#but like- truly. i do remember saying a few times that i would deep fry him until crispy golden brown... 🍤

[dormiloncito]

i wish ogata was real so i'd send this to him

[natspookie]

book worm

warnings, …stalker nat? LOL

an, kinda bad but i had the idea??? also, i’m working with the reqs soon!!!

it was rare natasha had time to go out for leisure, more so, to shop. but here she was, natasha romanoff shopping at thrift shops and markets.

this one road in new york was slammed with sellers and all sorts of things to buy.

natasha had bought a few vests she thought yelena would like, also some for her to match. she’d bought little trinkets to fill her room up. she had been dragging her shopping bags for about two hours when she reached the end of the market, a book stall.

hundreds of books were stacker on top of each other but the one of top caught natasha’s eye.

pride and prejudice

in the red room, sure natasha had read books. well.. books how to seduce men, and basic knowledge. but never for her own enjoyment.

she picked the book up, flipped through its pages seeing annotations here and there but she didn’t mind, handing the shop owner a couple of dollars before she made her journey back to the compound.

it was a quiet weekend at the avengers compound, not much missions. “hey nat! ohhh, what did you get?” wanda immediately eyed the eco bags on natasha’s wrist.

“just saw like a flea market or some thrifting- i don’t know honestly.” “the one near that shawarma shop we go to?” “precisely. i also got you this lamp, you said you broke yours”

natasha handed wanda a clear pink tinted lamp with crystals hanging from the top. “oh nat i love it! thank you!” wanda jumped across the couch and hugged natasha “no problem, witchy” natasha laughed, making her way to her room.

she took a quick shower before unloading all the things she got on her carpet. she put all of yelena’s things in one bag and started to put her things in her laundry bin.

when everything was sorted, she picked up the book and sat on her bed.

it was a book with good condition considering she paid 2 dollars for it. she got her reading glasses out and started to flip through the pages, immediately seeing clean and beautiful cursive black writing.

on the cover page it says, “01/01/2023 my love, i have my whole heart to give to you and it starts by the pages of this book. with little annotations, i hope you love this book as i do you.

all the love, y/n”

love was never in the cards for natasha but boy, would it not be nice to receive this.

as natasha ventured through the pages of this book, she found a certain comfort in the cursive writing she knew she was not meant to read.

little comments like “i bet she’s as beautiful as you” “you remind me of this line” “i want us to experience this” were enough to get her hooked till dinner time.

“nat, dinner” wanda knocks on the door before rushing to the kitchen. natasha had made it more than halfway through the book.

she reached the confession in the rain and one writing in red caught her eye. “no love is ever the same. but know my love for you is bursting with all kinds to give” natasha had fallen in love with the words from a person she doesn’t even know.

she made her way to dinner, nose nuzzled in the book. “nat, you read classic romance?” yelena points out “mhm” natasha sets the book down, remembering her page.

“i got you vests and left them in your closet” natasha stabs a french fry before eating it as natasha does a little ‘yes’ air fist.

natasha didn’t stick around for dinner conversation. instead, she grabbed a milk tea in the refrigerator and retreated to her room to read.

it was 1 in the morning when natasha finished, reaching the last blank page. the words took her by surprise.

“09/01/23

it’s been 9 months without you, you didn’t read this book. i’ll be giving this to the book shop down the block and you will never read the words i longed for you to hear. i hope you’re happy with your new life, truly.

to whoever is reading this,

i wish you a love as strong as darcy and elizabeth. you’ll get there;)

all the love,

y/n”

natasha shut the book with a deep breath. along the pages, she had been looking forward to that annotation in the end. natasha took it as a sign to sleep with all the excessive thinking.

yet all the black cursive words swirled around in her head that night, painting numerous people to who could be the face of these carefully said words.

the next morning natasha went on a personal mission to find you. why? she doesn’t know.

she realized an hour in that it was pointless looking for a y/n if she doesn’t even know what you look like. hence, her going back go the market.

she asked the seller when the book came in and if he knew who.

“oh yes, around last week monday a young woman with (y/h/c) donated a whole stack of books! only that one had annotations though” natasha nodded and thanked the man before going back to the compound after getting shawarma.

natasha accessed the city cctv footage from last week monday and saw you struggle with a pile of books.

you turned before turning back to the person and walking the other way. nataha rewinded the footage and paused it when you turned, she knew what you looked like now!

natasha ran face scanners and finds you — y/n y/l/n.

fresh graduate and working at a little cafe not too far from the market.

natasha didn’t really have a plan so when she stepped foot in the cafe. but when she saw you, she immediately lost track of her words.

“hey, what can i get you?” you smiled at natasha “um- a drink” natasha said as you laughed “what kind of drink?” “coffee” “black coffee?” natasha nodded

“alright, can i have a name?” you grabbed the cup and a marker “natasha” “thanks, that’ll be 3 dollars” natasha handed you the money. “i got that book” you tilted your head at her “pride and prejudice.. the one by the market” you sighed

“oh. yeah… sorry for the annotations” you laughed “no! i actually loved them. you have a great way of words” “thank you.. did you stalk me here to say that or something” you joked, putting the drink in front of her. “sort of” natasha shrugged and you paused

“that was a joke but… thanks?” “i mean this in the nicest and less creepy way but i really was curious by you. as i said, i was kind of enthralled by your words.” “are you saying you want to take me out on a date, natasha?”

“hoping to do so” natasha leans on her heels. “7 o’clock.. don’t be late or be a stalker” you chuckled, walking back to the counter “you bet”

[in-need-of-gally-content]

|Chapter•Twenty•Six|

•|Masterlist|•

Although (M/n) was enjoying spending his time with Gally again for the past few days, he hadn't been able to shake off the memory of him saying something about falling in love before cutting himself off. He didn't want to pressure Gally into telling him who it was, it would only make him look like a hypocrite. So he didn't.

He had been working on his communication skills with Gally, not keeping everything to himself as he usually did, trying to comprehend that if Gally -or any of his friends- tell him they want to listen to what he has to say they mean it.

"I wanna know what you wanna tell me, even if you think it's dumb or a waste of my time," Gally said to him after he kept doubting the intentions of others, "I wouldn't have asked in the first place if I didn't care, alright? I'm not trying to act nice and as if I care, because then I will be wasting my time, I truly do care, bean."

Somehow, the thought- knowing someone cares about him in any way is still a foreign concept to (M/n), so he was also working on that with Gally. He was just basically restarting his brain at this point with all the parts of himself he had to fix.

And now, on their fourth day working on all sorts of issues he has, they were sitting atop the Watchtower, drinking some of Gally's non-alcoholic drink and snacking on some leftover fries Fry had in the fridge. The silence that surrounded them was nice, and the breeze was chill, the sun had been covered by the grey clouds heading their way and slowly made the natural light fade. It looked like it might rain soon.

(M/n) wouldn't have minded just sitting there in silence, but the Maze was right in front of him, and he couldn't help but ask.

"What happened..." He said slowly, noticing Gally turning to look at him, taking a sip of his drink, "When you went into the Maze? Why did you go?" He finished in a whisper, looking up and making eye contact with Gally.

He saw the blond getting serious and looking away, staying quiet for a while. Gally was debating whether he should say it or not, it wasn't necessarily a happy memory, and it seemed like everything that had a dark or sad story to him was made into a permanent reminder of that time.

But the moment he turned back to look at (M/n), he saw worry in his eyes, genuine concern, and he sighed, deciding he would tell him.

He shifted on his spot and got a bit more comfortable, "I haven't said this to anyone at all, not even to Alby, and..." He hesitated for a few moments, fiddling with the jar in his hand, "It's mostly 'cause I didn't think it would make a difference, whether I said this or not," Gally took a deep breath, and (M/n) silently waited until he felt ready to talk.

Gally appreciated that. He really did.

"I was... Tired. Of the way I was treated. Everything," he briefly looked at (M/n) before focusing back ahead, "So I tried to run away, I didn't even know what my plan was if I'm honest," Gally took a sip of his drink and reached for a fry, "After running into a Griever there's not much I remember, but apparently, I had found my way back and I collapsed when I got to the Glade."

(M/n) turned to look at the Maze Doors, looking as ominous as ever. He watched the Doors for a short while, and that same dream flashed in his mind, seeing Gally in the Maze wasn't just a dream... It was real.

But that didn't help him much, did it? It just brought more questions to his mind.

"And while I was unconscious, I kept having these... Dreams, or I thought they were, because I knew they weren't made up by my fevered and delusional mind," when Gally kept talking, (M/n) looked at him again, paying attention to his words, "I had no idea what they meant, so when I woke up I started drawing them so I wouldn't forget. It was... Weird too because..." He hesitated for a few seconds, unsure of how to continue, "There was someone I could never see clearly, just their silhouette, and whenever I woke up I felt... Empty, as if I was missing a part of me."

There was another silence, and (M/n) couldn't help but wonder if they were seeing the same "person" in their dreams. He had experienced something similar a few times, he could never see who that person was no matter how close they were, all (M/n) could recall was their sense of familiarity.

He wondered, if by any chance... Was that Gally? Or was it someone completely different?

"Alby told me that..." He went back to listening to Gally, he could figure out things some other time, "Someone had sent stuff up to help me survive, along with a note. I... I wish I could say thank you to that person, honestly."

And now, with a deep sigh, Gally was officially done talking.

He wasn't expecting anything from (M/n), maybe a comment to ease the air and go back to cheerful and playful, but he felt (M/n)'s hand wrapping around his, making him turn to look at him.

"I'm glad you're alive, Gally."

This was the first and only time anyone had told him that, he had been thinking everyone was just being nice to him because they had to, not because they were sorry or worried about what had happened to him. They were forced to stop bullying him, so Gally never felt as if he was welcomed in the Glade after that. New greenies had helped to ease the tension, but he always felt left out.

No one was happy he survived that day. But now, (M/n) completely changed how he felt about being alive. He felt thankful to have made it out of that, otherwise, he would've never met someone as great as (M/n).

The thought almost overwhelmed him to tears, just realizing how much he needed someone to care.

They gazed into each other's eyes, unsaid want and longing swirling in them.

Slowly, both of them began to lean in closer, their breathing mixing, lips mere inches away, hearts racing and heated faces, about to finally kiss...

When thunder startled them, making them pull back instantly, and less than a second later, they were drenched under the heavy rain. They should've expected it, the sky had been turning grey, but did it really have to start pouring right that second?

"Well, shuck..." (M/n) chuckled at Gally and they got up, "We should get inside," Gally decided to leave the empty bowl of fries and jars up top, they could pick them up after the rain ceased anyway, and then carefully headed down.

Laughs and squeals were heard as they made their way down the ladders, yelling 'be careful!' to each other between chuckles, until they finally made their way to the ground. They had to get to the nearest place that could provide shelter, and that could either be the Homestead or (M/n)'s treehouse, so they started walking, well, more like jogging under the heavy rain.

However, they were already drenched, what would a little bit more water do?

With that train of thought, (M/n) reached for Gally's hand and made him spin around, catching the blond in his arms. Gally looked down at him and smirked, "What are you doing?"

(M/n) tried to hold in his chuckle as he held Gally's hand, and did an elegant and slightly dramatic bow, "Can I have a dance with the prettiest boy?" There he goes, he said it.

Gally tried to ignore the heat creeping up his face, and decided he could turn the tables around on (M/n).

"I don't think you need to ask yourself for a dance, bean," he was caught off guard by that and he walked closer to hide his face on Gally's chest, unbothered by how soaked his clothes were.

"You're an idiot, did you know?" Gally chuckled and nodded, lifting his free hand to ruffle (M/n)'s hair, splashing water around.

"Well, you're best friends with an idiot, so that makes you a double idiot," (M/n) looked up at Gally with a frown on his brow, but a smile was pulling his lips up, and as a revenge, he decided to tickle him.

Immediately, Gally turned around and ran away with a squeal, "Unfair!"

"Apologize, Gally!" (M/n) yelled while running after him.

"Never!"

While those two continued chasing each other around like idiots, they were unaware of the audience they had, watching them playing in the rain and getting covered in mud, laughing alongside (M/n) and Gally, and enjoying the time they had.

Even Minho and Dan, who had to go back to the Glade as soon as it began raining, saw them rolling on the ground and cackling. The sight made them smile as they continued their way inside to change their soaked clothes.

//////

Despite all the fun they had under the rain the previous evening...

Gally woke up sick. He had a fever and had been sneezing quite a bit.

Being the one at fault that he ended up getting sick, (M/n) decided to take care of him until he got better again. Gally didn't even try to argue with him when he saw (M/n) walk in with a tray and a steaming bowl of soup, Gally felt so bad he didn't even want to argue about that this time, he did not have the strength to fight him over anything anyway.

And since Gally spent the majority of the day sleeping, probably because he felt so bad all he wanted to do was rest, (M/n) didn't have to do much, gave him painkillers for his headache, tuck him in with blankets, and a wet towel on his head to ease the fever. He took care of Gally while he was awake and watched over him when he was asleep.

Only occasionally (M/n) would walk over to his desk, and crouch down to take a closer look at all the wooden sculptures he had done, paying attention to the details some of them had, some even had cute faces drawn on them, and a few other were painted, making spots or lines covering their body, whether it was fully or partially.

And at some point, when Gally woke up almost at dinner time, he turned to look at (M/n), watching him look at his little sculptures.

"Why did you not get sick?" He asked in a hoarse and raspy whisper, coughing right after. (M/n) was quick to handle him his cup of water and help him sit up to drink it.

"Don't know, big guy," after Gally was done drinking his water, he placed the cup down again, and (M/n) decided to mess with him a little bit, "Why? You wanted to take care of me?"

He made a dramatic and playful pout, smiling wide when Gally let out a breathy chuckle, and the red on his face caused by his fever was pretty good to cover how flustered the thought made him, "You wish, bean."

///////

The next day, while Gally was sleeping peacefully in his room, (M/n) found Dmitri as he was walking out of the kitchen with a bottle of water and eating some leftover breakfast.

"Oh, hey (M/n)," he did the 'sup?' greeting with his chin, and walked past him and to the kitchen, grabbing a single candy from the new bag they had gotten two days ago.

"I wanted to ask you something," the Keeper did a 'shoot' signal with his hand, "Is there any way that I can maybe fix the Homestead?" 

"You want to... Fix it?" He asked as if he couldn't believe it, and (M/n) chuckled.

"Yeah, why? Is that weird?"

Dmitri proceeded to explain how no one feels entailed to fix anything in the Glade, because it tended to be harder than building, and (M/n) almost couldn't believe it, how could fixing something be harder than building it? That's what he thought, until Dmitri explained why.

The reason was simple, and it was the only one.

If you don't know what you're fixing or changing or whatever it is that you have to do, the whole built section could collapse, or break off more in the very least and most common cases. The Keeper wanted to do a demonstration with the kitchen wall, until Fry walked past.

"Do not break my kitchen or imma break your ass, Dimi," he raised his hands away from the wall.

"Sure, Fry, just wanted to prove a point."

Well, Fry's reaction was pretty much all the point Dmitri had to prove. At least (M/n) understood why the Brick-nicks never really repaired stuff around unless it was absolutely necessary.

And with all the time that had passed, he decided to go check up on Gally, and maybe try to work the next day, after all, Dmitri had explained to him how to do things without making them worse, he just didn't get to see the "make them worse" part of the job interview.

And yeah, he spent his time with Gally and took care of him until he fell asleep again.

//////

"I'm gonna be downstairs for a while, and I'll come to check up on you every thirty to forty minutes, alright?" (M/n) told Gally while placing the newly wet towel on his forehead. He had just taken his painkiller for his headache, and ate some fruit for lunch, although he had to be fed because he said he wasn't hungry, "Or you could just... Make noise if you need me."

Both of them chuckled softly at that, and Gally nodded, getting comfortable on his bed, looking up at (M/n) with glossy eyes.

"Okay, try to get some rest, big guy."

(M/n) walked out of the room closed the door behind him, and headed downstairs, ready to start some work around the Homestead. Dmitri had said he could wear gloves to avoid splinters on his hands, but they usually get in the way, so he decided against it and opened the cabinet with the toolbox, wooden crates and leather bags containing various supplies essential for the Glade.

He took out whatever he thought he might need and what he knew he needed and carried it around in a small bag while he began looking around every room, every wall, every floorboard and every corner of the place. He began checking the Gathering room, and he saw a few holes in the walls, so he went and fixed them. He was done rather quickly with that and he continued looking around.

He even spotted the few leaks Dmitri and Brandon had covered up while he paced around the place.

After a while, with all the holes he could find covered, he began looking at the floorboards, cleaning the dust and pieces of wood would be easier after he was done with the floor, otherwise, he would've had to clean up twice.

(M/n) found himself kneeling on the hallway floor, where Newt's room was, at the end of the hall, he took out sticking out pieces of wood, filled the empty spaces in and sanded them.

He was actually enjoying doing this work, in peace and quiet, he had checked up on Gally to wet his towel again, finding him asleep with his mouth slightly open every time he walked in, and he had done it maybe two or three times now.

He will have to go back soon, but he wanted to be done with the last bit of the floor he had left before he did. (M/n) started humming a different song, just chillin' on his own, when he heard the loud noises of people barging in. He decided to ignore them at first and continued humming since the noise they were making worked to mask the tune he was letting out.

But then, when they were settling down, probably sitting on the couches, (M/n) recognized Stan's voice. He instinctively rolled his eyes and debated whether he wanted to finish working as if nothing was going on, or leave and stay with Gally until they left, act as if they weren't there.

He debated for a few seconds, and when he was about to stand up to leave, part of their conversation caught his attention.

First, he hadn't been paying attention to them until he heard his name. Second, they were making comments about him, and they were indeed worse when he "wasn't" around.

(M/n) was sure they were jacked in the head with how aggressive and/or sexual some of the observations they made were. Those pigs were saying stuff about how they would 'totally screw her', and he stood up, he was not gonna stand there and listen to their comments about his body and personality.

"But... Why would you want to screw her?" The hoarse and raspy voice of the scrawny twin, Sean, filled the room and there was a short silence.

"We thought you hated her?" Derek added, the sound of his gruff voice coming out with a confused tone to it.

Stan clicked his tongue, annoyed at the questions, "To get her to shut up, that's why I want to screw her, shank," (M/n) heard the sound of what was possibly Stan's boots being placed on the coffee table, "Show her where she belongs, under a man."

Yeah, Stan had a very delusional view of himself, referring to himself as "a man". Damn, (M/n) was about to come out from around the corner, throw up on him and leave him sterile for the rest of his pathetic existence with the kick to his ball he wanted to gift him, teach him not to mess around, and to save the human race from allowing "mini Stans" to live their lives.

He was mad. With every day he had to endure the comments and looks, his anger issues were becoming a big problem, all he wanted to do was punch them and break stuff, but who could blame him? Nothing he did worked to get them to stop.

The audacity Stan had never failed to make his blood boil. Screw working or leaving, he was getting ready to throw hands.

"Yeah, doubt Gally would ever allow you to touch what's his, he will probably kill you, or beat you within an inch of your life, mate," Gale argued Stan's comment, and the living room was soon filled with chuckles and snorts from the rest of the Sloppers.

All Stan did was mutter a 'shut up' for them to, eventually, quiet down. Of course, the twins didn't care about obeying Stan, he wasn't their Keeper, after all, Billy was.

"What's Gally's problem anyway?" At Sean's question, Stan scoffed and shifted his sitting position, leaning in and resting his elbows on his knees, as he was about to let the twins into a huge secret.

"Gally is just a pussy ass bitch who acts like a tough guy, but he's nothing more than a scaredy cat filled with trauma, believe me... I know," (M/n) frowned and leaned his back against the wall behind him, remaining hidden from their field of view.

After that, (M/n) stayed in place, listening as Stan proceeded to tell everyone how he used to bully Gally every day, belittle him and used him as he pleased.

Hearing everything he said definitely made his anger issues go haywire, and if he had been holding something, he would've broken it. He listened to everything with his jaw clenched and fists tightly closed.

But after Stan was done, another voice echoed in the room, "So, how are we getting rid of her?" It was Peter, now this was something he had to hear.

"Hm, we have to do something to get her banished and not simply make her get taken to the pit," and that was Jason, speaking for the first time in the past ten minutes.

"Well, she's gotten very similar to Gally, only more level-headed, it won't be easy to make her snap at us, and even if she did, I doubt anyone would vote for a Banishment," (M/n) almost couldn't believe their conversation, they were actually planning for him to get banished from the Glade? He knew he was hated by the Sloppers but... That much? What the shuck did he do to them that was so horrible?

Fry had previously explained to him what a Banishment was after he had overheard two guys talking about it. It was only used as a last resort.

"We will think of something," the twins muttered in unison, it sounded kinda creepy, their voices were emotionless, but at least, (M/n) knew what to expect would happen during the next couple of days.

///////

He remained in his hiding spot until they finally left a few minutes after planning different stuff they could do, now he was gonna be on the lookout for those scheming bastards.

(M/n) sighed when they left and the door closed behind them, and proceeded to finish up what he had left, cleaning up all the dust, and wood on the floor. As soon as he was done he went upstairs to Gally's room.

Upon opening the door and walking in, he saw the blond awake and looking better than he did a few hours ago, "Hey," Gally greeted him and he walked over to sit on the edge of the bed, smiling at him.

"Hi," (M/n) reached his hand and began touching Gally's neck and chest gently, checking his temperature. His fever had gone down quite a bit now, "How are you feeling?" He asked and backed away.

Gally raised his eyebrows and grinned, "Bad, but better."

They chuckled together and (M/n) nodded, "Yeah, I get it, you'll probably be alright by tomorrow, big guy."

Gally did something (M/n) never thought he would see. He pouted and reached for his hand.

"But I like having you as my nurse," (M/n) laughed and lifted his free hand, moving his blond hair away from his face.

"Well, I like it when you're in top condition, it gets boring without you, Gally," the blond felt his face heating up suddenly and his heart beating faster.

He tightened his hold on (M/n)'s hand, staring into his (e/c) eyes and briefly licking his lips, "I feel the same."

They stared into each other's eyes, and felt the same pull from the other day, something making them want to be closer and closer together. And this time there won't be thunder or rain to break their moment-

"(M/n)!"

Except for the sound of Fry coming up the stairs while hollering his name at the top of his lungs. He opened the door, completely oblivious to the moment he had just unintentionally ruined.

"Greenbean, could you chop some wood for me? Thank you!" And he left.

He sighed, and they watched Fry leaving, "Well, duty calls, be right back," reluctantly, Gally had to let go of (M/n)'s hand, and he observed him as he closed the door behind him, the one Fry didn't bother close.

Gally stared at the ceiling of his room and released a deep sigh, rubbing his face with his hands, "What am I doing wrong?"

With both of them left alone with their thoughts, they kept thinking about the same thing. How long could they hold back from just... Doing it? Every moment together, (M/n) began to completely ignore the idea of Gally not liking him back, and Gally thought the same thing about (M/n).

The possibility of their feelings not being so one-sided as they once thought was just too good to be true, but it wasn't completely delusional either.

[koushisatori]

if you can't believe in others, at least believe in us

kyoutani x gn!reader

genre: as ordered: a bit of angst w a touch of comfort

warnings: one (1) big jealous idiot, miscommunication

word count: 5.4k

note: this is smth an anon asked me to do (but like...nearly a year ago, I'm not sure if anon is still there or if they remember and my dumbass deleted the ask so I just beta-ed through whatever I had but I know they called me out on enjoying jealous characters so here we go) I'm sorry, mysterious anon, I'm stupid </3 Anyway, that's that. I don't remember if reader was supposed to be female or not so I made it gn!reader (but if I forgot to change something, pls tell me so I can fix any errors c: It's also my first attempt I apologize in advance)

In the beginning, you weren't sure why your boyfriend is ignoring you

You can't remember doing something that would annoy him, nor do you remember an instant of anger in his eyes that would give you a hint about his reasoning to stay away from you

He explained early on that sometimes he just needs a day of distance because Kentarou could feel the anger simmering right under the surface, enough that something small could tick him off already, and he would hate if you were on the receiving end of this unexplained fury

Both of you also made sure to promise each other to clearly communicate, the relationship between the two of you would not last long if you're not properly telling each other what might be bothering or hurting...just in general cross a boundary

Communication probably was one of the most important aspects of your relationship

cue to the actual situation: your boyfriend avoiding you

So, Monday evening you think maybe it's this overwhelming sensation of unexplained anger and that something at morning practice ticked him off completely

But then Tuesday comes and goes, and your boyfriend had avoided you all day long, did not even bother to read your messages,

on Wednesday, you try to talk to him, but all he does is glaring at you with a look that leaves you speechless and kind of heartbroken,

Thursday is the day you're replaying everything you did on Monday, trying to find something that he could have misunderstood, yet no matter how hard you think about it…your brain won't come up with a reason that explained why Kentarou was so upset with you!

So you decide to make him talk to you on Friday

Enough is enough, right? For gods' sake, he is your boyfriend! You miss him and his strong arms that give hugs so warm that you melt right into them

You don't get a second alone with him until school ends

you practically sprint out of the school building over to the gym, knowing that he had a free hour, which means that he is probably the first person there - your only chance

There he is, sitting with his back to you, aggressively chewing on a bun filled with chicken - his usual that reminded him of his favorite dish - glaring holes into the ground

After taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you carefully aks: ''Kentaro…Ken…?'', slowly stretching out your hand, wanting to rest it on his shoulder to maybe help to soothe him a bit

he flinches instead and his heated, agitated gaze meets your eyes, making you recoil in return

''…will you talk to me, I miss you…'' you say softly, realizing how it hurt being ignored by him

''Ah, suddenly you miss me…'' he spits, narrowing his eyes ''…didn't fucking seem like it the last time I saw you…''

''Kentaro, baby, I have no idea what you mean,'' you plead, keeping your voice low to hide the desperation lacing it, confusion written all over your features

all Kyoutani does is growl, hopping down from where he's sitting while shouldering his gym bag

''...shouldn't have been so flirty with Shittykawa like that then-'' he grumbles - ''Ken, I didn't-'' you insist, but he continues ''twirling your hair, batting your pretty eyelashes at him, fuck you Y/N, if you want him, then feel free to take a fucking leave" Kyoutani cusses, not even listening to you

You shake your head, ''Kentaro, no, you totally misunderstood the situation,'' you follow up, panic seeping into your voice now that you knew what he referred to, ''I love yo-''

''Tsk'', he moves to leave

you try to take his hand but, instead of turning around, Kyoutani just rips it away from you, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket

from behind you, you hear Yahaba and Oikawa approaching (talking about Volleyball and Captains duties)

once they guessed what must have happened, they offered you their help (they both swear that Kyoutani will never ever find a ''cute s/o as you are, y/n-chan, I'm worried for my little angry pomeranian kohai'' )

Usually, you would try to talk to him, but after enduring a week of radio silence and now this treatment, you were tired of upholding something that seemed like a lost cause

you just wave both setters off and leave the school grounds, a frown plastered onto your lips and tears swimming in your eyes

Kentarou had not listened to you, did not even really look at you, and the few seconds he did, his eyes were filled with rage instead of the warmth he had usually reserved for you (and only for you)

If your boyfriend thinks avoiding you for a week and blaming you for something ridiculous without hearing you out is how you handle a relationship…maybe you would have to consider not pursuing it any longer

Which is easier said than done

The whole night you wait for a message, anything, and then all Saturday morning

you still had hope left

You get one from Yahaba, who tells you that Oikawa tried to clear up the situation as well after the reason for your fight dawned on him (Kyoutanis piss poor mood and behavior towards him a strong indicator) but Kentaro, again, just ran off

The future team captain even called you after your lackluster answer, listening to you getting the frustration and sadness out of your system

It didn't matter, right? Your boyfriend decided to unofficially call it quits by implying that your feelings for him were not genuine instead of using his mouth to talk to you and disregarding everyone involved

as if he wanted to ignore the truth as a convenient excuse to get out of your relationship

that's the conclusion your brain came up with

You softly sniffle in the privacy of your room, clutching a pillow to your chest (which has seen more tears in the last two days than in the past three years), deciding that it would be a good idea to go into the city to treat yourself

knowing that your mother has a hair-dresser appointment somewhen today, you go and announce that you would join her to finally buy the latest season of your favorite series

once there, you additionally get microwave popcorn, chocolate, and ice cream, as well as a pretty shirt you saw on a mannequin while window shopping

you feel a lot better after spending some money and ignoring the lingering sadness of your presumable break up with Kyoutani (who you love ok, it is not that easy)

In between your stops, you meet Iwaizumi and Oikawa munching on fatty burgers (celebrating your cheat days like a holiday and indulging in whatever your heart desires, is what makes it easier to stick with healthier habits the rest of the time was the questionable explanation coming from the brown-haired setter, pointing at you with a soggy potato fry)

after a moment, the setters eyes turn sad, a frown replacing the smile on his lips

he wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you from going just yet, apologizing for being the cause of your fight and for being unable to talk some sense into him

(you assure him that it is not his fault, knowing that your friend will probably brood over it otherwise, which wouldn't be fair)

Iwaizumi adds that Kyoutani will come around and that his cooldown time is just longer than those of other people (and if not, he will give him one of his famous volleyballs to the head and use his status as only truly respected senpai to talk some sense into him) but you again decline their suggestions

after saying goodbye (and seeing Iwaizumi give his best friend an assuring gentle pat on his shoulder, the secret softy in the usual harsh ace shining through)

If Kentaro was willing...able to throw away your relationship this easily, he can't possibly really love you, and you'd accept this even if it's hard and painful

Now remembered of what you had attempted to forget about, you feel your eyes sting with unshed tears (you thought there was no possibility of you having more tears to spill, yet the impossible seemed to be the case) you look down at your phone to text your mom and frown

Kentaro 🥰: we need to talk. Kentaro 🥰: meet me there [location]

For a second, you hesitate, biting your lower lip harshly…you really want to go and talk to him but…

The tears still sting in your eyes and blurring your view reminded you of what you had gone through the whole time, and that it was his turn to finally come to you

break up or makeup, the ball was in his court now

so while walking to where your mother would be waiting for you, you begin to type

You: No.

You: I waited for you all week, even though you ignored me, and now you expect me to run the moment you choose to stop being a childish idiot?

You: if you decide to speak to me then comqjdkn

Kentarou wouldn't say he feels particularly bad. Not at all! If someone was to ask him, he would probably answer fucking peachy, what the fuck are you asking for or growl angrily. No one would bat an eye and further question him, nor guess that maybe he wasn't as great as he pretended because he missed his gorgeous better half, but…it was his fault, wasn't it?

Of course, he originally thought he had a valid reason to be upset. And if he had just spoken to you about it, everything would be solved now. Instead of being a decent boyfriend, though, his pride overtook his thinking processes once he realized that his behavior wasn't even the slightest bit justified. Not that he knew this when he saw you speaking with Shittykawa right before school. All he could see was his gorgeous s/o shyly fiddling with her fingers, conversing with a leaned forward, very involved Oikawa Tooru. He would have fetched you away from the brown-haired setter. He had no qualms about showing his possessiveness. God, Kentarou wouldn't have hesitated to growl at the tall, brown-haired boy if not for the question he heard coming from the Captain.

''Y/N-chan, how is it that you, an adorable, charming individuum, is with a brute like Mad Dog-chan? I really-'' Well, that's where he decided to leave you with the setter. He didn't need to hear your answer. Didn't want to witness an excuse or maybe the truth. If both of you were so fucking smitten with each other to flirt this blatantly, why don't you just go and cheer for him, hold his hand, and kiss his cheek goodbye? It was his choice to distance himself.

Kyoutani couldn't help the feeling of betrayal and hurt washing over him. Maybe you just used him as a stepping stone to get closer with Oikawa, and Kyoutani has been too blind to see it. He never doubted you or your relationship before, but it's not a secret how eruptive Kyoutani could be. It has always been beyond his imagination how someone so cute and sweet like you could love a person like him. Your friends thought so. The teachers. The whole school! Everyone questioned your poor judgment. And when you came running up to him, you're cheery voice calling out for him, everyone present looked at you like you grew a second head. It's the reason why seeing you with Trashykawa ticked him off so bad. It catered to his biggest insecurities and fears. He knew that all those skeptics would be delighted to see you, everyone's darling, with the schools' star setter. They all would agree that the pretty, handsome young man is a better fit than the always hostile-looking troublemaker.

While Kyoutani didn't take Oikawa seriously in most cases, he undoubtedly was one of the most devoted people Kentarou had ever met. If Oikawa wanted to get a new serve right, he wouldn't stop trying and repeating it until his legs gave in, and Iwaizumi dragged him out of the gym. When he wanted to find more advanced players to practice with, so he could, in return, give this new knowledge to his team, there was no way he would not manage to make it happen. Even if his ideas, wishes, and plans cost him blood, sweat, and tears (like getting Kyoutani to actually train), Oikawa never backed down. Kentarou had heard that Oikawa's last girlfriend dumped him because of his passion for Volleyball. Yet Kyoutani couldn't help but think that, in you, the ambitious setter would have found someone that would be able to handle it. You usually came over to watch the team when you knew that Kyoutani was there to play. You sat on the stands with your homework in your lap and a Seijoh-coloured pencil wiggling between your fingers, not bothered by the noises coming from the court. You play with your earlobe while you frown at whatever problem you came across. You patiently wait for practice to finish. Kentarou was sure that you'd be someone Oikawa would actually try for. You weren't one of his squealing fangirls, hanging from his arm on every opportunity, but his friend. You didn't pester him to take selfies with you while pushing cute bentos into his hands. When you bring food to practice, then it's for the whole team to share. If he wanted you, Oikawa would probably have to win you over and make sure that you'd stay. Courting and all that jazz. In all seriousness, Shittykawa would be a fucking idiot if not.

The dyed-blond wing spiker had been so sure that he was rightfully mad that he didn't stop to think twice before he reacted this coldly towards you. But, and this made it even worse, Kentarou knew that he was wrong the moment you asked what happened after an entire week of enduring his silent treatment. The second he heard your shaky voice and saw the tears welling up in your eyes, his brain rebooted, and suddenly he wasn't so sure of his own reasoning. You two were together for about half a year. Kyoutani - by now - was confident in his ability to identify most of your expressions. All he could decipher in your eyes was pain, paired with a need to understand, but…if he was in the wrong…it would mean that he had hurt you the whole week, which in conclusion implied that Kentarou had been the world's shittiest boyfriend. Fuck, he thought, I don't deserve y/n.

His situation didn't get any better the moment Oikawa entered the gym. The person Kyoutani thought he had a real reason to despise now tried to mend the rift between the two of you.

''Mad Dog-chan, I think you misunderstood something there. Well, no, you decided to not listen-'' The taller male says, hands gesturing wildly. While his voice still had that annoyingly cheery tone, it had something commanding hidden underneath. And oh, how Kentarou hated when someone demanded something of him, even if it was for his own good. ''Don't want to hear it.'' the blond mutters, already aggravated. The brown-haired setter resolutely puts himself in the way again. ''Oh, but you have to! That morning, Y/N-chan literally declared her love for yo-'' - ''I don't fucking care.'' Kentarou barks, not looking Oikawa in the eyes.

After another fruitless attempt to get properly into the gym, he growls and turns to leave. Already on his way to grab his stuff and take a leave, he hears Oikawa yelling. ''You answered and justified why I asked Y/N-chan to begin with!" And then louder, even though he could make out Iwaizumi trying to wrestle his childhood friend back into the gym, "APOLOGIZE, YOU IDIOT! YOU BETTER GROVEL FOR Y/N'S FORGIVENESS! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS SHOW YOU'RE PUTTING ON, AND YOU KNOW IT!"

This happened on Friday evening, and the guilt was gnawing away on him ever since. On his way home, Kyoutani had automatically taken the detour to your house. Kentarou enjoyed bringing you home (and more often than not, you pulled him inside with you, making him cuddle you!). It makes him feel like a good boyfriend, and he knew that you arrived there safely. He would never tell anybody and deny it if you ever decided to share this, but Kentarou relished in the feeling of your hand holding his all the way while going on about your day. He admired that you'd pet every cat and every dog you meet on the trip home together with him. You were perfect for him…why again did he act like this?

What caused Kyoutani's attempt to apologize - in his usual overly blunt and partly aggressive kind of way - was Yahaba, though. Both boys denied being remotely something beyond 'not really enemies'. But his future team captain was definitely one of the very few people that could and would tell him to his face that he fucked up without real repercussions. He would presumably even help Kyoutani to get it together.

After Yahaba had called you and listened to your heartbreaking rant, the setter realized that you, his friend, and his 'not really enemy' needed to talk ut out. Totally immersed in your tirade, you accidentally let slip that you couldn't endure Kyoutani's treatment any longer. That being pushed over by your boyfriend with brash and hurtful words after handling the cold shoulder was too much. That you expected Kyoutani to break up with you on Monday either way. In-person, if he had mercy on you or continue his treatment as a silent method of doing so. While you told Yahaba about your planned ''get over it-self-care'' weekend (involving tons of ice cream, movies with crying guarantee, lots of blankets, and no smartphone), the setter had already put on his jacket, shooting a message to Kyoutani.

From Yahaba: get your stupid fucking ass outside to meet me, or I'll bench you the complete season next year

Even though the wing spiker was sure that Yahaba's words were nothing but empty words, Kentarou allowed himself to accept this threat as an excuse to put his pride aside. Because, even though Yahaba annoyed him to no end - not as bad as Oikawa but still - Kentarou was also aware that you and he were friends. If someone could help him gaining your forgiveness, Kyoutani had to accept and admit that it was Yahaba. Meeting his light brown-haired teammate was kind of awkward. Kyoutani was unsure what he had to expect, though he should have seen the rough treatment coming. Yet, getting told that you, the person Kentarou was undeniably in love with, felt so neglected and hurt that you deemed this relationship to be as good as over allowed the guilt monster in his chest to grow. Shitty Oikawa was probably right ordering him to grovel and beg on his knees for you to even hear him out.

Your answer to his message was partly unlike you. Well, the last sentence. You usually were pretty forward with him to avoid miscommunication and uncalled-for moping around. And while you sometimes send keyboard smashes to express the chaos you felt, they were always in a separate message and not so…random. The text definitely meant something like ''then come to me'' but somehow, Kyoutani had an uneasy feeling about the whole thing.

Besides, he couldn't just wait till Monday and hope that you'd accept his apology! You may send him away today already, but he still had a teeny-tiny bit of hope. If he let the thoughts of him leaving you or the other way around fester in your mind for two whole days, though,…you'd probably realize that leaving him wasn't that bad of a decision. You'd come to the conclusion that all your admirers could treat you better than Kyoutani did. And he was too selfish to let you leave. Even though all he did the whole week was being self-centered and stuck up, he would be damned to begin being a saint now and let you go. That you at least were willing to talk to him was…a relief, to say the least. Kentarou hoped that this translated to you being willing to put up with him a little longer if he apologized correctly. That you're not opposed to giving him another chance to make things right.

At your house, he was greeted with darkness. Not even a single light illuminating any of the rooms he could see from his spot on your front lawn. And the ones he saw were your and your mom's most-used rooms. Your room window, your mothers' workroom, and the living room area with an adjacent kitchen. All of those rather significant rooms and the lack of light in them seemed to be a dead giveaway for Kyoutani that no one was home. Kyoutani guessed that you were probably out with your mom, glancing over to the empty spot in front of the garage.

Oh god, your mother had been the only supportive person of your relationship. Maybe it's in your family to see the best in everyone, even in shitty people like him. But if you told her about his behavior, she'd most likely not welcome him with a smile ever again, no matter if you forgave him.

There weren't many things Kyoutani could do in this situation, but it wasn't as late as nature let it on, and after a few seconds, he had decided to sit down at the front door and wait for you, hoping that it wouldn't take too long for you to come home. As if fate wanted to tell him something, the wing spiker had put on the jacket with the half-full power bank. He had worn it to the shelter when he visited it this week while distracting himself from your absence in his daily life. You had gifted him the piece of clothing, which is probably why he unconsciously had decided to wear it to everything he did after school in the first place.

Kentarou passed the time by snarling at people eyeing him for a moment too long to not be judgmental, petting the neighbors' cat wandering over to him, and watching videos. Every time he thought ''Y/N would like this'', his heart stuttered guilty.

To Kentarou, it felt like an eternity until your mother's car finally drove up the entry. To avoid your mother's potentially deadly stare, he nervously checked his mobile, realizing that he had waited for a little more than 3 hours. Yet, the wait had done nothing to soothe his nerves. They instantly spiked up again while his heart threatened to jump out of his throat.

She will hate me. Your mother would hate me, she'll hate me, she'll ha-

''Ah, Ken-chan! Good evening.'' Your mother greets him with a tired, yet still gentle smile. Oh. The blond blanches. He'd never admit it, but he enjoyed the treatment he received from your mother more than he should. Being spoken to without suspicion and receiving a warm smile every time without fail was a welcome change to his daily life. Your mother didn't listen to people trying to bad-mouth him. To her, he simply was the boy that - normally - treats her child the way a mother wished for. Even if he pulled a face as long as a fiddle.

''I didn't know you were coming, Ken-chan, or I would have messaged you…but now that you're here, maybe you can assist us out and help Y/N inside? It would help a lot.'' His gaze immediately flitted over to you on the passenger seat. With your arms crossed in front of your chest and that stubborn but endearingly cute pout on your lips, he nearly missed the tiredness your body emitted. Kentarou wanted to rush over to your side immediately but was stopped by your mother again. ''I don't know what you two are fighting about…but please talk to each other. I don't want my baby to be this sad. Especially now, and…'' she rests a hand on his shoulder, her eyes kind and comforting ''…I also don't want to miss you here, alright?'' He stiffly nodded and watched your mother carrying in plastic bags filled with various medicine packages and food.

After coming back to his senses, Kyoutani finally stumbled over to your side, practically ripping open the car door. This new perspective revealed a plaster cast wrapping your whole left leg and a removable wrist brace on your right hand. ''Bab- Y/N…what the fuck…happened?'' His honey-brown eyes continued to wander over your injuries, and with every second, he found more. Scratches and scrapes, bandaids and bandages peeking out from underneath your clothes. ''I'm so sorry,'' he whispered, hanging his head low.

All your intentions to fight his helping hand and limp over to the door by yourself disintegrated into nothing. You never witnessed such a devastated, beaten expression on his face before. Instead, you settle for ''Will you help me?''. A question asked quietly to your fingers picking at a loose band-aid edge on your arm and pressing it back onto the irritated skin.

After you loosened your seatbelt, he waits for you to carefully place your arms around his neck. It is followed by Kyoutani lifting you out of the car so gently as if he was afraid you might break. This whole situation in itself already contradicting his brash appearance and usual behavior. It would give whiplash to all the people pretending to know him. But he was always caring in his own way when it came to you. It's why you loved him after all. Because you usually knew that he loved you, too.

For a few moments, the atmosphere between the two of you felt awkwardly tense, both of you unsure how to interact with each other. The mostly blonde wing spiker breathed out a sigh of relief when you fully leaned into his chest once he stood upright, resting your head against his shoulder. A bit of maneuvering through the front door eventually lead to Kyoutani passing through the hallway and taking you to your room, where he was gently lowering you down on the bed.

It was a now or never kind of situation. For the both of you. While Kentarou was trying to find out where to begin his apology, he took a few steps back in case you wanted space until everything was cleared up.

You unconsciously helped him making a decision by impulsively grasping onto his shirt the moment he started to withdraw, stopping him in his retreating movement. Kentarou saw your lower lips wobbling, teary eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

''Please stay,'' you say weakly, which is enough for him to throw the whole thinking process away and simply sit down next to you, intertwining both your hands. ''I'm staying. I'm not leaving. Not now nor this relationship if you still want...an ''us''. The wing spiker took a deep, shuttering breath. '' I'm sorry, Y/N…'' he finally manages to say, honey eyes locked onto your linked your hands. ''I have been fucking stupid all week. 've been a fucking terrible boyfriend, the worst to ever exist.''

As if to encourage him...to show your boyfriend that his apology was not for nothing, you shuffled around until the last bit of distance between the two of you was closed. You hum, acknowledging his words while leaning your head on his shoulder.

''I didn't think you're cheating or something, …'' Kyoutani immediately assures you. There was no way he would allow you to think that he would accuse you of something like this. ''I had no reason to be jealous, but I was insecure. Let it get the best of me. Despite our promise to communicate, I was sulking. 't was easier. I'll do whatever the fuck you want for you to not give up yet…'' he says, taking his time with every sentence.

With a sigh, you squeeze his hand. ''It will probably take a lot of cuddling and attention from you...'' you say thoughtfully ''...but I forgive you…if you promise to not do this again…'' you murmur, tilting your head upward to press a chaste kiss to his jaw. ''Otherwise, I'll accept Iwaizumi-san's offer to get your thinking process restarted.'' For a moment, your voice had its usual joking edge. But you knew talking out everything was necessary. ''But, in all honesty, 'Tarou....please, never do this again. I am honest. I will not endure this a second time. When you tell me that you need a day or two for yourself then that is totally fine. If you feel yourself giving into whatever insecurity, talk to me about it. I am sure there will be an explanation or a solution but don't leave me in the dark. Don't treat me like that. I love you. Only you and no one else. But the time love can withstand straight-up ignorance by your partner is limited.''

Slowly, your boyfriend nodded, squeezing your hand to tell you that he understood. You would probably cling to him for a while but were sure that he would survive the extra closeness. Not even half a second later, his head leans onto yours cautiously.

''…and try being nicer to Oikawa-san, Tarou, he hasn't done anything to you.'' You add humorously before small giggles started to erupt from your lips. ''Also...Baby…'' you start, being interrupted by choked-up hiccups and giggles. By using your nickname for him, you take away another persistent fear of his. What he does not miss, however, is how you wince in pain before you continue, ''…who helped you put this into words? I mean…I loved it, but…,'' You leave unsaid that words usually are not his strong fort.

Biting back a smile, he frowns, huffs, and puffs…, but the way you are looking up at him, eyes shining with relief and adoration, allows him to admit defeat. He sighs ''…it's how Yahaba said I should say it…'' It usually would be an odd enough statement to make you throw yourself all over him with laugher. As a slight replacement, you squeeze his hand a bit, still shaking with suppressed laughter. ''I promise…that I will talk to you. Can't promise the Shittykawa part.'' Another soft chuckle leaves your lips before you look up at him again. ''I hope you try nonetheless. You should not let Iwaizumi-san hear you calling Oikawa-san that, though, I don't think this would turn out well for you…so...maybe stop this at least.'' Kentarou rolls his eyes at you, but in the end, he nods.

You wait for another second to clearly distinguish the two topics before you continue. ''…Thank you…for coming and finally speaking with me instead of break-'' A hand on your lips muffles your words.

''Don't say these words. I'd never break up with you,'' Kentarou grumbles, a light, uncharacteristic light pink settling on his cheeks. You stick your tongue out, which leads to him taking his hand off of your face with a surprised noise, rather dumbfounded that you had licked his hand. It gives you the chance to lean up and finally press your lips against his. ''I'm not leaving you either,'' you murmur, feeling his lips twitch upwards slightly. You decide to leave the teasing for another day.

Moving back into your previous position was enough of a hassle to hiss in pain. It brought back Kyoutani's awareness of the second problem at hand. ''What did happen to you?'' Kyoutani asks in an attempt to tamper down the excited, happy beating of his heart.

''Oh, this...uh, when I answered your text, I got driven over by a dude on a bicycle,'' you casually drop. It was kind of entertaining to watch his expressions change at an unequaled pace while processing your words. In the end, it settled into something akin to passive-aggressive worry. The way he was immediately fretting over you while cursing and cussing out the bicycle dude was his own way of caring. As you watch him retrieving the food your mother bought, while mumbling about how you're a dumbass for not paying attention to your surroundings, how he'd come over every day until you could go to school again to bring and teach you the stuff you would miss and how he would fucking murder the bicycle idiot if he ever finds out who dared to drive you over, you can't help the smile forming on your lips.

Once again, you are proven that loving him - while occasionally troublesome and demanding - was everything but wrong.

[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm? 

[weepylucifer]

Tosses another dinluke at you. This one’s about caring for each other

Luke awakens from uneasy sleep filled with nightmares, and immediately can tell that today is going to be terrible.

The occasional phantom pain in his wrist, that he can take. The old, flaring ache, the strange feeling that the hand is still there, which somehow makes both wearing and not wearing the prosthetic feel uncomfortable - well, it’s a drag, but it’s only one part of his body. With meditation to aid him, he finds he can usually sequester it off, away from the rest of him, and go through his day more or less like normal. But sometimes, each and every scar caused by the Force lightning clamors in pain, especially when he’s been dreaming about how he got them. This is the worst, because he hasn’t found a good way to cope with it yet. He can’t make the pain stop, and it’s driving him up the walls.

There’s no way he can teach his padawan like this.

Fortunately, Grogu’s father is visiting, and will probably be more than happy to entertain the kid for a day.

Luke hasn’t gotten the measure of the Mandalorian yet. He talks little, projects an aura of intimidation, being covered in armor all over like that, but he seems very attached to his child, so attached that Luke reckoned upon getting Grogu that breaking their bond would do a lot more harm than good. He’s come over for a few visits to far, and he practically curls over Grogu like a loth-cat over its young. But Luke doesn’t exactly know anything about him besides that.

Also, it’s dawned on Luke that he knows nothing about Mandalorians. He knows Boba Fett is one, but that’s pretty much it.

So he’s not exactly comfortable admitting his plight to the man. What if he perceives it as weakness? So when he emerges from his bedroom to greet him, he is brief, almost curt, making himself speak through the pain.

“I’m sorry, but there’ll be no lesson today. Can you just watch Grogu for me? I’m... something else has come up.”

The Mandalorian looks... like an expressionless helmet on a suit of armor. But his voice betrays some surprise when he says, “Um, yeah. Sure. Not a problem.”

He’s justified in his surprise; Luke has never cancelled Grogu’s lessons before. “Thanks,” Luke says and repeats, “Sorry this is on such short notice.”

The last thing he sees before beating his retreat back to his room is Grogu cooing and reaching a little hand out towards him in concern, doubtlessly feeling in the Force that something is amiss with Luke. He closes the door but can still hear the Mandalorian reassuring the kid to the best of his ability, “Sorry, buddy, your bajuri seems to be busy. No floating stuff today.”

Grogu emits the sad coo again.

“Hey, it’s okay. Wanna go to the pond and look for frogs?”

...

“We can take the Phoenix over there.”

A happy squeak tells Luke that the plan has met approval.

“You like flying with the jetpack, huh? Yeah, me too.”

Their voices recede, Grogu babbling happily and his father talking back pretending to understand him, and then the temple is silent. It dawns on Luke that the Mandalorian is attractive, the juxtaposition between the gleaming armored fighter and the father so gentle with his kid intriguing. The thought is brutally cut short by another sharp flash of searing pain.

He whines and flings himself onto his bed, curling up and tugging at his hair with both hands, hoping beyond reason that the pain in his scalp will distract him from the pain in his everywhere else.

--

Luke has been trying on and off to meditate or at least nap for several hours, when he hears a knock at the door. It can only be Mando.

“Um. Master Jedi?”

The Mandalorian has never asked Luke’s name, maybe he reckons Luke goes by his self-assumed title, just like he seems perfectly comfortable going by Mando. Yes?, Luke wants to ask, but he’s scared it’ll come out an undignified whimper.

“I made some dinner for the kid,” the Mandalorian continues. Is it dinner already? “I thought maybe you’d want some, so I’ll leave it out here.”

Luke blinks at the door. He wasn’t expecting this.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it, it’s, ah. Aruetiise usually find our cooking too spicy. So I made some bread to go with it, it. Helps. With the spice. I used some stuff from your storage for it, hope that’s okay.”

The silence persists.

“Putting it down now. Okay. Good luck with your... Jedi business.”

There’s a sound of, indeed, something being placed on the floor, then footsteps walking away.

Luke opens the door. There is a tray of food waiting for him. An amazingly delicious smell wafts from it and his stomach growls loudly, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten today.

So this man can cook. This man baked bread for him. Luke tries to imagine him, in the kitchen, doing that. Maybe he put Luke’s apron on over the armor. The thought makes him giggle for the first time today. Truly Grogu’s father is full of surprises.

--

It’s already getting dark out when Luke carries his empty plate back to the temple’s little kitchen. He finds Mando there with Grogu on his lap, as always in complete armor, simply watching as Grogu plays with a small silver ball.

Luke clears his throat. “Hi,” he says eloquently and carries his plate to the sink.

The Mandalorian nods in greeting. “All done in there?”

“Not exactly.” Somehow, Luke can feel Mando refocus on him, even through the helmet. He knows he must look rumpled, his hair mussed, his face drawn, and using one of his robes as a shawl. He wishes he had the ability to suffer more attractively, or at least the energy to make himself up a bit.

He sighs and sits down at the table with them. Somehow he feels like, as fair payment for the meal, the Mandalorian deserves his honesty in return. “Full disclosure, I wasn’t doing... Jedi stuff in my room. I just... I’m unwell.”

“Oh.” For some reason, Mando’s head tilts towards Grogu. It becomes apparent why when he asks, “Anything catching?”

“No. No, Grogu will be fine.” Luke folds his hands on the tabletop. Well, he’s already at it being honest. “Do you ever get the feeling of... old scars, hurting again? Like they’re new?”

“Your hand?” the Mandalorian asks. Ah, of course, he’s perceptive, he’s noticed the fake hand.

“Not just the hand. Everywhere. All over.” Luke grits his teeth as his nerves alight again along the lightning patterns. Maker, he hates this. It’s like the shrivelled old prune continues to torture him from beyond the grave.

“All over?” Mando repeats. The helmet’s modulator dulls emotion, but Luke guesses it’s concern he hears.

“Yeah. Look.” Following a sudden impulse, he gets up and shucks his robe, unbuttons his shirt and slips that off too. “Here, see?” He turns himself this way and that, catching the warm lamplight. “And yes, they go all the way down.”

Helmet or no, he can hear the Mandalorian’s breath catch. His hand, the one that’s not keeping Grogu from tumbling off his lap, twitches... rises... reaches out... Luke keeps himself very still. For a breath or two, he thinks that if the Mandalorian were to touch him, trace the lightning bolts on his torso with his gloved hand, then he might feel better. Might be soothed.

The hand is lowered to the table again as if embarrassed. Luke lets out his breath and tries not to slump in disappointment. “I’ve never seen scarring like that before,” the Mandalorian says. “And I’ve seen my fair share.”

“Force lightning,” Luke explains, before remembering that his companion knows nothing about the Force. “A Sith torture technique.”

“You were tortured?” Mando asks, then amends, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Luke sits back down, hugging his knees to his chest. “Pffft. It’s not like I’m not already thinking about it.” He rubs his hands down his arms at another shiver of pain. “The Emperor did this. When I went to confront him on the second Death Star.”

“It was you on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks.

“Yeah. The Emperor wanted me to join the dark side. I refused. I had no idea he’d just start frying me with lightning. I had no idea this was something the Force could even do.”

“But then you... killed the Emperor?” The Mandalorian is clearly guessing, and Luke finds himself astonished that there’s someone out there still who doesn’t know the whole Luke Skywalker Saga.

“I did not,” he says. “My father killed the Emperor. All I did was lie on the ground and be tortured.” He picks at his wrist where the synthetic skin joins the organic. “I’m not even bitter about that. It ended up saving my father’s soul. But sometimes, I have nightmares about it, you know? And in those dreams, my father... doesn’t help me. He just stands and stares at me and that’s worse than the pain. Because, when it actually happened, there was... a moment when I thought he wouldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t care and he’d watch me die. For a moment there, I lost hope, and that’s the worst of it really, knowing that about myself.”

“Why was... your father on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks, and huh, apparently he hasn’t heard about the Luke-and-Vader-connection either.

“It’s a long story,” Luke says, because it is, and he’s tired. His scars still hurt, not in these sudden flashes anymore, but as a pulsing, bone-deep, constant ache. But his chest feels a bit lighter for having talked about it.

The Mandalorian now gestures at said chest, instead of asking for the story again. “Can you take painkillers for those?”

Luke shakes his head. “They don’t help much. The pain’s in here.” He taps his temple. “I’ve just been trying to sleep it off, but it hurts too much to get to sleep.”

Mando hisses out a breath, and Luke is by this point fairly certain he’s commiserating. “Phew. Sounds like you need a drink.”

This makes Luke laugh, and he appreciates that. “You know, I’d love a drink, actually.”

After Grogu is put to bed, Luke gets a glass of spotchka and Mando’s company (he tilts the helmet off just far enough to free his mouth in quick, almost furtive gestures and takes tiny sips). His head’s starting to feel pleasantly swimmy when he says, “You know, I’ve just bared all my troubles to you - well, not all, but some, and pretty hefty ones - and yet I know... three facts about you, maybe.”

“Hmm. Yeah, that doesn’t seem fair,” the Mandalorian says amusedly. “What would you like to know?”

“Your name would be a good start,” Luke suggests.

The way the Mandalorian fidgets with his glass, he looks almost flustered. “Ah... Din. Din Djarin.”

“Luke Skywalker.” Luke grins and reaches across the table, ignoring the pinpricks of pain up his arm, to grip Mando’s - Din’s - hand. “It’s nice to have met you, Din Djarin.”

-----

In the following months, these flare-ups return occasionally, but none in such intensity. Luke knows that it’s only a matter of time, though. He’s beginning to suspect that this might stay with him forever. But he’s not as horrified at the prospect as he once was, after talking about it to Din and being neither judged nor pitied. After Din didn’t look at him worried like Leia, or attempted clumsily to walk on eggshells around the topic like Han, and didn’t think less of Luke, and didn’t act like Luke’s admittance to his issues tarnished some sort of larger-than-life image of the glowing Jedi hero. How odd it is to think of a future that has someone in it he can rely on in such an uncomplicated manner. He hasn’t had anyone in his life to rely on - or dared to think of himself as needing this - since... well, since Aunt Beru, probably.

During these months, Grogu has steadily progressed in his studies. Din has visited the temple with some regularity, but Luke has yet to get used to him. How could he, when there’s so much new and exciting to discover about Din still? He finds himself looking forward to these visits, and missing Din when absent, almost as much as Grogu does. Din can only ever stay a few days at once, and Departure Day is a sad one for all two inhabitants of the makeshift Jedi school. (Luke’s not sure what Din does when he’s not here. It can’t be so important, right? Surely not more important than spending time with Grogu? Than talking to Luke?)

This time, though, when Din shows up at the agreed-upon time, it’s weird. He speaks even less than usual, he seems to retreat into his armor even more, he opts to sleep in his ship instead of one of the many empty bedrooms in the temple that Luke has yet to fill with more students. And he barely holds or even touches Grogu, and that tips Luke off. These other observations he could chalk up to paranoia and his own desire to coax Din out of his (figurative!) shell. But that last one tells him that something is off.

Grogu can feel it too, and confusion and worry is seeping off of him into the Force. Luke tries to calm him and get him to sleep, but in the morning, Grogu’s still a bit anxious, and their collective worry mounts when breakfast passes by and Din fails to emerge from his ship. The two of them are reflecting their worry back off each other, and it’s getting aggravating, so Luke gets up and resolves to investigate.

“Okay, Grogu, can you go in the garden and play with Artoo? I’ll go look what’s up with your dad.”

Grogu immediately calms now that he knows the matter is being taken care of, and it warms Luke’s heart to see how much the kid has grown to trust him.

He gains entrance to the ship - it’s not the same one that Grogu has shared memories of with him, but similar enough in layout. The cockpit is empty, so he descends down a narrow ladder into what probably passes for crew quarters here. Peering around a corner, he finds Din hunkered down with his back against the durasteel wall, his threadbare cape wrapped around him as a blanket. He hasn’t noticed Luke come in yet, and that’s wrong in and of itself, and he’s shivering so hard it makes his beskar rattle slightly. As Luke lays eyes on him, he breaks into a horrid wet cough beneath the helmet, the modulator rendering it rasping and metallic.

Okay, something must be done.

“Din?” Luke asks, peeking his head out into open view. “It’s Luke, I’m in here now. You sound like my dad, kriffing-- how long has it been like this?”

Din’s head whips around in Luke’s direction, and he probably only doesn’t flinch because he’s trained to not flinch at things. “I’m fine,” he claims - outrageously lying - and tries to drag himself to his feet, hands bracing against the wall behind him.

Luke is already rushing to his side. “No, no, just stay down. There, that’s right, just sit. Are you wounded? Sick?”

Din tilts his head back against the wall. “Not wounded.”

“Well, that’s... good.” Luke squats next to him, unsure how to proceed. In the Force, he can feel exhaustion and pain radiating off of Din, but that doesn’t tell him what exactly is wrong. He tries to touch his wrist and, of course, meets beskar.

“Din, I realize this might be a... big ask, but can you remove your helmet so I can check your temperature?”

A stuttering sigh comes out through the modulator. “I don’t...”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Luke hurries to add. “It’ll just be for a few seconds. Oh, oh I have a blindfold back at the temple! I can run back and get it.”

Din shakes his head. “It’s okay. You’ve seen it before.” He reaches a shaking hand up and with a hiss, the locks on the helmet disengage. He slides it up and off and Luke takes in his face. It’s flushed, his hair matted and sweaty, his eyes bleary, and yet. It’s as attractive as Luke remembers.

Shaking these thoughts off, because there certainly are more important things now, Luke reaches out and puts his ungloved hand on Din’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he hisses. “I’m taking you back to the temple, I have medicine there.”

He’s already in the process of wrapping an arm around Din’s torso to help him up when Din shakes his head. “No. Gotta stay here.” His speech is washed out, his eyes glassy, and Luke’s concerned he’s not talking sense.

“You’ll be more comfortable at the temple.”

Din tries to brush him off with alarmingly feeble hands. “No. The kid.”

Ah. “I don’t think Grogu can catch anything off of you. Different species and all that.”

“You don’t know.”

Well, strictly speaking, Luke doesn’t. Yoda never mentioned anything like that. For a moment, Luke looks around the room, but his old mentor’s ghost is unhelpfully absent. He settles for promising, “I’ll make sure he keeps his distance.”

Din shakes his head again. “Kid’s going to...” He’s interrupted by another coughing fit. “...try to heal me. Don’t want him to overdo it.”

Even miserably sick, Din’s first concern is for the child. It makes something warm swell in Luke’s chest, and he realizes with no small start that Oh, this might be something a lot more than attraction he’s dealing with.

It doesn’t matter now. “I’ll make sure Grogu doesn’t overtax himself then. I’m his teacher, it’s what I’m here for.” Not at home to any more protests, Luke uses the Force to help him lift Din up in his arms. “Try to have a little faith in me, okay?”

“I’m fine here on my own,” Din insists.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Luke says distractedly as he starts off towards the exit ramp, bridal-carrying a whole Mandalorian warrior.

Din is not cooperative, doing his damndest to make himself a dead weight. “I’m Mand’alor,” he mutters, eyes half-closed. “I don’t have to take that tone from you.”

Luke doesn’t know what that word means. Maybe it’s a special type of Mandalorian. He’ll ask later, if he remembers. “Right now, you’re sick, that’s all,” he says, taking them at a brisk pace back to the temple. “You need attention.”

Din’s answer is a displeased groan. “My own damn fault for taking off the helmet.”

In the moment, Luke wonders if he means that in a metaphysical sort of way, like he’s being punished by the ancient Mando gods for his heresy. He’ll later discover that it’s much more prosaic than that: Din has worn the helmet since he was a child, and it’s protected him amiably against any airborne diseases. Now that he’s decided to start taking if off occasionally amongst other people, his immune system is being thrown into a panic by all these new unfiltered things to be breathed in, and he has prompty caught some kind of space flu.

For now, he gets Din into bed, armor and all, and heads for the ‘fresher and the aid kit he stashed there.

--

Din is burning.

Din is glacier-cold.

He sleeps irregularly in this soft bed he doesn’t recognize, and wakes himself with fits of coughing. He gropes for lucidity and gives up on it again in intervals. At some point, someone took his helmet - no, he remembers taking it off, or was that a dream? He has a memory of being carried in somebody’s arms, but who would carry him in full beskar? Who would care to? He’s not on his ship and he’s not alone and this is wrong. He’s been sick before, even with the helmet: from infected wounds or bad food or bad water or being out in harsh weather too long during a job. He’s always ridden it out by himself, if he was too far off to stumble his way back to the covert. But this isn’t the covert - that’s long gone, isn’t it? - and someone is here.

The person, at some point, helps him sit up and removes his armor, and Din would panic - does - but the person’s hands on him are gentle, and there’s some voice telling him that “It’s just to make you more comfortable, I’m putting it right next to the bed, I’m not taking it away, see? It’s right here waiting for you” and he’s too exhausted to put up a fight, and why would they lie? If they wanted the beskar for themselves they would’ve killed him already. But the person doesn’t. The person gives him water when he’s coughed his throat raw. The person drapes a blanket over him, which he shucks off during the hot spells only to grope for it again during the cold ones. The person puts a hand on his forehead and it’s even more cool and soothing than the damp cloth they also provide.

At some point, the person puts something in the bed with him - some alive thing, some small and fussy thing, some important thing with small green claws and wide moon eyes and large ears that are the softest thing that Din’s ever touched. He reaches out for it on instinct, just to pet the downy white hairs on its little head, and the person’s voice says from somewhere far above, “Okay, Grogu, I promised your father to take this slow. We’ll do this gradually, so you don’t tire yourself. You understand? Small healing. Easy.”

The small and precious thing makes a displeased sound, and Din wants to soothe it again. The voice replies, “I know how you feel, I know you want to fix it all right now, but I promised, okay? Your father will be very disappointed in me if we don’t do this just like he’d have it. And we don’t want that, hm?”

Din hears a coo close to his ear, feels a tiny, three-clawed hand touching him, and then there’s a sudden warmth spreading in his chest, not like the clammy heat of the fever but different, pleasant. Suddenly it seems easier to lie back and get some real, truly restful sleep, and this he does.

This instance repeats several more times, over days, until there is a point at which Din wakes - still sore, shaky, and with his muscles aching from having trembled so much - but with the fever broken and his head clear enough to string a coherent thought together.

He’s vaguely aware of a warbling voice a short distance away that he can’t quite yet discern. The room is dim, with only a singular lamp by his bedside spreading a warm light. There is a window above the bed but no light is coming in. It must be late in the evening - Grogu’s bedtime, is what Din’s inner alarm clock tells him without fail. And indeed, when he raises his head, he spots a small crib across the room that can only be Grogu’s, and Luke is there, rocking it in gentle motions. It is him who’s doing the crooning - singing Grogu to sleep, Din realizes abruptly. As he focuses, the lullaby slowly starts to make some sense: it’s in Bocce, which Din is about as conversant in as Tusken. He’s actually heard the tune before; it’s a nonsensical little ditty that settlers on Tatooine sing to their children.

He stretches out an arm and points a shaky finger at Luke.

“Hick,” he accuses, his voice gritty like he gargled a mouthful of sand.

Luke spins around, his blue eyes widening. “If you’re trying to insinuate that only sand-encrusted, desert-dwelling hicks speak Bocce,” he says, “then you are correct.” He smiles. “It’s good to see you back with us.”

“You’re from Tatooine,” Din says, and wonders why this is so important to him. Maybe it’s because learning things about Luke is like putting a puzzle together. There’s somehow a whole bunch of people that Luke is - he’s fascinating, he’s vexing, he’s confusing, and Din has no idea why he’s this interested in the first place. Well, he does have some clue, but it’s best not dwelled upon. Luke has his Creed and his life, Din has his wholly different Creed and life, and it’s not like the interest can be mutual anyway.

Or can it? Luke seems to have been here for days, watching him heal. Din’s mind veers away from phrases like “nursing” and “caring for” because, well, it implies a needing and a being needed that’s not usually extant for him. He takes care of himself, mostly, that is how it’s been for years. Decades...

Luke nods. “Anchorhead represent. Go Womp Rats.”

Din wrinkles his nose. “Anchorhead? There’s nothing there.”

“You’re telling me! Come talk to me about it when you’ve lived there for nineteen years.” He crosses the room to come perch on the edge of Din’s bed. “Which you won’t, you’re the king of Mandalore.”

Oh, shit. Yeah. He’s probably missing a council meeting right now. Wait. “Who told you?”

“You talked a lot when you were feverish.” Luke passes a hand over Din’s brow. He’s done that before, but it’s very different now that Din is awake for it. “It seems to have broken.”

“You had the kid heal me,” Din surmises. He can’t waste breath right now on wondering what else he said to Luke, when the fever had him. “I told you not to do that.”

“I had him heal you slowly, step by step, so he wouldn’t exhaust himself. Just a little every day,” Luke explains.

“He okay now?”

“He’s-” Luke begins to answer, then stops himself. A truly mischievous smile spreads on his lips. “Prince Grogu is resting, your highness. But yes, your majesty, he’s perfectly fine and healthy.”

“Stop.” Din swats a hand at him. “Not... ‘majesty’. We don’t even do that. It’s just ‘Alor. Actually, it’s just Din.”

Luke dodges his hand and almost falls back onto the bed, laughing. “Oh, dear. Please, your worship, accept this humble Jedi’s apology--”

“I mean it, stop--” He probably sounds petulant. He can’t bring himself to care.

Luke’s smile gentles. So do his eyes, impossibly blue. Huh. He’s beautiful. “I’m just teasing you,” he says, beautifully. “I know this doesn’t change anything here. Just another facet of the man I’ve been getting to know.”

“Ah. So you’ve been.” Din clears his throat. That feels awful, as it is still very dry. “Getting to know me. Huh?”

Does this qualify as flirting? This is probably awful. Din’s not good at this. And anyway, it’s still unclear if Luke is actually--???

The softest pair of lips in the galaxy (the galaxy!!!) is on his forehead. Din’s chest implodes. He can feel Luke’s smile on his skin. He’s never felt anything like it before. How is this happening? He’s most likely still sick, and this is a fever dream.

“I’d like to get to know much more of you,” Luke says, withdrawing, still smiling, his eyes like sun-streaked oceans. Din has no breath in his chest.

He delays his reaction two seconds too long, and Luke’s expression begins to falter. “I’m... sorry, you’ve just recovered, and here I am putting... this on you.” He gestures broadly at himself in his entirety. “I... hold on, I’ll go get you, um, a glass of water or something...”

Din would like a glass of water. He would not like Luke to leave. The latter wins out. “Wait.” He grasps Luke’s wrist before he can get up. “I didn’t mean... I would, um. Like to get to know you also.”

Luke stills, his face a turmoil of emotion. How is this the same man who looked so utterly serene to the point of expressionlessness when they first met?

Din figures it’s way past time he made a move. Luke’s already gone and bared himself so much. It’s only fair that he meet him halfway, Din thinks and kisses him.

[amanda-glassen]

The Wonder Years: Part 11

While getting ready for her first school dance, twelve-year-old Olivia starts a path toward discovering who she is truly meant to be. Parts 1-10 and one-shots in this universe can be found in the tag #alex and liv: the wonder years

Jamie stayed up with Olivia until 2 a.m. playing video games to take their minds off of the night’s events when Serena finally came home. She didn’t talk to either of them despite Jamie asking if she was okay and Olivia telling her that she loved her. Olivia didn’t know who this woman was that walked through the door. She was fragile and worn down, nothing like the vibrant woman she knew. Olivia was used to giving her mom a hug every time she got home, but this time there was no talking to her, no touching her, and Olivia felt for the first time in her life that her mom wished she hadn’t been born. The only words she heard from her after a few minutes was her mom yelling at her to go to bed.

...but she didn’t go to bed. Instead, Olivia left her bedroom door slightly ajar so she could peek down the hall.

Olivia didn’t know how it happened, but Jamie was able to embrace her mom and Serena clinged to her and smiled some goofy smile that Olivia had once seen in a romantic comedy, until she remembered she and her mom didn’t actually watch romantic comedies. Or was that a horror movie before the woman went on a rampage and killed the man who wronged her? Either way, she’s actually smiling.

“I’m sorry our first full night together didn’t go according to plan,” she heard her mom say to Jamie.

Olivia didn’t remember falling asleep and, when she woke up the next morning, the noises she heard from down the hall made her feel as if she had woken up in another universe. She heard pans clinking in the kitchen and the sound of her mom laughing. Oh my god, she killed my dad with a frying pan and she’s laughing about it. But Olivia quickly shook that thought from her head and took a deep breath before walking down the hall.

“...Mom?” Olivia hesitated.

“I’m in the kitchen, Olliegator!” she heard her mom call out.

She walked in to find Jamie standing in front of the stove, making omelets and her mom sitting on the counter, eating from a bowl of shredded cheese. She was smiling and happy and Olivia began to wonder if last night had even happened at all or if it was just a horrible dream.

“Morning, Ollie. Your mom has been banished to the counter,” Jamie informed her. “She kept trying to do non-stick pan demonstrations, but she couldn’t do them without making the omelets fly out of the pan and onto the floor. I figured the bowl of cheese will keep her happy, though.”

“Treating me like a common mouse,” Serena scoffed. “Do I at least have permission to get off of the counter so I could talk to my daughter?”

“Permission granted,” Jamie responded, too preoccupied with the omelets to care if Serena got off the countertop.

While sitting on the couch in the living room, there wasn’t a single moment of awkward silence before Olivia felt herself wrapped up in her mom’s embrace. She was holding her close and giving her kisses on the cheek to make Olivia giggle, which made her more confused than ever. It’s like last night never even happened.

“My Ollie,” her mom said as she hugged her again. “My sweet baby. I’m so sorry I hurt you last night.”

“It's okay."

She felt her mom cup her face in her hands. "I need you to listen to me, Olivia. It's never okay for anyone to hurt you, especially me. I’m your mom and I should always protect you.”

“Mom?”

Her mom kissed her wrist where she had roughly grabbed it the night before. “Does it still hurt? Do you need ice? Olliegator, please tell me how I can make it up to you? I’ll get you anything. I’ll get you the bat you’ve been wanting.” Her mom shook her head. “No, that’ll make it seem like I’m buying your forgiveness. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so bad at this.”

“Buying my forgiveness is okay,” Olivia smiled. “I’ll take the bat.”

“I bet you will,” her mom playfully pulled her onto her lap and wrapped her arms around her waist. “My big baby. You’re growing so fast. You’re almost as tall as me now.”

“Mom?” Olivia asked nervously.

“Yes, Ollie?”

“What you said earlier...you’re not bad at this,” Olivia averted her eyes. “And this whole you being in love thing...I guess it’s okay. Jamie played video games with me last night while you were with Uncle Kyle. I really like her. I just don’t like her kissing you. No one is supposed to be kissing my mom.”

“No one?”

Olivia turned around to face her. “Just me,” she said after giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. She saw her mom give her that dopey smile that meant she was feeling soft and sentimental. 

“Okay, only you.” Olivia felt her mom’s fingers combing through her hair. “I know what you can do for your science project.” With everything that had happened around her in the course of twelve hours, Olivia had completely forgotten about her science project. Even if it was a significant portion of her grade, it all felt so trivial in comparison to meeting her dad. “When I was in middle school, my best friend and I did a cupcake geology project and made cupcakes with different layers to represent the earth. Instead of your classmates just observing the project, they’ll get their own cupcakes and straws to use to simulate what it’s like to drill and collect core samples. I’ll help you bake them.”

Olivia gave her a confused look. “But you can’t bake.”

“Then I’ll help you convince Jamie to bake them,” Serena playfully touched her finger to the tip of Olivia’s nose. “Come on, Olliegator. I think breakfast is almost ready.”

“Race you to the kitchen. First one there gets the cheesiest omelet.” Olivia took off running but felt her mom wrap her arms around her waist from behind and push ahead of her. “Mom! That’s cheating!”

....but the moment her mom stepped foot in the kitchen, Jamie scooped her up and refused to let her go. “Get the cheesy one, Ollie. She’s trapped.”

Olivia raced toward the plate with the cheesy omelet and piled some hash browns next to it. She looked back at her mom who was still struggling to get away from Jamie’s embrace. “Jamie! Now I have to have the veggie omelet.”

“Serena, you ate half a bowl of cheese this morning!” Jamie released her once Olivia was sitting down with her breakfast. “I did it on purpose, babe. When was the last time you ate a vegetable that wasn’t on a pizza?”

“I ate a chicken caesar wrap for lunch two days ago,” Serena pointed out as she begrudgingly piled some hash browns next to her veggie omelet.

Jamie came up to hug her from behind and Olivia couldn’t help but giggle when she saw her mom pout. “Yeah and I bet you doused it in dressing,” Jamie smirked.

“She’s just gonna cover this in ketchup anyway and that’s loaded with sugar,” Olivia told Jamie although she had just squirted ketchup onto her own hash browns. “And not just the hash browns either. She covers her omelets, too.”

“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” her mom asked as she poured what remained of the shredded cheese onto her omelet when Jamie wasn’t looking. “Are you two going to call me out on all of my eating habits?”

As her mom really didn’t know how to cook, a homemade breakfast was a rare treat in the Benson household. On weekend mornings, they usually ordered from Doordash or went to her mom’s favorite coffee shop for bagels. Weekday mornings were always hectic between Olivia rushing to get ready for school and her mom getting ready for work so she’d scarf down a Pop Tart while her mom grabbed a cereal bar and some coffee in a tumbler. But sitting at the table that morning, just the three of them, eating a breakfast that Jamie cooked and talking and laughing made Olivia feel like they could eventually be a family and her mom could be happy like this every morning. 

“What’s on your mind, Olliegator?” her mom asked as tousled her hair. 

She wanted to tell her mom that she was happy for her and that her being in love was one of the best things that could happen to the two of them. She wanted to tell her that she was going to meet her dad so she could alleviate some of the guilt. Olivia still didn’t know what happened between the two of them, but she held onto the hope that it was a fight－something they could finally work out－and when they did, Olivia would have a relationship with her dad. She didn’t want her parents together now that she knew how much her mom loved Jamie and how much Jamie loved her mom, but she still hoped that he could go to her games and maybe she could spend every other weekend at his house like all the other kids she knew whose parents were divorced. She thought about what her grandma said about going to Disneyland and she wanted to tell her that she’d do anything for the chance to ride the teacups with Alex, but none of the words formed.

“I’m just thinking about how good the cheesy omelet is.”

[sailor-manga]

“Mi Amour” Sero Hanta x !Fem reader. [400 follower raffle fic<3]

A/N: I’m sorry this one was so late, I was so determined to make it as good as possible since this was my first time writing Sero. This was for my second raffle winner @reinawritesbnha​ . Like I said, I apologize for it taking so long, I was really studying and trying to capture Sero the best I could. <3 

This fic is for the readers that are +18, if you are not, please go elsewhere. Thank you <3 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, nsfw, cursing, smut, oral. 

 The room was filled with loud chatter, it had been a while since you and Sero were able to hang out just the two of you. You obviously loved the BakuSquad, but Sero was definitely your ride or die. You two talked about everything and you were so comfortable with him, best friend material. You two sat off near the window of a local diner near his place, it was somewhere you two often escaped to share some fries and just talk. 

You two were sharing old stories of when you two attended UA High and it was always a fun time “Man, it’s crazy how much Bakugo grew up” you’d say popping a fry into your mouth, shaking your head some.

“Yeah, I mean.. He still wants to kill everyone, but matured for sure” Sero replied with a wide grin, causing you to let out a soft giggle. 

“That’s true, but grown nonetheless” you added before pulling the ketchup towards you and putting some down on the plate “So what are you going to do after this? I feel like we haven’t gotten a chance to just hang out one on one in so long, surely you can’t be tired yet” you’d say with a smile on your face.

Sero would check his watch and shrug “I don’t plan on sleeping just yet, would you wanna come back to my place? We can put on a movie and look at some old pictures.. Don’t make fun of me, but I made some scrapbooks” he said with a cheesy blush. 

“Why would I make fun of you? That sounds cool!” you chimed with a bright smile, causing him to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. 

The two of you seemed to eat a little quicker now, eager to go back to Sero’s place to relive some stupid high school memories. You kept those memories close to you too, Sero and the others were probably the closest bunch of people you had, even once you all had graduated, you still hung out almost everyday! 

The two of you walked back to his apartment and once you had arrived, you would kick off your shoes as he disappeared down the hallway. Shrugging to yourself, you would wander over to his couch before plopping down and crossing your legs, pulling out your phone to see if you had any notifications. 

All there was, was notifications that you had from the group chat you all were in with the BakuSquad. 

You were distracted though when Sero had returned with a large book. Plopping down next to you, he would smile brightly “Here it is!” he said, flipping open the first page, which showed a picture of you guys at your first year at UA.

“No way! I don’t even remember this being taken!” you’d chime with a chuckle, leaning forward to get a better look. 

Sero would lean close to you, and you two would sit and laugh a majority of the night, time had flown by so fast, by the time you checked your phone again, it was very late “Oh, shit” you’d mutter with a soft chuckle.

The male would lean forward to catch a glimpse of the time on your phone and groan “Shit, we did it again” he said with a chuckle before standing up and stretching “Do you have anything to do tomorrow? You can always crash here” he offered.

You would nod and stand as well “I would like that, thanks.. I’m going to run to the bathroom really quick and get washed up” you’d state before heading down his hallway.

As you did, you could see him going to his front closet of the home to start getting out extra pillows and blankets for you to crash on the couch. 

Making your way to his bathroom, you would pass his room along the way. You had been to Sero’s house plenty of times, and been in his room as well- But passing it this time was definitely different. A piece of lilac fabric had caught your eye immediately and you would take a few steps back to peer inside.

Your mouth would hang open quietly, it couldn’t be.. Could it? Looking back down the hall to see Sero still making a spot for you to sleep, you would push the door open more and slip inside, immediately walking to his bed and snatching the fabric that had caught your eye. 

Holding it up to your face your mouth would hang open in surprise and your face would turn a deep crimson, they were none other than your favorite pair of panties that you had assumed you lost some time ago. Why did he have them?! Why were they on his bed?.. Looking around some you would swallow hard and step towards his dresser, when you came over, things were usually more cleared off, so you’d never seen the multiple photos that he had of just you sitting atop the dark oak wood, or a little bottle of your chap-stick that you had thrown away because it was getting old.

It was like.. A shrine almost, things that you had ��lost’ or thrown away. Swallowing hard you’d look back down at the silken fabric clutched in your hands. 

Most females would probably be.. Repulsed or heavily creeped out upon discovering something like this, but you and Sero were so close.. If anything you felt a little dumb for not realizing this infatuation that he had with you. 

You were lost in your own thought that the creaking of the males door didn’t ring in your head, but the gasp sure did. Spinning around, you would see Sero with a doe eyed stare, his hands raising up “Y-Y-Y/N! I.. This isn’t what it looks like at all” he said firmly.

Letting out a huff, you would hold up the panties in your hand “You know, you looked for these with me for like two hours a few months ago, but you took them” you said in a slightly irritated tone “What’s going on, Sero” you finally asked with a soft frown on your face.

The male would hang his head “I.. I know, but I couldn’t help it.. I can never help it around you..” he trailed off and finally glanced up “I.. love you, Y/N.. But we’re such good friends, and I.. I don’t know.. I figured this stuff.. Would suffice, because I don’t want to ruin anything” he said in a saddened tone. 

You felt your heart sink a little, you couldn’t deny that you always had a thing for Sero, but it was for the same reason you never pursued it either. Tilting your head some, you would glance back down at the panties “What.. do you do with these? They were on your bed” you’d ask quietly, a soft blush starting to paint your cheeks.

Sero rubbed the back of his neck “I.. um..” he trailed off.

“We’re best friends, you can tell me” you urged, stepping closer to him.

“I.. smell them, and rub them… “ he coughed “On myself, when I’m, you know..” he finished, trailing off, his own complexion turning a deep red color. 

You would return his blush and finally close the distance between you guys “Hanta, you should have told me” you’d say as you took his hands and placed the panties against his palm “Because you know, I would have.. Just given you a pair” you said with a light smile, trying to show the male that you weren’t angry in the slightest.

The male would look up to meet your gaze, wide and surprised that you were so understanding with it, even going through the lengths of offering him to have more if he wanted and even going through the length of using his first name, something that made his heart swell.“Y/N..” he said softly, his body instinctively leaning forward. 

You were ready for this, you.. Didn’t care about the worries of ruining a potential friendship, you two were already basically dating with how much time you spent together. 

You would lean your body forward as well, and soon your lips were pressed together, and he was quick to wrap his strong, muscular arms around your waist, locking you in. 

A quiet sigh would escape your lips as the two of you moved your heads in sync, deepening your first kiss “I love you” Sero stated again, causing you to bite your lip.

“I love you too, Hanta.. If you maybe, I don’t know.. Want to try this dating thing, I would be down to give it a shot” you offered, giving him a soft smile and hugging your arms around his shoulders. It really wasn’t a guilt or sympathy thing, you truly did feel this way for him, though it was pushed down, you were freely letting your heart do what it wished, and it wanted him badly. 

The male didn’t really seem hesitant now, his body would start pushing you back to the bed until you fell upon it with a soft ‘oof’, and his body would press up against you as he pushed your hair out of the way and began to kiss up your neck. 

Letting out a soft sigh, your hands would stay gripped onto his shoulders and you would close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his soft, plush lips press against your cooled flesh. 

His hands that were firmly at your waist would slowly slide up, pushing up your shirt in the process to expose your stomach, causing you to shiver “Y/N” he finally muttered against your cheek. 

“Hm?” You’d say softly, turning your head to look at his pink stained face.

“You can say no, but.. I’ve always.. Thought about you a lot, and how it would feel if you” he bit his lip “Sucked me off” he finished.

Your face would soften and your hands would finally push at him “Your wish is about to come true” you’d muse with a smile, getting on your knees and pointing down at his mattress “Lay down” you’d chime.

The male immediately listened and plopped onto the bed, removing his shirt and fumbling to unbutton his pants. 

Settling yourself between his legs, you would help him and easily shrug down his pants enough to free his member twitching in delight. Just the thought of your lips wrapped around his cock made his erection spring to life. 

You didn’t make him wait long, your lips would cutely kiss the tip of his needy head and your hand would quietly stroke him as you licked around his sensitive tip, catching some of his pre-cum on your wet muscle and letting out a soft groan. Glancing up at him, he stared at you with such intensity, eagerly waiting for the moment you took him inside of your mouth.

Smiling up innocently, you would look back down and part your lips, slowly starting to inch him in until your nose touched the base of his cock. You would let out a few struggled breaths as you attempted to get used to his size, but when you did, your tongue would swirl around his veiny, twitching shaft, causing his head to fall back against the pillows “F-Fuck, Y/N.. A..ah, right there” he said in a breathy tone. 

His encouraging moans were enough to make you start bobbing your head at a medium quick pace, your tongue dragging devilishly over the bottom of his shaft. You could feel a hand tangle in your hair, gripping onto it tightly though not moving you in any sort of way. Swallowing on the males swollen head, he would let out a long strained out moan “F-..uck, I’m going to cum, will you drink me? I wanna watch that cute face swallow me all down..please” he pleaded in a gruff tone.

Your eyes would flicker up to him and stare at his face twisted in pleasure through your lashes before letting out a muffled ‘mhm’.

With your okay, he would now hold your head still and thrust into your mouth messily, letting out a loud moan before releasing into your mouth, causing you to cough out in surprise. Squeezing your eyes shut, you would moan out softly and swallow him down the best you could before his seed would leak past your lips that seemed suctioned around him. 

The male would wind down a little and pant, though his hard on was far from gone. When you finally slid him out of your mouth you’d notice that it was still throbbing, still needy for you. “I want.. To fuck you so badly babe, can we?” he breathed out, grabbing you by the arms lightly and pulling you to lay on top of him. 

You would allow it, and were very quick to place a kiss on his cheek. You truly didn’t think it would escalate to this, but you weren’t mad about it either “Yes” you’d muse, your lips still dragging against his cheek. 

Once again, upon getting your okay he would flip you over so that you were pressed against the mattress and his hands would shrug down your leggings before tossing them onto the floor. His hand was quick to find your dripping slit and he would growl out “You’re so fucking wet, Y/N.. All of this just from sucking me off?” he asked in a teasing tone.

Your body would shiver as he touched your aching pussy, and his words would cause you to blush out “O-Of course.. It was fucking hot” you’d groan, your hips bucking into his fingers, causing him to lick his lips.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he stated quietly before grabbing his shaft and rubbing his head along your folds, coating it with your juices and prodding at your swollen clit. Moaning out, you would reach up and hold onto his shoulders before giving him a nod.

Sero would stop just for a moment, and you would hear the sound of him ripping open a form of protection. As he rolled the rubber down his cock, he would pump it a few times before going back to your hole, getting his tip nice and wet before lining himself up and pushing inside of you.

You would immediately moan at the feeling of his girthy rod starting to stretch your walls, the way he pulsed around your velvet tunnel caused you to leak further, your essence dripping down your ass and onto the bed. 

He would push himself all the way inside before lingering, just enjoying the way your walls hugged him so tightly, welcoming his cock to mold you to only fit him and him only. “I’m going to start moving” he warned before pulling about halfway out and thrusting back inside of you, causing your back to arch instinctively, hands tightening on his shoulders which made him smirk some “I can feel you squeezing me, is that a way of saying you never want my cock to leave?” he asked in a teasing tone.

You would blush some and look away from him, letting out a scoff “D-Don’t go getting a big head, now” you’d mutter out before letting another moan out soon after as he circled his hips, stirring up your insides in the best way possible.

“I can’t help it, I finally have you.. I want to make you mine in every way possible” he mused before bucking his hips into you again, but this time not stopping. From the start his thrusts were messy and lacked any kind of true pace, he was desperate to have you, desperate to make his mark, and desperate to cum inside of you condom or not. 

Long strings of mewls would escape your throat as the sound of wet slapping filled the room, the smell of sex infiltrating your nostrils. 

“You’re so fucking tight, baby.. I’ve fucking..dreamt about this.. Ah god..” he moaned out desperately, his hands sliding back and gripping onto your ass tightly “This would feel.. Even greater raw” he added, hanging his head down to sloppily kiss at your lips.

Tilting your head up, you would kiss him back and moan into his mouth, your hand wandering to tangle into his raven tresses. 

By the way he was throbbing inside of you, you could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer, and that was okay, because very quickly your own climax was bubbling to the surface. 

You were surprised when you broke first. An orgasm would rip through your body with so much intensity, that you couldn’t even feel your toes.. White hot jolts of ecstasy would course through you and cause your body to tremble and spasm as he continued to hit your spongy G-Spot. 

That was too much for him though, because of your cunt squeezing his throbbing cock like a vice grip he would push into you one last time before releasing into the condom, but even through the rubber you could feel how hot his load was. His body would lay upon yours and he would struggle to control his breathing. 

Lazily moving your arms to hug onto him, you would do the same. 

“Never.. Leave me, Y/N” he finally groaned, pulling his cock out and rolling to the side, making sure to discard the used rubber before pulling you back against his chest. 

Biting your lip some, you would nod “I’ll try, Sero.. But we should try and take this slow, okay?” you asked 

You could hear the grumble in his tone, he wanted you now, and though he did- he knew what she meant by taking it slow. The clinginess had to die down a little, and this talk of being with her forever was worrisome. Regardless of that, you knew he meant well, and that he truly did just really have strong feelings for you. 

“I promise with all my heart, Y/N.. I’ll try for you” were his last words before he completely scooped you up and pulled some blankets around you two. 

You couldn’t really answer, you found yourself so comfortable in his arms.. So warm and so protected.. You would drift off to sleep.

Taglist: @nighthoodhawk​ @hipster-merchant-of-death​ @royal-after-dark​

[mandoalorian]

Fix You [Maxwell Lord x Reader]

Author's note: This was requested by a few people! Just a short one as I only planned on "Those Three Words" being a one shot. But I know a lot of people wanted closure for Maxwell and the reader and I understand the pain of cliff-hangers so here we go!!!

Warnings: hospital, very very brief mention of illness and suicide, mention of the loss of a loved one, Maxwell is mean but it's completely justified.

I love to write soft! Maxwell but, he is a 'villain' and so it's definitely important to me that's still displayed to some extent in my fics.

Word count: 1.6k

Rating: 13+

READ PART ONE HERE

MASTERLIST

"Mr Lord, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"But she's awake! I felt her hand move, I watched her stir!" Maxwell exclaimed, a mixture of excitement, worry and panic rising in his voice. A group of about eight doctors and nurses gathered around your bed and closed the curtains so Maxwell couldn't see what was going on. "Please let me stay, I have to stay with her."

"Sir," the nurse sighed, shaking her head. "It's hospital protocol."

"Do you know who I am?" Maxwell spat angrily. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Mr Lord, I really don't want to have to call hospital security… but if you're giving me no choice…" the nurse's hand dropped to the pager on her belt and Maxwell curled his fingers into a fist feeling nothing but anger and defeat.

"I'll be outside." he mumbled, slouching his shoulders and slowly leaving your hospital room. He sighed, leaning against the cool wall.

Looking around, the corridor was completely desolate. Maxwell wiped a tear that had fallen from his eye, taking a deep breath. It was going to be okay. You were the strongest person he knew. You had fought many tougher battles before. He tried to remain certain that you would get through it— only he wasn't. How could he have hope?

Maxwell Lord had loved and he had lost, over and over again. To the point he had completely shut out the possibility of any attachment to anyone, until he met you. He had lost his father to suicide at the tender age of sixteen, and then lost his mother to a fierce illness when he was only twenty five. He was a divorced man who had lost custody of his son. He'd lost so many people, he had been so close to giving up himself. You were his light. His angel. You changed him for the better.

He couldn't believe how it had all gone so wrong. How the fight had even started. If he lost you now, he would never have been able to forgive himself.

"Mr Lord," the same nurse from earlier came out of your room, along with the other nurses and doctors who were checking on you. "She's awake. She's… lightheaded, tired, but she's here. You can go see her." the nurse granted with a quick nod of her head before scurrying away.

Maxwell froze up. Now was his moment to make amends. What if you hated him. He felt the tears of guilt begin to well up in his eyes again and tried to shake the feeling away. Cautiously, he entered your room.

You were sitting in the bed, propped up by pillows. Your hair was in your face and your eyes looked heavy, but nothing beat the feeling of seeing the small smile that crept up on your lips when you saw your Maxie. Maxwell stood at the door, his eyes glazed with tears. You were wearing his pale blue suit jacket over your hospital gown, the one that he had left for you, and he swore in that moment you were the most beautiful he had ever seen you. You were alive.

"Maxie," you whispered, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You weakly held out your arms, ushering for him to come forth and sit next to you. Maxwell sat down on the edge of your bed and took hold of your hands which were now warming up nicely. Maxwell gulped. He had so much to say, so much to apologise for, but no words could come out. "Are you okay?" you asked him with a croak, your hand coming to cup his cheek. He nuzzled his face into your hand and another tear slipped from his dark brown eyes.

"Was so scared of losing you," he admitted, closing his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look at you. Look at the way you were tubed up and the cuts and bruises along your body. The blame was stirring up within him. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault." you promised him, smiling tiredly.

"You're always so good to me," he sniffed. "Even when I don't deserve it."

"Of course you deserve it." You told him, knotting your eyebrows together and giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"You almost died." Maxwell faltered.

"But I'm still here, aren't I?" you chuckled. "Cheer up. I thought I got you out of being such a grumpy old man." you nudged him playfully and Maxwell smiled a teary smile.

"I love you so much," Maxwell whispered, nudging his nose against yours. "I can't wait to take you home. I will fix all of this darling, I promise."

You nodded slowly. "Okay, thank you." you uttered.

The next few moments were filled with silence. Both of you gazed into one another's eyes feeling nothing but love and relief. You asked Maxwell to bring you a few changes of clothing and toiletries from home and he assured you that he'd be quick to return.

When Maxwell exited the hospital, he was greeted by an abundance of news reporters and flashing cameras practically blinding him. "Max! Maxwell Lord!" they cried as they flocked towards him. Maxwell dropped his sunglasses down and pushed through the cameras. "How is Y/N? Are you injured? The crash looks really bad? Are you paying for Y/N's health insurance?"

Maxwell scowled at the ridiculous questions, carefully manuovering through the crowds of people to try and get to his car. He'd have to drive himself home, something he didn't feel comfortable with but he wasn't about to ask Jeeves and, at the end of the day, he was doing this for you. And that was enough motivation he needed.

"Maxwell Lord, is it true that y/n is in critical condition?" a news anchor from NBC quizzed, shoving a microphone in Maxwell's face. Maxwell's head snapped to face her.

"What?" he glared sourley, anger and bitterness dripping from his tongue. He snatched the microphone from her hand, earning a small gasp to escape from her lips. "Right, is everyone listening?" Maxwell asked, raising his voice and speaking into the microphone. The crowd of journalists and paparazzi piped down to hear what the CEO had to say. "I want you to all stop with these disgusting and invasive questions. We are people too," Maxwell pointed his finger at one paparazzi. "Do you have a lady in your life?" he asked. The paparazzi nodded slowly. "And how would you feel if dozens of people were pestering her every fucking day? To the point she's afraid to leave the house or she has to triple check and make sure the doors are all locked before she can go sleep at night?" Maxwell felt the rage build up inside of you when he remembered how anxious all these people he was now confronting made you. But he had to remain calm. He knew for a fact his little speech would be broadcast on national television. The paparazzi blinked nervously. "My question wasn't rhetorical." Maxwell spat.

"I'd be upset, sir." He replied timidly.

"Upset is a fucking understatement." Maxwell crossed his arms over his chest. "This is your fucking job, harassing people? Ruining their lives? Look at yourselves! You all need a reality check. Next time you go anywhere near me or my partner you will be hearing from my lawyers. And I'll have you know, I have the best fucking lawyers." Maxwell threatened. "Am I understood?"

Maybe it was the bite in his voice, or the way he used his harsh business tone, but the crowd backed off in an instant. That was the power of Maxwell Lord. You had changed Maxwell Lord. Softened him, sweetened him… but when people were trying to hurt you, he knew his power. He knew he could and would ruin their lives.

Your recovery was slow, but sure enough, you did get better. It was difficult at first, but with Maxwell's fierce and defensive nature, the paparazzi and the news reporters began to stay away from you both. Once discharged from hospital, you were bed bound for a few weeks. Maxwell took time off work, giving you his full attention. He tried to cook you soup, but when that failed, he'd order you whatever take out you craved. When you fancied homemade food, he'd call the chef over? He did the chores that you usually did, like laundry and vacumming. You loved seeing Maxwell become so domesticated; you didn't know he had it in him, it almost made you feel a little smug. There was something about seeing a billionaire businessman angrily scrub grease from a frying pan that satisfied you. When he wasn't pottering on around the house, he was in bed with you.

He used this time to show you how much he really truly loved you. You wanted for nothing. He'd gently stroke your skin, give you soft kisses and play with your hair. And those three words you craved to hear, there wasn't a day that went by when he didn't say them.

"I love you."

Permanent taglist (let me know if you would like to be added!) ~ @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Your Protector ~ Gloxinia x Reader

Someone explain to me why do I love this beautiful boy so much.

He used to be such a cry baby, always clinging to his mum’s skirt, not wanting to learn how to properly use his powers...No, he just wanted to play around, sniff flowers or make flower crowns out of them, bask in the morning sun and watch clouds float away...

But he’s the future Fairy King, how can I let him alone? His parents asked me to always be by his side, now that they’re gone...

And he’s so cute, especially when he does those puppy eyes, pleading not to get him to practice offensive magic, although he was the one chosen by the Sacred Tree.

I know he’s scared, it’s a lot of responsibility to look over everyone...But, after all, he’s not truly alone, and he will never be.

Cute little Gloxinia...Cute little Gloxinia who’s both taller and older than me, but still loves acting easy-going and child-like, especially when he hang around his sister, Gerheade.

“Hey, Gloxinia, wake up.” I kneel by his side, as he was sleeping on a huge sunflower, high into the sky, to not be bothered by anyone, and to bask in the warmth of the sun. “Hmmm...? Ah, Y/N, it’s you. I don’t feel like training, come again later.” he sighed, turning to the side, so he won’t see me. “...Okay. I’ll try later.” I hung my head, flying away, trying to get myself something to do, so I won’t get bored.

Sometimes, I don’t realise how boring life can be, which is why I have to always keep myself busy...I wonder, how is it like to be able to be so outgoing, so sociable, so friendly and able to relax and do...Nothing. Nothing at all...All day, just laying down and admiring the world around you.

Being one of the few fairies who can use her powers to the fullest, because of all the extensive training, and since I’m so different from everyone around me, I feel like an outcast, even though I know nobody wants to make me feel that way.

For some reason, I found myself sitting in a bed of beautiful, colourful flowers, and letting myself fall down on my back, I start watching the clouds move. But it was boring, and I felt restless. I had to move, in some kind of way, to keep my mind occupied, so I started picking up flowers and attempting to create a flower crown.

But, by the end of the 10th flower crown, I got frustrated since they all looked terrible, so I threw them away and went back to practicing my magic, until I started feeling a dark presence, and when I looked back, a huge white and green demon, for some reason, came out of nowhere, ready to attack our Forest.

Not on my watch.

I flew in front of the demon, pissed off that it dared get close to our home and threaten it, and taking out my weapon, I start attacking it, while yelling out for Gloxinia, hoping he’d hear and get everyone to safety, since things were going to get messy.

Only the Goddess clan can naturally take down demons so easily, so I could only hope it was going to go away before destroying out home. No demon ever came to disturb us before, so needless to say, it was disturbing.

That blasted demon so easily slapping me away in a tree trunk as if he was swapping a headless fly, but that wasn’t going to throw me off my game to drive it away.  However, a familiar cry of fright brought me back from reality, when I saw the demon’s other hand trying to attack someone...That someone being Gloxinia himself. That was the last drop for me, as I pried myself off the tree and stretching out my wings, I flew at full speed and picked up the wingless fairy, getting him to a safer spot.

“Go find your sister and make sure everyone is safe. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. Take care.” I kissed his forehead, wiping away his tears, before getting up, ready to fly again, but he stopped me. “Wait, no, don’t go! That thing is too powerful, even for you! You can’t fight it all alone!” poor darling, I’ve never seen such fright and despair in his eyes, it broke my heart. “I’m not the future Fairy King, dear. You are. You are the future of our kind...And even if you weren’t, I’d still gladly give my life to save you. Now go, that thing is going on a rampage.” I pushed him away as I flew up again, using all the power I could muster to keep the monster away, but each time, it would swat me away, and each time, I’d fly back to fight it again.

That is...Until, as the demon threw a blast of dark power at me, and I knew I wasn’t fast enough to fly away from it, so I maximized my own power, hoping it would counter it... But next thing I know, I was pushed out of the place, and, on the ground, a little fairy with 4 little wings lay there, injured gravely.

It was Gloxinia.

Damn it, Gloxinia, you reckless kid...You just can’t stop getting into trouble, can you?

Flying to his side, and kiss him, giving him the Kiss of Life, one of my specific powers as the Guardian of the Fairy Forest, and he was back in perfect health.

“You, idiot...Never do that again, got it? You got me worried sick...Especially now that you got your wings.” I smiled at him gently, holding him tightly to my chest. “My wings...? Wait, really, I got them?! I didn’t even realise!” he gasped in shock, prying himself from my arms, looking at his back, grinning at his achievement. “You’re the best, Gloxinia.” I said, and feeling another dark matter approaching, I quickly figured out another dark blast was going to hit us again, so I spread out my wings and wrapped them around him, protecting him from the blast. No matter what, he has to live.

With the last bit of my power, I reflected the attack at the demon, which went back at it with double the power, which thankfully, managed to drive the demon away to its realm...But it also managed to fry and pierce me pretty good, so I had no idea I fainted, until I woke up, the passing clouds being the first thing my eyes captured.

With some difficulty, I manage to push myself into a sitting position, realising that I was sitting on a flower, very high in the sky. My body was still aching, but my wings were in perfect shape, as if nothing happened.

“Yoo, you woke up. Finally. I was beginning to worry.” a familiar voice called out, and Gloxinia appeared, holding some flowers in his arms as he sat down next to me with the same chill face as usual. “Uhm...The demon went away, didn’t it?” I asked, feeling a bit nervous. “Yes, of course. You defeated it, remember? Anyway, feeling better?” he asked as he started fidgeting around with the flowers. “Yeah...I’m okay. Are you, though? And everyone else?” I asked again, as a way to calm myself down. “Yees, don’t worry about us. Everyone’s okay, thanks to you.” he said cheerfully as he placed a flower crown he just made on my head. “Thanks for protecting us. You were right, instead of slacking off, I should have trained. I will be the Fairy King, and I have to be brave and strong, just like you, so that next time, I’ll be the one protecting you, not the other way around. So...Will you please continue staying by my side and helping me?” he cupped my face, his expression soft and gentle, like I haven’t seen him before with anyone but his sister. “W-Well, of course. I’m not going back on my promises.” I looked down, feeling my cheeks warm up a bit. “Ehhh~? You’re surprisingly soft, aren’t you? You’re cute, Y/N, I want to see how much cuter you can get.” he chuckled, playing with a strand of my hair. “Talk to me when your wings are fully developed.” I jolted to my feet, flying a bit farther away from him. “...Like mine.” I looked back at him with a teasing smirk, which made him laugh. “What is it, you want to play tag?” he crossed his arms, as if accepting a challenge. “With those tiny wings, can you even keep up the pace?” I giggled, propelling myself far away from him, and going through the cramped spots so it would be more difficult for him to follow. “Gotcha~!...OH-” I eeped in shock as Gloxinia somehow ambushed me and threw himself at me, only for both of us to lose balance and fall tumbling on the ground, in very awkward positions, away from each other. As we turned to look at each other, we started laughing at how silly that was, especially considering we were the best flyers in the forest, and yet, we ended up like this.

“See, Y/N? You can be lots of fun, if you want to. You just need someone who gets you. Now then, since we’re so far away from the others, help me figure out how to properly use my Spirit Spear Basquias. Only you can help me out.” he said, taking out his weapon. “Okay, kid, let’s see what you’re made of, now that you’re finally serious about your training.” taking out my Sacred Sword, ready to properly train for the first time in a long time.

The next training sessions went surprisingly smooth, now that Gloxinia finally took his responsibilities seriously and easily picked up everything I taught him, and sooner than expected, his small wings grew to be the most beautiful ones I’ve ever seen in my life, beating any species of butterflies.

He was so happy that his wings completely developed, that he started laughing gleefully, doing loops in the air, before snatching me up and going as far up into the sky, and as soon as he stopped, he put his hand on the back of my head and pulled me into a deep kiss, leaving the both of us with pink cheeks, but different reactions altogether.

“I...Well...Wasn’t expecting that.” I looked away, hiding my face with one of my hands. “You’re the one who kissed me first and said to talk to you when my wings developed, right?” he hummed in amusement, teasing me. “W-Well, yes, but I did that to heal you!” I tried to defend myself. “Then...You don’t want me to kiss you again~?” he tilted his head to the side, a side grin growing on his face. “Oh, you’re such a jerk.” wiping that nasty grin from his face, I rest my hands on his shoulders, bringing him closer to me, so I could properly kiss him back. “Nice try, Gloxi, but you can’t tease me.” I winked at him, as I held his hand and dragged him to a beautiful field of flowers. “Can I braid your hair, dear?” but before I could say anything, he got behind me, on the ground, holding me in his arms, between his legs, his chin resting on my shoulder, as he quickly pecked my cheek. “Sure, go ahead. You’re much more talented at that than I’ll ever be.” I chuckled lightly, letting my hair cascade down my back. “Thankfully, there are tons of pretty flowers and I can put them in your hair...Although, there’s no flower that’s more beautiful than you.” he spoke so nonchalantly that he almost shocked me. “Says you, butterfly boy.” I smiled, feeling at peace, letting myself relax as his fingers running through my hair so skillfully were weirdly soothing.

For a long time afterwards, I and Gloxinia have been together, and he promised to marry me once the Holy War was finally over, as he didn’t want anything to happen to either of us.

However...Due to certain circumstances, Stigma was a complete failure, thanks to the humans, demons and archangels who messed up everything...And massacred my people...And Gloxinia...

My Gloxinia disappeared completely.

There was no body, no evidence, no hint that he ever was in the forest anyway, except for Gerheade who told me he killed Rou and then left...So we were convinced he died somehow.

Years passed, and I had to train more Fairy Kings to reach their full capacity, and yet, there was nothing that allowed me to feel any ounce of happiness or fulfillment in my heart.

There was nothing more than an empty void that nothing could complete, and it appeared as soon as I couldn’t feel his presence in this world anymore. Not to mention, after 3 millennia passed, the new King is a complete, irresponsible child who left his little sister to take care of the Fountain of Youth, which is result led to her death, and a human had to replant the Forest Seed, otherwise our whole realm would have died.

This guy...He looks so much like Rou...The one who protected Gerheade long ago...And now, he tried, and still tries, to save Elaine, to bring her back to life. To think that some humans could hold so much love for some fairies like us, it’s almost unbelievable, but so beautiful nonetheless.

But then...Something unbelievable happened...And I felt this weird feeling in my heart that only occurred when Gloxinia was alive. Why would it happen...? He’s long dead, isn’t he?

I have to test this feeling I have, so I went in search for the Seven Deadly Sins, who claimed to be fighting the Ten Commandments who, for some reason, were brought to this world, and Meliodas, whose demon rage took over him, needed help in his fight.

But then...There he was...

A little fairy with long red hair, sitting on the shoulder of a blue giant with four arms.  If I weren’t as old as I am, I wouldn’t have had a clue who they were...But I remember...Gloxinia and Drole, they used to be best friends, as they were both the leaders of their people...

And there I was, floating in the middle of ten demons, looking with shock at the fairy, who stared at me with demonic eyes, with the same expression I had.

“Gloxinia...?” I wasn’t sure if he heard me, for my voice was barely above a whisper, before one of the demons attacked me out of nowhere, sending me tumbling to the ground. “DON’T ATTACK HER!” his voice echoed throughout the place, anxiety surging through it a bit too obviously. “Gloxinia...Is that really you?! What happened to you? I...I thought you were dead...!” I pushed myself off the ground to get back in the air to his level. “Yes...Yes, it’s me...But what are you doing here?! Go back home, I don’t want to see you hurt!” he tried to care for me, but that was the last thing I cared about.  “No! I’m not going anywhere without you! You already left me once, I’m not letting you do that again.” I frowned at him, determined to get him back home. “That’s enough talk! If she doesn’t wanna leave, or join our side, then she’s gonna die!” one of the demons roared, and attacked me. “No! There’s no way I’m leaving without Gloxinia! Never again!” no matter how many times I got thrown around, stabbed, hit or blasted away, I’d get up to fight, because death is a better outcome than not having him by my side for another day. “That’s enough!” but the Fairy King flew over, taking my form in his arms, his wings protectively covering me.  “As naive as always.” I smiled weakly, putting my arms around his neck, and in an instant, I teleported us far away from that place, which shocked the fairy beyond belief. “Forgot about my powers, didn’t you?” “Why’d you do that?! I have to go back, otherwise-” he kept looking behind him with a worried look, and I could only push myself to kiss him, not realising tears were streaming down my face. “Why did you leave me? Why did you leave us? You have no idea how devastated Gerheade was...” I bit my lip, making him sigh and hang his head. “...I’m sorry, Y/N. When I saw you and my sister in that state...I thought you were dead. I thought there was no more reason to live...So I and Drole joined the Ten Commandments. We wanted revenge on the humans who destroyed everything we held dear to us. And...I was too afraid to check if you were alive or not. I was afraid of knowing you might be dead...So I ran away. I’m a real coward, aren’t I?” he chuckled weakly, his face showing the sorrow he held in his heart. “Then...Can’t you come back to us? Return your commandment and come back. Drole can do the same. It’s no big deal, is it? ...Is it?” I asked with hope, gently cupping his face. “I...Yeah, it can work, but...Who will accept me back? I’m the Fairy King who abandoned his people. I know I did a terrible mistake from which I couldn’t turn back.” he explained, as I raked my fingers through his beautiful hair that remained as soft as always. “Everyone will accept you, I promise. You were the best and most powerful King we ever had. And, besides...Gerheade would be so happy to hug you again. She hasn’t danced or sung since that day...But she’s been a great adviser for all Kings. She grew up as a fine lady.” I put my forehead to his, trying to calm him down. “And...And you? Do you really want me back, after everything I’ve done to you? After all the promises I broke to you?” his voice was more of an usher than before. “I’d want nothing more than to spend my life with you by my side, no matter what.” I replied, which made him raise his head up, his demonic eyes turning back to his gorgeous, amber like ones, and the demon mark on his chest disappeared completely. “Then...Would you still want to marry me, even after I abandoned you for more than 3000 years?” he asked, and my heart burst with warmth and happiness. “Of course I would. As long as you are by my side, everything will be okay.” I threw my arms around his neck, too afraid to let go of him. “Thank you...Thank you for not giving up on me, even though I deserve it. I love you so much, Y/N. I promise, this time, I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” he held me close to him, one hand on the back of my head, while the other was holding me tightly. “I will always love you...My dear Gloxinia.”

[superbadassnatural]

Stranger - part one

Summary: After a disastrous date, Y/N decides to drown her sorrows in a bar a few blocks down the road. Luckily, she meets a stranger that manages to talk some sense into her. Pairing: Dean x Reader (future) // Mason (OMC) x Reader (past) Word count: 3,493 Warnings:little bit of angst, fluff, break-up, Dean being the true gentleman he is A/N: this was written for “1541 Folllowers Celebration” hosted by the sweetest of all @herstarburststories (I’m sorry this took me so long). The prompt is bolded. Hope you all enjoy!

(x)

“Whiskey,” a gravel voice mixed with the sound of the stool being pulled out of the counter. “Neat.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look in that direction. You didn’t want another person to see your face. Not that you cared that strangers saw you crying, but you were already feeling humiliated enough for one night. You downed your shot, closing your eyes as your throat burned.

The music filled your ears. You could only hope this man wouldn’t say a word to you. He was the first person to sit near you since you got here. No one dared to take place even remotely close to you, not even three stools from yours. No one wanted to sit beside a crying mess. No one wanted to feel obliged to ask if everything was fine, even though they already knew the answer.

Sometimes you hated how curious you were. You wanted to know if the man was as handsome as you imagined when you heard his voice. You shouldn’t look. The music. Focus on the music. Loud pop songs echoed in the crowded bar. A group of girls danced and screamed over the dance floor. It seemed to be like a bachelorette party. A few guys hustled pool in the back. Others tried to make their way to undergrads’ panties. Older men sat alone in booths, nursing their beer. On your peripheral view, you watched as the man tapped his glass, asking for a refill. The barman poured him another shot of whiskey.

“Mike, can I get more vodka, please?” You held your glass out for him, batting your eyelashes.

“You already had enough, Y/N,” he walked to you, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“But it did me good, didn’t it?” You raised your eyebrows. “Look, I’m not even crying anymore.”

“I know, but we should get you in a cab.”

“Just one more shot and I promise that’s it for the night,” you stuck out your pinky finger to him. He only shook his head.

“We’ve already done this three times.”

“Fourth time's the charm,” you smirked.

“Only one shot and you’re done,” he warned, pouring your drink. “Then it’s just water for you.”

“Thanks, Mike,” grinning, you took the glass from the counter and downed it.

A sigh escaped your lips as the drink burned its way down your throat. You felt a pair of eyes heavy on you. Placing the empty glass on the wooden counter, you turned to the stranger sitting within two feet from you. Piercing green eyes roamed over your form, studying you until they found their way to your eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat as he seemed to stare deep into your soul. It felt as if he was unveiling your deepest secrets. You half-smiled at him with a little raise of your hand in a finger wave. He raised his glass before bringing it to his lips.

“I’m Dean,” he said with a warm smile.

“Y/N,” the sound of your voice helped to remind you of your real condition.

God, he must think you were some lunatic.

You turned away from him, facing the countless bottles displaying in front of you. Your hands flew to your face, fingers trying to clean the smeared mascara under your eyes. On your peripheral view, you noticed the man standing up from his seat. A shaky sigh escaped your lips as he started walking towards you.

“May I?” He asked, hand on the metal stool beside you.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to give him a decent answer. You just wanted to be left alone, but you didn’t want to sound rude. Unlike other people in the bar, he didn’t give you the same pitiful look. His eyes only showed kindness.

“I heard these guys have the best burger in town,” he said. “Is it true?”

Without averting your gaze from the bottles in the display, you shrugged. You could feel his eyes on you. He clicked his tongue, pursing his lips.

“You from around here? Have you eaten here before?” you didn’t answer him. “Right,” he sighed. “Guess we should order and see it for ourselves then.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” you turned to him. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I didn’t come here to flirt. So if you don’t mind-“

“Wow, wow, I’m gonna have to stop you there,” his green eyes widened. “I’m not trying to flirt with you or anything. Don’t get me wrong, but you seemed pretty beaten up so I thought that maybe you would enjoy some company to get your mind off whatever it is that’s bothering you. Now if you don’t want me here, then just say the word and I’m gone.”

“No, uh, you can stay I guess.”

“Good,” he gave you a short nod. “Burgers?”

“Yeah,” you smiled weakly.

Dean ordered a bacon cheeseburger with a portion of french fries. You decided to order the same. The two of you waited in silence. Not that there was a need to say anything. The food arrived along with two beers. A moan escaped Dean’s lips once he took a bite of his burger.

“Hmmm, this is so good,” he grumbled, his eyes closed and mouthful.

Your lips curled into a small smile at the sight of the stranger savoring his food. You took a bite of your burger, repressing a moan in the back of your throat. It wasn’t the first time you’d tried their food, but it had been a while though. They still had the best cheeseburger in town for sure.

“It’s good, huh?” He asked you, lips curled upwards.

“Yeah, it is.”

You finished the rest of your food in comfortable silence. Both too focused on the heavenly taste and the greasy french fries.

“Shit, you shouldn’t be having that,” he said as you took a sip of your beer.

“Of course I should.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” he shook his head. “That Mike guy said you already had enough to drink tonight and from now on you would only have water.”

“Oh, c’mon, I’m not even drunk,” you nearly whined. “And why would you care?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I just know that if you get really drunk to the point you won’t be able to walk, then someone might want to take advantage of you.”

“Hmmm, you got a point,” you took another gulp of your beverage and he gave you a sharp look. “But you see, Mike is my friend so he’s not gonna let anyone take advantage of me. Especially you.”

“Me?” His green eyes widened, voice rising about an octave or two. “Especially me?”

“I don’t know you. In fact, you could be pretending to be nice just to drug me or something.”

“I’d never do that,” he sounded truly offended.

“How am I supposed to know you’re saying the truth?”

“Guess you just gotta trust me.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, downing the last bit of your drink. “The last time I trusted somebody all I got was an astronomical heartbreak.”

“Since I’m a stranger, I can’t break your heart.”

“But you could kill me,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m a serial killer,” he rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the bottle in his hand and downing the rest of the beer. “I’m not a serial killer.”

“I know,” you chuckled. “You look harmless, Dean. You seem as innocent as a puppy.”

Dean rolled his eyes, signaling to the bartender to serve another round.

“So do you mind me asking what you're doing here?” He asked, green eyes searching for any expression that gave away the reason you were alone on a Friday night.

“Well, since you’re just a stranger and you’re not a serial killer, then I don’t mind you asking,” you pointed. “My boyfriend broke up with me.”

“That sucks,” he muttered before gulping his beer. “Guess that’s why you look like you’ve been crying for hours on end, right?”

“Right,” you clicked your tongue. “What about you, Dean? What’re you doing here alone on a Friday night?”

“Relaxing I guess,” he shrugged. “Plus, a friend of mine told me the food here is great. I had to figure that out for myself.”

“Hmmm, I see,” you nodded. “Guess I look terrible right now.”

“I wouldn’t say terrible,” he leaned to your side, his lips curving in a playful smile. “You don’t look terrible, Y/N. You actually caught my eyes when I stepped inside.”

“Then you saw my face and-“

“Then I saw your face and wondered what could have broken that pretty girl’s spirit.”

“Mason happened,” you mumbled, eyes focused on the recently opened bottle in your hands.

“So the douche has a name.”

“I thought he was going to propose,” you chuckled humorlessly before taking a large gulp of your beer. “Can you believe it? How crazy is that? I was sure he was gonna propose and he broke up with me!”

“He might be worse than I thought.”

“Oh, he is. I was sure he was planning a surprise. Who the hell invites someone to their favorite restaurant just to break up with them? C’mon, look at me,” you motioned to your body. “I dressed up for this. I put on a really nice dress just to look good. ‘Cause I knew I’d remember this. I was sure I was gonna come back home with a diamond ring on my finger and we’d have some hot ‘hey, we’re engaged’ sex. I’m ridiculous.”

“No, you’re not. That guy certainly didn’t deserve you. If he wanted to break up, he wouldn’t have given you hope for a brighter future.”

“I was probably reading too much into this.”

“So? He still shouldn’t have done it this way.”

“Can you believe he didn’t even pay the check?” A dry chuckle escaped your lips.

“He’s a dick.”

“You know the greatest loves of all time are over now,” you sighed, taking a bite of the last french fry.

“No, they are not,” he shook his head vehemently, staring back at you with wide eyes.

“How do you know that?”

“How do you know they are?” He challenged.

“Look around, Dean,” you said. “Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt? Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore? Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck? DiCaprio and Gisele? They all broke up.”

“So what?” Dean blurted out, his voice rising. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course it does,” you argued. “They’re all beautiful, smart, kind people and they are alone. People looked up to them. If they got divorced, then what’s left for me?”

“You have nothing to do with them,” he said. “And since you care so much about famous people and their relationships why aren’t you talking about Beckham and Victoria? Obama and Michelle? Gisele married freaking Tom Brady. He’s way better than DiCaprio,” he pointed out. “The greatest loves of all time aren’t over, Y/N.”

“But why does it feel like they are?”

Tears started to well in your eyes. Your voice wavered just above a whisper. Dean smiled sympathetically.

“You just had your heart broken by someone you care about. It’s okay to feel this way.”

“You’re a nice guy, you know?”

“I heard that once or twice,” he smiled, his head ducking down to hide the blush that crept up in his cheeks. “Now where’s that restaurant you mentioned?”

“Just a few blocks from here. The fancy Italian one,” Dean nodded. “Why?”

“Not today of course, but I’m gonna take you there again sometime.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Teasingly, your lips curled into a smirk. You were having a blast watching him get all flustered.

“No, what I’m saying is since that’s one of your favorite restaurants, you shouldn’t have a bad memory of it.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, your eyes finding his beautiful green irises. “Dean? Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure, anything. Shoot.”

“When I walked down to this bar I had made up my mind that I would get drunk tonight,” you admitted. “It’s much easier to deal with a hangover in the morning than crying myself to sleep. Can you respect that?” You offered him the best pleading look you could muster.

“Yeah, I can,” he nodded, finishing his drinking and calling for another round. “I don’t judge you, alright?”

“You don’t?” Dean noticed a spark in your eyes when you heard his words.

“I don’t,” he smiled. “I’ve been there. It was a long time ago but I still remember how much it hurt. I drowned my sorrows throughout the whole week. I stank alcohol. Then things got better. They always do. You might not see it now, but you will.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

Dean only shrugged. Silence fell between you. Dean finished what it was his last beer while you had a few more and some whiskey shots. Every gulp seemed like a better idea. It was. Anything was better than having that dull ache in your chest.

“Why did he do that?” You drawled as a cry broke out. Dean snapped from his thoughts and turned to you. “If he didn’t love me anymore, why couldn't he make it painless?”

“Because he’s an idiot and he only cared about himself.”

“Why people always leave me? Am I this broken that people just feel like they need to go away?”

“No, of course not,” his voice was gentle, his hand reached up to your cheek, fingers wiping the tears that fell freely. “You’re not broken, Y/N.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even know me.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not broken and if people leave you, then it’s their loss,” a weak smile appeared on your lips. “You wanna hear something?” You only nodded. “What kind of tree fits in your hand?”

“What?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Your mind was too foggy to understand where he wanted to get with that.

“What kind of tree fits in your hand?” He asked again, a playful smile hanging on his lips.

“None,” your eyes casted down to your hands, examining them carefully. “My hand is too small to fit a tree.”

“No, Y/N,” he shook his head, trying to hold back his laugh. “It’s a palm tree.”

You stared blankly at him. Dean could almost see the gears in your head slowly spinning due to the alcohol. When you didn’t laugh, he decided it was better to explain it to you.

“Y/N,” he took your hand in his big one. You hummed. “A palm tree.”

“Oh,” you muttered, gaze fixated on your hand in his. Dean searched for any sign that would give away what you thought of his stupid joke. “Oh!” You blurted.

A wave of laughter came out louder than you expected. His joke finally made sense to you. Dean chuckled. He was relieved you found it funny. At least the drunk version of you did. Your laugh was contagious and the most heartwarming sound Dean had heard in months. He watched hiccups escape your lips with a smile.

“Alright, I think you had enough now,” Dean reached for the beer bottle on the wooden counter, he took a gulp and fished it. “We should get you home.”

“Okay,” you sighed, hands fumbling in your purse in search of your phone. “Here,” you placed it in his hands. “Call an Uber for me. It’s-“

“You’re not getting in an uber like this,” he shook his head. “C’mon, I’ll drop you home.”

Dean placed some bills on the counter, enough to cover your drinks and a generous tip. You hopped off the stool in a quick movement, feet wobbling, legs barely able to hold your weight.

“Hey, easy there,” he said, his hands wrapping on your biceps, keeping you steady. “Can you walk?”

“Mmhmm.”

You followed him to his car. Giggles escaped your lips out of nowhere. Dean only smiled with a shook of his head. He opened the door for you, making sure you wouldn’t bump your head or just fall on the passenger seat. You mumbled your address and were surprised that he understood what you said.

“I… I got a joke too,” your tongue drawled most ridiculously.

“You do?” He chuckled, taking a quick glance at you before turning his attention back to the road.

“I do.”

Dean waited for you to share but nothing came out.

“You not gonna share?”

“What do you call a be- a bear with no ears?” You hooted.

“What?” He smiled at you.

“A B.”

Dean chuckled. It wasn’t the kind of laugh you were expecting though. He glanced at you and noticed your arms crossed over your chest while a pout hung on your lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t like it,” you mumbled.

“Of course I did,” he nearly squealed.

He pulled up in the driveway and put the car in park. Dean climbed out of it and circled. A creak echoed through your dizzy head as he opened the door. You hopped off your seat, wobbly feet causing you to lose your balance. Firm, warm hands wrapped on your elbows, keeping you from falling. You were so tired and your legs weren’t even cooperating.

“You sure you can walk?” His emerald eyes scanned you. You only shook your head in defeat, not even daring to meet his eyes. “Okay. Just gimme your keys then.”

Hands fumbling in your purse, you found the keys and handed them to him.

“It’s the bigger one,” you told him.

Dean nodded. Before your tipsy mind could get a hold of what was happening, your feet were off the ground. One arm was under your legs and the other supported your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling into his chest. The warmth of his body irradiated through the layers of clothing. His musky scent was almost inebriating.

“Hmmm, so comfy,” you muttered against his flannel.

Dean walked with you in his arms to the front door. He managed to open it without having to let go of you. Stepping inside, his eyes roamed over the living room.

“My bedroom is in the far end,” you explained, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt, eyes closed.

The door to your room was open and Dean was glad for that. He walked in carefully not to have you bumping your head against the doorframe. Dean placed you on the bed. Your entire body relaxed at the feeling of the soft mattress. He removed your boots and you curled up on your side, opening your eyes to see him sitting beside you.

“You okay?” He asked, fingers gently tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“Been better,” you said sleepily. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good. I’m glad,” he smiled, his thumb caressed your cheek. “You’re tired. I should get going.”

“Don’t,” you whined, holding his wrist. “Stay, please.”

“Only for a little while.”

“The room is spinning,” you chuckled.

“God, you’re gonna wake up to a killer hangover.”

“Yep.”

You got lost in his jade eyes, enjoying his proximity and the feeling of his fingers on your cheek. Even in your drunk state, you could still make some of his gorgeous features.

“Why can’t I just fall in love with someone like you?” Your voice was barely audible as you dragged out most words. “You barely even know me, but you’re already taking care of me. You’re one of the good guys, Dean.”

“I try, sweetheart,” he smiled.

“I can see myself falling for you.”

“Nah, you can’t,” he scoffed. “You’re probably seeing two of me right now.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled.

“I’m gonna get you some water, then you’ll go to sleep, alright?”

“Alrighty,” you yawned.

Dean headed to the kitchen to get you a glass of water. He felt bad seeing you this way. He could see it in your eyes how much you were hurting over the break-up. He walked back into the room only to find you already asleep, curled on your side. He placed the glass on the nightstand.

Before leaving, Dean searched for some paper. He fumbled in your drawers, finding a block of sticky notes and a pen. He wrote down on the paper and left it on the nightstand, your phone on top of it. Dean exited the room, closing the door behind him, and left the house. He made his way to the car and he couldn’t help but hope he’d see you again.

Tomorrow you’d wake up to a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and several waves of nausea. Then you’d found his note resting under your phone.

You probably don’t remember me, but I’m the guy who brought you home safe and sound. I can help you remember what happened last night. And I kinda owe you a date to that restaurant you like. Just call me: (785) 389-7216 or don’t. I don’t know. - Dean.

Read part two here!

I’d love to know what you think of this one! Consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Forevers: @hobby27​ @thewinchesterandreidwhore 

Dean Sweethearts:@maya-craziness @akshi8278 @herfalsegod @witch-of-letters @weepingwillowphoenix @deanmonandnegansbitch

[thepremedthatwrites]

May I request a smut/fluff/angst/dark based in Narnia/Once Upon a time (season 1 after the curse) where Peter and his wife finally meet after the curse is broken. Peter refuses to see his wife since during the curse world she was with the enemy (Archenland King). His wife tries to explain that it was forced and she didn’t remember him. Edmund know they both are hurting a reunites them. Happy Ending!

I Remember

This was so much fun writing and is kind of my first time experimenting with dirty talk during sex so I hope it isn’t too bad lol.  I hope you like it!! <3

warning: smut below the cut

My eyes seemed to open for the first time as the fog was lifted from my mind.  I was sitting at the kitchen table, staring into my cup of coffee when it happened.  My mind was running a mile a minute as a single word, or more precisely a name left my mouth.  Peter.  I shot out of my seat, the legs of the wooden chair scraping the floor.  The man who I had been living with, who wore the golden band around his left ring finger symbolizing our marriage, turned to look at me.

“You’re not my husband,” I said, my words echoing throughout the silent house.  “You’re not Peter.”  Before the man could reply, I bolted out of the front door and down the street.  People were looking around in confusion as their memories returned to them.  I couldn’t care to stop and check on anyone.  All my mind could focus on was him.  I was panting heavily by the time I reached the house.  I paused to collect myself before knocking on the red door.  

I waited anxiously, straining my ears to hear anything from the other side of the door.  Eventually, the sound of feet shuffling could be heard before the door opened with a loud creak.  Standing there before me was Peter.  His piercing blue eyes looked into mine.  Unlike the warm greeting I had anticipated, his eyes were that of ice.  A scowl was on his face.  “Peter,” I started cautiously.  He looked me up and down, his mouth still twisted in a frown.  As I opened my mouth to speak again, he slammed the door in my face.  I inhaled sharply as the door slam seemed to shake the entire frame of the house.

I knocked on the red door again, this time much more timidly.  “What do you want?” Peter snarled as he ripped the door open.

“Peter, it’s me.  (Y/n),” I said cautiously.  “Do you not remember?”

“I do remember,” he said, crossing his arms.  “I remember you being married to James this entire time.  Not even batting an eye towards me.”

“Peter!” I exclaimed, hardly able to believe what I was hearing.  “I had no recollection of our marriage!  Once we entered this strange town, all my memories disappeared!  How was I to know?”

“If you truly cared about our marriage,” Peter started, his voice growing louder with each word.  “If you truly cared about me,” his voice quivered at the last word, “you would have remembered.”  With that, he slammed the door in my face for the second time that day, leaving me alone.  I turned around, making my way back to the street.  I paused once, taking one last glance at the house before walking again  As I made my way down the street, my vision became blurred as the first of my tears emerged.  I quickly wiped them away which proved fruitless as more tears took their place.  I opened the door to the diner, taking a seat in one of the booths.

“Could I get you something to get started?” the waitress asked me.  I looked up to see the familiar brunette who had been working here for as long as I could remember.

“Just a salad,” I mumbled as the girl walked away to put in my order.  I look at the golden band that sat on my finger.  A reminder of the fake marriage to a man I did not love.  I pulled it off of my finger, tossing it onto the table.  The ring seemed to stare at me as I began to cry, my tears starting to fall onto the table.  How could he just leave me like that?  Did Peter no longer love me?  

“Here’s your burger,” the waitress said, putting down a plate with a burger almost larger than my face and an ungodly amount of fries.  

“I asked for a salad,” I said.

“Sweetie, if I know anything, I know heartbreak when I see it,” she said, a small smile on her face.  “A burger will make you feel much better than a pathetic salad.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, taking a bite.  The waitress was right.  The greasy deliciousness of the burger did taste much better than any salad.  The sound of the diner’s doors opening caused my head to turn.  A familiar brunette boy was standing at the entrance, his eyes scanning the room before falling on me.  

He quickly made his way towards me, sliding into the seat opposite me.  I quickly wiped away my tears, not wanting Peter’s brother to see me crying.  “(Y/n),” he said softly.  

“Yeah?”

“You need to go back to Peter.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried!” I exclaimed, feeling my eyes burn as a fresh set of tears began to form.  “I went to the house only to be met with a door slammed in my face.”

“Don’t let him push you away,” Edmund said, stealing a fry from my plate.  “He needs you.”

“How do you suppose I do that when he won’t even let me talk to him.”  Edmund grabbed another fry from my plate, chewing on it in thought before speaking.

“I have an idea.  Just show up at the house at exactly midnight.  Do not be late.”

I anxiously paced the street, glancing at my phone to see the clock change to 12:00.  It was time.  I took a deep breath before walking up to the red door.  I knocked on the door, waiting for a response.  After a few seconds the door opened to reveal Peter.  I felt my stomach twist in knots as my mind replayed the scene that had occurred the last time we were in this position.  Peter clenched his jaw, his eyes focusing on me who was now squirming under his glare.  Thankfully, Edmund appeared behind his older brother.  “Hey (y/n)!  I was afraid you wouldn’t make it.  Come on in!”  I took a step towards the door, half expecting Peter to not move and block my entrance.  Instead, he stepped aside, letting me into the house.  

I followed Edmund into the living room, Peter close behind me.  There was a coffee table sitting in the middle of the room, a fire roaring in the fireplace.  “Now, I thought it would be fun if we all played a little game together.”  I followed Edmund’s lead, sitting on the floor around the coffee table.  

“What kind of game?” Peter questioned as he sat down on the other side of Edmund.  I felt a pain in my chest, remembering when he would immediately sit behind me, wrapping his strong arms around me in a tight grip.  If it were like it used to be, he would never allow Edmund to be between us.

“Two truths and a lie!” Edmund exclaimed.  I caught Peter rolling his eyes from my peripheral vision.

“I’m not doing this Ed,” he muttered, already starting to get up.

“Not so fast,” Edmund said, grabbing Peter’s wrist.  “You said it was my turn tonight to choose a game for family game night and this is my choice.”

“But Susan and Lucy aren’t even here,” Peter complained.

“I’m sure missing one night won’t kill them.”

“Well then, I could miss a night too.”  It felt as though Peter was squeezing my heart, every word he spoke making it harder for me to breath.

“Peter,” Edmund said sternly.  “You were the one who implemented family game night therefore you have to stay.”  The two boys had a staredown before Peter let out a sigh.

“Fine, whatever,” he muttered.

“I’ll go first,” Edmund said.  “Let’s see, I like chess, I have a stack of books I still haven’t read, and I still have to do my homework for tomorrow.”

“Well, the last one better be the lie,” Peter said.  I couldn’t help but faintly smile, seeing Peter be the usual big brother bringing a sense of comfort to me.

“I’m gonna go with the second one.  You never do your work on time,” I said, causing Edmund to feign an offended look.  

“How dare you say such a thing (y/n),” he said, causing both Peter and me to chuckle.  I felt my heart flutter as we both looked up, our eyes meeting.  For a moment, I forgot how to breathe as I got lost in the ocean that was Peter’s eyes.

“You are right though,” Edmund said, breaking Peter and me out of our trance.  “I should probably do my homework now.  Why don’t you two play without me.”  He got up to go, giving his brother a firm pat on the shoulder and giving me a small smile.  He disappeared into the hallway before the sound of his bedroom door could be heard being shut.

Peter and I both sat in awkward silence as I busied myself with the hem of my skirt.  “I’m sorry.”  I looked up at Peter.  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.  “I shouldn’t have said what I said before.  You had no control over what you did.  It was a spell.”

“I should’ve done better,” I whispered as I felt tears start to run down my face.

“There was nothing you could have done,” Peter said, scooting to my side.  “If anything, I should have been understanding.  It wasn’t like I remembered our marriage.”

“I feel like I failed you.  I broke our vows,” I said between sobs.  

“No,” Peter said in almost a whisper.  His face was now covered in tears as well.  “Don’t say that.  I never want to make you think that.  (Y/n), I love you.  And I let my stupid jealousy get in the way.”  He wrapped his arms around me, his familiar scent surrounding me.  I felt the tears start to slow as I rested my head on his chest.  He was running his hands through my hair, rocking us back and forth slightly.  As I started to compose myself, I looked up at him before running a hand through his golden locks.  

“I love you,” I said, letting my hand travel from his hair to his face where I wiped away his remaining tears.

“I love you,” he replied.  He smashed his lips into mine without warning.  I felt my heart race as I tasted him for the first time in what felt like ages.  I turned so that I was now straddling his lap, my fingers entangled with his hair.  His tongue parted my lips, allowing for our tongues to be pressed together as I started to slightly grind on his crotch.  The motion earned a low growl from him.  He pulled away for a moment, both of us slightly panting as our hands wandered the other’s body.  “We should take this back to my room,” he mumbled.  I nodded in agreement.  I quickly got off of him as he dragged me to his bedroom.  As soon as the door was closed I was slammed into the wall.

His sucked and bit on any revealed skin as his hands worked on taking off my clothes.  I let out soft moans, helping him undress me as I felt the growing wetness between my legs.  Our lips reconnected in a bruising kiss, his grip on my waist sure to leave a bruise later.  He pinned my hands above my head before harshly sucking on my tits causing me to let out a loud moan.  “You’re mine, understand?”  There was a fire in his eyes that made my heart skip a beat.  I nodded fervently as he lightly bit on one of my nipples causing my back to arch.  

Peter seemed to be done teasing me as he threw me onto his bed, ripping off his shirt and then his pants.  I licked my lips at the sight, having missed the view of his tight abs and tanned skin.  He roughly pulled me towards him, lining himself before pushing in harshly.  I let out a loud moan as he stretched me out.  “Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” he moaned as he slowly pulled out before crashing into me again.  My back arched in pleasure as another moan left my mouth.  “I’m the only person allowed to see you like this,” he said as he thrust into me again.  

“Oh Peter,” I gasped, gripping onto the bedsheets as he quickened his pace.  He had placed my left leg over his shoulder, allowing him to go even deeper.  The bed had started to shake as he pounded into me mercilessly.  “I’m so close,” I gasped, throwing my head back in pleasure.  I felt my toes curl as my walls collapsed around him.  He let out a low moan as I rode out my first orgasm.  He slowed down before pulling out.  

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commanded, stroking himself as I did as I was told.  I could feel him hover over me, his hands wandering my body.  “I love watching you come undone for me baby,” he whispered into my ear.  “I’m sure James never made you feel this good.”  All I could do was moan in response.  Peter gently kissed the back of my neck before readjusting himself.  

“Oh God,” I moaned as he pushed into me.  I was soon a moaning mess again as Peter fucked me from behind.  The sound of skin on skin mixed with our moans as the headboard continuously slammed into the wall.  

“Who do you belong to,” Peter asked, his voice commanding as he slapped my ass.

“You,” I moaned, my fingers starting to cramp as I held onto the sheets for dear life.

“You have to be louder than that,” he chastised, slapping my ass again and causing me to moan.

“You Peter,” I moaned loudly.  “Oh God, I’m all yours.”  

“What a good girl.”  I felt him reach beneath me before drawing circles on my clit.

“Peter!” I screamed, my vision becoming blurred as the pleasure was becoming too much.

“That’s it, baby.  I want you to cum all over my cock.”  Peter’s words pushed me over the edge as my eyes were forced close, a string of curses leaving my mouth as my entire body shook beneath Peter.  I could hear Peter moaning into my ear as hot spurts of cum poured into me.  Peter’s hands gripped my hips as he emptied into me.  We both stayed in position, panting heavily with beads of sweat collecting on our foreheads.  Peter slowly pulled out his now softened cock as I collapsed onto the bed.

He fell onto the bed next to me, turning to face me as he brushed a strand of (h/c) locks out of my face.  “I’m never going to lose you again,” he whispered as he pulled me closer to his body.  “No matter what, I’ll be by your side till the day I die.”  

[artificialqueens]

On The Ground (Rosénali) - Moonshot

A/N: So… Guess who is back after a year of not writing fics? Yours truly! What can I say? Rosénali is that powerful of a ship. As always, I hope eveyone enjoys this fic. Feel free to let me know what you think… Who knows, there might be a follow up to this little fluff in the future! Little side note: this is a lesbian au where most of the s13/s12 girls appearing are cis-female, however Mik is still a trans man in the fic.

Summary: The diner girl!Denali x street singer!Rosé AU based on Blackpink’s Rosé’s solo music that nobody asked for!

ao3 link https://archiveofourown.org/works/30267687

Denali stared at the round clock above the entrance of the diner.

4:57 PM. 

Three more minutes until her shift was over.

Three more minutes until the girl who had been a fixed character in her dreams would come from around the corner, set up her guitar, greet the passersby before starting her set for the evening like she did every Wednesday.

“So, gorge, are you going to ask the champagne girl out today, or are you just going to keep on creepily staring at her from afar?”, her coworker, Kade - or as everyone called him, Mik - appeared next to her with an empty tray.

“Her name is Rosé, not champagne girl!”, Denali rebutted, “and also, for the record, I don’t just… stare. I just happen to like appreciating her set without bothering her! It’s not like she was flirting with me that one time”.

“Did I just hear our Nali denying her crush on that pink-haired singer, again?”, Olivia, who was busy running the cash register, chimed in.

“Girl, I think we should start betting against her and maybe we’ll make more money than what they can pay us here!”, Mik joked as he washed some of the dishes in the sink.

The black-haired girl rolled her eyes, ignoring her two best friends and focusing on the performer’s much-anticipated arrival.

Denali didn’t believe in love at first sight but after the first time Rosé and her guitar had shown up on the other side of the road from Tamisha’s Diner, she couldn’t think about anything else. 

There was just something about the other girl that had the Alaskan girl enamored.

The first - and so far only - time she had talked to Rosé was out of necessity as the other girl and who she assumed were her two best friends - the diner girls had dubbed them ‘Pastel Powerpuff girls’ - had decided to dine in just as Denali’s shift at the register had started.

“Hi! Did you enjoy our diner?”, the skater had put on her best smile, not quite able to meet the gaze of the taller girl as she typed out the receipt.

“Oh, sure, the skating gig is cute, the food’s great, and the service… isn’t too bad either,” Denali could see from the corner of her eye the smirk on the pink-haired girl.

“Rosie! Quit flirting with every cute girl that breathes and hurry up or Jan and I are leaving you here, the Uber is going to be here in 2 minutes!”, the blue-haired girl went on with the other girl in the friend group while ‘Rosie’ rolled her eyes at them.

“Sorry about Lagoona, she has the tact of an elephant on rollerskates,” the taller girl joked.

“O-Oh, no problem. So, your total is 20,04$, will you be paying in cash or card? Also, are you splitting the bill?”

“Since dumb and dumber over there already left, I’ll just pay everything with my card,” she replied taking out her purse and taking out her credit card, “here you go, angel”.

Denali tried her best not to blush at the sudden pet name, maintaining her on-the-clock persona as she brought out the card reader. She quickly finished up the operation and handed the pink-haired girl her card back with the receipt, “I just need a quick signature here and you’re free to go to your friends”.

‘Rosie’ scribbled down her signature - she learned her actual name was Rosé, classy yet slightly worrying - and left a tip for her. 

A 10$ tip for her.

“Gorge, she left you a 10$ tip, she was basically asking for your hand in marriage”, Mik reminded her, his eyes darting around the half-empty diner. 

He nodded his head to his left where Denali saw another one of her co-workers sharing a milkshake with her girlfriend, giggling like teenagers, “I’m just saying. If Utica managed to end up dating that self-proclaimed ebony enchantress over there, you got a chance with wine girl”, he ended with his trademark L.A vocal fry.

Denali knew Mik had a point, but as she was about to reply, she heard the familiar sound of a guitar starting a new song. Her eyes glanced back at the clock.

5:14 PM

Damn, she had missed the beginning of the set.

The Alaskan girl didn’t lose any more time as she clocked out, skates still on her feet as she zoomed out of the diner.

“Aaaaand she’s gone!”, Olivia commented, turning her head to Mik, “Do you think this time is the good one?”

“Well, if she doesn’t finally go after her, I might as well go after her myself!”

Denali reached the usual crowd that had already formed around Rosé, trying her best to blend in and not be seen by the singer while still getting a good view of the set.

“Well, aren’t you guys a lovely crowd!”, the pink-haired singer smiled as she got ready for the next song, “I’ve got one last song for today and this is going to be the first time I’ll be performing it, so, don’t hate it too much!”, she chuckled as she checked her guitar before turning her head back to the mic stand, “This is On The Ground, I’m Rosé and I hope you’ve enjoyed the set! Feel free to drop your tips in the guitar case!”

Denali couldn’t take her eyes off Rosé when she heard the guitar’s first chord paired with the honey-like vocals.

My life’s been magic seems fantastic

I used to have a hole

in the wall with a mattress

It’s funny when you want it

Suddenly you have it

You find out that your gold’s just plastic

The black-haired girl quickly pulled out her phone, opened her voice memo app, and hit record. She wanted to treasure the magic Rosé’s voice brought. 

What she failed to notice while she was so into the song was a pair of hazel eyes settling on her as the song reached its climax.

A couple of days later, Denali had just finished with her teaching job at the local ice rink when she spotted Olivia on the railings. 

“The suspicious lack of a certain pink-haired girl makes me think that you still haven’t asked her out” she heard the younger girl say as she skated her way to her.

“You’ll never let it go, won’t you, Liv?”

“Not when I see that you like her and, from what I’ve seen, she is at least interested in you. Mik tried to ask her out yesterday after your shift was over,” the other girl replied.

Denali furrowed her brows, “Wait, he was serious about asking her out? I thought he was just joking!”

“If you don’t act on your cute pink crush, you can’t expect everyone else to stop for you,” Olivia reasoned, “if it’s of any help, Mik did say that, and I quote ‘she didn’t want a piece of this fine ass’”, she finished, air quoting their co-worker.

“To be honest, the dude’s barely got an ass compared to me,” Denali muttered, but her best friend managed to catch it.

“Well, as Symone said, you do have a fat ass,” Olivia commented, causing both of them to laugh out loud.

She continued, “Point still stands though, you gotta do something or you might just end up regretting not doing anything about it”.

The dark-haired girl sighed, “I know, I’m just… scared to get hurt because she seems so cool and unreachable, and I’m just so… me?”, she confessed, resting her arms on the rails.

“Give it a chance, Nali,” Olivia replied, laying her hand on the skater’s arm and giving it a gentle squeeze, “And just in case, if she fucks you over, we’ll just unleash Kandy on her!”, she added, making Denali chuckle.

“Girl, if she knew you said that…”

“She would do absolutely nothing because she’s too busy chasing after that Joey guy”, she didn’t miss a beat with her reply, giving her a knowing look, “Almost forgot to ask, are you coming later to the club with the others?”

Denali shook her head, “No, sorry. I don’t feel like clubbing today, I’ll just skate a bit more and then go home to watch some Netflix”.

Olivia shrugged her shoulders, “You do you, girl. But think about what I said, okay?”

She gave her best friend a small smile, “Thanks, Liv. See you at work?”

The younger girl nodded and left Denali to her thought as she exited the room. The black-haired skater turned her head back to the rink, noticing that only a few people were left on the ice. 

She took a deep breath, putting her earbuds back in and looking through her phone to decide on what song to use for her last routine of the day. Her eyes fell on the voice memo app, immediately reminding herself of the recording she had taken just a few days prior. She hadn’t even listened to it since she had recorded it.

It wasn’t a clean recording, she could hear the sounds of the city and the people around her, but she closed her eyes and focused on Rosé’s voice, letting it guide her. 

The music fully took her over as she performed her usual stunts.

I’m way up in the clouds

And they say I’ve made it now

But I figured it out

Everything I need is on the ground

She found herself in the center of the rink, the bridge of the song was blasting in her ears. She smiled to herself as she started to spin, gradually picking up speed while Rosé’s high notes were all she could focus on.

Just drove by your house

So far from you now

But I figured it out

Everything I need is on the

Everything I need is on the ground

The recording stopped abruptly, she remembered how she had to bolt away, almost missing her bus home. 

Denali could hear her heavy breathing, suddenly aware again that she wasn’t alone. But she had made up her mind.

She was going to talk to Rosé the following Wednesday. 

That Wednesday the diner was busier than usual, giving Denali barely a moment to think, let alone realize she was missing Rosé’s set outside.

She glanced at the clock.

5:26 PM

Shit.

She turned her head and looked outside the diner’s big windows and saw that the pink-haired girl was starting to gather her things.

“Miss Iman just left, go to her! We’ll cover for you and we are not letting you get back in unless you got a date!”, Olivia said quietly enough for just her to hear.

Denali couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. She grabbed some of the tips that she had made before she bolted outside, faintly hearing the cheering of her friends.

As she reached Rosé on the other side of the road, the singer’s back was facing her, she didn’t seem to have noticed Denali yet.

The black-haired girl took a deep breath, just like she had done on the ice rink, and let the tips fall into the still open guitar case.

The noise of falling change was what made Rosé turn around, a surprised look on her face as she registered Denali’s face.

“Denali?”

Gosh, she could hear the other girl say her name all day.

Wait.

“How do you know my name?”, Denali asked slightly confused.

Rosé didn’t reply but simply pointed at the waitress’s chest.

Oh, right. The nameplate on her uniform.

“That and also I tend to remember a pretty face when I see one,” she added, now her attention fully on the shorter girl.

“Oh, yeah, right”, she fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing where to look, “Uhm, I just wanted to say that you have a really beautiful voice. You can consider me your first fan when you make it big”.

Rosé smiled at her and Denali couldn’t help but notice how beautiful of a smile she had. 

The singer turned back to her stuff, shuffling things around and leaving the brunette to her thoughts. She wanted to ask the taller girl out but felt all her courage leave her body.

Way to go, Nali.

“Well, Uhm, I think I should-”, she started but she was stopped by the pink-haired girl, who had finished packing everything up.

“Here, this is for you”.

It was a jewel case cd, a picture of Rosé in a very 80s inspired attire on the cover with pink marker writing across the front.

‘To Denali

My first (and hopefully not last) fan

     Rosé xo’    

  It was signed with a small rose doodle next to Rosé’s name and, much to Denali’s surprise, a phone number along with the phrase ‘put it to good use’.

She looked up to find the other girl staring at her, her guitar case strapped on her back. She gave her a wink and started walking towards the subway.

Denali stood there for what felt like forever as she watched Rosé disappear in between the crowd of people roaming the streets. 

She looked back down at the cd, committing the number to memory. She turned around to look at the back, her eyes were drawn to the tracklist. 

She smiled when she saw On The Ground. 

Finally, she didn’t have to listen to a shitty phone recording to enjoy it. 

“Wait, what? You had recorded it all secretly and shady, mama?”

Rosé’s laugh filled the room as Denali tried to hide her face on the other girl’s bare chest.

“You’re an ass! I just wanted to use it for one of my skating routines”, she muttered, causing her girlfriend to laugh even harder.

“I find it cute that I’m not even famous and my music has already been pirated!” she commented, “I’m already halfway there to stardom, baby girl,” she added, kissing the top of Denali’s head.

The shorter girl groaned as she hid the increasing blush on her cheeks, rolling her body so that she was on top of the pink-haired girl.

“Well, miss Rosé, is it pirating if it was for personal pleasure only?”, Denali teased, running her hands upwards on the naked skin, slowly lowering herself until her face was inches away from her girlfriend’s.

She felt Rosé’s hands take a firm hold of her behind, “Oh angel, I’ll show you personal pleasure,” the singer replied, eliminating the little space left between their lips as Denali brought her hands to cup the older girl’s face.

Rethinking about those lyrics Rosé had written months prior, Denali knew she was right, she did have everything she needed on the ground.

It was to be right there with Rosé.

[seodami]

Our story | LSM

Part 2

This is our story. From the day we met till the day we part. Black on white, our most precious moments, never leaving us. I love your forever.

LSM

Genre: Fluffffff

Warnings: none

Word count: 2271

Pairing: Idol!Lee Seokmin x fashion student reader

Note: Here is the second part and I have to say I really enjoyed writing this, imagining how easy and funny it must be to talk to DK :)) what would I do to talk to him once :’) Enjoy!

Previous | Next

Our story Masterlist | MASTERLIST

You both were frozen in your tracks for a moment, you still panicking about what to say or do and him wondering why there was a stranger in his kitchen.

Seokmin hadn’t been feeling well since yesterday evening so since he was feeling even worse this morning, Seungcheol and his manager wanted him both to stay home for at least today until he felt better. He wasn’t exactly keen on staying in an empty apartment alone all day, especially when he wanted to be a part of their schedule. It often made him feel lonely and miss his members. It was stupid honestly, he thought. He saw them everyday and often needed his alone time at times, but he still felt so empty without anyone around.

He was still sleeping when he faintly heard the doorbell ring. Yet he thought it was just in his dream. But when he soon later slowly woke up due to noices from the kitchen, Seokmin wondered if their aunty might have come and would make him a warm soup for his sore throat.

So with still messy hair and puffy face, he made his way over to the kitchen with tiny steps, just to be greeted by a strange face of a girl he never saw.

“O-oh my god. I’m so sorry. I thought no one was home?” You stuttered out totally embarrassed to actually be caught. That was your doom day. Dokyeom found the rambling rather endearing, yet he cautiously made his way over to the kitchen aisle, you were working on.

It took you by huge surprise how handsome and cute this man could look at the same time. Were all idols this pretty?

“Uhm... hi... I don’t want to sound rude but I really... have no idea who you are.” The boy a few feet away from you came to an halt. His voice was a tad hoarse and he sounded a bit sick. He let out a shy chuckle, clearly feeling somewhat uncomfortable in this situation.

Little did you know, the little voice in his head was laughing at him how ridiculous and ugly he must’ve looked with his bare face right after bed. Seokmin had always had his insecurities about his body or face. He never seemed to fully like the way he looked. He would cringe so much looking back at his old childhood pictures, when he had a few pounds too much on him. It just never dawned him how his fans would call him handsome. Most of the times he would just smile and thank them but never really accepting their compliments, thinking it must be the good make up or the stylish hair. Yes, that must be it.

And now standing in front of a pretty woman, he felt it in every fibre of his body and it made him unbelievably uncomfortable.

“Oh... Right... I am Oh Jangmi’s daughter. Nice to meet you.” You quickly muttered, not daring to look him in his eyes for more than a second. You bowed as you typically did, seeing him bow as well.

“Oh aunties daughter? She told us a lot about you. Nice to finally meet you. I’m Dokyeom.” His uncomfortable face was immediately replaced by the brightest smile, you had ever seen. You swear, in that moment, your heart melted in an instant. You heard your heart beating loudly in your ears, unable to grasp this mans beauty. Never ever have you seen such a dazzling smile in person.

“Is aunty not coming today?” He asked curiously leaning against the other side of the aisle. He was way too close for your liking. And you were definitely still panicking. This man was more than gorgeous.

You shook your head, noticing his hoarse voice. “No unfortunately s-she broke her foot on the way here and went to the hospital. So she... asked me to step in for her. She will be coming tomorrow again though.” You completed your sentence while only taking short glances at the male in front of you, who was giving you 100% of his attention. You were more than flustered.

A worried expression replaced his smile. “Oh no... is she alright?” Your heart made a small jump.

You nodded with a small smile, fiddling with potato in your hand. He noticed and hummed. “Do you need help cooking? I mean... I’m not the best but I can chop vegetables without chopping my fingers off I guess.” He smiled at you once more. If he would keep smiling like that, you swear, you wouldn’t be able to see tomorrow.

You let out a small giggle, still denying his offer. “Ah no... it’s fine really. I’m just making jajangmyeon. And you sound like you’ve caught a cold so I won’t be bothering you with doing anything.”

You quickly placed the potato in your hand on the cutting board and started slicing it into small cubes.

“Yeah I actually did. It’s not really pleasant to be honest.” Dokyeom said before caughting in his elbow as on queue.

“Wait a second. I’m gonna make you a tea. I’m a pro in dealing with colds, trust me.” You insisted, already reaching for the water boiler to fill it up with fresh water.

“Thank you. You really don’t have to though.” He giggled coughing again.

“No I want to. I’m sure you will feel better after this tea. I made it every time my siblings were ill.” You smiled at him, feeling already a tad more comfortable with this man, you literally just met.

Seokmin took a seat in one of the high chairs on his side of the kitchen aisle while watching you chop the vegetables. He noticed how soft your hair looked like, falling gently onto your face. He took his phone out to check his messages. There were just a few from his manager about their usual schedule and some silly messages in their group chat. He softly giggled reading through all of them, wondering how he even got friends like this.

You couldn’t help stealing short glances here and there at the beautiful man, noticing how he swept his fluffy bed hair with one hand out of his face. Something about him was immensely attractive and you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was. But hell no, you were not going to develop a crush on a man you literally met one time. Nope. All idols would probably have this effect on you, right? They weren’t idols without a reason.

Soon enough you finished Dokyeoms tea with a last pinch of fresh mint leaves and handed it over to him with a smile. He thanked you, white teeth showing and crescent eyes forming. Melting, definitely melting.

“Wow... It’s very good.” He carefully slurped from the warm tea. You sent him a bright smile, deep down thanking your tea making skills you’ve even improved thanks to your job at the café. That was definitely a pro from working there.

“I sometimes work in a small café, so I had plenty of time to practice. I probably could make you every drink you want.” You laughed while taking out a frying pan to avoid his interested eyes following your every movement.

His laugh mused in with yours. “I always wanted to know someone, who could just magically let all the drinks I wanted appear in my kitchen. Thank god I stayed at home today.”

You both were pleasantly surprised how easy talking to each other was. There was a spark of fun in your conversation, which you both couldn’t get enough of. There weren’t many people you knew, If any, who you just clicked with so easily. It was definitely weird but you liked it.

“The food will still take a bit so you are free to make one more drink wish.” You chuckled, glancing over at Dokyeom leaning his head in the palm of his hand.

A genuine smile was displayed across his lips. “Mhh I have to think, this is a very important desicion, I don’t want to make a mistake.” You both snickered in unison. My god, how were you getting along so well with him?

“Alright, you still have exactly 28 minutes and a half to decide.”

“How generous, I will think about it.” His smile was even brighter now, it was impossible not to smile. There was just something about it that gave you an enormous serotonin boost and transformed you into one of these giggly anime Highschool girls. The bad thing was, you didn’t even remember acting that was after experiencing such a rush of being in his proximity. You liked it more than you could have imagined.

However, this was just the starting point of your wholesome conversation this day. It all just came so naturally, you nearly forgot to keep cooking. Seokmin on his side felt incredibly happy compared to his usual happy demeanor. He truly enjoyed your back and forth conversations and he felt greatly satisfied, seeing a bright smile or hearing you laugh because of his comments. It was at times like this when he remembered how much he missed talking to new people, especially when the two of you were obviously on the same wave length. He kept forgetting that he probably shouldn’t talk that much when he was sick but he just couldn’t stop, even if you mentioned it more than three times already. He enjoyed it that much.

You two talked about funny stories of your mom, ridiculous ones of the other members (you really wouldn’t have expected an idol group to be this funny) and also about your own interests, hobbies and families. You snorted when he told you how their trio Booseoksoon sang one of their songs at his sisters wedding in order to make the married couple kiss. The more you got to know each other, the more you forgot how time actually flied.

He even begged you to stay and eat with him when you finally finished cooking, which you hesitantly accepted after seeing his pleading puppy look. What did you get yourself into?

While eating, you told him excitedly about your new fashion projects, you were working on. He was more than hooked listening to every detail. He always loved it when people told him about their passion and he could clearly see that this was yours with how vivid your eyes were beaming and how big your smile grew. It secretly increased the warmth in his heart more and more.

It was the same look he had on his face as he told you about his fans, their next album preparations and the amazing concerts all around the world. You just loved listening to him, even though you both probably finished eating since over an hour already. Sitting so close to him while looking at his dark shining eyes made your brain just automatically foggy.

It only was when your friend and roommate Minji called to ask where you were for your groups project meeting, that you realised how long you actually let yourself swaying in Dokyeoms presence. You were already over half an hour late to your meeting.

You quickly told her you were on your way and hung up, while carrying the plates to the sink. Seokmins sad eyes followed you as he stood up to help you. “You have to go?” He asked immediately, now standing next to you, taking the plates out of your hands, while towering a good piece over you.

You nodded with a sad smile, suddenly feeling every effect he had on you even stronger.

“Yeah I’m sorry. I already stayed way too long. My group is going to kill me.” You tried joking. He chuckled, searching for your eyes.

Seokmin knew when he was interested in a person and it even was obvious for him that you sparked a deep interest inside of him after today. He just knew he wanted to see you again.

“I really enjoyed talking to you. It’s rare to have such a nice conversation. I literally forgot time.” His rich chocolate eyes met yours. “Yeah, I feel the same...” you chocked out, heart beating way too fast again. What was it with your heart today?

“Are you coming over again or...?” He asked almost timidly while fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He looked adorable. Absolutely adorable.

You sent him a shy smile, shrugging your shoulders. “Maybe... I am kind of busy this month because of work and university. But... I would love to talk to you again.” A sudden wave of confidence hit you and took even you by surprise.

A sigh of relief was heard from his side and you giggled. “Thank god. I really wanted to ask you for your phone number.”

God he really was adorable. Such a cutie.

With a grin, you searched for a piece of paper and a pen nearby and quickly scribbled your number onto it. You really had no worry about him being secretly a creep so why not.

“Here you go. Oh and I still didn’t make you your second free drink, so make sure to text me with your order.” There you both went into a giggling mess again.

“Will do. It’s all I’m thinking about.”

So after swiftly cleaning the plates together and saying goodbye and also telling him to get better soon, you made your way out of the building with such an energy, you had no idea where it came from. But you loved how you felt after spending time with Dokyeom. And you were definitely looking forward to your next meeting.

[writesowhatnext]

can I get that in writing? // seamus finnigan

Summary: Slytherin!reader has a little crush on Gryffindor’s favourite Irishman. Unbeknownst to her, the feelings are very much mutual. Not the best timing though, is it? With a war going on and all.

Request: I adored your writing and was wondering if you'd write for Seamus Finnigan with a Slytherin reader the angst/fluff prompts of 44. “You’ve always felt like home.”?

A/N: I actually had no idea where to start with this bc I had a general vibe I wanted to aim for but couldn’t figure out where to beginnn, sort of pleased with how it turned out though

Reader: female

Warnings: spoilers I suppose? Mentions of the battle of Hogwarts, abuse, the Carrows, injury, sewing I guess??

You couldn’t come up with a good enough reason to justify your crush. It wasn’t without effort on your part, either. You’d lost a good deal of sleep and favour with your teachers during sixth year for how distracted you were by the whole ordeal; as if their best student dipping a little was their biggest fish to fry with a war on the horizon. If you were to make a pros and cons list of crushing on Seamus Finnigan, there were no pros. Just cons. Only cons. He was a Gryffindor, for a start, if that wasn’t enough. He was also completely incapable of performing any magic without somehow blowing something up. And he swore like a sailor. And he had those annoying Gryffindor traits of never thinking anything through ever and not having even a single ounce of self-preservation. And it was hardly time for a crush. But he was Seamus. And, Merlin, was he funny – especially when his potions were disastrous. He was brave too. He’d been part of Dumbledore’s Army, so you’d heard, before the Umbridge fiasco. Bugger having feelings.

To say you knew each other would be a stretch: you knew of each other. You shared some classes and he hung around Harry Potter so you’d seen him around because, obviously, Harry Potter. The first time you’d spoken to him, actually, was in sixth year. You’d seen him from afar before then, of course. What, with his tendency to get explosive. But after disagreeing with Draco Malfoy on a shockingly Potter-related incident (he had said Potter was an awful seeker, you merely recalled statistics), you were temporarily shunned by many members of Slytherin – as if you hadn’t been already for being a halfblood. And so, you became a lone wolf in many subjects for a short time near the end of the year. You hadn’t intended to strike up a conversation with your crush; it had just sort of happened, but thinking back, you were grateful. You’d watched from the bench opposite Seamus, in Potions, as he attempted to brew an Alihotsy draught.

He was hopeless. With him throwing ingredients in without much regard, you were more than surprised that the potion hadn’t exploded. Thirty seconds later, it did. His hair stuck up away from his face, his eyes wide and green dust all over his skin. You didn’t mean to laugh, and certainly not maliciously, but you couldn’t escape your giggle at his frazzled and frustrated expression. He looked up at you at first with angry, embarrassed eyes: he saw your tie, heard you laugh and immediately took a disliking. Then he remembered something he’d heard from Parvati about you defending Harry to Malfoy. He also noticed how pretty you were when you laughed. And so, he laughed back.

“Not my finest.” He said to you, almost bashfully.

“Not your worst.” You replied with a teasing smile.

And that’s when you- sort of- became friends.

You didn’t speak to him for a while after that. You smiled in corridors, though, and across classrooms. And the great hall during meals. You’d hoped after so long that your crush might disappear, but it only grew. You knew how he felt about Slytherins and honestly, you weren’t too fond of Gryffindors either. So, it’s not like you held out a lot of hope for the two of you: you both had your houses’ reputations to upkeep. Reputations became irrelevant, though, after the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. You’d seen friends of your parents and your friends’ parents hurt in that; fighting on the wrong side. And even though he was the head of your house, Snape’s new post as Headmaster after Dumbledore’s death did not sit well with you. To say Seamus was far from the forefront of your mind through this would be an understatement.

You did think of him, though, when you started seeing DA slogans on the walls at Hogwarts. Slytherin became a hard place to be in seventh year; especially if you disagreed with You-Know-Who, even subtly. The treatment of muggleborns made you sick and you knew you had to do something. Anything. Your fear stopped you to start with: you saw what the Carrows were doing. Practising curses on students had your heart in bits and most Slytherins didn’t speak to you, either too scared or too blinded with power and hatred. Hearing about Neville Longbottom, a wizard you didn’t know well who appeared to be the spearhead of the movement after Harry Potter’s disappearance, being persecuted was what made you snap. You began to speak out against the use of unforgivable curses on students for detention. You didn’t turn up to the muddle studies class – unable to sit through the lies Alecto Carrow sprouted.

They beat you more for being a Slytherin than they had any of the other rebelling students and you knew if you didn’t hide, you wouldn’t last. You couldn’t leave Hogwarts - your parents were on the run for being muggle and blood traitor. Being one of the more astute Slytherins, you knew where everything was in the castle. You guessed that the Room of Requirement would give you some salvation at the least. You didn’t expect to see the DA hiding out there, but you were grateful for your luck. When you walked into the room to see a dozen missing Hogwarts students shocked to see you, you realised that being in Slytherin at a time like this was truly being stuck between a rock and a hard place; distrust wherever you went. You recognised people from all houses but your own. It took seconds before their wands were pointed at you and through his bruises, you recognised Neville Longbottom at the forefront.

“I’m here to help.” You said, hands in the air, wand tucked away. “I just want to help.”

“How can we trust you?” a voice shouted from the back.

“Look at my face.” You said, fully aware of your split lip and the purple-coloured skin around your eye. “I’ve been fighting this just like you.”

“But you’re a Slytherin.” Another voice called out.

You looked around them almost desperately, knowing you’d probably be killed if you went back to the dungeon. You recognised Seamus despite his bruised face; you couldn’t help but offer him a small smile.

“That didn’t stop them.”

There was a deafening silence.

“I say she stays.”

You looked up at Seamus, somewhat shocked. You didn’t expect him to vouch for you. He shot you a half-smile, turning to the rest of the group. “We’ve all taken beatings for the cause.”

To say you were accepted into the army with open arms would be a falsehood of massive proportion. Whilst nobody was rude, they were all wary; though, it was a great deal warmer than the chilly atmosphere of the Slytherin dungeon. One day in early April, there was shouting from the entrance of the room. Two boys were dragging a third in over their shoulders. Neville, the boy on the left, was shouting.

“I need help, now!”

You went over to see what you could do, a few others following. A circle formed around the boy. His face was bloodied and unrecognisable and for a second, you worried that you hadn’t seen Seamus around today. But that didn’t matter. Whoever it was needed help. You bent down in front of him, aware of dozens of pairs of suspicious eyes on you, and took out your wand. A simple spell your father had taught you to make cleaning your room a lot easier erased the blood from his features and you couldn’t help the lump in your throat when you saw Seamus’ face.

“I can fix him.” You said quickly, looking up at Neville. He, too, was bruised from whatever they’d been doing. You just stared at each other for a moment as he debated trusting you. He didn’t speak, only nodded.

“I need a needle and thread.”

You pulled Seamus’ head into your lap, looking at a deep gash on his forehead.

“What happened?”

A Hufflepuff girl dropped a first-aid kit next to you; you made an effort to smile at her in thanks. Neville said down in front of you and watched you work. The rest of the army dissipated, either to leave you to it or cause more havoc elsewhere.

“We were writing on the walls. The Carrows found us. Seamus fell and hit his head when they stupefied him.”

You nodded, beginning to sew the gash shut. Neville watched you closely. You didn’t take it personally. When you were finished, you held the needle in your mouth, tying off the end of the thread.

“How do you know how to do that?” Neville asked, looking you in the eye for the first time.

“My mum’s a nurse. A muggle nurse.”

“Your mum’s a muggle?”

You nodded, smiling slightly as you brushed Seamus’ hair back from his face.

“He fancied you, you know.” You looked up at Neville, frowning. “He wouldn’t shut up about you last year.”

You huffed a laugh. “I fancied him too.”

You were surprised to see Neville smiling at you. Maybe you’d made a friend after all.

You stayed awake all night, waiting for Seamus to wake up. You were sat by his bed, back against it as he slept peacefully. It must’ve been the early hours of the morning when you felt eyes on you. You weren’t sure you were still awake but you could hear birds outside somewhere and figured you had better things to dream about. You turned around to see Seamus sat up slightly, watching you. Neither of you spoke. He sat up with a groan, squeezing his eyes shut and holding his head.

“Easy there.” You said softly, offering him some of the water you’d placed near him. You barely thought about the way you instinctively placed your hand on his back or the brush of his fingertips against your own.

“What happened?”

“Neville said you took a nasty fall after being stupefied.”

He groaned.

“He also said you fancied me.”

“Christ,” he said, rubbing his head as you sat back down, smirking. “A man gets stupefied once and all his secrets come out.”

“So, it’s true?”

“Blimey.” He muttered.

“Because if it is, that’s quite convenient.”

He frowned, his muttering stopping after a second. He looked at you, clearly confused.

“I had quite the crush too.”

“Had?”

You didn’t reply, only smiling as you grabbed his arm and pushed him back down to get some rest.

“You’ll be here when I wake up, I suppose?”

“Nowhere else to be.”

And that’s when you became sort-of more than friends.

Though there were much more pressing matters leading up to Battle of Hogwarts and lots of much bigger feelings, you and Seamus enjoyed what you had going. You never talked about it explicitly though, not really. You laughed together, a lot, and he was constantly teasing you. You returned the favour though with your fair share of flirting. You bandaged each other up whenever you needed to and he even introduced you with pride when Harry Potter finally returned. You were happy about that, of course, but you knew Potter returning would mean something big.

And you were right.

That’s why you were currently running down a corridor after Professor McGonagall in a desperate attempt to find Seamus. You pushed through some other students to reach the front doors.

“Boom!” McGonagall said, Neville on her left and Seamus on her right. As you got closer, you saw her gesturing to the Wooden Bridge; no doubt she was hoping destroying the bridge would stall the invasion.

“Wicked,” Neville said, as you pushed behind another student. “But how are we gonna do that?”

You were right behind Seamus, reaching out your hand to grab his arm.

“Why don't you confer with Mr Finnigan? As I recall, he has a particular proclivity for pyrotechnics.”

“I can bring it down!” Seamus insisted, moving away from you unknowingly.

“Seamus!” you called out, following him, Ginny Weasley and Neville towards the bridge. He stopped, waiting impatiently for you to catch up with a frown on his face. You were acutely aware of the sounds around you, the battle already underway.

“You have to be safe,” you said, now face to face. “You need to get home safe.” You smiled slightly. “Back to your ‘mam’”

He just stared at you for a moment, a smile twitching at his lips. And then he leant forward, very slowly, and kissed your lips. A short and sweet kiss that made your heart sing.

“You’ve always felt like me’ home.” He said, smiling and tilting his head to the side. You stared at each other for a moment longer before Neville interrupted, hurrying the moment along impatiently, reluctantly.

“They’ll be more where that came from when I get back,” Seamus said, walking backwards away from you. “Believe me.”

[imagine-that]

“Topanga, I really don’t think this is a good idea. I’m fine being single. You know that.” You protest, going through your closet to find clothes anyways.

“You need to branch out a bit y/n. You haven’t been on a date in a while and it’ll be fun!” She says as she hands you one of your cardigans and a camisole for underneath. Reluctantly, you pull both on and have to admit it does look perfect.

You grab a pair of jeans and pull them on, examining the outfit in the mirror. You turn to Topanga for approval.

“You look wonderful.” She says with a smile.

“Thank you but I don’t know who you could possibly know that I don’t. We always hang out together and we have like every single class together.” You sigh, running a brush through your hair.

“I never said you didn’t know him.” She says with a laugh. You whip around to look at her again, surprised.

“You mean to tell me I actually know the guy you’re setting me up with? How is that a blind date Topanga?!” You ask nervously.

She gets up off the edge of your bed and puts a hand on your shoulder calmly.

“Relax. He’s a very nice guy. I wouldn’t set you up with him if he wasn’t.” She assures you and you nod, taking a deep breath in order to calm yourself.

“Alright. I believe that, you’ve always been a good friend to me.” You say as you set the brush down. “But I swear if it turns out to be Minkus somehow, I’ll kill you!” You warn quickly and she laughs.

“No it isn’t Stuart, don’t worry.” She says with another smile.

Giving her one last look of scepticism, the two of you leave your room and step outside, getting into Corys parents car quickly.

“Cory I’m sure you know who she set me up with. Is it Minkus? Is it worse than Minkus?” You ask him from the backseat.

“God no.” He laughs a little. “Definitely not Minkus. It’s actually-“ He starts but Topanga gives him a look and he stops talking though his nervous laughter is still in the air.

As you arrive at Chubbies, Topanga and Cory are talking in hushed tones, making you even more nervous.

“Alright come on lovebirds let’s get this over with.” You sigh as you walk through the door. They follow close behind, Cory starting to do his nervous giggle.

You survey the restaurant and are confused to see only one other person your age.

“I’m thinking he isn’t here yet because the only guy in here who’s our age is Shawn and I mean-“ You start but stop abruptly when you see the smile Cory is fighting.

“You didn’t!” You groan, looking to them both for answers.

“Oh but we did.” Cory says with a grin.

“But I already know Shawn! I’ve had a date with Shawn! He doesn’t do more than two weeks per girl. Everyone knows that.” You ramble, biting at the ends of your nails nervously.

“For you y/n, he does. Now go. He’s waiting.” Topanga sing songs, pushing you gently in the direction of his table.

“Topanga Lawrence, you are a dead woman!” You growl and she holds up her hand to stop you, tsking a little bit.

“You only said I was dead if it were Stuart. Shawn is far from Stuart.” She reminds you and you glare between both her and Cory.

“Have fun.” Cory singsongs teasingly, waggling his fingers in a wave as Topanga pushes you over towards Shawn once again.

“You two schemers deserve each other.” You hiss as Topanga shoves you towards the table.

You quickly replace your scowl with a kind smile as you take a seat across from Shawn in his booth.

“Hey Shawnie.” You say happily, picking up your menu to busy yourself.

“H-hey y/n.” He stutters with a smile. You raise an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“I’ve never seen you stutter. What’s wrong? Lose your charm Hunter?” You ask teasingly.

The two of you had been friends for a long time. Even if you were a lot closer to Topanga, you were still always close to Shawn. The two of you talked about almost everything. Then when you went your two weeks of dating you started drifting apart a bit but powered through it for the most part.

“Oh did I stutter? I didn’t notice.” He shrugs. “So Topanga and Cory set us up huh?” He says, clearly wanting to change the subject.

“Yeah for some reason. I was surprised. Don’t they know we had our two weeks?” You ask.

“Oh yeah that’s right we did.” He realizes. You once again raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms.

“You forgot already? It was only a few months ago, should I be offended?” You ask dramatically, waggling your eyebrows playfully.

“No! I mean... I mean no.” He says with a nervous laugh.

“You’re very jumpy tonight. What gives Hunter?” You ask with a smile.

Before he has the chance to respond, the waitress comes with your food. Shawn, knowing you as well as he does, had ordered your regular for you. You however, are surprised to see he doesn’t even flirt with the waitress.

“You remembered, I’m flattered.” You tease with a coy smile as you bite into a fry.

“A burger, fries and a pop. Not hard to forget.” He shrugs but you note the bit of blushing in his cheeks.

“Ok I’ve never seen Shawn Hunter blush. Nor have I ever seen you pass up the chance to flirt with a girl. What gives?” You asks, leaning back with your arms still crossed.

“Nothing gives. I just wasn’t interested in the waitress. Not my kind of woman.” He says with a shrug and a lazy smile.

“You shush with that, shush right up.” You exclaim. He looks at you in pure confusion mixed with a bit of something else you can’t read. “We both know that’s absolutely not true Hunter. So you tell me, you tell me right now what is going on.” You order.

“Always the persistent one, huh y/n/n?” He teases with a smirk. You fix him with a glare that could kill.

Just then, you see Topanga leaving the table she was sharing with Cory and an idea pops into your head.

“Shawn.” You start with a sweet smile.

“Yes y/n?” He asks with a smile equally as sweet that makes you feel like swooning.

“Either you tell me right now why you’re acting so weird or I will go over and shake it out of Cory.” You warn and he looks at you in shock.

“You’re bluffing, you wouldn’t!” He challenges.

You lean in closer to the table, taking a sip of your drink. “I’m not and I totally would.” You tell him, watching his every move.

“He’s delicate! He’ll break under pressure! You wouldn’t do that to him would you y/n?” Shawn rambles and you suppress a laugh.

“I won’t have to if you just tell me what’s going on yourself.” You shrug, looking at him with determination.

“Alright alright jeeze.” He sighs in defeat and your eyes go wide in surprise. “I asked Corey to arrange this. Topanga was the brains though. Cory could not have pulled this off on his own, no matter how much he wishes he could.” He admits with another lazy smile.

“What? Why would you do that? We’ve already had our two week period.” You ask in confusion. For as long as you’d known Shawn, he’d never dated any girl for longer than two weeks. It was unheard of. Shawn was a self titled ladies man and it had been that way always.

“Maybe two weeks isn’t all I wanted this time.” He says with a shrug.

“Shawn... what are you saying?” You ask hesitantly.

“I’m saying that I like you as more than a friend.” He blurts, his quirky nervous giggle interrupting him mid sentence. “There, I said it. I blurted it right out.” He sighs, looking at you with hope in his eyes.

“Shawn...” You start and he perks up even more. “You can be such a nut sometimes.” You laugh.

“Huh?” He asks, clearly confused.

“You had Cory and Topanga ask me out for you.” You state, still laughing.

“Yeah and once again, huh?!” He asks.

“You should’ve just asked me out yourself you big dumby. I mean, it’s not like you don’t have the charm and good looks for it.” You giggle.

Shawn blinks at you a bit blankly.

“Oh my god. Ok I have to spell it out.” You sigh. “I like you too.” You say slowly, watching closely for his reaction.

“As a friend?” He asks, clearly worried.

“No you idiot! As more than a friend.” You explain.

He looks even more alarmed than he did before.

“Oh.” Is all he says, leaning back.

“Shawn? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What exactly were you expecting to happen?” You ask, reaching an arm over the table to grab his hand.

He flinches away a little bit but still holds your hand. “I’m fine. Just... wasn’t totally expecting an actual positive response.” He admits.

You smile at him, amused. “Really? You had absolutely no idea that I liked you back?” You question.

“None. Actually, you should be proud. I usually notice when a pretty girl likes me.” He grins, regaining his usual composure with ease.

You giggle nervously, feeling a smile spreading across your lips and a blush rising in your cheeks.

“Well... she does.” You say coyly, fiddling with your fingers.

He does his nervous giggle again and you purse your lips, covering your own laugh.

“You’re truly adorable.” You tell him, the smile never falling from your face.

“So are you. Now say it again. I know I am, I just like to here it coming from your mouth.” He says with a ginormous grin.

“You sound like Cory you dope.” You giggle and he looks at you expectantly. “Ok fine, you’re adorable.” You add a moment later, shaking your head with a grin.

“How’d you do it anyways?” You ask thoughtfully as you take a bite out of your burger.

“Do what?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Get them to arrange this.” You explain. “I mean, I get Cory but Topanga is a tough nut to crack. After the two weeks, she wanted you dead.” You add.

“Oh! That! It was actually pretty easy. All I did was go up to her and say I like this one, get a dopey, Cory like smile and then I started that weird, annoying laugh I get about you and she was basically begging to plan this.” He informs you with proud smile.

“Ah yes, I believe that’d definitely do it for her.” You respond with a small laugh.

Suddenly, your laughing and grinning are interrupted by Shawn quickly jumping to your side and pressing his lips against yours.

Your eyes are wide with surprise for a second before you recover and return the kiss. After a moment, Shawn pulls away with a big grin of his own.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years. Without the two week limit, of course.” He tells you with a smirk.

You giggle again. “Well I’m glad you did because now I have the courage to do this.” You tell him as you grab his face in your hands and press your lips on his again.

When you pull away, he looks like he could faint.

“Well I’m glad you did.” He repeats your words and you break out in a laugh.

The two of you spend the rest of your date on that side of the booth, laughing and pelting fries at each other every now and then, both silently thanking your crazy schemer friends for doing what neither of you had the courage to do yourselves.