#( as much as i love his past look. the longer hair is *chefs kiss* )

[daybreakrising]

v.autrin past ver. -- v.autrin current ver.

so i posted the one on the right last night but i was then compelled to tweak it to show v.autrin's previous look when he was originally alive, including the original colour of his eyes (hazel).

looking at it in both styles... i am loving the red hair. an excellent decision.

[icallhimjoey]

request: we have a panic attack and joe's there

MMM chefs kiss this is how to do a request, i fucking LOVE this, because, yes, we can have a panic attack and yes, joe can be there, but you know what ????? joe doesn't know how to fucking help at ALL (bcos useless clueless idiot) thanks for requesting! Wordcount: 2.1K

---

Heartbeats All Chaos

Joe had never seen an actual panic attack up close.

He’d heard of people having them, someone not making it to whatever was planned because they’d had a panic attack earlier and everyone would always frown and nod and be so very understanding.

Once at school, he’d heard a girl cry and then was later told she was having a panic attack. It had just looked like crying to him, but what did he know?

Well, he knew technically what they were, knew that people who had them felt like they were actively dying.

And he knew what being panicked felt like.

But when he got out of the shower and found you sat on the edge of bed, unresponsive to how he shook his hair like a dog when he walked past you, that was...

Unusual. To say the least.

His own smile turned into a frown, looking back at you over his shoulder as he opened the wardrobe.

“Hey,” 

You just stared ahead, chest heaving, nostrils flared.

“Hey are you all right?”

Just... nothing. 

You had a weird relationship with panic. You knew it liked you a bit too much, and when you were younger, you’d been forced to become acquainted with it. Had to learn the tell-tale signs of when it would try to grab hold of you. Had to learn how to prevent an attack, avoid whatever could potentially trigger it. Had to learn what to do when its long, cold arms still managed to wrap themselves around your ribcage where it would squeeze you tightly. 

You knew how to pull yourself through an attack.

You’d learnt breathing techniques.

You’d learnt how to mentally ground yourself.

You’d learnt where to take your mind and how to keep your focus there.

Joe walking past in just a towel wrapped around his hips, bending slightly towards you and shaking his head to get little droplets of water on you broke that focus.

You could feel pressure build in your chest as the ringing in your ears got louder. Joe’d asked you a question. You’d heard him fine. It just took a little longer to answer.

Joe took the silence to mean you were upset.

He pulled a T-shirt out of the wardrobe after stepping into a fresh pair of boxer briefs and let his mind wander, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I, oh shit, did I forget– what day is it? I forgot something important, didn’t I?”

With every passing second, your lungs allowed you less and less oxygen and your peripheral vision got smaller and smaller. Shrunk away from the sides and made you feel like your balance was off.

You gasped for air.

“Hey, are you crying? I’m– I fucked up, didn’t I? What did I do?”

You held an arm out, eyes on the floor where you could see your feet touch the carpet, and you shook your head.

Mistake.

Instantly made you feel dizzy, and nausea introduced itself thickly in your throat.

“No, it’s,” you winced, because, yes you were crying. It was just that the crying was a side-effect of the uneasy sensation of fear that tried to swallow you whole. You knew there was no external reason for it, just something that tricked your body into activating its fight-or-flight response. Made your heart rate pick up until it felt like it was going to break your ribs and escape from your chest. Made your muscles tense up enough to have you shaking all over.

Scared.

You were really fucking scared.

You felt how Joe took hold of the hand you held out for him, and were quick to squeeze.

“Oh my– hey, calm down,”

“Panic,” you managed to squeeze from your throat, hiccuping and gasping through breaths.

What were the techniques?

Think of the techniques.

Breathe in through nose, out through mouth. Focus attention outside of your own body. Think of three things you can see. You can hear. You can smell. Sit and let the symptoms pass on their own. They will pass. This is uncomfortable but not life-threatening. Uncomfortable but not life-threatening. Uncomfortable but not–

Yea, nothing was working.

“Are you having a panic attack?”

You were just going to have to ride this one out.

And Joe was just... he was just useless.

He didn’t know what to do, and so he kind of just... stood there. Got a bit closer as he held the hand that you were currently digging your nails into.

Your eyes found him before they squeezed shut, and you felt how his other hand grabbed onto your bicep. Kneaded the muscles there, squeezed and moved his hand down a bit to squeeze once more.

“Yea, you’re having a panic attack. Right now. Jesus, you’re having a pani– what do I do? What do you– do you need–”

Joe panicked. Did exactly what you didn’t need him doing.

You were still on the up-climb, and everything got steadily worse. Muscles tightening. Vision narrowing still. Heart rate increasing still. You needed... you needed... a parent? Someone to take over, someone who you trusted would know what to do.

“Arms up,” Joe suddenly said, voice a little steadier than before, like he was glad he’d thought of something that would help, that would make breathing a little easier for you.

“Come on, up, over your head.”

He took hold of you by the elbows and pushed both your arms up, which, yes, you knew technically that really should’ve made breathing easier. But your muscles were tensed up, and it hurt your chest, and all your body wanted to do was to curl up into a ball so your face could hide and cry into your knees.

Joe had a hard time fighting your arms that were desperately pulling down, and said, “Slow breaths, slow deep breaths...�� whilst trying to demonstrate.

It was of no use.

You were choking on gulps of air.

“Hey. Relax!” Joe made eye-contact, eyebrows raised, like getting a little stern would shock the system into relaxing.

“No,” you sobbed weakly, eyes squeezed firmly shut as you shook your head from side to side. Telling you to relax when you literally couldn’t was the exact opposite of helping.

“No?” Joe immediately went soft again as he let go of your arms, his own eyes wet now too. That same unsure tremor found his voice again as he kneeled in front of you and said, “What do you need? How do you– oh my God, you have to breathe, baby.”

You gestured around wordlessly, gasping through stuttered inhales, and you saw Joe look, frown at it, thinking, deciphering.

“Sit?”

“Hmm,” you nodded, and started shifting, turning on the bed, but Joe’s hands squeezed your thighs and pushed them into the mattress as he got up. He climbed onto the bed, hands not leaving your body once and moved to sit behind you, legs around your hips, arms around your front.

Your hands immediately found his arm to grab and dig nails into, and the added warmth to your back made you let out a short soft hum that almost sounded like a whimper.

“Lean back, I got you,” Joe whispered, his head now resting on your own as he pulled you closer. With your back pressed against his chest, head firmly slotted into place underneath his chin, you could feel your shoulders slump down a little bit.

“Good. Yea, that’s good.” Joe cooed before he softly shushed you, stopping when he heard your throat make a noise.

“Can you,” you start through a shuddering breath, “Squeeze?”

Joe didn’t need asking twice, arms slowly wrapping around further, tentative and careful in case it was all too much, squeezing your ribcage right against his.

It made you sigh.

Feeling pressure from an actual outside source made it easier to accept the constriction of your chest. Made it make sense a little more.

“There you go,” Joe muttered as you sagged into him, your head falling forward for a moment as a small sigh escaped you. “This good? Or do you want it tighter?”

You squeezed fingers into his forearm by ways of answering, heartbeat all chaos.

“Here, pull your knees up, get them in here,” Joe said, reaching, leaning back for a second and taking you with him. You managed to plant both feet onto the mattress, knees drawing up to your chest and Joe reached both arms around, pulling you into him fully.

Yes.

Curled up and hidden.

Compressed into warmth.

This helped.

You sat like that for a while, locked into Joe completely. His grip didn’t waver once, until you’d slowly stopped crying. But even then, Joe wasn’t just going to let go of you easily. He’d let go once he’d be told to do so.

Joe tilted his head to look at you when you started sliding your hands over Joe’s forearms, running slowly up to the hems of the sleeves of his T-shirt where they played with the soft fabric. He could barely see you at all, but he was able to catch the tear stains, the worry-lines, the rosy cheeks.

Made him hug you tighter, squeezing you once more as his face buried into your neck on the side.

“You OK?”

You nodded, small little up and down movements of your head, mostly because you didn’t want to test if your throat felt normal again when you spoke.

“I know you said,” Joe started, softly whispering, not needing to speak any louder, you were so close. “You said you sometimes got unprovoked, what’d you call them? Freak outs?”

You nodded again, breathing slowly, using fingernails to trace lines over the back of Joe’s hand.

“We never talked about what I should do to help when you have one...”

You spasmed on a deeper inhale, before you said, “I know, maybe we should have,” and you tried thinking of what you would’ve told him. What would you have said for Joe to do? Asking him to compress you the way you’d only just managed to do this time was a spur of the moment thing that ended up helping a lot. However, you wouldn’t have known that beforehand.

You noticed Joe had started swaying, rocking back and forth with you.

“This OK?”

“Yea,”

“Is this... was this how it usually goes?”

“Hmm, they normally last longer,”

Your faces were so close, you were fine murmuring in your softest whispers. With Joe’s chin digging into your shoulder now, you exhaled and let your legs fall down, knees over the edge of the bed again. Joe took the moment to shift and get a proper look at your face and you might as well have slapped him right across his.

There was practically nothing left of you.

Tiny.

So fucking small.

“You sure you’re all right?” he asked, entirely unconvinced that you were.

“Tired,”

Yea, Joe could imagine. Look at you.

“Are you all right?” you asked, and Joe had to really try to not pinch you in the side at the sound of your smile seeping through.

“No, that was fucking terrifying,”

You chuckled softly, immediately winced at how sore your muscles felt.

“Sorry,”

“No don’t,” Joe took a sharp breath as he watched his own hand find yours over your front to intertwine fingers together. “Don’t apologise. Just tell me what to do.”

“This was good.”

“Yea?”

“Hmm.”

Joe did so good.

“I think it’s why this one didn’t take so long,” you said quietly, and you felt Joe squeeze your hand as he hugged tighter once more as he actively tried to keep his own tears at bay. Realising that you’d struggled through panic attacks on your own without someone to hold you more often than not, was stupidly heart-breaking.

He thought back to that girl he’d seen cry at school when he was 14 and felt guilty over his lack of empathy then.

“Hey,” you whispered, feeling how Joe was holding his breath, feeling his heartbeat slowly stumble in chaos of its own now.

“Relax,” you repeated Joe from before, same tone of voice, but way softer. It instantly got a huff of laughter from him before he groaned softly and pressed his head against yours.

“Don’t apologise,” you said, full on grinning now, turning your head to look at him. “Just tell me what to do.”

Joe looked at you a second, happy to see you smile, overwhelmed with how you managed to fill his insides with all things soft so strongly.

Fingers took hold of you by the chin and pulled you in closer for a kiss that you hummed into. When Joe was about to pull back, you got him by the neck and lengthened it. Made Joe hum into your mouth in return, until you finally broke and gave each other dopey smiles.

“This was good.” Joe said, mimicking you now.

“Yea?”

All chaos gone.

“Hmm.”

So good.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[brokengem]

Anon Darling asked: Savanclaw 1st year Vil…I know this is very self-indulgent, but imagine if Jack also gets all blush and swooned as he sees him in spelldrive/in practice. Jack realizing he’s no longer that little kid that would hang out with him…Looking a bit too hard when he drinks water or tying his hair…And Vil being slightly more muscular than in canon because of Savanclaw practice and Jack noticing his progress…

No. No. Please be more self-indulgent. I love hearing it! 

 Jack being the first of the trio to just fall is -chefs kiss-. He has the past history with Vil, so him being able to see the change from the little kid who huffed whenever Jack tried to protect him to THIS. Yeah, it does a number on him. This new Vil is a horrible distraction. Jack walking into bleachers or trash cans and even their teammates. He's trying so so hard to no pay attention, but he really can't help himself. Vil's changed so much and Jack is enjoying every second of it. [Smile or comment on the answer here](https://retrospring.net/@heartsfate/a/110902267530029535)

[thatawkwardlittlefangirl]

k, i've been sick for the past couple of days and feeling like utter crap and let me tell you: this made me feels miles better, truly! the writing is impeccable and feels so like spencer, it's unreal 🥹

he's so adorable, my goodness 😍 i could just picture it so perfectly in my head - him hunched over the bar looking at his phone, eyes like a little puppy's, cause she's no longer on the phone with him ahhhhh

ouch. but also - relatable 😭

...rude. like, why would she (i??) be playing with him? as if there's no chance someone would be into him - hello?? have you met him?? the thing is, as much as i love their found family thing (and i know they all do love each other), i can still see them saying these things and it pisses me off. boy deserves so much better fr

i am begging you to sTOP - he's soooo cute, pls

the pining. THE PINING. I'M WEAK it hurts so freaking good

1) "but it's you", just ended me

2) "gonna touch your hair", she's really out here living all our dreams, huh; and giving him time to move away in case he's uncomfortable with it!! and his heart "leaping into his mouth" <- same

perfect ending 👏🏻 brav@

his little smile (another scene i could see very vividly in my mind and ugh, chef's kiss) and "i'm feeling a lot better, actually" (<- me, after reading this)

thank you so much for sharing this phenomenal piece, i love it so much 🤍

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 

Total quiet. 

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 

“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 

“Where are you?” 

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 

“Where was I?” 

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 

“Still where?” 

“Did you hit your head?” 

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 

“…What?” 

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 

“I annoy people.” 

“You don’t annoy me.” 

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 

“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 

“She kind of looked like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 

“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 

“What jokes, babe?” 

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 

“Spencer, you remember everything.” 

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 

You’re happy to. 

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 

“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 

— — 

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 

“So you want three?” 

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 

The avocado is making him feel sick. 

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 

“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.” 

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said. 

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

[miekasa]

positions

+ pairing: eren jaeger x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: modern au, explicit smut (18+ only), eren is annoying but he’s also hot so it makes up for it i guess 🙄

+ word count: 3k

+ notes: i don’t want to talk about this actually, so if you see it, no you didn’t </2 i kind of got carried away with number three. sorry.

+ summary: eren just likes it with you—will take you however you want him to; but he does have a few favorite positions.

i. missionary — (i’m trying to meet your mama on a sunday, then make a lotta love on a monday).

Eren always did like looking at you. He thinks you’re gorgeous, sexy, and so, so, pretty; all the time, but especially like this.

Because there isn’t anything he likes more than watching you squirm because of him; breath unsteady and voice whiny because of him.

“You’re so pretty, aren’t you?” Eren asks, but question is rhetorical; and you’re barely coherent enough to answer him—like he’s fucked you stupid.

“Course you are,” he answers for you, reaching his right hand up to slip his pointer and middle finger past your lips.

You moan around him, warm, wet heat compassing his digits as you let Eren’s fingers fuck your mouth in sync with him thrust into your pussy. It’s only when he feels your spit pooling on your tongue that he pulls them out, immediately using the soaked fingers to further abuse your sensitive clit.

“My pretty, pretty girl,” Eren sings, tapping at your clit in sync with his repeated words.

Eren smirks through his pants as he drinks in your fucked-out state. He likes the way your eyes are screwed shut, high-pitched moans barely squeaking out as you grip at the sheets. Your back arches when he snaps his hips harder, deeper, and—oh, no, that won’t do.

“No, no, baby be good,” he coos, reaching his hand to press over your tummy and flatten your back to the mattress.

“Eren, please,” you barely choke out, head writhing against the pillow, “Just wanna come, please.”

“Just wanna come?” he repeats, but his tone is taunting, almost fiendish at this point, “‘M not stopping you baby, all you have to do is be good for me.”

“I am good,” you insist, words rushed, desperate, “I’m good for you—your good girl, Eren.”

Eren hums at your words, and bends his knee onto the bed, groaning after you as he hits a spot deeper inside of you. He moves his left hand off of your stomach to support himself on the mattress, and reaches his right hand up, crawling up the column of your throat.

He pinches his pointer finger and thumb at your jaw, leaning down until the tip of his nose brushes against yours, “Open.”

He barely waits until there’s a gap between your lips before he pries your mouth open himself with his thumb, the pad of his finger pushing against your tongue. He flashes you a sadistic smirk before spitting into your mouth, the tip of his tongue grazing against yours before retreating back into his mouth, “Swallow.” 

Your breath is unsteady as your do as you’re told, opening your mouth again to show him just how good you listened; how good you are. A smile washes over his face for a second before he leans forward to kiss you—the kind of kiss he gives before he’s about to fuck you silly, “Good girl.”

ii. against the wall — (cookin’ in the kitchen, and i’m in the bedroom)

Eren isn’t a good cook and he knows it. He’s not terrible—he won’t starve if he ever lived on his own, but he’s no master chef.

It’s probably why he likes watching you cook so much. He would say he likes to help, too, but that would be a lie; he just likes being your taste tester, and distracting you a little bit while he’s at it.

“Did you set the oven to 400?” you ask him, back turned as you pick a wooden spoon from the drawer and bring it to the bowl.

Eren hums, eyes flickering to the oven to ensure that he did, indeed, set it to the right temperature, before taking the few steps necessary to close the distance between you two. Slowly, he wraps his arms around your waist, lightly draping his body over yours as he watches you stir the batter.

“Smells like lemons,” he notes, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Probably because we’re making lemon cake,” you chuckle, bringing your stirring to a stop.

You dip your pointer finger carefully into the batter before bringing it to your lips. You crinkle your nose a bit, before dipping you finger back into the batter, this time hovering it in front of Eren’s lips, “Here, taste. Do you think it needs more sugar? Or maybe vanilla?”

Eren’s gazes flicks from your batter-coated finger, then to your eyes, like a magnet; green growing cloudy with arousal. Carefully, slowly, he pushes forward until his lips wrap around your finger, teeth grazing your digit when he pulls back.

“No,” he answers, voice raspy, “It’s perfect.”

“You sure?” you question, words genuine and innocent; oblivious to the angle he’s playing at.

Eren unwraps his arms from your waist, steps back far enough to allow him to spin you around, you lower back pressed into the counter, and eyes wide. He smiles, reaches his hand into the bowl, but instead of waiting for you to taste it, he brushes it against your mouth, before forcing his finger past your lips, just far enough to clean the remaining batter against your tongue.

“Positive,” Eren says, before bruising his lips against yours in a kiss. Quickly, his tongue flashes to swipe against your bottom lip, bringing sticky, sweet cake batter into your mouth.

Then, he lifts you, skillfully moving the bowl aside to make room for you on the counter; knocking over measuring cups and utensils in his path that are sure to leave a mess, but right now you don’t care. Eren always did like things messy, after all.

Eren’s hands paw at the hem of your shirt, clumsily pulling it over your head. He hisses when you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back down into a searing kiss, and biting at his lower lip in revenge.

A yelp of surprise leaves yours lips as he grips under your thighs and picks you up from the counter. Eren groans when your tangle your hands into his hair, using it as both leverage and support.

“Fuck,” he mutters when you accidentally press yourself against his bulge in an attempt to tighten your legs around his waist. You pull away slightly, breath tickling his face as your eyes jump from his to his lips.

Carefully you comb your fingers through his hair again, elbows resting on his shoulders as you catch your breath.

“Question,” you pose, breathing heavily through your syllables, “How long do you think you can hold me up for?”

“Like this? A while, probably.” Eren replies moving his hands up from under your thighs to your ass.

“But like this,” Eren takes a few steps forwards until your back is pushing against the wall. He smirks when he sees the small gape at your mouth, and squeezes at your ass to exaggerate your expression, before leaning into to whisper in your ear, “A whole lot longer.”

iii. double date — (this some shit that I usually don’t do, but for you I kinda want to)

Armin’s fingers are, surprisingly, rough. More calloused than you would think; for the rest of him is all soft edges and round features; all smooth and nice and kind and good. 

But, not like this. The Armin whose eyes gaze up at you from your legs is hardly anything like that. He’s not the Armin you know; this one is teasing, relentless, almost manic; he’s mean and he knows it.

You can see it in his eyes, that the Armin you know and love is nowhere in sight. Because when Eren pushes his finger inside of you next to Armin’s, you swear those clear, blue eyes that are usually so bright become icy with intent. 

“She’s so pretty, Eren,” Armin says to his friend, but his gaze is on you as he twists his finger inside, knuckles bumping against Eren’s. You throw your head back with a grunted moan, and barely have the strength to hold it up again to see Armin’s smirk, “So pretty.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Eren coos, green eyes smiling at you.

It’s almost too much, the both of them looking at you from between your legs. You’re not sure which one to focus on—if you have the strength to meet either of their gazes for more an a second before screwing your eyes shut, overwhelmed by it. The attention, the feeling, the shared lust is all too much.

“Armin, hold on, let me—” Eren grunts, twisting his finger inside of you, so that it intertwines with Armin’s, “There we go.”

The sensation drives you crazy, the feeling of their fingers brushing against each other—brushing against your walls makes your head spin, and you curl your own fingers into a ball at your sides. It’s only two fingers—but it feels foreign, new, too much; it makes you thrash, they way they pump their digits inside of you, perfectly in sync, perfectly full every time.

It’s new to you, but Eren and Armin have always been best friends; it’s not abnormal for them to share. And they do it so well.

“Eren, Armin, I—” you call, almost wail at you feel someone’s fingertips brush past your weak spot, “Please.”

Your hips rise as you groan with the feeling, and as if rehearsed, the both of their free hands are quick to snap you back against the mattress. When you look down at them, Eren has a dirty look in his eyes, but Armin’s is dirtier—as if you let you know that that he did that; that he planned it, too.

“Don’t be rude,” Eren tuts, “Armin’s being so nice to you, so be good for him. Be good for us.”

You almost want to cry—if this is his nice, you’ve severely underestimated the Armin Arlert you know.  

“You wanna come, yeah?” Armin asks you, with a tone so light and genuine, you would never think he’s capable of anything he’s currently doing.

You nod your head embarrassingly quickly, a stuttered moan slipping out as both boys tighten their told on each other’s fingers; and Armin smirks with glassy eyes before lowering his head closer to your center, “Don’t worry, I’ll let you.”

Armin’s eyes flicker to Eren’s only for a moment, a ghost of a nod shared before the two boys before Armin’s tongue is flat against your slit. You hiss, incoherent moans escaping your throat; Armin is merciless, licking, and sucking until it hurts to breathe.

Your eyes flutter shut when Armin pushes the tip of his tongue against your clit, both his and Eren’s fingers slowing in time with his movement, before speeding up just as he sucks at the bud again. Eren bites a kiss into your thigh, hand squeezing at your hips again.

“I said be good,” he reminds you, sucking at your skin again with warning, “Look at him.”

You don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, that the second you make eye contact with the blonde again, he sucks on your clit; not ceasing his actions until you come with hot, white flashes resonating through your body.

You can hear them laugh at your collapse, Eren gently kissing your shaking thigh as your body goes limp. Eren shimmies his body up slightly, pulling both his and Armin’s fingers from your pussy and guiding them to your lips.

“Taste,” is his simple command, ordering you to open your mouth wide enough to take both of their fingers.

Eren hums through a laugh, before turning his head to Armin. He takes his fingers out of your mouth, brings his hand to the back of his friend’s head, grabbing tufts of blonde hair in his grip, and angling his head for a perfect kiss, “Share.”

You can barely register their mouths moving together, lewd sounds and flashes of tongue in their kissing, before your head falls back against your pillow again. They’ll be the end of you someday, you’re certain of it.

Your reaction makes Armin chuckle—almost innocently, but you know now you’ve been using that word far too liberally with him. He crawls up to lay next you, gently cradling your cheek with one hand to pull your face to his.

“Good right?” he asks gently, a light kiss placed on your bruised lips.

“Hm,” you can just barely nod, eyes flickering to stay open, “Eren was right.”

Eren finds himself at your other side, pressing feather-light kisses into your neck and jaw, “Told you so, baby.”

“Eren would know,” Armin smiles, and those blue eyes are coated with a layer of mischief once again, “He speaks from personal experience, after all.”

iv. the throne — (you’re down for me, and i’m down, too)

“You have to be careful,” you warn him, “It won’t be very sexy if I fall over into the tub.”

Eren hums, with the intonation that tells you he heard you, but he’s not really listening. He peppers kisses along your thigh, hands greedy; grabbing and pinching at your skin. He uses one hand to pry your legs open wider; one knee bent, foot resting against the side of your bathtub, while the other is grounded against the tiles, and Eren on his knees below you.

You don’t know why this is a fantasy of his—and why he wants to do it now, in the bathroom of all places, but you admit you give into him more than you should.

He wraps his forearms under your thighs, reaching so that the palm of his hands pull at your skin; and pull you closer to his face. Nervous, you grip at the sink for extra support.

Eren smirks below you, peppering an apologetic kiss dangerously close to your center. You growl, using your free hand to grab at his hair, crane his neck back to make him look at you.

“Eren, listen to me,” you tell him. He knows your voice has annoyance laced in it, but it’s also heavy with authority, and makes blood rush to his pants.

Raised eyebrows lower slowly, his pupils wide and blown out at your sudden command; before his surprise morphs into lust. “Of course, baby,” he concedes, licking at your clit too quickly, “Tell me what you want. I’ll listen.”

You squint with disbelief. Nothing is ever that straightforward with Eren; even when he’s on his knees about to give, he’s asking something of you, too. Nevertheless, you loosen your hold on his hair in favor of cradling his head more gently.

“Just,” you start, a shaky breath escaping through your words when Eren’s tongue prods at your clit, “Just make sure I don’t fall.”

Eren hums, vibrations resonating throughout your body, a hissed curse slipping past your lips. “Of course,” he repeats, “I wouldn’t want to hurt my baby.”

You nod, breath growing increasing unsteady when Eren circles your clit with his tongue. He gets greedy, alternating between licking, and kissing, and sucking; and relishing in your body growing heavy in his hands.

“Though,” he says, words spoken muffled against your sensitive skin, but those green eyes are bright and bold when they look at you, “If you’re afraid of falling, you could always sit on my face instead.”

v. love on top — (my love’s infinite, nothing I wouldn’t do, won’t do, for you)

You’re pretty like this, too. Pretty all the time—but if there’s one thing Eren likes more than you under him, it’s you on top of him.

“You’re so hot like this,” he says, voice thick with lust, as he reaches out to rest his hands against your hips.

Eren likes the way you bounce on top of him, thighs shaking against his. He’s surprised when you move your hands to take his off of you—quick to question your motives, before you lace your hands with his, a weak, but sweet smile when your fingers are intertwined.

He smiles back, using your connected hands to pull you forward, elbows bent, the back of his hands plush against the sheets, while your palms hold them down. You’re bent over now, tummy pressed against his, and Eren can feel you breathing into the crook of his neck.

He bends his knee to give him some leverage, adding his own thrusts while you desperately bounce back on his cock.

“B—babe… ‘M gonna come,” he moans, and it’s not long before he’s cumming inside of you. He unlaces one of his hands from yours, using it to rest against the small of your back as you shake through your own orgasm, open mouthed kisses pressed into his collar.

You lay like that for a bit, before Eren pulls out. He has to move you off of him to throw away the condom; but is quick to find his way back to the bed, rolling onto the mattress unceremoniously. He lays facing you, and reaches a hand out, palm open and waiting.

You roll your eyes, but lazily meet him halfway as he daps you up; a stupid smile on his face. He shuffles onto his back, and pulls you on top of him, this time using both hands to wrap around your waist.

“That was so hot,” he muses, love-drunk on you and tracing random patterns into your skin, “You should—should do that more often.”

You curl your hands up to circle his head, lazy fingers playing with his hair, as you nuzzle your head into his chest, eyes fluttering shut, as sleep takes over your body, “Maybe.”

(Definitely).

[watchmegetobsessed]

All Yours - Harry Styles

a/n: idk if you saw those pics of the house that’s supposedly Harry’s, maybe it’s not his but that shower gave me... thoughts 👀 . and these are those thoughts lmao enjoy!!

warning: sexual content

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Harry has been mad at you all day. Well, not mad in the sense where he hates your guts, that could never happen because the two of you are ridiculously in love, but he thought you let a guy flirt with you earlier in the grocery shop and his dominant, jealous side came out right away.

“I was just answering his question nicely, H,” you sighed when he confronted you in the car on the way home.

“Yeah, nicely let him flirt with you and basically fuck you with his eyes,” he scoffed, still clearly upset by it.

“Harry, I don’t have control over what others think. How am I supposed to change what goes on in his mind?” you asked with a confused chuckle. You could feel the man’s stare, but he didn’t do anything disrespectful, he didn’t touch you or say something inappropriate, just asked you a simple question, you answered and then you parted ways. Easy as it is.

“You could have just not answer him,” he shrugged, but you could tell he knew you would have never done that.

“What happened to treat people with kindness, babe?” you teased him, but he just rolled his eyes mumbling under his breath.

“No kindness when someone is trying to fuck my girlfriend.”

You find it amusing when he turns into some kind of cave man whenever he is jealous. It has a manly charm that just riles you up. Knowing how territorial he is, how he wants everyone to know that you’re his, it’s just doing things to you only Harry can achieve.

Now he is lying in bed, scrolling through his phone and he still seems a little distant following the little jealousy scene from earlier. You’ve tried to lighten him up, but for some reason he is trying to convince him that you really were flirting with that man. So now you are eager to show him that he is the only man in your life and you’re not planning to change that anytime soon.

“Gonna take a shower,” you tell him walking out of your closet in only your silky bathrobe. Harry doesn’t look up, just hums in response. Reaching to your stomach you untie the knot on the robe and let it slide open, revealing your fully naked body, making his eyes finally flicker up. “You are welcome to join,” you tell him with a sly smirk before walking into the bathroom joined to the bedroom you’ve been sharing with him this past year.

You don’t close the door behind you, and just as you take the robe off you hear him shuffling outside, walking into the bathroom just when you step into the giant walk-in shower. Biting into your lip you start the water that rains down on you from the showerheads hanging from the ceiling while Harry is eager to free himself from his sweatpants and shirt.

He kicks his boxers down, his eyes widening slightly as he watches you stand under the water, running your hands through your wet hair, making sure the light coming from the window on the other side gives out the silhouette of your curves perfectly. Dropping your hands you turn to him, tilting your head to the side, enjoying the attention you are getting from your man.

“Are you gonna stay there watching or you plan on getting inside?” you ask teasingly and he doesn’t need more. He joins you under the water in a heartbeat, the droplets running down his firm chest and broad shoulders so perfectly, you already want to lick them off with your hungry mouth. It’s always funny to you how Harry still can think you’d leave him for someone else when the entire male population starts and ends with him for you, there’s just no man that could ever make you feel the things he can, intentionally or not on purpose as well.

You grab the shower gel and squeeze some into the palm of your hand before starting to soap your upper body, eyes never leaving his as his green, greedy eyes burn down on your naked body.

“Would you mind doing my back?” you ask with faked innocence as you turn around and show him your back. He hums in response, reaching around you so his hands meet yours, stealing some of the gel from them before moving them to your back and gently massaging it into your wet skin. His finger start working on your shoulders and neck, rubbing your muscles perfectly as you feel yourself relax under his touch. When you accidentally take a tiny step backwards you can’t help the smirk that tugs on your lips when you feel his already hardening cock poking at your bum.

Harry pushes his chest against your back, his hands moving down to your breasts as he kneads them, making you moan, your head falling back to his shoulder.

“Feels good, baby?” he murmurs pressing his lips to your jawline as you reach back with your hands, lacing your fingers through his wet locks.

“Yes,” you breathe out, pushing your bum against him even more so his cock presses into you, making him groan in pleasure. Turning around in his arms you attack his lips, not able to keep yourself controlled any longer. He kisses you back with just as much passion and vigor, his hands gripping your waist so hard his fingers dig into your flesh. You move your hands down his back, nails scratching his soft skin until you reach his ass, squeezing each cheeks in a hand shamelessly that just makes him moan into your mouth.

“What do you want to do with me, Harry?” you ask him seductively, bringing a hand up to his hair so you can tug on his locks just the way he loves. “I’m all yours. Always have been, always will be.”

“Sit on the bench, baby. I want to taste you,” he groans, kissing you hard one last time before he lets go of you so you can move.

You sit to the marble bench under the window, the water not hitting you any longer and as Harry sinks to his knees in front of you, your legs open up for him out of instinct. Harry’s hands grab onto the insides of your thighs, exposing you to him even more and he stares down at your throbbing core like it’s his favorite meal in the entire world, made just for him by a chef.

Dipping his head down he kisses both your thighs up until his lips brush against your sensitive bud, teasing you a little as he is barely touching you.

“Harry!” you whine, a hand coming into his hair while you try to support you with the other one so you don’t fall back. “I need you!”

“M’right here, baby,” he smirks before he finally places and openmouthed kiss to your clit, swirling his tongue, sucking on your skin relentlessly.

“Oh fuck!” you gasp, your chest heaving from the pleasure that crashes down on you suddenly.

Harry has a magical mouth and you’ve known this since your third date years ago when the two of you were so hungry for each other that you didn’t even make it into your place, he ate you out in the backseat of his car before he fucked you good. Right then and there you knew you found the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

He is making you see stars as he licks and sucks on your sex, two fingers coming to your hole, teasing you slightly, not thrusting into you just yet.

“Harry! Don’t fucking tease me!” you groan in frustration, desperate to feel more. You can feel his smirk against you before he finally pushes two fingers into you, making you moan his name over and over again.

“I fucking love your pussy, it’s so sweet and warm,” he hums, pumping into you without skipping a beat as he looks up to see the pleasure he is giving you on your face. He is satisfied with the work he is doing, watching you fall apart under his touch, weak for him and only for him.

He edges you until you’re screaming his name, almost reaching your climax but then he pulls back, leaving you feeling empty and unfinished. You don’t have the chance to speak up before he gets up to his feet and orders you around again.

“Get up, I’m gonna fuck you against the wall,” he tells you and your whole body lights on fire. You love it when he bosses you around, when he takes control but not too much. He knows your limits and knows that you fancy him being a little dominant, but he also knows how much you need the freedom of doing whatever you want during sex. You’re not completely submissive and he is not trying to make you either, just accepts your boundaries and play within the rules, making you extremely grateful that he is all about pleasuring you.

You stand up, but your knees weaken for a moment, threatening to collapse, but Harry grabs you just in time, holding you against his firm chest as he kisses your forehead.

“You good, baby?” he asks in a much softer tone.

“Yeah, just… a bit shaken,” you chuckle as you hold onto his shoulders. “I’m fine,” you assure him before pulling down to kiss him, your tongue meeting his in the middle.

He walks you until your back hits the wall and you hiss at the sudden coldness of it, making you arch against him, your breasts pushing against his tattooed chest. His lips never leave yours, he is tugging on your bottom lip, biting and licking into your mouth as his hands find the back of your thighs and he hoists you up until your legs wrap around his waist, holding you without a mishap.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, baby,” he mumbles into the kiss as he reaches down and grabbing the base of his fully erected cock, lining himself up with you, the tip teasing your core already.

“Go deep and hard, want to feel you everywhere,” you breathe out, grabbing a handful of his hair before he pushes into you without warning, filling you up entirely.

You gasp at the sudden feeling and he stops when he is all the way inside you, giving you some time to adjust to him. He kisses your lips, your nose and cheeks before you give his hair another tug, signaling that he can start moving. He picks up a steady pace, moving in and out of you easily since you are dripping wet for him at this point. Curling your arms around his shoulders you pant against the side of his face, kissing his temple, ear and the soft skin below it as he keeps thrusting into you, building your orgasm up once again.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, moving faster as his fingers dig into your thighs locked around his waist.

“Are you close, baby?” you ask out of breath.

“Yeah, I’m close, are you?”

“Yes, want you to cum with me, want to do it together,” you pant as you pull his head back so you can look into his eyes. He just nods and makes his thrusts shorter but harder, pushing you towards the edge.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns you, his eyes shutting close for a few moments.

“Cum, I’m close too. Cum for me, Harry!” you ask him and he whines at your words.

A few more thrusts later you feel him jerk inside you as he falls out of his rhythm, coming hard inside you as he keeps moaning your name over and over again. When his head falls forward and his teeth dig into your shoulder you burst too, the pleaser washing over you in waves.

“Oh fuck! Harry!” He keeps moving, even when he has already ridden down his high, just to make sure you’re fully satisfied. He pushes into you a few more times before he stops, putting you down gently, making sure your legs don’t collapse under you again. He kisses your face wherever he can until his lips meet yours, dragging this kiss a little longer and softer than the once you shared before.

He pulls you under the water and grabs a washcloth from the side, he wets it and gently cleans you up, peppering featherlike kisses to your skin everywhere he goes.

“I hope the way I just screamed your name proves that you’re the only man I want,” you smile at him sheepishly, running your hands up his chest until they rest at the base of his neck.

“M’sorry for being a pain in the ass, I’m just so fucking in love with you, I selfishly want to be the only man that can have the privilege to feel this way for you.”

“And you are,” you chuckle softly, cupping his face in your hands. “Others might find me hot or have a thing for me, but you are the only one who knows me, who sees me like this… who makes me feel like this. I’m all yours, H.”

Breathing out through his nose he captures your lips in another kiss as he pulls you tight against him.

“I love you, baby.”

“Love you too. Now let’s actually shower,” you chuckle, reaching for your shampoo.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

[imaginativeamateur]

HEY!!!! I read your kakashi x reader in which kakshi takes care of tired reader and it was *chef’s kiss* so i was thinking if you could a kakashi x reader in which the reader gets poisoned during a mission. They get a small scratch so it does not work quickly. So when they get home, they start to feel a bit dizzy and then start coughing up blood LOTS of blood ( if you don’t mind). So kakashi gets worried and takes them to the hospital. When they get there tsunade tells them it is a rare type of poison so they will need a day or two to make the antidote. So the reader is in pain and coughing up blood. Kakashi tries their best to comfort them. Sorry it is long. Feel free to ignore it. Sorry for bad english. THANK YOU ✨

[Kakashi Hatake X Reader] Unbearable

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x gn!Reader

Note: Firstly, I'm glad that you like that piece, anon:D and your idea is fantastic!!! Okay, this one is a bit longer than what I usually write for, probably around 2,000 words. It's a mix of angst and fluff, the ending is fluffy though. And I didn't know what to name this one either:D Without further ado, please enjoy!

You pushed the door open, exclaiming happily when you finally got to sniff the familiar scent of his signature dishes, “I’m home, Kakashi!”

“How was your mission, love?” Wiping his palms on a handkerchief, he lifted his eyes from the pan to quickly examine if you had any injuries.

“Absolutely successful! We captured and brought the rebels back for investigation. My captain will be reporting it to the Hokage so I’m off for now!” You made your way next to him in the kitchen, pulling off your gloves in the process, “What are you making?”

Kakashi went off talking about the dishes he was preparing for your dinner but your mind turned fuzzy in the middle of his sentence. You lost your balance and tumbled backward as your sight blurred, not able to see anything clearly. With his quick reflex, the Copy Ninja caught you by your forearm and guided you to the floor, constantly asking if you were okay. Kakashi’s visible eye widened, brows furrowing as his hands roamed to search for any injuries that his eyes did not catch. You had no fatal wounds except for several scratches here and there, and he could sense your depleted chakra level. Lifting your body up in his arms, he whispered as he carried you to your shared bedroom, “You probably overused your chakra again. You should be back to normal tomorrow after a good rest.”

You sprawled tiredly in your bed, having no appetite for a meal and Kakashi respected it, he knew when it came to reviving a Ninja’s chakra, nothing would be able to beat some decent sleep. He let you stay by yourself for a few hours and went to finish his reports, returning to check on you once in a while. When he was finally done with work, Kakashi quietly slipped under the blanket on his side of the bed, carefully scooted closer to your warmth, hugged you close, and peacefully closed his eyes. In the middle of the night, you were woken up by the burning sensation that coursed through your entire body and a terrible headache, having just enough time to flip onto your side in case you would vomit right then and there. And you suddenly coughed, your throat was torn when the crimson liquid spattered onto the white tiles, bled your shirt, and dripped down from your chin. Being a light sleeper, the silver-haired immediately shot up from his pillow, switched the lights on, and scrambled down to the ground. You were trembling for the time being, and within a split second, Kakashi scooped your motionless body in his arms, rushing for the hospital.

He knew for sure that you were poisoned given the symptoms that were starting to surface. The hospital workers were greatly intimidated by the threatening aura that he sent, still hugging you tight as he brought you to the operation room himself. You continued to cough in his arms, and he did not mind his turtleneck being covered entirely by your blood. Tsunade arrived with a hurried disposition, and Sakura followed close behind her lead. Kakashi immediately reported your condition to the Fifth Hokage, grimacing when he saw blood pooling on the hospital bed as the Medic’s chakra slowly entered your body. He fought to retain himself—to not sprint to your side and cradle you tight, to not bring his hand up and wipe the blood staining the corner of your lips. It was all too much to him to see you panting in agony—

“Sakura,” the blonde Medic commanded, “set up for poison extraction. Get three more people.”

The pink-haired left the room after her teacher’s assignment, fleeting on her feet when she saw your tightly shut eyes and Kakashi’s scary expression as though he was going to burn the place down. Tsunade turned to the Copy Ninja, who was leaning against the wall with a visible eye that settled a tone darker, and called, “Kakashi, I need you to hold Y/N down when I extract the poison.”

He shuddered, unsure if he would still be able to maintain the last bit of composure left. The silver-haired found it impossible to remain himself when came to your safety, but he padded to your side, shaking hands reaching out to the pale face of yours. The Godaime assured him that everything would be okay and the man took a deep breath, moving his palms to rest on both of your shoulders as the rest of the team arrived, getting to work the second they passed the door. Kakashi held onto your upper body and arms, pinning you down onto the bed when the blonde started to focus chakra on her hands. “It’ll hurt, make sure Y/N stays still,” she said before the glowing green entered your body.

Kakashi could feel his sweats running cold against his temple, his uncovered eye fixed on Tsunade's hands, periodically glancing back at your face to make sure that you were fine. His grip on your wrists was tight but not bruising, fearing that it would add to the pain that you were already enduring from the poison. The Copy Ninja had his other forearm across your shoulder blades, pressing your torso in place as the Medic worked diligently. It hurt and you yelped, shrieking from the pure pain every time her chakra seeped inside. Kakashi was restless, biting on his own lips to halt himself from releasing his grasp and hug you tight. Your eyes turned dull when Tsunade finally got the last bit of poison out of your system, heavily placing your head back onto the damp pillow as the silver-haired wiped the sweats on your forehead. When all of you thought it was over, things took a different turn—for worse.

Pain suddenly shot through your body, and you started to cough more vigorously than earlier, blood covered the white sheets of the hospital bed. The whole room turned their attention back on your figure, your eyelashes fluttered, wincing when you felt the tiniest bits of your muscles being squeezed and ripped apart. Kakashi stepped back when he looked at his hands smeared by your blood, and grimaced, “… Didn’t you get the poison out already?”

The Medic furrowed her brows, examining the extract she got in a test tube, “It’s my first time seeing this type.”

Kakashi went feral, “How long?”

The sounds of your coughs filled the quiet atmosphere of the operation room. Every ticking of the clock seemed too audibly loud each passing second the blonde observed the Copy Ninja’s face. She eventually sighed and turned to the exit, “I’m not sure. It will take a while for us to create the antidote.”

“You can’t leave Y/N suffering like this, Lady Tsunade,” he breathed out laboriously, “I can’t.”

Kakashi’s words left his lips like a desperate plea as he stared at the ground. Tsunade shut her eyes to summon enough vigor to walk out of the room. Sakura hesitantly left shortly after, silently closing the door after sending her former sensei a sympathetic look. With shaking legs that were almost unable to hold him up, the silver-haired made his way to a chair beside your bed, tracing his thumb across your lips to wipe the bloodstain away. As a Shinobi, he was too accustomed to seeing open wounds and deep gashes—too familiar with his body covered in blood after a mission, especially when he got injured. But seeing you in this state made him crumble in dejection and turmoil.

“Kakashi,” your inaudible whisper pulled him out of his deep thoughts, “what if I…”

Before you were able to finish your sentence, Kakashi hushed you with a sign as he pulled the blanket up to your chest, “Don’t say anything, love. I’m not going to let you…” And he trailed off, finding it hardly possible to continue what he was saying. You were still in pain, forehead scrunched up to restrain the groans from eliciting, tight fists hidden under the cover because you did not want him to be more distressed than he already was. Kakashi slouched his back, head dropping into his palms, cursing under his breath, “I should’ve come with you, should’ve been more careful, should’ve gotten you to the hospital sooner. I-I’m sorry, Y/N… Please, please just be okay.”

His words fell apart, slipping past his lips muffled and croaked. It had been a long while since he last felt the wet droplets tittering on the edge of his lash line—range and misery boiled in his veins as he swore to himself this would be the last time he would see you like this for as long as he was alive. He did not dare to look at you, not when he had to helplessly witness his dearest person suffering. Your breathing decelerated, the sweats beading your hairline and neck had long evaporated, and you fell asleep between his soft whispers, exhausted and drained.

Every hour passed with dread for everyone. Each time Tsunade came back to check on you set up a thin wall of hope but it all shattered shortly when she shook her head and withdrew out of the room. You were coughing less, but that did not ease the Copy Ninja because you were shriveling impossibly lifeless. You could not swallow whatever food they supplied, only able to intake water and intravenous fluid. It was after lunch when Tsunade knocked on the door—two days since you were brought to the hospital, one day since you went unconscious—and Kakashi went to slide it open for her. No longer displayed a hopeful expression, he could not bear the disappointment and emptiness from the Medic’s shake of her head. But this time, Tsunade came with good news.

“We found the antidote.”

A single sentence from the blonde levitated the somber atmosphere that was clouding Kakashi’s mind. A contented smile found its way across his lips—though covered by the mask, Tsunade could clearly see his pupil dilating and the furrow between his brows starting to slowly vanish. With a quick move, she injected the solution into your arm with Kakashi watching closely, not letting any details went unnoticed.

“The fever should be gone after lunch, I’m not quite sure when Y/N will wake up though. That depends on an individual’s ability to recover.” She stated, “You two take care.”

The silver-haired thanked the Godaime and shut the door after she had left for several seconds. Then, he went back for a quick shower—the last thing he wanted was you worrying for his enervated appearance after two days without rest—not forgetting to plant a kiss on your forehead before leaving. When he returned, Kakashi brought a basket of fresh fruits with him, carefully peeling oranges and placing them on a plate for you in advance. He even went as far as bringing your pillow because you would be staying for another few days, and he wanted to make you feel comfortable. After checking over everything, he leaned his head back and closed his eye, stealing a quick nap with your hand in his—so he would know when you wake up.

The moment your eyes fluttered open, you quickly scanned the room, and your gaze settled on the very Hatake sleeping peacefully, then to his fingers intertwining yours. You let out a soft breath, “Thank you, Kakashi.”

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

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @thenightfallingstar @iam-gaaras-loveintrest @animepickle7

[ponyam]

Heyyyyyy! I can’t express how much I love your writing honestly and I really want to request something if your still taking them. Could you do a Zhongli x reader? Zhongli takes reader on a date to propose to them and could you include the wedding too if that’s too much to ask? I would really appreciate it :)❤️❤️

thank you so much! and sorry this took so long omg

devout

zhongli x reader [gender neutral]

synopsis: zhongli takes you on a proposal-date and sweeps you of ur mfkn feet <3

cw: slightly suggestive towards the end, mentions of a [food] coma, i'm a sap

The light of the morning sun shone brightly, yet the air was brisk as it nipped at your cheeks. The crisp smell of sea air wafted in from the docks, while the rhythmic chime of ship’s bells echoed off the walls of buildings, indicating that sailors had risen to greet the day and the unruly tide that awaited them.

Your hand was pocketed with his, keeping your grip warm and secure as you walked closely together through the awakening streets of Liyue. At the brink of dawn, your lover began persistently nudging you awake, peppering your face in sweet kisses while promising you with an even sweeter meal as a form of bargain. How lucky he was that it appeared to have worked.

Mornings like this weren’t totally uncommon with Zhongli, however this seemingly newfound fervor for planning a whole day trip like this was a little out of the ordinary. When you asked him what the occasion was— out of slight concern that you might’ve forgotten it— he denied that there ever was one; he simply wanted to express his “love and adoration through a little quality time together.”

Before you could press any further, something had caught your lover’s attention, as you were suddenly being ushered in another direction. He escorted you to sit at one of the tables at the Wanmin Restaurant and, once you were settled, excused himself to order food, planting a quick peck to your cheek in the process. Looking around you noticed that the area wasn’t too crowded at this time of day; there was a certain peacefulness that had settled over the atmosphere that contrasted heavily with the normally bustling streets of the harbor. Perhaps that was what he intended by waking you up so damn early.

Breakfast was delicious, as promised. It also served to ease some of the bitterness you felt towards being jostled awake at the crack of dawn. Zhongli didn’t hold back, either. Anything and everything that you might like was placed on the table in front of you, and you weren’t sure how he was able to afford it, nor if you’d manage to finish it all without going into a coma.

On top of all that, your lover seemed to have brought his own food from home, though it was neatly wrapped and sat underneath the small table. Again, when you asked him about it— not having ever recalled him making it— his reply was as vague as ever; “oh it’s just a little something for later.”

After boxing all the leftovers from the meal that Chef Mao so kindly put together despite the large request, Zhongli offered to take you to visit Dihua Marsh to show you a few of his favorite sights, and maybe even enlighten you with some of the history as well.

There was something so enchanting about the way he spoke; his deep, honeyed voice coating over his words as he recounted tales of his many years of living. He exuded the calm and sophisticated aura of a scholar, which he practically was whether or not he chose to admit it, yet his occasional naivety and silliness were equally charming qualities of his.

You failed to realize how quickly you were drowning in his presence until he directed a question at you, which you had to embarrassingly ask him to repeat. Fortunately, Zhongli wasn’t irritated that you hadn’t been paying attention, in fact he found the dumbfounded expression you wore to be quite endearing.

“I said,” he began as he reached out, gently lifting your chin with his thumb and forefinger while tucking a few stray hairs and a glaze lily that he must’ve picked earlier, gently behind your ear.

He then leaned in, arms snaking around and pulling you towards him by the waist as his breath danced along the side of your neck, lips ghosting over your skin.

“...would you allow me to take you to see a few ruins with me? There is still so much that I wish to show you…”

A sudden tingle shot down your spine as Zhongli’s lips moved to decorate your neck in soft, delicate kisses that seemed to leave a burning imprint in their wake, leaving you slightly flushed. It was truly astonishing how easily he could leave you breathless, even with such little strenuous activity. His affectionate demeanor was slightly peculiar, too, but you were hardly in the position to complain about it.

“Then show me,” you replied, managing to tame the swarm of butterflies that had almost completely consumed you.

Letting out a deep chuckle, Zhongli withdrew his kisses while his hand moved to cup your cheek. He hummed in satisfaction, admiring you with his glowing amber gaze for a moment before speaking.

“Gladly.”

That afternoon was spent with Zhongli as your tour guide as you traversed the various decaying stone structures throughout the Guili Plains, Luhua Pool, and finally, Jueyun Karst, where Zhongli recalled some of his early memories of the adepti with a fond smile adorning his face. You quickly discovered him to be quite the archaeological expert, not that you ever doubted it of course, but he seemed to have quite the knack for uncovering intricate little mechanisms that had been hidden away and preserved in stone over the course of the last few millennia.

He was also very adamant about showing you many of Liyue’s great sights, and was not afraid to express this by taking you to every available vantage point, regardless of how far or out-of-reach it seemed. Even if you claimed to be exhausted, Zhongli would simply carry you the rest of the way because you were going to see this view. And what a view it was. From up high it was easy to take in almost the entirety of Liyue in all of its golden splendor, which was the original intention in bringing you here. This was something that he spent years constructing and cultivating, something he took great pride in and fought hard to protect. It was his world, and you were his crowned jewel.

As the sun was beginning to set, Zhongli escorted you back to the harbor before excusing himself to quickly go and “check something,” sending you off once again with a sweet kiss, and asking you to meet him at the peak of Mt. Tianheng in about twenty or so minutes. You smiled to yourself as you waved goodbye, curious as to what he had in mind and slightly amused by his frantic behavior. You thought back to your earlier denied inquiries regarding what was so special about today.

Perhaps now you would get some answers.

When you arrived at the rendezvous point, well, least to say you were taken aback. Laid out before you was a spread of a variety of your favorite foods, including desserts and a tea set, accompanied by an array of flickering candles that illuminated the small picnic blanket as well as the single glaze lily that grew nearby. Just past it stood the man that you had fallen in love with, his back turned as he watched the sun sink beneath the clouds.

“What’s all this?”

Immediately you caught his attention.

“Ah, there you are, my dear,” he said, turning slightly to face you. “Come here. I have something I’ve been meaning to show you.”

He extended his hand out towards you, a gesture for you to stand beside him. You approached him hesitantly in an attempt to not disturb the lovely display he had assembled for you, while letting his arm gently drape itself across your shoulders.

Your breath caught in your throat. By the Archons, the view was stunning. Sure, you had been sight-seeing all day and this could hardly be any different from the last dozen places you trekked to watch the skyline, but there was something about the way in which the glowing aura of the evening sky reflected off of Liyue and the twinkling sea of its harbor that left you in completely awestruck.

Had you not been quite as transfixed as you were in that moment, perhaps you would’ve caught sight of the distant, far-away look in your lover's eyes. Maybe you would have noticed the way he was fidgeting slightly, or the way his eyes were no longer trained on the view, but on something far more radiant.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, snapping him out of his trance.

Zhongli smiled, enjoying watching the awe and wonder twinkle in your irises.

“Indeed it is.”

You felt his arm lift away from your shoulders.

“But I think I have found something far more precious.”

You felt his hand slip into yours.

“Oh really? And what’s tha—”

When you turned, Zhongli, Rex Lapis, the former Geo Archon, was kneeling before you, regarding you with such an adoring gaze as if you were the deity to be revered, answering your question without needing to utter a single syllable: ‘You’

“(Y/N),” he began, giving your hands a light squeeze. “There is much I’ve been meaning to say to you, but I fear that I have such little time,” he sighed. “When I first gave up my gnosis, I found myself wandering aimlessly, unsure of my place in this world now that I was no longer Rex Lapis. I am now just a mortal man, with no duty to my people. It was a… foreign concept to me, at first. I wasn’t sure how to lead a carefree life, with a clear and resolute heart, until I met you.

“I never anticipated to meet someone quite like yourself, nor did I intend to fall in love as deeply as I have, but I hold no regrets. You have shown me true happiness, and for that I must thank you.”

Zhongli pressed a kiss to your knuckles as you felt your eyes begin to well up with tears.

“Each day spent with you is as valuable as gold to me. Our time together is boundless. I knew not my place in this world before, but I now realize that it has always been right here with you.”

He let out a shaky breath.

“(Y/N), my love, I cannot imagine a world without you in it, and I wish to form a new contract with you from here on out, so please…”

Reaching into his pocket, Zhongli produced a small, black box. Inside was a beautiful jade ring, crested and adorned with gold.

“...will you marry me?”

—

It was a warm summer’s night, and the moon rose full, its light ricocheting off of crystalline streams of water as they cascaded down the high cliffs which surrounded you. The air was humid, but somehow the combination of mist and the gentle night’s breeze made each inhale feel more rejuvenating than the last.

Fireflies were out tonight. They were dancing about you and your fiancé as you stood together side by side adorned in matching hanfu, rapidly beating hearts synchronizing to the same rhythm. It was a relatively quiet ceremony. There weren’t too many guests, and the venue was fairly secluded, making the process feel much more intimate.

After lighting the altar candles and paying respects, a tea ceremony was held, followed by the exchanging of vows. A few adepti were present, as well as some close friends and family members. Seldom did you release each other’s hand, regardless of what you were doing or who was looking. It provided a sense of security for the both of you, a silent reminder to one another that ‘yes, I’m still here, and yes, this is real.’

Although Zhongli is known for being a very composed gentleman, he still found it difficult to restrain himself from sweeping you off your feet and twirling you around while kissing you all over; he was overjoyed, though he was not the easiest person to read.

Instead of performing such an extravagant display of affection, Zhongli opted for a single, chaste kiss once you completed in saying your vows. It was extremely tempting to turn that one kiss into many, much more passionate kisses, but Zhongli was still quite aware of his audience, giving him reason to hold back.

After the wedding reception was held and you had just sent off the very last guest, your husband pulled you aside, albeit a little harsher than intended. You let out a small yelp as you collided with him, surprised by his sudden brazenness.

“You look divine,” he spoke softly, admiring you as you were bathed in moonlight.

A hand then moved to brush some of the hair away from your face, while his other remained gently clasped with yours. Soft lips moved to caress your forehead, and then your temples.

“I have been waiting for this moment for a long time,” he continued.

His lips then moved to your cheek, then jaw, lingering there for a moment while his hand cradled your face.

“Longer than you can imagine,” his voice was deep, sultry, and right in your ear.

He moved to repeat the same process on the other side of your face.

“So forgive me if I’m a little selfish tonight.”

He kissed the tip of your nose before moving his lips to hover over yours, warm breath mingling with your own.

“I must make up for the lost time, after all.”

Zhongli sealed his promise with a kiss that was deep and devouring, conveying all the emotions he had ever felt for you as well as one last, simple message:

'I am utterly and wholly devoted to you.'

[darling-i-read-it]

Gaze

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: violence, fighting, killing

Author’s Note: awe Kaz !!! Kaz! !!! I hope you enjoy love, this was a really good prompt. It’s a bit short, my apologizes!

Requested; by anon, Darling, I’m in need of some Kaz x reader, and your fics with him are always *chef’s kiss* so…… Maybe he and reader have such intense chemistry and can talk to each other with their eyes so easily that they don’t often actually speak to each other with words. During a mission, Kaz sees her fighting some guards so spectacularly that when she looks up at him afterward, he’s just saying it all in his eyes — how much he loves her and appreciates how well she understands him. They’re intimate in a way that doesn’t necessitate physical touch.

Summary: the request

Genre: fluff

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Jesper had always appreciated the way you understood Kaz. Sometimes it was too hard to read Dirtyhands but you always knew exactly what Kaz was thinking. It had always been that way. It seemed like when you and Kaz were near each other, you could reach each other's minds.

You finished each other’s thought process so much that it almost seemed like an inconvenience to explain it to the rest of the group. You and Kaz had known each other longer than the other crows had known each other and it showed.

You held your bow in your hand, looking around feverishly at the oncoming enemies. You pulled out another arrow and shot one through the head. They were dropping like flies. Good thing too because you weren’t sure how much longer you could do this for.

“I am running out of bullets Kaz!” Jesper called from somewhere behind you. His voice came with great comfort. At least he was alright for right now.

“Just one more moment!” you heard Kaz call over the commotion. You didn’t have the time to look around for Inej but you were sure she was silently slipping through the oncoming fight. You backed up, shooting the last of your arrows. You scoffed and tossed the bow to the side, pulling out your knives.

You were nowhere near Inej’s skill level with them but you could handle yourself. You slashed forward, doing a clean flip over someone and kicking someone else out of the way. You were laser focused, making sure that no one got a clean slash at you as you ducked and ran around. You stood up, looking around.

Mostly everyone was dead.

You looked up and met Kaz’s eyes as he opened the door he had been unlocking. You stared at each other for a second, even when Jesper ran between you, breaking your gaze for a moment. You blew a piece of hair out of your face and clenched your jaw, giving him a gentle nod. His eyes said it all. The appreciation he had for you and his crows, getting through this mostly unscathed. The love he had for you in his heart. He held out his gloved hand and you took it, letting him help you up into the next room. Inej had slipped in too, though you didn’t see her when she did. She was good at that.

“Everyone alright?” you asked. They nodded.

“We need to make sure-” you started.

“I already checked,” Kaz said, walking past you. You nodded. “But Inej did you go up the-”

“I did. Everything’s clear,” you said. Kaz nodded once.

“What?! What is it we need to do next? Use your words!” Jesper said, leaning against the wall as he caught his breath. You nodded, laughing gently.

“Sorry Jes.”

“Move to the next room Jesper and watch west. Inej, you know what to do,” Kaz said. You met his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” you said. Jesper scoffed.

“You two are really annoying sometimes,” he muttered. Inej nudged him.

“I think it’s cute,” she teased. You rolled your eyes. It was time to move.

===

You sat at the Crow Club later that night. You were watching Jesper as he gambled all of today’s earnings away. Kaz had instructed you to stop him before he lost it all so you were watching carefully, doing a mental count in your head.

“You and Kaz could tear it up here with your little telepathy thing,” Jesper said, eyes focused on the cards on the table. He did a small hand movement to convey telepathy.

“We don’t do telepathy, we just know each other well,” you explained.

“No, I know you both well. Not enough to read your thoughts.” He looked up. “Speak of the devil.” You followed his gaze to watch Kaz walk over, his cane tight in his hand. You met his gaze. He raised his eyebrow. Has Jesper lost it all?

You shook your head.

“Not yet,” you said.

“See!” Jesper said, making a big show with his hands. “What were you answering? He didn’t ask anything!” You rolled your eyes. Kaz sat down around the table, putting his cane on his lap.

“What am I saying now Y/N?” Kaz asked. You met his gaze again and he glanced at the cards on the table. You looked down as well.

“Jesper you’re losing,” you said.

“What? No I’m...damn you Brekker.” You pat Jesper’s shoulder and stood.

“Time to turn in for the night, Jes.” Kaz nodded.

“Or else I’m going to get involved.”

“Go do your mind reading love thing somewhere else,” Jesper said. “I’m going one more round.”

Grishaverse Tag List: @elisaa-shelby, @chameleon-junkie

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

In This Lifetime And The Next (S.CB)

Warnings : talk of past life, mention of death

Word Count : 5040

Synopsis : they just wanted to learn about their past lives, but found friendships and love that have lasted lifetime after lifetime.

Author’s Note : honestly i kept deleting and rewriting this before settling on this. it’s not exactly what i had in mind, but i still hope you enjoy! thank you for all the love recently! 

A sense of déjà vu took over her mind when his eyes met hers; it was so strong she was tempted to ask him if they had met before, but there was no sense of recognition in his eyes, so she didn’t. She couldn’t help but notice how extraordinarily handsome the familiar stranger looked. Muscular but not too much, with a bright smile that seemed to calm her heart. She felt at home. “Do you have anything to help learn about past lives?” He asked. His voice was so unique she would recognize it even in a crowd of screaming people.

           “Depends on what you’re looking for. If you’re looking into past lives in general, I have some books in the back corner. But if you want to learn about your past life specifically, I do readings.” His smile seemed to widen at this new information. His smile was addicting; so much so she would have done anything to see it again.

           “A reading would be perfect! Anyway to set up a reading for 8 people?” She looked through her schedule really quickly before deciding to schedule him and his friends in on the upcoming Sunday. “We’ll be here! Noon you said?” She nodded and then watched as he practically ran out of the store into the only car in the parking lot. Business had been rather slow the past week, but she no longer seemed to mind, her mind drifting to the handsome stranger she couldn’t wait to see again.

           When she pulled into the parking lot right before noon on Sunday, she was surprised to see the 8 boys already there. The clients that usually booked readings with her would usually be late, if they showed at all, so seeing them all there before her was quite a shock. “My apologies, I’m usually here earlier.”

           “No apology needed. We were early because we’re excited.” The handsome stranger, Changbin she would soon learn, replied. The 9 of them piled into her shop, moving to the back room where she had a round table set up specifically for her readings.

           As everyone took their seats and she began to set up, her eyes grazed across each new face, the same sense of déjà vu taking over her mind. It felt as if she knew these men, as if they’ve sat around a table like this before. “I’m used to doing readings for one or two people at a time, so this may take a couple of hours, is everyone okay with that?” She began, trying to make eye contact with each person at the table, but her eyes seemed to drift towards Changbin. She was nervous, but every time their eyes met, she seemed to calm down. It was only their second meeting, but he felt like home.

           “There’s no rush. We figured it would take a while so none of us made plans for the day.” One of the other guys spoke up. He too seemed to have a calming smile; one she couldn’t help but return. “Does anyone want to volunteer to go first?” He then asked, his attention turning to his friends. He seemed to be the dad friend, the guy that keeps everyone in line.

           “I’ll go.” The man with the long, brown hair tied in a half pony spoke up, standing from his seat and take the one beside her.

           “After the reading is complete, you may have a headache due to your brain trying to unlock these forgotten memories.” She explained before holding out her hand for him to take. “Let’s start with your name.”

           “Hwang Hyunjin.” He answered as he slid his hand into hers, taking note of how soft they seem to be. Holding her hand seemed comforting in a way, and he relaxed with her touch.

           “It seems as if you were a prince in your very first life; set to marry the princess of the neighbouring kingdom.” She began, a smile taking over her face.

           “I wish we did not have to wed.” The princess complained as her and the prince took a walk through the gardens, careful not to speak too loudly so no one would report back to the king. “Do not mistake my words, Hyunjin, I do love you, but I love you the way I love my brother.” He chuckled, taking a short glance towards her before continuing to look forwards, appreciating the work his gardener had put in.

           “I am not offended, princess. I too love you the way one loves a sibling.” She was delighted to hear his words, knowing that the two of them were on the same page. “Unfortunately, we must wed and join our kingdoms. I am happy it is you, though, princess. I quite enjoy your company around the palace. It is less lonely with you around.” She beamed up at him before looking down to her hands clasped in front of her as she walked.

           “My heart does belong to another.” She admitted, now afraid to meet Hyunjin’s eyes. “Before I left my palace to come here, I was seeing my chef.” She confessed, daring a quick look into Hyunjin’s eyes.

           “You love him?” He asked, not even a hint of anger in his voice. She seemed to glow as she answered, and Hyunjin couldn’t help the happiness that seemed to swell inside of him. “Tell me your love story, princess.” She excitedly told her story, Hyunjin listening to every word. He loved the princess, he truly did, but it was a platonic kind of love, a protective kind of love. “Shall I hire him here so you can continue your relationship?”

           “You would do that for me?” She asked, looking up at him with wide, puppy dog eyes. He would gift her the entire universe if she asked while looking up at him like that; if it was a possibility of course.

           “I would do anything for you, princess.”

           “The platonic love you two shared seems to have lasted many lifetimes.” She continued, meeting Hyunjin’s wide eyes.

           “You mean to tell me I was a prince, and my princess chose a chef over me?” He jokingly asked, causing everyone to let out a chuckle.

           “He was her soulmate.” She answered simply. Her attention then turned to everyone at the table, closing her eyes as flashes of what seemed like past memories came to her. “It seems that you all have shared your first life together.” They all exchanged looks. “You’ve shared all your lives together.

           The room fell silent as the 8 men exchanged looks with each other. She sat there, her eyes still closed as more and more memories flash across her mind. It felt as if someone was standing on top of her chest as her eyes popped open. Changbin’s eyes were the first ones she met when her eyes opened, a look of concern lacing his features. “Are you alright?” He asked, reaching as far across the table as he could.

           “I’m just fine. My apologies. Shall we move onto the next person?” Hyunjin stood from the chair beside her as the blond boy on the other side of the table moved to take the seat. Just as she did with Hyunjin, she held out her hand and asked for his name, taking in his facial features. His small nose and cheeks seemed to be covered with freckles, similar to those she covered on her own face.

           “Lee Yongbok, but I go by Felix.” He answered, sliding his hand into hers. She smiled warmly at him as a new set of memories flooded her mind.

           “It seems as if you were also a prince in your first life. You were the twin brother of the princess set to marry Hyunjin.” She began, delving into the memories flooding her brain.

           “Yongbok oppa!” The princess exclaimed as the butler announced his arrival during breakfast. A bright smile took over his face as his eyes met his sister’s. “What brings you to the palace?”

           “Why I missed my sister of course.” He beamed, opening his arms for a hug that she happily accepted. Hyunjin stood from his spot at the head of the table and walked towards the siblings, greeting his future brother-in-law with a handshake. “I am delighted to see my sister is being well taken care of.”

           “Of course. She is my princess and a future queen; she will be treated as such.” Hyunjin said matter-of-factly, a warm smile taking over his handsome features as he gazed at the princess standing next to her brother.

           “How are the wedding preparations? I have been told the wedding is only a couple days away.” The two of them nodded before going over all that has been done and the little that has yet to be done.

           “It shall be a grand wedding. Only the best for my princess.” Hyunjin held out his hand for the princess to take. When she slid her hand into his, he brought it to his lips as placed a short kiss to the top of it. “Would you like to join us for breakfast?” With his free hand, Hyunjin gestured to the large table next to them.

           “It would be my pleasure.” He beamed, taking the seat directly across from his sister’s as the chef brought out an extra serving. “Is that not the chef from Father’s palace?” Yongbok asked, recognizing the manly features of the chef that disappeared back into the kitchen.

           “The princess spoke very highly of him, so I asked if the king would mind if I hired him here.” Hyunjin and the princess exchanged knowing glances, ones that Yongbok noticed but didn’t mention. He went on pretending as if the lie he was just told was true, not even bothering to look into it further. As long as his sister was happy, he was happy.

           “Though in other lifetimes the two of you may not have been siblings, everyone around you seems convinced that you are. You two have always been much too similar, and you always put her happiness before your own. But she does the same.” She explained, her heart swelling with joy when her eyes met Felix’s.

           “I hope I’ll meet her in this life too!” He exclaimed with the brightest smile she’s ever seen, comparable to the sun.

           “It’s destined of course. Just as the 8 of you have lived all your lives together, this girl has also been apart of every life. She’s an important part of your lives.”

           “I can’t believe our friendship was written in the stars.” Felix beamed as he switched seats with a cold looking man.

           “This sounds like a load of crap, but let’s do it I guess.” He shrugged, holding his hand out for her to take. “Lee Minho.” He answered before she could ask.

           “I understand the skepticism.” She said nonchalantly as she slid her hand into his. As their hands connected, more memories flashed before her eyes, memories of secret dates and stolen kisses, memories where the girl’s face is blurry, but is slowly becoming clearer. Maybe they were brought to her so she could help them find their missing link; the girl in each of their forgotten memories. “You were the butler at Hyunjin’s palace.” There was a few snickers that died out just as quickly as they came as Minho shot them each a glare. “You were actually quite close to Hyunjin, and even closer to the princess.”

           “Sit with me, Minho.” The princess ordered, patting the seat next to her on the couch. Since she’s been staying at the palace, she’s grown close to Minho and his young son. They give her a sense of family that she misses.

           “What is the itinerary today, princess?” He asked as he sat beside her. She smiled as she spoke of the things she needed to get done before the wedding the next day. “It is hard to believe that the wedding has already come. It seems as if just yesterday you arrived at the palace.” Minho beamed at the young princess who returned his heartwarming smile.

           “I will never be able to thank you enough for making me so comfortable here.”

           “Your friendship and kindness towards my son is more than enough.”

           “It is time for the final dress fitting, princess.” One of the many maids announced. The princess nodded, standing to follow her before asking Minho to come along.

           “I would appreciate a male opinion.” Minho hesitated, but there was a soft spot in his heart for the kind-hearted princess that made him unable to say no to her.

           “I do not know much about women’s fashion, but I will do my best.” He smiled as he followed the princess and the maid into another room. He sat on one of the chairs as she disappeared into yet another room and got changed into her dress. It was a dress specifically made for her, fitted to her exact measurements, and it was obvious to Minho when she stepped out. He was absolutely speechless at the beauty she possessed. “Absolutely breathtaking, princess.” A blush rose to her cheeks as she hid her face in embarrassment.

           “I own many gowns, but none fit me quite like this.” She said out loud, mostly to herself, as she stared at herself in the mirror. For the first time in her life, she truly felt like a princess.

           “You will steal the show. Eyes will not be able to leave your figure tomorrow, princess.” Minho said, taking her side and looking at them in the mirror. “You are a true beauty; no one can compare.”

           “Oh my god, Minho was trying to steal my girl!” Hyunjin jokingly exclaimed, his hands clapping over his mouth in his usual dramatic fashion as laughter erupted from the table.

           “What did I say?” Minho asked, glaring at Hyunjin, who’s laughter quickly faded as he answered.

           “20 minutes at 180 degrees; that’s how you cook Hyunjin in the air fryer.” Minho seemed pleased with his answer as he turned back to the girl holding his hand, waiting for her to continue.

           “Hyunjin isn’t too far off.” She giggled. “You actually date her in a few of your shared lifetimes, though you both realize the love you share is strictly platonic.” Minho’s eyes widen.

           “Have we dated in this lifetime?” He asked, his skepticism fading completely.

           “I can’t tell for sure.” She answered honestly.

         “My turn!” Another one of the boys stood excitedly, a wide smile on his face causing his eyes to almost disappear completely. She felt a sense of protectiveness for him take over her body. She knew that if anyone were to hurt this boy now sitting beside her where Minho once sat, she wouldn’t hesitate in fighting. “Yang Jeongin!” He practically shouted his name as he grabbed her hand and looked at her with a sense of wonder, as if she had just told him she put all the stars in the sky.

           “Looks like we have another prince.” She smiled as his forgotten memories floated in her mind. “You were actually Hyunjin’s younger brother in your first life.”

           “Jeongin, are you bothering the princess again?” Hyunjin scolded from the doorway from Jeongin’s room where the two sat on the couches set up across from his bed and gossiped.

           “Of course not! If anything, you are bothering us!” Jeongin bit back with a teasing smile on his face. Hyunjin scoffed, holding his hand over his heart in feigned pain, causing the princess to let out a giggle.

           “We were just talking.” The princess explained with an innocent smile on her face. “In fact, he was in the middle of telling me some very interesting stories from your childhood.”

           “Yah!” Hyunjin exclaimed, stalking towards the younger boy who stood up quickly, many apologies leaving his lips as he laughed. It was the first time the princess had seen Hyunjin act so carefree and casual, and she quite liked it. Watching the brother’s interact as if they were just regular people instead of royal blood warmed her heart and reminded her of home.

           “Please do not harm him!” She exclaimed with a giggle. “I was rather excited to hear how it ended.” Both boys turned to look at her; Jeongin wearing a wide smile while Hyunjin wore a look of embarrassment.

           “What story was he even telling?” He asked as he took a seat next to her. Jeongin took his original spot across from her, a smirk on his lips as he took a sip of the tea in front of him. “No, not that one.” Hyunjin whined noticing the smirk on his brother’s face.

           “I already told her of the time you fell off your horse into a pile of his poop.” He chuckled, as did the princess when she remembered the story.

           “Is that all you two do when you get together? Gossip about me?” The princess reached over and took his hand in hers, rubbing small circles into his hand with her thumb, calming him down almost instantly.

           “Laughing about your misfortune is how we bond, yes.” Jeongin answered with a teasing tone laced in his voice. Before the princess could say anything in defence of Jeongin, Hyunjin was already up and chasing Jeongin who stood as Hyunjin did to run away.

           “You two have always had a teasing relationship whether you were brothers or friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the same in this life as well.”

           “It is.” The other 6 answered in unison, causing her to let out a soft giggle, shaking her head. Some things really never change, and that gives her a sense of home. The longer she sat with the 8 of them, the more she felt at home with them, as if the 9 of them belonged together, sharing stories, and laughing at the memories.

           “Can I go next?” The boy with adorable chubby cheeks, comparable to a squirrel, asked. She waved him over, patting the chair Jeongin stood from not long ago. He nervously sat down, holding out his hand for her to take when she was ready.

           “You nervous?” She asked softly, hoping the others wouldn’t hear, but the room was near silent as each of them waited for their turn. He slowly nodded his head, barely meeting her eyes. “You don’t have to do this.” She told him.

           “I want to!” He quickly exclaimed, his eyes widening. “I’m a little nervous, but I really want to know. My name is Han Jisung.” He smiled and she took his hand, returning his smile with one of her own.

           “You were a gardener.” She spoke slowly, allowing the memories to come to her. “The royals spoke highly of you, but you refused to leave Hyunjin’s palace, even when offered more pay. It seems like you may have had a crush on the princess.” Jisung’s cheeks tinged with pink as she spoke.

           “It gets prettier and prettier out here.” The princess beamed as she approached Jisung. “No wonder all the royals speak greatly of you, Han Jisung.” The boy met her eyes with a rosy blush dusting his cheeks.

           “I am happy you like my work, princess, but the beauty of the all the flowers can never compare to the beauty you possess.” She gave him a sweet smile as blush dusted her own cheeks at the sweet compliment.

           “You flatter me, Jisung. I hear every flower has a meaning.” He nodded and watched as her face lit up as she asked him to go over the meaning of each of the flowers in the palace garden. “If you have the time of course.” She added, not wanting him to extend his work day in account of her curiosity.

           “I will always have time for you, princess. Shall we start with this one?” She nodded excitedly as he took her around the garden, explaining the meaning behind each flower. The prince watched them from afar, a content smile on his face. It has been so long since he’s seen the princess smile this way.

           “You look so pretty when you smile, my dear princess.” Her and Jisung met Hyunjin’s eyes as he walked towards them, his hands behind his back. Jisung greeted him with a quick bow, apologizing if he overstepped. “If the princess is happy, I believe there is no reason to apologize. You have worked here for a while now, Jisung. You are like family.” Jisung thanked Hyunjin with a smile. “Though, I must steal the princess. Your parents shall be arriving for dinner soon.” She nodded and bid Jisung goodbye.

           “I hope we can continue another day.” Jisung nodded, saying she is welcome anytime.

           “It’s truly an innocent crush that never develops past that, and a beautiful friendship is created in each lifetime.” She finishes, looking at the adorable man in front of her with a soft smile.

           Not much is said as they move on to the next; Bang Chan as he introduced himself. The dad friend that explained they had the day for the readings. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a break?” He asked, looking at her with worry in his eyes.

           “I’m fine, thank you though.” As she grabbed his hand, memories that seemed to belong to her filled her head. Memories of Chan taking her into his arms as she cried, memories of him bringing food to her place because she was working too hard. She had to force herself not to yank her hand away and search through these memories of hers to find the ones belonging to him. “You were the leader of the palace troops.”

           “Princess, it is too dangerous for you to be out here alone.” Chan called out to the princess who sat on the wide, wooden swing, staring up at the stars littering the night sky.

           “I am not alone if you are here, Chan.” She smiled, patting the spot beside her. He hesitated but sat down regardless of the voices telling him not to. “Doesn’t the night sky look absolutely stunning tonight?” He looked away from her side profile and looked up to the night sky, agreeing almost immediately with her observation. “This is why I love this palace more than my own. The night sky does not look nearly as pretty as it does here.” Their eyes met as they both looked away from the sky.

           “You really should not come out here alone, princess.” He warned her again, knowing deep inside she wouldn’t follow his instructions. She’s different than the other royals, but he finds her quirks rather endearing. He finds her a perfect match for Hyunjin, already noticing a difference in the prince he’s known for many years. She brought out the best in Hyunjin, glimpses of the Hyunjin Chan once knew before responsibilities fell into his lap with his parent’s sudden passing.

           “Then will you join me when I want to look at the stars?” She asked with a look of hope in her eyes. A look so innocent, so pure, Chan couldn’t seem to say no. “Shall we go back now?” Chan nodded, standing from the swing, and offering her his hand to help her stand. She took it with the same grace she’s been taught from a young age. “I will see you tomorrow, then. There are rumours of a meteor shower.”

           “Tomorrow.” He smiled as she turned and headed for her room.

           “You protect her in every lifetime.” She whispers, tears welling up in her eyes as she slowly comes to the realization that maybe, just maybe, she’s the princess. Maybe she is the missing link to their group.

           Her eyes drifted towards Changbin once again, wondering if he would be the infamous chef that is the princess’ soulmate. Maybe the sense of déjà vu she felt when she first saw him, the sense of feeling like she was finally home, was because he was the soulmate she’s been waiting for. He was right in front of her, and she didn’t know how to tell them; so she didn’t.

           The man who goes by Kim Seungmin took the seat beside her after Chan stood up. He slowly slid his hand into hers, hesitant in hearing what she would have to say about his past life. “You were the princess’ tutor.” She explained, her smile lost in the memories she can’t get out of her mind.

           “This story was absolutely delightful, Seungmin! Please tell me there are more like it.” The princess exclaimed, sliding the book across the table towards Seungmin. He glanced down at the title before reaching into the bag he brought with him, pulling out a similar story, one he knew she would love even more than the previous one.

           “I brought this one for you today, princess. I do believe it is just your taste.” She clapped her hands together as she took the book from his hands, her fingers tracing the words that make up the title.

           “It sounds marvelous.”

           “What was it about the previous story that you enjoyed so much?” He asked, the work they were supposed to do leaving his mind completely as he wondered more about the princess they call an oddball.

           “The idea of running away with the love of your life that the world does not think is your match. It seems so romantic. A part of me wonders what it would be like to be on the run with your lover by your side.”

           “Does the princess have a lover that is not the prince?” He continued to pry, knowing he was crossing a line he shouldn’t, but in this moment, the two seemed more like friends. He was truly curious about the princess who doesn’t act like a princess.

           “Do not be silly, Seungmin. I truly love Hyunjin.” He could tell she was lying, and he wondered who had stolen her heart. Maybe it was the gardener he saw giving her flowers before a tutoring session one day. Or maybe it was the butler that seemed to shower her in compliments and look at her like she puts the stars in the sky while she plays with his son. Could it possibly be the infamous chef he hears about? The one Hyunjin hired from her old palace? There was even the leader of the palace troops who seemed to have a soft spot for her as well. Hyunjin’s younger brother is also a likely candidate.

           She seemed to collect hearts just by being herself and not conforming to what society deems as appropriate for a princess. Anyone that comes into contact with her seems to gain a soft spot for her, Seungmin included.

           He knew she was lying but pretended he didn’t. “The two of you make a beautiful couple. I hope for a long, happy marriage.” She nodded with a smile that wasn’t as bright as before.

           “You could say you knew her better than she knew herself, even if you two didn’t consider each other close friends. There has always been things you can read from her reactions that others can’t decipher.”

           “Like the way I can tell you aren’t fine?” He asked as he raised a brow. She tried her best to fake a smile, but Seungmin could see right passed it. “Don’t bother with the fake smile, Y/N.” Her heart began to pound as she blinked back the tears that so desperately wanted to fall.

           “I’m just tired.” She lied. Seungmin knew she lied, but he didn’t say a word. He just gave her a knowing look as he stood, letting the final man take the seat. Changbin grabbed both her hands, meeting her eyes.

           “If you’re too tired, I can come back another time.” Her heart seemed to calm in his presence. In that moment she knew.

           “You were the chef.” She whispered, no longer able to hold the tears back, allowing them to fall as Changbin tried his best to wipe them away. “You’re the one the princess fell in love with. You’re her soulmate.”

           “How does this taste, my love?” He asked with a smile, holding a spoon up to her mouth for her to taste his newest experiment. Her eyes widened with shock as the delicious flavour took over her tastebuds.

           “Absolutely magnificent.” She beamed, leaning forward, and pressing a quick kiss on his lips. “The food you make is always spectacular. Worry not!” He returned her bright smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

           “I just want the food for your wedding to be memorable.” Her heart dropped at the thought of marrying someone who wasn’t Changbin, while he watched in the shadows.

           “If it is made by you, it will be.” Her voice softened. “But I do not want to spend our time talking about my marriage to another.” She looked to the ground, tears welling up in her eyes. Changbin softly grabbed her chin with his thumb and forefinger, bringing her eyes to meet his once more.

           “Then we will talk about how irrevocably in love with you I am, princess.” He smiled, connecting their lips in a passion filled kiss that last a second too short. “How I could spend eternity kissing you and loving you and never get bored.” He kissed her again. “No one in this world can ever compare to you, my love.” Another kiss. “I will love you in this lifetime, and the next.”

           “And all the others after that.” She added before pressing her lips to his in yet another kiss.

           “It’s a love that lasts eternity.” She whispers. “A love people write stories and songs about. Everyone searches for a love that’s as true and as strong as the one you share with the princess.”

           “You’re the princess, aren’t you?” He asks, both his hands cupping her face and wiping the tears that have yet to stop falling. No one at the table makes a sound as they’ve all come to the same conclusion. The sense of déjà vu they felt when they saw her making sense. Memories that were once forgotten flooding all of their minds as they watch a love that’s lasted centuries blossom once more.

[fandom-monium]

i finished for the holidays and i just *chefs kiss* beautiful talented amazing sajkgdkj no words i love that romance wasnt even the main point 🥺💘 anyway i love how you write reader and i wondered between her and spencer who gets jealous???

Unrivaled

Summary: In which you seem pretty close with the new intern, and Spencer is not happy about it. (ft. one of my fave white bois) “Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"

WC: 3.6k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, Jealous!Spencer bc id like to see that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, the lightest implication of smut ever, points to yall who can guess who the intern is before reading the end or the tags 😉

—

Spencer is not jealous. He’s not.

Why would he be? 

He has no reason to be jealous, Spencer chants to himself as he sits at his desk. Even from across the bullpen he still manages to hear your voice, and while normally it’s music to his ears, even better than Mozart, now it just feels like nails against a chalkboard. Grating his eardrums, making him wince.

Because you’re laughing. Not with Spencer though. Not at his obscure references or lame jokes.

With the new intern.

Why did Emily have to put you in charge of him? She could’ve chosen anyone on the team to have him shadow, but it had to be you! Not that you’re incapable or unqualified; you’re experienced, talented, and the best person he knows. 

… Okay, he can see why she picked you.

Why do they even have interns? Unnecessary, really, when the BAU has you and him and he guesses the other teams too (it’s weird, he’s never actually interacted with them but whatever). Maybe it’s time to start making budget cuts. He’ll discuss this with Emily when he gets the chance. He’s got some influence, working at the BAU as long as he has.

But he’s not jealous. 

Logically, jealousy (like an intern) is unnecessary. The green-eyed monster (like an intern) is ugly and contributes nothing productive, and if Spencer’s being honest, the world (like an intern) would be much better off without it.

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself as he downs his coffee like a shot of whiskey, trying to quell the squirming beast in him. Despite 90% of it being sugar, it still tastes bitter. He sets his mug down with a thud, and it’s loud enough to make Luke, Garcia, and JJ turn their heads, exchanging concerned glances when he slumps back in his chair.

Spencer doesn’t care. The world’s ending; you’re apparently into younger guys, with neat dark hair and forearms that can probably snap someone’s neck, and he can’t do anything about it. What does it matter if his best friends catch him in a sour mood, right?

“Hey, Spence,” JJ's tone is soft as they slink over, Garcia and Luke leaning against the edge of his desk and JJ flanking the other side. “You alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer gazes past them, his eyes never leaving you. He deflates; your stance is relaxed, completely open as you nod at whatever Intern is saying, his hands gesturing spastically. It must be interesting, the way you listen with rapt attention and respond just as enthusiastic.

Spencer scoffs. Not like that’s anything special. You do the same for him. And the rest of the team.

...What the hell are you guys talking about? 

“Well, you look like you’re about to throw your mug across the room. Or at an intern.”

Spencer blinks, finally breaking away from you long enough to eye the ceramic octopus. “That’s a good idea actually.”

“Don’t,” Garcia and JJ both shoot him a warning and he huffs, resting his chin in his hand. Garcia looks horrified, betrayed even while JJ has that expression on, the one she gives when she scolds Henry and Michael.

Whatever. It’s not like he’d ever sacrifice Mildred. Garcia entrusted her to him, after all. 

Unless...?

No, he couldn’t… Maybe.

“You know, Reid, if you’re jealous—”

Spencer snaps his head to Garcia, eyes wide and darting to you like you have super-hearing, “Jealous? Who’s jealous? Not me.” He cringes, his voice octaves higher and cracking like a prepubescent boy.

Garcia snorts, “Okay, sure. But if you are jealous, I was going to say you have no reason to be. You wanna know why?” Spencer raises an eyebrow at her and she continues, “Sure the guy’s smart enough to get a full-ride scholarship at GWU, and he’s top of his class at the academy—”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

"And he’s one of the most good looking guys I've ever met—”

"How is that relevant—"

Luke frowns at her. "And have you met me?"

“My point is,” Garcia’s red lipstick curls into the most reassuring smile, “that you have nothing to worry about because (Your Name) loves you. A lot.” 

Spencer perks up. “You really think so?”

“I know so. I see the way they look at you, and if that’s not love I don’t know what is," She shrugs, "And just because they’re talking doesn’t mean they’re into him.”

There's a collective nod of agreement and Spencer sags in relief. Of course they're right. He knows they are. 

If you think about it, technically, he's got the advantage. You've known each other longer, bonded and shared experiences together good and bad, and you’re emotionally and even physically intimate with each other (something he's especially proud of, considering how long it takes you both to warm up to others).

And who knows? This is probably temporary! Whatever this is, the connection you seem to instantly make with Intern (faster than when you two had met, he realizes with a needle to his heart) is short-term at best. It'll peter out eventually, like most friendships do.

It’s sad, but a cruel fact of life.

(Is this selfish, wishful thinking? Nah.)

They’re right, there is no need to worry, Spencer thinks as a weight lifts off his chest, finally able to breathe. You love him and he loves you and eventually, everything will go back to normal. 

There’s nothing to worry about.

—

The world’s ending.

“It’s really not.”

Yes, it is.

“Doc, come on.”

“Do not ‘Doc’ me,” Spencer grumbles, lifting his head from the comfort of his arms. He grimaces at Luke. “You didn’t see the way they looked at him. The way they talk about him.”

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since you’ve taken Intern under your wing, and he’s had enough. If Hell is real, this is it. For days, he’s tried to resume some form of normalcy, and he was never one to be bold but desperate times call for desperate measures as he asks you out for lunch or invites you out on dates, even stuff he wouldn’t normally do because they’re more your thing. Something, anything to get you away from Intern. But...

At work: “Hey Spence, I'm teaching Intern (menial task that a 4 year old could do). Would you like to help—”

During break: “I’m taking Intern out for lunch. He’s still new to town, and I thought he could use a tour—”

In bed: “Did you know Intern’s a huge fan of Star Wars—”

Snap, and there went his patience.

Intern this, Intern that. 

Spencer could tolerate this at work. At least he’s saving lives, being productive, getting paid. But under his roof? In his bed? 

That was the last straw.

Spencer's not one to wish ill on another, he's not like that. But if something happened to the guy, say, get injured in the field, perhaps from a "stray" bullet, he'd be intern-ally grateful. Heh. 

"Hey, you good?"

Spencer sighs, swiping a hand over his face and turning back to Luke. "Yeah, why?"

Luke waves a hand at his face, eyebrow raised, "For a second there, you kind of had a scary look on your face."

"Did I? Weird."

"Right," Clearly unconvinced, Luke brushes it off, deciding to get to the root of the matter. "As I was saying, I still think you have nothing to worry about. Although, I do think it's a little weird that (Your Name) is talking about Intern as much as you say they are." He offers Spencer a little smile, his hand falling heavy on his shoulder. It's the most comforting touch he's had in two weeks. "I'm not one to talk, but I suggest you speak to them. I'd also be uncomfortable if my partner were talking up someone else."

Spencer blinks, squints at Luke, before gripping his hand and standing up. "Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"

"You can stand to mention it more often," Luke shrugs, eyes crinkling with amusement as Spencer lets go and heads for the door. 

"Noted."

—

Spencer nearly goes feral when he finds you.

Of course you're with him.

He searched the floor like a bloodhound, discovering you've been on your feet almost the entire day, running around the office, up and down the elevators, finishing your work and helping around. You must be exhausted. It's because of this he tracks you to your favorite break room, mostly quiet save for the buzzing drip of the old coffeemaker. He knows you need to be alone sometimes, recharge those social batteries.

So when he bursts into the room like he would hunting an unsub, eyes quickly scanning the immediate space, he expects nothing less but you. What he did not anticipate was to find you, just as soft and pretty as ever under the fluorescent lighting, leaning against the counter and sipping daintily at your favorite mug. 

With Intern standing a little too close to his liking.

“Hey, Spencer,” You chirp as you lower your coffee mug, lips glossy from your drink. Spencer's quick to shake his stupor―he can’t afford to be distracted, but it’s difficult when you’re beaming at him, clearly excited. You nod at the home-wrecker, “Me and Intern here were just talking about demonology and he’s got this interesting theory on werewolves―" Lycanthropy? Are you fucking kidding him right now? 

Just when he thought he couldn't hate the guy any more.

"CanItalktoyou?" It comes out rushed as Spencer gasps between breaths, leaving no room to second guess himself.

"Sure," You blink at his urgent tone.

For a second, you watch him expectantly, and Spencer's gaze darts between you and Intern. "Alone?"

"Oh! Okay. Be gone," You wave Intern off, and when you place a hand on his shoulder, Spencer sees red. Or green in this case.

Intern doesn't resist, but the noise Spencer releases is animalistic because the guy can’t seem to read the room, questioning you as you gently shove him towards the door. "What about the thing―"

"We'll talk about that later."

"But you still need to show me how to―"

"Don't worry, Intern. Just wait for me, I'll show you once the adults are done talking."

"You know at some point you're gonna have to call me by my name." 

"Nah. If we get to call Luke a newbie, we get to call you Intern. Also I do not know how to say your first name."

 "You could just call me St―"

Enough of this. Spencer closes the last stretch of distance, batting your hand away from Intern’s shoulders as he kicks him out himself, slamming the door in his face. Spencer turns on his heel to face you, caging you both. “You―” He pants, chest heaving for air.

“Me?”

“You-him-we―”

You’re unfazed, simply nodding at him and his odd behavior. If anything, you’re enjoying this as your lips twitch in a poor attempt to withhold your amusement, trying to cover it with a slurp of your cup. Then again, it’s not everyday you get to see Spencer, face flushed from exertion, speechless as he gasps for breath.

(At least not at work… In the break room specifically.)

It takes a minute as Spencer swallows a few times, but his heart’s erratic and it’s not just from running through the entire building. When he’s got enough air, he blurts out, “Did I do something?”

Your brow shoots up. “What?”

“Did I forget something important? Upset you in some way?”

“No? I don’t think so?” You frown at him, your answers more like questions. 

It only spurs him on, and though his tone is frantic and his eyes just as wild as his hair, you’re more intrigued than frightened. Definitely confused.

“Okay, but you know I love you, right?”

“Yes and I love you too but Spence, what’s this about?" Setting down your mug, you look at him like he's grown another head.

Spencer sighs, "I just… you…" He frowns, glancing between you, the floor, and the empty space between you. 

Spencer Reid is a man of words. Many, many words, according to all his friends and his coworkers. Mainly knowledge―he's never been great with feelings―but as you gaze at him, patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts, he wants to melt into the floor. There's not a hint of annoyance on your features, your eyes warm and inviting. 

He's so in love with you.

Then like scripture the words come, natural without much stuttering or hesitancy. He recounts the last two weeks. The internship so far, the times you've left Spencer behind for him, the times you just talked about him, like the guy (practically a stranger) is your new best friend. Usually, pretty people make him tongue-tied and you do―god, you do―but at the same time only you make it so easy. Talking, expressing without fear of―

"Pfft―"

―Judgement. Pausing mid-sentence, Spencer gawks as your nose twitches and your blink rate increases. You purse your lips, a hand slapped over your mouth as it threatens to break out into a grin.

"Are you-are you laughing right now?" When he just poured his feelings out to you? 

That does it. You keel over, peels of laughter coming like a tsunami, crashing into him and Spencer loves your laugh but not when it's at him. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing," you wheeze, gripping your stomach. Spencer pouts. There's even tears in your eyes. "But you're telling me this is all because you're jealous?"

He stutters, "Well-I-no-It’s just…" He wants to say ‘you're mine’, but as your eyes crinkle he knows there’s no need.

"That's kinda hot."

"Wha-really?" Wide-eyed, Spencer squeaks as you step closer to him, backing him into the door. His hands come up to his chest in a kitten-like manner yet at the same time protective―you'd never hurt him and you both know that―but you admit your initial reaction was poor when he laid his feelings bare. 

“Ahhhh Babe, you know there’s no one else for me but you.” Spencer blushes and you chuckle, taking his hands in yours. He let's you. “Also, as adorable as Intern is, one, I think I’d be able to tell if he was hitting on me, and two, he’s not really my type.”

Spencer swallows, “And what exactly is your type?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Looking him up and down, you step closer, enough that your breath puffs against his chin. You smell like cheap coffee. “Tall, handsome doctors with messy, brown hair―” You lightly tug at one of his stray curls and he bites back a smile. 

“―and a cute nose―” Your hand moves to cup his cheek, bringing him down to peck the tip of his nose. It scrunches as Spencer breaks out into giggles. 

“―Who can recite classic literature. Who can bake like he belongs on The Great British Baking Show but can’t cook for shi―”

“Okay! Thank you, I get it,” Spencer says, almost completely relaxed now.

“Good,” You nod with finality. “And for your information, I wasn’t trying to make you jealous."

He raises an eyebrow. "So you just abandoned me and talked about another guy for the hell of it?"

Spencer's tone is casual, joking even but you know better. There's underlying bitterness and hurt and your heart squeezes because you did that. "No, of course not. There is a reason behind all that.“

“What could possibly excuse you going above and beyond your job as a mentor―”

“I was trying to set you guys up.”

Spencer deadpans. “Set me up? With him?” Oh god, he knows you’re weird, but he’s never considered you to be outright insane (is it weird he still loves you?).

As if reading his thoughts, you roll your eyes, “Spencer, how many friends do you have outside the team?”

“Not a lot.” No hesitation, but he accepted the fact a long time ago. 

“Yeah and that’s okay. But if you’d talk to Intern, you’ll find you two have a lot in common. I know he’s younger than us, but he’s a good kid, real smart,” You give him a meaningful look and shrug, “Not like IQ 187 smart but he could definitely hold a conversation with you.”

Spencer murmurs, pulling you in so you're chest to chest, “This entire time, you were really trying to make us friends?”

You nod, your expression a mix of giddiness and hope that makes whatever feelings he felt before, the confusion and―yes, fine―the jealousy, dissolve like sugar in water. Spencer sinks into you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your soap. Of course you had good intentions. Of course you wanted to do something nice for him.

Fuck, he loves you.

“So… we good?”

Spencer huffs, “I hope you realize how much I suffered the past few weeks.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Then yes, we’re good,” He mumbles into your shoulder, “I appreciate what you were trying to do.”

“And?”

His brow furrows and he pulls back, meeting your eyes. “And what?”

“Will you try to be friends?” You look at him expectantly.

Spencer opens his mouth to answer, a definitive no on his tongue, but then you’re giving him puppy-dog eyes and before he realizes it, “Okay.”

Wait, no. That is not what he meant to say.

“Yeah!” You throw your arms around him, and Spencer can’t stop you, grunting as you basically swing him around like a rag doll. But he finds he doesn’t care when you set him back down because you’re happy, happy for him, grinning ear to ear as you babble, “I can already tell you two are gonna be the best of friends! You guys have so much to talk about, all that nerdy stuff. Maybe even debate! And we could play chess and―”

There’s a knock and you both turn, a voice muffled by the door, “Hey, guys? I don’t want to interrupt in case you’re boning, but you didn’t exactly tell me where to wait for you? God, I hope you guys aren’t boning. Please tell me you’re not boning right now.”

You groan, “No Intern, we’re not boning! Right-uh-go ahead and meet me back at the office, I’ll be right with you.” You turn back to Spencer, sending him an apologetic look. “I will see you later, okay? And since you’ve been such a patient and understanding partner,” You plant him one last kiss before patting his cheek, and his eyes widen as your voice lowers in the way you know drives him crazy, your eyes glinting with mischief, “I’ll make it up to once we get home. Bye, love you!”

Before Spencer can fully register your words, you're out the door, cackling as you leave him to compose himself, his face beet red from running the possibilities. By the time he emerges from the break room, you’re long gone.

“Hi, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer almost snarls, cursing under his breath. Just when he thought the day was getting better. He turns back. 

Intern stands tall, relaxed and shoulders back, black tie loose and cheap white-collar button up slightly wrinkled. No doubt from working hard and following your instructions throughout the day. Spencer respects the work ethic at least. Meanwhile, the younger man eyes him, and he’s certain it’s not from intimidation but with curiosity.

Spencer doesn’t linger on that. He’s used to it, not being intimidating to others.

He continues, “It’s nice to finally talk to you, one on one I mean. I’m a fan of your work. Seven degrees, huh?”

“Yeah,” Spencer says curtly. Recalling the earlier conversation with you, he stamps down his irritation and tries to extend an olive branch. “How did you know?”

“It’s the internet, sir,” Intern raises an eyebrow, offering an innocent smile. 

“Right,” Spencer returns it with an awkward one of his own, “Hey, sorry for... literally kicking you out before. That was completely unprofessional.”

Intern waves him off, “No, it’s cool. I totally get it. I’m flattered, by the way.”

Spencer frowns. “Flattered?”

“Well, it’s not everyday you find out your superior’s jealous of you.”

Spencer blinks, and it takes all his experience as a profiler to mask his embarrassment. “You heard that.”

“The FBI’s got thin walls,” Intern shrugs and steps towards him. “Although I have to say, Agent (Your Last Name) is wrong about one thing.” Stopping short in front of him, for the first time Spencer is close enough to note the moles dotting his face. “They can’t tell that I’m flirting with them.” 

He starts down the hall after you, and Spencer’s eyes trail after him as his brow furrows, until realization slams into him and his jaw drops. “Wait, you...”

“Oh and since (Your Last Name) wants us to be friends, I think we could be on a first-name basis,” He pauses to look back at Spencer, watching with a crooked smile as the older man sputters. 

“So, you can call me Stiles, sir.”

Then once again, Spencer is left behind, frozen in the hallway as he processes what just happened.

And the next time he finds you and Special Agent Stilinski in the same room, whether it’s crowded or not, Spencer does not hesitate to cling to your side, putting as much distance between the intern and you as he can. Spencer’s grateful you don’t question it.

There may not be anyone else for you, but that doesn’t mean no one will try.

―

AN: ahhhhh thanks anon!! There was a similar request then i saw this tiktok (and listened to this tiktok the entire time) and i combined them. Id also like to emphasize that my version of reader is neutral across the board, race, gender, etc.

Yes, i have a type. No, i will not be taking criticism. 

Been hella overwhelmed with classes and work so here’s my way of destressing. Also suggest checking those tiktoks if you wanna understand me :))) also you mean to tell me i have to write the threesome myself?? Bs tbh 😔

watched 15x4 and i was so sad when Spencer addressed Luke as his coworker like no bitch hes your new bro stfu

and i have no doubt that stiles and spencer would be one of the best crossover duos given the chance 

[whereistheonepiece]

Missing You

Quick summary: Sanji misses Zoro.

Note: I haven’t outright stated it before, but my collection of short Zosan oneshots is connected to my fic “To Run.” This one makes a few references to it.

-

Sanji woke up to the feeling of Zoro’s lips on the corner of his mouth. His eyes flitted open and his lips curved upward in a groggy smile as he took in the sight of Zoro, partially hovering over him in bed, smiling down at him. Sanji made an amused sound in the back of his throat, laying a hand on his love’s bicep. 

“Hi,” Sanji said, his voice still thick with sleep. Sanji wound his arms around Zoro’s solid, warm torso, and pulled him down so Zoro lay on top of him. He chuckled softly as they both repositioned themselves to be more comfortable. “Morning breath,” Sanji whispered, putting his palm in Zoro’s face and pushing him back when Zoro leaned in for yet another kiss.

Sanji let out a small, undignified yelp in surprise when Zoro’s tongued darted out of his mouth and pushed between the gaps between Sanji’s fingers, poking out at Sanji in defiance. Zoro’s grin grew as Sanji withdrew his hand from his face.

“Child,” Sanji said accusingly.

“You had to know getting licked was a possibility when you put your hand there,” Zoro, incorrigible as ever, shot back.

“Actually, I thought you might just bite me like the savage you are,” Sanji said, staring up at Zoro with partially closed eyes.

“And that wouldn’t have bothered you?”

“No, because I was expecting it.”

Zoro snorted, rolling his eyes. “Dumbass,” he said, the playfulness in his voice turning the old insult into a term of endearment.

“Barbarian,” Sanji said in return, grinning to himself when Zoro laid his head on his chest.

“You love me,” Zoro said, more to annoy Sanji than to state the obvious.

“You’re so sure of that,” Sanji said, his voice glib, his fingers soft as he ran them along the path of Zoro’s spine all the way to his head, pushing through the soft green hair.

Contentment rumbled from deep within Zoro’s throat as Sanji played with his hair. “Yeah,” he said dreamily. “I am.”

Sanji lifted his head to kiss the top of Zoro’s. If only those who called Zoro the Demon of East Blue could see him now. They’d change their minds quickly if they could see him practically purring like a common house cat at having his hair stroked.

They lay there together, Sanji petting Zoro until his hand grew tired, Zoro lying on Sanji like a living, breathing blanket. Usually Zoro preferred to have Sanji lying on top of him, but Zoro had become somewhat clingier as of late, coming to Sanji for physical affection more frequently than he normally did whenever they had time alone together. 

It had been a bit of an adjustment for both of them when Sanji brought Zoro onto the Baratie. Back when they sailed on Sunny, Zoro could come to Sanji when he was preparing food for the next meal. He would hold onto him like the clingy, affectionate pest that he was. Zoro was less clingy whenever he had Sanji’s full attention, but he’d been receiving less of it lately.

It had been easier to give Zoro his attention back when all Sanji had to worry about was keeping a small crew fed and didn’t have a restaurant and its guests to look after, a staff working under him, or the constant pressure to prove himself worthy as Zeff’s successor. It was even harder to give Zoro his attention when he couldn’t let him hang onto him while he was cooking like he used to. Sanji was sorry that he couldn’t give Zoro that anymore. While he used to tease Zoro for being needy or accuse him of being annoying when Zoro grumbled at him for needing to move around the kitchen while they stood like this, Sanji did enjoy it. It was a nice compromise that kept Zoro happy, and Sanji did enjoy the company and the fact that Zoro wanted to be close to him. But Sanji was a boss now, and it was hard to be taken seriously when he had a grown man hanging off him.

So Zoro found a new way to get Sanji’s attention. He’d observe restaurant activity until there was a lull, and then he’d waltz into the kitchen, grab Sanji by the wrist, and announce, “Break time!”

The other chefs were always overjoyed to see Zoro. Sanji was aware he wasn’t an easy boss, especially if the day was stressful, and Zoro pulling him into the office to kiss him always left him in a better mood. The staff had noticed this, and so they welcomed Zoro in the kitchen, showing their appreciation with booze and a snack whenever he and Sanji came out of the office.

“You’re spoiling him,” Sanji would always chide the chefs, although secretly he was grateful that Zoro and the chefs were on good terms.

But maybe Zoro was growing restless with the way things were on Baratie. Sanji had less days off than he did back when they were part of a pirate crew. There were no more islands to explore, less opportunities for them to have a day all to themselves. So Zoro found more reasons to initiate physical contact with Sanji. He pulled him onto his lap when they sat down together. He grabbed him in his sleep and was always hesitant to let go upon waking. He’d touch him in some small way throughout the day whenever he saw him.

And then came the suggestions. It first started with simply telling Sanji what he should do regarding his work schedule.

“You work too hard, Cook,” Zoro would say. “You should ease up a little.”

“That’s what happens when you run a restaurant, Marimo,” Sanji would retort.

“You should go on vacation,” Zoro said one day, leaning against the wall and staring out the window. His arms were crossed and his stance was relaxed. He spoke as if this had just occurred to him, though Sanji was now starting to suspect it had been on his mind for longer than he’d let on. “Take a break from restaurant life. We can go visit the rest of the crew. Or just go wherever. Doesn’t have to be super far.”

“I don’t have time for a vacation,” Sanji said dismissively. He placed a cigarette between his teeth as he lit up.

“Why not?” Zoro asked, looking at Sanji.

“Who’s gonna run this place with me gone?” Sanji replied.

Zoro blinked. “Zeff. It was his restaurant, originally.”

“Zeff’s worked hard enough for three lifetimes,” Sanji said, waving the idea away with his hand.

“Okay,” Zoro said tensely, sounding as if he was forcing himself to be patient. “Couldn’t your cooks manage without you for a little bit? Some of them’ve been here as long as you.”

Sanji abruptly stopped in the middle of a drag of his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs as he tried and failed to imagine those idiots getting on without him. It was why he still hadn’t gotten around to appointing a sous chef.

He cringed, exhaling sharply through his teeth. “No,” he said firmly.

“You’re just making excuses now, Cook,” Zoro said, his brows pulling down in a scowl.

“What do you want from me, Zoro?” Sanji snapped. “I told you I can’t go on vacation! Can we talk about literally anything else? I don’t have much time left on my break and I’d rather spend it doing something else other than getting pestered by you!”

Zoro grew silent, his scowl easing somewhat, but not going away completely. “You know what?” Zoro said, pushing himself off the wall. He walked past Sanji, his boots treading heavily across the floorboards. “Forget it.”

And Sanji had, at least until now. And he thought Zoro had, too, since he hadn’t brought it up again, though he’d kept his distance during the next few days, leaving Sanji to himself until they retired to their bedroom. Sanji hadn’t said anything, preferring to leave it alone, and now, with Zoro lying on top of him, he felt guilt gnawing away at his heart.

-

“Hey,” Sanji said some time later.

Zoro took time to answer, his breath coming out in a short puff against Sanji’s bare skin. “Yeah?” he said groggily.

“Did you fall back asleep?” Sanji asked.

Zoro groaned, rolling off Sanji and onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling. Sanji rolled onto his side and laid his elbow on the pillow, propping himself up and cradling his head in his hand while he awaited Zoro’s response. “I think I did,” Zoro said.

Sanji smiled. He stared at Zoro, struck by a moment of clarity as the realization that this life, going to sleep with Zoro and waking up next to him each morning, was actually his. Zoro looked at him and caught him staring. He smirked. “Enjoying the view, Curly?”

“Maybe,” Sanji drawled. “You are pretty easy on the eyes, Marimo. Bedhead notwithstanding.”

Zoro rolled his eye at Sanji as he held open his arm invitingly. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked when Sanji didn’t move closer. “Come here already.”

Sanji obliged, laying his head on the junction between Zoro’s shoulder and his chest. Inhaling slowly, Sanji loosely wrapped his arm along Zoro’s stomach, enjoying the quiet stillness of their bedroom on this day off work. Idly rubbing his leg against Zoro’s, Sanji reflected over his decision to close the restaurant one day a week when Zoro had asked him about it. Not only did the rest of the men enjoy the free time, but it gave Sanji and Zoro peace and quiet all to themselves. It may have upset some of their clientele, and Zeff had given him some grief over it, but if it made Zoro happy, then Sanji would gladly deal with a few complaints.

Zoro had his arm around Sanji, rubbing the pad of his thumb against his shoulder. Several minutes passed before Zoro spoke again, and the hesitance in his voice made Sanji pay close attention. “Cook...”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“What would you say if I told you that Luffy wants to take me with him, Usopp, and Nami on a trip?”

Sanji blinked. They’d spent days, even weeks, apart back when they were searching for the One Piece, including those two years the whole crew had spent apart. In theory, Sanji had no reason to hesitate before answering. But it had been a year since he’d taken Zoro onto the Baratie with him, and they hadn’t spent a night apart since. Sanji had become accustomed to starting and ending his days with Zoro by his side. He found the idea of something disrupting his routine to be daunting.

But he did not voice these thoughts. Instead he said, “How long were you thinking?”

“A few weeks,” Zoro responded. Sanji swallowed. “Maybe a month?”

“Why so long?” Sanji asked.

Sanji felt Zoro shrug. “You can ask Luffy that,” he said. “Something about visiting a few islands before heading back.”

“I see,” Sanji said quietly.

“You didn’t tell me what you think,” Zoro said, his thumb coming to a stop.

Sanji closed his eyes, his thoughts turning to how quiet Zoro had become when Sanji had shot down the idea of the two of them going on a trip together. It wouldn’t kill him to allow Zoro to have some fun with their friends. “I think,” he said, “that I’m going to have to prepare your and the others’ favorite meals before you go.”

-

“All right!” Nami said brightly, looking Zoro up and down. “Got everything you need, Zoro? We’re not turning back once we leave.”

“I made sure he does, Nami-san,” Sanji spoke for Zoro, winking at Nami.

Nami smiled at Sanji, nodding at him. “I know you did, Sanji-kun,” she said, demonstrating her faith in him by turning her attention to the map in her hands as she and the others made the final preparations before they boarded Sunny with Zoro.

Watching her go over the map of the islands she and the others intended on visiting, Sanji felt himself longing for the simplicity of the life he’d shared with his crew. He felt his heart filling up with nostalgia for the days when he and his friends could explore strange islands together, days when they could gather around the same table together and share stories and food. They still occasionally saw each other, but when their crew was scattered around the world, it was difficult to get everyone together at the same time.

Taking a drag from his cigarette, Sanji looked at four of the most important people in his life, and he felt the pull of adventure tugging on his heartstrings.

But he could feel the weight of Baratie and its responsibility all around him.

So Sanji exhaled smoke from his lungs and walked up to Zoro, who had Luffy wrapped around his torso. He held his cigarette between two fingers with one hand and he grabbed Zoro’s face with the other. He pulled him in for a long goodbye kiss, Luffy’s voice in his ear as his former captain tried to convince him to come with them.

-

It was quiet as Sanji got ready for bed. It was often quiet when he and Zoro got ready for bed together, as Zoro was not a loquacious person to begin with, and both had long ago learned to share an easy silence with each other, but this was an empty quiet that Sanji was now unused to.

Sanji stared at his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, his eyes blank and his jaw stiff, his movements mechanical. He looked at the unoccupied space next to him in the mirror, the beginning of a story about an entitled customer waiting to spring forward from his mouth. If Zoro were with him, Sanji would have pulled his toothbrush out of his mouth and, mouth full of foam, started telling him about his encounter with a customer that had insisted on being served a meal that currently wasn’t on the menu. And Zoro would have listened until Sanji popped his brush back into his mouth to finish brushing his teeth. Zoro, in that straight to the point way of his, would have asked him, “So did you kick his ass?”

Air escaped Sanji’s nose in a small burst of amusement at the thought. He pointed his eyes down toward the sink and spat out the toothpaste, wondering if Zoro was keeping up with the nighttime routine they’d established, and therefore brushing his teeth at the same time as Sanji. Rinsing out his mouth, Sanji could feel the weeks without Zoro stretching out before him, opening a chasm between the two of them.

-

Sanji had intended on waiting at least a week before picking up the Transponder Snail to call Zoro. He wanted to give Zoro time to himself with their friends, but also wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t so needy that he couldn’t last a week without hearing Zoro’s voice. After all, Sanji thought as he chopped carrots for the stew he was working on, he’d gone longer without talking to Zoro. Surely Sanji wasn’t that needy, that clingy. Surely he had enough going on with the restaurant to keep him preoccupied. Maybe Zoro would end up calling him first.

But Sanji felt his restlessness steadily rising within him as the days passed. Work was as hectic and demanding as ever, and one of Sanji’s primary releases—taking a break in his office with Zoro—was gone, leaving Sanji trembling with an undercurrent of frustration and pent up aggression throughout the day. He’d tried channeling it into work, tried dealing with it on his own in his and Zoro’s room, and he tried calming his nerves by chain smoking like there was a secret prize at the end of each cigarette, all to no avail.

It was when he tried picking a fight with Carne and Patty that he finally gave in. 

Sanji, at the end of his patience, goaded the longtime staff members into a fight that they could not possibly win. Carne and Patty, to their credit, fought back as valiantly as they could, but they were no match for Sanji. They knew this. Sanji knew. Zeff, who’d been watching from a corner, knew this. 

Zeff had given Sanji one look and jutted his chin toward his former office, silently insisting that they talk. And suddenly Sanji was ten years old again, following Zeff until he came to his senses and took a few quick strides to catch up to Zeff and then move past him on the way to Sanji’s office.

Behind the closed door, Zeff simply told Sanji, “Get your affairs in order, Eggplant. You have no reason to bark at your men like that when they’ve done nothing wrong.”

Sanji had bristled at Zeff and told him to mind his own business, telling him, “Oh, you’re one to talk about lashing out at people when they don’t deserve it!” Privately he knew Zeff was right. However, instead of telling him so, Sanji engaged Zeff in a screaming match until their argument had petered out into little more than red faces and heavy breathing. Zeff had skulked out of the office, remaining silent for the rest of the day. Sanji had come out a short time later, angrily adjusting his tie, daring any one of the chefs in the kitchen to look his way.

Everyone in the kitchen, save Zeff and Sanji, kept their heads down as they worked on their individual tasks, the air thick with tension and their collective unease.

Sanji, walking stiffly back to his station, heard one chef mutter to another, “I miss Zoro.”

Sanji deflated a little at hearing that. Clenching his teeth, Sanji pointedly kept his eyes down as he worked, thinking, I miss Zoro, too.

He called Zoro later that evening.

-

“Cook?”

Sanji smiled at the sound of Zoro’s tinny voice on the other end of the receiver. He’d never heard a more beautiful sound in his life. “Hi, Marimo,” he said, reclining on their bed. “How’s the ‘adventure’ going?”

“Pretty tame,” Zoro said. “I was just thinking about how much more dangerous East Blue seemed back when we were all starting out. Now it feels downright peaceful.”

Sanji chuckled. Zoro’s assessment of the sea they called home brought back memories of how young they’d been when they’d all started sailing together, back when the odd Sea King was their biggest threat. They really had no clue what they were getting into back then. “How’s Luffy?” he asked.

“He’s having a blast,” Zoro said. “I think all he cares about is getting to sail with his friends again.”

The longing to be out on the open sea with his friends again awakened in Sanji, manifesting itself as a weight in his chest. He imagined himself on Sunny again, preparing lunch for them while Luffy and Usopp fished, Zoro napped in the sun or polished his swords, and Nami read in a lounge chair.

“That’s good,” Sanji said. He lay on his side, grasping the receiver in one hand. He comfortably draped his arm along his middle and drew his knees up slightly, imagining Zoro lying in bed behind him and spooning him, rather than talking to him on a Transponder Snail on another ship. “And you? How are you, Zoro? Not missing me too much, are you?”

“Missing you a regular amount,” Zoro said cheekily. The Snail, on its perch on the bedside table next to Sanji, mimicked the relaxed smile Zoro would wear while enjoying Sanji’s company. The only thing better than seeing the Snail replicate his love’s smile would be to see that smile in person.

“So you do miss me,” Sanji teased.

“Course I do,” Zoro said. “You know I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I know,” Sanji said. He imagined Zoro wrapping an arm around him, right under Sanji’s own. “It’s just nice to hear you say it.”

“I miss you, Cook,” Zoro said for Sanji’s benefit, and it made Sanji melt.

“I miss you, too,” Sanji said softly, hoping the Snail had picked up his voice.

“And what about you, Cook?” Zoro said. “You wanna tell me what happened today?”

Sanji frowned as he thought back to the fight he’d started with Patty and Carne, then the argument he’d had with Zeff. He shrugged into the open air, wondering if the Snail on Zoro’s end was currently mimicking his movements. “Nothing to report. Everything’s the same as usual around here. The men miss you.”

Zoro laughed. “You’re not being too hard on them without me around to help you...ah...relieve your stress, are you?”

Sanji grimaced, covering his face in shame. “Nope,” he said, his voice slightly strained. He made himself yawn, pretending he’d suddenly been overtaken by exhaustion. “Well, I’m pretty tired. I’ll talk to you later, Zoro.”

“Oh,” Zoro said. “Okay. G’night, Cook.”

“Night, Marimo,” Sanji said. “Love you.”

Sanji ended the call before Zoro could respond.

-

While Sanji slowly adjusted to spending his nights alone, it was in the quiet, stolen moments that he most missed Zoro. Finding a patch of sunlight, perfect for napping; stepping out for a smoke when the lunch rush had finished, picturing himself reaching his hand out and threading his fingers through Zoro’s; stepping into his office for a moment of solitude and picturing Zoro sitting at the window seat, inviting Sanji to sit with him.

Sanji decided to go for walk along Baratie’s deck before turning in for the night. He looked up at the moon and brought his cigarette to his lips, his mind on his and Zoro’s conversation earlier that night.

“When do you think you’ll be coming home?”

“Well, I think Nami’s had enough. Luffy’s begged her to let us visit one last island, and then we can go home. So as soon as we’re done with the next one, we’ll be heading home.”

Sanji inhaled deeply, trying to do the math in his head to figure out how much longer until he got to see Zoro again. Zoro and the others had been sailing for a couple of weeks now, but Sanji figured the trip back would be slightly faster since they wouldn’t be stopping at each island they came across. He only had to wait for just a little longer until he could have Zoro by his side again.

He stared up at the full moon, chuckling at himself for how ridiculous he was being. A month was nothing in the grand scheme of things, really. A month was speck of sand on the beach in the rest of his natural life. Just when had he become so soft? When he’d invited Zoro into his life, he supposed, and all the compromises and changes that entailed.

He let his gaze drift across the sky, taking in the map of constellations as familiar to him as the skin on the back of his hand. Was this how Zoro had felt? This yearning for more, this desire to spend more time with someone inaccessible to him? Sanji hoped that he didn’t make Zoro feel as lonely as he currently felt, hoped that the time they did spend together was better than total solitude, but a picture of what Zoro must have felt was beginning to form in Sanji’s head.

Sanji frowned, gaze falling until it landed on the sea. Remorse seized hold of his heart as he remembered all the small ways Zoro had sought Sanji’s touch in recent months, as if trying to squeeze out every last drop of quality time with Sanji in the fleeting minutes that they had. Just a little of Sanji’s time, that was all that Zoro asked of him. A week, at least, to visit a nearby village and spend some quality time together. Was that really so much to ask for? Sanji no longer thought so.

He thought of leaving the restaurant alone for a week. He could let Zeff watch over things, just like he had for so many years, but Sanji still didn’t like the idea of asking him to take over for him just so he could run away with Zoro for a short time. Running a restaurant was hard work and Zeff had more than earned his rest. So that either left one of the chefs onboard or looking for someone new. Sanji was hard on the men, but he knew any one of them was skilled enough to work as head chef, so long as they put in the work. It was just a matter of finding a man with the right personality.

Sanji would tell Zoro this when he saw him again. The idea of finally relinquishing some of his many responsibilities and letting someone else help out was strange, but Sanji had already alienated Zoro to the point of running off on a month long adventure with their captain. He didn’t want to end up losing him. He’d already lost Zoro once and he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

-

Sanji jumped on Zoro the moment he stepped foot on Baratie’s deck, tightly wrapping his four limbs around him. One hundred men couldn’t remove Sanji from Zoro if they tried.

Zoro took this in stride, supporting Sanji by the thighs. “Hi, Cook,” he managed to say before Sanji started kissing him.

Luffy hooted somewhere behind Zoro, shouting, “Sanji missed Zoro!”

Aware they had an audience, Sanji pulled back, but he grinned at Zoro, whispering, “Guess you should let me down now.”

Zoro laughed softly, his eye crinkling at the corner in a way that made Sanji’s heart melt into a puddle of mush. “I guess so,” he said, setting Sanji down.

Slipping an arm around Zoro, Sanji called to Luffy, Usopp, and Nami, inviting them onto Baratie for a meal to welcome them all back.

-

Pleasantly exhausted, Sanji relaxed into Zoro’s arms. Content smile etched into his face, Sanji breathed in Zoro’s scent, felt the heat of Zoro’s skin against his cheek. All was right with the world. Zoro lay there in bed with him, happy to share this moment with Sanji.

Sanji laid his hand on Zoro’s abdomen, relishing the solid feel of Zoro’s body beneath his touch. “I missed you,” he whispered.

“Missed you, too, Curly.”

“I don’t think you know how much I missed you, though,” Sanji continued.

“I dunno,” Zoro said, “you just gave me a pretty good idea of how much you missed me.”

Sanji paused before responding, frowning. “I’m serious, you know.”

“Mm?”

“Yeah,” Sanji said. “I...had a lot of time to think while you were gone.”

“That so?”

Sanji nodded against Zoro’s chest. “Yeah, it is. And I think... I think you were right.”

“About what?” Zoro asked.

“It wouldn’t kill me to take a vacation.”

Zoro paused at Sanji’s admission. “Yeah?” he said, his voice soft with uncertainty.

Sanji wrapped his arm around Zoro’s torso, gently squeezing. They hadn’t talked about it in so long, but he remembered that nightmarish time when Zoro was convinced that Sanji didn’t value their relationship. It made his heart ache to think that he could potentially make Zoro feel that way again. “Yeah,” he said.

He continued, “I mean, I still don’t want to dump this all on Zeff. But I really gave it some thought, and it wouldn’t hurt me to have someone who can step up for me when I’m not around. Maybe even make the workload a little easier on me. I don’t know, the idea of it is still so new to me. But I want to make you happy. And if that means I need to find someone who can watch over the restaurant while you and I take a small trip together, then I’ll do it.”

Zoro tightened his hold on Sanji, saying nothing. Sanji returned his embrace with the same fervor, smiling against Zoro’s chest.

“It’s really not too much trouble, is it?” Zoro eventually asked.

“It really isn’t,” Sanji responded. He lifted his head off Zoro’s chest so he could properly look at him. “And I’m sorry for making you think that it was.”

“Come here,” Zoro whispered, having nothing else to say.

And Sanji did, closing the gap between their mouths.

[phantasmagoric-acquaintance]

who said anything about marriage

[read it here or on ao3]

Barry was nervous.

That was nothing new. Barry was nervous most of the time. But Barry hadn’t been nervous around Lup in decades.

There were so many things that could go wrong. For one, he could lose the ring. For the millionth time in the past half hour, he patted the outside of his jacket pocket. He felt the little box and exhaled quietly.

He could screw up the plan. They’d already made it to the restaurant on time, thank the Gods. But what if they missed the gondola ride? He’d booked the damned thing in advance, and if the rules he’d read online were any indication, the company didn’t give latecomers a whole lot of leeway. He could pop the question on the streets next to the canal, he supposed, but that was unromantic. Plus, he’d pre-paid so much for the ride.

And what if he fell? He’d made himself sick the night before reading articles about mistakes to avoid on a gondola. He knew not to try to stand, but what if he forgot? He could tip the boat and soak them both.

“Um, babe?”

Lup’s voice brought Barry out of his anxious reverie, and he remembered he’d been pouring a glass of wine, which was now very close to overflowing. “Aah!” He hastily righted the bottle, hitting the mouth against the overfilled glass in the process and very nearly knocking it over.

Lup snickered, eyes glinting with amusement. “You are a wreck,” she said as she lifted her own wine glass to her lips. There wasn’t a hint of malice in her voice or in her expression. Barry remembered that he’d probably embarrassed himself in front of her thousands of times, and she still loved him. As the waiter came by to take their orders, Barry felt himself relaxing.

That calm moment was short-lived.

When the waiter turned away from their table, Lup propped her elbows up on the table and rested her chin on her palms. “Hey, Bear?”

“Mm-hm?” Barry vocalized, sipping from his comically full wine glass.

“When are we gonna get married?”

Barry sputtered, spitting a little wine back into his glass and trying not to choke on the rest of it. “Huh?!?” Had she figured out his plan? She was clever, and he wasn’t the best at keeping secrets, but he thought he’d done a good job of keeping it from her. He’d known better, too, than to tell anyone expect Taako. Did she get it out of him?

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, don’t freak out or anything. It’s just, you know, we’ve been together for, like, I don’t know, an entire human lifespan?” She shifted her chin so that it rested only on her left palm and reached for her glass with her free hand. “I mean, we’re pretty much already married. I just thought, I dunno, maybe we should make it official.”

If Barry had been thinking, he might’ve told her “Yes! Gods, yes!” right then and there. He might’ve pulled out the ring and said, “Funny you should ask, I was thinking the same thing!” If he had been thinking, he might have realized that this moment, right here in the restaurant, was the perfect opportunity to do what he’d set out to do this evening.

But Barry wasn’t thinking. Barry was panicking.

“M-marriage? Who said anything about marriage?”

Lup set her left arm back down on the table. “Huh? Nobody said anything about it. Or, I guess I did.” She looked down at her glass and swirled it around a bit. “Geez, Barry, I wouldn’t have brought it up if I knew it’d make you all, like, panicky and sweaty and shit.”

“I-I’m not panicky and sweaty.” He was very obviously both of these things. It was this moment that the waiter came by, awkwardly setting their plates in front of them and hurrying off, sensing that whatever was happening here, it was definitely not something he wanted to be privy to any longer than necessary. “Y-you just caught me off guard, that’s all. Marriage is, you know, a big word.”

“Well, sure.” Lup picked up a fork and began swirling it in her pasta. “But, like, haven’t you thought about it before?” She lifted the fork to her mouth.

“Thought about marrying you?” Barry was drenched in sweat now.

“Mm-hm,” Lup managed through a mouthful of linguini.

“Well, no, I mean, why would I?”

This was absolutely, positively, the wrong thing to say. It might have been the worst possible thing Barry could’ve said, and he’d said it, and he couldn't take it back.

Lup swallowed her food hard and gaped at him. “Fucking excuse me?”

“Uhh…” He took a long sip of his wine.

“What do you mean, ‘Why would I?’?”

The pressure was on now, and Barry tended to falter under pressure. “I just, I mean, marriage is, it’s such a long-term commitment, you know? It, uh, ties you down and stuff.”

Lup’s eyes went even wider. “Barry, what are you trying to say?” she asked softly.

Barry threw his hands up. “Nothing! I- nothing! Just, you’re such a, a free spirit, I, uh, wouldn’t wanna… hold you back?”

She deflated, and he knew he’d dug himself deeper. “Yeah, okay.” She put her elbow back on the table, making a fist with her left hand and resting her cheekbone on her knuckles, and looked down at her plate.

Silence. Barry cut off a bit of his salmon and ate it. “Mmm!” he hummed exaggeratedly. “The salmon is amazing! How’s your food?”

Lup pushed her noodles around on her plate, not looking up. “It’s fine. Fantastic.”

They stayed like that for a while, him slowly eating his food and watching her, her only taking small occasional bites and refusing to look anywhere but her plate.

“Um, are… are you ready for the check?” Barry asked after some time.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Whenever.” Lup stood. “Just, like, excuse me for a minute first.” She walked quickly towards the restroom.

When the door closed behind her, Barry sighed and sunk his face into his hands. He didn’t have the slightest idea how he was going to recover. “Fuck,” he breathed into his hands.

After a minute, Barry heard the sound of footsteps, distinct from the clicking of Lup’s heels, approach the table. “Barold.”

He lifted his head to see Taako, still in his full chef’s uniform, glaring at him, arms crossed. Fuck, he was really in trouble now. “Hi, Taako.” In retrospect, maybe it was a mistake to have this dinner at Lup’s brother’s restaurant. It had seemed like a sweet idea at the time. Taako had only recently gotten comfortable cooking for large crowds again, and he and Lup made efforts to support him when they could.

Taako leveled a glare at Barry. “One of my little birdies has just informed me that she saw my sister run crying into the bathroom. Would you, dear customer, mind telling me why that is?”

Barry exhaled, long and slow. “I beefed it, Taako.”

“You beefed it? What does that mean, exactly?”

“Okay, she brought up marriage out of nowhere and it threw me off and I didn’t want to spoil the proposal and I panicked and maybe I said some things I didn’t mean.”

“Such as…?”

“Such as… ‘I’ve never thought about marrying you,’ and ‘Marriage ties people down’…”

“Oh, good Gods. All because you didn’t wanna spoil some dumb overly romantic surprise?”

Barry flushed. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Taako pinched the bridge of his nose. “Barry, I don’t know how you’re going to do it, but if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to have this fixed by the end of tonight.”

Barry grimaced. “I-I’ll try.”

“You’ve also wasted my food.” Taako nodded at Lup’s mostly-untouched plate and tossed a leather check holder onto the table. “And if I find any fire damage in my bathroom, I’m charging you for that, too.” With that, Taako turned and strode back into the kitchen.

By the time Lup came out of the bathroom, Barry’s credit card had already been returned to him and he was signing the receipt. He looked up at her and tried not to wince when he noticed the mascara tracks marking paths down her cheeks from her puffy eyes. “Ready to go?”

“Mm.” She still wouldn’t look at him. He led her outside, and she leaned against the building, hugging herself and staring into space, eyes unfocused.

Barry stood next to her uneasily. “Uh, I’m going to… call the taxi now?”

“Mm-hm.”

Barry didn’t reach for his phone. Another uncomfortable silence passed.

Then, he sighed. “Okay, I-I didn’t wanna do it like this, but…”

Barry knelt down, pulled the ring box out of his pocket, and flipped it open.

Lup finally turned to face him now, stunned. “Wh-what-?”

He blushed and began rambling. “I had this whole evening planned, and there was supposed to be a gondola ride, that’s where we were supposed to go next, and I was going to ask you there, but then you brought up marriage and I panicked and I put my fucking foot in my mouth. It was so dumb, I’m so sorry I said all that shit, I didn’t mean any of it, I just really wanted it to be a surprise. Gods, I was so fucking dumb, of course I wanna marry you, if you’ll still have m-“

Lup bent down, grabbed Barry’s face, and kissed him hard.

Barry felt all the tension in his body melt away. He shut the ring box and held it securely in one hand. He brought the other up to sweep Lup’s hair behind her ear and held it there, against her cheek.

When Lup pulled away, she rested her forehead against his. “You’re a fucking wreck, baby.”

He chuckled. She was crying again and, Barry realized, so was he. “I know.”

She beamed. “We’ll work on it together, fiancé.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I can’t believe you did all that for a fucking gondola ride, though. I mean, no offense, dear, but I’m kinda glad we didn’t do that.”

He grimaced. “Well, about that, I paid a lot of money for it, and there’s still time…”

Lup pouted. “Do we have to? I’d rather go home.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’ll make it up to you,” she breathed.

Barry smiled. “Yeah, okay. You’ve convinced me.”

“Perfect!” Lup stood up, smirked, and held out her left hand. “Now gimme that rock!”

Taako lifted his phone off the bedside table and squinted at his notifications.

Lulu: Missed Call

Lulu: Voicemail

Remembering the scene at his restaurant the night before, he inhaled sharply and unlocked his phone. There are two ways that situation could’ve played out, he thought. He navigated to his voicemailbox and pressed play on the most recent message.

“Ugh, it’s so annoying how you’re never awake when I have news. I have big fucking news, by the way, so I’m gonna be really pissed at you if you don’t call me back within the next, like, two hours. Okay, later.”

Taako smiled. It was a relief to hear her sound so chipper. It meant this news of hers was definitely good, and it meant that Taako didn’t have to fight Barold. He sat up, rubbed the dust out of his eyes, and called his sister.

[akaashioppa]

Golden Ticket

pairings: Akaashi x Reader

summary: being dragged party by her best friend (Y/N) didn’t think the night could get any worse until she meets a certain  stranger who changes her mind. 

warnings: drinking, minor curse words, implied smut, a small of portion smut, comdomless akaashi & kuroo being awkward asf.

w/c: 2.4

A/N: i want to thank my bestie @dearasahi for being the best beta reader there is on the planet 🥰 i also want to thank her for allowing me to sabotage her stories! you guys should go and check out her work it’s chefs kiss!!!!!

The party was crowded, the music was blasting so hard you could feel the bass in your chest. Sweaty bodies were grinding on each other in the living room. You tried your best to push past the people in the crowded house but it was still hard to maneuver around the party. You were behind your best friend, Rachel,  her hand found yours in the crowded party. She was guiding you to the outside of the party where fewer people were around and it had fresh air for the both of you to breathe. She had begged you to come to this party so she could hang out with her new love interest. Bokuto Kotaro. 

You had finally reached the outdoors. You could still hear the music in the background but it wasn’t as bad as it was in the house. Your best friend made a beeline to the table to play beer pong with Bokuto. You weren’t much of a partier….well, you liked going to parties but this party was way more insane than any party that you have ever been to. Was it worth driving all the way from Karasuno...no, but you loved your best friend so you went anyway.

While she was having a good time at the beer pong table you made your way to the chairs that weren’t too far from the table. There was a bench with a guy sitting down. You waved shyly before asking if someone was sitting there.

He took a sip from his cup before pointing to the spot next to him. “You can sit, the guy who was sitting here is gone.”

“Where did he go?”

He pointed over to the table where a guy was standing. He was the loudest of the bunch. You noticed he had his arm draped around your best friend’s shoulders. “Is that your best friend?”

“Ehh you can say that.”

You both began to laugh. “I’m guessing you guys have a love-hate relationship.”

“I wouldn’t say that but he’s a bit of a handful.” He took a sip from his cup before placing it between the two of you. You glanced down at the brown liquid. You then felt his gaze upon you making you quickly look away.

He raised his eyebrow, curiosity struck him as he watched you fiddle with your hands.“Do you want a drink?”

You waved your hands in front of your face. You felt your face heat up as you saw his facial expression. It was no secret that the boy in front of you was cute. His blueish eyes were attacking you right now and that little smirk that was plastered on his face was not doing it any justice. “Um, no I don’t drink alcohol.” 

He chuckled lightly, the mysterious boy grabbed the cup and shook it around. He then motioned for you to look in the cup and you did. “Regular alcohol would start foaming but you see here this is apple juice.” He placed a finger on his lips. “Don’t tell anyone, this is our little secret.”

You giggled, “That’s so creative of you. Can I have some?”

“Sure come on...what’s your name.” 

You both got off from the bench you were sitting on. The guy then waved to his friends indicating that he would be back. “My name is (Y/L/N) (Y/N) but (Y/N) is fine.”

“I'm Akaashi Keiji but Akaashi is fine.” 

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he smirked as he brought the red solo cup back to his lips. 

He pushed the door open before walking into the kitchen of the house. Once again the music began to blast in your ears. The crowd here was more intense here than outside. 

You nearly jumped when Akaashi bent down towards your ear. You calmed down once you figured out he was trying to whisper something in your ear. “If it’s fine with you I’m going to hold your hand while we’re walking through the crowd. I don’t want my new friend getting lost.” 

You nodded your head allowing Akaashi to hold your hand as he led you throughout the crowd. You grew nervous as you felt his larger hand in yours. He led you throughout the crowd, up the stairs, and out a door that led to a patio. It was like a minibar up here, you could look out over the house and see where you were before you came up here. You even saw your best friend Rachel at the beer pong table.

Akaashi was at the fridge near the minibar. You kept a close eye on him as he was fixing your drink. Normally you would have never let a guy fix your drink at a party but since you were here staring at him as he did it you didn’t mind. “Ice or no ice.”

“No ice, people who drink ice with their apple juice are weird.” 

“I like you already.” He grabbed your drink from the counter and led you to the railing of the house. There were tables and couches that were also there. You both sat down on the couch with your apple juices in your hand. You glanced over to Akaashi who was now on his phone scrolling through an app.

“What are you doing?” 

He quickly shut off his phone, placing it beside you. He took a sip of his drink before running his hands through his hair. A now agitated look was plastered on his face.

“I don’t know if you know much about volleyball but our team captain isn’t in the top 3 when it comes to aces. We have a training camp coming up and I’m not sure how he’s going to take the news.”

“Where at?”

“Shinzen High.”

“No way. I’ll be there as well. I’m a volleyball manager at Karasuno High.”

“Really? We might know the same people.”

“I have friends at Nekoma. Do you know Kenma and Kuroo-san?”

“Of course. We’re really close. How do you know them?”

“I met Kenma through a gaming app then I met Kuroo-san at Kenma’s house.”

“ I’ve known Kuroo-san and Kenma for a while now. They’re both here tonight.”

The conversation continued like that for a while. There was not one dry spell during it. You both would steal touches here and there. His hand would accidentally brush across yours. You would give him a gentle push every time he would make a joke. Half the jokes weren’t that funny, you just wanted an excuse to touch his biceps.

The party had died down after Akaashi's friend Bokuto threw himself on top of the table. It caused both of you to drop your conversation. He got too drunk, he climbed into a tree then jumped shoulder first into the table. Akaashi was the first to get to him, he dragged his friend into the house in the guest room. You weren’t too far behind with ice for his shoulder.

“Is he going to be okay?” Your best friends weren’t too far behind you. You and her helped Akaashi place Bokuto on the bed. He was completely out of it, each word that he said would come out as a slur.

“He’s going to be fine. Just put the ice on his shoulder.” You placed the ice on his shoulder, you quickly drew back when you saw him wince out in pain. Akaashi grabbed the bag of ice from your hands to place it on his shoulder. He applied a little pressure as he did, making Bokuto cry out in pain. “That’s for being so reckless Bokuto-san.”

“AAAKAASHI! That hurts!”

Akaashi shot your friend Rachel a glance, she was sitting on the bed along with Bokuto. “I’ll check on him once he not drunk. Rachel, text me when he’s ready.”

Your friend Rachel ushered you both out of the room leaving her and Bokuto alone. 

“Come on, let's finish our conversation.”

You both walked into the living room. The music was still going and all of the party guests had migrated to the couches. He pulled you into a room that was unoccupied. The room was covered with posters and awards. In the corner was a bookshelf filled with books by Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe. You grabbed one of the books to skim over it.

“Do you like reading as well?”

The sound of his voice made your knees go weak. It didn’t help that you could feel his breath breathing down your neck. Composure was nonexistent, that word was no longer in your vocabulary.

Turning around you bump into his large toned chest. He was such a sight to look at. Biting your lip, you began to weigh out the pros and cons of kissing him right now. “Fuck it.”

Making your decision you latched your hands on his shoulders pressing your lips against his. You felt his strong arms wrap around your waist pushing against the bookshelf. Both of your hands began to roam the other’s body.

“I asked you if you liked reading, not how the inside of my mouth tastes,” he smirked, Akaashi began to leave trails of kisses down your neck. He stopped once he made it to your collarbone. He began to suck there making you squirm in his hold.

“I  know but I usually don’t do this.” You replied, your hands found their way down to the loops of his pants. You pushed his shirt that was tucked in the front out so you could feel your way up to his toned stomach.

“Me neither (Y/N)-chan.” You felt him smirk against your skin again.

You wrapped one leg around his waist grinding yourself against him. A deep groan escaped his lips as his hardness began to grow. He grabbed your other leg wrapping it around his waist. Akaashi lips never left yours as he did. He walked to the bed laying you down gently. You grabbed the loops of his sweats pulling his hips into yours. Curses escape your lips as he rocks his hips against yours.

“Wait...do you have a condom.”

You shook your head softly. “No.”

“Are you on the pill?”

You bit your lip, “No...is that bad?”

“Uhhh no I just don’t want to have unprotected sex.”

“I’m fine with having unprotected sex.” You attacked his lips again only for him to stop you. You were so intoxicated with him that you didn’t care if he had a condom or not. You only wanted to feel him inside of you.

“No, it’s my problem. I don’t think I could pull out in time. Hold on, I got some condoms somewhere around here.”

Your legs fell from his waist. The aching feeling between your legs was now prominent. You watched from the bed as he searched throughout his things for a condom.

“I’m guessing this is your house?”

“Yeah...Fuck, the day I want to fuck a gorgeous girl is the one day I get rid of my stash.”

You giggled at his sudden outburst, you were now sitting near the top of his bed with one of his pillows in your hands. You watched as he reached for his phone to call a certain someone. The call went straight to voicemail causing him to curse again.

“Hold on, I'll be right back.”

Akaashi left the room, leaving you there alone. He scanned the living room looking for that certain someone. He spotted him near the ping ball table with some girl in his hands.

“Kuroo-san” he yelled over the crowd, the door was still open with his body halfway out of it.

Kuroo glanced up from the table he was at. He excused himself from the crowd to make his way over to Akaashi.

“What’s up?”

“Listen, I need a favor from you.”

“Okay...what is it?”

He hesitates for a bit, “This is so embarrassing but are you packing?”

“Excuse me.” Kuroo questions, “Do I really look like the type to do drugs!?”

“What no! I mean do you have a...condom.” 

Kuroo burst into laughter. It causes everyone to look over at Akaashi and him. “Yeah, I guess.” He reached into his back pocket where his wallet is at. He pulls out the golden packet handing it over to him.

‘I swear I want to punch him in the face.’

Akaashi quickly grabs the packet and places it in his pocket. He glances around to make sure no one sees which room he’s in. He looked back at Kuro with an embarrassed look on his face. “This never happened.”

Kuroo looked past Akaashi to see you sitting on the bed. Akaashi quickly shut the door so he couldn’t see you. “It’s just weird you know...You and (Y/N)-chan about to do the dirty in there. She so innocent and you’re innocent as well….What (Y/N)-chan is having sex!?”

“You don’t think I know that Kuroo-san. I’m about to fuck her brains out! And it’s the fact that you know that I am.” he seethed from embarrassment. 

Kuroo plugged his fingers in his ear. “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT KAASHI!!”

Akaashi laughs and turns around to walk back into the room. You were still in the same position he last saw you in but you had one of his sports magazines in your hand.

He flopped down on the bed with his hands over his head. He started to mumble something into his blankets that were unclear.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I want to die. There’s no way I can face him again.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“I had to ask Kuroo-san for a fucking condom!” He exclaims, he rolled over on his back placing his forearms over his eyes.

“No way! I’m so ashamed!” 

You both laughed out loud, you glanced down at the condom he had in his hands. On the golden packet, it read ‘sexy devil’. You fell backward on the bed, laughing at the condom in his hands. 

“Babe I don’t even think I can get hard knowing that he knows!”

You climbed on top of him, removing his arms from his eyes. You reached up to place a sweet kiss on your lips. It was heated or forceful like the other ones. “So you’re not in the mood anymore huh?” 

He grinned from ear to ear, “I didn’t say that now did I?” He began to place a kiss along your neck again.

“Wait what should I call you? Akaashi-kun or Keji-kun.” You asked innocently. 

“Call me by my name, the one I gave you if you haven’t forgotten about it.  Just Akaashi, and I’ll make you scream it so loudly you’ll forget about the people outside of our door.” He whispered huskily in your ear before rolling himself on top of you. 

tags: (if you want to be tagged in future stories shoot me a text or ask me in the submit box! the same applies if you don’t want to be tagged in future stories)

@ianmoone12345 @hyunsamour @fireworkpanda @ang3lc4k3 @lillilwil @tenkomurasaki @saineysd @sadtrains @tatiquichi @elianetsantana @xstormiii @yoitsseulgi @schleepyflocci @srintarou @chscklvr @succulentmom @madsky1222 @cinnamonruts @thezslumpgoddess @xogiaaa  @premiyagi @momoinot @psycho-nightrose @aoinanase @tetsusatoru @gabisalabaj @allthat-jasss @izumikunmy @okaerins  @cheezitcracker  @chokeurmom @taytayy178 @AyeshaSara  @knmsapplepi @chokerbaby @pewpewkatelyn @cherrytop05 @smexyair  @kail-671 @keijier @inumakisimp27 @masster69 @savantsoulfinder @amisuh

[tomtenadia]

Families - part 2

This is the following part to the fic I wrote for the prompt Single parents.

PART 1

It will likely have one or two more parts.

-----

A few months had passed and the season shifted and winter had eventually fallen on Orynth, bringing snow and its usual cold temperatures. The arrival of winter meant as well winter festival and if there was something Orynth excelled at was to celebrate that season and the solstice. The usual winter fair was sprawling in the central area of town, with food vendors, stalls and the major attraction; the ice rink.

The fair was the reason why now Rowan was in his car with his daughter, driving to Aelin’s place to pick up her and Aisling. 

They had kept their promise and the four of them had become quite close. The girls would have sleepovers and Aelin had been more than happy to look after Astrid when Rowan was on a night shift at the hospital. On a handful of occasions, on his day off he had reciprocated and Aisling spent the day with them.

Once the fair had started, Rowan had asked Aelin and her daughter to go out skating. He loved skating, and ice and everything connected with winter. Astrid instead had become obsessed with skating after her dad took her to a hockey game. At eight she was now totally hooked and had also asked to join a club, so Rowan had signed up to a junior ice hockey team and now his daughter was looking forward to show off her skills on the ice.

They arrived at the house not long after and Aelin and Aisling were on the pavement waiting for them.

“Hello stranger,” said Aelin getting in the car seat behind him and with her hand brushed his shoulder. Although nothing official had happened between them he had not missed the sneaky glances, the shy touches that both of them had been exchanging.

“Hi Astrid,” she added brushing the girl’s head “looking forward to show off? Your dad tells me that you are really good on the skates.”

The girl beamed proudly “I have been teaching dad. He is clumsy.”

Rowan chuckled “I am just rusty. I used to play hockey, but I haven’t been much on the ice in a long time, young lady.” He replied saving his dignity. He listened to Aelin engage with his daughter and a part of him was jealous of her easiness. He loved his daughter and did his best to keep her happy, but sometimes he felt like he did not have the same connection that Astrid had with Aelin. He blamed it on him being a man, he just hoped he was not letting her down.

Once all parked up they got off the car and started walking to the ice rink.

“Dad, can we have hot chocolate later?”

“If you behave.” 

Astrid grabbed her own skates from the trunk and hugged her dad “I always do.”

They let the girl walk in front of them and Aelin hooked her arms with Rowan’s as they reached the rink “I have a confession.” She said quietly, searching for his green eyes.

Rowan lifted an eyebrow in a question.

“I don’t know how to skate.”

Rowan chuckled and patted her hand “it’s fine, I’ve got you.”

Aelin’s heart raced at those words. Maybe she was imagining more than what he actually meant but for an instant she felt as if there was a deeper meaning in that statement.

At the ticket booth Rowan paid for all of them and they grabbed their gear. Astrid and Aisling already at the rink side and ready to go.

“Dad, can we go?” Shouted an impatient Astrid.

Rowan exchanged a glance with Aelin and she shrugged.

“Go, but be careful and keep an eye on Aisling. She is not as good a skater as you.”

Astrid grinned and the two girls disappeared on the ice.

In the meantime Aelin had sat down and was donning her ice skates. Rowan crouched down and helped her. Then he sat next to her and donned his pair. Once ready he helped her stand. Gently he fixed her scarf around her neck “it’s cold.” He told her while his finger lingered a bit longer than needed. 

“Let���s go,” he told her while offering her a gloved hand. Aelin took it and together they entered the rink. Aelin felt unstable the second she set foot on the ice and crashed against him. Rowan pulled her closer to him “steady.” He looked at her and huffed a laugh.

“Are you making fun of me?” She asked outraged at his reaction.

“No,” he shook his head and fixed her wooly hat “your hat was askew and it made you look cute.”

“Rowan Whitethorn,” her hand on his chest “are you flirting with me?”

Rowan winked and moved a bit away and left her but Aelin shouted that she needed help, so Rowan came back, grabbed her hands and turned around so that he was skating backwards and pulling her with him.

“Show off.”

“I told you I played hockey.”

“Were you good?”

 He made her pirouette slowly and laughed “I almost went professional but during one game I injured my knee pretty badly and I had to give up.”

“That sucks.”

Rowan shrugged “I went into med school instead. I ended up finding another path I loved.”

She crashed again against his chest and loved the feeling of her cheek against his hard muscles. And his scent. Rowan smelled of pine and snow. She inhaled deeply and a moment later she felt his strong arms around her “You and I should go on a date.” He said quietly while he kept dragging her around the rink. She looked up at him and saw tenderness in his green eyes. She hadn’t imagined it. The feelings, whatever was blossoming between was there had not been her imagination.

“If I survive this ice skating outing, you can take me out.”

“Good,” in that instant their daughters whizzed past them and Aelin laughed “they are having fun.”

“Astrid has been counting the days for this evening. She really likes it when you two are around.”

“She is not the only one…” and she hugged him tighter and Rowan squeezed her shoulders.

“I have a very good babysitter, She has been doing it for years. She can be trusted.” He explained to her “I can’t use my neighbour at night. She is elderly and she only helps me during the day.”

Aelin nodded “if you trust her I am happy, but we will have to pay her double and I want to cover my share.”

Rowan was about to protest but Aelin stopped him with a finger on his lips “No buts. She is looking after my daughter as well, so it’s on me too. Don’t fight me on this.”

Rowan’s hand rose in a yielding motion “you win.”

The evening ended without incidents and they all made it out of the rink alive. They had dinner at one of the vendors, the four of them sitting at the picnic tables in the warm area. Aelin even convinced him to eat a chocolate covered pretzel.

Eventually the evening came to an end with Rowan claiming that it was getting close to bed time for the girls and when they tried to protest Aelin joined him in saying that they had school the following day and promising another evening out not on a school night.

Rowan drove Aelin and Aisling back home and on the door they agreed on a day for their fate and Aelin sealed the deal with a kiss on his cheek.

—

It was the Saturday and Aelin was in front of Rowan’s door with Aisling at her side “Will you promise you will be nice? The young lady is here to look after you and Astrid.” 

Yes, mum.” 

Aelin rang the bell and Rowan opened the door and she gasped. He had worn a pair of jeans, a black shirt and he was now donning his coat. Her heart raced madly in her chest. The man was even more stunning than usual.

“Sorry we are a bit late, there was traffic.”

Rowan shook his head and motioned to come inside.

Astrid came running down the stairs and the two girls disappeared upstairs once again. The two adults had a few words with the babysitter and eventually left.

“Do you think Evangeline will be okay with two of them?”

Rowan laughed “I imparted upon Astrid the need to behave or I will reduce her book money allowance.”

“That is cruel,” commented Aelin who loved the idea that he gave his daughter an allowance to buy books.

“But it works. Since she had started reading she always needs to have a book with her. She loves it. I used the no hockey threat two days ago so I have to change from time to time.”

Aelin joined his hand on the gear “I am glad we are doing this.”

“Me too,” he replied, squeezing her hand back while at the traffic lights “I have been meaning to ask for a while but I never knew if it was just me or you reciprocated as well. Then the ice rink evening I had my answer so I gathered my courage and asked.”

Aelin laughed “I had the same debate. I kept thinking that it was just me.”

They arrived at the restaurant ten minutes later and as he helped her to get out of the car Rowan could not look away from her. Aelin was wearing a lovely blue dress that matched her eyes, her hair was tied up in a lovely French braid. She looked amazing. Once inside the restaurants, they sat, and Aelin could not believe where she was. He had taken her to a very high end restaurant, one she had read about but always thought was far out of her league. She was glad she had dressed nicely.

“How did you pull this off? Even a uni lecturer like me knows that this place has a crazy waiting list.”

Rowan laughed “The wife of one my colleagues, she is the head chef here. I just asked a favour.”

“This place is classy.” Aelin added “I hope that it’s not one of those places where the price is bigger than the portions.”

Rowan chuckled and filled her glass with wine “Definitely not, I promise. The food is really superb.”

They ordered and their food came very quickly and Aelin was impressed by the plates in front of her. The food looked amazing and the portions definitely generous.

She took a few bites then a sip of wine and braced herself for the conversation she wanted to have with him and hoped it did not ruin the atmosphere.

“Rowan, where are we going with this?” She asked, looking at him “We have daughters. Two girls who like each other very much and connect because they both have something in common.” She paused to gather her thoughts “I know it’s just the first date, but our situation is different. I have to think about Aisling. Allowing you in means letting you in her life as well. I can’t do flings, Rowan.” She finished quietly.

Rowan sighed and took a bite of his food, then placed his fork down and took her hand “I had the same speech ready in my head. Our daughters have the priority and I agree, we need to be careful. All I can say is that you are the first woman since my wife died that I ever felt any interest in.” He brought their twinned hands to his mouth “You are incredible and I want this to work out and not just for our daughters. I think we need some happiness.”

Aelin almost burst into tears “I want this too. You have no idea how much. But I am so rusty.”

“Hey,” he reached out with his hand and stroked her cheek “I am rusty too, but there is no rush. One step at a time.”

Aelin nodded and they went back to eating for a moment.

“Do you think we should tell the girls?” Rowan’s question was cautious.

“Let’s have a few more dates than we can just tell them.”

Rowan nodded.

The meal finished, the bill came and now they were walking in the park while snowflakes fell from the sky.

Rowan took her hand in his “it’s snowing.”

Aelin freed it and walked a few step away from him and started circling under the snow, her mouth wide open. Rowan stared at her and laughed at the scene and at the joy emanating from Aelin. And while he stared at her, dancing in the snow he realised that his feelings for her were far deeper that he thought. In the few months they had gotten closer he realised that she made him happy. Aelin made him feel again the array of emotions that he thought he had lost a long time ago. She made him feel alive and in that instant he realised he wanted her in his life. With him and Astrid. The four of them.

He took a step toward her and wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her closer. She looked up at him and the smile she gave him was pure sunlight. He kissed her. Deeply while his hand brushed her face. She opened for him and Rowan put all his love into the kiss.

“I love you.” He said softly against her lips, not letting her go. Never letting her go. They were each other light out of the pit that their lives had been for almost eight years.

A second chance at being a family.

At a dream broken too early.

“I love you, Rowan.”

[angelictaehyun]

PAIRING: richboy!kang taehyun x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: He’s been a pain in your ass since you began working at the club. He’s arrogant and insanely wealthy, and you’re struggling to simply pay tuition. Needless to say, it’s not quite the match made in heaven… or so it seems. 

WC. 11,200+

GENRE: rich kid au, country club au, e2l au, crack, fluff

WARNINGS: mild language, illegal activity, y/n’s an actual dumbass, and taehyun’s kind of a dick lol

.

You repeatedly tapped your pen against your sticky, worn checkbook, awaiting a response from the refined, old lady sitting comfortably under a patio umbrella. You, on the other hand, felt the scorching heat of the summer sun against your back, making you sweat uncontrollably—you could only hope you didn’t resemble a drenched pig. The woman eyed you, a bit too judgmentally for your liking, before pointing her perfectly manicured nail at the menu in her hand, “I want this pasta, but make it gluten-free. Throw in another iced tea, too… extra lemon, of course!”

You winced at her shrill voice. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, all of our pasta is made from flour,” you explained patiently. Her right eye twitched. You were an obstacle in her way of getting what she desired, she was angry. Lovely. However, above all, she was confused, “Just tell the chef to make it without flour, let him know it’s a special request. I don’t see the issue.”

“Ma’am, I’m telling you… there’s no way to make it without flour, we just don’t have the type of noodle you want in house.”

She drummed her hand on the table, absolutely fuming. She glanced at you like you kicked a puppy, it was absolutely infuriating. She grasped for nothing as her brain formulated any response, “This is outrageous! I want to speak with a manager. Now!”

You sighed, “Gladly.”

It was astounding, truly, the lack of self-awareness and consideration some people had... or, didn’t have. You wished, so badly, to tell them off, but you desperately needed the cash. After all, college wouldn’t pay for itself and the bills piling on your coffee table wouldn’t just magically disappear. You swiftly turned around and trudged away, scanning the vast garden for your manager, Yeonjun, but unsurprisingly, he was nowhere to be found. You’d known him long enough to assume he was hiding in the manager’s office, his poor attempt to flee from the overbearing, entitled crowd. How he scammed his way into a managerial position, a position of authority… that was beyond you. 

You were halfway across the floor, pushing past another server when you felt an intense stare land on you. You halted in place, knowing exactly who the gaze belonged to. You glanced at the table stationed in the far corner of the garden, instantly meeting his piercing stare. He eyed you shamelessly, a signature habit of his, before throwing you a smug grin. You weren’t going to kid yourself, he wore the smirk well. 

Too bad he was a pompous ass. 

Kang Taehyun. You hated saying his name, it humanized him and he was anything but human. Rather, he was an evil, irritating demon spawn simply disguising himself as human. And the cherry on top? He was the absolute bane of your existence. 

There was a hint of mischief in his eyes and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint, but you didn’t necessarily want to. He opened his mouth to call you over, but much to your dismay, decided against it and instead rose from his seat to saunter over to you. You tried fleeing the scene the millisecond he stood up, but the elderly lady directly in front of you shuffled quite slowly, blocking your exit and trapping you in place. You tapped your foot impatiently as he approached you. 

“You look… sweaty,” he observed, chuckling at your less-than-appealing state. Truth be told, though he didn’t like admitting it to himself, he thought you looked beautiful. 

“Taehy—” he forcibly cut you off by landing his slender finger on your lips. You ignored the spark you felt from the small contact. He let his gaze travel to your Cupid’s bow momentarily, a part of him wanting to kiss your frown away. 

“Ah, not Taehyun,” he reminded you smoothly. You considered biting his finger off, but you prided yourself on your outstanding professionalism. Granted, it significantly dwindled every time you spoke to him.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled monotonously. “Mr. Kang… if you don’t remove your hand from my mouth, I will shove a menu so far up your ass, you’ll choke,” you snapped, a pretty smile adorning your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Your customer service and approachable personality never fail to amaze me,” he stated, drawing his finger away from you. He continued despite the growing, fiery rage in your eyes, “I’d like another fork, mine’s a bit dirty.”

“That’s your problem. I’m not your waitress, I have my own customers to deal with, so if you don’t mind…”

He completely disregarded your subtle plea for him to leave. “For your information, I’d much rather prefer you as a server and not him,” he admitted, throwing a spare glance at his server—Hyunjin, if you were guessing from the blond hair. 

“That’s too bad…” you trailed as you mustered up the fakest sympathetic pout you could. You continued, “Anyways, I really hate to cut this short, but I’d better get going. I’m sure you’ll survive with your fork. You probably won’t get tetanus, but fingers crossed.”

“Yeah, best of luck with Cinderella’s stepmom,” he mumbled, gesturing to your awaiting customer. He flashed you a confident wink before whirling around and returning to his seat. You scoffed, your lips tilting downward into an ugly grimace. The snapping sound from a couple of feet away brought you out of your disgusted daze. The lady you had spoken to was repeatedly snapping her fingers in an attempt to grab your attention. You were met with an expectant gaze when you directed your focus back on her. She was poised, her spine in perfect posture and hands folded properly across her lap; her body language exhibited no sign of emotion until you reached her watchful glare, clearly telling you to hurry along. You inhaled sharply before plastering on a fake smile. You resumed your hunt for Yeonjun, but once again, you felt the weight of a cocky stare land on your back. 

He was challenging you, silently. You knew it. Unfortunately for him, you had no interest in playing his silly, childish game, so you clenched your jaw and walked away. 

· ──────────────────── ·

As odd as it was, you and your best friend had a favorite bench. It sat a block from the country club and in the middle of a hidden, rugged park, but it was your safe space; it’d been your favorite place since you both found it in fourth grade. After every grueling shift, Kai would meet you on the bench with dinner. The food was almost always inedible, but you weren’t there for his cooking, rather his company. He was already perched on the bench, kicking at a pebble beneath his feet. He heard you approach but kept his focus on the fascinating rock.

“God, took you long enough, I’ve been here forever. I started to think you ditched me for one of those rich boys,” he complained. When you didn’t retort with a snarky comeback like you normally would’ve, he turned from his spot and glanced at your disheveled figure, immediately letting out an obnoxious laugh.

You looked like shit.

Your hair was a disaster, the wisps of hair framing your face no longer considered stylish, but rather unkempt and as Kai liked to put it, “homeless-like.” Not only did you look bad, you felt unclean. The sweat behind your knees was quickly becoming uncomfortably sticky and your mascara was rubbing off, making you look like a rabid raccoon. 

Despite all that, you were happy to see Kai, his bubbly personality never failed to cheer you up—but you’d never let him be privy to that. 

You shot him the nastiest glare you could muster, but that proved difficult considering the little energy you had left.

“Aw, Y/N…”

“I’m going to quit, I swear to God. If I have to hear one more soccer mom complain about her salmon being too fishy, I’m going to have to start perfecting my mugshot pose,” you grumbled through clenched teeth. He made a noise of disagreement, “Let’s not throw your ass in jail just yet. Orange makes you look like a traffic cone.”

You shot him an indignant glare, “Thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Anyways, I made us some hamburgers and managed to grab some extra soda cans before leaving home. So bone app the teeth or whatever.”

You snorted. He always brightened your mood, just a simple sentence could lift your sad spirit. You had to give it to him, the burger looked pretty appetizing… but you’d learned that with his cooking, much like anything else, appearances can be quite deceiving. Despite this, you inhaled your burger, ignoring the fact that the meat was undercooked and the mayonnaise was likely expired. You paid no attention to the fact that your soda was lukewarm and flat—you sipped on it regardless. Your mind was elsewhere, easily drowning out whatever Kai was ranting about. 

“... I know you probably had a bad day ‘cause of your boy,” he observed quietly.

You snapped your focus back, “My boy?”

“Yeah, your boy. The one you think is a self-righteous prick, but secretly think is really hot. Hm, what was it… Terry? Tyler? Taeyong?... Oh, I got it. Trash can.”

You scoffed, “Taehyun, most certainly, is not my boy. I can’t stand him. His head is so far up his flat ass, I’m surprised he’s still breathing.”

Kai nodded in feigned understanding. He tilted an eyebrow quizzically before opening his mouth, but you beat him to it.

“And I don’t think he’s cute!” 

“... And I’m Beyoncé.” 

You didn’t respond, too tired to argue with him. Instead, you let out a small noise of disagreement before resting your head on his broad shoulder, contently sipping on your warm soda. He knew how tired you were; everyday he watched you wear yourself down to practically nothing, it hurt him. He leaned his head against your own, placing a hand atop your thigh and squeezing reassuringly. You allowed yourself to relax, breathing in the humid, summer air. You stayed like that until he let out a small laugh. 

“Let’s rob him,” Kai suddenly suggested. He was joking, obviously, but you still perked at the idea. You turned to face him expectantly, straw loosely hanging from your mouth. He visibly retracted, “Jeez, Y/N, I was kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“… I’m not robbing someone.” He threw you a cautious glare before aggressively taking a large bite of his burger and chugging his flat soda. You were losing your mind, he was sure of it. You poked curiously, “So I’m assuming your stance on graffitiing is the same.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line before letting out an exasperated sigh, “Obviously.”

You turned away, sulking, and he couldn’t help but snicker. You were his best friend and had been since second grade, but if he said he didn’t think you were a dumbass, he'd be lying. 

“Come on, it’s time to get you home, you have an early shift tomorrow,” he reminded suddenly, mouth still full. You smacked his arm, disgusted by his lack of basic manners. He opened his mouth to showcase all his unchewed food. 

You gagged. 

“You’re disgusting!” you screeched, shuffling away from him. He chased after you, catching you almost immediately. His long legs made it easy. He effortlessly tossed you over his shoulder, ignoring your squirming, and carried you to his car, “Hush, I know you love me.”

“Gross. Never.”

He slapped the back of your calf and you squeaked, “Kai! Put me down! Now!”

“No, not until you say it. Make it believable, too.”

He wasn’t joking, you knew that. Eleven years of friendship and he was still as shameless as the day you met him. More so, if anything. Yes, his eight-year-old self was quite the charmer. You grumbled monotonously, “Kai, what can I say… you’re the light of my life, my hero, my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Probably die. I love you, I guess.”

“Too sarcastic, but it’ll do,” he conceded. He set you down and held in a laugh. Your hair looked even worse than before. He slung an arm around your shoulder, “Okay, get in the car. Hurry. I’d rather not listen to you complain about your lack of beauty sleep… again.”

· ──────────────────── ·

You mindlessly typed in a complicated order as Yeonjun watched your gaze drift over to the garden. 

“You’ve pressed that button so much, the console’s probably broken. Cool it,” he reprimanded gently. Your attention snapped back to the screen which was littered with incorrect orders.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what has me so distracted today,” you mumbled sheepishly. He chuckled and gave you a comforting nudge on the shoulder, “I think I know exactly why.”

Your gaze followed his and instantly landed on Taehyun. As much as you hated to admit, he looked good. Great, even. It looked like he’d just walked out of a rager, especially with his tie undone and shirt untucked, which he pulled off beautifully. His hair was slightly disheveled and you suddenly had the strongest urge to run a hand through it. 

Your eyes widened at the sudden thought and you aggressively shoved it to the back of your mind. “I don’t like him!” 

“I never said you did.” he argued, suppressing a mirthful grin. Yeonjun reminded you of Kai, especially with his insistence on your attraction to Taehyun, or as you believed, lack thereof. He continued, “Just a reminder, though. The line between love and hate is so, so thin.”

Rather than responding and saying something that would surely get you fired, you huffed and turned your focus back on the order, unaware of your aggressive punching on the console’s screen. You were already having a rough day, but everyday spent at the country club was considered less-than-stellar. Yeonjun gave you a reassuring smile before sulking off to deal with another whiny, overbearing customer. You unconsciously let your gaze travel back over to Taehyun and was instantly met with a genuine smile, just not one directed to you. He laughed at a joke, oblivious to your longing and thank God, if he caught you staring, you’d never hear the end of it. His smile was just so pretty, you couldn’t help but feel giddy. Sure, you hated him—that’s what you told yourself—but you could appreciate a handsome face. As if on cue, Taehyun turned in your general direction and you quickly scrambled out of sight. As you turned, Hyunjin scrambled by you, the heavy tray resting on his shoulder nearly beheading you. His long, wavy blond hair, which was in a nice, neat half-ponytail at the beginning of his shift, was now splaying in every direction—he was beyond stressed. If the messy hair wasn’t enough, his hooded eyes were getting darker. You approached him as he grabbed a checkbook, “Hyun, you look like a mess.”

“Hey, Y/N! Yeah, I just have a lot of floor to cover, and they’re all extra demanding today,” he explained, short of breath. He groaned as he watched another set of people sit in his section and continued, “God, please cover me. I’ll owe you one. I’m already overwhelmed with my current table number.”

You laughed understandingly, “Of course.”

“You’re the best, it’s table thirty.” He squinted to get a good look, “Oh! I know that customer, he’s a great tipper. You should be just fine.”

You shifted your attention to the table in question, immediately deflating as you saw Taehyun sitting with a friend. You turned around to protest, but Hyunjin was already gone. 

You internally screamed before trudging over to his table, gathering all of your dignity... kissing his arrogant ass wasn’t necessarily on your agenda for today. When Taehyun saw you approach his table, he did little to hide his pleased smirk. You undid your balled fist. 

“Hi. My name is Y/N, I’ll be your server today,” you monotonously stated, an unenthusiastic but convincing smile plastering your face. To any other guest, it would’ve been believable, but Taehyun knew better; your server persona didn’t fool him.

“Y/N. What a pretty name,” his friend observed, a bit too flirtatiously for your liking. Taehyun noticed too, judging from the way he narrowed his eyes and tongued his cheek. And also the way he obviously kicked his friend’s leg under the table. You mustered a sweet smile, hoping to mask your disgust, “Thank you! That’s so… nice. Anyway, what would you like to drink? We got in a new Italian wine, just delivered today.”

“That’s alright, just water.”

“Water.”

Cheap. Especially for a pair of chaebol children. 

“Alright! I’ll be back momentarily,” you informed, smile dropping the instant you turned away. As you trailed back to the kitchen, you heard Taehyun give his friend a hushed reprimanding making you smirk. You passed Yeonjun, noticing he looked as if he was about to lose his sanity. You gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder—for someone so young, he managed well. Of course, he used his handsome face and charm as often as possible; his attractiveness and charisma was dangerous. He managed to grasp the attention of everyone and it aided him greatly. You pressed quizzically, “Jun, you don’t seem good.”

“Says you. You’re lover boy’s server. What a shocking, juicy turn of events. I’m on my toes,” he teased impishly. You stared at him vacantly. Yeonjun continued to poke fun, enjoying the lack of response you gave as you procrastinated to avoid returning to Taehyun’s table, but sadly, there was only so long it could take to fill a glass with water. Yeonjun pouted sympathetically, “Good luck.”

You didn’t need luck. No. To spend a precious hour or more, waiting on a privileged, disgustingly wealthy teenage boy, specifically Kang Taehyun, you needed patience, self-control, and temper management. You reminded yourself of just that as you approached him, placing his water near his plate, “Gentlemen, are you ready to order?”

You jotted down his friend’s order, ignoring the growing complexity as he piled on request after request, no sign of stopping. “... And I need it lukewarm. Not room temperature, but lukewarm.”

You diligently suppressed the eye roll that nearly bubbled up. Honestly, you’d dealt with far worse, Taehyun’s friend didn’t even scratch the surface. 

You had to wonder though, did people like this ever feel shame? 

You faced the cocky redhead, “And for you… Mr. Kang?”

You cringed. He didn’t miss the nearly imperceptible flash of disgust that crossed your expression. He grinned, “Just the lasagna. While you’re at it, I’d like another glass of water.”

“You already have a full glass,” you seethed, glancing at the glass you had just set down. He enjoyed this: testing you, pushing you, slowly dwindling your sanity until you snapped. He wanted to get a reaction from you, anything other than the bored, disinterested expression you gave him every single day. He smiled innocently, “What can I say… I like staying hydrated.”

His amusement was irritating. Unsurprisingly, his torment was based on the stupid, outdated notion that a boy has to show interest by picking on his crush, but you weren’t privy to his inner thought process. You suppressed another eye roll as you turned to grab a pitcher from Hyunjin, the boy sprinting behind you with a full tray. You felt bad for him, at least, until you remembered he pawned Taehyun’s table onto you and your pity became short lived. You filled an empty glass, increasingly aware of Taehyun’s piercing stare. Your emotionless expression would’ve given him no indication as to how nervous you felt if it weren’t for the slight blush that painted your face.  

He smirked victoriously. You hated it.

A breath of relief escaped you as his attention turned to his friend. He leaned back in his seat and lifted a hand to rest behind his head, accidentally smacking the pitcher, causing you to spill the cold water onto his lap. He flinched at the sudden icy contact. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you gasped, fishing a stray napkin from your apron. Normally, he would’ve brushed it off, considering it was his fault, but he felt pressured under the expectant gaze of his snobbish peer. Plus, he gained the reaction he wanted from you... something other than disgust. He feigned offense as he dramatically pushed his seat back and stood up, easily towering over you, “Next time, try not sucking at your job!”

He immediately regretted his outburst but he showed no sign of remorse, not when he had a reputation to uphold. God forbid, he could actually be a considerate person. 

More importantly, though, he pushed too far this time and there wasn’t much turning back. You winced at his tone, withering back from his harsh statement, though you quickly replaced your hurt with unadulterated rage. Your blood boiled as your vision went red, steam practically fuming from your ears. Your pained expression broke his heart and he nearly dropped his act, but before he could do or process anything, his silk shirt was sticking uncomfortably to his body as ice water seeped through. His slacks were drenched and his designer loafers were completely ruined. He didn’t pay much attention to that, though... not when you were an inch from his face, holding an empty water pitcher over his head.

“I quit,” you lowly hissed. You firmly shoved the pitcher into his hand and scoffed as he stumbled back from the force. All eyes were on you as you stalked off, hastily tossing your apron into the nearest trash can. Yeonjun gave you a quick nod, his subtle way of telling you he was proud. 

He’d get your resignation letter another day.

Taehyun helplessly called after you but it was useless. You were too far gone to care. 

· ──────────────────── ·

You slammed your car door shut, absolutely fuming. You blankly stared at the frog keychain hanging from your rearview mirror. Normally, you would’ve smiled at the small figurine, but in the moment, you wanted to punt it into another timezone. It’s cheeriness pissed you off to no end. You quickly fished your phone out to dial Kai’s number, the line ringing thrice before he picked up, groaning, “I’m trying to sleep.”

His voice seemed muffled, likely from the thirty plushies he insisted on sleeping with. 

“It’s dinner time.”

“It’s called a nap, genius.”

“Alright, well, I just quit my job… and I might have dumped a pitcher of water onto Taehyun’s stupid, privileged ass.”

The line fell silent. You wouldn’t have been surprised had he hung up on you—your tendency to act impulsively drove him up the wall and he was nearing his limit. You patiently awaited his response, likely a reprimanding scold. 

“Y/N, what the fuck.”

“He had it coming, I swear,” you promised. In detail, you explained your biased side of the story, ignoring the obvious judgement emanating from the opposite line. The minute you finished, you spotted Taehyun’s panicked figure run into the full parking lot, frantically searching for you; you ducked behind your steering wheel, praying he didn’t see you. You squeaked, cutting off Kai’s tangent, “Oh my God! Oh my God! He followed me!”

He sighed. “If you dumped ice water on me, I’d be chasing after you too.”

You peeked curiously from your spot, seeing he had yet to find you. The cogs in your mind churned slowly, mixing in with your rage, “What if we graffitied his house?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m serious, I want to do it! He can’t just get away with humiliating me in front of the entire club, waitstaff, and my manager. And graffitiing isn’t illegal… ish.”

You could practically picture his narrowed gaze, “It’s definitely, most certainly, illegal. Sunshine, I understand your anger, hell, I’d be outraged, but revenge isn’t always the answer. And graffiti isn’t the most… sound idea.”

You crossed your arms defensively, “It’s a genius idea.”

“It really isn’t.”

“I’m going to do it, regardless of if it’s a good idea or not. You’re either in or out.”

Once more, the line fell quiet. His mind churned, concluding there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d follow through—you were simply too chicken. He laughed, “Fine. I’m in.”

“Great! Find his address, I’ll be over soon.”

You hung up and regained your composure. Taehyun spotted your car as you buckled in your seatbelt, making direct eye contact with your enraged figure. You were surprised, he didn’t seem angry, rather regretful. Almost apologetic. 

But you didn’t care. 

You sped off the lot without sparing him a final glance. 

· ──────────────────── ·

“Have faith in me! Finding his address isn’t going to be hard. You know, I’m a tech whiz, it runs in the family.”

You snickered, “Beomgyu getting accepted into the computer science program at his university doesn’t mean you got the tech gene. You’re the worst with technology, you can’t even remember your laptop login half the time.”

He eyed you challengingly, before cracking his knuckles and typing furiously. Only a single minute had passed before he was yelling, “Jackpot! I found it!”

You were thrown for a loop. He was quite technologically inept, he couldn’t even open a browser without some trouble, let alone find an address. You stared at him quizzically, a smidge of doubt crossing your mind. He deflated, avoiding your hard gaze, “Okay… maybe, just maybe, I called Gyu before you arrived and had him help.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that tracks.”

You sighed and tossed yourself back on his plush bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered on his ceiling. You laughed quietly, you remembered putting them up there—it was really only a year ago. See, Kai had this whole star-sticker-related schtick or as he liked to put it, “Inability to have them as a child which subsequently caused emotional damage.”

You had just returned from a grueling shift and you were exhausted, weak, and insanely pissed—reason being Taehyun, of course.

It was always Taehyun.

In a frivolous attempt to cheer you up, Kai suggested pasting the stickers onto his ceiling. Honestly, it was more stressful than fun. He constantly wobbled around the bed, nearly dropping you several times as you sat perched on his broad shoulders and stuck them up. It kept you busy though, and thus, kept your mind off of Taehyun. 

It was funny, honestly. For someone that swore they hated him, you sure thought about him a lot. He took residence in your mind and you felt like the landlord trying to evict him. 

Even at that moment, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Of course, you were in denial. You told yourself it was natural to be thinking about him; after all, you were going to destroy his property. There was absolutely no other reason as to why he ran free in your mind… none at all. 

Kai knew you were overthinking. It wasn’t hard to tell, especially since your forehead usually tended to crease in the ugliest manner when you did. He tried reeling you out of your daze, “So, we’re going to commit a crime.”

“Yep.”

“... There’s no turning back.”

“I know. I’m not going to chicken out.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, of course you’d chicken out. You always did. He didn’t see any harm in indulging you with your idiotic plan, so he found the address. No harm, no foul. Right?

· ──────────────────── ·

You anxiously picked at the leather seating beneath you, nearly tearing a hole in the worn fabric. 

“Yo, cool it. Jihyo is already pretty fucked up,” Kai warned. Oh, Jihyo. You still couldn’t believe he named his old, rickety car—let alone after his ex. His car looked as if it had a mile left in it before it ultimately broke down, but you had to put some blind trust in Jihyo. After all, she was your getaway car if everything went south. You’d been sitting in Kai’s passenger seat for half an hour, coming up with nearly every excuse not to proceed with the crime.

“We really don’t have to do this. Not to mention, I don’t want to do this,” he grumbled. 

“Then why are you here?”

Imagine his surprise when you showed up at his door, decked out in all-black, stealthy gear, hope and adrenaline coursing through your body. He truly believed you would’ve backed down by now, and a small part of him hoped you still would, but the odds weren’t looking in his favor. 

“I’m not letting you go to jail! I can’t get through the school year without you, especially now that Jihyo—human Jihyo—is starting to spread her stupid, little personal agenda against me. Like, yeah, I broke up with you and that’s rough, but maybe next time, try not being manipulative… or a cheater,” he rambled. You flashed him a sympathetic smile; he said he was over it but you knew better. You patted his arm comfortingly and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, a flustered, shy smile replacing his pout. 

“Guess what? I think I know exactly what’ll make you feel better,” you whispered sweetly. 

His smile instantly turned down into an exasperated frown, “Mhm, let me guess… robbing the rich boy you have a crush on.”

“I don’t have a crush on him! Why would I like him? He yelled at me in front of the entire club! And we’re not robbing him, we’re simply… graffitiing his house. Tastefully. 

“So you admit, you had a crush on him.”

“No! I’m just saying!”

He pointedly rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the castle-like house across the street, not wanting to have that conversation with you. He mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like idiot but you let it slide, instead choosing to focus on the task at hand. 

“Okay, so the gate code is probably something stupid like his birthday, his mom is probably sentimental like that,” you mumbled to yourself. You tapped your foot anxiously as you tried to formulate a coherent plan. You slowly continued, “The only problem is the crazy amount of security cameras around his house. Like, who needs that many cameras? People are dying.”

“God, I hate you,” Kai grumbled.

You ignored him, “There has to be a blind spot, somewhere a camera won’t cover. Hm…” you studied the perimeter, searching for that camera-free sweet spot. At that moment, you found a tiny patch of grass, hidden under a massive oak tree. 

Bingo. 

You shook Kai’s arm aggressively, “Look! Right there, that’s the spot. That tree has to cover the camera.”

He rested his head against the steering wheel, “Let’s get this over with.”

As you both climbed out of his car, you couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. The street was littered with fancy, expensive cars while Jihyo looked like she belonged in the dump, making you even angrier. Kai crept over to the sidewalk, insisting on creeping in the shadows like a vigilante. You, on the other hand, struggled to carry your duffel bag full of equipment, constantly getting slowed down by the exceptional weight. That was your fault though, you packed it full of necessary, outstandingly heavy equipment (necessary being a loose term). Alongside the many cans of paint sat a bag of Goldfish, three juice boxes (because Kai is a massive baby), a faulty navigation system, a not-at-all threatening ski mask, and a broken hammer. 

You didn’t remember packing that hammer. 

You settled in front of Taehyun’s gate, hoping your birthday theory was correct. Of course, simply because it was you and your luck was awful, it wasn’t. You began pressing random keys, hoping something would work but it was fruitless. Nothing worked, not even the basic combinations. You huffed, “I guess we’re going to have to climb our way in.”

You mentally prepared yourself as Kai sent a couple of prayers out for good measure. He eyed your duffel bag curiously before opening it, instantly met with a multitude of spray paint in all shades. He narrowed his eyes and scoffed, “Jesus, Y/N! Where the hell did you get all this shit?”

“... Craigslist.”

“Bullshit, you were kicked off Craigslist years ago.”

You winced, insulted by his easy remark—he knew how sensitive you were about that. You kicked a pebble sheepishly, mumbling softly, “Fine, I bought the paint from Soobin…”

His eyes widened comically as his heart practically ripped out of his chest, “Soobin?! Choi Soobin?! You can’t be serious. No, there’s no way you bought from the school drug dealer! He’s a criminal! He probably tried to toss in some of that devil’s lettuce with your purchase, huh? Or worse… crack!”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your head back, he was always so dramatic. “Kai, he’s not a criminal. He’ll occasionally sell an edible or two, but that’s it! He didn’t try to sell me anything. Actually, he gave me a pretty good deal on this stuff.”

“Lovely, a modern-day businessman,” he grumbled sarcastically. 

“Whatever, just help me climb the wall,” you huffed, zipping up your bag before tossing it over the blockade. Hesitantly, he got on one knee, muttering something you couldn’t quite hear—not that you wanted to anyways. You delicately stood on his knee as he pushed on your thighs in an attempt to boost you over. 

Honestly, you struggled. Your weak muscles did little to aid in your quest, but Kai’s strength helped. 

“God, take your sweet time, it’s not like your flat, piece of plywood ass is dangling in front of my face or anything. I’m about to throw up,” he gagged. 

You scoffed, “Yeah, yeah, complain all you want but this is the most action you’ll ever see.”

“... I won’t hesitate to drop you on your face.”

However, before he could follow on his threat, you managed to hoist yourself over the brick wall. You offered a hand to Kai but instead of accepting, he eyed it mockingly, knowing you weren’t strong enough to lift him. He stretched his legs before taking a step back, giving him a running start, and surprising you both when he successfully lifted himself.

You placed your hand over his mouth, “Shh.. whisper. We’re in enemy territory now.”

He licked your palm, nearly making you screech, “Gross!”

He childishly stuck his tongue out. You shook your head and began scrounging the duffel bag for the perfect paint color. Of course, you wanted to create a masterpiece worthy of Kang Taehyun... you even considered tagging it. Kai silently sat on the grass, aimlessly picking at the freshly-cut blades as he watched you happily paint. 

You were pleased to say that in the half an hour you’d been painting, nothing had gone awry... yet.

“The fuck is that supposed to be?” he questioned curiously, leaning closer to inspect the vulgar work. 

“Taehyun,” you said easily.

“Really? ‘Cause it looks like a dick.”

“It’s called symbolism, Kai.” You stepped back to admire your work as if it were hung in the Louvre whilst Kai scrunched his nose, clearly offended by the unpleasant art.

“You know, it’s funny how you have the biggest crush on this dic—” Before he could further elaborate, he was interrupted by an awfully familiar voice. 

“What the hell are you doing on my front lawn?”

You cringed. You’d been caught red-handed. 

Kai turned slowly, surrendering with his hands up. You, however, kept your back turned, considering just going to hell with it and continuing your tasteful artwork. He glanced at you anxiously, silently pleading for you to put down the paint can. 

Only because Kai looked a second away from fainting, you huffed and turned around, mimicking his pose, the only difference being the bored expression plastered on your face. 

Taehyun stood in front of you, his arms crossed and irritation painted all over his body language, but as much as he tried to hide it, there was a glint of amusement behind his eyes. You hated how his obnoxious, stop sign hair managed to look amazing under the glow of the moonlight—it was beyond irritating. Arguably, his entire being was irritating. You held his gaze, silently challenging his presence. Kai, on the other hand, was sweating profusely and dramatically hyperventilating. He clutched onto your shoulder, failing to catch an actual breath, “Oh my God! I feel like my heart is pumping out lukewarm sewer water.”

He placed his hands on his knees as he hunched over and continued, “Please, Taehyun. Please, don’t hit me with your Lamborghini. I’m begging you.”

Taehyung blankly stared at the younger, completely forgetting he was even there. You rubbed your temple and hissed, “Will you shut the fuck up? You’re making this worse.”

“I don’t want to go to jail! My face is too pretty for jail, they’d murder me on sight for being the most gorgeous boy they’ve ever seen. God, please don’t call the cops… I’ll do anything,” Kai shamelessly begged. You were so close to punting him into the Pacific Ocean. Taehyun’s annoyingly gorgeous lips twisted into a smug grin as he directed his attention back on you, “Hm, and what about you, Princess? I don’t see you begging.”

You scoffed, “I’d rather eat Kai’s shoe.”

He simply hummed, “That’s too bad. You know, I have a family friend who’s a cop… I’ll convince him to go easy on you in jail.”

“The wealthy wielding control over the justice system… how unexpected.”

“Oh my God! Y/N’s kidding, she’ll do anything,” Kai blurted quickly, shooting you a death glare. Taehyun’s eyebrow lifted curiously, a satisfied smirk settling comfortably, “Is that true?”

“What the hell do you want?” you questioned hesitantly. 

“A date.”

You briefly considered his words before shoving Kai forward, “Yeah, go nuts. He’s all yours.”

“... With you.”

You threw your head back and let out an inappropriate, hearty laugh. Even Kai let out a small snicker before replacing it with a fake cough, but Taehyun didn’t seem amused. He watched you expectantly, awaiting an answer. 

“So this is the only way Kang Taehyun can score a date… by blackmailing them. You know, that actually makes sense,” you theorized to no one in particular. You simmered in silence for a short moment before Kai cleared his throat, hinting at his obvious discomfort. Taehyun was enjoying this, you just knew it. 

That broken hammer never looked better...

“Fine,” you conceded. You glared at him, biting your tongue to prevent you from going off on his pompous ass. Taehyun’s eyes lit up with hope. 

Kai let out a breath of relief before mumbling an apology and dragging you off the lawn. His grip on you tightened as you turned around one last time to shoot daggers at Taehyun. He stood comfortably in the middle of his manicured lawn, the porch lights behind him highlighting his pleased smirk, yet all you saw was red.

· ──────────────────── ·

Kai splayed across your bed, mindlessly picking at a random throw pillow while you spritzed a hint of perfume on your forearm. His gaze trailed over your figure curiously, “You’re quite dressed up for someone who’d rather sleep in a dumpster than go on this date.”

“Well I’m not about to walk into high society wearing a stained sweatshirt and joggers.”

He snorted, “Right, that’s the only reason.” You smoothed your shirt and gave yourself a once over, feeling quite confident in your choice of clothing. Kai wasn’t blind, he thought you looked nice, but he’d let pigs fly before he told you that. He continued, “You don’t look… that ugly.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that was the closest you’d ever get to a compliment from him, “Thanks.”

“Do you know where he’s taking you?” 

“Nope.”

If you were being honest, you didn’t care where he took you; you didn’t set any conscious expectations. 

“Oh! Before I forget…” Kai smirked as he dug around his backpack. He tossed you a small, blue bottle of mouthwash. He winked cheekily, “You never know… mayhaps you’ll kiss him.”

You nearly threw up, “I most certainly will not be kissing anyone tonight, especially not his pretentious ass. Besides, you know about my rule.”

He groaned. He definitely knew about your rule, it was all you talked about after getting dumped by your last ex. After your last failed relationship (or four) you created a no-kiss policy for your first three dates. You wanted to make sure your kisses weren’t in vain, and honestly, it was fun just watching them work for it. 

“The rule is dumb,” he reminded. 

“... You’re dumb.”

You were busy dodging a pillow when your doorbell rang, signaling Taehyun’s arrival. You were shocked he didn’t just notify his presence by honking his horn—for a pompous ass such as himself, you wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“It’s time,” you mumbled somberly. 

“He isn’t the Grim Reaper. This is a date, it’s supposed to be a happy thing!” he tried encouraging sweetly as you stalked down the staircase, but to no avail, your mood didn’t lighten in the slightest. 

You aggressively swung open your front door, nearly knocking Kai unconscious. Taehyun dressed simple but pleasant; his expensive, black sweater was expertly tucked into a nice set of slacks and the Cartier bracelet that adorned his wrist, perfectly accentuated his veins. His bright, red hair was styled messily and his cheeks were flushed, beautifully highlighting his angled nose and sharp jawline. Your mouth gaped, just slightly, as you drank him in—while he was always attractive, this specific look had you stunned. He held a single rose against his chest and it only made him look more ethereal, if that was even possible. When you looked up, you instantly noted the hint of panic in his eyes, which made you feel at ease. 

“Taehyun,” you blankly addressed.

“Y/N! You look amazing, so beautiful…” he trailed as he handed you the rose. You grabbed it and immediately shoved it into Kai’s chest.

“Let’s get this over with,” you grumbled, pushing past him and harshly hitting his shoulder.

“... Right.”

“Hey, try not to murder him, I can’t afford bail. I make minimum wage,” Kai reminded, flashing Taehyun a sympathetic smile as the older trailed closely behind you. You were about to open his car door when he came rushing by, insisting on opening it for you. In return, you sent him a nasty glare, “I’m capable of opening my own door.”

“I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

“A gentleman doesn’t go off on someone in the middle of a public space,” you reminded.”

He sighed. A mere five minutes into the date and he already felt defeated. He wished he could form a proper apology, but it would be futile—you’d just shut him down. So he decided to express his apology in the form of something he knew you’d accept; needless to say, he had a trick or two up his Gucci sleeve. 

You kept your gaze focused on anything but him. Your arms were folded across your chest, the evident frown on your face doing very little to hide your irritation. Despite that, he still thought you looked beautiful… granted, every single time he spoke to you, you wore a frown so this wasn’t new to him. 

“You look so pretty,” he complimented as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“I know.”

Of course he deserved every ounce of your cold, unwelcoming demeanor, but it still hurt. He was flushed but you didn’t notice since you made an obvious effort to scoot as far away from him as possible, practically pressing yourself up against the car door. However, the painful silence quickly overwhelmed you, so you hesitantly threw him a bone, “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise but I know you’ll like it. It’s my way of apologizing.”

“This better be a hell of an apology.”

“I promise you it is.”

You noticed his sincerity. His usual cockiness was replaced with shyness and a twinge of guilt, and you found it endearing. You stayed quiet for the remainder of the car ride, only a small sound of confusion as he pulled into a half-empty parking lot of a local carnival. A young employee approached the car and gave Taehyun a permitting nod, making you suspicious. He drove past the entrance gate and straight into a private space, parking next to a dinky, old ice cream truck. The space was close to a nearby forest, a bit too secluded for your taste.

“So you’re going to kill me,” you observed, scanning the dark environment around you.

He rolled his eyes. “No.”

“That’s what a murderer would say,” you mumbled.

You were so stubborn, he knew that, yet he still let out an exasperated sigh. He frowned and climbed out of his car, shuffling to your side, only to find you were already halfway out. You didn’t say anything, choosing to send another hard glare his way instead.

He headed in the direction of the carnival—not the forest—and gestured you to follow him. You trailed behind, ignoring the damp mud that stuck to the bottom of your cheap shoes. You felt a bit overdressed, but when you glanced at Taehyun, you felt better. However, the more you thought about it, his outfit likely cost more than your college tuition, putting a slight dent in your ego. You focused your attention on the glowing moon instead of him, and when he turned to look at you, he was in awe. You seemed peaceful, or at least, not as pissed. 

It was nice.

He led you down to the middle of the fair where you saw a crowd gathered around a massive dunk tank. He seemed antsy, constantly shifting his weight and picked at the hem of his costly shirt. He momentarily abandoned your side and walked to the dunk tank operator, speaking briefly before grabbing a bucket filled of unknown stuff. 

When he walked back, you stared curiously at the bucket which was full of heavy baseballs. “This is my apology.”

Vague. 

As if he read your mind, he gently placed his hand on your shoulder and turned you to face the tank, pointing directly at the chair above the pool. “I’m going to be sitting on that chair. Your job is to throw them,” he gestured over to the bullseye, “at the target, until I’m submerged.”

You couldn’t suppress your smile. He was right, this was an apology you’d accept, an apology in the form of embarrassment. Smart boy. 

He didn’t necessarily look forward to ruining his cashmere sweater, but he would’ve done anything to make it up to you, and your bright smile told him he was on the right path. You let out a light laugh, picking up a baseball and tossing it carelessly. 

He spared you a final glance before shuffling off to his fate. He seemed to garner a lot of attention, the crowd had grown significantly larger since you first arrived. You held the ball in your hand as he climbed onto the chair—you were arguably a little too excited to send him into the cold, cold water. He seemed shaky, but you didn’t care. You threw the ball with no hesitation. 

Strike one. You missed by a long shot.

He suppressed a laugh. You shook your body, ridding yourself of any anxiousness before trying once more. 

Strike two. You were closer. Barely.

You had an unlimited amount of attempts, but the longer you failed, the more embarrassed you felt. He now seemed comfortable... prideful, even. Your face was flushed red from humiliation, but you tried to keep it from affecting you as you threw once more, this time, significantly more aggressive. 

Strike three. This was outright shameful.

“C’mon, you can do better than that…” he baited. He couldn’t help but tease, it didn’t matter that you were on a date. The crowd let out a collective laugh. You scoffed indignantly, cracking your neck and back, your stare darkening. You were about to hit the winning shot, he knew it. He loosened his grip on the chair and leaned forward.

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed. 

The longing, heartfelt expression in his eyes had you flustered. You nodded understandingly, reeling in his genuine apology, and flashing him a sympathetic, sincere smile before throwing the baseball straight at the bullseye, sending him (and his expensive outfit) straight into the tank. 

You pumped a fist in the air as the crowd cheered. He emerged from the stale water, completely drenched. He shook hair away from his eyes before climbing from the tank and into a changing room, but not before finding your figure in the crowd. You wore a gentle, soft smile; for the first time, you looked at him with something other than hatred. 

It gave him hope. 

After changing, he appeared by your side as the crowd slowly dispersed, dressed a lot more comfortably. He changed into a pair of fitted (and designer, you just knew it) joggers and a clean, simple sweatshirt, pulled together with a silver chain hanging from his neck. He went from runway to streetwear yet he managed to look absolutely fantastic and it irked you. He seemed expectant yet nervous, constantly shifting his feet and biting his bottom lip. He needed reassurance and suddenly, you weren’t hesitant to provide it. 

After a minute of painful silence, you conceded. “I forgive you.”

A deep sigh of relief escaped him. He’d practically been holding his breath since that day and all of a sudden, this weight had been lifted off his chest. A wave of solace washed over him, “Thank god. I didn’t know what I would’ve done if that didn’t work.”

You giggled softly. He short-circuited for a mere second; being the cause of your melodious laugh had him speechless. It was all new to him. Your laugh was so sweet, soft, and a drastic contrast from the person he was used to. He yearned to hear it again. 

You peered up at him without saying a word.

He coughed awkwardly. “Right, uh, that didn’t take long at all. Let’s get you home, this was a waste of your time, I’m so sorry,” he rambled, turning in the direction of his car. You tilted your head questioningly. The night was still young and you had no interest in going back home. You were pleasantly surprised, all it took was a simple apology for your hidden, buried feelings to surface, though you knew how hard it was for him to apologize. Maybe that’s why you were so easy to forgive. You reached for his sleeve and gently tugged him back, “You asked me out on a date, so let’s do it.”

Going on an actual date was the last thing he expected. His plan for the night was to pick you up, try his best not to offend you more than he already had, and get dunked into some dirty, stale water. Of course he couldn’t refuse, seeing as his heart nearly soared from his chest. He nodded eagerly, “Y-yeah! Yeah! Okay, let’s have a date. Okay, uh, this is a carnival, right? I have to win you a plushie then, that’s just basic, carnival date knowledge. That’s the rule.”

You snorted. “Can’t break the rules then.”

He led you on over to the strength machine, eager to showcase his brawn—he hoped to impress you. His boyish mentality made you laugh, as endearing as it was, you couldn’t help but find it primitive and a bit childish. Nonetheless, you indulged him. He fished change from his wallet and you couldn’t help but notice the shiny, heavy, black card sitting comfortable in his wallet’s compartment; you suppressed an instinctual eye roll. He held the massive hammer in hand, attempting to hide the fact that it slightly weighed him down, despite his muscular build. He flashed you a confident wink before raining the hammer down on the target, sending the marker less than halfway up the pole. You coughed in an attempt to hide your laughter, you didn’t want to embarrass him, he’d already been dunked into a tank of mucky water. 

He stood dumbfounded, “Okay, this is rigged.”

“Mhm, right.”

“Fine, hotshot. Give it a whirl then,” he challenged. You raised an eyebrow cockily, yanking the hammer from his hand. It was simple, all you had to do was send the marker higher than his. You smugly grinned before trying your luck, the marker barely rising an inch. 

He slapped his knee and cackled. You were offended.

“This is rigged,” you mumbled. 

“S’ok, love. There’s plenty of other stuff to do that isn’t rigged,” he encouraged, throwing a side eye at the gamer operator who simply shrugged in return. He slung an arm around your shoulder, choosing not to dwell on the way his heartbeat sped, “Let’s go get you a prize.”

· ──────────────────── ·

For him to win you a singular prize, it took a game of whack-a-mole, a shared slice of pizza, a tuft of cotton candy, a vigorous pep talk, and sprinkle of beginner’s luck. It was a cheap, funky-looking ring, but you wore it with the utmost pride. 

You both talked excessively, really getting to know each other, and with each new detail, he fell harder. Your shy smile, adorable laugh, witty sense of humor… they were all just a bonus. Normally, you weren’t one to fall, if at all, but you found yourself going against your instinct and doing just that. In hindsight, though, it’d been a long time coming. He was hesitant to initiate any sort of skinship, considering you’d forgiven him an hour prior, but you proved opposite after you mindlessly reached for his hand the second you spotted your favorite ride.

“The spinning teacup! That’s a must!” You both felt the spark from the contact, it was unmistakable, but you both chose not to say anything. He let you drag him over, despite his aversion to the particular ride; he just couldn’t say no. 

“Fine, but promise me you won’t spin fast.”

“Pinky promise.”

As the cup turned, albeit at snail pace, he admired the light wind that flowed delicately through your hair. You had a certain aura, he couldn’t help but notice. It was enchanting. The moonlight kissed your skin beautifully, it had him watching in infatuated awe. 

“You’re staring.”

“Pssh, I’m not staring.” You eyed him and he crinkled his nose, “Fine, I was staring. I can’t help it, you’re beautiful.”

He didn’t know where the sudden confidence came from, perhaps it was just the motion sickness, but he didn’t regret it. You turned away from him, clearly flustered, and it made him smile. The ride ended quicker than he expected, but it was a welcomed relief, considering his well-being. The second he stepped from the cup, he fell to the floor. 

“I barely spun the cup! It turned, like, a mile an hour!”

“I’m sensitive! I get sick easily.” He lifted himself off the ground, just slightly, continuing with a corny joke. “Look at me on the floor, I guess some might say… I fell for you.”

You snorted, not at the cheesy line, but the aggressive finger-gun that accompanied it. He tried to wink but failed, immediately hunching over from the queasy feeling in his stomach, “Oh my God, I’m going to die.”

He made an ugly, inhuman noise. 

“Jesus Christ. Are you okay?”

“No, it’s fine, I’m great. I just think it’s my time to go.”

He reminded you a lot of Kai—both of them had an affinity for being overly dramatic.

You rubbed his back soothingly. He felt so embarrassed, but the feeling was overshadowed by the sickly feeling. You continued caressing, making sure to glare at anyone that dared judge him. You crouched down until you were eye level and brushed his hair from his forehead, giving him a small smile. At that moment, he could’ve sworn you were an angel of some sort. He felt better instantly. 

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine,” he insisted, waving his hand carelessly, telling you not to worry.

“Let’s just head home. I’ll have Kai pick us up, he’ll definitely do it.” You paused, crinkling your forehead in thought, “Scratch that, he just got his license and ran over a cone yesterday.” 

He stood up slowly, waving his hand once more. “In the recipe for a perfect carnival date, the ferris wheel is a must.”

You didn’t like where he was going with that. 

“You’re going to hurl if we go on that. For real, this time.”

He rested his hand atop his heart. “I won’t! I swear.”

“I don’t know...”

He laced his hand with your own and pulled you to the carnival’s main attraction. He fiddled with the ring on your finger, proudly glancing at it every once in a while.

Just your luck, a slightly younger couple was paired with you on the ferris wheel. The ride operator shoved the four of you into the cramped, tiny compartment, ignoring the silent plea Taehyun sent her way. The other couple sat hesitantly with a noticeable distance between them, awkwardly shifting every now and then. The young men—one blond, one with raven black hair—stayed quiet and you couldn’t help but think they were also on their first date. They often glanced at each other but didn’t talk and Taehyun had to hide his amusement. All four of you simmered in uncomfortable silence for a good portion of the ride. 

Taehyun unconsciously threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close as you laid your head on his shoulder. It was a subtle display of affection that made you blush, but he didn’t notice. Out of the corner of his eyes, Taehyun watched the blond boy copy his movement, just significantly clumsier—the poor boy accidentally smacked his boyfriend square on the nose. It took a lot for Taehyun (and you) to suppress an amused laugh.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” whispered the blond. His boyfriend let out a small, nervous laugh, “It’s okay.”

The black-haired boy gently rubbed his nose before reaching for his boyfriend’s hand—a simple compromise. The blond avoided eye contact with you and Taehyun, choosing to shift his gaze to the carnival below. The black-haired boy spoke first, “We’re kind of… new to dating.”

The blond cringed, still looking at the fair, before nodding in agreement. You giggled at the obvious tension, quickly comforting, “It’s cute! You two seem like an adorable couple.”

The couple smiled fondly at each other. The blond squeezed his boyfriend’s hand reassuringly and it made you smile. They seemed so in love, you were swooning. The remainder of the ride was silent and the couple chose to get off the ride after the first go-around. The blond meekly nodded his head in Taehyun’s direction and your boy gently returned the gesture with a shy, caring smile. 

As soon as they were out of earshot, you both broke into a fit of laughter, “Oh my God! He was totally copying you, that’s adorable!”

Taehyun gushed, “They both were so flustered! Too cute.”

You both spent the next go-around giggling, conversing about nothing, and sharing sweet, longing gazes. The carnival beneath you slowly began shutting down, each area turning their lighting off one by one. You kept your hand laced with his and while you glanced down the dying fair, he lovingly gazed at you. 

“I guess that’s our cue to leave.” You gestured below. He trained his gaze to the lack of vivid lighting around the carnival and sighed, “Yeah, I guess so.”

He squeezed your hand tighter. You didn’t want to part from him so soon and he shared your exact sentiment. 

· ──────────────────── ·

As Taehyun pulled into your driveway, you instantly spotted Kai’s silhouette lurking in your bedroom window.

“Jesus Christ,” you grumbled.

Kai had spent his night waiting for you to come home, eager to hear your nightmarish tale. He planned to head to his house and simply wait for your inevitable call, but when he left to grab takeout, he found himself straying back to your house. Your mother must’ve let him in, granted he was also gifted a key and he used it regularly. Your mind suddenly short-circuited by the feeling of Taehyun’s hand atop your own. If you noticed his tremble and clamminess, you didn’t mention it. 

He cleared his throat, “Let me walk you to your door.”

You sheepishly nodded, anxious to speak. If yesterday, someone had told you you would be this shy at the end of the night, you would’ve laughed in their face. He rushed to open your door and you let him, much to his surprise, without any snarky remark. The short distance to your front door didn’t stop him from holding your hand, leaving you a giggly, flustered mess.

You could practically feel Kai’s smirk. 

Taehyun stood awkwardly, frequently shifting his weight, while you nervously picked at your fingernail, both waiting for the other to break the silence. He took the first leap of faith, “I had a great time tonight, I hope you did too.”

You were too focused on his calloused thumb tracing soothing circles along the back of your hand, making you lose your train of thought, “Yeah! Yes! So fun!”

You winced at your overly enthusiastic response. The luminous light, hanging haphazardly above you did little to hide your anxiousness. He chuckled softly, glad he wasn’t the only nervous one, “That’s good to hear.”

“I’m sorry you nearly threw up.” You both cringed at the recent memory. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, “Don’t worry. Weirdly, that’s not the worst thing to happen to me on a date.”

You tilted your head curiously, you wished to hear his story. Frankly, you found yourself wishing to hear everything about him, but before anything, you needed to get some stuff off your own chest. “I’m also sorry about other stuff. I have more to apologize than you, even before the incident, I was always so abrasive and mean, and I want to apologize for that. And, I, uh, also kind of broke into your house… so obviously I’m sorry about that too. Not to mention, I thin—” 

He placed his hand on your cheek and caressed softly, making you quiet. “It’s water under the bridge.”

You shyly smiled, looking away from his adoring gaze. He tried mustering up a cheesy line but he found himself losing focus, his eyes constantly straying to your lips; he couldn’t help it, he really wanted to kiss you. He sucked in a deep breath, gathering the courage to just do it, even though he knew you’d likely reject his advance. After all, it was just the first date and you only forgave him three hours ago.

Not to mention, Kai stole your phone to get Taehyun’s number just to inform him of your strict no-kiss policy.

He hesitantly brushed your hair behind your ear before leaning in slowly, his plush, attractive lips easily tempting you. Unfortunately for him, you kept to your rule. You splayed your hand across his chest before pushing him back gently, “Nice try, Romeo.”

He wasn’t surprised, it was a long shot anyways. He’d just regret it if he didn’t try. He nodded understandingly before leaning in once more, this time to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t hide the obvious blush that dusted your cheeks, making him grin. Maybe you weren’t as tough as you liked to seem. 

He felt hopeful.

“So for our next date, I was thinking mini golf,” he said enthusiastically. His eyes sparkled with excitement; he seemed thrilled, you couldn’t help but giggle, “Easy there tiger, I don’t recall ever saying anything about a second date.”

He leaned in to plant a kiss on your cheek, pulling away only slightly to whisper, “I think I’ll be getting another date.”

He was right. He was definitely getting another date… and maybe, just maybe, you’d break your no-kiss rule.