#you know how usually you will have a fever dream when asleep

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[waayfo]

THE ULTIMATE GUIDE TO LOVE AVENTURINE !

✧ ◝ summary the important steps to love aventurine, 100% approved by aventurine. (or the things you do that he love)

✧ ◝ fluff / hurt/comfort / light angst / hsr spoilers (aventurine’s past) / mentions of aventurine’s real name (kakavasha) / reverse comfort / gn!reader / some personal hcs / trauma / lmk if i miss some !

Alright so, i noticed that Aven always hides his left hand, and when he puts his hands together to pray, he also uses his left hand. So i assumed that his left hand was verrryyyyy special to him.

While in the Dreamscape, he also said that he always hid one hand (left hand) under the gambling table, and that hand always gripped the chips as tightly as possible (based on his dialogue during the quest).

So imagine— you, who have a special place somewhere in his heart, always hold his left hand carefully, then caress it. He would go feral fr.

He would joke about it by saying, “if you keep doing that, i’m afraid that my left hand will always bring big luck.”

And every time he wakes up from the same nightmare that always haunts him, he will always look for warmth in you; wants you to hold his hand and then hear your voice that always manages to calm him down to call his name—or even his real name.

Aven is very happy when you let him do small things or simple tasks, such as combing, braiding your hair, or putting on the beautiful jewelry he gave you. And from just one glance, you know how expensive the jewelry is. And he will happily buy you new jewelry again and again.

Aven love the moment when he set foot back home. Because usually, he will see you wearing his shirt— which faintly smells of his fragrance, while you curled up in his king sized bed and asleep while you are waiting for him to come home.

And at that moment, he was ready with his phone to take a photo of you which he thought was adorable.

He love when you’re cooking breakfast for the two of you. Because he can easily surprised you by suddenly hug you from behind, then buried his head on the crook of your neck.

Also, he’s the big spoon! He will always cuddle with you while sleeping and it’s a must. He won't sleep until he makes sure that you are asleep first. Either because he's afraid you'll suddenly leave while he's asleep, or because he just wants to observe every part of you. And to hear your every breath so he knows you are still with him, and to see your face so he can fall in love with you again and again.

Aventurine groaned. He squirmed a little, seeking comfort in the nightmare he saw. As if he couldn't wake up from the nightmare, his eyes refused to open, making himself a little tormented by his past which is again approaching him through his dream.

The past replays itself like a film. A film that he is reluctant to watch again. But the film was played again without his permission.

‘… kakavasha.’ The name that almost everyone forgot was called after long time. Aventurine looked back, seeing a glimmer of light amidst the darkness.

When he squinted his eyes to clearly see the blurry object in the middle of the light, he saw a familiar figure that he had longed to see. She called out his real name once again in despair. ‘Kakavasha..’

But when she called his name one last time, Aventurine could glimpse a small smile on the figure's face. She’s smiling, my sister is smiling at me.

And once the light slowly disappeared, Aventurine woke up. Pulled back to the real world where he belongs. Feeling his head dizzy, Aventurine held his head. At the same time, he was trying to regain consciousness after waking up from a dream.

That's when he realized; tears that seemed to have been coming out of his eyes for a long time, and you were looking at him worriedly. Your one hand is holding his left hand—the hand he considers special. It all felt like a fever dream for Aventurine.

“Kakavasha?” Your voice called his name in worry. This time it's no longer the voice of the familiar figure or his sister, the one calling his name is now you— the person he loves and he treasured the most. Someone who has accompanied him, and always makes sure that he is okay. Someone who always waits for him to come home. It’s you.

Your other hand moved to wipe the tears that had fallen. Your warm hand touched the cold skin of Aventurine. One of the differences between the two of you.

“Don’t cry,” The voice tried to calm him down again. Countless time you’ve been calmed “Everything is okay now.”

Aventurine didn't know how to react. He just kept quiet.

Without thinking, you immediately hugged his body that had felt a lot of suffering. You hugged that fragile body. As he usually did, he returned the hug. His head was buried in your neck. He always manages to find warmth in you. “I’m here, Aven.”

How could he not love you again and again after everything you've done?

[oh-katsuki]

the notebook theory (tsukishima kei x reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Summary: Kei has a cynical and jaded outlook on love. When his friend Tadashi figures out that Kei has feelings for you, Kei isn’t sure how to react. After all, love is not something he does but rather, something that happens to him.

"There’s a notebook that Kei likes on his desk. No matter what he does, nothing is good enough to put a permanent mark into the thing. Even if he used a pencil, Kei feels like the evidence of the mark would still be there even after erasing it, a molecular change that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Kei calls it the notebook theory.

He thinks that might be what’s happening to him. A molecular change, imperceivable to someone not looking at him under a microscope. It’s like his DNA is being rewritten and stitched together with bright pink yarn. He feels himself steadily come apart and come together. It’s uncomfortable, like trying to dream when he has a fever. Kei is nearly certain that you’re the reason."

Content Warnings:  fem!reader (gender neutral pronouns), no real manga spoilers, slow burn, one-sided pining, angst, mentions of divorce and broken homes, toxic relationship (kei's parents), smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), pinching, mentions of mark making, overstimulation (m!receiving), multiple orgasms, hair-pulling

Word Count: 24.8k

A/N: i know i spent forever working on this but it's finally done and while i have a lot of thoughts about it, idk rly what to say. anyway, here's my first attempt at a tsukishima long fic. also i already know that im not beating the tsukkiyama allegations, okay? i tried and failed to beat them okay i just think there is no way to put them in a situation without it being a little homoerotic bc.. they r them okay? anyway, i hope u enjoy and would love to hear ur thoughts <3

The morning comes without warning. Kei thinks he’s read that somewhere, though he’s just sure just where he saw it. He also thinks that whoever said that is right. Morning is always a harsh assault and never as gentle as people describe it to be. 

Kei’s room, the one he rents at university, faces toward the east. In the mornings, when the sun peeks over the horizon, it shines directly into his room and onto his bed before creeping across the light wood floors. His blinds, as useful as they are, always let some through the cracks and the light cuts the ground like butter to a knife. Kei doesn’t think it feels half as romantic as it sounds. 

The light works better than his alarm. No matter how set he is on sleeping in, he never fails to wake up as soon as those slats of light make their way across his bedspread. It wakes him like fever and he’s never quite as comfortable as he felt falling asleep. This morning is no different. 

He rises like he always has, running a hand over his blonde hair and dragging it down his face after sitting up. Then, he stands once in an attempt to gather his bearings before sitting right back down on the edge of the bed. He fights the lingering remnants of sleep, feeling the ray of sunlight beat down on his back. Then, he reaches towards his glasses on the nightstand and slides them up the bridge of his long nose before standing up again once and for all. 

Yamaguchi lives in the other room. His best friend since high school, perhaps his only real friend. They’d miraculously attended the same college and decided to room together, though his other friends from his youth aren’t too far. The arrangement managed to make it all the way until their fourth and final year. Living with each other has become par for the course. 

Tadashi wakes up later than Kei does on most days, except for Tuesdays and Thursdays. On those days, he has an 8 am and is usually in the kitchen before Kei has even stood up for the first time. Today is a Wednesday, so Yamaguchi is asleep in his room. The morning light doesn’t wake him the same way it does Kei. His room faces west, so it isn’t until the mid-afternoon, when Tadashi is chased from his room by the afternoon rays and heat, that he notices the sun on its blinding conquest across the sky. 

Kei’s room is clean and neat. There’s no clutter, no collection of items that don’t have a proper place. Everything is itemized and stored exactly where he intends for them to be. His floor is void of stray clothes, of socks he’d discarded the night before, his nightstand is bare and his desk is surprisingly empty save for one notebook sitting in its center. It’s a room that he could leave at any time, despite living here for nearly two years. If Kei chose to do so, he could pack his things and be gone in a day. 

Yamaguchi’s room is different. It’s lived in and well worn. There’s clutter on the floor, socks and pants he’d taken and tossed away to be dealt with later. Certain things don’t have a place and end up living on semi-crowded surfaces filled with things he likes to put down as quickly as he’d picked them up. Kei envies that way of living. A non-temporary way. He envies the rug in Yamaguchi’s room and the way he fills the space with himself. Kei thinks that even after they’re long gone, future tenants would still be able to feel Tadashi’s presence. 

To say that Kei is cynical would be accurate. He tends to lean more towards paranoia in his own strange way. He keeps things in order to quell the anxiety in it. Things stay where they are meant to be. As a result, he’s earned himself somewhat of an uptight attitude that makes Kei feel more awkward than relaxed even when he’s in his own spaces. Not that he minds it. 

Tadashi’s dish from last night is sitting next to the sink. Kei moves around it as he fixes a tea, making an effort not to drag his feet across the floor because he hates the scuffing sound. Every now and then, the glass of his mug will clink against the cheap kitchen tile and Kei will cringe in some paranoid worry that it will wake his friend. 

As he gathers his things to leave the quiet apartment, Kei wonders where his cynicism comes from. He’s sure he could pinpoint it if he tried. His parents divorce, his previous experiences with dating that have left him jaded, the holes that wore even in his most sturdy of sweaters. Inconsequential nothings that piled up until Kei had developed an undeniably cautious outlook on the world. To him, all of these things are the same. Like the morning, they’re intrusive and unsightly, but none is less important than the other. 

Kei does have things he likes. Art, for one. He likes paintings, sculptures, little pieces of history, and all of the things people make with their hands that he could never do. Kei is hopeless at crafts. His fingers are lithe and long, but they’re clumsy and hard to control. Despite his need for order, Kei has trouble controlling his urges. The subtle twitches of his fingers always mess up whatever it is he’s trying to craft. 

He likes writing best of all, specifically curatorial writing. It’s easy for him to pick which pieces belong together and how to organize them in a space, it suits his talent for compartmentalizing. Kei gets to tell a story that way, be it historical or artistic, sometimes both. The essays that his classmates find tedious, he finds relaxing despite the stress. For him, writing about art and history is a pleasure much like sipping tea that is the perfect temperature, unintrusive and natural. 

By the time he arrives at the library, it’s nearly 9 am. He works better here, in the quiet section at a table hidden by three tall shelves of books. It’s almost never occupied and there are hardly ever people seated in the immediate area. Kei doesn’t go out of his way to avoid others, but he finds that if he doesn’t approach people, they often won’t approach him. He prefers things this way, it makes the good and bad people easier to weed out. 

From this spot in the library, Kei can see where you usually set up shop for the day. You arrive after him by about 45 minutes and he convinces himself that it is always coincidental. 

Strictly speaking, you’re Tadashi’s friend, not his. You’ve known each other for a little under a year and have been by the apartment a few times, but yours and his conversations are limited entirely to pleasantries. How are you? What are you working on? We’re graduating soon, huh? Casual conversation that Kei can weasel his way out of at any time. Like his room, it’s impermanent. 

Kei has had the idea that nothing stays stuck in his head since middle school. The house he lived in when his parents were together, weekdays with his mother and weekends with his father, graduating seniors, the apartment he lives in now. To Kei, all of it is so temporary that he finds it difficult to get attached to it, not that he’s devoid of emotion. He quite loves the little things he has, but his grip on them is loose and half-hearted. Whatever leaves, Kei thinks is meant to leave, so he makes no effort to hold on. 

It’s probably unfair to think of you that way, but Kei can’t really help it. He can’t change what he is. Besides, it’s not as if he doesn’t have a reason to think so. He’s often approached by people for his looks, people who want to get close because they think he’s tall and handsome, people who collect others like trophies. He’s not heartless, so he’s been hurt more than a few times. Kei thinks he owes it to himself to be cautious, not that you’ve done anything to earn that type of subtle hostility. 

“Thought you might be here,” someone’s hand lands on his shoulder. 

“Shit,” he groans, “is it that late already?” 

Kei glances down at the watch on his wrist, reading the time as just past 10:45 am. He’s been here for an hour and 45 minutes and hasn’t gotten anything done. Tadashi pulls the chair next to him out and sits down, resting his chin on his hand. 

“Spacing out?” 

“A little,” Kei responds, tapping his pen against the table and turning back toward his book. 

“Got something due?” 

“Yeah, on Friday,” he exhales. “Haven’t started it yet though. You?” 

“Nah,” Tadashi smiles. “I’m just chasing you around.” 

“You’re like a girl with a crush.” 

Tadashi shrugs and lets out a good natured laugh. It’s a little too loud for this part of the library, but Kei lets it slide, smiling with his friend. 

Tadashi is the opposite of him, he thinks. He smiles often and says exactly what’s on his mind when it crosses it, even if it's a little mean. Tadashi used to be a follower, but in his final year of high school and university years, grew into someone befitting of his somewhat sunny and sarcastic personality. Thoughts and words come easily to him and he has no trouble vocalizing his joy or his disappointment. 

Yamaguchi has freckles covering the entirety of his body. Kei knows this because he’s seen far more of Tadashi than he thinks he should have. His skin is tawny and warm like him. Kei finds himself looking at the ones on his hands as Yamaguchi begins to write in his notebook. Kei can’t read his handwriting because it’s terrible and he doesn’t much feel like working on his own project, so he watches his friend’s hand mark the page. Then, his gaze slinks across the library to you. 

You’ve got your head down and look like you’re falling asleep despite it only being 11 in the morning. Your hand moves lazily across your computer keypad. By the time Kei realizes that you’ve spotted him staring, it’s too late to look away. His gaze was too intentional, so he smiles at you instead, nodding his head a little. 

You smile and wave, standing from where you sit and collecting your things. They fill up your arms because you don’t bother to put them in your bag, making your way clumsily across the room and setting your stuff down across from him. 

“Hi, Tsukishima,” you smile. “Hi, Tadashi.” 

You use his friend’s given name and Kei feels a pang of jealousy hit his chest. 

“How long have you been here? I didn’t see you,” you ask, settling into the seat across from Kei. 

“I just got here,” Tadashi smiles, looking up from his notes. “He’s been here for a while though.” 

Tadashi motions towards him. 

“Aw, why didn’t you say hi?” 

“You seemed busy,” Kei lies. 

You pout, filling your mouth with air. “Next time just come say hi, ‘kay?” 

“Sure,” Kei nods. 

Tadashi tosses him a sideways glance and Kei shrugs it off. He’s not interested in being teased this morning, though when is he ever. 

Kei doesn’t like the way you make him feel. When you’re around, he becomes prickly. It sets Kei on edge in a way that he hates. His world, previously so rigid and organized, quickly begins to feel cluttered and structureless. 

You make his heart pound. You make it hammer against his chest so hard that he can feel it in his ears and behind his eyes. It goes all the way down to his already-hard-to-control fingertips and the tops of his thighs. A previously pastel colored world goes vibrantly candy-colored like it’s been plunged in saturating liquid. He nevers knows how to hold himself, never knows how to act natural. What does it mean to act natural, anyway? How should he rest his hands on the desk? Would it be weird to lace them together? Does he look as stiff as he feels? It’s entirely possible that he is suffering a massive heart attack. 

You whisper across the table to Tadashi, leaning forward and laughing at something he’s written in his notebook. You can read his handwriting, something Kei is equally jealous about as he is angry. Kei just watches your conversation, unable to really listen into it on account of the stroke that he thinks he’s having. 

The three of you stay like this for a while, earning the occasional irritated whisper or dirty look from some of the more studious people in the library. Kei pretends to ignore them, remaining quiet throughout the duration of your study session with Tadashi. His quiet corner is invaded and painted bright pink with your presence and he doesn’t know whether to feel giddy or irrationally angry. Maybe it’s both. 

“Crap, is that the time?” Tadashi exclaims, hunching over himself when someone nearby shushes him. “I’ve got class across campus in 10 minutes.” 

He hurriedly collects his things. Tadashi does it so fast, in fact, that Kei hardly has time to beg him not to leave him alone with you. So he just watches as Tadashi throws his things clumsily into his bag and tosses it over his shoulder. 

“Bye, ___,” he says in a rushed whisper. “I’ll see you at home, Kei!” 

“Sure,” is all that Kei can muster. His voice cracks when he says it and he immediately avoids looking at you and stares at nothing in particular in his textbook. 

It’s quiet for a while. Kei pretends to busy himself by glancing between his textbook and his computer and you sit with your head bowed as you take notes on a lecture you’re listening to through the single earbud in your right ear. Then, you tap the end of your pen lightly on Kei’s notebook to get his attention. 

It’s only been about 10 minutes since Tadashi left, but the library now feels like an entirely different place. His heart pounds as he struggles to keep a straight face. 

When he looks up, you’re looking at him with a tilted head. Your expression is soft and unintrusive, friendly but a bit guarded. You smile softly at him. 

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” You ask gently. It doesn’t sound accusatory, but rather a casual statement tinged with friendliness. 

“Huh?” Blood rushes into his ears. 

“I just kinda get the impression that you’re uncomfortable around me,” you say. “Am I wrong?” 

“Uh, no- it’s not that I don’t like you.” 

He’s quick to correct you and he feels heat rush to his cheeks. 

“Then what?” you question lightly. There’s no ulterior motive behind your smile, Kei can tell, but your openness makes him uneasy. 

“I dunno,” he calms himself a little. “I don’t really know how to act around you, I guess.” 

You laugh, leaning back into your chair. “Is that all?” 

“Well, yeah…” he feels awkward and his palms are sweaty. He drops them below the table to wipe them. “You’re Tadashi’s friend and I’m pretty different from him so I just…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

“I was worried you hated me,” you smile, chuckling to yourself. 

“That’s definitely not it,” he loosens a little, smiling lightly despite the thudding of his heart. It slows down steadily. 

“I’m your friend too, ya know?” 

“That so?” 

“Well, yeah,” you shrug and lean all the way back, crossing your arms. “I just kinda figured that we would be.” 

“Friends?” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. His word placement is awkward. 

“Duh,” you laugh a little. “You know, you don’t have to speak formally with me.” 

“That’s just the way I am,” he huffs at being read. 

“Well, you can drop them with me. I don’t mind.” 

“Tall order,” he snorts. 

You tilt your head to the side. “Did you just make a joke?” 

“Uh, yeah…” 

“Funny,” you smile. “What are you studying?” 

“It’s not really studying…” he says, glancing down at the near empty document. “I’m supposed to be writing an essay I have due on Friday. Not going well.” 

He looks up at you through his lashes. You’re leaning forward across the table now, your chin angled upward as you try and peek at what’s on his screen. He turns it so that you can see better. 

“Baroque art?” You read aloud. “Oh yeah, Tadashi mentioned that you’re an art history major. Do you draw too?” 

“No,” he scoffs. “I’m hopeless at it, but I like art. It’s nice to look at.” 

“Huh, you look like you’d be good at drawing,” you say. 

“What’s that mean?” 

“I dunno, like a manga author or something,” you shrug. “You’ve got nice hands too. Like an artist.” 

“Manga?” He laughs a little, trying to play off the color he feels rushing to his face from the compliment. 

“Yeah, you look like the manga type.” 

“Is it the glasses?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Maybe,” you laugh. 

Kei looks down at his hands. They’re big, like the rest of him, and his knuckles are thin. He’s hyper-aware of them now that you’ve complimented them. He studies them briefly, following the barely visible veins up the back of them, following the line of his fingers to his nails. They’re trimmed and somewhat well kept, save for the spots that he tends to bite at when he lays in bed at night. His hands look nothing like Tadashi’s. Tadashi’s fingers are thick and his nails are short on account of him biting them. Kei wonders if you prefer them to his. 

—

There’s a notebook that Kei likes on his desk. It’s only a bit bigger than his fist—a little thing, really—and it’s completely blank. Kei’s never written anything down in it, nothing has ever really been worth sullying the thing. It’s got brown fabric binding and a semi-thick cover. It’s malleable, but not so flimsy that he’d need a desk to write in it. 

Kei’s not too sure why he bought it in the first place. Maybe he liked the size of it, small enough to fit in his pocket, but not so small as to be ridiculous. It’s practical, much like he is. He’s considered turning it into a daily planner and putting to-do lists in it, but Kei isn’t much of a list guy, it’s Tadashi that likes making lists. Nothing has ever really felt like it suits the book. He’s considered journaling in it, but his life is one big routine and he doesn’t think there’s anything worth writing about. 

No matter what he does, nothing is good enough to put a permanent mark into the thing. Even if he used a pencil, Kei feels like the evidence of the mark would still be there even after erasing it, a molecular change that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Kei calls it the notebook theory. 

He thinks that might be what’s happening to him. A molecular change, imperceivable to someone not looking at him under a microscope. It’s like his DNA is being rewritten and stitched together with bright pink yarn. He feels himself steadily come apart and come together. It’s uncomfortable, like trying to dream when he has a fever. 

Kei is nearly certain that you’re the reason, not that he’s about to admit to anyone else that he likes you. Tadashi managed to weasel it out of him, though he didn’t really have to ask. In fact, it was less of an admittance to Kei than it was confirmation of his own feelings. If Tadashi can tell that he likes you, then he must. 

People seem to know things about Kei before he even knows them himself. At least, that’s how it seems. He’s always confronted with his own feelings by other people, not that they’re really ever wrong, but it seems everyone catches onto what he’s feeling rather quickly. He’s not too sure why that is, maybe he’s just obvious and hasn’t realized it. 

Come to think of it, when Tadashi had confronted Kei about his feelings for you, he’d been deeply annoying about it. Kei couldn’t even try to deny it because Tadashi had come out with his guns blazing, cornering him in the living room and throwing facts about you at him until his face was beet red with embarrassment. Then, with a serious frown on his face, he’d simply stated you like them and that was the end of it. Kei couldn’t even deny it. Even he knew that it read plainly in his expression. 

To be frank, it sucks being told in plain speech how he feels about someone. Whenever that happens, it makes Kei feel like he’ll never be able to keep another secret in his life. Sometimes, he wishes that he was able to make the decision to tell someone else on his own, but even Kei knows that that is a little beyond him. Kei can think the feelings just fine, but when it comes to speaking them aloud, he seems to have a padlock around his throat. 

Tadashi knows this about him and if it weren’t for him, Kei would have agonized far longer and far worse over certain situations of emotional turmoil. Most of the time, Tadashi gets it without needing to ask or say anything. It’s nice to have someone understand him in that way, even if it does mean he can’t keep a secret to save his life. 

Feelings lately make Kei a little angry. He’s always known that he’s had somewhat of a sour personality. Kei doesn’t need to be told that he’s smug to know that he is. He’s snarky and usually touchy, picky about the people that he hangs out with. It’s not really a secret that Kei is a hard person to get along with, but lately, he feels like it’s been worse. 

Maybe it’s because this is new territory to him. As conceited as it sounds, Kei has never liked someone first. It’s not because he doesn’t think anyone is worthy, but rather, because there are very few people he doesn’t find grating. Despite how he seems, Kei is incredibly sensitive about things, so naturally, it’s easier to get on his nerves. 

He’s dated before, though not for long, and all of his relationships have started the same way. Kei is approached by them, usually on the premise of looks, and he accepts. He’s not sure why he does. Sometimes it’s because he thinks they’re pretty, other times it’s because the romantic in him hopes that it will actually work out. It never has. 

Most of the time, Kei turns out to be different than they expected. He’s too touchy, too sarcastic, too awkward in his way of trying to love. To Kei, it has always felt like it’s ended just as he was beginning to develop real feelings. 

If he’s being honest, it’s given him a twisted inferiority complex. He’s worried that somehow, on a fundamental level, he’s not enough. Sometimes, it even goes so far as for Kei to think that he’s just generally disappointing. He tries not to be. Kei wants to be relied on. He wants to be someone his friends can go to when they need something sturdy. 

Despite his personality, Kei considers himself sturdy. Well, maybe stubborn is a better word. Kei considers himself stubborn enough to be made sturdy. He’s just a little awkward. That’s all. People seem to mistake that for being unreliable. It’s a peeve of Kei’s. 

Tadashi isn’t like that. Tadashi is bright and warm, reliable in every sense of the word. Kei actually looks up to him a lot, not that he’d ever say anything like that to his face. Sure, Tadashi’s not perfect, but at least people rely on him. At least Kei relies on him. 

Tadashi is more easy going than Kei is. He has an easier time going with the flow, which makes him more personable. Kei thinks that Tadashi is the closest thing that he’s had to a better half. In truth, without Tadashi around, Kei isn’t exactly sure what would have become of him. 

It’s pointless thinking about these sorts of things though. Kei realized a long time ago that thinking about being better won’t automatically make him better. This is just the way he is and Kei’s learned to accept that, whatever it means. Still, none of this changes the fact that he likes you. 

Kei could mull over thought after thought and he doesn’t think it would have any effect on the fact that he’s definitely developed a crush. He’s positive it will go away. In fact, he’s not even sure if it’s real. Maybe Kei is just jealous of you the same way he’s jealous of Tadashi. You’re bright and warm like he is. You and Tadashi are cut from the same cloth, so maybe that’s why the two of you get along so well. 

In all honesty, Kei wishes he could be a little more like Tadashi for that reason. Maybe if he were more like Tadashi, he’d have the courage to fully accept these new and uncertain feelings for what they are. But he doesn’t have that kind of courage, not right now at least. He doesn’t have the courage to solidify and lean into his feelings. Kei doesn’t want to risk what little comfort and security he has. If the relationship between you both is a blank page, Kei doesn’t have anything important to write. What if it ruins the paper? What if when he erases it, it changes the thing on a molecular level for the worse? The notebook theory. 

— 

Despite everything, Kei is rather self-aware. At least in his own head he is. Kei knows that when he pretends he doesn’t like you, he really ends up liking you more. He knows that he’s touchy, that he’s awkward, that he comes across more crass than he intends to. Kei is clumsy, not stupid. That doesn’t mean that he has to acknowledge it. 

You’ve been coming around more often since the conversation Kei had with you in the library. Maybe you’re more comfortable now knowing that he doesn’t hate you, so you’re happier to join Tadashi in their shared apartment. 

Kei feels bad about making you think that he hates you. Actually, he feels really bad about it. Like, astronomically bad about it. Embarrassingly enough, it actually keeps him up at night. So he goes out of his way to be a little nicer to you. The only other person he’s ever done that for is Tadashi. 

He greets you properly when you pass, despite the flare up of a medical condition he’s yet to fully diagnose brought on by your presence. He asks you questions about your studies, partially because he is genuinely curious and partially because he doesn’t want you to hate him. He thinks he’d die if you hated him. Kei’s being brave in his own way. It’s little, but he’s doing it. 

As a result, the two of you have grown a little closer. Kei has your phone number now, though he rarely has any reason to text you. Typing out a message to you makes him nervous. It makes him red in the face when you’re not even there. Somehow, having your phone number feels vulnerable to him, like he has access to you whenever he wants and you him. It means that if you wanted, you could make him nervous without even being nearby. That’s a lot for Kei to think about. 

Kei sees you in the library sometimes too, but he never takes the initiative to speak to you. You always come up to him first, clumsily gathering your things the way you did the day you and him sorted out your friendship and plopping them down in front of him. 

Sometimes, you both go several hours without saying anything to each other. Other times, you’ll chat away about something while leaning forward on the desk and Kei has to pretend that he’s not wildly nervous at your proximity. You’re so friendly. So genuinely warm that Kei can physically feel it when you talk. Despite his nerves, Kei would describe you as comfortable. You’re a comfortable person to him, as alarming as that is. 

His crush is out of hand. It scares him, not that he’s actively thought about that. What started as him noticing you has quickly ballooned into him being painfully aware of you at all times. He kind of feels bad about it. You don’t seem to think that he’s anything more than a friend and it makes Kei feel bad that he thinks of you as anything but that. He doesn’t want you to be just a crush to him. Kei wants you to be like Tadashi, someone he can rely on and be comfortable with. He almost feels like he’s reversed what’s been done to him his whole life, like somehow he’s only become your friend because he wants something more. 

Truth is though, he doesn’t want anything more. Kei wants to stay exactly where he is. He doesn’t want his crush to develop any further. He doesn’t want to confess, he wants to forget. Even now, sitting on a couch in the library, he wants to imagine he doesn’t feel anything at all for you.  

“Hey, are you okay?” You tilt your head at him. 

“Huh? Me?” He questions. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You seem a little distracted,” you smile. “You’ve been staring at your computer for like… 10 minutes with this blank look on your face.” 

“You’ve been staring at me for 10 minutes?” He raises an eyebrow, trying to play off the embarrassment of being caught like that. 

“Not staring at you,” you huff, “but I definitely noticed.” 

“Ha, creep,” he tilts his head up a little, blowing air out of his nose. 

“You’re twisted, you know?” 

“Whatever,” he shrugs his shoulders and looks back at his computer screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head and smile before looking down at your work. 

Tadashi has said the same exact thing to him before. In highschool, after Kei had made a joke about his teammate Hinata’s height, Tadashi had given him a look and snorted that he’s so twisted. He’s been hearing that sort of thing his entire life. 

“Hey, are you cool if I skip out of here early?” You ask a few moments later. 

“Oh, yeah sure. I don’t mind,” he nods, hiding his disappointment. “I didn’t realize that we had like… set times to be here.” 

You laugh lightly. “Well, we don’t, but we tend to come and go at the same time, no? I kinda look forward to it.” 

Kei envies your honesty. You’re so honest all of the time. You say what you feel when it pops into your head. He wishes he could be like that, maybe then he would be able to say that he does too. Instead, he just nods and swallows his heart back down. You smile at him again and then gather your things. 

“You’ll be home on Friday night, right?” 

“Uhm, yeah? Why?” 

“Tadashi invited me and a few friends over, did he tell you?” 

“I think he mentioned it.” Kei has actually been thinking about it for the last couple days. 

“Good, I’ll see you, right?” 

“Yeah, you will.” 

“Great, talk to you later then!” You smile and with that, you walk away. 

You sounded so certain in that statement. Talk to you later. You said it like it was inevitable. Thinking about that, Kei can’t help but watch you go. He even likes looking at the back of you, though he wishes he could see your face too. It feels worse to be walked away from than walked towards. 

Kei can’t tell anymore if what he feels is romance or jealousy. It’s probably both. It’s probably some mix of the two that he can’t quite sort out. He wishes it weren’t that way. Kei gets the feeling that he might be ruined. 

So he just watched you leave the library. Someone is waiting for you at the top of the stairwell. Kei can tell they’re a guy and despite the reluctance of his feelings, his stomach drops anyway when you nudge his shoulder with yours and loop your arm around his. That’s something you haven’t done to Kei before. Touch him. You touch this other person so easily. It makes Kei jealous. 

It makes sense that you might be seeing someone, that there might be someone else. After all, you’re you. Desirable. You look up at the stranger, leaning on him, smiling and flashing your teeth. Yeah, it makes sense. 

Turns out, it’s easier to pretend that he doesn’t feel anything when he thinks you’re interested in someone else. He likes to think it will save him the time of wondering. 

—

Kei has cleaned his room approximately four times today. Sure, it’s overboard, but every time he goes into it, he notices something else that needs to be spruced up. Like a pot with a leak, there is always something that he seemed to miss the last time he went through and cleaned up. 

It’s not like you’ll be in his room tonight anyway, but you will be in his apartment and that’s close enough to his room that he, for whatever reason, needs to make it so spotless that it looks like a set. Kei knows though, that even when you’re here, he’ll be wondering if there’s something else that he missed beyond the closed door and he’ll think about it incessantly. 

He’s been avoiding the thought of him liking you. Instead, Kei cleans and cleans and then cleans some more for good measure. It’s not like he has any sort of claim on you and he knows that it’s stupid to feel jealous over one interaction he witnessed by chance, but his mind is running away with him. Was that person your boyfriend? Has he been begrudgingly pining over a taken person all these months? Do you think that he’s creepy because of it? 

He doesn’t get to be upset over the idea that you’re seeing someone else. Why wouldn’t you be? Kei’s done absolutely nothing to indicate his interest in you (or lack thereof), besides maybe telling you that he doesn’t hate you. He has no right to feel the way he does, but he spirals anyway. His insecurities, the ones that gnaw at him in the hours before he falls asleep, play in a constant loop in his head. His unreliability, his unpleasant personality, his cynicism, the baggage he carries with him like a badge. All of it piles up one by one. 

Kei feels like a kid again, losing himself over such a simple interaction, over something so miniscule that it might not even be considered anything at all. There are a plethora of reasons for his feeling like this and Kei thinks he could draw one of his issues out of a hat and it would still somehow address the situation at hand, but all he really feels is hurt and he doesn’t want to explain it away. Kei finds that liking someone hurts. It hurts more than it feels good and the uncertainty chews at his patience and leaves it razor thin. It’s not your fault, nor is it the person Kei’s convinced himself you’re seeing, but he needs someone to blame and it can’t be himself. 

The idea of you relying on someone else makes him nauseous. He’d never considered the thought before, that you find him as unreliable as others do. Kei wants to be relied on, most of all by you, and that fact makes him upset. He’s afraid of what you think of him and without the confidence to accept his feelings, it threatens to crush him. 

Kei’s got this itch over it, so he tries to distract himself. Cleaning his space to prepare for you helps him delude himself that he doesn’t quite like you at all. It’s not your fault. He’s just confused, like his parents were when they married each other. It hurts. Like they were when they had him to try and fix their marriage, which had started to fall apart even when Akiteru was an only child. He’s confused. He’s jealous over your ability to live the way Kei has always wanted to. That’s all this is. Nothing more and nothing less. He feels like he’s being split in two, stretched thin between two modes of thinking. 

Kei glances over his shoulder and into his room one last time. He’s forgotten to wipe the mirror. He goes back in and the cycle starts itself over. 

—

He’s not proud of his behavior. Kei thinks only a seriously huge asshole would be proud of the kind of behavior he displayed tonight. He regrets it immensely, though some part of him is begrudgingly holding onto the idea that maybe he was right to be so short tempered. Of course, that’s a lunatic’s idea. 

Tadashi is standing by the apartment door, mumbling something to you behind it. Over Tadashi’s shoulder, he sees you shake your head and in response, Tadashi gives a small bow before shutting the door to the shared apartment. Then, Tadashi turns and walks towards him. 

Kei doesn’t want to look at him, but Tadashi, for some reason, commands his gaze. 

“Is there a reason you were such a huge cunt tonight?” Tadashi sort of spits the words. They land at Kei’s feet and roll around before settling. 

“What are you talking about? I was normal,” he answers, though the statement sounds like a lie the moment it leaves his lips. 

“Bullshit,” Tadashi says. “You were being an asshole the second they walked through the door and you’ve been one to me all day.” 

Kei scoffs, his cheeks burning, “I’ve just been tired, dude. Besides, what does it matter? You’re closer to all of them than I am.”

“What? You’re tired so you just get to be a huge asshole?” 

“No,” Kei responds. 

“So then what was that?” 

Kei doesn’t really know. He doesn’t know what prompted him to act so cold or make such snide comments. It’s true, he’d been in a bad mood all day and he knows that Tadashi has borne the brunt of his misplaced emotions, but even Kei is confused as to why he’d acted the way he did. Still though, there is a part of him that knows that it was connected to his spiraling and what he saw in the library. He’d sound insane if he said it out loud, like somehow his growth was stunted in the third grade, but Kei is sure it had something to do with liking you and the hurt that comes with it. 

It’s not as if he’d been outwardly mean, but he had been cold. There are parts of himself that Kei doesn’t want you to see, sections of his personality that he ropes off from you because despite not liking you, he wants you to see the best in him. Tonight, he managed to somehow show off the worst. 

It started with the noise when everyone had arrived. You, Hinata, Kageyama, Tanaka, Kiyoko, and Yachi had all piled into the apartment in one large group. Kei’d been sitting on the couch and the sound of the door startled him right off the bat. He assumed that by the time they all had rounded the corner into the living room, his face was already sour, because everyone had greeted him cautiously. 

It’s no surprise that everyone was so loud. Kei has known this particular group for many years and they, having all gone to school or work nearby, pile into his apartment often for events like these. You were really the only new factor in all of it and while Kei is known as a touchy person, he certainly was more touchy than usual tonight. 

You’d been trying to talk to him all evening and Kei, in a desperate attempt to avoid whatever lingering feelings he had for you, had been shutting you down at every turn. Thinking back on it, he’s endlessly embarrassed. You didn’t deserve that. You’d been nothing but kind to him and there Kei was holding a grudge over you for something he had no right to be angry about whatsoever. He had been holding a grudge over something that he’d learned later that evening that wasn’t even true. 

Kei thinks that what Tadashi is referring to, was deliberately picking a fight with Tanaka. Kei and Tanaka have never been particularly close. Even in high school, his boisterous and somewhat obnoxious personality has always rubbed Kei the wrong way. Despite that, Tanaka has somehow managed to maintain a connection to him through university and the two of them have established a tentative but honest friendship. 

You had been sitting on the arm of the couch beside Tanaka, leaning over him to look at something he was showing you on his phone. Then, you laughed a little too hard and Kei felt that familiar sense of injustice rise to his throat, thick and heavy. It’s an ugly feeling, the kind that makes Kei feel sick when he’s in bed late at night. Bile rose in his throat in the form of harsh words. Jealousy in the form of the verbal venom Kei excels at. 

For Kei, Tanaka was an easy target, someone he could poke at and get a satisfying rise out of. In the moment, the rise he’d gotten from Tanaka by making snide comments about the volume of his voice and his particular obsession with pretty girls had been exactly that, satisfying. 

He’d picked a small fight. Nothing physical, but just enough to get him irritated. Kei’s not proud of it, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t done it deliberately. After all, Tanaka has never been the type to be the bigger person and turn his nose up. 

Sometimes, when Kei is experiencing emotions he’d rather not deal with, he decides to obsess over one single thing. Usually, it’s cleaning or schoolwork. Tonight, it happened to be the volume of Tanaka’s voice, which he knows was a shitty thing to do. Despite wanting to be reliable, Kei can’t help but feel that he was endlessly immature, lashing out at someone completely unrelated to the situation just because he could. 

Tadashi pulls him from his thoughts. 

“I thought you liked them, dude,” his voice is even, letting up on the anger. 

“Who?” Kei plays dumb. 

Tadashi responds with your name and Kei stiffens slightly. “I thought you guys had gotten closer. What happened?” 

“Nothing happened,” Kei says. It’s the truth. Absolutely nothing happened. Kei had spiraled all on his own. 

“Why did you ignore them then?” 

“I didn’t ignore them,” Kei says. Again, it’s not a lie. He may have shut conversations down and been a little cold, but Kei couldn’t ignore you if he tried, it’s sort of the whole problem he’s dealing with now. 

“Maybe, but you were cold. Like… needlessly.” 

“I was fucking normal, Tadashi. You should know me well enough by now to know that,” Kei spits. 

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it? I know you and I know that shit wasn’t normal. You’re twisted, but you’re not an outright asshole, Kei. What’s going on?” 

“I was normal, Tadashi. Just because I didn’t bounce around or get rowdy, doesn’t mean that something is wrong,” Kei answers. 

“Yeah, but you were like… majorly fucking weird, Kei. You were being an asshole. Don’t you like them? Don’t you want to be nice to them?” 

“I don’t.” 

“You don’t want to be nice to them?” Tadashi scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“No, not that. I don’t like them like that anymore,” Kei lies. 

“Oh please, that’s such horseshit,” Tadashi laughs bitterly. 

“Get off my ass, Tadashi. I don’t fucking feel that way about them anymore,” Kei insists. 

“Did something happen?” 

“No, literally nothing happened! Why does something have to happen? I just don’t like them,” Kei feels himself getting indignant. Tadashi doesn’t deserve this either, but he seems to be indiscriminate with his poor behavior tonight. 

Tadashi looks at Kei for a moment, studying him and calculating all of the things only Tadashi could know about him. Kei tries to hide it. 

“Jesus, Kei, you’ve got to stop doing this shit,” Tadashi touches his hand to his forehead. 

“Doing what?” 

“Getting all in your head about every single connection you’ve ever had with a person,” Tadashi raises his voice. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I’ve seen you do this a million times! You start to really feel something for a person and then you fucking back away like a dog with its tail between its legs!” 

“I don’t do that!” 

“Yes, you do! You sabotage yourself until the other person is forced to do something about it!” Tadashi exhales. 

“I’ve never done that deliberately! What does someone else’s actions have to do with me?” 

“It doesn’t have to do with you,” Tadashi says, “It has to do with your parents.” 

The wind is knocked out of Kei, air sucked from his lungs. He furrows his eyebrows at Tadashi, his mouth slightly open. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Tadashi pushes, angry and trying to make him listen. “Not every relationship is like your parents’, Kei.” 

Tadashi knows he’s stepped over the line the moment he says it. If it hadn’t registered before, it registers clearly on his face now, regret settling over Tadashi’s usually bright features. Kei gapes at him for a moment, running through his thoughts and trying to pick out one that best verbalizes what it is he feels. Kei comes up empty. 

“Shit-” Tadashi starts towards him. “Kei, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that. I’m just pissed off I didn’t mean to-” 

Kei pushes past him. “Tadashi, I know you mean well, but don’t try to tell me about my fucking parents.” 

Tadashi doesn’t try to stop him when Kei flings the front door open and walks outside.

—

Kei remembers it like it was yesterday. He remembers all of it. 

He can clearly recall the way shattered glass looked on the marble tiles of his childhood home. White porcelain, broken up into multitudes by his mother and father. They never laid hands on each other, but everything else in the house was fair game. Kei’s lost count of the amount of broken glass dishes and picture frames he’d swept from the floor. 

Kei’s parents had always been on and off in their affection for each other. One minute, they were deeply in love and the next, they were at each other’s throats. Neither of them were bad people, but they made each other bad people. The two of them brought out the worst in each other, maybe on account of knowing the other so well. 

Akiteru was an accident. His brother knows this because when his parents argued, they never let him forget it. In their spats, leverage was whatever they could get their hands on, and that just happened to be Akiteru and the unfortunate circumstances of an accidental pregnancy. 

His parents got married at 19, thinking that they’d be able to handle a child, that their marriage was anything but rushed. They convinced themselves that it was love, when the reality was that Akiteru came because they were too young and stupid to prevent it. At least, that’s what Kei and Akiteru had settled on in the evenings after the yelling had died down and they were left to make sense of it in their shared bedroom. 

They had Kei to fix the marriage. Kei knows this because, like Akiteru, his father’s marital “solution” in the form of a second child was constant leverage to his mother. Kei grew up asking Akiteru why his mother and father even had children in the first place. 

Their relationship was rocky and unstable, predictable and toxic. They, like Kei, would do things to get rises out of each other. They’d make digs, do things to get under the other’s skin. They did it for attention, for affection, or out of loathing for the person they’d decided to make their life partner. When things settled, they got bored. His parents often mistakened calmness for complacency in their relationship. His parents loved each other, but they hated each other just as much, and it was he and Akiteru who paid the price. 

They got divorced when he was fourteen and any chance of Kei having a normal family went to the courthouse with the divorce papers. Akiteru was 20 at the time and managed to avoid the brunt of the custody battle. Kei still gets unexplainably angry with Akiteru for leaving him alone, though he knows that it’s not his fault. The only way Kei could make sense of it was through blame and it was easier to blame Akiteru for lying about volleyball or leaving him alone than it was to blame himself. Both Kei’s father and mother tried for full custody, not because they loved him that much, but because they knew that it would destroy the other. In the end, Kei spent his weekdays with his mother because she lived closer to his school, and weekends with his father just because. 

It happens all the time. People grow together, then grow apart, and grow to loathe each other. Kei watched it happen to his parents, he watched it happen to his friends, he watched it happen to himself with his own reflection. That’s just the way it goes. 

The air outside of his apartment is cool and breezy. He can feel the wind through his sweater, cutting through the gaps in the stitching and into his skin. Kei feels like he can think a little better out here, sitting on the short concrete wall with his back to the apartment building. He stares at his feet, outstretched in front of him. He's still wearing his house slippers. 

Kei did this once when he was younger. The fight that night had been particularly bad and his parents had resulted to throwing things across their bedroom. Kei could hear picture frames shatter through two walls and he wondered which memories they’d decided to trash. A particularly loud shout had sent Kei out of the front door and onto the curb in front of the house. 

He remembers crying, staring at his house slippers on the pavement, afraid because he could hear the shouting even from the lawn. Akiteru had come out to get him, sitting down beside him on the curb and putting his arm around him. 

“Are mom and dad gonna get divorced?” Kei had asked through sniffles. 

“Divorced? No, no,” Akiteru answered. “It’s just a rough patch. It happens to all couples. Mommy and Daddy will be fine.” 

“It’s normal?” Kei sniffled. 

Akiteru paused for a moment. Looking back, Kei realizes that Akiteru was debating on whether or not to lie to protect him. Kei wishes he hadn’t. 

“Yeah, it’s normal.” 

Normal. Kei realizes that he doesn’t exactly know what a normal relationship looks like. He is his parents' son. What they had in them, he has in him. Kei knows that those habits, the digs, the sour statements, the passive aggressiveness, are all things he’s picked up from watching them. Some role models they were. 

He needs to apologize to Tadashi. He may have overstepped, but Kei knows that he’d been an asshole tonight. He’ll need to apologize to Tanaka as well. And to you, which is perhaps the scariest part of this. He wants to apologize for his behavior, but apologizing means that he has to admit that he’d acted the way his parents did, out of jealousy and a pull for attention. Yup, he’s his parents’ son alright. 

Kei tilts his head up toward the sky. Only half of it is visible, the other half blocked by the three story apartment complex directly behind him. It’s a clear night, but he can’t see any stars and the moon is nowhere to be found. Kei wonders when the morning will come. It’s a few hours off, but he thinks about how the sky will look when the sun begins to rise. 

“Kei,” a familiar voice calls from in front of him. 

You’re a few feet away, your hands clasped in front of you. 

“Thought you went home,” he says. 

“Yeah well, I had intended to,” you start, “but you seemed off and I felt weird going back without checking on you. Can I sit?” 

Kei shrugs his shoulders, mortified and angry at being caught like this. He appreciates the thought, but you’re the last person he wants to see right now. It just means he needs to face his shortcomings sooner. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Kei answers automatically. 

“Just decided on some fresh air?” You smile a little and Kei blows air out of his nose. 

“Yup, that’s exactly it.” 

You sit next to him with your legs outstretched the same way his are, your hands are laced together in front of you, hanging down between your thighs. Kei doesn’t make an effort to say anything and neither do you. Instead, he just trains his head back up towards the sky and attempts to collect his thoughts, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

Strangely, tonight he doesn’t feel nervous. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have the energy to. Maybe he’s too preoccupied with being sorry to pay any mind to the heart palpitations he gets when you’re around. Maybe it’s because even though he showed you the worst of him tonight, you still came back. It’s a small hope, but it’s there. 

“Hey,” your voice comes quietly, “I don’t know what’s going on, but if you need- I mean- if you want to talk about it, I’m a pretty good ear.” 

Kei nods a little. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “about tonight.” 

“I didn’t come here for an apology, you know?” You exhale a little. 

“Yeah, but you deserve one,” he says. “I was pretty shitty to you.” 

“Yeah, you were,” you agree, catching Kei off guard, “but it happens to all of us. Sometimes we feel things and just can’t keep them inside, you know?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, swallowing down his shame. 

There’s another long silence. You don’t move to touch him or talk to him, instead, you provide steady company. Kei, as strange as it is, is comforted by your presence. 

“I fought with Tadashi,” Kei says after a few minutes. 

“Today?” 

“Yeah, tonight. After everyone left,” he says. “I deserved it though. I’ve been pretty shitty to him all day.” 

You hum, leaning back on your hands. 

“I did the same shit in high school too, you know?” Kei starts. “We’ve uhm- we’ve known each other for a while, the group that was over tonight. Around the end of middle school some shit happened and I uh- I took out a lot of what I was feeling on Tadashi and the others, but mostly Tadashi because he was the only one who knew.” 

Kei isn’t sure why he’s telling you this. Maybe Tadashi was right. Maybe this is another attempt at self sabotage. 

“You bullied him?” You ask, a little surprised. 

Kei shakes his head. “No, but I wasn’t very nice either. Anyone could tell you that. I thought I was past it, though,” he admits, a little defeated. 

“Did you ever apologize?” 

Kei looks up at you in surprise. Your eyes are full of something, curiosity, maybe pity. 

“For what you did in school?” 

He nods. “Countless times, and not just to Tadashi either, to everyone.” 

“You know, stuff like this happens,” you say. “When I was little, I used to hate sharing. Toys, food, friends. I’d hate it when my friends were friends with other people. It made me insecure and I’d get mad at them for it. I grew out of it, but sometimes I still get that way and I have to apologize later.” 

Kei laughs. It’s strikingly similar to what’s happening now, not that you’d have any way of knowing. 

“I can’t imagine you doing that,” he says. 

“I’m serious,” you say. “I still get weird over it sometimes.” 

Kei shakes his head a little, smiling. 

“All that I’m saying is that sometimes we slip up, that’s all. It’s normal,” you continue. “Not that I’m condoning it. Just saying that it doesn’t make you a horrible person. It makes you human.” 

“Thanks,” he says softly. 

“No problem,” you respond. 

“So why’d you fight with him tonight?” 

“He was angry with me because I was an asshole,” Kei shrugs.

“And you’re mad that he called you out?” You give a quiet and somewhat incredulous laugh. 

Kei shakes his head. “No, I’m angry about what he said after.” 

“What’d he say?” 

Kei debates on telling you. He doesn’t want to make himself out to be a victim. After all, Tadashi meant no harm, even if his comment did exactly that. 

“The argument kind of switched subjects,” Kei tiptoes around the fact that the subject was you. “He brought up a bad habit of mine and I got defensive.” 

“Okay,” you say, waiting for him to say more. 

“Remember when I said that something happened at the end of middle school and only Tadashi knew about it?” When you nod, Kei continues. “My parents got divorced. They were a bad match and it was messy. He brought it up.” 

You nod again, your eyes wide. 

“He didn’t mean any harm, I know that,” Kei inhales. “But uh- that stuff kind of sticks with you. Well, it’s stuck with me and I didn’t like having it used to explain my behaviors, even if he was right. I’m not deflecting or anything though. I know I was the problem tonight.” 

“Sure,” you say. “I’m sorry about your parents.” 

Kei shrugs. “It’s in the past. They’re both remarried now with new kids.” 

The last sentence leaves Kei with a sour taste in his mouth. His parents are good people, but after his childhood, he doesn’t think they have any business having more children. Maybe they’re capable of being good for them, but Kei doesn’t like to imagine that. It makes him feel like their marriage wasn’t the problem, but he and Akiteru were. 

“You say that like they got a new pet,” you smile a little. “Are you still in touch with them?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “I visit whenever I go back home, though they’re really not too far from here.” 

“That’s good of you.” 

“Well, they are my parents,” Kei says plainly. 

You’re the only other person he’s divulged this to by choice and your reactions, understanding and level-headed, make him feel better. It’s like getting a weight off of his chest. This is the worst of him. This little bit of information, his history of being unable to fully confront his feelings, of taking anger out on others when he was young, is where his problems originate. 

“Yeah, but you’re allowed to feel what you feel about it,” you say. “My mom died when I was eleven. Texting and driving. I’m still angry at her for it.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

You shrug and offer him a wry smile. “It’s in the past, but I’m still angry even though I shouldn’t be.” 

“At her?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “She made a stupid mistake that we’re constantly warned about and left my dad and me behind. I was so angry with her, still am. I love her though, perceived faults and all.” 

Kei thinks about whether or not he loves his parents. He thinks he does, even if he resents them. Kei can’t imagine what he’d do without them. Even though his childhood had few emotional comforts, he still can’t think about a world where he doesn’t visit home to have his mother’s cooking. That’s a world that you live in. 

“That’s hard.” It’s all Kei can think to offer. 

“It was,” you say. “Got easier though as soon as I started accepting things. Now I just miss her more than I hate her.”

Another bout of silence follows this. It must be close to two in the morning and he’s been outside so long that he can no longer feel the tip of his nose. 

“Anyway, about tonight,” you say, “it’s not a crime to feel what you feel, but if you need help, that’s what we’re here for. It’s easier to accept feelings and get hurt than to ignore them, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah,” Kei says, looking to face you. “Thank you.” 

You’re so pretty. It’s striking. The curvature and angles of your face, the gentle look in your eyes, softened by the conversation. Kei finds himself thinking that despite not wanting to face you a few hours earlier, he’s grateful that you showed up. You’re good in ways that Kei can hardly fathom. 

“You should go inside. Tadashi is probably wondering where you are,” you say, standing up. “Plus,” you pinch the tip of his nose between your middle and pointer knuckles, “your nose looks like a cherry tomato.”

“Rude,” he says, startled by the sudden touch. 

“Payback,” you shrug your shoulders and Kei rolls his eyes. 

“Do you need me to walk you home?” Kei offers, a bit nervous about you walking home on your own. 

“I’d love to take you up on that, but you seem tired and I don’t live very far,” you respond. “I’ll call you when I get home though, okay? Since you’re so worried.” 

Kei laughs a little and then nods, standing up. “Yeah, I am.” 

His honesty surprises even him, but you just tilt your head and give him a small smile. 

“I’ll see you on Monday,” you say. “Thanks for the apology” 

“Anytime.”

“I hope not,” you laugh and Kei follows suit. 

You begin to turn on your heel, giving a small wave. 

Kei doesn’t know what overcomes him, but he calls out your name and reaches for your wrist. Before he has a moment to think about what he’s doing, he pulls you to his chest in a hug. You stiffen and then relax in his grip, wrapping your arms around him. Your body is warmer than his, sending heat through the gaps in his sweater. 

“You can call even if it’s not to tell me you got home safe,” he says. “If you want to.” 

You squeeze him around the middle. “Okay, I will.” 

When Kei lets go, he finds that his face is burning. The cold has been replaced by a flush of blood, making his vision a little syrupy.

“Thanks for coming back,” he says. “Get home safe.” 

“Of course,” you sound a little dazed, wearing an expression that Kei thinks might match his. “And I will.” 

Then, you smile at him, flashing your teeth and giving him a wave. You hold up your phone and point to it. 

“Expect a call!” 

Kei nods and raises his arm to wave goodbye.

He stands and watches your figure as you walk down the sidewalk and turn the corner. When you��re out of sight, he lingers by the door to his building, just in case you decide to come back. You don’t come back, but Kei lingers anyway, considering the conversation. 

He goes inside, intent on apologizing to Tadashi. When he opens the door to his apartment, the lights are still on in the living room and Tadashi gets up from the couch and walks quickly down the hall to him.

“Kei, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

“Don’t worry,” Kei says. “I know. I’m sorry about tonight too. And for treating you like that today. And for high school.” 

“High school?” Tadashi says, confused. “Why are you bringing up high school?” 

“Just wanted to apologize again.” 

Kei can feel his eyes drooping, exhaustion creeping into his body and replacing the elated feeling he had moments before. 

“I didn’t mean to bring your parents into it. How you like someone is none of my business,” Tadashi says. “I was out of line.” 

“So was I,” Kei admits through a tired sigh. “I shouldn’t have acted that way. I’ll apologize to the others in the morning.” 

Tadashi narrows his eyes a little and nods. Kei, besieged by that sleepy late night feeling, moves towards his bedroom. 

“Hey, Kei,” his voice comes out a little louder this time. “You’re being surprisingly easy-going. Are we good?” 

Kei scoffs a little, rubbing his eyes. “I just had some time to think, that’s all. And yeah, we’re good.” 

“Okay, are you good?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Kei says. 

Before he closes the door to his room, he furrows his eyebrows and makes a firm decision. 

“By the way,” Tadashi turns to him, cocking his head to the side in response. “I lied. I do like them.” 

“Could have guessed as much,” he responds, laughing a little. “See you in the morning.” 

“Yup, see you in the morning.” 

Kei shuts the door to his room. It clicks into place quietly. His room is spotless. It looks like a room that could be easily emptied at any time. He sighs, stepping into it and laying down on his bed. His phone is on the comforter next to him, lying face up. 

When it lights up, it illuminates the ceiling above him and he answers the phone without needing to check who's calling. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, I got home safe,” he hears your keys clink against something and then the sound of a door shutting. Then, he hears the sound of you laying down on your bed. He imagines you’re lying the same way he is. 

“Good, I’m glad,” he says. “No trouble?” 

“No trouble at all,” you say. He can hear your smile. 

“Thanks again for coming back tonight,” he says, turning over onto his side and letting the phone rest on the bed in front of his face. 

“Of course,” you say.

He doesn’t know what else to say. His nerves have caught up to him and your voice through the speaker sounds so close, like you’re whispering directly into his ear. 

“Okay, well I’m going to go to bed,” Kei starts. 

“Kei?” you say. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m gonna take you up on your offer. About calling you. Just wanted you to know.” 

“Okay,” he swallows. 

“I feel a lot closer to you.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

“Goodnight, Kei,” you practically whisper. 

“Goodnight,” he responds, lowering his voice the same way you did. You hang up the phone and the call ends. 

He blinks at his phone for a moment before standing up and getting ready for bed. Kei goes through the motions while thinking about how the evening got here. He’d been certain before it began that he no longer liked you, that he was confused. Now, he’s certain of the opposite. 

He decides that he’ll like you for real this time. Even if he’s afraid of hurting himself, of hurting you.

Kei lays down in his bed and faces the ceiling. He thinks about his parents, about your mother, about you. The cadence of your voice, the slight tremor in it. He thinks about your expressions, understanding and unintrusive. He thinks about your history, the anger you’d admitted to him and the grace you’d given him in his own circumstances. 

He dreams of braids, like DNA. Coils of pink yarn woven together in an intricate pattern. A molecular change not visible to the naked eye. Morning comes like liquid gold, spilling across his bedspread in slats through the window.

—

Kei’s apologies go smoothly. Tadashi’s friends—his friends—are good people. They know him better than most and field his awkward, stumbling apology with steady hands. 

He’d explained his sour mood in as little detail as possible, deliberately omitting his feelings for you while doing so, and he made a special effort to apologize to Tanaka. He’s easygoing and quick to forget, but Kei knows that even after accepting the apology, Tanaka will lord it over his head for a week or two. Tanaka thinks those kinds of things are funny and Kei won’t try to tell him otherwise. 

You do take Kei up on his offer. You call him twice a week now. Sometimes it’s to tell him something relevant to him, other times, you just whisper into the phone that you just felt like talking. Either way, it’s not good for his heart. Kei thinks that at this rate, it might just give out. 

There are a lot of things that Kei could say about liking you. It makes his days a little brighter. When he remembers that he has someone he cares about like that, he feels a surge of excitement for no particular reason. He finds that he looks forward to seeing you and goes out of his way to do so, more than he did before he was willing to admit it. 

He’s noticed the way you eat, like every bite of food is even better than the last. He’s noticed that you wipe the condensation off of your cups before each sip. He’s noticed that when you’re studying, you’ll pull at the collar of your shirt absentmindedly and then become frustrated when it is stretched out of place. Kei likes all of these things about you. 

Kei has also found that liking someone hurts. It hurts worse than he thought it would. Insecurity weaves its way into even the most minor of interactions. He’s self conscious almost all of the time, adjusting his hair, clothing, glasses right down to minor details. As of late, Kei appears more put together than he ever has, but the reality is that he’s probably the least put together he’s ever been. 

When you’re around, Kei is awkward and clumsy. He drops things, trips over nothing, loses control over his lanky limbs and overshoots things. He feels like a teenager again, not that he’s that far off from one. 

Still, one thing overshadows all of this. Kei is so comfortable around you, so peaceful despite the nerves and insecurity, that he’s able to forget about the worst of it. Forgetting about the worst of things is not something Kei is particularly good at. He’s cynical by nature. You help to ease the burden of it. 

The coffee shop he’s visiting with you today is quiet. The room is decorated with dark oak wood and the tables are accented by the rings of the trees the wood was cut from. The early spring light filters in at angles through the windows letting out onto the street. It falls across your notebooks and the knuckles of your hand, wrapped evenly around a black pen. 

You’d brought him here to study instead of going to the library and Kei can’t help but think that it feels like a date. His tea sits half-finished in a mug beside his laptop, beginning to cool to room temperature. Your coffee sits by your unoccupied hand and every now and then, you’ll reach to take a sip of the warm beverage without even glancing up. 

Kei has spent so much time watching you today, that he’s hardly gotten any work done. His computer is open on a document with a paragraph of writing about nudity in the classical period, which he hasn’t touched in about 10 minutes. He’s been clicking blankly around the page, adding spaces and then deleting them and then glancing up over the edge of the screen to look at the way you purse your lips when you’re focused. 

“You’d get a lot more done if you stopped staring,” you say, not looking up from your notebook. 

Kei chokes on his exhale. “What?” 

You laugh a little, looking up at him through your lashes. God, you’re pretty. 

“The document?” You chuckle. “You’re not fooling anyone by clicking around randomly like that.” 

“Oh,” Kei furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head a little. “Yeah, just can’t seem to focus.” 

“What’s the paper on?” You set down your pen and cross your arms on the table. 

“It’s not really a paper,” he says. “It’s a visual analysis on the Aphrodite of Knidos.” 

“Is that the one without the arms?” 

“No, but they come from the same family of statues,” Kei smiles a little. 

You hum a bit. “Do you like it?” 

“Like, do I think the statue’s pretty?” Kei closes the screen of his laptop to see you better. “Yeah, I do. Learning about the history of it is a bit depressing though.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, Aphrodite was one of the most powerful Greek gods, right?” He says, and you nod your head and roll your eyes because you know that already. “But this statue group intrudes on a private moment of hers. She’s trying to cover up her body, probably just before or after a bath. It’s meant to be humiliating.” 

You tilt your head. “Sounds more interesting than molecular structures at least.” 

Kei laughs a little. “Yeah, I think it’s just a bit more interesting.” 

“Why did you choose to study art history?” You question, leaning forward on your elbows. 

Kei feels awkward at receiving the question. He doesn’t like talking about himself much, let alone his passions. They tend to get away from him. 

“Probably because I’m no good at art,” he smiles a little. 

“Such a shame, what with your artist’s hands and all,” you reach across the table and tap his knuckle. 

Kei feels the color rise to his cheeks. 

“You’re no good at art, so you study art history instead?” You press for more. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I like things that people make with their hands. There’s a lot of human expression in ancient art, good and bad. Gives a bit more context into who we were before.” 

You lean back in the chair, grinning at him. Kei bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to notice the slope of your neck. 

“Why are you studying molecular bio?” He changes the subject. 

You shrug your shoulders. “I want a good cushy job that makes me a lot of money.” 

Kei watches the corners of your lips curl up. 

“Plus,” you continue, “I wanted to show off a little bit.” 

“So you put yourself through four years of torture?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Yup, I’m a huge masochist,” you grin. 

“You STEM kids are unbearable, you know?” Kei snorts. 

“But you like me anyway, yeah?” 

Kei nods, heat creeping up his neck, and watches you return to your work. 

It’s true, he does like you anyway. Kei likes you so much, in fact, that it frightens him. Well, the idea of liking someone has always frightened Kei, whether he’s noticed it or not. Commitment, or lack thereof, make Kei nervous in the same way heights do. He feels like he could lose his footing at any moment. 

That’s probably why he doesn’t want to do anything in particular about his feelings. Kei is content with just feeling them. He’s content to just be able to like you in his own way, even if nothing ever comes of it. He probably shouldn’t do anything about them, considering the back and forth battle he’s waged in his mind over the last few months. He’s too indecisive to do anything but like you, and even that feels herculean to accept. 

Not that liking you is a hard thing to do. You’re easy to like. It’s easy for him to picture touching you. It’s easy for Kei to imagine late night conversations and little intimacies shared over damp pillows. You’re easy to talk to, floating through conversations and navigating conflict with a sure step, something Kei can’t do. It’s not hard to find things to admire. 

Kei imagines what it would be like to be with you. He imagines the feel of your hands in his, how you might look spread beneath him, the inside of your thighs pressing against his hips. He imagines how his glasses might fog up with your breath and slip down the bridge of his nose. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? 

A little alarm bell sounds in his head. This is a dangerous line of thought, a greedy one. Kei doesn’t think he can handle greed, not when it comes to you. He got a taste of it that day when he saw you leave with someone else and again the following Friday. Kei doesn’t mix well with it, with wanting. Still, he wants. 

—

It’s a breezy day. It cuts the growing humidity as the beginning of May creeps on. This is no doubt one of the best times of year, though Kei prefers the fall or winter. Still, even with the slightly sticky air, his walk to class is pleasant. He’d even venture to say that it’s good. 

Light filters through the trees, blooming with their spring flowers, and in the distance he can see a familiar row of cherry blossoms just beginning to bloom. As he approaches them, he finds himself admiring their delicate petals, wondering just how brief their bloom will be before they come cascading down. One tree among the pink rows has yet to open its flowers. The buds sit on their branches, shades of green and gray. A late bloomer. This tree will no doubt flower once the other petals have fallen, and when it does, it’ll become the most eye-catching thing on the street. 

Kei admires it for a moment, standing below the thing and looking up through its twisting branches. It’s so small, much smaller than the rest of its counterparts, and its branches don’t look too full of yet-to-bloom buds either. 

There was a tree like this outside of Kei��s childhood home, the one his family lived in together when it was whole. It would always bloom a week after the others and every year he would worry that it never would. Of course, he kept this fear to himself, but he often watched it from his bedroom window when Akiteru was out. He’d press his face against the glass and pray for the flowers to come so that it didn’t get left behind. Sure enough though, it would bloom without fail and leave scattered pink petals across his yard and doorstep. Kei wonders if this tree in front of him will do the same. 

“Thinking about changing your major to plant sciences, Kei?” 

He jumps, started by your voice and your proximity. 

“Jesus,” Kei turns, “you need a bell or something.” 

“You’re the one standing in public staring at a tree with no flowers on it,” you laugh a little. 

Kei shrugs his shoulders, not really willing to give an explanation for the train of thought he was just on. 

“Where’re you headed?” he questions. 

“Dropping off an assignment,” you smile lightly, “wanna come with me?” 

“I can’t. I’ve got a class in 15.” 

“Fifteen minutes is fifteen minutes,” you shrug. “We’ll make it.” 

“We?” Kei raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, you come with me to drop off my paper and then I drop you off at class. It’s a win-win.” 

“Sounds like I’m just doing a lot of extra walking,” Kei snorts. 

“Yeah, but you get to do it with me so it’ll be more fun.” 

Kei folds and goes with you to drop off your assignment. It’s an essay assigned by an old-fashioned professor who doesn’t like electronic submissions. You comment off-handedly on what a waste of paper it is and Kei nods, just happy to hear about it. 

It’s strange. Kei is normally very tied to his routine. It keeps him sane, helps him to organize his thoughts and feelings into neat compartments. For Kei, an orderly life is an orderly mind. Somehow though, you ask him to deviate from that and he’s more than willing, eager even, to oblige you. Better yet, he does it without feeling off-kilter. Well, without feeling as off-kilter about his daily life. When it comes to you, Kei is about as stable as a pogo stick. 

The walk to your professor's office is only a few minutes from his classroom, just a few buildings over, but by the time you both arrive there, Kei’s palms are sweating. He resorts to shoving them in his pockets and wiping them on the inside of his pants, mortified at the idea of accidentally touching you like this. 

“Hey, about tonight,” you start after dropping the paper off with a quick bow. 

You’re supposed to come over. It’s the first time you and Kei have agreed to hang out at one of your places alone and Kei has been compartmentalizing his nerves so harshly that he’d almost forgotten about it entirely. Maybe that explains his easy-going mood. 

“Yeah?” 

“So, Tadashi may have mentioned it in front of the others,” you give him a sheepish grin, “and they may have asked to come and I definitely told them ‘the more the merrier’.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Kei’s a little disappointed. “So they’re coming too?” 

“Yeah, is that okay?” You furrow your eyebrows. 

Kei can’t very well come out and say that it isn’t, because his reason for thinking that is entirely about monopolizing your time. Kei says he doesn’t want to do anything about these feelings, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t indulge just a little into the foreign feeling of accepting that he’s ‘in like’. 

“Yeah sure, why wouldn’t it be?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him and Kei misses the message entirely. 

“I dunno, you’re not really a fan of bigger groups right?” 

“Not really,” Kei shrugs, “but I’ve known them for a while so it doesn’t count.” 

You nod your head and then smile. “Great! Now, where is your class?” 

“Social Sciences,” Kei glances down at the brown watch on his wrist. “In about… four minutes.” 

“Wanna run? Can’t be late, can you?” 

Kei does not want to run. He runs anyway. You’re faster than he is and your step is louder. The soles of your shoes thump on the floor with every step you take and your whole body lurches forward with each bound. When you reach the end of the hallway his class is in, Kei is completely winded. Considering that he plays volleyball as a hobby, he should really be in better shape. He attributes his lack of breath to your presence. Maybe he’d been holding it while watching you run. 

You glance into his full classroom, giving him a relieved look upon seeing that the professor has not begun her lecture yet. Then, you bounce twice on the tips of your toes and start jogging in the other direction. 

“Have a good class!” You call. 

“What’s the rush?” he questions. 

“I’ve got class now too, dummy. Just wanted to hang out with you for a few more minutes.” Then, you turn and run off, your bag bouncing against the side of your leg as you round a corner and fly down a set of stairs. 

That’s the thing about you that Kei can’t get enough of. When Kei takes a step back, when he resigns himself to being okay with just a chance meeting and a brief hello, you take a step forward. Whatever Kei lacks, you make up for tenfold. Your outstretched hand makes him greedier. It makes Kei want more than he’s ever wanted before. He goes to class starved for something that isn’t food, a feeling Kei hasn’t experienced often, let alone leaned into. He lets himself feel the hunger. 

—

Day melts away to a cool evening, still slightly wet, but like the dampness before rain. The air loses its warm touch, creeping into something chillier. Kei opens his bedroom window to let the air in. He likes the smell of cool nights. He wants his room to smell like it when he sleeps tonight. 

“Sorry that I spilled the beans about tonight,” Tadashi leans in the doorway of his room. 

“It’s not like that,” Kei rolls his eyes, already irritated with the implication that whatever you and Kei had organized was anything more than two friends hanging out. 

“Sure it isn’t,” he laughs. 

“I’m serious dude,” Kei fights the urge to throw something soft at him. 

“You wanted to hang out with them alone, right?” Tadashi tilts his head. His dark hair falls to the side and around his neck. 

“I just said it wasn’t like that!” 

Tadashi gives an even laugh. “You’re the one making it dirty, Tsukki, not me.” 

Heat floods Kei’s face, painting it red. 

“Caught ya,” Tadashi smiles. 

“When the hell are you moving out?” Kei grumbles and Tadashi gives another good natured laugh. 

“Not until you do. You’re stuck with me.” 

“Not if I kill you,” Kei doesn’t smile when he says this. 

Tadashi barks a laugh. “So what changed?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean with you. You seem a little more upbeat lately,” Tadashi says. “Nothing like the sad sack from a few months ago.” 

“I was kidding before but now I’m serious. I really will kill you.” 

Tadashi shakes his head a little but doesn’t say anything, intruding on Kei’s space until he gives an answer. 

“I just got tired of it, that’s all,” Kei says evenly, though it’s a little hard to admit. 

“Tired of what?” 

“Pretending,” he says plainly, glancing up at Tadashi in the doorway. 

“Because of them?” 

“No,” he starts. “Maybe. I don’t know. Can you leave now?” 

Tadashi shakes his head. “Too curious to leave.” 

“I don’t have an answer for you,” Kei grumbles. “I got tired of pretending I didn’t want them.” 

“Not like you were very good at pretending,” Tadashi laughs and Kei tosses him a sharp look. 

He raises his hands defensively, tucking his chin downwards and laughing lightly. “Okay, fine. I’m gone now.” 

“They’ll be here in an hour or so, by the way,” Kei adds and Tadashi gives a little hum to confirm that he’s heard him as he leaves the room. 

Kei glances around his room. The floor is bare, save for a small mat by the side of his bed to keep the shock of warm feet on a cold floor in the morning away. That notebook, dear to him as it is, still sits on the desk. It’s empty, but Kei likes the look of it. 

The hour before you and his friends are meant to arrive goes by so slowly that Kei worries that he’s gotten the day wrong. He incessantly checks his watch. It’s a brown leather watch with a square face. Thin and somewhat old fashioned, Kei prefers it to pulling his phone out to check the time. His Dad has one like it, almost matching. It had been given to him as a gift at his high school graduation and Kei had accepted it begrudgingly. He’d not been on good terms with his parents then and having them both in the same space for his graduation day was more trouble than it was worth. Still, he wears the watch almost daily. Despite having the impression that his parents never really cared about him, it was a fine gift for him and the brown strap suits his light skin tone in the same way it suits his father’s. 

He walks to the mirror in his room, hanging on the wall beside his nightstand, and peers into it. Kei’s curly hair is somewhat unruly. It’s hard to manage, especially in the warmer months when his waves turn into frizzy curls that he can’t seem to keep down. It’s gotten longer, coming down to just above the bottom of his ears at the back and curls upwards in licks of thick blond. 

Kei fiddles with it for a moment, tucking it behind his ears and then deciding to pull it forward. He could put gel in it to help calm it down, but he hates the greasy look of it and he’s never been one to primp and preen. He adjusts his glasses on his nose, square frames in a tortoiseshell pattern. They look expensive, though they’re only a cheap pair that he’d found at the drug store and had the lenses replaced. 

He looks normal. Kei looks like himself, if not a bit flushed in the face from his nerves. His reflection is one he is oddly unfamiliar with, despite it being his throughout his entire life. At some point during high school, he’d stopped recognizing the man in the mirror as Kei and started viewing him as a separate entity. Kei Two, a version of him that can make a home out of a space and find things to write in his notebook. Kei Two’s family is still whole and unbroken, and he likes to imagine that he’s a little more friendly than the real-world version. He looks away from the mirror, content today with being the original. 

Kei is in the living room and around the corner when the front door latch clicks open and is followed by a symphony of raucous voices. He takes a sharp inhale, unsure of why this feels so different from the hundreds of other times you’ve all piled into his living room. 

“Where’s Kei?” He hears you call, dragging out the syllable of his name in a soft hum. 

That’s why. It’s because this time, you’ve come here to see him specifically. You’re not here to see Tadashi or by chance, you’re here because you’d made plans to see Kei. That’s what makes it different. 

You round the corner and Kei is hit full force in the chest with his emotions and his nerves. It happens all at once, keeping the air from his lungs. You’re smiling, beaming even, and Kei thinks that maybe it’s because you can hear the hammer of his heart against his chest. 

“Hi,” you breathe, plopping down next to him on the couch. 

“Hey,” he chokes out. 

Kei chides himself for his nerves. He’d been doing better about getting weird around you, but today he feels closer to blowing up than he ever has. 

Hinata, Kageyama, Yachi, and Noya make their way into the kitchen, each one clapping Tadashi on the back as they do. They beeline for their fridge, opening the door and flooding the floor with artificial white light as they pull out enough beers and sodas to supply a small army. Kei wonders why he and Tadashi ever bought so many of them. Kei hardly drinks, but he supposes that Tadashi just likes to host. 

“Tanaka and Kiyoko?” Tadashi questions as he makes his way into the living room with the group. His beer cracks open with a satisfying pop. 

“Date night,” Noya says, sinking into one of the arm chairs situated around the coffee table. “So annoying.”

He groans about Kiyoko, someone he’s all but worshiped since high school. 

“You’re just mad it isn’t you,” Kageyama quips, giving a somewhat mean grin. 

“Not true,” Noya argues. “I am the happiest person in the world for them! But now they go on dates and I can’t come. It’s like I lost a bro.” 

“You’re so overreacting,” Yachi adds, her lips forming around high pitched syllables. “They’re here most of the time.” 

“Yeah, most but not all,” Noya pouts. 

“Give the same energy to Daichi, Suga, and Asahi next time, kay?” Tadashi laughs. 

Their friend group is a large one, consisting of most (if not all) of their highschool volleyball team. While Hinata, Kageyama, and Yachi are the same age as Kei and Tadashi, Tanaka and Noya are a year older, and Kiyoko is two. Daichi, Asahi, and Suga all went to universities outside of Sendai, meaning they hardly ever see them. All in all, the rest of the group is pretty bummed about it. Kei just finds that he misses having Daichi around to reel everyone in. Now that he’s gone, that job has somehow gone to Tadashi, who is more of an enabler than anything else. 

“They’re different and you know it,” Noya frowns, opening his open beer with a hiss through his teeth. 

You lean to the side, bumping your shoulder against Kei’s. 

“Who’re Daichi, Suga, and Asahi?” You ask softly. 

“You’ve never met?” Kei furrows his eyebrows and you shrug. 

“Maybe, but if I have it was only once or twice.” 

“They’re friends from our volleyball team in highschool, but they’re two years older.” 

“Okay, so one year older than me?” 

Kei blinks a few times. “You’re a year older than me?” 

“Yeah?” You laugh a little like it’s obvious. 

“But aren’t you a fourth year?” He furrows his eyebrows. 

“I took a year off before starting college,” you shrug your shoulders. “Thought that I had to get my sillies out.” 

“Your sillies?” Kei laughs a little. 

“Yeah,” you smile, “and I had to save up some money. It makes the world go ‘round, you know?” 

“What are you guys whispering about?” Tadashi gives Kei a wry grin over the top of his beer can. 

It’s only then that Kei realizes the way you both are leaning into each other. He’s tilting his head down to hear you better and you’re leaning forward. It gives off the impression of two people conspiring, of closeness that Kei hadn’t even realized had crept up on him. 

“I was asking who Daichi, Suga, and Asahi are,” you shrug off the moment, leaning back in the chair. 

This prompts a chorus of disbelief, everyone jumping in to describe them to you. Kei takes it as a moment to breathe, inhaling and exhaling. He can feel your thigh against his, just barely there and bleeding warmth through the fabric of his jeans. 

They delve into stories about nationals, little details that Kei had forgotten a long time ago. Every now and then, someone will bring up Kei’s more-than-sour personality and he will feel the need to hide the embarrassment on his cheeks. Even though you know about it, it’s still mortifying for Kei to hear. He wants you to see the best in him, but any hopes he had of you forgetting are quickly washed away as someone brings up Kei’s relentless prodding of Kageyama’s easily pushed buttons. 

You laugh along with them like you were there, amused to hear stories about your college friends in their high school years. Kei finds himself thinking that you fit very well into this scene. 

Still though, despite the fun he’s having, Kei’s battery begins to run out quickly and after a long game of cards, he gets up to take a quick break in the kitchen. It’s not that he wants the night to end, but rather that he just needs a minute to himself and uses the idea of more snacks as an excuse for it. 

He reaches into a cabinet, pulling out a half-finished bag of chips and setting them on the counter. They’re clipped with a bright red chip-clip from the grocery store and Kei thinks that because of that, they shouldn’t have gone stale yet. If it were the peak of summer, Kei might think twice, but this time of year, they should be fine.

Then, he bends down to get a large white mixing bowl from a lower cabinet. Their plates and bowls are kept in various different cabinets, though the only reason they stay somewhat organized is because of Kei. 

“Done already?” You lean your hip against the counter. 

“With what?” Kei struggles to keep his eyes from following the line of your body. 

“Hanging out,” you smile lightly. 

“Not really,” he says. “Just needed a minute and decided to get more snacks.” 

“Wanna go sit outside for a bit then?” 

Kei glances into the living room where the group chatters away. He’d hate to be stopped on the way. 

“Relax,” you laugh. “They’re so caught up they won’t even notice that we’re gone.” 

Kei furrows his eyebrows and then shrugs, swallowing his heart down with the spit that has pooled in his mouth. He follows you out of the front door, shutting it with a quiet click and heading down the steps of the complex and to the concrete wall lining the shrubbery outside. It’s the same place you’d come back to talk to him at all those weeks ago, though he is in considerably better spirits than he was then. 

It’s a cool night, the gentle heat of the day completely burned off to make way for a crisp breeze. He inhales, wishing that he had brought a drink to fiddle with and sip on to distract him from his nerves. 

You sit beside him, leaning back on your palms with your legs outstretched in front of you. Your hand is only a few inches from his and Kei sucks in a breath when he accidentally touches it while he gets comfortable. You only offer him a little smile in response. 

“Sorry again about bringing the troops here,” you speak first. 

“That’s really okay,” he says. “Contrary to popular belief, I actually really like them.” 

You snort. “I hope so.” 

Kei inhales louder than he intends to and when you look at him like he’s going to say something, he just holds his breath and shakes his head. The air only leaves him when you finally look away. 

“Kind of a bummer though,” you start, “I was kinda excited about just hanging out with you.” 

Kei’s breath catches in his throat. He swallows to move the metaphorical blockage. 

“We hang out all the time though,” he says like it’s enough. Of course it’s not enough. 

“Guess so,” you smile a little, though Kei can hear the distinct turn of disappointment in your voice. 

“You know,” he starts, already embarrassed at what he’s going to admit. “I wanted to be your friend for a while.” 

“Oh yeah?” you smile, opening up again and turning towards him. “Why?” 

Kei shrugs, resisting the urge to shut down completely. It’s embarrassing admitting to someone that you wanted to know them before you actually knew them. 

“You kind of reminded me of Tadashi,” he says. “And you both got along so well.” 

“Tadashi? I’m nothing like Tadashi,” you laugh, shaking your head. 

“What? No, you two are so similar,” Kei insists, lacing his fingers together. 

“What about us is so similar?” 

“Well, you’re both sociable and warm and…” Kei trails off. He can’t really think of anything else. You look at him with an expectant look in your eyes. 

“See?” 

Kei realizes that the two of you are not similar at all. Your warmth is where the similarity stops. He’d been likening you to Tadashi this entire time, not because the two of you are similar, but because you make him feel similar to the way Tadashi does. Safe and comfortable, though with the added addition of deeply awkward. He realizes that without the safety net of you being like Tadashi, he’s never had any ability to deny his feelings and with that they rage full force around the corner and slam into his chest like a heavy blow. 

“We’re nothing like each other,” you laugh and lean back against your palms. “Though, it would be cool to be like Tadashi.” 

Kei experiences the sudden realization that he doesn’t want you to be like Tadashi. Kei wants you to be like him. He wants you to be greedy and want him the same way he wants you. He wants you to be able to keep up with his turns and his moods, something he didn’t realize he wanted in the first place. If you’re like Kei, then Kei doesn’t have to be afraid of showing you the worst. You’ll have already seen it. If you’re like Kei and he loves you, then what is stopping you from loving him? 

“Even if you’re not like Tadashi, that’s fine.” His cheeks burn. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I like you all the same,” he admits quietly. 

“The same? As Tadashi?” You purse your lips a little. “I thought I was a little different. Was I wrong?” 

Kei wants to kiss you. Kei wants to kiss you so badly that his mouth has gone dry and his lips feel like they’ve separated from his body. Anything he’d thought about not wanting anything with you flies out of the window with your proximity. You’re so close to him. Close enough that if he leaned a little to the right, his shoulder would be against yours. You’re so close and you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for something, implying that somehow you’re different from Tadashi. Implying that you want him to like you differently than the way he likes his platonic friend. 

“No, you’re different,” he says, taking the bait you’ve laid in front of him. His heart pounds and he can’t look at you. He thinks he’ll kiss you if he does. 

“Am I?” 

Kei can hear the smile in your voice. It makes what you’re saying sound honeyed and curved. 

“Yeah, you are.”

“How so?” 

Kei finally raises his head to look at you. You’re grinning, leaning towards him like you’re watching a show. He feels the way his nerves rise into his throat, pressing against the very back of his tongue. He doesn’t know how to answer or what to say. Well, he does know what to say, he just doesn’t think he can. Kei is good at thinking about emotions, but when it comes time to speak them outloud, it seems that he’s still got a padlock around his throat. So he does what any logical person would do. 

Kei leans forward, pushing against his screaming nerves and trying to ignore the tremble in his hands, and kisses you. It’s awkward and his teeth click against yours before his lips fully settle against your mouth. He feels the breath you draw in, like surprise and relief mixed together, and he finds that he does the same. 

He can see the way your eyes flutter closed through his barely open ones and he realizes that your lips are so warm. He screws his eyes shut when you dip your head forward to move your lips against his. Yours are so warm and soft, like satin. A kiss has never felt like this to Kei before and he finds that he wants to catalog every single one of your reactions. Maybe that’s what he could write in the notebook. Maybe he could write down every single thing that you do that leaves him winded and wanting more. 

Neither of you reach for the other, but he can feel the knuckle of your pinky against his as you slowly kiss each other, tilting your heads side to side. There’s hunger within him, the need to take more than what he’s receiving and a greed he isn’t quite familiar with, but there’s also romance. It’s like a spell that’s yet to be broken, fed by the click of your mouths as they move together. Kei sighs, flooded with the relief of this kind of physical affection, of being honest with himself at how much he likes it. Kei loves the feel of your mouth. He loves the way your lips and tongue feel and he loves that they’re all that he can feel right now. 

The kiss lasts longer than Kei thought it would and by the time he pulls away, you’re both steadily panting and attempting to keep your breathing even. He wants to do it again. He wants it so badly that it makes his chest swell. He wants to do that with you forever, but he swallows down the desire. It’s a temporary fix, but it’s enough for him to choke out what it is he wants to say next. 

“I think I’m in really hot water,” he squeaks. 

“What do you mean?” You breathe out, the playfulness from a few moments earlier long behind you. 

“I think I want you way more than I thought I did,” he admits quietly, the first out loud admittance of his feelings to you. 

You smile a little before speaking. “I think it’s only hot water if the other person doesn’t feel the same way.” 

Your face is still so close to his. “Yeah?” 

It comes out a bit desperate, like he needs reassurance. Kei does. He’s so afraid that he thinks he could die. Afraid of the spell breaking, afraid of losing whatever moment this is and being forced to return to his one-sided pining, afraid that you don’t feel the same way.

Your face moves closer to him, breath trembling lightly. “Yeah.” 

You kiss him again, pressing your lips against his lightly before parting them. He’s so overwhelmed and so immediately lost in it. Kei feels the way your tongue teases the inside of his mouth and it makes him feel like a teenager again, swelling with desires and emotions that he can’t name. You move your hand over his, placing it lightly on top of his, and he reacts by lacing your fingers together and pushing forward more. 

Kei wants to touch you so badly, to reach up and hold your face, to touch your waist and your legs and your chest. He wants to do it all, to feel you right here under the cover of night, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses you and stews in the desire, letting it swell in his chest as he listens to the clicking of your mouths. You kiss him so slowly, moving your mouth at a languid pace. It drives him crazy. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this.

“We should go back inside, I think,” you break away, your bottom lip shiny with a sheen of spit. “The others might think something’s up and Tanaka isn’t exactly good with discretion.”

Kei automatically reaches up to swipe it with his thumb. He doesn’t know where this affection comes from, where the possessive action found its origins, but he finds that he likes the way it feels to be able to do it in the first place. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Kei responds, though he would have been happy to continue sitting out here with you, kissing you silly. 

You stand first, dusting off the back of your legs and waiting for Kei to follow suit. When he does, you reach quickly for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before walking in front of him. 

Kei is not sure how he should act when he goes inside. He’s tense all over, desperate to pick up where the two of you left off, and unsure if his face betrays that thought. 

“Where’d you guys go?” Tadashi asks as Kei closes the door behind him. 

In the time you’d both been gone, the living room has been transformed into something nearly unrecognizable. Empty beer cans are strewn about the tables and the blankets and pillows from the couches are now haphazardly laying around beside the couch or over people’s bodies. Then again, maybe the room always looked like this and he was just too busy thinking about how close you were to him. 

Kei doesn’t know what to say. Why had they gone outside in the first place? He’s not even sure that he remembers. 

“I wanted a cigarette and I made Kei come with me,” you answer evenly. “Why? You jealous?” 

“Of inhaling second-hand smoke? No, thanks.” Tadashi laughs, but he tosses Kei a sideways glance. Tadashi knows him well enough to know that Kei wouldn’t voluntarily stand outside with a smoker unless he was particularly fond of them. 

“Aw, man, I thought you quit?” Hinata pipes up, tilting his head. 

“I did, hot stuff,” you respond, sitting down on the couch. “Don’t worry. I won’t smoke anymore.” 

Hinata huffs and Kei takes the opportunity to sit down next to you. 

His thigh is pressed against yours, warmth seeping through his pants and into his skin. Kei feels like he could explode. You’re so close to him again, closer than before, and he can’t stop replaying the kiss in his head. He’s desperate for it, fidgety with his desire. He keeps thinking about the hot press of your mouth and the languid motion of your tongue. All he can imagine is the few points of contact between you both, mouth and hands, and how badly he wanted it to be more. He needs it. 

You touch him a few times throughout the night and the tension is so palpable that Kei is convinced he can see it. It’s like there is a rope pulled taut between the two of you. If he doesn’t stick his ground, he’ll go flying towards you, grabbing and touching and taking in the way he’s desperate to now. 

After an hour, his friends begin to grow restless. Their faces are flushed with alcohol and the things they’d been amusing themselves with are no longer enough stimulation. 

“Hey, we’re going out to the bars. Who’s coming?” Hinata speaks up. 

A chorus of agreement rings out, but the last thing Kei wants to do is go out.

“I think I’ll probably stay back and start cleaning,” he says somewhat disdainfully. “It’s a mess in here,” Kei tosses you a small glance. It’s unintentional but he’s glad for it because Kei is hoping that you’ll stay back with him, that you both can pick up where you left off. 

“I’ll stay and help too. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow anyway,” you smile and Hinata pouts. 

“You guys are so boring,” he protests. “Leave the mess for tomorrow and come out with us.” 

“I’ll pass, pipsqueak,” Kei scoffs. 

“Fine, but don’t complain to me when you’re full of regret tomorrow,” he points a finger at Kei and then moves it over to you. “And you’re too nice for your own good.” 

“Do you hear that?” You say, beginning to usher the group to the door. “I think it’s the sound of the bar and all that alcohol calling to you guys.” 

“You guys are so full of shit-” Kageyama starts, speaking up for the first time in a while, but Kei just waves him out. 

“Yeah yeah, let the grown ups clean while you guys have fun. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The rope is so taut between you both that it’s unbearable and by the time the door closes, you are spinning around on your heel toward Kei. 

“We’re not cleaning, right?” 

Kei shakes his head and starts towards you. The tension breaks when his hands find your hips and he hungrily leans down to press his mouth against yours. 

This kiss is different from the first, desperate and full of desire. It’s fast and your mouths move together quickly as he starts to walk you back towards his bedroom, his hands eagerly roaming up and down your hips. Vaguely, he acknowledges that his glasses have been moved out of place, but he pays it no mind as you turn the knob to his bedroom door with your back to it. 

There’s an urgency to his movements. Kei feels it in his chest, this desperate desire to be closer, to consume everything that you’ve laid out in the palm of his hand. You stumble backwards into his room and Kei catches your shifted weight with a hand around your waist. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, feeling the warm skin on your jaw and neck. His fingers tremble where they touch you, half out of desperate need and half out of the nerves that threaten to spill from his mouth. His lips though, are occupied with yours, clicking together, all tongue and teeth. 

Kei kisses sloppily down your jaw, his lips smearing across your cheek and dipping down below your ear. He sucks a trail there, unsure if he’s leaving marks, all the way down to your collarbone. Every part of you tastes better than he’d expected it to and with every push he delivers, you pull. 

You make small sounds, little pants and groans that make Kei’s hair stand on end with wanting. Your voice, so familiar and fond to him, spills out in small, breath-like bursts that make Kei want to coax more out of you. Kei’s never been one to want this way, but right now, it’s all that he feels. So much tension and impulse that he feels like he can hardly control himself. 

You reach blindly behind you for the bed and Kei guides you down, placing his hand on one side of you as you sit. Then, without disconnecting your lips, he guides you up toward the wall. 

He feels the cool tips of your fingers at the hem of his shirt, pulling downward and then upward to get him to take it off. Kei obliges you, leaning back on his knees and pulling it off over the top of his head. You eye him for a moment, the two of you slowing down enough as the urgency settles into something heavy and lingering. 

Kei leans forward again, one of his hands reaching for your hip. He slips his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, sliding his long fingers up your stomach as he kisses you again. You’re so soft and he can feel the way your chest heaves against his palm. His touch is feather light and he slides it up evenly until it reaches just below your breast. When you nod, Kei moves it up over your bra and he feels you shudder. Kei does the same, overwhelmed by your pliability. 

He can feel the goosebumps that have raised on your skin, little pinpricks of skin that indicate that some part of you feels good. When Kei squeezes your breast, you gasp into his moan and he groans his response, letting you bite at his bottom lip. 

He feels you suck at his lips and swipe your tongue along the ridge of his mouth. When he opens it to let you in, he’s overtaken by the warmth of the soft muscle. He groans, tilting his head down to kiss you deeper, letting the taste of you spread over his mouth. It’s hot and your breath fans across his face. 

Kei hands drift from your breasts along the sides of your body. He feels the heave of your breath there against your warm skin, his palms resting on your waist. You raise your knees, the sides of them pressing against Kei’s hips. He shifts downwards slowly, dragging his mouth along your skin, past the cloth of your shirt. 

His hands make their way from your waist to your hips as he dips lower. Kei takes off his glasses, already fogged up and in the way. When he meets your eyes, you nod your permission and Kei slips between your legs, his flat palms moving to spread your thighs. 

You’re so warm and soft, so pliable in a way that Kei can’t articulate. It makes his mouth water with his desperation and he’s grown hard against the bedspread beneath him. 

“Touch me,” you breathe out. 

Kei nods into your stomach, looping his fingers around our waistband, and pulls down your pants. Your panties come with it and it’s with a slight wave of regret that he realizes he won’t get to see the way you stick to them. 

When he sees you, his heart leaps into his throat. His eagerness and his nerves catch up to him and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. You shudder when the air hits your exposed cunt, an unintentional side effect of Kei’s nerves that has him grinding down against the bedspread. 

He slides his palm to rest over your center. It’s warm and sticky, wet beyond what Kei had imagined and he gingerly presses a finger between your folds. You gasp, mouth falling open above him. Then, he slides his finger into you to the first knuckle, curling up. Kei goes deeper on the second pump, curling his whole finger inside of you and feeling the way you tighten around him. 

You arch your back up off the bed and Kei groans and rolls his eyes, resting his head on the inside of your exposed thigh. He curls his fingers in you, watching the way they coat with your pleasure. His eyebrows are knit together, like he’s asking whether you like how he touches you or not, and you seem to pick up on his insecurity, nodding your head before letting it tip back against Kei’s pillows. 

Kei thinks your expression is incredible. Your eyebrows pull up in the center, pretty face twisted and mouth slightly open in an expression of undeniable pleasure. Kei’s stomach winds at the look of it and he ruts his hips against the mattress to quell the growing ache of need. His fingers, which curl at a slow and even pace inside of you, are warm with your enjoyment. It leaks between his knuckles, sliding down the back of his hand like a slow moving syrup. He wonders whether you have more to give and how you taste, his gaze slinking from your face to the place just above where his fingers disappear. 

He lowers his mouth to you without thinking, curious and needing the taste of it. Sure enough, you have more to give. Your voice comes quickly, a small gasp that is stifled by the back of your hand when he sucks sharply on your clit. Your hips push forward against his hands and then you arch up off the mattress with a small cry. Kei wonders if you’ve cum. He wonders if he’s sent you over the edge, but if he has, you’re taking all of it so well that he doesn’t dare stop. 

The taste of you spreads on his tongue, tangy and warm. You invade his senses violently, like you are gripping his throat. Kei holds his mouth to you, pressing the length of his cock into the mattress and moving his hips like he plans to fuck it. 

He moves his free hand down your thigh and onto the inside of your leg. Your skin is so soft. It’s so vulnerable, something easily pierced and bled. Kei’s pointer finger rubs gentle circles there, feeling the slight pull of the soft skin with his fingers, so thin that it almost feels like tissue paper. He’s sure that with a little pressure, you would bruise. 

The thought surprises him. He works his tongue across your clit and his fingers against that gummy spot inside of you, but his mind drifts to the softness of your inner thigh, the way it would be so easy to leave a spot that might hurt later when you press on it, remind you of exactly where he was. Then, Kei pinches you on the inside of your thigh and when you cry out, tightening around his fingers with a tapered moan, he pinches you again, harder this time. 

You whimper slightly, like you like it. No, you sound like you love it and Kei finds himself holding back a choked moan as he tries not to cum prematurely. He pinches along the inside of your legs and around the back. Not too much. Only when he feels like it. Only when he wants to hear what kind of sounds you’ll make. 

“K-Kei wait, wait,” you pant, grabbing him by his tufts of blonde hair. It hurts. He doesn’t think you mean to hurt him, but it doesn’t matter. He likes it and he twitches in his pants. 

“Huh?” He hums, detaching from your clit and slowing the movement of his fingers to a halt. Your legs shake around his handiwork. “You okay?” 

“I’ll cum if you keep going like that,” you breathe, screwing your eyes shut like you’re still on the edge. “Drag it out for me, yeah?” 

Kei furrows his eyebrows and sucks in a sharp breath.

“Cum if you want to.” He tilts his head down to reattach his lips. 

“Not yet,” you tug at his hair. “I like chasing it.” 

Kei stares at you, unblinking and awestruck. Your chest heaves and despite the pleasure on your face, you look uncomfortable as your orgasm slips away from you. Kei likes that look on your face and he finds himself growing greedy. 

“Come here,” you coax him onto the mattress. 

Kei watches as you slip your hands into the waistband of his jeans and pull them down, leaving him on his back with his tented boxers exposed. You crawl down his body and settle between his legs with your arms between his thighs. He shudders when you run your hands up them and he briefly sees his boxers jump. 

You smile, pressing your mouth to him through his boxers. Kei can’t stifle the groan that escapes him and heat floods his face when you raise your eyebrows in response. 

“You don’t have to,” he says through gritted teeth as you slip the waistband of his boxers down. 

“But I want to,” you mumble, taking him in your hand and placing a kiss on the side of his dick. 

Kei’s head falls back against the pillow and he swears under his breath when he feels the warmth of your mouth close around the tip of him. He jerks his head up to see, awestruck by the way your lips look around the head of his cock. 

For some reason, Kei is already so sensitive. He feels everything, and when you swipe the tip of your tongue along his slit as you bob your head, he makes a noise he didn’t think he could make. His fingers knot themselves in the bed sheets, white knuckled and trembling while you bob your head over him. 

Your mouth is so warm and wet. It’s a little messy, dripping down the length of him and onto his balls. Kei feels the warmth, the heat of you. He can still taste you on his tongue. Kei can still feel the stickiness left behind from your arousal on his mouth. The combination of you between his legs and the taste of you on his tongue is overwhelming. 

Kei can feel his orgasm growing in his lower stomach, turning over until he’s bringing his long fingers to your head in an effort to steady himself. There’s nothing he can do but give in, watching you through damp eyes as you watch his expression. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly he cums. It doesn’t take long and he teeters on the edge for a few moments before fully cresting over. Kei can’t help the way he lifts his hips from the mattress, his voice caught in his throat as it hooks on a high pitched groan. His voice cracks and he feels the way his cum collects on your tongue and across the tip of his dick in your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, red faced and panting, “I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to finish so quickly, you’re just-” 

“It’s fine,” you come up, your eyes glassed over and lust-filled. “I like making you feel good.” 

“Yeah but-” 

“No buts,” you crawl over him and straddle his waist. Kei winces when your weight briefly nudges his cock. “There’s still fun to be had. Can I kiss you?” 

He nods and you lean down to do as you’d asked. Your tongue moves slowly against his, less desperate this time, like you’re trying to work him down and back up again. You place your hands on his chest, settling your weight down so that your bare cunt is pressed against his sensitive cock. Kei thinks he might die. 

He brings his hands to your waist, the fatigue creeping from his bones as he digs the pads of his fingers into your fleshy sides. You draw in a breath when he does and it makes Kein feel like he’s tipping sideways with arousal. Everything that you do, right down to the involuntary twitch of your hips or eyebrows, is sexy. 

Kei turns you over, growing hard between your legs again, and gently pins you to the mattress. He kisses you for a moment longer, his lips working clumsily across yours before he pulls away to catch his breath and find his bearings. 

You chase him with your mouth, tilting your head up to kiss him. Kei feels his chest swell with arousal and his cock strains almost painfully against his pants as he peers at you. You’re so pretty. Everything about you is so pretty. On his chest, he can feel your fingers, splayed over his pecks, across his collarbone, and grazing the side of his neck. He leans closer, loving the pressure of your body and the desperation that pours from your skin. 

Kei kisses you again. He kisses you the way he wanted to outside, dipping his tongue into your mouth with a desperation that he can taste. You take control back, reaching between the two of you, and Kei shifts himself upward instinctually to give you access to him. He feels your fingers fumble for him and there’s a pause in which Kei doesn’t know what to do. He wonders if this might be the part of him that you like. The awkward part, the one that doesn’t know what to do. Kei’s thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of your hand wrapping around him and tugging upward. 

His head drops and a low groan escapes his lips before he can even think to stop it. Kei’d almost forgotten his sensitivity, how desperately he wants to be touched, how overwhelming it feels. He shivers, looking down at where your hand wraps around him and pumps. When he looks back up, he finds that you’re looking at his face, your eyes glassed over and observant as you commit all of his expressions to memory. 

“What?” he says, letting out a shuddering breath and the slight overstimulation. 

“Your face is red,” you reach up with your free hand to run your thumb along his cheek. 

Kei huffs, dropping his head and you fiddle with something between the two of you.

“No,” you pick his chin up. “I like it. It’s cute.” 

You tighten your grip around him and Kei feels his expression twist, a new rush of heat and desire flooding his belly as he realizes you’re sliding a condom onto him. Then, you guide the tip of him between your legs and he feels the wet press of your entrance against him. 

“Christ,” he groans. 

You smile slightly, shifting your hips a little and then placing your hands on his shoulders. Kei pushes forward slowly, his thighs twitching. It takes everything he has to keep from cumming again and every muscle in his body screams with a desire to let go. 

Kei is so overwhelmed, partially because you feel so good, but also because there is some part of him that knows this feels different. Kei feels different about you, about being intimate with you, than he has with anyone else. There’s something alive in him, something with its own mind. Something greedy and vulnerable that stirs when your face is this close to him, when he’s buried all the way in you to the base of his cock. Emotional and sensitive, Kei feels it kick. 

His first instinct is to run. Agreeing to let himself like you, to let himself do something about it, was not agreeing to letting something live inside of him. Kei’s first thought when he registers the difference is to cut it off and suffocate it so that it stops thumping against his chest. He’d grown so used to the hollow feeling that the feeling of living emotion makes him nervous, it puts him on edge. But when he pulls out a few inches and fucks back into you, the anxiety dispels into insurmountable pleasure. A pleasure Kei can’t describe, something fulfilling and whole. 

He picks up his pace, letting himself do what he wants while you grip his shoulders with blunted nails. He likes the expression you wear. Truthfully, he likes all of your expressions, but this one is new. Pressure and pleasure, a newness to the feel of him inside of you that you can’t quite keep from your eyes or lips. He kisses you as if he could taste it, slipping his tongue between your lips. 

“I really like you,” you mumble against his mouth, breath hot as it fans across his cheeks. 

Kei’s heart hammers and his hips stutter a little. 

“Me too,” he chokes, trying to think about volleyball to stave off a second orgasm. All that comes to mind though, is you. 

“Are you close again?” you breathe, voice laden with pleasure. 

“I have been since we started,” Kei admits. 

“Cum then,” you say softly, reaching behind his head to pull his mouth back to yours. Kei likes the control you exhibit. He groans his approval.

“You first,” he mutters.

There’s this possessive part of Kei that wants to watch you fall apart on him. He wants to see it, to watch you feel good too and commit it to memory so that he can always keep it. He thinks it’s a pride thing, something attached to his desire to succeed, to his reliability. Maybe though, it’s just because he thinks it’ll look hot. 

He reaches down and lifts one of your legs up by the back of your knee, pressing it down to give himself better access. You whine and Kei feels the way you clench down around him, your fingers knitting into the hair at the back of his neck. It hurts in a good way. 

Kei slips his hand between you, rubbing circles on your clit to get you there faster. Frankly, he doesn’t know how much longer he can last like this, staring down at your face while it twists with pleasure. You’re so attractive to him. Everything about you is sexy. It makes Kei a little crazy. 

He listens as your breathing quickens, as your voice wavers further. He feels the way your cunt begins to flutter faster, pulsing around him until you attempt to cry out and warn him. Then, you clamp down around him, arching your hips up off the mattress and pulling at his hair. Kei moves his head with you, relishing in the way you tug and scratch. 

He builds up to his orgasm so fast that it hurts. There’s pressure and then the mounting feeling of nearing the top, and then the peak and crash. He cums so hard that it hurts, pushing his cock as far as it will go into you and feeling the warm spill of his cum in the condom. He moans a long, drawn out sound that you mimic, his fingers knitting into the pillow behind you and his head dropping so that his lips sit near your neck.

He lets out a shaky breath, letting himself sit inside of you for a moment. You turn his head towards yours and kiss him. It’s gentle. A smooth and languid kiss that neither of you moves to deepen. Your lips move against each other and Kei closes his eyes to savor the taste. 

You tap his shoulder and Kei rolls over onto the bed beside you, snapping the condom off with a small wince and tying it up in a quick motion. He places it in the trash bin beside the bed. When he turns over, you’re already moving to slip under his arm, resting your head on his chest. 

There’s a passing moment of silence, not unlike the ones you both have fallen into before and you sigh lightly against his exposed chest. Kei follows suit, watching the way you move with his breath. 

His skin is sticky against yours and Kei can vaguely register the smell of sweat in the room. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since everyone left, nor does he know when they’ll be back, but he estimates that it won’t be more than an hour. Kei briefly wishes that he could pause time so that he can stay here with you, just like this. 

“I’m not good at this kind of stuff,” Kei admits quietly. 

“What stuff?” You ask, tracing your finger along the ridges of his lean abdomen. 

“Liking people,” he says. “Dating.” 

You give a small laugh. “No offense, Kei, but I could tell that from the moment I met you.” 

“Shit, seriously?” 

“Duh,” you breathe out. “It’s a little charming to me, though. I like that part of you.” 

So it’s true. You like the parts of Kei that he’s always worried were the worst of him. 

“Huh,” he says. “Could you tell?” 

“That you like me?” You ask, shifting your head to look at him. “Yeah, it was obvious after we established that you didn’t hate me. I always noticed you staring in the library.” 

“Really? I thought I was being a little slick with that,” Kei feels heat and color flood his face. 

You let out a good-natured laugh. “People can always tell when someone’s staring, Kei. It’s like a sixth sense.” 

“Good to know. Hindsight is 20/20 and all.” 

Another bout of silence follows. 

“You can keep staring though,” you say, “if you want to. And calling.”

“Okay,” Kei responds, “I didn’t really plan on stopping.” 

“Ha, freaky,” you laugh a little and Kei reaches up to flick the side of your head. “Wanna start going out?” 

Kei thinks about this for a moment. He thinks about being able to hold your hand, brush hair out of your face, watch movies on the couch and fix your breakfast the next morning. Then he thinks about not being able to do those things. 

“I think I’d be a little upset if we didn’t,” he admits. 

“Good,” you say. “Me too.” 

He’s fighting off sleep. His eyelids are heavy and he tries to blink away the shroud of rest that’s falling over him. Kei knows you’re fighting it too. Your breathing goes in and out of that familiar breathing that comes with sleep. Kei likes the way it sounds coming from you, restful and quiet. 

“We should… really get up to clean just a little,” he mumbles. 

“Five more minutes,” you say softly, your voice heavy and laden with drowsiness. 

“Okay,” he says. 

It’s just five more minutes. Kei fights sleep to hear you breathe like this a little longer. 

—

There’s a period after which Kei doesn’t know what to do with himself. Like the awkward start to a new hobby or passion, Kei finds himself enthralled with his budding relationship while simultaneously stumbling continuously along the way. You’re gracious with him though, letting him make mistakes and fumble until he finds his footing. 

It’s all very awkward for him, very new. He finds that it’s easier to just do the nice things he wants to do for you than to agonize over it and slowly, he begins to grow comfortable in the relationship that took you both so long to begin. 

At first, only Tadashi knew about you both. Kei thought that there was no point in hiding it from him, since you were over at the apartment all the time. Of course, Tadashi somehow already knew. That’s how it usually goes anyway, and Kei is relieved to find that his internal change did not trigger some global shift that would turn his life upside down. Everything is normal, save for the fact that Kei now tries to love without hindrance. 

Kei discovers that he’s possessive. That’s a new trait of his that he didn’t know belonged to him. Before you, before Kei had found something he so desperately wanted to keep, he’d been rather detached. Possessiveness was rare because Kei hardly ever got attached enough to want. Now though, he wants so badly that it hurts. You lean into it. Kei suspects that you like it when he wards off people who hit on you, when he pouts a little because he wants to be close to you, when he gets a little jealous. Kei doesn’t really mind it either. After all, despite his possessiveness, he never feels insecure. The both of you make sure of that. 

This sunny period with you, the one Kei worried would only last a week, drifts easily from one month into two and before he knows it, it’s been five. Kei had worried about that fundamental change. The one imperceivable to the human eye. He’d worried that slowly, it would begin to spoil what is so good between the two of you. 

“Kei,” you snap him out of it, placing a hand on his shoulder, “you okay?” 

He sets down his cup of tea, barely touched. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet?” You give him a wry smile. “This was your idea, after all.” 

“Yeah, well it was a pretty shit idea actually,” he breathes, “My parents aren’t exactly easy.” 

“You want to cancel?” You ask, your eyebrows pulling up in a clumsy attempt to hide your disappointment. Kei can see right through it.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I want you to meet them. I just don’t want you to meet them.” 

The truth of it is that Kei would like to cancel. In an ideal world, one where the sun rises on the opposite side of his bedroom window, he’d forget the whole thing and take you out to get dinner and see a movie. Things would be simpler that way, less uncomfortable for the both of you. But as uncomfortable as it is, Kei wants you to be a part of their lives too. You’re too important to not introduce to his parents and Kei can’t see it any other way, though he’d like to. 

You snort. “What does that even mean?” 

Kei gives you a pointed and somewhat irritated look. 

“Okay, sorry,” you raise your hands defensively and walk over to place them on his shoulders. “I know you’re worried, but I think it’s going to be okay. I’m excited.” 

Kei huffs out a laugh, unable to vocalize his nerves in their totality. “Excited to meet my dysfunctional, divorced parents that kind of hate each other?” 

“Yup. I’m excited to meet the people who raised you.” 

Kei smiles a little. “You should meet Akiteru, then,” It’s an exaggeration, but for some reason the prospect of seeing both of his parents together has him feeling a little more bitter than usual, even if it was his idea. 

You give him a little grin through narrowed eyes. There’s an understanding that passes from you to him, like you’re acknowledging that you haven’t forgotten what he’d told you nearly six months ago. Kei feels the tension in his shoulders relax a little. 

His parents are already at the restaurant when he arrives. It’s a swanky Italian place. The kind you go to on birthdays or for anniversaries, where the pasta dishes are things like lobster mushroom ravioli or truffle oil fettucini in tiny portions. Kei made sure to book somewhere that his parents would have trouble making a scene in, not that they ever had much of a mind for decorum when they were married. He’s surprised to find them chatting cordially when you both arrive. 

“Kei,” his mother stands from the table and crosses to give him a hug. He pats her back gently.

“Hi Mom,” Kei responds and she gives him a small smile. 

Kei’s dad adjusts the lapel of his suit, the same one he’s had for years, and reaches to give him a hug around one shoulder. 

“Guys,” he inhales, “This is my partner, _____.” 

You grin at Kei and then introduce yourself formally to his parents. Kei watches in awe as you blend right in, like you’ve known them for many years. He sits down while trying to keep the nerves from his face. 

“We’re so happy to meet you,” his mother starts, “Kei’s never introduced us to any of his partners before.” 

“I’m the first?” You smile a little, raising an eyebrow at Kei as if to tease him. 

“There really haven’t been that many to begin with,” Kei grumbles as if that somehow makes it better. 

You laugh again and the ball of conversation begins rolling. His mother tells you how pretty you are and his father nods a quieter approval. They talk about his university’s graduation ceremony, which they attended separately, as if they were together the entire time and then ask about your major, if you graduated with him, where you plan on going. You tell them what you want to do and that you want to go wherever Kei goes. He marvels at how smoothly the evening moves onward.

There are moments where the tension in his family becomes obvious. Little swells or comments that bring up a sour or shameful memory that cannot be ignored. Moments when the air thickens and it feels like the hammer is about to come down. It never does though. The tension, rather than snapping, simply fades away. 

He’d expected everything to blow up for some reason. Kei had expected that, like his childhood, the restaurant dishes would end up smashed on the floor. The glassware always ended up broken in the house, why shouldn’t they be broken here to shatter the illusion of things being good? He braces himself for a ball that never drops.

It takes him until the ride home, after a successful dinner, to realize that the dishes haven’t been smashed in years. Not since he was fourteen and his parents fought for custody. Not since his mother got remarried to her now husband almost 6 years ago and his father met his new wife. Kei wonders why he still feels like he lives in that house. The one his parents were at their worst in. Why can’t he feel like he lives in the apartment he rents with Tadashi? 

“I think that went well,” you say softly on the drive back. 

Kei nods his agreement. “I think so too.” 

You don’t bring up the fact that they didn’t fight, or that they spoke about their new kids with each other as if they were old friends. You don’t accuse Kei of being wrong, of being paranoid even though he most definitely was. 

“I’m glad that I got to meet them,” you say. “You look so much like your mom.” 

“Really?” Kei asks. 

“Yeah, you’ve got her eyes and her nose,” you smile a little. “It makes you two look similar.” 

“Huh,” he says. “I never really gave that much thought.” 

Kei turns the idea that he has his mother’s face over in his head. He’d spent so much time dreading that he was like them on the inside, that he never paused to consider the outside. So much of his life has been spent worrying that he’s just like them. That he breaks the plates and lashes out and acts cruelly even when he’s trying to love. But he has his mother’s eyes and for some reason that unsettles him. It’s like evidence. 

“You don’t really act like them though,” you say as if on cue. “You’re a little gentler.” 

“Me? Gentle?” Kei scoffs. 

“Yeah!” you say. “I mean, sure you’re prickly, but there’s a goodness to you that’s really obvious if you look.” 

Goodness. What a strange word to use to describe someone. Kei thinks that if there’s any goodness in him, if there’s anything that hasn’t been tainted by his parents’ sour personalities, it’s from Akiteru. Kei likes to believe that whatever good he got was from him. No matter how strained his relationship with him might be now, Kei is certain of that. 

“That’s a relief,” he admits in a flat tone. 

After a long pause, he speaks again. “Thanks.” 

“For what?” You laugh. 

“Bearing with me… and with them,” he says. “Couldn’t have been easy.” 

“It was easy,” you say. “Because I wanted to meet them. And I care about you.” 

Kei feels color rise to his cheeks. He turns to look in the sideview mirrors as he pulls the car into a parking spot in his apartment complex’s garage. 

“You say that stuff so easily,” he huffs. 

“What? That I care about you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, I do,” you laugh a little.

Kei’s face grows hotter and he distracts himself by putting the car into park and taking the key out of the ignition. 

“Me too,” he says quietly, waiting for you to catch up so that he can take your hand in his. “Sorry that I don’t say it a lot.” 

“Not to be rude,” you say, “but even if you never said it at all, it would be obvious. You’re kind of a sucker.” 

Kei supposes that that’s true and he gives a small laugh before nudging your shoulder with his. The parking garage is humid and stuffy, but he holds your hand in it anyway. 

—

You’re half asleep in bed beside him and your breathing comes in even sweeps the way it does just before you fall asleep. Kei listens to it for a moment, admiring the sound of it and the way your chest feels expanding against his. 

He thinks about dinner, about how good it feels to have introduced you. How real it makes this relationship feel despite the uneasiness surrounding his familial situation. Kei thinks about his parents. He thinks about their inability to be good for each other. He thinks about the worst of them, something he’s familiar with, before thinking about the best of them. Kei imagines the way their faces looked at dinner, talking about the children they’re raising properly. They’re good people, they just made each other bad. Molecular shifts that changed them for the worst. The notebook theory in its most frightening form. But they were good too. 

Kei thinks about loving you. His reluctance to do so originally isn’t quite beyond him yet. He’s unsure, in fact, if he’ll ever really get past the fear of the fall, the fear of becoming what his parents made each other. But he also thinks about his promise to love you for real. Love is not something that Kei does. He knows now that it's something that happens to him, like it happened to his parents. They loved each other once, even if it made them so blind that they couldn’t see just how bad it made them. 

Kei still resents the fact that he was born to fix a marriage that never would have worked in the first place. He resents being a fix rather than a gift, but at the very least, his existence is proof that his parents cared enough about their family to try. Even if it was misguided, at least they tried even a little. 

In the quiet after of an emotionally charged evening, loving you seems like an easier task for him now. It’s not hard to love you. What’s hard, Kei thinks, is not hurting you. He carries a lot of baggage that, for a long while, felt like too much. Kei thinks he can manage if it’s for you. He’ll bear the brunt of it. He’ll put in the work. 

Yes, Kei is his parents’ son, but he’s also Tadashi’s friend, Akiteru’s brother, the person who loves you. He doesn’t live in the house with a bin full of shards and no glassware anymore. 

“Are you awake?” He whispers across the pillow. 

“Mhm,” you hum, pushing your cheek into his arm.

“Let’s move in together,” he says. 

You tense against him and slowly attempt to blink away sleep. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he responds. “I want to live with you.” 

“Okay then,” you smile a little. “Let’s do it.” 

—

In the fall, when his lease with Tadashi ends and his friend gives him a tearful, yet somewhat silly goodbye, Kei moves into your new shared apartment. Two small rooms in a modest part of town, a shared kitchen and living room, one bathroom, a mismatch of furniture from both of your old places, and an empty fridge. The first night is spent eating take out on the floor with you in front of a TV with no proper stand. Kei has never been happier. 

And in the morning, when the sun comes through the slats of his window, broken up into gentle dots by the orange-leaved trees outside, Kei rises slowly. He rises gently. Kei doesn’t want to wake you, not before he’s made breakfast. He pads out to the kitchen, where boxes are strewn about, half unpacked, and grabs the little brown notebook from the box it’s been temporarily living in. In it, he writes a grocery list full of the things you like. It’s a good enough reason, a good enough change. 

The notebook theory. 

[merlinssassybeard]

'Ex' Husband Gojo - Better without me

Part 2 || series masterlist

Tags- gojo x fem reader, angst, fluff

Synopsis- A look at Gojo's feelings for his now estranged wife. While his wife goes through a breakdown

7th December, 2016

It was Satoru's 27th birthday.

Satoru knew but it really wasn't his priority honestly. Besides, he's not really in a mental state to even think of it.

He recalls how you, his wife, would plan various different things each year for his birthday. You, his joy and the light of his dim life.

All gone now...

Gojo had finished his mission overseas as soon as he could and returned back to Tokyo to submit reports of the mission and then again had to leave for his next mission in Seoul, South Korea.

He was aware of the incident with you just a day ago. Shoko had told him that it was just dehydration which caused a little fever and that everything's okay.

Gojo wasn't convinced. He didn't knew why, even when he wanted to believe Shoko, his six eyes indicated otherwise. They tell him there's more and Shoko probably knows but staying quiet.

Satoru had a few hours in his hand before leaving for the Airport check in by 4 am.

He decided he'd go to the Estate, which now belonged to you (not legally). He wanted to drop by the souvenirs from that particular day since he didn't really got any chance to.

Satoru Gojo is very prideful and quite egoistic and that is no secret. One day, his pride and ego will be the death of him.

7th December 2016 || 1 am

Satoru arrived at the Estate.

The air felt heavy but he went in anyways. Flashes of that day playing endlessly in his head. How everything unfolded and how you ran after him to stop him but his infinity barred you. Satoru feels guilty.

He usually doesn't have any guilt or regret regarding anything but with you... its different. He shouldn't have just walked away maybe. Maybe talking to you and trying to understand you where you're coming from would've helped.

He enters the house and is welcomed by the sleepy head staff.

"Welcome back Lord Satoru. Shall i prepare your room? I'll warm the food-", the head staff, Mr Kawaguchi, asked.

"No need", "is y/n asleep? How's she doing?", Satoru asked as if didn't even hear what Mr Kawaguchi said.

"Yes, Lord Satoru, Lady y/n is better now.", he said and started guiding Gojo to the room where you resided, "Lady y/n had trouble sleeping so the doctor had prescribed some sleeping pills"

Both of them reached outside your room. Satoru ordered the Mr Kawaguchi to leave him.

Satoru closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying his best to suppress his intrusive thoughts of hugging you and tell you that he's sorry (something he would never utter), have a conversation with you to figure things out on what is the root cause of such an abrupt bringing up of something as hideous as a Divorce.

He opened the sliding doors and entered the room for the first time after the last time he'd been here.

You were sleeping on your back with your arms all around and legs in another direction, trying to cover all of the space of the bed as much as you could.

This was your marital bed. A bed custom made to fit the giant 6'4 of a husband of yours.

But now it was just you...

He looked around the room. Recalling the old times, the 4 years of marriage he had.

What a blissful dream it was... just you and him against the world. Deep in love, exploring new things together. The warmth of your palm on his, your blushing cheeks whenever he kissed your lips before leaving for his missions. The nights that he had spent in your warmth on this very bed, in this very room. Old times when you slept in the protection of his big strong arms or when he picked you up from the bed and threw you into the water filled bathtub...

Blissful times indeed...

A smile had crept on Satoru's lips because the memories.

He placed the bag of souvenirs by the bedside table and leaned down to look at your face.

Dark circles, slight hollow cheeks, bony hands, piles and piles of medications.

'Oh what have you done y/n', he thinks looking at you.

If he had to be honest, he's never been this vulnerable in his life like he is now. So many emotions flooding him that he couldn't help but remove his dark glasses and lean down to your face.

He placed his hands gently caressing your soft hair and dropped a kiss on your forehead.

You were lost in your dreams and Satoru was in his. His dreams where he had you and took better care of you and did everything right.

But that's just a dream. A dream with no scope of fulfillment...

He knew this is the last and final time he'll see you this up close.

"Y/n.." he whispered, "I hope you find-", he struggled to say any further but still got himself to say it, "I hope you find someone better who will give you a better life... that i failed too."

Satoru couldn't bear to look at you any further from this moment. He gave his blessings to you for a better life and left that instant.

He knew he won't stop you from leaving if... no, when thats what you want. A person who loves, will never hold their lover captive against their will.

And that's what Satoru believes in...

It was 8am in the morning.

You were sitting in your bed, wrapped in the thick blankets while sipping your soup that your attendant brought while Shoko sat in the gray arm chair beside your bed reading newspaper.

Shoko has been visiting you every morning and evening to check up on you whether you're taking your pills timely and also to give you company considering the fact that you barely have any friends.

Your only friend, if you have to name with whom you would share everything would be Shoko and Mariko Zenin (whom you befriended during Clan meetings.).

You saw today's date.

'7th December', it read.

"Shoko... its his birthday today...", you mumbled with your head bowed

Shoko looked at you and she could see it, all the emotions that reflected on your face.

She wanted to confront you that why don't you tell him that it was all but a mistake afterall didn't he try to persuade you? So this should be easy?

She knew though this isn't the right time because you're still recovering but she couldn't hold herself...

"Y/n", Shoko began and you looked up at her.

"Y/n why don't you tell him about it? He has all the right to know you know! Didn't you say he persuaded you to not to leave? And you don't want to leave either!" She made a point. "So just call... this weird thing between you two off already. And be together"

You kept blankly staring at her.

Is it all really that easy? As if!

"Shoko, i can't." You told her.

"But why? Wouldn't it be easier?"

"Shoko you don't understand! I can't... i can't just tell Satoru that he was going to be father! You don't get it!", you tried to explain her.

"But why? Y/n why? Try me!", Shoko got up from the arm chair and sat on the bed and held your hand.

You didn't want to tell her. You really don't want to but she's the only person whom you trust.

"Shoko you don't get it, you don't get it!", you insisted

"Try me y/n!"

"You won't get it Shoko!", you kept refusing

"Y/n!", Shoko kept insisting.

"Satoru didn't want to be father and that was our mutual agreement before we got married! I've always taken precautions to stand by my word ever since our marriage... but Satoru's family has been pressing me to get pregnant... So i didn't take any pills one day and a month later found out i was carrying... our baby.."

Shoko was left speechless.

But you continued with tears rolling down...

"I thought... when Satoru will return I will tell him everything but before i could... i-i lost our child". You struggled

"Maybe it was the God's way of punishing me for trying to force an innocent man like Satoru something he isn't prepared for.", you laughed through the tears. "Maybe its better this way Shoko. We should Divorce. I can't carry children to make his family happy anyway..."

Shoko wanted to say but the words just wouldn't come to her tongue. Maybe its because its not her place to interfere.

"Y/n...", Shoko didn't know what to say any further so she leaned closer and hugged you.

You hugged her back. You felt like a large rock got off of your chest now that you told her everything...

But things were about to take a different direction because one of the lady staff was secretly eavesdropping your conversation.

And she heard... all of it...

Tags

@sindela @dazai-gojo-kinnie @whats-humanity-lol @thewickedofrizz @phantasmia @ghostllyyz @yihona-san06 @Enaaneaen@sweet-almonds @Angel_🫶🏻@autumn-slaves @wondermilka @hh0pe @kugisakinobarades @witchbybirth @nineooooo @ssc7514 @Hana-patata @blue_spices @haikyuubiggestsimp @urstepmom69 @hueneve @chayunwoo@waosobii @nadzhaf @yoriichiswife @tiltraumadouspart @kirschtein123 @whoisobsessed @Asala @ashthemadwriter @remnirris @svm666 @voidsatoru @staygoldsquatchling02 @dunnowhy-m @nnasv @violetmatcha

If i forgot to tag anyone, i apologise.

A/N- The next chapter will be quite spicy ^v^

[smileysuh]

ice cold, cabin fever - part 2

🌙 staring. Seungcheol & Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. "come on, let’s just go back to snakes and ladders and you can pretend we’re not snowed in with no firewood and a dude you hate locked in the bathroom."

cw/ tw. threesome, daddy issues, mean/tsundere cheol, wet dreams, spanking, marking, dirty talk, choking, unprotected sex, pain kink, dacryphilia, breast play, praise, degradation, fingering, oral, hand job, blow job, multiple orgasms, overstim, edging, orgasm denial, manhandling, size kink, cumplay, finger sucking, spit roasting, hair pulling, voyeurism, I petnames. (hers) princess, bitch, whore, baby (s.coups) cheol, douche, dick, daddy (mingyu) gyu.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 25.9k

🍭 aus. e2l, s2l, step brothers Jihan, non idol, ski resort, roomies, etc...

☀️ mlist + inspo. 🙂 🙂 🙂 I pls note. this fic was too long to put in one post, so read part 1 first here :)

16: Tuesday- morning

When Mingyu wakes up, he goes through the routine motions; first, he looks at you, admiring you’re pretty face for a few moments, and then, his eyes shift to Cheol. 

When he finds Seungcheol fast asleep, Mingyu’s taken aback, and he decides to wait for his friend to wake up before going for breakfast.

An hour passes in the quiet of the cabin before Mingyu is texting his other friends to see if they’re doing anything.

Boredom does not agree with Kim Mingyu, and soon, he finds himself pulling on a jacket to go down the snowy path to join Jeonghan and Joshua at breakfast.

“Cheol’s really still sleeping?” Joshua asks in shock upon Mingyu’s arrival.

“What were you three up to last night that knocked out mister early riser?” Jeonghan presses while he gnaws on some bacon.

“We watched a movie-” Mingyu starts to explain, stealing a piece of toast from the many plates of food in front of his friends, “I went to sleep early, and I’m not sure when they eventually went to bed.”

The brothers exchange a glance that has Mingyu’s skin tingling with annoyance.

“Don’t do that!” he insists.

“Do what?” Jeonghan cocks his head to the side, but there’s a small grin on his face, and Mingyu gets the feeling he knows exactly what he’d just done. 

“Exchange glances like that,” Mingyu groans. “Just say what you two are thinking, I hate having to guess.”

“I think Jeonghan and I were just… surprised that you’d go to bed and leave those two awake to do… whatever they got up to.”

“Whatever they got up to,” Mingyu echoes, rolling his eyes. “You guys make it sound like they were fucking while I was asleep.”

Jeonghan shrugs. “Maybe they were. How would you know? You were sleeping.”

“You know,” Mingyu puts his hands flat on the table, leaning back in his chair to stretch his arms out, “you guys are usually pretty smart, but this whole trip- I think you’ve both been seeing things that aren’t there.”

“Or maybe we’ve been seeing things you’re too caught up in our step-sister to notice,” Jeonghan suggests. “When you were dancing with her at the wedding, did you look at Cheol even once?”

“Why would I? I was dancing.” Mingyu hates where this is going.

“He was glaring at you,” Joshua says factually, “and even when I cut in, he was glaring at me too. Wouldn’t that make you wonder about his intentions?”

“No,” Mingyu decides to be stubborn, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe he was just jealous that y/n is getting all the attention, ever think of that? It’s not like we’ve all been eager to do slopes with him like we usually are when we’re at ski lodges.”

“You have a point,” Joshua concedes, “but even still, it doesn’t account for all his weird behaviours this trip.”

Before Mingyu can fight the issue further, something over his shoulder catches Jeonghan’s eye, and the tall maknae finds himself swiveling in his chair to see a disheveled-looking Cheol stomping into the restaurant.

“He definitely looks like he got laid last night,” Jeonghan whispers as their friend approaches the table. 

“Good morning Seungcheol,” Joshua greets him with a smile, watching the man take the seat next to Mingyu before he pushes a mug forward, “have some coffee.”

“You look tired,” Jeonghan presses the issue almost immediately. “Long night?” 

“Too long,” Seungcheol all but growls, taking the cup to down some coffee before his face crinkles in disgust. He looks to Joshua when he muses “you and you’re fucking black coffee,” then he’s tearing at a sugar packet and reaching for cream.

“Mingyu says he went to bed early last night- did you have fun staying up with our sweet step sister?” 

Seungcheol assesses Jeonghan with a gloomy look, then he shakes his head. “I know what you’re insinuating,” he states, “but that’s not what happened.”

“Then what did happen?” Jeonghan rests his chin on his hand, cocking his head as he stares down his friend. “You’re usually quite happy in the mornings- excited about skiing-”

“Yeah, well, usually I can get a decent night’s sleep, without Mingyu’s sleeptalking bothering me too much,” Seungcheol sighs. “But last night, I had to deal with two people making noises.”

“Our step-sister’s a sleeptalker?” Jeonghan nearly laughs. “Who would have thought.”

“Not me.” Seungcheol takes a sip of his newly perfected coffee. “Although, I wouldn’t really call what she and Mingyu were doing last night sleep talking.” 

“Oh my god,” Mingyu groans, slumping his elbows forward onto the table and resting his head in his hands.

He’d had a wet dream last night, one that he’s not prepared to discuss with his friends. Mingyu can still remember vivid flashes, images of you moaning beneath him, hands grabbing at his shoulders-

“No way,” Jeonghan laughs, already taking delight in what he’s hearing, “you’re telling us, that Mingyu and y/n were having sex dreams last night?” 

“Yup.” Seungcheol downs the cup of coffee. “It sounded that way.”

“Was it just like… moaning?” 

For someone usually more reserved, Joshua’s question is definitely not one Mingyu had expected, and he finds his jaw dropping while he stares at the two men seated across from him.

“Mostly moaning,” Seungcheol confirms, “but they both whimpered a few times too.”

“Oh my god-” Mingyu says again, his skin heating with embarrassment. 

“Listen- if both Mingyu and y/n are feeling horny, you could come spend the night with us,” Jeonghan suggests in a somewhat sympathetic tone. “We’ve got a couch too.”

“I’m not sleeping on your fucking couch,” Seungcheol snaps back almost immediately, fist clenching on the table. 

“Guys-” Mingyu groans, looking between Jeonghan and Joshua, “this is your new step-sister we’re talking about- aren’t either of you the least bit protective? I can’t believe what I’m hearing-”

“Sure, we’re protective,” Jeonghan leans back in his chair, “which is why we’re offering her up to you two. You think we’d let any hotel random get with her? We’re only open to this because we know neither of you are sociopaths.” 

“On top of that,” Joshua sighs, “we’re all adults here. It’s not like we’re discussing you two taking her virginity or anything-”

“When did I get looped into this?” Seungcheol asks. “It sounds like you’re talking about a threesome now-”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you guys shared a girl together,” Jeonghan points out. “It’s been a while since then, but we all know you two can play nice.” 

“This is my cue to leave this conversation,” Seungcheol says, standing and offering an obviously fake smile to the men surrounding him, “you guys better have a good day, because you’ve ruined the start of mine.”

17: Tuesday - afternoon

Seungcheol regrets doing a medium-level ski hill the moment he gets off the lift at the top. A flurry of thoughts and feelings nearly overwhelm the snowboarder as he assesses the situation in front of him.

You’re as easy for him to pick out now as one of his own friends, your familiar parka drawing his eyes.

He wonders if he’ll be able to bypass you- but the longer he watches you simply stand at the top of the slope, the more he realizes you probably need his help.

He’s aggravated that you’re here, trying a medium-level hill when you’re so obviously a beginner. Are you even good enough to say you’re adept at the easiest slope?

He thinks not.

Seungcheol hopes you’ll start down the hill, and when you do, you’ll be so distracted watching where you’re going that he’ll be able to ski right past you undetected-

A minute passes, then two, then three- 

The near olympic level snowboarder is beginning to get cold just watching you, and with a sigh of defeat, he finally closes the distance.

Seungcheol stops at your side, a small “Hey,” leaving his lips.

His gaze is fixed ahead, but in his periphery, he sees you turn to look at him. “Oh… hey.”

“You’re doing a medium-level run.”

“Uh huh.”

Seungcheol can hear the frigid wind as it picks up small specks of snow and dances them around in a cyclone of motion. He’s always loved the quiet of skiing, but he’s beginning to resent the silence between you both.

“Did you-” he swallows, correcting his plan of attack for the conversation. “Do you think you’ll be okay?” 

“I’m not so sure yet,” you confess.

“You know about, uh… pizza?” Seungcheol wants to slap himself the moment the words leave his lips. “Like, pointing your skis together in a triangle to slow down?” 

“Yeah. I’m just sort of afraid it won’t help me actually stop.”

“What if we took it slow? Instead of going straight down, we could do a wide zigzag.”

“When did this become a we thing?” you laugh.

Seungcheol turns to look at you, and when your eyes meet, your smile falters a little. You’re quick to turn away, focusing on the hill again.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” he finds himself asking.

You take a few seconds to consider it before answering. “No… I think a zigzag could be good.”

“Good.”

“I’m going to slow you down though.”

“That’s okay.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “I’ll uh- if you look like you’re going to fall or anything, I’ll be here, you can grab onto me.”

“Thanks.”

“You know,” Seungcheol begins to move slowly, watching for you to follow, “you really should be using poles.”

“You’re not using any.”

“That’s because I’m much better at this than you.” 

You roll your eyes.

 Seungcheol cuts the first zigzag, holding his gloved hand out to you in case you need assistance. “Why did you come on this trip? You’re obviously not someone who likes skiing.”

“Honestly?” You wobble a little, and then you grab onto his forearm, making a less-than-pretty turn. “When I was first invited, I wasn’t going to come.”

You pause, focusing on your skiing, and Seungcheol stays quiet, giving you space to continue.

“I think- when my dad told me he was going to remarry, and I hadn’t even met Seulki or Jeonghan or Joshua- I felt like, maybe he was being too fast? Like… my whole life, he’d never really uh… been there for me? So, I guess I was a little bitter that he’d found someone that he was so sure on, you know?”

Seungcheol nods sympathetically and the two of you glide slowly down the incline at an angle, your hand still latched to his arm. 

“But after a while, I realized that, if I didn’t pull up my big girl panties and come on the trip, I’d miss out on being at the wedding, miss out on supporting him, and meeting the family he’s marrying into.”

“That makes sense.”

“Also…” your knees wobble a little at your next turn, and you grip him even tighter, “when I told him I wasn’t coming to the wedding initially, he said it would be okay, and that he could give the cabin up to family friends, and I guess that hurt me a little, which is why it took longer for me to agree to this.” 

“You and your dad aren’t that close, huh?” Seungcheol muses.

He’d been noticing this, from the moment you’d shown up at his cabin alone he’d been wondering about your relationship with your father.

Things are making more sense now, and he can see why you’d been so bitchy the first day when you’d arrived.

He doesn’t know what it’s really like, to be in your shoes, but he can imagine that making the trek to the cabins with your suitcase, alone, hadn’t been the greatest start to a vacation. 

“We’re not.” You confirm his suspicions, and Seungcheol’s heart melts ever so slightly at the way you’re really opening up to him.

“I’m not too close with mine either,” he admits. 

“You’re not?”

“No,” Seungcheol watches your skis when you take the next turn, and bites his tongue on another tip he’s itching to give you. “Growing up, my dad was always so fixated on me turning out to be a great man, that he kind of um… didn’t allow me to have the childhood I think I would have preferred.”

“I can imagine… being a near olympic level snowboarder- that sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“It was.” Seungcheol hates the way his voice still cracks when he talks about this sort of thing. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” The lump in his throat is back. 

“Still…” you insist, releasing his arm and changing the topic, “You know, I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

“You are,” he admits, “doing really well, I mean.”

“If you wanted to ditch me, you totally could.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. you’d probably be at the bottom of the hill already if you weren’t here with me-” you point out. “I appreciate the effort you’re putting in, but uh… you’re not one of my step-brothers, so you’ll probably never have to see me again, and I think we’d both prefer to ski without diving too deep into our daddy issues.”

He’s very taken aback by your quick change of attitude, and the part of his heart that had melted is quick to freeze up again.

“You’re right,” he says quickly. “But if you go too fast and end up breaking your leg, don’t come crying to me about it.”

“And you said I’m the person who needs the last word,” you scoff. 

He lets you have this one, and continues down the hill without you, mouth set in a firm line.

18: Tuesday - evening

If last night had been the first night you were able to relax, then tonight is the first night you’ve had much peace, despite the storm raging outside. And it’s all because mister grumpy is passed out cold in his bed while you and Mingyu quietly play board games you found on a shelf in the cabin.

Mingyu had explained that Cheol hadn’t slept well the night before, and you’re more than happy to enjoy the cabin without a brooding man setting you off every five minutes.

But sleep only lasts so long, and suddenly, in the middle of a game of snakes and ladders, Seungcheol all but shoots upright in his bed.

“What time is it?!” he asks, practically leaping off his mattress to run to the window-

“It’s like nine?” 

“Why didn’t you guys wake me up for dinner?!”

“We didn’t go out,” Mingyu explains, “we heated some water up on the countertop burner and had ramen-”

“Fuck-” Seungcheol groans, running both hands through his hair. “It’s really snowing out there-”

“Some dude in the hotel this afternoon said it’s going to snow like- a few feet or something,” Mingyu nods. “We thought you’d be glad we let you sleep since we’re not going anywhere.”

The elder man releases a groan again. “You were supposed to wake me up, so I could run to the hotel and grab more firewood before the storm got worse!”

You all look to the cast iron fireplace, where you notice, for the first time, that you’re down to the last two logs.

“You didn’t tell us we had to wake you up,” Mingyu says defensively.

“That’s because when I fell asleep, neither of you were here.”

“Well,” you cross your arms over your chest, “you could have left us a note.”

Seungcheol releases a deep sigh. “You know what? Yeah, I could have left you a note. I also really didn’t think I’d sleep this long. Fuck.”  

“At least we know that Jeonghan and Joshua did the same thing yesterday,” you point out, “and they didn’t die.”

“Yeah, they did the same thing, and I made fun of them for forgetting to grab wood- I warned them about the storm, told them to grab more, and now I did the same thing.” 

You sort of feel like laughing. “So it sounds like you’re really just mad at yourself, and not at us.” 

“Sounds that way,” Seungcheol groans. 

“How did you forget to get firewood though? First, you had an afternoon nap, which is very unlike you, then the thing with the wood- are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Mingyu stands up, easily closing the distance between himself and his friend. He reaches out to touch Seungcheol’s forehead. “You’re not sick or anything, right?”

“Of course I’m not sick,” Seungcheol slaps Mingyu’s hand away in favour of pointing his own finger in his friend’s face. “I’m tired and distracted, because you two kept me up all night!” 

“What?” Your heart lurches, and your mouth becomes dry. 

They both turn to look at you, and Seungcheol’s hand drops to his side. 

“It’s nothing-” Seungcheol’s ears have turned red.

“It’s obviously not nothing,” you stand up, board game completely forgotten. “What do you mean we kept you up all night?”

“You’re both sleep talkers, that’s all,” he tries to brush it off, but you immediately know exactly what he’s talking about, because last night’s dream is still etched in your mindseye like a fucking pornographic movie. 

Your jaw drops.

“What-” you bite at your lip, “what was he saying?” you motion to Mingyu.

“Are you sure it’s him that you’re wondering about?” Seungcheol’s quick retort makes a tingle run through your body.

The tension in this cabin has never been so thick before, and Mingyu falters slightly. “Come on dude, don’t play like that-”

“Like what?” Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest, and you hate that his tshirt accentuates how large his biceps are. “Here, I’ll make it easy on all of us. Mingyu was whimpering your name,” he nods to you, “and you seemed to be more conflicted on who you were fucking in your dream.”

You already know that. You can distinctly remember the way your dream self had been sandwiched between both of your new cabin mates, and you can remember not being able to focus on one or the other.

You can’t believe your subconscious had betrayed you as hard as it had- can’t believe you’d been moaning both Mingyu and Seungcheol’s names in your sleep last night-

“Who…” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “who was she conflicted about?”

Seungcheol grins, and for a moment, he looks very much like Jeonghan, a puppet master controlling all the strings. “Guess.”

Mingyu’s gaze shifts to you, and his lips part as if he’s going to say something-

“You know what? I’m going to go outside and get us some firewood,” you declare, grabbing your parka off the back of the couch.

“No you’re not.” Seungcheol’s in front of the door, and you can tell by the stubborn set of his mouth that he’s not intent on letting you escape this.

“Let me leave- you can’t stop me,” you insist, trying to push him out of your way-

You have the same success you’d have with a brick wall, and Seungcheol looks down at you with amusement.

“Y/n,” Mingyu gently grabs your forearm, “it’s a blizzard out there, you really shouldn’t-”

“You’d never make it to the hotel,” Seungcheol tells you, which only adds fuel to your rage.

“Well maybe I’ll just go one cabin over and bunk with my step-brothers tonight, did you ever consider that, mister ‘I forgot the firewood’?” 

Seungcheol narrows his eyes at you, and then he steps to the side.

“Cheol-” Mingyu all but gasps, holding onto your arm tighter, “we can’t-”

With your free hand, you go to throw the door open- only to be met with resistance on the other side.

“What the fuck-” you push the door harder, and it barely budges.

“It’s snow,” Seungcheol tells you, moving to sit on the couch. “Small cabins like this, doors open outwards.”

“So we’re literally snowed in?!” you can’t believe your luck. “This has to be against regulation-”

“Hotel staff come by every morning to clear the trail to the cabins and deal with doors,” Seungcheol sighs, “which you would know if you ever bothered to wake up before noon.”

“This can’t be happening-”

“You’re in the safest place you can be right now, trust me.”

“Of course I don’t fucking trust you!” you find yourself yelling, tearing your arm away from Mingyu so you can begin to pace. “I feel like a fucking caged animal-”

“Well, fuck me with all the swearing,” Seungcheol releases a chuckle that has your blood boiling, “are you claustrophobic or something?” 

“And what if I am? You going to plow this door down for me if I say I can’t handle small spaces?” Your heart rate is increasing by the moment. “Fuck- and we don’t even have firewood-”

“It’s gonna be a long night for you, princess.”

“Cheol-” Mingyu’s closed the door, and he’s leaning back against it, watching you with a frown, “don’t make this worse than it already is-”

“Or what? You two gonna lock me in the bathroom to shut me up?”

“That’s a really good idea,” you look to Mingyu, knowing it will take two of you to manage the coup Seungcheol is suggesting. “We should really consider locking him in the bathroom-”

“And I bet you’d fucking love that wouldn’t you,” Seungcheol growls. “It would finally give you the privacy to fuck the guy you’ve been buddying up to for days- you know what? Fine, I’ll lock myself in the bathroom.” 

“Fine!” you scream.

“Fine!” he yells back, getting off the couch and stomping to the small bathroom.

The door slams behind him, and for the first time since this whole dilemma began, you’re able to take an actual breath.

“You two are something else,” Mingyu whispers. 

“Gyu,” you turn to the only true friend you’ve made this whole trip, “help me with the door, I swear to god I’m going to sleep with Jeonghan and Joshua tonight-”

Mingyu shakes his head, leaning back against the door. “Remember how a few nights ago Cheol said the storm would wind sweep you away? Well, tonight’s even worse- I hate to agree with him, but I can’t let you leave.”

“You mean won’t.”

“I think I sort of mean can’t,” Mingyu sighs. “Seriously, I doubt this door would budge much even if we both pushed it.”

“So you’re not going to help me.”

“What if I am helping you, though?” he cocks his head. “I mean, you look like you’ve calmed down a little already- come on, let’s just go back to snakes and ladders and you can pretend we’re not snowed in with no firewood and a dude you hate locked in the bathroom.”

“Mingyu I swear to god-” you want to fight him on this, but when he reaches out a hand to you, you find yourself allowing him to pull you into an embrace.

You’ve not hugged someone in a long time, and this is exactly what you need.

Mingyu’s so big- and you press your cheek against his wonderful chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart while he tucks his chin over your head, all but locking you into the warmth of his body. 

He releases a deep breath, and you mirror the motion, feeling your muscles begin to lose tension. 

“You guys better not be actually fucking.”

Of course Seungcheol ruins the moment, words carrying through the shut bathroom door, causing your heart to pick up speed yet again-

You turn, pulling away from Mingyu and opening your mouth to shoot back a response- but the large man draws you back, one hand smoothing against your hair.

“Shh-” he breathes. “Ignore him.”

“It’s hard ignoring that asshole,” you admit quietly, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of Mingyu’s cologne. “You smell nice.”

“Thanks,” he continues petting you, “you do too.”

For a few moments, you allow yourself to simply relax in his arms, and it does help you forget that you’re snowed in.

“So uh…” Mingyu swallows thickly, “about the dream you were having last night-”

“Oh my god-” you bury your face against his chest, hoping to disappear.

“Cheol never specified - and we don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to - but, was I one of the people you were thinking about? In your dream last night?”

You can’t help but laugh slightly, adoring how this kind, sexy, beefed man can still be so humble and cute at the same time- 

“Of course you’re one of the people in the dream-” you admit. 

“Okay… good.” 

“And you were dreaming of me too? Cheol wasn’t just making that up?”

“No, he wasn’t making it up.”

“It’s funny,” you say after a moment, “for a guy who acts like he sort of hates me, Cheol did a pretty good job setting this whole interaction up… almost makes me wonder if he forgot the firewood on purpose.”

“Oh, you’d just fucking love that wouldn’t you?” 

“Cheol,” you find yourself getting angry again, “I swear to god that if you keep listening in and yelling at us, I’m going to talk in whispers and maybe even push something in front of your door so you’re actually bolted into the bathroom-”

“Joke’s on you, princess, this door opens inward so even if you blocked it, I could still get out.”

“I hate you!”

“I hate you more!”

“Jesus christ.” Mingyu begins petting you again, and when he opens his mouth to speak, he addresses his friend; “Dude, you can’t stay in there all night- it’s already beginning to get a little cold in here-”

“I can stay in here if I want to.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, “he can stay in there if he wants to.”

Mingyu sighs. “I really can’t understand why you two hate each other so much,” you open your mouth to begin your long list of plights but Mingyu shakes his head, “and I really don’t want to know- it will only get you heated again.”

“Isn’t heat what we’re looking for?” you point out.

“Not that kind of heat.”

There’s a pause, and you enjoy the warmth of his body again. “Do you really want to continue playing snakes and ladders?”

“No, do you?”

“No,” you shake your head slightly.

“Should we…” his voice lowers to a whisper, “should we move to your bed? Just to get under the covers for warmth-”

You nod, pulling away from the giant human heater and crossing the small space to your bed. You’d been happy to find the cabin equipped with doubles instead of singles, but never more happy than now.

You’re quick to burrow under the blanket, and Mingyu tentatively joins you. “So… are we thinking spooning, or-”

“Spooning works.” You roll onto your side, turning your back to the man who immediately curls against you, tugging you to his chest in a protective way that has your skin tingling with interest.

You can feel Mingyu’s breath against the nape of your neck, and you’re struck by how good it all feels-

The door to the bathroom slowly creaks open, and Cheol appears, sitting on the floor and staring directly at you both.

“Oh my god,” you groan, lifting the blanket to hide yourself.

“The funny thing is,” Mingyu sighs behind you, “I thought you two were just starting to get along.”

“What gave you that idea?” Seungcheol retorts.

“Didn’t you have a whole deep conversation about daddy issues today?”

Your body freezes, and there’s a long pause before Seungcheol asks, “How did you hear about that? Did she tell you?”

“No-” another breath that fans across your neck, “Jeonghan was skiing right behind you guys this afternoon- said you were way too wrapped up in each other to even notice your surroundings.”

“I wouldn’t say we were wrapped up in each other,” comes a gruff response.

“Hannie said she was clinging to your arm and everything.”

You hate that Mingyu is right. You had felt as if you were getting somewhere with the brooding man your step-brothers call their best friend. If he hadn’t woken up from his nap being all accusatory- if you hadn’t felt immediately claustrophobic and put on the spot at the mention of sleep talking and wet dreams… maybe your evening would have gone much smoother.

“And- maybe I was imagining it, but… didn’t you two say goodnight to each other last night?” Mingyu presses. “I was half asleep, but I’m pretty sure you two were actually being sort of nice before bed?”

For a guy who plays the part of being a happy himbo, Mingyu is much more observant than you’d realized. 

“You know what I think?” he continues. “I think you’re both just sort of stubborn, but when you clash, the stubbornness is magnified- kind of like- two immovable walls getting in each other’s faces.”

“That metaphor doesn’t make any sense,” Seungcheol insists.

“Sounds like something a stubborn brick wall would say.”

“Brick walls can’t talk.”

“And you two can’t seem to have a simple conversation either, so is it really that bad of a metaphor, or are you just in denial?” Mingyu’s definitely hit a nerve, and the silence in the cabin moves to a heavy stagnancy. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed, Joshua said the same thing at breakfast yesterday.”

“He did?” You find yourself perking up at the idea that something along the lines of this conversation may have happened before. You peek out from your hiding place under the blanket, eager for your voice to be heard clearly when you ask, “You guys were talking about me at breakfast?”

“We’ve been talking about you a lot,” Mingyu admits, which causes your skin to heat with embarrassment, and you burrow back under the covers.

“Don’t feed her ego.”

“You’re just jealous because no one’s been feeding you since you got here,” you snap, pulling down the blanket to glare at Cheol. “I bet you get all the girls back where you’re from- I bet it’s so easy for you-”

“It is.”

“So now who’s ego is really being hurt by all of this?” He doesn’t respond. “First you say I’m the drama queen, when it’s really you, then you say I’m the one who needs the last word, when it’s really you, and now I’m the one who shouldn’t get my ego stroked when you’re really just jealous that I’m here cuddling with Mingyu and you’re still sitting on the bathroom floor like a stubborn douche-”

“Call me a stubborn douche again.”

“Guys-”

“You’re a stubborn douche- what are you going to do about it?” you narrow your eyes at the man who has your whole body practically on fire every time you talk.

“Bet you wish I would spank you.” 

Your breath catches, and you find yourself in a staring match with the man on the floor. You can’t think of anything to say-

“I knew when you were moaning ‘harder’ in your sleep last night it wasn’t just about fucking-” Seungcheol laughs at you. “I’m sure your subconscious mind knows that if you ever let Mingyu and I take a go at you, you’d be ruined.” 

“Cheol-” Mingyu’s voice is as stern as you’ve ever heard it, and his breath against your throat has your entire body coming alive with sensitivity.

“You know,” you clear your throat, “If you’re jealous about not being invited to cuddle, you could just say so, instead of being such a dick.”

“Who says I want to come cuddle?” 

He’s always so quick with his douchey comebacks.

“You’re literally shivering, stop being stupid.” You can see him fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie, pulling it down over his fingers.

“I’m not interested in cuddling with you,” Seungcheol insists.

“We’ll let you be the small spoon,” you tease.

He groans. “That’s even worse” 

“You two are giving me whiplash,” Mingyu sighs behind you, pulling you closer to his warm chest and releasing a deep sigh.

“Actually-” you wiggle in the large mans grasp, turning onto your back and then facing him, “thanks to Seungcheol, it’s pretty clear we both had dreams about each other last night… if he wants to be stubborn, we could always just…” you shift so your lips are by his ear, “fuck under the covers.” 

“Oh my god-” Mingyu’s breathing is shaky now. 

“You two are not gonna fuck without me.”

“See! I knew you were jealous-” you begin to turn around again, eager to look at Cheol when you rub your triumph in his face- but you’re stopped by the covers lifting and a body slotting against your back.

“Stop being a bitch,” Seungcheol growls in your ear, one hand finding your hip and roughly tugging you back to him.

“Stop being such a douche!”

“How about you both stop?” Mingyu suggests, gently cupping your face and meeting your eyes.

He’s so pretty- you’ve thought so since the moment you saw him, and now that you’re sandwiched between both of your cabin roommates, your self-control is getting weaker and weaker.

 Another beat of silence goes by, then Mingyu asks, “Are we really going to do this?”

“I definitely think we’re really going to do this,” you confirm, “What do you say, Douche?” 

The man behind you digs his fingers into your hips, “you know,” his breath is hot against your skin, and his lips tease the shell of your ear, “that’s the fourth time you’ve called me a douche. I think you should make it five.”

You know where he’s going with this immediately, and your pussy tingles with excitement. “Are you really going to spank me, Cheol?”

“I think at this point I have to,” the hand on your hip moves to your throat, and he squeezes you gently, “unless you’re really against it.” 

“Fuck-” Mingyu shifts in front of you, moving closer, and his hand falls from your face to your hip, taking the spot Cheol had just let go of. 

“You better follow through, douche,” you hum, “dream Cheol was very light-handed.” 

“And that’s five,” he breathes. 

“Don’t disappoint me,” you tell him.

“Trust me,” he squeezes your throat, “I won’t.” 

“One of you better kiss me to get things started-” you warn them, “I’m pretty sure my panties are already ruined-”

This prompts both men to act - as you knew it would - with Mingyu immediately pressing his lips to yours while Seungcheol releases your neck to shove his hand down your sweatpants and investigate your claim.

Your body reacts on instinct, leg lifting to rest on Mingyu’s hip, tugging him closer and opening you up for Cheol while you grab at Mingyu’s face, kissing him with the intensity of a woman who’s been locked in a cabin with two gorgeous men for days. 

“Fuck-” Seungcheol groans behind you, his fingers rubbing at your pussy through your underwear, “you’re fucking soaked-” his nose drags by the nape of your neck, “what a dirty little whore-”

You mewl against Mingyu’s lips, a conflicted feeling erupting through you at the way Seungcheol is speaking to you.

“Oh? You don’t like that?” he laughs. “So you get to call me a douche but if I point out that you’re a needy slut grinding down on my hand while my best friend shoves his tongue down your throat then that’s what? Too much for you?”

“Be nice,” Mingyu mutters, kisses turning much softer.

“Then what should I call her?” 

“Princess,” the word sounds so pretty coming from Mingyu, “like you did earlier, but not sarcastically.” 

“Is that what you are?” Seungcheol’s fingers are rubbing your clit through your panties, and it feels amazing- “our stubborn little princess?”

“God, yes!” your hands grab at Mingyu’s strong shoulders, and you try to pull him back to your lips- “Please-” 

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that word,” Seungcheol muses, giving you what you want and applying more pressure to your pussy. “I like the way it sounds coming from you.” 

“Please-” you whimper again. You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, but you figure that, between the both of them, they’ll come up with something.

“Take your hoodie off,” Seungcheol commands, pulling his hand out of your pants. “In fact, let’s all take our hoodies off.”

You love how he’s taking the lead, and you suppose it’s not a shock in the slightest. Mingyu has been giving you people-pleasing vibes since you arrived, and it makes sense Seungcheol naturally steps into the leader position.

He can be a bit of a stubborn dick, but fuck, he’s a natural when it comes to telling you what to do.

All three of you are quick to wiggle out of your heavy clothes, stripping your top halves until you’re the only one left in anything, your bra-

“This too,” Seungcheol says, pulling at a strap and making it snap back against your skin.

“You’re behind me, why don’t you take it off,” you tell him, already reaching for Mingyu, wanting to be lost in his lips.

“Fucking princess,” the man behind you mutters, fingers immediately finding the clasp.

“Needy douche,” you mumble against Mingyu’s mouth.

Seungcheol’s response is quick, his hand momentarily discarding his task to wrap around your throat again, “Make it ten, I dare you.” 

“You guys-” Mingyu groans, grabbing your hips and trying to tug you closer to his chest.

Seungcheol holds you tight, not allowing you to budge an inch.

“Douche, douche, douche,” you pull Seungcheol’s hand from your neck, turning to face him so you can look into his eyes when you say the last “douche. There, that’s ten.” 

He’s looking at you with an amused expression, and for the first time since meeting him, you see him truly smile.

“You’re gonna get it,” he warns you, grinning.

“I better.” You tangle your hands in his pretty, dark, curls, smashing your lips to his to wipe the smirk from his face.

Seungcheol and Mingyu are like night and day. Mingyu had kisses you gently whereas Seungcheol holds nothing back.

His tongue easily dominates your own, his hands grabbing at your hips, thigh pressing up between yours-

Mingyu’s lips find your bare shoulders, his fingers picking up where Seungcheol’s had left off with your bra, and before you even know it, the two are working together to tear it off your body, leaving your torso exposed.

Seungcheol doesn’t even look down, his lips find yours again, and it’s Mingyu’s hands that go to cup your breasts. He ruts against your ass, and you can feel his cock straining against his sweatpants, his mouth hot on your neck while he massages your chest with large hands.

When his fingers brush by your nipples you moan loudly, digging your nails into Seungcheol’s strong shoulders-

You really just wish one of them would tear your pants off. You’ve had enough with this foreplay, enough with the waiting-

So you find a way to speed things up, shoving your hand between your bodies to cup Seungcheol’s cock through his pants, moaning even louder when you feel how big he is.

You’re about to get absolutely wrecked and you know it.

“Fuck, princess-” Seungcheol gasps against your mouth.

“I want you to fuck me,” you tell him.

“Me or him?” Mingyu asks behind you.

“I don’t care-” you whimper when Mingyu pinches your nipple between his fingers, “take turns- I don’t-”

“Go for it, Gyu,” Cheol says, hand finding your throat again, thumb pressing against the underside of your jaw, “I’m not done kissing her yet.”

You think this must be the most turned-on you’ve ever been in your whole entire life.

The man behind you pulls away from your breasts, his fingers hooking in your sweatpants. “Can I pull these down?” he asks, lips pressing hot kisses against your shoulder. 

Seungcheol allows you to break your kiss just long enough to whimper a sound of affirmation before he’s claiming your mouth again. 

As Mingyu pulls your pants down, you go to slip your own hand under the waistband of Cheol’s- but he stops you, grasping your wrist in a tight grip. “Over the pants for now, don’t touch what’s not yours,” he warns, releasing you in favour of grabbing your face, “and no pouting.” 

Cheol reads you like a book, wiping the pout off your face by pulling you into another breathtaking kiss.

Behind you, Mingyu’s gotten your sweatpants and panties down to your knees. You help him by kicking them the rest of the way off, and when you’re fully naked, Mingyu’s hand finds your pussy.

“Fuck, you are soaked-” he moans against the nape of your neck, two fingers rubbing at your clit before slipping inside of you.

It feels like heaven- and you adjust to give Mingyu more room, hooking your leg over Seungcheol’s hip to open yourself up-

Seungcheol’s hand moves from your throat to your breast, and he pinches your nipple roughly between his thumb and pointer. When you gasp from the motion, his mouth moves to your jaw and then to your collarbone.

“Should we mark you?” his breath is hot against your skin. “Make it so everyone knows you’ve been fucked? What would your step-brothers say? What would your daddy say?” 

“I don’t know- what are you going to say, daddy?” 

Seungcheol releases a low groan. “I think I’m gonna make you wear turtlenecks the rest of this trip.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for a response from you, his lips latch onto a spot just above your jugular, teeth grazing your skin. 

Mingyu’s fingers have found a steady pace inside of you now, and you find yourself moaning like a whore, grinding down against his hand to get more pressure from his palm on your clit.

“You sound so pretty-” Mingyu’s breath fans over your shoulder and your whole body feels on fire.

“Sounds like she hasn’t been touched in a while,” Seungcheol says, pulling away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “Our sensitive little princess.”

“Cheol-” you whimper.

“I thought I was daddy,” he grabs your throat, thumb testing the spot he’d just marked up. 

“Daddy-” you gasp as he tightens his grip.

“It almost sounds like you’re going to cum, just from Gyu’s fingers,” Seungcheol leans in, lips just out of reach, “but we both know you wouldn’t do that without asking for permission first.” 

“Please-” 

“Please what?” 

“Please- I’m so close-” 

“Fuck-” Mingyu groans behind you, finger fucking you even harder. 

“If you like the feeling of this, you’re gonna cry when you get something bigger.” Cheol is way too amused by this, and it only adds to your pleasure, your toes curling as the tension in your stomach builds and builds-

“Please-” you whimper again, grasping onto his shoulders to anchor yourself out of desperation. 

“Want you to cum,” Mingyu says gruffly, lips teasing by your shoulder. “Want you to cum on my fingers-”

Seungcheol still hasn’t given you permission, and you find yourself teetering on the edge- “Daddy, please!” 

He leans forward, lips ghosting over your own when he finally says “I guess you can cum.” 

You take a shuddery breath as the chord in your stomach snaps, orgasm rushing through your body. Your eyes shut, and you find yourself leaning forward, burrowing against Seungcheol’s sturdy chest while whitehot pleasure surges through every fiber of your being.

You’ve never had an orgasm that makes you lose it like this, your mind going completely blank as Mingyu’s fingers work you through your high.

You’re a whimpering, shuddering mess when he finally removes his hand, and a moment later the word “condoms?” brings you back to reality.

You shake your head, too tired to speak yet.

“Is princess on the pill?” Seungcheol asks. You nod this time, and the man you’re holding onto like a lifeline confirms with his friend, “She’s on the pill.” 

“Thank god,” Mingyu groans behind you. There’s a small shuffle of him kicking off his pants, and then his hands are grabbing your hips, pulling you backwards-

You instinctually arch your back, giving him a better angle to press his cockhead to your entrance-

“You sure about this?” Mingyu asks, pausing.

Another nod, and Seungcheol laughs. “She’s sure.”

Mingyu pushes into you as soon as the words are out of his friend’s mouth, and you grip Seungcheol even tighter, gasping at the feeling of being filled so completely.

You’re well prepped from his fingers, and when Mingyu takes a test thrust, you can feel your own fluids coating him, making it as easy as ever for him to slide in and out of your wet core.

“Holy shit-” Mingyu’s breath is hot against your shoulders and it makes you shiver with stimulation as he increases the pace of his thrusts, “you feel so good-” 

“I bet she does,” Seungcheol’s hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your clit-

You whimper at the feeling, pulling away from his chest to look him in the eyes, “Too sensitive-”

“Too sensitive?” To his credit, he lets up a little, but his hand stays where it is. “Are you sure about that?”

You shake your head, licking your lips and looking at his own-

“Does princess want a kiss?” he asks, reading you as easily as ever.

You lace your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him to your lips. Seungcheol muffles the moans that are slipping out of you, but as Mingyu’s thrusts get rougher, there’s only so much he can do to help you censor the sounds of pleasure.

Behind you, Mingyu’s also releasing his own noises, gasps and grunts that add fuel to the growing feeling between your legs.

It feels so good- and this is just Mingyu.

In the periphery of your mind, you know you still have to receive your ten spanks from Cheol before he fucks you, and you think maybe it was a mistake to get yourself into this. After all- will you ever be able to fuck anyone else? Will anything after this ever feel the same? 

“Fuck-” Mingyu groans when Seungcheol applies pressure to your clit, “baby, if you keep squeezing like that-” he lets out another gasp, “you’re gonna make me cum-”

“Really?” Seungcheol breaks your kiss to look at the man over your shoulder. “Already?” 

“She feels so good-” Mingyu insists, “so good for us-”

“She is,” Seungcheol agrees, rubbing your clit even harder, making both you and Mingyu moan with pleasure. “It’s funny how compliant our stubborn princess gets once she’s being properly fucked.”

“Please-” you groan, reaching behind you to thread your fingers through Mingyu’s hair.

The man in front of you grins. “I’m really starting to enjoy listening to you beg.”

Before you can say anything else, Mingyu lets go of your hip to grab your jaw, prompting you to turn your head to the side so he can lean over your shoulder and press his lips to your own.

He’s not kissing like he had when this whole thing started. Now, he’s eager, tongue swiping past your own while he whimpers and gasps, rutting into you wildly.

This time, you don’t have to beg Seungcheol for permission. Although his fingers are still working your clit, this isn’t his orgasm to give, it’s Mingyu’s, and the man behind you doesn’t care for power plays or waiting games.

You can hear Mingyu getting closer and closer, his sounds getting pitchier-

“You two are too cute,” Seungcheol’s words feel distant, but then his lips are attaching to your nipple and you think you might cum then and there-

“Fuck-” Mingyu tears his lips from your own, grasping your hips- “I’m gonna-” he presses his forehead against your shoulder while you grab onto Seungcheol, threading your fingers through his curls while his teeth drag by your nipple- “cum with me, fuck, cum with me-” 

You don’t really need to be told twice, and even without the command, you would have ascended to cloud nine anyways, body tingling with electric pleasure. 

With no one attending to your mouth, you’re left to moan and whimper loudly, filling the cabin with sinful sounds as Mingyu fucks you through your high. 

Seungcheol doesn’t let up on your clit or your breasts, not until his friend is slowing down and you’re pushing at him, only then does he relent.

“You going to collapse against my shoulder again?” he asks, cupping your face to get a better look at you.

You’re still catching your breath, and you nod against his hand, leaning forward-

Seungcheol pulls you closer, tucking you in against his chest, moving to pet your hair.

“Was that good for both of you?” he asks, and you can’t believe that it sounds like a genuine, heartfelt question.

“Really good,” Mingyu responds, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“So good-” you echo, bringing up a hand to begin drawing lazy nothings on Seungcheol’s wonderful chest-

“I’ll give you a moment to recover,” he says in a manner that’s almost gentle, “because when you’re ready- I still expect my ten smacks.” 

And what if you died from being this horny? What then? 

You whimper when Mingyu pulls out of you, giving you one last sweet kiss on your shoulder before he flops onto his back to catch his breath. 

“Daddy-” 

“Ready for me now?” 

You nod, lips brushing by his collarbone gently as you work your way up to his neck. Seungcheol allows you to pepper his skin in little kisses, and when you get to his jaw, he pulls away.

“I want you on all fours,” he tells you.

The cabin is cold, and you’re hot from being fucked and sandwiched between two warm bodies, so when the blanket is lifted off of you, the air feels more intense.

You whine in annoyance, but do as you’re told, propping yourself up on your hands and knees.

Seungcheol moves behind you, and you can feel his form towering over your own when his hands smooth over your ass.

“Look at you,” he breathes, “you’re an absolute mess.”

You can feel Mingyu’s cum beginning to dribble out of you, so you fall to your elbows and reach a hand through your legs, pushing two fingers into your pussy to stop anything from dripping out.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol grips your ass cheeks so hard it almost hurts, “you ready for your punishment now?”

“Yes, daddy,” you sigh, closing your eyes in anticipation.

“Count them all, and for the first five, keep your fingers where they are. For the final five, you’ll be able to suck on them as a reward. Does that sound fair?”

“Very fair.”

“Good.” There’s a moment of silence, Seungcheol removes one hand from your bum, and then it’s coming back full force. 

The impact makes you jolt, skin stinging with heat and electric tingles of pained pleasure.

Your toes curl, and you whimper “One.” 

“Was that hard enough for you?” he taunts.

“Yes, daddy.” 

The next hit comes down on the opposite cheek, with around the same force, and you’re thankful that he’s not just battering one side, it gives you a bit of time to recuperate.

“Two,” your pussy tightens around your fingers and with your free hand you grab the sheets, twisting them into something like an anchor.

You’re not surprised when he switches sides again, but the second hit to your right side hurts more than the first and you gasp at the feeling. “Fuck- three!” 

“Any time you sit after this, you’re going to be reminded of us,” Seungcheol muses, hand coming down on your left ass cheek.

“Four-” you whimper, “oh my god-” 

“You two are so weird,” Mingyu sighs, shifting closer to you and rolling onto his side. He gently brushes your hair out of your face. “Are you sure you guys want to get to ten?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Seungcheol massages your ass, rubbing at the stinging skin.

“She’s almost crying.” The man looking into your eyes is frowning now, concern evident in his expression.

“She’s loving this, isn’t that right, princess?” Seungcheol insists.

“Yes, daddy-” you squeak when his hand comes down on you mid confirmation, and your eyes clench shut, holding back tears of pained pleasure. “Five!” 

“You can suck on your fingers now,” Seungcheol tells you, “but I still wanna hear that voice of yours counting each strike.”

You pull your digits from your core, adjusting slightly to allow you to shove them into your mouth.

A moan escapes you immediately, the taste of Mingyu’s cum flooding your senses.

“Fuck-” Mingyu groans.

“Hot right?” Seungcheol massages your bum gently. “Who’s our perfect little whore?”

“I am,” you whimper, making sure to lick as much as you can off of your fingers.

The next smack you receive is a little gentler than the past five, and your body hums with warmth at the idea that Seungcheol’s going easy on you. “Six.” The word is garbled, but you know that none of you care.

“That’s it, love that you’re dripping from this,” Seungcheol praises you, hand coming down again.

“Seven-” you drag your fingers past your teeth, toying with your bottom lip.

“Are they clean already princess?” Seungcheol asks.

“Yes, daddy- fuck, eight!” 

“Just a few more.” There’s something so steady about his voice- about his presence looming behind you, and you know that as soon as this is over, he’s going to fuck you properly, like you deserve. 

“Nine!” makes you tear up, your free hand fully clenched in the sheets, and Mingyu quickly responds by reaching out to brush his thumb by your cheek.

“With this last one,” Seungcheol’s massaging your ass again, and it hurts in the best way possible, “I want you to say sorry.”

“For what?” you whine, so delirious from your treatment that you can’t even think straight.

“For calling me a douche, ten times.”

“I’m sorry-”

“I haven’t even spanked you yet,” the man behind you laughs, “but I appreciate your apology.”

The last hit is the worst of all of them, but maybe that’s just because you’re already extremely sensitive from what you’ve already received, despite this, you still fulfill your job as Cheol’s perfect little cock whore, diligently blurting out “Ten! I’m sorry, Cheol!” 

“There’s my good girl.” He sounds satisfied, and you’re extremely glad he doesn’t reprimand you for using his name, in fact, a moment later, he’s rewarding you with his cock at your entrance. “You ready for me?”

“God, yes! Please-” 

He sheaths himself into you and you bury your face against the duvet to muffle your scream.

It feels like nothing you’ve ever felt.

The combination of his cock stretching you open, and his hips hitting your sore ass- it’s doing something to you that no one has ever done before. 

Large, warm hands grab your hips, and the first few thrusts have you squeaking each time he makes contact with your bum, toes curling at the sensation. “If you need me to stop,” his fingers dig into your skin, “just say so.” 

“Please-” you gasp, “don’t stop-”

In response, Seungcheol fucks you even harder, quickly finding a pace that has your mind going blank.

There’s only you and Seungcheol. Mingyu is practically forgotten and you don’t even feel bad about it. After taking ten hits to your ass, you deserve this. 

You deserve to have your brains fucked out.

“Hey,” a hand grabs at your hair, and Seungcheol pulls your face out of the duvet, “stop using the blanket to muffle your sounds, I wanna hear them.” 

“Cheol-” you whimper loudly, feeling an orgasm already bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“Sounds like you’re close,” the man behind you muses, tightening his grip in your hair and pulling until you’re up in full doggy, hands braced against the bed. “You close, princess?”

“God, yes-” 

“All it took was a bit of spanking, huh? A bit of spanking and you’re fucking putty in my hands.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you simply moan, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of his cock gliding into you with each thrust.

“I think you should do it,” he says, releasing your hair to grip your hips roughly. “I think you should cum all over my cock like the desperate little whore you are- come on, cum for me, it’s gonna feel so good-”

His words are bringing you closer and closer to the edge and you both know it.

“Cum on my cock and maybe after I’ll flip you on your back and let you look at me as I continue to fuck you stupid.” 

Something inside of you short circuits and your orgasm hits you like a bus, pussy clamping down on Seungcheol’s cock while waves of euphoria overtake you.

“Fuck- just like that-” the man behind you groans, “what a good girl you are-”

For someone using somewhat sweet words, Seungcheol is as rough as ever, your ass smacking against his hips with each powerful thrust-

Under the sounds of you moaning desperately, the bed is squeaking, the whole thing shaking and hitting the wall-

“Holy shit-” Mingyu breathes, but he feels distant-

Seungcheol truly has a way of capturing your attention and holding it, fucking you through your orgasm until you’re clawing at the blanket, tears threatening to spill from overstimulation.

And then, all of the sudden, he’s pulling out of you, and you’re able to take a breath-

Just one breath, as he’s flipping you onto your back a moment later.

“Told ya I’d let you look at me,” he says, slotting between your legs and sinking into your pussy again. “I wanna see that stubborn little face.” 

“God-” you gasp, throwing your arms around his big strong shoulders-

“Never been called that before- but I guess it’s better than daddy,” he smirks.

You hate him.

You kind of love him too- if that’s even possible.

The man has you dick whipped, and you both know it.

He presses his lips to yours, and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of the kiss. Your hands wander his muscular back, gently clawing at his skin while he fucks you.

“Shit-” he groans when you thread your fingers through his hair, his hot mouth moving to your neck, “feels so good-”

“Want you to cum-” you whisper, lips brushing by his ear, “want you to fill me up so bad-” 

“Fuck-” he moans louder, and the sound makes your entire body tingle with pleasure.

“Please-” you whimper, tightening your legs around his hips, “I need it-” 

“And I need you to cum with me,” he says, breath teasing your throat. “So how bout you rub your clit for me and get us both there.” 

“Fuck- okay,” you slip your hand between your bodies and jolt when you come in contact with your clit, “wait, no- I’m too sensitive-” 

“I know princess, but you can do it for me, can’t you? Just a little longer-”

You push through the feeling, closing your eyes and throwing your head back- if it had been a request from anyone else, you would have told them to go to hell, but because it’s coming from Cheol- you find yourself unable to say no.

It’s the way he’d said ‘can’t you?’ It’s a small challenge you can’t bear to not complete.

“There you go,” his lips brush by your neck, “it’s going to feel so fucking good when you cum- I don’t know if you’ll be able to take it.”

“I can take it-” you tell him, although your legs are already beginning to shake.

“That’s my princess.” 

“I’m your princess-” you echo.

“Yeah you are,” his hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to have you seeing stars. “Keep your eyes open, wanna really see you when you cum.” 

Your free hand grabs at his wrist, and your fingers rub your clit harder. “I’m gonna-”

“I know princess, me too,” he bites into his bottom lip, eyes looking deep into your own. “Cum with me,” he commands, “cum with me, cum with me, cum with me-”

It takes everything inside of you to keep your eyes open and keep your fingers on your clit while your fourth orgasm of the night takes over.

If the last one had felt like getting hit by a bus, this one feels like an all-consuming electric warmth that fizzles through your body until you feel it in every fiber of your being.

Your eyes are still locked with Cheol’s, his hand applying enough pressure on your throat to have you nearly feeling dizzy- or maybe that’s the orgasm, regardless, you grip his wrist tighter, after all, it’s your only true anchor.

There’s a brief moment where neither of you are moaning, a moment of something like transcendence, and then Seungcheol’s releasing your throat and pressing his lips to yours, stealing away whatever breath you have left.

His hips stutter as he finishes, your tongues continuing to battle it out even as he slowly comes to a stop. 

His chest is hot and sweaty pressed against your own, but neither of you care, you’re too lost in each other. 

Your heart is thundering against your rib cage, and Seungcheol’s added weight on you doesn’t help, so you push at his shoulders, wanting an inch or two of space-

“Am I crushing you?” he asks, planting his hands on either side of you and lifting himself, finally breaking the kiss to give you a small once over.

“It’s okay,” you say, swallowing and catching your breath. Your eyes close, exhaustion taking over-

“You broke her,” Mingyu’s voice makes you smile but you don’t open your eyes.

It feels nice to just exist for a few moments.

“My bad,” Cheol responds, lifting further off of you. 

You try to grab at him, to make him stay, but he easily blocks your hands.

“You two are probably really tired,” Seungcheol muses. “Do you wanna help her to the shower real quick before passing out?”

“I can do that,” Mingyu agrees, and a moment later, he’s scooping you up like a newlywed bride. 

Mingyu’s chest is as warm as Cheol’s had been, and you find just as much comfort in him as he carries you towards the bathroom.

You’re too far gone to think of much, but you find yourself looking over Mingyu’s shoulder at Cheol. 

He’s pulling his sweatpants back on, running a hand through his bouncy curls, and you realize you’ll never look at him the same way again.

You’ll never be able to look at either of them again without thinking about this, and you’re kind of okay with that.

19: Wednesday - morning

“Hey, daddy.”

Seungcheol can’t help but grin, shaking his head as he continues to fill his mug with coffee at the self-serve breakfast. “You really shouldn’t be calling me that.”

“No?” You shift closer, until your shoulder is touching his. “Why not?”

“For one, your actual dad could be kicking around somewhere, not to mention your step-brothers.” He gives you a quick look before grabbing cream and a pack of sugar. “Nice turtleneck.”

“Thanks.” You begin to fill your cup with coffee, and Seungcheol turns to look out at the large dining room. He leans back against the food table.

“I’m surprised you’re awake this early,” he notes. “Why aren’t you sleeping in with Gyu?”

“I felt like we needed to talk, and when you left the bed this morning- I missed your warmth.”

Your words make him smile, and he crosses an arm over his chest, lifting his coffee to his lips. “This is our last day, are you sure we have to do this?”

“You mean talk like adults?” you counter. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we have to do this.”

“Aren’t you the one who said we’d never have to see each other again after this?” 

“When did I say that?”

“Yesterday, after our talk about daddy issues.” Part of him can’t believe that was less than twenty-four hours ago- so much has changed, so much has happened. 

“Right-” you turn to look out at the room, shoulder brushing his again. “Well, I guess I wasn’t considering the fact that you’re roommates with my step-brothers, so… I’m pretty sure I’ll have to see you again.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I’m not the only one who’d like it,” you insist. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Seungcheol sips his coffee.

“You and Mingyu would make a cute couple,” he says finally.

“Oh my god, fuck off-” you let out a small laugh. 

“I’m being serious.”

“Why are you such a dick to me?” 

Seungcheol takes a breath, thinking through his response. “Do you mean right now, or generally?”

You sigh, shrugging. “Both?” 

“ Generally? I don’t know- I don’t think I’ve been that bad to you, all things considering. And right now? I guess I’m a dick because if it’s a choice between me and Gyu, you’re pretty stupid for being here with me and not in bed with him. ” 

“I don’t see why I have to choose.”

“People always choose. There’s always a preference.”

“Okay…” you sigh. “So I like Mingyu better, is that what you wanted to hear? He’s much nicer to me- you’re right about that. But I like fucking you both around the same amount.” 

Seungcheol can’t help but laugh. “I feel like that’s a lie.”

“How about this; I like Mingyu more than you, but you fuck me better- although, I’m not sure I’d fuck you without him there to make sure you’re not too much of a dick.” 

He wonders if your use of the word ‘dick’ over ‘douche’ in reference to him is a betrayal of what’s been on your mind this morning. 

Seungcheol looks down at his cup, swirling the contents. “I’m not forgetting firewood tonight.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, and you pat him on the shoulder gently. “That’s okay, something tells me you’ll wanna fuck me again even without the excuse of us being cold.”

Seungcheol opens his mouth-

“Nuh uh,” you stop him, “I want the last word on this. Now enjoy watching me walk away from you, I’m heading back to the cabin to curl up with your better half.”

He’s shocked by you- enthralled even, and as he watches you walk away, he realizes he’s never met a girl like you before. 

He realizes that maybe he’s met his match.

20: Wednesday - afternoon

Mingyu’s just decided to stop looking for his friends on the slopes when someone says his name in his ear and he nearly has a heart attack.

“Fuck- Seungcheol- I’ve told you not to sneak up on me like that!” he yells, regaining his balance on his skis in an attempt not to fall over from shock.

“You tell me a lot of things, doesn’t mean I listen,” his friend points out. “Hey listen, we need to talk-”

“About last night, yeah, I know-” Mingyu rolls his eyes, “I’ve been looking for you for like, an hour.” 

“I’ve been around,” Seungcheol brushes it off. “So I had a brief talk with princess this morning-”

“Is that her name now?” Mingyu laughs, gawking at the turn of events that’s taken place in such a short period of time. 

“Better than calling her by her name, talking about all the ways we made her cum, and having Jeonghan and Joshua show up to overhear us,” Seungcheol points out. “Or worse, her father.”

“Ok, good point.”

“Anyways,” Seungcheol waves a hand, “I talked to her this morning-”

“Yeah, she mentioned you were being a dick again-”

“Of course she did,” Seungcheol’s energy changes, turning gloomy. “What the fuck are we going to do with her?”

“Uh…” Mingyu considers it for a moment, not sure what answer his friend is looking for. “Blow her back out again?”

“And you’re not going to be sad when we leave and go home to different cities?” 

Mingyu cocks his head, assessing Seungcheol. “Dude- are you going to be sad when that happens?” 

“No.” Suengcheol responds much too quickly.

“You do know that we’re going to see her again, right? Jeonghan and Joshua came by this morning and we had a good talk, they even invited her to come visit sometime soon.”

“Were they suspicious at all?”

“It’s Jeonghan and Joshua, they’re always suspicious,” Mingyu points out. “And to be fair, they did give us permission to fuck her- so you don’t have to be this secretive.” 

“This whole thing is making me a little crazy I think,” Seungcheol admits, giving his head a shake. 

“Yeah- I’ve never seen you this worked up about a girl.”

“And I’ve never seen you so calm about a girl.”  

Mingyu shrugs. “What’s the point in being weird about it? It only makes things messier- but, I mean, I guess you do like messy girls.” 

“Shut up.”

“Wow,” Mingyu laughs, “you really are being a dick today.” 

“Shut up!”

“Fine-” Mingyu concedes, “but seriously, take a chill pill, everything will be easier if you relax a little.”

21: Wednesday - evening

Dinner had been a little odd, to say the least.

Sat between Mingyu and Seungcheol, across from Jeonghan and Joshua, it’s as if Seungcheol had done everything in his power to act as if you’re still enemies. He’d hardly talked or looked at you the entire time.

Mingyu, on the other hand, had been as attentive as possible without making it obvious that he’d been balls deep in you less than twenty-four hours ago. 

Despite the attempt at whatever normalcy you’ve gained with your roommates, something had told you that your step-brothers knew exactly what was going on… and it had only added to the fun of things.

Walking back to the cabins as a group, you’d found yourself next to Jeonghan. The conversation had been light, surface level, but when he’d pulled off to head to his own door, he’d told you to “have a good night, but not too good” with a wink, and the interaction had solidified in your mind the idea that he knows exactly what his roommates are going to do to you.

You all know it. There’s a tension in the air, especially as you, Seungcheol, and Mingyu make your way into your own cabin.

“So,” you say as the door closes behind you, “are we gonna fuck or-”

Arms encircle your waist, lifting you off the ground and cutting you off midsentence. Lips brush by your ear and Mingyu’s voice has you tingling with interest when he confirms, “we’re gonna fuck,” before throwing you onto your bed.

Last night, Mingyu had been the soft needy presence at your back, but today, it’s clear that his energy has shifted, and your heart is thrumming in your chest from the change.

“What are you going to do to me?” you ask in a teasingly seductive voice, rolling onto your back and propping yourself up on your elbows to look at the two men you share your cabin with. 

“Gyu’s been wondering how you taste,” Seungcheol says, “and I’ve been thinking that, seeing as you know how he tastes, you might be wondering what I’m like.” 

“Ohmygod-” your breath is caught, and Mingyu dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed forces you to tear your eyes away from his friend. 

Tonight, you’re definitely going to have troubles deciding who to focus on.

“Can I take these off?” Mingyu asks, grabbing at your pants and tugging gently.

“Yes, please-”

He tears them off of you as easily as anything, and then his hand encircles your ankle, dragging you to the edge of the mattress. 

You wonder if he’s going to tear your panties off too, but as Mingyu begins placing sloppy kisses along your inner thighs, his fingers catch in the fabric of your underwear to pull them to the side and you realize he’s not even going to bother with fully undressing you.

He’s frenzied, breath hot as it fans over your entrance, and you both release moans of pleasure when he places his mouth on you, tongue licking a wet stripe along your pussy.

“Fuck-” you whimper, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair.

“Feels good?” Seungcheol’s voice prompts you to take a quick look at him, and he comes around the side of the bed. “When’s the last time someone properly ate you out?”

“A while-” you admit, pushing your pussy closer to Mingyu’s face and his tongue slips into your hole, nose brushing by your clit-

“Then you’re going to enjoy this,” Seungcheol tells you, getting onto the bed and prompting you to sit up so he can be something like a backrest for you, your head resting back against his abs, “because Mingyu’s a pussy eating champ.”

“Yeah, he is,” you moan, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling. 

A few moments later, Seungcheol’s toying with your shirt. “This needs to come off.”

You laugh. “Eager to play with my tits again, Cheol?”

“Yeah, so take it all off.” 

You begin to comply with the request, and Mingyu pulls away from you long enough to drag your panties down your legs before returning his mouth to your core. You guess all truly means all when Seungcheol’s in charge.

He helps you with your turtleneck, and your hands slip under your back to deal with your bra. 

You’re naked in record time. 

The man you’re leaning against immediately goes for your breasts, large, warm hands grabbing at you. 

“Pretty princess,” he breathes, gentle at first while his friend sucks your clit into his mouth, making your legs twitch around his head. “He wants to make you cum like this before he fucks you,” Seungcheol says, “while you can still be loud- before you have my cock in your mouth. So I think, while you can, maybe you should tell Mingyu how good he’s doing, you both have a thing for praise.” 

“Since when-” you stifle a moan, “since when did you know so much about- about his preferences?”

“You’re not the first girl we’ve fucked together princess, no matter how much you wish you were.” His words sting, but they also bring some clarity to you. 

No wonder it hadn’t taken much convincing last night- you’d thought you had simply been sexy enough to entice them, but here you are, finding out that they’ve done this before. 

Seungcheol captures your nipples between his fingers, pinching hard enough to have you gasping. “You going to do as I say? Or are we going to keep talking about this?”

You definitely don’t want to pry for more information.

“Feels so good Mingyu- fuck, you’re doing so good- please, my clit-” 

He pulls your sensitive bud into his mouth again, flicking it with his tongue and making you moan even louder.

“Yes! Just like that- God, I need your fingers too, I want your fingers so bad-” 

Mingyu’s always so eager to please, and two fingers slip into your core while he continues to suck on your clit. 

“Fuck-” your hips push forward, only for the man eating you out to hold you down with his free hand.

“Sounds like you’re close, princess,” Seungcheol grabs your neck, fingers curling around your throat. “Gonna cum for us?”

“Uh huh,” you bite into your lip, “feels so-”

Mingyu crooks his fingers, rubbing at your sweet spot while his tongue flicks repeatedly at your clit, and you’re practically a goner. Your back arches, Seungcheol’s grip on your throat only heightening the pleasure that begins to sizzle through you. “Fuck- shit- Mingyu-” 

You can feel him smiling against your pussy now, groaning and sending vibrations through you that have your toes curling as you drag them against his back-

“You make such pretty sounds when you cum,” Seungcheol muses, pinching your nipple and adding even more to the overwhelm that floods through you. 

Mingyu hasn’t let up on your pussy, and it’s almost becoming too much, your hips fighting against his hand-

“Fuck- fuck-” you can’t seem to whimper much else, but it’s enough to have Mingyu pulling away, mouth pressing slopping kisses to your inner thighs while his fingers come to a stop.

“Can I fuck you now?” he asks. “I’ve been thinking about you all day-”

“Please-” your hurt lurches at his words, insides twisting and fluttering-

“We’ve both been thinking about you all day,” Seungcheol corrects, and you open your eyes to look up at the man who has only slightly let up on your throat. 

“Have you been thinking about us?” Mingyu asks, his breath fanning over your pussy again, making your legs twitch.

“Mmhmm, been thinking about being perfectly full-” you sigh, running your hand through Mingyu’s hair. “You guys will fill me up, right? Fingers aren’t enough.”

“Greedy princess,” Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head at you. 

Mingyu says nothing, he simply grabs your hips and flips you, man handling you into doggy position while Seungcheol gets onto his knees in front of you. 

He pulls off his shirt, revealing the chiseled torso you love so much, and then pushes down his joggers, cock springing to attention. “Ready to be full?” 

“Is that even a question?” you retort, wrapping your hand around him and guiding his tip to your lips, tongue kitten licking at him.

“No teasing,” Seungcheol says darkly, reaching down to brush your hair out of your face. 

Behind you, Mingyu lets out a small laugh, and you enjoy the fact that he obviously finds amusement in the constant struggle you have with Cheol. 

His cockhead presses against your wet pussy, slipping just the tip into your hole, and you realize Seungcheol’s right about not enjoying being teased- 

“Both of you better fuck me properly,” you warn before sinking your mouth onto the man in front of you.

You’re rewarded when Mingyu follows suit, pushing his cock deep into you and releasing a groan that has your insides fluttering. His large hands grab your hips, securing you when he takes his first thrust.

He’s not rough about it, he doesn’t push you further on his friend when he begins to fuck you, instead, Mingyu allows you to find your own pace with Seungcheol as he finds his own pace with you. 

You kind of like it this way, it feels like you’re more in control as you suck on Seungcheol, instead of you being a toy for them to use and fuck into submission. 

You’ve sucked big cock before, but there’s something about Seungcheol’s girth that makes it hard to allow him deeper into your throat, so you take to pumping what you can’t suck. 

Your eyes close and you enjoy the feeling of pleasuring Seungcheol while Mingyu pleasures you.

“Who knew you’d be so good at this, princess,” Seungcheol breathes above you. “Fuck- your tongue-”

Hearing Seungcheol groan is becoming a new guilty pleasure of yours, and you suck on him even harder, eager for more.

Behind you, Mingyu’s as vocal as ever, moans and grunts of ecstasy tumbling out of him with each snap of his hips. His fingers dig into your skin, and he begins to pull you backwards to meet him, dragging you off his friend.

“Watch it, Gyu,” Seungcheol’s angry growl has you swooning.

As does Mingyu’s response; “Thought you wanted to fuck her face?” 

This immediately prompts Seungcheol to rut his own hips forward, meeting Mingyu’s thrusting rhythm to have his cock burying in your mouth with each push and pull. 

You had wanted to be stuffed, and now they’re really doing it for you.

Now you feel like their little toy, and something about that makes a new surge of wetness run through your core.

“Fuck- she likes this,” Mingyu groans, “baby, you’re practically dripping-”

“Bet she’d absolutely lose it if you grabbed her ass a little-” Seungcheol points out. “It still hurts from yesterday, right, angel? Still sore from being battered-”

Mingyu shifts one of his hands from your waist to your bum, gently squeezing the bruised flesh-

A flash of pain jitters through you, and it has your pussy throbbing-

“Fuuuuck-” Mingyu moans loudly.

“Told you she’d love it.” The man whose cock is hitting the back of your throat with each thrust of his hips is much too smug about this- “Bet you’re too pussy to actually spank her though.”

You’re shocked at what Seungcheol’s just said, and from the gasping sound behind you, you can bet Mingyu is too.

“I shouldn’t- she wouldn’t-”

Seungcheol pulls his cock out of your mouth, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to look up at him. “Would you like Mingyu to spank you a little? He won’t do it as hard as me-”

You’re so busy sputtering and trying to catch your breath that you can’t really speak, so you take to nodding, gasping for air before you can finally say “yes-”

“She’ll like it,” Seungcheol confirms, letting go of your hair and slipping himself back into your mouth.

“I-” the man behind you squeezes your bum again, and your body tingles with anticipation. “Fuck, okay-” he removes his hand, only for it to come back down on your ass a moment later, a small smacking noise sounding through the small cabin.

You groan around Seungcheol’s cock, pain tingling through your body in the most delightful way.

“Shit-” Mingyu groans, “I don’t think either of us are going to last if I keep doing that-”

“Aren’t you here to make her cum though?” Seungcheol asks.

“Yeah, but-” 

“No buts, Gyu, I’m getting impatient.” 

“Fuck, right,” you hear Mingyu swallow. “Okay- I know how to make our princess cum.” He releases your ass, and slips his hand around the front of your body, fingers seeking out your clit.  

You whine loudly around Seungcheol’s cock, and he pulls out of your mouth, allowing the sound to fill the room. 

There are tears in your eyes from everything that’s been going on, and you sputter, taking a breath and blinking up at Seungcheol. One of his hands is in your hair, and the other is wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping while he watches you. “Is he gonna make you cum?”

“God, yes-” you moan louder as Mingyu applies more pressure to your clit, rutting into you wildly. “Fuck- I’m so close- Mingyu-” 

“Me too- shit, you feel so fucking good, oh my god-” his sounds are music to your ears. “Shit- I want you to cum with me- you’ll cum with me right? Come on princess, cum with me-” 

You’re not sure who cums first, only that you both fall over the edge around the same time. Mingyu’s hips smack against your sore ass with each rough thrust, his groans and whimpers mingling with your own as your pussy clamps down on his cock and milks him for all he’s worth.

He removes his hand from your clit, grabbing your waist to pull you back to meet the last of his thrusts as he rides out your orgasms. 

You can’t even catch a breath when it’s done, because Seungcheol’s insistent “my turn” reminds you that you still have one more man to please- one more man to fuck you stupid. 

You’re getting used to being manhandled, and it’s no surprise when Seungcheol flips you onto your back and slots himself between your legs. His eyes assess your face, and he checks in with an “all good?” that has you nodding. 

You grab at his shoulders, pulling his mouth to your own, and in your post orgasmic bliss, you find yourself getting lost in Seungcheol’s lips.

He’s an amazing kisser, tongue gliding past your own, teeth teasing by your bottom lip- it makes you squirm below him, locking your ankles together at the small of his back.

You’re impatient and thankfully, you’re not forced to wait for long.

“Messy princess,” Seungcheol breathes, looking down to where he’s tapping the head of his cock against your clit. “Always so needy.”

“Please-” you move your mouth to his throat, kissing and suckling on his skin, nails digging into his strong shoulders.

“Because you asked so nicely.” He pushes into you, inch after inch, until his hips are flush with your own. “Didn’t you just get fucked? How are you still so tight-”

You moan against his neck, teeth grazing by his skin. It’s your last day on vacation, and if there’s ever been a time to mark up the big mean dom with his cock buried in your cunt, it’s now. 

“Cheol-” you whimper, “just fuck me-”

His fists clench in the sheets by your head, and he takes his first thrust, cock head pressing against a spot that has you mewling for him, toes curling. 

“Like this?” he prompts. “Slow and deep?”

“Then hard and fast,” you tell him.

“Always telling me what to do,” Seungcheol sighs. “As if I don’t already know exactly what to do to have you whimpering under me like a whore in heat-”

“Mmm-” you moan as he begins to fuck you harder, “Cheol-” 

“That’s it, those are the sounds I like to hear.”

You love how you’re allowed to simply throw your head back and enjoy the ride. You’re his cute little pillow princess, and you’ll be damned if you don’t make all the noises Seungcheol loves to listen to.

Tracing his muscular shoulders feels like heaven while he fucks you senseless, and it’s easy to get lost in the feeling of him.

A hand slips between your bodies, seeking out your clit, and when you open your eyes, you realize Mingyu is laying next to you, and it’s his fingers rubbing your sensitive nub.

“I like watching you get fucked,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss to your shoulder.

Above you, Seungcheol lets out something between a scoff and a laugh, but his motions continue, thrusts unfaltering.

“Bet you love having both of us like this,” your main dom says after a moment. “Love being the center of attention- you’re just a good little attention whore, aren’t you?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whine, becoming more and more lost in the feeling of them.

“Fuck, I can feel you getting tighter- you close princess? Already?” 

You nod, “Mmhmm-” 

“Well you’re gonna hold it.”

Your eyes open, and you blink up at Seungcheol, shocked.

“Yeah,” he grins, “you heard me. Hold it.”

“But-” you dig your nails into his shoulders.

“No buts, hold it.” He leans over you, lips ghosting past your ear. “You want to cum with me, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy, but-”

“Wait a little longer,” Seungcheol insists.

“It feels so good-” you whine louder, body tingling as both men continue their assault on your pussy. “I wanna cum so badly-”

The man above you releases a moan at your words.

You grab at Seungcheol’s shoulders again, pulling him close so you can be the one whispering in his ear. “Daddy- it feels so good, I wanna cum- you feel so fucking good- so deep- please let me cum- cum with me, please- I need it-” 

Seungcheol groans louder, fucking you even harder-

“Please, daddy, fill me up- I wanna be filled, I want your cum-”

“Shit-” he bites down into his lip, rutting into you wildly.

“Just like that, daddy, just like that- you’ll let me cum, right?”

“Fuck-”

“You sound so close,” you whisper, gently biting at his ear lobe, “are you close, daddy?”

Seungcheol releases a deep groan, one hand reaching down to anchor your hips. “On the count of five, princess-” he tells you, “five, four, three-” your muscles ache from holding back your orgasm, “two, one.”

Your entire body shakes as you finally release, gasps of ecstasy escaping you as you wrap your arms around Seungcheol, burying your face against his neck.

“Fuck-” he grunts, continuing to ride you through your highs while Mingyu applies even more pressure to your clit with his nimble fingers.

“Shit- Cheol- fuck, Gyu!” you push your hips up, only to be held down by the man above you, the pleasure becoming almost too much for you to handle. 

You can feel tears in your eyes. 

All you can do is hold onto Seungcheol and take what’s being given to you, muscles screaming as the feeling of orgasmic bliss overwhelms your entire form. 

Mingyu’s the first to let up on you, removing his hand while Seungcheol finishes the last of his thrusts. 

You’re both gasping, and it feels only right to grab Seungcheol’s face, bringing his lips to your own to muffle your sounds as his movements slowly come to a stop.

“Crying again?” Seungcheol sighs when he tears his mouth from your own, looking down at you with an expression mixed with concern and amusement.

“Feels good,” you tell him weakly. “Hate that it’s the last night.”

“It’s still early,” Mingyu says from next to you, leaning in to kiss your shoulder again. “I have another few rounds in me.”

“I’m sure you do,” you laugh, body flooded with too many emotions to count.

“Let’s give you a sec,” Seungcheol suggests, “and then we can decide what to do next.”

The answer is obvious to you already.

You want to do them next… or is it again? 

Either way, you’re determined to fuck these men until you can’t feel your legs.

It’s your last night here, and you’ll be damned if you don’t make the most of it.

22: thursday - departure

It’s only day two of waking up in bed next to you, but Mingyu knows he enjoys this view infinitely more than the visual he’d become accustomed to from the couch.

Sure, his best friend is curled up at your back, but Mingyu still gets a prime vantage point in front of you.

He’s the first to wake up, and he lays there in silence, listening to you breathe.

He’d never expected this, but to be fair, he’d never expected Jeonghan and Joshua’s mom to remarry again.

This whole thing has been a whirlwind of events that Mingyu could have never conjured up in his wildest dreams.

While it’s true he and Seungcheol have fucked girls together before- it had always been a one night thing, never two in a row. And Mingyu’s never woken up squished on a double bed with a girl between him and his roommate-

Behind you, Seungcheol shifts, body unconsciously drawing you closer, and for some crazy reason, the sight makes Mingyu relax a little.

Mingyu knows he’s whipped, but there’s no going back now. 

All he can do is enjoy these last few hours… and press your new step-brothers for a visit in the very near future. 

23: thursday - departure

“Don’t be stupid,” Seungcheol says as you lift your suitcase to start down the cabin stairs.

“Don’t call me stupid,” you snap back.

Seungcheol can’t help but smile. Your words have little effect on him, not now that he’s made you cum more times than he can count.

“Let me carry this for you,” he insists, pushing your hand away from your luggage handle.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, princess,” Seungcheol laughs, “I’m sure.”

The two of you start down the stairs while Mingyu locks up behind you. 

A hundred feet away, Jeonghan and Joshua are also leaving their cabin.

“Hey you three,” Jeonghan grins, waving, “sleep well last night?”

There’s always an edge to his words now, and Seungcheol knows what his friend is hinting at, but he pushes through with a casual response. “Slept okay, you guys?”

“Slept fine,” Jeonghan’s clearly not too impressed with Seungcheol’s answer, but doesn’t push for more. Instead, he hits Seungcheol with a “nice turtleneck.” 

When Seungcheol had realized you’d marked him after your first few orgasms last night, he’d made you pay for it, but now he’s the one facing consequences by being stuck in a matching shirt, the both of you hiding hickeys. 

Mingyu’s the only one of the three of you who had left the bed unscathed, but Seungcheol supposes that’s a testament to his gentle way of going about things.

“What time is the airport shuttle coming?” Mingyu asks, changing the topic.

“In fifteen minutes,” Joshua answers, checking the watch on his wrist. “We’ve got time.”

As your rag tag band of people begin down the snow path towards the resort, Seungcheol makes an effort to be truly present. You may have time to get to the shuttle, but he’s painfully aware that the time he has with you is running out.

Even so, there’s something that tells Seungcheol he’ll see you again, and for whatever reason, he guesses it will be sooner than he might think.

24: thursday - departure

Your ass hurts, but it’s the best hurt you’ve ever felt as your plane lifts off the tarmac to take you home. 

This week had been unexpected. 

You’re not really sure how you’d pictured it going down, but you definitely hadn’t imagined getting fucked by your new step brothers’ roommates. 

You hadn’t imagined becoming absolutely dick whipped for them either. 

And yet here you are.

It hurts to set your phone on airplane mode, to message your new tiny group chat and let Seungcheol and Mingyu know that you’ve taken off, but at least the chat will be there for you when you land.

The fact that Mingyu had insisted on a group chat - and Seungcheol hadn’t muttered a word of protest - tells you that maybe they like you as much as you like them.

You don’t think they’re the kind of guys that would fuck their friends’ step-sister just for shits and giggles, but you remind yourself that you truly haven’t known them for long.

You’ll have to take Jeonghan up on his offer of coming to visit sometime, and until then, you might just have to wallow in your sexual frustration.

Fuck, what a trip this had been.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! this was such a long one, but i feel like the slow burn needed to happen lol :)

🍭 support me by.sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “Is now the part where you throw me over your shoulder, take me to your room, and fuck me with your best friend?” Seungcheol laughs at your question, “Now is the part where we see if you’ve been lying about anal training in the group chat.”

cw/ tw. mentions of toys, dirty talk, praise, degradation spanking, oral (m/f receiving), rim job, back shots, anal, unprotected sex, double penetration, etc...

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 4.6k I teaser wc. 355

🌙 staring. Seungcheol & Mingyu x afab!Reader 

bonus teaser

“Guess who I just got off the phone with?” Jeonghan says, waltzing into the apartment living room with a grin on his face.

“Your doctor?” Seungcheol answers, not bothering to tear his gaze from the tv where they’re watching the baseball game. “He told you you’re officially chlamydia free?”

“You know what-” Jeonghan lifts up a pillow, attacking his friend with it while Seungcheol giggles and blocks the hits, “you better not bring this up ever again! I’ll call my sister back right now and tell her not to bother coming if you’re going to be like this-”

“You invited your sister over?!” Mingyu and Seungcheol perk up instantly, with the elder grabbing the pillow from Jeonghan and tearing it from his hands to throw to the side.

“Invited her for a week next month,” Jeonghan confirms, “but I can call her back right now-”

“You didn’t invite her for the week we’re going to be out of town, did you?” Joshua sighs, already knowing exactly where this story is going- and Jeonghan’s grin confirms it. “Did you bother telling our step-sister that we wouldn’t be here?”

“She didn’t need those details,” Jeonghan insists, “we all know why she’s coming to visit.” 

Mingyu and Cheol shift in their seats, and Jeonghan delights in being the puppet master behind getting his closest friends laid. 

“I’m going to go call her-” Joshua stands, reaching for his phone.

“No-” Jeonghan whines, “it should be a surprise-”

Joshua ignores his brother, leaving the room to call you, only to return a few minutes later. “Her flight is already booked,” his gaze shifts to his roommates, “you two better take care of her the week she comes to visit.”

“You say that as if we didn’t take care of her last time,” Seungcheol protests.

“You two know exactly what I’m saying,” Joshua says, looking directly at Seungcheol and Mingyu. “Promise me you’ll actually take her places and show her around.”

“We promise,” Mingyu says earnestly, and Joshua has no doubt that Mingyu’s already planning to take you to some of his favourite restaurants- Seungcheol on the other hand… he’s not too sure about.

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[miniwheat77]

Fever Dream. (Soap x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, unprotected p in v sex, flu season is rough but not as rough as Johnny, MINORS DNI, (sorry if I missed any.)

You huddled up in your room, shivering. You were asleep. Your phone sat next to you, it was dead since you’ve been in and out of it.

Soap sighs, you haven’t been responding to his messages.

As soon as his shift is over, he’s making his way out to his truck. He knows you’ve been sick and he’s worried that you haven’t been responding to his messages. Gaz is following him out to his truck, he still sounds nasally because he’s getting over it. “You know she’s gonna kill ya when she comes back right?” Soap laughs. “Oh yeah, I know.” Gaz laughs.

You and Soap are really good friends and you’ve been out for a couple days because you’ve been sick, and he knows how you are. You probably haven’t been taking care of yourself. He climbs into his truck after saying goodbye to Gaz, ready to go check on you.

You didn’t live too far from the base so it was a short drive to your house. You lived in a somewhat decent neighborhood so it was peaceful. He pulls into your driveway and sees your car. Getting out of his truck and locking it behind him. He makes his way up to your door, knocking.

He waits a minute, but after hearing nothing, he tries the knob. To his surprise, it opens. He steps inside your house, feeling just how freezing it is on the inside. “Steamin’ Jesus.” He mumbles. He kicks his shoes off like he usually would when he’s at your house. Taking a second to mess with the thermostat. Making his way down the hallway to your bedroom. The door is closed.

He sighs. “So help me god if you’re dead or something..” he breathes. Opening the door right up. You’re buried under blankets. “Y/N?” He asks. You don’t respond. He steps in further, grasping your blanket and tugging it away from your face. You’re sweaty. You’re still asleep, so he pulls the blanket down the rest of the way. Resting his hand against your forehead. “Christ..” he mumbles. He stands up, making his way into your bathroom. He knows it’s probably an overstep but he doesn’t care, you need his help. He finds medicine, going back out to your kitchen to find a glass. Once he fills it with water, he makes his way back to you.

He sits down on the edge of your bed. “Hey.” He sighs, shaking you slightly. You moan out in your sleep, trying to turn away from him. “Lass, you’re breaking my heart here.” You hear him laugh. “Soap?” You mumble. “Yeah.” He chuckles, grasping your hip and rolling you over. “You’re burning up sweetheart, here.” He reaches his hand out. You open yours up. Taking the pills from his hand. “Thank you Soap.” You mumble, sitting up slightly. “You’re so sweet to me, it’s almost like you don’t hate me.” You giggle, your voice is scratchy and rough.

He rolls his eyes, a playful smile on his lips. “I like you alive.” He laughs.

“I swear. I’m going to kill Garrick when I get back for giving me this.” You groan. Hearing him laugh. “Nice shirt by the way.” He smiles. You’re wearing his baggy shirt.

“Hey. Ended up in my laundry, that means it’s mine.” You smile. Resting your head on your pillow. Hearing him laugh. “Yeah. Looks better on you anyways.” He mumbles. “Those are fighting words.” You look him in the eyes. “Yeah? You really think I’m gonna listen to you?” He laughs. “Your fever is so high you probably don’t even know what world you’re in.” He laughs. “Um.. Soap. I’ve been blown up, shot at, I’ve had my eardrums blown out by bombs. If you think a fever is the worst thing I’ve been through, you’re so wrong.” You laugh. Sitting up slightly.

You’re wearing black shorts, legs exposed.

“M’not used to seeing you in normal clothes.” He smiles. You give him a lazy smile.

“Cmon. I’m gonna make you something to eat.”

“Soap, you don’t have to do that. I’m not hungry.” You groan. “Too bad.” He mumbles. Sliding his hands under the bend of your knees and around your back. Lifting you up with ease. You feel your stomach twirling, he makes you feel small.

You rest your head on his shoulder as he carry’s you into the kitchen. Setting you down by your table. You sit down, eyeing him as he looks through your cupboards, finding soup. You swallow hard, the muscles in his back flexing slightly as he reaches for a bowl. You need to drag your eyes away from him, but you can’t.

“You okay?” He asks. Turning to you. You shake yourself out of your thoughts. “Uh.. yeah. Yeah I’m good.” You laugh. “Why are you here? You’re gonna get sick being around me.” You ask. “Because, you weren’t responding to my messages.” He laughs. “Oh.. my phone must be dead. I didn’t hear it.” You mumble. “Besides. When I’m sick, you’ll come take care of me.” He smirks. “Yeah, I’ll come take care of you. On one condition.” You smirk. “What’s that?” He laughs. Setting the bowl down in front of you. “You have to call me mommy.” He laughs, a little too hard at you. “I mean.. if that’s what you’re into.” He shrugs. He holds out a spoon for you, but swipes it back as you reach for it. “Does that mean you should be calling me Daddy?” He smirks. You roll your eyes. “Don’t fuck with me. I’ll do it.” You narrow your eyes. “I’m waiting.” He smirks. You let your smile fade. “Can I please have the spoon, Daddy?” You purposely make your voice low, hearing him laugh. He gives it to you. “You’re too much sometimes.” He laughs. “Can’t play me at my own game.” You mumble.

“Yeah? Don’t think I’ll try anything with someone who steals my shirts.” He laughs. “I regret nothing. It was in my laundry, it was fair game.” You shrug. “Keep it up and I’ll take it back.” He laughs. “Do it. You won’t.” You smirk. Seeing him roll his eyes. “You’re feisty today.” He laughs.

“I don’t need to take it off. Gives me something to hold onto.” He winks, standing up. Your eyes widen, coughing slightly. He goes back into your kitchen, you stand up. “Where are you going?” You ask. He turns and looks at you, seeing that you’ve stood up. “Lass, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. You’re sick.”

You shake your head, looking down. You’re resting you hands behind you on your table. “I’m sick. Not drunk. Put up or shut up.” You look at him. He shakes his head, making his way closer to you once again. “Soup’s going to get cold.” He crosses his arms. “Can think of something else to warm me up anyways.” He laughs, moving closer. He’s standing right in front of you, you’re looking up at him through your eyelashes. He reaches his hand out, playing with the hem of his shirt that you’ve got on. You look down to where his fingertips brush over your thigh and he toys with it. “Get extra horny when you’re sick or something?” He laughs. You shrug. “No. You just look extra good today.” You smirk. He grasps a handful of his shirt, tugging you into him, drawing a gasp out of your lips. His lips are right up against yours, only centimeters apart.

He lifts his hands up your shirt, grasping the waistband of your shorts, pushing them down your legs. You step out of them, gasping when he wraps his hands around your thighs, lifting you up and setting you down onto the table. He chuckles, running his hands up your hips. “No panties?” You blush, looking down. “Bad girl.” He breathes. Finally, he presses his lips to yours. He moves closer, hips resting right up against yours. The seam of his jeans rub right up against your opening, drawing a gasp from you. You moan into his mouth, feeling him smile into the kiss as he rocks his hips into yours. He unbuttons his jeans, keeping his lips on yours as he exposes himself. Pushing his boxers down far enough to free his cock.

He’s rock hard, ready to give you everything you’ve been waiting for.

He leans into you, feeling you lean back onto your hand slightly. He grips a handful of the shirt, just like he said he would. His cock nudges at your entrance, a whine leaving your lips. He attacks your neck, sucking and biting at your skin. A gasp leaves your lips when he slides into you, bottoming out.

He groans into you, watching you tilt your head back. “Fuck- oh my god Johnny.” You whine, pushing your hips to the edge of your table. He lifts your thighs up higher, drawing his hips back. He gets a good look at his cock, your arousal building at the base of him. “Fuck you’re wet.” He laughs, thrusting into you again. Feeling you flinch. “Ah god! You’re so deep-“ you gasp, clutching the table like your life depends on it. He watches his cock slide into you, drawing his hips back. You swallow him up nice. He shakes his head, teeth gritted. “So tight on me.” He groans, speeding up his thrusts. “Not gonna last long.” He bites his lip harder than he means. Keeping himself together is hard.

You’re watching him slide into you. Still in disbelief that your body could handle so much. Johnny was a big man, a lot of man to just throw at someone. He holds onto your ankles. You turn your head to the side, coughing into your elbow.

His eyes widen and he screws them shut. “Bloody fucking hell-“ he gasps. “You get tight on me when you do that.” He breathes. You can’t help but laugh at him. “Sorry.” You blush. “Don’t be.” He breathes, leaning in to kiss you again. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, hips moving steady into you. You can feel an orgasm building in your lower stomach, just as he said. You’re not going to last long either. He rests his hand on your throat, pulling you closer with his other. “You feel so fucking good.” He shakes his head slightly, holding onto you. Kissing you for a second before pulling away again. “Getting me so close, lass. So fucking good.” He grits his teeth, the muscles in his neck flexing hard from his actions. Your thighs shake slightly and he laughs. “Awe.. legs shaking baby?” He taunts. “How cute.”

He grasps hold of you, thrusting into you harder than before. He’s right on the edge and he needs you to cum first.

“Ah! I’m gonna cum Johnny-“ you gasp. Your bottom lip wobbles as you grasp onto the table.

You’re surprised it hasn’t given way from his brutal thrusts. You can hear it creaking beneath you, the legs scraping against the ground with each of his thrusts. A cry leaves your lips, Johnny’s eyes screwing shut when you tighten around him. Your body working perfectly with his to milk his cock. “Fuck- oh fuck.” He cries. Hips stuttering as he reaches his high. You can feel him twitching inside of you. Forgetting completely to pull out of you. Your eyes widen as you feel his warmth filling you up, spilling back out around his thick cock. He hangs his head, panting hard. “Fuck- I’m sorry.” He breathes. “It’s okay.” You giggle, blushing slightly. You turn your head, coughing into your elbow once more. “Ah!” He shivers. “Fuck.” He laughs. “Too sensitive for that.” You can’t help but laugh at him. He slides out of you, groaning at the sight of his spunk spilling back out of you. He shakes his head. “You’re a fucking minx.” He chuckles.

He helps you down from the table, laughing when your knees nearly give away. Your legs are still shivering. “Sit down, I’ll heat up your soup.” He smiles.

—

“You’re sick now too?” Ghost asks Soap.

Your cheeks are on fire as Soap glances at you. Smirk playing at his lips. “Ah yeah. I was taking care of her.” He laughs. You roll your eyes, turning away from him.

His voice is scratchy and nasally. If you could jump him right here, you would.

“Taking care of her? Sure.” Ghost chuckles. Your eyes widening.

[oneshots-heaven]

“Sleeping Mates" — Timothée Chalamet

What are you supposed to do when your best friend answers to your ’Can't sleep' text with a cheeky ’Come sleep with me' but you refuse due to your feelings for him?

WARNING True heartfelt fluff with some spice and angst Timothée Chalamet x Reader

You were tossing and turning in your bed, the sheets already stripped down to your hips as the city lights flooded your room. Your body felt on fire, and while your limbs felt tired and begged your mind to find some rest, it didn’t. You were wide awake, grasping your pillowcase, quietly groaning into it. 

It had been the third night this week you struggled to fall asleep, and by now you knew you couldn’t blame it on the weather, neither on the city lights. It had thundered on the first night you couldn’t sleep and spent the entire next day blaming it on the weather. The second night, it had been chilly and rained all day, perfect temperature to have a good sleep, but instead you had stayed up almost the entire night. 

You knew it must be another reason for you to be so restless lately, but you couldn’t explain to yourself what it was. There was nothing wrong in your life right now, literally not a single thing you had to worry about. While of course, there were the usual ups and downs life had to offer, you were doing good. 

Turning back onto your back, you sighed as your hands searched for your phone, laying somewhere close by in your bed. Blinking against the bright screen, you checked the time. 

2:38 AM. 

Your tired arms gave in, laying the phone back down as you stared at the ceiling. The street lights brought the tiniest bit of light into the darkness of your room. There was only that, darkness filled with tiredness and admittedly, a bit of loneliness, as you felt like the only person awake around your block. 

Grabbing your phone again, you checked the time once again. Not even a minute had passed, and it would only become more painful if you kept staring at it. Your finger hovered over the touchscreen, having no clue what to do. No solution came to your mind, everything only seemed to make it worse. 

Unconsciously, you opened the messages, seeing the last chat with your best friend. You had sent him a video of his sister and you mocking his last fit, to which he had answered with some angry emojis. It still made you smile as you knew how eager he had become with his fashion looks, he liked making a statement and trying new things.

You stared at the chat, swiping upwards, reading some of your older texts. Timothée and you had been best friends for years now after having met more or less by pure coincidence. It was the easiest friendship you’ve ever had in your entire life, and somehow neither of you had ever questioned it, what you truly were, what you were supposed to be. It was just easy, he could focus on his movie career and you on your degree. Sometimes you didn’t hear from each other for weeks or even months, and yet you still always knew you had a friend for life. It felt like a lifeline. 

One that you felt the need for now. 

To: Timothée

Can’t sleep

This was stupid, he probably wouldn’t answer anyway. Knowing him, he was knocked out since 11 PM, peacefully sleeping in his bed two streets down the block. 

Just as you wanted to put your phone away again, it buzzed in your hand. You blinked in surprise, yet frowned as you checked it. 

From: Timothée 

come sleep with me

You slightly sat up in bed, your eyes still fixed on his response, your hand clutched hard around your phone, as if you could lose it any second. Your chest suddenly felt like a panicked void, completely caught off-guard. You blinked and read the text again. For a second you weren’t sure if this wasn’t just a fever dream, however it was very much real, it was right there. 

And yet it still felt surreal, although there was no reason to be surprised like that. Timothée and you were as close as the text hinted, saying stuff like that wasn’t a rarity. From the day you’d met, there had been this unspoken closeness between you two, a space where you could be whatever you wanted to be. It felt so natural that you had never questioned it, not until now. While you had had sleepovers at each other’s places and shared hotel rooms multiple times in the past, it just never was as intimate as inviting someone to purposely sleep besides you. 

This had to be a joke. 

All of the sudden, after whatever much time had passed, your phone buzzed again. 

From: Timothée

are you there or asleep already?

You pressed your lips together, your fingers itching to type an answer. 

To: Timothée

No, I’m here. Still can’t fall asleep.

Seconds later, your phone buzzed once more. 

From: Timothée 

open your door then

Disbelief kept you right where you were, hesitating. He wasn’t at your door, that was ridiculous. Why would he come over in the middle of the night? You tried to fight it, but the what if in your head was much louder. You let go of your phone, pushing the blanket aside before you stumbled through the dark hallways of your apartment. You must look like an absolute mess, but with the force you unlocked your door and pulled it open, it was clear you didn’t care at all. All your heart desired was to see if he was actually there. 

Clothed in a hoodie despite the nightly freezing temperatures outside, Timothée stood in front of your apartment door, his eyes flying up to meet yours. His face softened as he caught sight of you. “Hey,“ he mumbled, still sounding groggy from his previous sleep. 

Overwhelmed by the fact that he was actually here, you glanced at him wordlessly for a brief moment, before replying a soft ’Hey’. 

“Can I come in?“ 

You nodded, unable to form any words with your numbed tongue. It felt like your brain had stopped working, a complete malfunction of basic behavior. You remained standing in the doorway before ever so slowly stepping aside for Timothée to step in. You hadn’t expected this, you hadn’t expected to see him at this hour. 

Timothée walked further in your apartment as you closed the door behind him, starring at his back, right until he turned back around to you. “You okay?“ he questioned, making you feel caught. 

“Yes,“ you breathed. 

Pushing his hands in the pockets of his loose fitted sweatpants, he said, “Just can’t sleep, hm?“ 

Pressing your lips together, you leaned against the kitchen counter, nodding. You felt so out of place. What was this? Why did this feel not like usual, not like any other situation in your friendship and instead so different?

“Have had trouble sleeping for some days now. I don’t know why, I just can’t seem to find any rest.“ 

“Want me to make some tea? Talk you tired?“ he offered. “No offense, but you do look pretty exhausted.“ 

You chuckled quietly. “Well, I am pretty exhausted. But you don’t have to do all that. I just need to finally fall asleep.“ 

“Let’s go to bed, then.“ 

There were a million questions in your head, putting in question all sort of things. Go to bed, together? What will happen then? Will you sleep next to me? But first and foremost, why are you here now? While all of this was highly confusing to you, you didn’t stop yourself from following him to your bedroom. Your bed was the proof of your restless nights. The covers laid crumbled aside, pillows were laying everywhere, but were they fit right. Nothing about your bed looked comfy right now, but rather like a chaotic, stressful mess.

Timothée, without another word, made the space his own, grabbing one of the bigger pillows and fluffed it out before doing the same to the other. Stripping his sweater and throwing it on the ground, he stood on the other side of the bed, looking at you. He was still clothed in his low hanging sweatpants and a t-shirt, yet your cheeks flushed at the sight of him. 

It was the ease with how he did things. Without hesitation, without fear, because that was what your friendship had always been about—safety without any doubt. His smile offered the same comfort that you’d always known, and although the confusion didn’t leave you, you felt a little more relaxed to get into bed, just as he did too. 

This was just like any other sleepover, this didn’t mean anything more than any other time before, or at least that was what you told yourself. Timothée laid next to you, hauling under the same blanket as you, feeling so close yet far away in your queen sized bed.

The city lights brought enough light into your bedroom to see the contours of his face as you took a glimpse at him. Your fingertips tickled in desperate desire to touch his face, to draw your finger along his strong jaw over to his soft lips, but you denied yourself to give into that desire. Your hands stayed where they should be, laying to close to your body on either side. You laid in your own bed like a corpse, paralyzed to move or make yourself more comfortable, because you felt so fearful to get too close to him, and he seemed to notice. 

“Relax,“ he whispered into the dark. 

“I am relaxed,“ you assured him, lying through your gritted teeth. 

He snorted quietly, suddenly you felt his hand shaking your shoulder lightly. “No, don’t lie,“ he said, his voice sounding like a true beg. “You’re tensed as hell, no wonder why you can’t sleep like that. You need to let your body loose, like you’re sleeping in a hammock.“

“In a hammock, you say?“ you laughed. “I don’t think—“ 

“Yes, don’t think. Don’t overthink anything right now, that’s too much brain activity.“ 

At this point, you felt like he was mumbling bullshit, you could hear it in his voice. Before you texted him, he must’ve been asleep or close to sleeping already, he sounded groggy, yet ever so concentrated on making you feel just as sleepy. 

“I cannot not think. That feels impossible.“ you argued, which was the truth, especially now with him next to you in bed at this late hour. It was in the middle of the night, he should’ve been fast asleep and instead he had been suddenly standing in front of your door. You couldn’t concentrate on sleeping when your body was so hyperaware of his. 

“Why?“

The worst possible question because you had no answer to that, or rather you feared the answer to that. 

“I don’t know, I just can’t.“ 

His fingers brushed back and forth over your arm, creasing it, as he said, “Everything’s ok, Y/N. You’re fine, you can rest.“ 

You gulped, tensing more up if that was even possible. Why would he say such thing? Your mind spun around, and by now you were sure that you were losing yourself in absently overthinking about the meaning of your friendship. Timothée was the greatest friend you’d ever had, there was no argument in that, and you would do anything for this boy, and still you wondered. 

He pushed himself up on his elbows as he noticed how you still couldn’t relax and rather laid rigged up beside him. “Come here,“ he said, ever so quietly, as he opened up his arms for you to move closer. 

For a brief moment, you simply starred at him and the small space between the two of you. In the briefness of it all, Timothée looked like he may regretted his words, yet held his arms wide open. The confusion yelled loudly in your head, trying to draw further attention to itself but you had ignored it, already having pushed yourself over the mattress into his welcoming arms. They came around you, holding you against him. 

His fingers continued to brush over your shoulder down your arm as you snuggled deeper into his arms, face on his chest, and closed your eyes. This felt like peace, and that was all you had longed for in a very, very long time. Yet the question didn’t leave your mind, perhaps bothering you until you would free it from your soul. 

“Why did you come here, Timmy?“ 

The movement of his fingers stopped abruptly, his breathing becoming rigged, as you had definitely caught him slightly off-guard with that question. His chest moved up as he breathed in deeply, your head moving with it. What a dangerous, little question. 

“You texted me in the middle of the night, and I just—“ he mumbled, you could feel his lips brushing your head that was laying in the crook of his shoulder. You hung on every word he said, desperately waiting for him to finish his sentence and as he did, you swore you felt like you’d just died. “I just thought you needed me.“

You breathed out, feeling his hand brushing gently over your head. The darkness was your savior, it did not let Timothée read your thoughts out loud as they were written all over it. As confusing as this was, it warmed your heart that he had made his way blocks over in the middle of the night, just because he thought you needed him. 

And you did. 

All you were lacking for the past few nights was the sense of comfort that perhaps only he could bring back with ease. A gesture like this, God knows a smile from him even, was enough to give you peace, and that realization was scary. When did you put all your source of true comfort into one person? Especially one that was so close, yet never yours? Why did you do that? 

“I did,“ you whispered. “I had hoped you’d answer.“ 

His arms around your body tightened, pulling you even closer to him, if that was even possible. “I’m glad you texted me.“ 

“Why?“ 

You felt his head falling back deeper into the pillow he was laying on. “I was glad to be or even feel like the person you’d call in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep.“ 

Take your entire hand and crush my heart in it, it’s yours, that is all it ever was. 

Your thoughts spun with every continuing breath as the airy silence crawled over you two, and in that moment, everything halted in time, or at least that was how it felt like to you. A painfully long moment filled with even more questions, more confusion and longing. For days, your body had craved to finally find some rest and just as you possibly could get it, you wanted to do anything but to fall asleep. Although this may didn’t mean as much as your heart interpreted in his words, you wanted this to last forever.

“Timmy?“ 

He hummed in response, his fingertips running gently up your back, caressing it until you leaned onto your elbow to properly look at him. He loosened his embrace around you, yet refused to fully let you go. His gaze went up, meeting yours, you could barely make it out in the almost pitch-black darkness. 

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to be that person but you.“ 

“Really?“ 

Disbelief resounded in his voice. What a fool he was for not believing you. If he only knew what he did to you—for years. How much you cared, how much you wanted him to care. How much you needed this, and how much you wanted him to need you as well. It tore you apart that he couldn’t see that, and it felt like torture even thinking further about this. Why hadn’t you never act on this? Why had you always denied yourself the truth, especially when it was right in front of your eyes? 

Why even, why still? 

Timothée’s hand rushed forward, catching the strand of hair that was about to fall into your face, slowly brushing it behind your ear as you went against all fears and doubts and leaned forward, connecting your lips together without further hesitation. You felt his body stiffen, his mouth not moving a bit, not even responding. Just as reality came crushing down onto you and you hasted to move away from him, his hand pulled your face closer again as his lips crushed harder onto yours. You gasped into the kiss by the sudden surprise, leaning more on him. 

Blood rushed in your head, making you feel dizzy in his embrace. Your heart stumbled over its own beat as he pulled you even closer, those soft lips brushed over your bottom lip, luring a moan out of your mouth as his tongue slipped in, brushing against yours. 

Was this even real? 

His hands traveled carefully, almost a bit fearful down your waist to your hips while you melted into his touch, longing for it even more now than ever before. You’d always been close, but not once had you crossed this line, it always had felt taboo. You had believed Timothée could never like you in this way, more than just a friend, but the way how he moaned into your mouth as you gently bit his bottom lip proved you otherwise. He may desired you, too, at least a bit. 

Your hands found the collar of his shirt that you grabbed and pulled him on top of you, desperate to feel his weight on you. He chuckled against your mouth, “Stop it, I’m going to crush you.“ 

“Don’t be silly, Tim,“ you breathed, before he placed one hand on each side of your head and leaned down to kiss you once more. 

“I really don’t wanna crush you,“ he whispered in-between each kiss he planted on your lips, “because that would be a terrible way of ever losing you.“ 

Suddenly, the lightness got a little swept away by the serious undertone of his voice. Had he ever feared to lose you? 

“You’ll never lose me if you only keep kissing me like that.“ 

His mouth twitched to a smile that made him look so gentle and wholesome, yet his dark eyes told a different story. They had changed into a deeper hue, longing gazing, eyeing every inch of you in the dark night. Leaning down on his elbow, he used his other hand to brush with his finger along the lines of your jaw, his gaze following the movement, until he reached your lips. As he brushed over your lips, you opened your mouth, letting it dip in, and wrapped your lips around it to suck it. 

His breath hitched in the very moment of it, as he let out an airy laugh. “Don’t do that,“ 

You frowned, insecurity overwhelming you within seconds. “Why not? Sorry—you didn’t like that, did you?“ 

“No,“ he said, “I wanted for you to finally sleep, but if you keep doing stuff like that, I will most definitely try to keep you from sleeping.“ 

Shivers crept up on you, tingling all over your body, as your brain immediately shifted to imagine the reality of his words, and all you were left with was the desperate need to make it happen. Suddenly, every part of your body uncovered its aching for closeness that you had denied yourselves for too long. All those forbidden glances at each other, all those feelings that you couldn’t ignore, all the built up through the years of friendship finally found its purpose, and you would be damned if you let that chance slip. 

Your hand carefully reached forward, brushing aside the brown curls that fell into his face, caressing his cheek, “For once, I don’t wanna sleep.“ 

“Good,“ he breathed, and your lips met in the perfect middle of it all. Your hands grabbed after his face, pulling him closer down to you—him still on his elbows in his ridiculous fear to crush you, as he seemingly forgot that he was rather a lightweight, but you adored his wariness. He’s always been like that, taking care of you, looking out for you, wherever you went. Your mind had been attracted to him, before your body did. 

His lips began to wander to your cheek slowly down your neck, which you recked unconsciously to offer him even more space, marking every inch with a kiss. Just as your hands wandered, too, trailering down his sides to the hem of his shirt. You’d seen him shirtless before, many times, this, however, would be different. You’d pull off his shirt with intention, and he let you. Breaking away from your neck, leaving you whimper for a second, he kneeled in-between your spread legs. You followed his suit, hands still on the hem of his shirt, as he held up his arms, letting you pull it off in one swift movement. Your chest tightened at the sight of him shirtless. There was something that kick off serotonin in your head as soon as you saw him like this. 

“Don’t look at me like that.“ 

You met his eyes. “Like what?“ 

“As if I’ve got anything good to offer you. I don’t—I’m not—“

Your shoulders sunk in, face softening. “I like you just the way you are, Timmy.“ 

Chest heaving, his gaze also softened at your words. His hands found your face again, as he whispered against your lips, “God, you’re too good to be true.“ 

You melted in that kiss, as you never felt closer to him than in this random night that you wished would last forever. Morning shouldn’t come too soon, who knew how long this would actually last, but until then you would believe his words as the truth. 

“Can I take your shirt off, too?“

You nodded, wildly, offering him your arms in the air as he did the same to you, undressing you. You hadn’t worn a bra or anything underneath your oversized shirt, so you were instantly exposed to him, much to his surprise. His adam’s apple hitched visibly, as he took in the sight of you for a moment. “You’re so beautiful,“ he hushed, crushing his lips back onto yours, bringing you down on the bed again. “So damn beautiful.“  

And he proved his words. You felt him all over your body, appreciating it with his mouth and his hands, showered you in kisses and intense waves of shivers. He sucked on the softest parts of your breasts as he lightly flicked the nipple of the other, sending your brain into another dimension. Who would’ve ever thought of this happening? 

As his head hovered over the lower part of your body, hands on your sweatpants, he glanced up, meeting your eyes. “Is this real?“ you questioned. 

Timothée came back up to you. “Yes,“ he replied. “It’s always been real.“

Please do not come at me for not writing smut in this. I wanted to keep it wholesome. 😭

[minihotdog]

Locked Out On Valentine's (Ending: You didn't take the tea)

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

C/W: Smut, unprotected P in V, Somnophilia, poor foreplay, possessiveness

Word Count: 1k

Previous part

“You want some tea, love?”

***

You’re inclined to accept but don’t want to be too demanding while he’s so kind to let you sleep on his couch. 

You put on your best smile, “I’m alright, thank you.”

”I thought I’d offer, keep your head up, yeah?” He says sympathetically before heading off down the hallway. You turn off the floor lamp at the other end of the couch and scroll through your phone, mentally scolding yourself every time you think about going to your ex’s socials to see if he’d posted any pictures of him and your ex-best friend. Your heart pangs with sadness. You dared to open yourself up to two people and got humiliated twice over. You bite back tears, throwing your phone down and trying your best to fall asleep despite the gaping hole in your chest. 

Simon struggled with sleep usually. It wasn’t something he shared with just anyone. He tosses and turns all night and when he does finally find the slumber he’s chasing he’ll jerk awake at the scenes of horrible memories that weigh heavily on his mind. But tonight was different.

The ‘intel girl’ was finally within reach. The boys at work would go quiet every time she would walk by and once she disappeared they talked about their various plans to be the one to chat her up.

He lies awake with his thoughts racing, thinking of her. Thinking of the way she looked at him when he opened his door to her. The way her tank top clung to her, the supple flesh of her breasts outlined perfectly, and the image burned into his mind of when she leaned over the couch, her shorts riding up her toned thighs and the curve of her ass… He felt as if he was running a fever.

He throws the covers to the side letting the cool air hit his overheated skin. He readjusts his sweats, setting his manhood free. He strokes himself to mental images of you to no avail. It’s not enough for him after having you so close. He yearns to feel your skin against his, the need eats away at him. 

His mind begins to tell him that you need him, heartbroken and so needy. Why else would you show up looking the way you did? What if getting locked out of your room was just a scheme to get near him?

He knows you’re attracted to him. The sly glances you always send his way when the two of you pass each other. The flustered look you get when he speaks to you, no matter how brief. It had all been a call to him, of all the men hunting for you, you’d already chosen him.

Before he knows it, he’s opening his bedroom door and standing over your sleeping body. You lie on your side, one palm resting atop the other. So soft in your sleep, unbothered. He wants to reach out and run his fingers over your tear-stained cheeks. 

He climbs over you and carefully lodges himself between you and the backrest. He slowly wraps his arms around you and breathes in your scent. He wonders for a moment if this is the best way to let you know the feeling is mutual, but he knows he won’t have the courage to let you know any other way.

He leaves soft kisses on your shoulder, leading them to your neck. He restrains himself from biting the skin, leaving his mark on you, afraid that it’ll wake you too soon. His rough hands squeeze your breasts, caressing them over your clothing. You stir slightly in your sleep causing him to halt for a moment. He continues his scheme and trails down your stomach slipping his hand beneath your shorts. He moves his thigh in between yours to give himself room.

The pads of his fingers rub slow circles into your clit as he lies there breathing you in. You whine in your sleep. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on your delicate neck, speeding up the pace he was toying your clit with. You fuss in your sleep, the foreign feeling disrupting your dreams. Your absentminded moans spur him on. He presses his bulge against your backside, sighing into your neck.

”Simon?” You half slur half moan. He shushes you, working your clit in tight circles. Your hand grips his forearm weakly. 

“S’alright, doll. I’ve got you.”

He runs a finger over your slit feeling the drip from your cunt. He can’t contain himself any longer, needing to feel you, hear you cry out for him.

”I’m sorry, love. I’ll make it up to you.” You barely comprehend what he says. He feels bad for not preparing you properly but the blood rushing to his cock has left him painfully hard. You unknowingly contributed to the unbearable ache.

He yanks your shorts off and places your leg over his, spreading you wide open. He wraps his hand around his throbbing length and runs his leaking tip over your folds, lubricating it before he pushes into you.

The resistance forces a gasp from you, stilling your body as he carefully thrusts himself into you. You dig your nails into his thigh trying to push yourself away.

”Easy, easy.” He coos at you, caressing your back with his lips. His arms wrap around your waist, your arm trapped under his heavy biceps. He continues with his shallow thrusts until he’s almost fully in.

”I’ll stop here, love. Deep breath for me.” He speaks so lovingly between his own ragged breaths, as if he hadn’t woken you up with his hand down your shorts. You finally suck in a breath and he pulls out. He waits for you to exhale and shoves himself back in. You squeak, the friction mixes with pleasure. Your brain is still recovering from the fog and unsure if this is actually happening. He gives you a few slow thrusts before his stride increases. 

You whine loudly, not prepared for his hurried movements. He apologizes in your ear repeatedly, gasping and groaning at your tightness. 

“Fuck, I needed you so bad, love. I hope you understand.” He loses his self-restraint, littering you with bite marks, wanting it to be known that you were taken. You cry out in pain as it shoots through your neck and shoulder, his teeth digging into you. He licks the wounds, soothing your irritated skin.

He rams into your cervix and you shutter in his arms.

”Too deep!” You cry out once more. 

“Forgive me.” He brings two of his fingers to his mouth, wetting them before bringing them down once more to run frantic circles into your clit.

Your uneven gasps turn to moans and your eyes shut tightly. His thrusts are still violent and overbearing, but the tingles running through you once his fingers slip over the nub, paired together make you drool onto the pillow below you. 

His hard thrusts jolt you upwards. He growls into your neck sending shivers through your spine. 

“Simon!” You whimper. His eyes nearly roll back hearing you call out his name. 

“That’s right, doll. Say my name. Let everyone hear you.” He growls. His unoccupied hand wraps firmly around your neck. He forces your back into an arch. Taking advantage of the new angle he pounds into you, the pleasure that rolls through you is dizzying. Your legs try to close but he forces them open. Your mouth hangs but you can’t bring yourself to make a single sound.

“You look so fucking beautiful. So gorgeous.” He breathes out. Your eyebrows once furrowed from the shocks running through you with each thrust now furrow in confusion.

”Look at yourself, look how beautiful you look getting fucked by me.”

You open your eyes, looking around trying to figure out what he meant. He forces your head in the right direction and your eyes land on the reflection of the two of you off the window. 

It was hard to make out, fuzzy but from where you lied you could see your faces. His hair was stuck to his forehead, his lips parted briefly before his jaw clenched, your mouth still hanging open, legs wide. Your pussy clamps down on him when you see his hand between your legs and his cock disappearing into you. He moans and you watch as he nips your shoulder and then nudges his nose into your hair.

”Squeezin’ the life out of me, darlin’.”

The sight is so pornographic a new wave of wetness comes over you. He slips in and out of you with a delicious slickness. 

Without warning you begin spasming around him. The first one comes and the second takes a moment. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, his fingers work you through the whole thing as your deep convulsions let you feel him fully.

He cries out behind you, his deep moans fuel your release further on. You chant his name and he falls over the edge spilling inside you. He slows his movements, thrusting his cum into you. He twitches inside of you repeatedly, giving you months of pent-up lust.

He slows to a stopping point while kissing your marked skin. He holds you for a while until his breathing stabilizes itself.

 He lowers your leg and slides out from behind you, climbing over your spent body and disappearing for a moment. He returns with a wet rag, cleaning you up before himself. He rounds up the soiled rag in the discarded blanket that somehow got into the mess of fluids. 

He slides your shorts over your legs letting his fingers run along your heated skin before lifting your limp body off the couch and carrying you into his bedroom.

”You’re sleepin’ here for the rest of the night.”

You barely acknowledge the change in location already falling asleep in his arms.

He places you on his soft bed and takes his place next to you. 

The warm covers and his arms are the last thing you feel before falling into a deep sleep. 

He tangles his body with yours giving you one last kiss.

You had no idea, but from that moment on you were his. Only his.

[grandlinedreams]

Salem my dearest, may I please request some soft Law 🥺🥺🥺 anything is perfect, i just love the way you write him 😭😭💖💖 thank you so much bestie 💖💖💖

Smooch smooch, hope you're having a wonderful day 💖💖💖💋💋

Absolutely you can 🥺🥺🥺 and I am!! My stomach is full of soup and I am content 💖 but I hope you're having a wonderful day too!! Note: kalmia latifolia is mountain laurel! It's very pretty but yk, poisonous

[Heads up!: fluff, comfort!]

Something is bothering you. Law can tell from the set of your shoulders and the way your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes, but he doesn't press. Not in front of the others, at the very least ㅡ and he knows that at some point or another you'll come to him, as you usually do.

And true to form, you end up wandering into his room when he's stretched out on his bed, propped up enough to rest his book on his stomach.

You don't say a word as you approach the bed, aware of the way he tracks your movement as you climb over his legs and up to his side. Lifting his arms, he makes room for you to tuck yourself against him, head resting at the front of his shoulder.

"Hello to you too," he prompts as you drape your arm over his abdomen.

"Hi," you answer quietly, and he waits a beat before his attention shifts to you fully.

"How are you feeling?" You both know he doesn't mean physically, no fever or illness to combat ㅡ not one that's outside of your mind. He's never faulted you for days like this, never once made you feel like it's your fault ㅡ some days are just harder than others.

"Okay, I guess." Your answer is short, but it isn't a shrug ㅡ progress.

His hand threads into your hair. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You press your face into his shoulder, dropping a soft kiss to it. "Not really."

"Okay," he answers, lets his fingers drift through your hair in a soft, rhythmic motion. You hum at his touch, sighing softly.

"Read to me?" It's an odd request given that the book he has is about poisonous plants and their varying places of origin, but he knows it's less about the book and more about the comfort of his voice when you don't feel like talking yourself.

"Get comfortable," he tells you, and you snuggle so that your forehead presses against the base of his neck. Once you stop moving, he clears his throat and begins to read.

Most of it is latin jargon that still slips smoothly from his lips, and he's barely into reading about Kalmia latifolia before he registers that you're asleep.

He trails off as he glances at you, takes in the delicate flutter of your eyelashes, the soft part of your lips as you breathe. His heart gives the odd lurch as it often does when it comes to you, but he welcomes it now instead of dreading it. Adjusting just enough, Law presses his lips to your forehead.

"Sweet dreams."

[hearts-hunger]

affection || jake kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Standalone in the Cabin Fever universe

Summary: Nothing hurts when you're with Jake.

Pairings: Jake x Reader | Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, non-graphic smut | Word Count: 1k | Warnings: light talk of depression, non-graphic smut (minors begone!)

A/N: My very first standalone fic for Jake and Sparrow! I hope you like it! ♡

Tick, tick, tick. 

In the darkness of your bedroom, you listened to the quiet sound of Jake’s pocket watch and tried to settle your breathing to the rhythm of it. Usually the sound was soothing, a reminder of the way Jake had filled up the quiet parts of your life and your home with a heartbeat of dependability and comfort. You tried to remind yourself of that now as you listened to the soft coppery music of it, but even its steadiness didn't help quiet the knot of sadness and anxiety in your chest.

You didn't know why you felt like this. Sometimes it just crept up on you, a tangle of feelings that had no explanation or obvious cure. They’d come less frequently with Jake, but nothing could stop them completely; you just had to ride it out, hanging on to what you knew was true, letting it wash over you until it was through.

You turned towards Jake, saw the soft curve of his bare shoulder in the moonlight filtering though the curtains. You didn’t want to wake him; you knew he was tired from a long day at the studio, and he needed his rest. You moved close to him, pressing against his back, wrapping an arm around his waist as you tried to get warm against him.

He moved his hand to rest over yours, holding you securely against him. Even in sleep, he was attuned to you; you felt a sob catch in your chest and rested your head against his back.

“Sparrow.” His voice was gravelly with sleep, soft and soothing. He drew your hand up to rest near his heart.

“Sorry,” you said softly, even as you felt the sting of tears. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He turned his head towards you a little. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Go back to sleep, honey.”

“Are you sick?” he asked. “Bad dream?”

You shook your head. “Just...” You felt so guilty for waking him, for not even having an explanation when you did. 

“I don’t know,” you said brokenly. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He turned to face you then, pulling you close, tangling his legs with yours under the blanket.

“You’re crying,” he said, brushing tears from your face. “Are you sad?”

“I guess,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t feel good, Jake.”

He hummed and brushed your hair back from your face. “In your body? Or in your heart?”

You couldn’t help a wobbly little smile, endeared to the simplicity of his questions while he was still half-asleep.

“In my heart,” you said. “I can’t sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”

He didn't say anything for a few moments, and you’d thought he’d gone back to sleep. You didn’t hold it against him; you knew he was tired, and you knew this didn’t constitute a real crisis that he needed to be awake for. 

Then, with a sleepy sigh, he pulled you close and hugged you tight.

“I think you need a hug, sparrow,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” you agreed, moving close to him.

You were a little surprised when he pulled away then, and you were confused when he sat up and started to pull up the hem of your sleep shirt.

“It’s like that kangaroo thing,” he said. “We should try that.”

Bemused, you let him ease your shirt off until both of you were in nothing but your underwear.

“What kangaroo thing?” you asked, wondering if he was maybe still asleep.

He lay back next to you and drew you as close as he could, your bare chest against his. His skin was warm and soft, and just the contact made you feel better.

“You know how they do for babies right after they’re born,” he said, running his hand up and down your back. “I think it’s called kangaroo care. Skin-to-skin contact.”

You gave a soft laugh, finally understanding. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“I’m always right,” he said. He kissed your face. “Is it helping?”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You lay like that for a while, chest to chest, listening to the rhythm of each other’s breathing in the quiet of your bedroom. It was intimate, tender, patient; as he knew it would be, it was exactly what you needed. Gentle touches started to wander, and you eventually felt him warm to your touch.

“Jake,” you said mildly.

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a slight grimace. “Sorry. Ignore it.”

You smiled. “What if I don’t want to ignore it?”

You drew your leg over his thigh and heard his sharp intake of breath.

“We don’t have to,” he said, and you knew he meant it. “I wasn’t trying to get frisky when I started this. I just wanted to help.”

“It is helping,” you said softly, pressing your mouth to his in a gentle kiss. It wasn’t what you’d planned either, and you knew his intentions had been innocent, but you couldn’t think of anything you wanted more than to be as close to him as you could.

His hands moved lower on your back, trailing between your legs, slow and patient. 

“We can stop any time you want,” he reminded you. “Really, sparrow.”

You kissed him again. “I know. I don’t want you to stop.”

You enjoyed long moments of his touch, warming to your desire, comforted and soothed by the tenderness with which he traced you like a beloved thing. When both of you were completely bare and vulnerable to the other, he moved to hover over you, cradling you close with one hand on the small of your back, tucking you into the protective lee of his body.

“Go slow,” you said.

“Of course, my love.”

He eased into you slowly, patiently, never thinking of himself as he filled you and held you close. You breathed a sigh of relief as he settled, awash in the comfort and familiarity of the feeling of him inside and out.

“Thank you,” you said. You held him close. “I needed this. I needed you.”

He kissed you. “My sweet sparrow. You always have me, you know that.”

He kept you there for a while, waiting patiently for you, telling you how much he loved you, his voice a lullaby. 

“Beautiful,” he said softly, peppering your face with gentle kisses. “You’re so beautiful. I love you, Sparrow.”

“I love you,” you said. You started to move against him, and you loved the way his breath caught.

It was slow and soft and gentle, pleasure cresting with all the tenderness of a wave against a shore. You felt tears come again, your chest tight with love for him, and he brushed them away with a soft touch.

“Don’t cry, sparrow,” he said, his voice soft with compassion. “Are you alright?”

You kissed him, trying to tell him in more than words how much you loved him, how thankful you were for him.

“I’m perfect,” you said. “Thank you for loving me like you do.”

He sighed, relieved and tender for you, kissing you with every gentleness, and his touch eased every bit of the tangle in your chest until all you felt was warmth and safety.

“I love you, Jake,” you said softly.

He kissed you again.

“I love you too, sparrow. More than I could ever tell you.”

(i'll reblog with the taglist tomorrow bc it's late and i'm lazy! <3)

[elusivecagedmockingbird]

Bleach

[yoongi x reader] [1.3k+ of tolerable angst and fluff if you squint; nothing much going on but feelings are there]

A/N: I wrote this when I was missing Yoongi and weeks have passed and I'm still missing him. My bad on the late publish! Work and life got to me. :/ I hope you still remember me.

-

Yoongi hadn't moved since the moment he entered the shop and sat himself at your usual table at the corner of the artisan cafe. The spot hides you from everyone else, but you get a pretty view of passers-by. And while most patrons would avoid getting seated at the table, for you and Yoongi, it was a haven and you were just glad you didn’t have a lot of competition over the seats.

Thus, Yoongi thinks it's cruel, how, in a matter of minutes, the corner that once felt like a safe place for you and him, suddenly feels too claustrophobic for him alone. He wants nothing but to leave the place.

Your quick departure was a contrast to his static posture at the wooden seat—ruminating, processing everything. You left as quickly as you came.

He estimates you had only stayed for half an hour, and in those gone minutes, it was only you who talked while he was shocked and blindsided by what was happening that he was rendered speechless.

"Yoongi, let's break up."

No hello kiss on the cheek, or not even a curt Hi. You dived straight to the point. Your candor is a trait he appreciates, but today, he feels otherwise.

His brain struggled to comprehend what your words meant. He heard you, but somehow he didn't understand the words and all that followed. Yoongi is a man of few words—never one to talk nonstop or hold the mic at get-togethers; rather, Yoongi is a listener.

But just for today of all days, he hoped he was more vocal; articulate.

Yoongi heaves a dry rueful chuckle.

How unbelievable, he sighs.

Was this a fever dream? Did he accidentally fall asleep while waiting for you and if he wakes up now, will he find you still seated in your chair taking pictures of him as you muffle your giggles.

He finds himself bargaining to whoever was listening to let this be a dream.

The café starts to fill up, he notices.

For years, Yoongi sat on the very same chair his ass is at right now and across from him is where you should be… still—that's how it always was. He doesn't see the point of staying and saving the other chair now.

He looks around one last time. Yoongi holds on to the chance that you're still in the café pulling a mean trick on him and yet, as his eyes land on his pitiful reflection on the glass, he loses heart.

He lets a few seconds pass before he takes the cup of coffee he ordered for you, albeit it's too sweet and creamy for this taste, he'd rather not have it thrown away.

At least, he'd get to save something that shouldn't go to waste today.

-

People say when you do something in repetition, it dulls the emotion that it carries. He wonders how many more sad desperate voicemails must he leave before he stops the aching in his heart. He hates the yearning and anger that races within him.

"Y/N. It's Yoongi. Please answer my calls. I just... I need to talk to you. This can't be it—the end of us."

He isn't sure if he despises you for summoning these odd feelings out of him or it's himself he dislikes for acting this way.

Yoongi had been recalling the days you spent with and without each other before the day you broke up with him. He has been desperately searching for a reason—he needs to know why.

Was it something he said or did? Or was it something he DID NOT say or do? Or did you just wake up that day and decided you no longer loved him?

It's driving him insanely frustrated. He doesn't pray, but lately, he has been whispering pleas and promises.

One phone call—just this once. That's all he asked for.

His phone pings and on the screen pops up a notification from you—Meet me at Hakdong Park, 7PM.

-

Yoongi fidgets by the swings. His habit of biting his nails resurfacing and he faintly tastes blood as he nibbles on his thumb. He peeps at his phone to check the time and it's not long before it's 7PM. Just a few more minutes...

"Yoongi," you called, voice demure. He wouldn't have heard you if it wasn't so quiet in the park, aside from the cicadas chirping in the background.

Yoongi quickly stands up, but before he could run towards you for a hug, he holds himself back and roots his feet on the sand. Instead, he waits for you to walk towards him. And as you approach him, he wishes you would hold him.

Just this once, he pleads once again.

But unlike his last request, this falls on deaf ears.

You sat down on the swing beside Yoongi. He copies you and sits next to you—mindful that his knees won't touch yours.

He hears you let out a defeated sigh and he was ready to lead the conversation this time, but you speak first.

"I miss you." You turn your head towards him and smile bashfully. As if what left your mouth was something that shouldn't have been let out.

Yoongi can hear his heart beating, melting the bitter feeling you poured on his heart not long ago. "Then why didn't you answer my calls?" He wanted the words he spewed to be pointed, accusing. But that was never him, both of you knew that, unfortunately.

You hum as you scratch your nails in your jeans—a nervous tick of yours that Yoongi learned over the years. He also knows how to quell those nerves and his own hand starts to fidget as he lingers to reach for yours.

"I was afraid of what you would say." There were long spaces of breath between your words, as if unsure.

"You were afraid...of me?" Yoongi confirms. He's left more confused than the last time. He tilts his head to peek at you, but the darkness and shadows cover your face.

"Not exactly. I guess it's more of your words. I had to keep away from you because I was afraid you would change my mind...about the break up."

Yoongi hums and nods. "At first that's why I called you." He wouldn't deny it, because his first thought was to do just that. But as emotions settled and he found himself in a better headspace, he realized he wanted more to understand why you wanted to end things with him. "But now, I just need to know why. At least make me understand where you're coming from."

Keeping his crawling limbs to him, Yoongi clenches and unclenches his hands. He glances at you as you nod and visibly gulp air. He catches the shift in your eyes, and he knows how your mind works overtime. He wonders if you're thinking of an amicable reason to shoo him away or were there just too many reasons to consider that you had to take time and sort your thoughts?

The former has to be it. He always knew he was difficult to love—always lacking. Not enough of this, not enough of that. He thinks he's got your answer, and he thinks he might not be able to take it if he hears it from you—so he prepares to leave.

"I loved you too much," you murmur. Seeming afraid of your confession. Disregarding his earlier doubts, Yoongi stands from the wooden plank. He kneels in front of you and takes your freezing hands between his, bloodied thumb circling your knuckles.

It wasn't a reason he expected nor considered. His confusion must have shone through his face that made you let out a sad smile.

"You really should stop biting your nails." Yoongi watches in slow motion as you take his hand in your palms and lift them to your lips for a soft peck.

-

[yerion]

for tonight.

an album is in the works for yoongi. just when stress could corrupt the rest of his mind void of inspiration, he decides to find you—the ex of bts’ main rapper.

pairing : idol!yoongi, exboyfriend!yoongi x f-reader. genres : mainly fluff.

content : yoongi takes you to his studio to prove that this isn’t just a fever dream, but his second confession.

word count : 2,7k.

“hello?” rubbing your eyes, you whimper in fatigue as you press your phone against your ear. “um,” your eyes open at the silence. “please leave a voicemail if this is anything important—”

“it’s me.”

you swallow once at the familiarity; it feels like you’re swallowing a hundred needles, or splinters—or maybe even nails.

“sorry for the random call in the middle of the night.”

it’s him.

you remember breaking up with your first boyfriend—min yoongi. 

to others, he’s known as suga or agust d. 

there’s no end if anyone was to discuss his successes, yet someone like you happened to be his girlfriend behind the scenes.

you were desperate to forget about him—and efforts never tend to disappoint, so it’s only normal for yours to pay off as well.

it’s been years.

“were you asleep?” yoongi asks vaguely. back then, discerning his emotions was as easy as falling asleep in his arms. now you can’t actually tell if he’s apologetic, or maybe feeling guilty—there’s a chance he could be feeling as paranoid as you right now.

then again, why would he?

“why did you call?” you finally muster the will to ask. it only cost you a few painful swallows and a couple of shallow breaths.

and it’s dead quiet again.

“why are we breaking up?”

it was dead quiet then too.

you exhale shakily as you clench your blanket in your fists.

you’re in dire of a distraction—you didn’t know you still had any space in your heart to be hurt after being scratched countless times.

you can’t believe this is real—this blazing pain you can’t compare with anything else. 

why does pain like this still exist, and why is it related to yoongi again?

“i don’t know.” he just says.

he doesn’t even understand how fatal those words are to you; three simple words—three common words that possess the sick power to break you.

it’s every asshole’s evacuation and escape route. in the past, yoongi was anything but that, however time warps anyone.

“i’m hanging up if that’s all you have to say.”

“remember when you said to call when things get really hard?”

is he going through something?

last time you glanced at the internet and its headlines, you read that he’s preparing for a solo release before enlisting into the army.

that does sound like a harsh time for him, but you feel like he’s been through much worse—taking possible disbandment discussions as one, his early debut days as two, and his pre-debut shoulder injury and the story behind it as three.

“what’s wrong?” you can’t help to ask, you follow your heart more than your head—you always have; you haven’t changed.

“i…”

“did you have a drink?” you guess, only because he’s never the type to falter.

“i had a few shots of whiskey,” he confesses huskily. “it usually helps, but tonight it’s not doing shit.” you can hear his empty, hoarse laugh after indulging you into his new reality.

it’s as if you’re sobering, you slowly lift yourself up from your mattress. hair brushes past your dewy face and wetted lips, and you bring your knees close to your chest to stay seated under the slice of moonlight, eager to hear your ex-boyfriend’s rare struggle.

“how about you?” yoongi asks like he used to. “how have you been?”

“fine,” you answer. “me not calling you ever since and begging for another chance says everything.”

“i guess you’re right.” his hollow laugh reverberates in your ear. “i know it’s fucked coming from me, but i…” he breathes out loud, “—wanted to ask you a favour.”

“why?” you pry quietly. “what do i have and you don’t?” you ask with bitterness on the tip of your tongue. you’re no superstar and you’re no millionaire like him—you’re just you—the average you.

“want to find out?”

from there, all you hear is white noise. though yoongi kept the audio quite blank before, you couldn’t hear any background noise until now. there’s constant crackles and sounds that resemble the howling of the wind.

by sweeping open the curtain beside you, the drip of moonlight seeping through your room enlarges.

now you see the moon as whole in the starry sky alongside leaves rustling in sync with the noise from your phone.

“are you outside?” 

“uh…” yoongi wonders huskily. he used to tousle his own hair while pondering aloud. “do you still live in the same house?” he inquires cautiously.

immediately, you crawl closer to your window, hurriedly smacking your palm against the glass to peer straight down from the third floor of your apartment.

your eyes brim with anticipation as they bounce everywhere—the flickering streetlights, the dimmed garden, the dormant cars parked outside, the swaying trees.

“are you here?” your breath trembles as you try to extinguish the glimmer of hope within. considering his status, everything he does on his own is like playing with spitting flames, although he’s human just like you.

“yeah,” he replies softly. “do you want to talk?”

“yeah,” you answer identically. “i’ll be down in a second.”

“alright.”

he always left you to hang up, and today wasn’t any different.

for a moment, you stare at your phone screen lit up with a new, unregistered number and the ongoing time beneath.

you’re inevitably on a delay because of how surreal everything is, but you manage to disconnect the call promptly in order to face him for the first time in years. 

this is your ex—your ex, min yoongi, is downstairs—a ramble and an echo of your own words play inside your head while you storm out of your apartment to rush into the elevator.

because of how ungodly the hour is, there isn’t a single soul out in the lobby. secrecy is on your side today, and you know for a fact yoongi will be appreciative of it.

with breaths that you can’t even collect, you chew on your lip as the elevator dings on the ground floor.

the lobby is cold—insanely cold—the cold pierces through your skin, desperate to cling onto your heat. even so, the automatic doors slide open at the sense of your urgency, and your head turns in accordance to the voices of your heart—where is he? is he really here?

and you see him—he looks nothing like the yoongi you saw in your torturous and repetitive dreams back then.

yoongi has his eyes set to the ground as he absentmindedly roams around the front of your apartment. his pale skin infused with moonlight glows unlike his attire—he always liked his blacks. 

“yoongi,” you involuntarily call out in an unexpectant soft decibel. you want to be louder, but the squeeze of your heart restricts you from doing so. 

yoongi stops mid-motion to flick his head up at the sound of your velvety voice. “it really has been a while.” he laughs once in absurdity. “thanks for coming out.”

you only stepped out of your own home, but he’s the one who travelled beyond thirty minutes to see you.

“what brings you here at this time?” exhaling slowly, you hug your own bare arms to keep yourself warm. 

yoongi averts your gaze by turning his head to sigh loudly. “it’s just me thinking for myself again.” he looks out, “you know how i am when it comes to my priorities.”

“did you argue with one of the boys?” you frown. “is something not working out?” 

“the memories of you in my head were starting to fade,” he says. “i couldn’t sit around and let that happen.” 

“we broke up.”

at that, yoongi takes his approach to walk closer. he’s intentional with his steps, keeping it slow amidst the chilliness which should be attacking him as much as it’s bothering you. “i know.” he answers deeply, still leaving gaps for you to fill.

“you’re going to be seen with me,” you dismiss heartlessly as you survey your surroundings worriedly before returning his stare. 

yoongi drops his head again to exhale in thought. then, he wordlessly slides his zip up hoodie off of his shoulders to drape it around your smaller body. his eyes glide over your collarbones, but he’s quick to hide your skin by bringing each end of the hoodie together.

you raise your brow. “seriously?”

“is that all i made you think of?” yoongi cuts in. “i knew i was a shitty boyfriend, but, wow, it never gets old.” his hand drops in defeat as he laughs under his breath.

“forget it,” you bite the inner flesh of your cheek, grasping yoongi’s hoodie to tear it off. “we—no, you said you had a favour for me?”

yoongi reaches out to seize your hand, stopping you from escaping his scent and warmth. he’s rather blunt for someone who’s no longer with you anymore, nor is he even hesitant or cautious when touching you. “yeah, i do.” he then answers casually after retreating. “i have somewhere to take you.”

you don’t know how the hell you made it here; you don’t know why you’re seated here without any sort of resistance in yoongi’s studio—listening to nothing but the obnoxious ticking noises in the room.

it’s undeniably a distracting sound, so you wonder how yoongi works under it—or should you say above, considering how high he is up in the world?

“you got rid of your old speakers.” you mention as you start to realise everything in this room is unrecognisable to you.

yoongi falls lazily onto his chair, accustomed to this mundane routine of his. “which ones?”

“never mind,” you mutter in embarrassment. “it’s been years, and electronics get replaced all the time—” laughing awkwardly, you grip onto the edge of the couch. “—don’t they?”

yoongi’s breath tumbles into a nostalgic laughter. “just be yourself.” 

pursing your lips uncomfortably at his familiarity towards you, your thighs tense as you remain quietly seated on his couch beside the rest of his equipment and multiple monitors projecting a music production software. “are you working on new music?” you ask out of awkwardness.

“yeah,” yoongi turns to face the main monitor. “my last album before i enlist.”

you try to swallow the gulp stuck on your throat. “when is it coming out?”

yoongi sucks in a breath as he sits back on the headrest, gazing at the ceiling thoughtlessly. “good question.” before you can open your mouth to inquire, he smiles knowingly and interrupts, “come see this,” he tilts his head in the direction of his workspace.

curious, you lift your weight off of his couch to trudge over to hover beside yoongi. your stare descends to the notebook covered in rushed, indecipherable handwriting.

“can you tell?” 

by all means at his words, you squint, trying to decrypt the meaning behind his ideas formed in scribbles. “not really?” your voice projects with uncertainty. 

yoongi cracks into a short, breathy laugh. “even after so many years with me.” he drags out a croaky yet deep ‘hm’ before confessing in a mutter, “it’s about you—listen, i know it doesn’t look like it, but… uh, fuck.”

you couldn’t help but to chuckle at him stressing. “yeah, okay.” you roll your eyes playfully, “sure it is.”

at your reply, yoongi wordlessly clicks through a few prompts on his computer. “and this.”

by rocking forward from where you stand, you instantly recognise the meaning behind the folders shown on the monitor. there’s four folders named after you—in your initials. 

“they’re all for the album i’m working on.”

you turn to face yoongi blankly, faces now close from your slouch. “what if i told you i had a boyfriend?” you were meant to say boldly, however yoongi’s timeless pink lips take you aback.

“you wouldn’t have come out if you did.”

the confidence in his voice makes you freeze momentarily. the time he’s spent with you is definitely not a delusion. it’s no surprise he knows you well. “true.” you forfeit.

“so…” yoongi trails off huskily. “is it too late for us to start over again?”

did you hear correctly?

your heart comes to a brake; one with an aggressive skid. “are you being serious?” you ask breathily. 

he nods once. “damn serious.”

you push yourself back a little, knees still bent. “i… didn’t think a day like this would come.”

“you have an unforgettable face and voice.” yoongi exhales, “i really tried.”

“thank you for not trying hard enough.” stifling your chuckle and retaining your helpless smile, you reach out to tenderly clasp his shoulders. “i think i would’ve gone crazy if you did.”

yoongi elicits laughter. “crazier than when you’re hungry?”

you attempt to shake his shoulders. “i really considered becoming your fan to justify my liking towards you.” 

“even if every song of mine was based on you?” he genuinely asks. “you wouldn’t last a day being in the audience.”

“come on,” you roll your eyes.

“so stay as my girlfriend.” yoongi confesses. “i’ll treat you right—better, this time.”

you couldn’t deny the anxiety pooling in your stomach at his suggestion. after all, he’s a superstar—most fitted to be up high, sparkling like the twinkling stars in the night.

and what are you?

how will you shine beside him?

won’t you just drag him down?

no.

that’s not true.

you’re you—you’re sure you shine in your own way.

that’s the reason behind why everyone exists today.

you let a smile consume your lips as you nod. “i’ll trust you.” you muse, “like how i did long ago.”

yoongi ascends from his seat and stands on his feet, causing you to stumble back instinctively. “except this time i won’t disappoint you.” he watches you turn silent at his promise. “i have more than enough time to love you now.”

shaking your head, your smile widens. “you’re sounding a lot like someone who’s been an idol for over ten years.” 

yoongi tightens his lips as he shrugs his shoulders like he normally does. “well, that’s the truth.” he answers huskily. “i’m growing old.”

“we are growing old.”

“hopefully together.”

you grimace jokingly. “you’ve gotten awfully sweeter.”

“it’s about time i try some romance.” yoongi tilts his head to the side invitingly before spreading open his arms for you to clearly jump into. it fuels a wave of nostalgia to flood into your mind.

you cross your arms teasingly, dismissing him for a moment. “in a company full of beautiful people dancing and singing everywhere they go, there’s no way you had zero interest after me.” 

“just get in here.” he flicks his head towards himself and his arms.

raising one brow, you stare at him defeatedly. “you have a lot of storytelling to do.” 

“and you talk too much,” yoongi says bluntly, however it’s just his way of speech. “you should know how impatient i am.”

“yeah, yeah.”

at that, yoongi loops his arms around you. with the force of his arms, causing you to subtly thud against his chest. an arm of his snakes behind your head, allowing his hand to rest against the softness of your uncombed bed hair.

taken aback,  half of your face buries comfortably into the side of his neck and his left shoulder. 

he still feels the same.

he still smells the same.

“thank you.” he mutters softly into your ear, holding you tightly against himself to refrain you from flipping and turning to observe his expression. “i had no hope for today, but—” he inhales sharply. “—never mind.”

you manage to leave a distance between yourself and yoongi to peer up at his face. “hey,” you whisper cautiously when you see the seriousness written over his façade. he blinks slowly, lips shut and quiet. “it’s not like we ended terribly.” extending your hand, you cup his heated cheek.

perhaps yoongi is guilty, he keeps himself isolated from the idea of elucidating. 

“superstar, i’m honoured to see you look so unsure of me.”

he finally breaks into a croaky scoff. “don’t call me that.”

you quickly swoop forward to steal a kiss from his lips, immediately feeling red upon tearing away. “i’m just stating a fact.”

“i’ll be good to you.” he promises the moment you drift from his lips. 

“you better.” 

[extasiswings]

when the light turns

I still can’t quite believe that 6x12 actually happened/wasn’t some sort of fandom-wide fever dream, but anyway, I was in my Eddie feels so have an interlude fic. 

Buck is asleep.

It brings Eddie up short at first, followed by a wave of fond exasperation.  He takes a swig from one of the open beers in his hands as he looks away, then back again.

Buck is asleep.

That time, the thought rocks him to his core.

He was only out of the room, what?  A minute?  Two?  And yet, that was enough time for Buck to crash so thoroughly that Eddie’s not convinced an explosion would wake him.

On his couch.  In his home.  

Eddie swallows hard around a sudden lump in his throat.

The way Buck looked when he arrived…his eyes were haunted, hunted, exhaustion written across his face and hanging from every line of his body—

Eddie remembers what that’s like.  He remembers all too well the feeling of lying awake staring at the ceiling, unable to quiet his mind, unable to settle, unable to get comfortable, just going and going and going until his body either physically shut down or he managed to relocate somewhere that seemed safe enough that he could rest.

And Buck—Buck came to him.  

He hadn’t expected it.  Hoped, yes.  When Maddie called him and asked him to check on Buck, he hadn’t said no outright, but hadn’t said yes either.  I’ll think about it seemed to strike the appropriate balance between agreeing against his better instincts or having to explain himself to someone who, while he likes her, he doesn’t really know well at all.

And there was also the part where he hadn’t wanted to put his foot in his mouth by admitting that he wasn’t sure her plan was what Buck needed.

He took a different path.  Held back.  Gave Buck space, even if it killed him to do it.  And he hoped that if he just waited patiently, Buck would come to him when he was ready.

He’s never been so glad to have been right.

Eddie takes another drink and looks away again, thinking absently that he should put the second beer back in the fridge, maybe go find Buck a blanket, do anything other than standing there.  But his eyes drift back to Buck as if pulled by a force beyond his control.  They track over Buck’s face, the scruff on his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest—

When Buck was in the hospital, Eddie couldn’t look.  He couldn’t make himself do it, not even knowing that any moment could be the last.  He couldn’t look at Buck hooked up to machines, with a tube in his throat, half a corpse.  He couldn’t face that without shattering.

He’s had plenty of other moments in the past where he couldn’t look either.  Because Buck—god, sometimes he shines so bright, burns so fiercely with warmth and light and life that it’s like looking at the sun.  In those moments, Eddie can’t look directly at him for too long without being afraid of getting seared.

Now though…he can’t seem to look away.  Buck’s usual light has dimmed enough in sleep that he seems…real.  Human.  Touchable.  It makes Eddie’s heart thud in his chest, a wild leap that steals his breath.

He aches.  But it’s not a bad kind of pain, not the sharp slash of terror or the deep, bloody torment of grief.  It’s gentle, like pressing a bruise, the subtle ache of healing.

Or of yearning.

Eddie’s breath shudders out of him in a long, shaky gust.  His fingers curl harder around the beer bottles in his hands, a reminder to himself that they’re already occupied, that he can’t reach out and touch no matter how soft, how approachable Buck may seem.  

There’s a space next to Buck on the couch.  Buck’s arm stretches out along the back of it, and it would be so easy to just sit down, settle into that space.  It would be so simple.  A few steps, a bend of his knees, and Eddie could fit himself right there, into the curve of Buck’s side, press into his warmth and let it chase away the rest of the lingering chill of the hospital.

Easy.

But Eddie doesn’t.  Can’t.

He’s not for you, Eddie scolds himself.  Not like that.

Because Buck will come back from this.  He’ll find his light again, and then he’ll find peace, find ease on some other couch, in some other house, with someone else, someone equally bright who isn’t afraid to love him.  He’ll return to being too much to look at, untouchable, and Eddie will be able to get a grip on himself, find the control that he left on a street somewhere in the dark and pouring rain.

He drinks.  He aches.  He looks.

He should walk away, but can’t seem to get his feet to move.

Not yet.  Not yet.

A line of poetry whispers through his mind as he stops himself from reaching out yet again, something he read years ago that always twists his chest.

Te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras, secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

But Buck is all fire and sunlight.  Even at his darkest and most destructive, he never fully loses that spark.

He is not a dark thing.  And he deserves to be loved in the light.  Openly.  Visibly.  Explicitly.  Which…simply isn’t something Eddie thinks he’s capable of giving him.

But, oh.  He aches.

Eddie isn’t sure how long he stands there watching Buck sleep, but it’s long enough to finish both of the beers he brought out.

And then, after one last breath, one last look, he finally unsticks his feet and slips back into the shadows of the kitchen.      

[dinofromspac3]

Time Lords get Sick too

Clara Oswald x Time Lord!Reader

Summary: Being a Time Lord, Y/n didn’t tend to sleep, so when their girlfriend, Clara, finds them in their room on the TARDIS fast asleep she worries.

Third person, they/them pronouns, 11th Doctor makes an appearance

Fluff.

Clara woke up on her own, this morning. That never happened. Mornings on the TARDIS usually began with her partner, Y/N, waking her up by jumping on her and attacking her with kisses.

But not this morning.

Clara went looking for Y/N, confused and concerned about why this morning was different. She found them in their room, curled up in a pile of blankets, fast asleep. At first, Clara couldn’t help but smile at the sight, but quickly that smile faded when she saw the sweat on Y/N’s brow and the troubled look on their face, like they were having bad dreams.

She went up to them, brushing some hair away from their face, and immediately she noticed how warm they felt. She had placed her hand on their forehead and Y/N jolted awake at the sensation of Clara’s cold skin.

“Shh shh,” she brushed her fingers through their hair. “It’s okay, it’s only me.”

“Clara?” Y/N questioned as they came to their senses. “What happened?”

Clara smiled empathetically. “You didn’t wake me up today. I came to find you,” she explained. “You’re burning up, Y/N/N.” She frowned, still running her fingers through their hair.

“Oh, am I?” They said confused, their brain still very clearly not fully awake. Clara frowned, and placed a loving kiss to their forehead. Y/N shivered pulling the blankets tighter around themself.

“Y/N/N, I think you might be sick,” she said softly. “I’m gonna go get the Doctor, stay here, okay?” Y/N just closed their eyes, and Clara knew they weren’t going anywhere at the moment.

~

A few minutes later, Clara came back with the Doctor. He kneeled down, next to Y/N and felt their forehead, waking them up again, as they had quickly fallen back to sleep since.

“Hey, hey you,” he cooed. “You’re in one hell of state.”

“Still not as bad as you, mate,” Y/N poked fun, making the Doctor chuckle quietly. Then he took out his screwdriver and did a quick scan. “So what’s the diagnosis, Doc?”

He looked at his screwdriver and read it’s results. “Ah, I thought as much.”

“What? What is it?” Clara wondered, a faint bit of worry in her voice. She’d never seen Y/N sleep before, and clearly they were sick. She didn’t know how bad it was, but the Doctor didn’t seem so worried, which eased her nerves a little bit.

“Don’t worry, Clara,” he turned to her with a smile. “It’s just a rough bit of Noctis Fever, essentially a time lord’s flu.” He tossed his screwdriver once in the air, and put it back in jacket. “Plenty of rest, and they’ll be back on their feet in no time.”

Clara smiled, sighing in relief at the news. “Oh, that’s a relief. I don’t know why, I didn’t realize time lords could get sick.”

“Of course we can,” the Doctor scoffed at the idea. “We’re not gods, Clara.” Then he smiled and gave Clara a pat on the head, before leaving the room. She sat down besides Y/N, and resumed stroking their hair as before. Y/N smiled at the contact, but still was shivering.

“Your hand is cold,” they said, quietly. Clara let out a soft breath of a laugh.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, tucking them into their blankets. “How about this, I’m going to go make you the classic, human remedy to all sicknesses, a nice warm bowl of soup. How does that sound?”

Y/N smiled, loving Clara even more in this moment. “That sounds nice,” they nodded.

“I’ll be right back,” Clara smiled again, and left for the kitchens.

~

Doctor Who Masterlist Main Masterlist

[taizi]

could you write a kid sanji fic like you did with luffy?? like sanji gets whammied with a devil fruit n gets turned back tk his germa years or something??

x

Sanji wakes up in the infirmary. He lies there for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling. The room is cool and comfortable, a fan blowing gently in the corner and a door wedged open to let in a breeze rich with the salty, briny tang of the sea. 

Something about it seems strange. He knows that this is the infirmary, recognizes it somehow, even though it doesn’t look the way it’s supposed to. The last time he was sent to the ship’s medical room, it was barely more than an out-of-the-way broom closet, manned by a grizzly old bear who made it clear he didn’t have time for clumsy trainees and their second-degree burns. There certainly wasn’t room for a proper bed, and if there was, Sanji wouldn’t have been tucked into it so carefully. 

Was the wood in The Orbit always this color? he wonders, eyes drifting to stare at the wall nearest his bed. Rich, almost red, each finished plank as smooth as glass. 

“Oh,” a voice says, “you’re awake!” 

Sanji is very used to strangers. The Orbit is a cruise ship, ferrying hundreds of different customers across the Blues every day. But he’s never seen a person like this before. 

It’s a little reindeer, in a pink and blue hat and a fluffy white hoodie with a sheep printed on the front. They hop down from their chair and cross the room to him in an enthusiastic clatter of hooves. Sanji is a runt, according to most of the crewmen on The Orbit and all of his former siblings, but this reindeer is even smaller than him, by almost a foot.

Did they hire a new doctor?

“How are you feeling?” they ask earnestly. “All your labs came back okay and your vitals are strong, but I’m worried you might be coming down with a fever. And I think you were having some bad dreams.” 

Sanji blinks, still half-asleep, and decides to humor the little creature. “I feel okay.”

“Good! Let me get you some water and take your temperature again. Then I’ll let the captain in to see you.”

“The captain? Why does he want to see me?” It occurs to him, belatedly, that he might be in trouble. Sanji sits up fast, ignoring the way it makes his head spin, and cries out, “I didn’t mean to!”

The reindeer turns with an insulated water bottle in their tiny hands, brow furrowed beneath their fur. “Didn’t mean to what?”

“I don’t—whatever I did. It was an accident. I can still work.” Don’t send me back. Don’t make me go. He’s frozen with a familiar terror, one he has done his best to outrun but will never outgrow. 

He knows it’s silly. He boarded the ship on Cozia and told everyone who asked that he was an orphan. If they decided to go through all the trouble of bringing him home, instead of just kicking him off at the next port, then that would still be leagues away from where Germa Kingdom usually resides in North Blue. They can’t send him back because they don’t know where he’s actually from. No one will ever, ever know. Sanji will never tell. 

But he’s afraid anyway. 

“You’re not doing anything until I say so,” the reindeer says firmly. “Doctor’s orders! Luffy only wants to see you because he’s worried about you! He’ll say it’s ‘cause he misses your food, but that’s not true. Well, it is true, but it’s not the only thing he misses.” 

Sanji isn’t sure he followed all of that, but the reindeer seems pretty certain that the captain isn’t going to storm in here and shout at Sanji or fire him. It’s enough that Sanji is able to release his death-grip on the blanket and accept the water bottle that gets shoved insistently towards him. 

Luffy? he wants to ask. The captain of The Orbit is called Chas. And Sanji is only a trainee in the kitchens, hardly allowed to do more than shadow the seasoned chefs. When he does cook, it's for himself, and maybe sometimes the mice that live in the underbelly of the ship. He can’t think of any reason why the captain—or anybody, really—would miss Sanji’s food. 

Luffy. The name settles inside of him like the first swallow of warm soup on a blustery winter day. He doesn’t understand it, but he presses his hands to his chest and tries to hold onto it. 

When the reindeer is satisfied that Sanji’s sufficiently hydrated and his temperature is normal, they say, “Okay, you wait right here while I go get him. Is there anything you need? Are you hungry?”

Still a little nervous, Sanji shakes his head quickly.

The reindeer makes a dubious “hmmmm” noise like they’re not convinced but they don’t want to argue. They pull the door open the rest of the way and disappear out of it, calling for someone at the top of their lungs.

There’s a lot of noise out there. Sanji tilts his head, trying to listen. He can hear music and laughter. Then he hears the thunder of feet approaching the infirmary at a breakneck pace, and he barely has any time to get scared before a beaming face appears in the doorway. 

Oh, that’s Luffy. Sanji knows it’s him right away. He doesn’t know how he knows. It’s the warm soup feeling again. 

“SANJI!” the familiar stranger exclaims, bursting inside with wild enthusiasm, like there’s something very wonderful waiting in the medbay somewhere. Sanji is sure there isn’t—it’s just him in here. 

But Luffy bounces right onto the bed, sitting cross-legged on top of the soft blankets so that he and Sanji are eye-to-eye. 

“Chopper said you woke up! You’ve been asleep for ages. How do you feel?”

“Okay,” Sanji says carefully. Luffy definitely isn’t Captain Chas. So this definitely isn’t the infirmary on The Orbit after all. He must be somewhere else. But how did he get here? And how do they know his name?

“You look okay,” the older boy agrees, leaning in like he’ll be able to tell it’s true just by getting a good look at Sanji’s face. “But there’s no way you’re not hungry! You missed dinner and breakfast and lunch!”

Twisting the blanket in his lap, Sanji says, “I’m really okay.” Judge used to send him away without dinner all the time, for any little thing. It was a punishment Sanji actually preferred, because it was the only one that didn’t leave him bruised or bleeding. Hunger pains are like an old friend to him. 

“Nope,” Luffy says suddenly, and leans forward and scoops Sanji right out of the bed. “There’s not a ton of rules on my ship, but the ones we do have are super important. And this rule even belongs to you—no skipping meals, shitheads!” 

He adopts a low, slightly husky drawl for that last part, like he’s imitating someone. Sanji is too preoccupied with being picked up, clutching at Luffy’s shoulder and the front of his shirt, to wonder much about that.

“Put me down, please,” he blurts, barely clinging to the manners that were sometimes his only saving grace in Vinsmoke Castle, even though he really wants to flail and shout and kick until he’s dropped or tossed away. Bigger people make him nervous. Bigger people grabbing him makes him nearly black out with fear. 

But Luffy just laughs, and it’s a warm, ringing sound. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to listen. And it’s actually not that frightening, after all, being held up by him.  

“Can’t,” he declares. “Chopper said you weren’t allowed to get up, which means I have to carry you.” 

“The reindeer said you were the captain,” Sanji says suspiciously.

“I am the captain. That means I’m not the doctor, or the shipwright, or the navigator, or the cook. I can’t do any of those things that my nakama can do, that’s why they’re so important. That’s why what Chopper says goes!” 

He tosses Sanji up playfully and catches him, the way Sanji has seen guests do with their children sometimes. Luffy’s not big and burly like the deckhands on The Orbit are, but he’s strong. His slim arms feel safe. 

Outside, Sanji has to squint through the late afternoon sunlight, lifting a hand to shade his eyes. They’re on the second story of a grand ship deck, coming down the stairs at a brisk clip.

From their seat on a rope swing, the reindeer themself wails, “Luffy! I said he had to stay in bed!” 

“Huh? I didn’t hear that part,” Luffy calls back blithely, everything he just told Sanji about listening to his crewmates tossed out on its ear. “We need food! Nami, the fridge!” 

“Yes, yes,” a tangerine-haired woman says, sounding put-upon. She folds the paper she’s reading and sets it aside. When her eyes fall on Sanji, she smiles in a way that transforms her whole face. “Hi, there. Iva said you’d be a little confused until the hormones wore off. Do you know me?”

Sanji doesn’t know Iva and he doesn’t know what hormones she’s talking about, but he likes her smile. Everyone on the deck is smiling at him, like they’re happy to see him. He doesn’t understand. No one has been happy to see him since his mom died. 

Behind the tangerine-haired woman, there’s a skeleton in a feather boa, strumming absently on a guitar. The bare skull where his face should be is wearing a rictus grin and heart-shaped sunglasses. 

It should be a frightening thing to see. Instead, it simply makes everything else make perfect sense. 

Oh, Sanji realizes, the worry and confusion in his heart finally settling. This is a dream. 

“Guess not,” the woman is saying to a man with a long nose and lots of curly dark hair piled up in a bun, since Sanji never answered her. 

“It’s only temporary,” the man replies earnestly, though he sounds a little anxious himself. “We’ll have him back to normal before you know it!”

“We’d better,” a green-haired man says dryly. “If Franky cooks for us again, I may throw myself overboard.”

“Oy! I make boats, not fancy five-course dinners!” 

“I can,” Sanji starts to say, forgetting himself. He stops abruptly, covering his mouth with one hand, but it’s too late. Everyone’s already looking at him again. But if it’s a dream, and they’re all dream people, then they won’t mind if he talks out of turn. Testing the waters, he continues carefully, “I can make dinner.”

“You can?” Chopper, the reindeer, asks like it’s some amazing feat. “But you’re so little! You already knew how to cook when you were this little?”

“I’m almost nine,” Sanji says importantly. “That’s practically almost a teenager. That’s almost grown-up.”

“Almost, almost, almost,” a tall woman with a curtain of shimmery black hair murmurs, her voice rich with laughter and openly affectionate. 

“Naaamiii,” Luffy whines, unlike Judge or Chas or any other authority figure Sanji has ever met. “Fridge!”

“Well, get a move on then!” she says, turning him by the shoulders and propelling him forward to one of the doors by the stairs. A bunch of the others start to follow, but a sharp look from the green-haired man causes them to stay behind and glare mulishly at him instead. 

Even Nami doesn’t linger after unlocking the fridge. She swipes a snack from inside, something in a delicate little crystal dessert cup, then tousles Luffy’s hair playfully, then touches Sanji’s cheek like she’d like to tell him something, but doesn’t know how to make him understand. Then she goes, the galley door swinging shut behind her. 

Luffy sits Sanji down on the counter and stands back with his hands on his hips. 

“I may not be a cook, but my brothers and I grew up by ourselves most of the time and we didn’t always have someone around to make meals for us,” he declares. “Before Ace went away, he made sure I wouldn’t starve. There’s like three whole things I know how to make really well! So Sanji can tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. What should we cook?”

The name Ace causes a tender pang in Sanji’s chest that he doesn’t understand. It makes him want to check on Luffy and make sure he’s okay, even though he’s standing right in front of Sanji, beaming ear to ear. 

He kicks his dangling feet back and forth, glancing around the big kitchen, with its spotless counters and hand-stitched dish towels and the pink apron hanging from one of the cabinet handles. It’s a kitchen that belongs in a home. 

He looks back up at Luffy. 

“What was your favorite thing to cook with your brothers?”

Barbecued alligator isn’t a viable option for half a dozen reasons, but there’s dark meat chicken in the fridge that will make a neat substitution. Luffy is hapless but enthusiastic. Sanji doesn’t actually trust him with an open flame so once the chicken is seasoned it goes in a big dish to bake in the commercial-sized oven. 

The entire kitchen is messy somehow even though they didn’t even use the whole thing. Sanji’s face hurts from smiling. 

“I hope you like it,” he says, twisting the dial on a funny tomato-shaped timer. “But you don’t have to eat it if it’s bad.”

Luffy boosts himself up to sit on the counter beside Sanji. Lifting a big bowl of fresh fruits into his lap, he picks out a lychee and begins peeling it with deft fingers.

“Sanji is amazing,” he says plainly. “He’s the best cook in all the Blues and the whole Grand Line. He made a cake so yummy that it stopped a crazy rampage once. I’m really glad he’s mine.”

Reaching over, he takes Sanji’s hand. It’s small and fragile in Luffy’s grasp, and covered in scars, but the young captain doesn’t say anything about any of that.

He puts the peeled lychee in Sanji’s palm, a perfect shining little moon. 

“Sanji can’t make anything bad,” Luffy says, utterly certain. “His hands are good.”

It has to be a dream. Most people only get one big miracle in their lives, if they’re lucky, and Sanji had his already—the chance to run to freedom, granted to him by his sister in an uncharacteristic act of kindness he still doesn’t understand.

There’s no way a place like this could really exist, full of people who smile warmly at Sanji and touch him without hurting him, who worry about him when he’s sick and miss him while he’s gone. 

Sanji hopes he remembers all of it when he wakes up. 

For now he mumbles shyly, “Can we cook together some more?” 

‘Together’ ends up meaning together-with-everybody as the rest of the crew refuses to be left out for much longer. Even the green-haired man slinks inside the dining hall eventually. He doesn’t help at all with the tricky lemon blueberry icebox cake that Usopp stubbornly insisted on, but he gamely tastes whatever gets pushed his way. The kitchen becomes even more of a mess than it was before, and there’s flour everywhere and sticky blueberry sauce all over Sanji’s hands, but he hasn’t laughed this much since he was little. Since he could still run off to mom’s room and climb into her big soft bed and curl up with her arms around him, while she told him stories that made the world seem like a smaller, kinder place. 

These people don’t make the world seem smaller. They make it seem huge. And Sanji isn’t afraid of it. He doesn’t want to hide. He wants to see the whole thing. 

He wants them to be there when he finds All Blue. He thinks maybe he can really, actually find it, if all of them come with him. 

(Two nights later, Sanji wakes up overheated and extremely cramped in a bunk not built for two grown men. He bites back a groan at what feels like the remains of a bad hangover and cranes his neck to see who is sprawled out over him like an inconvenient blanket. 

Of course it’s his captain, the overgrown kid snoring away with his arms tucked around Sanji’s middle. 

Little shit, he thinks, beginning the careful process of extracting himself. He manages to slip out of bed without waking the younger boy up, scowling without real ire at the shameless way Luffy stretches out in his sleep to fully commandeer the whole bunk. Did he have a bad dream? Sanji wonders a second later. 

He untangles the blanket and covers his captain with it properly. Lighting a cigarette, a brief flicker of fire in the dark quarters, Sanji lingers just long enough to push a hand through Luffy’s hair. 

Whatever happened, it’s nothing a good meal won’t fix.)

[cognitosclowns]

I wanna fall asleep with these freaks 💓🥺

I am the eepiest sleepiest little guy of all time and this activated a Worm in my Brain so this is gonna get SO LONG AMSDNAMSND

sfw!! just snuggles and soft things

Reagan

Not extremely cuddly? She likes her personal space!

That doesn't mean she never wants cuddles, she's just gotta be in a particular Mood for it!

Most nights, she wants to be kinda,, gently curled into your arm?? just a loose grip around it w/ her own, cheek resting on your bicep.

She talks in her sleep, but it's very quiet. Usually it's just her going through her schedule for tmrw (does she?? dream of work in her sleep???), but occasionally, you'll hear her mumbling about how much she loves you <333

Yes, it's just as cute as it sounds. She has no memory of it in the morning, but if you bring it up, she'll get this flustered little Half-Smile alllll morning <3

She falls asleep so fast. if you wanna be cute w/ her while cozied in bed I'm so sorry, the second she feels Safe and Warm and Cozy in your vicinity she's passing out for 4-12 hours ✨✌🏻

It's alright, you know she needs her rest <3 besides, that just opens up options for you two to be soft and shmoopy in the morning

Brett

Unsurprisingly, the cuddliest guy of all time. He would be inside your ribcage if the opportunity was provided KJASDKASJD

He really likes?? laying on your chest and stomach?? he likes to be significantly further down. occasionally you'll just,, barely see his hair and the top of his forehead peaking out from the covers from how low he gets

it's just so comfy! he likes The Noises and Warmth and Vague Suffocation that comes w/ sleeping w/ his head under the covers, resting against your torso <3

He smiles so much in his sleep. you didn't think ppl did that outside of movies, but he totally does <3 usually only when he's having a particularly good dream.

OH ALSO HIS BED IS SO FUCKING COZY

I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THIS MAN DOESN'T QUILT. HE HAS SO MANY BEAUTIFUL HAND-MADE QUILTS AND BLANKETS AND KNITTED SHIT IN HIS BED. I hope you like being cozy bc you're gonna be The Coziest Of All Time.

He also sleeps with stuffed animals! He always did as a child bc his treehouse was always cold as hell, and the habit just stayed with him!

they're so well-kept and soft all these years later <3 usually he just keeps them at the foot of the bed, bc it makes him feel safe to, but occasionally he'll bring a couple up for you two to snuggle <3 You Are Never Too Old To Snuggle A Stuffed Bear Don't Like To Yourself.

Andre

A Nightmare (affectionate)

not only is his sleep schedule Entirely Batshit, but he has so much trouble falling asleep. expect lots of tossing and turning

he does settle a lot thought when you hold him!! Don't hold too close, he still needs to squirm a lot to actually fall asleep

You're also the only person that he gets a full nights sleep with <3 he usually ends up waking up in the night, his mind starts working on smth, and he doesn't go back to sleep <3 but with you, it's almost instantaneous.

A little Jump, a bit of squirming to get into a comfortable position, and then off to seeb again <3 it's nice to see just how safe he feels around you <3

Expect plenty of early morning/late night convos <3 hell even middle of the night convos, where he hasn't realised that he fell asleep and instantly hops back into Whatever He Was

He also has such a habit of. Continuing Conversations From His Dream. like he'll just grab your arm and start talking about Yes I'm Sure If We Distilled It Enough We Could Make Whiskey Out Of Lighter Fluid Myc before passing out cold MASNFASMFJ

TLDR. squirmy silly man, but also enjoyable to seeb with.

Gigi

OUGHEEEEEEEEAWBABWBAGOURGHR <- experiencing wife fevers

SO COZY HOLY SHIT

I refuse to believe she doesn't have a Big Comfy Bed. Silk covers, big thick duvet, more pillows that she knows what to do with. The bed is 3 times the size of her so when you catch her snuggled up in bed she truly just looks like those photos of Very Small Puppies in Very Large Beds MNASDMASND

So cuddly <3 you wouldn't expect it, since she makes a point of being seen as very Untouchable and Independent, but she loves to be held.

Her ideal state is nuzzled under your chin, feeling your pulse through your neck <333 a leg hooked around yours to make sure you're nice and close.

She takes a while to fall asleep, so she likes to go to bed early! Feel free to join her at any time, she'll just be dozing <3

If you do join her when she goes to bed, expect some,, very soft, lovey-dovey moments. she looks utterly adorable, all bundled up in her cozy little slightly-too-poofy nightgown and eye mask.

She Deserves 1000000 Cheek Smooches Or Else You Shall Die Of Love Disease <- her favourite part of the night. she will start giggling the moment she feels your lips on her cheeks and neck.

kisses her 1000. she's the most

Myc

HE OWNS A WATERBED I KNOW THIS FUCKING MAN OWNS A WATERBED

A FREEFLOW WATERBED TOO. NO SUPPORT IT FEELS LIKE YOU'RE FLOATING.

It's actually pretty comfortable after you get used to it. you see the appeal, it's kinda got that Sensory Deprivation Tank feeling of weightless floating <3

Expect to be utterly Mummified in tentacles AKSDJASKJ

He insists that it's so that you don't go tossing and turning in your sleep and knock his ass off the bed but. You See Through His Lies You Understand. You See The Jackassery At Play Here.

OUGHEEE he has such a habit of like. swirling his tentacles gently around your skin. Not necessarily stroking back and forth, moreso massaging? if you have any knots in your back, thighs, or arms, they're gonna be gone by morning.

Fairly quiet? That doesn't mean silent though, he absolutely talks while you two drift off to sleep, but it's all in very quiet tones. A Little Shit, But Lovingly. (you may. gently have to bop him on the head and tell him to Shut The Hell Up Its 3 Am Goddamn Not Everyone's Job Is Just Sitting Around Getting Jacked Off MANSDMASNDMANSDMN)

Glenn

He snores like a foghorn I'm so sorry. the old man of all time

If you can look past that though, he's so fucking delightful to sleep with <33 most especially bc he loves when you lay on him

he says smth about how it Helps Unfuck His Back, but you're at least 45% sure that that isn't the main reason

(and you're right, it isn't <3 he just loves feeling your weight on him)

He loves just,, leaving a hand against your back, running up and down as you settle in to sleep <33 before leaving it to rest on the small of your back <33 love is so real and true.

his tail wags in his sleep

HIS TAIL WAGS IN HIS SLEEP

HIS TAIL WAGS IN HIS SLEEP

You'll see this most when he's sleeping on his stomach, bc when he's on his back his tail can't move, and on his side Everything Hurts At All Times KAJDKASJ

You'll see it squirm around the most when you're touching him <3 if you run your hands through his hair, or trace patterns on his back that things gonna be WHIPPING like a wheatstalk in a hurricane.

^ this also applies to. early morning and late night cuddles. in the morning its more of a,, slow waggle? like you'll just see it gently twitching under the bed, while you place kisses on his cheek BAWBBABWBABW <- if I talk about his tail any more we'll never be done

just the guy of all time <3 go sleep with that old man go do it go do it now go go go go g

JR

Let Him Sleep On The Booba

Truly he sleeps best with his face buried in your chest. what can he say, it's cozy as hell.

his ideal state is being Unconscious. A Coma. Laying horizontally being fed nutrients through a tube. He will nap on you at any possible moment

It's one of the time's he feels Truly Safe? Like he's constantly having to run around doing what the Shadow Board wants, doing what Rand wants, etc. Sometimes You Just Need A Little Nap With Your Partner To Be Okay Again

He IS freezing cold I refuse to believe otherwise. he runs Ice Cold and it takes him 15 minutes to warm up. feels a bit like cuddling a corpse until your body heat brings him back to Human Levels Of Warmth.

The things we do for love smh MNSFGKFAJSFGKSDJ

stupid rich expensive bed. imported silk sheets. mathematically optimised mattress designed in a lab to give him The Best Sleep Possible. he's rich enough to buy several countries, he might as well put it to use.

Alpha-Beta

OUGHEEEEEEEEAWBABWBAGOURGHR <- experiencing wife fevers part 2

He's such a heavy sleeper MY GOD. If you couldn't hear his internal systems whirring and clicking you'd think he was dead KJDSAKFJASDKFJDSA

It isn't really his fault - his 'sleep cycle' likes to be done in one solid stretch, to avoid file corruption, which means. His body just,, won't wake him up unless it senses Active Danger to himself or you.

It's fine! He'll wake up if the house is on fire. Probably.

'aww you're such an old man <3' <- he's going to push you into a woodchipper AKSGJSAKDJFKSDFGJ

He's so warm and cozy <3

Upside, personal heater during the winter. Downside, summer is hell for both of you (Upside, he sleeps mostly naked in summer to avoid Dying of Death Disease)

Hold him <3 hold him he won't ask but he loves being held, even more than he loves holding you (which is. Saying Something). The second he feels your arms wrap around him, maybe one of your hands gently fussing with his hair? Out like a light <3 its sweet, all those unspoken ways that shows how much he loves you <3

ABWBABWBAB I swear I did an ask like this before but. I don't care this was so cute. If you have any additions, go nuts!