#I’m not sure if this classifies as fluff or not

[jlheon]

౨ৎ — who ru ? (lhs)

pairing. situationship! lee heeseung x fem! reader synopsis. enha try to figure you out genre. fluff & est. relationship at end wc. 2069 notes. ft. enhypen library.

none of heeseung’s members knew your name. 

which was ironic since they saw you nearly every day off they had. usually passing by heeseung’s slightly ajar door and taking a double take after seeing a female figure, then realizing it's just you, and wondering if you were heeseung's girl-friend or girlfriend.

they had grown used to your presence in the almost six months of you constantly around their home. yet nobody could ever figure out your name and who you were. 

despite running into you in the dorms multiple times none of the six had ever muttered anything more than a mere ‘hi’ or ‘sorry’ while passing. 

they always saw you around the dorms at least two times a week. though never once did they recall seeing you enter or leave. their eldest never brought you up, feeding into the idea you were some imaginary person.

heeseung was good at everything, including sneaking you in and out.

all of them being scared to say anything to you. acting like your identity was classified when they could just ask heeseung or you who you were.

but of course, riki loved to make anything and everything into a competition. 

after betting with his hyungs’ on who could figure out your name first, he spotted you in the house, residing in heeseung’s lap while he did some work on his computer. face buried in his neck while he typed away. 

riki camped out in the bathroom, with the door open, pretending to be cleaning the mirror. scrubbing the same corner repeatedly for almost ten minutes, waiting for you to use the bathroom. surely you would need to get up soon.

when he concluded that he couldn’t clean the mirror forever, he picked up his toothbrush and brushed his teeth. 

after brushing his teeth for a solid three minutes his plan was finally set into action. 

“hi riki,” you knocked on the open door. “how long do you need to brush your teeth for?”

“howdoyouknowmyname-” he spit out the toothpaste in shock. 

“riki, i’m here all the time,” you replied. “and you’re also a famous idol.”

“oh yeah..” he wiped his face with a towel from the counter. “why don’t i know your name though.”

“you’ve never asked,” you shrugged your shoulders at the younger boy covered in toothpaste. “do you mind if i wash my face, i think you’ve brushed your teeth thoroughly enough.”

“yeah of course,” riki set his toothbrush back in its holder and moved towards the door.

“you missed a spot by the way,” pointing to your chin to show where the toothpaste was left on him, lightly shutting the door.

riki’s plan had failed. 

the next to try and talk to you was jake.

he was confident that he could get your name out if you. maybe he’d even be good enough to figure out if you were heeseung’s girlfriend or not.

it was the day after riki had run into you in the bathroom. since it was their break before the long comeback season jake knew that you would probably be sleeping over. giving him the perfect opportunity to ask heeseung and you if you both wanted to eat ramen with him.

once the time on his phone read 11:15 he knocked on heeseung’s door.

“come in,”

“hi,” jake opened the door. “i was wondering if you wanted ramen, her too..”

this was perfect. surely heeseung would call you by name when he asked if you were hungry. everyone would owe him dinner for the week.

you and heeseung were on his bed. you cuddled up into his side while you both watched tiktoks on his phone. 

“baby are you hungry?” heeseung leaned down next to your ear. 

baby was not your name. jake frowned.

“no i’m okay hee,” you mumbled. “you can go eat though.”

he kissed your forehead before getting up from his bed to follow jake to the kitchen. 

jake’s plan had also failed, but the fact heeseung had called you a pet name gave him some idea that you weren't just a friend.

the uprise of interactions with the members confused you. they went from running away from you and avoiding looking at you every time you were within six feet of them to constantly seeking you and heeseung out. though it relieved you in a way since you were convinced that heeseung had strictly told them to act as if you didn't exist in the months you had spent together.

you and heeseung were in fact not an item, even though you both wished you were. you've known him since his nerdy bowl cut days in middle school, you weren't close before but after running into you years later that changed.

you knew that he had become an idol, it was hard not to notice when you saw his face on ads. never listening to his group but being able to recognize him if you were asked.

one day when you were on shift, at your then job as a barista at a small place. you had recognized him as you took his order. you didn't want to sound like an obsessed fan if he didn't remember you, so you simply bit your tongue the entire time. he had decided to tip you for bringing him his drink, which made you even more on edge when he left a stray napkin on his table with his number.

after that incident it was clear he recognized you from school, which was more worrying than relieving as he started to show up to your work even more.

eventually, his visiting you at work was not ideal anymore as he stuck out like a sore thumb with how tall he was paired with the black mask and sunglasses he never dared to take off.

alas, he had asked you to hangout somewhere else. now you no longer worked at that cafe and spent all of your free time off from classes being snuck into a kpop boy-group dorm to hang out with a boy who acted like your boyfriend but wasn't. awesome!

after your first encounters with riki and jake everyone followed after.

jay came in to ask if you had any allergies because he was making some lunch, again heeseung addressed you as anything but your real name.

two days later sunoo had sat down next to you on the living room couch and offered you a face mask. you nodded and you guys spent an hour together as heeseung and jay were gone filming for a variety show. right as sunoo was finally confident you guys were casual enough to ask you for your name heeseung walked in.

you jumped up from the couch making your way over and throwing yourself at him. holding onto him like a koala when he picked you up. he greeted sunoo, and brought you all the way to his room. shutting the door behind him.

you didn’t even get the chance to thank sunoo for hanging out with you.

within the same hour jungwon had barged into heeseung’s room, the door banging against the wall. 

“jungwon what the hell!” heeseung scolded, though keeping his voice at a whisper. “don’t you know to knock?”

“this is me exercising my leader privileges,” jungwon crossed his arms and fixed his posture.

“you could have woken her up..” heeseung stroked your hair, as you laid passed out on his chest.

“woken who up?” jungwon said mischievously, heeseung had to say your name now. 

“don’t act dumb, you can literally see her sleeping.” heeseung deadpanned. 

you started to shuffle in your sleep, beginning to wake up. 

“hee?” you grumbled. 

“it’s nothing, baby,” he answered. “just go back to sleep.”

heeseung sent jungwon a glare, shooing him out of the room. so much privacy for having only single room.

right when you thought it was over, it was finally sunghoon’s turn to figure you out. he contemplated creating a list of names that you kind of looked like and just shouting them throughout the house until you answered to one.

but after hearing jungwon explain how heeseung looked like he was about to chase him out of the dorm onto the street after he woke you up, sunghoon decided against his original idea.

he was sat on his bed for almost an hour thinking about what he could do. 

he concluded he should just be straightforward and ask you already. why hadn’t anyone else just asked you?

he let out a horrendous evil laugh that sunoo had given him a weird look for as sunghoon thought about how his plan was foolproof. he was about to be picking dinner every night for everyone.

sunghoon created a list in his head from what he gathered from all the other boys' failed attempts :

knock LIGHTLY on the door

make sure he is not interrupting anything

ask you NOT heeseung

get that free dinner

he waited for everyone to get to their rooms after dinner to make his way to the eldest’s room. you surely couldn’t have possibly fallen asleep yet as the sun had only just set. using his right hand, he softly knocked on the door. heeseung opened the door enough to show you sitting at his desk. 

“hoon?” heeseung questioned.

“i have a question.” sunghoon said firmly, keeping his chin up high, making himself look cocky in the process.

“shoot,” heeseung replied dryly, yawning at the end of his sentence.

“not for you,” sunghoon recalled the list floating around in his head, he pointed at you. “for her.”

overhearing their exchange, you took your attention away from the game you were playing on heeseung’s computer and spun the chair towards sunghoon. heeseung had no choice but to move aside and let the boy in as you had already taken note of his presence. 

“what’s your name? oh, and are you heeseung’s girlfriend?” he smiled, fist-bumping himself in his head as he finally did what the others couldn’t.

“i’m ____,” you grinned, finally happy someone had asked you directly like you and heeseung were hoping for. “i don’t know about the girlfriend part though.”

“____ i swear i was just about to talk to you about that soon-”

“i’m kidding hee!” you giggled. “i don’t understand why it took you guys so long, i’m always here.”

“i don’t know either,” heeseung agreed.  

“yeah right. you strictly told us not to look at her the first time jake caught her inside the dorm,” jay said as he walked into the room. 

one by one the rest of the group filtered into the room. sunghoon gives a whole speech about how he is truly the smartest and the first thing he wants for dinner is steak. which was nothing different from the usual but he was happy that he got to decide. the whole group talked for a few hours in heeseung’s bedroom.

once heeseung saw you yawn he quickly got up and ushered all the guys to get out as you were tired. while he was busy forcing riki to leave you collapsed on his bed and waited for him to join you.

“so girlfriend huh?” you teased as he climbed into the empty spot next to you. 

he scratched the back of his head with a nervous laugh before turning off the lamp on his bedside table. when the lights were off and you could barely make out each other's faces in the dark he spoke up.

“can i be your boyfriend?” he asked, his voice dripping with gentleness. he snuck an arm under your head and pulled you towards his chest.

“i mean i guess so,” you joked, causing heeseung to tickle your sides. 

you squirmed in his grip trying to bite him until he finally gave it a rest. 

you tilted your head up towards his trying to find his lips to give him a short kiss. ultimately missing due to the darkness and kissing his chin instead. the both of you giggled. heeseung then used his free hand to trace around your face to find your lips, bringing his head down to finally connect your lips to his.

the last thing you remembered before drifting off was the sound of heeseung lulling you to sleep with a song he had been working on for their upcoming album.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 12

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Trying to get back into these two. Did we miss them?

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff

WC: 2600+

Part 1 | Masterlist

“So…” Jake pauses and purses his lips to suppress a mischievous smile. “When did you start liking me?”

You look down at your lap where his head has been resting for the last five minutes. “Did I tell you I like you?”

Jake meets your gaze and snorts. He reaches up to take your hand off the keyboard of your laptop and brings it down over his chest. “Indirectly,” he admits.

You roll your eyes, recalling when you had expressed to Bradley – in Jake’s presence – how ‘your guy’ makes you feel. You pull your hand out of his grasp and look back up at the screen in front of you. “I have to work, Jake.”

“You’re too hardworking,” Jake responds with a whine.

You shake your head with a grin. “Such a dreadful habit, I know. I’m working on it – wait. Damn, I see what you mean –”

Jake starts chuckling and his head tickles your bare thighs. “You’re so fucking cute.”

You press your lips together as your smile broadens. “When did you start liking me?” you ask.

Jake releases a heavy sigh and sits up. “Alright, enough chitchat. Get to work.”

You watch him rise to his feet and make his way into the kitchen, curious why he so abruptly decided to change the subject. “Got any plans this weekend?” you ask casually, wondering if he’ll finally ask you out on a date. The two of you have been sneaking around for a while, but your only outings together have been with Bradley, so you couldn’t even hold hands. Thus far, you’ve assumed that Jake is just waiting for the right moment to speak with Bradley before the two of you make your relationship official but, as time goes on, you become increasingly skeptical that Jake actually intends to come clean.

Jake shrugs. “Not really. Just hangin’ with your bro.”

You try your best not to frown. “Sounds fun.”

Jake walks back over to you and sets a bowl of strawberries on the table by your laptop. You glance up at him inquisitively and he responds with, “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

You give him a smile. “Neither have you.”

He nods. “Which is how I know you’re hungry.”

“Thanks,” you say. “As soon as I’m through with this part, I’ll move all this shit and we can have some lunch.” You gesture at the pile of literature currently cluttering your workspace.

Jake takes a seat adjacent to you at the table and lets out another sigh. “I don’t know,” he says.

You shift your gaze from your computer to look in his direction. “Don’t know what? If you want lunch?” You pick up a strawberry and pop it into your mouth.

Jake is observing you carefully and you stop chewing because the attention makes you uncomfortable. “I don’t know when…” he says, pausing as though he isn’t sure how to continue. “When, uh… I don’t know at what point” – he exhales sharply – “I have no clue when I f – when I started to see you as more than just Bradley’s sister. As more than a friend.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, your mouth still full of half-chewed strawberry.

“I think I just realized, at one point, that I’d rather spend time with you than with anyone else,” he admits.

You finish chewing awkwardly before responding with, “Huh.”

Jake stares at you expectantly, as though you should have something to add.

But you’re not really sure what to say. You’ve been crushing on Jake for an embarrassingly long time and he does not have clearance for that kind of classified intel, especially since his interest in you is far more recent. What does he want, anyway? A pat on the back for finally figuring it out?

“Your turn,” he says, clearing his throat and leaning back in his chair with an air of confidence.

You purse your lips as though you’re in thought. “Not sure,” you say vaguely.

Jake narrows his eyes. “Not sure? Or don’t want to say?”

You meet his gaze tentatively. “I probably liked you before you liked me.”

Jake watches you with a slight grin. “In that case, you were very good at hiding it.”

…

You arrive at the pub already slightly tipsy after pre-drinking at your friend’s house. In fact, you’re drunk enough to not give two shits that Jake has, once again, decided to spend his Saturday night with Bradley. This time, he didn’t even invite you along.

Once inside, you head straight for the bar; no sense in wasting time waiting for a table. You grab a drink and take a look around the crowded establishment. That’s when you see him.

Jake fucking Seresin is sitting at a table near the back – not with your brother. You stare at him – and his female companion – in horror for a few moments, letting the scene sink in. Wondering if you’re in the wrong for being shocked. Are the two of you even exclusive? This has never actually been discussed. But one thing is certain: Jake lied, which makes you sick to your stomach.

You slide off your barstool and, cocktail in hand, you make your way to the little table in the back where your supposed boyfriend – or whatever he is – sits entertaining another woman. It’s not long before Jake notices your presence because you’re making quite a spectacle on your way over as you furiously skirt every person in your path.

Jake looks uncomfortable and that satisfies you greatly. “Hey,” he says when you arrive.

You gape at him. “Hey?” you exclaim in outrage.

“Uh,” Jake stalls for a moment. He turns to his date and says, “This is Bradley’s sister.”

The woman opposite Jake smiles at you but you’re too busy glaring at Jake to acknowledge her. “That’s all you want to say about me?”

Jake watches you pointedly. “What else do you want me to say about you?” He looks back at his date and lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Seresin?” you shriek, slamming your stemmed glass onto their table so aggressively that your sour apple martini splashes over the rim.

Jake jerks back to avoid getting wet and then looks up at you in alarm. “What’s the matter with you?”

You shake your head at him in disappointment and then turn abruptly to leave. You expect Jake to grab your hand, or follow you out, but he does neither. In fact, you make it all the way back to the bar before you realize that Jake is not even looking in your direction. You see him laughing together with his female friend, as though they both just witnessed something absurd and worthy of repeating in the future for a good chuckle.

“Hey, isn’t that your brother’s aviator buddy?” your friend says, nodding toward the back of the pub.

You roll your eyes and then turn toward the bar, realizing you left your drink at Jake’s table.

“He’s kind of hot,” you friend continues. “But he’s got fuckboy written all over him.”

You close your eyes and sigh. You have nobody to blame but yourself. You know Jake. What in the world made you think he would become a different person if he were with you?

…

The following day, you wake up past noon with a debilitating migraine. You hear Bradley and Jake’s voices drift up from the kitchen and groan. You’re not in the mood to face Jake after the events of the previous evening. You ended up going home shortly after confronting him and you have no idea where he ended up. Probably in bed, and probably not alone.

You get dressed unhurriedly, dizzy from the pain and, on your way downstairs, you grip the banister tightly just in case. The kitchen is excruciatingly bright, and you cringe upon entering, shielding your face from the open window like a vampire.

“Oh, hey sleepyhead!” your brother greets you.

You grunt in response and head straight for the coffee pot. “Is this fresh?” you ask.

“Nope!” Bradley replies cheerily.

You pour yourself a mug anyway and put it in the microwave, turning to face the two of them while your coffee warms.

Jake meets your gaze with a stoic expression.

“How was your night?” Bradley asks with a grin, clearly seeing that you’re hungover.

“Fine,” you say monotonously.

Bradley raises his eyebrows. “It’s the enthusiasm for me,” he says with a smirk, looking over at Jake.

Jake, however, ignores him and grabs his jacket from the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “You ’bout ready, Bradshaw? I ain’t got all day.”

“Alright, alright,” Bradley says. “Let me get my stuff.”

Bradley jogs over to the staircase and runs up to grab his duffel bag. Meanwhile, you are deliberately avoiding Jake’s gaze as you lean your back into the kitchen counter. Jake stuffs his hands into his pockets and is also not looking at you. When Bradley returns a few minutes later, disrupting the silence with a melodic whistling, the two of you have not moved an inch from where you’d been standing when he left. Even though the microwave has beeped at you twice.

“What’s with you two?” he asks, pausing in the doorway.

“Nothing,” Jake responds curtly. “Let’s go.”

Bradley glances between the two of you. “Okay,” he says slowly, his gaze lingering on you in particular. “See you later, sis,” he says.

You wave a distracted hand in his direction and head for the couch with your coffee, nearly bumping into Jake as you cross paths because neither of you is looking at the other.

“Sorry,” Jake mutters, stepping aside to let you pass. His hand goes up instinctively to guide you but he catches himself before letting it rest on your arm.

“It’s fine,” you say, wavering slightly on the spot. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment and press a couple of fingers into your temple.

“You okay?” he asks, his eyebrows converging as he tries to catch your gaze.

“I said I’m fine.” You sigh, trying to walk around him.

“Seresin, you coming, or what?” Bradley calls from the foyer.

Jake hesitates as you finally pass him, and then yells back. “I’ll meet you there!”

Bradley waits a moment as though he’s still trying to figure out what’s going on. Then you hear the front door open and Bradley shout, “Don’t be late!” as he exits the house.

Jake trails after you into the living room and, when you lower yourself onto the couch, he crouches down in front of you, placing a hand on your knee. “Migraine?” he asks.

You nod slowly so as not to exacerbate the pain.

Jake’s hand gives your leg a soft squeeze. “Have you eaten?”

You cringe. “Please don’t talk to me about food right now,” you beg.

“Did you take anything?”

You shake your head. “I’m out.”

Jake gets to his feet. “I’ll go pick up some meds for you,” he says.

You glance up at him miserably. “You’re going to be late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he responds, already on his way out.

…

Jake returns not ten minutes later with your medication and a bag full of snacks. “I heard dark chocolate is good for migraines,” he says, holding out a block for you as you swallow your pills.

“I’m not hungry, Jake,” you say weakly, closing your eyes and lying back down on the couch.

Jake sighs, sitting down on the floor beside you and starting to unwrap the chocolate. “You need to eat something,” he says, breaking off a piece. “I also have gummy worms and popcorn.”

You open your eyes. “I love gummy worms,” you whisper.

Jake grins. “I know,” he whispers back.

You take the chocolate square from his hand and he busies himself with opening the bag of gummy worms while you let the chocolate melt in your mouth. A moment later, he hands you a gummy worm and you stick it between your teeth and bite. “Oh my god, it’s so good,” you moan. The motion of chewing helps alleviate some of the pain in your temple and you sigh blissfully, closing your eyes.

Jake leans his back into the wall adjacent the couch and pops a gummy worm into his mouth. For a while, the two of you sit in silence. Then, he says, “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you say.

Jake shakes his head and you can sense his irritation without even looking at him. “This isn’t going to work if you don’t trust me.”

You turn to give him a flat look. “Would you trust you, Seresin?”

Jake squares his jaw. “I have never given you a reason not to trust me.”

“You lied to me! You said you were meeting Bradley!”

“I was! He was running late.”

You watch him sourly. “And you just happened to pick up a girl while you were waiting?”

Jake returns your bitter glare. “Is that actually what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think,” you say, sitting upright to look him in the eye. “You weren't exactly forthcoming with an explanation.”

Jake sets the gummy worms on the couch and gets to his feet. “The girl was there for Bradley. He was running late. End of story.”

“You couldn’t tell me that yesterday?”

“She’s seeing Bradley! And he doesn’t know about us. It’s not like I can say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m actually dating your boyfriend’s little sister and that’s why she’s acting like a nutcase. Brb.’”

You fold your arms, sulking. Did you consider the possibility that the woman Jake was sitting with wasn’t his date? Briefly. But you were already annoyed with Jake and that, combined with your less than sober state, was apparently a recipe for disaster. “I guess I don’t trust you,” you say with a shrug, even though this statement isn’t altogether true.

Jake places his hands on his hips, exhaling slowly. “Why?” he asks, sounding exasperated.

You stay silent and continue to brood.

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose and grimaces as though this conversation is wearing him out. Then, he lets out another sigh and crouches before you again, trying to catch your gaze as he places his hands in your lap, palms up. “Why?” he asks calmly, waiting for you to join hands with him.

You do. “Well, why would I?” you say quietly, hesitating before you continue. “What is this, even? What are we? Do you know? Because I don’t.”

Jake’s eyebrows knit together. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, why haven’t you told Bradley yet? Is it because you’re not sure you want to make this official? Is it because it’s just a fling so why bother?” You cringe inwardly, hating how insecure you sound.

Jake stares at you in wonder, as though this line of thinking has never even crossed his mind.

“Like, are we even exclusive?”

Jake’s eyes widen and he blinks at you in awe. “We fucking better be,” he retorts, his hold on your hands tightening slightly.

“Well, how would I know that?” you exclaim.

Jake brings his hands up to his face and rubs his eyes. “Jesus fuck, how would you not know that?”

You scoff at him. “Because you’ve never once been in an exclusive relationship! Not while I’ve known you, anyway. Do you even know how?”

Jake’s hands slide down his face and stay over his mouth as he gapes at you. When his hands finally drop back into your lap, you can see that he’s got a small smile on his face. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he says finally.

You lower your gaze, not exactly comforted considering he still has not addressed your main concern: Bradley.

Jake stands up and pulls you up off the couch. He puts his arms around you and you rest your head against one of his giant shoulders, allowing him to cradle you lovingly.

“Why haven’t you told Bradley?” you mutter into his shirt.

Jake pulls away from you and runs a hand through his hair uneasily. “I’m scared, Baby B,” he admits. “I’m scared he’s gonna make me choose.”

Read Part 13

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[atlabeth]

take my breath away

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you help spencer train for his fitness exam. he kind of just wants to kiss you.

a/n: some fluff (and something short) after i broke my own heart (and my brain) in my last hotch fic! i’m truly in my criminal minds era. enjoy

wc: 1.3k

warning(s): reader is a runner so im sorry to my unathletic friends. but this is all fluff

“Spence,” you said, unable to bite back your smile, “how are you this bad at running?” 

“I’m—” he held up a finger as he caught his breath and shook his head. “I’m not bad at running. My form… is perfect.” 

“We barely made it a mile in,” you said, and you chuckled as he keeled over, his hands on his knees. “It can’t be that perfect.” 

“It is,” he insisted, on the edge of wheezing. “I’m just unathletic.” 

“You never did sports as a kid?” 

“I graduated high school at twelve,” Spencer breathed. “I was too busy studying. Reading. Doing anything other than sports.” He looked at you and shook his head. “And I’m not crazy like you.” 

Your smile only grew. “You should put your hands over your head. It helps get more air in.” 

“That’s actually a rumor.” He shook his head again. “When you raise your arms, muscles that contribute… to the bucket handle movement of your ribs—” He heaved a sigh, his brows furrowing, and again, you held back a smile. You were sure this was one of his only weaknesses. “—they’re not able to function properly.” 

“Alright, genius,” you said, mockingly but with love. “Recover however you like. You clearly need it.” 

Spencer pouted as he straightened up, his whole face contorted in discomfort. When your boyfriend asked you to help him train for his upcoming fitness test, you didn’t think much of it—you got a full ride through college because of track, and you keep healthy with morning runs, so you were happy to help. 

You’d thought about straight up offering a myriad of times—mostly after bearing witness to his attempts at running in the field. One time, the two of you were paired up to do some interviews, and it ended in a chase. By the time Spencer caught up, nearly dying on the sidewalk, you already had the unsub subdued and cuffed. 

(It took him a while to live that down with Morgan.)

Spencer was gifted at other things, sure—not just everyone is a classified genius with an eidetic memory, and he’s the youngest recruit in history—and you loved him more than anything. But you couldn’t not make fun of him, just a little bit. 

His face was still red, his glasses fogging up a bit from the humidity, and his hair was a mess, so you moved closer in order to brush the stray strands out of his face. 

“Running isn’t my thing,” he said. “Well— fitness isn’t my thing. I’ve got everything else covered.” 

“Oh yeah?” You started smoothing back the strands of his hair, and you offered a crooked smile. “Then why are we out here trying to improve your mile time?” 

“Because it would be nice if Gideon doesn’t have to get all my fitness stuff waived again, and if I want that, I need the help.” His eyes didn’t leave yours, and once you finished, your hands lingered on his cheeks. You nudged his glasses back up to their spot. “And I think I’d run a marathon and die trying if it meant I got to spend more time with you.” 

Your eyebrows rose. “If you want to run a marathon, I could probably get you there. It would take a lot of time together, though.” 

“Please, no,” Spencer breathed. “Just the time together part.” 

You grinned, and you patted him on the cheek before you pulled away. “Running is good for the soul. Why do you think I’m so happy all the time?” 

“Well, this morning you said you were happy because of me,” he said. “Yesterday, it was because we had our first case-free weekend in two months. The other day—” 

“That coffee I had?” you interrupted. 

He nodded. “How’d you know?” 

“Because you made it for me,” you said, “and I love it when you do that.” 

Spencer shrugged. “You do it all the time for me. It’s only fair.” 

“But that’s proof,” you said. “Running does make you happy.” 

“Running does release endorphins, but anyone who likes it is crazy,” he repeated. 

“That doesn’t sound scientifically backed.” 

“The way I feel right now beats science,” Spencer huffed. “And you’re not happy all the time. You frowned 23 times while writing up your last report.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “You were watching me? And counting?” 

He shrugged. “You’re nice to watch.” 

“Very smooth, Dr. Reid,” you said cloyingly. “But flattery won’t get you out of this.” 

“I’m not trying to get out of anything!” he defended. You stared at him, and he held up his hands. “Okay— only halfway. But you are nice to watch. That’s why I’m still here.”

“If you’re watching me while we run, that might be why you’re doing so badly,” you said, amused. 

“No—I think it’s the only thing keeping me going.”

“You don’t really look like you’re still going,” you said wryly. “You should be good at this. You’ve got long legs.” 

Spencer shook his head as he screwed his eyes shut. He let out one last breathy sigh, and you hoped he’d finally recovered. “Also largely a rumor. It’s more about leg strength compared to bodyweight—long legs help with lengthy strides, but you need to generate enough torque to move faster than with shorter legs.” 

You smiled. “You’ve still got facts? Even while you’re dying?” 

“Mostly because Elle’s said it before too. She says I look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk when I run.” Spencer shook his head again. “I think the only thing my height is good for is getting things off of shelves.” 

For once, you tried to reign in your joking. “Is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want this whole thing to be miserable for you. Running should be fun.” 

“We can stop doing this?” he suggested. “I can let go of what’s left of my pride, get all my fitness stuff waived again, and go back to figuring out cases in an air conditioned conference room?” 

You smiled, and you moved closer. “How about this?” 

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you pulled him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt, effectively cutting him off. He hesitated for less than a split second, but his hands fell to your waist as he brought you in closer. 

When you let go and moved away, he still had them there, and he was smiling like an idiot. 

“Does that help?” you asked innocently, tilting your head. 

“Yeah,” Spencer said, nodding rapidly. “Uh— yeah. I actually think I could go for another mile now.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you ruffled his hair, messing up your earlier work. “I’d love to test that, pretty boy, but I don’t think you can make it another mile.” 

Spencer shook his head. “If you keep kissing me like that, I think I can make it through that marathon you mentioned.”  

“Sure I don’t take your breath away too badly?” you teased. 

“I have some facts for that, but I don’t think they apply.” His lips curved up, and the redness from exertion mixed with his steadily rising blush. “Because you, uh— you did take my breath away the first time I saw you.” 

“I should start calling you loverboy with material like that,” you mused. “Morgan’s annoyed that I took pretty boy from him.” 

Spencer grimaced. “Just thinking of Morgan seeing me like this makes me want to get back at it. I can’t deal with any more of his teasing.” 

“But my teasing’s okay?” 

He frowned. “Of course. It— it’s kind of why I fell for you.” 

“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s why you’re still at this. You don’t like things being handed to you.” 

His cheeks darkened again, and you laughed as you leaned in to peck him on the lips one more time. 

“Alright, loverboy,” you said. “Ready to get back at it?” 

“No,” he said affirmatively. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?” 

“Not if you want to pass,” you said wryly, and you gestured back at the trail with your head. “But you know what they say—one step at a time.” 

Spencer grumbled, and he shook his arms out again. “Fine. As long as those steps are with you.” 

You smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” 

[m4rv3l-girl]

Wanted

Bucky x Y/N

Y/N takes care of Bucky in a way that makes him feel a different kind of “wanted” than he’s used to….

Requests Open!

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff.

The front door creaked open, the faint jingle of Bucky’s keys cutting through the quiet of the apartment. You glanced over your shoulder from where you stood in the kitchen, a wooden spoon in hand, stirring the bubbling pot of tomato sauce. The scent of garlic, oregano, and freshly baked bread filled the air—a warm welcome compared to the chill that seemed to cling to him as he walked in.

“There’s my handsome man,” you greeted with a smile, setting the spoon down and wiping your hands on the dish towel slung over your shoulder.

Bucky stepped inside, his movements slower than usual, his posture slightly slouched. He let the door close behind him with a soft thud, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the hook by the door. His lips curved into a small smile at your words, though the edges of it seemed weighed down by something unseen.

“Hey, Doll,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

The sound tugged at your heart. You left the kitchen and crossed the room to meet him, your bare feet padding softly against the floor. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. He stiffened slightly at first, as he always did, before his body relaxed into yours. His vibranium hand hesitated at your back before settling gently there, his flesh hand curling around your waist.

“Rough day?” you asked, your cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

Bucky hummed in response, his chin resting lightly atop your head. “You could say that.”

You pulled back just enough to tilt your head up and meet his eyes. There was a storm behind the blue—a weight he wasn’t ready to put into words yet. Cupping his face, your thumbs brushed along the faint stubble on his jaw. “Good thing you’re home now,” you said softly. “I’ve got lasagna in the oven and a bottle of wine breathing.”

His brows lifted slightly in surprise. “Lasagna?”

“Homemade,” you added with a wink. “With extra cheese, just how you like it.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “You didn’t have to do all that, Kitten.”

“I wanted to,” you replied, standing on your toes to press a kiss to his jaw. “You deserve to be spoiled sometimes, you know.”

His smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “I’m not sure about that,” he muttered under his breath, but you didn’t let it slide.

“Hey,” you said, your voice firm but kind. “Go change into something comfortable, and let me take care of you tonight. Dinner will be ready in twenty.”

For a moment, it looked like he might argue, but instead, he gave a small nod. “Alright, Doll.”

When Bucky reappeared a while later, he was dressed in his usual gray sweatpants and a worn hoodie that you secretly loved on him. He lingered in the kitchen doorway, watching as you set the table with mismatched plates and lit a single candle in the center. The warm glow of the flame bathed the room in a soft light, making the space feel even cozier.

“Smells amazing, Darling,” he said, his voice softer now.

You turned to him with a smile. “Wait until you taste it.”

Dinner was a quiet, intimate affair. The lasagna was rich and cheesy, paired perfectly with the glass of red wine you poured for each of you. Bucky’s shoulders began to relax with every bite, the tension in his jaw easing as you filled the silence with lighthearted stories and little quips.

“Okay, but you have to admit, I’d make a terrible spy,” you teased, twirling your fork in the air.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “You? A terrible spy? Never.”

“I’d trip over something or accidentally blurt out classified information within the first five minutes,” you laughed, your eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “But you’d charm your way out of it. No one could say no to you, Kitten.”

His words made your cheeks flush, and you reached across the table to playfully swat at his arm.

After dinner, as you cleared the plates, Bucky stood and began to gather the glasses. “You cooked. I’ll do the dishes,” he said, his tone leaving little room for argument.

You placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Not tonight, Bucky. You’ve had a long day. Go sit down—I’ll take care of it.”

“But—”

“Ah, no buts,” you interrupted, giving him a mock-stern look. “Go. Couch. Now.”

He hesitated, his blue eyes searching yours for a moment before he relented with a small sigh. “You’re too good to me, Doll,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple before retreating to the living room.

By the time you joined him on the couch, the dishes done and the kitchen cleaned, Bucky had already queued up one of your favorite movies. He lifted the blanket draped over him, inviting you to curl up at his side. You didn’t hesitate, snuggling into him as his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, the movie playing softly in the background. Your fingers traced idle patterns on his chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing lulling you into a sense of peace.

“You’re always taking care of me,” he said suddenly, his voice thoughtful.

You tilted your head to look up at him. “Of course I am. That’s what you do when you love someone.”

His gaze softened, the vulnerability in his expression making your heart ache. “I’m just not used to it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you said gently, your fingers brushing a strand of hair from his face. “But you deserve it, Bucky. You deserve to be loved and cared for. And I’ll remind you every day if I have to.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he processed your words. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Kitten,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“You just have to be you,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him softly. “That’s more than enough for me.”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your hair. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice muffled but full of gratitude.

You smiled softly, your fingers instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair. The strands were soft beneath your touch, and you gently combed through them, your nails grazing his scalp with deliberate tenderness. He melted into you almost immediately, his breath hitching for a brief moment before it steadied, slow and content.

“You know,” you began, your voice low and soothing, “you’ve got the kind of hair people would pay good money to have.”

Bucky chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your chest. “Doll, you’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’m serious,” you teased, continuing to card your fingers through his hair. “It’s thick, soft, and so perfect. I could play with it all day.”

His only response was a quiet hum, his body relaxing further against yours. His head rested more heavily in the crook of your neck, his vibranium hand curling around your side as if grounding himself in your presence.

The way his eyes fluttered shut, the tension slowly melting from his features, made your heart swell. It wasn’t often that he let himself feel this kind of ease, this kind of safety.

“You’re really good at this,” he murmured, his voice drowsy, like the gentle rhythm of your touch was lulling him to a place he rarely allowed himself to go.

“At what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly to press a kiss to his temple.

“Making me feel…” He paused, the words caught in his throat, as if they were unfamiliar or too heavy to say aloud. Finally, he whispered, “Wanted.”

Your chest ached at his admission, and you tightened your hold on him, your fingers still gently weaving through his hair. “Oh, Bucky,” you said softly, your lips brushing against his skin. “You’re so much more than wanted. You’re cherished. Adored. You’re my whole world.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his breath warm against your neck. But then he shifted slightly, lifting his head just enough to look at you. His blue eyes, soft and glassy, met yours, and you could see the gratitude and wonder swimming in their depths.

“You’re too good to me, Kitten,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“Never,” you countered, smiling as you traced a thumb over his cheekbone. “You just have to get used to being loved, Bucky. Because I plan on doing it for the rest of my life.”

His lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile before he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and tender, filled with every unspoken word he couldn’t yet find the courage to say.

As the night wore on, the two of you stayed curled up together, the movie long forgotten. For Bucky, letting down his walls wasn’t easy, but with you by his side, he knew he could learn.

And for now, that was enough.

——————————————————————————————————

So, any cavities?

[spencereidluver]

D is for Diana

august 25, 2008

summary: You overhear Spencer calling his mother and telling her about you and how he's finally found someone like him and who can understand him.

word count: 675

warnings: none, just fluff and spencer crushing

It was a normal Monday morning. The sounds of files rustling and pens against paper filled the room as people filled out their weekly paperwork. The only thing off was the slow speed the certified genius across from you was working. There was something on his mind, but from the look on his face, you could tell he wasn’t in the mood to share.

“Hey Spence, I’m gonna go make some coffee in a little bit, do you want some?” You asked, trying to find a way of cheering him up without trying to pry at him. 

“I’m good, thank you though.” He said without so much as looking up from his desk.

You let him work for a little longer, before you finally let it get the best of you, and you just had to ask him. “Okay, Spencer,” you said, finally getting him to look up at you for the first time this morning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he responded. “I’m just waiting on a phone call from my mom.”

That made sense. Spencer always got nervous when his mother was brought up. His phone rang moments later, seemingly right on cue. “I’m gonna take this in the conference room, I’ll be back.” 

Spencer opened his phone as he stood up, greeting his mother with a warm “hello.” He quickly ran up the stairs, nearly hitting himself with the conference room door as he entered. You giggled to yourself before getting up and making your way to the kitchen to make the coffee you’d thought about earlier.

_____

With a freshly made cup of coffee in your hand, you couldn’t help but follow your unconscious lead to the conference room, leaning against the door to make sure Spencer’s conversation with his mom was going well. You weren’t trying to be weird or creepy, you just were trying to look out for your friend. You knew sometimes his mom said things that hurt him, mostly without realizing it.

As you reached the conference, you heard the squeaky giggle you’ve heard so many times come from behind the door. You almost left it at that, but curiosity got the best of you as you leaned your ear against the wooden door.

“No, mom. She’s perfect,” you heard Spencer say. “Everything about her is perfect.”

There was a pause, Diana was talking. You wondered who he was talking about. Spencer hadn’t talked to you about a special lady before. Maybe you’d stick around a little longer.

Spencer began to speak again. “No, she is the nicest person I’ve ever met. She’s gorgeous too, mom… No, I haven't asked her out… No, no she doesn’t have a boyfriend… I just don’t want to ruin our friendship. And I don’t want to make work awkward if she says no.”

Work? The girl he liked was at work? 

“I can’t just ignore her if she says no mom. Our desks are right across from each other. I’d have to face her every day.”

Oh my god. He was talking about you. Your face turned a shade of red so dark it might be classified as maroon. Your stomach had so many butterflies it felt like it was migration season. 

You heard Spencer begin to tell his mom he’d have to be going soon, and you decided you’d better hurry back to your desk so he didn’t know you were listening. He’d die if he knew, you thought.

You thought for a second, before returning to the kitchen and pouring another cup of coffee in Spencer’s favorite mug. You knew he’d said no, but you also knew, especially now, how much it’d mean to him if he came back to a warm cup of coffee on his desk. You add 5 sugar packets to the small mug, just how he liked it. 

You returned to your desk, sitting your mug on your desk and Spencer’s on his. You grabbed a sticky note and a pen and wrote: "For Spence <3,”before sticking it to the mug and returning to your seat.

_____

next chapter: E is for Even Guys Like Me?

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

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a/n: i'm so glad that this group of stories has been so well received :) i've worked so hard on them and am trying my best to get ahead so i can release new parts at least every other day. i love reading all the comments you guys have left too... thank you all for the support. i'm so proud of the next chapter, it's definitelymy favorite one in the series so far. it's pretty long, but in my own opinion, it's worth it. the chapters are going to start getting more relationship centered, starting next chapter!

_____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

_____

taglist: @universallyblizzardlove @ms-ks-world @justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology

[earthtooz]

in which: al haitham gives you something on his birthday.

fluff, gn!reader, quick drabble for this special scholar's birthday ^-^

“As much as I appreciate these… heavy, complicated-sounding books, it’s your birthday, Al Haitham, I’m supposed to be giving you a gift.” You explain as you move all three books under one arm. Did he expect you to finish all of these any time soon? 

Sure you enjoyed reading, but you’re not sure you can classify yourself in the same category as your bookworm-boyfriend who burrows himself in words whenever he can, hence, the intimidation you felt when he placed all of these in your arms.

“Just because you’re ‘supposed’ to give me a gift doesn’t mean I cannot gift one in return.” He counters, rationally and level-headed as ever. “Besides, you accepting these makes me satisfied with myself, and wouldn’t you say that emotional compensation is a gift in of itself?”

“There is no winning against you.”

He looks content with himself, crossing his annoyingly muscular arms over his chest with a slight smirk. “Looks like I can say ‘no’ to you.”

You roll your eyes at his comment. “Whatever. By the time I’m through with these, my arms will start looking like yours with the weight of these beasts for books.” 

Wordlessly, he takes the pile from you, holding them comfortably with both hands and relieving the strain on you. “Shall I put these down somewhere for you?”

“Just on the coffee table will do.”

Your eyes linger a little longer on the way his muscles contract as he walks around your living room, and it’s as if he can feel your stare when he shouts at you from over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready to go to Lambad’s Tavern? Everyone else may be at Avidya Forest, but at this rate, we’ll be the last ones.” 

“I hear you, I hear you,” you murmur, retreating to your bedroom.

***

A week and a half later, you find yourself relaxing with Al Haitham in the comfort of your living room again, your legs on his lap whilst his arms cage you there, a book in his hands. The cover, however, is awfully familiar, and you realise it’s one of the books he gifted you on his birthday that you were at most seven chapters through. Why was he reading it? 

“I left my bookmark in there, did you take it out?” You ask, sitting up. 

The ashen-haired raises a brow at you. “This is my copy.”

“What? Didn’t you get me that on your birthday?”

“I did. I got us both a copy, of the same edition.”

“Why?”

“Remember when you suggested that we should find more hobbies to share? This should be one of them.”

Blinking at him once, twice, three times, you burst out into a fit of giggles, enamoured by the antics of your deceivingly stoic boyfriend. Throwing your arms around his neck, the (smaller) book in your hands hits his shoulder, and you grin up at him. “You can be so silly, Al Haitham.”

Though the hobbies you had in mind looked something more like new activities neither of you had tried before, you're flattered that he wants to include you in something that he loves to indulge himself in.

“Silly? I thought this was a rather reasonable solution.”

He lets you squish his cheeks with one hand, eyes never straying from the contents of his page. You thank your lucky stars that you’re the one who gets to hold him like this, and that you’re the one he wants to read together with- in the most practical manner. “It can be both- it is both.” 

“Are you enjoying it?”

“I am, but maybe you should slow down. You’re already half way through when I’m not even one-eighth of the way.” 

“I’ll wait. We can talk about it when you’re done.”

“Is this new ‘hobby’ a satisfactory gift, Haitham?”

A small smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “Most certainly.” 

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[229zmi]

BLIND DATE

Kuroo Tetsurō/Reader | 1.1k words, fluff, reader is a little clueless at first, based off of this tiktok

“I’m sorry, what? Could you— sorry, could you repeat that?”

At the sound of Kuroo’s cackles echoing throughout the study room (that you had booked for yourself, and then he decided to invade it after spotting you through the window), you shake your head, feeling the regret creep up your neck like smoke rising from flames. Still, he continues to offer half-assed apologies in between abrupt laughs, as if that’ll soothe your embarrassment in any way.

“You heard me the first time.” You scowl when he opens his mouth to deny it, feigning cluelessness with a dumbfounded look on his face. “And your sense of humour sucks by the way. It wasn’t that funny.”

“But it is. You really want me, out of all the people, to set you up with someone?” He grins, twirling a pen around his fingers. Inwardly, you wish for the pen to suddenly fly out of control, for him to finally have a moment of failure that will eventually spiral into his downfall in the hopefully near future (a few seconds from now), but it never happens.

“Just one date,” you say, with venom preemptively hanging from the tip of your tongue in case you need to further defend yourself.

However, he surprises you when all he does is lean back in his chair instead of bursting into a fit of laughter again. His eyebrows furrow in thought, and the pen stills in his hand; he sets it down atop his notebook.

“I know someone who has a small crush on you,” he tells you after a beat. You straighten at the newfound information, suddenly interested.

“Really? Are they a friend of yours? Who is it?”

Kuroo — that bastard — shakes his head, now sporting a smug smile as he crosses his arms. “That’s classified information, I’m afraid.”

You groan. “You can’t just say that and not tell me who it is! C’mon, can you at least give me a hint?”

“Sure. What kind of hint?”

Your question hurtles toward him at lightning speed, only half-joking. “Are they rich?”

Waving his finger disapprovingly, he reprimands you, “Such a shallow question. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Yeah, well, are they?”

“Can’t say he is. He’s a college student, same university and year as us,” he says, and you act devastated over the news, slapping a dramatic hand over your chest. It’s too bad your dreams of becoming someone’s sugar baby have been crushed so tragically like this, though you suppose there are other important factors to consider as well.

“Is he—?”

“Hey, you said a hint, not multiple hints.”

“Oh, shut it. Is he hot?”

“Very,” he confirms, so quickly that it’s almost suspicious. You eye him warily, to which he shrugs. “What? Birds of a feather flock together, or something like that.”

“Yeah, okay. So he’s butt-ugly, then, by association with you.” At that, Kuroo kicks your knee as you snicker to yourself.

“You know that by saying that, you’re also calling yourself butt-ugly. Plus, I’m doing you a grand favour, and this is what I get in return?” A long sigh escapes him. “Absolutely nothing but insults. Unbelievable.”

“You’re such a baby.”

“Nothing but insults,” he repeats.

You roll your eyes. There’s no winning with him. “Fine, then. I’ll lend you my old statistics textbook. You’re taking Intro to Stats next semester, right?”

“Yup.” He smiles, and you know you’ve got yourself a deal. “I’ll text you the location and time as soon as possible.”

Disappointingly enough, your date is late.

Kuroo, however, is right on time.

You narrow your eyes at him, glancing at the outfit he’s got on. You’re used to him wearing sweatpants and hoodies with holes in the sleeves every time you see him, but today, he’s put something unusually nice on, although you’re not entirely sure why. You’re also not sure why he’s here, outside of the café and at the exact time he told you your date had agreed to meet you.

“Where’s my date?” you ask before looking around for the umpteenth time to check if he’s arrived yet. However, your movement is stopped when Kuroo gently places a hand under your chin, guiding your focus back to him.

A sly grin reveals itself; his hazel eyes twinkle beneath the glow of the café’s hanging fairy lights.

“Right here. I’m your date.”

You frown, still puzzled. “What? But you said a few days ago, you were gonna set me up with someone who—“

Wait a minute.

Oh, you realise.

Then, you shut your eyes tightly, turning away from him.

“What are you doing?” There’s a slight chuckle in his voice that he doesn’t even attempt to hide, obviously entertained by your actions. He steps to the side to see your face, but you turn away again. “Hey, is my hair really that ugly? I tried combing it down like a gazillion times this morning, I swear.”

“No, just—” You stick your arm out, and Kuroo holds onto it awkwardly, both concerned for you and unsure of what he’s supposed to do. “Pinch me, please. I think I’m dreaming.”

“Oh. You’re not dreaming,” he assures you, opting to instead rest his hands on your shoulders, yet it’s pointless in getting you to look at him. Stubborn as always, he thinks fondly.

“That’s exactly what someone in my dreams would say.”

“Ah, I see. So, I’m the man of your dreams?”

Bingo. Picturing himself doing a victory dance in his head, Kuroo watches you open your eyes to glare at him for his remark. His celebration is short-lived, though, because in a matter of seconds, you’re quick to point out, “You’re blushing.”

Rubbing a hand over his cheek as if to erase the pinkish hue, he denies the observation. “I’m not.”

“You are.” You feel all giddy inside, with your heart feeling like it’s about to leap out of your chest, walk inside the café, and buy a cup of coffee. You’re worried a gooey mess of feelings is what’s going to spill onto the pavement if you so much as speak too quickly, so your question comes out tentative, like a butterfly’s wings fluttering in the wind, “And… you like me?”

That, he cannot deny. But there’s a poor attempt at it anyway. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I said a small crush.”

“Really?”

“Really.” A pause. Then, he adds sheepishly, “Well, maybe it’s a little more than that.”

Your expression breaks into a grin at the confession, but before you can tease him any more for the blush that has now spread to the back of his neck, he pulls the door to the café open and uses his free hand to gesture towards the interior, bowing his head slightly.

“For my lovely date,” he says, looking up just to wink at you. Whether this is actually to charm you or just to distract you from his embarrassment, you can’t tell.

Nevertheless, as cheesy as it is, you decide to play along, intertwining your fingers through his and extending your gratitude to him for his chivalrous act before pulling him along as you head inside.

notes: another kuroo fic 4 the Kuroo kissers ♥︎ tumblr user @kyoghurts i hope u like it teehee

[monzabee]

hot girls support 44 – lh44

masterlist

Summary: The one where your husband realises that you are, indeed, his number one fan.

Pairing: lewis hamiton x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: cursing? (i’m not even sure), and a whole lot of fluff

Request: “Hi can you do we’re Lewis Hamilton wife is with him to see one of his races but she leaves the garage for some reason and over hears someone talking bad about her husband and she snaps and tells them straight and Lewis is watching her from a distance like damn that’s my wife”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i don’t know if this classifies as a drabble but let’s just pretend it does because i realised that i can’t write anything under 1k? this was a very fun request to work on, so thank you to anon, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Both you and Lewis are private people when it came to your relationship. It has always been that way, with him leading a lifestyle in front of the cameras, and you preferring to stay away from those said cameras as much as you can. Over time, you both developed a rhythm, a delicate balance between Lewis's public persona and your desire for privacy. It was an unspoken agreement, an understanding that you valued above all else.. You knew how much Lewis's racing career meant to him, and you admired his ability to excel under the constant scrutiny. And in return, Lewis respected your wish for a quieter, more intimate life together. It was this mutual respect that solidified the foundation of your relationship, allowing it to thrive despite the challenges that fame and attention often brought.

That is not to say that you guys were completely private, of course. You’ve had your fair share of events the two of you attended as a couple, as well as races, but Lewis is always mindful of the fact that you don’t want cameras in your faces. In the early days of your relationship, the media had tried to capture glimpses of your relationship, eager to uncover every detail and learn more about the woman who finally made him give up his bachelor status. However, Lewis, being the fiercely protective partner that he was, had firmly set boundaries to shield your personal life from the prying eyes of the world. He cherished the sanctity of your bond and understood the importance of keeping certain moments sacred and away from the public eye.

The two of you have a special routine for the race days where you decide to join him on the track – you mainly spend your time inside the Mercedes garage, instead of lingering around where the cameras are most likely to be. However, you make sure to leave the garage for celebrations for those races where Lewis is up on the podium, celebrating him with the people who support him every step along the way whom he appreciates immensely; while the podium celebrations were reserved for the public eye, the garage held its own intimate victories. It was here that you celebrated the milestones and shared the unspoken triumphs, basking in the knowledge that your presence was an unwavering pillar of support for Lewis. But for the most part, you’re happy with your routine – it’s safe, familiar and it has worked for a very long time. So you don’t really know why you decided to take Roscoe on an impromptu tour of the paddock, especially when he gives you that look which clearly says that he would rather be taking his afternoon nap.

It's a good day despite the chaos everyone on the paddock seems to be in, but then again, there’s only a few hours until the qualifying session. So, in hopes of avoiding the human traffic, you decide to take Roscoe to a more secluded area in the back. As you walk, Roscoe happily wagging his tail by your side, you take in the sights and sounds of the paddock. The familiar smell of rubber and gasoline fills the air, mingling with the excited murmurs of fans and the distant roar of engines. It's a world you've come to know and appreciate, even if from a slightly different perspective. Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly hear voices growing louder as you approach a group of people gathered in conversation. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you slow your pace, intending to discreetly eavesdrop before continuing on your way. But as you get closer, you realize the topic of their conversation hits closer to home than you expected.

In hindsight, you know better to get involved in situations which might cause you to bother yourself with rude, petty people, but when it concerns your husband and everything that he has worked hard his entire life for, you don’t even hesitate. With the fierce protectiveness you feel inside, you clear your throat to get the attention of the engineers, “Excuse me,” you say as you give them a (fake) smile, “could you repeat that again, please?”

The group falls silent, their faces registering surprise and perhaps a touch of embarrassment. They exchange glances, seemingly unsure of how to respond to your unexpected intrusion. “We just meant that–” The man is quickly silenced by one of his friends elbowing him in the side.

You ignore the silent ow that comes from the man’s mouth and give the trio a stare down. “Well, I guess everybody is entitled to their opinions.” Your sweet smile and dulcet tone is enough to think them that everything is fine, but you’re quick to continue voicing your thoughts, “But that doesn’t give you the right to undermine a man’s hard work, especially when he has broken record after record and don’t even get me started on the fact that not only he is a pioneer in this sport, he is also a role model and inspiration to many and has impact beyond the track.” You let a frustrated hum, “Also, have some respect, the guy is an eight-time world champion.”

The guy who spoke before looks confused as he attempts to point out, “He won it seven–”

“Do you want me to let Roscoe attack you?” You ask as you point to the puppy sitting next to you, who, in hearing his name, looks up at you; all panting and happily sticking his tongue out.

Little do you know, Lewis had been watching the entire scene unfold from a distance, a mix of admiration and adoration in his eyes. He waits until the engineers leave in a hurry, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. A smile tugs at the corners of Lewis's lips as he watches you handle the situation with such grace and confidence. As you turn around, ready to head back to the safety of the Mercedes garage, your eyes meet his, and a surge of warmth fills your heart. Walking towards you, Lewis closes the distance between you, his steps purposeful and full of pride. His arms quickly find their place on your waist as he mumbles, “Damn, that’s my wife.”

You roll your eyes at his antics, your face quickly mirroring the smile he gives to you. “Didn’t you see the sign? Apparently, ‘hot girls support 44’.”

“Is that so?” He hums, letting his hands wonder towards the back pockets of your jeans as he continuously presses kisses along your jaw, “It’s definitely right.”

As Lewis's lips trail along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine, you playfully swat at his chest. "Behave, Mr. World Champion. We're in a public place," you whisper, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside you.

Lewis chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with love and mischief. "Can't help it, love. Seeing you stand up for me like that, it's a turn-on," he teases, his voice laced with admiration. "But you're right, let's save the public displays of affection for later."

With a shared understanding and a silent promise, you and Lewis turn, making your way back to the familiar comfort of the Mercedes garage. In each other's presence, you find solace and strength, ready to face whatever lies ahead. And as Roscoe happily trots beside you, you can't help but feel grateful for the extraordinary life you share with the man who has captured your heart, both on and off the track.

[ambiguouslady42]

Pairing: Emo! Nanami Kento x You

Content: Fluff, Angst, Smut MDNI

Summary: Your first time with Emo! Nanami.

Word count: 3.2K

Note: This was inspired by one of my fav Pulp songs, Do You Remember the First Time?

Tags: @hayatoseyepatch, @awkwardchick87, @peachsukii, @jellyfishart

Thank you, Sam and Salem for the help!

You have fallen for Nanami Kento. Every time you were paired on a mission, he’d do everything he could to make sure that you would walk out of there unscathed. You watched as he stepped in front of you to make the first move. You thought he was being a gentleman, but he was just making sure to assess the situation so that no lives would be lost. He was carrying the guilt of dealing with the loss of his friend. You made an effort at times to protect him when you could; it would frustrate him because at times he thought you were reckless to get in his way, but you wanted to show him that you were just as capable of protecting him. 

One particular mission was a close call. You watched Nanami struggling to be able to deal with this particular curse. Initially, you thought this would be simple, but the curse wasn’t classified correctly. There was no mistake that this was a grade 1 level curse. You were struggling to stand after being hit constantly. Nanami was injured and could barely hold his blade, as he was about to attack the curse, it decided to try to attack you instead. You were on the floor unable to move; you thought this would be a moment to accept your fate. You lived your life trying to protect those you cared about. Just as you believe this was your moment to pass, the curse chose to go to attack Nanami. 

You didn’t want to lose him; your heart felt like it was going to break into pieces. The adrenaline in your body aids you in getting up. Watching the one you love about to be attacked was all you needed to make your ambush. Within seconds, the curse was obliterated. As you stand in front of Nanami, you collapse. 

“Talk to me! Hey! Wake up!” he begins to blur as you fall. 

As you open your eyes, he holds you in his arms. The relief you felt on his face made you sob into his chest. You would do anything for him, even give your life away if it meant he got to live for another day. He held you and told you it was all okay. 

“No, it’s not. I know you think I'm stupid for trying to take on this curse on my own.” you continued to cry.

“It was, but…thank you. You didn't need to do that, so why did you?” he answered gently. 

“Because…” you said quietly, “you wouldn’t understand.”

Nanami did feel something towards you, he noticed the way you looked at him. He observed the way that you listened to him or the way you remembered his favourite sandwich order. In return, he got you your favourite soda from the machine. He constantly waited for you outside of your dorm to walk you to class or as you head out on your missions together. You just thought he was being nice, but you’d take it all because you were in love. However, risking your life was the ultimate form of love.

“Try me”, he continued to be gentle with you. This time, he began to rub his hand on your back. 

You pulled away from his hold. Your eyes were red, but you felt this was now or never. “I have to tell you something…I think I’m in love with you. You’ll think I’m stupid, but I don’t care. Even if we just remain friends, I’ll eventually move on and I won’t be a forethought in your mind.”

His face turned red. You were eager to brush his bangs to the side so you could fully see his face. Even if he didn’t return your affection, it would be okay. Now you put it out there and you could move forward if he didn’t return your affections.

“I think…I may feel the same way about you” he respondd. “I wish you wouldn’t have jumped in front of the curse for me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t successful. I just couldn't…”

The guilt started to build up now, and you began to cry again. You didn’t mean to worry him, but you did this because you couldn’t bear the pain. You would protect anyone who you held closest to your heart. 

“Shh…Thank you. I won’t forget about this.” he proceeded to kiss the top of your head. 

“What do we do now?” you spoke as you looked up at him.

“We do our best and spend time together. Graduation is coming up, so let’s make the best of it.”

He realized that you can’t quite get up, so he carried you, bridal style. You felt the heat in your face, but Nanami just looked at you and confirmed with a small smile that this is more than okay for him. You kissed his cheek and continued back towards campus. 

At first, each small, gentle kiss would just be enough to tide you over before class. Over time, you two would sneak off to share the kind of kisses that nobody else should have to witness. Each time you made out, he would hold you closely; you would run your hands through his blonde hair. You saw it as the perfect excuse to play with his bangs as you would grab his face to continue kissing him. The way he held you was very chaste, at first. Eventually, his hands shifted lower to your hips. You allow him to explore at times; you permitted him to grab your ass at times. The kisses eventually weren’t enough. 

After a short period, you began to have sleepovers. You weren’t ready to give yourself fully to him. He respected your choices and he would follow your lead when it came to knowing how far you could go. It was so difficult to share a bed sometimes. Each time you touched, you felt hungrier for him. You allow him to go under your shirt. As he was lying next to you, you felt him get hard. You blush and begin to embrace him and bury yourself on his shoulder. What are you supposed to do? He kisses your forehead and tells you that you don’t have to do anything. You allowed him to explore your breasts with his hands. You were feeling adventurous this evening, so you let his mouth feel each breast; he kisses your nipples so gently. This sensation that you feel is new to you. You see that his hard-on getting tighter on his skinny jeans, so you nudge him to stop. He immediately does so. You share soft, tender kisses and rub your noses together. You held each other to sleep and felt excited about the possibilities of you and him.

Then the dreaded day came. Yaga informs you that Nanami would be leaving Jujutsu High after graduation. You felt angry. You stormed out of his office and went to your dorm. You slam the door and just sob into your pillow. You could still smell traces of him on your bed. 

“Why didn’t he talk to me about this?”, you thought. 

You hear a knock on your door. “It’s me. Can we talk about this?”

“No, go away,” you shout back.

“Please, darling. You have to understand.” he pleads through the door.

“Why should I listen to you? You already made up your mind. Just go away.”

“It’s not just about you��please, hear me out.”

You get up and open the door. “Talk” you command him. You’re standing now with arms crossed and glaring at him.

“There’s simply no point in staying here and waiting for the day when we’ll die on a mission. I’m tired of constantly worrying if you’ll be back or if I'll be back. I’m still grateful to you for saving my life, but…I can’t keep doing this. Sorcery is dangerous. I want a chance of a normal life and live. You could come with me…we wouldn’t have to lay out our lives every day.”

You were fuming at this point. “I can’t. I can’t turn my back away from those that are helpless. We have been granted a gift, and while I’m able, I will not stand down and give up. I can’t do that. I thought you and I would be together, no matter what. We know the risks, but we have each other. We’re a team.”

“I…can’t do this anymore. Haibara was already too much of a loss and I can’t bear to lose…”

“Just stop right there. I’m the one who risked my life for you. I’d do it over again. I’d do it 100 times over again. I don’t regret it once.” you shout back. “If this is how you see it, then we have nothing more to talk about.”

“Please…just listen…” he pleads

“Stop. We’re done. Just get out. I don’t want to see you. Jujutsu society still needs us. If you want to quit, I’m not going to hold you back. Do what you have to do.” You turn around and wait for him to leave.”

“If that’s really want you want” he expresses somberly. You hear the door close gently behind you. You jump back into your bed and curl into a ball. You sob as you realize what you have done. 

It was graduation day; You were ready to be a full-on Jujutsu sorcerer in society. Nanami stood next to you. Stoic and expressionless. You gave him a warm smile, acknowledging the decision he made. Leaving Jujutsu Society would allow Nanami a chance at living a normal life, but that also meant that you’d likely not see him again. You accept the terms that come with this, but you wish you could apologize for the way you treated him, or even share one final kiss? 

After the ceremony, you walk back to your room. You sit on your bed and contemplate what the future holds now that Nanami won’t be in the picture anymore. Just as you were about to get up, you saw Nanami standing outside of your door. “I figured you would be here,” he says gently.

“Just saying goodbye before I move away from here. My parents would help me find an apartment in the city,” you tell him. 

“That’s good…listen, I know that our last conversation was unpleasant, but I just want you to know that you can still come with me if you want.”

“I’m sorry, Ken…my place is here in Jujutsu Society. I stand by everything I said to you. As long as I'm able, I swear to protect others. With that said, I don’t hold any grudges towards you. The only thing is, I’m sad I likely won’t see you again.” you tell him solemnly. You reach out to grab his hand. He returns the gesture.

“I understand. Just do everything you can to stay safe. If we ever run into each other, promise me we won’t be strangers.”

“I promise, Ken”.

Both of you look at each other and embrace. You hold each other tight. You don’t know if this will be the last time you see each other. You stare at each other with longing. Without forethought, you kiss. Just as you pull away, you nod to him. You go back to kissing him, but this time, one of longing and one filled with desperation. You start to run your hands through his hair as he begins to gently bite your lower lip. You begin biting his upper lip and you share a laugh. As he lowers you to the bed, you begin rushing to take off his jacket. He slowly runs his hand on your thigh. As he does so, he begins to move his hand to feel your ass. As the jacket comes off,  you begin to slowly unbutton his shirt. You stop kissing for a moment.

You look at him with reassurance,  “I’m…ready.”

“Okay, darling. If you ever want to stop, just say the word.” he coos.

“Yes, Ken. You bring him back towards you to continue kissing. He sits you up to take off your jacket and to begin unbuttoning your shirt. He hasn’t had to take off your bra in a while, but you help him. You both giggle as you begin to explore each other. You kiss his shoulders and make your way to his neck. You place small gentle kisses and he moans. You take this as a good sign and you continue to trace kisses around his neck. He pins you down to the bed and decides to kiss your neck. He is curious to know if you’ll react the same way he did. As he’s kissing you, your breathing becomes heavier. He decides to kiss his way to your exposed breasts. His hot tongue finds your left nipple. This is the moment you release a loud moan. You become embarrassed, but your Ken doesn’t stop. He begins to suck on your nipple and your moans just signal him to continue. You feel like you are at his mercy. You begin to gently pull his hair as your moans get louder. He traces kisses towards your breast. “Do…you want me to…stop?” he asks teasingly. 

“No, fuck…no.” as you’re struggling to make out words. He kisses you and begins to nibble on your right breast. You don’t feel afraid to give yourself away to him. “I need…more,” you whisper to him. 

At this point, you're both still wearing the lower halves of your uniforms. You slowly begin to unbutton his pants. He picks you to take your skirt off. You’re wearing your tights, and he gently removes them. All that’s left now is both of you in your underwear. You continue to kiss and you allow his hands to explore your body. He’s touching every place that would have always been fun to touch. He grazes your belly with his fingers. You begin to laugh in between the kisses, so he knows this place tickles. He loves hearing your laugh. His hands trace back to your outer thighs, moving closer to your inner thigh. You moan in between his kisses. You look up at him and nod. This nod expresses your permission that you’re okay with what he wants to do. He slowly works his way inside of your underwear and feels your pussy with his hand. You feel nervous at this point and just grab onto his arms. “Are you okay?” he whispers

“Yeah, this is..just a little scary…it’s new,” you respond.

You nod for him to continue. He proceeds to slide his finger in you. He doesn’t know what to do, but he feels the warmth between your legs. He notices that it’s also very wet. As he continues to explore his fingers in you, you begin to moan. He takes note of how this is making you feel. As he explores further, he finds a particular spot that makes you grab onto him even harder. “Mmmm…Ken, right there!.” This further encourages him to make you do that again. His finger proceeds to do a come hither motion. “Oh…My.”, are the only words you can say as you feel you’re about to scream. “Ken…I…need..y….” He proceeds to steal a kiss from you and you melt into him. Your hand traces his shoulders and you make little hearts on his back. You move your way down to play with the elastic of his underwear. You gently play with it to lower it just slightly. He stops kissing you. “Are you ready?” 

“Yeah, I’m ready. I trust you.” you gently kiss him.

As he slowly removes your underwear, you proceed to remove his. You decide to just gently feel his ass. He blushes slightly and you kiss his nose. “I love you. I always will.”

“I love you too.”

You lay on top of each other. His cock has girth and you’re nervous. You grab it and gently guide it inside you. As he gently shoves it inside you, you wince a bit in pain. “Are you…okay?” he asks you, worriedly.

“It’s okay…sweetheart. Don’t stop.” your grabbing onto his arms as he fully shoves his cock inside of you. As it’s inside, he sees a tear run down your face. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks you again.

“I’ll be…okay.” as another tear comes down. He kisses your face where the tears are streaming. “Just remember, say the word and we’ll stop.” You nod. He proceeds to slowly thrust into you. Your arms intertwine around his. As he’s thrusting, you think about how all of this feels perfect, despite the pain you feel temporarily. You feel like something is building up inside of you. “K..en…don’t stop.” You grab his face and you kiss him hungrily. As you feel every inch inside of you, you begin to moan as your tongues touch. “Mmm…darling…” you continue to moan. Nanami decides to see what would happen if he kisses your neck as you feel his balls deep inside of you. “Ahhhhhh…sweetheart…I…lo…” you’re struggling to say words at this point. “Shh…I know.” as he proceeds to trace you with kisses. Your moans are further indication that you’re enjoying this. You’re enjoying him.

“Oh my g…darling”, his voice goes up an octave. “I’m cum…” he releases his orgasm into you. You soon follow as you feel him finishing inside of you. You stare at each other and giggle before sharing one final kiss. He proceeds to get off you and lays next to you. You embrace him. You know this would be the only time this will happen. You won’t see him again after today. All you know is that you belong to each other, just for today. 

The years go by. You still thought about him. You miss him, but your duties as a Jujutsu Sorcerer kept you busy. You knew you had to focus on the missions at hand. Whenever you successfully exorcise a curse, you wonder if hethink about you from time to time. The feeling never waned, even with all the exhaustion and paperwork you had to do.

He spent his time in an office environment. The work is shit, but he kept living his life day by day. He wondered if you thought about him; were you alive and well? He longed to see you just one more time. One day, he stopped by a bakery to grab lunch. He noticed that the girl working there had a pestering curse on her shoulder. The moment he chose to exorcise the curse on her shoulder, it all just clicked. He finally understood the sense of duty you had. After hearing the girl’s “thank you” countless times, he knew he had to make a phone call. 

On this day, you are walking on campus and suddenly you notice a tall figure. He sees you and makes eye contact with you. Your smile never changed. His smile is just the way you remember it. Although, he traded his skinny jeans for a khaki suit, blue shirt, and the odd tie. You both stand in front of each other. He still feels a longing for you. 

You both share a common thought, “do you remember the first time?”

All he hopes for after all these years, with whatever number of lovers you took on, did you save a piece just for him?

[amyelevenn]

All I know is that you drove us off the road

PAIRING; Oscar Piastri x driver!reader

SUMMARY; Oscar insists on taking you to the airport after a race, but faces engine problems on the way there.

WARNINGS; none really - mainly fluff! maybe a car breaking down?

A/N; I really enjoyed writing this! let me know any thoughts and feelings are always appreciated!

1.8k words masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

“No, please. I can make my own way to the airport, Piastri,” you laugh, giving him a shit eating grin at his implication. “I can drive, ya know.”

It was the Monday after the Melbourne Grand Prix; it wasn’t a particularly notable race for either of you, despite you both finishing in point scoring positions. It wasn’t an overly entertaining race; no flags or spectacular overtakes from anyone in particular.

“You were drunk last night, not sure you should be driving,” he grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes.

A couple drinks were consumed the night before at a local bar Oscar’s friends had told you about. It wasn’t much, not overly busy on a random Sunday night in March. It allowed for some kind of anonymity, something that was quickly becoming a foreign concept to you.

You shove his shoulder, giggling as you feign anger. “I had two drinks! In what world does that classify as being drunk?”

Oscar rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a happy chuff. “Please, come to the airport with me. I’m going that way anyway!”

It’s hard not to deadpan at him; you may not have been a local, but you knew well enough that the Melbourne Airport wasn’t exactly near anything else. It was well over an hour from the city, where he was claiming to be headed.

“Osc, just accept the no,” you half beg, beginning to roll your suitcase away from him and towards where your team were gathered. You almost manage to take two steps before his hand wraps around your arm, pulling you back in his direction.

He had miscalculated how close you would end up being to him – you were mere inches away from his face, bodies all but pressed against each other.

“I insist. Let me take you to the airport, love,” he mutters, with an air of intimacy that came with the proximity.

You hadn’t realised you were holding your breath in anticipation until your body forced you to sigh. Finally, you give in to his insistence, silently nodding in acceptance. He takes a second, closely examining your face, before moving in the direction of his car. your face heats up ever so slightly, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach not something you were wanting to experience.

You are just friends, a little voice screams in the back of your mind. But the way he looks at you makes you wonder – what if there could be something more?

You were quick with your goodbyes to your team, informing them Oscar had pestered your walls down enough to convince you to ride with him. You comically exaggerate it as much as you can, making him into some sort of creepy guy who doesn’t leave you alone until you finally agree to go out with him. They all laugh, hard, which confuses you until a hand taps on your shoulder, revealing the man himself standing awkwardly behind you.

You excuse yourself from the group, laughter echoing behind you as you and Oscar walk away, his teasing grin matching your own.

“You really think I’m some annoying loser?” he teases, bumping his elbow into yours as you enter the hotel carpark. You barely even notice his hand resting softly on the small of your back as he guides you towards his car.

“Ha ha,” you sarcastically laugh, purposely losing all tone from your voice. He shakes his head as he silently giggles to himself, opening the passenger door for you. You thank him faintly, making a mental note of his little actions that have really established him at the respectful, gentlemanly one on the grid; and rightfully so.

Getting in himself, he revs the engine before pulling away from the crowded midday carpark. A soft silence envelops you, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the radio. It wasn’t uncomfortable, nor foreign, sitting in the quiet of each other’s presence. In fact, the tranquillity was a welcomed constant in your ever busy careers.

You had known Oscar for a couple years now, and he was one of the few drivers who actively went out of his way to maintain a positive relationship off the track, despite your lives depending on besting the other ever odd weekend.

As the car navigated the city’s complex grid, the beauty of Albert Park in autumn faded from view, leaving you in awe of the towering Melbournian metropolis—a testament to human ingenuity that always amazed you.

“You drove really well yesterday,” he gives, not necessarily trying to fill the comfortable silence.

“Thank you, Osc. It was certainly better than the crash I had in Bahrain!” you laugh, beginning to find it increasingly hard to ignore his constant glances over to you. “You drove a great race too! That overtake of Leclerc was really quite something.”

He sighs, dismissing the comment as if it meant nothing. He tried so hard to act nonchalant on the surface, but internally? He adored hearing any praise you had for him, even if it wasn’t directly from you, but instead Lando or the PR manager telling him you said ‘Osc is so beyond talented!’

It didn’t take much for you to compliment him, which was the best part; he was always doing something amazing that prompted telling him just how good he was, or how lucky he had gotten that day, or how cool his special livery looked.

Even it was miniscule, you always had a comment for him that would make his day.

You hadn’t even noticed the car slowing to a stop, pulling over on the side of some random suburban road until you were at a full stop, the engine beginning to smoke under the hood.

“Oscar what the hell have you done…” you raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Uh, I’m not sure but I reckon we should maybe get out of the car,” he stutters, pushing himself out of his side before opening the hood to assess the severity of the situation.

You shook your head in disbelief, a chuckle escaping your lips at the absurdity of your situation. Here you are, stuck on the side of the road, while a Formula 1 driver fumbles under the hood. Talk about irony.

It was difficult, watching him rattle around underneath the hood when he clearly had no expertise here and not laugh your ass off. “This feels like…some sort of karma for forcing me to ride with you. I thought you knew how to drive?” you finally laugh, the ludicrosity of it all hitting you like a brick wall.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you watched him struggle – maybe he needed more than a racing licence to handle car troubles.

“Hey, i didn’t twist your arm to get in, love,” he huffs. “And I am an amazing driver, thank you so very much.” He tries to stifle the smile breaking out on his face, but you notice it before it got hidden away.

Before you are able to retaliate, a middle-aged couple emerges from the house you had broken down in front of.

“You fellas alright?” the man asks, pushing the gate outwards so they have a better vantage point over the smoking vehicle.

“We are so sorry, are we in the way?” you ask, putting on a sympathetic show that you had become so used to having for the fans. “We were just about to call for help, they shouldn’t take too long to get here.”

“Nah mate, they’ll take foreva to get ‘ere and cost ya an arm an’ a leg. Let me help youse,” he offers, but doesn’t allow you the option as he waddles over to where Oscar is still hunched over.

The woman moves to stand next to you, introducing herself, Kristyn, and her husband, Mitch. You give yours in return, to which she compliments you on your name. “’ve never met one before,” she muses, repeating your name gently under her breath to herself.

You smile softly, making light small talk as Mitch explains to Oscar what is at fault with the engine.

“You two seem like a gorgeous couple. How long’ve you been datin’?” she asks, not noticing the caught-off-guard expression you have on your face.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as she compliments you, your heart racing at the unexpected attention. It almost bugs you more than you would have anticipated, a sense of embarrassment creeping along your flushed skin.

You ponder telling her the truth, that you aren’t together, but figure it would be easier to go along with it, for her and your sake.

“Almost a year now, yeah,” you smile, feigning a sense of admiration for your ‘boyfriend.’

“Aw, bless your sweet young hearts,” she hums, gently patting your shoulder as if to say you had her approval. It was weird, but it felt nice to have her endorsement of a relationship that wasn’t even real. Maybe you wanted more with Oscar?

You nod along, answering any and all of her follow up questions about him, like how you met, how he asked you out, if marriage was on the table. You almost enjoyed making up a whole story for her, weaving this intricate narrative for her to invest herself in. the pair of you had gotten so caught up in each other that you hadn’t noticed the car being put back together, Mitch reviving the engine in approval of a job well done.

“Well, at least he isn’t the only one who can’t handle car troubles!” you muse, laughing with Kristyn as the boys make their way over to you.

Mitch wraps a lose arm around his wife, and you follow his lead as you intertwine your own around Oscars waist, to which he accepts with no questions.

“Thank you so much for your troubles,” he murmurs. “Can i give you some money or something? It’s the least we could do.”

The couple scoff in sync, laughing at the idea of being paid for merely helping out a stranger. “Nah, we don’t want your dough mate. Just don’t blow the car up, that’ll be enough.”

“Are you sure? Please, let us compensate you in some way, as a thank you,” you suggest.

“Maybe you should drive instead of him, aye?” Kristyn laughs, breaking the four of you into a fit of giggles. You nod in agreement, to which Oscar immediately shoots down with the reason of it’s his car.

“Well, thank you again for your help. We really appreciate it.” Oscar squeezes your shoulders, then releases you as he walks over to the passenger side to open it for you. It wasn’t until then that you realised how much you had been leaning into his side, missing the warmth of him almost immediately. You say your goodbyes, telling them it was really nice to meet them, and one final thank you for their kindness.

As you drive on, laughter spilling between you, you can’t help but think maybe this unexpected detour was just what you needed to explore what’s brewing beneath the surface.

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

as always, feedback is appreciated!

[kvrokasaa]

Please, Don't Leave Me

Karasu x reader

cw: Gn!pronouns but afab!reader, reader has female genitalia, implied cunnilingus, and sex, suggestive themes at the end, angst-ish, fluff, kinda forced plot ngl, Karasu's accent might be off, not proofread, Otoya being respectful to a woman 😨, Isagi and Bachira are mentioned once.

2.5k words

Today felt off. Well, more specifically, the past week has felt off. You don’t know if you’re the only one feeling this way. But it’s like the shift in your relationship has turned.

Every time you try and get attention from your boyfriend, he waves you off. Literally. He waves his hand, acting as if you’re a fly pestering him.

You don’t know what started this behavior. Just two weeks ago you both were fine. Visiting your family and having a nice time. You know it wasn’t anything your family said, they don’t pry into your relationships. But you can’t seem to figure it out for the life of you.

Just last night when you came over to his place, you tried to ask if he wanted to watch a movie with you. It was movie night, every week you both dedicate a night to watching movies, whatever happens, happens. But Karasu simply shrugged and said, “ ’s late and I have early practice tomorrow.”

Karasu never shrugs off movie night.

As to get some clarification for why this is happening, you decide to show up at his practice. And it wasn’t early morning, which made you even more confused.

So much questions and so little answers.

As you make your way to the field, they stopped playing for minute to catch their breaths and drink some water, you pass by a few of his teammates. They all give you confused glances.

You’ve never once showed up to his practices. Only to his games. It’s not because you didn’t want to, he just never asked and you didn’t want to intrude.

You carry a little bag in your hand. He forgot his lunch and, being a good s/o, you decided to bring it with you.

“Hey baby,” the words come out as you rest your head on his back. “You forgot your lunch, here.”

You hand him the bag. It’s already past noon, but you’re guessing he didn’t have anything to eat unless his friends offered some of their food.

He only grunted in response and took the bag from your hand, rather forcefully too. “Thanks.” His response was curt.

He made his way to the benches and set the bag down.

“Why have you been ignoring me,” you’re not sure ignoring was the right word, but it was among the similarities of the traits he’s been showing you this past week. “I’m not ignoring ya.” His voice was laced with malice. You don’t know why, but your body reacted before your brain as it flinched a little.

His words, even the mean ones, never seemed to startle you. But after the agonizing thoughts every night, which caused less and less sleep, you couldn’t think straight. Which resulted in your body moving before you could think to stop it.

If he was concerned or remorseful about his attitude, he didn’t show it. His face was hardened and still, as if it was sculpted.

“It doesn’t feel like that. You’ve been putting me off all week. Not even a good morning text. What’s…” Your voice died off as you saw him turn around and glare at you. He’s acting like you broke one of his million dollar vases, which he does own unironically.

“Is that what ya want? A ‘good morning’ text, a ‘how was your day?’ text? I’m working my ass off all day to provide for me and you and yer complaining that I don’t show enough love? Just be grateful for once in our fucking relationship.”

You wanted to bite back, to tell him that you work too. Sure your job doesn’t pay as well as his does, but he also has the inheritance from his family to back him up. You don’t. You get up every morning and work, you don’t complain either. Sure, what you’re doing now can be classified as complaining, but you rarely ever open your mouth to complain. And you are grateful, you don’t know how many times you’ve been grateful in your relationship with him. It’s not a chore for you, but he’s acting like you’ve never said, ‘thank you,’ to him once.

But you bite your tongue when he opens his mouth again. “I don’t think ya understand, Y/n. I play soccer for me; this is the only chance I get to be away from you. But now you show up and have to ruin everything. Get it through yer thick skull, I don’t want you around unless it’s necessary.”

Your eyes widen at his last sentence. Did he think you were a chore to be around? Did he only want you around when he felt it was convenient? Did he ever think of you as his s/o?

You aren’t one to cry in public places, sometimes you even hold back your tears in your own bedroom. You don’t like the feeling of tears sliding down your cheeks. You hate the feeling of pain and failure. You’ve never even cried in front of your own boyfriend and you have been together for six months now.

But you can’t stop the tear from falling down your cheek and onto the grassy field. You manage to stop the next one, and the one after that. You sniffle and nod your head. You have nothing left to say to him, if he wants space, then you’ll give him space. This is just him setting his boundaries, right?

Right.

“Okay.” You don’t know how, but you manage to hold your head up and keep your tears at bay, along with your voice neutral. “If you really feel that way, then I’ll leave.”

There were many implications behind your words. You could mean the relationship or just the field where you stand in now. You honestly don’t know which one of them you meant. But you let your legs take you away from his one happy place.

He chose his career over you, and you’re fine with that. But you being fine with that doesn’t mean you will settle into this little routine.

You’ll dip your feet into the water, see how much of an impact his words leave in your relationship. If you don’t like the ripples in the water, then you’ll just leave.

He hears scoffs and snorts from his team as he snaps back to reality. “What the fuck dude? All they did was ask you a simple question.” Isagi chimes in. “Yeah man. You did not need to blow up that like.”

Otoya looks over at Isagi and nods his head, “I’m going with Isagi on this one.”

Karasu scoffs. “Shut it, fuckboy. You-” “Don’t tell me what to do moron. You made them fucking cry.”

He made you cry? You’ve never cried before, at least not in front of him. Was he so lost in thought that he didn’t even see your tears? Did his words hurt you that much?

“You gotta fix this before it’s too late~.” Bachira voiced Karasu's thoughts.

...

Your house seems bare and lonely without the smile on your face, or the warm touches from him. Your plants seem to reflect your emotions, droopy and sad.

You make your way to your bedroom, ready to sulk in bed for the rest of the day. Thanks to it being a weekend, you have the day off. Which means you could sulk for as long as you want.

You pull the weighted blanket onto your body and sigh contentedly at the comfort. This is the only comfort you need right now, a stupid rom-com, some junk food, and a good amount of weight.

Your phone goes off before you can delve into the movie too much. You sigh, already knowing who it’s from. You picked it up and just as you guessed, Karasu.

He had a written a whole paragraph about how sorry he is and that he would be glad to make it up to you. You opted to just text him back with:

It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean it haha, it’s late so I’ll talk in the morning. Goodnight!

You already know that he’s going to think something’s up. Let him, he deserves the cold shoulder, an insidious voice sang in the back of your mind. As much as you want to brush the voice away, you know that it’s true. He does deserve the cold shoulder. You’ve been nothing but good to him and he treats you like this?

You let your thoughts run wild and finally determine that you'll respect his words for a bit. If he wants you to leave him alone, you'll leave him alone. You won't go to his practices and games or make him his lunches anymore.

A few hours passed by as you dwelled in your bed. You should probably text some of your friends and ask for a night out. But honestly, you just wanted to stay in and eat all the junk you can.

You've watched at least three rom-com movies; some made you laugh and some made you cry. You want to say that you mainly cringed, but what you mainly did was wish Karasu could act like some of the male leads.

Yeah, he remembers your favorite food and gets you as many things as you want. But you wish he would put away his pride and apologize.

Before you knew it, your eyes drifted off while your mind rambled about Karasu.

...

The smell of pancakes and eggs woke you from your slumber. You yawned and stretched your muscles as you made your way out of bed. You weren't too shocked to see Karasu in your kitchen with the 'kiss the cook' apron you gifted him as a joke on his birthday.

When you two had an argument, he would always cook you food, buy you things, and spend the entire day with you. But those things are meaningless after the argument you had the other day.

But you still let him try.

He smiles when he sees your sleepy face. But his smile turned into a pout when he saw your runny mascara and puffy/red eyes. He did that. He made you cry. Karasu walks up to you and brings you into his arms.

"I'm sorry pretty baby," he kissed your forehead. "I don't deserve you."

You snort at that; there's something you both can agree on. He smiles when he hears your snort. Step one: make you laugh: check.

You both sit at the table and eat the delicious food he made. Contrary to popular opinion, Karasu is actually a good cook. The food was gone in minutes.

"I have a game tomorrow," he says as he chews the last bite on his plate. "I can reserve a front-row seat for you, like always."

You give him a kind smile; you want to say no but his puppy eyes are too tempting. "Okay." Your response was curt, you didn't mean anything by it. But Karasu took it as you giving the same attitude he gave you yesterday. He pouted and grabbed your hand, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles. "I wanna hear ya cheering f'me, okay?" You nodded your head and he smiled at that, bringing your hand up and kissing it. "That's my pretty baby."

You two spent the whole day talking and shopping. You got the things you needed and wanted, and even more things that Karasu thought would look good on you.

The gifts made you smile, but they held most of the weight behind your fake smile. You didn't want to speak out that you didn't need these meaningless things, you just wanted him to hug you and tell you that he loves you. You know that you just have to speak up about these things, but you don't want to start another argument.

Your tongue was bit through the entire day and night with him.

...

You woke up a bit later than intended, but the sleep was welcomed and needed. You felt like the pain and memories of the past few days have been erased.

You felt like you were forgetting something. You yawned and turned on your phone, then it hit you.

Karasu's soccer game. It's 1:30 in the afternoon, you're sure the game is already halfway through. And it's a thirty-minute drive to the stadium. Which means when you get there, it'll be almost over. So, there's no point in going. So you opted to just grab something to eat and turn on Netflix. Yeah, you feel bad, but honestly, Karasu deserves this. Maybe he'll remember not to catch an attitude with you for no reason.

Karasu on the other hand, is distraught. He doesn't remember how many times he's looked over at the stands.

He thought that you were over the other day. He apologized and made it up to you. He took you shopping and to your favorite restaurant.

His mind was elsewhere and he couldn't get into the flow of the game. His kicks weren't on point and his precision was flawed. The coach called him in and swapped for another player.

"Get your shit together or leave."

Karasu took the latter; he needs to see you.

The drive was long originally, but his thoughts made it longer. Every second he wasn't with you, he felt that it was another second you could up and leave his life.

He finally got there and quickly unlocked your door with the spare key. No boxes, nothing packed, nothing is gone. Air came back into his lungs, and he could finally breathe again.

He rushed to your room, his pout getting deeper as he saw you on your bed watching Netflix.

Your eyes widened as he rushed into your room. You swear this man will give you cardiac arrest one of these days. "What..What are you doing here?" Your eyes followed him as he stalked to your side of the bed where you were lying. "Your game, it hasn't even ended yet." He grabbed your hands before he answered, bringing them up to his cheeks.

"Baby, I'm sorry for being a dickhead, but doncha think it's rude to not come when I asked ya to?" He almost whined out. You pouted as you rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs, "I'm sorry," you cooed out. "My handsome boy, I didn't mean to."

He shook his head, "No, don't apologize baby. I shouldn't have yelled at ya. Forgive me, yeah? Just please, don't leave me." He pouted, "I don't think I can go any longer without yer kisses and hugs." He doesn't remember when he got so romantic and cheesy. He used to laugh at people who were obsessed with their s/o and used to call them mediocre. But now here he is, so fucking obsessed with you. He feels like he can't breathe when you don't give him your love. He lives off it.

"I love ya so much, my pretty baby." He brought one of your hands to his lips, peppering kisses all of it as he looked into your eyes. "Ya don't gotta say it back, jus want ya to know."

And you did know, especially through his actions. The way he kisses you, the way he dotes on you, and the way he went down on you for hours. No amount of whines and pleads for him to stop, no amount of " 's too much," were enough to stop him. His tongue and his groans against you made you feel both pain and pleasure. Karasu loves you so much and proved that while he fucked you all night.

a/n: His accent, his smile, him <3333 Karasu is just ahbsdjsdhsdje. I'm acting up for this man

[anothermansjeans]

I just think it would be so sweet youtuber!reader and Spencer recording a skincare video, being silly with face masks and the whole thing (obviously normally he just washes his face with water before bed but the reader is in the process of changing that)

oh my god this was going one place and then i took it somewhere else LMAO but i love this sm! thanks for sending it in 🫶

cw: fluff, menace spencer at it again, soooooooo sweet it will give you a toothache

wc: 1k

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

“You ready, babe?”

Spencer looked down at the vanity adorned with various products, giving you a small nod before looking between you and the camera. Ever since watching Spencer just rinse his face off with water one morning about a week ago, you've been brewing up the idea of a skincare routine video to get him in the groove of taking his skin health seriously. For a man who loves to tell you what products (or lack of products) aren't helping your skin, he sure did little to make sure his routine was up to his standards.

“Okay! Hello, lovelies! Today I’m with Spencer,” you gestured over to him, “and we are going to be doing my nighttime skincare routine! Spence, would you mind sharing with the audience your skincare routine?”

He furrowed his brows and looked over to you, “a routine is a sequence of actions regularly followed, like a fixed program. I don't have procedures I go through so I wouldn't classify it as a routine.”

“Okay,” you tried to maintain your giggles, “then tell them what you usually do for your skin before you go to bed.”

“Well,” he began, looking back at the cameras and talking with his hands, “Sometimes, if I feel as though my pores had excreted more oil than normal and Y/N’s face wash is out, I'd use that, but more times than not, she's in bed before me so I’ll just use water.”

A pout formed on your face as you looked at the camera. “Terrible, I know.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway,” you gently placed a hand on his arm, the action soothing him while simultaneously letting him know you meant no harm, “we’re going to fix that. Today, I’ll not only be showing you my routine, but also getting Spencer to do it with me!”

The video went on without a hitch. You started with a cleanser and then went into an exfoliator. Now, you had your container of clay mask sitting in front of the two of you. “Now we’re on the third step. This mask cleans pores, brightens skins, and detoxifies skin,” you look up from reading the jar to see a contemplative look on Spencer’s face. “You good, Spence?”

“Yes, yes, I just don't know how I would go about putting it on my face.”

With soft eyes, you gently opened the lid and scooped a small clump of the mask onto your finger. “I’ll put yours on for you, okay?”

He smiled and gave a nod before you swiped your finger down his cheek, spreading out what you had into a thin layer. “This feels nice,” he said, closing his eyes and letting out a soft hum.

“It’s supposed to.” The moment felt very domestic, and you couldn't wait for the time where you'd do this without the camera. The serenity of the moment was cut short though, when you went to scoop more of the mask onto your finger and the jar started to slip from your grasp. The shock of it almost falling sent one of your hands flying up, which caused whatever clay you had on your hand to fling onto Spencer’s unsuspecting face.

You registered the gasp he elicited when you stabilized the jar on the vanity, and when looking over at Spencer, you saw the splatter of clay painted across his face. “I am–” you started to laugh, but used your clean hand to cover your mouth, “I am so sorry, baby.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” His thin smile was giving mixed signals, but you assumed nothing of it when he changed to topic. “Could I take a look at the ingredients?”

Giving a quick nod, you didn't take notice of how quick he grabbed the mask and swooped his fingers in. Not a second later, you felt the cool substance flung across your face. All you did was blink at him– him, and his shit-eating grin– before folding your lips in and letting out a hum. “Spencer…”

His face slowly morphed into one of concern, “I don't know why I thought that was okay. Y/N, I’m sorry. We can clean this up and–” and a big splat sound echoed in the room and Spencer promptly shut his mouth when a lump of the mask landed on his forehead and began to drip down the bridge of his nose. Your laugh caused a fire to light in his eyes, and he once again grabbed the jar. “Oh, I see how it is.”

“You started a war, Spence.” When he aimed his fire, you stood up and ran over to your bed, grabbing a pillowcase. “You wouldn't target one of our very expensive pillowcases?”

“You're the one sacrificing it!” He flung the clay, and you used the pillow to block the blow. At the amount on the pillow, your eyes widened with humor, “That’s almost the entire jar!”

Laughing, Spencer stalked forward with another handful of the mask. “I’ll buy you more,” he said, cornering you before smearing his hand all down your face.

Your gasping giggles filled the room, and Spencer leaned his forehead down onto yours as you both calmed down. “This video has gone off track.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice was soft and gentle, a big contrast from the chaotic clay war from moments ago.

“Don't. I’m having more fun than anticipated.” Your arms made their way around his neck, gently carding your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Yeah, you still had the clay mask all over your hands, but you were over one-hundred percent sure the two of you would be taking a shower in less than five minutes.

“You didn't anticipate having fun with me while doing skincare?” His eyes held a playful glint.

Gently pulling his head down so that your lips grazed his, you whispered, “I always anticipate having fun with you, Dr. Reid.” And with that, he captured your lips with his, the face mask smearing all over your faces without a care in the world. The video was the last thing on your mind… you'll continue it at a later time.

++

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[atlabeth]

time’s blur - ialwbty au

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader but this primarily features percy jackson & sister!reader

summary: somehow, someway, you come back.

a/n: wow it has been a while hasn't it!! 148 days to be exact!! im always thinking about these two in the corner of my mind and ive been wanting to write this au since i got an ask about it, originally i was going to do it all as a big long one shot but i just want to get something out lol. and this will give me more freedom to do wte i want with this au instead of just having one big one shot and leaving it. anyways enjoy there is actually some fluff for once but still some emotional damage and there is more to come!! also reader is 19 and percy is 15

wc: 3.5k

warning(s): hurricane dies but she has come back!! told through percy's pov. angst, hurt/comfort, signature percy jackson guilt, but some fluffy sibling moments<3

Percy doesn’t end up in the infirmary at 2:29 in the morning out of instinct, foresight, or any kind of divine ‘chosen one’ intervention. 

He ends up in the infirmary at 2:29 in the morning because some Apollo kid was hooking up with an Ares kid on the beach, and they found you. 

They found you, not Percy. He didn’t even have a clue until he woke up to Chiron in his cabin.

Percy had had his fair share of rude awakenings over the years, usually because of horrific demigod prophetic dreams, but the expression on Chiron’s face immediately alerted Percy that something was wrong, even through his groggy haze. 

“Chiron?” he rasps, and he sits up as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He has to make sure he’s not still dreaming. 

“I’m sorry to wake you, Percy,” he says. “But I need you to come with me.” 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Is everyone okay? Is camp okay? Is there an invasion?” 

“Nothing so ghastly,” Chiron says. Though his tone is a bit lighter, it still doesn’t ease Percy’s concerns. “But it does concern you.” 

“Great,” Percy mumbles, and he pulls himself out of bed. Normally he would have the foresight to change, but a part of him is still worried that Christmas has come early and Kronos has already invaded the city. 

So he follows Chiron—with all the sneaking around he’s done since getting to camp, it’s strange to be out this late and not have to worry about being eaten alive—clad in flannel pajama pants, a Yankee’s tee, and Converse he didn’t get the chance to fully lace up. 

“You’d tell me if something was wrong,” Percy says, glancing up at him. “Right?” 

“Of course,” he nods. “I wouldn’t classify this as something going wrong. Just… rather shocking.” 

“Great,” he repeats. “Are you going to tell me?” 

Chiron is silent for a moment, and Percy frowns. “Now I’m really worried.” 

“I suppose it’s best to rip the bandage off,” Chiron says. He stops right outside the Big House and lets out a sigh. “An hour ago, a girl was found on the beach. She looked as if she’d been washed ashore.” 

Percy’s frown deepens. “What? Gods— is she okay?” 

“Yes,” Chiron says. “I checked her over for injuries, but she only had some minor bruises. No water in her lungs, somehow.” 

“That’s crazy,” he says. “How could someone even wash up here? Even with demigods— don’t we have protections against that?” 

“All of this makes me believe there was some… divine intervention,” Chiron says slowly. “Especially with who she is.” 

Percy crosses his arms. “You’re making this sound like a huge deal. Who is she?”

“Percy,” Chiron says, soft but firm, “it’s your sister. Somehow, she’s come back to life.” 

And for a second, all he can do is stare. 

“What?” 

“I could never forget her face,” he says. “Or the presence of a child of Poseidon.” 

Percy shakes his head. “No, Chiron— if this is a joke, it’s not funny.” He huffs a mirthless laugh and looks down at his hands. “And if this is a shitty dream, then it’s really shitty.” 

“Perseus, this is real,” he states. 

He’s still shaking his head. “How can it be real? She’s dead— she’s been dead for years.”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Mr. D has already gone back to Olympus to figure it out. But if I had to guess, your father decided to meddle.”

He wants to call it a lie. Honestly, he wants to punch Chiron for getting his hopes up about something like this. But deep down, Percy knows he’s telling the truth. 

“Can I see her?” he asks. “Is— is she okay? Does she know who she is?”

“In time,” Chiron says. “I cannot be sure, but it doesn’t look like she remembers anything from her life.” 

Percy shakes his head again. It doesn’t feel real. He’s imagined what it would feel like to meet you since the moment Luke told him about you, but he knew it could never happen. 

But now, all that stands between Percy and his sister is a few doors. 

“I want to see her,” he says.

“Of course,” Chiron nods. “I just need to make sure it won’t mess with her further. This isn’t like Thalia coming back with the fleece—though I have suspicions, I can’t be sure how this happened. It could be a very delicate matter.” 

“As long as it doesn’t hurt her more.” 

Chiron nods again and he opens the door to the Big House. He follows him up to his office door, then stops when Chiron gestures at the couch. 

“I just need to discuss a few more things with her.” 

Percy nods wordlessly and sits down, then Chiron disappears into his office. 

A million things are running through Percy’s mind, namely guilt. 

Shouldn’t he have been the one to find you? 

Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but it’s you. 

You’re his sister. He’s always had a connection to you, even when you were gone—gods, the night after he found out you existed you appeared in his dreams. Percy’s spent almost every moment since he found out about you wishing you were still here, that he could meet you, and when it finally does happen—somehow, because he still doesn’t understand what the fuck went on for this to happen—he’s not even the one to find you? He’s just asleep like every other night?

He huffs a sigh as he hunches over, his forearms on his knees. His leg bounces up and down at a rapid pace, moving his entire body with it, but this is one time he can’t lay his ADHD to rest. He’s more surprised he isn’t up pacing the entire room for the hundredth time. 

If Percy feels like this, he can’t even imagine how you must feel. To come back for seemingly no reason with no memories, after four years in Elysium. 

Luke said you’d been killed by a monster. You were buried like any other person. 

You were gone.

But you just… came back.  

He lets out another harried sigh and falls back against the couch. He’s exhausted, but there’s no chance of him being able to go back to sleep. Not with you around. 

Suddenly, the door opens, and Percy instantly darts up from his seat. You walk out with Chiron and it’s almost surreal.

You look like all the pictures, all his dreams, just older—more mature. He wants to cry and scream and hug you all at once. 

Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance at Chiron for a moment before you focus back on Percy.

“Uh— sorry,” he says, wincing a bit. He doesn’t know how to act around you, not when he knows you but you don’t know him. “I waited for you. I thought it would be good to have someone on the other side.” 

“That’s really nice,” you murmur. “I… I see why. Word on the street is that you’re my brother.” 

Percy nods way too many times. “Yeah. Uh— yeah. We’re both children of—” 

He pauses, his gaze moving past you to Chiron. He has to have explained all this to you, right? 

“Poseidon,” you finish, and you let out a slightly shaky laugh. “Chiron laid out all the basics.” 

“This has all got to be really confusing,” he says. “I remember how lost I was when I first got to camp, and I didn’t even…” 

“Die?” you ask wryly. He nods again. He really can’t finish any sentence around you—he’s so worried of saying the wrong thing and accidentally hurting you. Percy doesn’t know how any of this works.

“It’s strange,” you admit. “I… I lived this whole life before this, and I don’t even remember any of it.”

Percy’s heart clenches painfully. He doesn’t know how he’s going to explain everything to you when you start remembering. 

When you start remembering Luke. 

“Really?” he asks. “There’s nothing?”

You shake your head. “I have my name, but that’s all. And…”

Percy frowns. “What?”

You pause for a moment before you shake your head again. “Nothing. This is just…”

“Weird?” 

You nod with a slight laugh. “Yeah. To say the least.”

“If it makes you feel better, you’re not the first person to come back to life,” Percy says. “Uh, a girl named Thalia used to be a tree before she was turned back into a human.”

You frown. “Wow.”

“We can get to all of that some other day,” Chiron thankfully interrupts. “Percy, will you take her back to your cabin?”

“You’re sure we won’t get eaten by the harpies?” Percy asks. “Aello is out for my blood.”

“I promise,” Chiron says. He glances at you, your frown noticeably deeper, and he looks back at Percy. “Perhaps we should, ah, hold off on this sort of discussion. Until tomorrow, at least.”

“Of course,” Percy says. “Sorry. You must be exhausted.” 

“A little,” you admit. “Apparently coming back to life takes it out of you.” 

“Come back here first thing in the morning,” Chiron says. “We have… quite a bit to talk about.” 

“That’s an understatement,” you murmur. 

Percy smiles a bit, and he gestures with his head for you to follow him. You do, and Chiron goes back into his office. He nabs a bag of ambrosia squares from an empty bedside as the two of you go through the infirmary just to be safe, and when he glances back at you he sees you frowning. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Does anything hurt?” 

“You’re a Yankees fan?” you say instead. 

Percy blinks, then he realizes you’re looking at his shirt. “Uh— yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m from New York, and my mom loves them, so…” he tugs at his shirt. “I know you like the Red Sox. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “We can’t all be perfect.” 

Percy can’t help but smile. You died and came back to life, and you remember nothing but your name and your love for the Boston Red Sox. 

“That means you keep up with baseball, right?” 

“When I can,” he says. “We don’t really have technology out here.” 

“Have the Red Sox won a world series since I’ve been gone?” 

“They won last year, actually.”

Your eyes widen and you instantly grin. “Really?”

He nods. “They beat the Cardinals.”

“That— that’s huge!” you exclaim. “Oh my god, they broke the curse and I didn’t get to see it? This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“You know you died, right?”

“And look how well that worked out for me.” You shake your head. “I need to go to the library or something and find some footage.”

“As much as I would love to do that,” Percy says, “we have a few other things we have to focus on.”

You huff and shake your head. “Fine. But as soon as we figure all this out, I’m figuring out some way to see those games.” 

Percy chuckles. “I don’t think anyone’ll deny you that.” 

“Good.” 

Silence settles over the two of you as you walk back to the Poseidon cabin, and Percy just feels awkward. 

He always thought about what he would say to you if he finally got to see you again, and now you’re alive somehow and right next to him and he has no idea what to do. 

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Percy finally decides on. “Chiron said you just washed up on shore.” 

“I feel surprisingly okay,” you say. “All I remember is waking up at the bottom of the lake. I thought I was going to drown, so I kicked my way up, and then got to shore.” You shake your head. “Somehow, I didn’t drown. My clothes weren’t even wet. I’ve got to be the luckiest person out there.” 

“You’re a child of Poseidon,” he says. “We can’t breathe underwater so we can’t drown, and our clothes don’t get wet unless we want them to.” 

“Like I said,” you incline your head, “luckiest person out there.” 

“I just don’t get why you’re back,” Percy says. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you are. I just don’t understand how, or why— or why now.” 

You open your mouth to say something, but you’re not able to get any words out before a yawn interrupts it. 

“Maybe that’s a tomorrow problem,” you say. 

“I think you’re right,” Percy says. He opens the door to the camp store and you follow him inside, but you frown. 

“What is this?” 

“The camp store,” he says. “You don’t really have anything, so I wanted to get you some things.” 

You just stare as he starts taking things. “You’re just… stealing?” 

“Just a couple toiletries and some clothing,” he says. “They won’t miss it.” He stashes it all in a Camp Halfblood tote bag and holds it out to you, and though you’re a bit hesitant, you still take it. 

“Thanks,” you say. “We won’t get in trouble?” 

“I think everyone will cut you some slack for a while,” Percy says. “A guy did this for me my first day and it helps—makes you feel more at home.” 

You hum, and this time you open the door for Percy. “Nice guy.” 

Percy swallows the sudden lump in his throat, trying to ignore the chill that trickles down his spine as he realizes the implications of his words. 

“Yeah,” Percy mutters. “He was.” 

Eventually, the two of you get back to the Poseidon cabin. He opens the door for you and you slowly walk inside. 

Again, it’s strange that you’re here. It’s like if a piece of his history textbook suddenly came to life and started walking around—he’s heard so much about you, imagined what he thought would be an impossible meeting so many times, but now that it’s actually happening he doesn’t know what to do. 

And it hits even more as you walk over to a picture of yourself hanging on the wall, surrounded by a myriad of others. 

It’s one of many of you and Luke, him holding you close with an arm slung around your shoulder as you beam at the camera with the brightest smile imaginable. Before Luke got his scar, before you died, before he went off the deep end. 

“I put a couple of your pictures up,” Percy rushes to explain, his throat feeling scratchy, “and a few of your old things. As— as a way to remember you.”

“I love it,” you say, and the tension dissolves in his shoulders when he sees your smile. It really is so much brighter in person. “I— I can’t believe I don’t remember any of this.”

“We’ll figure out a way to get it back,” Percy says. “I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say idly as you continue to take all the pictures in. He can’t imagine what it must feel like to see all these memories of a past life you have no recollection of. 

“I don’t,” he says. “We’re gonna figure it out.”

You’re silent for a while as you keep looking at them. Then you take one of the pictures off the wall, the one of you and Luke at a baseball game. 

“Luke,” you murmur, as if you don’t realize you’re saying it out loud. You blink, then you turn to Percy. “His name is Luke, isn’t it?”

He nods, almost in disbelief. You don’t remember a damn thing about your old life but you know Luke’s name.

How is Percy supposed to tell you what he did? 

You laugh softly as you trail your nail over the edge. “We must’ve been pretty close if I got him to go to a Red Sox game.” You look over at Percy. “Does he go here too?”

After a moment, Percy shakes his head. “He— uh, he used to.”

“Makes sense,” you murmur, and you put the picture back on the wall. “I got the easy way out. Everyone else had to deal with the fallout.”

Percy frowns. “You were killed by a monster. I don’t think anyone considers that the easy way out.” 

“It kinda was,” you say with a shrug. “I— I don’t remember much about it, but Chiron said I was in Elysium. There aren’t any monsters down there, and there certainly aren’t any responsibilities.”

“Well,” Percy sits down on his bed, “I’m glad you’re here. You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined meeting you.” 

You chuckle. “I didn’t know I was so popular.” 

“I’m serious,” he says. “Poseidon is one of the Big Three, and they made an oath not to have kids. I was the only Big Three kid in general when I got to camp—when I found out about you, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to have a sister to talk about all of this with.” 

Your eyes soften, and you lean against his bed frame. “I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry about?” 

“I— I don’t know,” you say with a slight laugh. “I just feel bad that I couldn’t be there for you.” 

“You’re already doing a pretty good job at being a big sister,” Percy says wryly. 

“Thanks,” you say. “You’re doing a pretty good job at being a younger brother.” 

Percy laughs and smiles, and you smile too. He’s beginning to understand what Luke always said, about your presence embodying warmth. He’s only been around you for a few minutes and he already feels better. 

“I’ve never had a brother before this,” you say. “So there might be a couple speed bumps.” 

“We’ll get through them together,” Percy says. “Besides, I… I kind of always considered you my sister. Ever since I found out about you, even though you were…” 

“Dead?” you guess, and he winces. You chuckle a bit. “It’s still weird for me, too. Can’t imagine what it must be like for all of you.” 

“Weird,” he says without really thinking. “Really weird. But I’m thankful that you’re back.” 

You smile. “So am I, Percy.” 

You let out another yawn, and you sit down on the bed across from him. “God, what time is it?” 

Percy glances at the clock in the corner. “3:34.” 

You whistle. “I really chose a great time to come back, huh?” 

He chuckles, and he kicks off his shoes as gets up to turn the lights off. “I think some sleep would do us both some good.” 

You nod and do the same. As you lay back, one hand behind your head, you continue to look around the cabin. 

“Are these your band posters?” 

He shakes his head as he sits back down. “They’re yours, actually, but you’ve got good taste. I love Pearl Jam.” 

“I used to have good taste, you mean,” you say wryly. 

“Hey,” he says. “I meant what I told you. We’re gonna get your memories back.” 

“How are you so sure?” 

“I’ve done a lot of impossible things,” Percy says. “And so have you, from what I’ve heard. It’s kind of the Poseidon kid way, honestly.” 

“You’ll have to teach me some things, then.” 

“And when you get your memory back, you’ll have to do the same,” he says. 

You smile and nod. “Deal.” 

Percy smiles too, and he lays down. “You really should try and get some sleep. Chiron wasn’t joking when he said we have a lot to talk about.” He huffs a slight laugh. “Whatever the reason is for you coming back, I guarantee there’s gonna be some people upstairs that are mad about it.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “Upstairs?” 

“Olympus,” he says. “The gods don’t really like things happening out of their control.” 

You hum, and for a moment there’s nothing but silence and the sound of both your breathing. It’s a little strange having someone else here other than Tyson, but he’s thankful for it. 

“What’s gonna happen to me?” you ask. There’s an edge of fear in your voice, and Percy frowns. 

“Nothing.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“Nothing is going to happen,” he repeats. “I’m not going to let anything happen. The gods have already messed with your life enough—they don’t get to do it again.” 

Percy half-expects to hear the sound of thunder echoing across camp, but the silence continues. Maybe Zeus isn’t listening in on him for once, or maybe he just expects the disrespect at this point. 

“I really am the luckiest person,” you say. “I’ve got someone like you looking out for me.” 

“You were looking out for me when you were gone,” he says. “You might not remember, but I could feel it. So I’m just repaying the favor.” 

Again, silence. It’s temporarily interrupted by the sound of sheets shifting, then you speak. 

“I’m really glad I got to meet you, Percy,” you murmur. 

He can’t help but smile, and he tries to ignore the tears beginning to spring in his eyes. He has no idea why you’re back—no idea what this could mean. Maybe your dad did bring you back, maybe it’s a bizarre case like Thalia, maybe you play a part in something that they don’t even know about yet and it's nothing but bad news.

But for once in his life, Percy’s not going to question it. 

You’re alive and you’re here. 

For now, that’s all he needs. 

“Me too,” he whispers.

[siampie]

Get Off the Highway || Chapter 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 1.2 K  

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, pining, angst, fluff, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

A/N: I’m sorry for the short chapter. There isn’t much Dean in this one or much of an interaction between them. But I really hope you enjoy it. It is a short introduction to Reader and the very first meeting between our reader and the Winchesters. I know it says enemies to lovers trope, but I think it’s more along the lines of rivals to lovers. A bit like Anastasia and Dimitri, from the animated movie; Anastasia. If you know, you know. Which we’ll get more in the next chapter.   

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Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Thanks,” You smiled at the waitress as she refilled your cup.

She sent a quick smile your way. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do.”

Sitting in the booth by the window, you were waiting for the help that Garth had promised you. You still had a hard time believing that he had sent the Winchesters your way. You had been working on this case for a little over two weeks. Strange killings had been going on in town. Wasn’t that how every hunt started? Strange deaths, classified more often than not as animal attack.

You knew better though. Everything about that case pointed to vampires. You had been able to locate their nest. Only problem was you were alone and there were at least eight of them. And before that case, you had never hunted vampires. Many hunters believed they had been hunted to extinction. And so far, you could only agree with them. Until now. It was a pretty big nest. At least, it was to you.

Not much of a team player, you usually hunt on your own. You liked it better this way. You didn’t have to depend on anyone for your survival. And you were the only one you had to worry about when on a hunt. It was better this way.

A dark muscle car parked next to yours on the parking lot. Two tall men climbed out of the car and made their way into the diner. The bell over the door rang as they walked through it. You observed them as they looked around the diner, certainly looking for you. The tallest of the two, with hair that belonged in a shampoo commercial, was the first one to clock you. Broad shoulders, tall, the Winchesters were handsome men. Way out of your league.

“Sam and Dean Winchester, I presume?” You asked as they stopped by your booth. You introduced yourself as they took a seat across from you.

The waitress stopped by your table. They placed their orders, and the waitress left with a smile on her face. And you told them everything they needed to know about the hunt, the nest and the location of it.

Your back slammed against the wall as the male vampire shoved you into the wall. You tried to push him away as the vampire snarled before he dived for your neck. You had a plan that you had, of course, shared with the brothers.

“That’s a stupid plan.” Dean scoffed.

“How is it stupid?” You asked with a frown.

“Too complicated.” Dean retorted. “It’s vampires, we go in, kill them, save the girl, go out. Simple, easy.”

“And my plan is stupid.” You scoffed in turn. “What about the not getting killed part?”

“We kill them before they kill us.” Dean said back.

“You have an answer for everything, huh?” You crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed at him.  

And now, there you were. Fighting off a vampire because Dean Winchester thought he was too good for your plan. Alright, maybe your plan wasn’t all that good. It was the first time you were hunting vampires, after all. And sure, Sam had given you precious tips on how to take down a vampire. But Dean could have at least given you the benefit of the doubt. Or at least, given your plan a chance. It wasn’t all that bad.

You always thought there were safety in numbers. Although, you’d rather hunt alone. However, this was a vampire nest and you needed help. And your plan was for the three of you to stick together while you go through the nest. The Vampires would not know you were there. Chances were, they did not expect anyone to come to their nest. It wasn’t a grand and complicated plan, as Dean made it sound. It was your plan. And you liked to do things your way.

That was why you were annoyed more than anything. It was your hunt and your plan. And Dean Winchester decided that he would take over. And you simply did not like it. But you swallowed your pride because he knew better than you did. He had hunted vampires before while you had not. So, you trusted his opinion but you still didn’t like that they were not doing things your way.

“Took you long enough.” You said breathless, as the dead vampire fell to the ground. Beheaded.

“You okay?” Sam asked you.

“Yeah,” You nodded quickly. “I’m good.”

“SAM!” You both heard Dean call from upstairs.

On Sam’s heels, you rushed upstairs to Dean’s rescue. There, you saw more vampires and still no trace of the girl. One of those vampires was pining Dean to the floor, going for his neck. As soon as you reached the landing, the vampires turned on you and hissed. You reached into your pocket for the syringe that contained the dead man’s blood. It was poison to vampires. It would not kill them but incapacitate them for a little while. You stabbed the first vampire that reached you in the neck, and they crumpled to the floor. You took this opportunity to behead the monster. Sam was a little to your left, fighting his own vampire. He kicked it in the stomach before marching onto it. Judging that Sam did not need your help, you rushed to Dean, and beheaded the vampire attacking him.

You pulled him to his feet. His hand covered his bleeding neck. Your eyes immediately went to Sam. The latter was kneeling on the ground, straddling a headless body. You looked around you. Bodies were strewn around the room. It seemed you had taken care of all the vampires. You abandoned the brothers to check the rooms. You had to find the girl, make sure she was alright.

She was not. Not really. The vampires had fed on her and thankfully, she had not been turned into one herself. Physically, she would heal but emotionally—there was a long road ahead of her. You hoped she would move on from this eventually.

“It’s a weekday.” You said as an answer after the brothers invited you out to the bar.

“So?” Dean frowned at you.

“I don’t drink on weekdays.” You shrugged.

Dean scoffed before shaking his head. “It’s just a drink after a hunt.”

“I get that but I don’t drink on weekdays.” You retorted. “You guys go. Do what you usually do. I’m going back to my motel.”

“Suit yourself then.” Dean said before walking up to his car.

You exhaled as you watched him go. “Anyway, thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome.” Sam smiled down at you. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You smiled at him. “I’d rather go back to the motel.”

“Well, if you need help with anything, give us a call.” Sam offered kindly.

“Will do.” You nodded. “It was nice meeting you guys.”

Sam grinned at you. “Yeah. Be safe out there.”

“You too.”

You waved him goodbye before you drove away. You wouldn’t call. Not if you can help it. But it was nice to know you had the option if you chose to. It couldn’t hurt to have the Winchesters as your ally, could it? And who knew? Maybe you would call.

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[goldenseresinretriever]

Time in a Bottle: Chapter 1

Lumberjack!Logan Howlett x Fae!Reader

Summary: The sentence of eternity gets a lot more interesting when a certain lumberjack stumbles upon your hidden home, swinging his axe at the wrong tree. Actions have consequences and while you think you have the upper hand, it quickly becomes clear that neither of you understands the full extent of what you bargained for.

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, suggestive language. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Kind of a short chapter as we continue the setup, but we finally get to meet Logan!!!

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Your eyes narrow as you take in this stranger. Despite the obvious threat that you pose, he seems to find this situation quite the opposite, humorous even. You curl your fighters ever so slightly and the tendril wrapped around the stranger’s arms tightens in response. His eyes shift towards the movement, calculating, trying to figure out what he’s looking at.

“You don’t seem afraid of me,” the curiosity outweighs your common sense, centuries of loneliness have eroded the walls around you even if the house remains pristine.

He cocks his head slightly, and it reminds you of a dog, animalistic in nature. “Should I be?” Your brow furrows in frustration and your finger twitches again, this time unintentionally, your anger strumming through your body, escaping in the form of your powers. The woody tendril expands, covering the stranger's arm with bark, climbing up the fleshy limb turning it into an extension of the other living creature. You’re not insignificant. Sure you’re a prisoner in this place but doesn’t being classified as a prisoner inherently make you dangerous? And humans fear danger, at least that’s what you’ve been told. He watches it with what you’d call a morbid curiosity.

It irritates you to no end. “You threatened one of my trees,” you spit, indignantly.

“I wasn’t aware they belonged to anyone,” he replies coolly, gaze flicking from his rapidly disappearing arm back to you.

You scoff in response. “You humans, you think the world exists to be taken by you, used for your benefit.” Your lip curls in disgust even as your heart hammers against your chest in excitement. You want him to argue with you, anything to milk a few more moments of conversation that you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much. It’s been so long since your words were met with a response. You speak to your plants, to yourself, but it’s always one-sided. Your brain screams in ecstasy at the stimulation that comes with conversation, with company, with connection.

He nods, slowly, as he regards you with an expression you can’t place. “Some of us are just trying to make a living,” he points out, and your lips purse.

“So are the trees,” you shoot back, ignoring how petulant you sound.

“So these trees,” he asks, shifting the conversation like he can see the wall it’s hitting. “What exactly makes them yours?” You’re drawn up short. It’s been years since you’ve had a conversation let alone had to explain your existence to another person, let alone a human. The last person who’d encountered you was an older man, with a twinkle in his eye that indicated he knew exactly what you were without your explanation. You’re genuinely speechless at the idea of having to explain yourself.

“I’m a guardian of this forest,” you try to keep the hard edge to your voice, but the confusion weasels its way into your tone. “I was placed here by a council of the forest fey.” It’s not incorrect. Sure, you were placed here by The Council, but you weren’t charged with guardianship over the forest. If anything, the forest itself was your unwilling jailer. As far as you know, at least. The forest itself has never shown animosity nor affection towards you, and as far as you’re concerned that's just fine.

“A guardian of the forest,” he turns the words over in his mouth, testing them for truth. “What do you guard it from?” His tone is casual, lazy even, but his eyes glint with a contrasting rapt curiosity. You hate the way that glint makes you feel as his questions shove back against yours in a way that’s unfamiliar. The responding pounding of your pulse shakes the dust off neural pathways you haven’t had a chance to use in years. You feel a pull towards him, a tug on the very fiber of your being, a desperacy to stretch out this conversation, to keep him here, pull every word you can out of him to try and fill the void that’s grown in you throughout your centuries of solitude.

“From people like you,” you intend the words to strike sharply, to knock aside the axe he’d raised against the tree, but instead they come out breathless like you’ve just run a marathon. “To those that would destroy them,” your voice is more firm this time and he nods slowly.

“And what would you do to stop me?” His eyes glint in challenge and you feel your jaw tighten with the animalistic urge to bare your teeth at him. You focus on the way your powers swirl under your skin like a live wire instead.

“Perhaps I’ll turn you into one,” your voice drips with saccharine vitriol. A chuckle rumbles past his lips and it sends a shiver down your spine like it’s the thunder after your lightning.

“I’d like to see you try,” he pushes, and your fingertips twitch and the bark climbs up his arm. He arches an eyebrow at the extrusion, dropping the axe gripped in his free hand to the ground to run a curious finger along the affected area of his arm. “Fascinating,” he says in a nonchalant tone that one would use to describe the weather. Your eyes widen as he flexes the trapped arm and the wood strains under the ripple of his muscles, cracking and swelling as it struggles to contain the malleable flesh under its rigid frame. “I don’t know how to tell you this sweetheart, but it’s not me you need to worry about. The logging company is a lot more than one man, and it’s been slowly demolishing your forest for nigh on a decade.” He arches an eyebrow at you, “in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Your jaw tightens as your face heats under his accusation. Of course, you hadn’t noticed. A whole city could have risen around your prison and you’d be none the wiser. It was part of the magic. Your brain races to find a way to parry his verbal attack and in a moment of panic you flick your wrist. A path appears in the dirt at your feet, small sprouts rising out of the ground to mark it, the boundary spreading out around you, out of your eye line, marking the boundary of your prison. You can feel a fizzing sensation as your magic runs up against the magic of the unseen walls. Dizziness grasps your mind at the surge of power it’s taking, like you're taking a deep stretch after being sedentary for so long. Sure you use your powers, but it’s been a while since you undertook something so intense. The man’s eyes flick to the distance, watching the blooming under his feet disappear into the depths of the woods.

“These are my trees,” you reiterate. “Though my heart is for the forest, there are some things you just can’t save,” your heart thrums sadly in its cage as the words leave your lips. His eyes meet yours for the first time and your breath is stolen by the deep green that looks back at you. They remind you of your beloved plants, lush and full of life, but behind that you see something lingering, a melancholy of sorts perhaps, but perhaps it’s your desperate mind trying to find some sympathy in this stranger.

He nods like it’s just that simple. “I’ll make sure no one touches your trees,” you almost let out a hysterical laugh at the prospect. No one has touched your trees for centuries, and after he leaves this place, no one will touch them for centuries again. He shifts his arm again, freeing it from the wood that’s coating his arm, no longer filled with your magic holding it in place. Panic rises in your throat, reaching out desperate hands at the idea of him leaving this place. That’s the thing about loneliness, it breeds desperacy, and you can only hold out your self-control for so long.

“Wait!” Your voice sounds more panicked than you intend. You don’t want to be alone. It’s that simple. You know nothing about this man other than that he’s probably employed by the logging company he mentioned if the axe is any indication. And yet, it’s enough. He looks up from where he’d bent over to retrieve his fallen axe. “WAIT.” You try to put more authority into your voice as your brain races, formulating a plan as the words tumble out of your mouth. “You threatened my trees,” you try to keep the hard edge to your voice, “for that, the laws of the fey demand recompense.” He arches a dark eyebrow at you yet again and you resist the urge to scowl at it.

“What kind of recompense?” He crosses his arms and you can’t help the way your traitorous eyes dart down to look at the way the muscles in them swell in this position.

You feign calculated consideration as you stall for a moment longer. “Your presence,” he arches that damned eyebrow again. “One day, every month, for the next twelve months.”

“My presence?” He repeats. Your heart thunders, afraid that he’ll see through your ruse, just like he’s going to see through your empty house the minute he sets foot in it. And yet you take a chance because it’s all you have, and it’s all you’ve had in years.

You nod, hoping it’s convincing. “It’s not often I get visitors for tea.” The lie sounds fake in your mouth but he just chuckles, repeating your words under his breath like he’s checking to ensure they’re real. You don’t blame him, you’re not sure yourself. Any moment now you’ll wake up in your bed, alone as usual, and this will all have been a crazy dream.

“One day a month, for a whole year?” He reiterates and you nod. He nods slowly before his gaze flicks up to yours. “That’s fine by me, but if I’m going to be making that kind of deal with you, I think I should know your name, don’t you think?”

You snort, unable to hide the centuries-old derision that slips into your voice as you cock your head at him. “Humans. Have you all grown so far from magic that you don’t know better than to ask a fae for their name?” He arches that damned eyebrow again and you have a good mind to knock him out with a tree branch and shave it off. “There’s great power in the name of a fey,” you explain, “one I wouldn’t give to my familiars let alone to a stranger I just met.”

“If I can’t have your name, what should I call you, then? What do these familiars you speak of call you, since I’m to be one of them?”

You hesitate, searching your mind. It’s been a long time since someone asked you your name. Even the two visitors that have found you in the past never bothered to ask. You know your true name, it lives in a place deep inside you, beyond your very consciousness, but the name you gave to your family, to your friends? It’s been lost to time, you realize with a sharp pang in your heart. A memory slams into your brain, lost to the years, a title spoken in the cruel tongue of the council as they sentenced you to this fate.

“I’ve been called anathema,” the words pass from your lips in a murmur that just slips past, the memory escaping its place in your mind. Anathema. Cursed.

You watch an unreadable emotion move over the stranger’s face before he shakes his head. “I’m not calling you that,” his voice is surprisingly hard, different from the lightly skeptical tone he’s had this whole time.

You’re silent, squirming under the weight of his gaze, his attention, wishing you’d just let him leave. You have no name because as far as everyone is concerned, you no longer exist.

“Alright, Sunshine, I’m Logan,” you glance back up at him, the green in his eyes shifting as he considers you.

“Logan,” you try out his name on your tongue, as your brain processes what he’s just called you. You frown, eyebrows drawing together in a confused scowl. “Sunshine?”

“Sunshine.” He says simply like the decision has already been made. “I think it suits you perfectly.” Your scowl deepens and another chuckle rumbles up through his chest. It rolls over you like the first breath of spring after a long winter and you can’t help the way the edges of your lips urge to quirk up in response. His head whips, suddenly, and your eyes follow the movement as he listens for something you can’t hear. Normally your supernatural hearing would ensure your ability to hear what he’s straining for, but the barrier is resistant to sound, so whatever Logan is listening for must be on the other side. He turns back to you, hoisting his axe to his shoulder. “Alright Sunshine, I have to run, I’m on the clock.” He glances back over his shoulder at that. “But you have yourself a deal,” he shifts his axe to his other hand and holds the now-empty palm out to you.

You reach out your own, grasping his larger one in yours. The skin is rough, and you can tell he’s known a good day’s work before, and yet the callouses that rub against your skin seem to almost fade in roughness even as he shakes your hand in his. “I’ll see you next month,” you confirm and he nods.

“See you then, Sunshine.”

When he turns and disappears back the way he came, he doesn’t turn back but you stand there watching him long after he’s disappeared from view. He said he’ll be back, but in reality, you have nothing to bind him to his promise. A promise with the fey is meant to be binding, but that aspect of your magic was taken back when you were sentenced. In hindsight, you could have asked for anything, and yet you’d asked for twelve days, twelve days over the course of a year. A year is nothing in the face of eternity, but for the first time as you walk back to the house, a tiny spark crackles in the recesses of your heart. Hope.

A/N: Can’t wait to hear what y’all think! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[pajarinwrites]

you could ask

➳ fem!reader x Dino

➳ wc: 2.7k

➳ TAGS: pwp; fluffy smut, smutty fluff MDNI, my dudes; it's so sweet tho kjsdiasejnasd

➳ WARNINGS: fucking(?) it's super fluffy though; fingering (f receiving), kissing, marking, petnames (babe, baby for her)

➳ AN: i continue to surprise in that dino is my least biased member except now that i wrote this, he might not be anymore; he's such a cutie ugh; also this RAN! AWAY! FROM! ME! it started as a drabble but 2.7k can under no circumstances be classified as a drabble. also there initially was supposed to be piv sex but then it got too long. i'll definitely write a continuation one-shot for this ugh. anyway, ENJOY!

also that's my fave photo of channie

You look up from your phone as your friend enters the lobby. He has his duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, wearing the usual cap, mask, sunglasses combo in public, in an effort to remain unrecognised.

“Hey,” you greet with a soft wave. He pulls off his sunglasses to reveal eyes crinkling with smiles. “Hey!” He replies back, pulling you into a short hug before calling the elevator.

“How was practice?”

“The usual. Except Hoshi-hyung was hungover.”

“Huh?” You ask, sure you must’ve misheard him. Chan laughs in reply.

“Yeah, he filmed that program with Youngji yesterday that you like watching.”

“And he didn’t tell me?” You ask in mock affront, one hand resting on your chest dramatically. Chan shrugs. “I guess he assumed I’d tell you. But I forgot.” He sticks his tongue out to you as you follow him to his apartment.

You pass Vernon and Dokyeom in the kitchen; they wave to you in greeting before you follow Chan into his room.

“Leave the door open, children!” Dokyeom screams after you, prompting your friend to scream a dry hahaha back and slam his door all the harder. “They’re not even funny,” he pouts, dropping onto his bed where you’ve already gotten comfortable.

“Ugh,” he groans as the climbs up to the headboard next to you. “What’s wrong?” You ask, looking at his tense expression.

“It’s fine, practice just kicked a little harder than I thought.”

“Are you still up for movie night? We can just move it if you’re too exhausted.”

“Of course not! I always have energy for you.” He smiles softly, scooting closer, resting one arm on his headboard behind you as if it did nothing to him. You cleared your throat, trying your hardest not to shuffle so he wouldn’t feel obligated to move his arm away again.

“What’ve you got saved on your laptop?” He asks as you pull it up and open Netflix.

“I mean, I’ve been dying to watch the Scream remake for a while…” You know his stance on horror movies. As expected, “ugh! Can’t we watch something cute and cozy that won’t make me pull a muscle from jump scares!”

“Unfair argument! First you say you’re up for movie night and when it comes to picking a movie you bring up the issue of your sore muscles!”

“Well I can’t just make ‘em magically disappear.”

“But you got to pick the movie the last, like, three times!”

“I’m not saying you can’t pick. I’m just saying pick a different one!”

“Nuh uh, I want this one.” He groans again, rolling his head.

“Okay, then what will you do about my sore muscles?”

“Me? Do you want me to massage your sore muscles for you? Since when are your sore muscles my fault or problem?”

He grins, and with how close his face is to yours, it’s doing all kinds of things to your heart. “If you want to watch Scream so bad, it is your problem…”

Oh, so that’s how it is, you think, realising he never expected you to make good on any muscle relief. Lee Chan knows damn well you hate massages unless you’re on the receiving end. The amount of times he’s given you one eclipses the times you have returned the favour, a grand total of zero times.

“Sure,” you smile sweetly, setting your laptop back down on the floor next to Chan’s bed. He stares at you, eyes wide as saucers. “Huh?”

You remove his arm from your shoulders and get up, motioning for him to lie down. If your best friend wanted to play a game of chicken with you, he absolutely could.

“Also, you obviously gotta take your shirt off.”

Instead of moving, Chan is sitting still as a statue, still staring at you as if your hair had spontaneously changed colour. You wondered if this was really all it was going to take but eventually he shuffles down on the bed. He shrugs off his tee and you pretend like you aren’t surreptitiously looking him up and down.

“Okay, but you gotta do it properly, “ he states as he rests his head on his arms.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You inquire as you get into position, positioning your left knee beside Chan’s body and swinging the other over so that you are straddling his butt.

“Just that you can’t quit after five minutes, and you can’t do it all softly.”

“Hmm,” you hum in agreement, “elbow grease.” Chan giggles in response, but it turns into a groan as soon as you dig your thumbs into the tops of his shoulders.

“You really aren’t holding back, huh?”

“I’ve been ordered to give it my all,” you reply, bearing down on one especially tight trapezius. Chan’s breath stutters under your ministrations and you’re glad he can’t see your face heat up. As your hands wander lower you feel like he’s tensing up more instead of less.

“Hey, relax,” you instruct, “this was your idea.”

Chan grumbles something into his pillow in reply but it only takes him a few more minutes and a few sounds that veer suspiciously into moan territory before he shrugs you off forcefully.

You let out a yelp of surprise as you flop down on the mattress next to him. “What was that for?”

“You did enough, we can watch your silly movie now.” He avoids your eyes and you can see that his face has turned red, but you try to blame it on the heat of the room and the fact that you just treated him like bread dough for fifteen minutes. As he sits back up against the headboard, he pulls the blanket over himself, his hands in his lap awkwardly.

“What are you doing?” You cock an eyebrow.

“Preparing to be scared to death,” he replies with a chuckle you believe was supposed to be light-hearted.

“It’s okay, I’ll protect you. You can hide behind me if you get scared,” you offer graciously. Chan rolls his eyes. “Just start the movie.”

You pull up your laptop and snuggle into your friend’s side. Chan fluffs up his pillows, one behind your back, one in his lap, and welcomes you into his arms again. You’ve watched movies in this position before, but today you’re restless. Chan seems to exude extra body heat today, and maybe it’s your wild imagination but his workouts have really started to pay off, and the feeling of his biceps pressing into your side distracts you more than you’d like to admit.

You stopped watching whatever is going on on screen several dozen minutes ago when you finally clear your throat. You’d been sneaking glances over at Chan for a while, his uncomfortable shifting, the suspiciously placed pillow. You had a hunch when he shrugged you off him earlier but the longer you sat next to him, having to endure his endless shuffling, the more convinced you were. Of course, you weren’t entirely unbothered by his presence either. The glimpse of his naked chest and back hadn’t left your mind, although you were hard-pressed to admit, that that sight had been the reason for your inability to focus. 

“It’s a little boring, isn’t it?”

“Huh?” He asks, turning his frightful eyes from the screen. You hit pause.

“The movie, Chan.”

“Boring isn’t the adjective I’d use, but sure. We can definitely watch something else.”

“We could do something else.” You smirk, shifting so you can face him fully. Bless him, his expression betrays nothing but confusion. He opens his mouth to ask what you’re on about but you beat him to it.

“Chan,” you sigh, “is this going to be a repeat of Seungkwan’s birthday party?”

“Huh?” He asked. But the fact that he had turned a shade redder let you know that he was very aware of what you were talking about.

“You know, when we were in the kitchen alone and you leaned in and I was waiting for you to finally kiss me? But then you chickened out the last second and pretended you had just wanted to grab the vodka from behind me?”

Chan blinks at your, your words evidently not quite processed yet. “You wanted me to kiss you?” You rolled your eyes.

“For someone with such a big head, you can be pretty stupid, you know that?”

“Well, how was I supposed to know? I can’t read your mind.” You lean in closer - resting your hand on his thigh - and take delight in the way his breath hitches.

“You can always ask.” You whisper. He moves in even closer, the pillow sliding off his lap and letting you see that you were right about your prior assumption. You bite your lip at the sight of the obvious tent in his sweatpants.

“Can I kiss you?” Chan asks, bringing your attention back to his face. He’s gorgeous, you think, in the half-light of his bedroom, his hair unstyled, his eyes shining. But he really isn’t going to budge if you don’t answer, it seems. “Yes, please,” you breathe.

His lips are on yours, softly, as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. His right hand is cradling your cheek. It makes you smile, wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him down with you. Chan let’s out another groan, catching himself with his left hand next to your head instead of letting his full weight crash into you, which coincidentally happens to be exactly what you wanted. You nudge his hand away, hoping for him to get the hint. Much to your chagrin, he pulls back, panting against your lips.

“What—“ you mean to ask but don’t get around to it when you see the dark, almost desperate shadow in his eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re real.” His gaze drops to your lips, he’s nipping at your lower lip, making his way down your jawline. You manage to hold out on him until he reaches your pulse point, attaching his lips to the sensitive skin and nibbling at it in a way that’ll definitely leave a mark makes you whimper. Right now you couldn’t care less.

“Chan,” you moan, “please…” You can feel him smirk but he complies with your unspoken wish, continuing his way downward.

“Can I take this off you?” He asks, tugging at you shirt. You look down at his eyes, blown out and looking at you like you created the universe.

“Only if yours comes off too,” you say, meaning to tease him. His shirt’s over his head and at the other end of his room before you can blink. “Better?” He smirks, usually you’d be careful not to stroke his ego too much, but right now all you can think about it tracing every ridge on the expanse of his body with your tongue. It’s so much more fun when you can look freely. It must show on your face because Chan leans forward, whispering, “You can eat me up later, baby. Right now it’s my turn.” You have half a mind to hold back your whimpers at the tone of his voice but at the end you’re just a human, not some saint, so you stand no chance against the carnal vices of the flesh.

Chan takes off your shirt so skilfully that a very unwelcome thought of possessiveness flashes through your mind but with how he looks at you (very much not like you threw on your oldest, most comfy sport bra) the evil little voice in your head stands no chance. There can’t be any lingering doubt over his feelings with the way he undresses you slowly, deliberately, with all the care in the world, makes you think he mistook you for a fragile piece of art. His eyes say the same, casting glances at your face again and again, questioning; like he’s ready to drop everything if you so much as breathe a word. You have to commend him, especially with how evident the tent in his sweats has been for the better part of this evening.

“Chan,” you whine, ripping him out of the worship of the skin on your tummy. He looks dazed already. “Please stop teasing.”

He smiles, “Am I teasing you? Sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to. You’re just so beautiful.”

You want to tell him off for being a sap but he starts kissing a straight line downwards from your navel and your words are caught in your throat.

His hands skitter up your thighs, making you shiver as he finally presses a digit to your core. He groans, “So wet for me already, love, you’ve soaked through your panties.”

“Looks like you have to take them off, then.” You smile and he obliges easily. It seems he’s really had enough of the teasing because he presses his thumb to you clit immediately, circling it. You moan his name as he slides one finger through your slick, “wanna touch you too.”

“Later, baby. Let me focus on you for now. Can I keep going?”

You mumble a pathetic Ohmygod yes please, that earns you a soft chuckle from him. He wastes no time in sliding a finger into you. Chan moans at the feeling of you wrapped around his fingers.

“Shit, babe,” is all you get out of him before his mouth is back on your skin, kissing up the insides of your thighs as he stretches you out on another finger. “Wanna come on my fingers, love?” You don’t trust your voice right now, so instead you nod vigorously. He stops testing the waters as his fingers and thumb speed up, spreading a familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach. He shifts his weight upwards and is hovering over you, never ceasing the motion of his fingers.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly.

“If you don’t, I’m leaving right now,” you barely manage to breathe out between pants. From the way Chan smiles at you, you can tell you must look at least as fucked-out as you feel. He chooses not to tease you and you silently thank him for it. Instead he just leans in, meeting your lips in a manner that is nothing like the soft, innocent kisses from before. He pushes his tongue past your lips, exploring your mouth as if he wanted to taste all of you. Just at that moment his fingers find that spot inside you that makes you see stars. You moan into the kiss, prompting him to mirror your sounds. Chan doesn’t let up on that spot, speeding up and hitting it again and again and again until the pressure becomes to much and the knot in your stomach snaps. He fucks you through your orgasm, leaving soft pecks all over your face until you’ve calmed down.

“Feeling better?” He asks. You’re forced to watch as he retrieves his fingers from your pussy, putting them in his mouth instead and licking them clean. He hums comfortably, “you taste so good, babe.”

You’re still staring at him, wide-eyed, trying to make sense of why the sight of your best friend licking his fingers clean of your essence is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. He notices your state and his brows furrow.

“Hey, are you okay?” There’s real worry in his voice, so you nod in reassurance.

“I was just thinking that if this what I get for massaging your sore muscles a little, I’m definitely gonna start doing it more often.”

His eyes widen. “You wanna do this more often?” The disbelief in his voice makes you laugh in earnest. “Of course, in case you couldn’t tell, I had a lot of fun.” You’re unsure of your next sentence, but if you don’t say it now, you fear you’ll say it never, “and I like you. A lot.”

He has the dopiest grin on his face as he leans back down, giving you another sweet kiss. “In that case, let me take you out on a proper date before we do this the next time.” You cock an eyebrow.

“Chan, do you wanna be my boyfriend?” The man in question blushes, avoiding your eyes. “If that’s something you also want…”

You look at his expression, hopeful gaze lifting to catch yours. There’s a blush lingering on his cheeks, his hair all mussed up. You’ve never felt more comfortable with another person.

“Of course,” you reply, snaking one arm around his middle and pulling him close, “I’d love that, actually.”