crush imagines (he/him crush)

fort

A/N: Honestly I kinda hate making blanket forts because they take so long to clean up but I have to admit that they are super fun and cute while they last. 

C/N had pretty much saved me the day after I'd had a falling out with my former group (over a photo I'd asked them not to post). He'd noticed me surveying the cafeteria alone, and called me over to ask me a question about some homework. Subtle, but effective. It was perfect. 

My parents only let him come over so often because he was my only friend. I'd never had my former friends over to my house so often. Mostly because they all lived pretty far away, but also because I was terrified of their judgmental eyes scouring my house. I knew what they said about each others' houses, the state of each others' rooms, the size of the houses themselves. The first thing C/N did when he came into my house was say that it smelled like onions, in a good, food on the stove way. My parents were happy to host him from then on. 

We pretty must exhausted all of the usual hang out activities pretty early on. We watched TV, played video games, and played board games until we couldn't stand them any more. We moved on to catching goldfish in our mouths, dressing C/N up in my clothes, and making a giant, probably-dangerous slide out of sleeping bags and pillows and our stairs. 

On this particular day, though, C/N was holding out his phone when I opened the door. Pinterest was pulled up, and there was a photo of a fort made of pillows and blankets that he was blowing up with two fingers.

"Pillow fort!" was all he said before inviting himself in and sliding off his sneakers. 

We talked for a while about how some idiots had said that Pinterest was gay, and why that was a compliment, and  why he didn't beat those little shits up. Then he watched me as I scrolled through his Pinterest board, compiling a list of materials and ideas for the fort. He had a crooked smile on his face, and his eyes never darted away even when I looked up. 

I ended the list early, claiming we could just play it by ear, to spare myself from the gaze of those E/C eyes. 

It was a bit awkward after that. We gathered materials, cracking jokes as we maneuvered up and down the stairs past each other like worker bees. I tried, and failed, to stop my face from heating up. He tried, and failed, to hide a hard on. I didn't say anything. I never did, when it happened. 

Finally, we were reunited again, pushing chairs into a line until they stood parallel to the basement couch. He tossed the sheet over his head and chased me around before tossing it over  the furniture to make the top of the fort. After that, we organized the pillows and blankets inside and just laid there, looking up at the holiday lights we'd strung above it. 

Finally, he broke the silence. "This was fun." 

"It doesn't have to be over, we can watch Netflix." I offered, beginning to inch out of the fort.

"No! Uh, no. This is fun too." 

I relax back into the pillows and look at him sideways. 

"You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"You're acting weird."

"I'm not acting weird, Y/N L/N. Actually, I'm always acting weird, so therefore I'm actually acting normal."

I stared into his E/C eyes again and furrowed my brow. 

"Why aren't you breaking eye contact?" I asked.

"Why aren't you breaking eye contact?" He replied. I went silent and averted my gaze until I felt his grip on my wrist.

"...What are you doing,?"

He immediately released his grip, looking guilty. "Sorry. It's just- Your wrist is super small." 

I studied my wrist. It looked normal to me. 

"In my hand, I mean," he continued. "I just wanted to see how it felt." He glanced at my wrist again, then at my hair. "Oh god," he said quietly. 

"What?"

"Nothing, I was just about to tell you something in an incredibly creepy way."

"No, I wanna hear it!" I chirped. I loved hearing all the weird things that popped into his weird mess of a brain. He shuffled uncomfortably under the blanket. 

"Okay, um... I think I'm in love with your forehead." 

Crickets. 

"I just want to kiss it. And stuff. Sometimes." 

"C/N...what was the not creepy way of saying that?"

His eyes were darker now, his gaze more piercing. He seemed to relax, that little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth again. 

"I think I'm in love with you, Y/N. That's the only reason I'd want to kiss your big ass forehead."

He chuckled at his own joke and I hit him with a pillow to hide my own grin. He tossed it behind him, where I couldn't reach it, and stared at me, expecting a reaction. I hesitated, then held out my wrist. 

"I can't think of a non-corny way to say this, C/N, but I love you too." 

He strung his fingers through mine instead of holding my wrist, and my heart leapt. The world felt still, like the only thing that mattered was C/N and I and our fingers intertwined. 

"Since the day you organized a funeral for Fred," he laughed. I laughed too, picturing his old frog that was mauled by the neighbor's dog. 

"Since the day you told Ms. Geralds that Mia was copying my notes and became a fellow social outcast." I smiled at the memory, and he brushed some hair out of my face. 

"God, Y/N. Why'd we have to wait so long? Two fucking years to hold your hand like this."

"I thought you liked girls who looked like... I don't know, a popstar."

"Screw popstars. Katy Perry never made me blush like this. I like you, Y/N." 

He released my hand and brought his to my waist. "Can I kiss you?" 

"I don't know how to kiss," I admitted. 

"Me neither," he grinned. 

"Good," I replied, "But let's sit up." 

We both sat up and just grinned at each other for a while. Finally, he leaned in, his hand finding my waist again, my hands finding his jawline. When our lips touched, it was like instinct, a soft kiss here, a deeper kiss there, a bite, a tug, a breath, a smile. 

Just me, C/N, and the collapsing pillow fort folding around us like a cocoon.