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baeshijima · 1 year

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— how to woo the acting grand sage 101

wherein you pull out all the stops in an effort to persuade alhaitham on why he should date you, only… he woos you instead?!

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 7.8k wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, angst if you squint, reader gets ill from overwork in one part, slight spoilers for 3.2 archon quest (brief mentions/recap of end events)

A/N : reader is struggling but they’re trying their best, alhaitham is a (smitten) menace and bad at feelings (kinda); the embodiment of u fall first, he falls harder (i just think we need more energetic/cute readers with haitham TヘT)

It wasn’t anything special. Really. Just you, your first day jitters, and the calm boy beside you in his Haravatat beret; the same one as yours.

Perhaps he’d noticed your flitting eyes, your shifting feet, or your wrung hands that swung gently in front of your robe-clad body because, when your eyes met (and, oh, what pretty eyes he had), he gave you a small nod. Of what? Comfort? Acknowledgement? Salutations?

You couldn’t tell, and you couldn’t ask. By the time you regained your senses he’d already walked off, the blank space beside you feeling strangely empty.

It wasn’t anything special.

But to you, that one, singular moment was all you needed; the comfort it gave was immeasurable, your first day jitters nonexistent.

You soon found out his name: Alhaitham. The boy in the matching Haravatat beret, the one who gave you a simple nod, and the one who sat in front of you in class.

As far as first impressions went, he was in your good books! Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for your classmates or your professor. He was aloof and indifferent to your peers, sometimes riling them up with his blunt remarks or blatantly ignoring their presence. As for the professor’s apparent dislike, it was most likely due to him rarely attending class after the first week or so (something about self-study being a better use of his time, if you recalled correctly).

But even so, through all the harsh whispers and scorn you saw surround him, no one could deny his academic prowess. How could they when the scores and praise spoke for itself?

In all honesty, you don’t remember when or how Alhaitham accepted your presence amongst others. It took you a while, sure, but he eventually began taking time out of his own to converse with you. Passing conversations soon turned to greeting each other a good morning and bidding the other a farewell, which then turned to late night study sessions in the House of Daena, which then became a regular hangout spot for you both, and so on and so forth.

Oddly enough, knowing you were the only one he would tolerate was somehow rewarding. While he paid no heed to the world around him and moved at his own tempo, you’d always find him waiting for you up ahead.

In that sense, you were comforted by the idea he would be willing to wait for you — and, undoubtedly, you would wait for him too.

Fast forward a few years and you’re now stuck in a long-term unrequited love for the scribe of the Akademiya.

Lovely.

You’ve had a lot to reflect on these past few years (most of which you’d rather not recall), but one thing seemingly remains stagnant; you love Alhaitham. That’s been something you have long-since accepted, and something you’re sure the entirety of Sumeru City are aware of by now.

While you definitely weren’t one to shy away from your (blatantly obvious) feelings, it doesn’t mean you flaunted your love at every opportunity presented. In fact, you were pretty happy with how things are now!

But, well, you only live once, as they say. And, by process of elimination, that just means you should act on your feelings so that you can either finally move on, or land yourself the most eligible bachelor in Teyvat!

(No one other than yourself thinks that, but hey! One is better than none!)

And so that was the origin story for your journey — Operation: “Get Alhaitham to Fall In Love With Me” was then set into motion!

Step 1: Be upfront with your feelings!

Confess to Alhaitham.

You can do that.

All you have to do is strut up to Alhaitham, ask him to hear you out for a moment, (metaphorically) spill your heart out to the man of your dreams, and anticipate a response! A positive one, preferably.

Easy enough, right?

Well, that’s what it should be. So why is it that you’re now pacing back and forth in front of his office door, mentally rehearsing your pre-written confession you spent too many sleepless nights redrafting until you were somewhat satisfied?

A severe oversight on your part, that’s what.

Hm, maybe I should wait another day. The timing doesn’t feel quite right, and the weather is a bit gloomy for a confession. Yeah, maybe I can just head back and pretend I wasn’t even here—

“I can hear you pacing back and forth even with my earpieces on.”

At the familiar, low intonation, you freeze. Body stiff, you slowly turn your head to the man leaning cross-armed against the door frame, an unimpressed look greeting you.

Crap. Was I really that loud...?

With one brow raised and a slight frown tugging his lips, he gives a once-over at your haggard appearance. It doesn’t take long for his expression to morph into one of concern as he takes a step away from the door frame and closer to you.

“Are you alright?” he asks, eyes honed in on yours; or more specifically, the area under your eyes. “You look like you haven’t slept for a decade.”

It sure feels much longer than that...

“I’m alright. I think. Wait. That’s not important right now,” you stammer, head shaking to regain your resolve. Ignoring the judgemental look cast upon you, you lift your head to meet his gaze, fists clenching in an effort to disperse your nerves. “I have something I want to tell you.”

“What is it?”

And with a deep breath and eyes squeezed shut, you blurt out, “I think you’re really good-looking! I really like you, too! Like, a lot! And you have super pretty eyes! And really fluffy hair! And you’re really smart, though you can be a bit of a pain... And... And you have a nice physique!”

Silence.

Under the weight of his blank stare and the impending doom known as ‘silence’, it takes a drawn out second for a horrified gasp to escape you. Belatedly, you realise your absolute abomination of a screw-up — an insatiable urge for the ground to swallow you whole consumes all remaining sense of rationale (which isn’t all that much, really).

Aaaaaaahhhh I went completely off script!!

Perhaps sensing your next move, Alhaitham snaps out of his stupor and begins reaching out for you. “Wait—”

“Ha-Have a good night!”

And then you’re sprinting off into who knows where, leaving Alhaitham stranded at his office doorway with an arm outstretched in your fading direction and a dumbfounded expression settled on his features.

Disgruntled, he rubs the bridge of his nose, the heat washing over him doing little to help reorganise his thoughts. “It’s eight in the morning, not eight in the evening...”

(Alhaitham’s never been more grateful for his soundproof earpieces. Not only does it tune out the outside world at his beck and call, but it also prevents you from seeing the tips of his ears stained a scarlet hue; this being one time out of the many.)

Mission Status: Success...?

Step 2: Give him flowers! A bouquet never hurt anyone!

“Tighnari!”

At the call of his name, Tighnari’s ears flick and perk up. In a swift movement, he turns his head to witness you dashing towards him with a grin, hands waving manically in the air.

“How many times have I told you not to run?” he tuts, head shaking in exasperation. But even with his nagging, you can still detect the smile seizing his lips from a mile away as he begins approaching to meet you halfway.

When you come to a stop in front of him, you merely beam. “Not enough times!”

“Clearly.”

“Anyway,” you begin, “as much as I’d love to stay and chat, have you prepared what I asked for?”

He scoffs at your request, “Of course. Just who do you take me for?”

“The bestest, most reliable friend ever, of course!”

You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed someone switch to a deadpan so quickly before.

“Buttering up to me only goes so far, y’know.”

Amidst your grumbles and his chuckles, he leads you back to his house in Gandharva Ville. You’ve always enjoyed the Forest Watcher’s presence, and you’re glad he’s happier now compared to his time in the Akademiya.

The trek back was filled with your usual back-and-forth, lively chatter making its way up and filling the air.

(“Oh, is that a new essential oil?”

“So you’ve noticed. I see your sense of smell is evolving.”

“Well, it’s an entirely different scent from the last one, and I think I’d have to be a little nose-blind to not notice.”)

When you make it back to his abode, you find a bouquet already neatly wrapped up and propped against the wall. A sweet, calm aroma wades through the air, becoming more potent the closer you get.

Simply put, it’s perfect.

With this, I can move on from my previous embarrassment!

“Thank you again, Tighnari. I owe you one. Oh,” you gasp upon remembering something, “and be sure to send my regards to Collei.”

“Don’t mention it,” he responds with a smile and a nod to your request before bidding you farewell. “Be careful on your way back! Be mindful of your step and any stray roots in the ground. Wouldn’t want you to trip and tumble down, after all.”

“I thought we were past that already...”

“What?!”

“Apologies,” the scholar in front of you replies, scratching the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “Scribe Alhaitham left earlier in the day to explore some ancient runes in the desert...”

You’re pretty sure your heart just cracked.

“It can’t be...” you murmur. The bouquet in your hand feels heavy, just like your heart.

The scholar panics at your apparent dejection, wracking his brain in an attempt to rectify the predicament at hand. “When he comes back, I could tell him you were looking for him?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just... see him when I see him...”

You manage a small smile at his efforts, but the scholar only spirals into further panic when you trudge away with a gloomy aura hanging above.

I’m sorry, Tighnari. I’ve failed you and your botany skills...

Mission Status: Fail...

Step 3: Show him you can be dependable!

It’s a good day.

The sun’s out, the birds are chirping, and there’s not a single cloud up in the sky!

Yeah, it’s a good day if you ignore the stacks of paperwork piled up on your desk.

Dejectedly, you sigh and slump against the wood. You can already feel the forthcoming headache from just a single glance at the blurred words. Ideally, you wish everything could just be signed and done with at the mere thought. Realistically, you know that’s next to impossible.

...Maybe putting off your work and procrastinating wasn’t the smartest of decisions but, well, it’s too late now! Guess you’ll just have to suck it up and pull a couple all-nighters. Nothing out of the ordinary, unfortunately.

“Well,” you sigh to yourself, stretching your arms overhead, “good luck to me, I guess...”

(Distantly, you hear Alhaitham’s voice in the back of your mind reprimand you for leaving your work to later, but you swat the thoughts away without missing a beat and get started on the first pile.)

“[...me].”

“[Nam...].”

“[Name]!”

You gasp, shooting up from your slouched position. Though you come to regret the action when a sharp pang pierces through your conscience, eliciting a harsh wince to leave you. Immediately you fall forward and clutch your head, another pair of hands grasping your shoulders to steady you.

Huh...?

“Are you alright?” A cold hand makes contact along the expanse of your forehead and you subconsciously lean into the touch. “You’re burning up... When was the last time you rested?”

At the prompt, you strain your eyes to the left. Eyes squinting, you can barely make out a blurry figure, but the mesh of white, purple, red, and tan has you murmuring his name, “Cyno...?”

“Yes, it’s me.” His image wavers, and you can no longer distinguish his features. “You... last slept... hey... [...me]!”

His voice bleeds into white noise — drowned out by the world tipping on its axis before eventually it, too, is consumed by darkness.

Groaning through the overbearing warmth and fragmented light against your closed eyes, you breathe out a sigh and shuffle in place, trying to find a comfortable spot. Burrowing further into the duvet you feel yourself relaxing.

A musky scent surrounds you; one that’s warm and familiar, tinged with an aroma of worn pages and nature. The blends are few and far between, and yet they harmonize perfectly — its calming undertones help further relax you.

In the back of your mind, there’s a nagging feeling that there’s something you’re forgetting. But just what is it...

Your eyes snap open, heart lurching.

“Ah! The paperwork!”

In the midst of your frantic actions, a weight falls off your shoulders and tumbles onto your lap. Mouth agape and breathing erratic you look down, only to blink at the familiar item.

Alhaitham’s cape...?

“Lie down.”

Your shoulders jump when a voice comes from your left. Before you have time to protest, you feel yourself gently pushed back into bed, the covers lifted back up to your chin and Alhaitham’s cape draped on top once more. Though your movements are slightly restricted, you can still just about turn your head.

Alhaitham’s silhouette against the sunrise is hunched in your chair; elbows on knees, hands wrung together, and gaze focused on the ground. When your sight clears up, you notice his hair looks more dishevelled than usual.

You continue watching him as he heaves a light sigh and reaches over to his side. His hands wring a small cloth, water seeping out as his knuckles turn white from the pressure exerted. When he turns to you, the newly dampened cloth laid across your forehead, he doesn’t make eye contact. No, it’s more like he’s avoiding looking at you in general.

An awkward cough escapes you and he flinches ever so slightly at the sound. “How long have I been out for?”

“Two days.”

“I see,” you murmur. “Ah. Where’s Cyno? It’s kinda blurry, but the last I remember is him waking me up.”

“He’s busy.”

“Oh... Okay.”

A suffocating silence lapses over you after his blunt responses. It’s been a while since he’s spoken like this to you, so you’d be a bit of an idiot to not realise he’s mad. As for the reason why... Well, you’d rather not acknowledge the cause, even if you have a feeling he’ll bring it up sooner or later.

“[Name],” Alhaitham calls, voice low and even.

Averting you gaze, however hard you may wish for it, doesn’t help you avoid the inevitable confrontation set in stone. (That still doesn’t stop you from subtly lifting up the covers.)

His voice comes out weak and fuzzy against the ringing in your ears. “Why... didn’t you say anything? That you were ill? Were you going to just sit through it and not say a single word at all? Did you plan on pulling all-nighters again, even when you were on the verge of collapsing? What do you think would’ve happened if I didn’t overhear some scholars talking about how you fainted and had to be carried by the General Mahamatra?”

If this were you any other day, you’re sure you would’ve been over the moon at the sight of Alhaitham being the first thing you see upon waking up — taking care of and worrying over you on top of that. But alas, you’re sick and the string of questions he directs towards you does nothing but irritate you, the dull ache that previously lingered like white noise now blaringly clear.

“I don’t know. I guess I just—” you wince at the pain shooting through your head, “—I just thought there was no point so long as I get it done quickly then rest after. It was my fault I left it till recently.”

“Besides,” you add in a whisper, straining your eyes in an effort to stay awake, “you don’t like incompetent people, and I... didn’t want you to think that of me...”

“...”

It was quick.

One moment you felt warm and feverish, but now you feel warm and feverish and your forehead stings.

“Don’t be so stupid,” he retorts nonchalantly.

You’re dumbstruck, for a lack of better words. Through widened, bleary eyes you can just about register his unreadable expression, lips taught and brows furrowed slightly in your direction. A weak “What...?” slips through your lips, hoarse and broken.

For some reason, Alhaitham’s expression morphs. One of his hands tightens around yours (when did that get there...?) while the other reaches over to wring out a newly dampened cloth. He stays quiet, gaze avoiding yours as he focuses on wiping away the sweat clinging to your face while being mindful of the cloth already on your forehead.

“If you’re struggling, tell me. Don’t keep these things to yourself. And don’t...” he trails off with a grimace, and you barely catch sight of his lower lip tugged back by his teeth before it’s overshadowed by his hair. “Don’t ever think of yourself as incompetent again. You’re far from it.”

Oh...

Oh.

Out of all the things Alhaitham could have possibly said, you weren’t anticipating assurance and comfort.

“I... Uh... Hm. Okay,” you bumble like the fool you are, thoughts incoherent at the unexpectedly caring words. The only form of acknowledgement you received was him gently patting your hand; if you had the energy to squint, you could probably detect a teeny smile teetering the corners of his lips, but that could also be your half-delirious brain making stuff up like usual.

A cool sensation lands on your forehead, regulating the overwhelming heat permeating through your body. The sudden weight forces your eyes to close for a brief second and, upon opening them again, you find Alhaitham rummaging through his belt pouch. When he sits upright again, your attention is drawn to the object resting on his lap.

A... book?

“I’ll read to you,” he announces, probably noticing your blatant stare at the hardback cover now in his hand. He’s still avoiding your gaze, more interested in the book’s cover as his thumb traces over its surface.

There’s a brief pause.

Then, for the first time since you awoke, Alhaitham looks at you.

“It’s the new light novel from that author you like.”

“Huh? You mean...“ you trail off, eyes darting to take a closer look at the illustrated cover. A gasp soon escapes you after confirming it is, in fact, exactly what he said. “No way! You can’t even get this version unless you pre-ordered it months in advance! Wait, did you...?”

Another silence settles in your room. He averts his gaze to the side again, lips pursing as you send an accusatory stare his way, but shifts his sights back to you just as quickly.

“Enough talking, more resting.”

“But—”

“I’m opening the novel now.”

Despite your huff and low grumbles, you settle back in your bed and tug the duvet up to your chin. You listen to his low, comforting voice narrate the first couple pages, a familiar warmth vastly different to this feverish one washing over you. Your nose makes contact with the fabric of his cape and his scent surrounds you, coaxing your ailed body into a much-needed slumber.

Eyelids heavy, you use your last remaining strength to mumble your gratitude before drifting off, a content smile resting on your lips.

“Thank you, Haitham...”

Alhaitham’s breath hitches, eyes widening and the novel in his hand nearly slips from his grasp. His head snaps up to stare at you, only to find you already fast asleep with a few soft snores escaping you. He stays silent for a moment, taking a moment to process the sleep-induced words you’d uttered; namely the nickname you addressed him with.

Right. [Name] was merely influenced by the sickness and drowsiness. Don’t read too much into it.

Even after confirming that to himself, he continues to read the novel aloud to your unconscious self, replenishing the cloth at frequent intervals and staying by your side.

Even after confirming that to himself, Alhaitham finds himself unable to extinguish the heat that persistently clings to his skin — neither does the soft smile nor the flutter stirring in his stomach seem to have any intention of leaving; even more so at the sight of you burrowing into his cape.

Mission Status: Failed successfully!

Step 4: The fastest way to one’s heart is through their stomach! (Read: give them food.)

A lot has happened over the past couple weeks. Other than Azar and his minions being overthrown and Lesser Lord Kusanali being freed from solitary confinement by a few of your friends, Alhaitham is now the Acting Grand Sage!

Well, you only heard about this recent development from Cyno and Tighnari after returning from an expedition to decode some ancient runes in the desert. Not the welcome back you were expecting, but a welcome back nonetheless!

And upon confronting Alhaitham about his involvement in the rebellion you’d heard so much of (Cyno sure had a blast detailing his annoyance and praise over your last Genius Invokation TCG match), he merely heaved an exasperated sigh before adamantly explaining to you it wasn’t his intention to have his current position, but “Since everyone is so incompetent, I’m the only capable person who can take charge.”.

(His words, not yours.)

In all honesty, it almost feels like he’s still the scribe with how often you see him — as though nothing has changed and his duties are still the same. Though the same can’t be said with the other scholars and researchers, you suppose.

Recently, you’ve had more researchers come up and ask you to deliver papers to Alhaitham in their stead. Their reason? Well, it typically fell under one of two categories; “The Acting Grand Sage never spares us the time of day outside his work hours, and you’re our only hope...” or, “He wouldn’t turn you away or avoid you since he likes you so much.”

Maybe it’s because of the massive ego boost you’d gotten from their comments, but you now find yourself lugging a stack of papers that need to be looked over and signed, along with the freshly boxed up meal you bought earlier dangling from your other hand.

The journey back to his new office isn’t all that bad, just... a little awkward. You’re pretty sure the librarian hasn’t seen someone come and go from the (Acting) Grand Sage’s office-slash-elevator as frequently as you do, but hey! That just means you’re pretty special!

(For what it’s worth, you do kinda wish they had elevator music. Talking and humming to yourself can only do so much.)

Upon reaching the top floor and stepping off the platform, you’re greeted with the sight of Alhaitham leaning back and reading another one of his books. Ah, I feel my heart getting lighter at the sight.

“I’ve returned with food, Grand Sage!” you call out with a grin, waving your hand which carries the bag.

“Acting Grand Sage.”

“I’ve returned with food, Acting Grand Sage!”

A deadpan stare is all you receive at your quip, a sigh soon escaping him. “Why are you even addressing me with that title? Surely just saying my name is more efficient.”

“Because it’s fun, of course!” you merely laugh out in response.

A frown tugs his lips at that, eyes narrowing slightly before relaxing. He beckons you over with swift eye contact, and the chair opposite to where he’s sat is pushed back with his foot.

Wow. What a gentleman.

Plopping yourself down on the chair with an audible “Oof!”, you place the newly bought meal onto his desk. A mouth-watering scent wafts in the space between you, and you find yourself holding back a gulp at the delectable aroma. You quickly divvy up the food between you before glancing around the room.

As if reading your thoughts, Alhaitham nonchalantly says, “If you’re looking for my assistant, he’s not here.”

“Oh?” you ask between delightful mouthfuls. Swallowing down your food, you continue. “Where is he now? There should be plenty for his share too since I bought a lot this time around — or, well, I guess Lambad insisted I took more...”

There’s a small beat of silence after your words, though you barely register that fact when he speaks up again.

“No need. I’m feeling hungrier than usual, so I doubt there will be any leftovers to share.”

“Huh?” It takes you a couple seconds and a raised brow from Alhaitham for his words to register. When it does, however, you find yourself beyond ecstatic. “Oh! Of course, eat as much as you want! You need the energy for your Grand Sage duties, after all.”

“Acting Grand Sage duties.”

“Yeah, yeah, same thing.”

The rest of your lunch is spent in idle chatter and shared food. When you put more food on his side, he pushed his drink towards you or gave you more of your favourite bits.

(For someone who claimed to be really hungry, he sure was giving you a lot of food...)

Leaning back with a hefty sigh, you pat your stomach in content. Ah, Lambad never fails me, you think to yourself. Now that you’re done with your mini lunch date, it’s probably about time you head back and get your work for the day done. Your once content sigh now turns dreary, the energy you had barely seconds ago already dissipating.

Unbeknown to you, the corners of Alhaitham’s lips quirked up at your obvious dejection. Fist on cheek, he stares fondly at your ever-changing expressions; the familiarity of such a sight bringing him more comfort than he would ever let on. Eyes sweeping across the desk, his mood sours when spotting a stack of papers that wasn’t there before your arrival.

“Did those scholars bother you to run errands for them again?”

“Ah, this?” you drawl, head tilting slightly to view the contents. A low giggle escapes you when remembering the reason you originally brought it. “It’s because they can never find you.”

A huff escapes him at that comment. “Then they should have come during my work hours.”

“Apparently you’re never here when they come looking for you.”

“And? It’s not my problem they simply have bad timing.”

You all but shake your head at his antics, an amused smile blooming on your lips. Taking a quick glance at the time, you startle. Oh boy, where did the time go? Time really does fly when you’re having fun. Panic settles in you when the stack of papers needing to be sorted and signed appears in your mind. Scrambling up from your seat you spew out hasty apologies, too absorbed in your panic to notice the startled man you previously ate with.

“Aaaahh! I’m so sorry Haitham, but I really have to go! I have a million papers that need to be sorted and— gosh. How did the time fly by so quickly?! I could’ve sworn it was twelve just a minute ago—!”

“Wait!”

His voice is rushed — panicked, almost — and you find yourself unable to move. The ironclad grip on your wrist is tingling, even more so as it moves to envelop your hand completely.

His cool facade wavers slightly when you regard him with astonishment, but he gulps down his frayed nerves and steels his resolve. “Call me that again.”

“Huh? Like what?”

His hold on your hand tightens ever so slightly.

“Haitham.”

Mission Status: Success?

Step 5: Make him... jealous?

Apparently, your sad attempts have garnered Kaveh’s attention (and pity). Why else would he be at your door at 4 a.m. and suggesting you use him to make Alhaitham jealous, all the while grumbling how “It’s so painful to watch you do so much, only for that guy to do nothing.”, as well as the addition of “Maybe this time I can finally get the upper hand over him and that infuriating arrogance of his!”

“Is someone like him really going to get jealous over something so...” you trail off in thought after he explains the plan he had in mind, eyes screwing shut as you try to think of the word to describe, well, whatever it is Kaveh proposed, “so trivial? It just seems like something so beyond him to get jealous.”

“Hah!” he barks out, settling back into your sofa and patting down the blanket on his lap. “You’re kidding, right?” When you don’t respond, he levels his sight with yours, perplexed. “Wait, you really don’t know?”

“Would I be asking if I knew?” At your retort, his face freezes. He seems to have come to a realisation, if the way he instantly sits upright has anything to say about it.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kaveh intervenes, hands resting on his temples. “Let me get this right. You’ve been pursuing him for how many years now—”

“Five years,” comes your instant reply.

“—I wasn’t expecting you to answer, but exactly. Five years. And you think something like this would be ‘trivial’ to him? That guy??” You nod; he groans. “Ugh. You’re hopeless. The both of you.”

An offended gasp escapes you. “Well, excuuuse you! I’ll have you know I’m trying my best over here.”

“Unfortunately, I’m aware of that.”

He deflates against the cushions with a sigh, lifting the fallen blanket up his torso. A slew of unintelligible grumbles leaves his lips, and you just barely make out “I still don’t understand what you see in someone so unromantic...” before shaking your head at his antics.

When you take a glimpse at the time, however, a thought sticks out in your head.

“Also, why are you here at 4 a.m.?”

“Am I not allowed to visit you at 4 a.m.?”

You blink. He blinks back.

“...Did Alhaitham take your keys again?”

Silence.

“No...” he trails off, like a liar.

That night — or morning, rather — you let the temporarily homeless Kaveh crash at your house, discussing your plans on making Alhaitham jealous.

As a result of your late-night plotting, you’d somehow ended up spending around a week solely in Kaveh’s presence; as per the plan, that is. According to him, if you took some time away from Alhaitham, then it would “make him question that annoying mindset of his and force him to realise what a bumbling fool he’s being!”.

(Kaveh’s words. Not yours.)

Well, you suppose taking a break from his presence wouldn’t do that much harm. The blond makes for fun company, and you would never turn down an invitation from him! In short, this plan of his just gave you an excuse to hang with him even more than you already do!

You strayed from the Akademiya as much as you both could without neglecting your work, but the majority of your time was spent with Kaveh in the House of Daena, your house, or Puspa Café. And when Alhaitham was in the nearby area, or directly approaching you both, Kaveh would be quick to pull you away to a different spot. And when he managed to catch you when you were alone outside your working duties, you would conjure an excuse before hurriedly taking your leave. (You mentally apolgised to him each time as you scurried away, not daring to look back in case your resolve crumbled.)

Luckily, today, you haven’t encountered him.

With a much needed stretch after working through the morning, you turn to Kaveh and see him doing the same as a yawn slips past his lips. You’re feeling a bit peckish now, and you’re sure he is too. Plus, the weather was pretty good so going outside wouldn’t be too bad!

“Hey, where do you wanna go for lunch today? Lambad’s—”

Though, you barely get to utter the restaurant’s name when he pulls you into an embrace, arms wrapped around you as you both sway slightly in tandem. Instantly, you realise what’s happening.

Wait, we’re starting that part of the plan now?!

Sure enough, footsteps resound from behind you, a deep and familiar voice following soon after. “So this is where you’ve been. Strangely enough, you seem busier and harder to find these days.”

Kaveh parts from you a second later, but takes your hand in his. Instantly, you see Alhaitham’s eyes dart to your interlocked fingers before returning back to you. Kaveh seems to take note as well, and deftly swings your hands in front.

“Yeah, and what of it?“ You gulp at his smug tone, mentally preparing yourself for the incoming argument they usually fall into. “But you seem to have caught us at a bad time again, because we were just on our way to a date!”

...That wasn’t part of the script?!

His hand gently squeezes around yours, and you will yourself out of your surprise. Right. This is part of the act. Even if it doesn’t sit well with you, it’s not like you have many options left!

And so with that being said, you steel your nerves and turn to face Alhaitham. Not even a second later do you find yourself faltering when you take note of his expression — blank and slightly shadowed by his hair.

“...Is that so?”

“Of course. We were just on our way to Lambad’s Tavern,” Kaveh responds before turning to you with a smile. “Weren’t we, [Name]?”

And you smile back (albeit through gritted teeth). “Haha, yes, that’s right! We were just about to have lunch.”

A pregnant pause lingers in the air after your agreement.

(Is it just you, or did the temperature suddenly drop?)

“I see,” Alhaitham finally breathes out. He spares another glance at your hands before meeting Kaveh’s eyes. “Well, I hate to be the one to ruin your plans, but I need [Name]’s help for some urgent matters.”

A scoff. “What could be so urgent for someone who makes it a point to get all his work done in advance?”

“I can assure you it’s far more urgent than your... date.”

There’s a distant sheen in his eyes as he forces out the last word. The air around you turns frigid as the two men stare each other down and, if this were depicted in a show of some sort, you’re sure lightning would crackle in the space between the two.

An agitated sigh breaks the silence. The grip on your hand loosens.

“Alright, fine. You can have [Name] for your ‘urgent matter’.” Kaveh gently nudges you forward until you find yourself standing before Alhaitham. “If you do anything strange to [Name], I’ll come and personally sort you out myself!”

Besides the brief scoff and mutter of “I’d like to see you try”, Alhaitham spares you a prolonged glance before wrapping his hand around your wrist and turning away, forcing you to follow hot on his heels. When you look back at Kaveh, all you see is a double thumbs up with an agitated expression (no doubt he heard Alhaitham’s snide remark) that screams “I told you so”.

Well, that’s no help at all.

The walk to the elevator is silent. The ride up to his office even more so. And awkward. Very awkward. You’re probably the only one feeling this awkwardness though. After all, you were the one ignoring him this past week, not the other way around, so he has no reason to feel awkward around you. In fact, Alhaitham should be more annoyed than awkward...

Ah. I’m screwed.

The lift comes to a halt when the realisation sets in, the presence of his hand on your skin even more prominent than before. He still hasn’t said a word to you. And, if you’re being completely honest here, you’re not sure whether to be grateful for that or not.

There’s an unnerving silence in the (Acting) Grand Sage’s office. Upon closer inspection, it seems his assistant isn’t here today either; only you and Alhaitham stand in the centre (of his office, and the world). As your gaze flits across the expanse of the room, you note how messy the interior appears — well, messier than usual, that is.

“I didn’t like you when we first met,” he begins; unprovoked. He doesn’t turn around, and so you’re left to gape at his back. “You were annoying and kept hovering around me, even when I made it abundantly clear I didn’t want to be bothered. You were a nuisance; a thorn in my side and I would always get irritated at the mere mention of your name.

I never understood your naivety. Were you pretending, or were you really that unaware? Why would you go out of your way to make a good impression on others? Did you have to be liked by everyone so desperately?” A harsh scoff leaves his lips, but you couldn’t tell whether that was directed to you or to himself. “I couldn’t understand you and thought of you as a fool.”

Wait… isn’t he just straight-up insulting you now?

“I couldn’t understand you back then but now, I know you like the back of my hand.” His voice remains unchanged. Perhaps if it weren’t only you two in the room, the slight waver of his voice would have gone unheard. Then he breathes out a sigh and tilts his head back, still with no intention of facing you. “Do you remember? That winter back in our first year. The one where we were partnered for a presentation.”

(Oh. He’s actually talking to you now.)

“Uh, yeah,” you stammer, “that’s the one we were given two months to prepare for, right?”

He hums in confirmation, “Do you also know, [Name]? At the time, I considered those two months we spent together to be the worst of my life.”

...What.

Too stunned to even think up a retort, he seems to take your silence as his cue to continue.

“Your views on the world; your naivety; your foolishness... I soon realised they were all qualities I had merely made up, simply because I couldn’t grasp your intentions until I actually talked to you. Hah,” he laughs, bitter and remorseful, “it turned out I was the naive one, and that made me question my values.

At the end of our project, I came to realise it wasn’t anything to do with your disposition, but more so my feelings for you. I knew what it was but, at the same time, I denied them. I avoided you more than anything in hopes of them dying out. But... they didn’t. They only grew stronger, as if to mock me for my vain efforts.”

And then he turns — slowly, hesitantly — knitted brows and lower lip caught between his teeth. It’s bashful and shy and tentative; and yet you’re sure his eyes have never held such a confident and resolute glint before now. And now, with both of your hands engulfed in his, he continues on.

“Ever since accepting my feelings, I grew more aware of your presence. No matter where I looked, no matter where my thoughts were, you were always there. I soon came to value your opinion and thoughts of me when I hadn’t cared about such things before. With time, they grew stronger. More desperate. And when realising that just being by you was no longer enough, I... became greedy.”

(Alhaitham has a vague sense to stop here, but he can’t. He won’t let this chance to reveal the true nature of his feelings slip by.)

There’s a small beat of silence as he lowers his head — foreheads touching and noses brushing.

"I want to kiss you, hold you, experience all the mundane and extraordinary things life has to offer with you. I want to be there for you and grow old with you, and...” His hold on you tightens, angling his head to get a better view of you, and for you to see his glossy eyes and near-trembling smile. “And I want to keep your smile in my eyes for the rest of my life. If this isn't love, then I'll probably never know love for the rest of my life."

Your mind’s a mess; jumbled and incoherent. Unfocused, your eyes dart from every dip of his face to the furniture in the background, unable to keep your mind and concentration at bay from his sudden confession. His eyes bore into you, seemingly inching closer and closer; so close they’re all you can see, speckles of umber and teal that would usually go unnoticed becoming very prominent.

Somehow, he leans in even closer. Your mind blanks, throat parched and senses going into overdrive.

“Wait, Alhaitham—”

“No,” he interrupts, his unwavering gaze never once straying from you. “I refuse to wait any longer than I already have. I should have said this long ago when I realised our feelings were mutual, as opposed to waiting it out for so long.”

And then you hear it.

“I love you.”

“What...”

“If you need me to say it a thousand times over just so you understand, then so be it.” His eyes soften considerably, a smoldering passion now unconcealed and consuming you whole. “I love you, [Name]. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I’ll continue loving you for even longer.”

You want to respond. No, you have to respond. After years of showing your affections you finally received a clear response. You should be jumping in his arms and professing your love again! So why...

Why can’t you say anything...?

The pad of his thumbs gently swipe under your eyes, catching beads of tears you hadn’t realised were accumulating. The residue follows the path of his thumb, dampening your cheekbones as his hands slide to cup your cheeks.

“Are you backing out now?” he breathes out, a silent laugh puffing from his lips. “After all this time you’ve spent pursuing me, and you go silent when I confess my undying love for you?”

“Ah, no, I just... can’t believe it, I guess,” you respond sheepishly after regaining yourself. In a haze of excitement, you turn slightly to fist-bump yourself, his cupped hands following your slight movement. “Your efforts have finally paid off, [Name]!”

Just then, a small “Bfft” rings out. You blink and cautiously turn your focus to the man wearing a stoic expression in front of you.

“Did you… just laugh?”

“I didn’t,” comes his instantaneous response.

(A bright grin alights your face at that, and Alhaitham finds it hard to not kiss you right then and there.)

“You liar. You so did!”

“You’re just hearing things.”

“Yeah, because I just totally heard you turn your head in a failed attempt to hide that laugh—!”

Your words are muffled, swallowed and silenced by his lips on yours. An overflowing warmth seeps through the point of contact. It traverses through your body, now hyper-aware of every strand of his hair tickling your cheeks, to the pads of his fingers searing your skin, to even the faintest brush of his clothes against you.

His touch is warm and all-consuming — and you find yourself leaning in for more.

(Strange. You thought his lips would be a little rough, but they were actually quite soft.)

Slowly, your lips detach. He lingers and hovers over you, everything from half-lidded eyes to his lips brushing against yours consuming you whole. When you try to move back to cool down, he follows; an aimless pursuit for your touch.

“I think you talk too much,” he finds himself murmuring, mind still reeling from what just transpired. Your dazed blinks-turned-smile sets his heart alight at such an adorable sight only he is privy to, as he relishes in the warmth diffused from your cheeks to his palms.

“Hehe, but you like it though— let gwo obf my cheeks.”

In the midst of your complaints, Alhaitham grins, eyes crinkling at the corners as he stares at your puckered lips from his hands smushing your cheeks. How cute... he muses to himself, before planting a chaste, lingering kiss on your forehead.

“By the way,” he whispers against your skin, “your little act with Kaveh hasn’t been forgotten.”

“Uggh. You’re sho stingyy...”

“Hm, perhaps. But you like it.”

Alhaitham had never seen you with such a dumbfounded expression until now.

Mission Status: Who cares? You just won in life! (But also: success!)

“Ugh. They’re at it again.”

Aether and Paimon share a glance upon hearing Kaveh’s grumbles. They follow his line of sight to see what put the architect in such a state, only...

“Is that... Alhaitham?!”

Paimon’s cry earns her more than a few glares from researchers, scholars, and students alike, but that’s not the main issue. The main issue here is in a far corner tucked away in the House of Daena sits you and Alhaitham, the man in question pinching and tugging your cheeks as you try (and ultimately fail) to swat his hands away.

The travel duo had met you a handful of times. Within those few meetings, Aether had thought of you as someone sincere and resolute, whereas Paimon had deemed you as the “nice researcher with the tastiest food recommendations!”. And within those few meetings, never would they have guessed your relationship with Alhaitham.

“Oh?” Kaveh cocks a brow at their apparent surprise. “You didn’t know they’re dating? That guy is so obvious about it with how clingy he is.”

Aether hurriedly covers Paimon’s mouth before she could spew another set of cries that would surely put them in the bad books of the nearby occupants.

A beat of silence passes. A distinct murmur from your direction can be heard amidst the faint scribbling of pen on paper and the rustling of pages being turned. And then comes a sigh from beside them.

“Y’know, that guy’s been in love with [Name] for as long as I can remember, and probably even before then,” Kaveh starts, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at you quietly giggling away at something Alhaitham whispered. “He was so obvious about it too with his blatant favouritism. And even then he never outright acted on his feelings — that were very much reciprocated, mind you — until a few months ago! If it weren’t for me, this whole thing could’ve taken another few years!”

Aether and Paimon share another glance before focusing back on Kaveh and his seemingly never-ending rant.

“Honestly,” he huffs, head shaking in line with his exasperation and still in his own world, “I still have no clue what he’s thinking. For all I know, he probably just wanted to see how far [Name] would go; that smug bastard. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

While Aether awkwardly chuckles at the tagged insult, Paimon continues to watch your shared interaction in wonder — namely the smile which adorns Alhaitham’s lips.

“Wow. Paimon can’t imagine a guy like him being in love...”

Kaveh scoffs. “There’s no need to imagine it when he’s so blatantly love-struck right in front of us. However...” he trails off when you nudge Alhaitham, the new angle allowing the trio to witness him chuckling fondly at your action before placing a kiss on your cheek. A light sigh slips past Kaveh’s lips, “I’m glad they’re finally together.”

“Why so?” Aether asks, head tilting at the man’s change in tone.

“It was painful to watch.”

“Ah...”

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

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yeonhwrts · 1 year

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#⛸️ . . . 𝘁𝘅𝘁 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗷𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : fluff , slightly suggestive

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: use of word damn ig ?

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 : no

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝟒 𝐔: consider this is as your Xmas gift 💗🥹 merry Christmas everyone. I definitely went overboard with yeonjun tho

. . . 💭 SOOBIN :

The sulker . Although he might not act on his jealous tendencies like the others will , he tends to sulk a lot when he gets jealous. On a thursday night , he bids farewell to his manager as he gets on the lift to the dorm . Today was very tiring for soobin , and he wants nothing but to nuzzle inside your neck and just sleep right away while you coo and baby him . He pulls his rucksack over his shoulders and opens the door only to be greeted by your laugh echoing throughout the dorms followed by yeonjun's . He gets curious and paces to the hall to see yeonjun and you immersed in his phon , watching funny cat video . You are both laying next to each other while yeonjun holds the phone above you both in one hand and one hand rests behind his head . Only when soobin cough , your attention turns from yeonjun to see soobin standing there sulkin . " Hi Binnie ! " you smile at him , but before you can reach out to soobin yeonjun stops you . " Y/N look at his black cat , why does this look like taehyun ?" and this seems to have distracted you from soobin as you lean over yeonjun to continuewatchingg the video again .

Soobin , clearly mad after witnessing this storms off to his room aggressively . It's been almost 30 minutes and soobin has not come back from his room , and this quiet reasonably worries you. " Yeonjun , let me go check on soobin , yeah ? " , you excuse yourself from him and enter soobin's bedroom . The room is dark except for the dimly lit light of his nightstand , the giant man is lying on the bed , cuddling one of the bunny plushies that you got for him on your 6 month dating anniversary . He has hidden his face inside the bunny and you can already tell that he is sulkimg about what happened earlier .

You silently crawl into the bed and wrap your arms around him from behind . " Are you jealous, bin ? " you ask the man , a silent smile apparent behind your voice. No response comes out from soobin, so you proceed to kiss him shoulders while running your hands on his back . " Come on binnie , please don't be mad at me . I am so sorry ", you keep telling him as you slowly see his facade breaking . He slowly turns around and you can clearly see the exhaustion in his eyes and suddenly you feel so guilty for ignoring soobin . " Baby im so sorry " , you pull soobin to your chest and cradle him in your arms , swaying him back and forth . Soobin hides his face in your boobs and nuzzles inside . " You can apologize by taking a shower with me " , soobin says as you smile fondly at him .

. . . 💭 YEONJUN :

This man and his dramatic ass fr . Yeonjun should be your only center of attention and anyone else who tries to compete with him comes back with fear in their eyes . Yeonjun has known you since you guys were teenagers and he likes you ever since , but he never had the guts to confess to you due to the fear of you not reciprocating his feelings and the friendship being ruined . Now he is not blind and very well knows that you are very stunning and you did have a dating life , but any new potential boyfriends that you bring up in the conversation, he makes sure to let them know their place.

It is your usual routine by now to meet up at the local bar , every saturday to catch up with your friend group . Tonight though you are a little bit late than usual since you came home late from work . He is immersed in conversation with his friend and he is suddenly surprised to smell a very attractive scent beside him. He doesn't even have to turn his head around to know it was you . He knows the feel of your skin against his by heart now . You look breathtaking as always dressed up in your cozy miniskirt and your long netted fishnets. He wraps his arm around you as you get involved in the conversation too and he has never been more happier this entire week .

After a few minutes you excuse yourself to get some drink for yourself. He sees you fast approaching the bar to order one for you to be suddenly interrupted by a guy who came and sat right beside you . Now yeonjun doesn't think much of it because he knows you are not a little teenage girl anymore and you are a grown woman , and you can handle anything by yourself , but something nudges him a little . The guy , if yeonjun was being honest looks well built and defenitely pulls a lot of bitches , leans down to talk to you and you seem like you were pretty comfortable too . He goes in to wrap an arm around your waist , and pull you closer to him and you just laugh in response to him and continue chatting up with the guy .

He is not your boyfriend and yeonjun very well knows that and he has no right to get mad , but Choi Yeonjun is fuming with anger . How can you let a guy wrap his arm around your waist that's not him ? He though it was a privelege that only he enjoyed. " Stop trying to kill the man next to y/n with your eyes yeonjun " , his friend breaks him out of the trance , and yeonjun's cheeks goes blood red knowing he had been caught . " Come on , we all know you are in love with y/n , now go get them back from this guy ", his friend encourages him but he still stays rooted to his seat , glaring at you both through his glass of soju . Suddenly you turn around and catch yeonjun staring at you , you send a smile and a wink his way and yeonjun was a blushing mess , his heart racing miles per second . He excuses himself to get some air and goes to the balcony of the bar . " He was a friend " , you say coming next to him and standing right beside him so that your shoulders are brushing against each other . Yeonjun not knowing what to reply back and with being caught red handed just replies back with an hmm. " Don't worry about it , he is into boys" , you say as you suddenly tip toe to reach for his cheek and press a smooch on them teasingly . And before he can process what actually happened you were back inside again . Oh , you are defenitely going to be the death of him .

. . . 💭 BEOMGYU :

Beomgyu had other plans for the weekend but it did not involve him sitting in one of his family gatherings along you his side . He wanted to spend the day in with you , cuddling and who knows where that might lead you both to . But here he is sat in between his aunt on his one side and you on the other chatting away . Don't get him wrong he is absolutely over the moon over the fact that you get very well with his family already considers you as their in-law , but sometimes he wishes his family wasn't as over bearing as they were being right now . They wanted every single juicy detail of your love life from the starting to the end .

After dinner , his father pulled him along his studies to have a conversation with him . Few minutes later he retreats to the living room only to see you sitting between his younger cousins playing house with them . Gyu's heart freezes for a second, he absolutely loves how friendly you are with kids and how his younger cousins always love you so much. He sees his mom looking at you with heart eyes too, secretly wishing it was you playing with her grandchild instead . " Noona, you are so pretty " , whispers beomgyu's baby cousin and you let out a giggle in response and pull him to your lap. " Is it so ? Thank you handsome " you reply back to him and the boy in your lap starts to laugh. He reaches to his pocket and pulls out a plastic ring and offers it to you . " Noona , can you please marry me ? " the little boy asks and everyone in the room starts laughing at the scene . Beomgyu on the other hand was fuming ." Yah , she has a boyfriend " he approaches the younger boy , his mom watching him with an amusing smile . " But y/n noona is not your wife so she can be mine " , the little boy replies with a pout and buries his face inside your neck . You are having the time of your life being involved in this conversation , absolutely enjoying beomgyu getting jealous over his little cousin.

" Don't you have to go sleep now? Leave my girlfriend alone " Gyu pulls the younger boy from your lap and they continued arguing . Gyu's mother chirps in , " Well beom, it seems like you have competition " she winks at him and beomgyu goes beet red at that. The conversation drifts away from there , but before he drops you back to your home you ask him to come outside for a minute . The moment he closes the door the driver's side , you push him on the door and plant a kiss on his lips , with one of your hands tangled in his hair . " I love you and i am your forever gyu . I hope you remember it in your heart always " you smile at him , leaving behind a flustered beomgyu . He reaches down to pat his pant pocket . It's time .

. . . 💭 TAEHYUN :

Now Kang Taehyun is the kind of person who gets quiet , but god damn do not underestimate him , he is very possesive of you . He won’t say it of course, but if you watch his actions you’ll be able to tell when he feels jealous of something . Sometimes he’ll just stand closer to you or take your hand in his or wrap his arm around you . His grip conveys everything to you , it's the very nature that conveys that he is marking his possession , aka you .

It’s always cute for you though . To everyone else he looks normal, but you can tell and it’s adorable . It’s the smallest changes in his face but you can tell how his face is in a small pout and his brows slightly frowned

He’s not necessarily “reactive ” when he’s jealous , but he’s slick. He’s the silent revenge type . If you don’t watch, you won’t know, and he won’t ever say anything . But the after-cuddles are worth it . If you thought he was cute at that moment you’re gonna have a cuteness overload when you guys get home. He’s all over you . He’s got you trapped on the bed and is laying on top of you . His head will be either on your thigh, stomach, or chest with his whole body over you . And don’t think about moving . You’re his for the rest of the day . Get comfortable, turn on a movie, maybe make a snack if you get enough time before he pulls you in the bedroom. Also when you get home his pout is more prominent . And after the cuddling he’ll fall asleep with the cutest pout on his face and his arms wrapped around you. Please play with his hair, it makes him so happy . You have to master slowly stopping tho, cuz once you start it if you stop abruptly he’ll wake up and have an even bigger pout until he goes to sleep again and you’re starting the cycle all over again

. . . 💭 HUENING KAI :

The cute cute boy fr . He comes home at about 7 in the evening , which is pretty early considering sometimes his schedule might drag out for so long . He opens the door to your home to see the TV playing in the background and to see you hugging a bear. A BEAR. NOT HUENING KAI. He is offended. He will put down his backpack and just stare at you in disbelief . " y/n, do you not love me anymore? Is that it ? " he asks you, as he rips the teddy bear from your arms and snuggles himself in your arms. If you get up to get the bear first he will be salty for a week. But if u give him a hug first then he will be ok with you grabbing the bear again. If its more of 'just another stuffed toy from the pile on your bed' he would burn it :/ . Hyuka is ur teddy bear now, u don't need the other one.

tip me

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daisynik7 · 1 year

Text

Dirty Thirty

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: thigh riding, cunnilingus, fingering, spanking, spit play, vaginal sex (doggy, cowgirl), cockwarming, use of pet names (princess and Master)

Word Count: ~5.6k

Summary: An alluring stranger gives you a special treat on the night of your 30th birthday.

Notes: Kishibe is in his mid 40s. Also, apparently he is 6’4”, so reader is shorter, below 6’. This is very self-indulgent considering my own 30th is in a few days (shout out to all my fellow Pisces babes)! Also, I started this after finishing Chainsaw Man a few weeks ago, so this is a result of heavy Kishibe brainrot.

Additional Note: Check out Part 2 here: After Last Night! Reblogs, likes, and/or comments are appreciated. Thank you for reading!

--------------------

The bass of EDM music reverberates through the speakers at the DJ’s booth. This particular bar you frequent turns into a club at 11 PM. College kids from the university down the street congregate in this establishment on the weekends, like today. You and your friends have been here since an hour ago, drinking and chatting in a booth hidden away to the side of the dancefloor. After dinner, you stopped by for a quick drink. With the booze and vibes just right, you ended up staying.

Tonight, you celebrate your birthday. It’s the end of an era, really. You’re officially thirty. You’ve been dreading this day for the past few months, sad to bid farewell to your twenties, which wasn’t all that anyways. The number of times your friends reassure you that your thirties are the new twenties only brings you mild comfort. Glancing at the crowd tearing up the dancefloor, you can’t help being envious of their youth.

Maybe it’s your buzz talking. You’re not one to feel sorry for yourself, especially about something as inevitable as aging. Thirty is young. Who cares if you’re the only one in your inner circle who’s single, unmarried, or childless? There’s no shame in it. You’re sick of women being scrutinized each year they get older for not doing what society tells them they should do. Who the fuck cares if you don’t have a ring on your finger or haven’t popped a baby out your vagina yet? It isn’t on your radar, and that’s perfectly fine. Men don’t get this much shit for remaining bachelors well into their forties or fifties, why should you?

You fidget with the glittery Dirty 30! sash you wear over your little black dress. A shimmering tiara sparkles on top of your head to complete your ensemble. Your friend’s voice in your ear snaps you out of your thoughts. “Hey birthday girl, how’s it going?”

Smiling, you hold your half empty glass up towards the middle. “Good. Thanks so much for coming out to celebrate tonight!” You’re ready to chug the rest of your liquor so you can head to the dancefloor. The other three women in your group cheers, clinking their drinks with yours.

You’re about to suggest dancing when your friend says, “Shall we call it a night?”

It catches you off guard. The music just started and it’s not even midnight yet. You’re not ready to go back to the real world; it’s your special day until you fall asleep, which you don’t plan to do for a few more hours. You’re silent though, listening as the other girls repeat a similar sentiment.

“My husband is waiting for me at home, so yes.”

“And my babies have an early morning play date tomorrow!”

Your friend beside you turns to you and asks, “Ready to go?”

Contemplating for a moment, you respond, “I think I might stay, actually. Have another drink or two.”

They stare at you bewildered, surprised you want to be here alone, which is unusual for you. “Are you sure?” they clarify.

“Yeah! Go ahead, I’ll be fine! I’m a big girl now,” you joke, standing up to hug them. They kiss you on the cheek, greeting you one last happy birthday before leaving together to go home to their husbands and children.

Craving another drink, you abandon your booth to approach the bar. You order your favorite: a vodka cranberry, your comfort cocktail throughout your 20s. A reminder that you’re still the same you despite moving up a decade.

You close your tab, promising yourself this is your last, and go back to your table. It’s now occupied by an older man in a black coat, sipping on amber liquor. Annoyed, and slightly intrigued, you sit opposite of him in the same booth. He lifts his head up slowly, noticing you.

“Hi there,” you greet him. Even in the dim light, the stitched scar on his left cheek stands out. The metal piercings on his ears glisten, the strobe lights reflecting off them from the dancefloor.

“Can I help you?” His voice is low and raspy, either naturally or from the alcohol.

“I was sitting here earlier. The other tables are all occupied, and I really don’t want to stand around on the dancefloor by myself. Can I sit here until I finish my drink? There’s plenty of room for the both of us.” You put on your most charming smile.

“Where are your friends? I’m sure you’d rather sit with them instead of with an old man like me.”

“They ditched me to go home. Besides, it looks like you could use the company.” You tip your cocktail into your mouth, keeping your gaze on him.

He watches you, skeptical. “How old are you?”

You glance down at your sash, which is now twisted so that the answer to his question is on your back where he can’t see. You grin at him. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age?”

He hums, unamused. “I’m not keen on hanging out with girls in their 20s. Not really my style. Not tonight, anyways.”

“How old do you think I am?”

Narrowing his eyes at your tiara, he responds, “You’re wearing a crown, drinking a cranberry vodka at a bar that plays this shit music. I’d say you’re 23.”

This amuses you, like getting asked for your ID does, which is becoming rarer nowadays. It’s flattering.

“Hey, you’re here too. The only difference is that you’re drinking a whiskey,” you tease him, pointing at his glass.

“In my defense, I finished work nearby and this shitty cesspool was the closest bar I could find.” He takes a swig of his alcohol. “So, am I right?”

Sliding the sash to face him, you answer, “Nope. You’re wrong. Lucky for you, today is my birthday. And I just turned thirty.”

He cracks a smile at this, giving you a flutter below your belly. You’re not typically into older men; however, this guy has piqued your interest. There’s something about him that is alluring. Exciting.

“Happy birthday,” he says, swallowing the rest of his whiskey. “Get anything good?”

“No. But the night’s not over yet.” You’re full-on flirting now, not at all ashamed of how brazen you’re acting. Fuck it. You only turn thirty once, right?

There’s distance between you, but the tension is so thick, you could smell the bold scent of liquor coating his lips. He leans closer, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Well, I guess it’s my responsibility now to give you something good.”

~~~

Minutes later, you’re in the back of the cab, riding towards an address he mutters to the driver. He holds you, interlocking his fingers with yours, peering out his window in silence. You focus on your entwined hands resting on the middle seat, the intimacy of it all distracting you from the fact that you’re about to hook up with this attractive stranger.

The driver arrives to a swanky apartment complex. Once inside, Kishibe doesn’t give you enough time to marvel at the beautiful interior of the room. In an instant, his lips are on yours, both palms cupping your cheeks assertively. Breath hot and chalky from the mint you saw him savor earlier in the car. It barely masks the lingering taste of that cigarette you witnessed him drag waiting for your ride. He didn’t have the same type of smoker’s breath that you’re sick of from your coworkers. With him, you don’t mind it at all.

His hand trails down your neck, thumb carefully brushing over a pulse point right below your chin. His skin is rough and calloused compared to yours. The scraggly facial hair scattered along his jaw is scratchy on your cheeks.

He breaks the kiss, gazing at you while he removes his overcoat, hanging it on the rack in the corner, kicking his shoes off in the process. There’s a small bar cart in the kitchen, where he pours himself a whiskey. At the freezer, he reaches for the ice, dropping three cubes into the dark liquor with a plop. You stand still, observing him, nervous and thrilled about what this mysterious man will do to you tonight.

At the couch, he takes a seat, thighs spread wide, his wrist hanging low between them, gripping the top of the glass with his fingertips. “Come here,” he beckons.

Removing your heels quickly and abandoning your purse, you step towards him, ready to sit beside him until he demands, “No. Not there.” He pats his thigh with his free hand. “Here.”

Your body trembles with lust as you straddle him, pussy pulsing against his muscular thigh. He studies you, from your hazy stare down to him between your legs, savoring his cold liquor all the while. You gulp loudly, obediently waiting for his next command.

Gently removing the crown atop your head and tossing it aside, he asks, “What do you want from me, princess? It’s your birthday after all.” Hearing him call you princess gives you a rush you can no longer contain. You start moving on his thigh, riding it to feel the glorious sensations on your clit.

His chuckle vibrates through his chest as you grasp at his collar to hold you steady. “This is what you want? Okay. Take what you need. Come on my thigh. I’ll watch.” His gravelly voice in your ear makes you ride him harder, grinding against him until your creamy mess is soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. You clench his tie, loosening it around his neck. He continues to watch you, sipping on his booze, enjoying his own private show.

Once the glass is empty except for the melting ice, he sets it down on the coffee table, pulling you in closer, his hand behind your neck. Lightly blowing cool, whiskey breath along your lips. You lean forward to kiss him, his tongue slipping past to explore your needy mouth. The longing for his touch on every inch of your body grows stronger by the second as you moan into the kiss, bouncing on his leg.

“Can you come by yourself? Or do you need my tongue on it? I can lick it up real good if you’ll let me.” His obscene suggestion surprises you, as if you weren’t already performing lewd acts on his lap. You tug at his tie to pull him into another fierce kiss before sitting next to him on the couch, lifting the hem of your dress up to reveal your wet undergarments.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. But I’m not calling you Daddy,” you tease, spreading wide for him.

His voice is low in his throat, kneeling on the carpet, face positioned between your thighs. “Good, because I prefer to be called Master.”

You roll your eyes at him, to which he responds, “What? You don’t like that? I bet I’ll have you screaming it all night long.”

This has you speechless as he drifts towards you, staring at the wet spot soaking through your lingerie. “Look how fucking wet you are for me.” He hooks his fingers around the fabric, stretching it to the side to expose your sopping cunt. Leaning in closer, he flicks his tongue gently onto your clit, causing you to squirm above him.

He’s testing the waters, starting slow to gauge your limit. It’s gentle at first, toying with your bud until it’s plump and sensitive. Until your wanton moans are bouncing off the walls of his big, fancy apartment. There’s no doubt that he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s obvious this man has years of experience beyond you. Having this stranger swirl his tongue on the most intimate parts of your body makes you weak in the knees. This is the first time all night that you’re thankful to be turning thirty. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in this apartment, getting wrecked and torn apart by him.

“I’ve always wanted a plaything I can ruin,” he breathes out, finally wrapping his lips around you. “Will you be my pretty plaything tonight?” He surrounds your clit, drawing an erotic whimper from your mouth.

“Fuck, Kishibe. Yes. Use me as your plaything, fuck.”

He eats you out noisily, emphasizing every wet sound his mouth makes on your swollen bud. Several times, he spits on it, spreading his saliva up and down your pussy, plunging his tongue into your entrance to get it lubricated with his own drool.

“You’re fucking drenched down here. When’s the last time you let a grown man eat you out like this? I bet you’ve never been with someone like me, huh?”

You shake your head, swiping through his hair, spreading yourself wider for him. “Never.”

“I can tell,” he says, slipping his middle and ring finger into your entrance. “So fucking wet for me. I love it.” He pumps into you, curling his digits just right, resonating all the way down to your toes. His lips latch onto your clit, drinking you up to quench his insatiable thirst.

“Hold these for me,” he says, guiding your fingers to your panties. “Want to stroke my cock while I eat this gorgeous pussy out.” You hear the unbuckling of his belt, the sound of him shoving his fist into his slacks to jerk off. The vibrations from his moans tickle your skin as he nuzzles himself deeper into your arousal, practically drowning in it, flattening his tongue to smear his warm saliva all over. You whine in ecstasy, heedless of attracting any neighboring attention to your explicit blubbering.

“Come on my face,” he muffles, too busy lapping up your clit to pull away, fingers pumping in and out of you, shiny and sleek with your slick.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your orgasm, pleasure jolting through your body while he works you until you’re overstimulated, twitching from the euphoria. He laughs softly, face glistening with your essence, taking a seat beside you. You watch him in a daze as he sticks his cum-coated fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. “You want a taste, too?”

You nod, disoriented from your intense climax. He drags your bottom lip down using the pad of his thumb, mumbling, “Open.”

Obediently, you stick your tongue out for him, knowing fully well what he’s about to do. Your pussy throbs again, ready to be fucked for real by this provocative stranger you were so fortunate to meet tonight.

He grazes your open tongue, then spits in your mouth. “Swallow,” he demands, voice husky with desire. You do, making sure to gulp loudly, incredibly aroused and needy for his cock.

“Show me,” he whispers, opening his own mouth to mimic you. “Ah.”

You show him your tongue again, a dumb expression on your face while he inspects. Satisfied, he grunts, “Fuck, you’re bad. You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” He reaches down to your soaked panties clinging to you. “Take these off.”

He slides out of his trousers, revealing briefs that barely conceal his obvious bulge. As you slip out of your underwear, he removes his, displaying his impressive cock. “You going to ride this cock now?”

Without a word, you nod. You’re already anticipating how fucking amazing he’s going to feel inside you. Your brain is jumbled with naughty thoughts of him taking you in all positions in every room of his apartment.

There’s a hungry gleam in his eyes as he watches you mount him. You hoist your dress up, stripping it from your body. He unclasps your bra, baring your breasts to him while he still wears his dress shirt and tie. For some reason, you want him to keep it on. Get it nice and dirty with slick and sweat.

You reach behind you to position him at your entrance. Once aligned, you slowly sink onto his cock, allowing yourself a few seconds to adjust to his size. Given his stature, it’s not surprising how big he is, both in length and girth. When you bottom out, he lets out a raspy fuck, holding your ass to squeeze your plush cheeks. “I’m ready whenever you are, princess. Like I said, take what you need from me. Milk me dry. I know you want to.”

Spurred by his provocative encouragement, you ride him, rocking your hips back and forth onto his lap, gripping his cock tight with your wet cunt. Forehead pressed to his, lids closed, jaw hanging open, experiencing the best fuck of your life. With a brief glance, you catch him watching you, a similar dazed expression on his face. You bounce on him faster, his dick pounding into you over and over again, determined to feel every inch you possibly can.

“Fuck, Kishibe, feels so fucking good,” you moan, directing his fingers down to your clit. “I want to come all over this cock. Make me come, Master.”

Bingo. His eyes widen as soon as it slips from your mouth. It’s the magic word. The trigger.

Without hesitation, he brushes his thumb ruthlessly onto your swollen bud. “Say it again,” he demands, pressing it hard as he massages it, eyes wild with lust.

“Fuck, make me come, Master. Make me come.” You’re riding him so fucking good, couch creaking, clutching his shoulders tight, his carnal stare locked on your every movement.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he growls.

“I’m close, I’m close!”

Suddenly, he pulls out, cock covered in your arousal, wet and stiff against his abdomen. Strings of slick cling to the hem of his dress shirt. You’re about ready to yell at him for teasing you. Before you can, he stands up, grabbing your wrist to lead you into the bedroom. His breathing is heavy as he points to the bed, hastily removing his clothes. “On your knees, ass up. I’m going to fuck you so good. Make you squirt all over my fucking sheets.”

The anger immediately subsides and you’re back to being eager again, knowing damn well that he means every fucking word he says. You do as he commands, wiggling your ass to entice him. He chuckles behind you. “I’m sorry for denying you earlier. I just really want to see this ass bounce on my cock like this.” He teases you with his tip, tapping your clit, sliding it along your pussy lips.

“You’re not forgiven,” you pout, growing impatient.

Placing a soft kiss on your lower back, he laughs again. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about this stranger you met mere hours ago, it’s that he is a man of his word.

He guides his cock into you slowly, stretching you little by little until you’re squeezing him, his entire length inside you. “Look at you, sucking me in again like you were made for me.” He starts thrusting, holding you steady to penetrate you deeper.

“So fucking good!” you cry out, fists bunched on his silky sheets, drool leaking from the corner of your mouth.

“I know, princess. It’s amazing for me too.” His heavy balls slap your damp skin with every brutal thrust of his hips, fucking you hard, dipping into your sweet spot until you’re woozy with pleasure. “You take it so good. So fucking sexy.” He tightens his grip on you, increasing his pace. “So fucking beautiful.”

You throw your ass back, arching your spine to get the perfect angle. With your cheeks bouncing obscenely against his thighs, you beg, “Spank me, Master. Spank me like a bad girl.”

Not wasting a second, his rough palm connects with your ass, the loud smack ringing in your ears. He spanks you again and again, your pussy clenching him tighter while you continue to thrust back onto his cock. You’re about ready to burst, desperate to reach your second orgasm after being denied earlier. You play with your puffy clit, electricity rippling through your body upon contact. Whimpering, you rub your bud faster as he pounds into you, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck,” he moans, staring at your ass jiggle after each fresh slap he delivers. “Come on my cock, princess. That’s it. Get it creamy. Just like that, fuck.”

Waves of pleasure sweep over you, the intensity of it causing you to tremble before him. In the midst of your climax, you plead for him to finish inside you, greedy for his cum. It doesn’t take long for him to fill you up, staying nestled deep in you as he releases his warm load, letting out a husky fuck.

He pulls out, his warm release leaking from your pussy, dripping onto his sheets. He ogles at the pornographic sight in front of him, pleased with himself.

“Like what you see?” you tease, lowering your torso and relaxing on the bed.

“You are a naughty, naughty girl,” he says, collapsing beside you. “Can’t believe I let you seduce me.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault? You were the one who offered to give me something good for my birthday.”

He raises a brow at you. “Did I succeed?”

You gaze at him, properly examining his appearance. Scruffy facial hair, eyes that are perpetually tired, the striking scar aligned with his frown. You find yourself wondering what his story is; someone this fetching must have a story.

“Considering the mess we made, I would say you exceeded my expectations.” You lay your palm on his firm chest, his now steady heartbeat lightly thumping against your fingertips.

“I’m glad to hear I wasn’t a disappointment.” He doesn’t take his gaze off you. Normally, you’d be intimidated by such intense eye contact. With him, it’s different. You feel safe. He places his hand on top of yours, rugged thumb gently caressing the skin of your knuckles. The two of you stay like this, enjoying each other’s presence in an easy silence.

“We can’t do this again,” he mutters, finally looking away from you. He turns onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, your hand still snug under his.

“Why not?” The shift in energy surprises you. This is not the typical pillow talk you’re accustomed too.

“I’ll keep wanting to see you if we keep this up,” he admits. Although it’s a sweet sentiment, he’s deciding to end it here and now, not even waiting until the morning like in a typical one-night-stand.

Matching his candid demeanor, you ask, “What’s wrong with wanting to see me again?” A strange feeling of unease swells in your chest, anxious for whatever truth he’s about to reveal.

He takes a breath before explaining, “I’m a Devil Hunter. The best in the world. My job is very dangerous. A young woman like yourself shouldn’t get attached to me. My life is expendable.” He avoids you while he speaks, eyes laser focused on the ceiling, barely blinking. It’s as if he doesn’t want to say it; rather, it’s part of a script, forced to recite the lines like it’s standard procedure. How often has he had to deliver this sober spiel to his ex-lovers? You start to pity him, speculating how detached he must remain to the outside world strictly because of his risky profession.

You continue to stare at him, letting the information sink it. The air is thick with a serious tension. It’s a sudden switch from the wild romp you just experienced. Choosing not to pester him further, you decide to lighten the mood. You scoot towards him, mouth skimming his ear, muttering, “Well, l didn’t really like you anyways.” The cold metal of his piercings contrast the soft warmth of your lips.

He turns to you again, the tension in his brows easing slowly as he gives you a small smirk. “Oh yeah?”

You nuzzle your nose against his. “Yeah.”

“Good. It’s better this way,” he says, planting a kiss on the forehead.

Sighing, you ask, “Can I at least spend the night?”

“Of course. I’ll even cook you breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean a cup of coffee with a splash of whiskey and a couple cigarettes,” you joke.

He chuckles. “I’ll throw in some eggs for protein, does that work?”

“Sure. I’ll take whatever I can get, since this is the last time we’ll be seeing each other.”

There’s a small smile on his lips as he gazes at you. A minute passes and he reaches for you, grazing your cheek delicately. You feel comfortable in bed with him. Protected. You snuggle into his chest, his arms wrapping you into a bear hug. Cozy in his embrace, you listen to his rhythmic breathing, lulling you to sleep.

~~~

In the morning, you wake up alone, tucked under the covers, clothed only in a dress shirt, barely buttoned. The bedroom door is wide open, the sound of a pan scraping on iron ringing in your ears and the inviting smell of food cooking wafting from the kitchen.

You spot a pack of baby wipes on the drawer next to you, noticing that your body is fresh and clean, opposite the sticky mess you fell asleep to. Next to it is a brand-new toothbrush and toothpaste. With these items in hand, you tip-toe into the bathroom, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

When you’re done, you study his bedroom for the first time, and probably last. There are no pictures hung anywhere, no personal touch to anything. Only small traces of a man whose entire existence is his job. Several ties scattered on his dresser next to a metal flask. A mini calendar on his nightstand with random scribblings of future work commitments. Hamper in the corner of the room, filled to the brim with white dress shirts, black slacks, and a couple of mismatched argyle socks. You’re slightly tempted to investigate some drawers to see the type of weapons a Devil Hunter of his caliber carries, but you don’t.

You lean against the doorframe, watching him in the kitchen. He’s in a plain white t-shirt with navy-blue pajama pants. As promised, he is cooking a batch of scrambled eggs over the stove, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand, spatula in the other. Looking domestic and sexy as hell. His words replay in your mind. You shouldn’t get attached to someone like me. You almost regret sleeping with him, knowing you’ll miss him after you leave.

Quietly, you stroll towards him until he notices you. When he does, he takes a sip of coffee and mutters, “Morning, princess.”

Positioned behind him, you wrap your arms around his waist, raising your heels to place a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. It’s only now that you realize how much taller he is than you. “Good morning, handsome. This is a pleasant surprise.”

“I told you I’d cook you breakfast, didn’t I?” He cranes his neck to face you, smirking.

“You did. I’m pleased to see you keep your promise,” you tell him, resting your cheek on his back. “You’re truly a man of your word. I think that deserves a reward.” You slide your thumbs under the waistband of his pajama bottoms, teasing him.

“If you tempt me, you won’t be able to taste this delicious meal I prepared for you,” he comments, setting his coffee mug down the counter and turning off the burner. His hand covers yours, maneuvering it over the growing bulge in his pants.

“Maybe I’m craving something else for breakfast.” You start palming his erection, suddenly hungry for him rather than the food.

He turns to face you, looking at you up and down in his dress shirt, your legs clenched together to hide your arousal. Still smirking, he says, “You’re making this much harder than it needs to be.” He slowly pushes you against the counter, running his fingers up your inner thigh, spreading your legs to expose your wet cunt.

You moan, anticipating another round of intense fucking, this time in his kitchen. It makes you want to christen every part of his apartment.

“How are you this fucking wet for me already?” He whispers, rubbing his thumb on your throbbing clit. “You’re so sexy, it’s driving me insane.”

“Kishibe,” you breath out, struggling to steady yourself. “Fuck.”

“I got you. Get on the counter for me, princess. Spread those legs so I can lick that pussy clean.”

With his hands on your waist guiding you, you hop up, opening wide for him. Knees bent and body folded forward, he starts licking your clit, palming his erection through his pants. You come within minutes, gushing over his tongue as it glides along your slit, nose digging firmly onto your swollen bud.

“Fuck me, Kishibe. Want that big cock inside me. Want you to fill me up again with your cum.” You hop back down, turning around and lifting the hem of the dress shirt past your ass, ready to get railed right there on the countertop.

“Not like this,” he murmurs, kissing you on the cheek. “Wait for me in my room. We’re going to have breakfast in bed together.”

Minutes later, a tray with a plate full of eggs, toast, and bacon set on top is temporarily forgotten as the two of you fuck on the other side of the bed. Him sitting up, back pressed to the headboard, you riding him until he spills inside you, causing you to orgasm again all over him.

You slump forward, resting your head on his shoulder, tired and satiated from another amazing fuck. Attempting to slide off him, he kisses you on the lips, his grip firm on your waist, unyielding. “Keep my cock inside you. Can you do that for me?”

In your blissful state, all you can do is nod, getting comfortable on his lap. He reaches for a slice of bacon on the tray, letting you take the first bites before he finishes it, doing the same for a piece of buttered toast. He feeds you forkfuls of scrambled eggs, using the same utensil for himself. It’s pleasantly intimate for two people who just met. Playing the role of a long-term couple, indulging in simple delights together, like breakfast in bed.

Plate cleared, both your bellies full of nourishment, you stay in this position, kissing each other leisurely, no rush to separate. He whispers your name, fondling your breasts through the fabric of his dress shirt that you’ve made yours. He repeats it a few more times, relishing how it feels on his lips before he never has to utter it again.

It’s bittersweet, knowing it’s ending as soon as it begun. You have no reason to be so smitten with him. You’re two people who hardly know each other. Still, you find yourself not wanting to say goodbye yet. Something’s there. A tiny spark flickering in the distance. Maybe you’re one of many women he’s done this with before. Maybe you’re nothing special. But in this fleeting moment, you let yourself believe it’s real.

The two of you reluctantly part after an especially long, passionate kiss. You dismount him, grabbing the wipes to clean up the mess that was made earlier. He gives you a smooch on the forehead before getting out of bed to exit the room, returning in less than a minute to hand you your outfit from last night. You briefly recall carelessly discarding it all over his living room floor right before you pounced on him. Is it too soon to consider that a fond memory? It hasn’t even been 24 hours and you’re reminiscing about him already.

He leaves you alone in the bedroom to change. Before you undress, you bring the sleeves of the shirt to your nose and inhale deeply, memorizing his scent. You almost want to keep this shirt as proof that this happened. That Kishibe is real.

Back in your black dress, you sit at the edge of the bed, waiting for his return. When he walks in, he points at the sash and tiara next to you on the bed. “You’re not going to wear that?”

Shrugging, you respond, “It’s no longer my birthday, so it feels silly wearing it. Just toss it.”

You check your phone, estimating the time of arrival for the ride you requested. Any minute now, they’ll be here, ending your short-lived tryst. He offers to drop you off, but you refuse, not bothering to explain that doing that will result in you dragging him into your own apartment and keeping him a willing hostage for another few hours. It’ll only make it more difficult to not get attached. He doesn’t question it, probably understanding this himself.

The ping from the app chimes through your phone. You stand up, smiling at him, swinging your purse over your shoulder. “That’s my ride.”

He walks you to the door, waiting for you to strap on your heels. Once they’re on, you smile. “I guess this is it. Thank you for a fun night.”

“Thank you too. This was fun.” It could be wishful thinking, but you hear a waver in his voice. Is he a little bit sad too?

You face the door, ready to turn the knob, when you feel his grip on your wrist. He spins you towards him, kissing you feverishly, his hand caressing your cheek, the other behind your neck. Yearning for one more moment of intimacy with you. He breaks away, resting his forehead against yours, eyes shut as he says goodbye with one last whisper of your name. You avoid his gaze as you exit, walking out of his life.

It’s better this way.

#kishibe #kishibe csm #chainsaw man #kishibe smut #kishibe x reader #kishibe x you #kishibe x y/n #chainsaw man smut #csm smut #csm kishibe #kishibe brainrot #chainsaw man kishibe #dirty thirty

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latteart98 · 9 months

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I keep rewatching scenes from Hidden Love because I simply can’t get over the drama and if I had to pick a favorite scene, it would be the airport scene in episode 7 when her heart gets completely shattered. Listen the drama is packed is so many cute scenes that I’m totally in love with, but the scene that really, really gets to me is that one.

Can you imagine being in SZ’s shoes? Anxious and antsy all night, she showed up in his city despite knowing the huge trouble it will get her in back at home.. all because she needs to ask him in person if he is really dating someone or was it just a lie? But poor girl didn’t even get to voice her questions because his coworker, whom she mistook as the girlfriend, came along with him.

The moment DJX appears at the airport with the lady tagging along with him, SZ’s eyes are on the lady not him. Not her crush whom she hasn’t seen in so many months but the lady. He’s all worried about her safety and mad out of concern for her but all she can think about is “who is she? Is she your girlfriend? You promised me that you would tell me immediately if you got a girlfriend. Why didn’t you keep your promise?”

Notice how she’s not mad at him for dating because she knows deep in her heart that she’s too young for him and he has never seen her as anything more than a friend’s little sister. No, she’s not having any false hopes. Rather, she’s hurt that he didn’t remember the promise he made to her. And as a result, it became apparent that she was no one special to him nor were the times they spent together was of any significance to him. That he was only nice to her because she was in front of him and had it been anyone else, he would’ve behaved the same way. All the while she held on to every memory, every gift like a treasure.

And just because she knew that she never really had a chance with him because of the age difference, doesn’t mean it hurt any less to see him with someone else. She kept hoping against all hopes that she would, eventually, grow up and he would then notice her a woman but she figured he’s already found his “someone better” - someone that’s not her, that will never be her.

And when she gives him one last sad smile and starts walking away, leaving behind the teddy and pieces of her heart with him, it’s a cinematic masterpiece. She’s walking away and with every step, her mind flashes back to a montage of DJX being kind to her and smiling at her and being full of warmth- all the things that made her fall for him to begin with. And she realizes that those memories, those little smiles of his, those gestures are just gonna forever remain as little treasures in her heart. Even before she leaves the airport, when she wishes him happiness and leaves the teddy with him, we know she’s bidding farewell. She’s mentally getting ready to never see him again. Oh, it’s breaking her heart and so is the audience’s hearts. The montage, the walking away first, the one last turn back, the background music, the fact that it’s at an airport… everything was so perfectly put together.

And finally when her brother comes to pick her up, she starts sobbing in his arms. He’s holding her and trying to comfort her through promises of buying her her favorite food or comic books or even beating the guy up.. all silly stuff thinking it was just an online fling. As if her whole teenage years’ worth of hopes didn’t just crash at her feet. As if her innocent little heart didn’t just break into a million pieces.

Listen I know teenagers are dramatic (gosh I would know, I used to be one) and most of the times, the love/crush they have as a teen is cringe and melodramatic… but sometimes, only sometimes they are capable of honest sincere feelings so when it hurts, it fucking hurts. We might say they’re being dramatic because it’s only their first puppy love but God, that’s exactly why it hurts so much. Because it is their first love. Because they didn’t know any better, they put so much of their mental space and time and hopes and fears into this one person and when it doesn’t work out, it fucking sucks. Yes they will move on, yes they will get over it eventually, yes with time they might even look back at their teen self and cringe. But this moment, the moment your heart breaks for the first time whether you are 17 or 30 or 49, it’s not a moment you will ever forget. This moment becomes a landmark in your heart.

#hidden love #zhao lusi #chen zheyuan #偷偷藏不住 #cdrama

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mysterious-ocarina · 2 years

Note

Hey, I’ve not really made requests before so I’m not entirely sure how much or how little to put, but could I please request some Peter Maximoff (X-Men) x reader smut? Perhaps the reader had invited him to her room for a movie night with non innocent intentions, but it takes a while for him to get the hint. (Anything’s good though, there’s just so little smut for this man despite *gestures to all of him*)

Oblivious (NSFW)

Sub!Peter Maximoff x Female!reader

A/N Thank you so much for this request. it was so much fun to write. Evan Peters is the love of my life so I understand your need for smut. i hope you enjoyed this, I had to stop myself on multiple occasions from adding a mommy kink into this, sub peter has a hold on me

Main Masterlist Requests

(2.6k words)

You were hanging out with Jean and Scott, who were cuddled up together on the couch. They were trying to convince you to make your move on Peter because apparently it’s obvious on both sides of the tension you guys share.

“But guys that's the problem, I’ve tried so many things to get his attention and he’s absolutely oblivious to all of it,” you sighed out. You have tried flirting with him relentlessly and you couldn’t tell if he didn’t want you or if he was just that blind to what you were attempting to do.

“Why don’t you try something less innocent than flirting. There’s no way that he wouldn’t notice how sexy you can be. I’ll help you,” Jean suggested. At this Scott scrunched his nose and bid you guys farewell so Jean could help you. “Let’s go to your room!”

Jean seemed very excited to help you get Peter’s attention. She sifted through your closet to find the perfect outfit.

“I’m thinking you should try a movie date and try to escalate it. I think this is a good outfit that’s sexy but also casual enough for a movie,” Jean said as she pulled out a cute silver pj set that you had. You have never worn it before, it still had the tags on it. Jean pulled off the tags and handed it to you so you could lay it out.

(you can imagine anything you want, this is just what I was imagining)

“What if Peter still doesn’t get what I’m trying to do?” you asked. You were so nervous that your hands were shaking.

“He’s a guy, anything sex related will catch his attention,” she rolled her eyes.

The plan was set. You knocked on Peter’s door and asked him to watch a movie with you tonight in your room and he happily agreed.

You put on the cute pj set and thankfully, it was silky and soft unlike some itchy lingerie. You were practically vibrating with nerves so bad that someone would have thought you were the one with super speed.

You heard a knock on your door, so you went to open it. As you opened the door for Peter, you noticed he looked you up and down but he made no other indication of anything going through his mind.

“What movie did you pick, anything special?” he asked. You knew that for today’s plans that the movie didn’t matter so you just picked a DVD randomly out of your collection. It happened to be The Breakfast Club, a total classic, but you knew you wouldn’t be paying attention to it.

“Breakfast Club, is that alright?” you asked as you made your way to your bed. You heard Peter following close behind. You both made yourselves comfy, you scooted close to Peter when you saw he left a space between you guys.

“Only if you promise not to quote the entire script,” he smiled and looked down at you. God, that smile could kill a thousand women.

“I promise, now shush,” you joked with him. It felt easy to joke with him. Before anything, he was your best friend so you were comfortable around him. You felt your nerves lessen at his carefree demeanor but you were still really anxious.

Quieting your thoughts, you started your plan. About 20 minutes into the movie, is when you did your first act. You laid against Peter, practically cuddling with his abdomen. This wasn’t unusual for you guys, you often cuddled during movies but this time you would make sure it didn’t stop there.

After getting comfortable against him you moved your hand to his chest, lightly stroking it. He didn’t seem to notice your light gesture. You continued to stroke back and forth on his chest, each time going lower and lower until your hand was just barely touching the waistband of his sweats. You felt his stomach twitch but other than that he didn’t seem to react to what you were doing.

You would have thought that your outfit as well as getting your hand as low as possible would be enough hint for Peter, but it turns out that Jean was wrong. This is as far as you had planned so now you don’t know what to do. It’s not that you're inexperienced with guys, it’s just you’ve never been with a guy who seems like they don’t want you.

You were becoming disheartened by now, about to stop. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable if he did understand what you were trying to do. But you remembered how he looked you up and down when you entered and a little bit of faith was restored.

You took the hand that was stroking his stomach, and started to move it even lower. You went all the way down to about his mid thigh and laid your hand there, very close to what you were craving.

Little did you know that Peter was panicking. He felt everything you were doing, and it was making his head go into a frenzy. He couldn’t stop imagining what would happen if you just moved your hand over, like an inch. The problem was, he thought he was a perv for thinking of you like that. He thought that all these touches were accidental and that you were just absentmindedly moving your hand. He couldn’t imagine that it was a tactic to get his attention. He was thinking about Scott to keep his boner down so you wouldn’t notice the effect you had on him.

You stopped moving your hand, thinking about what to do. You finally decided to just bite the bullet and be as straightforward as possible. You just hoped you wouldn’t embarrass yourself or make Peter uncomfortable.

You pulled away so you could look Peter in the eyes as you kept your hand stroking his thigh. His eyes were dark but also anxious. “Peter, do you want to know a secret?”

“Sure, you can tell me anything,” he choked out.

“Anything?” you smoothly replied. You moved your hand back to his chest, getting your mouth as close to his ear as possible. You felt his heart quicken under your hand and you smiled.

“Y-yes,” he stuttered out. You now knew that he felt the same way you did, just didn’t do anything about it.

You climbed on top of his body, sitting right on top of his lap. “You are oblivious as shit, baby.”

His breath seemed to stop, “W-What do you mean?”

“I have been dropping hints that I want you for weeks and you haven’t seemed to notice. What’s a girl to do when the man she loves doesn’t want her back?” you whispered.

All the tension in his body seemed to get tenser and relaxed at the same time. You felt him get harder underneath you but he looked at you with such softness, “I’ve been in love with you since you came to the mansion. I assumed you wouldn’t want me and I felt disgusted with myself for the thoughts I would have about you.”

You felt like you were floating. You nipped at his ear and whispered, “What kind of thoughts do you have about me, babyboy?”

“I can’t say,” he groaned.

“Well how would you feel about me figuring it out as I go? There’s a lot of things that I want to do to you,” you smiled seductively at him. You were ecstatic that this was happening and you couldn’t wait to tease him.

He couldn’t get any words out so he just nodded at you as you stared at each other. You grinded against him, kissing down his neck.

“Do you know how desperate I am for you? I’ve waited ages to get you in my bed but someone doesn’t know when a pretty girl is flirting with them,” at this statement you give a meaningful nip at his lips.

You kiss him with so much fervor that his head is against the headboard. It felt so good to finally be able to kiss him. His desperation for just your lips was enough to make you light-headed. Peter was intoxicating and he felt the exact same way about you. His breathing is labored and his hands are twitching like he’s stopping himself from touching you.

You took Peter’s hands and placed them on your hips. You could feel him grinding you harder against him, his desperation coming out.

“Do you want me to take my clothes off, Peter?” you asked. He nodded but that wasn’t enough for you. “I need words, handsome.”

“Please, y/n. Let me take your clothes off. I need to see you,” he all but cried out. He needs to see you, not just want, but need.

“I’ll allow you to undress me, but after that no touching,” you said. He started with your top, slowly pulling it over your head. He paused for a second to admire your bare chest but you urged him to continue. You kneeled in front of him and helped him pull off your shorts.

He was delighted to see you had nothing under the pj set. He stopped again to just admire your body, “God, you’re so gorgeous y/n.”

Your whole body flushed under his lustful yet loving gaze, “Thank you, handsome.”

You sit back on his lap. He goes to take his shirt off but stops himself, waiting for your permission which he immediately receives.

You ran your hands up and down his bare chest, admiring how good he looks. He looked delicious laying half-naked in your bed, his body flushed, and under you.

You must have been distracted for a bit because you feel Peter start to wiggle under you to create friction.

You move your hands down his chest, slide through his happy trail, then stop at the top of his sweats. You move forward to give him another kiss before you slowly pull the waistband down his thighs, lightly brushing your knuckles against his hard-on.

Once his sweats are off, you kneel in front of him.

“Should i take these off, or torture you?” you ask. The desperate noise that comes out of his mouth has you pulling his briefs off. As you pull them off, his hard cock slapped against his stomach. He breathed at the release of pressure. He was bigger than you thought, but not too big.

He looked so delicious that you just had to get a taste. So in no time at all, you had licked all the way up his shaft and then covered the entire head with your mouth. The moan he let out when your tongue touched his tip sounded like heaven in your ears.

You raked your nails down his chest as you worked his cock in your mouth. He seemed to be very vocal, not that you were complaining.

He moved his hands, but quickly put them back by his side remembering the no touching rule. At this, you took his hand and placed it in your hair while maintaining eye contact with him. This sent him into overdrive as he started to thrust into your mouth.

You reached down and played with yourself while you worked on him. How could you not? You had your best friend’s cock in your mouth. The guy you’ve been in love with for ages. This scene was only true in your deepest fantasies.

At the sight of you touching yourself, Peter pulled out of your mouth with a groan. “I wanna touch you, y/n. Please?”

“Well how could I say no to you, my pretty boy?” you sat back on his stomach, with his cock in between you. At the wetness that Peter could feel, he moaned aloud and pulled you down for another kiss.

While kissing you, he slipped his finger down to your wet heat. You whimpered at his soft touch. He slid a finger up and down on your clit until he knew he found the perfect spot to have you moaning.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous like this,” he whispered, planting a kiss on the tip of your nose. You whimpered at the love in his words and chased his mouth with yours for a proper kiss.

When he kissed you, he slipped his fingers in you and immediately had you quivering.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“With my everything,” you replied. At this, he laid you down on the bed and got on top of you. He moved his hand back down to your wetness with a speed, only accomplished by him.

With his super speed, it took no time at all for you to cum. You moaned out his name as he slowed his fingers down so he wouldn’t overstimulate too bad.

“I guess I won’t ever need my vibrator again, huh?” you joked with him.

“Y-you have one of those?” he stuttered out. At this you smiled at him seductively with a nod.

“Of course, I needed something to help me when I thought about you,” you whispered. His breath caught in his breath.

“You have gotten off, using one of those things, thinking about me?” he asked. It sounded as if he couldn’t fathom the idea of you getting off to him or he was just that much in awe of you.

“I did, but I just found out that nothing compares to the real thing,” you replied. Peter flushed at your comment. “Now would you please fuck me? I’ve been desperate for this forever.”

In no time he spread you open and inserted himself between your legs, “Are you ready?”

With a nod of confirmation from you, he slipped inside you with ease. You both moaned at the feeling of each other.

He was slow at first, so he wouldn’t hurt you. But some pleas from you and he was speeding up. He felt so good in you that you couldn’t manage anything but moans and cries of his name. He didn’t seem to be doing any better than you. He was also very vocal and breathing hard.

“I’m gonna cum soon, you?” Peter breathlessly asked you.

“Yeah, do it with me,” you told him. He moaned at that and went in for a soft kiss.

When he finished kissing you, he nipped at your lip and that is what did it for you. You were spasming under him. He brought his hand down to your clit and rubbed you through your orgasm, quickly coming to his own.

When you both finished, he went to your connected bathroom and grabbed a wet cloth for you. He wiped the both of you down before dropping the cloth in the hamper and laying down next to you. You both turned to face each other and Peter brought his hands to your waste.

“Have you really been trying to get my attention all this time?” Peter asked, worry in his voice.

“I have, but it’s okay because I have you now and hopefully forever,” you replied smoothly.

At this he pulled you closer to him, fully cuddling your body, “I’m yours forever.”

The next day you and Peter received a lot of teasing from all of your friends. Jean read your mind to figure out how the night went and soon your whole friend group was privy to what went on in your bedroom last night.

Every time Jubilee passed you and Peter she would send sparks of fireworks your direction as a “congratulations on not being stupid anymore and finally getting together.” Her words not yours. You didn’t care though, because you finally had the love of your life, all to yourself.

#peter maximoff #peter maximof x reader #even peters #x men quicksilver #quiksilver #female reader #reader insert #x reader #smut #fluff #one shot #fanfiction

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what-are-you-willing-to-do · 2 years

Note

ITS YOUR FATHER HERE REQUESTING. I'm literally dying for some angsty content with Michael or Thomas.

Maybe how they would try to earn their trust

OR IF YOU FEEL LIKE DRAWING

THE SLASHER HANDS. OR A THOMAS FANART BRO IDK WHATEVER YOU WANT TO GIVE ME I WILL BE HAPPY WITH IT

Hopefully I’ve pleased you papa 😍please enjoy 🌝 @brandnewhuman

Micheal and Thomas watching you die

Gender neutral reader x Thomas and Micheal (separate)

Tw: blood, death tears and angst😔

Micheal Myers

“M-Micheal.” You choke out as blood rushes from your mouth. You look down to see his knife through your stomach. His own eyes go wide realizing his mistake. You slump over him holding him to keep you stable he holds on tightly to you as he thinks what to do about your bleeding stomach. “I-I..” he puts his hand over your mouth telling you to be quiet. At first he almost stabbed you in you’re heart but due to your experience with dating a serial killer you managed to dodge and let him hit your stomach so you had more time to bid your farewells. He was trying to hit a victim but they managed to use you as a shield. You started coughing up more blood Micheal was debating on what the fuck to do. He couldn’t take you to a hospital they’d lock him up and he couldn’t see you. He also couldn’t pull his knife out because you’d bleed out even more. “M-Mikey, baby y-you have to go.” You groan out. “They escaped and I d-don’t want anyone f-finding y-you.” He looks down at you with as much sympathy as his cold heart can muster. “Do you understand.” You say “but-“ “DO YOU UNDERSTAND MICHEAL!?” You shout out as your adrenaline starts rushing. He looks down at you sadly as you smash your lips against his. “H-here.” You grab a necklace from off your necklace wrapping it around his neck. “I’ll see you Micheal now go baby.” You kiss him once more as he hugs you tightly before rushing off for his victim leaving you on the floor bleeding out. “This is not good at all…” you choke out before closing your eyes.

Thomas Hewitt

“Tommy baby,” you groan out dragging yourself to his room as your bleeding body aches. You were on the floor a victim slashed your knees and started stabbing you profusely. They probably thought you had cruel intentions just like the Hewitt’s minus Tommy. You inch yourself closer and closer to his door as everything starts to go black. You grab a notepad of his using your blood to write something. You take grab the ring you got him from your pocket. You were gonna propose but apparently the world had other plans. You finish up your bloodied writing as you hug his notepad tightly tears slipping out as you smile sadly. You breathe a final breath as you close your eyes with the notepad slipping out your bloodied hands. Tommy’s looking everywhere for you as he sees a trail of blood leading towards his room. He rushes in looking around as his whole world goes black. Your on the floor without a pulse. He rushes over to you tears in your eyes as he cries. He looks in your hand to see his note pad he picks it up as he looks at your sloppy bloody handwriting. ‘Since I couldn’t do it the way I wanted I thought I’d do this. I wanted to thank you for being mine through highs and lows for being there for me. Know Tommy I’ll be with you till you don’t need me anymore. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Take this ring as an apology, at first it was a proposal but I believe the world had different plans. So I’ll ask you, will you marry me? That’s all I have to say I love you forever. I’ll see you on the flip side.” At this point there are tears not stopping they continue to fall as he grabs the ring slipping it on and grabbing your lifeless body crying into you. It was almost the same.

#micheal myers x reader #micheal myers #thomas hewitt #thomas Hewitt x reader #angst #slasher #slasher angst

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scorpio-marionette · 1 year

Text

Anxiety

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!reader

Rating: PG

Warnings: anxiety, bad coping mechanisms, sadness, confusion, assumptions, age gap

A/N: Forgive me guys. I am currently in a depressive episode and I just binged @fuckyeahdindjarin 's Consent series (instead of writing like I should have) and it has put me deep into my feels. This little fic is very personal to me. Again, I'm sorry it's so sad. I just hate being attracted to a man I can get to know, let alone actually date, sometimes. (I'm looking at you Pedro.) But a girl can dream, right?

Part of @toomanystoriessolittletime December Writing Challenge

❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄

You're not quite sure what you should've expected looking at Instagram, at his Instagram. Of course he'd be surrounded by starlets. Gorgeous women, who are actually his, mind you, clinging to his arm. Kissing his face. All heart eyes and smiles. The same smile that swept you away a year ago….

It had happened by sheer chance. You and your best friend happened to be in the right restaurant to overhear a writer and producer talking about a script. The story as a whole was interesting enough, but certain parts made the flow of the story choppy. As a writer you were dying inside from trying to keep quiet. More than positive that you weren't supposed to know about the script at all. Fortunately or unfortunately, you couldn’t keep it together anymore. You rose from your seat to make your way over to their table. You politely ask that they forgive your interruption (and eavesdropping) and ask if you may provide an outside opinion. Once given the green light you go to town. Much to your surprise, the two were very interested in your outlook on the story. So much so they invite you and your friend to finish having your food at their table. Minutes blur into hours as you all work. Once satisfied with their edited story, they bid you farewell with the promise of compensation for your contribution.

Months would pass before you heard anything else. Not that you had been expecting to, or hoping. Your check had come and long since been spent. What else could they need? More edits? Apparently you because they couldn't seem to find the right actress to play the leading lady. Upon your arrival to set you had asked why. You were merely told that no one knew the character better than you. No one understood her like you did. A valid point. You had almost completely rewritten her. In light of the trouble, you accepted the task. You didn’t have an ounce of acting experience under your belt though. The director assured you that you would be fine. That’s about the moment you found out who your co-star was. You had heard of him, and frankly you heard him before you saw him. Demetrio Bravolinski, a.k.a. Dieter Bravo. Hollywood heartthrob. The man to be because he was getting cast in everything after the documentary for Cliff Beasts.

You had it bad for him, regardless of having never met him prior. You knew it was ridiculous to be so sure of your feelings. You had no real reason to feel what you felt. You couldn’t help it though. Something told you deep down that the man before you was more than the designer shirts his agent had rented so he could be a human product billboard. More than the recreational drugs he’s known for using in the tabloids. He felt and dreamed like any other being. Keeping that in mind, you let the director introduce you. At first he seemed put off by how young you were. Quick to question why such a young actress was cast. His failed relationship with the young Anika came to mind. The director explained what happened with you and the producer and writer. He instantly perked up. He hadn’t been excited to take the role at first, but was promised that it would be in the running for movie of the year. When rewrites for the script had made their way to him, his opinion on the film took an instant one eighty. He had not only fallen for his character, but also what would now be yours. No one would have ever taken Dieter for being a secret romantic.

With that, production had been a whirlwind. At first you kept very much to yourself. Feeling incredibly out of place among all the Hollywood regulars. Your anxiety winning out over making friends. Dieter had other plans though. He took you out to dinner when you weren’t too tired. He took you sightseeing on your days off. He bought you gifts that suited your tastes and interests. He asked you for your opinions on books, movies, and pieces of art. You couldn’t lie about it. You couldn’t have made it up. You seemed right about Dieter. He was more than what was shown. And your heart had completely fallen for him. First his voice, then his smile. The light in his eyes. His sometimes god awful humor. Then production wrapped. Reshoots barely needed you so you were released early. You thought he would want you around. To hang out after he finished his work, but he just went to the wrap parties. All the ones you weren’t invited to.

When it came time to promote the movie, you were nowhere to be found. The contract you had drafted with the studio miraculously got you out of press tours. How, you’re still not sure, but after a month and half seeing Dieter at parties with ladies he’d actually be interested in you weren’t complaining. You had merely slipped away into the background where you were supposed to be. Going home wasn’t easy though. While no paparazzi followed you, eager friends and family were desperate to hear how it had all gone. You were truthful to a point. You had fun and explored what you could. One question from a friend was unexpected. She had asked if you told Dieter how you felt about him. Hesitating at first, you tell her that you never had a good moment to do so. He was either being far to sweet for you to drop a bomb like that on him, or had a beautiful woman on him, looking like they were already happily committed.

And that’s how you’ve found yourself here, under a rainfall of crystal blue lights on a chilled winter’s night. Longingly staring at the photo of a man who will never be yours. Not just because he’s older than you, or a celebrity, or even because of the beautiful blonde on his arm. It’s because he isn’t here in New York. In your little corner of the world. He’s jetset off to London with the woman in the photo for the world premiere of the movie you starred together in. He’s gone, just like he was the day you had shown up to the studio to see if he wanted lunch. The same day that woman had sneered in your face. Asking a haunting question.

“Why on earth would a man like Dieter waste his time on you? You’re a little girl! A child! He may actually be a very sweet man, but he knows jail bait when he sees it. Go home and cry to mommy, hun. He has no need to babysit you anymore.”

Even now her words still hurt. They’re true though. Dieter was just being nice to you. You don’t fit in his world. He drinks and smokes and takes edibles before going out to party. Hell, he has a social life. Friends to hang out with, fake or not. The man does stuff with his life. All you’ve done is this one, crazy, fever dream of a filming opportunity. Now you’re home. Back to nothing. Perhaps it was just the universe’s idea of an early Christmas present or something?

“Why didn’t you come back?”

Your head whips around to the source of the voice. A snuggly, sleepy looking Dieter stands just outside your protective cage of icicle lights. His large hands tucked out of sight into the pockets of his peacoat. A new pair of black sweatpants shielding his legs from the air. Bewilderment. Disbelief. Fear. All very present on your face as you take in his appearance. You’re sure you must look like a gaping fish, but how else are you to react to him not only finding you in your own home town, but in your favorite spot in town. Surely your mother sold you out to him.

“I-I did… you weren’t there,” you finally answer. “You left to go to a party.”

“Then why didn’t you meet me there?” he continues to question.

“Because I wasn't wanted there.”

“Who told you that?”

You hesitate to throw his girlfriend under the bus. Positive that even if he wouldn’t get mad, he would still side with her and claim that she would’ve wanted you to attend as you were his co-star.

“Who said you weren’t wanted there? We all waited for you to come. We were going to surprise you with gifts for completing your first ever movie!”

Now this is news to you. No one from production had ever mentioned this. There weren’t even gifts sent to you after the party. Just copious amounts of pictures of Dieter dancing with every stunner of a woman in the club. Kissing. Duck faces. Megawatt smiles. Nothing about you. No inquiries to your whereabouts. Request for ETAs. You were sure everyone forgot about you since you weren’t a star.

“I ended up taking everything home with me,” Dieter informs you. “I’ve just been sitting on a mountain of presents waiting for you to come by, but you never did. You didn’t even come on the press tour. You missed the premiere.”

“I couldn’t…” you start, but you choke up. Your throat seems to be closing. Your chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself. You rise and turn to run from him. A hand gently grasps your elbow to halt your escape.

“Why didn’t you come back?” he asks again.

Fear gives way to irrational anger. Your involuntary response to being mentally cornered. The ugly part of your personality.

“Because you didn’t really care for me!” you all but scream. “Your girlfriend told me as much. And here I was stupid enough to think you might like me.”

“Girlfriend?” He pauses. “ Do you mean Alexandria? She’s not my girlfriend. She’s an old friend from my short stint on Broadway. Wait, what did she tell you?”

“She said you didn’t need to babysit me anymore and said you didn’t care about me because I’m younger than you.”

Dieter laughs - no, bellows at your answer. Apparently finding great humor in his friend’s statement. You shrink into yourself at the sound. His wide grin confirms what you have since believed. Again, you turn to exit the park; to recede back into the shadows. Again a hand stops you from leaving. Pulled around to face him, you see that bright spot of warmth and sunlight that radiates from somewhere behind his eyes. It’s all for you. Your head droops. His eyes soften.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t like you because you’re younger than me?” he inquires as he lifts your face back to his. “And did you really think I couldn’t see the way you look at me?”

A blush blazes across your cheeks. You thought you had been discrete. Neutral at least.

“I’ve known this whole time that you’ve had a thing for me, sweetheart. I was just wondering how long it’d take for you to admit it. I even found all your social media pages you have about me.”

His smile widens like the Cheshire Cat he is. Mischievous, but honest. Devious, but true.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, darling.” He leans down to your ear and nuzzles in.

“I love you too.”

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #writing challenge

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miss-tc-nova · 2 years

Text

Oblivious S/O - Aymeric, Thancred

A need that I too now possess. I freaking love it! Thank you for this one! It really made me smile.

~~~~~

Flirting with an Oblivious S/O

Aymeric:

Bless his little heart. He’s losing his mind.

He’s not sure how or when, but Aymeric fell for you and might’ve gotten a concussion in the fall.

Because surely he must be doing something wrong if you haven’t noticed yet.

Maybe his Ishgardian upbringing is just so different from your…adventurer-ness…that has his attempts going over your head.

He personally greets you every time he catches wind of your arrival, even if all he has is a five minute “break” from his work don’t tell Lucia.

You’ve received a few amazingly thoughtful gifts and perhaps a bouquet or two.

Every gorgeous view in Ishgard has been exposed to you in his accompaniment; some even came with a candlelit dinner but come on. How else were you supposed to see in the dark?

One time, there was a big social event, to which he invited you to join him.

You two danced, gossiped, and had a really good time—it would’ve made a cute story for a first date.

Except apparently that you had no idea.

This sweetheart walked you back to Fortemps Manor, kissed your hand, and you STILL DIDN’T TAKE THE HINT!

The moment you mentioned how thrilled Tataru would be with your work in bringing up the Scions’ image, he couldn’t agree more, even though that’s not what he wanted you to leave the night with.

Boldness in romance isn’t exactly his strong suit, but damn, he’s going to have to push himself to get the point across.

It’s come to the point where he’ll press a kiss to your cheek every time he greets you or bids you farewell.

That’s what all the high-class people do, right?

He’s even started calling you dear heart!

Literally everyone in Ishgard is aware of what’s going on, only because he’s practically throwing himself at your feet. Meanwhile, you just pull him up, dust him off, ask if he’s okay, and keep walking.

He gets a lot of flak for it. And some pity.

Most of the pity comes from the friends that know how oblivious you are.

Why don’t you see it?!

He’s beginning to come to the correct conclusion that he’s just going to have to sit you down and tell you directly.

“Dear heart, you know why I call you that, don’t you? Yes, I care about you very, very much. But I can’t help wondering if there’s a chance that we might be more than friends?” *Sigh* “No, best friends is not what I had in mind.”

Perhaps not.

Thancred:

Oh for Twelve’s sake.

What more could he do?!

Throw you on the table in the foyer, jam his mouth against yours, and—never mind.

Over the years, Thancred has grown increasingly fond of you—to the point he’s not sure where fondness became infatuation.

Let’s be honest, he denied his feelings right up until that moment he was FORCED to confront them when you almost…left.

After several nights of arguing with himself, he decided to take his chance.

But your skull must be pure stone. Just how dense are you?!

You two had grown close over your friendship, but he’s certainly been pushing boundaries as of late.

Not that any of it has seem to cross your mind.

Any chance of an adventure with you is taken. He’s even gone out of his way to find new shenanigans for the two of you to get into together.

Walking about, he’ll slip an arm around your waist or shoulders, wary of other’s gazes on you.

If he can’t get you to notice him, there’s no way in hell he’s giving anyone else a chance.

But even his most gentle, caring touches don’t seem to faze you.

You’ve shared plenty of rooms and even beds while out on adventures.

Yes, you have woken up spooning before

hazards of low funds and sharing a bed, right?

Hell, he’s kissed you. Full on lip-to-lip contact.

But it was during a mission and the damn target walked by just in time to be an unwitting alibi to “keeping your cover from being blown.”

Quick thinking, Thancred. *Facepalm*

All his flirty talk seems to just go right over your head and he curses his old reputation that must’ve made you think he’s just prattling to hear himself speak.

All the Scions poke at him for falling for the densest being in existence.

There are also many condolences.

And many who think you’re already in a relationship because literally everyone BUT YOU SEEMS TO NOTICE!

He’s not sure how much blunter he can except just spell it out for you. Dammit

“Alright, listen. It’s been quite the struggle to get my point across and it may just kill me, so I’m just going to say it. I love you. What?! No, I’m not drunk! No, this isn’t an act either! You are very lucky you’re adorable, you know that!”

Yeah, he might need to go back to the table option.

#novas ffxiv headcanons #ser aymeric #aymeric de borel #thancred waters #novas requests #gender neutral reader

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liyawritesss · 2 months

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ᖴᒪOᗯEᖇᔕ Iᑎ ᗷᒪOOᗰ - ᐯᗩᒪEᑎTIᑎEᔕ ᗪᖇᗩᗷᗷᒪEᔕ

Ｄａｙ２８－ＳｏｆｔＬａｕｎｃｈ

－ A Picture Worth Posting - Kaleb Hawkins - The Vampire Diaries: Legacies

－ In which you and Kaleb finally decide to make your relationship public, and just about all your friends at the Salvatore school go haywire.

－ Check out more prompts and other activities on the Flowers In Bloom Event Masterlist!

Having a private relationship had its perks - the increased intimacy from the privacy that came with it all, the little snickers shared between the two of you that no one else would ever know the reason why. The delight and slight adrenaline that came with being the kind of couple that never flaunted your relationship status around like a trophy, and instead kept it on the down low, was an aspect that you and Kaleb treasured, because it worked out for the both of you.

No one knew that you and Kaleb were dating, and to be quite honest, if it wasn’t for the curiosity within yourself to find out how the people around you would react, you would’ve kept it that way. You’d dropped hints to your respective friend groups that you were seeing someone; albeit very vaguely, with talks that surrounded dating that would come up, or who had crushes on who, or who Lizzie had an eye for this time (because she always had an eye out for the new, particularly cute students that rolled in every semester). Yet, none of your friends seemed to pick up the fact that the both of you were dating, much less, dating each other.

“Let’s do it,” Kaleb says one late night in the study hall, pushing the curfew limit enforced by Alaric due to a last minute test neither of you had studied for, “what could go wrong?”

“You just wanna be nosy,” you snickered, but you couldn’t blame him; so did a part of you.

The agreement was to take a picture right then and there, the kind where it only showed a part of the other person's body. In this case, it was a part of Kaleb’s arm, showing the pretty dark skin of his that glowed under the dim warm lighting of the library, also capturing the bracelet on his wrist - one that people knew he wore frequently, but never who gave it to him.

His picture was of the book he was flipping through in the forefront, but the background showed just below your neck, displaying the shirt and cardigan you were wearing that day, a pairing that many people complimented you on. He wanted to do cheesy, matching captions that would go with the pictures you’d post on your stories, and with that killer smile of his, how could you deny him?

The captions read: “a little more than just a study buddy”.

What made it more entertaining is that after they were posted, you decided to put your phones on do not disturb for the rest of the evening. Seeing the reactions of your friends would wait til the morning; so the both of you returned to studying for your test…just barely.

But when the morning came…boy, were your phones on a non-stop buzzing spree. Deciding to see each other before class, you both shared the vigorous reactions you’d gotten from your friends on your soft-launch.

“Apparently, Hope has been shipping us since the beginning,” Kaleb chuckles as he holds you on his lap, his hand resting on your thigh, “which shocks me, considering that girl’s belief in love is about as small as an acorn. If anything, I thought Lizzie would be the one on that.”

“Be lucky there isn’t a group chat for you guys,” you told him, “I woke up to fifty messages, everyone was spamming me about how I could keep something like this from them.”

“Wasn’t like we were hiding!” Kaleb argues. “You need more observant friends.”

You playfully hit him on his chest, just as the bell for class rings. You press a kiss to his cheek, bidding him farewell, as you prepare yourself to walk into the same classroom some of your friends were in, as you were sure they would bombard you with a number of questions about your relationship that they just found out about. You tried not to laugh to yourself at the anticipation of their physical reactions.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

#flowersinbloom🏵#black reader #black tumblr #tvdu #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries universe #tvd legacies #legacies tvd #legacies #legacies x reader #legacies kaleb #kaleb hawkins #kaleb hawkins legacies #kaleb hawkins x reader #kaleb hawkins x black!reader

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rachelkaser · 2 years

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Stay Golden Sunday: One for the Money

Sophia’s attempts to get rich quick prompt the Girls to remember previous moneymaking schemes.

Picture It...

Rose is in the kitchen, and Blanche and Dorothy arrive home for dinner with pizza. Sophia enters and pours each of them a glass of water from a bottle, asking if they like it and would buy it. They all answer yes, and Sophia triumphantly says it’s from their garden hose. The other Girls deter her from her latest get-rich-quick scheme, but Sophia points out that she’s not the only who’s tried it, and recalls their catering venture...

DOROTHY: Hi Rose! BLANCHE: We brought dinner! ROSE: What’d you get? DOROTHY *holding a very obvious pizza box* A bucket of chicken. I hope you like it extra-flat and crispy? BLANCHE: It’s a pizza, Rose! ROSE: I knew that, I just meant what kind. BLANCHE: Did you really know that, Rose? ROSE: No, but I thought I could cover.

Flashback: The Girls gather in the kitchen at 3 a.m. discussing their newly started wedding consulting business. They have to cook for a reception tomorrow for 300 people. On cue, they begin frantically preparing and stuffing chickens, while Rose tries to sing a work song to make the time go faster. The doorbell rings, and the Girls cautiously go to see who it is: Tomorrow’s bride, Priscilla, who tells them the wedding is off, much to their consternation. Priscilla tells them she and Ramone had a fight -- apparently he slept with her best friend. The other Girls comfort her while trying to make sure the wedding happens.

Ramone calls, and Rose, in one of her more cutthroat moments, passes Priscilla the phone. After the world’s shortest discussion, they’re back together and planning to elope. Dorothy hands Priscilla a crystal vase and sends her off. The Girls, upset, trying to figure out what to do when Dorothy makes a phone call to the police, reporting a robbery. Back in the kitchen, Rose asks why Sophia wants the money. Sophia says it’s to buy a TV for her room. Dorothy remembers another time Sophia wanted to buy a TV set. The two of them reminisce about Brooklyn, April 1954...

BLANCHE: Dorothy, are you crazy? We’re gonna lose a fortune on this wedding! ROSE: And you let her march out that door with your best piece of crystal! DOROTHY: *into the phone* Hello, police? Yeah, I’d like to report a robbery...

Flashback: Sophia is working away on her sewing machine when her husband Sal comes home from work, making his first onscreen appearance. He goes into the kitchen to eat dinner -- a TV dinner. Dorothy enters and asks her mother for a favor: To watch the kids while she works an extra job to buy a TV set. Sophia refuses, saying TV is a fad. Dorothy tries to ferret out the real reason, even saying she’ll leave the kids with Stan’s mother.

Sal, who is in raptures over the TV dinner, yells for Sophia to tell the truth. Sophia finally tells Dorothy that she and Sal were planning to buy a TV for Dorothy and Stan for their tenth anniversary -- hence the sewing. Dorothy laughs and says she wanted to buy Sal the TV for his birthday. Sophia says they’ll just buy each other the TVs. After they settle things, Sal goes out for some beer, bidding Sophia a fond farewell that she (begrudgingly) returns. Back in the kitchen, Sophia is sore that the Girls didn’t save her a piece of their pizza, even if she didn’t really want one. It’s not the first time they left her out of something...

SOPHIA: Where are you going? SAL: To get some air. SOPHIA: We got air in the house. SAL: I like beer with my air.

Flashback: Blanche arrives at a charity dance marathon with her very reluctant date, dry-cleaner Marty. Dorothy then enters with her date, Russell, and is surprised to see Blanche there. Rose follows with her date, David. They all tried to keep the dance and its $1,000 prize from each other. The announcer starts the dance off, and the Girls begin dancing. Marty hobbles up and says he twisted his ankle and can’t dance, but Blanche whispers something in his ear to get him to agree, and he immediately starts samba-ing.

Seven hours into the marathon, the Girls are congratulating each other on their ability to keep up. Rose starts telling David a St. Olaf story, to which Dorothy protests. This sparks a dance-off between the Girls, as the other dancers gather in a circle around Dorothy and Russell, who get down

to a bouncy rendition of Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood.” Blanche and Marty cut in, with Blanche doing some fancy footwork. Then Rose cuts in, asking for her go, but says Dave should sit this one out. Then, to the tune of “Sing Sing Sing,” she puts on a floor show that shames everyone else.

youtube

At the 13-hour mark, the Girls and their dates, alongside one other couple, are the only ones left on the floor. As the announcer begins the tango, Marty’s finally had enough and quits on Blanche, who has one minute to find a new dance partner. She says something to the man in the fourth dancing pair, who immediately abandons his date for her. Russell suddenly gets a charley horse and abandons a furious Dorothy. Not even a moment later, David runs off on Rose as his wife has just walked in. The announcer names Blanche the winner (the fourth woman angrily drags her partner away from Blanche).

But the announcer says another couple is reentering the floor: It’s Dorothy and Rose, tangoing together back onto the dance floor, while Blanche looks on in exasperation. Back in the kitchen, Blanche smugly reminds the other two Girls that they were disqualified and she was given the prize -- though she did give them $10 each. Sophia walks over with a jar in her hand and proposes a new possibility: Since she’s cute, she can put her face on a jar, Paul Newman-style. Dorothy asks one question that kills the venture stone-dead:

DOROTHY: Ma, if you had your choice of a spaghetti sauce with your picture on it or Paul Newman’s picture on it, which would you choose? SOPHIA: . . . back to square one.

“You think I need a wardrobe this size to go to Mulberry Street and squeeze a zucchini?”

We’re a little early in the season for a flashback episode, but after last week’s VSE, I feel that a palette cleanser is more than needed here. Nothing about this week’s episode is even slightly emotionally taxing -- it’s all just solid laughs. It’s a bit strange to see Sophia go from brokenhearted last week to cheerfully scheming now, but we need this breath of air.

ROSE: When I was younger I was known as the dancing fool. DOROTHY: How old were you when they dropped the “dancing” part?

In this one, the Girls reveal that, despite their protests to the contrary, Sophia’s not the only one who has moneymaking ambitions. They’ve tried their hand at starting their own businesses, and aren’t above using a charity event to win a $1,000 prize. On a nicer side, Sophia and Dorothy also take on extra work in order to buy each other good gifts, which is sweet. We have three separate flashbacks again, and we’ll take them in order, but first let’s mention the framing device.

Sophia’s pulling multiple duties in the episode. She’s trying to find a way to make some quick money, but she’s also telling the Girls about some of her discontent in the house. The reason she wants the money is to buy her own TV, as the other Girls don’t let her watch what she wants (though she seems to have missed the finale of M.A.S.H., which aired in 1983. She also complains when the Girls don’t offer her a piece of pizza, despite not even wanting it, and points out that they cut her out of the dance marathon. I’m not quite sure what she meant by that -- presumably Dorothy, Rose, and Blanche simply didn’t tell her it was happening.

SOPHIA: I won’t let you throw away good money. This TV thing is just a fad. SAL: Did you know this turkey comes with stuffing? DOROTHY: Ma, TV is not a fad. Otherwise Swanson would have called those “radio dinners.”

The flashback with Priscilla is probably the weakest out of the three, as it raises a number of questions. First, where did the Girls get the capital to start their own catering business? Second, how were they planning to cook for 300 people in their (relatively) tiny kitchen? Third, did Priscilla -- or whoever was paying for her wedding -- not pay the Girls upfront for their services or materials, or at least give them a deposit? I’m not convinced it was Priscilla who spoiled their dreams there, if that was all it took. She’s still a dope, of course, the show is unambiguous about that. Who elopes to Vegas when their actual, planned wedding is taking place within hours? You elope to save time and money, not waste it! I also love that Rose initially seems to be in favor of sacrificing money for the kids’ happiness, but quickly reveals she’s just as ruthless as the others.

It’s good to see that Sophia gets her own flashback, to make up for not being the third. It’s also great to see the return of Lyn Greene as Young Dorothy. She’s perfect once again, playing Dorothy who’s not above subtly manipulating her mother to get what she needs -- namely, for Sophia to watch the grandkids while she earns money to buy Sophia a TV. Sophia’s attempts to keep Dorothy from guessing her secret is also amusing to watch, and ultimately they decide to just gift each other the respective TVs.

ROSE: Maybe we should have a weapon? SOPHIA: Please, the three of you without makeup is enough to scare anyone.

This also marks the first on-screen appearance of Salvador Petrillo, played by Sid Melton, who provided his offscreen voice in the previous season. He’s not onscreen for long; once again, his primary role is yelling things from the Petrillo’s kitchen while Dorothy and Sophia talk in the living room. His delight with the TV dinner is also amusing, as his wife and daughter can only listen to his adorations with confusion from the other room. The moment between Sophia and Sal where they say their I love yous and Sophia tells her daughter, “I look at him, I see Errol Flynn,” is sweet and shows that they love each other despite their bickering.

The whole dance scene is probably the most memorable from the episode, as it allows Dorothy, Blanche, and Rose the chance to strut their stuff. No, it doesn’t really make sense why the other dancers would make room for them to do their thing in the middle of the marathon, but I’m not going to quibble. Rose manages to steal the scene as she puts on an acrobatic dance show, cartwheeling and doing the splits. Yes, Betty White’s stunt double is pretty obvious to anyone watching, but it’s not like it matters -- and bravo to whomever they are, because they manage to do cartwheels in a chiffon dress and stacked silver heels.

ROSE: There’s still one piece left. Who wants it? BLANCHE & DOROTHY: I do! ROSE: Oh, well I can split it three ways. SOPHIA: What am I supposed to do, lick the box? DOROTHY: Ma, you don’t like store-bought pizza. You prefer homemade. SOPHIA: I also prefer milk straight from a cow. I adapt.

While memorable, it’s still a bit silly to me that we do a dance-off seven hours into a charity dance marathon. Seven hours of dancing, and I would barely be able to lift my own feet, let alone do cartwheels, so I applaud their stamina. The silliest part to me, though, is that it was prompted by Dorothy literally crying foul over Rose telling David a St. Olaf Story. Am I meant to believe that Rose has been in close proximity to a listening party for seven hours and has not yet told a St. Olaf Story? I don’t buy that for a moment.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰🍰 (four cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite part of the episode:

As much as I love the dance scenes, Rose’s attempt at a work song is flat-out hilarious.

youtube

#golden girls #stay golden #stay golden sunday #rose nylund #sophia petrillo #dorothy zbornak #picture it #s03e02 #blanche devereaux #one for the money

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enviedear · 2 years

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ivy → remus lupin

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which remus confesses that he loves you while on a date with another girl.

PAIRING ⌙ remus x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 4.1k

! for my blond mix series

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"told you it was a bad idea." lily groans, nestling into you. with faux annoyance you roll your eyes at her remark, causing her to stick her tongue out in rebuttal.

truthfully, it probably wasn't the best idea to let james potter watch a quidditch match mere hours before his small son needed to be put to bed. there's no telling when he'll calm down enough to be able to sit still and read him a bedtime story.

but you've never had the best of ideas. even in school. you found it joyous to egg james on, letting him get into heaps of trouble just for your personal enjoyment. to your credit, however, you've never been quite as bad of an influence as sirius, who currently was jumping around with james, cigarette haphazardly held in his mouth.

and where you would encourage the boys behavior, remus lupin would discourage it. albeit— with less vigor than you would do the opposite.

remus, always the one to apologize for his friends 'unruly' behavior, to quietly clean up whatever they ruined, and quick to reprimand them, only for it to fly right over their heads.

you knew he held a soft spot for chaos— he was your best friend after all. you never missed the slight smirk on his face while the others schemed. he was a quiet sort of danger, and you liked it more than you care to admit.

"quite glad your team has won lads, but james, i do believe your son is frightfully past his bedtime." remus speaks, eyeing the clock.

james pauses his celebration, looking at his wife, "merlin, lily— why didn't you tell me?" lily huffs, standing to collect harry from him. "good grief darling, i coulda kicked these twats out for 'ya."

to that sirius sticks his nose up, "as though it's lils fault you're bad with time." he wraps an arm around the redhead, smirking at her. "lily, love, if you ever tire from your incompetent husband, please, give me a ring."

lily raises a brow and motions to you, "but i've just planned out a sapphic life with y/n. thought we'd rekindle our lost fourth year relationship."

you chuckle, "expect divorce papers soon, potter. i've been playing the long game." james shrugs, pushing sirius' arm off of his wife.

"how hilarious, joke that james will end up alone. you people don't care for my feelings." he rests his forehead to harry's, "you're the only one that understands me, i fear."

harry seems unimpressed, nestling deeper in lily's arms. causing her to try to hold back a grin. james pouts a bit before winking at her and giving her lips a chaste kiss.

you make a sound of displeasure and rise from the couch, "disgusting you two, i'm leaving. i refuse to waste my precious time being envious of a wholesome family."

remus follows you up, grin on his lips, "i'm afraid i have to agree with y/n. we'll be seeing our single selves out."

you snort, wrapping your arm through his, "i would say you could join us sirius—"

"—but i, am going home to someone. yes, that's correct. sirius black has settled down. let this joke die." he groans, toying with his cigarette.

"it's adorable sirius. you tell marls i miss her." lily muses, bouncing harry.

sirius flushes and takes a long drag of his cigarette instead of replying. blowing the smoke away from harry, and instead into a still pouting james.

you smile and fall into remus, cuddling his side. "can i stay over at yours tonight? i have a sneaking feeling that i'll be entirely too lonely at mine."

remus looks down to you, giving you a bright smile, "what else are friends for?"

the two of you bid farewell to your group, walking out of the potter's warm home to face the nimble winter. the wind is quick, cutting straight through your coat. you pull your arms closer to you, already chilled to the bone.

"we could always apparate there?" remus suggests, noticing that you're shivering.

you shake your head, "bad idea to apparate with this much wind, plus, i don't mind to walk to the bus."

he sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets, "i wouldn't mind to call a cab?"

"i'm fine, rem. stop worrying." you say, bumping him with your shoulder.

remus lets it go and the two of you make your way to the bus station. you've made this trek to his apartment for years now, but you still find yourself enjoying it. the peaceful silence and familiarity of his presence always provides you comfort.

remus has always been a constant in your life, your anchor. he's kept you afloat through so much. from keeping you from failing dada back in fourth year, to letting you stay with him anytime you were down.

to say that remus was a good friend wouldn't be doing him justice. he was the epitome of a wonderful friend— kind, caring, understanding, and the only person who knew you to your core.

you loved him, maybe a bit more than you care to admit. it was hard not to.

you watch him as he pays the bus fare, quick to pay for you too, despite your apprehension. he finds the two of you seats, face calm and eyes scanning the bus. he does this every time, making absolutely sure that you're safe from unwanted stares.

his eyes close after he's done, leaning back and letting his head rest on the bus window.

you smile to yourself, taking note of his soft features. his sandy brown hair is freshly cut, nose still red from the cold, and new scar inching up his neck.

he looks like something out of a fine art painting, still and captivating. you lean into him, cheek against his chest. despite the knowledge that it's purely friendly, your heart skips a beat as he lets his arm snake around you, holding you in place.

"don't fall asleep on me yet, love." his voice is silvery, somewhat playful.

you titter, "say's you! eyes shut the minute he's sat."

remus chuckles, sound vibrating from his chest, "fair play, y/l/n."

the bus ride continues in silence, you listening to the beat of remus' heart while he caresses your shoulder. it's a conundrum, you think, to love your best friend. the endless loving touches and words, all of companionship and never romance.

"c'mon love, it's our stop." remus says, voice sweet as sugar.

you take his hand, following him out into the chilly night.

the temperature seems to have dropped and the wind's picked up, leaving you thankful that remus has yet to let you go. his body is warm, providing you some comfort.

the walk to his apartment is short, but somewhat uphill, leaving you breathless.

"bloody key." he huffs, shouldering the door in an attempt to force it open.

you bite your lip, "here, let me try."

your fingers brush his as you try the key, turning it slowly. the lock clicks, allowing you to push the door open.

you turn to remus, playful smile on your face. the tall young man flushes, rolling his eyes.

"slow and steady wins the race, rem. don't you remember?" you tease, dropping your coat on the hook inside.

he leans down to face you, dropping his wallet in the crystal dish on the entrance table, "sticks and stones, love. sticks and stones."

you stroll over to his living room, switching the light on, "new couch?" you question feeling the stretched leather.

remus hums, "bought it off dorcus last week. 'was her grandmums'."

you fall back onto it, surprised by the comfort.

"nice n'it?" he winks, slipping beside you.

you grin, "beyond! how much?"

"only two galleons. dorcus insisted she needed it off of her hands." he replies, kicking off his tattered shoes.

you follow suit, picking up both pairs and walking to neatly set them by the door, "you're a true thrifter now." you call, eyes focusing on a slip of paper peaking out of his wallet.

remus replies and you hum in response, looking over the slip. in clean, crisp writing, 'always free on saturday's if you'd like to meet <3 lina'

you stare at the writing and the phone number scrawled on the paper, in shock.

of course you knew remus went out with people— so did you, but the fact never failed to hurt. silently, you slide the paper back into his wallet, walking back to him.

"any plans tomorrow?" you ponder, trying to act innocent.

he shrugs, "might meet up with a friend."

you narrow your eyes inquisitively, "a friend? one i know?"

"i don't believe you know her, no." his voice is soft.

you smirk, dropping to straddle him, playful glint in your eye, "her? merlin, rem— you have a date!"

he smirks back, rolling his eyes, "you saw the paper didn't you. absolute snoop, you are."

you gasp in false outrage, "me, a snoop? you wound me lupin."

he laughs, hand cupping your cheek and bringing your forehead to his, "don't lie, love. you've been a snoop since we were kids."

you try to stop the butterflies erupting in your stomach from his touch, biting your lip, "oh shush, i'm not a kid anymore."

"yes but, some things never change, love." he smiles.

he was on the nose with that one. here you were, early twenties and still silently in love with your best friend. fifth year you swore this little 'crush' would have definitely ended by now.

"yes, they do. we used to be fun. now look at us— ten o'clock and night already over." you grumble, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

"you're still the life of every party, love." remus whispers, sincerity dripping from his words.

you smile against him, "remember the time 'pads and i stole filtch's broom and hid it in bellatrix's trunk?" you groan, "merlin, we didn't give a fuck back then."

"the two of you are still a menace to society— only now you use harry to get out of all your schemes." remus tisk's.

you brush off his remark, "ugh, you're grouchy. let's get you to bed." you hop off of him.

"whatever you wish, snoop." he grins, hands on your shoulder, pushing you forward and into his bedroom.

you make your way to his dresser and open his bottom drawer, finding your sleep clothes, "you didn't move my skincare out of the basket under the sink, did you?"

remus pokes his head out of the connected bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, "of course not, why?"

"oh i don't know? afraid a suitor may get curious about why you have women's items hidden in your cupboard." you tease, pushing him away from the mirror and reaching for your cleanser.

he spits into the sink, glaring at you, "no one is as nosey as you, love."

you wave him off, beginning to wash the makeup off of your face. you feel him shuffle behind you, grabbing for everything he needs.

"i've been using your moisturizer." he confesses, waving the tube in front of your soapy face.

you rinse your face, "it's fine— i use your shaving cream every time i shower here."

remus laughs and hands you a washrag. "i'll be in bed if you need me. oh, and your toothbrush is behind the mirror."

you nod and finish removing your makeup before brushing your teeth.

from the countless times you've slept over here, you've amassed a large number of things to fill his selves with. of course, he doesn't mind. still, you've tried many times to take your stuff out. he never lets you though. he wouldn't fathom you not having what you need here.

there was a long time that lily and james were certain the two of you had moved in together. sirius even swore you had a secret relationship with the lycanthrope— to this day.

despite how well you attempt to hide your feelings for remus, you're quite sure your friends have seen through you.

you timidly glance out of the bathroom as you put away your things, staring at remus as he reads. his long legs holding the thick hardcover up, slender fingers moving the pages.

thinking back to the note in his wallet, you look away, trying to stop your thoughts. you look at yourself in the petite mirror, attempting to force your eyes to focus, really focus— on how selfish your thoughts are.

remus deserves love. he should be able to find it without your hopeful wishes wanting for the opposite. because even if he doesn't love you, you love him, and loving him means to make sure he ends up happy, no matter your feelings.

you grab your things, hiding them away and walking to his bed. you don't say anything, just try your hardest to slip off into dreamland.

it takes a few minutes, but remus follows suit, assuming you to be asleep.

"g'night, love." he mutters, placing a chaste kiss to your temple.

the simple gesture keeps you up, and then when you finally fall asleep, you dream of remus.

you wonder how such a sweet thing could possibly break your heart.

-ˋˏ ❉᯽❉ ˎˊ-

the next day you wake up alone, note from remus beside you.

'off to meet with my friend. if you decide you want to snoop, we'll be meeting up with everyone at the bar around nine. love you, leftover's are in the fridge

<3 your rem'

you groan, falling back into his bed. of course he had to go on a date today. the thought brings forth a disgusting taste into your mouth.

you get out of his bed and rip the sheets and covers off— thinking that maybe cleaning up could get your mind off of your unreciprocated crush.

remus' laundry room is located in a small closet, barely big enough to fit the washer and dryer. but it did the job, maybe better than the fancy set james had gotten you for your birthday.

you shove the linens in, using the floral detergent you bought him on a drunk whim. you watch the washer for a second, thoughts full of him. you wonder what he wore, if he was nervous, if this girl was the one.

you stop yourself and try to find something else to do, coming up short— remus kept a clean apartment. there was nothing for you to do. so you heat up his leftovers and scan through his bookshelves, looking for anything that sparks interest. you eat as you look, reading through countless synopses.

despite your initial goal to forget remus and how dearly you love him, you begin reading his annotations. his penmanship in inconsistent, like some thoughts are deeply rehearsed and others spur of the moment. you trace his cursive, noticing the slight crookedness of his lettering.

as you grab for another book, your phone rings. placing down the leftovers, you grab for your phone, answering without looking.

"it's lily!" her bright voice calls, getting interrupted by a booming one, "and sirius!"

you smile, leaning on the bookshelf, "hey you two, what trouble are you getting into?"

"none— isn't it sad? lily forced me over for tea, and refuses to go motorbike shopping with me." the man grumbles.

you hear lily snatch the phone back, "james brought harry over to his mum's for the day, and i thought it would be nice to hang out with you."

you look over to the clock. five thirty.

"i'm at remus' currently, but we could meet in town soon." you suggest, looking for some acceptable clothes in his drawers.

you hear lily whistle, "you sure have been spending a lot of nights over there—"

"are you and moony getting frisky, y/n?" sirius asks, chuckling into the phone.

you groan, "he's literally on a date right now— speaking of, are you lot going to the bar later to meet her?"

lily hums, "james and i are, we're letting granny euphemia watch harry until tomorrow."

"marls and i will be there, and she's bringing dorcus— why? are you thinking about not going?" sirius asks.

you shrug even though they can't see it, "i dunno. just thought it might be weird..."

sirius gasps and you hear lily whisper something to him before speaking to you, "well, hun, i think you should go. remus would at a loss without you there. besides, it'll be nice to grab a drink with everyone."

you hum in agreement, slipping your shoes on, "i'm ready if you are? i'll apparate."

"we'll do the same— see you soon dear!" sirius yells, disconnecting the call.

you rush to grab your wallet and keys, before abruptly remembering the leftovers and sheets. setting your stuff back down you quickly throw the food away and move the laundry to the dryer— albeit a little too early.

with a sigh, you grab your things and apparate away.

the feeling when you apparate is much like diving off of a diving board. your stomach twists and turns and the moment you finally get to where you’re going it feels much too harsh. needless to say, you loathed it. convenience aside— you never found it worth it.

you walk out of the alleyway you apparated into, scanning the street for your friends. just a few stones throw away, by what looks to be a muggle electronics shop, stand lily and sirius.

the long haired man towers over the redhead, who seems to be trying to fix her hair in the shops glass window.

you stroll over to the duo, smile on your face, “hello nimwits, miss me?”

sirius winks at you, “nice sweater, y/n— looks an awful lot like a certain lupin’s sweater.”

rolling your eyes you retort, “thanks sirius. remus’ dad didn’t want it anymore.”

lily tucks her hair behind her ear, face red from the cold, "oh shut up, both of you. come on, the café across the street is about to close and i need a latte."

-ˋˏ ❉᯽❉ ˎˊ-

the air around you feels tight with anticipation— the bar is dark and prematurely rowdy. you keep glancing to the door, wondering when remus might show. what the girl on his arm might look like, act like, talk like. how she managed to captivate his mind.

checking your phone, you notice remus is almost an hour late. although your other friends don't seem to notice. sirius and james are on their second mixed drink and lily and dorcus are having a hushed conversation while marlene is taking a smoke outside.

you've been sat opposite of the marauder duo, occasionally replying to the two men. you assume james has noticed your downtrodden expression, as he bought you a cosmo in hopes it might brighten your sour mood.

truthfully, you tried to engage in conversation, but your mind was filled with thoughts or remus. no matter how hard you tried you kept coming back to the thought of him.

"drink, love. while we're young." james interrupts your thoughts, gingerly sliding the glass closer to you.

you give him a half smile, "i just don't seem to be in the mood tonight, prongs."

he gives sirius a look, causing the long haired man to shrug, before looking back to you, "do 'ya want me to take you home?"

"no it's okay. i can get back alright, i'll take the bus." you're quick to gather your things, stepping out of the booth.

"stop by third street or main?" sirius asks, thumbs typing away on his phone.

"main— i'll call you when i get there." you say, fiddling with your bags' strap.

the two bid you farewell and you walk out of the cramped bar, greeted by the brisk wind. the street is dimly lit and you're thankful for that. the absence of light seems to match your dim mood. again, your mind wanders to remus. old and fresh memories keep you company as you walk alone.

you think about what he means to you. you ask yourself what you mean to him. you're sure by now that there's no greater human suffering than unrequited love. thinking back to when you realized that he was the one, the one that had full ownership of your heart. you were so young. of course you didn't know the right things to do or say, but still you berate yourself for not voicing your love then. you had so many opportunities.

remus was and has been such a staple in your life. sometimes you wonder if you deserved the acts of kindness he's shown you throughout the years, despite you keeping such a secret from him.

how back in school he would carry your bag for you and let you drone on and on about anything and everything. all the times he's held you close to him and calmed you down, telling you that he'll always be there for you. of course not telling him that you're absolutely in love with him isn't a crime. not in the slightest. but it does feel like a betrayal.

you see the way his smile lights up all your memories. his voice is etched into your brain. you hear the kind words from the years. is it so bad to keep them to yourself and wish for a different outcome? maybe.

you can't escape the yearning you have for him. he's made it beyond impossible. something worse than any obsession, you're sure.

you reach the bus stop, scanning the street around you. the cold breeze rips through your coat and pants, but you wrap your arms around yourself in hopes to quell it. fruitful.

you attempt to fish your phone out of your pocket, dialing for sirius. he answers with gruff hum, bar music far louder than it was minutes before.

"i'm safe at the bus stop." you say simply.

"remus there yet?" he asks, causing you to furrow your brows.

"what? why would remus be here?"

you hear the line disconnect, causing you to huff in annoyance. you dial him again, only for it to go to voicemail. you try james to no avail. finally you decide to try remus.

the line rings three times before he answers.

"y/n?" he sounds out of breath.

you clench your exposed hand, trying to bring it warmth, "where are you? sirius thinks you're with me."

he takes a second to respond, "well i'm trying my best to get to you."

confused you shake your head, "why? i'm headed home."

he doesn't reply and you mutter his name into the device, once, twice, three times. sighing you end the call, only to hear your name being called down the street.

you look in the direction it's coming from, finding remus' face in the shadows, jogging to you. you bite your lip and go to meet him in the middle, noticing his rosy cheeks. "why are you here rem? where's your date?"

he grins, something so reminiscent of his boyish whims, "i told her i was in love with someone else, we had an incredibly long conversation about it. very sorry i was late, didn't foresee you leaving the bar early."

he seems to notice your muddled expression, "tried to make james and sirius keep you there, but honestly the run i had to find you has given me quite an adrenaline rush. which i need if i'm going to do this."

"do what, rem?" you ask, genuine confusion in your voice.

he inches closer, leaning so that his forehead overcasts yours, "tell you how deeply in love with you i am."

if the air was thick before, it's thickened. you stare up at him, shocked and bewildered. "you love me?"

remus nods, "for so long. i've thought for so long to tell you and today, well, once i got to the date, i just couldn't bear it. i told everyone, tried to fix something up. i realize how horrible it sounds to say that i got the courage to tell you that i love you while on a date with someone else. and i want you to know that i don't expect you to feel the same."

"when?' you ask, as it seems to be the only question in your mind. "when did you know you loved me?"

remus bites his lip, "frankly, i'm not sure. i think forever. since i met you. y/n, i'm in awe of you. everything about you just feels right."

you swear you're dreaming as the words fall from his mouth, "i— merlin, remus, we're both such idiots." you smile, "i love you too. i have for so long."

"just a pair of idiots in love with each other it seems." he jokes, wrapping you into a deep hug, arms around your shoulders.

you laugh, forehead against his chest, "yes, so it seems."

he pulls away, looking at you with bright eyes. you can't contain the smile on your face. you feel warm now, the cold air feels less brisk now.

you decide to tip toe up to him, eyes questioning and unsure. you lean in, hands finding their way to his arms, pulling him close. his lips brush yours and you smile before kissing him. his lips are slightly chapped from the cold, and he kisses you softly.

you've imagined kissing him before, how it'd feel. you never thought that it would be this wonderful. the sense of care and absolute adoration you feel from him is enough to have you weak in the knees. his kiss is full of unspoken words, you're sure, with the way he holds you close.

you pull away, unsure of what to say. instead of saying anything at all, you slip your hand into his and look at him. really look at him, the way you've always wanted to. you don't hide the love you have for him. it's written all of over your face.

and you suppose he knows, as he draws you in for another kiss.

tags under the cut <3

@ughgclden @bukoffski @fictionalcomforts @katherinadeluca @silverose365 @ravenstrueluv @wrongilbert

#—myfics !#remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fluff #remus fluff #remus x reader fluff #remus imagine #remus lupin x y/n #sirius black #james potter #lily evans #the marauders

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Secrets Kept

Based on this request: “thomas x reader and one of the other people are being rude and they slap her and they get all worked up and mad? (maybe the person is making fun of her because she got attacked by a griever (she’s a runner) and minho had to help, but minho also stands up for her)”

masterlist

You’ve been running in the Maze for maybe an hour, maybe more. It’s not long enough. It’s funny how every morning, you wake up and manage to convince yourself that being a Runner is easier than you think, that you’ll be able to keep moving endlessly and never have a problem with it. You seem to forget how hard your job is overnight, but you’re reminded of it every single morning. To be honest, you’re not sure what you expected when you signed up to be a Runner in the first place, but the constant exhaustion is just one of the side effects.

That being said, you wouldn’t trade this job for anything. A slight grin appears on your face as you look around you, tilting your head up to feel the breeze whipping around the corners of the Maze. Your mind is turning, thinking of ways to remember every hall and corridor that you cross. Beside you, your running partner turns to you, eyebrows raised over your apparent delight. This causes Minho’s attention to be focused solely on you, which is why he doesn’t notice your boyfriend, Thomas, appearing down a nearby corridor.

Your eyes widen imperceptibly. Thomas isn’t supposed to be here, not at all. You joined the ranks of the Runners a long time ago, way before Thomas even showed up here and wanted to risk his neck with the rest of you. That meant that he would be a part of a different pair of runners, one that wasn’t you and Minho, and that he would be assigned a completely different part of the Maze to run for today. Ever since the Gladers discovered that different sectors of the Maze opened at different times, they carefully divided each sector into runnable routes that were parceled out to the various pairs of Runners. Basically, all of this means that you shouldn’t once see Thomas during the entirety of your daily run, yet here he is now.

You think you know why he’s here, though. Your theory is proven when Thomas stumbles to a halt mid-step after realizing that Minho is seconds away from discovering you, and quickly stumbles behind a wall of the Maze for cover. When he peeks out again, he’s got a smirk on his face that tells you that the added danger of getting caught is only making him more willing to risk discovery.

Why is he here, then? Well, it’s probably because you’re dating Thomas, or at least you have in secret. Once you showed up to the Glade and became the first girl to add to their numbers, Alby set in motion a rule that none of the boys could even come near you. They could be friends all they wanted, but the second they looked at you with a desire for something more, they’d be thrown in the Slammer before they could say ‘I escaped the friend zone’.

You’ve been perfectly fine with this rule. There are enough gaping boys in the Glade that make you more than alright that Alby gives any flirting slintheads a death glare. However, when Thomas showed up, you just couldn’t stick to the plan. He was kind to you, and it seemed like he was the first one to truly listen to you for a very long time. When you spoke about anything, when you even so much as sat next to him, Thomas would look at you with this soft smile that made you want to reach over and kiss him right then and there.

You’d been afraid to do something, at first. What if you misread something and suddenly it was you crossing his boundaries as opposed to any one of the Gladers with you? Then, one night at the Bonfire, Thomas had been walking you back to the Homestead when he’d turned to you with this look in your eyes, one that made you shiver slightly despite the heat of the dark hour. He’d asked if he could kiss you, voice low and rumbling in the shadows, and you’d barely been able to nod your head yes from the thrill of it.

Ever since then, you’ve been happy enough to consider him your boyfriend. The problem is that Thomas still technically isn’t supposed to be seeing you, and the only way you can kiss him is if the two of you sneak out to the Deadheads or find time when nobody is around to reach over and wrap your arms around him. These come with an unsurprising rarity, as the Glade is practically overrun with shanks with little to no concept of personal space and privacy, so you have to make do with what you have.

This means that on days like today, when Thomas had been held back from seeing you even into the late hours of the night, he’s willing to stretch some rules and come find you himself. So, you turn to a still unsuspecting Minho, and gesture for him to go forward without you. “Tell you what, I’m going to fix my shoe. I think there’s something in it.” Minho starts to say something about how he’ll wait for you, but you hurriedly wave his concerns away. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. You go ahead and I’ll catch up.”

Minho hesitates one last moment then shrugs, turning to keep running. You watch him go, afraid to make the slightest of motions towards the general area behind you where you spotted Thomas, lest your running partner suspect something and come back to you. Minho’s just disappeared around a corner when a pair of hands descend on your hips, spinning around to come face to face with Thomas, who’s wearing a particularly proud grin at the look of surprise on your face.

You reach forward to smack his arm. “Slinthead. I thought a Griever was sneaking up behind me.” Thomas just laughs. “I don’t think Grievers look this good.” You try to hold back a laugh of your own. “Good to know that your pride hasn’t been hurt by you bending the rules all the time. We could get caught, you know.” Thomas just lifts a shoulder in dismissal. “I’m dating the prettiest girl in the Glade. I’d say that’s worth going behind Alby’s back.”

You fight to keep heat from rising to your cheeks. “The prettiest girl in the Glade? Thomas, I’m the only girl in the Glade.” Thomas smirks. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true. Just accept the compliment, Y/N.” You open your mouth to protest, but you’re effectively silenced when Thomas leans forward to kiss you. Suddenly, all of your complaints are evaporating into the hot air of the Maze.

You allow yourself a few minutes of this before you reluctantly bid Thomas farewell. Despite being able to throw Minho off your tail for a little while, you can only ‘fix your shoe’ for so long before the boy starts to suspect something. When Thomas finally lets you go with a goodbye kiss and you jog down the labyrinthine corridors in search of your running partner, you do so with a smile. How’d you get this lucky?

You find Minho after a little while, who offers up a few joking criticisms about how long it takes you to tie your shoes. You bear these with a smile, knowing that your real reason for being late is something that far outweighs any of Minho’s sarcastic comments. The two of you run for a little longer before heading further into the center of the Maze. It is only there, once you’re as far away from the Glade as you could possibly be, that you realize that something is wrong. It feels as if you’re suddenly not alone, that you and Minho aren’t the only ones lurking in these corridors.

Seconds later, something heavy comes to an abrupt stop in front of you. You and Minho rear back in identical shock, staring at the Griever, the one that’s just jumped down from the walls of the Maze to land a few feet ahead of you. You gaze at it unthinkingly, unable to move a muscle despite all of your body screaming for you to run. “How is it here? I thought Grievers weren’t supposed to come out during the day!”

Minho gulps beside you. “They’re not, but this one’s here anyway. Run!” That’s all the incentive you need for your legs to start working again, and the two of you turn and sprint in unison. Your feet are pounding down the ground, your body focused on the sole goal of surviving. You thought you were tired before, but all of that exhaustion is gone now, replaced by an intense adrenaline rush that leaves you feeling as if you’ve got all the energy in the world.

You race around corners and down straightaways, your breath coming hard in your chest. Despite the fact that you’re running as fast as you can, you almost get the feeling that the Griever is toying with you, not going after you with as much force as it could truly muster. Indeed, once you’re almost to the final corridors separating you and the Glade, it seems to draw back, disappearing into the halls of the Maze once more.

You turn to Minho, gasping for breath after your abrupt sprint. “What was that about? Why did it stop?” Minho shrugs, hands on his knees for any kind of support. “I don’t know. Maybe it wanted to stop us from going too far. Maybe we were going to see something that it didn’t want us to see. All I know is that I’m pretty shucking happy that we’re still alive.” You manage to limp over to him, slapping him on the back. “You can say that again. Let’s go tell Alby that we’re the two unluckiest shanks in the Glade to stumble upon a Griever in the middle of the day.”

Alby is, unsurprisingly, stunned by this news. This contradicts everything you’ve thought of the Grievers and the Maze before today. No matter how strange your living situation in the Maze is, the rules have never changed- Grievers come out during the night, and the night only. No one has any idea what to think now that this has changed, and to be honest, no one really wants to think about what happened. In the end, Alby decides that there’s nothing you can do about it except tell everybody to be careful.

As a result of this, you see a lot of somber faces around the Glade that afternoon. Everyone’s clustered into tight groups, talking in hushed voices about obviously critical topics that no doubt revolve around your little Griever incident. When Thomas comes back from his run in the Maze, you see his face fall in an instant when he hears what happened. He starts to come your way, expression twisted with concern, but you shake your head once. Technically, you’re not supposed to know Thomas that well at all. Let Newt handle him- despite everything, you still can’t blow your cover and reveal to everyone that you’re dating.

Still, the anxious mood persists around the Gladers. Gally eventually gives in and asks Alby for a Bonfire Night, which the older boy approves. This is basically just an excuse to light things on fire and pass around Gally’s suspicious brew, but everyone’s so keyed up over what just happened that Alby decides everyone needs a night to have fun. Once the glasses of amber liquid start getting passed around, though, you begin to think that it might not have been such a good idea after all.

Once fear mixes with Gally’s concoction, people start getting louder, their friendly punches in the fighting ring less charming and more antagonistic. You decide to leave early, already tired of the signs pointing to the fact that this night will not be going well. However, you’re barely taken a few steps away from your seat before one of the more drunk Builders stops you in your tracks.

“Where are you going, Y/N? Running away again?” You raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” The Builder scoffs. “We all know what happened with the Griever. You saw it and ran away. Big bunch of nothing for someone who’s supposed to be one of the bravest Runners we’ve got.” You fold your arms over your chest incredulously. “Then feel free to take my job. I’m sure all of your experience stacking bricks will help you deal with a monster as tall as a house.”

The Builder’s smug smile drops. “Are you calling me a coward?” You snort. “I’m calling you weak. Get out of my way, I don’t want to deal with you tonight.” You move to walk past him, but the Builder just shifts to block your way again. “Like shuck. You don’t get to call me weak.” You stare back at him, feeling anger starting to rise up in your chest. “And you don’t get to call me a coward. You wouldn’t know bravery if it hit you over the head.”

This is probably a bad idea, you know that. This thought is proven correct when the Builder’s hand moves in a blur across your field of vision, and seconds later, your hand is coming away from your nose. There’s a streak of red across your fingers that tells you that he’s hit you hard, harder than he should have for what was supposed to be a friendly bonfire night.

Already, there are outraged shouts coming from around you, Gladers already starting to come to your defense. The loudest one, though, is from the boy who’s already by your side. Somehow, you’re not surprised that Thomas is already here. He probably would have punched the guy already, were it not for the fact that Minho and Newt both are holding him back. “Don’t you dare hit her. Don’t you dare.”

The Builder chuckles, although you can tell that he’s afraid. “What are you going to do? Hit me? We’ll just be together in the Slammer.” Thomas stops fighting against Minho and Newt, fixing the Builder with a death glare that makes the boy flinch. “You wish. Were it not for the fact that I actually give a damn about what’s supposed to happen around here, you’d be on the ground, trust me.”

The Builder raises an eyebrow, trying to add to his tough-guy demeanor in the hopes that it’ll cover up for the fact that he’s slowly trying to back away. “What do you care about what I do? This doesn’t concern you.” Thomas takes a step forward, and the Builder practically shrinks back. “Actually, it does. Y/N’s braver than you could ever dream of being. Do you know what it’s like to come face to face with a Griever? The fact that she’s not dead should tell you something about how tough she is. And yes, this does concern me, because she’s my girlfriend.”

Silence falls around the Bonfire at Thomas’ words. He glances over at you now, realizing what he’s said. “Surprise.” You laugh in spite of yourself. “Well, it was going to come out eventually.” You reach over, slinging your arm around his shoulder. “Come on, let’s let Alby deal with this slinthead. We’ve got better things to do.” Thomas allows himself a grin, moving away with you. “That we do.”

maze runner tag list: secret bestie @underc0vercryptid, @ellobruv

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halaboyz · 2 years

Text

pairing: ex! eric x gn! reader genre: fluff, angst word count: 2.6k warnings: profanities. notes: this is for the collab event called the leftovers @tenderfrailty is hosting !! ♡ happy valentine's!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

summary: meeting him again two years after your break up, in the middle of the crowd, with his own partner, it tugs on your heartstrings because of multiple reasons. one, it was the month of you became a couple; two, it was both of yours favorite month; three, it's the start of the month you both drifted apart; four, it's the month he finally breaks up with you; five, today was both the day you answered him and broke it off.

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡。 listen now to: spotify. 　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

February 13, 2022, 11:39 in the evening. And until today too, my heart still beats for you.

“I’m going, I’m going. God,” You exasperatingly groan over the phone, Chanhee’s squeals are heard as you wince and extend your arm to avoid getting your ear damaged. “I’ll be there in ten,” You look at your clothes one last time, hanging up once you hear Chanhee’s hum. “I’ll be the first fucking single on a couples event,” You hiss at yourself, trying to remember the reason why you even agreed to Chanhee’s invitation in the first place.

Your university held an event where various bands performed for free throughout the night just for the sake of Valentine’s. You didn’t understand why they did, though it was annually and it hasn’t even been 2 years— well, not at least the clock strikes twelve— when you enjoyed it.

A whole two new years, yet you still haven’t moved on.

“...Your date?” The guard asks you politely, looking around you.

“Do I need a date to enter?” You smile at him, shrugging your shoulders.

“No, but— it’s Valentine’s..?” He cautiously chuckles, stamping your wrist.

“I could spend it with my friends,” You smile again, internally saying even though they probably would be off with their partners, “Thank you,” Letting you in, you sigh as the bright spotlights welcome you into the venue, the breeze making its presence known, and the bustling and the excited murmurs of the big audience. A sigh leaves your lips, memories flooding your head as you try to dig them deep down, dialing Chanhee.

“Enjoy the night, y/n! You’re already there, you should stay. It starts in less than ten minutes. Your favorite band is here!” You suppress the urge to groan and shout at your friend, who apparently had no plans of going here today.

It was no point arguing with him over the phone, the screams already rising as you exasperatedly sigh, not bothering to bid farewell as you drop the call.

You were already here. Might as well enjoy whatever was prepared in today’s event. Two minutes to twelve, you wanted a bottle of water as you slipped your way to one of the booths, avoiding any pity eyes that landed at you and your single ass.

Opening the bottle of water, you were about to drink from it when someone accidentally bumps you, spilling the water all over your face.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” And it makes your world stop, your eyes blocked out of any murmurs but his voice. “Are you oka— oh,” You can’t decipher whether it was disappointment or anything, you were just stunned to see him.

Because after your breakup, you went back to what you were, where you were— back into your shell. You hated socializing, you hated going out. You hated being alone, most importantly in big crowds like this.

Eric did it all. He made you something you were not, something similar to him, something you once loathed, turned to someone you really loved to be— until it happened. Until the breakup happened, and you loathed it again.

“Love,” You didn’t even realize you were just staring at each other until another person reaches out for his arms, tugging him in his senses. “Oh my god, are you okay? Did you bump into them? I said be careful!” Slapping Eric’s arm lightly, they bow in apology as you gathered the courage to bring a small smile.

“Sorry,” He mumbles once again, handing you a bunch of tissues before he lets himself get dragged to the middle of the crowd, your eyes tailing him.

And it all comes back again. You see it from the back when Eric loops his arms over his partner’s shoulders, pulling them impossibly closer until their head is all snuggled up in Eric’s neck.

It all comes back again— the memories, the happiness, the feelings, the heartbreak.

February 12, 2017, 5:31 in the afternoon. Our eyes met, and I instantly knew that loving you was something I’d never regret.

“Are you going?!” Younghoon shakes your arm as you organize your locker, frowning at you. “It’s in two days!”

“That’s the point, it’s in two days!” You retort, losing your locker to face him. “And I’m single! The fuck would I go to a couples’ event?” You shrug, laughing.

“So you’re telling me if someone asks you to Valentine’s, you’ll go?” Younghoon stops you on your tracks, standing in front of you.

“Yeah, right, Younghoon.. If someone asks me,” You nod mockingly, leaving him in despair as you go on with your class.

“Hi, is this taken?” Someone drags the seat beside you, and when you shake your head as you busily highlighted your book, he takes his seat, quietly taking his things out. The whole room was chaotic, full of gossip about the upcoming event but you paid no attention, shredding Eric’s courage to pieces.

He had always wanted to take you out the first time he laid his eyes on you, the unbothered-ness you emitted every time you stepped on the room, on your usual seat by the back-most corner, not batting an eye on anyone and anything else rather than your book and the professor.

He was different. As much as you were reserved, was as much as how he was the social butterfly. He enjoyed socializing and maybe it is even one of the reasons why he’s even so interested in you— he can befriend anyone except you.

“Hey, can I borrow a pen?” He starts, and instead of looking at your hands that fiddled with your bag to lend him one, he was staring at your face.

“Here—,” You stop when you turn to face him and give him the pen, but just like Eric was so mesmerized by you, you were with him.

“Come with me on Valentine’s, please?”

And you never regretted having to meet eyes with someone the first time in Literature class.

February 14, 2018, 11:20 in the evening. I realized I can give you the world, the mountains, the stars, and everything else when I’m with you, so trust me when I say that my feelings are nothing but true.

“I’m so excited,” Eric tries to stop the smile from forming, leading you inside the venue with a hand on the small of your back.

“Why, because this time, I’m the one who asked you to go with me?” You chuckle, settling to be on one of the rails of the tree that you can sit on, just a perfect view to see the bands performing. “You’ve been chasing me for a whole year already, aren’t you tired?” Patting the space next to you, Eric takes it happily.

“I’ll never get tired when it comes to you.” Eric cheekily says which makes you cringe, but let’s be honest here. Despite the anxiousness building up inside of you, fireworks still went off in your stomach. “Let me just get you some water.” You nod at him sweetly, and your eyes roam around for Younghoon, and when your eyes met, he raises his hand to wave at you and makes a beeline to walk to you.

“Are you good? Oh my god, I can’t believe you managed to go out without me and Chanhee basically wanting to drag you out,” Giving you a small proud hug, he acted as if there were tears running out of his eyes. “Where’s Eric? Are you ready?” Younghoon holds your shoulders tightly as if he was transferring his energy to you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. But there wouldn’t be the best time if not now,” You nod dignified, inhaling and exhaling. “Right?”

“Eric will be worth it.” Younghoon smiles at you, and just after he says that, Eric’s voice is already loud enough to shoo him off, going to where Chanhee was smiling at you proudly in the distance.

“Who were you talking to?” Eric pouts, handing you the half-opened bottle of water. “Pink-headed one,”

“Why, you jealous?” You raise your brow challengingly, egging him to answer.

“What if I am?”

“You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that man, you know?” You chuckle. “It’s Younghoon.”

“Oh.” Shyly looking away, a series of laughter leaves your lips again as the voices of the audience get louder, the emcee already taking his place in the middle of the stage.

“Come here, it’s starting.” You tug his arms to make him tumble closer to you, the audience already pressing themselves to each other just to get a better view.

The both of you silently waited, your heart thumping out of its cage without Eric’s knowledge of why.

“Are you ready?!” The emcee asks through the mic, pointing it to the audience for a series of yes to come out. “3.. 2.. 1! Happy Valentine’s!” And the first band, Ben&Ben starts to play their first song, Ride Home. Your eyes trail up the heart fireworks that come off, your hand slowly intertwining with Eric’s.

“Eric.” You mumble, but you didn’t realize he was too dazed by the fact that you just intertwined hands. You turn to him, a big smile on your face. “Eric.”

“Yeah?” Eric goes back to his senses with a loud-beating heart, trying to meet your eyes but due to nervousness, he can’t. So your other hand sweetly cups his cheek to stop him from looking everywhere but you.

“I think we’ll be better off as lovers by today,”

And that was how you got your favorite month, your favorite band, and your favorite heartbreak.

February 13, 2019, 9:29 in the evening. I don’t know when it started, why it happened, what happened. Your love was fading, but mine just grew stronger. You were slowly letting go, and I knew, but my hand still put its faith in you.

“...You can’t go?” Your voice falls when you hear what Eric said through the call, disappointingly looking at the mountains of clothes you had prepared on your bed. “Why?”

“I have to finish some reqs.” Eric timidly explains, sighing. “We can always go next year, y/n. Don’t act so whiny about it.” And with your voice, your heart falls to the pits of the ground.

It wasn’t just a date, it was your anniversary. You don’t know if he wasn’t aware, or if he chooses to act like he wasn’t aware. The past few weeks, or even months, haven’t been the best for the both of you, full of petty arguments and childish jealousy blooming inside each others’ chests.

You were hoping today would change it.

Well, hope has now flown out of your chest.

January 30, 2020, 7:19 in the evening. Your voice just keeps on getting stronger, mine just kept getting weaker, but we were both getting tired.

“We’re just friends, Eric. Sangyeon hasn’t even talked to me that much these few days.” You sigh for the nth time, explaining for the nth time. “And for god’s sake, every time you see us talking, it’s about our thesis,”

Eric was fuming, you could almost see smoke out of his ears as he paced around the living room as you stayed glued on the sofa.

“You know I don’t do well on befriending someone. You should be proud I got one,”

“Yeah, right. Friends laugh while talking about thesis, all the fucking time. Friends always get coffee after they go to the library all the fucking time. Friends always talk about the other friend to their other friends all the fucking time.” Eric trails out, glaring at you. You sigh at the revelation of his anger, the anger that has been there since last year for Sangyeon.

“Look, I know Sangyeon likes me, but how did you even know he was talking about me to his other friends?” You roll your eyes, hiding your annoyance from him. “And what even is it to us if Sangyeon likes me? I’m here, I am right here, Eric. Beside you, coming home to you. Can we just let it go now?”

Eric was still glaring at you, but with your words, it was as if he was bathed in iced water.

“Go inside. I’ll sleep here.” Again.

And it was not the first time Eric slept outside your shared room, but at least it was the first time he was the one who swallowed his pride to stop the fight between the both of you.

February 13, 2020, 11:58 in the evening. I fought for you. I fought the world for you, for us. But it took me some time to realize you were long gone beside me. I was the only one left holding on, while you were just waiting for me to realize.

You felt happy. After the last fight about Sangyeon, none of you ever fought again— except the fact that the atmosphere had gone cold. But at least, he was coming with you today, right? At least, he was beside you now, waiting for the clock to strike twelve as you held his hand.

“3.. 2.. 1.. Happy Valentine’s, everyone!” The emcee screams through the mic, the fireworks you’ve gone to love making their way to the sky.

“Eric, Happy Anni—,”

“Let’s stop this,” Eric mumbles, looking down. “Let’s stop this.. y/n,”

Even though a band was playing, the audience was singing along and the other half was hollering, the fireworks were soaring in the sky with a loud noise, it was dead air for you.

“Wh— what? Why, Eric?” You anxiously gripped his hand, swallowing the dry lump on your throat.

“It’s not working for you,” Eric explains, taking a hold of your other hand to try and explain things as nicely and as calmly as possible, not to cause panic on you. “You’ve given me everything, y/n. But… I’m too toxic for you.” He realized that a few days ago, on your last fight— he basically had you in a chokehold. He wanted you to be happy, but he did nothing but do the opposite. He wanted you beside him, but he realized that he was pushing you away. He wanted you to be it, but he did… nothing, while you did everything to be his.

“No, Eric. We can work this out and—,”

“It will never be for you.” And if it means the both of you were walking away for more heartbreak, he was willing to do it first.

Your once favorite band performing in front of you, Eric and his partner sweetly in each other's arms in the view, you scoff as tears formed in your eyes.

Was there a lifetime waiting for us, in a world where I was yours?

It was as if everyone sang for you, sang for your heart that did nothing but break itself to pieces as your eyes stayed at Eric’s form.

The first tear leaves your eyes, but you can’t stop the many leaving it soon afterward. Two years had passed, yet you can’t help still feeling your broken heart still beating for the one that had caused its damage.

But at least, he was happy.

Right?

As long as it worked for both of them.

Eric, despite being in the middle where he can feel most of the presence, most definitely of his partner, was zoning out as your favorite band played in the background. Two years had passed already, and he can’t help the void getting bigger and bigger now that he’s seen you again.

He feels like his ears were blocked out of the continuous sweet singing of the audience and band, and the sweetest voice his partner emitted. Yet one line had struck his heart.

Was it the wrong time, what if we tried giving in a little more?

And he can’t help looking back to where he last saw you.

permanent taglist: @deputyjuyeon @sunlightwoo @90s-belladonna @grassbutneo @cosmiclele @flrtwoo @jaerisdiction @zvae @karsohn @moonieric @softforqiankun @changmin-wrlds @cloudykyu @kurosism @mavericsohn @enhacolor @yunkiwii @allorysayshi @nyangjjunie @joshuaseyes @nycol-ie @fluffyju (to be on my taglist: open!)

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calaofnoldor · 3 years

Text

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

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watevermelon · 3 years

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Unrequited | Kuroo Tetsurō x Reader

✧ Summary: Years of unrequited feelings and longing looks toward your childhood best-friend Kuroo, it was only when he was in the arms of another that he realized his true feelings for you; when it is almost too late.

-> Tags: lots of fluff, angst, BokuAka, slight Akaashi x Reader, Yaku is an amazing friend ✧ Navigation

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Almost everyone on the Nekoma volleyball team had a crush on the older Haiba sibling. Whether it was only aesthetic deep, no doubt from her striking green eyes, or a deeper infatuation from her cute, bubbly personality - everyone had a hint of feelings for the young woman, only two years older than the third-years.

Captain Kuroo was no exception.

You had seen the few times his gaze was drawn to her, the way his perceptive eyes would latch onto the woman cheering in the stands. Yaku was more vocal, often openly complimenting Alisa while the rest agreed in kind. And while they had every right to appreciate her good looks, to which you often admitted as well, it made you wonder if a certain someone ever saw you in a similar fashion.

Kuroo was your long-time friend and had long since convinced you to be the manager of the volleyball team. You had always wondered if it was to keep you close, Kuroo trying to keep your relationship close after all these years. When you had asked, he said it was simply because you were neat, organized, and got very passionate about the things you were working on.

Something had changed over the years, your nerdy best friend was more than just the fish loving idiot he was. He was the cute, smart, volleyball team captain that you felt your heart palpitate towards. There were times that had you questioning if he ever felt the same way, open flirting or smirks shot to one another.

That was, until you actually saw Kuroo flirting.

It was different and yet the same. Gone was the playful smile that he used with most people, replaced with a more serious smirk.

And it was never used towards you.

It only served to break your heart more when you heard the news at volleyball practice the next day.

Kai had his arms crossed while sporting a neutral smile. Lev was scowling, but you could tell that he was withholding an amused smile over the group. Kenma was in the far corner, playing something on his phone and not caring about the group of teens forming. Inuoka and Shibayama both looked excited, the former even jumping a few times to physically voice his eagerness.

“Kurooooo,” Yaku prolonged the name as he groaned, “You lucky asshole.”

“You better treat my sister right!”

“What does a college woman have in common with you?” Yaku continued complaining.

“She graduated high school last year, there’s only a year between us.” Kuroo responded.

“Bah.” Yaku whined, “But it’s you.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes before noticing you walking in the gymnasium. He smiled and walked over to you, “Hey, can I ask you a favor tonight?”

“What’s up?”

He raised a hand to sheepishly rub at his neck, “I have a date tonight and…”

What the fresh hell on earth was this?

“And you need pointers talking to a female?” You teased to hide your pain.

“Please?”

You should say no.

The love of your life was asking for help with another woman and here you were trying to help him?? Are you insane?? There was only one clear answer to this question.

“Sure, anything for you.”

“Thanks, (L/N)-chan.” He smiled, before ruffling your hair.

And true to your word, you went over to Kuroo’s house that night. Kenma was an unwilling member of the audience as well, sitting on the bed with his gaming console in his hands. You heard the telltale sounds of power-ups and scores, but the both of you were so used to it by now.

You watched Kuroo model two different outfits, trying to look casual as if he had not put that much effort into his clothes (which was anything but the truth). He wondered if he should try to tame his hair, but you stated that it was one of the things a lot of girls loved about him.

He thanked you before leaving saying, “You’re the best (L/N)-chan. I’ll treat ya to ice cream one of these days.”

You smiled and said it was not necessary, still sitting on his bed when Kuro closed the door behind him. You heard Alisa’s bubbly voice downstairs before the both of them left the house, the sound of the front-door closing also hammering itself down on your own heart.

You hadn’t realized how quiet it was until the moment dragged out. Kenma was looking directly at you, game off and tucked to the side as he sat-up in your direction.

“You okay?” He asked, patting the spot next to him for you to take.

The blond knew about your feelings for a while, not like you ever had to say anything. Kenma was the type to just know things. Whether from your overall behavior, from the way you spoke, anything was enough for the blond to tell your true feelings before you were even sure. He had urged you on two separate occasions to get over the captain, but had never truly pushed the situation.

“Yeah.” You bit out, less to reassure him, but more for yourself. “It’s just one date, right?”

“One date for now.” Kenma reasoned.

And while you knew he was not saying this to be mean, you almost felt a small crack in your heart. Kenma was being honest - it was not like Kuroo had ever expressed any interest in you at all. And now here he was, pursuing someone he was actually happy with.

You would support his happiness.

“Maybe you should get some distance.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” You joked, eyes already glistening with unshed tears.

Kenma smiled, a gentle hand reaching around your shoulders to lean you against him. He was never good at comforting you in these moments, but he would still be a shoulder for you to lean on. And in the quiet room of your childhood crush, you resolved to not think about Kuroo like this anymore.

You withstood it all: listening to Kuroo recount his date to the other team members, smiling and encouraging him to muster the courage to ask her out on another date, and even later congratulating him during their one-month anniversary.

It wasn’t just one date.

Not that Kuroo was forgetting his friends, he still hung-out with you and Kenma and upheld his responsibilities as captain greatly. But there were small changes, like Kuroo almost constantly texting his girlfriend on his phone, having busy weekends dedicated to dates, and just overall the schedule of a man newly in love.

In kind, you found yourself reaching out to your other friends more. You went out fishing with Kai and Fukunaga. You accepted Lev and Inuoka’s invitations to go to the arcade in Shibuya. Yaku was someone you were often hovering around, the kind-soul inviting you out to dinner sometimes after school just the two of you.

Apparently, he had known as well.

It didn’t take much to figure it all out, Yaku stated not unkindly. From your constant flirting to the fact that you and Kuroo used to basically spend every free second together, he had thought long ago that you were already together.

Hearing that only hurt you more, to which Yaku immediately jumped out of his seat to sit next to yours. He pulled you into a comforting hug, not at all caring that the two of you were out in public at some random barbecue place.

It was strange to now always be in Kuroo’s circle from then on, but you honestly did try your best. You were still his friend, offering advice and hanging out with him (but usually only in groups). But there was an undeniable distance that you were putting with him. He had never questioned it, but you already had an excuse on the tip of your tongue if Kuroo ever did: you were giving him time and space with his girlfriend, it was only natural.

Time was moving forward and thankfully, so were you.

Seeing Kuroo and his girlfriend still brought that familiar pang, but it no longer rang in the depths of your bones. You simply watched and smiled, content that he was happy as you sorted out your own life.

That was, until a particular weekend training camp with Fukurodani.

You were long familiar with both Bokuto and Akaashi. Kuroo had tons of antics with both boys (and many other members of their team) to which you joined in. From hang-outs on the weekends to these annual training camps, you were on friendly terms with the captain and his vice.

“Hey hey hey!” Bokuto greeted you at the onset, the setter was a little ways away behind him. Akaashi smiled and waved at you in greeting, before getting pushed toward you.

You shot Bokuto a confused smile and Akaashi looked as if he would neuter the ace where he stood.

Bokuto scurried away just as quickly, causing Akaashi to sigh before turning to you.

“How have you been?” He asked politely.

You always appreciated how friendly the setter was, no matter how attractive or intimidating he looked.

“Alright, school exams. A dozen different guidance counselors asking you about your future, the usual. How about you?”

“Much of the same.” He replied before moving to clasp his hands behind his back. “Would you like to go out for dinner after this?”

You accepted without thinking too hard, “Sure! Who else is going?

A small smile grew from the corner of his lips, “Ah, I meant… Just the two of us.”

“Like a date?” You asked, again without thinking.

He laughed before looking at you fondly, “Yes, exactly that.”

You smiled back, no real reason to say not to the attractive young man.

“I’d love to.”

Akaashi reflected a similar expression back before reaching for your hand, “Great, I look forward to it.”

He kissed the top of your hand, every bit of chivalry that he was known for pouring out in your shared interaction. You felt your cheeks redden, already slightly overwhelmed from affection the setter was so willing to give. Akaashi bid you farewell and turned to head towards the corner of the gym his team commandeered, but the expressions on their faces showed this was a joint effort.

Bokuto rushed to slap him on the back while Yukie and Kaori shot him a thumbs-up. Haruki was seen smiling at their vice captain and whatever Konoha said caused the setter to erupt in a blush. You were curious and for once, the raging butterflies that had long since disappeared were gradually coming back.

Your team tried to bombard you with questions, but you maneuvered them back to their warm-ups and said they had games to win.

There was one look from Kuroo you could not decipher, when you had initially turned away from Akaashi. It was long, like he had not even been looking at you, the depth of his gaze following you every step until he turned back to his team.

After the practice matches you were free game, Inuoka being the first to rush you after he finished mopping his section of the gym.

“Is Akaashi your boyfriend?” He asked as he jumped from your peripheral to right in front of you, “How could you keep this a secret from us?!”

“You and Akaashi are so cute! We had no idea!” Shibayama added as he walked up to you. With those two breaking the ice, it seemed that was enough for the others of Nekoma to crowd you as well.

Kenma patted you on the shoulder, a knowing, yet happy look in his eye. Yaku shot you the same expression, but offered you an out in any form of call or text if you needed it. Kai nodded in agreement while the others expressed other forms of their excitement for you.

All but one, at least.

Something did not sit well in Kuroo’s stomach.

He watched you get buried by the group, curious questions linking you to the Fukurodani setter that many girls called the perfect boy next door. He was soft-spoken and yet confident. Had a good sense of humor and yet not immature. Akaashi was a great catch and, if there was anyone in the entire gymnasium right now that Kuroo had to pick for you to end up with, it would without a doubt be the setter.

At least… that’s what Kuroo thought.

And when Akaashi left the locker rooms, fully showered and changed back into regular clothes, he approached the group and it parted like the red sea for him. Akaashi held out a hand for you to take, to which you blushed but accepted as he guided you away. He held your gym bag like it was nothing, the two of you walking out with a chorus of teasing behind you.

Akaashi would treat you right, no doubt. And from your rosy expression and earlier eagerness, it seemed you were genuinely interested in the setter as well.

So why did it feel so wrong to see you in the arms of another guy?

That was when Kuroo learned the complications of desire firsthand.

He was still dating Alisa and it ate him up inside that his thoughts were often wandering off to you rather than his girlfriend of months. It was not even that long ago that thinking of the grey-headed woman in front of him would cause the raging swarm in his stomach. Something had unknowingly shifted, the only feeling left was the sinking pit that grew every time he saw you and Akaashi.

Kuroo kept constant tabs on you, not wanting to ask you outfront how your relationship was going. He heard updates from both Bokuto and Kenma, how the two of you were yet to be official, but had gone on a few dates already.

You were distant in an understandable way, spending time with your budding relationship but still available to him and the team. It was not like you had dropped off the face of the planet, still active as the team manager and even hanging out with the group after-school.

After a while, it was noticeable that something was getting on Kuroo’s nerves. He wanted to say something, but withheld it from seeing how happy you were. And so instead he went to the others around you, many of them very willing and excitable parties to impart details of what they heard.

You were his close friend and often, that was his excuse when other people asked. He wanted to make sure you were not played by these other foolish boys. But with a boyfriend like Akaashi, there was no one better, in Kuroo’s opinion, to treat you like you deserved.

So why did it feel wrong?

It was only when Kuroo saw his worries bleed into his relationship with his girlfriend that he realized that shit, he might have feelings for you.

You were always such a steady figure in his life that he never had to worry before that you would just… not be there. From volleyball to classes, you were always together with him and Kenma. From the late night study groups to the even later video game parties, these were some of his favorite memories throughout high-school.

Kuroo remembered the first time you all went to the beach together as a team. You had worn a bathing suit that he, for whatever reason, did not approve of and had to change before you all headed out together. He remembered playfully dragging you into the freezing, early summer water and you throwing hands with him right after.

And it was not like you were going to cut him off completely once you had a boyfriend. Akaashi or anyone else, you were still one of his closest friends and a relationship would not be the end of it.

So why did it bother Kuroo so much?

Because he wanted to be your boyfriend.

It was one of the worst types of epiphanies someone could ever come to.

To realize you had feelings for someone you knew you should not have.

Kuroo’s true feelings must have surfaced on his visage, since Alisa ended it at the three-month mark. She invited him to a dessert place somewhere in Shibuya, but never took off her coat and only ordered a drink. It was enough to signify that she had to leave, that she was in a rush to not be here.

Her green eyes portrayed a sad smile as she said that they were better off as friends, since their minds were growing in different places.

Kuroo didn’t want to ask her to specify, worried that she was going to say an answer that he was not ready for. It was one thing to believe he had feelings for you, but hearing it out-loud would be the final nail in his coffin.

It was all too much at once - him realizing his feelings and coming to the conclusion that he wanted to act on it.

Every day was a reminder of things that he could not and should not have. At the next practice match with Fukurodani, Kuroo had to endure watching you kiss Akaashi on the lips. Sitting together at lunch entailed listening to you go on about your perfect boyfriend Akaashi. The others would even agree, complimenting Akaashi’s chivalry and expressing their gladness that someone was treating you right.

Apparently Alisa hadn’t told Lev, since no one on the team had yet to bombarded him.

At least….

Kenma had long noticed his best friend’s, Kuroo’s, prolonged looks on you.

But that would not do.

When given the chance, Kenma would say something.

And it came in the form of the two of them sitting outside at lunch, waiting for the others when they saw you with your group of female friends. You waved at the both of them before heading towards the other table. It would take a couple minutes before the other volleyball players would leave their classrooms and come here.

“(F/N) looks really happy these days.” Kuroo commented as his eyes followed you.

“Yeah. And you shouldn’t try to mess it up.” Kenma replied, not even looking up from his console.

Kuroo stiffened, but turned to his childhood friend. “And how would I do that?”

“(F/N)’s finally falling in love with someone else. Just let her be for now.”

“With someone else…?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice she was in love with you?” Kenma bit back, a frown forming on both his lips and the crease of his eyebrows.

“What?” The Nekoma captain turned to his friend more fully, looking at the blond more fully to make sure that he was being serious. “I had no idea…”

That was apparently not the reaction Kenma was hoping for, since he paused his game and placed it down. Instead, his sharp golden eyes focused and searched Kuroo in front of him.

“It’s not like it makes a difference now, right?”

Kuroo hesitated, his response drawn out. “Right.”

Kenma frowned, looking at his friend straight-on with an agonized look. He was Kuroo’s friend the longest, but the gamer still cared about you. And seeing you so down these past few years took rounds on his own mental state. He urged you on multiple occasions to say anything, if just to clear the air. But instead, you wallowed in your own feelings until you were finally able to move on.

And seeing you with Akaashi almost made him happy, reveling in the genuine cheerfulness he hadn’t seen so candidly on you in a while. Your natural, bright smiles were on display once again; rather than the tight ones Kenma had been seeing as of late.

But it seemed to have the inverse effect on his other friend.

Kenma long noticed the prolonged looks in your direction, the wistful smiles that Kuroo had whenever you laughed about something from the group. But what Kenma was not expecting was the pure anguish on his friends face after seeing you with your boyfriend.

Never had Kenma thought that Kuroo would reciprocate your feelings.

And yet he saw.

But you were both dating other people, this would do no good and only bring unnecessary drama when you were both finding happiness in other people. And so Kenma thought it was time he guided Kuroo back on the right path, back to Alisa where he was obviously interested before.

“How is your girlfriend?” Kenma asked (and while usually he would never actually care, it seemed Kuroo needed the reminder.)

Or at least, so he thought.

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore.” Kuroo responded, eyes scanning behind Kenma. But the setter knew better, he was looking for you. Whether consciously or not, Kuroo’s attention was drawn back to you.

It seemed you had it now, when you no longer wanted it.

Kenma decided not to push it anymore, Yaku and Kai coming up from the path and waving. They would be joining their lunch table soon and Kenma was sure he was just given a major secret, given how neither Lev nor Yaku had yet reacted to the news.

Was Kuroo developing feelings for you? Now of all times??

It seemed so when the situation only continued to drag on, Kuroo’s feigned smiles even enough for you to realize were a little too tight to be considered genuine. Eventually news did break out that the two of them were over. Lev glared at the captain for all of two weeks before his sister explained that they grew apart. Yaku asked if you were okay, but otherwise the team did not dwell on it much.

After all, for the first time in a while, you were happy.

Or at least, that’s what it looked like on the surface.

“Can I ask you something, honestly?” Akaashi asked you, the both of you lounging in his living room.

Akaashi was perfect in so many ways, there were times that it felt like he could read your mind over your needs and wants. So much so, that it often had you nervous or feeling inadequate in the eyes of the setter. There was always something that you thought you could improve on, always something that neither of you could see eye to eye to.

The setter made you feel adored, cared for. And while in the beginning it was exciting, to have a potential new love on the horizon after years of suffering in silence. When he kissed you, it felt nice. You reveled in the feel even, but never had you felt especially passionate. Never were there truly butterflies in your stomach. He made you feel safe, but not special.

And now, a month into your newfound relationship, there was something obviously missing to the both of you.

“How do you feel… about us?” He asked, eyes boring into your own as he sat across from you on the coffee table, you on the couch.

“You’re perfect.”

“Me.” Akaashi looked down, a grimace on his face before returning back to you. “Perfection isn’t always what we want.”

“Is something wrong, Akaashi?”

“Ask me the same question.”

You paused, before asking. “How do you feel about us?”

“I really care about you and you’ve grown to be one of my best friends.” He answered candidly.

He cared, but there was something missing. You filled in the blank for him, “But you don’t love me.”

“No, I don’t.” Akaashi confirmed before continuing, “Do you love me?”

You hesitated, eyes searching his own and going back and forth for a good minute.

“No, I don’t.”

There was no sudden heartbreak, no reason to suddenly burst out into tears. You did not love Akaashi, not in the way that you wanted to. A part of you was screaming at you, telling you to look at the man in front of you and be happy for what he was willing to give you. But another, the one that had wallowed in sadness for years, told you that running away would only cause pain in the long-run.

Akaashi had a blank expression as he took in your words before continuing, “We have everything that should make a relationship work - the routine, the friends, the dedication on both sides. But we don’t feel that deeply about one another.”

“I’m so sorry, Akaashi.”

He had a slight smile, raising a hand to your cheek and cupping your face there. “Why are you sorry? I’m sorry I asked you in the first place, when my heart ended up not being here.”

“I wish I was in love with you.”

“Me too. I’m sorry.” Akaashi repeated, “ I owe it to you to be honest. I remember when I first thought I liked you, how you wished me a good match and treated me kindly during last year's training camp. But I think I was just looking for a distraction for my heart.”

You perked up at his last words, “Is there someone you’re running from?”

“No, at least I don’t want there to be.”

“Humor me, one of your best friends.” You tried to make light of the situation, a small smile on your face. Akaashi just looked at you with a wistful smile, before glancing away. “... Is it Bokuto?”

The setter sighed before leaning back, “Was I that obvious?”

“Wait; you guys are so close!”

“Yes and I will continue to be his friend throughout our lives.” Akaashi supplied, “But he does not have romantic feelings for me, or any male really.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Akaashi replied before moving to sit next to you. “I’m sorry if it feels like I led you on.”

“No, don’t think about it that way.” You quickly responded, moving a comforting hand over his. “You had every right to try to pursue someone you thought would be enough. And honestly, you’re not the only one who doesn’t feel that spark.”

Akaashi upturned his hand and squeezed yours, “You’re the first person I’ve ever told about Bokuto.”

You turned to him and smiled, “Thank you for telling me. You know, it’s weird. But I still want to be really good friends with you.”

Akaashi was caressing around your fingers, “Me too. I always felt drawn to you, but I guess I know why.”

You flashed him a genuine smile before pulling him into a hug, “Thank you, Akaashi.”

And while you reassured each other that there were no hurt feelings, that did not mean you were entirely scott-free. Akaashi was still one of your close friends, someone you could be honest too without fear and get the same communication in return. But another part of you was especially hurt, wondering if Kuroo had ruined you for any other boy in the future.

On paper, Akaashi should have been the perfect boyfriend that would help guide you out of your feelings. But there was no spark there, nothing that ignited between the two of you to be all over each other and fall in love with one another. Would your heart be stuck on the one person you could never have?

The next day at school, this very thought continued to plague you. You were quiet through class and even worse during lunch, keeping to yourself and gazing out the window wondering if your heart would ever accept someone else.

Both Kuroo and Kenma had sent you prodding looks throughout the day, your childhood friends almost instantly aware that something was off. But you did not want to face them now, not when you were still unsure about life in general.

How’s your day going?

Akaashi had texted you a little after lunch. And while it should have been weird for exes to stay in contact, Akaashi did not necessarily feel like that. He was your friend, a really close one at that. And it seemed you were the only two people in-tune to a secret.

Absolute shiet. You texted back, And you?

Very much the same.

You sighed before typing, Existential crisis if you’ll ever love again?

Yes and it doesn’t help that Bokuto parades like a peacock.

But you love it.

… I do.

There was something comforting about talking about this with someone else. At least you had a close friend who understood what it was like. The others could listen and follow along, but Akaashi knew what it was like to have the heartbreak of a long, unrequited love.

You felt a small vibration after a few minutes and turned back to your phone.

Have you told the others yet?

Not yet, you?

I probably will today after practice.

That was another problem you did not want to breach. It would be hard to explain why you two had broken up, but at the same time it was not anyone else’s business. Regardless, that was a bandage you had to pull off later. And so you just kept staring outside the classroom window, hoping for this day to pass quickly.

Hearing you sigh for the ninth time in twenty minutes, Kuroo could feel himself almost physically itching in his seat to ask you what was wrong.

Did Akaashi do something wrong? Are you guys okay? Are you guys still dating?

But the look Kenma was shooting at him was enough warning that Kuroo should not interfere. You would come to the rest of them if it was important, but a bit part of him wanted to know now.

And throughout volleyball practice after school, Kuroo felt his gaze almost latch onto you in every free second he had. From when you were filling up water bottles to adjusting the scoreboard, Kuroo’s anxiety kept his eyes on you at all times off the court.

Yaku had even kicked at his knees for being so obvious.

But you said nothing, withdrawn like you had been all day at school. You were still physically present, but your smiles were noticeably tight.

It was only when the five of you had departed from school — Yaku, Kai, and Kenma audience to your quiet words.

“Akaashi and I broke up.”

They were nothing for a few seconds, Kuroo even hesitating in his step as he took in your words. Kenma put down his phone while Yaku moved closer to you, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“When did this happen? Yesterday?” The libero questioned.

“Yeah.”

“What did he do!? Did he hurt you?” Yaku continued, rising anger visible on his face. Kai looked equally worried to your left.

“What? No!” You stopped in your tracks and raised your palms in defense. “It’s not like that... It’s actually mutual.”

Yaku’s eyes widened and then narrowed in confusion, “What? But you guys were doing so well.”

“Maybe on the outside.” You replied, “But he didn’t feel like my boyfriend, only in name. We agreed that something was off, it didn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?” Kuroo asked this time, his cat-like gaze clinging onto your words.

“I couldn’t love Akaashi, not like that at least.” You explained, head down as you recalled the day prior.

“I’m so sorry.” Yaku put his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a deep hug.

“I’m so scared.” You admitted to your close friends, feeling yourself tear up against the Libero’s chest. “If I couldn’t fall in love with Akaashi who was perfect, what’s wrong with me?”

You felt something shift as Yaku maneuvered you around, a new set of arms wrapped around you.

“Nothings wrong with you.” Kuroo reassured, his taller stature dominating the hug as his strong arms pressed you into his chest.

“He should’ve been the one.” Your voice was near whispering, “And now it’s over.”

Kenma held one of your free hands, squeezing it as he looked at you. “I have ice cream at home if you want to share.”

You sighed out a smile, the first real one today. “Okay.”

Kuroo continued to hold your hand the entire way home, even after Yaku and Kai had waved off in a different direction. Kenma said nothing, not even typing away on his phone as the three of you took the train back.

You told yourself that Kuroo was just comforting you. He was one of your best friends, that’s all there was. There was no point in looking for more, especially when that overthinking is what got you so latched on in the first place.

But it was hard to think nothing of it when you were hyper-aware of Kuroo’s touch. It was more than just holding hands. It was the arm around you on the train, pulling you into his side. The feather light feel of his cheek against yours. The way his eyes lingered on you the entire night.

God, Kuroo had you under his spell this entire time, hadn’t he?

It did not let up when you were eating ice cream in Kenma’s house and a part of you wanted to signal the blonde for help when Kuroo offered to walk the rest of the way home with you.

But Kenma knew you better than your own mind, offering you a mischievous smirk before waving the two of you goodnight.

Kuroo reached for your hand again and you pretended to be on your phone, occupied before he could make the move. But when you put it away, there was no mistaking it, he grabbed your hand then and the fight was over.

How ironic.

You accepted a break-up with your boyfriend because of how hung up you were with the middle-blocker in front of you.

And now that you had his attention, it only made you want to run away.

“Thanks for walking me home.” You tried to pull your hand away once your house was in sight.

But Kuroo’s grip was relentless. “A lot of bad stuff can happen between here and the end of the block.”

And so you followed along, holding hands like two friends being bro’s, you screamed at yourself that that was all there was.

When he kissed your forehead goodnight? Nope. Just some homie love, nothing else. Who’s looking into this? Not you.

But it only persisted as the week went by.

You broke the news to the rest of the team the next day, Lev offering to stomp him into the ground during the next practice match. But you reassured them by no means was Akaashi in the wrong. Still, the other members would coddle you in smaller ways.

Yaku kept an eye out for you while Lev and Inuoka would pull you into sweaty hugs. Kai would offer you fruit packs time to time and Kenma had even let you place his newest game. They were all trying in their own little ways, but Kuroo was the most prominent of the bunch.

He was especially hanging around you, making arrangements to sit next to you at lunch, even when you started off the period with someone else. Any and all of your free time between periods was somehow spent together, whether in the classroom, the art room, or anywhere on campus.

He was just being a good friend after all. You went through a breakup of all things, he was just looking out for one of his best bro’s. Right?

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know, but what for now?” You asked Kenma, his dead-panned face across the lunch table giving away nothing.

Once you had retreated to the roof just for a quiet moment alone, but he found you regardless. Tucked under his arm was some milk bread from the school concession and some juice packs.

He greeted you before motioning to his makeshift care-package, “Thought you’d like a snack.”

“Thanks, Kuroo.” You motioned to sit-up, but he took the seat on the bench next to you. “You’ve really been there for me this week.”

Kuroo paused before putting a gentle hand over your own, “I care about you a lot.”

“This goes both ways, y’know.” You replied, an honest smile reflecting back at him before you turned to put straws in the juice pack.

“I don’t want to rush you or anything….” Kuroo continued, “But know that I love you.”

“Aw, I love you too!” You answered back, offering a juice pack back to him.

Kuroo went through the motion and grabbed the juice, eyes narrowed in confusion as you easily reflected his words back at him.

Were you really not getting it?

“No, I mean like.” Frustrated, Kuroo grabbed at his hair. “Here.”

He put both juices down, his free hand moving to your cheek, pulling you closer as he brushed his lips above your brow. You stilled at the motion, but Kuroo lingered for a moment before withdrawing enough to look you in the eyes.

“I’m in love with you. Please give me a chance to show you.”

You backed up immediately, hands flying between you as you stood.

“Woah, I— since when?!”

“A month ago.” Kuroo stood as well, “Just enough to realize I didn’t want to lose you to anyone else.”

You groaned aloud, “Kuroo, that’s not what love is.”

“Yes, it is. Love means I want to hold you and make you mine, to kiss you now and every day if I can.” He retorted, not moving in his spot and his eyes connected with yours.

“Kuroo, this… I don’t know!” You stumbled along your words, unable to hold his intense gaze as he bared his feelings.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but I think it’d only be fair if you were aware of my feelings.”

You bit your lip, it seemed your life was full of ironies.

“I used to be in love with you for so long, Kuroo.”

He stopped then, eyes widening in surprise as you dropped your longest secret on your best friend.

“And then you were dating and in love with Alissa and I wanted nothing more than to move from you. And for my feelings to be nothing but a sad memory.”

“I wasn’t in love with her.” Kuroo cut in.

“That doesn’t really matter, does it? Because I wasn’t enough for you to see then so what difference does it make now?”

“Wait.” Kuroo stepped closer and you took a reflexive step back, making him stop. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you were going on and on about her! All of you — the whole team talked about her like she was the perfect person for you.” You answered, getting visibly agitated. “And who was I to stop you from being happy?”

Kuroo sighed, a small wistful smile on his face as he heard of your struggles. “God, I love you.”

“What?!”

“She doesn’t make me happy. Not like you do.”

“Kuroo — !”

“Stop overthinking.” Kuroo took two wide steps before you could run away, grabbing at your waist and encasing you in his arms. “I’m sorry that I hurt you in the past, but I am begging you to let me show you how much you mean to me.”

“But what if—“

“No. Stop thinking about the ifs.” Kuroo interrupted, leaning forward to press his lips against your forehead. “Let me prove to you how much I love you.”

You felt the crease of his lips against your skin, slowly making its way down before connecting your lips together in a chaste peck.

He could feel your hesitation, the way your hands stayed balled at your sides. “I won’t rush you. But please, give us a chance.”

You closed your eyes shut, taking a deep breathe before raising a palm to his chest.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You laughed lightly, “Yes, you big ole nerd.”

Kuroo shot you one of his honest smiles back, not one of the goading smirks he sent opposing teams or the charismatic one when we wanted something. One of the arms around your waist crawled it’s way upward, settling behind your head as it pulled you closer.

He kissed at your forehead again, especially careful before he made his way downward. Taking some initiative, you leaned upward to kiss him firm on the lips.

Kuroo recoiled back in surprise before smiling again, pulling you into his chest as he leaned down for another smooch. The skin of his lips was surprisingly smooth, silky as it moved against yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Kuroo.”

—xXxXxXxXxXx—

Extra:

Your break with Akaashi was so minimal that you were actually excited to see the setter during Fukurodani’s practice match.

If only your team felt the same.

You reminded them time and time again that your break was nothing to worry about and it should definitely not be the reason behind unnecessary drama. Especially since you were Kuroo now, not even two weeks after. But with the way Lev and Yaku were training, you were sure they were going to attempt a beat down.

When the Fukurodani team entered the gym the next day, you waved at the managers excitedly and it was Kaori that came up to you looking sheepish.

“How’ve you been holding up?”

“Honestly, really well!” You answered.

“Oh, so you haven’t heard?”

“Heard about what?” You asked back, only to light up when Akaashi neared you. Giving him a hug in greeting, you smiled happily at the two.

“Woah.” Kaori commented.

“How’ve you been doing?” Akaashi asked as he pulled away from your prolonged hug, still shoulder-to-shoulder with you.

“Good — I would watch out for Lev though. I think he wants to pummel you.”

Akaashi sighed, “Beautiful.”

“Hey hey hey!” Bokuto cut in, literally in between the two of you and putting some space. “Who’s beautiful?”

The setter sighed before looking toward you.

“Don’t worry, Bokuto. We both can appreciate Akaashi’s beauty.” You joked, but the wing-spiker threw a possessive arm over his shoulders.

“Good — as long as you know he’s all mine.” Bokuto continued, pulling a red-faced Akaashi toward him.

You smiled before feeling an arm around your own shoulders.

“Am I missing out on the party?” Kuroo asked, playful tone contrasting with his hard gaze. He was trying a little too hard to look casual, but it was clear from his eyes that he was sizing up your ex-boyfriend.

“Nothing to miss out on.” You responded. “Just wanted to say hi to my good friend, Akaashi.”

Bokuto turned to the man under his hold and the setter nodded in agreement, “We text often, it’s nice to actually see each other.”

“You’re never this excited to see me!”

Akaashi smiled playfully before replying, “Bokuto-san, we see each other every day. Seeing her is special.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes, evaluating the direction before leaning back. “Fine. Why don’t we catch-up too, Bokuto?”

“What? Are you crazy —!?”

But Kuroo was not paying attention, leaning down to give you a sloppy kiss with the other three as the audience.

He held the back of your head, guiding you back into him as you unintentionally moaned into his embrace. Kuroo particularly enjoyed ravishing you now, licking at your inner walls and relishing the slick of saliva that connected you two even after he pulled away.

“You asshole!” Bokuto exclaimed when Kuroo grabbed him, pulling him along as you stood there attempting to fix yourself.

Akaashi laughed at the display before turning to you with a smile.

“What a kiss.” Kaori had her hands to her face, secondhand embarrassment apparent from the blush. “Looks like Kuroo is every bit the jealous type as Bokuto.”

“Not usually.” You replied, still feeling the heat from your cheeks.

“I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy.” Akaashi stated, grabbing your hand and squeezing it.

“I’m glad Bokuto came to his senses too.” You responded, squeezing in kind before hearing both your names exclaimed from across the gym.

“5 feet away, minimum!” Bokuto was stretching out a space between his hands, pointing at the two of you.

Akaashi sighed before letting go, shooting you a tired but endearing smile. Kaori laughed, saying you two were so odd, but glad that the friendship between schools was preserved.

But it was the look on Kuroo’s face, as his narrowed eyes travelled from the setter than back to you, that told you just what was in store for you later.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

2K notes · View notes