#I have a crush like embarrassingly big can’t speak in from of them big crush

[bucklavaa]

….

[atinylittlepain]

ok so given that the oscars just happened, imagine a joel x actress!reader. before everything went to shit joel was a normal human being who loved watching movies and like any basic person had a celebrity crush. fast forward and the world has gone to shit and joel and ellie (and maybe tommy too) go on a patrol that goes wrong and get saved by miss “i just smashed a guys head in with my oscar” or something like that, just a fluff and fun imagine that isnt gonna break my heart in a million pieces like last nights episode

oh my god, your mindddddd - I love this idea :)

Big Fan

Joel Miller x actress!reader

Joel Miller masterlist

Joel recognizes her right away. After all, she starred in his favorite movie of all time.

warnings | 18+ a little angst, nothing wild, this is fluff through and through

Read part two!

.......................

“Are you–”

“I am.”

“You were in–”

“I was.”

“Well I’ll be damned.” 

“Alright, somebody better start speaking in full sentences, because I have no clue what the hell is going on.” Joel huffs, glancing at Ellie who's looking at him like he’s gone crazy, her gun still cocked at the woman in front of them.

“What? You don’t recognize her, kid? I just showed you Curtis and Viper.” Ellie’s brow furrows, but then she looks back at the woman and her eyes finally widen in recognition.

“Holy shit.” The woman laughs, eyes still focused on the barrel of Ellie’s gun.

“That’s not usually the movie people recognize me from. But I suppose it was my big break.” Joel nudges Ellie, muttering for her to put her “damn gun away, jesus christ,” and she quickly tucks it back in her belt.

He’s trying to not be weird right now, they did just kill five clickers together, but he’s finding it hard not to lose his cool over the woman who had been a silly crush of his since he first saw that cheap action movie as a teenager. He knows she did much better films afterward, remembers hovering behind the couch one night while Sarah was watching one of those awards shows, lingering just a bit longer when he saw her giving an acceptance speech with a blinding smile in a dress that probably cost more than his house. She’s certainly less elegant-looking now, but even after twenty years in a world like this, he can’t help the quick kick of his heart at actually meeting this woman in the flesh.

He clears his throat, also trying to clear his mind.

“Are you alone?” She sighs, wiping the blade of her knife on her jeans before sliding it back into its sheath.

“I wasn’t, and then I was. We were headed toward a settlement we heard about, I think a bit further north from here?” Joel keeps his expression steady, but can feel Ellie glancing at him. Movie star or not, he knows they have to be careful about who finds out about Jackson. But apparently, this woman isn’t just pretty, and she seems to pick up on the heavy pause after what she said.

“Do you two know about the place I’m talking about? Are we close?” Joel, sighs, looking at Ellie before making a decision that Tommy is probably going to smack him for later.

“We, um– we’re from there, actually. If you’re talking about where I think you’re talking about.” She huffs out a laugh, and offers them that megawatt smile Joel remembers seeing on his TV screen. Ellie, meanwhile, scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she glares at Joel.

“No shit. Do you think you have room for one more?” Joel’s eyes dart once more to Ellie, just seeing the subtle shake of her head, but he chooses to ignore it. How could he say no to the woman who had, embarrassingly, been one of his first wet dreams?

“You’ll have to talk with my brother, but I’m sure you’ll be welcome to stay on.” Megawatt, megawatt, megawatt. He reckons that smile could melt steel beams.

…

“Joel, what the fuck–”

“Ellie–”

“No, what are you thinking? If not Tommy, Maria’s gonna be so pissed she’ll probably cut your balls off.” He shushes the girl, glancing ahead at the woman hiking further in front of them.

“Look, she’s all alone– hardly a threat– and she’s looking for somewhere to stay–” She scoffs.

“Oh, so this has nothing to do with the way your eyeballs practically popped out of your head just looking at her?” He grumbles, hand tightening around the strap of his rifle.

“You just mind your own business, alright? I’ll take care of it.” Ellie huffs, starting to trudge further ahead of him, but not before muttering out “whatever you say, fanboy.” Joel is stunned still by her words.

“Where the hell did you get that word from?” She turns on her heel, walking backwards for a beat as she smirks at him.

“One of those old magazines. Pretty sure she was on the front page if you wanna borrow it.” Before he can get a word in edgewise, she’s already turning back around and continuing their hike back to Jackson.

…

“Holy shit. Joel, look who it is!” Joel grunts, nudging Tommy out of his starstruck stupor.

“Yeah, I know. Just hiked five miles with her.” Tommy laughs, slapping him on the back before grinning at her.

“It’s real nice to meet you. You know, Joel here had your poster on his bedroom wall–” The nudge he gives his brother this time is a little less friendly, causing Tommy to grumble and rub his arm. She, however, takes it in stride, laughing lightly as she shifts in her boots.

“I’m flattered, really. It’s, um, it’s nice to meet you, Tommy.” Tommy’s eyes go wide.

“I can’t believe you just said my name. This is crazy–”

“Tommy.” Joel cuts his brother off with a hard look before he embarrasses himself anymore. He clears his throat, seeming to get a hold of himself as Joel continues.

“She had been traveling with a group, looking for this place. She’s the only one left though. Was hoping to join the town.” Tommy grins again, glancing between her and Joel.

“Well, I’m sure we can make that happen. I think Joel would kill me if I didn’t let–” He squeezes Tommy’s shoulder hard, willing him to shut his mouth. 

“That little house next to ours is still empty. Why don’t we set her up there?” Tommy’s smile at his brother’s words is all too smug for Joel’s taste, but he still nods, turning his attention back to her.

“If that’s alright with you, ma’am. I’ll let the folks know to turn the gas and electric back on for that place.” She smiles brightly at that.

“That would be amazing. Thank you so much. I owe you all big time.” Tommy snorts.

“I’m pretty sure you can pay Joel back with an autograph, he’d probably cre—“ Joel’s heard enough, resorting to kicking Tommy in the ankle to shut him up. Ellie huffs from where she’s watching their pathetic display.

“Alright, well if you two freaks are done making fools of yourselves, I’ll show her over to that house.” 

…

When Joel gets home, the first thing he does is look at that DVD. He had found it a week or two ago on a patrol shift, left in a hollowed-out RV. Ellie was less than impressed and Maria refused to show it at movie night because it’s so gory, but he held onto it anyways. He can still remember going to see it in the theater with Tommy, both of them too young to get in if not for their friend working the ticket booth. He flips the case over in his hands, and sure enough, there she is on the back cover, looking impossibly beautiful while firing a machine gun. What’s not to like, right?

He’s broken out of his revelry by the sound of the front door opening, and soon enough, Ellie is stomping up the stairs to come looking for him. When she finds him in his bedroom, sitting on the end of his bed, she glances at the DVD he’s holding, a grin spreading over her face.

“Just like you remember, huh, old man?” He grumbles, getting up to set the movie back on the bookshelf before turning back to Ellie.

“She settling in alright?” She hums, nodding lightly.

“Yep, made a beeline for a shower. Told me to thank you. I told her you’d be coming around for your autograph later.” His face crumples in indignation while Ellie lets out a cackle.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But in all seriousness, I think she’s interested– in you– which pains me to even say, but, I figure you deserve to know that the woman of your pubescent dreams was asking questions about you.” Joel’s jaw goes slack, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

“She– she was asking about me?” Ellie nods around a smirk.

“Mmhmm. And I told her you’re a grumpy old bum who doesn’t take kindly to strangers.” He huffs, but she laughs again.

“Sorry, kidding again. I didn’t tell her much. Just that you’ll be around. But if I were you, I’d “be around” sooner rather than later, before the rest of Jackson gets a piece of her. Snatch her up before there’s sweeter bait to bite down on, you know?” He thinks briefly that he needs to see just what sort of magazines this kid is reading, because he can’t quite believe what’s coming out of her mouth. He grumbles, shaking his head at her antics.

“There ain’t gonna be any snatching going on. Just mind your–” She huffs, already walking out of his room.

“Mind my business, yeah, yeah, I know. But think about what I said, old man. Better cast your line quick for this one. My guess is you weren’t the only one who had her poster in your bedroom back before.” 

He’s not letting that kid read magazines anymore.

…

When he steps out on his porch later in the afternoon, fully intent on what Ellie has affectionately started calling his “adult nap time,” he’s interrupted by someone calling his name. He catches sight of her sitting on the porch of the little house next door, waving and smiling at him like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey, neighbor.” He tentatively waves back, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy her as she motions for him to join her. He sighs, rather stiffly walking over to her porch and joining her on the bench seat, keeping a very respectable distance between them. Clickers, raiders, general imminent danger, he can handle. Pretty lady? That’s touchy. Pretty lady who he imagined marrying as a teenager? Just put him out of his misery already. He knows it’s ridiculous, that none of that matters now. She’s just as worn and weathered as the rest of them by this crumbled world. But that smile she keeps flashing him might just bring him to his knees.

“I wanted to thank you– for bringing me along. I was, uh, starting to lose hope back there a little bit.” He nods, glancing at her.

“No need for thanks. Just the right thing to do in this world. I’m sorry– about your group. I don’t know what happened, but that couldn’t have been easy being out there on your own.” She shrugs, waving off his sentiment.

“It was barely a group to begin with. Just some folks who happened to get out of the San Francisco QZ together.” His brain is quickly trying to knit together the movie star he remembers from the past and this woman who sits before him now, an obvious edge to her.

“Were you in California? Back when everything…” She nods, her face set in a grim look.

“LA, where else? Now that was a nightmare. I bet the only worse place to be when everything went down was New York. Bodies everywhere. Don’t think I’ll ever forget it.” She lets out a humorless laugh before glancing at him.

“That movie you like so much? I remember when I got the role, I had no idea how I was gonna pull it off. Grizzled heroine with a dark past and a penchant for violence. I was nothing like her. But now, I feel a whole lot more like her and a whole lot less like me.” She sighs, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I dumped that on you.” Joel is quick to shake his head, leaning over his thighs to catch her gaze.

“No, no. I get it– in my own way, I guess. The world changed and– we had to change with it.” That coaxes a crooked smile out of her as she looks at him. A simple silence descends between them as they share quiet smiles. She finally giggles, scrunching her nose at him.

“That girl– Ellie? I think she said something about you wanting an autograph?” Joel can feel the hot blush creeping up his neck as his face goes slack. She just splits out in a laugh, tipping her head back in delight.

“I’m sorry, I’m kidding. But, you know, what I went by, what people still call me, that isn’t my real name.” Joel’s eyebrows quirk up and she sighs, shaking her head.

“Just a stage name. I don’t really mind people calling me that, but can I tell you my real name?” He can feel the smile tugging at his mouth as he nods. Before he knows what she’s doing, she’s taking his hand into her lap, slowly tracing out her name with her finger across his palm. An autograph, of sorts. He’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits, just barely stringing together her name as she finishes. He murmurs it lowly and she offers him her brightest smile yet, still holding his hand lightly in her own.

“And you’re Joel, right?” He’s only a little embarrassed by how quickly he nods.

“Mmhmm. Miller– Joel Miller, yep.” She lets out a breathy laugh, now clasping his hand in a firm shake.

“It’s nice to really meet you, Joel Miller.” 

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Im not sure if you have done this one before but could I request black butler snake x reader headcanons for what he would be like if he started falling for someone? Like progressive headcanons for early on, middle and when feelings are returned? Sorry if that’s too specific. Thank you!

I don't think I have done anything like this, I love it! and there's no such thing as too specific ;)

this got embarrassingly long tho, I adore Snake <3

In the beginning, he is so… so… so shy. It’s bad enough that if his crush walks by him, he immediately is looking for ways to hide. Ducking behind the drapes, darting into a closet, diving under a chair… it’s very awkward. That snaky instinct of his is to hide from danger, to be easily spooked, and unfortunately his having romantic feelings hits that button big time. It’s comical to watch, at least, but it’s also apparent to anyone who’s watching that he’s doing it because he’s anxious.

If he has to speak to the object of his affections, he tries to make it brief. He’s terrified of saying something stupid, or that in translating for the snakes, they’ll have him translate something stupid. Not everyone is understanding of the fact that he often speaks through them. (He does eventually get better at talking on his own, without needing to be talking for his little friends; it’s just a work in progress.) In particular Goethe is shameless, absolutely shameless, about trying to get Snake to flirt with (Name). They all hiss at him about it, though… what’s even the point of speaking to someone you fancy if you’re not trying to aim arrows at their heart?! He’s thoroughly embarrassed, and the snakes don’t seem to realize that their pushing doesn’t help him, it only makes things worse for him. They’re trying…!!

The more he starts to accept that, ‘Alright, this is a thing I’m feeling, I can’t let it take over my whole life, can I?’, he begins to relax a little around (Name). It’s still not easy, of course. This kind of thing will forever be nerve-wracking for him. The high anxiety starts to ebb away, though, leaving nothing but a low buzz that he can more easily deal with. After all... if this person had a problem with him or didn’t want him around or anything like that, wouldn’t they have made it pretty clear by now? He can start to realize that even if he’s nervous, it doesn’t have to control every single interaction he has with (Name). He doesn’t have to be afraid of them. Easier said than done… still, doable.

That he’s a bit calmer definitely comes through when he’s around them. When he’s not terrified of his own feelings, it becomes less difficult to carry on a conversation. He might occasionally take his snakes’ advice about trying to flirt, even though he doesn’t think he’s very good at it. He’s not as nervous anymore, and it probably reads as him being more comfortable with (Name), which is almost certainly something they’re happy about. So things go much more smoothly. No more hiding from them, far fewer awkward silences (non-awkward silences still happen), more smiling. (Name) in all likelihood was worried that his hiding from them meant he didn’t like them, so he’s glad to dispel that by being able to speak to them more.

(Name) may have to be the one to confess first, unless one of the snakes takes matters into their own hands. Snake is incredibly anxious about that in particular, not wanting to take them by surprise or ruin the friendship they’ve got started. Plenty of people would be fine being friends or casual acquaintances with someone like him, but as for a romantic partner? Most people willing to spend time with him platonically would sort of ‘draw the line’ at wanting to be with him in a romantic capacity. It’s just not something that appeals to the majority of people — touching the scaly parts of his skin while embracing, seeing the fangs when he smiles at them during an intimate moment, the forked tongue if one of them decides to deepen a kiss. There’s a lot about him that people just run from. And he doesn’t want (Name) to run from him too. If pressed quite a bit about the subject, he’ll probably break down and confess… it’s stressful all around, though. He doesn’t want to ‘have’ to be the one to confess, because if things go badly, it will have been his fault.

While he’s never going to be exceptionally bold or confident, he settles into his own version of it when his feelings are reciprocated. He no longer avoids them in the slightest; he seeks them out every chance he gets. They become his new hiding place when things get overwhelming or if he’s anxious. Regardless of whether or not they can physically defend him or truly offer any comfort, he derives comfort simply from being around them. Their mere presence tells him that everything is okay. As long as he’s with them, he knows he can handle anything. This is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the first real romantic relationship he’s ever had with anyone. So he might stumble and make some mistakes, as might (Name), but... for once in his life, he can see a future where he’s not just pining for someone he can never have. Suddenly the idea of a ‘happily ever after’ becomes something he thinks is attainable for him. And despite the fact that he’s improving at asserting his boundaries, quietly saying if he doesn’t want to be touched… those boundaries begin to stretch. He goes from panicking and shying away from the idea of touch to melting into it, looking for it, and wondering why he ever wouldn’t want (Name) to touch him. People who know him say it’s like he’s a whole different person, but he’s not, really. He’s just a happier version of himself, living the life he’s always wanted.

[annie-mit-ie]

Glimpses: Part 11 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: Kathryn gets news that effect your newly blossoming relationship.. or… whatever it is.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Hello everyone. I am pleased to announce that I finally finished this chapter and am very much excited about where this story is going from here. I hope you all still enjoy. Last week, I got asked to create a tag list and if anyone wants to be on it as well, just hit me up and you'll never miss a posting again. Thank you all for still being here, here we go! <3

Tag List: @danvers97

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You scrunch your nose as the sunlight hits your face and repeatedly blink our eyes upon the blinding sunbeam coming in through the half opened curtains. Slowly opening them, you find yourself in a bright room with high walls and take in the fresh breeze granted from the open windows and curtains right now.

Laying on your back, you close your eyes again before turning on your other side, as you realize you are, in fact, not alone in bed. Long dark hair is tickling your nose and you don’t need to think twice about who it might be, as the familiar scent of your crush hits you right away. Shocked, you move back a little. Too harsh and too fast, which is why you wake up the sleeping woman next to you and watch in awe as reality slowly gets her back. She is still in her clothes from last night and the little make up she wore is smudged around her eyes. It’s the most beautiful sight you have ever seen.

She locks eyes with you. “Good Morning, Sweetheart. Seems like we fell asleep somewhere,” she winks, “I’m gonna go fetch change and fetch us some breakfast to eat outside, yeah?”

With that she is already sitting up and about to leave the bed as you are still busy comprehending the situation that you found yourself in. Realizing the confused state you are in upon seeing the look on your face, she laughs. “Yes, I get up that quickly most of the time. I get it. It’s unsettling. But work made me adjust to getting as much sleep as possible by not spending time just laying around. It’s sleep, wake, work for me.” 

Laughing again, she walks past the bed and reaches for the door handle. “See you in the garden in about 30 minutes? Take your time and let me know if you need anything before, though. Also… there is fresh towels and a toothbrush in the bathroom, if you wanna take a shower. Feel  right at home.”

With that, she leaves the room and you stare at the closed door for a few seconds before finally stretching your body. You don’t know how to put the whole situation into words yet, but you reach for your phone to text Alex about what happened. Obviously, it would be faster and probably also more effective to call and actually talk to her but it would seem too real and you can't do too real just now.

Simply texting her what happened somehow feels less intimate than calling. It just feels less real. And that will have to do for now. Plus, Kathryn might come back any moment and you don’t want to just confront her with your friends.

It takes you a while to find the right words, so you put your phone down for a minute to put yesterday’s clothes back on and simply brush your teeth because you have decided to skip the shower since you took one just the day before.

After a while and multiple times of rewriting the message, it seems as if you put all the information in there that Alex would be interested in and you hit send, anxious for your best friend's response. Suddenly, there is a knock on your door. 

Kathryn’s head pops up in the door frame. “How do you like your coffee, Y/N?”

“Uuuuhm. I don’t actually know. I guess I just drink whatever my mom has in the pot? I’m not picky.” You scratch your head as a deep frown appears on your forehead.

Kathryn smiles softly. “Alrighty then. I’m nearly done in the kitchen. You could come help me take everything outside, if you want. That's all.”

You immediately jump from the bed to walk towards and help her, sliding your phone into your back pocket. Entering the kitchen, you can tell Alex has read the message and is frantically reacting to it. The vibration caused by her messages makes you anxious and, as clearly as you can hear them, you hope Kathryn doesn’t.

Ignoring the buzzing, you walk behind her and help her set up the table, admiring her silhouette. The sun is hitting her hair in a way that makes it appear to have a golden shimmer and the long white summer dress she put on for the day flows in the light wind that’s circling the backyard. You can see her back muscles move as she walks and watch as she elegantly makes her way through the house.

She turns around and catches you staring at her. “Like something you see?” She winks.

Embarrassingly, you simply continue the staring and open and close your mouth just like a fish until she laughs. “Calm down, sweetheart. You look very nice yourself and I certainly enjoy catching a glimpse or two of you.”

Take a breath. You like flirty Kathryn. Whenever she teases you, she is so very much different to the Kathryn you thought you’d meet back in the bar just a while back. Never would you have thought to get that lucky. Caught up in your thoughts, you miss how she bites her lips looking at you, barely, but long enough so you could’ve noticed, and her eyes momentarily move down to your lips.

As she catches your attention again, asking for the plates in your hands, her pupils are slightly widened and she brushes your fingers for a short moment. The tension gets broken by a loud noise coming from your pocket.

You both know the sound and look at each other for just a few seconds before you finally react. Taking out your phone and looking at it, you slightly panic as you see Alex’ name calling as you look at yourself on the screen. 

“Oh… it’s my best friend.” You say and it’s been quite a few seconds now and you still haven’t reacted. Usually, when moments like this happen, Alex puts the phone aside and does something else until you eventually pick up or the call ends.

This time, you forget about that and simply watch and completely forget to react as Kathryn reaches out, takes the phone from your hand and answers the call herself. As feared, Alex is already busy doing her make up - she is going out for dinner tonight - and is not paying attention to the phone at all as she can't really see the screen given to position she is in right now.

“MADAME GURL. I can’t believe you are not reading my fucking messages, like, how dare you ignore your highness,” she laughs from afar as she puts eyeliner on. You know she will look down any second now and don’t dare to move or speak. “No really, I need you to-“

She stops speaking. She drops her make up. Her mouth falls open. You can basically hear and see her heart sink to her knees. “To… to… I mean… I need her to uhm… call me back. Yeah. Call me back.”

“Good Morning!” Kathryn grins.

“I-… good morning, Ms Hahn.” Alex is now frantically fixing her hair that she had opened right when she realized she was talking to Kathryn.

“Call me Kathryn, honey. Kathryn is just right. And you are?”

You can tell Alex is about to pass out “Alexandra. But more like Alex. Alex is just fine.”

“It suits her better anyway.” You chime in from off the camera, just as you just got your self confidence back.

“BISH! Uhm, I mean.. Y/N!” Alex catches herself and the two of you make Kathryn laugh wholeheartedly.

She hands the phone back to you and starts moving back to the house. “I’ll leave you two to it for a moment and get the coffee. It was nice meeting you, Alex. Let me know if you need anything else, Y/N.” She smiles before she sends you a short wink as the camera is facing you again.

“DUDE.” Alex is close enough to her phone now that her whole face fills the screen.

“I KNOW.” You reply as you watch Kathryn walk through the hallway towards the kitchen.

Alex gets your attention back. “I thought you were still alone in bed, I’m so sorry. But like… oh my god. You need to fill me in. Like. OH MY GOD.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I will definitely talk to you tonight, missy. And you need to like… I don’t even know.. get her. Like WOW. Have you SEEN her? I mean… wow.”

You smile, thinking back at last night. “Yeah, wow.” 

You see Kathryn making her way back through the hallway windows and look at Alex. “Honey, I will call or text you as soon as I get home, yeah? I love you, byyyyye.” And with that you hang up, not even awaiting a response, as Kathryn opens the door and steps out into the garden again.

“She’s cute,” She says as she makes her way to you. “Why’s she not your girlfriend?”

You stop for a moment and look at her. What an odd question to ask. Is she jealous? Does she want you to have someone else? What is this about? You’re probably overthinking right now, but still, a question like that right after meeting Alex doesn’t sit quite right with you. 

Brushing it off, you look at her and laugh. “She is married. That’s like… a big reason. Plus I adore her wife so… no no NO.” 

Kathryn chuckles. “I see. I’m sorry if this question was too direct. I was just wondering, since both of you are cute and… you know.”

“Yeah…” you say and Kathryn starts to realize that your thoughts are going places in your head right now.

She places a hand on your arm as you sit down. “Stop worrying. Alright? You are all good. It was a stupid joke. I’m sorry.” You know she means it and look at her thankfully as your smile finds its way back onto your face.

Breakfast is cute and calm as the two of you sit in comfortable silence and just enjoy each other’s presence. It’s a Sunday after all. The silence gets interrupted as Kathryn’s phone lights up and Jennifer‘s name appears on the screen. 

“Oh shoot.” She jumps up and takes her manager's call, walking away from the area.

You watch Kathryn gesturing wild as you sip your tea and can’t tell if she looks excited or stressed about what is being said on the phone. She finally hangs up and sits down across from you again. You want to ask what’s up but choose not to - she will tell you things if she feels like it after all.

Locking eyes with you, she sights before putting on a grin. “I got a new job.”

You can’t believe she really IS sharing information with you. “That’s amazing Kathryn! I am so excited!!!” You really want to ask her about more details but feel like it is not your place to do so.

“Yeah… yeah it is,” She doesn’t seem too convinced herself as she looks at you and you ask her about it by simply raising an eyebrow. “Well… it’s nice and all, but I’ll have to leave the country for a while. The movie gets shot in Europe and, to be honest, I have never really left the country that long for a job before.”

You appreciate how open she is with you and reach out to place your hand on hers. “I get that. And, I mean, I don’t even know what project you are working on. But, I really don’t need you to tell me what it is to know that it is gonna be just great.”

She smiles fondly and nods. “You’re right. It’s just…. You…,” locking eyes with you it seems like she is searching for words and reaches out for you to help her. “I really enjoy your company, Y/N and… you know.”

“I know.” You say and for a moment you think about kissing her. Just pulling her closer, next to you, onto your lap, anywhere really and capturing her lips with yours but somehow you feel like last night was last night and today is today. A different story.

“Really, Kathryn, it’s gonna be just great. Don’t worry about me.” You mean it and as your thoughts trail off and you ask yourself what project she might work on, you don’t realize how she is launching forward to pin you down on the side of the couch you are sitting on. It's one swift movement that you didn't see coming at all.

You open your eyes in shock and start panting as you realize she placed her body and basically all her weight on top of you while holding onto your wrists. The look she is giving you now is different to every look she has given you ever before and her pupils are dilated. You lie underneath her in shock and you know very well that this very moment is everything you ever wanted, while at the same time there is so much you should talk about, so you can't really enjoy the moment right now.

"Kathryn, I…" You start, but she is already removing herself from you.

"I know! I know. I don't know what came over me. I guess I'll just miss you. A lot." A forced smile appears on her face and you wish you could comfort her, but really, you are just as hurt.

You feel like it's time to ask her what the two of you are exactly, test out the waters and see where she stands in all of it, but at the same time you feel like it is way too early and you don't really know why you are thinking about all of this in the first place and as you think about it more you can literally feel the panic setting in and you are probably overthinking but really, we are talking about Kathryn Hahn here, so really, where could this lead?

Right as Kathryn sits up and fixes her dress on her side of the couch again, her phone starts chiming endlessly as she is reaching for her coffee. Her hand changes paths and grabs the device instead and you watch her as she leans back into her cushions after shooting you an apologetic look.

"Oh no, OH NO. Oh no no no no no." She sits up straight again and swipes through her phone.

Worried, you sit down right next to her without looking at her screen to keep her privacy. "How can I help you?" She turns towards you and looks at you with kind eyes before placing her free hand on your upper side. "You are already doing a lot by grounding me, sweetheart. That's more than most people can do for me."

You smile cheekily and get more comfortable next to her after planting a short kiss on her cheek. "Happy to provide." She reacts differently than you anticipated because, given the situation that just happened, you thought she would be very much into the idea of you getting closer to her again. Instead, she is looking at you with sad eyes as she slowly lowers her phone to give you her full attention.

Your smile fades and you prepare for the worst, not knowing what makes her look this sad.

"Jennifer mailed. She made a mistake. It was a late booking. I will travel to the set in Europe by the end of the week. But cast and crew get together starts tomorrow. On the other side of the country."

[bxngchxn]

strawberries and red wine || l. minho (lee know)

this is a fic that I have re-uploaded from my old blog, @ethereal-bang . I’ll be reuploading all of my old works here and deleting my old blog soon. hope you enjoy!

characters: minho x fem reader

wc: 4.8k

genre: SMUT, dilf!minho, some fluff

warnings: slight hard dom themes, unprotected sex (always wear a condom!), oral (male receiving)

THE FIRST OF THE DILF!SKZ SERIES IS FINALLY HERE!!

This contains mature content and is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18.

    　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

“No, Mina what did I tell you we do NOT pull people’s hai- wait, BENJAMIN, where did you get that frog from?!? Let it go!!” You scramble around the classroom as you try and control the chaos that is your 4s classroom. Being the lead teacher in a room full of toddlers is nowhere near easy, but you’ve always had an affinity for kids. It started out with babysitting your cousins on the weekends, then volunteering as a counselor at summer camp. Eventually it led to you, taking early education classes in college and graduating with a degree in Early Childhood Education. Now, you find yourself here, making sure these kids keep the sand IN the sand box, for the third time this week.

No matter how frustrated you got, though, you could never get genuinely angry. They’re just babies, after all. They have no real concept of right and wrong (or object permanence for that matter), therefore their decision making skills are ~slightly~ off. Plus, they look so cute with their innocent, bright smiles and big eyes. How could you not love them?

The day is just about over, and you’re trying to get everything as clean as possible before the kids leave, that way you don’t have to stay too late to finish it all. It’s Friday, and the thought of going home to your quiet apartment for some much needed me time is all you’re thinking about as you wipe down the snack table. You survey the other children to make sure no one is causing trouble, and you smile as you take in the sight of everyone (finally) sitting in their assigned seats, various hobbies distracting them as they wait for their parents to arrive.

You hear a slight crash, and a teeny tiny voice accompany it.

“Shit!”

That single word, coming from such a small mouth catches you off guard. You want to laugh– but you know better than to encourage it. Shocked expression on your face, you walk over to the table where the two girls are playing Jenga. The tower has been knocked down, and you can only assume that the expletive was said by the loser of the game. A sweet little girl, brown hair almost nearing her waist and big eyes that still held stars in them, was looking up at you in confusion. “Now sweetie, where did you learn that word from?” You ask incredulously.

The way she was looking at you screamed innocence, her smile never faltering. “From my daddy! He said it when he dropped the casserole on the ground the other night. But it’s okay! He ordered us a pizza instead!” She says and you can’t help but giggle, while simultaneously making a note to speak to the girl’s father. Kids tend to overshare way too much, and it reminds you of all the crazy things you’ve heard over the years– those poor parents.

Before you know it, the day has ended and it’s time to walk the children outside. Calling your students to form a line at the door, you double check for backpacks and blankies and stuffed animals. Once everyone (and everything) is settled, you lead the children outside to their parents who are standing with open arms, ready to have their babies back with them for the night. The sight is always so endearing, the little ones getting overly excited and jumping into their parents’ arms.

 As you watch everyone begin to leave, you notice a certain brunette toddler waddling up to her father, who scoops her up into his arms and immediately puts her on his shoulders.

She looks like him, the way that his eyes seem to shine reminiscent of the sparkle you get to see in hers every morning. He’s rocking her back and forth as she’s sat atop him, her giggles ringing out through the daycare’s playground and bringing a sense of calm and happiness to the air. Making your way over to the two of them, your breath catches in your throat when you realize the height difference between the two of you. He’s at least a head taller than you, making you feel small as you get his attention. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lee? Would it be okay if I had a word with you for just a moment?” You ask him quietly.

He looks at you, and you can feel your heartbeat skip when a small smile graces his lips. Taking his daughter off of his shoulders, he ushers her over toward another parent, and the child runs off with Kim Seungmin and his daughter, with promises of ice cream from the truck down the road. “Absolutely, is everything okay Ms….?” He says, realizing (embarrassingly) that he’s never gotten your name. “Y/N! My name is Y/N.” You say with a smile, and he nods, wanting to commit your name to memory.

Minho has seen you day in and day out, greeting the kids in the morning at drop off, and bringing them outside to release to their parents. He’s spoken to you maybe once? Maybe twice? He really wasn’t sure, but something about your soft smile and the way you take care of the children is hitting him differently today. He has a mix of curiosity and slight panic running through his system, afraid his daughter had gotten into big trouble. She’s his whole world, and although raising her on his own definitely isn’t easy, it’s just as equally rewarding. She’s just like him, her personality so big and so funny for someone so little.

“Everything is okay! I just wanted to tell you, your daughter did something today…” you started, and you can see the look in his eyes shift from panic to humor as you explain the situation from earlier today. He chuckles a little once you finish speaking, and you’re laughing too. “Ah, oh my goodness I am so sorry…” he trails off. “It’s alright, Mr. Lee, dont wo-” “Minho,” he cuts you off. “You can call me Minho,” he says, and you nod your head in agreement. “It’s okay, Minho. It actually was pretty funny..just be a little more careful around her, okay?” You giggle, and you could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks blush pink.

After that, talking to Minho when he came to pick up his daughter became a daily occurrence. It was never for long, maybe two or three minutes of conversation at a time, but it was something you looked forward to. He seemed so carefree, always coming in with a smile on his face. Each day his little girl runs to him and demands to be put on his shoulders, and he always obliges.

It would be a lie to say you didn’t form some type of crush on the man in question. You would find yourself hiding your smile after every little interaction, and you weren’t sure how to feel about the fact that you fell for him so easily. It had been a long time since you had decided to focus on your love life, so every time you get those butterflies in your chest you’re unsure of how to react.

Minho, on the other hand, is absolutely smitten. He never took this kind of interest in his daughter’s teachers before. He couldn’t explain it, but the feeling he gets when he witnesses his little girl run up to hug you in the mornings as you head to class fills him with a lighthearted emotion. Plus, the more he spoke to you, the more he came to find out that the two of you are fairly similar. He knew that he needed to take you out on a date. It was the only thing he could think about.

Would it be inappropriate? Absolutely. For as long as you were her teacher, there was no way he’d be able to openly express his feelings. So, he waits. He keeps his feelings at bay for the remainder of the year, waiting for summer to come so he can ask you out on an actual date. And when he does, it’s in the most unexpected way possible.

You see, Minho had a plan. Your birthday was coming up soon, and he was going to get you a small gift and a card with some cheesy pick up line, asking you to do him the honor of going to dinner with him. His daughter, however, has a (very unfiltered) mind of her own.

The summer months were in full swing, the heat and humidity taking over the town as people rode their bikes through the streets, and everyone who drove a car with their windows down, music playing at full volume. It was one of your favorite things about summer, you loved seeing everyone enjoying themselves, alongside the nostalgic feeling of freedom that comes with the warmer weather. This is why you decide one Saturday morning to get up early and head to the Farmer’s Market. The big, open air market held fond memories from your childhood, and going there to shop for your groceries became a stress reliever for you ever since you started college. The older women selling produce were the sweetest, always giving you free samples when you came round.

Today was one of those days, the smells of spices and different street foods filling your noose as you looked at some apples at a produce stand. You pick up what seems like the perfect apple. Round, shiny, no bruises anywhere. That is, until you feel a little someone bump into your legs.

The apple falls to the ground when you’re knocked over, and you hear a small, familiar voice give you an apology. It’s almost a shock when you hear Minho’s voice, too, as you turn around. “Oh my god, miss, I am so…Y/N?” He apologizes, stopping in his tracks when he realizes that it’s you who is standing in front of the two of them. “Oh! Minho, hello! And hi there sweetheart! It’s alright, you didn’t hurt me,” you say in a small voice, dropping down to her level so you can meet her eyes. “But I made you drop your apple! I’m really sorry,�� she pouts, and your heart absolutely melts at the sweetness. “It’s okay, I can just get another one! Why don’t you help me pick it out, yeah?” You ask, and her eyes light up with their familiar brightness.

She nods her head furiously and you laugh, picking her up when she raises her arms. You hold her on your hip and lean down just enough for her to grab a new apple to put in your bag. On the sidelines, Minho is trying so hard not to die at the sight in front of him. His daughter looks so happy, and so do you, bonding over the differences between the fruits. He just smiles as he watches in the interaction.

“This one looks perfect! Don’t you agree, sweetie?” You ask the little girl, and she giggles and takes it from your hands. “Yeah! Daddy, look at the apple~~” she says, and Minho’s attention is brought back to the girl in your arms. “Y-yes pumpkin, it looks really perfect! Red apples are a lot sweeter than green apples, they’re your favorite right? Why don’t we get some too?” Minho rambles rather quickly, and it makes you laugh as you watch him clumsily put some apples into a produce bag and hand money to the lady working at the register.

Once you also pay for your apples, Minho invites you to come have lunch with the two of them in the picnic area. You can’t bring yourself to tell them no, so you follow them to an area of grass that is filled with families eating, playing and just enjoying the summer weather. You and Minho help his daughter with her lunch, all the while enjoying the time together, as well. It had been a while since you’d seen each other, because the little girl was no longer in your 4’s class. You spent a few hours with the two of them, and when it was time to go, his little girl scrambles into your lap before you can even make a move to get up.

“I figured something out!” She says, proudly. “Yes, dear, what is it?” Minho asks her, and you crane your head to look over at her. “I think daddy likes you, Miss Y/N,” she blurts out. Your cheeks turn pink, and Minho starts stuttering. “W-what makes you think that, love?” You ask her, and she shrugs her head, completely unbothered by the fact that the two of you look like you’ve been caught, even though nothing has happened.

“Well,” she says, determined. “Daddy talks reaaaallyyyy fast when he talks about me, or soonie doongie and dori, because he likes us a lot. And he does the same thing when he talks to you, or talks about you. I just figured that because he talks fast like that, it must mean he really likes you. Because daddy talks reeeaaally fast about you.” She says, and then goes back to eating a strawberry out of the container that Minho brought with him. The blush on your cheeks turns even darker, and Minho’s face isn’t too far behind, either.

“Aaah, I see. You must be really smart to have figured that out, huh?” You ask her as you laugh, trying to make your nervousness go away. Minho has since taken interest in his hands, not being able to look you in the eye. “Well,” you start, getting the girl’s attention. You lean in close, but still far enough away that Minho can hear, too. “I think that I like your daddy just as much,” You “whisper” in her ear. Her eyes go wide, and Minho’s face shoots up from looking at his hands. “Really?!” The girl squeals, and you just smile and pat her head.

“Really.”

The three of you wander the market for a little while longer, before you notice Minho’s daughter getting sleepy. Once she asks Minho to pick her up, he carries her on his back and she’s out cold within two minutes. He laughs at the snoring toddler, and looks down at the ground before he looks at you. “Did you mean it?” he asks, and you feel your heart explode when you look into his eyes. “About liking me, did you really mean it?” He repeats, and you can’t bring yourself to hide the truth anymore. “Mhm, I did mean it.” You say quietly. His smile brightens ten fold, and if he wasn’t hauling a sleeping child on his back, he would’ve taken your hand. “Well in that case, would it be out of pocket to ask you over for dinner this weekend? She’s going to a slumber party at Seungmin’s house, so we can have an actual conversation,” he asks sheepishly.

“I would love that.”

__________

The rest of the week flies by, and you can feel the nerves gathering in your stomach as you arrive at Minho’s house. Walking inside, it’s exactly how you could imagine it to be. It’s cozy, and you can definitely tell that a toddler lives there. Toys are in the living room corner, stacked neatly next to a two story dollhouse. Sippy cups align the kitchen sink, and you see cat shaped sandwich cutters sitting in the dish drainer. The sight makes you smile, as you remember cooing over the cute shapes at lunch time.

Minho looks absolutely stunning, you think to yourself. He’s dressed casually, but his button down shirt makes his shoulders look broad and the way his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows makes your knees feel weak. He greets you with a warm smile and a small hug, leading you into the kitchen. He really pulled out all the stops for this– candles at the center of the dining table, two glasses with red wine sitting next to empty plates as he brings the food to the table. “Wow, this looks amazing,” you tell him as you take a seat across from him, sipping your wine. “Thank you, I really hope you like it,” he laughs.

Dinner goes well, just as you expected it to. The two of you never run out of things to talk about, and the wine is definitely helping the two of you loosen up a little bit. Once dinner is over, you insist that you help with the dishes. Minho tries to decline, but you bump him out of the way with your hip, picking up a towel to dry the clean dishes with. He laughs and mimics the action, except his arm wraps around your waist in an attempt to catch you if you fall over. You feel electricity shoot through you at the action, and you turn to face him as you laugh.

He doesn’t let go, and the look in his eyes has you dropping your towel onto the kitchen counter. The air in the room feels charged, and you can’t help but reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. Everything just felt natural, with him. Like you were supposed to be this way all along. His other hand drops the dish he was holding into the sink, and he decides to wrap it around your waist instead. The feeling of finally being encapsulated in his arms makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

The two of you stay like that, for just a moment longer. It’s Minho who breaks the silence first, tightening his hold on you. “Is it..is it okay if I kiss you?” he asks softly. The action is so sweet, you smile as you pull him closer to you. “Please,” you ask, right before his lips crash onto yours. The kiss is soft, slow, everything you could have wanted. His lips still taste like the wine you’ve been drinking, and it makes you want to deepen the kiss. So you do.

Minho feels your tongue at his lips, and he immediately grants you entrance but quickly gains dominance over you. A hand of his moves from your waist up into your hair as he pushes you into the kitchen counter. Your hands roam his body, his broad shoulders and toned arms feeling like heaven under your fingertips. When your hands find his hair, you tug on it slightly and that’s enough to prompt Minho to lift you onto the counter. He’s standing between your legs, his hands falling to your hips once again. He traces light circles into the skin under your sweater as you start trailing kisses down his neck.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” you say breathily, and it makes Minho chuckle. “You really want this?” He asks, confirming that it’s okay for him to take it further. “I want all of it.” You say while looking him in the eyes. They darken, and you can tell that you’ve just awoken something inside the man. His hands bunch under your shirt, slowly lifting it up to reveal the royal purple bra that you were wearing. Thanking god that you chose a matching set, you take the initiative to take your sweater off the rest of the way, throwing it on a chair near the table.

Minho wastes no time attacking your neck, biting marks near your collarbone and trailing them down towards your breast. He takes one in his hands, feeling the fabric underneath his hands and relishing in the quiet noises you’re making. His fingers ghost over your nipples, the texture of the fabric bringing you an added sensation. You subconsciously move your hips against his, feeling how hard he is through his jeans. Minho sighs, and the sound is music to your ears. You continue to move your hips against his, and Minho quickly grabs the back of your legs. “Someone’s eager, aren’t they?” he teases, telling you to hold on as he picks you up and takes you in the direction of his bedroom. His lips never leave your neck, at least not until he has you lying comfortably on top of the pillows on his bead. The look in his eyes is almost primal, and it mirrors every feeling that is running through your body in the moment.

You sit up quickly, unbuttoning his shirt slowly as you kiss each inch of exposed skin. Minho helps you as he shrugs his shirt off his shoulders, and you take in the sight of the gorgeous man sitting in front of you. You look down to his jeans and then back into his eyes, as if asking for permission. He grabs your hand and guides it to his belt, and that’s a sure fire sign that you can continue.

You expertly undo his jeans, pulling the zipper down with your teeth in a teasing way. “Fuck, baby,” he says at the sight, and his little praise just spurs you on. You move him to sit on the edge of the bed, and you sink to your knees in front of him as you pull down his jeans. His cock is something to behold– the perfect size, pink and standing at attention. Tempting. You grab the base in your hand, and bring your tongue out to lick at the head. Minho melts into your touch, his fingers going to your hair instantly. You begin slowly, sucking on the head and using your hand to stroke the rest of his cock. It’s taking every ounce of self control from Minho to not fuck into your mouth, wanting to savor the first of hopefully many encounters with you.

You look so gorgeous on your knees for him, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you begin to sink lower onto his cock. He can feel your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein and making sure to swirl your tongue at his head with each pass you make. If you keep this up, he’s going to cum fast.

“As much as I enjoy the feeling of your pretty little mouth, baby, I don’t want to cum inside it this time.” He says, pulling you back up onto the bed. You feel excitement rise in your chest at the idea of a “next time”. You giggle as he hovers over you, pulling you into another kiss. He can taste you on his tongue, and there’s something so inherently dirty about it that makes him impatient.

He starts working on your jeans, undoing the buttons with ease and sliding them down your legs. He stares at the matching purple underwear that you’re in, and he chuckles darkly. “Seems like someone had something certain on their mind when getting dressed today, huh love?” He teases, tracing slow circles over your clit in a teasing way. “I-I don’t know what you mean,” you say as you try to keep your noises to a minimum. He’s going at a pace that is way too slow for your liking, but you’re not ready to beg for it. At least not yet.

“Hm? Feigning innocence now are we? That’s not very nice of you, baby. Tell me, what were you thinking when you put this on today, hm? Were you thinking that I’d take you like a good girl tonight?” He asks. His eyes never leave yours, and you try your hardest to keep your voice level. “Maybe,” you tease, and his pace quickens for just a moment, just enough to have you keening, but then he returns to the torturously slow pace. “Trying to be a brat, are we? Don’t worry, I can have that attitude fixed in no time,” he warns. You want to test him, see how far he’ll go. “Really? I don’t see you doing anything about it,” you fight back.

Bad idea.

Before you can even blink, your underwear are ripped off and thrown across the room, and Minho’s hand is now around your throat. The sweet feeling of the air leaving your lungs has you dizzy, not able to form coherent words. “Oh? Where’s that mouth of yours now huh?” He says, his tone condescending. His fingers return to your core, but this time his pace is rough and fast. You try to move, but the grip on your neck is tight. “Tell me what you want, love. Use your words,” he says. He decides to loosen his grip to let you speak.

“Please, Minho God just-just fuck me,” you finally speak out, voice shaky as your high is quickly approaching you. “That’s all the permission I need, baby doll.” He laughs as he pulls you closer to him. Reaching down, Minho grabs his cock in his hands and runs the head up and down your labia, teasing you before giving you the real thing. “You’re so wet, this is all for me right? I’m the only one who makes you feel like this?” He asks, knowing that you’re slowly losing your cool.

“Yes! Yes it’s only fo- only for you, Minho please” you beg, and it quickly turns into a moan as he enters you. Your back arches, and a low groan comes from Minho’s throat as he feels how tight you are around him. He stills for a moment, giving you time to adjust, but once you rock your hips into him even a little, he sets off at a steady pace. The feeling is euphoric, he’s stretching you in just the right places and somehow knows exactly how to make you see stars.

He’s panting, and when you whine a quiet “Harder, please,” he loses all control. Slamming into you quickly, he brings his hand back to your throat. “You’re so perfect for me, baby. Jesus. Only for me,” he says over and over again. He’s leaned close to you now, mouth against your ear and you can hear every ounce of praise that comes from his mouth. Your high is approaching, and you clench around Minho when he starts drawing fast circles on your clit once again.

“Minho I- I’m so close, please make me cum,” you moan, and with a certain swivel of his hips he’s hitting a spot that’s making you see stars. “Cum for me then, baby. Let me feel you,” he says, quickening his pace once again, so fast you didn’t think it was possible.

The only sounds in the room are skin slapping and your labored breathing, moans loud as you finally feel the knot in your core tighten and then burst. His name leaves your lips in a long, drawn out whine, and you feel him fill you up not long after your orgasm starts wearing off. He’s panting in your ear, grip tightening around your throat once again as you feel him spill into you.

Riding out both of your highs, Minho’s thrusts slowly come to a stop. The two of you lay there, basking in the glow of the events that just unfolded. You stay like that for a few minutes, and then Minho gets up to run the shower, placing a kiss on your forehead as he leaves the bedroom.

You end up going for another round in the shower, and then straight to bed as the two of you are too worn out to do anything else.

You wake up the next morning in one of his tshirts, and you can smell pancakes being made in the kitchen. You look over and realize that Minho is no longer next to you, and you smile as you hear the radio playing and a sweet voice singing along.

Aware that his daughter could be coming home at any minute, you throw your own jeans on as you walk into the kitchen, Minho’s shirt still falling off your shoulder. Quietly padding behind him, he jumps as you wrap your arms around his waist. “Good morning,” you giggle, and he quickly turns to place a kiss on your cheek. “Good morning to you too, doll.” He says. The name brings back memories of last night and you feel a blush on your cheeks.

You help him finish making pancakes, and when the front door opens, you hear little feet making their way to the kitchen, followed by the sound of Seungmin’s voice. “Hey, Minho I figured I’d stop in and say hi since I’m dropping off your- oh. Hello.” Seungmin says as he sees you at the counter with said man. “Hi,” you say quietly, giggling at his expression.

 “Y/N!!!!!!!!!!” you hear from behind him. You lean over and see Minho’s daughter coming at you full force. You quickly scoop her up into your arms, spinning her around as her bright laugh fills the room. It makes Minho’s heart explode, and he immediately feels embarrassed as he looks over at Seungmin. “I’m not judging, good for you bro.” The younger man says, sticking out his fist for Minho to bump. He laughs, but does it anyway, his attention turning back to your and his daughter.

“Are you here to have breakfast with us?!?! Daddy makes the best pancakes!!” The girl exclaims, and you laugh as you look over to Minho, sharing a secret glance.

“I sure am, sweetheart.”  

   ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

@dom--minnie @sparklemin @minholuvs @hanflix @moonlit-lixie @feliix

[ethereal-bang]

Strawberries and Red Wine

Characters: Minho x fem reader

Words: 4.8k 

Type: SMUT, dilf!minho, some fluff

Warnings: slight hard dom themes, unprotected sex (always wear a condom!), oral (male receiving) 

THE FIRST OF THE DILF!SKZ SERIES IS FINALLY HERE!! 

This contains mature content and is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. 

“No, Mina what did I tell you we do NOT pull people’s hai- wait, BENJAMIN, where did you get that frog from?!? Let it go!!” You scramble around the classroom as you try and control the chaos that is your 4s classroom. Being the lead teacher in a room full of toddlers is nowhere near easy, but you’ve always had an affinity for kids. It started out with babysitting your cousins on the weekends, then volunteering as a counselor at summer camp. Eventually it led to you, taking early education classes in college and graduating with a degree in Early Childhood Education. Now, you find yourself here, making sure these kids keep the sand IN the sand box, for the third time this week. 

No matter how frustrated you got, though, you could never get genuinely angry. They’re just babies, after all. They have no real concept of right and wrong (or object permanence for that matter), therefore their decision making skills are ~slightly~ off. Plus, they look so cute with their innocent, bright smiles and big eyes. How could you not love them?

The day is just about over, and you’re trying to get everything as clean as possible before the kids leave, that way you don’t have to stay too late to finish it all. It’s Friday, and the thought of going home to your quiet apartment for some much needed me time is all you’re thinking about as you wipe down the snack table. You survey the other children to make sure no one is causing trouble, and you smile as you take in the sight of everyone (finally) sitting in their assigned seats, various hobbies distracting them as they wait for their parents to arrive.

You hear a slight crash, and a teeny tiny voice accompany it. 

“Shit!”

That single word, coming from such a small mouth catches you off guard. You want to laugh-- but you know better than to encourage it. Shocked expression on your face, you walk over to the table where the two girls are playing Jenga. The tower has been knocked down, and you can only assume that the expletive was said by the loser of the game. A sweet little girl, brown hair almost nearing her waist and big eyes that still held stars in them, was looking up at you in confusion. “Now sweetie, where did you learn that word from?” You ask incredulously. 

The way she was looking at you screamed innocence, her smile never faltering. “From my daddy! He said it when he dropped the casserole on the ground the other night. But it’s okay! He ordered us a pizza instead!” She says and you can’t help but giggle, while simultaneously making a note to speak to the girl’s father. Kids tend to overshare way too much, and it reminds you of all the crazy things you’ve heard over the years-- those poor parents. 

Before you know it, the day has ended and it’s time to walk the children outside. Calling your students to form a line at the door, you double check for backpacks and blankies and stuffed animals. Once everyone (and everything) is settled, you lead the children outside to their parents who are standing with open arms, ready to have their babies back with them for the night. The sight is always so endearing, the little ones getting overly excited and jumping into their parents’ arms. As you watch everyone begin to leave, you notice a certain brunette toddler waddling up to her father, who scoops her up into his arms and immediately puts her on his shoulders.

She looks like him, the way that his eyes seem to shine reminiscent of the sparkle you get to see in hers every morning. He’s rocking her back and forth as she’s sat atop him, her giggles ringing out through the daycare’s playground and bringing a sense of calm and happiness to the air. Making your way over to the two of them, your breath catches in your throat when you realize the height difference between the two of you. He’s at least a head taller than you, making you feel small as you get his attention. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lee? Would it be okay if I had a word with you for just a moment?” You ask him quietly. 

He looks at you, and you can feel your heartbeat skip when a small smile graces his lips. Taking his daughter off of his shoulders, he ushers her over toward another parent, and the child runs off with Kim Seungmin and his daughter, with promises of ice cream from the truck down the road. “Absolutely, is everything okay Ms….?” He says, realizing (embarrassingly) that he’s never gotten your name. “Y/N! My name is Y/N.” You say with a smile, and he nods, wanting to commit your name to memory.

Minho has seen you day in and day out, greeting the kids in the morning at drop off, and bringing them outside to release to their parents. He’s spoken to you maybe once? Maybe twice? He really wasn’t sure, but something about your soft smile and the way you take care of the children is hitting him differently today. He has a mix of curiosity and slight panic running through his system, afraid his daughter had gotten into big trouble. She’s his whole world, and although raising her on his own definitely isn’t easy, it’s just as equally rewarding. She’s just like him, her personality so big and so funny for someone so little. 

“Everything is okay! I just wanted to tell you, your daughter did something today...” you started, and you can see the look in his eyes shift from panic to humor as you explain the situation from earlier today. He chuckles a little once you finish speaking, and you’re laughing too. “Ah, oh my goodness I am so sorry…” he trails off. “It’s alright, Mr. Lee, dont wo-” “Minho,” he cuts you off. “You can call me Minho,” he says, and you nod your head in agreement. “It’s okay, Minho. It actually was pretty funny..just be a little more careful around her, okay?” You giggle, and you could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks blush pink.

After that, talking to Minho when he came to pick up his daughter became a daily occurrence. It was never for long, maybe two or three minutes of conversation at a time, but it was something you looked forward to. He seemed so carefree, always coming in with a smile on his face. Each day his little girl runs to him and demands to be put on his shoulders, and he always obliges. 

It would be a lie to say you didn’t form some type of crush on the man in question. You would find yourself hiding your smile after every little interaction, and you weren’t sure how to feel about the fact that you fell for him so easily. It had been a long time since you had decided to focus on your love life, so every time you get those butterflies in your chest you’re unsure of how to react. 

Minho, on the other hand, is absolutely smitten. He never took this kind of interest in his daughter’s teachers before. He couldn’t explain it, but the feeling he gets when he witnesses his little girl run up to hug you in the mornings as you head to class fills him with a lighthearted emotion. Plus, the more he spoke to you, the more he came to find out that the two of you are fairly similar. He knew that he needed to take you out on a date. It was the only thing he could think about.

Would it be inappropriate? Absolutely. For as long as you were her teacher, there was no way he’d be able to openly express his feelings. So, he waits. He keeps his feelings at bay for the remainder of the year, waiting for summer to come so he can ask you out on an actual date. And when he does, it’s in the most unexpected way possible.

You see, Minho had a plan. Your birthday was coming up soon, and he was going to get you a small gift and a card with some cheesy pick up line, asking you to do him the honor of going to dinner with him. His daughter, however, has a (very unfiltered) mind of her own.

The summer months were in full swing, the heat and humidity taking over the town as people rode their bikes through the streets, and everyone who drove a car with their windows down, music playing at full volume. It was one of your favorite things about summer, you loved seeing everyone enjoying themselves, alongside the nostalgic feeling of freedom that comes with the warmer weather. This is why you decide one Saturday morning to get up early and head to the Farmer’s Market. The big, open air market held fond memories from your childhood, and going there to shop for your groceries became a stress reliever for you ever since you started college. The older women selling produce were the sweetest, always giving you free samples when you came round. 

Today was one of those days, the smells of spices and different street foods filling your noose as you looked at some apples at a produce stand. You pick up what seems like the perfect apple. Round, shiny, no bruises anywhere. That is, until you feel a little someone bump into your legs. 

The apple falls to the ground when you’re knocked over, and you hear a small, familiar voice give you an apology. It’s almost a shock when you hear Minho’s voice, too, as you turn around. “Oh my god, miss, I am so...Y/N?” He apologizes, stopping in his tracks when he realizes that it’s you who is standing in front of the two of them. “Oh! Minho, hello! And hi there sweetheart! It’s alright, you didn’t hurt me,” you say in a small voice, dropping down to her level so you can meet her eyes. “But I made you drop your apple! I’m really sorry,” she pouts, and your heart absolutely melts at the sweetness. “It’s okay, I can just get another one! Why don’t you help me pick it out, yeah?” You ask, and her eyes light up with their familiar brightness. 

She nods her head furiously and you laugh, picking her up when she raises her arms. You hold her on your hip and lean down just enough for her to grab a new apple to put in your bag. On the sidelines, Minho is trying so hard not to die at the sight in front of him. His daughter looks so happy, and so do you, bonding over the differences between the fruits. He just smiles as he watches in the interaction.

“This one looks perfect! Don’t you agree, sweetie?” You ask the little girl, and she giggles and takes it from your hands. “Yeah! Daddy, look at the apple~~” she says, and Minho’s attention is brought back to the girl in your arms. “Y-yes pumpkin, it looks really perfect! Red apples are a lot sweeter than green apples, they’re your favorite right? Why don’t we get some too?” Minho rambles rather quickly, and it makes you laugh as you watch him clumsily put some apples into a produce bag and hand money to the lady working at the register. 

Once you also pay for your apples, Minho invites you to come have lunch with the two of them in the picnic area. You can’t bring yourself to tell them no, so you follow them to an area of grass that is filled with families eating, playing and just enjoying the summer weather. You and Minho help his daughter with her lunch, all the while enjoying the time together, as well. It had been a while since you’d seen each other, because the little girl was no longer in your 4’s class. You spent a few hours with the two of them, and when it was time to go, his little girl scrambles into your lap before you can even make a move to get up.

“I figured something out!” She says, proudly. “Yes, dear, what is it?” Minho asks her, and you crane your head to look over at her. “I think daddy likes you, Miss Y/N,” she blurts out. Your cheeks turn pink, and Minho starts stuttering. “W-what makes you think that, love?” You ask her, and she shrugs her head, completely unbothered by the fact that the two of you look like you’ve been caught, even though nothing has happened.

“Well,” she says, determined. “Daddy talks reaaaallyyyy fast when he talks about me, or soonie doongie and dori, because he likes us a lot. And he does the same thing when he talks to you, or talks about you. I just figured that because he talks fast like that, it must mean he really likes you. Because daddy talks reeeaaally fast about you.” She says, and then goes back to eating a strawberry out of the container that Minho brought with him. The blush on your cheeks turns even darker, and Minho’s face isn’t too far behind, either. 

“Aaah, I see. You must be really smart to have figured that out, huh?” You ask her as you laugh, trying to make your nervousness go away. Minho has since taken interest in his hands, not being able to look you in the eye. “Well,” you start, getting the girl’s attention. You lean in close, but still far enough away that Minho can hear, too. “I think that I like your daddy just as much,” You “whisper” in her ear. Her eyes go wide, and Minho’s face shoots up from looking at his hands. “Really?!” The girl squeals, and you just smile and pat her head. 

“Really.”

The three of you wander the market for a little while longer, before you notice Minho’s daughter getting sleepy. Once she asks Minho to pick her up, he carries her on his back and she’s out cold within two minutes. He laughs at the snoring toddler, and looks down at the ground before he looks at you. “Did you mean it?” he asks, and you feel your heart explode when you look into his eyes. “About liking me, did you really mean it?” He repeats, and you can’t bring yourself to hide the truth anymore. “Mhm, I did mean it.” You say quietly. His smile brightens ten fold, and if he wasn’t hauling a sleeping child on his back, he would’ve taken your hand. “Well in that case, would it be out of pocket to ask you over for dinner this weekend? She’s going to a slumber party at Seungmin’s house, so we can have an actual conversation,” he asks sheepishly.

“I would love that.”

__________

The rest of the week flies by, and you can feel the nerves gathering in your stomach as you arrive at Minho’s house. Walking inside, it’s exactly how you could imagine it to be. It’s cozy, and you can definitely tell that a toddler lives there. Toys are in the living room corner, stacked neatly next to a two story dollhouse. Sippy cups align the kitchen sink, and you see cat shaped sandwich cutters sitting in the dish drainer. The sight makes you smile, as you remember cooing over the cute shapes at lunch time. 

Minho looks absolutely stunning, you think to yourself. He’s dressed casually, but his button down shirt makes his shoulders look broad and the way his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows makes your knees feel weak. He greets you with a warm smile and a small hug, leading you into the kitchen. He really pulled out all the stops for this-- candles at the center of the dining table, two glasses with red wine sitting next to empty plates as he brings the food to the table. “Wow, this looks amazing,” you tell him as you take a seat across from him, sipping your wine. “Thank you, I really hope you like it,” he laughs.

Dinner goes well, just as you expected it to. The two of you never run out of things to talk about, and the wine is definitely helping the two of you loosen up a little bit. Once dinner is over, you insist that you help with the dishes. Minho tries to decline, but you bump him out of the way with your hip, picking up a towel to dry the clean dishes with. He laughs and mimics the action, except his arm wraps around your waist in an attempt to catch you if you fall over. You feel electricity shoot through you at the action, and you turn to face him as you laugh.

He doesn’t let go, and the look in his eyes has you dropping your towel onto the kitchen counter. The air in the room feels charged, and you can’t help but reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. Everything just felt natural, with him. Like you were supposed to be this way all along. His other hand drops the dish he was holding into the sink, and he decides to wrap it around your waist instead. The feeling of finally being encapsulated in his arms makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

The two of you stay like that, for just a moment longer. It's Minho who breaks the silence first, tightening his hold on you. “Is it..is it okay if I kiss you?” he asks softly. The action is so sweet, you smile as you pull him closer to you. “Please,” you ask, right before his lips crash onto yours. The kiss is soft, slow, everything you could have wanted. His lips still taste like the wine you’ve been drinking, and it makes you want to deepen the kiss. So you do. 

Minho feels your tongue at his lips, and he immediately grants you entrance but quickly gains dominance over you. A hand of his moves from your waist up into your hair as he pushes you into the kitchen counter. Your hands roam his body, his broad shoulders and toned arms feeling like heaven under your fingertips. When your hands find his hair, you tug on it slightly and that’s enough to prompt Minho to lift you onto the counter. He’s standing between your legs, his hands falling to your hips once again. He traces light circles into the skin under your sweater as you start trailing kisses down his neck.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” you say breathily, and it makes Minho chuckle. “You really want this?” He asks, confirming that it’s okay for him to take it further. “I want all of it.” You say while looking him in the eyes. They darken, and you can tell that you’ve just awoken something inside the man. His hands bunch under your shirt, slowly lifting it up to reveal the royal purple bra that you were wearing. Thanking god that you chose a matching set, you take the initiative to take your sweater off the rest of the way, throwing it on a chair near the table. 

Minho wastes no time attacking your neck, biting marks near your collarbone and trailing them down towards your breast. He takes one in his hands, feeling the fabric underneath his hands and relishing in the quiet noises you’re making. His fingers ghost over your nipples, the texture of the fabric bringing you an added sensation. You subconsciously move your hips against his, feeling how hard he is through his jeans. Minho sighs, and the sound is music to your ears. You continue to move your hips against his, and Minho quickly grabs the back of your legs. “Someone’s eager, aren’t they?” he teases, telling you to hold on as he picks you up and takes you in the direction of his bedroom. His lips never leave your neck, at least not until he has you lying comfortably on top of the pillows on his bead. The look in his eyes is almost primal, and it mirrors every feeling that is running through your body in the moment.

You sit up quickly, unbuttoning his shirt slowly as you kiss each inch of exposed skin. Minho helps you as he shrugs his shirt off his shoulders, and you take in the sight of the gorgeous man sitting in front of you. You look down to his jeans and then back into his eyes, as if asking for permission. He grabs your hand and guides it to his belt, and that’s a sure fire sign that you can continue.

You expertly undo his jeans, pulling the zipper down with your teeth in a teasing way. “Fuck, baby,” he says at the sight, and his little praise just spurs you on. You move him to sit on the edge of the bed, and you sink to your knees in front of him as you pull down his jeans. His cock is something to behold-- the perfect size, pink and standing at attention. Tempting. You grab the base in your hand, and bring your tongue out to lick at the head. Minho melts into your touch, his fingers going to your hair instantly. You begin slowly, sucking on the head and using your hand to stroke the rest of his cock. It’s taking every ounce of self control from Minho to not fuck into your mouth, wanting to savor the first of hopefully many encounters with you.

You look so gorgeous on your knees for him, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you begin to sink lower onto his cock. He can feel your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein and making sure to swirl your tongue at his head with each pass you make. If you keep this up, he’s going to cum fast. 

“As much as I enjoy the feeling of your pretty little mouth, baby, I don’t want to cum inside it this time.” He says, pulling you back up onto the bed. You feel excitement rise in your chest at the idea of a “next time”. You giggle as he hovers over you, pulling you into another kiss. He can taste you on his tongue, and there’s something so inherently dirty about it that makes him impatient. 

He starts working on your jeans, undoing the buttons with ease and sliding them down your legs. He stares at the matching purple underwear that you’re in, and he chuckles darkly. “Seems like someone had something certain on their mind when getting dressed today, huh love?” He teases, tracing slow circles over your clit in a teasing way. “I-I don’t know what you mean,” you say as you try to keep your noises to a minimum. He’s going at a pace that is way too slow for your liking, but you’re not ready to beg for it. At least not yet.

“Hm? Feigning innocence now are we? That’s not very nice of you, baby. Tell me, what were you thinking when you put this on today, hm? Were you thinking that I’d take you like a good girl tonight?” He asks. His eyes never leave yours, and you try your hardest to keep your voice level. “Maybe,” you tease, and his pace quickens for just a moment, just enough to have you keening, but then he returns to the torturously slow pace. “Trying to be a brat, are we? Don’t worry, I can have that attitude fixed in no time,” he warns. You want to test him, see how far he’ll go. “Really? I don’t see you doing anything about it,” you fight back.

Bad idea.

Before you can even blink, your underwear are ripped off and thrown across the room, and Minho’s hand is now around your throat. The sweet feeling of the air leaving your lungs has you dizzy, not able to form coherent words. “Oh? Where’s that mouth of yours now huh?” He says, his tone condescending. His fingers return to your core, but this time his pace is rough and fast. You try to move, but the grip on your neck is tight. “Tell me what you want, love. Use your words,” he says. He decides to loosen his grip to let you speak.

“Please, Minho God just-just fuck me,” you finally speak out, voice shaky as your high is quickly approaching you. “That’s all the permission I need, baby doll.” He laughs as he pulls you closer to him. Reaching down, Minho grabs his cock in his hands and runs the head up and down your labia, teasing you before giving you the real thing. “You’re so wet, this is all for me right? I’m the only one who makes you feel like this?” He asks, knowing that you’re slowly losing your cool.

“Yes! Yes it’s only fo- only for you, Minho please” you beg, and it quickly turns into a moan as he enters you. Your back arches, and a low groan comes from Minho’s throat as he feels how tight you are around him. He stills for a moment, giving you time to adjust, but once you rock your hips into him even a little, he sets off at a steady pace. The feeling is euphoric, he’s stretching you in just the right places and somehow knows exactly how to make you see stars.

He’s panting, and when you whine a quiet “Harder, please,” he loses all control. Slamming into you quickly, he brings his hand back to your throat. “You’re so perfect for me, baby. Jesus. Only for me,” he says over and over again. He’s leaned close to you now, mouth against your ear and you can hear every ounce of praise that comes from his mouth. Your high is approaching, and you clench around Minho when he starts drawing fast circles on your clit once again. 

“Minho I- I’m so close, please make me cum,” you moan, and with a certain swivel of his hips he’s hitting a spot that’s making you see stars. “Cum for me then, baby. Let me feel you,” he says, quickening his pace once again, so fast you didn’t think it was possible.

The only sounds in the room are skin slapping and your labored breathing, moans loud as you finally feel the knot in your core tighten and then burst. His name leaves your lips in a long, drawn out whine, and you feel him fill you up not long after your orgasm starts wearing off. He’s panting in your ear, grip tightening around your throat once again as you feel him spill into you. 

Riding out both of your highs, Minho’s thrusts slowly come to a stop. The two of you lay there, basking in the glow of the events that just unfolded. You stay like that for a few minutes, and then Minho gets up to run the shower, placing a kiss on your forehead as he leaves the bedroom.

You end up going for another round in the shower, and then straight to bed as the two of you are too worn out to do anything else.

You wake up the next morning in one of his tshirts, and you can smell pancakes being made in the kitchen. You look over and realize that Minho is no longer next to you, and you smile as you hear the radio playing and a sweet voice singing along. 

Aware that his daughter could be coming home at any minute, you throw your own jeans on as you walk into the kitchen, Minho’s shirt still falling off your shoulder. Quietly padding behind him, he jumps as you wrap your arms around his waist. “Good morning,” you giggle, and he quickly turns to place a kiss on your cheek. “Good morning to you too, doll.” He says. The name brings back memories of last night and you feel a blush on your cheeks. 

You help him finish making pancakes, and when the front door opens, you hear little feet making their way to the kitchen, followed by the sound of Seungmin’s voice. “Hey, Minho I figured I’d stop in and say hi since I’m dropping off your- oh. Hello.” Seungmin says as he sees you at the counter with said man. “Hi,” you say quietly, giggling at his expression. “Y/N!!!!!!!!!!” you hear from behind him. You lean over and see Minho’s daughter coming at you full force. You quickly scoop her up into your arms, spinning her around as her bright laugh fills the room. It makes Minho’s heart explode, and he immediately feels embarrassed as he looks over at Seungmin. “I’m not judging, good for you bro.” The younger man says, sticking out his fist for Minho to bump. He laughs, but does it anyway, his attention turning back to your and his daughter.

“Are you here to have breakfast with us?!?! Daddy makes the best pancakes!!” The girl exclaims, and you laugh as you look over to Minho, sharing a secret glance.

“I sure am, sweetheart.”  

________________________________________________________________

Masterlist

[kerra-and-company]

Rhi’s interview

Next up: the sylvari sprout who’s planning on tagging along with their mom to Cantha. Without her knowledge. This will definitely only go well.

Rhi time!

OC Interview: Rhianyi

Draw (or use an old drawing, don’t worry!) or take a screen of your character in an interview setting and make them answer the following questions! 

INTRODUCTION

1. Can you introduce yourself?

I’m Rhianyi, if you want my full name, but Rhi’s fine. I don’t have any titles.

2. What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status? 

You better not be publishing this in a magazine or something, mysterious interviewer person. Enby, no idea but I haven’t had a crush on anyone yet, and single.

3. Where and when were you born? 

Early 1331 A.E., Sun’s Refuge, Jahai Bluffs. Born almost on the dot at 6 in the evening, by the way, so no one can agree if I’m a Duskbloom or a Nightbloom.

4. What is your weapon of choice and fighting style? 

Rifle or greatsword. I’m a warrior, and I’ve been told I fight like my dad. So if you’re really curious, ask him if there’s a name for whatever way that is.

5. Lastly, are you happy? 

Life’s never perfect, but generally speaking? (They smile.) Yes, I am.

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

1. What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

In my experience, the only people who haven’t heard of my parents are either children or have been hiding under a rock for the past ten years. That comes of being the child of one of the former Pact Marshals, an ex-criminal sylvari who did a number of notable crimes, and the Commander. I don’t care for the spotlight, but I love my parents and wouldn’t ever trade them for anyone else.

I know you’ve heard of my big sister Aurene, but she’s fantastic, too, and so are my twin little siblings, who just awakened this year. (They frown.) They have been teaching me lessons in chaos, though, and please do not give Ia anything explosive. Or give Tev knives. I’ve only done the second one but both are bad ideas.

2. Have you ever ran away from home? 

(Their smile droops just a little, but they speak brightly.) Nope!

3. Would you consider marriage or having children? 

Maybe. I haven’t really thought too much about that yet.

4. Do you secretly hate one of your friends? 

Why would I?

5. Which friend knows everything about you? 

She’s my sister, but she’s my friend too, so--Aurene.

ASKED BY FANS

1. Are you literate? Have you been to school?

Yes, I’m literate. And no, I’ve been homeschooled by my family. I would just say my parents, but it’s also my uncles and aunt and several of their friends, so...

2. The eeriest prediction you made that later came true? 

Nothing yet, but don’t jinx it.

3. What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

That other species don’t grow as fast as I do. (Their mouth twists.) It’s...not bad, but it makes things hard sometimes.

4. Do you have mental health or physical issues? 

I’m colorblind. And I can’t do bright lights. Sun’s Refuge is great, but the open desert? Not so much. Sunglasses are excellent, though.

5. What is your current main goal? 

I know adventures are dangerous, but I’d still like to have one--on my own terms.

CHOICES

1. Drink or food?

Drink? You need water to live, so if I had to pick one...

2. Cats or dogs? 

Cats. (They grin.) But if you ever ask my little sister, she’ll say dogs. She adores Mom’s fern hound, and it’s very cute.

3. Early bird or night owl? 

Night owl.

4. Optimist or pessimist? 

Can I pick realist?

5. Sassy or sarcastic? 

More the second than the first.

HAVE YOU EVER

1. Been caught sneaking out?

Yes. I’m better at it now.

2. Broke a bone? 

Almost, but luckily no.

3. Received flowers? 

No.

4. Ghosted someone? 

(They look uncomfortable.) No.

5. Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get? 

Only once. (They giggle.) And I don’t think I did it very well because my pretend laugh made Ren actually laugh.

Tagging: Just doing more of these for fun, but if you’re inclined to do one, consider yourself tagged and go for it! :D

[allandoflimbo]

Can you write one where one day the team is in the compound and Bucky goes to show them something on the TV and his phone is connected to it and he accidentally shows everyone a video of him touching himself and he gets embarrassed and reader starts blushing because she has a crush on him and then after that they are embarrassed because Bucky likes her too and then he kisses her or more.

Live Show

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word count: 2,515

Rating: M

“We’re all going to the living room, something about a movie night. You in?”

You quickly noted the hopeful and enthusiastic tone in your friend’s voice. Wanda was still slightly drunk from the tequila shot you had made her take with you that evening after an exhausting mission in Riga.  

“I don’t know.”

“Come on.” Wanda grabbed onto your arm, pulling you halfway out of your room and into the hallway. You had barely been settled into your quarters when she had stopped you dead in your tracks. Sometimes you cursed the beautiful girl in your head for being so eager to always have a good time, not knowing how she had the energy, but other times you just wanted to rest. You had barely made it out alive tonight, the wound from 9mm bullet that had grazed your upper shoulder and was not yet fully healed. How awful was it that you just wanted to take a hot shower and a nap?

“Bucky will be there.” The mention of his name made your upper belly catapult and you pursed your lips, looking away from her knowing eyes. 

“Stop, Wanda.” You looked down at yourself and half considered actually joining her after she mentioned Bucky would be there, “I need a shower. I was hoping the shots were good enough to last us into the night.” You excused halfheartedly. Your eyes darted down the hall that led into the main room and you wondered if he was already there.

Bucky Barnes was a leanly built, dark haired, and blue eyed good man that you had harbored a crush for ever since you met him on a mission along side Sam Wilson in Serbia. As much as you tried to avoid his presence after joining the team, it was no denying that you were irrevocably attracted to him. You always wondered what he looked like under his tactical gear. Of course Wanda knew about your crush, she was your best friend.

“Go take your shower and then come. I won’t take no for an answer.” She said smugly. She let go of your arm and leaned back on the balls of her feet.

The edge of your lips perk up. Damn her for being so sweet and adorable, it practically made you cave.

“Fine, I’ll be out in a few minutes,” you grabbed her shoulder as you watched and noticed her lean way too far back and you spun her slightly around in the direction of the kitchen, “you go sober up. Drink water, Wanda.”

She waved over her shoulder with a huff and you watched with a chuckle. You felt the butterflies flutter in your tummy at the thought of seeing Bucky soon — hopefully gaining a seat next to him on the couch.

The moment you stepped out of the shower you dried off and quickly slipped on a pair of grey Nike sweats and a white T-shirt.  You let your damp hair flow down your back, deciding you’d let it air dry for the rest of the night. Some of the strands began to seep in through the back of your shirt as you stepped into the hallway, closing your door.

Sam met you at your side as he came up behind you. “Those make your ass look fantastic.”

“Fuck you, Sam.” You pulled out your phone from your pocket.

He smiled. “I’m kidding. It looks okay.”

You snapped your head at him, smiling wide.

“Thanks.”

He dropped a playful arm around your shoulders and brought you into his hide for a tight hug. You chuckled, sliding your phone back into your pocket after seeing you had no new notifications.

Stepping into the dark living room that was illuminated but the blue glow of the moderate sixty inch television, your eyes quickly scanned the area. Vision and Wanda were already huddled up in the corner of the couch and, of course, Bucky was sitting off to the side. He wore a white shirt similar to yours and black sweats that hugged his thighs. The sight made you want to moan. He was looking through his phone, his legs spread apart, and a forearm on each knee as he looked used it. Sam made a snarky comment to him, something about looking gloomy, and Bucky laughed. 

His eyes snapped up just long enough for your gaze to meet. His features softened as he looked at you and couldn’t help but instinctually bite your lip, but bashfully look away at the same time. You followed behind Sam and he took a seat on Bucky’s right and you to his left by the arm of the couch.

His leg radiated off heat like a furnace and it made your skin burn. You watched as he continued to look through his phone and your eyes darted down to his legs again. You wondered what they felt like — if they felt as hard as they looked. You then looked at his hands, the veins making you itch to feel them on your skin. 

You couldn’t help a small groan that left your lips and your quickly catch your slip, clearing your throat embarrassingly loud. What was wrong with you? For all you knew, Bucky could be this total gentleman, just like the rumors you heard about him back when he was dating girls in nineteen forty-five. He was also a professional killer — killer of evil that is. He’s the best Avenger the public has seen since Steve’s passing. He was a great man, yet here you were having filthy and dirty thoughts about him.

Who even knew if he still thinks about sex like that? He probably has better and more important things to worry about.

“Can you hurry, I’m getting sleepy.” Wanda complained from her side of the couch.

“I’m trying to find it.” Bucky mumbled.

Your brows furrow together in confused. “What are we looking for?” “Hulu’s not working on the tv, so I’m just going to airdrop it from my phone.” Bucky says.

You smirked.

“You know what airdrop is, Voltaire?” Sam asks sarcastically.

Bucky ignores Sam completely as he straightens out his back. He spreads his legs just a little wider and his left leg ends up hitting yours. 

Your body stiffens at the contact.

“Got it. I think.” You mumbles under his breath. You’re not paying attention to what he’s doing, you don’t even offer help as you note him moving around way too long on his phone for someone who simply needs to press the airdrop feature. Instead you’re focused on the muscles of his back as they flex. His shirt is begging to be ripped by your hands and you suddenly remember the one moment you both had a few weeks ago when you were trying to pass him in the kitchen and you felt him graze your lower back with his hand as you did so. He had smiled so good and —

moaning.

Your stomach flips.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop —“

Your cheeks grow hot at the voice and suddenly the room is in a ball of commotion and your leg is cold. Bucky had gotten up and his hand was moving frantically over his phone, the other over the remote control. Your eyes are on the tv and you can’t believe what you are seeing.

Holy hell.

There was Bucky Barnes, his phone plopped up on something as he sat in front of the camera, legs spread. Except this time he wasn’t wearing anything at all. His abs clenched deliciously slow as his hand stroked the tip of his thick cock. His face was contorted in pleasure, his lips pink and full.

“Right there…”

“Bucky, what the hell!” “Dude, turn this shit off. What did you touch?” “Give it to me.” “Just exit it out of it!” “The control, give me the control.”

“Oh, my god.” Is Wanda’s exclamation in her tiny voice as she hides her face behind her hands.

“I’m trying. Oh my god.” Bucky’s voice wavered as he walks up to the tv, “i’m turning it off, don’t look at it.”

You were stunned, still haven’t said a single word.

“Right there, right there…” he panted as his hand focused on his mushroom tip, “Gonna make me cum.”

Those were the last few words that echoed around the room before the tv shut off and everyone was enveloped in total darkness and silence. 

Sam’s finger was on the control on the power button, a big amused smug on his face. Bucky, on the other hand, was running a hand over his face and then through his hair. He pulled on the strands and his arms and back flexed again.

You gulped, feeling the heat in your cheeks and core grow even more.

“Well, that was fun.” Sam says.

“Shut up.” Bucky groaned, clearly upset and embarrassed. 

“Come on, Bucky. It happens. We all do it.” Sam says with a shrug. You were happy it was dark in there so no one could see how red you were. You needed to get out of there, you needed some air or at least some water.

We all do it.

Bucky took a deep breath and then turned to Sam, “Everyone close their eyes, you turn it back on and just exit out of it and put the damn movie on.” Bucky mumbles, quickly handing Sam his phone.

Sam takes it from him with a chuckle. You watch from your peripheral as Bucky quickly makes a deadline for the kitchen. You watch as he fumbles his way into opening the fridge and then turning away from all of you to grab a mug in the cabinet. 

Part of you felt bad. Should you say something?

You cleared your throat.

“I’m gonna get some water.” You announce, pushing yourself off the couch.

You hear Sam snicker behind you and it takes all your muster to not turn around and slap him.

It’s not until you’re halfway to the kitchen that your curse yourself for deciding to do this. What were you even going to say?

Bucky takes a sip of whatever he poured himself from the mug, and turns to face the wall. Just then his eye catches yours.

Damn it. No turning back now.

It takes you a cup of water and some awkward sipping next to each other before you have the guts to speak up.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You say quietly, even though Sam already got the movie started so they probably wouldn’t even hear.

You watch Bucky’s human hand tighten around the white mug. It’s then that you catch the whiff of tangy orange juice in the air.

“Sam is right, we all do it.” Bucky perks a brow at this and you immediately regret what you said, “I mean, it’s nothing you should be ashamed of.” Bucky puts his now empty cup in the sink and you do the same. You catch both you and him off guard as you reach out to grab his arm, “hey.” 

He looks up at you suddenly, his pretty lips open and begging. You look down at them and he catches you.

Your name leaves his lips in a whisper, “It’s still embarrassing, I don’t want them to see that,” your eyes meet and the air between you is intense. You feel your breathing come out quicker as his own gaze drifts down to your lips and then back to your eyes again. He swallows thickly, “especially you.”

You are overwhelmed by the feeling of rejection that slams into you at his words. You take your hand off his arm like its on fire and he watches your movements like a hawk. He notices your reaction to his words and he wants to take them back immediately, but your next moves are way too quick for him to process. You nod quickly, give him a short smile that doesn’t necessarily reach your eyes, and walk back to the couch to watch the rest of the film.

Sitting next to him doesn’t end up being as nicely as you had hoped, and when it’s over you don’t even give him a proper goodbye. You rush into your quarters as fast as you possibly can, already thinking about escaping his heady aura.

You pull back the covers of your bed and run a hand through your hair. You knew your crush for him was only getting deeper by the second, but this was insane. How were you even going to be able to work around him this way?

You let out a long breath, preparing to head into the bathroom to brush your teeth when you hear a knock at your door.

Your brows knit together, and when you open your door you’re surprised to see Bucky leaning against the door frame.

You raise a brown and prepare your voice to not sound as vulnerable as your felt. “Hey.”

There’s a casual strand of hair over his forehead and he stares at you with a look you can’t pin point. He licks his lips and looks away.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet.

“What’s wrong?” You ask seriously.

“I—,” he takes a deep breath. He takes his hand off the door frame and runs it back through his hair, pushing that strand off his skin. His blue eyes are now more revealing than ever, “Earlier, when I said especially you,” you feel your skin heat up at the reminder of what happened earlier, what you had seen, and you notice it has the same effect on him as his own cheeks grow a blush hue.

“Look, Bucky, I get it. You said you were embarrassed —”

He shakes his head, “No, that’s not why.” He looks down at his feet and bites his lip before look up at you through thick lashes and a heavy gaze, “Can I come in?”

You’re slightly taken aback and also confused by his request but you nod.

You don’t even have the door closed all the way before you feel his hand on your neck. He’s spinning you around and he’s got your head up against the door. You only catch a quick glimpse of his eyes on your lips before he’s kissing you.

It’s possibly the sweetest and most tender kiss you’ve ever received in your life and it has your toes curling into the wooden floor beneath you. His metal grip tightens on your waist and he grounds his hips into yours, making you moan. His kisses slow down to pecks and he has you breathing hard when he pulls away. You’re speechless as he caresses your cheek with his thumb.

“I meant especially you because when I recorded that, I was thinking about you.” His voice is raspy and thick in the air. You feel your pussy clench around nothing at his vulgar words. “You deserve better than that.”

Your eyes look down to his lips, the lust taking over you in heavy waves. You lean in and kiss him softly.

“I do deserve better,” Bucky’s face crumbles slightly at your words, “I deserve a live show.”

[oopcio]

Could I request an HC of the main 6 with an MC that is sorta dense and just REALLY oblivious about the LI having a crush on them? MC still reciprocates their feelings, they just suck at telling whether or not someones flirting with them. If you're up for something extra to add: LI confesses to having a crush on MC, but MC thinks that they are under some sort of love spell and so they start freaking out and trying to “reverse” the spell.

yes omg pls this is me

asra:

as much as it pains him to feel like his feelings are unrequited, he knows you better than anyone and that you, with all due respect, are a bit dense. don’t be mad! he still loves you though! it got to a point where, he inwardly proposed, that he could blantantly say he was deeply in love with you with every fiber in his being and you’d turn it right around, somehow. oh, it was so cute, though... was it possible to fall even more in love with you? if so, he definitely did. “even the cards are telling me that the person that you’re destined to be with... is right across from you.” he watched as your dumbfounded expression landed on the stove salamander in the middle of the table, and laughed the hardest you’ve ever heard him laugh.

but when the signs kept pouring in, he saw no use in trying to defy fate any longer. so he decided that he would close up shop and go stroll through the market and grab some bread from your favorite baker, find yourself walking through town square into the shopping district where you’d both goof off and wrap one another in scarves and hats that were as big as you just to put on stupid, silly accents to make the other laugh. no matter how childish, it was one of the best nights of asra’s life. and then it came time for the main event.

“mc, i have something to tell you,” he started out, his tone serious for the first time today. you urged him on, and that’s when he spilled the news. “i... i really love you. i’ve been in love with your for a long time - actually, ever since i first saw you, truth be told.” he reached out and grabbed your hands, looking deeply into your eyes with nothing but adoration for you and only you. but there was only one thought in your mind.

“did the baker put something in the bread? no- wait- did you drink something you weren’t supposed to before we left? cast any spells?” he chuckled and cut you off, ceasing any words that were going to leave your throat. “i can assure you, i’ve not done anything of the sort. i’m serious; and i’m far more responsible than that, i’ll have you know.” you laughed nervously and played with the hem of your sleeve, suddenly feeling the pressure. “wow, that’s reassuring. i feel the same way, actually. i... i never saw this coming, though.” this set asra off into a giggle fit, leaving you clutching the hem and rolling it under your fingers. “i’m... actually not surprised by that.”

nadia:

she finds your oblivion absolutely adorable, especially when she feels as if her crush is so clear. she sends fine jewelry to decorate your nightstand, has extravegant clothes specifically tailored to you, taking everything possible into consideration - quality of the cloth, your measurements, your favorite colors and patterns, occasions you can wear the garments to, etcetera. “i apologize, i couldn’t help myself. when i first seen this, i just knew it would look so perfect hanging from your wrist. don’t you think? oh, the diamonds sparkle so beautifully, it truly brings out your skin tone. hm, i was going to save this to present to you at the masquerade but... here, earrings to match.” she was more impressed than anything at how you managed to make even her most embarrassingly obvious actions seem... well, not obvious.

when the day came she decided to be open and honest with you about her feelings, she was so nervous and rosy the whole day, waiting for the absolute perfect moment because you deserved nothing less. you’ll walk through the palace gardens until you reach fhe gazebo, and nadia will promptly urge the both of you to enter. while you admire the flowers that decorate the beams holding the structure up, she speaks. “the view is beautiful out here, don’t you agree? i could certainly get used to this... hm, and the flowers are quite lovely too, i suppose.” you feel her long, slender fingers pull your hair back as she stands behind you.

you turn around quickly to face her, your eyes immediately fixating on her flushed face. “what do you mean? i’m not sure i understand.” she smiles and reaches for one of your hands, putting in in hers as she speaks. “i mean that, even among the variety of rare blooms in season and the sight of the city far peering behind the vines and trees, the most delightful sight i can see from here is you.” she carefully raises your hand to her lips and presses the most delicate kiss to the back of your hand, but not before making sure you were okay with it. “and, if i may ask and if you’re comfortable answering, how do you feel about me?”

you had an internal panic before raising your free hand to nadia’s cheek, and then her forehead to check her temperature. “nadia, have you accepted any drinks from anyone untrustworthy? oh, no, could it be one of the servants?! this can’t be,” you sigh, ready to storm back into the palace and interrogate every servant before nadia laughs and catches your wrist. “i can assure you i’ve not had any drinks spiked if that is your concern, mc. rest easy in knowing that.” you anxiously laugh and rub your forearm in self comfort, blushing and avoiding her eyes at all costs. “then, i guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you i feel the same way?” even when you muttered, nadia seemed to light up and clutch her chest. “ah, wonderful. what a joyous day this has amounted to be. tell me, darling,” she says, gently grabbing your chin to pull it upwards, so you can no longer avoid making eye contact. “shall we go back to the palace and celebrate?”

julian:

he is certainly in the same boat as you. he is whipped for you, head over heels - he loves you so much his heart aches at the mere thought of you, but he is completely unknowing about your reciprocated feelings. it was a miracle how long no progress had been made because both of you are (respectfully) too dense, even when the most blantant phrases happened to slip from him. as flirtatious and grandoise as he is, he’s blinded by his own feelings and thus cannot see yours. he can easily make flirtatious jabs and not be affected by it, but if you ever did, he’d flush and hide his face at all costs. “what’s on the agenda today, mc?” / “world domination.” / “ooh, ambitious, aren’t we? can i be your... partner in crime?” / “sure but, you’re my world.” / “OH!”

honestly, it took a lot, and i mean a lot of convincing from portia for him to admit his feelings to himself, and then he had to do the same thing over again but, this time, to you. so he planned on doing so while you both would go out to stroll around vesuvia, wherever you wanted to go. and, if nowhere in particular, he’d take you to the docks and sit with you there while you had lunch, letting your legs dangle in the water. he was so nervous and it was obvious - he was as stiff as a stick in the sand. you’d ask him what’s up, why he looked so tense, and he’d finally sputter it out.

“i-i really... i like you, a lot, you know. i know i’m probably a lot to handle, and you’ve put up with me for so long already, so i-i’ll understand if you don’t feel the same, you know? i just wanted to get this off my chest, it’s been eating me up for so long now, i-“ but you were already frozen, only breathing and kneading your hands through the cloth that laid over your lap. “oh, i shouldn’t have said anything, i knew this was a bad idea!-“ but you cut him off before he could finish. “did you take any potions from the shop or anything? anything that made you feel weird after?” he froze.

then he was breaking down in laughter. “a potion? mc, what do you take me for? a thief?” then you send him a look and a nudge and remind him of how the two of you met. he nods his head bashfully after granting you that point. “wow, i thought that you were going to reject me. i’m kinda glad that you asked me that question instead, though. unless, this is the part you reject me?” the look on his face as he asks has you grabbing your sides, nearly falling into the water from the intensity of your laughter. julian visibly eases and holds you, making sure you stay balanced. “are you kidding? can’t you see how much i like you?” he blushes, color creeping over his cheeks and even towards the tips of his ears. “i... didn’t know. if i did, i wouldn’t have tortured myself this long.” / “yeah, because that’s my job now.” he clasps his hand over his beet-red face, frantically looking around in hopes no one heard you. he certainly wouldn’t complain, though...

muriel:

it’s really a miracle that you ever get him to let something about his crush slip. he’s like you in the way that he couldn’t realize your feelings for him, and in that sense he was very thick. but, he still kept it to himself - not because he didn’t want anything to happen, or because he was afraid of whatever your reaction might be, but because he didn’t want (what felt like) his burden to become your burden.

he didn’t have anything planned the day he told you. honestly, he didn’t plan on telling you in the first place. it just... came out. before he could stop it. inanna laid under the table as the both of you sat across from each other, each working on your own projects - muriel, his widdling, and you, embroidery. you told him it was just something to do to occupy yourself, but, really, you were making him a gift basket, and this little embroidered pillow was one of the gifts. there was no occasion - you just wanted to give him something since he’d always tried to be so nice and open with you. a bit of a ‘thank you’, you suppose.

you finished perfecting the pillow and stood with it, turning to leave the hut. you had a basket outside with all of his other presents, hiding behind a rock that was near the creek that ran beside the hut. once you’d gotten it and placed the pillow inside, you plucked around until you were happy with the placement of all the items inside. and then, all you had to do left was give it to him. you walked in and placed the basket on the table, making muriel look up at you and halt his widdling. “what is this,” he asked as he sat his things aside, so he could give you his full, undivided attention. “surprise! i made you a gift basket. are you surprised? look inside!” you could hardly contain your excitement; you’d worked on this for over a month. there were pressed flowers, homemade candles and soap, a little painting of the forest, and a handwritten letter.

finally, he grabbed the letter after examining all the other items thoroughly, you could see a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth as he read it. a few silent moments later and he finally spoke, folding it back up. “thank you. this is really nice. really cute. reminds me of you.” he placed the letter back inside, not realizing what he said until it was already out in the open. “n-nevermind, i-“ but you were already interrupting him. “did asra give you something? did you drink anything weird, muriel?” he would have laughed if he wasn’t so embarrassed. “no, i meant it,” he grumbled. what was the use in denying it now? you wouldn’t let him live it down. you were so shocked, snapping out of it only moments later when you stepped forward to play with his hair softly. “awh, muri... you’re the cutest.” while you were distracted, he looked down at his lap to smile, just a bit. inanna looked up at him, knowingly. “liar.”

portia:

as adorable as she found your ability to turn even her riskiest flirt into something small or dismissable, it was quite frustrating. not because she didn’t respect you and the possibility that you might not return the feelings, it was more being frustrated by not being able to convey her feelings in a way that you would understand it’s severity, so you can make the decision from there.

before long, enough was enough for her so she decided to plan out a whole day to spend with you so she could finally tell you how she felt. first, you were going to have breakfast at her cottage by her window with the sun shining on your faces, then water on the garden a bit, and after that, go to the markets and look around. finally, she’d bring you back to the cottage where she would tell you everything. and, unexpectedly, she had a sudden great idea when her gaze fell on a bottle of ink while at the markets, and it might have taken some buttering up for you to agree, but no less, you agreed. and the minute you got back to the cottage, your fingers were smeared with ink as you both drew on one another.

you drew a shaky sketch of vesuvia on portia’s collarbones, and she told you that what she was writing on your hip was a ‘surprise’. you were more excited than anything else, you didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary, after all. today was just you and portia goofing off, per usual. only this time, ink was involved. “hey, hey! that’s cheating! you’re just tickling me now!” you were both laughing so much, the finger-painting was half of the fun. “uh oh, you caught me.” when you were both done, portia grabbed your wrist, rubbing ink all over your forearm as she dragged you to her bedroom, showing you the mirror that hung over her dresser. you played rock, paper, scissors to see who would go first. portia won.

“awh, mc! this is so cute! you’re so talented!” she cooed, and you knew she was just slapping it on at one point. the painting was all shaky and smudged from how hard you were laughing while making it. finally, she stepped aside and gave you enough room to reveal yours. you caught a glimpse of portia biting her lower lip and wringing her hands as you pulled your garments aside just enough to see her artwork. it read ‘portia ♡ mc’. you stared at it for a while, jaw slacked and silent. “i tried to find the best way to tell you, but it was hard. when i seen that ink well in the market today i got the idea, and it wouldn’t quite be me confessing if it wasn’t fun and silly, would it?” you looked over at her to see her still chewing her lip, only now paired with a blush on her face. “are... are you serious? are you sure you haven’t drunk anything... weird?” you ask quietly, only to recieve her most genuine confirmation. “nope, i’ve felt like this for a really long time. i just wanted to let you know how i felt.” you smile and return to looking at it in the mirror, finding it cuter as the seconds pass. “i feel the same way,” you told her, carefully placing your garments back in a way where they wouldn’t rub the ink. she ran up and brought you into a hug and you both stayed embracing one another for a long but comfortable while. until; “hey, um, are you ready to wash these off yet?” you shook your head, pulling back to look into her eyes. “i think i want mine tattooed,” you both giggled.

lucio:

you are not allowed to be oblivious to his feelings. he could say “wow, i really like you,” and you would say “yeah i like you too, you’re a really neat person.” cue the face where his eyes are all big and his mouth is open in an eternal screech. “no, mc, i really enjoy spending time with you, i like buying you the finest jewelry and exotic gifts just to give you something that you’ll enjoy wearing and know that it’s from me.” / “oh, cool! like friendship bracelets?”

and the day finally came where he decided he’d take you out to the palace gardens for a pleasant walk and a picnic date, so he could finally confess his feelings. after taking a little stroll and finding a nice spot to sit, complaining about all the little bugs and itchy pieces of grass tickling him, he’d break it to you. and not easily. “i really love you. i could seriously see us being together for the rest of our lives, couldn’t you? how do you feel about me? uh, mc?”

you were already freaking out. no way he was serious right now!!! was he? no!!! don’t be silly!!! this is obviously the work of... a love potion! “where did you find a potion, lucio?! did someone give it to you? you couldn’t have found it, right? oh no, did you drink something when we visited the shop the other day?!” he scoffed and pursed his little lips, crossing his arms like an angered toddler. “what on earth are you going on about? you’re talking about potions when i, the count of vesuvia, have confessed my undying love to you and proposed that we grow old together while i shower you in gold and exotic animals, and you’re thinking about a potion?!?!”

it was certainly quite silly once you heard it from his perspective, but you couldn’t help but laugh at his hopeless expression. “well, when you put it like that...” you start quietly, picking at the blanket laid beneath the both of you, seperating you from the most of the grass. “i feel the same way about you. i guess i just never noticed, until now.” he cooed, immediately throwing anything he might have had in his hands aside so he could wrap his arms around you, pulling you against him. “oh, how cute! let’s start planning the wedding. let’s have doves, and how about some rare, expensive wines and glassware, and...”

(a/n: 1. i just wanna say i can def picture y’all’s wedding n lucio putting the ring on ur finger n u go ‘but like, just as friends, right?’ just to tease him AHAHA and 2. wow i’m so sorry this took me so long!!! been loaded with work & life so i wanted to perfect this and it rlly stressed me out when i accidentally lost muriel & portia’s first draft but oh well. i’m too tired to proofread so i’ll check it in the morning. hope you enjoy!!!)

- jiah 💖

[muse-milkaelis]

Your Sebastian headcanons were well good I loved em personally so keep up the good work!! Is it ok if you do some crush/pining headcanons for him plz? I wanna jump on the trash demon bandwagon lol. And thanks in advance hun!

Hey Anon! I’ve actually done some Sebastian crush headcanons here. Hope you enjoy~

While that post encapsulated a lot of my thoughts on the matter, as far as pining goes... It really depends on the situation. Sebastian has immense patience while also clearly having a great capacity for yearning, as he longs for the day he’ll finally have his meal. That said, I think it tends to be different for him romantically.

As I wrote in the last post, it takes a lot for Sebastian to even recognize romantic interest. So I do think he would pine for said crush, but he wouldn’t be aware of it. This would show itself in a number of ways:

Sebastian’s attention would regularly be on the object of his affections, when they’re in the same area. He would make conversation with them and subconsciously be more aware of their needs/comforts than other guests. He would be around them more often generally speaking

He would tend to show off more. The butler is already embarrassingly flashy, but he would do more stunts in front of a crush.

While Sebs’ attention is most often on his butler duties, between tasks he would wonder what his crush would be doing at that moment, or think up new ways to please or impress them. He’d never stay on the thoughts long enough for them to cement in his mind. He always brushes them off, because he’s a demon butler with bigger things to do. He doesn’t get crushes. He’s just thinking ahead, or amusing himself.

Like I said, Sebastian doesn’t really believe he can have romantic feelings, or at least anything like a sense of adoration and commitment. He’s eons old, life is fleeting, beings are predictable. He simply doesn’t care enough about a relationship that he’d want to be tied to one. Or so he thinks. It takes a special kind of person and a special kind of love to reign in this trash demon.

They would likely need to have a comparable, or at least substantial, life span. It can be hard to feel genuinely committed to someone who will be gone in what feels like a day to him. That said, I don’t think it’s impossible for him. This contract that he started out not caring very much about clearly means a lot to him now. He’s put a lot of work into it and basically starved himself for it, and I think some part of him is invested in the people around him, so I think it’s within the realm of possibility for Sebs to fall for a mortal.

Mortals are by far the most and least predictable beings there are. While their motivations and lifestyles are easily understood by him, they also have been shown to make shocking decisions and act irrationally, selflessly, weirdly, and simply unexpectedly. Sebastian is bored with life, so he needs that novelty in his life.

So, if his crush were immortal, like him, they couldn’t be stagnant. This is much harder to come by, as beings that live forever are much more set in their ways with no motivators to make them act in incredible ways. They have no desperation or desire or yearning beyond that we may feel like watching a favorite tv show. We may love it, feel with the characters, and be devastated by events, but it’s very unlikely that we’d be moved to action like seeking lifelong revenge or becoming a hero based on that feeling of loss.

I feel like that was a very big chunk to read, so here’s some nice spacing! :D

When it comes to the type of love Sebastian needs, it’s, well... Very self indulgent. 

It can’t be too easy, but he also needs their devoted admiration. He is a pride demon, after all. After all his hard work trying to chase down a seemingly untouchable party, he needs to be shown that he is utterly adored. Worshiped, even. 

He would n e v e r admit it, but he adores that shit. Eats it all up. Additionally, the shock of a devotion to him of all things would make him fall all the harder. He loves attention and when it’s cranked up to that depth of love from someone he already cares about, that shit changes him.

Even still, his partner would need to be independent. Someone who falls for him and then only ever ogles over him while doing nothing else will eventually bore him. They need to be on equal planes. Love him, lavish him, worship him, but when morning comes, you’d better be back to going about your day and leave him wanting more. It’s all about predictability vs. novelty. String him along right, and you’ll have demon that would do absolutely anything for you, contract or no contract.

Welp, this got waaayyyyy longer than I wast expecting haha so I hope you enjoy!

Please keep ‘em coming! We need something to do in quarantine lmao.

Take care!

- Stella 💫

[royal-poetry]

Truth Part 2

Beatrix chuckled as she made her way to Giovana. The fun loving prankster demon had bitten off more than she could chew and accidentally pranked herself. Instead of using a truth serum on the brothers Gio somehow took it instead. Now Trix was part of the crew to keep people away. This was a serious manor, not only did she get a text from Gio asking for help but Barbatos sent them a slightly threatening message.. but hey at least Beatrix was trusted enough by Barb. She found Gio at the castle, naturally as Barbatos had already started to damage control. After getting passed a worried and pushy Diavolo Trix finally was with their other best friend.

"Gio I don't know why this is such a big deal but whatever Barb said to Dia didn't help because that man is acting like you're dying.. This isn't a kill you after its done truth serum is it?" Worry struck the human for a second, nah that wouldn't be right. It's just Diavolo over reacting, but why? He was strange but Trix didn't question it too much, now wasn't the time. "Now I'm here to help with 'making sure nothing gets out' in the cryptic words of our lovely Barb. This has to be something big if they are acting like that. Why is this such a big secret? Like I'm probably here to figure out a way to reverse it which I mean I can and will but I'm gonna need company while I figure out where you got it from and what kind it is and who you got it from, ya know? So I can take this opportunity to ask some things."

"So we all know about your little tea time with Asmodeus, where you talk about our resident couples, but we haven't talked about you. So Gio, who are you crushin' on? There has to be someone you like, its only natural. Please don't say its Diavolo, I will only accept that he is a sugar daddy and you stole that job from Asmo, because he deserves a good sugar daddy who will treat him right." Trix laughed, remembering conversations about sugar daddies once. "Also speaking of tea you should spill some of it and since we are in the castle, got any dirt on Diavolo and Barb? I bet you know some things from living here with them."

Giovanna sat on her bed, anxiously bouncing her leg as she waited for Trix to arrive to help. She was frustrated that she had been so stupid as to follow a truth serum recipe she found without reading the fine print- and now it had backfired onto her. She knew it was bad, but the way Barb and Diavolo reacted only made her feel worse. She just wanted to get the spell out of her system so they would stop pacing outside her room. Gio hated seeing her brother worry so much- but she knew it was reasonable worry this time seeing as if the wrong person asked the wrong questions it could be Very bad for them.

She heard commotion outside her room and stood up, hoping it was the arrival of Trix to save the day. And lucky for her, it was. Sighing in relief, she couldn’t help but chuckle at her friends concern “What? No, I’m not going to die. Don’t be silly, they just worry a lot. Although this IS kind of important. I can’t imagine what would happen if someone asked me the wrong question.” She laughed a little, trying to ease her friends worry. Grabbing Trix’s hand and dragging her to the desk, she cringed at one of the questions. “Well I mean. It IS big. It’s just a big deal because if someone asks the wrong question and I tell them the answer to the question it would be kind of bad if it got out and I’m really fighting the urge to blurt it out because the stupid serum wants me to answer things fully so I’m going to need you to ask another question other than why this is important or anything” Giovanna bit one of her knuckles, forcing herself to be quiet before she spilled too much. Although the second Trix asked her next question she almost wished she COULD just keep talking about the other thing.

“Okay, first of all? Dia? Disgusting, never accuse me of having a crush on him again that’s-“ She quickly grabbed a pillow to mumble something into- saying the truth even if Trix couldn’t hear it. “Moving on though, I’m honestly a little surprised you can’t tell who I have a crush on dear. I feel so obvious it’s a little embarrassing- I feel like one of those silly lovebirds we’ve helped set up. I’m head over heals for Asmo, of course. Now naturally I would never persue him while you two have whatever you have going on. Bestie code. Of course. And I don’t like him in a sim a sugar daddy way! I mean, I genuinely and truly am embarrassingly swooning over him. Isnt that beautiful! I was never planning on telling you that though darling I know you two have a strange little benefits situation like I said. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“As for Didi and Barb, of course I have tea on them. We’re all fairly close after all. Like have I told you about Dia’s crush on Luci? Like I know we’ve all joked about it but he’s like a little puppy sometimes. It began as a joke but dear I think he isn’t joking about wanting to worm is way into Luci and Logan’s love life. I’m almost a little embarrassed. That’s actually another reason I don’t want to interrupt you and asmo- Anyways. As far as Barb goes he’s still fairly private, even with me and Di. But I can tell you that he sometimes slips spells into tea. I feel like that isn’t a surprise, but he tries to keep it on the down low. Like he’ll give Luci teas with spells to boost his mood, or help him sleep. Di’s teas sometimes calm his energy, I think I get those ones too. I also get tea that helps with nightmares. I know when Lily was still adjusting he would specially make her iced teas that calmed her nerves. He works very hard on them all.”

[yeojaa]

TO THE MOON AND BACK - ft. ???

You feel winded and you're not sure why.  Like you'd been walking on cloud nine and were now falling through the atmosphere, plummeting toward the ground at incredible speeds.  When you speak, it doesn't really sound like you.  "Yes."  Because he was exactly right - you were a hopeless romantic.  Always had been.  It was hard not to be when your parents were childhood sweethearts and love was the thing you'd been chasing your whole life.

alt summary.  You use your one brain cell for love.  It doesn’t always end well.

pairing.  who knows, honestly.  the obvious ones are kim taehyung and jeon jungkook, though.  

tags.  blind date, strangers, strangers to friends, strangers to lovers, getting to know each other, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, romantic comedy.

rating.  general (for now?)

word count.  ~6000

chapter 1.  

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Sure, you'd signed the waiver, your favourite pen leaving a messy blue scrawl across the crisp weight.  You'd acknowledged all of the terms and dated the bottom left-hand corner, humming quietly to yourself as you'd done so.  You'd read the document once, then twice for good measure, politely asking for a copy of it when the petite assistant had come to take the pages off your hands.  

But you still weren't sure what had brought you here, to this exact place at this exact time.   

Standing in the spacious studio with a dozen hangers hung over your arms, ready to air your life for millions to see.  Were you really ready for this - whatever it was?

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly nervous.  Your fingers are experiencing a strange tingling sensation you only recognize from times of stress - waiting for your results after an exam, the minutes after a first date, any time your umma calls without messaging first.  It's descending down the tips of your fingers, shooting like electricity through the live wire of your bones.  Suddenly, every minute movement of your neck feels like it takes all the strength in the world and your chest feels like it might explode from the labour of your breaths.

"Ready?"  It's the assistant again, bouncing toward you in her Fila Disrupters.  Very stylish.  She's staring up at you expectantly, though that shifts quickly to concern when you don't immediately respond.  "... Are you okay?"

"Yes.  I'm sorry.  I'm fine."  To her relief, you answer her follow-up almost immediately, a chipper smile plastered across your face.  It's a touch forced, the edges pressing your cheeks a little too far into your eyes, the tension in your jaw almost making it look like you're grimacing.  Almost.

"Great!  Come with me."  

Your fingers fumble with the button of your jeans, missing the hole twice before a groan of frustration fills the enclosed space.  You're so anxious you can feel the nervous energy filling you up like a balloon, dragging your poor body from the familiar weight of your bones.  Your hands won't stop shaking and they're so cold.  You can feel the chill through the denim of your pants when you rub your palms over your thighs in an effort to bring blood rushing back to them.

"Please come out when you're ready."  The voice speaks over the public address system wired into the ceiling.

You glance up from your little dressing room, noting the soft yellow that now illuminates your space.  It floods the walls you can barely make out over the top of your dressing stall.  You notice, with some amusement, that it matches the yellow of your socks that rise above your ankles and disappear into the hem of pants.

"Relax.  It'll be fun," you tell yourself before counting to three and trying your button again.  

It slots into its rightful home on your first go.  That must be a sign, right?

You exhale deeply, pushing all the air from your lungs as you face the mirror on the back of the door.  You blink at your reflection, smoothing your fringe until it falls just right over the rim of your glasses, barely grazing your line of vision.  You watch the way you chew your own lip, grateful you've got nothing but bubble-gum flavoured lip balm on, and nod.  It's reminiscent of a child on their first day of school.

Then you force yourself out of the stall before you can talk yourself out of it, peeking around the corner of the door.  

You're not sure what you'd been expecting but it definitely isn't this.

Because he's tall and broad, with shoulders that fall like a mountain range and a mop of dark hair.  It curls over his ears and looks unkept but purposefully so, pushed behind his ears.  The coat he wears fits across his back, hugging his silhouette as it falls to his knees.  Plaid trousers hold his legs, cut directly above his bare ankle.  He looks like a goddamn fashion model and you haven't even seen his face.

"Oh, hi."  His voice is warm and heavy, like a weighted blanket or hot cocoa on Christmas Day. 

It envelopes you in bass and makes your stomach flip in anticipation.  

He's right across from you now, sliding into the high director's chair that sits directly opposite from where you are, half-pulled into your seat.  He's as handsome as you would've imagined, the slope of his jaw and curve of his cheekbone seemingly carved by Michelangelo himself.  Thin gold frames - eerily similar to yours - sit on the high bridge of his nose and behind them, eyes crinkle from the force of his big, boxy smile. 

You find yourself at a loss for words for the second time in not very long, only managing a soft, "hello."

He seems to find that endearing, a soft laugh - one that very clearly echoes ha ha ha in the quiet room - drifting from where he sits.  You feel your face flush, shifting through the colour wheel before landing on an embarrassingly vivid shade of magenta.  You can see if in your reflection from behind his shoulder when you finally make yourself comfortable, only then meeting his open, curious stare.

"I like your pants."  He gestures toward you as if he could be talking to anyone else, the diffused golden glow catching against the thin rings he wears.

"Thank you."  You try not to mumble, offering a sweet albeit small smile in return.  You're pleased with your choice and in turn, his compliment.  You loved these jeans, had worn them for years since you'd bought them one summer in Tokyo.  They hug you just right, sitting close to your waist and through your hips before relaxing into a chic 70's inspired straight flare.  It doesn't matter that there's paint on the left knee - from that time you'd hosted a wine and paint night at your apartment - or that the frays on the hem are in dire need of trimming.   

"Should we get started?"  There he is, leading the conversation again.  You feel a little bad, though that flies out the proverbial window when he's leveling you with another one of his smiles.  It's hard to feel anything but child-like happiness when he looks like sunshine and middle school crushes. 

You nod, turning your attention to your phone. 

The screen reads START: PERCENT OF INTEREST FROM FIRST IMPRESSION.  You immediately want to enter 100, your fingers moving to tap the requisite numbers before you're hesitating, hovering over the "1" as it taunts you.  Was that too high?  What if they showed him?  Would he be turned off by how eager you were?

You're dragging your bottom lip through your teeth over and over again, stuck on a decision.  Was he experiencing the same turmoil?

You steal a peek at him, hoping to be as covert as possible.  He's staring straight at you, amusement written into the way his mouth twists, fighting back the laughter that sounds like music to your ears.  His phone rests loosely in his right hand.  Clearly, he's made his choice already. 

You huff and enter 85, still not entirely happy with your decision by the time the next question pops up.

BASED ON OUTFIT 1 (SCHOOL), YOUR NAME IS _____, YOU ARE _____ YEARS OLD, AND YOU LIVE IN _____.

You had to guess his name?  That was going to be impossible.

Or not, you think as his fingers glide across his screen, seemingly unfazed by the challenges currently presented.  Maybe that was for the better, though.  Maybe it would help you gain some sort of idea into who this stranger was, with his soft white tee shirt and expensive Hermès belt.  

Even as you're filling out the answers, you can feel his eyes boring into your head like two little laser beams.  You're sure that's why your cheeks are burning up and your have to retype your last answer three times, messing up the characters like you haven't spent your entire life writing them.  How could he be so comfortable?  His fingers aren't even twitching, instead leisurely curled between his legs as he studies you.  He looks like he has nothing to hide, blinking innocently at you when you drag your gaze from his hands, his brown leather watch strap.

"Your name is Kim Nari."  He's speaking seconds after you've pressed enter, alerted of the fact by the small chime of his phone.  If he notices the way your brow furrows, he doesn't react, reading his answers with easy reassurance.  "You're twenty-threeyears old and you live in Itaewon."

It brings you some sort of joy as you shake your head, hand raised with your thumb and forefinger curled in.  "Three strikes and you're out."  You laugh and then he's joining you, the sounds slotting easily together like a harmony.  "My name is Cho Jiyeon."  His words are forming the syllables silently, as if testing out the way it feels.  You can't help but smile at that, nose scrunching as he does it again, repeating it like it's the most fascinating thing in the world.  " I'm twenty-two and I live in Hongdae."  You don't acknowledge the fact that he's technically right - your actual birthday is in a few days.

"I see."  Your corrections are accepted as easily as he breathes.  "Nice to meet you, Cho Jiyeon."

"Really, Nari?"  You can't help but tease, manicured brow quirking curiously.

"You're pretty, so I thought you'd have a pretty name," he says plainly.  You can't help but snort, hiding the sound behind your palms as laughter shakes your shoulders.  Had he managed to compliment and insult you all at once?  "You still have a pretty name."

Now it's his turn to laugh, your reaction of wild head shaking and face covering causing him to stifle his own into the back of his hand. 

"It's your turn." 

So it is.  "Your name is Yun Taewoo and you're twenty-five?"  The first two come as questions more than answers but you're almost certain of your last one.  "You live in Cheongdam."

By his smirk, you're either terribly right or miserably wrong. 

When his head tilts, you're reminded of a golden retriever or a teddy bear, his dark eyes twinkling at you from behind his spectacles.  "My name is Kim Taehyung."  You're not sure how you ever thought it would've been anything else by how well it fits him. "You're right, I'm twenty-five."  Here comes the winner, you think.  "And I also live in Hongdae."

Dammit dammit dammit.

Taehyung can see the disappointment in your eyes and his own are waning into crescent moons, dragged into the shape by his all-encompassing grin.  "My parents live in Cheongdam, if that helps."  It doesn't really, but you appreciate the effort, visibly relaxing at his concession.  You've known each other for all of fifteen minutes and he's already worming his way into your silly little schoolgirl heart.

"It does.  Thanks."  You're giggling around your gratitude, allowing your eyes to trail pointedly at the timepiece on his wrist.  It cost more than one of your semesters.  "The Cartier was kind of a giveaway."

"But you recognized it," he teases back warmly.

"Touché."

"My turn again."  A soft cough to clear his throat before he repeats the next question.

YOUR MAJOR IS _____, YOUR GPA IS _____, AND AT SCHOOL YOU ARE _____. 

"Your major is art, your GPA is 3.1, and at school, you're an outsider."  

You're not sure whether to be offended that you're seemingly so easy to read, a hand flying to your throat.  "Are you following me?"  You're asking before you can help it, earning a hearty laugh from Taehyung.  He's shaking his head, awfully proud that he's just struck the nail on the head.  "I'm actually doing a double major, so I'll give you that.  My GPA is actually 3.9, though."  You can't help your own pride from sneaking in, colouring your words in shades of gold as you beam.  It only falters when you consider his last guess.  "What makes you think I'm an outsider?"

Not that he was wrong, per se, but you're a little surprised.  You'd never been unpopular but you just kept to yourself, drifting from different friend groups as you saw fit. 

"You don't want to forced into a box, so you're an outsider.  You choose to be."

You have no answer for that so you instead engage in a peculiar staring match until your eyes burn and you're blinking rapidly. 

"Your major was business, your GPA was 3.5, and you were a total insider."  Maybe it's the fact that he figured you out so easily that you feel uncertain about your own answers.  

He shakes his head, ever the gentleman.  "No, sorry.  I was a fashion major and my GPA was 3.0."  He pauses thoughtfully, considering the implications of being an inssa.  He supposes you're right, though he'd never really thought of himself as one.  Just someone that was well-liked and never turned away.  "Good try, though."  Again, encouragement.  It makes you like him for more than his charming smile and fashion-sense.

"I'll get you next time."

"I'm sure you will," he returns without even a hint of sarcasm.  "Next outfit?"

You nod, slipping from your seat and all but skipping into your dressing stall.  As you disappear back inside, you catch his smile in the reflection of your door and bite back your own.

The nerves that had melted over the course of your conversation seem to have come back in full force, spreading warmth over your cheeks as you stare at yourself in the mirror.  You've smoothed your hands over the soft corduroy of your skirt at least ten times now, straightening the hem this way and that in the pursuit of getting it to sit just right over your thighs.  

"Just go back outside.  He's nice.  Stop freaking out."  The reprimands are filling the small space and you feel almost overwhelmed.  Outfit number two was supposed to be a date outfit and just the word had your hands clamming out, heat licking up the back of your neck.

It's not that you weren't used to dating - he was just really cute.  

Adjusting the collar of your turtleneck - soft, black, draped in all the right places and tucked neatly into the waist of your skirt - you nod again.  It's your little way of building yourself up before you're stepping back outside, arms sliding into the sleeves of your grey tartan blazer.  You look good.  Taehyung had even said so.  You could do this.

No, no, no.  You can't do this.  Not when he looks like that.

He's beat you to his seat, an Adonis in black.  Gone is the loose white shirt from earlier, replaced now by an inky top that sinks against his skin.  The collar is open, the top two buttons undone to reveal the honeyed expanse of his chest.  You're not sure whether you want to bury your face into it or his silky shirt and it takes you a moment to remind yourself that's terribly inappropriate. 

"I like this look," you offer, hardly able to tear your eyes away from him as you settle back into your chair.  You can't help but notice how he smiles, gloating like he's all too aware of his effect on you.  He even readjusts, opening his arms to you as if to urge you on, when you continue to inspect his clothes. 

The pants he wears are different now, an expensive textured fabric that hugs his thighs and drapes across his shins, falling just above his ankle like before. There's no visible sock line and his shoes - black calfskin loafers with little tassels across the tops - scream expensive.  You'd hazard a guess they're Saint Laurent or Prada.  The only thing carried over from his last outfit is his watch, now stacked with delicate silver chains and a single red yarn bracelet you'd noticed earlier.  Even his hair is different, effortlessly styled and sweeping across his brow in soft, easy waves that beg to be touched.

"I like yours, too," he coos, that smug expression never faltering.  You try not to blush beneath his stare, trapping your hands beneath your legs as you allow him the same courtesy. 

Your thigh high socks sit just beneath where your palms rest, black a stark contrast to your skin and the brown of your skirt.  Your toes wiggle experimentally in the boots you're wearing, the ever popular sock-style blending seamlessly with the material of your stockings.  You can feel the lines of your rings where your skin is exposed, the same silver resting at the small of your throat in layered necklaces and at your ears in intricate loops.

He can't help but linger when the light catches the metal of your jewelry or when you shift nervously, thighs pressing together.  More than a small part of him enjoys you squirming under his gaze.  It's coquettish, even if it isn't meant to be.

"Do you want to go first?"  The words break whatever spell you'd been under and you re-focus on the device in your lap.  You nod before you've read the question thoroughly, flushing once you've had a chance to do so.

BASED ON OUTFIT 2 (DATE), YOU'VE RECEIVED _____ ROMANTIC CONFESSIONS AND HAVE BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP _____ TIMES.

They really didn't beat around the bush, did they?

You're tapping out your response, pushing forward when you stop to think.  It was just two numbers.  

When the familiar ding of your phones breaks the relative silence, you look back up.  Of course, he's already watching you, ever the active participant.  "You, Kim Taehyung, have received more than twenty romantic confessions and you've been in a relationship more than ten times." 

Something like surprises steals across his face, contorting his expression into one you hadn't seen yet.  

"Wrong."  There's no further elaboration and for a moment, you have the urge to apologize.  Had you offended him?  "I've received more than twenty romantic confessions but I've only been in a relationship twice."

Now it's your turn to be surprised, your eyebrows disappearing into your hairline.  How did someone look like that and not date?  It seemed like such a waste.  

"Shocking, right?"  Taehyung takes the words right out of your mouth but they feel wrong when uttered back at you.  "Both relationships were long-term.  Five and four years, respectively, so I never really had time to date anyone else."  A hand adorned in Gucci rings cards through his silky mop of hair, smoothing it away from his forehead before it falls back into place perfectly.  "Don't worry - I'm not offended you think I'm such a Casanova."

You can't help but scowl at his words.  He's right and you're being called out so hard.

"You've probably had more than ten confessions and..."  You're not sure whether he's really trying to remember what he'd written or if he's just drawing it out, teasing you mercilessly like its his newly discovered favourite pastime.  "Five boyfriends?"

"Ah - you got those right!"  You're not bothered by his accurate guesses this time.  In fact, you clap as if his success somehow belongs to both of you.  He finds that endearing.  He likes the idea of the two of you as a team.  

"Next one?  Go ahead."

You double check your next answer, trying not to laugh when you remember what you'd entered.

YOU FEEL ATTRACTED TO SOMEONE WHO IS _____.  YOU ARE ACTIVE/PASSIVE DURING THE DAY AND ACTIVE/PASSIVE AT NIGHT. 

"Kim Taehyung," you meet his eyes when you say his name and for a second, you lose your train of thought.  His lashes are so thick and dark and without his glasses on, you swear you can see the constellations in his irises.  "Um."  He snickers and you roll your eyes, rereading the small font on your device screen.  "You are attracted to someone who shares your confidence and who will rise to challenges with you.  You're active during the day and..."  You don't dare look up.  "You're also active during the night."

To your benefit, you both collapse into laughter, doubled over in your chairs as the double entendre sits salaciously between you.  

"You're not wrong," he drawls, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at you.  If you were closer, you think you'd swat his arm or nudge his foot - anything to demonstrate that you think he's an absolute dork.  "I want someone who can be my partner in crime and I'm active all the time."  He leans heavily into the implication, dragging the "ah" in all out like he's trying to break it over his tongue.

"Okay, Casanova.  Your turn."

He hums, not even bothering to look at his screen as he studies you, eyes ticking from the way your long, dark hair cascades over your shoulder to the wine-stain you'd pressed into your full lips.  "You're attracted to someone who excites you and makes you feel wanted."  By the way he's drinking you in, you think he could be talking about himself.  "You're active in the day and passive at night."  

When he says passive, it almost feels wrong.  Dirty.  Like it should be whispered into the shell of your ear and not spoken so casually from three feet away.

You have to remind yourself you're sitting in a studio, surrounded by production staff.  

"I do like to sleep a lot."  You manage once the flutter in your chest has subsided, allowing you to find your breath again.  It still feels a little airy, a little like the wings of butterflies are tugging the words out of your chest.  "But I think everyone wants to be desired, don't you?  I don't think that's specific to me."

"Then why don't you tell me what kind of person you're attracted to?"  He doesn't say it but you hear it in his voice - the unspoken question.  Is it me?

You're not ready for that conversation, nor do you think this is the place to have it.  "I think we should change."

The third time you exit your dressing stall, you're out before Taehyung is, giving you a moment's reprieve as you climb into your chair.

You're more comfortable than you have been, both mentally and physically, but it's nice to have these few extra moments of peace.  He was just so much - it was hard to focus when he caught your stare or he did that thing with his tongue, pink gliding across his bottom lip.  You were ready to take back some control.  Hopefully his daily outfit was as casual as yours.  You didn't think you could handle another peek of that chiseled frame.

God, when had you become so easy to please?

"That was quick."  He's popping his head out of his room and gliding into his seat in what feels like one fluid motion.  Well, he certainly seems spirited.

"What can I say?  I'm fast."  It's enough to make him chuckle because very clearly, you were not fast, but he wasn't about to call you on that.  Not when you two were getting along so swimmingly.  "Shall we get started?"

You don't even wait for his response before you're studying your phone again, considering the two latest questions.

BASED ON OUTFIT 3 (DAILY), WHAT YOU HEAR OFTEN FROM YOUR FRIENDS IS _____ AND WHAT YOU HEAR FROM YOUR PARENTS IS _____? 

That was easy enough, you think, free hand fiddling with the pocket on your thigh.  The cargo pants you wear sit easily on your hips, the beige material matching the seat.  You're back in sneakers - all-white Converse with a small platform - and your glasses are perched on the bridge of your nose.  You're aware of a draft on your shoulder, the soft wool of your camel and blush cardigan having drifted low across your shoulder. 

You fill out your answer with ease, sparing Taehyung a glance when you're finished and realizing, much to your surprise, he's still typing.  

"You can go first, when you're done." 

The only indication he's heard you is the bob of his head so you take his preoccupation as time to admire his latest fashion choices. 

Wide-legged trousers that look extremely comfortable, falling easily over backless Gucci loafers.  His shirt is French-tucked, the drape of his taupe top relaxed.  The watch remains where it has been, though the other jewelry that had previously accompanied it is gone.  He's got a chic black beret pulled over his ears, causing strands at the nape of his neck to curl adorably.  He looks every inch an off-duty model and you have to remind yourself to stop gawking when he begins speaking.

"What you hear most from your friends is 'don't forget' and what you hear most from your parents is 'did you eat?'"

You think his streak must be running out and he sees that reflected in your goofy smile, one of his own framing his face.  "Nope.  My friends say 'get some sleep' and my parents ask 'how is school?'  Good try."

He shrugs, mouthing something like 'you win some, you lose some' before sliding his phone back into his pocket.  "Go ahead."

"What Kim Taehyung hears the most from his friends is 'I can't believe it' and what he hears most from his parents is 'visit more often.'"  You'd been reading your screen, lifting the words verbatim, so when you look up and catch his expression, you're startled.  For the first time, Taehyung looks unsure, though it lasts only a fraction of a second before he's nodding, his sweet laughter sinking into your molars like honeycomb and cavities.

"Close enough.  My friends usually say something like 'you're kidding me' but you're right about my parents."

Maybe that's why he looked so sad, you realize with a little twinge of guilt.  You consider asking a follow-up but by the way he pulls his phone out, you know it's a conversation better left for another time.  Like perhaps a second date.

YOUR ALCOHOL LIMIT IS _____ AND YOU SMOKE _____ A DAY.

He's already reading his answer to the second question by the time you tune in fully.

"Cho Jiyeon, your alcohol limit is two bottes of soju and you don't smoke."  You wouldn't say he's exactly right but you relent, nodding in agreement. 

"Between two and four, depending on the day."  There's a story there and it intrigues him but he says nothing, instead waiting for your appraisal of his tolerance.  He's ready to completely blow your mind.  "Your limit is... four bottles?  You definitely don't smoke."

It's with pride that Taehyung shakes his head, chest puffed out and lips pursed.  "My tolerance is one - one shot."  He can't help but laugh when you level him with disbelief.  "I don't like the taste," he continues, completely unashamed.  He's dealt with enough teasing from his closest friends so he's used to the incredulous stare you're currently giving him, unfazed as he beams at you. 

"I never would've guessed," you quip, thoughtful.  

"I'm full of surprises."  

You think it's a promise, like the guarantee of buried treasure or calm in the eye of the storm.  "I'm sure you are."

Your final change makes you feel like you're at home, despite the fact that you're nowhere close to it.  It's nice to be in your pyjamas in the middle of the day, even if you didn't normally wear the set that currently sits on your body.

"Last one," you say to yourself, peering closely at your hair, your lips, the way your shorts feel a little shorter than usual.

Then you pull yourself out for the last time and plop yourself into your chair, smiling brightly at Taehyung when he exits in the same instant as you.

He's in silk pyjama bottoms, the navy a stark contrast against his feet - which are slotted into soft shearling slippers.  The top looks oddly familiar, the white stirring a memory that you're not sure how to place.  "Hey - I recognize this," you state uncertainly, gesticulating at his broad chest.  He looks down and a smile so shy your heart could cry spreads across his face.  Maybe you're wrong but it looks like the tips of his ears are suddenly red beneath his crown of softly mused strands. 

"I don't normally sleep with a shirt on," he confesses, delicate fingers brushing the shoulder of his top.  He's not quite meeting your eyes, that seem dusting of rouge seeping over his hollowed cheeks and across his temples.  

"Oh," is all you can say, just as bashful.

As if to ease the unusual weight that's settled over the two of you, he speaks again, earnest.  "I like your sweater."   

You pick at the item in question, thumbing over the worn hem.  It's incredibly soft from years of wear, a gift from your father when he'd visited for business years ago.  The formerly vivid stitching on the first letter is starting to come undone, the remaining letters of HARVARD all in equal states of distress.  Still, it's comforting and oversized, drowning you in its shape and making you look more diminutive than your lissome stature already does.  

A leg draws up, about to pull to your chest, but then you think better of it.  You're in shorts - worn jersey ones taken from a matching pyjama set you'd once gotten as a birthday gift - and you're reminded of how little they'd covered when standing, so you settle for crossing your ankles.  The bears printed on your socks - three stacked at various levels across the top of your foot, your ankle, your calf - cross as well. 

"Thanks."

"Do you want to go first this time?"

It's nice that he's so considerate.  You nod, turning your attention to the last few questions.  You realize, with the smallest hint of disappointment, that there are only two left.

BASED ON OUTFIT 4 (PYJAMAS), YOU WANT TO LIVE UNTIL _____ YEARS OLD.  THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN YOUR LIFE IS _____.

You're not sure whether it's the fact that your time with him is coming to an end or the questions themselves but you feel odd, a lump forming in your stomach.  Whatever it is, you try to push it from your thoughts, ignoring the weight it carries in favour of giving further consideration to your answers.  

"I think you want to live until ninety years old."  That made sense, right?  Most people wanted to live out there lives as long as they could, watching the generations span after them and basking in the pride of a life-well lived.  "The most important thing in your life is growth."  Okay, so maybe that was a bit of a stretch.  Could you really know someone that well after only such a short period with them?

You think so, because after everything so far, you felt like you did.

"Ninety would be nice,"  he agrees after a moment, biting his bottom lip as he weighs his next words.  "The most important thing in my life is being true to myself."  So you were wrong - but that was also a really deep question.  You feel like it's not fair and he can clearly see that when he grins, gracious and giving.  "I think growth means staying honest to myself, though."

You think you could kiss him and absorb some of that sunny goodness.  

"You want to live until you're ninety, too."  A small part of you doubts he'd use the same age, that suspicion deepening when he doesn't even bother looking at his written answers.  "The most important thing in Cho Jiyeon's life is love.  Am I right?"

You feel winded and you're not sure why.  Like you'd been walking on cloud nine and were now falling through the atmosphere, plummeting toward the ground at incredible speeds.  When you speak, it doesn't really sound like you.  "Yes."  Because he was exactly right - you were a hopeless romantic.  Always had been.  It was hard not to be when your parents were childhood sweethearts and love was the thing you'd been chasing your whole life.

The reason you'd even agreed to appear on this silly video segment.

"What about age?"  He prompts, not skipping a beat.

"I don't know," you answer honestly.  "I don't think I'd mind when I died if I found love before that."

You're not sure whether the look Taehyung gives you is affectionate or pitying because you're not really looking at him, instead focused pointedly on the paint that coats your nails and the way your knuckles flex beneath your ministrations.

"Last one," he chirps, snapping you from your careful consideration of your own humanity.

You don't answer, instead rereading the last answer you'd filled out.  

IF WE WERE LOVERS WHO BROKE UP, WE WOULD HAVE DATED BECAUSE OF _____ AND BROKEN UP BECAUSE OF _____.

It felt a little too close to home and yet, you were in the home stretch.  You'd be held here in this little piece of forever until you answered. 

He begins before you get a chance to, impossibly softer than he'd been previously.  "If we were lovers who broke up, we would have dated because you felt like my other half."  You have to remind yourself that it's all hypothetical but his voice is so alluring, like a lullaby you'd like to slip into dreamland listening to.  Even the way he details your imaginary breakup is beguiling, low timbre hitting some chord in your heart you weren't aware existed.  "We would have broken up because you'd always be chasing a vision of me - and not the real me."

Emotion wells in your chest and in your throat and behind your eyes and you have to swallow thickly, forcing the onslaught down before you're crying in front of the cameras and making a fool of yourself. 

You'd written something silly but as you prepare to answer the same question, it feels far too inconsequential, like a child playing dress-up.  

"If we were lovers, we would have dated because I was your muse."  His mouth quirks at that, though you can't see from the way you're staring at your hands still and it's short-lived.  "We would have broken up because I couldn't keep up with you."  It's not what you'd originally opted for but it feels better.�� Right.  Like it could be true, in some fantasy world where people like him ended up with people like you. 

Silence drags on once you've finished speaking.  You could hear a pin drop - and think you do.  It might just be someone's pen slipping from their hand.

Your eyes meet, like kismet, after what feels like forever.  He smiles and you can imagine that same, sad thing mirrored in your own expression. 

"Please give us your percent of interest based on your final impression."  The public address system again, tearing your little illusion to shreds.  He's a stranger again, someone you've only met for the purpose of this YouTube video.

You glance down at your phone and without thinking, press that frightful "1" followed by two 0's.  You see him enter his score.

And then the lights are fading from a rosy glow, replaced by the standard professional lighting.  The curtains have closed and the production assistants are milling over, thanking you for your time and advising of when you might expect to see the video up.  You're barely listening.

Because Taehyung's already gone.

notes.   i've never written this much in one sitting.  i hope you enjoy it!  as always, feedback appreciated.

[selfcareparker]

Playdate [p.p]

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warning: I mean it’s smut (18+), language, Sam and Bucky (you’ll see)

Summary: You show Peter a special place and make him feel special (I’ve said it before summaries are NOT my thing).

(I know Peter’s birthday is in August let’s pretend it’s earlier in the summer holidays), Reader knows about Peter being Spider-Man

Word count: 1.6k

(x)

“Oh hey! You here to pick up Peter? You two got a playdate?“ Tony says more to Peter than to you, teasing voice. 

“We‘re both eighteen, Mr. Stark. I told you not to call it that! We‘re not babies.“ Peter practically whines and Tony ruffles his hair playfully while he looks up at you.

“Oh you’re eighteen, too?“ Tony had celebrated Peter turning the big one-eight by throwing a massive party and although Peter wasn’t the party guy Tony had managed that you‘d all had loads of fun. 

“Yeah, I‘m actually a few months older, sir.“ You answer. 

The way those words roll off your tongue - Tony can tell there’s something up with you. Maybe not right at this second, but you’re more than sassy. Into trouble. 

But the thing is you seem innocent, and Peter doesn’t see it yet. But Tony has plenty experience to recognise it already. Experience in getting into trouble that is, so he decides, he likes you. 

“We’re leaving now! Thank you for fixing the suit!“ Peter calls and pulls you out of the building before Tony has another chance to embarrass him. 

“FRIDAY tell Wilson and Barnes they have to go after the kid.“

Sam appears from behind the corner of the same room where the couch is.

“Go and look after the Spider-kid for me will you? I don’t want him getting into any trouble with that girl.“

Okay, Tony likes you. But he doesn’t want to pick up Peter from the police station at three a.m. 

“That girl? She seemed like the most innocent girl ever.“ Sam shrugs.

“I thought especially you should know that those are in fact the least innocent ones?“

“Okay that’s true but why do I have to spy on him? It‘s Friday night.“

“Steve’s going to kill me and you if the kid gets into trouble, we don’t need an Avenger in prison all over the news. Not again.“

*

“Have you ever seen anyone on a playground at night? It’s really peaceful, I come here to think.“

Peter appreciates that you’re showing him a place that you love, a place that’s special to you. It feels really intimate. 

You sit on the swings, next to each other and just talk. Talk about life and talk about how Peter‘s going to be gone for the rest of the summer holidays and you won’t see each other for weeks. Neither of you hide that you’re sad you won’t be able to hang out for more than eight weeks, he’s become one of your closest ‘friends’ in the past few weeks. 

Maybe you won’t even be able to speak to each other on the phone - time zones and all. You’re excited for him that he’ll get to visit different parts of Europe with his aunt nevertheless.

You decide to give him something to think about while he’s gone.

*

In the meantime Bucky and Sam have made themselves comfortable on a roof nearby, snacks and binoculars within reach, Tony talking to them through the headsets. 

“They’re on a fucking playground talking! Tony you said they were gonna get into trouble!“

“See, I said it was a play date!! If they don’t do anything in the next twenty minutes you can come back I guess.“ Tony speaks over the coms.

Tony does feel a little bad for not trusting you and Peter and had to get Sam and Bucky to literally spy on you..

*

“Do you wanna go on the slides?”

Peter grins at you, shooting up from the swing, he starts running and is already climbing up the treehouse where you can go down the slides. “Last one there loses!“ He shouts, laughing.

You run after him nevertheless, not keeping up at all and while he already sits up there waiting, you trip by the last step of the ladder and land right on top of Peter.

You get off at first but stay between his legs as you both start laughing hysterically, eyes watering and holding your belly from the amount of laughter that nearly hurts. 

After a few moments both your laughter dies down and you find yourself still situated between Peter‘s spread legs as he leans his head back against the bars of the children‘s treehouse constellation, gorgeous smile remaining on his face. 

You’re looking into each other’s eyes deeply as he swallows hard noticing how your stare lingers for what feels like forever; until you lean forward closing the distance, your soft lips on his as your hands immediately go roaming around his cheeks, neck, arms and the back of his head confidently. 

It’s obvious that Peter has a crush on you and while he’s not the type you’d usually go for you can’t deny he’s damn cute and you like him a lot. 

His shy, awkward nature draws you to him and you want to show him fun. 

Not change him, no - not in any way. You just want to show him different ways, introduce him to new things. Sexual things. 

This boy works so hard and always puts others - including you - before himself, he deserves at least an orgasm from you. One for today, you plan on more providing him with more orgasms in the future - if that’s what he wants. 

You lower your hands as they glide across his chest, over his hips and then his inner thighs and suddenly - oh

The heated kiss makes him all tingly anyway but as your hand goes over the waistband of his jeans his cock twitches before he’s embarrassingly hard at once.

“Uh, I, sorry!“ Peter quickly grabs his crotch because he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, making you think you owe him something after just a kiss.

Instead, you lift his hand off and start working on his belt and he tries to get his breathing under control as your tongue pokes out to wet your lips. 

He doesn’t want you to feel forced to be doing this just because he got hard.

Though the enthusiasm you bring when nearly ripping his pants as you yank them down his thighs, only enough for his cock to spring forward - he realises he’s the only one who thinks you don‘t want this.

“Can I?“ You ask, looking up at him and you lift his shirt leaving wet kisses over his abs, your ass and thighs looking more than amazing by how you‘re positioned in front of him.

“Uh-huh, of course, just don’t expect me to... last lo-Oong!“ He moans at the last part as you take his cock between your fingers, spitting into your hand and spreading the wetness over the tip of his cock and you start jerking him off. 

“Wait we’re in public someone could walk be any moment.“ He stutters weakly and you smirk, happy that he‘s open to this, his only concern being getting caught.

“Believe me Peter we‘re alone, just relax! You have your spidey senses, don’t you?“

His senses are all dialled up to the max right now but all he can focus on is you and how your tongue is suddenly sliding around the head of his cock and he can’t help but groan.

You look up at him, cock now in your mouth and he quickly recomposes himself before he nearly cums, one hand jerking him off and the other steadying yourself by his thigh as your mouth takes as much as you can of him. 

Your mouth is making him feel things he’s never felt before and he knows he’s not far from his climax.

“I- I‘m close..“ he mutters under his breath, warning you. 

Instead of pulling your mouth off or stopping, you double up your efforts, hollowing your cheeks and squeezing his balls gently with one hand. 

When he cums a few seconds later you don’t let him spill on your face or chest, but you swallow. Swallow every ounce and Peter nearly gets hard again. 

After cleaning him up with your tongue, you pack him back into his trousers and you’re trying to catch your breath, just like Peter. 

Peter just sits there, chest heaving. He feels likes he’s turned to jelly - wants to sleep, the mind-blowing orgasm being almost too much for him. 

You look over at him and he wonders how you suddenly look shy after what you just did to him? And how he reacted?

“Can I kiss you?“ He’s confused as to why you would ask all of a sudden until he tastes himself on your tongue. He doesn’t really mind, he kind of likes it that he tastes him when he kisses you.

“Wait, do you-?“

“It’s okay Peter, I just wanted to make you feel good. Make sure you don’t forget about me when you leave me for over eight weeks...“

Suddenly Peter has no desire to go on vacation anymore, you’re all he needs. 

You slip down the slide and start bouncing in the other direction across the playground. “You coming?“

“I just did.“ Peter replies earning himself one of your laughs. He properly adjusts his dick in his pants before sliding down himself and following you into the night. 

*

“Whats going on why aren’t you saying anything?“ Tony asks Sam and Bucky through the coms.

“Oh they’re just.. playing... on the slides....“ Sam -wide-eyed- motions for Bucky that he‘s going to slit his throat if he doesn’t shut up while Bucky‘s stifling a laugh as good as he can.

“Guess I was wrong about her, she seems harmless after all..“

“Yeah, totally!“ Bucky agrees after exaggeratedly coughing. 

“You can come back then, anyway thanks for that!”

Bucky and Sam swear not to talk about this ever again.

[kazimakuwabara]

Conundrum part 6

Part 6 to this

Summary: Hiei and Kuwabara finally talk... unconventionally.

****

If Hiei thinks Kuwabara isn’t going to struggle the whole damn way to the forest-he’s got another thing coming.

Kuwabara is over six fucking feet, and Hiei is short as fuck. 

So Kuwabara, rather than twisting and squirming-because Kuwabara has to admit, Hiei is stronger-puts his long limbs to good use and lets his legs go dead weight and drag into the dirt in front of Hiei.

“Motherfucker!” Hiei swears as it trips him up.

“Put me down Hiei!” Kuwabara hisses, digging an elbow into Hiei’s spine.

“No!” Hiei spits back savagely, and then swears as he almost trips over Kuwabara’s tangle of legs. “Fucking... are you fucking serious?”

“Put me down!” Kuwabara snaps.

“You’re not running away from me yet!” Hiei snaps back.

Kuwabara screams a stream of insults, the petty ones he used to shout as middle-schooler, “Ankle-biter! Shrimp! Little punk! Shorty!” He only stops when his brain latches on to the word, ‘yet.’

“Yet? What do you-” Kuwabara is saying and the is dropped ungraciously on the ground. They are within the Dark Forest and Kuwabara can’t sense a damn thing with his spiritual awareness gone like this.

Hiei takes off his shirt.

Kuwabara sits up startled, “W-What are you doing?”

Hiei rolls his neck back and forth, and swings his arms back and forth, shaking himself out. “Okay,” he says, voice thick with an emotion Kuwabara can’t quite understand, “Now, you run.”

“W-What?”

Hiei doesn’t answer, but his eyes seem to flash. A chill, that is not wholly unpleasant runs down Kuwabara’s spine, and he staggers to his feet. He hesitates for a second, and then Kuwabara tears off into the Dark Forest, trying to go back the way he’d been brought in... whichever way that was.

Kuwabara runs for several minutes, only to be startled by Hiei who appears on his path. A defeated low-level demon is torn in half in front of him, and he looks at Kuwabara expectantly as he appears. Kuwabara changes direction and books it, and surprisingly, Hiei lets him disappear from sight.

Another few minutes roll by, and again Hiei appears in front of Kuwabara, six or seven wolf-like creatures at his feet. They are dead or unconscious, but either way, they are defeated. Hiei is waiting for Kuwabara again. Their eyes meet, and Kuwabara makes a choked off sound as he again flees.

This strange game is played for well over an hour, and into the most of a second. Kuwabara running around like a madman, to only encounter Hiei and some defeated foe. He looks at Kuwabara, eyes piercing and red, and just stares. Kuwabara doesn’t know what he’s expecting, so he just fucking runs for it. Hiei lets him every time, but always reappears in front of Kuwabara after a few moments.

At the end of hour two, Kuwabara collapses in a clearing. He’s exhausted, confused, and embarrassingly aroused. Why the fuck did Hiei have to take his shirt off?

A shadow falls over him, and Kuwabara jerks to alertness, his calves cramping in protest at his sudden movement.

Hiei tosses aside what looks like the remains of a sentient plant and stomps over to Kuwabara. He kneels before Kuwabara, leaning forward and placing a hand aggressively by Kuwabara’s face, corning Kuwabara against the base of a large tree.

“Well?” Hiei asks, not even sounding breathless.

Kuwabara doesn’t know what Hiei is expecting him to say.

“You are drained of your spiritual power. You can’t sense a damn thing. And now, your stamina is almost gone,” Hiei accuses bluntly.

“Ye-yeah?” Kuwabara pants.

Hiei’s eyes narrow and his voice is scathing, “Have I gone anywhere?”

Kuwabara blinks and lets out a confused grunt.

Hiei glares harder, “Have I abandoned you?”

Kuwabara shudders.

“Are you left to, what did you call it... the wayside?” Hiei hisses, drawing closer to Kuwabara.

There is nowhere for Kuwabara to run, and he’s too big to shrink up.

“If you became powerless, if you aged and became weak, what you witnessed these few hours, would only repeat. I have not left you. I will follow you, and eliminate any who would hurt you,” Hiei's growl, sounds threatening and enticing.

“I would not abandon you. Not you,” Hiei's voice dips low.

“Nor...” Hiei looks reluctant to say it, but he continues, “Nor would Kurama or Yusuke. If I called for them right now, they’d be here. We’re not abandoning you, even if you would wish it.”

Kuwabara’s throat is tight, and he is really fucking confused. He thinks of the creatures he saw defeated by Hiei’s hands, and he thinks of Hiei patiently watching him as he runs away. His mind is a whirl, while his heart dares to hope, and his stomach flutters.

“You're the strongest human, much stronger than you are giving yourself credit for. It's incredibly stupid, that I'm having to explain that to you. Yusuke is... loyal to you to a fucking fault, and while it seems the years of loyalty Kurama and I have shown you over the years seem to mean nothing to you, let me make it clearer. Your fears are stupid, and as I’ve proven... not real,” Hiei looks ready to start in on an hour long lecture.

Kuwabara lunges forward instead and kisses him like a man starved.

Hiei stiffens, and then he responds just as hungrily. 

This kiss is biting, a bit painful, and awkward. Hiei’s fingers thread in Kuwabara’s hair, and he pulls Kuwabara back, forcing the larger man to ease up. With their teeth no longer mashing, Hiei kisses Kuwabara fiercely in a way that is only good, and just as desperate and hungry when they first started. Kuwabara sighs into it, and Hiei does too, a tension bleeding from his shoulders as he explores Kuwabara's mouth. The hand not in his hair roams down Kuwabara's chest, and side, and then digs into his hip, pulling Kuwabara closer. It feels like they're going to get to something really good in a minute.

Hiei only stops when he realizes Kuwabara is hyperventilating.

“Stop!” Hiei whispers, voice a strange mixture of concern and anger, a tone Kuwabara is starting to realize Hiei uses a lot with him.

“I... I don’t know what...” Kuwabara tries to speak, his vision blurry from tears, and his breath coming out too ragged.

Hiei pulls Kuwabara to him, and tucks Kuwabara’s head against his chest. He wraps an arm around Kuwabara’s shoulders, and the other hand is against the back of his neck. Awkwardly is pets down Kuwabara’s spine, trying to comfort in a way he himself has never experienced before.

Kuwabara’s breath eventually evens out and he feels his heart calming down. He is still confused but does know one thing.

“I love you.”

Hiei hums with pleasure, “Yes, I heard you earlier.”

“You heard that? I was...”

Hiei chuckles, “I’m a demon; I heard you. We all, heard you.”

Kuwabara could die of embarrassment. Cool, cool. He fucking confessed in front of all his friends and the person who has had a crush on him, and who Kuwabara has rejected twice! He feels like such an asshole.

“Oh fuck I’m an idiot,” Kuwabara whispers mortified.

“I hope you broke Toya’s spirit,” Hiei says with relish.

Kuwabara can’t help but be thrilled by Hiei’s tone. It’s all really messed up, but Kuwabara’s too exhausted to feel any guiltier. He'll take Yukina's advice. He's fucking flawed, and he'll accept that. (He'll still apologize to Toya later.)

“Yukina...” Kuwabara begins to say, and tries to pull away.

Hiei doesn’t let him go and presses him harder to his chest. He buries his nose in Kuwabara’s hair and inhales. On the exhale, he whispers, “I will talk to her. We will talk. It is a promise I took seriously. I needed to see you first. I need to reassure and comfort the person I love.”

Kuwabara’s own heartbeat is so loud, he’s mortified to think Hiei, and all the demons in the Dark Forest within their vicinity can hear it. This day’s been too damn much.

Hiei lets Kuwabara go, “Let’s go back. I will talk to Yukina. You will talk to Yusuke and Kurama... and if we must... we’ll all talk together.” Hiei looks disgusted by the thought.

Kuwabara watches Hiei get up. He doesn’t know why he was left out at the beginning. Why such a big secret was kept from him. But a strange thought is entering Kuwabara’s mind. Did Hiei ever know... Kuwabara didn’t know? That’s a question Kuwabara has now. He does need to talk to his friends. The blunders he’s been making since this whole thing started feels even bigger and dumber.

As if he’s having a vision, Kuwabara sees what he needs to do, and will do. He will talk to his friends, and they will be embarrassingly apologetic. Yusuke will be overprotective, and Kurama apologetic and guilty. Kuwabara will admit all his insecurities, and there will be a painful talk about his mortality. The evening will probably end in tears, and hugs, and a desire to change their future.

He blinks past that thoughts and looks at Hiei who keeps staring down at him.

Kuwabara wonders if he can think clearly now because of Hiei.

“Let’s go,” Hiei says again.

Kuwabara sighs, and rubs his legs. They scream painfully, and Kuwabara laughs, “Yeah... I can’t get up. I’m still tapped. That chase didn't do me any good either...”

Hiei sighs, “I’ll summon Yusuke and Kurama. I’m not carrying you again.”

“...I could promise to behave?” Kuwabara offers.

Hiei snorts and mutters, “They’re worried.”

Kuwabara has only a moment to feel touched.

Hiei’s hand buries possessively in the back of his hair, “I hope they bring Toya.”

“Jesus, don’t be such a fuckin’ dick!”

(end... i think?)

[carmenlire]

Meddle About

read on ao3

On the one hand--

But on the other.

Alec groans, rakes his hands over his face and leans back until he’s staring at the stars. The grass is cool on his back and it pokes through his shirt, dry and a little itchy. It’s a visceral feeling and it tethers him to earth, makes him feel like he’s sinking into the ground.

It’s a welcome feeling because Alec doesn’t feel like he belongs most days. The balmy air whispers through the trees and he shivers a little even though he’s warm. The ground is cool but comfortable and as he looks up, he feels small and insignificant. It’s not unpleasant.

If anything, it helps him feel like maybe it’s not a big deal if he’s broken, cold, a fucking robot--

No.

So maybe Alec’s head is a mess most days. He goes back and forth. It’s a running joke with Iz and Jace-- that he’s a robot, so cold as to verge on icy, and he humors them. He stares at them, unamused and stoic when they prank him, has no problem staring his bitch of a mother in the face as she berates him in full view of the servants, keeps mum as Jace ribs him goodnaturedly about his lack of a love life.

But then he goes to his bedroom after a long day where nothing seemed to go right and he feels like he’s suffocating as he chokes back a scream that would scrape his throat raw if he let it. He lays in bed for hours at night, mind going in circles, as he wonders what the fuck everyone else means when they say love.

Because sure, he loves Izzy and Jace and Max. He’d die for them without hesitation, and would only hesitate a little when they bug the shit out of him for the last salted caramel cookie that he’s been hoarding like a goddamn dragon.

He thinks he understands what it means to say he loves reading because when he loses himself in a good book, it almost feels like he’s somewhere else, somewhere free where he can be himself. There’s love in the pages of a novel where there are no pretenses, just earnest appreciation and a desperate kind of joy.

But that’s lowercase love, casual and informal and to everyone else-- lesser. There seems to be a difference between that and love with all caps, with fireworks, with a marching band playing the world’s sappiest, most cliche ballad.

And that’s what seems so foreign to him because when people say love in that voice they mean something Alec can’t put his finger on and it’s maddening, that the entire world just knows how it feels to be head over heels, to feel butterflies, to be in love.

It’s romantic love that makes him want to tear his goddamn hair out because that-- that he doesn’t understand.

He watches Jace make a fool of himself with over the top gestures and while he’s supportive and encouraging, privately he can’t understand why his brother would make such an ass out of himself because of an ephemeral feeling. He listens as Izzy goes on and on about someone in her class, talking about the way they fucking laugh and smile with their eyes or whatever the fuck and can’t help but feel like his sister-- his ever practical sister-- has lost her goddamn mind.

He can comprehend grand gestures and overwhelming fondness and while it’s a secret he likes to keep close to his vest, Alec is a bit of a hopeless romantic when it comes to media. He loves a good romcom and he has an entire shelf dedicated to romance novels in his bedroom.

But that’s fiction and in real life, he’s left wondering if everyone is playing some sort of elaborate joke on him because for a reasonably intelligent nineteen year old, he just can’t understand what people say when they say those words.

He made it through his entire high school career without a crush while his classmates seemed to fall for someone every other period. He’s never hooked up with anyone, never felt the need to lose himself in someone else.

And it’s those realizations-- noticing that he seems to be falling behind everyone else, that even if he doesn’t particular care that he hasn’t slept with anyone, that he’s never been on a date, everyone else has and because of that, something is missing in his life-- that make Alec feel like he’s going crazy sometimes.

He likes being single. He likes his life, but when the whole world is shouting that he needs to find his other half, it’s hard not to want to fall in line even as he balks at the very notion.

Phone vibrating in his back pocket, Alec’s thoughts break off as he reaches for it. He smiles a little as he sees the incoming text.

On my way and I have milkshakes.

Shaking his head a little to clear it even more, Alec shoots back a reply before letting his phone drop onto his stomach. He hears the rustle of leaves under him and closes his eyes.

Quietly, he thinks he could fall asleep like this. This is their park, halfway between their houses and it’s always deserted this time of night. It feels like he’s the only person in the world and that makes the hint of hollowness in his chest ease a little.

It’s hard to feel broken when there’s no one else to compare to. It’s easier to think that being a robot isn’t so bad as long as he’s not hurting anyone.

Because sometimes his siblings’ ribbing pierces clean through him. He’ll never admit it but there are times when he replays their words over and over and wonders if they’re right, if they’re true, if there’s something fundamentally wrong with him.

Because sometimes-- just sometimes because it’s all he can bear-- he wonders what’s the point. He’s come to terms with being gay even if there are only a few people he’s told. But when a voice whispers that if he doesn’t want to have sex and he doesn’t particularly want to be in love-- what’s the point. There’s nothing for him and he’s nothing for anyone else.

Sometimes he thinks he shouldn’t be here. Sometimes he wishes he wasn’t.

He’s not maudlin, not even really sad. It’s just that when he lets himself, he measures what everyone else values against what he can provide and it seems embarrassingly obvious that he’s lacking.

Everyone places such importance on romance and attraction and Love and it feels like he doesn’t fit in with his complete apathy and mild distaste for it all.

Alec’s thoughts fracture as something lands on his stomach. Huffing a little, he opens his eyes and he swears the moonlight makes his best friend glow.

“What the fuck,” he mutters and Magnus laughs a little before dropping down next to him on the same faded blanket they’ve been bringing to this park since they were in middle school.

“Now is that any way to greet someone who brought your favorite milkshake?”

Narrowing his eyes, all Alec shoots back is, “Cookies n Cream?”

Glaring at him, Magnus all but shoves the drink in his face before he fairly sneers, “Extra Oreo.”

The two of them stare at each other for a long moment before they break out into laughter and God, Alec thinks, as he snags the straw Magnus holds out, there’s nowhere he’d rather be than right here, alone with his best friend.

Sitting up and grabbing the bag that Magnus had tossed at him, Alec knows there’s no place better and it’s in these moments that he casts a giant fuck you to anyone who would tell him that this is less than a boyfriend.

This is all he needs, he thinks and is only a little embarrassed at how mushy he’s being, if only in his own head.

Even by moonlight, Alec sees the grease soaking through the bag and he grins as he opens it to reveal an extra large order of fries from the same diner Magnus bought the shakes.

“You know me too well,” he mutters as he snags a fry and pops it into his mouth before wincing as it burns his tongue.

Magnus tsks even as he shoves a few into his own mouth. “I was hungry,” he shrugs, “And figured you probably were too.”

Alec just echoes, “You know me too well,” and lets the silence settle between them.

It’s not a bad silence. It’s not oppressive and there’s no pressure to fill it. Alec’s long since learned that he can be himself with Magnus, whatever that means. Magnus deals with taciturn, abrasive Alec just as well as he does sleepy Alec with cracked walls and silly jokes, which is the same as when Alec’s knuckles are bruised and bloodied and there are tears that seem to leech from his damned soul.

Magnus has seen every side of Alec and he’s stayed through them all.

Alec tells himself that this is different, though. He’s not told anyone, not even his best friend, not even Magnus, about these thoughts that make him sick, that make him feel angry and weird and other and less.

He doesn’t think Magnus would understand. Scoffing to himself as he brings his milkshake up for a long sip, Alec knows Magnus can’t understand what Alec himself is confused about.

Confused, terrified, and yet strangely uncaring under everything else. It’s all a tangled mess in his chest. It gives him a headache.

When Magnus speaks, it spooks him a little but Alec doesn’t look up from where he’s staring at a dandelion. This isn’t the first night one of them haven’t been in the mood to talk but Alec still feels like he should be better at compartmentalizing.

The thing is, there’s a niggling voice in his head and while he tells it to shut the fuck up, it whispers and insinuates and Alec doesn’t know what’s up from down.

Because sometimes he looks at Magnus and it’s his best friend. And then sometimes he looks at his best friend and wonders if this is what everyone else feels when they say they’re in love.

Because Magnus is beautiful, there’s no denying that. Magnus is perfect to Alec. Even with his ridiculous bedhead in the morning, and his tendency to bottle emotions up until they explode all over the place, even when he’s being a stubborn ass, he’s perfect, perfect for him.

Still. Alec thinks about what other people talk about when they say it’s love and he doesn’t want to sleep with Magnus. He doesn’t want to necessarily go on romantic dates and hold hands and wax poetic about Magnus’s goddamn hands.

He likes their weekly sleepovers and looks forward to rooming with him at NYU next month. He likes that Magnus makes him feel safe and accepted and that he can be himself with Magnus and that Magnus is one of the only people on earth he’d drop everything for, no hesitation. Some of his favorite afternoons have been hanging out at a nearby coffee shop working on homework or blatantly blowing it off. It’s a running joke between their friends and families that they’re joined at the hip, that where Magnus is, Alec is sure to be following. It’s been like that since they were kids.

They’re best friends and that’s enough but Alec doesn’t like that everyone else wouldn’t agree.

Izzy and Jace tease him about Magnus sometimes. In between telling them to go fuck themselves and rolling his eyes, he knows what it maybe, possibly looks like from the outside. It looks romantic, it looks closer than two friends should be, it looks different.

Alec doesn’t mind different, though. Not when it’s Magnus. Not when it’s them.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, darling?”

Alec still doesn’t look up, even though he feels Magnus lean into his shoulder, even when he wants nothing more than to pour his heart out and have Magnus tell him it’s okay, he’s okay, everything is going to be okay.

He shrugs into himself, scowls at the innocent flower and wishes he wasn’t himself. Maybe a stupid wish but a wish nonetheless. And because it’s midnight and dark and the person next to him is Magnus-- his best friend, his person-- Alec tells the truth.

“I wish I wasn’t me.”

Magnus’s voice is soft as he asks, “And why is that?”

And that’s why-- one of the hundred thousand million reasons why-- Alec loves Magnus. Magnus doesn’t tell him not to think like that, doesn’t give him weak if well-meaning platitudes. Magnus plays the game out and sometimes Alec wonders if Magnus doesn’t know him better than he knows himself.

Teeth digging into his bottom lip for a beat or two Alec tries to think of the best way to phrase his jumble of thoughts. It all boils down to one thing, though, that thing being, “I think I’m broken.”

His voice comes out a hoarse whisper, raw around the edges. That’s what it all comes down to-- Alec’s not like everyone else and if he’s not like everyone else then there’s something wrong with him, something not right.

Something wrong. Something broken.

The words might seem like a plea for help to others and Alec supposes he can’t fault them for that. Magnus gets it though because he gets Alec-- this is the root of his issue and at the end of it, he’s just confused. He just wants answers.

Leaning into the arm Magnus wraps around his shoulder, Alec keeps his gaze down as his best friend lets out a considering hum. “Why do you think you’re broken, Alexander?”

Taking a shuddering breath, Alec feels relief at not having his problem brushed away. His mind races and there are a dozen things that come to mind. He kind of wants to throw everything at Magnus and let someone else put the pieces together. There’s a sort of checklist in his head, All The Ways Alec Lightwood Doesn’t Fit In and included on that list is that while Alec likes the idea of marriage, he doesn’t see himself ever actually getting married.

He looks at relationships around him and they don’t make sense. They leave a sour taste in his mouth.

At the end of the day, he doesn’t know if he wants what everyone else has because they tell him he should want it of if his want is true, is real.

On the one hand, he likes the picture perfect idea. On the other, the thought of actually having it makes him queasy.

Swallowing hard, Alec looks up and meets Magnus’s eyes. His best friend is looking at him with the world’s patience and, even if Alec is hopeless at reading faces, a good amount of fondness seems to break through, too.

It’s just the two of them in the park as Alec finally lets his failing slip. Strangely, it’s not as scary as he’d thought it’d be, even moments ago.

“I don’t think I know what love is. I don’t think I know how to love.”

The words fall between them and it should sound absurd and a little pathetic. And it does because how does someone make it through high school, how do they become an adult and not know how to love or what love even is.

But that’s how it feels to Alec. He has familial love because he’s always had it. He can intuit his love of hobbies and other random inanimate objects because it’s what everyone else says and at the end of the day, it isn’t really that serious to exclaim that he loves the movie Pride and Prejudice.

He used to hesitate when it came to telling Magnus he loved him and the truth is, he still hesitates. Because to him, love seems unknowable and too meaningful and he didn’t want to lie to Magnus.

Still, Magnus told Alec that he loved him and didn’t seem to hold the same uncertainty or fear. Alec never wants Magnus to feel bad for loving him, so he said it back. He’s gotten better at saying it first because he likes the way Magnus smiles when he does and he likes making his best friend happy.

There’s a part of Alec that wonders if this isn’t love after all because he feels more towards Magnus than he does anyone else and if that’s all he’s capable of, then maybe it’s good enough to call it love. Maybe he’s not lying after all when he says it and wants to mean it.

If he wants to mean it, then maybe he does mean it. Maybe it’s enough that if he wants it to be true, it can be, it is.

Alec watches as Magnus smiles, just a little, just enough to see the twitch of his lips as he leans into Alec’s space like he's sharing a secret. “You are one of the most loving people I know, Alec.”

Startled, Alec blinks a little dumbly as he leans away to see Magnus better. Before he can open his mouth for a retort, Magnus is continuing.

“I’m serious,” Magnus says and Alec sees, from his eyes, that he is maybe the most serious Alec’s ever seen him. “You love without thinking, without hesitating. Isabelle, Jace, Max, that eccentric elderly woman that you help every Thursday evening with her correspondence, the underclassmen you tutor and treat to dinner even if you roll your eyes the entire time-- it might be quiet but it’s always there.”

Alec frowns as he notices, “You didn’t name yourself.”

Magnus shrugs and his expression is a little coy as he replies, “This isn’t about me, Alexander. It’s about you and letting you know that you love and are loved dearly.”

“I don’t understand love, Magnus.” Alec’s voice is soft as he adds, “I’ve never been in love. I’m not sure I want to be, not really, not like everyone says I should.”

“And that’s okay,” Magnus immediately says. “As long as you’re happy, you can be anything you want.”

“What about us?”

Magnus raises a single brow and while ordinarily Alec would tell him how stupid he looks, he just stays silent as Magnus asks, “What do you mean, what about us?”

“I’m not in love with you.” Alec’s voice is barely a whisper and he wonders if he’s just said something wrong. He clears his throat. “You’re my favorite person and I-- I think I have to love you more than just about anyone else on the planet but that’s it.”

He twists his hands in his lap as he waits for Magnus’s reaction.

His best friend just smiles patiently. “And I’m telling you that’s okay.”

Frowning a little, Alec looks up. “Is it?”

Sighing, Magnus pulls Alec close until his chin is resting on top of Alec’s head. It’s a little cramped but Alec huddles just that little bit closer and thinks that there’s no place else he’d rather be.

“You’re my favorite person, too, darling. My best friend. I love you and I know you love me and that’s more than enough for us.” Magnus’s voice drops to a whisper as Alec swears he feels lips against his hair. “You’re perfect just as you are. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

The only sound around them is the distant thrum of New York as Alec focuses on his breathing, on taking in what Magnus just said. “Kind of seems like everyone else expects us to start dating or some shit.”

He feels more than hears Magnus start laughing. “Kind of seems like everyone else should mind their fucking business.”

There’s a pause before Magnus quietly asks, “Are you happy? With the way things are?”

Alec doesn’t hesitate as he replies, “Yeah, yes, of course. I love us.” He straightens up, though, making sure he’s looking Magnus in the eyes as he replies, “Are you?”

Magnus nods, grins a little. “I am,” he answers confidently. “I’m happy as long as it’s you, as long as it’s us. Whatever that means, however it happens. And to hell with what anyone else thinks.”

Alec stares hard at Magnus, can’t help but wonder if his best friend is lying to spare his feelings-- wonders if maybe Magnus is in love with him and trying to hide it, if maybe he doesn’t think Alec isn’t overreacting and is making a mountain out of a molehill.

But his best friend’s eyes are clear and bright and Alec might not be great at reading people but he knows Magnus better than most anyone else and this-- this is Magnus at his best, at his most happy and relaxed.

“Whatever that means,” he echoes.

He pulls Magnus into a hug and breathes in familiar shampoo. He decides that this is his favorite spot, right here with his best friend, and that maybe it’s okay not to have all the answers as long as he’s happy, as long as he’s not hurting anyone.

Maybe it’s okay to be different, as long as someone understands, as long as Magnus get it, gets him.

This is enough, Alec thinks. This is more than enough.

[fingerguneds]

hi! could I ask for some stozier fluff, like, stan and richie go grocery shopping ( not established relationship but they both like each other a whole lot ) 💞 thanks!

heyy

thank you very much for your ask, i fucking loved working on this, hope you don’t mind my loose interpretation of your prompt..

_

Stanley doesn’t like grocery shopping. He hates it, actually: it’s stressful, it’s always about letting people bother you somehow, and it’s totally not worth it when there’s food delivery.

But newsflash sweetie, it’s New Year’s Eve and all the closest shops are bombarded with orders. He can’t even imagine a worse case of spending the last few hours of 2019th, maybe with an exception of having to be with his parents, but whatever. It’s still bad.

So there he is, with bananas, blueberries and two bottles of white dessert wine in his cart he’s sure gonna suck in all alone in his sitting room later this evening, deciding on whether he needs another head of brie cheese, when he notices a familiar mop of black curly hair by the cereal stand.

There’s no way he wouldn’t recognize Richard Tozier from the communication and design department. He’s one of the loudest, brightest and most charmingly gorgeous people in their company, and if Stan ever tells you he hasn’t been having a huge, fat crush on him for the last few months, he’d be the ugliest, most pathetic liar.

He’s a good liar, though. He’s excellent at ignoring his fluttering heart every time Richie walks in their department to share a word with Eddie Kaspbrak, the most pleasant coworker of Stan’s in his personal opinion, or casting his best cold-eye when at parties they accidentally end up sharing a table and the guy, because he’s actually nice to everyone, tries to start an odd conversation about broken vending machines on the first floor or the fucking weather.

Why? Because Stan’s a pussy. He’s already really, really attracted to this black-haired mess of a person, with his ridiculously dark eyes with stupidly long lashes on a damn weird face one wouldn’t call pretty, because of that big nose, covered in bright specks of freckles that burn on cool paleness of his skin, or large, red and plump-lipped mouth; but would totally still define as beautiful, because those eyes are not just dark — they’re the colour of reddish pine bark after it’s been raining for hours; because that skin is not just pale — it’s like absolutely white marble with rare blue veins in all the rightest places of the man’s slender body; because his features, although weird and uncommon, somehow create a loud and charismatic pattern that attracts an eye, that makes you want to look, to inspect, to...admire.

And that’s what Stan’s been doing. Admiring from afar, because he’s a coward, too sensitive to let someone this loveable, loud and easy-going in. He’s too protective over his heart, he doesn’t take risks, he’s too fragile for his own good, and one more thing — even though Stanley secretly thinks he’s better than everyone, there is no way someone like Richie would want to do anything with him. He’s the most adorable with everyone, that’s in his nature, and thank god Stan smart enough to know that and to be aware that he’s not special — that Richie flirts with anyone, holds the door for every goddamn person in the office, checks up on every other stranger in an elevator, and although this still makes Stan’s dick ridiculously hard, he also almost dies on the spot when Richie turns his head a little bit and after a moment of surprise breaks into a grin. Stan, like a good goddamn liar he is, shoots him a quick nod of recognition, throws the bloody cheese into his cart with a bored expression and decides to get the fuck out of this place before his heart decides to break his ribcage into pieces. As calm and collected Stanley Uris is on the outside, he’s just as chaotic and messy on the inside.

He walks towards the end of an aisle as casual but fast as possible, as if his feet are on fire but he’s used to it (which is true, metaphorically speaking), and just when he’s ready to hide from Richie behind another row, something much, much more terrible than bumping into your big fat crush slash occasional wet dream happens to him.

“Stan!”

His heart drops down to his feet, when he recognizes the voice. He keeps walking forward, hoping for an earthquake, a sudden alien invasion, The Judgment Day — anything to save him from this most unwanted encounter, but of course nothing happens. A big tenacious hand still grabs his forearm, making him stop and turn, and this face Stan’s been successfully avoiding for the past couple years still appears in front of him, unchanged and familiar as ever.

Patrick.

See, he maybe wouldn’t be afraid of talking to Richie and making friends with him and maybe even going for more, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s been in a relationship with one extremely toxic and emotionally abusive man, and although Stan knows all these things, he knows he only terrorized him because he’s an awful person, not Stan, he still—can’t not be affected.

Who in the hell’s gonna love a needy Jewish nerd with a fucked-up brain and a shit ton of insecurities, earned throughout his not-so-bright pathetic faggot life?

Only Patrick, with his huge, kind heart and a perverted kink for losers, lucky for Stan: shaming people for what they are first, than pressing further, and finishing up with messing them up completely.

“Oh, hi, Patrick” Stan says casually, shoulders relaxed, body weight kept on one leg, yet one hand clinging the cart’s holder so tight his fingers turn purple, the other one in a fist, nails professionally breaking the delicate skin of Stan’s palm. “Long time no see.”

Leaving your ass all those years ago is still one of my biggest accomplishments, asshole.

Patrick’s eyes sparkle wickedly and his lips break into a wolfish smirk. Stanley finally notices he’s not alone: to the right there stands a blond man, not tall, seemingly muscular, small blue piggish eyes squinting at him with an alarming amount of hatred. Just what the fuck.

“How rude of me, this is Dean, by the way,” he says, showing up their intertwined fingers. Stan doesn’t feel jealous or envious, to his own pleasure, but he does feel this wholesome wave of bitterness. Assholes shouldn’t get away with all the nasty things they do and then proceed to live their nasty lives like nothing happened, while people they leave crippled and broken still suffer with their demons.

Stan won’t give him the satisfaction. He breaths in and smiles politely.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says, totally aware that although he’s the lonely one here, he’s still prettier and, dare he say, smarter than that Dean guy. His mug...his mug is for sure a God’s creation, but boy, did he decide to go off with this one? Yes. And absolutely nothing says mind in those little dirty-blue pools of anger he has for eyes. He looks like someone who would tattoo their first lover’s name on their bicep. And make tik-toks in their truck.

“Nice set,” Patrick, the fucker, senses Stanley’s dominating vibe and makes another elegant attempt to ruin everything he’s been building up. “Here alone?”

Okay, alright, it’s gonna be tough at the beginning, but at least he’s not holding some Dean’s sweaty stupid hand—

“Love, I only found buckwheat pasta, it all must be taken already,” and now it’s time for the third thing to make Stanley discover a lot of new white hairs tomorrow in front of the mirror. Thank God he’s not dark-haired.

Like Richie fucking Tozier, who appears literally out of nowhere, with a pack of fucking buckwheat pasta in his hand, the kindest, warmest look in his eyes behind huge coke-bottle glasses he (of course) rocks the shit out, and a smile Stan’s sure gonna jerk off to for days.

“We could drive to Tesco if you wanna—“ he starts in another attempt to silently offer Stanley a helping hand, but cuts himself off. “Oh, I’m sorry, do I know you?” he turns to face Patrick and Dean with a ridiculous replica of Stanley’s own polite smile, and if Stan wouldn’t be this honest-to-god shocked, he’d definitely laugh at the sight of it.

Patrick looks...scandalized in the most precious way.

“It’s Patrick,” Stan says, thankfully without a tremble in his voice. “We used to date a long time ago. And this is...um, Dean, right?”

“Yeah,” Patrick nods, seemingly taken aback. “My current boyfriend.”

“Oh, my pleasure!” Richie exclaims, grinning widely. “Honoured to meet my man’s old friends,” Stan almost chokes at this, but suddenly there’s someone’s strong hand sliding on his waist, and a solid body, pressing against his side. “I’m Richie by the way, Stanley’s current boyfriend.”

An uncomfortable silence hangs then between the four of them, until Patrick licks his lips in a predatory way, and nods again.

“Alright, we better keep going. It was nice to see you, Stan, have fun,” he almost spits out the last words, and him and Dean quickly leave, just like a mirage Stanley would rather forget forever.

But not the hand, still holding him tight.

“You okay?” Richie murmurs then quietly into Stan’s ear, sending warm shivers down his body. Stan hopes his coat is thick enough for Richie to not hear how embarrassingly rapid his heartbeat currently is.

“Yeah,” he answers, nodding. As much as he hates to do this, he takes a step back, which allows him to look at Richie closely for the first time in his life.

And God he’s handsome.

“I’m—“ Stanley asks, but Richie cuts him off.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and although his eyes are still pleasantly concerned, his lips curve into a small guilty smile. “I didn’t want to spy on you, I just overheard that asshole—shit, sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“No, he is an asshole,” Stanley shrugs, still lying to Richie and himself. Lying that his body’s not still on fire, his brains are not melting into disgustingly sweet puddles of adoration, his palms are not sweaty and his throat is not drier than Sahara. “And thank you for...helping me out, I guess? You really didn’t have to do that.”

Richie looks at him with something Stanley can’t really understand in his eyes, and his smile widens, revealing two big front teeth one would call funny, but Stan honest to god finds them adorable. Like the rest of Richie, really. There’s no point in denying this, he’s gone.

“I know,” he says, and his voice is low, with a slight edge. “I just, I thought there’s no better time than the present, you know, and instead of making another New Year resolution I’m going to ignore, I could give myself a chance right here and right now,” the apples of his cheeks turn an impossibly lovely shade of pink, and Stanley wants to slap himself for being such a slut for this man. He collects himself without a flinch and finally pays attention to Richie’s words and frowns.

“I beg your pardon?”

Richie keeps blushing deeper and deeper in shade.

“Well, you see, there’s that adorable Hebrew in my friend Eddie’s department that I’ve been trying to court for months, but he’s either too dense to notice it, or it’s me who’s dense and is just too preoccupied to take “no” as an answer, you know? So I’ve decided to go off in 2020 and...basically crack my ass to make that boy be more clear, yeah? Because I’m crushing like crazy stupid, you have no idea,” by the end of his ramble, his face is fully red, and fortunately for him, he’s not the only one looking like a basic white tourist after seven hours under Egyptian sun without a hat.

“Did you,” Stan mewls, voice finally breaking like a bitch, but nevertheless, his chin is up and he’s professionally acting like he doesn’t look as pathetic as Richie. “Did you just call me dense while hitting on me?”

“Yeah,” Richie breathes out, and his smile is so sunny, and warm, and relieved that Stan can’t help but smile back, rolling his eyes nevertheless, because he’s what? Still a good liar. “Did it work?”

***

It definitely did, Stanley thinks two hours later, sitting in Richie’s barstool with a glass of wine in one hand, watching the other man cook that bloody buckwheat pasta and listening to his absolutely endearing unstoppable ramble about his secret passion for cooking and not-so-secret passion for Stanley. He really, really doesn’t give a shit about embarrassing himself, Stan realizes somewhere after the words “I got shitfaced and ugly-cried for hours at that party when you left the table exactly thirty seconds after I tried to initiate a conversation with you.”

It definitely did, Richie thinks in the next morning, waking up with Stanley’s curls in his mouth, his back pressed against Richie’s chest and their bodies wrapped around each other under lazy January sun.

_

i have to say i’m not a huge fan of fake/pretend relationship trope but this specific um turn of events when character a is in an embarrassingly lonely situation against their ex and character b abruptly decides to save the day and then they end up together for real...is the shit