-nsfw will contain sexually explicit content -themesof voyeurism, otherdirty shit -friends talking about deep dark secrets and their kinks at 2am -sorta crack!ish
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Your relationship with a certain green eyed Scandinavian, hadn't always been as easy going and friendly as the two of you are now, often times going over to the others apartment for drinks or Marvel movie marathons.
In fact, you can factually say you and he, hated each other.
Last summer, to be exact. You had moved into your rickety old living space with three cardboard boxes in your arms, tearing at the corners and threatening to release all of your belongings.
And just as you were about to attempt to open your door, rusty key in hand; he showed up.
Well, he actually ran into you. Full force body slam like a fucking quarterback if you hadn't known better.
Inevitably, you went flying to the floor with a shriek of sorts, the contents in your boxes crashing and falling like your confidence in that exact moment.
"Fuck, these doors are so close together I can't even walk out without hurting someone."
The stranger scrambled to his knees to help you, your arms no match for his much longer ones, not to mention the big ass hands that had been grabbing several items at once as if it were nothing.
You were feeling grateful, truly thankful after realizing it was all a mistake and the kind stranger even took time out of his day to help clean up the mess he caused.
But all of that flew out the nonexistent window when you turned around to face him.
Perhaps in a romantic comedy, your lock eyes and feel a lustful chill descend down your spine, your souls connecting within a matter of seconds before the two of you abandon your inhibitions and bang in the middle of the hallway.
But your life is far from romantic. Maybe a little comical, but definitely notromantic.
As soon as your eyes meet, everything clicks. You recognize those eyes, and that nose, and those lips. Even those stupid ears that you always wanted to flick whenever he pissed you off.
"It's you." You practically sneered, his features bunched into a grim of sorts, surely mimicking your own expression.
"It's you." He mocks, throwing the last of your books into your box beside you.
Who he is, exactly, is the little shit who made your freshman year of college a living nightmare. Every day was a mew shenanigan, a new, douchey comment about how you should be honored to be in his presence.
He was nothing but a stupid jock, attending every frat party within walking distance. Your best friend had convinced you to go to a few despite your protests, and oddly enough, each and every time you'd see him.
