. You know, do you think he had something to do with this snowstorm? Sounds like something the little brat would do to mess with me, doesn’t it?” He knit his eyebrows together in thought, the playful smile he wore fading when he saw your less than happy facial expression.

“Love, it’s just like any other day. Please don’t feel bad.” He tried to soothe you, his words only getting you more upset at his own dismissal of his day of birth.

“It’s not just any other day though, babe. This is your birthday. I wanted to celebrate you properly.” You pouted, Seokjin poking at your jutted out bottom lip with his pointer finger in disapproval.

“I know. And I appreciate that angel, I do. So what if the weather doesn’t comply? I can still see your effort.” He shrugged, eyes following your body as you began to get up from the bed.

“Where are you going?” He asked, sitting up off the headboard in search of your warmth as stood from the mattress, walking toward the door of your bedroom before turning around to answer him.

“I’ll be right back.” You said simply, ignoring your boyfriend’s sigh as you retreated down the hall and into the living room, pausing in front of the windows and opening the curtains to glare at the still falling snow over the city.

“I hate you.” You grumbled as you looked out the window, wheels turning inside your head as you tried to think of how you could salvage this day.

Eyes dropping down from the dreary gray sky to the heaps of snow building up on the ground of your patio, you took a deep breath, weighing your options before decidedly turning around, walking back down the hallway to make a brief stop at the coat closet before taking quick strides back to the bedroom.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m being a complete downer.”

Seokjin’s head turned away from the windows on the opposite side of the room at your re-entrance, smiling slightly at your words with raised brows.

Before he could make a comment on the rare occasion of you saying he was right, you were suddenly plopping yourself down onto his lap, straddling his hips and dropping his coat and gloves onto his chest.

“Now, c’mon. We’re going outside.” You smiled, Jin pulling his brows together in confusion as his eyes sparkled back at you.

“We are?” He cracked a smile when you nodded in response, retreating from his lap so that he could stand up.

“We are. I’m not letting you have a boring birthday.” You said determinedly, Seokjin biting the inside of his lip in utter fondness for you as you began to pull on your jacket.

Upon getting a directing nod from you, he rushed to slip his jacket on, his eagerness displayed in the action as you walked over to the closet, grabbing two hats and tossing one for your boyfriend to catch.

He quickly slipped the fabric over his dark hair as you did the same, Seokjin’s hands reaching out to adjust your hat as you fiddled with the zipper of your jacket in preparation for the freezing weather outside.

“Cute.” He smiled softly as he settled the hat over your ears, you wrinkling your nose at his praise before shuffling around his body, placing your palms on his back to push him out of the bedroom.

Seokjin chuckled at your actions, purposely planting his feet down on the ground to stubbornly keep you from shoving his body forward. He laughed as you whined behind him, pushing him harder as he remained in his spot on the floor.

“Oh my god, Jin, c’mon.” You chuckled, Seokjin tutting his tongue in response before bending his knees to crouch in front of you.

“Hop on.” He ordered, you scoffing with a roll of your eyes as you prepared to deny him, the man reading your mind as his hands came out to grab the weak backs of your knees.

You had no choice but to fall onto his back with a surprised squeal, cursing at Seokjin for his persistence as he laughed.

“Come on, baby. It’s my birthday.” He audibly pouted, prompting another roll of your eyes before you caved, lifting your hips onto his back and wrapping your arms around his neck, a loud cheer coming from his mouth.

You giggled as he carried you down the hall and through the living room, Seokjin beaming at the reaction he had successfully obtained from you as he approached the door to the balcony.

“Believe me, this is much more efficient, my love.” He smiled, sliding the glass door open with his foot before leading you outside, tossing you off of his back and into the cushion of the feet-high snow on the ground.

“Ugh, Jin!” You scolded him, the man laughing as he leaned down over you, looking at you with a proud smirk as you glared up at him.

“I’m sorry, baby. Come here.” He gestured with a nod of his head, stretching a hand down to you so that you could lift yourself to stand on your feet again.

With a sly smile, you placed your hand in his, taking the opportunity to tug him down to the ground with you as he let a shocked gasp escape his mouth, gloved hand landing on the snow beside your head to catch himself before he crushed you.

“Love, I trusted you!” He whined, you giggling in response as he shuffled off of you, sitting on the cold buildup next to you as he turned his face up to the sky.

You smiled as you watched him stick his tongue out to catch the snowflakes, his mouth closing, head turning back toward you as he pressed his lips together in thought.

“Snow never tastes as good as I think it does.” He frowned, making your smile widen at his adorable actions before he squinted his eyes at you.

Looking from the pile of snow at his feet and back to you, a mischievous smirk lifted the corners of his lips as shuffled up onto his knees and leaned down to pack a ball of snow in his hand, you pointing your finger at him with a warning glare.

“Jin, don’t you dare-”

With a grin, he tossed the snowball at you, the solid sphere turning into a cloud of fluff upon making contact with your body.

You bit your bottom lip to hold back a smile, the man’s eyebrows raised in a challenge as he held his hands up near his head in surrender.

“You’re really asking for it, now.” You sat up to gather snow in your palm, slinging your arm backward to aim it at your boyfriend, hitting him directly in the chest with a proud grin.

You watched as your boyfriend dramatically fell to the ground, clutching his hands over the spot you’d hit him on his chest as he groaned loudly.

Rolling your eyes at his little act, you stalked over to him, snow crunching underneath your footsteps as you walked, the prints of your boots marking your path behind you.

“Have I died and gone to heaven? Because surely you’re an angel.” He said with a proud grin across his face, staring up at you as you stood over him.

“You’re ridiculous.” You shook your head with a small laugh, the man’s squeaky laugh meeting your ears as you kneeled next to his body.

Reaching an arm out to hook around your waist, he brought your body down onto his, his hands adjusting your hat to situate over the tips of your ears again as it had slid at some point during your time outside.

“I can’t believe you killed me on my birthday.” He mumbled, you snorting at his words and making a wide smile appear on his face as he laughed with you.

“Merely self-defense, babe. Don’t take it personally.” You patted his chest reassuringly, Seokjin wrinkling his nose in disapproval of your words.

“Hm,” he hummed in thought, you raising your eyebrows in suspense with a small grin of your own, mirroring his expression as he cleared his throat dramatically, “I don’t know. I think I’m in need of some kisses.” He suggested in a nonchalant tone, mouth slanted in a lazy smile as your eyebrows raised higher in amusement.

“Oh? Is that right?” You asked, Seokjin eagerly nodding in response as he puckered his lips, shifting his pout from side to side making you giggle as you caved in to his antics.

Leaning down to catch his pouted pink lips with yours, you smiled against him as he let a soft hum of his approval escape at the warmth radiating from your mouth. Your lips parted synchronously, your hands stationing on the sides of his head as you captured his bottom lip in a soft suckle between your own.

Placing his hand on the back of your head, he pushed you down closer, the innocence of the kiss fading with each stroke of his tongue into your mouth. His hands trailed down your back to caress your sides, landing on your hips and rubbing slow circles into your flannel pajama pants with his thumbs.

With a playful nibble on his bottom lip, you broke apart from him, eyes dragging up from his swollen pink lips to his dark brown eyes with a questioning raise of your eyebrow.

“So,” you spoke in an unsteady exhale, “am I forgiven?” You asked with a slight smirk, Seokjin chuckling shyly before shrugging, the lack of answer making you scoff at the smug man underneath you.

“Alright. I guess I’ll just have to continue, then.” You sighed with a shrug, a wide smile appearing on his face as he pulled you back down so that your face hovered over his own again as he picked his head up to better accommodate his desires.

“I guess so.”

144 notes · View notes

thetravelerwrites · 4 years

Text

OkCryptid: Pevik Pikecarver (Goblin) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Male Goblin/Female Human Additional Tags: Exophilia, OkCryptid, Dating App, Goblin Content Warning: Adoption, Sex Words: 3159

A sweet commission for @mxnsterbabe! A woman uses the "Blind Date" function on the OkCryptid app, and is surprised by who she's matched up with. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

OkCryptid was becoming the most popular dating app on the market. It was free, easy to use, and had rave reviews from it’s users. There were no end to the happy couples, or poly relationships, that sang it’s praises. You’d never used an app to date before, but your recent disastrous attempts at dating had caused you to consider it.

You weren’t even sure what you wanted, honestly. You scrolled through the profiles with no real interest. You must have swiped through a hundred profiles before a graphic popped that said: “Can decide? Try the Blind Date Option! Click Here to Try!”

Why not, you thought? You clicked it, and it took you to a form page to put in days and times you’d be available for a date. After filling it out and clicking “Next”, it took you to another page that asked which locations you were willing to go to for this date. You picked out a couple of cafes and restaurants you liked, and clicked “Match Me.”

There was a loading wheel, then a message that said, “At the moment, there are no matches that have selected any of the times and locations you provided. We will send you a message with a date and time as soon as a match is available!”

Well, that figured. You closed the app and put your phone in your pocket, turning your attentions to other things.

It wasn’t until three days later that you got a notification, which you ignored at first since you were at work. It wasn’t until you got into your car and took a moment to check your email that you saw it.

“A date has been made for the 23rd, 6 PM, at the Rosemary Gardens restaurant. To accept, click ‘Date’. To decline, click ‘Pass’.”

There was no other information. After a moment of deliberating, you clicked “Date.” It was followed by a message that said, “Congratulations! Pevik will meet you at the Rosemary Gardens Restaurant on the 23rd at 6 PM!”

Pevik? That was an unusual name. You had no idea what to expect. You had to resist an overwhelming urge to Google the name and see what came up, or at least search OkCryptid for people with that name. The whole point of a blind date was to go in blind. Peeking was against the rules.

The 23rd was only four days away. You could wait. Maybe.

The day of your date with Pevik arrived and you had to admit you were a bit nervous. The not-knowing aspect of a blind date was always a little nerve-wracking. Should you be casual? Dressy? What if they were allergic to your cat and they had a reaction to the fur on your clothes? What if they went into anaphylaxis and died? Could you forgive yourself or your cat for killing someone?!

Okay, that probably wouldn’t happen…

But it could…Where was your epipen…?

Rosemary Gardens was a trendy place that required more presentation than jeans and a t-shirt, so you wore a simple sundress and cardigan, easy and cute. Light makeup, a bobby-pin or two, just to keep fly-aways out of your eyes. Nothing flashy or fancy, since you’d gone on disastrous dates before dressed to the nines and it had been a mistake, to the say the least. Red wine is virtually impossible to get out of silk chiffon.

You got there a little early, but when you told the hostess that you were going to be waiting for someone, she said, “Oh, are you here for Pevik?”

“Yes,” You said, surprised.

“He’s already here,” She said brightly. “Right this way.”

You followed the woman to a table across from the bar, and sitting there was a goblin. He had short black hair and long ears. His eyes were the typical yellow with slotted pupils and he had a cute little button nose. He had on black slacks and a blue button-up shirt on with shiny black shoes.

You managed to hide the fact that you were a little disappointed. You typically preferred men who were taller than you, and this guy was only slightly taller than your waist, at your best guess.

He was clasping and unclasping his hands over and over, but stopped and perked up as you approached, a smile spreading across his face. You could see small bottom and top tusks just poking out from his lips.

“Are you my date today?” He asked.

“I am,” You said, sticking your hand out and introducing yourself.

“Pevik,” He said. “Pevik Pikecarver.”

“That’s a unique last name,” You said as you sat.

“It’s Orcish, actually,” He said shyly. “I was adopted as a baby by orc dads.”

“Oh!” You said. “Wow, that’s amazing.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He looked up at you through his surprisingly long lashes. “I’m not exactly what you were expecting, huh?”

You shrugged a little guiltily. “I guess not.”

“I know. You were expecting me to have blue eyes, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Poor guy. You imagined he got a lot of rejection but still had a good sense of humor.

“I get it if you’d like to end this early--” He started, but you interrupted him.

“No, no! I’ll admit, I had different… expectations, but you seem really cool. Let’s keep it going, if that’s okay?”

His smile widened and he nodded.

He was a social worker who insured elder care workers were qualified to do their jobs, in both retirement facilities and home care. He enjoyed his job because it reminded him of his dads, who had adopted him very late in their lives. You were sad to learn they had both died recently, making him feel very lonely. Usually he spent most of his time at work and with his two cats, Jenga and Fifi, who he inherited from his dads.

He asked you about yourself, eager to learn about your life and hobbies. The two of you had a lot of things in common, including tastes in music and movies, although he thought the depictions of goblins in fantasy films was super racist. You had to agree.

By the end of the date, the two of you had been talking for hours and the restaurant was about to close.

“I didn’t realize how much time had passed,” He said, staring at his watch. “I should go, I’ve got a lot of paperwork at home that needs doing, but I had a great time.” He seemed to want to say more, but was hesitant.

“Me too,” You said. “Do you want to do this again sometime?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” He said, brightening. “Anytime you want! Just let me know when you’re free.”

You laughed again. “”Don’t sound so eager! Let me give you my number.” You held out your hand and he handed you his phone. You put your number in it and texted yourself. “There. I’ll text you soon, okay?”

“I look forward to it,” He said, walking you to your car. “Take care, okay?”

“I will,” You said, wishing him a goodnight.

You texted him when you got home, letting him know you’d made it safe. You weren’t sure why you felt the need to do so, but it felt nice. He responded he had gotten home as well and wished you a good night’s sleep. You went to bed feeling a little giddy.

You woke up to a good morning text from him the next day and smiled all through your morning routine for work. You didn’t expect this…reaction…from one date. Pevik was admittedly not your usual type, but there was just something about him that made you… feel good. There wasn’t an initial spark, sure, but after spending all that time talking with him had completely changed your perception. Maybe it was his unwavering attention or his sweet disposition or sense of humor. Whatever it was, you were looking forward to seeing him again.

Your next day off was Tuesday, and even though he was working ten hour days for the whole week, he still wanted to have dinner with you.

>Won’t you be tired? You asked him through text.

>Not if I’m with you, He texted back. >How could I be tired when I have you there to invigorate me?

>You’re so silly, You said, grinning at your phone.

>Hopefully in a good way, He replied. >My lunch break is over. I’ll see you tonight at seven. I can’t wait!

>Neither can I. Have a good day at work!

>I will.

He met you at a cafe that Tuesday still wearing his work badge on his button-up shirt.

“Sorry,” He said, taking it off and stuffing it in his pocket. “I came straight from work.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” You said. “We could have made the date a little later.”

“Nah, if I sat still, I’d have fallen asleep. Besides, I was excited to see you again and I didn’t want to wait.”

You could feel yourself blushing and tried to keep the smile off your face.

“I must seem like a weirdo,” He said, kicking his feet a little in embarrassment. “Being so happy to see you all the time, I mean. I know I should be kind of aloof and cool, but I can’t help it. I just feel like a puppy left alone for too long.”

“No, it’s really sweet,” You assured him. “Honestly, no one has ever showered me with so much attention before. It’s kind of nice. I expect guys to act aloof and disinterested at first, so it’s refreshing.”

He laughed self-consciously. “I’m glad. I’m always concerned that my enthusiasm is grating on people.” The two of you sat and ordered your coffee and treat from the waitress.

“I was thinking, actually,” You said slowly. “I hope this doesn’t seem forward, but I have the weekend off and was thinking of cooking for the first time in a while. Like, a full spread. I don’t often cook because it’s just me, but I’m pretty good at it. Would you like to have dinner at my house?”

He gulped but nodded. “Yes, that sounds lovely, thank you.”

“Well, don’t thank me yet. My cooking is either incredible or horrifying nightmares, and there is no in-between. No guarantees which one you’ll get.”

He laughed again. “Well, no one’s perfect.”

After coffee, he was walking you back to your car when you saw a bench.

“Hey, can you stand up on here for a sec?” You asked.

He hopped up effortlessly. “Sure, what for?”

You pinched his chin in your fingers and kissed him. He took your face in his hands and pulled you in closer, and you could feel his small tusks between his teeth. It was exciting.

That Friday, you were in your kitchen, stirring red sauce in a saucepan, when there was a knock on your apartment door. Your heart rose up in your chest and you went to open the door. Pevik stood there with a really beautiful bouquet flowers.

“Not to be cliche, but,” He said, grinning. “For you.”

“Thanks,” You said, taking them and sniffing. “Let me see if I have a vase.”

You did not have a vase, but you did find a liquor bottle with a wide neck and used that to decent effect.

“I was praying you weren’t allergic to any of those. I couldn’t ask without being obvious, so I also got this,” He pulled a bottle of Benadryl out of his pocket. You laughed out loud.

“Very thoughtful,” You said, taking it. “It reminds me of just before our first date and my wondering if you’d have an allergic reaction to my cat’s fur and if I should bring my epipen.”

He laughed with you. “So, what’s on the menu tonight?” He hopped up on one of the stools at the bar in your kitchen.

“Stuffed bell peppers with a spring greens salad,” You said.

“That sounds amazing,” He said. “I eat way too much take out, but I never have time to cook.”

“Well, maybe I can cook for you more often. We could even cook together.”

He smiled. “I love that idea.”

You pointed to a stepstool you bought recently. “Want to help me stuff my pepper?”

He snorted and struggled to keep a straight face. “Sure.” He grabbed the stool and stood up next to you, taking one of the knives from the block and cleaning out the peppers. On the stool he was only slightly shorter than you, perfect height to lean in for a sneaky kiss on the cheek, so you did.

He jumped but gave you a startled smile, returning the kiss. The two of you worked together to finish dinner, stealing kisses as you did. When his hands weren’t occupied, he lay one of them on the small of your back, stroking up and down your spine a little. It made you bite your lip and squeeze your legs together.

The tension between the two of you was getting thicker by the minute, and by the time you both had sat down to eat, you were throbbing between your legs and shooting him sultry looks. You ate in relative silence because you didn’t trust yourself to talk, but your unshod foot found it’s way up his leg and between his thighs.

Halfway through dinner, he couldn’t take it anymore and threw down his silverware, standing and coming around the table to kiss you roughly. You pulled him into your lap and began unbuttoning his shirt as his lips made their way to your neck and collarbone, palming your breasts through the fabric of your blouse.

“Bedroom?” You asked breathlessly.

“Oh, gods, please,” He wheezed back, and you lifted him, carrying him to your room. He was heavier than he looked, but he was still light enough to carry a short distance. The both of you fell heavily on the bed with you on top of him. He pulled your blouse off just as you unbuttoned the last button and tugged the hem of his shirt out of his pants. He rolled you, straddling your legs as he undid your pants and helped you get them off.

Undressing each other took no time at all, and you lay back on your pillow as he kissed his way down your stomach. The pressure of his tusks pressed against your skin was like small charges, electrifying your body. His hands massaged your thighs and opened you up as he got lower, his long nails poking you slightly as he went.

“You’re okay with this, right?” He asked softly, his thumbs rubbing circles so very close to your swollen entrance. “I’m not moving to fast, am I?”

“If you’re moving too fast, I am, too,” You said. “It’s okay. Trust me, I’m perfectly happy with how things are going right now.”

He chuckled. “Just checking,” He replied before lowering himself down. His tongue licked one long strip from bottom to top before the pointed tip of it circled your clit, flicking it once or twice to make you whimper. Then he licked his thumb and used it to rub your bud up and down while he pushed his tongue inside you, moaning against the skin, contracting it against that sweet spot. You cried out and gripped his hair, rocking your hips back and forth.

Your breasts shuddered with every quivering breath that escaped your lips as he took his time pleasuring you. He was a little rusty, but he was more than happy to take direction, and your mind blanked as a rush of ecstasy washed through your body. You were completely unable to control the sounds that came out of you.

You lay on your pillow looking down at him as he got up on his knees, pushed your legs back, and lined himself up with your body, slowly pushing his cock inside, groaning and shutting his eyes.

“Oh, gods,” He whispered. “That’s so good. You feel incredible.”

“I could say the same to you,” You replied breathlessly. He wasn’t long, but definitely girthy and stretched you open pretty wide without being uncomfortable.

He opened his eyes and looked right at you, as if confirming that you wanted this. You bit your lip and fluttered your lashes a bit in a way you hoped looked appealing. He smiled and began to thrust, bending to kiss your belly and breasts. He gripped your hips hard and slapped his body against yours pretty hard with each thrust. It was exhilarating and you pressed your ankles into his buttocks to drive him faster.

He definitely took the hint, and your bedframe was smacking the wall with the intensity of his movements. Time completely blurred and it was as if the two of you were in a bubble in which nothing could enter in or leave until you both were sated. You couldn’t remember if any words were said from that moment on, whether by you or him, and fell into the fog of the best sex of your entire life.

You weren’t sure if you fell asleep or passed out, but there was definitely a moment were you simply weren’t conscious anymore. When you came back to the living world, a soft morning light was filtering in through the curtains of your windows. Pevik was asleep against you, his head on your shoulder and an arm around your waist. He looked adorable sleeping. You had thought to extricate yourself to start breakfast, but you woke him.

“Good morning,” You said as he began to blink blearily.

“It is a most excellent morning,” He said, smiling his toothy smile. “Last night was… beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. I think you’ve spoiled me for any other woman.”

“Well, hopefully, you won’t be needing another one,” You said. “In fact…” You grabbed your phone from your bedside table and clicked open the app.

“What are you doing?”

“Uninstalling it,” You said. “I’ve got you now. I don’t need it anymore.”

His grin widened. “You know what? You’re right.” He retrieved his phone from his pants pocket and uninstalled the app as well. “It served it’s purpose. No point in wasting the memory space.”

You lay back down on the bed with him propped up on one arm, looking down at you.

“I’m glad you decided to give me a chance,” He said to you, kissing your shoulder.

“I’m glad I tried that blind date thing,” You replied. “It’s hard to believe that if I had clicked a different button, we may never have met.”

“Life is funny that way,” He said.

You smiled softly at him and gave him a sweet kiss. “Right now, life is telling me we need waffles.”

“It’s important to listen to messages when we receive them,” He said magnanimously, then chased you into the kitchen, tickling you as you went.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #OkCryptid #Goblin #Dating App #Monster Boyfriend #Pevik #Mxnsterbabe

324 notes · View notes

georgescatcafe · 4 years

Text

but i keep my hands (’til you come into the water)

rating: t warning/s: none pairing/s: georgenap genres/tags: barista george, fluff, humor, flirting, friendship, communication, getting together word count: 22,064 summary: George breathes, and it comes out in a shudder. “Everything about you is so much.” He straightens, meets Sapnap’s eyes. “I’m trying, Sapnap. But sometimes I think you’re just too much for me.”

Or, the one where George is a barista, Dream is Sapnap's best friend, and Sapnap just feels a lot.

+ao3

;;

The first attempt is a disaster. Sapnap should’ve expected it, the object of his desires completely different from who he usually chases after. For one thing, it’s a guy, for another, he’s got his arms crossed, fingers digging harshly into his arms, brows furrowed, lips downturned in a frown. Usually, when someone catches Sapnap’s interest, they paint a more pleasant picture.

Yeah. Not this one.

“I’m working,” he snaps. “I get it, but I really don’t like being flirted with at work.”

“You’re so upfront,” Sapnap replies, smile still on his lips, though he’s certain his ears are turning red as more people turn to look at him where he leans against the counter, probably about to be completely eviscerated by this barista. “I like that.”

He’s not eviscerated. His fate is even worse.

He gets ignored.

“Julia,” George calls, placing down the drink handed to him.

Sapnap steps out of the way as a petite girl with blonde hair takes the drink from the other, delicate fingers curling around the cup, golden-tipped fingers contrasting against the pink of her drink. Sapnap finds himself fighting against the urge to shove his hands in his pockets, remembering something about Dream saying that’s an obvious display of insecurity. And Sapnap isn’t insecure.

He just doesn’t like the way George smiled at the girl as she walked away.

“It’s called customer service, idiot,” Dream tells him later, the two of them having agreed to meet at the library so Dream doesn’t have to smell the coffee that wafts a good way out past the entrance of the Starbucks Sapnap frequents. Sapnap rolls his eyes as he takes a long sip of his vanilla frap, not fully convinced.

“It’s just,” he finally says, drink set carefully down on the table, “it’s like… why did he smile at her like that, when you could barely hear her ‘thank you,’ yet he doesn’t even look at me?”

“Maybe because he told you to leave him alone and you didn’t?” Dream suggests, taking Sapnap’s cup and drawing a smiley face in the condensation. He presents it to the other, only for Sapnap to groan and rub it away. He’s not exactly in the mood for cutesy shit. He says as much.

Dream looks unimpressed. “I’m just saying,” he draws another smiley on the opposite side of the cup, “try respecting his boundaries next time.”

“But I only know him as the barista from Starbucks,” Sapnap whines. “How am I supposed to flirt with him if I only see him when he’s working?”

“Break,” Dream replies, easy.

“Ah.”

Dream sets down Sapnap’s cup, the new smiley still there. “Yeah,” he says, “ah.”

;;

Dream had also advised him to maybe read the barista’s nametag and find out his name, so that’s the first thing Sapnap does when he walks in on Wednesday, eyes going directly to the little plaque on the barista’s apron. GEORGE. Sapnap bites his lip. He can work with that.

“Welcome to Starbucks, would you be interested in trying any of our—oh.” Sapnap looks up from the nametag to see George’s eyes on him, face devoid of any emotion other than perhaps vague disappointment.

“Hi,” Sapnap says.

George’s lips press together, and it’s not a frown, so Sapnap takes it as a smile.

“One venti vanilla frap please.”

“Name?”

“Come on,” Sapnap says. “You so remember my name.”

George hums, brows furrowing as he enters the order into the computer. “You’re right. Something like… ‘nuisance’?”

Sapnap frowns.

“My bad,” George says. “It was ‘annoyance,’ wasn’t it?”

“Ha ha,” Sapnap replies, crossing his arms. “It’s—”

“Sapnap, I know.” George taps the screen and Sapnap tries not to flush at the sight of his wrists. It’s not like they were hidden. It’s not like George is some Victorian lady. Jeez. Embarrassing. And then—

“‘I know’?” he quotes. “So you remembered my name.”

“Kind of hard to forget,” George replies, “since you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he tries, “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were.”

“I’m just determined.”

“Determined?” George repeats, unamused. Sapnap nods. George gives him a long look up and down (and it’s not checking him out, not even close, but Sapnap pretends that’s the case, straightening up and hoping the lighting makes him look good) before sighing and motioning to the person next in line.

Sapnap is ready to continue speaking, but then he remembers the main point of Dream’s advice and instead just rolls his eyes, finding an empty table near the window.

Better? a text from Dream reads.

Duh, his name is George

George

Yes, George , Sapnap glances up at the barista, who’s now taking the order of a guy definitely taller than Sapnap, and judging by the size of his arms, probably stronger too, and when he walks away, George’s eyes definitely follow him, lips curled into a smile not like the one he wore when the blondie left, but rather… oh, come on. Dude what the hell

What

Sapnap doesn’t take a picture, but he does try his best to describe the other customer to Dream. George was like..drooling over him what the hell!

I doubt it

When Sapnap looks up again, George is most definitely not wiping any drool away from his mouth, instead wearing a polite smile as he takes an older woman’s order. It’s as if Sapnap made up the smile he wore watching that guy walk away.

Ok, he concedes, maybe not drooling, but he definitely like… I dont think Im his type :(

As if u ever gave up that easily, Dream’s reply is fast, and Sapnap smiles as the thinking dots appear. You’re fine, just be yourself and respect his boundaries. I know you, you’re a great guy Sap you’ve got this

He’s right. About… everything. Sapnap slips his phone into his pocket right before he hears his name called. It’s not George calling out the drinks today, whoever was missing the other day now returned to their normal shift. Sapnap accepts the drink with an easy thank you and is about to walk away before he’s struck with an idea.

“Um, excuse me,” he calls to the woman who’s already started to head back to the espresso machine. She turns around and makes her way back over to the counter anyway, brows raised, anticipating Sapnap’s question.

Sapnap leans in some, unsure if he wants George to hear what he’s about to ask or not.

“Um, George,” he starts, and, oh, that’s not a good look. He presses on anyway. “When is… do you know his breaktime?”

“I do,” the woman replies, and Sapnap is ready to be pleasantly surprised, the amount of information this employee is ready to give more than expected, but then she continues, “but legally I’m not allowed to share it with you, and even if I could, I don’t think I would.”

Sapnap tries his best to swallow his disappointment. He’s not sure how he ended up so dumb with hope anyway. “Right,” he says. “Sorry for asking.”

“I suggest not doing it again,” she replies easily, but before she walks away she gives him a soft smile, “but it’s fine.”

Sapnap returns her smile, even as he feels an itch at the base of his neck, only growing as heat spreads under his skin. He’s quick to make his way back to the table, fingers wrapped tight around his frap.

He tries his best not to watch George, appearing as disinterested as he can, up until the other switches places with another employee, now going around cleaning up tables. Sapnap’s been people watching, eyes determinedly looking anywhere but at George, but that fails when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, a napkin falling to the floor, just in reach of Sapnap’s foot. Stretching the tiniest bit, Sapnap catches the napkin under his shoe, pulling it over to him so he can pick it up and throw it away himself. He almost makes a comment to George about his cleaning skills, always one to tease, no matter who it is he’s teasing, but then the napkin flops over the back of his hand and he sees ink on paper.

Mon-Th 8am-4pm break @ 10 lunch @ 12 break @ 2

Sapnap has no idea when George wrote that, if it was while he was still taking orders or if he wrote it while Sapnap kept his eyes out the window, but when he looks up, he finds the barista already watching him, now back behind the till, cheeks pink even as he holds Sapnap’s gaze. Sapnap smiles, waving the napkin in an I got it! gesture. George doesn’t smile back, just looks down at the register, then up at the customer that walks in a second later.

That’s fine. Sapnap shoves the napkin into his pocket. This is progress.

When he’s about to leave, hand pressed against the glass door, he turns. George is looking down, but Sapnap can see the tips of his ears, the slope of his nose. Pink. Bright, pretty pink.

He smiles. Definitely progress.

;;

“So you want me to flirt with you, then?” Sapnap asks, leaning his hip against the edge of the table George sits at, the barista looking at something on his phone.

“No, not really,” George replies, not looking up from the device.

Sapnap sits in the seat across from him. “But I can flirt with you now, right?” he asks. “Since you’re not technically working right now?”

“I’m being paid for this,” George says. “It’s ten minutes. Money is going into my bank account, right now.” He finally looks up at the other, eyes wide in emphasis. “That means I’m working.”

“Boo,” Sapnap immediately snaps. “You just don’t want to admit that you want me.”

George makes a face.

“Want me flirting with you,” Sapnap clarifies, though he wouldn’t mind George wanting him. (He even hopes for that, honestly.) “You want me to flirt with you.”

“Quit making assumptions, you weirdo.”

Sapnap laughs. “You sound like my friend.”

“Oh, really?” George asks. “Maybe we’d get along then.”

“Me and you?”

George gives him a dry look. “No, you idiot, me and your friend.”

“Well, you’re not going to meet him,” Sapnap replies.

“What, is he better looking than you?” George asks. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Hey!” Sapnap cries indignantly. “What does that mean?” George merely raises a brow. “And no , he’s not. I just… he doesn’t like coffee.”

“And that means he can’t come inside?” George asks.

“He gets, like, really nauseous if he smells it,” Sapnap explains “After I come here, I usually end up meeting him at, like, the library or something.”

“Oh, are you guys students?” At this, George sits up, leaning forward slightly over the table. Sapnap wonders if he’d be allowed to copy the other’s posture, or if it’d make George lean away. He decides not to risk it.

“I am,” he says. “My friend isn’t.”

“H’m,” George says.

“Yeah,” Sapnap replies. “H’m.”

He smiles at the smile that spreads on George’s lips, even as the other looks away, tucking his chin into his collar in an attempt to hide it further. “Stop it,” George says, muffled as he speaks into fabric. “Stop that.”

“I’m just looking at you,” Sapnap replies.

George glances at him from the corner of his eye. “I know,” he says. “Stop it.”

Though he doesn’t want to, he does. “So are you a student too?” he asks.

“Alum,” he replies. “Graduated last year.”

“Ooh,” Sapnap says. “Teach me all that you know.”

“You don’t even know what I majored in,” George replies. “What if we took, like, completely different classes?”

“Unimportant,” Sapnap says. “I was just trying to find an excuse to spend more time with you.”

“I—,” George is cut off by a persistent beeping. The two look down at the phone on the table. “Oh,” George turns off the timer. “Back to work.”

“I thought you said you’re still technically working?” Sapnap asks, knowing the grin he’s wearing is infuriating.

George’s eyes narrow as he looks at Sapnap before he shakes his head. “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re the one who talked to me for ten minutes,” Sapnap replies easily.

George doesn’t reply, instead just shaking his head once more, heading back to the counter, where he grabs his apron and goes to tie it around his (oh God, small) waist. Sapnap squeezes his eyes shut, thinking, before he gets up from his chair. The place is relatively empty for ten in the morning. “It’s compsci,” he says as George finally comes to stand at the register. “I’m a compsci major.” George looks up at him from across the room, startled. “In case you were, you know, actually wondering.” He can feel his confidence drain out of him the longer the other continues to stare blankly at him. “Um, yeah.” He lifts a hand to wave goodbye, and he’s about to walk out when George replies:

“Wait, Sapnap,” he turns around to see George watching him, fingers gripping the edge of the counter, “if you actually do want help ever, uh, I can do that. For you.”

Sapnap wants to reply, wants to say thank you or maybe even you, me, library tomorrow at six?, but instead he stays silent, and the moment passes, George inserting something into the computer, Sapnap clearly dismissed.

;;

“I fucked up,” he says immediately to Dream, sinking into his seat at the small diner on the corner of Mulberry and 11th, convenient for its equidistance from his dorm and Dream’s apartment.

“You really could’ve gotten a date, and instead you just stood there,” Dream says, a vague echo of Sapnap’s retelling.

“You’re making fun of me right now,” Sapnap whines.

“No,” Dream says. Sapnap looks up at him from between his fingers. The corner of Dream’s mouth twitches. “Maybe.”

Sapnap groans, pushing his face further into his hands.

“No, no, it’s not that bad,” Dream tries. “Come on, man, no moping at Sally’s. You’re literally eating cheesecake pancakes right now. You can’t mope.”

“I’m not moping,” Sapnap immediately replies. “I’m mourning.” He pulls his hands away from his face, instead pressing the tips of his fingers to his temples. “Mourning the relationship that never was.”

“Is this what you’re like when you actually have to work for a relationship?” Dream asks. He steals a strawberry off of Sapnap’s plate. “I don’t know if I like this dude.”

“George?” Sapnap asks.

“No,” Dream says, stealing another strawberry, “you.”

“Considering you’re still here, I think you like him well enough.” Sapnap lifts a brow as Dream goes to sneak another strawberry, blocking the other’s fork with his own. Metal clinks against metal. Dream accepts defeat, going back to his waffles.

“We all have our ups and downs,” Dream finally declares. “That was a bad day—”

“But it was going so well!”

“Okay, then things got thrown off with the alarm—”

“Timer.”

“—going off,” Dream eats another bite of waffles, “so basically: don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it,” Sapnap says, just to be contradictory.

Dream knows what he’s doing, so instead of replying, he just finishes off the first of his waffles. Sapnap glares down at his own meal before spearing a piece of pancake.

“I’ll go back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” Dream says.

Shit.

;;

He resigns himself to waiting until Monday to see George again, only to find himself stopping short when walking to his dorm from the library, spotting a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches that line the commons.

“George?” he calls, before he can decide if interacting outside of the four walls of the Starbucks they’re so used to is a good idea.

George looks up, slipping his phone in his pocket, eyes obviously wide even when hidden behind a pair of—

“Are those clout goggles?” Sapnap asks, biting back a laugh.

George crosses his arms, stretching his legs out (though they don’t reach particularly far, Sapnap affectionately notes) and leaning back on the bench. “Maybe,” he replies.

Sapnap stops holding back his laughter, letting it spill out freely as George’s face goes through a range of expressions, from a frown to a smile to a grimace to something of a cross between all three.

“If you’re done,” he says when Sapnap’s laughter has turned more into sporadic giggles.

“I’m sorry,” Sapnap immediately replies, though it’s clear the words mean nothing. He’s certain if he could see George’s eyes clearly through his lenses, the other would be rolling them. “It’s cute,” he almost says, but something stops him, the words turning into, “It’s fine. They suit you.”

One of George’s hands comes up to adjust the glasses, the twist of his lips finally turning into a smile. “Really?” he asks, hand pulling away from the frames to instead rest his fingers lightly against the plastic, but Sapnap isn’t paying attention to the glasses at all, eyes instead locked on the delicate bones of George’s wrist.

“Yeah,” he says anyway. George’s hand falls back to his lap. “So,” Sapnap says, now that the immediate distraction is gone, coming back into himself, “what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you were wanting to see my face again.”

“Um.” George looks away, at a tree that Sapnap knows is behind him, at the ground, the railing of the bench, at an acorn that lay a few feet away. Sapnap tries not to let the hope grow in him, even though the silence only continues to stretch on.

The hope finally breaks loose, and he asks it: “Did you really come here just to see me?”

“Not… entirely,” George replies. Sapnap gives him a disbelieving look, and George is quick to defend himself. “No, really!” he says. “I live in the area, and this… it’s nice, isn’t it?” He motions to the commons. “It’s, like, cool outside now, and the sun isn’t, like, really hot or anything. It’s nice.”

“But you said ‘not entirely,’” Sapnap says, “so that means I was part of the reason?”

“I didn’t expect to see you,” George sighs. “But if—if—I did see you, I wouldn’t be opposed to, like, hanging out or, um, something.”

“Okay,” Sapnap says easily, taking a seat on the bench next to him. Now that he’s beside George, he can see his eyes better underneath his glasses, and he doesn’t even try to hide the way he stares. “So what do you want to do?”

George gives a noncommittal shrug.

Sapnap sighs. They sit in a tense silence, Sapnap itching to say something, George… Sapnap isn’t sure what he’s thinking. Although they’re sitting side by side, sometimes their shoes would brush against each other, edge of sole against edge of sole, and George would jump like he’s been shocked, bringing Sapnap’s eyes back to him every time. Finally, Sapnap gives another sigh and says, “I spy… with my little eye… something… blue.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees George tense. And then.

“The sky?”

“Nope!” Sapnap answers, popping the ‘p’. “Try again.”

George hums quietly, head moving the tiniest bit as he surveys the area. “There,” he says, pointing, “those flowers.”

“Got it,” Sapnap smiles, “your turn.”

George looks around, a single finger tapping on his jean-clad thigh. Sapnap refuses to follow the movement. “I spy,” George begins, “with my little eye something that starts with P.”

Sapnap looks around, searching for whatever George could have chosen. Then a bark rings through the air, and his head snaps around to look at the dog darting across the commons to get to a girl kneeled in the grass. “That puppy,” Sapnap replies, smug.

“Yup.” George nods, glancing over at Sapnap as he picks out something.

“I spy with my little eye,” he starts, angling himself more towards George, “something green.”

George falters. “Grass?” he tries, a slight smile on his face.

Sapnap laughs. “No,” and then out of a rush of courage he’s not sure from where, he reaches up to pluck the leaf out of George’s hair, holding it up between the two of them.

George scoffs. “That’s not even fair. I can’t see that. And was that in my hair this entire time?”

Sapnap shakes his head, flicking it away from them, the leaf dancing idly in the air before twirling to the ground. “Nah. It must have happened sometime last round.”

“Ah.” George finally takes off his sunglasses, pushing them up onto the top of his head. “Well, still not fair. I can’t even see green.”

“What?” Sapnap doesn’t mean for it to come out as a laugh, but it does. “What do you mean you can’t see green?”

“I’m colorblind, asshole,” George doesn’t shove him, but his hand does lift and make a weak motion towards him. “When you started with a color, I figured this wouldn’t last long.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?” Sapnap asks, hand coming down on the bench next to him so he can lean towards George.

“You said blue; it was fine,” George replies. “Besides,” he gives a shrug, “I just said the letter the word starts with. If I did it every time, maybe you would too.”

“Weird,” Sapnap says, the word coming out on a whistle.

“Not as weird as you,” George easily fires back.

Sapnap rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply, settling back on the bench once more. They sit in a companionable silence for another second before he remembers.

“Hey, uh,” George looks over at him, and wow, have his eyes always been that deep, wide and round and shining like honey in the bright sun, “my friend and I, the one that doesn’t like coffee, we’re meeting up for dinner. Would you… maybe want to come? Just so you can meet him. You know. We hang out a lot. And stuff.”

George seems to consider it before he nods. “If your friend is fine with it, why not?”

Sapnap sends Dream a quick text to ask, though he knows the other will say yes. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” he asks, even though he and Dream were just going to meet at, like, a McDonald’s.

“Not that I know of,” George replies.

“Awesome,” Sapnap says.

“Yup,” George agrees.

And… it’s awkward again.

“Got any other plans?” he asks, just to break the silence.

“Not really,” George says. “Fridays are usually pretty uneventful.”

“No one asking you to any parties?”

At that, George gives a quiet laugh. “Not really a partying type of person.”

“Really?” Sapnap asks, eyes wide. “I never would’ve guessed.”

George looks over at him, brows high, before he realizes it was sarcasm, making him roll his eyes. “Oh my God, you’re so annoying.”

“I’m not the one who agreed to spend more time with me.”

George doesn’t reply, but when Sapnap glances at him, he’s got a small smile on his lips, cheeks pink and not, Sapnap is pretty sure, because of the sun.

;;

Sapnap thinks he should be jealous. He’s, like, really sure he’s supposed to be jealous.

Dream and George meet and hit it off immediately, falling into an easy banter that Sapnap watches like a tennis match, a constant smile on George’s face, laughter spilling out past his lips like a waterfall.

They get along like a house on fire or whatever the phrase is, and Sapnap is left to breathe in the smoke. Yet he’s not choking and he’s not jealous.

Because every time George says something that sends Dream into a fit of laughter, he’ll glance over at Sapnap, eyes bright and smile wide, as if to check that he has Sapnap’s attention too, that he has Sapnap laughing right along with them.

Sapnap wonders if Dream notices, if he catches these moments between them, but if he does, he never comments on it, instead continuing to talk to George like they’ve known each other for thirty years and not thirty minutes.

By the time they finish their food, George and Dream have exchanged numbers and are planning another time to hang out.

“It sucks about the coffee thing,” George says to Dream, head tilted back so they can make eye contact. It’s endearing, but Sapnap does feel a slight pain in his chest when he realizes their one inch difference in height means he doesn’t get the same experience.

“Yeah,” Dream agrees, “honestly it’s just, like, really inconvenient because I don’t like coffee in the first place, but you’re telling me I can’t even be near it?” George gives a sympathetic smile, and Dream backtracks. “If you ever want, I’m sure I can stomach it for, like, a minute or two, but—”

“It’s fine,” George cuts him off. “I can meet you wherever you want. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Dream asks, looking apologetic.

“It’s fine,” George repeats. “So next Tuesday? When I get off work?”

“Yeah,” Dream confirms. “I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

“Same here.” George gives him a smile. “It’ll be fun kicking your ass.”

“Oh, right, like you’re going to win,” Dream scoffs. “Right.”

“You’ll see,” George crosses his arms, “just wait.”

“Whatever.” Dream gives a laugh before shouldering his backpack. “Alright,” he says to both George and Sapnap this time. “I’m going to head out. Patches is probably wondering why she hasn’t been fed yet.”

George laughs as Sapnap lifts his hand in an easy wave.

Dream waves back then heads out, leaving George and Sapnap alone.

George turns to Sapnap.

“So,” Sapnap says, “what’d you think?”

“He’s nice,” George replies, and then, “thanks for, uh, inviting me.”

“Of course, dude,” Sapnap says because what else do you call the guy you like, other than dude? He blinks. “Maybe we could do it again sometime.”

George gives a hesitant smile. “Maybe.”

“You’re not, like, intruding on anything,” Sapnap immediately goes to reassure. “We do this, like, all the time. It’s really not a big deal.”

“I didn’t think I was.” George collects his trash, “but thanks for putting the idea in my head.”

“No. You don’t get to do that.” Sapnap follows his lead as they throw out the wrappers from the burgers. “Anyway,” he opens the door for George, who ducks his head in silent thanks, before following after him, “what about me?”

“What about you?” George asks.

“Your number,” Sapnap answers, “I want it.”

“You think I give it out just like that?” George’s brows are raised in disbelief as Sapnap scoffs.

“You did it for Dream, and he didn’t even ask!”

“Okay, and?”

“You’re so mean to me, George,” Sapnap whines, crossing his arms. “See if I ever talk to you again.”

“Oh because that’s just the worst possible outcome for me,” George laughs.

“What the hell?” Sapnap uncrosses his arms to instead fling them out at his sides. “I thought we had fun today! We played I spy!”

“Yes,” George says, “because that is the exact definition of fun.”

“Well,” Sapnap crosses his arms again, “ I had fun. Sorry that you didn’t.”

In his performance, he had closed his eyes, but when he opens them again, his heart is quick to skip a beat upon seeing the soft smile on George’s face as he looks at him. His eyes are no longer turned to gold by the sun, but instead are dark like the coffee he serves, and Sapnap only finds himself looking away from them to instead drop his gaze to the other’s lips. They’re a soft pink, and they’re full, and Sapnap finds himself wondering what they’d feel like on his own.

“It’s,” and then a slew of numbers that Sapnap doesn’t catch. He finally meets George’s eyes again.

“What was it?” he asks, pulling out his phone. George rolls his eyes, giving a quiet laugh, before repeating his numbers as Sapnap rushes to add him to his contacts. When he’s done, he sends a quick text to George (Hiiii :D) to which George doesn’t answer but does make a show of blocking the number (then immediately unblocking it).

“Anyway,” Sapnap shoves his hands in his pockets, Dream’s advice be damned, and gives a slight whistle, “walk you home?”

George shifts his weight, readjusting his jacket, before nodding. “Alright.”

Sapnap smiles. George starts walking.

;;

George’s apartment is nice. Not too far from the Starbucks he works at (not too far from Sapnap’s dorm) and it’s in a quieter part of the city. The two of them stand in silence on the front step.

“So,” George says.

“So,” Sapnap agrees.

A second. Two seconds.

George makes a small noise that has Sapnap ready to ask if he’s alright when George’s hand suddenly smacks against his cheek. Sapnap immediately reaches up to cradle the reddening skin. “Did you just slap me?” He thinks the slight crack in his voice is warranted.

George’s eyes are wide as he shakes his head. “No. Oh my God. I wasn’t… it was a,” and then he makes a motion, like he’s pressing a kiss to his fingers, then lifting them as if he were to press that kiss to—

“You couldn’t have just kissed me like a normal person?” Sapnap is trying not to sound accusatory or angry because he’s not, but what the hell.

“It’s—I didn’t—look, fuck, I’m sorry.” George wraps his fingers around Sapnap’s arm to tug his hand away from his cheek. “Here, look, shit, I—,” and then he’s got his lips on Sapnap’s cheek and any pain Sapnap’s feeling is gone. George’s lips are warm against his skin, and when he pulls away, his eyes are still shut, fluttering open only once he’s back within his own space. Sapnap stares at him with wide eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal,” George says.

“It was kind of cute,” Sapnap tries, heart pounding in his chest. “But only kind of.”

“Whatever,” George says, “I’ll see you Monday, Sapnap.”

“Will you kiss me then too?” Sapnap asks.

George shakes his head, shoving past Sapnap to get to his front door, pulling out his key and unlocking it. “Goodnight, Sapnap,” he says.

“Goodnight, George,” Sapnap replies.

George turns around, looking at him from right inside the door. Sapnap stares back. George opens his mouth, as if he plans to say something, but only ends up closing it again, shaking his head and turning to go further inside, shutting the door behind him.

Sapnap stands there on the front step for another second before shaking his head, the ghost of a response to whatever George left unsaid, deciding to take the long way home.

;;

Monday comes quickly, and after class Sapnap finds himself making his way to Starbucks, just in time for George’s lunch break. He wonders if thirty minutes is enough for him to take George somewhere, nothing fancy, just something quick, but then he’s inside and George is sitting at a table on the far wall, lunchbox open in front of him.

“Boo,” Sapnap says, sliding into the seat across from him, “I was going to ask if you wanted to get lunch with me.”

“I’m good, thanks,” George says.

“I can see that.”

He watches as George peels away layers of cling wrap around his sandwich.

“So how was class?” George asks, right before he takes a bite.

“Ugh,” Sapnap crosses his arms and rests his head atop them, closing his eyes, “I don’t know why I do it sometimes.”

“What, go to school?” Based on what he hears, Sapnap assumes George has peeled away more cling wrap.

“Yes,” he replies.

“Deep down you enjoy it,” George says, “and it’s for your future.”

“You went to school,” Sapnap starts, “and now you work at Starbucks.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s not what you said on Friday.”

“I didn’t say anything Friday,” George says.

“You’re right,” Sapnap sits back up, “you didn’t say anything because you were too busy kissing me.”

“Yeah because a kiss on the cheek totally equals making out on the couch,” George snorts as he takes another bite of his sandwich. “Right.”

Sapnap grins. “Duh.” When George just rolls his eyes and opens a bag of chips, Sapnap is quick to steal one. “Anyway, we have a quiz Friday that I am not looking forward to.”

“I don’t think anyone looks forward to quizzes,” George slaps his hand away when it swoops in for another chip, “are you ready for it?”

“Define ‘ready,’” Sapnap replies. At George’s unimpressed look, Sapnap shrugs. “I mean, as ready as I can be.”

“That’s better than ‘not at all,’” George sighs. “Tell me how it goes?”

“Obviously.” Sapnap smiles when George allows him another chip. “So what about you? How’s your morning gone?”

“It’s gone,” George says. And then he pauses. “I got a girl’s number.”

“Oh,” Sapnap says, because that’s all he can think to say.

“She, like, wrote it on the receipt, I guess when Sarah was talking to me, and when she left, she just… left it on the counter.” Sarah, as it turns out, is the woman who told Sapnap she’s not allowed to disclose George’s break times. Sapnap still feels prickles of irritation under his skin as George continues: “I threw it out.”

The prickles suddenly stop.

“You threw it out?”

George nods, nonchalant, popping another chip in his mouth and even offering the rest in the bag to Sapnap with a raised brow. Sapnap just shakes his head, ears still ringing from George’s words.

“Why?” he asks.

“Not interested,” George says, finishing off his chips. “Besides,” he says, getting up to toss the bag in the trash, “no flirting while I’m at work.” Sapnap hands him the cling wrap sitting on the table. George smiles as he grabs his lunchbox. “See you later, Sapnap.”

“What if I wanted to order something?” Sapnap calls as George gets himself situated behind the counter.

“You drink too much sugar,” George replies, putting on his customer service face as a middle-aged man walks in. “Welcome to Starbucks, would you…,” Sapnap lets the rest of the greeting fade into background noise as he watches George’s mouth move, his fingers dancing across the computer as the man places his order. After another second, he gives a stretch, then rises, giving George a smile and a wave as he heads out the door.

He comes back that afternoon only to be greeted by George’s furrowed brows and a cold drink shoved into his hands. “On the house,” George tells him as Sapnap stares down at the vanilla frap, the condensation that had gathered on the cup wetting his hands.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” George replies, pushing through the glass doors and holding one open for Sapnap. “So where to?”

Sapnap thinks. He hadn’t really thought of anything for them to do, mostly just wanting to see George again. Then he remembers neon lights and crummy carpet with space patterns on it, rockets and stars and moons. With the next step he takes, he moves the tiniest fraction closer to George. The backs of their hands brush together. Sapnap lets this happen a couple more times, and then—he takes George’s hand.

George just holds on tight.

Sapnap smiles. “I have somewhere.”

;;

They hold hands the entire way, and Sapnap tries not to let it get to him. George’s fingers are thinner than his, and not long after he had started to lead them in the direction of the arcade did George’s fingers slot their way between his. His palm is warm, pressed flat against Sapnap’s own, and every once in awhile Sapnap will say something that makes George laugh and his hand will come up as if to cover his mouth, the action aborted halfway to its destination when Sapnap’s arm goes taut, George letting their hands fall back between them. He still looks over at Sapnap though, eyes glittering, squinted, cheeks rosy.

It’s maybe the most beautiful thing Sapnap has ever seen.

;;

Correction. George smiling (still, because George always looks nice smiling) colored by the neon lights is the most beautiful thing Sapnap has ever seen. He’s almost tempted to take a picture of just George, just for him to have, him to cherish, but he knows George will hate it, George will watch him like a hawk over his shoulder as he deletes it, not letting up until he deletes it, and the effort isn’t worth it. Seeing George so displeased isn’t worth it.

So instead he crowds into George’s space, demanding a selfie, “to send to Dream! To make him jealous!”

Like that’s anywhere close to the truth. But he does send the selfie to Dream, who does reply with a >:(, and Sapnap laughs and shows George, who laughs then wanders over to the skee ball, and then that’s when Sapnap goes and changes the picture to his homescreen (because a lockscreen is too risky, because he knows George will definitely see it).

He lets George win at skee ball. And air hockey. And… this game isn’t even competitive, what the hell, but he lets George win at that too. (And okay, maybe sometimes George wins because he’s better, but it’s not like Sapnap would ever admit to that.)

When they leave, George is still giggly, fingers intertwined with Sapnap’s once again, but less passive, more with a purpose, more I’m holding your hand because I really want to hold your hand, because I like how your fingers feel between mine, because I like the way our skin touches, you’re here and so am I. It’s so deliberate, and Sapnap is dizzy from it.

They get dinner at a seedy, shitty pizza place, though the pizza is anything but, and then it’s back to Sapnap walking George home.

“You really don’t have to,” George says. “Your dorm is, like, right there,” he makes a general motion to the upcoming intersection.

“But I want to,” Sapnap says.

George sighs, but doesn’t say anything, even as they walk past the entrance of the university.

When they reach his apartment, Sapnap fakes nonchalance. “So,” he says, “are you going to make it a big deal?”

George crosses his arms.

Sapnap puts up his hands in front of him. “Just a question.” He smiles. “So are you?”

“You’re so annoying,” and then warm lips are on his cheek as fingers tangle into his shirt. “I hate you,” George says when he leans back. Sapnap looks down at where George still has a grip on his shirt, but when he meets George’s eyes again, the other doesn’t let go. Sapnap wants to take his face in his hands and press a kiss to his lips right then and there.

George’s gaze dropping down—to his lips, there’s no doubt about it, George is looking at his lips—is almost enough to make him do so.

But that would scare George away. He knows it would. So he leans back on his heels, smile on his lips. “Hate you too.” The soft lilt of his voice belies his words. He doesn’t mind.

George’s eyes flit back up to Sapnap’s. Sapnap’s smile widens. George drops his hand from Sapnap’s shirt. “Thank you for today,” George finally says. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” Sapnap reaches out, taking George’s hand in his own, finding that he quite missed the other’s touch, even if it’d only been a few seconds. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” George agrees, “we will.”

They stand there in silence, Sapnap holding George’s hand. George clears his throat.

“Well,” he says, “goodnight, Sapnap.”

Sapnap gives the other’s hand a squeeze. “Goodnight, George.” He drops George’s hand, their fingers dragging together until they’re not.

When their fingers finally part, George takes a breath then turns to unlock his door and head inside. Right before he shuts the door, Sapnap is treated to the sight of an eye turned liquid gold from the streetlights, a rich, amber color that leaves Sapnap tasting coffee and honey. “Goodnight, George,” he says one last time, and then, the door shuts and it’s just Sapnap out in the cold. He gives a smile to the closed door, then turns and starts the walk to his dorm.

;;

Sapnap ends up with what feels like fifty new assignments on Tuesday, and he knows Dream and George are meeting up after George’s shift ends, so he decides to forgo his usual trip to Starbucks and instead heads back to his dorm after shooting George a quick Have fun with dream :) text.

When he reaches his room, his phone chimes in his pocket.

thanks, i’m gonna kick his ass

Sapnap huffs out a laugh before unlocking the door and heading inside, dropping his backpack onto the floor next to his desk then collapsing into his chair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes before replying to the text.

Of course u will <3

Immediately, he gets a text back, and he thinks more about that than what the text actually says (gross, don’t ever send me a <3 ever again).

Just to be antagonistic, Sapnap grins and sends: Good luck baby xoxo mwah mwah mwah <3

Another instant reply: you’re so disgusting. talk to you later sapnap

Sapnap’s grin stays as he sets his phone down and pulls out the assignment he’s decided to tackle first. Sure, George may be annoyed by every text he sends, but he’s still replying right away, still replying at all—he totally doesn’t mean it. George totally loves texting him, he’s sure of it. Sapnap gets out his laptop and goes to Blackboard as he thinks about George on Monday, the way he’d sometimes lean into Sapnap, the clean scent of his laundry detergent settling into Sapnap’s heart and the occasional press of his cheek against Sapnap’s leaving a permanent warmth under his skin.

He goes through his assignments in a daze, Java getting mixed with java and graphs getting interrupted by George. Only the sound of his phone going off—a call from Dream—breaks him out of it, little numbers and letters dancing behind his eyes as he blinks and answers the phone.

“Yeah?”

“George and I are getting something to eat, do you want us to bring anything to your dorm?”

“You don’t have to,” Sapnap replies, even as his stomach rumbles and roars at him to eat.

“You’re right,” Dream agrees, “but I’m not doing this for myself.”

Sapnap blinks. “George,” he says, and Dream gives a quiet hum. “Where’re you guys getting food from?”

“Taco Bell, maybe,” Dream replies. “There’s one on the way to your dorm.”

“Across the street, yeah,” Sapnap agrees. “Then can I get a Cheesy Gordita Crunch with two soft chicken tacos, a steak quesadilla, cinnamon twists, and a Baja Blast?”

Dream repeats it back to him with an, “alright,” at the end, and Sapnap tells him he’ll pay him back when they get to his dorm. “Sounds good,” Dream replies. “See you in a bit.”

“See you,” Sapnap agrees, then the call disconnects, and Sapnap is left in a messy as hell room with George on his way. “Shit,” Sapnap says, looking at the weeks-old laundry spilling out of his wardrobe and the assortment of half-drunk Gatorades and water bottles littering the shelf above his desk. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He grabs his trash can from where it sits at the foot of the bed, lifting it to the edge of the shelf and just pushing all the bottles into it, some of them falling past the edge and hitting the floor. He groans as he bends over to grab them and put them into the trash properly. When that’s done, he knows he’s not going to be able to run a full two and some loads of laundry before Dream and George get to his dorm, so he deems the laundry a lost cause and shoves it as best he can back into the wardrobe, his hamper buried under weeks of unwashed clothes. Oh well. At least his room doesn’t smell.

Sapnap freezes. Does it?

He shakes his head. No. It doesn’t. It’s fine. Besides, his room isn’t that bad. And George is a guy; he probably lived in the dorms, he knows the horrors of a bunch of dudes crowded in one building. It’s fine.

A knock on the door makes him look up from where he’d been staring a hole into his bedsheets, wondering if remaking his bed (he had put it together haphazardly that morning, more for a sense of productivity than any need for cleanliness, the sheets wrinkled and pillows slouched awkwardly) would be worth it. He supposes the interruption is answer enough. Leaving the bed as is, he unlocks the door, swinging it open to see George standing there holding three paper bags, two drinks under his left arm.

“Hi,” Sapnap says.

“Hi,” George replies, angling himself to allow Sapnap to take a bag from him. “These drinks are really cold.”

“Here,” Sapnap grabs the green one, immediately lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. “Almost as refreshing as seeing you.”

George stares at him before making his way into Sapnap’s room, setting the two bags down then taking out a napkin and setting his drink on it. “You’re not funny.”

“You’re right,” Sapnap agrees, making George’s eyes widen as he looks over at him. “I’m hilarious.”

George’s parted lips fall into an unamused line. He scoffs, turning back to the bags and pulling out various Taco Bell items. “Here,” he says, handing Sapnap his quesadilla and cinnamon twists, “they threw some of our things in the same bag. Everything in the one you’re holding is yours, though.”

“Nice.” Sapnap sets down the bag to take the food, immediately getting started on his quesadilla.

“And Dream was going to come, but then he got a call from someone and said he had to go. He might’ve taken the hot sauce…?” He looks over at Sapnap with a raised brow, who glances into his bag.

“Nah. There’s sauce in here.”

“Cool,” George replies. “But yeah, it’s… it’s just us now, I guess.”

Sapnap glances over at him. George is staring down into his bag, fingers crumpling the paper. When George turns to look at him, Sapnap doesn’t turn away. George holds his gaze for a second before his ears turn a warm pink, and he ducks his head, reaching into his bag to pull out a Quesarito.

“Uh,” Sapnap says, and then reaches across George to grab his wallet from the desk and pull out a ten. “For the food.” He holds it out to George.

George takes it, their fingers brushing and Sapnap’s pulse sent racing.

“Thanks,” George says, “but Dream paid.”

Sapnap plucks the cash from George’s fingers. “Never mind then.”

George laughs, “rude,” before unwrapping his Quesarito and taking a bite. “So how are your classes going?”

Sapnap groans making a motion to the stack of assignments half-covered by an empty Taco Bell bag. “Terribly. I’m doing… fine. It’s just… so much work.”

“The worst,” George agrees, taking another bite. “Studying for the quiz?”

“What are you, my dad?” Sapnap asks, but at an unimpressed look from George, he sighs and leans back against his bed. “Yes.”

“Good,” George says, and then he says, “I kicked Dream’s ass by the way.”

“Like I said you would,” Sapnap replies, and when George looks at him from under dark lashes, he thinks about how easy it would be to lean forward and press a kiss to the space between his brows, the tip of his nose, Sapnap hesitates for the shortest second before his gaze drops lower—it’d be so easy to lean forward and press a kiss to George’s lips. When he meets George’s eyes again, they’re dark, and in the faint light, Sapnap can see his pupils blown wide. He swallows. George watches the movement.

Sapnap takes a breath. “I—”

And then George is on him, their mouths pressed hot against each other. Sapnap moves back, resting on the bed, as he tilts his head, angles it so that he can kiss George properly. It’s once he does this, once he brings a hand up to hold the back of George’s head, that George pulls away with a small breath. “This was a—”

“If you say ‘bad idea,’ you owe me ten bucks,” Sapnap says before he can finish.

George, flushed, glances up at him and huffs a small laugh. “Lapse in better judgement, then.”

“No take-backs,” Sapnap says, his left hand, which had settled on the curve of George’s hip, sliding up to hold the nape of George’s neck. “Okay?”

George lets out a breath. Sapnap feels it warm against his lips, a phantom of their kiss. “Okay.”

Sapnap smiles. “Good. So what’s wrong?” He wouldn’t normally talk it out, the other party throwing out their worries and Sapnap immediately going back in for the kill, lips on theirs and them preferably in the bed by now, but it’s okay if it’s George—if this takes longer than it normally would, that’s okay, and—George gives him a hesitant smile back—if the end result is more than a tumble in the sheets, that’s even better. (Not that that was ever the desired result, but for a time, Sapnap could’ve been content with just that. Not anymore, though. Not now.)

“I’ve never dated anyone,” George admits, “not seriously.”

“Like, you’re some type of player or…?” Sapnap lifts a brow as George sends him a look. He drops his hand to pull himself back and up onto his bed then pats the space next to him in a silent offering to George. George looks from his hand to his face then back a couple times before sighing and climbing onto the bed next to him. When George places his hands down at his side, his and Sapnap’s pinkies brush together. George takes another breath.

“I mean, I dated a girl in high school, if you could call it that,” George says. “More like I knew she had a crush on me and was doing what I was supposed to.” He makes a face and Sapnap wonders if it would be bad of him to curl their pinkies together, to take even more than that. Good or bad, he leaves his hands as they are, letting George continue. “It didn’t mean anything, and it was a high school relationship. Those are hardly legitimate.” He gives a slight eye roll. “So yeah, this is… kind of new to me.”

“That’s okay,” Sapnap says immediately. “I’ve never had a real relationship either.”

It’s not the consolation Sapnap had planned for it to be. Sapnap wouldn’t say he sleeps around, or slept around, he’s not some kind of manwhore or anything, but the fact still stands that he’s definitely had more than one partner and most of those relationships did reach at least third base before he even hit the ball. That, in contrast to George’s high school hand-holding, is definitely a strike against him.

Sapnap shakes his head, dissipating the baseball metaphors beginning to sprawl in his mind. “But it’s something I want with you,” he amends. “I really like you, George. Like… I really like you.” He’s not sure if the second thing is what does it for George, but either way, he still takes Sapnap’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together and resting their connected hands in his lap. Sapnap leans over just enough to have their shoulders touching.

“You really do annoy me sometimes, you know?” George asks, thumb rubbing smooth circles into Sapnap’s skin. “It’s like you go out of your way to do it, too. You can’t just… dial it back a bit. It’s really all or nothing with you.”

“I’m not known for doing things in halves, yeah,” Sapnap agrees.

George glances at him from the corner of his eyes. “Except for relationships,” he says. His voice is rough.

The smile that had started to grow on Sapnap’s face drops. “Yeah. Except for those.”

“I really like you too,” George finally admits, “and if you’re willing to try,” he squeezes Sapnap’s hand then looks over and meets his eyes, “I am too.”

;;

The soft atmosphere had broken not long after that, Sapnap’s stomach rumbling and George bursting into lilted giggles, nerves and hesitance coloring his every move after that. But when Sapnap offered to walk him home, George agreed, and they held hands the entire way, and when they reached George’s door, George scrunched his face up then grabbed Sapnap by the front of his jacket and pulled him into a searing kiss.

“For someone who’s never been in an actual relationship,” Sapnap had said, “your kisses are pretty hot.”

“Thanks,” George had said and then slammed the door in Sapnap’s face.

Sapnap didn’t mind, though; nah, he grinned the entire way home.

;;

The rest of the week flies by in a vanilla frap-flavored, headache-filled haze. George is certain the headaches are from all the sugar Sapnap intakes, but Sapnap is certain it’s from all the homework his professors assign and studying George pushes him to do.

“It’s not as if you wouldn’t be doing this if I weren’t in the picture,” George tells him as he wipes down the table next to Sapnap’s. Sapnap has a lab report open on his laptop, his notes spread all out on the table before him. Half of the keyboard is covered by the paper, rendered unusable.

Sapnap doesn’t have a good argument for that, but he also wants to keep George nearby. He leans back in his chair. “I’d have a headache with no remedy,” he says.

“Remedy, huh?” George asks, standing straight and arching a brow.

“Seeing your face is the only medicine I need,” Sapnap says, and then he throws in a, “pretty boy,” just because he wants to see what it’ll make George do.

Apparently, it makes his expression fall off his face and heat rise in its place, cheeks and ears glowing a bright pink even as he stutters out irritated (and empty) phrases, eventually giving the table a final furious once-over then disappearing into the kitchen to get rid of the dirtied rag. So basically, the words did the opposite of what he wanted, but in the end, Sapnap finds himself unable to consider it anything other than a win, mind now running through other opportunities to pull out the pet names.

George appears only when he’s about to leave, sending him off with a kiss on the cheek that’s really more an accidental brushing of lips against skin, but it’s enough for Sapnap, and he leaves the other with a smile and a promise to tell him how the quiz goes at dinner.

;;

Come dinner, Sapnap is halfway through explaining how he’s pretty sure he failed the quiz when George sits up in his seat and asks, “Is this a date?”

Sapnap freezes, mouth open and mid-word. “Do you want it to be a date?”

George huffs. “This isn’t really the wining and dining I expected, but—”

“I’m nineteen,” Sapnap tells him.

George sighs. “It was just an expression,” he says. “And I was going to say it’s fine. Everything here leaves something to be desired, but it’s fine.”

“Everything?” Sapnap asks, eyes widening coyly as he looks at the other.

“Everything,” George confirms. “Especially my date.”

Sapnap exaggerates a sad face and George rolls his eyes, throwing a fry at him, but he’s got a smile on his face, so Sapnap drops the act and grins back. “You’re so cute,” he tells the other, and George immediately seems to grow smaller, shoulders curving inwards, face angled down, his smile facing the floor instead of Sapnap, who observes this all with a quiet gaze.

“Shut up,” George says, the words on the end of a laugh.

“It’s true,” Sapnap replies. “I love looking at you. Even when you look dumb.”

“Excuse you,” George immediately snaps, finally looking back at Sapnap, “I never look dumb.”

“Oh,” Sapnap says, “you’re right. I meant when you look stupid.”

“What the hell?” George guffaws. “You’re actually so annoying. Shut up.”

“So you want me to shut up when I compliment you, and you want me to shut up when I insult you—what’s the truth?”

George looks at him, unimpressed. “The only conclusion is that I like you best when you say nothing at all.”

Sapnap scoffs. “Rude.”

“And yet.” George lifts a brow.

Sapnap gives a quiet exhale. “And yet,” he agrees.

;;

Dream stretches his legs out in front of him while Sapnap twists himself around to lean against Dream, back pressed against shoulder.

“How’s it going with George?” Dream asks, flicking through the channels on the TV, Sapnap watching the short frames he gets while taking nothing in.

“I think we’re a thing,” Sapnap replies, settling even further into Dream when he finally decides on a channel. It’s an old comedy from the 80’s, one Sapnap thinks his dad might’ve shown him when he was younger. Vaguely, he recalls falling asleep halfway through. He’ll try not to do that this time.

He feels Dream shift as he looks down at the younger. Sapnap can sense his eyes on the top of his head. “You think?” Dream asks, the words coming out slowly, as if he’s tasting every letter.

“We kissed,” Sapnap explains, “and we both talked about how we feel, and we went on a date, and he’s kissed me again since that first one. On the lips,” he adds hastily, just so Dream understands the severity of the situation.

“But no one’s said ‘boyfriend’ yet,” Dream concludes.

“But no one’s said ‘boyfriend’ yet,” Sapnap confirms.

Dream hums as a fanfare starts up in the movie. Sapnap takes a handful of popcorn from the bag on the coffee table in front of them.

“I think we’re taking it slow,” Sapnap continues. “Neither of us are good at relationships.”

“What do you mean?” Dream turns slightly, and Sapnap slips down his arm some. “You’re not good at relationships?”

“You know how it was,” Sapnap answers, “is.”

“Is it really that bad?”

Sapnap shrugs, scooting back up against Dream as he does so. “I’d think so. Someone like George would think so.”

“Where does that leave me?” Dream asks.

Sapnap doesn’t answer, eyes back on the TV screen. Dream huffs, but doesn’t push for one either.

“It’s fine,” he finally says. “Whatever works best for you guys.”

Sapnap nods, and they don’t talk about George or Sapnap and George or relationships for the rest of the movie.

;;

This is new. Sapnap’s heart pounds heavy in his chest as George sits perched on his lap, hands flying across Sapnap’s keyboard as he types a command into the chatbox. Dream’s voice crackles through his speakers: “George! What the hell?”

“Oops,” George says, glancing back to share a conspiratorial look with Sapnap, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Yes, you did,” Dream argues, his character finding George’s—who's really just using Sapnap’s character, but it’s whatever—and George running, even as Dream hits him over and over, beginning to take hearts. “You’re such an idiot, oh my God.”

George leans back against Sapnap’s chest, letting Dream kill him. “Fine,” he sighs, “we can do it your way. Whatever.” Sapnap smiles at the way his accent colors his words. George sends him a curious glance; Sapnap noses at the edge of his hairline in answer. George makes a small noise before leaning forward to get back into the game. Sapnap shifts, adjusting George on his lap so he can have some circulation in his thighs again. It’s not that George is heavy, no, George is fairly light, but George is bony, and for all Sapnap likes him and would in fact like to slip his hand in the other’s back pocket as they walk together, that doesn’t change the reality of George having a bony ass and it pressing into Sapnap’s lap.

When he’s got him where he wants, Sapnap curves himself over George, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist. George feels warm all over, and when Sapnap tilts his head to take in the other’s profile, he sees it as a soft pink. Though George can’t really afford a free hand when PvPing Dream, he still lifts a hand to shove Sapnap’s head away.

Sapnap huffs and hooks his chin over the other’s shoulder. And then he gets the most terrible (wonderful) idea and angles his head so his nose is pressed into George’s neck and he’s starting to run kisses across the skin there. George breathes out a titter and lifts his shoulder to try and push Sapnap away. Sapnap grins and starts to climb his lips up the slender column of George’s neck. George gives a full-on giggle at this. “Stop,” he says, hand coming up to shove at Sapnap again, the lapse giving Dream a chance to hit George with his axe. “Sapnap,” George says when his kisses turn a bit rougher.

“What are you guys—,” and then George gives another breathless laugh and Dream makes a disgusted noise. “Seriously?” he asks. “In the middle of my Minecraft PvP?”

“Sorry,” George gasps, shoving at Sapnap with an urgency now, brows knitting and lips losing their smile for a frown instead. Sapnap gives one final nip to George’s neck before relenting, letting George stand from his lap and glare down at him. It holds for another second before George turns back to the computer. “I’ll be back on in a bit, is that okay?”

Dream makes a noise of confirmation then ends the call. George turns back to Sapnap.

“Too far?” Sapnap asks.

George scrutinizes him, eyes narrowed, before he sits back down on Sapnap’s lap, this time angled towards him. When Sapnap puts his hands on his hips, George makes a face. Sapnap drops his hands. “I know I kissed you first,” George finally says, not quite meeting Sapnap’s eyes. “So I should be okay with all this.” He finally manages to make eye contact, holding it as he speaks. “But I’m not.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“You can tell me when it’s too much,” Sapnap tells him, but at George’s look, he sucks in a breath. “You did.”

“I was—I didn’t seem like I meant it,” George says. “I know. And, um, I guess I didn’t. Not really, not at first, but—”

“I still should’ve.” Sapnap lifts a hand, looking from it to George’s eyes then back. George gives a nod, and Sapnap sets his hand on George’s side, fingers resting in the spaces between George’s ribs. He feels George’s chest expand and contract with every breath he takes.

“We could,” George ducks his head, “have a sign, or a word, or something, and if one of us does it, the other stops,” he meets Sapnap’s eyes again, “would that work?”

Sapnap’s brows raise, jaw dropping slightly. “George…,” he says, “did you just suggest we employ a safeword?”

George splutters. “No? I mean—I guess, but not like that! Just… yes or no?”

“Butterscotch,” Sapnap says.

“What?” George makes a face.

“When it’s too much,” Sapnap explains, “just say you want butterscotch.”

“It sounds like a euphemism.” The word drips distasteful from George’s tongue.

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “But that’s what makes it good !” He slides his fingers from George’s side around to his back, watching George’s face all the while. When George doesn’t stop him—physically or with butterscotch—Sapnap brings his other arm around George, holding him. “People will think we’re going to fuck or something, but actually we’re doing the opposite!”

“That or they’ll think we’re sugar addicts,” George scoffs, making Sapnap laugh.

“One of those,” Sapnap agrees. “Is that really such a bad thing?”

George looks at him, disappointment clear on his features. Sapnap smiles. George’s facade breaks; he smiles back. “It’s dumb,” he says.

“You always look dumb,” Sapnap replies. “No one will think anything.”

George sighs. Sapnap feels the movement against his chest, beneath his fingertips. “Fine,” George finally concedes. “Butterscotch.”

Sapnap smiles back then leans forward till their noses touch and their breath intermingles as George inhales then says, “If there’s ever been a better time to say the opposite of butterscotch, it’d be now.” Sapnap kisses him. George’s eyes slip shut, hands coming up to tangle slender fingers into the ends of Sapnap’s hair, and returns the kiss.

Eventually, George calls Dream again and the two of them start up their game again, George back to his perch at the edge of Sapnap’s lap, and this time Sapnap doesn’t kiss him, but George lets him run his fingers up and down his sides, and Sapnap delights in the little shivers and shudders George does every time. George and Dream end the day on a tie, the last win one of Dream’s. George’s consolation is a kiss pressed to his temple, but then George says that’s not enough and decides Dream and Sapnap owe him dinner.

“Both of us?” Sapnap asks as Dream groans on the other line.

George nods.

“Why me?” Sapnap makes the best pleading face he can.

George is made of stone. “Friend of the enemy.”

“Boo,” Sapnap says, “hiss.”

“Hey!” Dream’s voice crackles through the speaker. George glances over at it, unamused.

“I think we should try that one place, what was it called? It’s on Main and Delaware.”

Dream makes a noise. Sapnap thinks it might be one of fear. “If it’s the place I’m thinking… that’s really expensive.”

“But you can pay for it, can’t you, Dream?” George asks. “I know you can.”

Dream doesn’t reply. All three of them know he can.

“But I wouldn’t do that to you,” George continues. “Which is why Sapnap owes me dinner too.”

Sapnap is about to whine when his brain catches onto an idea and his eyes narrow. “Is this payback for the date?”

“H’m?” The tilt of George’s head is innocent in a way only the guise of innocence can be. Sapnap’s eyes squint even more, vision practically gone. “Of course not.”

Sapnap doesn’t believe him.

;;

Despite George’s teasing earlier that week, he ends up ordering the cheapest things on the menu, though Sapnap (feeling guilty about the date thing, oops) points out other, more expensive, things for George to try.

“Sapnap,” George finally says, “it’s fine. If it bothers you that much, we can split a dessert or something.” Across the table, they meet eyes and at the contact, a small smile appears on George’s face. Sapnap’s breath catches.

Dream is seated next to George, this date of course anything but traditional, but, like at the McDonald’s, Sapnap finds he doesn’t care, their closeness completely platonic—if anything, he’s comforted by it, in a sense, his two favorite people getting along as easy as they do. Sapnap’s utterly sold on it.

He and George catch eyes again as Dream peoplewatches casually, cheek resting on his palm. Sapnap’s own palm is open on the table in front of him, bored of messing with his unused cutlery. He smiles as George eyes the hand, eyes dark and inscrutable, before a hand covers his own. Sapnap curls his fingers around the other’s. They sit in this calm silence until their server brings them their food.

Sapnap’s tempted to keep George’s hand in his as he eats, but it’s his right hand and George’s left, so he lets go, turning to his food instead. George does the same, and Sapnap thinks that’s it, but then he feels a foot brush his, and when he glances up, it’s to see George already watching him, cheeks flushed. Sapnap hooks their ankles together. George’s gaze goes back to his plate.

When it comes time for dessert, George does agree on splitting with Sapnap, Dream getting his own thing, some chocolate mousse pie, and George and Sapnap getting a crème brûlée, George eager to tap the top with his spoon when the waiter brings it out to them, steaming and pretty.

Every once in awhile, their spoons clink against each other, and they exchange quick glances, Sapnap swears his aren’t heated, but the pounding in his heart suggests otherwise—he never knows with George, whether there’s something behind them or not, his eyes dark, endless, Sapnap wonders if he’ll ever be able to properly read him. If Dream is ever uncomfortable, he never gives any indication of it.

Dream and Sapnap do pay, and George looks green and guilty after, even when Dream did everything he could to keep George from seeing the check, leaning away and even cupping a hand over the receipt to prevent curious eyes from wandering.

The three of them walk out together, Sapnap’s pockets feeling considerably lighter, but the meal worth it, and when he reaches over, George lets him clasp their hands together easily, fingers intertwining like this happens everyday. Dream walks on his other side, hands in his pockets (Sapnap stops himself from making a smart remark), eyes on the sidewalk ahead of them. The sun has long since set, and a chill has started under Sapnap’s skin, shaken only by the solid warmth of George’s hand in his. Still, when a breeze ruffles their hair, Sapnap has to suppress a shiver.

They reach George’s apartment first, and he goes with an easy goodbye to Dream and a short hug around Sapnap’s middle. When he pulls away, he turns his head and his lips brush Sapnap’s cheek in something like a kiss. Sapnap watches him up until the door finally shuts and they hear the click of the lock.

They’ll reach his dorm before they reach Dream’s place. When Sapnap looks over, Dream is still staring straight ahead.

“I could’ve paid it all myself,” Dream says. “You knew that.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap agrees.

“You could’ve told me to pay it all myself.” Dream turns his head, eyes on Sapnap. His gaze is sharp. “George wouldn’t have minded.”

Sapnap looks to the ground. “Yeah.”

Dream goes back to looking ahead. They walk in silence for another minute. “He’s happy,” he finally says. Sapnap’s eyes dart to the other. Dream isn’t looking back. “He really likes you.”

“I really like him,” Sapnap says.

“Monday—the other week,” Dream gives a slight laugh, “George said he really liked that, too. He had a bad day—,” Sapnap remembers the drink shoved in his hands, the dark expression on George’s face, “—and then you were there, and you were happy and happy to see him, and suddenly the bad parts of the day didn’t really matter.”

“I just want to see him smile,” Sapnap says, and then he amends the statement, “I want to see him happy. If it’s because of me, that’s even better, but really, he just…,” he shrugs, makes a noise in his throat. “I care about him.”

“So do I,” Dream says. “And I care about you. And I can tell that you guys make each other happy. And that’s all you want for each other.” He glances over, showing the other a soft smile. “And that’s all I want for you both.”

“You haven’t even known George for that long,” Sapnap says, because he’s socially incompetent or something.

“George is easy to love,” Dream replies.

Sapnap doesn’t have anything to say to that. It’s true. He is.

;;

It’s another one of Sapnap and Dream’s biweekly movie nights, but this time George is there, head resting in Sapnap’s lap, feet in Dream’s. He fits perfectly along the couch, though he’s turned on his side, blanket tugged tight over him as he watches Jurassic Park. They settled on that after some brief bickering, mostly between George and Sapnap, Dream content to watch whatever, while George wanted a comedy and Sapnap didn’t know what he wanted but it wasn’t a comedy because, “Dream and I watched a comedy last time!”

“I wasn’t here last time!” George argues. “So it shouldn’t matter!”

“But it does ,” Sapnap does not whine, though they all know the pitch in his voice makes it close to one. “We should watch something else.”

In the end, it was Dream who decided, having closed his eyes then picked a movie off the shelf randomly. Once Dream was sat back down on the couch, George had huffed and flopped over onto his side to watch it, ignoring Sapnap’s cheering but not turning away from the hand the younger had placed atop his head, fingers running through the short strands.

Now, an hour and a half later, George makes a sleepy noise, nuzzling into Sapnap’s thigh, and Sapnap’s heart clenches in his chest.

Dream had dozed off a few minutes ago, chin in his palm, and now his elbow has started to slide off the arm of the couch. Sapnap bends over, running his nose along the curve of George’s ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hey,” he whispers. “Want to call it a night?”

George turns his head, nose bumping into Sapnap’s when Sapnap doesn’t sit up quick enough. Their eyes lock, dark blue on dark brown, and George stares up at him for a second before he glances to Dream at the other end of the couch, one hand curled around George’s ankles. “‘Kay,” George says, voice rough. Sapnap finally leans back the rest of the way, and George sits up, pointing his sock-clad toes and stretching out his right arm, the limb having been pressed to the couch beneath him. When he takes his feet from Dream’s lap, dropping them to the floor, Dream’s elbow finally slips from the couch, and he jerks awake, eyes blinking rapidly until they finally settle blearily on the TV.

Sapnap leans over to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “George and I are gonna head out,” he tells him. “We’re all pretty tired.”

Dream looks over at him, movements sluggish, before he nods. “See you guys tomorrow?”

“Probably,” Sapnap replies.

Dream nods again before making a small noise and pushing himself up from the couch. The movie still plays on the television, but none of them pay it any mind. Dream picks up their empty bowl of popcorn and takes it to the kitchen.

George sighs, leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes.

“Ready for the walk home?” He’s talking about their respective homes, Sapnap knows—George’s apartment and Sapnap’s dorm—but it feels so much like they’re a duo, a pair, home coming from George’s lips like they live together, that it makes Sapnap’s breath catch in his chest. Breathlessness and a clenching heart—maybe Sapnap should seek medical help.

At his lack of reply, George looks back at him. The blue light colors his skin something pretty. Maybe Sapnap’s just had an overdose of George. He doesn’t think he minds. “I’ll walk you home,” he says. And then he thinks about the placement of their houses. He backtracks. “Or… if you wanted, you could just stay at mine?”

George, growing steadily more alert as time goes on, stares at him. “You want me to go home with you,” he says. It is in no way a question.

“I mean, if you want,” Sapnap answers anyway.

“We might as well have spent the night here,” George tells him.

Sapnap glances back at Dream, only to find the other missing from the kitchen. A look at the dark hallway and the slim line of light coming from underneath the bathroom door lets him know where the other is, however. He turns back to George. “We can ask Dream,” he says. “Do you want to?”

George gives a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe your place would be better. We don’t know what he’s doing tomorrow.”

“We don’t,” Sapnap agrees, although they’re both aware Dream doesn’t have any plans.

“And we don’t want to overstay our welcome,” George continues.

“We don’t,” Sapnap repeats.

George sucks in a breath, holds it. “My place is farther,” he finally says on the exhale, “ but my bed is bigger.”

That’s true. Sapnap has a room to himself, but he’s still only got a twin. It can barely fit him sometimes.

“I’m willing to make the walk if you are,” he decides.

;;

George is willing to make the walk. Dream had come out of the bathroom not long after, wiping his hands dry on his sleep pants, then waving them out with a tired smile. Sapnap had taken George’s hand the minute the door had shut behind them, the two of them alone on the sidewalk, Sapnap tugging George even closer, using their connected hands to his advantage.

They make their way to George’s apartment slowly, despite their initial reluctance to walk. Sapnap wonders if it’s a delay of the inevitable or an enjoyment of the other’s company. (They can enjoy each others’ company within four walls, not outside where the unforgiving autumn cold that’s finally settled seeps into their bones.) George takes a breath.

“I don’t,” he starts, then makes a noise. “I don’t want anything to happen, Sapnap.”

When they pass under a streetlight, Sapnap sees George’s cheeks glow red. George glances over at him.

“You know that, right?”

Sapnap has a list of things he could say. I never even thought about that, is one. Why not? is another. “Yeah,” is what he goes with. “Don’t worry.” He squeezes George’s hand. George squeezes back.

“I just…,” George tilts his head back, looking to the sky, and Sapnap’s eyes are locked on the graceful column of his throat, “I really like you, Sapnap.” He goes back to looking ahead, but Sapnap keeps his eyes on him. “And it’s almost been a month since… since,” with his free hand, he makes a vague motion at where their other hands are locked together, “this. Whatever this is. So I just… in case you, I don’t know, expected anything.”

“It’s okay,” Sapnap says. Again, he adds, “Don’t worry.”

George smiles at him. Sapnap smiles back.

;;

When they reach George’s apartment, George unlocks the door and Sapnap follows him silently inside, chewing on his lower lip as he contemplates what he’s about to say next. Eventually, he gives up on elegance:

“You said this.” George looks over at him from where he’s locked the door. Sapnap leans against the kitchen counter. “Whatever this is.” He makes a gesture between the two of them, something indicative of the blurry relationship they have.

“I don’t know what to call it,” George says.

“I know,” Sapnap replies. “I don't know what to call it either.”

George glances around, as if checking for eavesdroppers, before he looks back to Sapnap. “What do you want to call it?”

Sapnap raises his brows. “What do you want to call it?”

George gives a sigh. “Are we having this talk now?”

“When else will we have it?” Sapnap crosses his arms as George shuts off the main lights, plunging the two of them into darkness.

“I don’t know,” George replies. “In the morning?” He’s nothing but a shadow as he crosses in front of Sapnap. Sapnap refrains from reaching out to grab a wrist, pull him to his chest, demand an answer now. It doesn’t matter that much.

But it’d be nice to have some answers. And George had been right before. It’s been almost a month since that kiss in Sapnap’s dorm, lips greasy with Taco Bell yet the kiss still nice, in that way kissing someone you really, really like is. In kissing someone you could grow to love—maybe already love, deep, deep down—is.

“I just like knowing,” Sapnap finally says. “What’s wrong with that?”

A light flicks on, and when Sapnap takes a couple steps away from the counter, he realizes it’s the light for George’s bedroom. He stands out of place in the doorway before George takes notice and makes his way over to the other.

Sapnap gives him a tight smile once they’re face to face. George studies him for a second before sighing. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” He pivots, going over to a set of drawers and tugging the middle one open. T-shirts and lounge pants are folded loosely inside. “I like knowing too.” He glances over his shoulder at Sapnap. “Do you think any of these will fit?”

George buys most of his clothes oversized. Just something Sapnap’s noticed about the other. “There’s a chance,” he replies. George tosses a few different pairs at him. Sapnap changes in the bathroom.

The first pair he tries doesn’t fit at all. He gives a small laugh to himself before grabbing the second. They fit better. The third look hot, flannel and dark, even for the weather, so he leaves them folded and tries his best to fold the other pair before dutifully marching back to George’s side to have him tuck them back into his drawer.

“We’ve been on a date before,” Sapnap says, “and a half. A date and a half. You could say we’re dating?”

“We’re about to literally sleep together,” George replies, and although his cheeks are flaming, the heat radiating off them in waves, his expression remains neutral, completely unamused. “I think we’re a bit past that.”

“So…,” Sapnap tries his luck, though he’s starting to think it less luck, and more a careful maneuver on George’s part, “you could say we’re boyfriends?”

“A bit gradeschoolish,” George replies.

Sapnap blinks at him.

George stares back before rolling his eyes and scoffing. “You’re so dumb. Yes, you could say we’re boyfriends.”

Immediately, the blank look drops off Sapnap’s face, and he grins, even as George turns on a lamp and brushes past him to turn off the bedroom light, completely ignoring him. Sapnap watches him disappear out the door and round the corner into the bathroom. There’s the sound of water running, then rummaging, then water running again, and then George’s head pops into the bedroom and he says, “I’ve got a spare toothbrush.”

Sapnap brushes his teeth and watches George’s shadow every time its reflection appears in the mirror. He holds back a sudsy laugh when he realizes the taste of George’s toothpaste is familiar. He rinses and spits then straightens and runs a hand through his hair. It’s gotten longer since the start of the semester. Since he’s met George. When he tugs his fingers through the ends, they get caught on knots. He does his best to untangle them without a brush. He gives up less than a minute in.

When he gets back into George’s room, George is already in bed, looking at something on his phone. Sapnap bites back a giddy smile, crawling into bed next to him, immediately pressing a kiss to his temple then sliding down the bed and wrapping an arm around his waist.

George sets his phone down on the bedside table before looking down at him. “You’re very affectionate,” he says.

“So I’ve been told,” Sapnap replies.

George stares at him for another handful of seconds. Sapnap stares back. George blinks, then stretches to turn off the lamp. They’re left in the dark once again.

Sapnap is forced to lift his arm when George gets properly under the covers, the sheets tugged up to his chin. He’s flat on his back, and when Sapnap sets his arm back down, this time across his chest, he can feel the tension in him. George takes in a breath, and when he lets it out, Sapnap feels it shudder.

“George,” Sapnap says, and then, a leap of faith, “baby.”

George turns his head. Beneath Sapnap’s arm, his heart pounds.

“C’mere,” Sapnap says. A second. Two seconds. George rolls onto his side. Now, they watch each other, face to face. Sapnap can’t pick up any details on George’s, the room too dark, the most he can figure out being the slope of George’s nose, the occasional movement of his eyes. The window is behind George. Sapnap wonders if George can see him more clearly.

Sapnap gets his arm further round George, pulling him close. When George lets out a breath, Sapnap feels it warm through his shirt. When George blinks, Sapnap feels the feathery kisses his lashes leave on his skin.

“You’re really warm,” Sapnap says.

From beneath the covers, George’s fingers twist and tangle in his shirt. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

A car passes by outside. George gives a small sigh. Sapnap brushes the pads of his fingers across the back of George’s neck.

“You can,” the words get muffled into Sapnap’s chest.

“What?” Sapnap asks.

George tilts his head back. “Your shirt,” he says. “You can take it off if you want.”

It’s Sapnap’s heart’s turn to pound.

George goes back to lying on his back. And then he rolls onto his side, but this time, he faces the window. Sapnap studies the curve of his shoulder. Then he sits up. And he pulls off his shirt.

He doesn’t really know what to do with it. Dropping it on the floor seems messy, but folding it and putting it on the bedside table just feels weird. No matter what, he’s not getting out of bed. He glances over and has to fight back the urge to jump. George has rolled back over, now staring at him.

Sapnap drops his shirt on the floor. George scoffs before rolling back over.

“I didn’t know what to do!” Sapnap immediately defends himself. He gets back under the covers. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” George replies.

Sapnap moves closer. “Stop,” George says.

Sapnap places a hand on George’s shoulder. It’s warm under his palm.

“Sapnap,” George says.

“George,” Sapnap replies. He runs his hand from George’s shoulder down to his chest. Again, he can feel his heartbeat. He pulls the other closer, so George’s back is pressed to his chest.

“No,” George says. “I’m not… spooning with you.” The word is spat with venom.

Sapnap sighs, nose tickled by the other’s hair. “Night, babe.”

“Sapnap.” George’s fingers curl around Sapnap’s wrist. They make no move to pull his hand away. He makes no move to push him away.

He still hasn’t said butterscotch. Sapnap is pretty sure he’s not going to say butterscotch. George lets out a breath. Sapnap feels him relax against his chest. Another car passes by. Sapnap hears it outside. Sees the change in lighting from behind his eyelids.

George lets out a quiet breath. “Whatever,” he finally says, more to himself than to Sapnap. “Night, Sapnap.”

Sapnap hums and delights in the shiver it sends through George. When he falls asleep, it’s to the steady sound of George breathing and the light movements of George tracing shapes on the back of his hand. Sapnap wonders what exactly it is he’s drawing. Wonders if he’s drawing anything in particular at all.

;;

When Sapnap wakes, George is still asleep. They’ve changed positions sometime in the night, both of them apparently being the type to spread out (and it had felt nice, Sapnap notes, not just to wake up next to George, but to wake up in a bed that he can actually stretch out in), so now George, Sapnap sees after sitting up all the way, has a foot just off the edge of the bed, the bump of it clear under the blanket, an arm flung back towards Sapnap, the other close to his head, fingers brushing the hair near his ear. The leg closer to Sapnap is tangled with Sapnap’s own. Sapnap’s not sure which of them is the cause for that.

There’s not much to do yet. It’s a Saturday, and while Dream didn’t have plans, he didn’t have any either. George might, but Sapnap is pretty sure that’s unlikely. He lets himself fall back onto the bed, head bouncing lightly against the pillow. George makes a soft sound from next to him. Sapnap takes his hand. He tries not to think the curl that appears at the corner of George’s lips is because of him.

George sleeps for another hour, Sapnap drifting in and out of wakefulness next to him. The final time Sapnap wakes, he knows he won’t be falling back asleep, but it doesn’t matter, because George huffs then slowly blinks open his eyes, staring blankly at the wall before looking over at Sapnap.

“G’morning,” he says.

“Morning,” Sapnap replies.

“Breakfast?” George asks.

“I’m down.”

Neither of them move.

George gives a soft laugh. Sapnap smiles at the sound.

“I might have eggs in the fridge,” George says. He looks over at the other. “I have apple juice.”

Still, neither of them move. Sapnap grins as George sighs and presses the heels of his palms over his eyes.

“There’s a diner on 3rd and Ashmore,” Sapnap tells him. “Want to try there?”

“Sounds good,” George replies.

They sit there for another second before George swings his legs off the bed and Sapnap leans over to pick his t-shirt off the floor.

“I might have a sweater you can wear,” George says. “You can put it on over your shirt.”

“Yeah?” Sapnap asks.

George tosses him a sweatshirt. It’s a pale grey, crewneck. Sapnap tugs it on over his head. It’s a little tight. George sighs, grabbing Sapnap’s jacket off the chair he had set it on the night before. “Never mind. It’s fine. Not like anyone saw you last night anyway.”

“Scared they’ll think you’re sleeping around?” Sapnap teases. George sends him an unamused look, taking the sweatshirt back when Sapnap hands it to him. “George the neighborhood whore?”

“Shouldn’t you be a little nicer to your boyfriend?” George asks, and while Sapnap is choking on his words, George sends him a playful look, hanging the sweatshirt back up in his closet.

Sapnap gets a grip on himself and gives him a smile back. “That’s not a no.”

“Yes,” George tells him, “because I’m just such a whore. Always sleeping around.”

Sapnap stands, going over to George, backing him up into the bedroom door. “I wouldn’t mind,” he says, “if that were the case. I know it’s not, but even if it were, I don’t care.”

“I don’t care either,” George replies. Sapnap wonders if George thinks that was the case with him. “I,” they had tentatively locked eyes, George’s occasionally glowing amber when caught by the morning light slipping through the blinds, but now, George looks away, at some distant point past Sapnap, “like you as you are. If that’s how you were, it wouldn’t matter. I like you.”

“Can I kiss you?” Sapnap asks, breath caught in his throat. At George’s concerned look, Sapnap waves a hand. “Morning breath, I—you—you seem like you’d care about that.”

George presses a kiss to the corner of Sapnap’s lips. Sapnap lifts a hand and runs his fingers along George’s chin, gets pricked by the short, short stubble there, then tilts his head and kisses George proper on the lips. George kisses back.

When they separate, George keeps his eyes closed. Sapnap bumps their noses together.

“In the future,” George says, “I’ll care about that.”

Sapnap really wants to say I love you.

“I’m sure you will,” he says instead.

;;

For breakfast, Sapnap has steak and eggs. George has French toast. To drink, he has apple juice. Sapnap stares into his own black coffee.

“Very nice,” George tells him. “Very stereotypical.”

“Are you really judging my food choices right now?” Sapnap asks.

George lifts his cup to his lips, taking a sip of his juice as he raises a single brow. Sapnap tries to be defiant, firm in his choices, but his eyes are continually drawn to George’s throat, the pale skin there. His gaze is only broken by George setting the glass back down. Sapnap swallows. He can’t say if George’s eyes following the movement is deliberate.

He looks back up. George has moved on, cutting into his toast, taking a bite.

“It’s good,” he says, once he’s swallowed. “How’s yours?”

Sapnap cuts into his steak. It’s good.

They eat, and their legs once again tangle, this time under a table instead of blankets.

;;

Despite what they had all told each other the day before, George and Sapnap end up not seeing Dream again.

“Sorry,” he tells them over a Discord call, George and Sapnap both at George’s computer, Sapnap having dragged the chair in the corner of George’s bedroom over to the desk. “Someone kind of high profile asked me to code something for them. I wasn’t going to turn it down. It was a good offer.”

“We didn’t expect you to turn it down,” George replies. “We don’t want you to turn it down.”

“Yeah, man,” Sapnap agrees. “That’s great. Secure that bag.”

“Secure that bag?” George echoes. “Seriously?”

“Let’s get this bread,” Sapnap says solemnly. “Make his pockets hurt.”

“I already did,” George replies.

“Still,” Dream cuts in easily, making George and Sapnap immediately stop, heads turning once again to the computer, “I’m sorry. I’ll see you Monday or Tuesday maybe.”

“You want a rematch?” George asks him. “It’s been awhile since I’ve completely obliterated you.”

“Whatever,” Dream laughs. “I’ll see you.”

“See you,” George and Sapnap agree. And then the call ends. And then it’s just them.

Part of Sapnap feels like he’s overstaying his welcome. Part of him wants to overstay his welcome, wants to stay forever. Part of him feels like George would say something if he were. If not get out , then butterscotch or something. But George has stayed silent, content to have Sapnap by his side.

At that thought, Sapnap leans over, a hand coming to rest on George’s thigh. George shifts, and Sapnap’s hand falls. That was the movement’s intention. Sapnap readjusts, placing his hand on the edge of George’s chair. George returns to his previous position. Sapnap leaves his hand where it is.

George takes a breath then leans back, head rolling on his neck to look over at Sapnap. “Got any work to do?”

“Nope,” Sapnap replies, popping the p. George hums, eyes slipping shut.

“Got any plans at all?”

“Nope,” Sapnap repeats. “No obligations, nowhere I need to be. I can go home if you want me to, though.”

“You don’t need to,” George replies. And then he glances behind to the bed. “I might take a nap.”

“You want me to say something,” Sapnap says, eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

George looks at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I want you,” he says, “to do whatever you think you should be doing right now.”

And with that, he rises from his chair, tugs off his tennis shoes, and falls onto the bed.

“In jeans?” Sapnap asks him, crossing his arms as best as he can at the angle he’s at.

George grunts. Sapnap sighs, taking the pair of sweatpants George had left on the dresser and dropping them on the bed next to George.

“You want any water or anything?” he asks.

George keeps his eyes closed. “I’m good, thanks.”

Sapnap studies him for a second before heading to the bathroom.

He really has no idea what George wants from him.

Really, going into the bathroom was just him stalling, more for George’s benefit than his—he’s completely certain he’ll reenter George’s bedroom to see the other wearing the sweatpants he had set next to him—but he does use it as a moment to wonder just what he’s supposed to be doing.

When he goes back into George’s room, the other is lying the way he had been when he left, but, just as Sapnap thought, he’s now wearing sweatpants, an arm thrown across his eyes.

Sapnap takes a seat next to him, then lets out a breath and lets himself relax back onto the bed. George’s arm falls from his eyes. Together, they stare up at the ceiling.

“Can we just stay like this?” George finally asks.

Sapnap looks over at him.

George remains looking at the ceiling.

“Like what?”

“You’re so affectionate, Sapnap.” George’s fingers brush his. Sapnap fights the urge to take them. “It’s a lot for me.” George finally turns his head and meets Sapnap’s eyes.

Sapnap holds his breath. George’s fingers run up his arm, tickle quick over his shoulder, finally scratch through the slight beard he has. “Sorry,” Sapnap says.

George takes a breath, then shifts, turning himself onto his side. “Not your fault. It’s just new. A lot of this is,” he gives a quiet exhale, “new.” His fingers still press against Sapnap’s skin. They’re warm. Sapnap swears when they fall away, his skin will be stained red.

“I like it,” George finally says. “New is good.”

“That’s good,” Sapnap says.

“It is,” George agrees. “I like this a lot.”

“In the future, you’ll care?” Sapnap asks.

George laughs, gentle, soft. “I already do.”

;;

The rest of the weekend passed slowly, time molasses. Sapnap hadn’t spent the night again, the two of them finally napping, then Sapnap slipping out when they next woke, delivering a kiss to George’s lips then tugging his jacket over his shoulders and heading out into the October cold. He’d taken his time on the walk home, an opposite of Friday night—reluctance to leave, each step heavier than the last. By the time he gets to his dorm, he swears his feet are stone.

Wearily, he eyes his desk. Atop it lay various assignments, all at different degrees of completion. Most aren’t due till Friday or the next week entirely—he’d meant it when he told George he’s got nothing he needs to be doing—but with nothing to take his immediate attention anymore, he finds himself wondering if now would be a good time to complete it all.

He gets through an assignment and a half before he finds his thoughts wandering. Some of them go towards eating; he and George had slept through lunch, and now it’s practically dinnertime, and Sapnap is hungry. But most of them go towards George, towards a thought he’d had that morning.

I love you.

He rolls the thought around in his mind. Reshapes it.

I love you, George.

A beat.

“You’re so affectionate, Sapnap. It’s a lot for me.”

Sapnap groans, head coming to rest in his hands. When he lifts his head again, he pushes his hair back. An I love you now would be too soon. They’ve just declared themselves boyfriends, and now Sapnap is thinking about I love yous.

It is a lot. For anyone. Sapnap is the odd one out here. He knows it’s a problem, but he just doesn’t know any other way to be.

;;

meeting dream today, gonna try and kick his ass. wish me luck?

Sapnap smiles down at the text that lights up his phone. Kick his ass babe, gl but u got this

thanks

Sapnap slips his phone back into his pocket. It vibrates. Sapnap pulls it out once more.

It’s probably the bare minimum. There’s no words involved. But it stops Sapnap short, leaving him staring down at his screen with wide eyes. He wonders if he’s pink. His skin feels warm.

It means something. It’s George. It has to mean something.

;;

“I brought Taco Bell,” George announces when Sapnap swings the door open.

George pushes past him easily, setting the bags at an empty spot on Sapnap’s desk while Dream brings up the rear, shirt wet with condensation from their drinks.

“It only felt right,” George tells him as Dream gives him his Baja Blast.

“I’m here this time, though,” Dream says, pulling out a burrito from one of the bags George sat down. “Please don’t make any jumps in your relationship while I’m still in the room, thanks.”

George glares at him then takes a menacing bite of his Quesarito.

Sapnap turns to Dream with wide eyes. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

“It won’t be,” George says.

“I didn’t realize you’re so sentimental, George,” Dream finally speaks up after a few minutes of them just eating their food.

“I’m not,” George replies.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Dream sends him an unamused look, but George just gives him one right back.

“Really,” he says. “I’m not.” He glances at Sapnap. Dream catches it. “I’m not really doing this for myself, anyway.”

Sapnap flushes, staring down at his gordita. Dream looks between them, blinks, exhales. Sapnap thinks he’s going to say something ridiculous. All he says is, “Couples,” and that’s that.

George catches his eye, smiles, and it’s like they’re sharing a secret. Sapnap likes it.

He loves it.

;;

With a new week comes the panic of midterms. Sapnap had thought he’d been overwhelmed before, but now he’s drowning, completely slipping under murky waters.

George pulls him out with a heated chocolate croissant and a pat on the head.

Sapnap smiles at him as he walks away.

Dream sits on a chair next to him, flipping through one of the New Yorker s left on the little table in front of them. Sapnap blinks at his laptop before setting it aside and stretching. “You’re so lucky, man,” he tells Dream, who gives a noncommittal hum and turns a page. “I mean it. Midterms are the worst.”

“Yeah,” Dream agrees. “Tests are annoying.”

“They’re dumb,” Sapnap says, conviction coloring his words. “Memorization is dumb.”

“Just a couple more years of this,” Dream replies.

Sapnap sighs, picking up the chocolate croissant and taking a bite. “Just a couple more years.”

After a few more minutes, Dream heaves a sigh. “It’s getting to me,” he says.

“Sorry,” Sapnap replies, like he can in some way change the strength of the coffee.

“It’s fine,” Dream dismisses, then he stands, dropping the magazine back onto the table. “See you later.”

Sapnap sends him a smile as he waves at George, who’s moved back behind the counter.

“See you!” George calls as the door slides shut behind Dream.

“That was pretty long, I think,” Sapnap says when George makes his way over a few minutes later, now on break, taking up Dream’s empty chair. “We’d been here almost an hour.”

“That is long,” George agrees. “How long are you staying?”

“You get off at four?” Sapnap asks, and George nods. “Want to get dinner with Dream and I after?”

“Of course.” George smiles, and Sapnap smiles back.

;;

Despite all of his manic studying—or perhaps because of it—midterms the next week pass by relatively quickly, him coming out of his last class Friday tired but content. He doesn’t really think he got an A, but he’s sure his mark will be pretty damn close.

A few hours and a billion failed Minecraft speedruns later, Sapnap gets a message from Dream.

I know movie nights r every other week, but u just finished midterms. Wanna come over?

Sapnap’s at the other’s house before he even thinks about it. “Uh, yes, I want to come over,” he tells Dream when the other opens the door. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want,” Dream replies. “You’re the one who’s got nothing to worry about anymore.”

Sapnap grins, plucking a movie off the shelf. “Here,” he hands it to Dream. “Popcorn?”

“You know it,” Dream replies, getting the movie set up.

When the popcorn is done, Dream is on the couch, remote in hand. “Good?”

Sapnap nods, setting the bowl between them.

The movie passes by quickly, and they move onto the next one—it turns into a right marathon by the time the sun has set, and eventually, the bowl of popcorn is empty, and they’re leaning against one another in the center of the couch.

At a lull in the movie, a quiet moment between the two main characters, Sapnap speaks:

“I think I’m in love with George.”

Dream is quiet for a moment. Sapnap feels him shift against him. Their shoulders press together. “He’s easy to love,” Dream echoes his words from weeks before.

“Easy to scare,” Sapnap replies.

More movement.

“Is there ever a right time to say I love you?” Dream asks. “If you love them, let them know.”

“He told me that I’m a lot,” Sapnap tells him. “That I’m a lot for him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t say it like that,” Dream says. Sapnap gives a half-hearted shrug. Dream sits up, angling himself to better face Sapnap. Sapnap imitates his pose. Like this, he can only see half of Dream’s face, one side lit up by the TV screen, the other cast in shadow. “It’s been a month,” Dream continues, “and a half. I think George is the type of guy where, if he feels like you’re too much, if he doesn’t like you, he’s going to leave. He’s not going to sit there, miserable, waiting for you to pull the plug.”

Dream is right because of course he is, but Sapnap still shifts, uncomfortable. “I just… I am a lot. We don’t spend all the time together, but I’m so much more affectionate than he is, and it’s like… I already love him, and—and—we have a safeword, Dream. Like this is some BDSM thing. But it’s not for that, it’s for how much I fucking hold his hand.”

“But isn't that proof?” Dream asks. “That’s communication. Compromise. He wants this to work, Sap. He wants to be with you. Wants you.” He smiles, hand reaching between them to hold Sapnap’s shoulder. “He wants the guy that’s pushy and loud and in your face, the guy that drinks too many vanilla fraps and gets competitive over everything and likes to cuddle. He wouldn’t have decided to go out with you—hell, I don’t even think he’d have kissed you—if that isn’t who he wanted.” He leans back, hand stroking warm down Sapnap’s arm, and the minute it falls back into his lap, Sapnap leans forward to throw his arms around the other.

“I love you,” Sapnap says, turning his face to press his nose into Dream’s neck. “I’m so lucky you’re my best friend.”

Though his arms are pinned awkwardly to his sides, Dream still manages to reach and get his hands on Sapnap’s waist where he squeezes the other in a poor imitation of a hug. “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t my best friend,” he replies. “I love you too.”

When Sapnap pulls away, Dream smiles. “But I don’t think I’m the one you need to be saying I love you to, though.”

Sapnap sleeps on Dream’s couch that night and dreams of the different ways telling George he loves him could go.

He’s pleased to note that most of the scenarios end positively.

;;

Saturday he spends the night at George’s again. He lies in bed, quiet, with George next to him, one of the older’s hands holding his phone, the other affectionately brushing through Sapnap’s hair. Sapnap gives a quiet sigh before rolling over and touching his nose to George’s hip. George hums and twirls a lock of Sapnap’s hair around a thin finger.

“You okay?” George asks.

Sapnap squeezes his eyes shut and nuzzles further into the other's side. “Tired.”

“Fall break is coming up,” George consoles him, “and midterms are over.”

Sapnap nods, arm stretching out and over George’s waist. His fingers brush along George’s side, featherlight. George flinches away from it with a giggle. Sapnap tilts his head, eyes opening and gaze flitting to George’s face. It’s a bad angle, but he can still make out the smile there.

He loves George, he knows that now. He’s in love with George.

And George wants him. Wants the him that touches too much and feels too much and loves more than he should. George wants that. George has that. And he likes it.

Sapnap sighs, sinking back into George’s side. George plugs his phone in then turns off the lamp. Before he gets fully under the covers, Sapnap feels his fingers run through his hair one more time before a kiss is pressed to the top of his head.

“Goodnight, Sapnap,” George whispers.

Sapnap squeezes George as best as he can, delivers warm kisses to the parts of George he can reach. “Night, baby.”

George hums, touching the tips of their noses together (with the action, Sapnap swears he did some kind of witchcraft to steal his breath), before rolling over, back to Sapnap’s front. Sapnap bites back a smile. He wonders if George would call this spooning. Because that’s what it is.

He buries his nose in the soft hair at the nape of George’s neck. It’d be easy to say it now. Let the words slip out and if George questions him on it, he can blame it on sleep. A slip of the tongue.

But he doesn’t want it to be a mistake, even if that’s a lie to save his own face. He wants the words to be deliberate, the meaning of them felt by George wholly.

He sighs, and George shivers with it. Sapnap makes a small noise of apology.

“What’re you thinking about?” George finally asks.

Sapnap takes in a breath. He’s not sure what to answer.

“You don’t have to tell me,” George says.

“I want to,” Sapnap replies.

George exhales, the sound loud, before rolling back over. When he’s facing Sapnap, a hand comes up to hold Sapnap’s cheek.

“I think you’re more affectionate than you realize,” Sapnap tells him.

“I think you just make me affectionate,” George replies.

Sapnap stares at him. George stares back before he lifts his hand, fingertips remaining against Sapnap’s skin. He runs them over his cheek, then across his lower lip. And then they go back to his cheek, and George is moving to slot their lips together.

When they separate, Sapnap smiles. He’s pretty sure George smiles back. He presses one more kiss to George’s lips.

He could say it now. George’s fingers begin to tangle into the ends of Sapnap’s hair. His mouth is hot underneath Sapnap’s own. Their breath intermingles. Under the sheets, their legs have tangled together. The two of them are practically completely intertwined.

Against his lips, Sapnap feels George smile.

He says it.

The words hang heavy in the minimal space between them. Sapnap’s heart is equally heavy in his chest as he anticipates George’s reaction. He wants to ramble—apologize, take them back, clarify, tell him that he loves him but he isn’t in love with him (but he is)—but he doesn’t. The words are what they are. He means them.

Though his face seems to now be void of the smile he wore, George doesn’t move away, and they remain tangled together. George rubs his thumb over the curve of Sapnap’s cheek.

He feels George’s breath. George kisses him softly. And then he replies: “I can’t say it yet, Sapnap.” His other hand finds Sapnap’s own. Holds it. “I feel it. I’m, like, certain I do. But I can’t say it yet. Not like that.”

Sapnap sucks in a breath, closes his eyes, nods. “I get it. That’s fine. I love you, though. I just… wanted you to know.”

At that, George laughs, a quiet, warm sound. “Thank you. I’ll remember that.” A beat. And then, “The minute I can say it myself, I’ll tell you.”

Sapnap smiles. “I’m holding you to that.”

George rolls back over. Instead of waiting for Sapnap to curl around him, he backs up, pulls Sapnap’s arm over him. Readjusts so it’s even harder to separate their legs. “Goodnight, Sapnap.” He means it this time.

Sapnap closes his eyes, relaxes. The words are out there now. And George accepts them. No take-backs.

“Goodnight.”

;;

Neither bring it up later. It happened—Sapnap definitely told him—but the words stay only in the air between them, felt but never heard. They go on a walk, no destination in mind, just enjoying each other’s company, and at the local cafe (an actual cafe, not the Starbucks George works at), they split a hot chocolate topped with a mountain of whipped cream that ages them a hundred years only for those years to be wiped away with a thumb. At one point, George has some stuck to the corner of his lips, and Sapnap can’t help but lean forward to lick it away. Of course, George shrieks and shoves him back, flustered and grossed out, but his lips are upturned.

“Sweet,” Sapnap tells him.

“You’re so annoying,” George replies.

“You’re cute,” Sapnap shoots back.

George flushes and takes the mug from Sapnap’s hands, lifting it to his lips so he can hide the smile on his lips. It only works so well. Sapnap lets the moment go, though.

“Normally that’d be butterscotch,” George tells him as they exit the cafe. “I can’t believe you did that. That’s so disgusting.”

Sapnap laces their fingers together. George huffs.

“The only reason you got away with it is because I didn’t expect it.” George kicks a pebble lying in his path. “So annoying.”

Sapnap doesn’t bring it up, but he does say it again.

George stutters out a laugh. Sapnap feels George’s hand squeeze his. It’s enough.

;;

The weeks pass by quickly after that, and soon Sapnap finds himself Friday night sitting between George and Dream while an early 2000s sci-fi movie plays on the TV. They weren’t supposed to have movie night this week either, but come tomorrow morning Sapnap is supposed to head down south for Thanksgiving with his family, so this is their last hurrah together.

They’re a bit like dominoes, actually, Dream sitting normally on the couch, Sapnap’s back resting pressed against his side, and George leaning on Sapnap. Idly, he plays with Sapnap’s fingers. To add to George’s amusement, Sapnap flexes and stretches his fingers. Meanwhile, Dream tugs on his hair.

“It’s probably best you head home soon,” Dream says. “Not to kick you out, but it’s a long drive tomorrow.”

“How many hours away is Houston anyway?” George asks, voice muffled with the way his cheek is squished against Sapnap’s chest.

“Too many,” Sapnap says. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

“We’ll miss you too,” Dream tells him.

George makes an affirmative noise.

“But it’s only for a week,” Sapnap says. “And then I’ll be back up here.”

“You don’t normally focus on that,” Dream tells him, more for George’s sake than his. Sapnap flushes, glancing down at George, who stares back with inquisitive eyes. “But I guess now you have something to come back to. Someone.”

“I like spending time with you.”

Dream scoffs. “Like distance ever mattered when it comes to us.”

“Huh?” George pushes himself up and Sapnap sends Dream a dirty look.

“I like cuddling with the homies well enough, but affection from you is way different from affection from George.” He pulls George back down on top of him. “Affection from you is like… a jacket. Nice to have, really nice, but not a necessity. George is a shirt. No shirt, no shoes, no service.”

Dream guffaws. “I hope I’m not just a jacket to you guys, but a friend too.”

“You’re my friend, Dream,” George tells him.

“I love you, George!” Dream immediately replies, and George hides a laugh in Sapnap’s chest.

The movie ends not long after that, and soon Sapnap is heading home.

“I can walk myself home just fine,” George tells him when they reach the intersection that Sapnap is supposed to turn at.

“But I like walking you home,” Sapnap replies.

“But you need to rest,” George tells him, smile on his face. He brushes a strand of hair out of Sapnap’s eyes. “I can help you pack your car in the morning?”

“Do you want to?”

George just continues to smile.

“Why are you like this?” Sapnap asks, and then he leans forward and George lifts a hand to cup the back of his neck. They kiss, and when they separate, Sapnap squeezes George’s waist. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Sleep well,” George replies.

“I’ll try.” George smiles, and Sapnap smiles back. George’s hand slips from his neck, and Sapnap’s hand falls from his waist. George starts to walk away. “Goodnight!” Sapnap calls after him. “Love you!”

“Goodnight, Sapnap!” George calls back.

;;

George greets him with a kiss and a coffee and bagel pressed into his hands. “For the road,” he says, and Sapnap thanks him, setting the things aside and drawing George into a deeper kiss than the chaste one he was given. “For the road?”

Sapnap grins. “For me. A week away from you. You know I need my kissies.”

“Don’t ever say that again,” George says. “Oh my God. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Sapnap laughs before tugging his backpack over his shoulders. Dragging his suitcase behind him, he leads George to the parking lot, where he lifts his suitcase and sets it into the trunk. “Seriously, though,” he says, “this’ll be fun.”

“An experiment,” George replies. “A week apart. How will we fare?”

Sapnap grins, and George smiles back.

“Remember me while I’m away,” Sapnap tells him. “Don’t go falling for the first pretty face you see.”

“Of course not,” George says solemnly, and Sapnap laughs. George studies him for a second before once again kissing him. “Three’s a lucky number.”

“I didn’t think you believed in luck,” Sapnap says.

“I don’t,” George replies.

Another kiss. George makes a small noise.

“Four,” Sapnap says. “Actually, I think that’s unlucky in China. I read that somewhere.”

One more.

“How’s five?” George asks.

“Eh,” Sapnap says. “Even numbers are better.”

“Seven is lucky.”

“Eight?”

“Pushing it.”

Sapnap leans away from where he’d come to pin George against the door. George straightens up, readjusts his shirt. Sapnap runs a hand through his hair. George tracks the movement with his eyes. Sapnap’s hand falls back to his side.

“Thanks,” he says.

George huffs a small laugh. “Don’t mention it.”

Sapnap studies him for a second before pulling him into a hug. “I really will miss you,” he says. “I’ll see you.”

“You’re getting on the server with Dream and I if you’re not too tired tonight, right?” George asks.

“Duh.”

George nods. Sapnap feels it against his neck.

“I’ll miss you too,” George finally says.

Sapnap holds him tighter.

;;

Despite the drama of him leaving, Thanksgiving passes by without much fuss.

They voice call a fair amount and when Sapnap gets to Houston he does hop on the SMP for a bit, a couple hours later passing out mid-call. When he wakes, the lights are all shut off and his blinds are closed.

He’s grateful.

Dream FaceTimes him on Thanksgiving, showing Sapnap his and George’s… creative feast.

“I still can’t believe you guys are having it together,” Sapnap tells the two, completely ignoring the football game on TV to focus entirely on them.

“Why shouldn’t we?” Dream asks him. “George’s family is in England, and it’s not like they celebrate, and I’m not going to Florida this year. Why not?”

That’s fair.

“Still,” Sapnap says anyway. “And did you just call every nearby restaurant?”

“It’s an assortment,” George says.

“But it’s good,” Dream continues. “Besides, it’s more about the leftovers than the meal.”

Also fair, and Sapnap finds himself with an array of Tupperware from his family’s Thanksgiving in his backseat as he drives back to school. When he’s back inside his dorm, staring at his minifridge, he realizes they won’t all fit in the small space.

“Can I use your fridge?”

“Welcome back, Sapnap,” George replies. “How was your break?”

“I’m offering you free food,” Sapnap says.

“And I’m asking how your break was.”

Sapnap makes a face. “Good. I’m happy to be back. Now, can I please use your fridge?”

A pause. “You only love me for my house,” George finally says. “That’s so wrong of you.”

It’s the first time George has ever brought up Sapnap’s love for him, even as a joke. Sapnap takes a breath. “I do love you for your house,” he replies, teasing before turning serious, “but I also love you for a lot of other reasons. You’re very lovable, you know.”

George is quiet for a second before Sapnap hears movement. “When are you coming over here?”

Sapnap gets an Uber, knowing parking near George’s apartment is risky at best. “Ten minutes?” he says when his phone tells him his driver will be there soon.

“Okay.” Sapnap listens as George putters around. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” George replies immediately, and then, “you’ll see.”

“M'kay,” Sapnap says. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Bye,” George says, and then ends the call.

Sapnap looks down into his plastic bag of remaining Tupperware. His phone pings—the driver’s outside.

;;

“Are you ready to eat leftovers for months?” Sapnap asks, setting the bags down on the counter. “Or at least as long as they last.”

George opens the first bag, pulling out a medium-sized container stuffed full of mashed potatoes. Immediately, he finds a place in his fridge to tuck it into. He does this with the rest of the containers, Sapnap taking them out and setting them on the empty counter space for George to pick up and put away. When they’re done, George comes to lean next to Sapnap.

“We survived,” he says.

“I knew we would,” Sapnap replies.

They’re on each other in an instant.

“I’m not usually into this,” George says hotly into his mouth.

“I know,” Sapnap says.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” George continues.

“Do you need to know?” Sapnap asks.

George moans at the nip Sapnap gives to his lower lip.

“No,” George replies. “No.” Sapnap runs a burning trail of bites soothed by his tongue down George’s neck. “Sapnap.”

Against his skin, Sapnap smiles.

George gasps when Sapnap moves to press George into the couch instead, the cushions definitely comfier than the linoleum counter. “I missed you so much,” Sapnap says, each word punctuated by a kiss.

“You—Sapnap, yes—too.” George gets his fingers twisted and tangled into his hair, drags him up roughly. Sapnap bites back a groan at the sting and George pulls him into a bruising kiss. “Shit. I missed you.”

Sapnap lets himself be pulled down over George’s body, more than happy to press him further into the couch.

;;

George doesn’t let Sapnap skip his first class on Monday.

“School is important,” he tells him, zipping up his jacket like some mother hen. Sapnap makes a face when his hands brush imaginary dust off his shoulders.

“What are you going to do when I’m gone?” Sapnap asks.

George laughs. “Leaving for a week again?”

Sapnap gives him a dry look.

George smiles, soft. “I’m going to work. You’ll see me in, like, four… five hours at most. Is that really the end of the world?”

Sapnap grabs his hands from where they’d come to rest on his chest, pulling George in closer. “I just like spending time with you.”

“I love spending time with you too,” George says, “and you don’t see me clinging to you.”

“You think this is clingy?” Sapnap raises a brow in a silent challenge, and George tries to back up, but Sapnap just gives another tug to his hands before pulling him into a hug and wrapping his arms tight around him. “You wish I were clingy! You want me to be more clingy, actually.”

“I do not,” George replies, words warm against Sapnap’s ear. Sapnap holds back a shiver as George wriggles in his arms. “You’re… I like you like this.”

Sapnap holds him closer. George lets him.

He pulls away after a moment, the day finally catching up to them. “Class,” George tells Sapnap.

“Work,” Sapnap tells George.

They reach the Starbucks and George squeezes his hand. “See you,” he says.

“Love you,” Sapnap replies. And then George is disappearing into the cafe, the words dissipating in the growing space between them.

;;

The rest of the week passes by slowly, each day slouching into the next. Sapnap looks over at George, whose lips are wrapped pretty around a cake pop. He’s been quiet, more so than usual, and it sets Sapnap on edge, each word coming out of him more hesitant than the last.

Come Saturday, and he finds himself confronting the other.

“You’re avoiding me,” he says.

“I’m not avoiding you,” is immediately shot back, and Sapnap rushes forward, George bringing a hand up between them to push him away. “I’m not. I’m just….”

“I’m too much,” Sapnap says, filling in the words himself.

George is adamant. “No! You’re—you’re—you’re you, and I—Sapnap, I really—,” he makes a small noise and Sapnap tries to get closer again, but George’s hand comes back up and he mutters a quick butterscotch.

“What’s wrong?” Sapnap asks. “I did something.”

“You—no,” George shoves past Sapnap to get a glass and fill it up with tap water. He takes a quick drink before pouring the rest down the drain. “You love me so much,” he finally says.

“You’re lovable,” Sapnap replies. “Everything about you, George. It’s just—you’re so easy to love.”

“That’s what Dream had said,” George tells him, and Sapnap swallows at the lump that’s built in his throat like sediment, little bits and pieces added to the pile till it cuts off Sapnap’s airways and he’s left floundering, gasping for air. George gives a quiet laugh. “I thought,” he swallows, takes a breath in contrast to Sapnap’s struggle, “it was too soon. I’m not good at this, Sapnap.”

Sapnap moves to speak, but George continues, setting the glass in the sink before his fingers curl into the countertop, knuckles turning white from his grip. He takes another breath. “I love you,” he says, all in one breath. “It shouldn’t have happened so fast. I’m… I’m terrified, Sapnap.”

When Sapnap takes a hesitant step closer, George lets him. He lifts a hand and brushes back some of George’s hair before running his knuckles over George’s cheek, down to his neck. He curls his fingers around the back, brushes them through the short hair there. Under his palm, George is tense.

George breathes, and it comes out in a shudder. “Everything about you is so much.” He straightens, meets Sapnap’s eyes. “I’m trying, Sapnap. But sometimes I think you’re just too much for me.”

And then he shrugs off Sapnap's hand, moves around him, disappears into his bedroom. Sapnap hears the door click. He stands alone in the kitchen, his only source of light the one over the stove. He thinks it might be dimmer than usual. He waits. George doesn’t come back out. Sapnap wonders if he’s been broken up with. George still doesn’t come back out.

Sapnap looks at the empty plastic bags on the counter. He gathers them in his hands. George can keep his leftovers. He never really wanted them anyway.

;;

“I think George broke up with me,” Sapnap accepts the apple slice Dream hands him, and at the sight of the fruit, it’s like the dam he tried to build surrounding thoughts of George breaks and all those pent up feelings come pouring out, “yesterday. He told me he loved me. And then he left me.” His grandma had made some apple cobbler. It sits on the second shelf of George’s fridge. George’s favorite fruit is apples.

Sapnap takes a bite out of the slice. Dream sits next to him on the couch, setting the tray of assorted fruit on the coffee table. “Did he actually say that?” Dream asks. “That he’s breaking up with you.”

“He left,” Sapnap repeats. “He said, ‘I love you. You’re too much for me.’ Then he just… walked into his room, shut the door, and that was it.”

“Talk to him again,” Dream says. “He told you he loved you. I don’t think that’s nothing for George.”

Sapnap sighs. It’s not. Dream smiles at him, and Sapnap leans over, resting his head on the other’s shoulder.

“It’ll be fine,” Dream tells him. “Communication is always key.”

As always, he’s right.

;;

He doesn’t want to have any major conversations at Starbucks, but he feels if he doesn’t do it now he won’t do it at all. There hasn’t been any word between him and George since that conversation in the kitchen, but Sapnap doesn’t let that deter him, instead pressing on determinedly as he walks inside and sees George’s usual station devoid of, well, George.

“Called in sick today,” Sarah tells him as she finishes putting whipped cream on someone’s drink. “Thought he’d have told you.”

Sapnap blinks. “Uh,” he says, and then, “think he fell back asleep before he could. Thanks.” Sarah waves nonchalantly, but Sapnap is out the door before he can see it.

The walk to George’s has him tugging at the drawstring of his hoodie, the chill settling deep within him, unshakeable now, especially without George’s easy warmth by his side. He’s never been more grateful to see the steps leading up to the older’s apartment than he is at this moment.

And then he has to wait, much the same way he did Saturday, wait for George to see his text, call him back, answer his knock.

He waits, and he waits, and he waits.

The lock clicks, and the door creaks open. Sapnap swears his fingertips are turning blue.

“George,” he says immediately, just to have said something , and then the door is opening wider and Sapnap is rushing into the apartment, getting himself fully inside before George can reconsider.

In the sink, he spies empty Tupperware containers.

George stands next to the couch. Sapnap swallows.

“George,” he says again. “I missed you.”

“It was only a day, Sapnap,” George replies. His voice is quiet.

“You said I love you to me,” Sapnap says. George stays silent. Sapnap falters, continues: “I love you too, and I know I’m a lot, but George,” he comes closer—George lets him—he places a hand on George’s waist—George lets him, “I’ll… you once told me I can’t dial it down, or whatever, and this is me telling you that for you, I’d dial it down. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t, but I want to try. For you. You said you’d try for me. You need to know I’d do the same for you.”

George laughs, but it’s an empty, hollow sound, just air shoved past his lips. “I don’t think it’s as easy as that.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Sapnap asks. “You said it happened so fast. What happened so fast?”

George mutters something. Sapnap moves closer. George pushes him back. “Falling in love, dumbass. I was in love with you before I even realized it was love I was feeling.” He keeps his hand in front of him, a visible barrier between him and Sapnap. “Am feeling.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Sapnap asks. “What are you so afraid of?”

George doesn’t reply.

“It’s only as complicated as you let it be,” Sapnap says. “I’m—we’re—we’re in love with each other, George.” His voice is firm. George finally meets his eyes. Dark and inscrutable as ever. Sapnap is in love with him. “Isn’t that enough? Just for right now, tell me it isn’t enough.”

George moves, a mirror image of the him in Sapnap’s dorm on Tuesday months ago, bringing their lips together and kissing Sapnap with purpose. When he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes sparkle. “I can’t. I can’t tell you it isn’t enough. But I won’t say it’s not either.”

“I love you,” Sapnap says, reflex. He presses a kiss to George’s lips, presses one to his cheeks, his chin, nose, forehead. “I love everything about you.”

“You too,” George says. “I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“You don’t need to know,” Sapnap replies. “Just love me. Be in love with me.”

George’s fingers twist in the fabric of his hoodie, pull him closer. Their noses touch and Sapnap feels every single one of George’s breaths on his lips. They’re heavy. So are his own. When George speaks, he may as well be putting the words directly into Sapnap’s mouth, the two of them working as one. “I love you,” he says, and so does Sapnap. “I love you and being with you and being in love with you.”

“It won’t be perfect,” Sapnap says. (So does George.)

“But it doesn’t need to be.” George seals their lips together. He’s right. Neither of them need it to be perfect. Nor, Sapnap thinks, as George wraps an arm around his neck, draws him closer, holds him tighter, do either of them want it to be.

#georgenap #sapnotfound #snf #fic #fanfiction

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