#from him while crossing each other on the street and hes MORTIFIED he thinks hes SOOO CLINGY while ur plotting 15 different ways to meet hi

[tabiito]

thinking ab love hangover with rin... because contrary to popular opinion i think he'd be a GREAT ex (at least outwardly). breaks up pretty detached, behaves normal-ish (however normal rin is) with you on the street, lets u have all ur hangout spots, ur friends hate him, 10/10 ex behaviour. just when he thinks he's over u you come back to literally HAUNT him. clingy af making bad jokes intercepting him at training forcing him to have lunch with u his totally desperate ex that makes him realise he's not over you at all!!

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

The Boxer Outside the Ring (Tommy Conlon x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Pairing: Tommy Conlon x Florist!Reader

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: N/A, unless we count tooth-rotting domestic fluff as a warning 

Summary: The first time Tommy asked me why I took care of him, mostly by patching him up after each match, I gave him a yellow rose. A few days later I found him immersed in one of Gramps books about the language of flowers. The meaning behind the yellow rose is one of the first he learned and remembered, so he could have given me one today. However, instead he gave me something far more precious.

His company.

His time.

TH Masterlist / Monster Masterlist

Tag list: @buttercup32sstuff @liliac-dreamer @vir-tual @potter-solomons @ilovemanypeople @zablife​​ @hecatemoon87​​​ @alikaheroes

Want to be tagged in the future? Send me a message or leave a comment and I’ll make sure to add ye!

Never judge a book by its cover. It’s a common saying which even applies to a man as distant and closed up as Tommy Conlon.

To be honest, I hadn’t expected much from him aside from a cold attitude and a short fuse. The stories making the rounds at the boxing school have found their way into town, even whispered among the customers when they drop by for a new bouquet of flowers. Various nicknames have been mentioned. ‘Cerberus personified’ is mentioned most. ‘Cú Chulainn incarnate’ is a common reference to the boxer among the Irish community. ‘That chap who helps out on Mondays’, however, is how Gramps used to refer to him before he learned his name.

It was a quite strange Monday about five months ago when Tommy and I first crossed paths. The weekly delivery of flowers had come in alongside an additional order for a couple of new pots. Overestimating my ability, I tried to move a cart laden with the new supplies and package material from the street onto the pavement. I pushed and pulled, but to no avail and the driver wasn’t much use either, continuing to unload the rest of the cargo.

I stiffened when a pair of rough hands appeared at the back of the cart and a gravelly voice told me: “Push it. I’ll pull.”

Without harbouring any expectations, I did what I was told.

And on to the pavement it went. 

Clad entirely in black, an imposing muscular man with eyes as blue as the ocean appeared from behind the cart. I swallowed hard and tried to make myself as small as possible because, while I was grateful for the help, an air of violence hung around him. 

“Need help?” he asked with a gentle smile on his plush lips.

Perhaps that was the moment I started to trust him.

All because of that one smile. 

“Well, if you don’t mind.” After all, it was only me since Gramps had to think about his health.

“Sure.” His expression darkened when he noticed the driver. A flicker of hardly contained anger illuminated his eyes, grown cold and full of an animalistic menace. A chill ran down my spine while I mentally made the vow to never provoke my curious helper.

He walked over to the truck, voice raised so the other man could hear him. “Shouldn’t you have done something? She has to do this by herself and you let her struggle.”

The driver remained silent, chest rising and falling quicker with each step Tommy took towards him. Fortunately, he was the target of his wrath, but I’d be just as mortified had it been me.

“There better be a colleague of yours next week who’s a little more helpful because if I see you one more time, it’ll be the last. Understood?” Tommy leaned in, making use of his imposing stature, to drive his point home twice over . 

Perhaps I should’ve said something, but all I remember feeling was relief. Maybe things would change for the better, at least in the way of being given a little more help in running the shop on my own.

Tommy nodded at the last of the supplies and plants, sitting on the street and waiting to be taken inside. “That’s the last of it?”

“Y-Yes,” the driver stammered, his complexion gone as pale as snow. He looked ready to pass out or, rather, succumb to a heart attack.

“Good. We’ll handle it from here.”

The driver rushed into the truck, started the engine, and drove off as fast as he could.

 Tommy spat on the ground and turned to me. “Ma’am, would it be alright if I help out each week here with the delivery?”

“You’ve only known me for a couple minutes.” I crossed my arms and tried to get a read on him, unsure whether he was serious or pulling my leg. “Why?”

“Because you look like you could use the help. Don’t you have colleagues, ma’am?”

“I only have my grandpa. Tell you what, I’ll let you, but under one condition.”

He narrowed his eyes, chin lifted. “Which is?”

I extended my hand as I walked over to him. “That you call me by my name from now on. I’m Y/N.”

His handshake was firm yet gentle, like he was afraid he’d break my fingers. “Tommy Conlon.”

Since then he’s been helping out every Monday morning. Combine that with a couple of dates, more than once to our favourite bakery for breakfast, and we are where we are.

Five months later, living together in the apartment above the shop.

I cringe as another surge of pain flares up in my abdomen. It truly is great being a woman. Especially the fact that each month you have to experience what Mother Nature won’t give you a receipt for so you can return it. Fortunately, Tommy took over from me earlier today so I could put on my pyjamas and curl up in bed with a cup of tea. 

After a month of unloading the weekly delivery together and gaining each other’s trust, he insisted I’d at least teach him how to use the register. However, Gramps will, as always has been the case in my absence, take care of the actual closing of the shop. It is a shame, though, I won’t get to see the customers being caught off-guard by a hulking figure clad in an apron trying his damn best to remember everything we’ve taught him about flowers and plants.

The bedroom door opens and Tommy walks in, a plastic bag from the local drugstore in his hands. He sent a text earlier saying he'd first do some groceries before heading home. “I got you pads, both for day and night.” 

I pause my series and turn onto my side to face him. Not once has he shown any sign of the discomfort most men display when dealing with tampons and the like. At first, he remained completely silent and let me browse at leisure. Yet, he now pops in the occasional question and throws around inspecting glances as if he is trying to compose a database of information essential to him. 

The mattress dips when he sits down on the edge of the bed. Brow furrowed, he pulls out one of each package. “These are the ones you use, right?”

I nod and rub his forearm. “Yeah, you bought the right ones. Good job, Tommy.”

A relieved smile spreads on his lips. “I’m more observant than you think.” He runs his hand through my hair, features soft. “Need anything? Medicine? Tea?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. These cramps won’t kill me.”

He grabs Bun Bun, the light brown stuffed rabbit he gave me for my birthday recently, and removes the heatable component in its belly. “I’ll be right back.”

Tommy gets up and leaves for the kitchen. Albeit muted by the distance, I can hear him toss the small bag of cherry pits into the oven and the door slamming shut harder than intended. At first it used to annoy me, but I’ve come to accept he simply can’t help it because he’s stronger than he thinks. 

A giggle erupts from my throat as I envision how he tends to look whenever it happens. He’ll hang his head, handsome features contorted into an expression like a kicked puppy. The first time I saw it, it left me baffled for how could a man like him display such fragility? However, now, the only thing I’ll do is smile to let him know it’s okay. After all, he isn’t what the nicknames make him out to be.

He isn’t a cold-blooded monster.

Only a little clumsy outside the boxing ring. Moreover, he carries with him a story he hasn’t even given me a sliver of in the time I’ve known him. But that’s okay.

Sometimes things are better left untold.

I giggle and flip back over to continue watching my series. Tommy comes back a bit later, hastening to the bed while cradling the heat pack. Judging by the sound of velcro bands, Bun Bun gets once again opened up, this time for an implant. 

Blocking out the light with his broad shoulders, he looms over me to tuck the stuffie into my arms. Satisfied that I’m properly tucked in, he hums and runs his fingers through my hair. I briefly close my eyes, snuggle with Bun Bun, and lean into his touch. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last long since he climbs off the bed the moment after. 

Unwilling to show my sulkiness, I continue to lie with my back to him. Nonetheless, the sullenness turns into unbridled restlessness at the sound of rustling fabric. I bite my lip to suppress the urge to flip around and watch him change into his pyjamas, to enjoy the sight of his muscles outlined by the light and decorated with tattoos. My fingers begin to itch with the need to trace his back, a pleasure I get to indulge in all year round since Tommy refuses to sleep with a shirt on. To cure the itch, I entwine them beneath the sheets so they can’t go wandering off on the sensual adventure my mind is begging for yet my body refuses with all her might.

The mattress dips again, the duvet ruffling with Tommy’s struggle to get comfortable. Once he is, however, he slips a big warm hand on my abdomen. 

“What’re we watching?” he murmurs, lazily placing a kiss on the back of my head. 

“Supernatural.” I glance over my shoulder. “Have you ever seen it?”

He shakes his head.

“If you want, we can start from the first episode.”

“Nah, don’t have to. This evening is all about you, not me.”

“You sure?”

He snuggles up to me, voice low and gruff with sleepiness. “Just press ‘play’.”

Legs entwined and his sturdy chest pressed against my back, we watch a few episodes. There’s a certain magic in two introverts sharing the same bubble. They are in a world of their own yet able to connect in a way others can’t. Silence is our language and his words tonight wrap me in a familiar cosy and secure cocoon.

It has already gone completely black outside, the moon bright in the sky, when a soft snoring cuts through the sarcasm and old rock songs. Puzzled, I pause the episode to make sure the noise isn’t my laptop breathing its last or in the series. Neither of which seems to be the case since the noise cuts through the silence regardless. 

A displeased grunt falls from Tommy’s lips when I try to look over my shoulder. I let out a breathless laugh, shut down the laptop, and carefully manoeuvre myself to face him and tuck him in. Instinctively, he props himself beneath my chin, nose pressed against my neck and his arms wrapped around my waist to keep us close together. 

I caress his short brown locks and press a tender kiss on the scar on his forehead, an injury he sustained recently in a boxing match. Slowly, my mind grows foggy while my limbs grow heavy with sleep. 

The last thing I feel is the warm breath of a content sigh on my skin.

And the sensation of something soft though firm digging into my chest.

Poor Bun Bun, firmly wedged between us, has lost tonight’s honour of being my favourite cuddle buddy.

[holden-caulfield]

What If I Don't Want You To?

main masterlist

REQUESTED: "Hii! I saw that you wanted people to leave kaz requests in your asks so here I am! Could you do a ff in wich the reader is a part of the crows and she's really sarcastic and flirty (similar to jesper) and she constantly flirts with kaz, (he acts like it doesn't affect him but he secretly loves it) and one day she does something especially bold that makes him blush madly and they finally admit their feelings for each other (also a lot of teasing of the crows to kaz pls) thank you so much!"

SUMMARY: reader loves to tease kaz but is scared once she realizes she might have gone too far.

WARNINGS: a mention of blood but nothing graphic

WORD COUNT: 1422

Kaz was the most closed-off person you knew. He never revealed anything, wether it was his feelings or the details of a new plan, and it enraged you. That's why you took it upon yourself to see just how far you could push him.

Flirting with Kaz Brekker wasn't an easy task, nor was it rewarding but it sure was fun. The crows loved to see which new technique you would have used and what effect it would have had on Kaz. It was usually a simple glare; a snarky comment when you were lucky. Bets were made on his reactions and you soon became a part of it.

"What are we thinking today, Y/n?" started Jesper while walking you down to the club, "I'm betting on a smirk."

"A smirk?!" you asked surprised, "I'm not even sure Kaz can smile..."

"He can, i've seen him once. I thought i was dreaming but when i pointed it out, he glared at me. I knew it was real when he whacked me with his cane." stated Jesper, shivering at the memory. You couldn't help but laugh at his theatrics. "Why do you do it, by the way?"

You took a moment to answer, suddenly serious again.

Truth was that all the innocent flirty comments you made −comments that started out as nothing more than a pastime− soon changed something in you. They were becoming truthful, and seeing Kaz answer with nothing but a dismissive comment was not easy. Trying to evoke feelings in him, inadvertently awoke feelings in you. Feelings for your boss that you shouldn't have had.

"Do i need a reason? It's fun, why do you talk to yourself in the mirror when you think no one's watching?" you retorted, raising eyebrows in genuine question.

"First of all, you shouldn't have seen that. Second of all, you should try it, you'd feel much better afterwards." he said simply and you tried restraining the smile that inevitably made its way on your face.

You entered the club which was, as always, in full swing. Several people were already ordering at the bar all kinds of alcohol while many others were betting all their possessions at the tables. Only the dregs knew that the real bets were being placed under the tables.

"Ten that he doesn't say anything." you heard someone whispering.

You were the newest of the dregs and of the crows, but you had already earned yourself a reputation.

"Twenty that he finally kicks her out." another voice from somewhere in the club.

That one made you shiver. Would he really reach a point where he would fire you? You were a useful member, you wouldn't have made it into the crows if you weren't, but were you too much? Would he eventually get tired of you?

You walked over to your usual table with Jesper to meet Inej. Kaz wasn't there yet and you were really thinking of ending it there, no more flirting, no more jokes. This was your job, nothing else.

"What do you have for us, boss?" asked Jesper as he saw Kaz approaching.

He looked as he always does: black refined clothes clinging to him in an assortment of sharp edges, making him look even more direful to new merchants. He looked dashing the way a raging sea at night is; frightening, yet enticing. And that was wrong, you reminded yourself.

"It was a dead end." he said, sitting down.

He was in a gloomy mood, certainly for the news, and even though you knew you would have let down the whole club, you couldn't help but think of the comment you had heard moments ago.

"Twenty that he finally kicks her out."

You loved working and simply being with the crows and the possibility of being kicked out was positively frightening.

But you couldn't simply stop. Everyone would have noticed something was off, he would have noticed. And then what? He would have known you liked him.

You had to do something big, something he couldn't simply ignore. You might have been out of the dregs for good, or maybe not.

Jesper kicked your shin under the table, making you focus back on the real word and motioning at all the dregs in the club, looking expectantly at you.

Kaz and Inej were now talking about something you weren't quite getting, their voices seemed distant as you tried to forget about everyone's eyes on you. You had made it a thousand times already, you could do it once more.

"So, what are we going to do now?" asked Jesper and Kaz leaned back in his chair.

"I have some other leads we can try, but we'll have to split up." he started, the prospect of new kruge in his pockets making him incredibly more cheerful, "Jesper, Inej heard something about a particularly pricey painting in east stave, she'll bring you there and you'll learn more about it. And Y/n," he began and you perked up.

It was your moment to say something and get it over with.

"We'll go to west stave, i need your help with a lead there."

"Oh, you need me?" you said, your tone excessively teasing.

"That's what i said, but i can ask Inej." he replied drily.

You hesitated but you were not one to back down, especially not in front of one of Kaz's passive aggressive comments.

"But then you wouldn't get to stare at me longingly while i work, would you?" you said, pouting slightly.

You could have expected a retort, a glare, a not-so-nice hand gesture, but not him storming out of the club.

The entirety of the dregs was dumbfounded, Jesper and Inej, who never participated in the bets but still knew about them, were agape. You were mortified.

"Maybe," began Inej, "You should go talk to him."

"And meet my demise?" you asked.

"There must be a reason why he stormed out-"

"Yes, that he would have liked to kill me but blood stains are tough to remove." Jesper laughed but you were quite serious.

You got up either way, you had to explain yourself to him, you owed him at least that, and got out.

You found him not so far from the club's entrance, leaning on the railing over the river. You approached him unsurely.

"Kaz." he didn't turn around, so you got closer to the railing and noticed that his face, even in the night with the palest light of the street lamps, was scarlet. "I'm- i'm sorry, i will stop."

He remained silent.

"That is if you still want me in the crows, if not i'll leave tonight obviously." he turned to you, usually-perfect hair now slightly tousled, face still red and unreadable.

"Why wouldn't i?" he asked.

"I'm always teasing you and i figured you hated that. I will stop."

"What if i don't want you to?" your head perked up and he turned back towards the horizon, but a smirk crept up on his face. He didn't bother hiding it.

"So you can smile?" he rolled his eyes.

"I don't like it when people point out things i obviously do, you should have noticed back there."

Heat rushed to your face and the smile he had plastered onto his face turned into a complacent one.

"It was real? You stare at me longingly?" you asked bewildered.

He looked at you once before turning to the horizon once more, "Obviously not."

But you could sense he was lying.

"Told you he could smile, Y/n!" shouted Jesper from behind you.

You both turned around to find Jesper and Inej surrounded by the dregs and a couple of other clients too, all jostling to get a better look of the scene.

"It'll be hard for him not to, i'm afraid." joined in Inej and you bit your lip to refrain the laughter. Kaz's annoyed expression didn't help you maintaining a straight face.

"I'm not paying you to stand here doing nothing, get back inside." he ordered.

Everyone turned back inside but Jesper and Inej.

"Boss, if Y/n now gets double, just know i'm great at flirting too." stated Jesper as Kaz made his way back to the club, you in tow.

He ignored him and whacked him with his cane. Again. Jesper had now yet another lovely cane story to add to his collection.

"You'll never let him forget it, won't you?" you whispered. Jesper looked at you like a child who had just entered candy land.

"Never."

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[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Alibi | Spencer Reid x reader

Requested by anon // Summary:  You’re a suspect and brought in for an interview but the team doesn’t know you’re Spencer’s girlfriend and he’s your alibi.

A/N: It’s short, but I hope you guys like it!! I think it turned out pretty good. xx 

Reminder: my requests are open:) 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

“Hang on, what the hell are you guys talking about?” You ask in confusion, crossing your arms over your chest. You were brought in by these two men for questioning about a murder that happened down the street from you. It had been a girl that you worked with. You didn’t know her too well, but you two would talk while at work.

“You were the last person to see her alive!” The tall, dark and handsome man snaps his hands against the steel table in front of you.

You were honestly super confused. Yeah, you’d watched crime shows, you knew the murderer was usually the last person to see the victim alive and it just so happened you were in that seat. However, you didn’t kill her.

You narrowed your eyes at the man. You knew you did nothing wrong and there was no reason for you to be scared. “I didn’t kill the girl! I have a fucking alibi.”

“Oh of course you do.” The older man says next to the other, “a friend? An accomplice to the murder who just so happens to be your alibi and will lie for you.”

You sat up straighter and leaned toward the two men, “Call him if you want, but he’s probably working right now and you’d be bothering him. He’s a BAU agent and he’s going to have your two asses hung on a line for bringing his girlfriend in here with no direct proof!” You snapped at the two men.

They exchanged a look, “A BAU agent?”

“yeah you know, behavior analysis unit in Quantico? FBI? Thought you guys were supposed to be smart.” You mutter the last part to yourself, but they of course heard it.

~

“So, you guys found the last known contact of the victim?” Spencer asks as he walks into the room where Hotch and JJ were watching from outside the interrogation room. He’d been working on a geographic profile when he heard the news.

“Yeah but she’s a feisty one.” JJ comments, “She’s got an apparent alibi. a BAU agent.”

Spencer’s eyes about bulged out of his sockets at the sight of his girlfriend sitting in the interrogation chair. “What the hell!” He storms into the room, “Why are you interrogating my girlfriend!”

“And there’s my boyfriend now.” You throw your hands in the air and stand, “Spencer these-

“Hold on. Reid?!” The dark man looked at Spencer then at you, “Reid, is your alibi?!”

“Reid has a girlfriend?” The older man mutters in disbelief.

You hold your hand up and your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “You guys.. you know each other?” And as you stared at the two men, your brain finally connected the two together and why they had been so familiar. The picture on spencer’s desk.

“oh my god.” You pointed to Rossi, “You’re Agent David Rossi.” You then pointed to Morgan, “And.. Derek Morgan.” You’d been such a bitch to the two. What a great first impression.

Spencer came to your side, “This is not how I wanted you guys to meet.”

You looked up at Spencer, your eyes wide, “I was such a bitch.” You were mortified.

Spencer rubbed your back, “It’s okay. Look, she’s got an alibi for last night. I’m her alibi. She was with me the entire night, no way she’s the unsub.”

Morgan ran a hand over his head, “Shit. I’m sorry.” He steps toward you, “We had to go by the book.”

You nodded, “no no, it’s fine. I know I was the last person to see her alive which usually means they might be the killer.” You gulped, “I am.. I am so sorry for being a bitch.”

“Let’s go home.” Spencer mutters, nudging his hand against your back and toward the door.

“She’s a good one Reid,” Rossi calls out, “She can stand her own!”

What an awkward and mortifying way to meet your boyfriend’s friends and co-workers. However, it had been a great story to tell at you and Spencer’s wedding.

Criminal Minds tag list: @thelovelydreamer17​ , @la-vie-en-amour1​ , @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25​ , @astra-inclinant-sed-non-obligant (possibly: @astra-x-inclinant​)  , @bluerose512​ , @lolychu​ , @varsityalthete​

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[astrella-writes]

prompt | anonymous asked: Could I get some general relationship headcanons (with some fluff please!) for Chishiya, Arisu, and Kuina 🥺👉👈 let me know if you need a more specific ask! :)

warnings | written with the intention of female pronouns but can be read as gender neutral, very minor suggestive implications, mentions of alcohol, nicotine and eating habits, might be considered kinda cheesy oops, the use of the pet name ‘bunny’.

word count | 1.4K

author’s note | ‘m loving this request. this is written with the intention of it being pre-borderlands. 

Shuntarō Chishiya 

- Frequenting local cafes for routinely study dates. He helps you with topics that you may struggle on and you buy him the bizarre flavored ‘treat of the week’ as a thank you. He jokes around that you’re probably using him as a test subject, because who would order sweet potato brownies with the premise that they would taste good. Much to his surprise, they actually do.

- Visiting a cat cafe once, but not getting around to completing any work. The image of Chishiya cradling a fluffy kitten close to his chest and holding softened eye contact with it is now your permanent lock screen. He has a matching lock screen of you holding a kitten from under the armpits and touching noses with it.

- Learning new skills together. Chishiya is pretty much down for anything that he considers interesting enough. That’s how you ended up frustratingly trying to follow along to a complex origami cat tutorial at 2 in the morning as Chishiya worked quietly with his earbuds in, listening to a different tutorial. Only once he presented you with a perfect paper flower did you smile for the first time in the past hour, the frustration dissipating. That very flower has claimed its indefinite place on your bedside table, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

- Doing escape rooms together every so often. It baffles you to some degree how he figures things out so easily, but then again, you’ve known how smart your boyfriend was since the day you met so it shouldn’t really come as a surprise. You just can’t help but admire him, and voice these admirations out loud. Your compliments being the only ones which truly affect him.

- Despite how genius your boyfriend is, you remain concerned about the mental toll college might have on him. If he is stressed, he barely gives it away, but you’ve grown to read through his indifference and pick up when something is wrong - even if he’s attempting to hide it for your disburden. You allow him to de-stress in your arms, playing with the tips of his hair and speaking through what has got him so troubled.

- Late night dates that consist of trips to the corner store where you buy your favourite snacks and walk down to the beach together. It’s a relaxing way to wind down after a stressful week filled with work and college. If it’s not too cold that night, you substitute sitting on your usual bench for a stroll along the sand. If he finds a pretty seashell, Chishiya will give it to you wordlessly.

- He buys you a lot of small things that reminds him of you. A cute keychain he found by chance while buying groceries, splurging his money on a random claw machine because he spotted a plushie character from that show you really like, buying your favourite snacks to calm you down before a big exam that you’ve been studying really hard for. It’s the little things that show how much he really loves you.

Ryōhei Arisu

- Offering him a place to stay for a few days if he needs a break from his family, Arisu will pack up his gaming laptop along with him and you two will game with each other side by side. He anticipates the moment you rest your head on his shoulder and once you do, he rests his own head upon yours with a small: “you tired, bunny?”

- Being extremely supporting and non-judgemental on the topic of him getting a job. You search listings almost daily and send any promising ones through to him, leaving an encouraging message afterwards in hopes he gets the right intention. You care for him deeply and don’t want to see his father eventually kicking him out the house for being unemployed and making the situation ten times more difficult for him.

- Helping him get out more and introducing him to places he quickly grows to love. A quaint coffee shop with a grassy roof hidden deep within the cracks that he never would have found if it weren’t for you. It’s become your usual spot for dates, and Arisu enjoys the tranquility of it all.

- Going on trips to the game store together, even though Arisu usually just buys all his games online, and he’s pretty sure you do too. Regardless, it’s an excuse to meet up and hang out for a few hours after, something he’s found has become more enthralling than gaming. 

- Staying up on video call into the late hours of the night as you both battle it out on some mmorpg. You’re confused when you see his idle avatar and look over at your phone screen to find him staring at you in a trance. It catches you off guard at first, but seeing him snap back to reality upon getting caught and getting all flustered left you replaying the scene over in your head for days later.

- Dates to the arcade, because of course. You two definitely hog a specific game with a line of pouting children waiting impatiently to get their chance. Arisu only agrees to move on when you mention a new game you spotted earlier. There is no new game, you just feel bad for the kids. Once he’s caught on, you merely give his lips a quick peck and you’re instantly forgiven.

- Playing in one of those immersive game machines with the curtains on both sides, only for Arisu to stare at you dumbly, leaving you a flustered and confused mess. This usually leads to a one-sided lean in and a small make out, only for an innocent kid to pull back the curtain and run away mortified. Their screams are the highlight of your boyfriend’s day, and you swear he’s holding some mental record of how many kids he traumatize through doing this.

Hikari Kuina

- Working at the same clothing store and having Kuina intervene whenever you’re faced with a rude customer. She might not be all too friendly if they insulted you, and if getting fired is the cost of standing up for you, then so be it. You’d quit alongside her and find some place new to work.

- Helping tend to her sickly mother in hospital, whom you had made speechless upon your first visit. She was delightfully thrilled upon finally being introduced to her daughter’s significant other, Kuina sharing to you afterwards that she hadn’t seen her mother smiling so brightly in a long time. You always present her mother with gifts upon each visit, whether it be flowers or a small cake. She’s become like your own mother, and so you help pay towards hospital bills as well.

- Comforting Kuina if she ever gets upset about her past (especially her relationship with her father) or her mother’s current poor health. You make her feel so valid; it leaves her a sobbing mess in your arms as you comfort her with soothing strokes and affectionate mumbles. Once her wailing has calmed, you offer to make her favourite - hot chocolate topped with cream.

- Constant sleepovers, which include wearing face masks, ordering takeout, watching some sappy romance before switching it over to an action movie and sipping on some cheap beer. The buzz of the alcohol always makes you more daring as you suggest showering together, and you’re never turned down by your equally audacious girlfriend. 

- Helping her overcome her nicotine addiction and being the initial person to suggest chewing on a dummy cigarette whenever she felt the urge to smoke. Her mother couldn’t thank you enough for getting her into this, expressing her hidden fear of having to watch Kuina smoke herself into ill health or worse, a premature grave. 

- In return, she looks out for your own well-being: reaching out to hold your hand before you both cross the street, showing up with lunch the next day at work if she thinks you haven’t been eating as much lately, keeping headache pills in her bag ever since you complained about a migraine that one time, keeping an extra umbrella in the break room just in case it rains later that day and you’ll need one.

- It’s never a dull moment dating Kuina, always planning fun and exciting dates like getting drunk in a private karaoke room only for it to lead to sloppy make outs. The one time she was so insistent on riding the kiddies train at the amusement park, only for the both of you to fall off once you reached the sharp bend in the tracks. It left you both a giggling mess, but the pain afterwards definitely made the whole situation regrettable. 

[bluefirewrites]

not sure if u are still taking this but, celebrity/fan au for JUKEE 🤭

Okay this one's a little involved but I got you!

Rated T for mentions of sex and maybe some language

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

******

Julie tugs against the rather short dress Flynn had squeezed her in, not caring for how much she looks like a glorified candy wrapper in the shimmering gold.

She feels like she's some Ferrer Roche, waiting to be devoured.

Which seems to be her intention for tonight because she's insane, and so is her bestie Flynn, because she's supposed to grab the attention of a certain someone in this club.

Her motives for tonight sound like they come straight out of a Wattpad story, but her boyfriend- or well maybe an ex boyfriend now'- forced her hand.

So a year ago, right around the time they started dating, they both disclosed their 'hall passes'. Just a list of celebrities they were both 'allowed' to cheat on their partners with. It was fun. Just to see who the other person would pick. 

It was harmless because the whole point is that these people are so famous, so far out of reach, that the odds of hooking up with them would be essentially impossible.

Nick's was the lead singer of the world famous pop group Dirty Candi. And Julie remembers drunkenly applauding the choice ("She's pretty! Wowww you like them Bubblegum Pop girls?")

They had a laugh that night and Julie doesn't really consider that hall pass conversation all that much since then-

-Until fast forward to last week when Nick disclosed to her that he ran into Carrie Wilson at an event. And then promptly disclosed to her that he invoked his 'Hall Pass' rights.

His rights?! She had exploded at him, and he claims that its no big deal. That he thought she would understand that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, a crazy set of circumstances, and that- 'Holy shit Jules, she was actually into me. Like what?'

Understandably, Julie stormed out and has been staying with Flynn for the time being. And it must have been the haze of crying and watching a lot of true crime series to cheer herself up that she and Flynn concocted this... plan.

One fueled by spite and pettiness.

Get back at Nick, make him jealous, make him feel how she did- by invoking her own 'Hall Pass' rights- 

-which so happens to be Sunset Curve frontman, Luke Patterson... 

"There he is" Flynn whispers from their corner of the club and Julie gulps.

"I don't think I can do this," Julie hisses at Flynn, when they spot him at the bar, nursing a drink with his bandmates like he usually would (they did their research). 

See, Julie’s been a fan of Luke’s for a long time. Ever since she heard ‘Now or Never’ in freshman year of high school, she’s been hooked onto their music- especially Luke and his voice and playing. 

She had their posters on her bedroom wall and had been that girl who would (when no one’s looking) press her fingers to her lips then press them against Luke’s image before going to bed. 

It was that bad. 

And Julie had probably fantasized on more than one occasion of meeting him and all the other scenarios you would picture in a typical Celeb x Reader scenario. 

And she’d like to think she grew out of it, now she’s in her mid-twenties and just casually listens to Sunset Curve, following up on their careers every now and then. 

But you can never really shake your first major celebrity crush. Hence he had been on her so called ‘Hall Pass’ list. 

(”You into rockstars, Jules?” Nick had teased her that night.)

Seeing him there, in the same place as her, is so surreal, but Flynn’s continued pinches to her arm remind her just how real this is. 

“This is ridiculous,” Julie crosses her arms, ready to bow out because what is she thinking? Why would Luke Patterson pick her up, of all people, at the bar? It’s like a supermodel runway in here, filled with girls more accomplished and famous. Her confidence is shaken a bit and she rethinks everything. 

"Nick didn't seem to have a problem when he did it," Flynn points out, “And girl, you look great. He would be blind to not want you.” 

The mention of Nick still boils her blood, which only reaffirms her plans for revenge. She’s still nervous but they both stand up from their booth and walk over to the bar. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend,” 

“No. You’re musician extraordinaire, Julie Molina! The world may not have heard about you, but they will one day. I bet that’s something you can talk to him about. Music? Lyrics?” 

Julie could use her songwriting credentials to her advantage, “I mean I guess-” 

“Quick, he’s getting up!” 

“Flynn, wait I’m not-” 

With a forceful push, Flynn sends Julie into the path of Luke Patterson, colliding into him and effectively spilling his drink all over her dress. 

“Oh my god,” Luke gapes at her, “I am so sorry-” 

Julie fans herself, shaking slightly from the fact she’s drenched and also that her freakin’ high school celebrity crush is looking at her, actually talking to her. 

But she recovers quickly, and she speaks, “It’s fine. Really. I guess I’m just... clumsy.” She shoots a glare at Flynn, who merely winks and retreats to their booth. 

Luke grimaces and takes her by the hand, leading her somewhere, napkins in his other hand, “Here, let’s get you cleaned up. Again, I’m sorry. Hate to ruin a pretty... dress.”

It’s the way he eyes her that catches Julie off guard. He’s... not talking about the dress, is he? 

Julie reels it back in tries her hand at a joke, “I wouldn’t call this a dress. I feel like fancy leftovers in this thing.” 

Luke stifles a laugh, “Okay, I mean I wasn’t gonna say anything but yeah. I guess it’s a bit tin foil-y.”

“Not your style?”

His gaze drifts over to her one last time, “Well, any way to take a meal back home is fine by me. I mean-” Luke scrunches his nose, wincing, “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. Shit. That was too... much. Are we-” he laughs nervously, “Are we still... talking about food?”

“Unless you just called me a meal. Then no.” 

The look in his eyes say that he’s absolutely mortified, “...yeah. I think I did. I was hoping that was a nightmare.” 

“Nope, it definitely happened,” 

“Feel free to slap me,” 

Julie giggles, somewhat delirious because she hasn’t tried to flirt with him but here Luke is, flirting with her. Or trying. And failing. Like a far cry from the suave rockstar she had pictured him to be. 

“No need. Just, can you-?” she points to the napkins he’s holding hostage. 

“Oh yeah. Here,” They stop in front of the coat check, and he hands her the napkins so she could try herself off with the best she can.

Suddenly, a weight falls onto her shoulders, she looks up and sees Luke draping a jacket over her- his presumably. 

“You looked cold,”

Julie wraps the jacket tight against her, relishing in the warmth, “Wow, thanks.”

Luke smiled and stepped back, “Just so you know, if I made you feel weird in any way, I’d like to throw out my third ‘sorry’ of the night. Nothing has to happen though. So, just say the word and I’ll leave you alone.”

Whew. Um, okay. Julie stands there, faced with this decision. 

The compliments aside (she will revisit those later), Luke’s giving her an out. Any reservations she has about moving forward with this plan, this is her chance to leave. 

She could just treasure these amazing few minutes for the rest of her life. This could be a story to tell friends at a dinner party, about the time a rockstar lent her his jacket. Would be up there with the time Jack Black passed her on the street and said “Nice hat!”. 

But-

Maybe she wants to see where this goes. 

“All this talk about food is making me hungry though...” she says and Luke lights up, “I could go for a bite to eat.” 

Luke snaps his fingers, “I know just the place.” 

*******

Half an hour later, Julie and Flynn are in a smelly alleyway with the guys from Sunset Curve, in line for a street dog cart just a couple blocks away. 

“An Oldsmobile?” Julie gawked after hearing Luke and the guys describe the delicacy, “Are you trying to poison me?”

“I swear by it,” Luke insists, taking her hand and moving them up in the line. Flynn sees this and doesn’t comment, but Julie’s starting to get used to Luke doing that, “You have to try!”  

Julie doesn't know when she got over her initial starstruck, but by now its so easy to treat Luke like a regular person.

Well, celebrities are all regular people in the end, but more so now that he and his friends, have their sleeves rolled up, smiles wide, ready to dig into what may be the most disgusting hot dog she has ever seen.

Julie takes a bite out of hers and her eyes widen. Wow. It's not terrible.

"Ayy! We got another one, boys" Reggie laughs, noting her reaction.

"Told ya" Luke needles her sides and she giggles, ticklish. Her knee jerk reaction is to playfully shove him, but in the process accidentally smeared some mustard onto his face.

Luke goes to lick it off with his tongue, making funny faces as he did which amused Julie even more.

"Here," she takes a napkin and wipes at his cheek, "Now we're even."

The whole group gets to talking over by the couches, while Flynn chats up the other boys, Julie and Luke are sequestered in their own corner, and yes, eventually the topic switches to music.

"Wait, so you know Rose and the Petal Pushers?" Luke chokes out, "Like everyone I talk to hasn't heard of them!"

"Yup. Have their record actually" Julie beams proudly, censoring out the part that its her mom's band and hence she has one of the few records ever released.

Luke is floored by that and continues to poke her brain for music and Julie finds that their spiels go on naturally, that she could probably talk with Luke for hours and hours.

Which ends up happening. Flynn had already made her escape, having texted her to come home safely, the boys had gone too, leaving them in the nearly empty lot.

When the food truck closes down for the night, they end up taking a stroll down the streets of L.A, talking and getting to know each other.

Julie learns so much about Luke, things she's never heard about from the press- like his songwriting practice, that he cries at Finding Nemo, and that he can do a cartwheel only when drunk.

And in return Julie shares with him her crazy college stories, how she misses her mom sometimes, and that she is encyclopedia of commercial jingles (a fact Luke exploits by rapidly quizzing her at random moments)

Somehow they end up near the beach, with Julie pointing out the different stars she could see, but finds that Luke isn't looking at the sky.

"Hey, Julie..." He gets her attention, "I had a really good time tonight."

"Me too"

"So... would it be alright, if I kiss you?"

Julie's mouth parts, speechless. It happened. Holy shit it happened or... is happening. She has Luke exactly where she wants him.

She could only nod and Luke takes it as the sign to lean in, but just as his lips is about to brush against hers, she freaks-

"Wait" she steps back. Luke opens his mouth, "No. No more 'sorry's from you. This one's one me. I'm sorry but... this- this" She sighs, "I have to be honest with you."

Then she tells Luke everything- Nick, The Hall Pass, her plans for tonight- basically admitting to using him.

When she's done, she expects for Luke to get angry, to leave in a huff and never want to see her again.

That's not what happens.

"This Nick guy sounds like a piece of work" he says.

Julie nods slowly, "Yeah... I guess he was. So maybe that's why I did it. But I don't think I could have gone through with it. Like I don't think we're together, me and Nick but-"

"You wouldn't want to do what he did. Because you don't want to hurt people," Luke surmises, understanding, "And by doing that, that means you're a better person than he is."

"I guess"

"No Julie, you're a good person" Luke insists, "Man, I think that makes me like you even more."

Julie laughs, "God, if my high school self could see me now..."

"You were a big fan?"

"I'm not having this conversation right now with you,"

"Okay cuz now you got me curious-"

Julie swats his shoulder but it doesn't deter the guy from snickering.

On a more serious note though-

"I think..." Julie hums, "I think this means that I got some stuff to work through. Before I could start considering... this."

"I understand"

"But thank you... Luke. For tonight"

"It's been real, Julie,"Luke smiles and pulls her in for a half hug, "And you should keep the jacket. Looks better on you anyway."

****

Julie goes back to Flynn's that night and her bestie's still awake, wanting all the deets. But there's not much to tell. Nothing happened.

She shrugs off the jacket and resigns to the couch, not caring that her makeup is still on. She's about ready to pass out.

Her phone dings.

She pulls it out and sees two notifications.

luke_patterson is now following you

luke_patterson is requesting to message you.

Curious, she accepts the request.

'here if you want to talk, Tin Foil :P'

Julie rolls her eyes and collapses onto the couch, sleeping with a smile on her face.

She doesn't know it now, but the oncoming years would be filled with more messages back and forth, meetups with their friends for more shady street food, building a solid foundation of friendship and eventually, when Luke asks again if he could kiss her, Julie would eagerly prop herself on her toes to close the gap.

Yeah, Julie's high school self would definitely be screaming...

[honey-makki]

brainrot kinktober- 10/6

blue encens

Car Sex: Hinata Shoyo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: semi public sex, oral (m. receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

Hinata hasn’t been back in Japan for long and it’s obvious. His skin much darker from days playing volleyball in the sun. The white tee he’s wearing sits much tighter on his arms than it used to, leaving little to the imagination as it stretches across his chest. His distressed black jeans are the perfect combination to the almost too tight shirt, giving you a taste of skin showing at the thigh and knee that left you wanting more.

He glanced over at you to see if you had put the finishing touches on your makeup before calling an uber. You’re checking angles in the fluorescent light. A smile graces his face as he takes your figure in, just happy to finally be back home with you, be in the same room with you. The uber is ordered as he runs a hand through his hair thinking about how grateful he was to have the opportunity to play for MSBY and to be with you again. The years away were painful.

Trotting over to him when you are satisfied with your appearance and you plop a sweet kiss on his lips, nothing but excitement at the prospect of going out with the team as a welcome party. You knew that Hinata wouldn’t be drinking or want to stay too long since he had a one on one meeting with the athletic trainers and nutritionists in the morning before the afternoon practice. That won’t stop the rest of the boys as they have time to sleep off a potential hangover, and it certainly won’t stop you from celebrating your boyfriend’s return.

The long ride to the club passes quickly as he blabbers about how the city has changed but somehow stayed the same, just like how he still has his childish sense of wonder about him. By the time you arrive, the rest of the team is in the area they reserved, knocking back drinks and joking around. Bokuto is the first to spot Hinata and bounds over picking him up in a big hug. The scene is cute, long time friends reuniting and Hinata introducing you with adoration dripping from very word.

The team welcomes you into their group with ease, pestering you for embarrassing stories about Hinata, taking group shots regularly. Atsumu wants to go dance and a few others agree, you look to Hinata to see what his choice is, ready to follow his lead as the night is about him. So there you are, in the middle of the dance floor, no one you recognize insight with Hinata behind you gripping your hips.

The music is flowing through your body as you sway grinding into the man behind you whos matching your every movement with just as much enthusiasm. His time in Brazil for sure has made him a better dancer. That, or you are drunk and very much in love with your boyfriend. His hands start roaming the longer you stay on the floor. Sliding up and down your thighs, one sneaking up to cup your boob.

Between the heat from everyone crowded around you, the tequila flowing through your veins, and how Hinata was touching you, it’s fair to say you were getting hot. It’s been years since he had his hands on you and both of you were feeling the lust building up. If you were sober you would have moved his hands to a more respectable place, but in your tipsy state, you just ground back harder and moved a hand back to grip his hair. His scent, smoky incense and traces of cardamom and cinnamon flood your nose, overpowering the stench of sweat and spilled drinks of the club.

He places a few kisses along the back of your neck and it isn’t until he starts sucking a mark near your ear do you move to stop him. “Hinata, I need you to calm down, your hands are moving a little too freely and its a lot.” You hope the tone of your voice explains what you mean, because the thought of explaining just how horny you were in the middle of a club mortified you.

“I couldn’t keep my hands off you even if I wanted to, sunshine. I think it might be time for us to leave.” He grinds into you a little harder and you can feel his erection evident against your ass. Your movements cease as you realize your effect on him and he grabs your hand leading you towards the door as he orders an uber with his other hand. Neither of you giving a second thought about saying goodbye to his teammates.

You climb into the spacious black car, and see that the car even has a partition installed, did Hinata call an Uber Lux just to take you home for sex? You shoot him a questioning glance, but your features melt into a smile as you see him just staring at you with love. As soon as you buckle in he pulls you in for a deep kiss, hands intertwined with each other’s hair.

It doesn’t take long for him to move down your body reaching in your dress to grope your chest his other hand finding its way to your ass just under the hem. He knows what he’s doing to you, so in retaliation, your start palming his cock straining against his jeans. You pull back and see how flushed he looks, eyes wide and hungry for you.

He pulls you in for what you expect to be another make out, but its just one kiss and a pained plea against your lips “Suck?” You glance down and see how hard he is and paired with the lust you’ve been building for years, you comply, desperately unbuttoning his jeans to get access to his cock.  

Quickly taking the head in your mouth, precum mixing with the aftertaste of tequila and lime. You bob your head down at what should be a comfortable speed, but the combination of alcohol and being in a moving car, it makes you dizzy. You slow to a pace that is comfortable for you but probably painfully teasing for Hinata who is desperately chasing his high.

He carefully gathers some of your hair in one hand to grip, a soft ‘can I?’ tumbles out of his lips and you hum around his shaft knowing what he has in mind. He starts to thrust up into your mouth in a pace comparable to your original one, unrelenting in speed. Your jaw hurts from being stretched out, but the tequila dulls the pain, and honestly, its worth it./The soft grunts tumbling out of his mouth morph into groaned curses that leave you squeezing your thighs together. Looking for some friction against your needy cunt through your drenched underwear.

His eyes are locked on you and your body. so compliant for him. the body he’s imagined teasing and tasting for years and with the recognition that he finally can do that, he cums unexpectedly down your throat.

He unbuckles you and pulls you into his lap, sitting between his legs. He peppers kiss down the back of your neck, thanking you for making him feel so good and praising you for being such a good girl. His hands spread your thighs apart and one dips beneath your dress. Eyes fluttering shut at the contact on your clothed cunt.

“Can’t wait to be home with y- you, Sho.” Your voice is barely more than a whispered plead to the driver to go faster.

“Who says we need to wait?”

You turn back to face him, suddenly much more sober than you were two minutes prior. “Shoyo! We can’t! The driver will see us!”

He turns the rest of your body so you are straddling him. He whispers into your ear, “This car has a partition, darling.” His tone is daring and enticing, if it didn’t sell you on being fucked in the back seat of an uber, Hinata rolling his hips into yours did. You fumble to help him pull his jeans down and move your underwear to the side.

The stretch hurts but it’s what you’ve been wanting, the familiarity rushing back to you, fiting in your cunt like it was made just for you, filling you to the brim and rubbing against your sweet spot on every deep thrust. If it weren’t for the two fingers Hinata shoved in your mouth before you sunk down on his cock the whole city would have heard your moan.

“You’ll need to cum fast if you don’t want our driver to see you. Looks like traffic is lightening up and we are getting close to home.” It’s a challenge and your walls clench around him at the mere thought of being caught in such a position. He helps lift you up and down on him every thrust deep and hitting deep inside of you just like you want. The coil that’s been building in your stomach since dancing with him on the floor is almost unbearably tight.

His mouth his on your chest just leaving kisses and love marks along anything exposed, committing your body back to memory. When he sees familiar streets, he moves one hand from your thigh to rub your clit, tight and precise circles with his callused fingers drive you close and closer to the edge.

“Hmm, not gonna cum? Did you just want to get caught being fucked in a car like a good little whore? If that’s what you want, who am I to stop you?” His words are all for talk, but they send you over the edge into a violent orgasm, with an embarrassingly loud moan that the uber driver most definitely heard. You can’t focus on that though, not when it feels like lightning is crackling through your body leaving you breathless.

He helps get you put together enough to walk inside as the uber pulls up to your place. You mumble an embarrassed thanks to Hinata for helping you cum, while you walk to the door

“I would never let some random man see my sunshine.” He kisses your head before pushing you inside the door and towards the bedroom.

Tag list:  @definitelythotful @riniwrits @shrimpypenis @nonexistent-social-life @crushingonsuga @revolutionary-chocolate-cake @right-shoe-jpg @sugawara-sweetheart @nxynxy @aoba-baby​ @arianna20​ @scorpiosanssexy @ceo-of-daichi @dinosaurtsukki @turquoiselace @nonamemaximum @omibaby @chokemelevi @bokuakadaily @haikyuuangst @cutie-aesthetic-palace @whet-ones-write @superdepressedhoe @iwachanswh0re @crushzone @kiseox @mysticalroadnightempath @toobsessedsstuff @trouvelle @kodzu-ken @elianetsantana @sonyaroses-blog @tsukkisbitch If you are bold and crossed out please check your privacy settings :)

A/N: I spent a long time figuring out what cologne I wanted to use because timeskip!hinata is very important to me and this is the one I decided on and is the name sake of the fic. also thank you to everyone who has been thirsting for timeskip!hinata recently. you make me feel so so so valid bc its really just been me and daisy.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Sweet Honey and Iced Tea (Part 2): Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.3k

tw: none

masterlist

inspired by "coffee" by Miguel (OH GOD THIS TURNING INTO A SERIES PLEASE SOMEONE STOP ME)

"What would your father think about your behavior last night?"

You stare at your mother, headache mounting, and sigh.

"Dad's in a coma, so he can't think," you reply, rubbing your temples. "Besides, isn't it a good thing to be seen with rival clans?"

"No!" she yells, standing up from her seated position behind the mahogany desk.

"Don't get worked up," her adviser warns, and she sits down, running her tongue over her teeth.

"Your father would be mortified if he saw you fraternizing with a lesser clan, especially one that's tormented our family for generations with their... underground activities." Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you look down at it, seeing an unknown number scroll across the screen.

1 New Text Message

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah," you grumble. "I just don't see the issue. If we can absorb a lesser clan into ours, wouldn't we just become more powerful?"

"At the cost of a fruitful marriage to a more powerful clan?"

"I never said marriage," you retort, and your mother scoffs, waving her hand at you.

"I know how Toji Fushiguro looks at you. Every clan head meeting we've attended, he's been right there, trying his best to get your attention. We all see it." You frown, shaking your head slowly.

"Toji's just a friend."

"Sure," your mother replies. "And let's hope it stays that way."

He's just a friend... you think to yourself as you walk around in the backyard. We just got drunk and explored the dynamic, is all.

You open your messages and look at the newest one, reading the text once, twice, and then a third time.

It's Toji. Just wanted to make sure you got home okay; you left before I could give you a ride.

I'm good, you reply. Just got chewed out by my mother for even being near you lol

You send it and save his number under the name "T. Fushiguro" before your phone buzzes again.

Meet me at the school courtyard at 7. I really have to talk to you about everything.

You consider replying and telling him "no," but then you know you won't get some answers to questions you'd been thinking about. So you reply, "sounds good." and leave it at that.

_____________________________________________________________

The fountain provides a nice perch for you while waiting for Toji to appear with his brooding green eyes and dark hair. And he does, right at seven pm, wearing a black hoodie and holding his car keys in his right hand. When he sees you, his eyes turn from brooding to soft and he holds his empty hand out, looking you over from head to toe.

"Let's go for a drive."

He's silent as you ride in his Charger, navigating the streets with precision and speed while the radio plays grunge rock in the background. You can feel the night before between you, the passion and tenderness Toji willingly showed you blooming out of his coldness, like a Scorpionweed growing from clay soil.

"We need to talk," he finally mutters, parking in an empty field. You turn to him, examining his face for any sign of displeasure. When you see nothing but thoughtfulness, you relax. But only a little. "I don't know if you've taken time to really think about our little situation."

"I have," you assert, looking at your shoes. "It's not hard to imagine how both of our families feel about--"

"Forget family. I'm talking about how you feel." You look up at Toji, who arches a perfect brow at you. "What do you want out of life?"

You'd never really thought about this. What did you want out of life? Other than becoming the family head, what would you do? Live life in service to others? No.

"I want to be able to do what I want, regardless of how my family feels about it." Toji gives you a smile, nodding.

"And... last night? Did you do what you want?"

Yes.

You imagine the look on your face is enough of an answer, because then he smirks, reaching into his backseat for something. He hands you a rectangular black box, tied tightly with a black ribbon and the signature of a famous designer on the front.

"Toji..." you breathe, and he waves his hand dismissively.

"Consider it my graduation present to you."

"But I--"

"Your little rice cake was enough of a present. That was the first time anyone had been nice to me and expected nothing in return." You unlace the bow and slide the top off the box, revealing a gold chain and sphere pendant necklace. At a closer look, the pendant is made from malachite, which just so happens to be the same color as Toji's eyes.

"Just something for you to wear whenever." You loop it around your neck, but struggle with the clasp, and Toji motions for you to turn around so he can place it on you. When he finishes, he smooths his hands over your shoulders and presses a kiss to your neck before pulling back. "There's more." You shift the black cloth aside and a stack of folded-up notes are presented to you. They're wrapped together with a rubber band, and you frown, picking up the pile carefully.

"What're the--" You realize where these notes are from, and Toji shifts back against his car door, looking at you blankly with crossed arms. "It was you?"

"You would've known if you took the time to read them." You undo the rubber band around the stack and take the top one, unfolding it right then and there.

Y/n,

Saw you as I almost got my ass handed to me during my final initiation last week. I know you'll never read these, but seeing you there made me remember reminded me of the time you pushed me down on the ground and I scraped my knee. I could hear you in my head telling me to get up... so I did.

Thanks, I guess. This will be my last little note. I've kind of written these as journal entries to help me make sense of my feelings... but now that my dad's dead but now that we're going to be seniors, I can't pay Gojo to keep quiet and pass these to you. Hopefully, I'll get the guts up to come and talk to you someday.

T. Fushiguro

"How long?" you wonder, letting your hand fall to your lap.

"How long what? Have I been writing those?"

"No," you mumble as you fold the paper back up neatly. "How long have you liked me?"

"Since the day you pushed me. But it was innocent back then; not really comparable to how I feel now." You take this information in and then turn back to him, confused.

"What happened with your little groupies?"

"Nothing, they were just status symbols. Made me look less suspicious and gained points with my associates. You were right; we wouldn't have gained brownie points being friends with each other," he grumbles, placing his hands on the steering wheel. "But I have options now that I'm the head of my clan and calling the shots."

"Right," you state, putting the letters back into the box. "You have options."

"I didn't mean it like that," Toji sighs, rubbing his left brow. "I mean that many of my choices come without questioning now. And as far as I'm concerned, you're the only woman I can see myself being with for the long haul."

"Are you just saying all of this so you can add me to the notches on your belt? You know: virgin girl and an experienced boy makes for a fun tale with your buddies and--" Toji hums, raising his brow again, and you shut up, staring back at him.

"No. As a matter of fact..." he pulls out his phone, typing into it for a minute before putting it away. "I'm taking you out tomorrow. On a date."

"Um," you whisper. "But my parents---"

"Don't have to know it's me. Just get dressed up nice and come outside when I pull up." Toji starts the car and pulls out of the field. "And don't worry, I'm not going to take advantage of you. Everything you do will be your own choice."

[seokoloqy]

The Ravenheart Manor | Yoongi’s Route

➳ PAIRING: demon!yoongi x reader

➳ GENRE: smut, pwp, mythical creature!au

➳ WORD COUNT: 3.3k

➳ WARNINGS: teasing, alley sex, his dick has ridges bc why not, dirty talk, over stimulation

➳ SUMMARY: despite the powerful aphrodisiac working its way through you, Yoongi doesn’t seem to care much and forces you to finish your chores with him. Your frustrations bubble up during a shopping trip and he decides to punish you.

➳ A/N: this is Yoongi’s route in the Ravenheart Manor series! Pls read first part before this one! None of the other routes need to be read in order and they are all stand alones

—

“I want Yoongi,” your breathless voice manages to say. You’re unable to meet anyone’s curious gaze, mortified by how their stares make your body tense and shudder.

You’d feel more comfortable staying with Yoongi through this because you've spent so much time around him. He’ll probably make you work through this unexpected heat and you’ll be too distracted polishing dishes to notice the wetness soaking your panties and the desire to have him throw you on the kitchen counter and spread your legs.

Namjoon nods, “very well. Dinner will be cut short tonight. Everyone will finish up in their own rooms. ___ and Yoongi can remain here.”

Despite the whines from Taehyung and Jimin about wanting to stay with you, one by one each of the residents take their plates from the table and disappear into their respective rooms to finish dinner on their own. You’re almost glad they’re all gone because you were very close to putting Taehyung’s hand exactly where you needed them.

You’re sitting very still in your chair, too sensitive to move from the heat crawling over your thighs or too nervous. Yoongi still has his eyes trained on you and the coffee pitcher steadily cradled in his hands.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s focused on the lust surrounding you, it’s so palpable he can taste the sweetness of it on his tongue.

As a demon, he’d prefer fear. That bitter flavor is so addicting to him. He wonders if your lust will taste just as intoxicating. If it does, he’s not sure he’d be able to restrain himself from devouring you completely. His hands tighten around the coffee pitcher when the nagging feeling of an insatiable hunger bites at him.

You cross your legs and turn away from his intense stare. You know you've messed up by drinking Jimin’s aphrodisiac. Yoongi must be thinking of all the chores he’s going to make you do for the next month or the rest of your human life.

“Have I been working you too hard, ___?” Yoongi’s voice cuts through the silence.

“N-No,” you shake your head, curling your hands around your knee to stop them from trembling.

“Then why would Jungkook say you were stressed?”

“I don’t know,” you squeak when Yoongi sets the coffee pitcher down. In the silent dining room the sound of it hitting the table seems booming in your ears.

“I don’t tolerate liars, ___, and as long as I am your superior,” you listen to his clipped footsteps as he approaches you. A hand comes beneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his face. His hands are just as cold as they were when you first met. There’s a dark, threatening glow in his eyes. Even though it’s intimidating you’re still breathless looking at him. “You will never lie to me.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and force a weak response, “y-yes, sir.”

Yoongi watches your wavering expression while a mischievous grin forms. He leans down at eye level to your heated face. “Your lust smells so intoxicating,” he whispers, just a breath away from your lips. “If I were a desperate man, I’d devour you—mind, body, and soul. Consider yourself lucky I’m not some lower level demon picking for scraps.”

The dark allure of his eyes enchants you and you’re almost compelled to lean forward and kiss him, just to see if it’ll quell the fire blazing in your core.

He releases your face, the traces of his cold touch still lingering on your skin like frostbite, and turns on his heel to resume his duties clearing the table.

“Just because you’re under the effects of an aphrodisiac doesn’t mean you get to slack off. We still have to go into town tonight for tomorrow’s ingredients.”

You want to groan. Of course he’d make you go out as punishment. Sadistic bastard.

“Get yourself together,” he says, picking up Namjoon’s bloody napkin. “We’re leaving as soon as we finish cleaning the table.”

—

Even though the temperature drops at night, leaving most to bundle themselves up in a coat, you picked a sundress because everything else you tried on just felt too suffocating.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to care about your predicament, just as you thought. You regret choosing him now. If you knew how desperate you would feel walking in the streets so close to Yoongi who pretends to be oblivious to your needs, you would’ve chosen Taehyung or Jimin to satisfy you instead. They probably would have been all over you by now.

You didn’t even get the chance to touch yourself when you were in your room changing before Yoongi barged in and claimed the shops would close soon. You get the feeling he only said it so you couldn’t relieve yourself of the aching between your legs.

A thin layer of sweat has already built up across your skin as you walk into the butchers shop. Your hands feel clammy, swinging at your side loosely, so close to Yoongi’s. He hasn’t made any indication he’s going to help you with the aphrodisiac. His only focus is on getting all the ingredients for tomorrow’s breakfast and reminding you not to trip over yourself when your knees get too weak and threaten to buckle.

“Yoongi,” you whine, tugging lightly on his coat, “I can’t take this anymore.”

Every step you take just reminds you of the growing wetness pooling in your panties. You swear you can almost hear a squelch whenever you shift your legs to ease the throbbing of your core. It must be the effects of the aphrodisiac that are making you so uncomfortably wet.

He hums, peering into the glass shielding an array of animal hearts; they’d be for Taehyung’s breakfast. “Maybe you should have thought twice before drinking mysterious alcohol then.”

“I didn’t think it’d be an aphrodisiac!” You whisper, tugging harder on his dark coat. The butcher gives you an odd look but doesn’t say anything. “Please, Yoongi. I need to go back to the manor.”

“What you need to do is carry these bags.” He ignores your pleas and shoves two bags filled with produce into your trembling hands. He speaks to the butcher and orders two pig hearts which are put into a bag and handed to Yoongi. You have half a mind to throw all his groceries to the floor and walk to the manor yourself.

When you’re both out of the shop and on the nearly empty streets, your legs grow weaker with each step and you nearly stumble if it weren’t for Yoongi’s arm wrapping around your hip. You involuntarily moan when he pulls you to his chest. The bags you were holding accidentally slip through your weak fingers. Luckily none of its contents spill out onto the street.

“What do you think you’re doing making such lewd noises in public?” He chides, clicking his tongue when you bury your face in his chest. You cling to the lapels of his coat, trying to pull him impossibly close.

“Please, Yoongi, I need…” You’re so breathless you can hardly finish your sentence, letting it taper off into a groan. You quiver in his arms. It’s so hard to gather yourself back together when his hands glide over your waist to steady you. The material of your sundress is so thin; it feels like he’s touching your bare skin. That’s exactly what you want, no, it’s what you need.

“Need what?” He asks, dipping his head low so only you can hear his words brush across your ear. “To be punished? You embarrassed yourself in front of our masters, ___. You need to be taught a lesson so this doesn’t happen again.”

You whimper in his arms, feeling your body react desperately to his words. You press yourself closer to him, weakly rubbing yourself against him to ease your tension.

“Look at yourself,” he mocks, “do you want to put on a show for these people?”

You pry your face out of his chest to glance at your surroundings. Although there are hardly any people wandering the town square, the few who are out glance at you curiously and try not to stare too long. When you meet eyes with one of them, they turn away flustered and walk off quickly. You bury your face back into Yoongi.

If stripping off all your clothes right now means this incessant throbbing between your legs will go away, you don’t mind putting on a show for everyone. You bet Yoongi wouldn't mind it either if it weren't for his desire to maintain a respectable reputation as the Ravenheart Manor’s butler. You wish he was some lowly demon, intent of satisfying his own selfish needs and indulging in your overflowing lust.

“I don’t care. I don’t care at all! Please I just need you to fuck me!” You cry, muffled by his coat. Maybe you didn’t mean to let the last part slip out, but it’s the truth. There’s no point in hiding your needs anymore. You feel like dying.

Your plea doesn’t fall of deaf ears. Yoongi can taste your lust again. It’s so powerful it practically stuffs itself down his throat, screaming to be devoured.

“I only take orders from my masters. You’re in no position to demand anything from me.”

He’s not enticing you to make a deal with him. Although savoring your tainted soul after ten years is an attractive trade, he plans to keep you as a maid at the manor for much longer. He just wants to torment you longer. He wants to know how long you can last writhing and crying out for him without breaking.

You let out a frustrated grunt, forcing both hands between your bodies and pushing yourself away. Yoongi lets you go without a fight and watches in amusement, a small smile on his face, when you clench the hem of your dress and press your shaking legs together. Behind your gritted teeth, your breathing has turned ragged.

“Whatever then,” you hiss, “I’ll just go back to the manor myself.”

“It’s late,” he says, running his eyes down your figure, drinking up your curves in that sundress. You look delectable like a gift waiting and willing to be devoured by him. “What kind of butler would I be if I had to explain to our masters that you became someone else’s dinner?”

There are plenty of beastly characters lurking around the town who’d catch a whiff of your scent and immediately pounce given the chance, no doubt. You’re like walking meat to them. The lust on top of that makes you irresistible. He can’t have anyone else claiming you before him.

“I think that’d make you a lousy butler.” You take a step back despite your challenging glare, wobbling slightly because of your weak legs. A burning feeling begins to crawl over your skin. This time it actually hurts. You hide your wince when your stomach begins to twist.

Yoongi smirks, “I can’t have that then.”

He gathers all the bags into one hand with a strength you envy and holds out his hand.

You shamelessly lunge for it, despite being upset with him two seconds ago—the aphrodisiac being stronger than your frustrations—and embrace any bit of contact he has to offer. You mewl into his hand that you’ve now nuzzled against your cheek. That burning is cooled when Yoongi’s hands glide over your skin.

“My kitten is so needy,” he teases. “Do you really need me that badly?”

Without even realizing, Yoongi guides you towards an alley and lets you both become drowned by darkness so any passerby will assume nothing of your mingled shadows intimately pressed together. You only notice the new change of scenery when your back is against the harsh brick wall and Yoongi presses a finger against your lips and the other hand busies itself under your dress, gliding up your sensitive stomach to fondle your breasts. The groceries left abandoned to the side.

“I need you to keep quiet, alright, kitten?” He whispers, pressing his own lips right against his finger. He’s just a breath away from kissing you and you had no idea you could want something this bad until now. You’re eager to kiss him, taste him.

You feel his hand slip beneath your bra and his thumb run over your pert nipples that have been starving for attention since the night began. He plays with your nipple between two fingers while his other hand leaves your lips and glides along the nape of your neck down to the zipper of your dress. Slowly, almost agonizingly, he drags the zipper down, letting the straps slide naturally down your arms and the rest of the dress falling to the ground.

Once the dress is completely off, it begins a catalyst of you letting out all your pent up arousal. You throw your arms around Yoongi’s neck and pull him down to your lips, letting your tongues meet in a frenzied, heated match.

You moan, savoring his honeyed taste while you pull him closer. “Want you,” you manage to slip past your entwined mouths.

Yoongi manages to unclasp your bra and it falls to the floor along with your discarded dress. The air nips at your bare upper half and you embrace the cold against your burning skin.

He pulls his lips away from yours to focus them down your chest, licking and sucking over your sensitive skin, enjoying the small noises you make. If you were back at the manor, he’d love to make you scream louder. So every layer of hell may hear your pleasure.

He blows on the areas he’s coated with his saliva, causing you to shiver.

“You don’t deserve anything after the show you put on at dinner tonight. Why should I reward bad behavior?”

“B-Because,” You say breathlessly, feeling almost delirious and lightheaded. How is it possible? He hasn’t even touched your soaked cunt once, yet it feels like you’re being touched all over at the same time.

“I’m going to need a good reason, kitten.” His hand moves faster than you can react, yanking off your panties, exposing all of you for him to devour. He tosses the article aside and cups your heat, teasing your slick folds with his middle finger. You mewl and shudder in his hands, clutching his bicep. “Tell me why I should fuck you right now.”

His thumb presses against your clit, harshly rubbing, making you quiver in his arms.

“I’m a good maid,” you whine, attempting to grind your hip against his hand.

“Not tonight,” he reminds, slipping one finger past your folds. You’re so wet it makes it easy for him.

You groan, screwing your eyes shut as you lean your head against the wall. “Before tonight. I did everything,” you whimper when he inserts a second finger easily and begins slowly dragging them in and out of you. It’s almost torturous. “Everything you asked of me. I think all of that makes up for my mistake tonight.”

His fingers move faster now, curling against your walls and drawing out your moans. “It’s true you’ve been very useful,” he considers. With you around, his work has been considerably easier, but he’d never admit that to you.

You clench around his fingers, feeling yourself approaching your well needed climax when he removes his fingers despite your whining protests.

“Please,” you groan, threading your fingers through his hair. Your legs are so weak, if it weren’t for his arm around you and the wall you’re leaning on, you’d collapse in a horny mess on the floor begging for some sort of release.

Your arousal glistens on his fingers as he raises them up to your mouth. The look in his eyes is absolutely devilish, almost black. You’re mesmerized by the void, willingly letting yourself get lost in it.

“Shh, don’t whine, kitten,” he teases his finger against your lips, smearing your arousal over the bottom, “a good maid cleans up after herself. Now open.”

You obediently part your lips to allow him to stuff his fingers into your mouth. Closing your lips around his fingers and sucking off your own arousal, your eyes flutter shut, swirling your tongue around his digits the same way you would with his cock.

“Are you ready for your reward?”

He unzips his pants, freeing his erection finally. You try not to react surprised when you finally get to see his unholy cock for the time. In the faint light, you can see that he has ridges around his cock like rings. You nearly faint.

“Oh god,” you groan, stomach fluttering with excitement. You throw one leg around his waist to bring him closer and to give him easier access to your pussy.

Yoongi grips your chin, dragging your face back up to his. “I want you saying my name only while I fuck you, kitten, got it?”

You bite your lip and nod. At this point you’d do anything for him to just plunge his cock into you. “Yes, Yoongi.”

Satisfied, Yoongi aligns his cock with your entrance, rubbing the length along your slit to coat it in your arousal. In one quick thrust, buries himself in your drenched pussy with a satisfied groan in your ear.

You have to cover your mouth to prevent the scream that would have escaped and alerted everyone walking by about your elicit activities.

His pace is anything but gentle as he hammers into your cunt and you take it all so eagerly. You choke back your moans behind your hand, feeling your eyes begin to water from the pleasure building up in your core. His hands find their place on your ass, controlling every movement of your hips against his.

It’s not possible to feel this good, is it? Whether it’s the power of the aphrodisiac or just Yoongi’s strong thrusts into your fluttering walls, you feel like you’re in paradise.

“You’re taking my cock so well, kitten,” Yoongi rasps, “what would our masters think of you like this, huh? Being fucked against the wall in an alley. I bet they’d like to watch you fall apart, but you’re mine now.”

“Mmph!” All you can do is whimper into your hands as a weak response. You can feel the ridges you’d seen on his cock every time they slide against your contracting walls.

“Your mind, body, and soul are all mine to devour.”

You helplessly cling to him, his shoulders, his hair, gripping the lapels of his coat as you pull him into a desperate kiss. Now both of your legs wrap around his waist, allowing his demonic strength to hold you up.

His hand wanders from your ass to rub your clit, edging you closer to your sweet release. You moan into his mouth and he swallows each of your cries greedily. His finger relentlessly attacks your clit, and it finally brings you to your orgasm.

Your walls clench around his cock as you come undone. He continues his rough assault on your cunt, not entirely done with you yet. This was supposed to be your punishment after all.

Your over stimulated pussy convulses around him as he ravages you. “Ah, Yoongi!” You cry helplessly, clinging to his shoulders.

“A couple more times ought to teach you,” he grunts.

You’re not sure how long you spent in the alley or how many orgasms Yoongi ended up giving you, but by the end of it, you had collapsed into Yoongi and the effects of the aphrodisiac long gone. He helped you get dressed with surprising ease and collected the groceries off the ground.

Yoongi surprises you by holding his hand out when you’re both out of the shadows. You look at him dumbly before slipping your hand in his. You’re a little glad he’s given you his hand because your legs are still wobbling.

“You can have the rest of the night off,” Yoongi says as you curl your body closer to him. Instead of holding his hand, you’ve managed to cling onto his arm, seeking warmth and comfort.

You're about to thank Yoongi for finally giving you a night off when he says, “but I expect you to be up earlier than usual to finish your chores.”

Bastard.

[firstofficerwiggles]

Dress Code, Part 1

Part 2, Part 3 (T rated), Part 3 (M rated)

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Some swearing, references to sexuality, mostly just fluff with some longing

Summary: You’re headed out to shop when Din takes issue with your dress

Word Count: ~3000

Author’s Note: This will be at least a two part story, possibly three parts if I can make it all connect well. This takes place at some point between seasons or maybe early on in Season 2. 

P.S. There’s a tiny nod to Ed Sheeran in this.

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

“Is that what you’re wearing?” the Mandalorian’s gruff voice questions as you are getting the child ready for a day of supply shopping. It feels like forever since you’ve been off the ship and you are in dire need of fresh food and other essentials. You swear if you have to eat one more packet of reconstituted soup your taste buds will shrivel and die. You are also desperately looking forward to breathing in fresh air and feeling the sunshine on your skin again. As luck would have it, you’ve landed in a spot that is lush and green with a moderate climate, and as you flew by overhead you spied a bright and colorful village with a bustling marketplace.

Back home you never would have considered food shopping a reason for dressing up, but after many long months on a starship, these brief outings feel like a special event to you. In your eagerness to be outside again, you decided to wear a pretty sundress that you love. It hugs your curves in all the right places but still manages to be flowy and soft, plus you know this color is one of the most flattering for you. Ok, maybe you didn’t need to also do your hair and makeup quite this nicely, but you figured, why not? it made you feel good. Plus there was the added hope that maybe the Mandalorian would look at you for once as more than just a crew member. Not that you should want him to do that, you remind yourself strictly, he is your boss after all.

“I suppose it’s a little dressier than normal for shopping, but I think I look nice,” you respond smoothing your hands over the dress and feeling a small thrill of delight that at least he noticed the dress.

Din makes a hmpf sort of sound as if he wants to disagree with you but can’t bring himself to actually say anything definitive.

“What do you think, sweet baby?” you say with a wink to the child. He grins up at you and makes his happy cooing sounds. “He seems to like it.”

“Let’s get going,” Din says, ignoring your comment and handing you your cloak.

“I don’t need my cloak, Mando, it’s a warm, sunny day out there,” you tell him.

“So, you’re just going to go out, like that, exposed.” He is still holding out the cloak to you.

“Exposed?” you say with a laugh, “This is a perfectly respectable dress.”

“Your arms are naked and so are most of your legs and toes,” he points out. His hands are on his hips and he tilts his helmet as if his eyes are traveling down your body taking in the knee-length sundress and ending at your open-toed sandals. You feel your cheeks flush and the ship seems warmer all of a sudden as he scrutinizes your body.

“Mando, I know this is more skin than you’d ever show, but trust me, non-Mandalorian women dress like this all the time,” you reason with him. “Besides, I wasn’t aware this marketplace had a strict dress code.”

“What if it does?” he retorts.

“Seriously. Is that the best you can do?” You’re getting a little annoyed at him now, and as you think about it you realize he’s made a few off-hand comments recently about the way you dress. Why is he making this an issue?

Din knows he is being a pain in the ass about the dress and it has much more to do with him than he would care to admit. He’s noticed that you wear your prettiest clothes each time you leave the ship, but this is the first time he’s openly questioned you about it. When he hired you to help him out with the child, he thought you were much too beautiful and that it was probably a bad idea. Hell, everyone always has jokes about dads and hot nannies. But he also knew that was a really shitty and misogynistic reason to deny someone a job, so he hired you because you were clearly the best candidate. Din had been absolutely right in that area and he admired the way you had bonded with the child and cared for him as if he were your own. But still, lately everything you do has been driving him crazy with desire and he’s getting more frustrated by the day. Just yesterday he had walked in on you cooking dinner, playing music, and dancing around the ship’s tiny galley. He was transfixed as you swayed your hips to the beat and listened to the singer crooning to you that he was in love with your body. It had made him flee to the fresher for a cold shower just to calm down. Frankly, the sight of you in this dress is making him yearn for another cold dousing. Besides that, he knows that the moment you get to the marketplace, his eyes won��t be the only ones on you, a thought that makes his stomach churn with ill-placed jealousy, but one that does give him an idea for a better counter-argument.

“You’ll attract too much attention.” Din finally tells you soundly.

“Excuse me? Mr. Head-to-Toe Beskar? I attract too much attention.” You sound incredulous.

“I attract the right kind of attention that says, ‘back off’,” he replies, “but you attract horny male attention, that seems to say, ‘hang around and be a pain’.”

“Oh, puh-lease. I’m not the only one who can attract horny male attention, Mando,” you sass back at him with a playful look, “The galaxy takes all kinds, and who can resist a man in shining armor?”

“Well,” Din clears his throat and looks away for a moment, “that may be the case,” he mutters, but then he turns his visor back towards you, and says more confidently, “but the men you attract are much more aggressive and persistent.”

“Maker, Mando, that was like one time, and he took off after you punched him.” You will admit there was a scene a few weeks ago in a particularly rowdy cantina where some creep wouldn’t leave you alone, until the Mandalorian hauled off and hit him square in the nose. You had been mortified at the time that he had needed to do it, but you would also swear that Mando had enjoyed punching the guy.

“I didn’t like your dress that night either,” Din lies to you. He did like it but he didn’t like seeing other men like it too.

You roll your eyes at that comment and sigh, “Since when do you care so much about my clothing choices?”

“I care when they might bring you unwanted attention,” he insists, “I do feel a responsibility for your welfare even if you don’t seem to.”

“Well, listen, is there any chance you are going to let me wander around this marketplace alone?” you ask changing tactics.

“Hell no,” he replies swiftly.

“Ok, then, problem solved.”

“What do you mean ‘problem solved’?”

“I mean no one is going to bother me if you are by my side all day,” you explain. He crosses his arms at this, but he doesn’t have a response. “That creep in the cantina only got so bold because I was by myself at the bar while you were negotiating that bounty. I’m sure he wouldn’t have dared try anything if you had been right there.” You decide to take things a bit further in attempt to end this silly argument, “Would you care to make a wager?”

“A wager?” he’s curious now.

“If a man hits on me while you’re by my side, I’ll let you pick out my clothing for a month. However, if no one hits on me, you say nothing about my clothing for two months.”

“One month,” he counters.

“Alright, fine, one month, either way,” you agree. “But, it only counts if you are by my side, if you walk away from me all bets are off.”

“I won’t be walking away from you, and you better not wander off either,” he warns.

“Do we have a deal?” You hold out your hand for him to shake.

“Deal,” he says taking your hand.

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

Your little party picks their way through the marketplace with ease stopping by stalls of fresh fruit, vegetables, cheeses, breads, and a delectable selection of pastries that has the child reaching out with both hands from his floating pram. The sneaky rascal had got a particularly large one in his mouth before you even had a chance to make your selection. Thankfully the vendor was entranced by his adorable face and hadn’t been bothered at all by his momentary thievery. This village has been nice and you’re enjoying the day not just due to the lovely weather, but also because of your little competition with the Mandalorian. You’ve noticed men giving you appreciative looks, but you’ve been cozying up to your Mando as much as possible, even going so far as to put your hand in the crook of his arm at times as you walk through the streets. In a few instances you were a little worried you might lose the wager when a particularly enthusiastic vendor was trying to make a sale, but fortunately for you, everyone had stayed polite and focused on helping you make your selections.

Din could see that he was well on his way to losing this wager. Normally, that would irritate him thanks to his competitive nature, but spending time with you like this was worth it. He had the chance to watch your happy face as you strolled through the colorful market and to listen to you cheerfully greet people and negotiate prices to get the best bargains. There was such an easy enthusiasm about you as you took pleasure in something that otherwise would have been mundane. It made him feel more lighthearted too. Yet the best part of this shopping trip was how attentive you were being towards him. Din was thoroughly enjoying the way you checked with him before making final selections of your purchases, the way your hand touched his arm, and the way you kept looking over to him with a smile. You were even letting him place a hand on the small of your back at times as he guided you towards different stalls. He had been right about you drawing attention from other men, but apart from a few appreciative glances, they had stayed away, no doubt because to all outward appearances Din and you looked like a couple.

You’ve been making good progress on your shopping list, and there are just a few more items you want to get before heading back to the Crest. You know you are supposed to be focused on picking up the essentials for the next few weeks, but your eye is drawn to a jeweler’s stall nearby and the pretty pieces he has on display. You let yourself wander over as the Mandalorian follows.

“Good afternoon,” the vendor greets you cheerfully, “please take a look, it’s all my own work, handcrafted right here,” and he gestures to a workshop behind the stall. He has many beautiful items but one necklace in particular catches your eye. It is a pendant shaped like a flower and it looks to be made of some type of silver. The flower has a second shinier metal filigree on top creating a lovely design that is topped off with tiny silver balls that glint in the sunlight.

“Would you like to try it on?” the jeweler asks you.

“Oh, I’d love to,” you reply eagerly. You lift the pendant up and place it around your neck, and then try to clasp it, but with your hair in the way, you can’t seem to get it to latch.

“Allow me,” Din’s fingers replace your own. You lift your hair up for him, and then tell yourself to breathe as his gloves gently brush over your neck. Perhaps it’s your imagination, but it feels as if he lets his hands linger there longer than necessary. When he takes a step back, you whirl around and ask, “How does it look?”

“You look beautiful,” Din replies, more honestly than he planned, your eyes lighting up at his compliment. He watches you turn back around towards a mirror the jeweler has set up to admire the necklace yourself. His eyes are drawn back to the pendant which is now glittering just at the top of your cleavage enticingly. He watches your delighted face in the mirror, enjoying the simple pleasure of wearing something beautiful.

“Your wife has excellent taste,” the jeweler’s words cause Din to turn his head and come back to the rest of the world. “That’s one of my favorite pieces.”

“What it’s made of?” Din asks the jeweler, not bothering to correct him on the word ‘wife’.  

“It’s silver with beskar plating,” the jeweler explains, “I’m not surprised she likes it so much,” he says in a conspiratorial whisper and a slightly cheeky glance at the Mandalorian.

“How much?” Din asks.

You haven’t been paying any attention to Din and the jeweler; you’ve been too busy admiring the pretty necklace and imagining what it would be like to wear it to a special night out with your favorite dress. You’re so caught up in your daydreaming that it isn’t until you hear a merry laugh from the jeweler that you realize how long you’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks flush thinking that you must look so vain, and you turn to the jeweler and say, “Thank you so much for letting me try this on, but I suppose I better take it off now.”

“There’s no need, lovely lady, your husband has already purchased it for you,” he says with a grin.

You’re stunned both by the jeweler calling the Mandalorian your husband and with delight that he has bought you such a beautiful gift. Before you realize what you’re doing, you throw your arms around Din in a hug and thank him profusely. He is stiff for a second, not sure how to react to your embrace, but then, his arms come up to encircle you and he pulls you in tighter to his chest. He can’t remember the last time anyone hugged him and he has missed it more than he knew. For a moment, Din allows himself to enjoy the intimacy of holding you like this, and he imagines what it would be like to be able to hug you all the time.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Din tells you softly, the term of endearment slipping from his lips before he can stop himself. Your cheeks flush with pleasure at his words and when you pull back away from him your face is shining with the brightest smile he’s ever seen. The bustling marketplace falls away and it’s just the two of you standing in the sunlight with electricity buzzing between you, until the child coos loudly reminding you both of his presence.

“We should, uh, get the rest of the… supplies,” Din says sounding a little flustered. You understand that’s he’s feeling a bit shy right now after that public display of affection. You’re feeling the same way, wondering what all of this could mean. But you know that now is not the time to reflect on those thoughts, and instead you turn back to the child, scooping him up for a quick cuddle so he no longer feels left out. The Mandalorian also reaches out to give the kid’s long ears a stroke and says, “Are you still hungry, buddy? C’mon we’ll get you another snack.”

The rest of your shopping trip passes quickly and you’re back at the Razor Crest shortly thereafter. You are still floating on air after the day you’ve had. You keep sneaking glimpses at your new necklace and smiling to yourself like a besotted school girl. Even the drudgery of unloading and then securing all the supplies in the ship doesn’t put a damper on your spirits. The Mandalorian seems to be sharing in your joyfulness, humming a little as he lifts heavy crates and sneaks a few extra treats to the child. You’re getting ready to depart, when he turns to you and says, “Well, I suppose I should congratulate you on winning our wager.”

“That’s right, I did win,” you say happily almost having forgotten about the whole silly bet, “I knew no one would bother me with you right next to me.”

“Yes, it appears you were right about that,” he says grudgingly, “this time.”

“So that means one whole month with no comments about what I choose to wear,” you remind him.

“This doesn’t mean you should take this as an excuse to wear your most scandalous outfits,” Din tries to tell you.

“Uh-uh, the month starts now, no comments from you, sir,” you reply cheekily to him. You laugh a little to yourself, scandalous outfits, he’s being so dramatic.

“I’m going to get us on our way,” Din concedes his defeat and turns to head to the cockpit, but he can’t help to get in one last word as he tells you, “I’m sure your new necklace will look just as pretty with your more conservative clothes.”

“Maybe,” you reply attempting for a nonchalant tone, but failing spectacularly as your eyes light up at his suggestion.

Din makes his way back up to his pilot’s chair and begins the take-off procedure. He shouldn’t have made that comment about the scandalous outfits, it will just give you ideas filled with your sheerest and most revealing garments. But then, he has an idea of his own. Smirking under his helmet at his own cunning, he punches in the coordinates to the icy world of Hoth and makes the jump to hyperspace.

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

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for Part 2.

[peach-pops]

Hi! Can I requests a HC with Suga, Kageyama, and Noya where they go into Ukais store and they completely fall head over heels for the girl behind the register ( she can be related to Ukai or just works there for him)

This is my first request! Make sure you guys like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed it and requests are open! 

Suga, Kageyama, and Noya develop a crush on Ukai’s new employee 

➣Sugawara

One day after practice, Suga finds himself heading to Ukai’s store with Daichi and Asahi because they’ve been craving those steamed pork buns and since it was Daichi’s turn to pay for food, it was an offer he couldn’t refuse 

He’s definitely an advocate for “Free food is the best food” 

#sugardaddydaichi

The boys walk into Sakanoshita and Suga is the first to notice a new girl standing behind the counter who is reading the newspaper with her legs propped up just like a mini Ukai

Instead of a cigarette between her lip, she has a stick of chocolate pocky in her mouth 

Suga thinks you are SO cute and he can’t stop staring at you but once you look up from your newspaper to lock eyes with him, he averts his gaze and continues to walk forward, only to bump into one of the shelves by accident 

“ Woah, you okay suga?” Daichi asks as he turns around to face his friend

“ GAH I’m fine!”

Suga hears you let out a small giggle as you went back to your newspaper and pretended to act uninterested in the boy, even though you knew fully well that he was reallllllly cute

Daichi is a smart boy and he can clearly tell that Suga is completely flustered over you but decides to say nothing for now while Asahi is deciding between which flavor drink he should get 

He’s oblivious, aren’t all aces? 

The boys grab their buns and head over to the counter where you greet them extra politely because you are an underpaid customer service worker who is just genuinely nice a cute boy is in front of you and you wanna make a nice impression

“ Okay, you’re all set,  is there anything else I can do for you guys?” You asked sweetly as Daichi looks over to Suga who’s cheeks are getting flushed

Daichi gets Asahi’s attention and nods over to the door,” We’ll be outside Suga, don’t take too long.” 

Suga’s eyes practically are pleading with Daichi saying “ Please don’t leave me I think I’m choking on my own tongue” but Daichi just laughs and walks out with a confused Asahi trailing behind him 

Suga just tries to calm himself down because he knows the goal is to make a nice impression and hopefully set up a date so he can see you again 

“ From the way you were sitting, I imagine you’re related to Ukai? ”

Suga immediately regrets this approach because now he sounds like a weird stalker but you don’t think anything of his question

“ Mhm, I’m his niece Y/N, how do you know him?” 

He replays your name out loud and for some reason it makes him smile even more

You being Ukai’s niece doesn’t really make Suga panic even though the thought of crushing on his coaches niece seems like he is crossing some sort of moral line

Suga tells you that he plays volleyball for Karasuno and that your uncle is also his coach which lights up your face 

“ No kidding, what a small world! I would love to come out and cheer you on. When’s the next game?”

Suga short circuits for a second because you specifically said you would cheer him on instead of the team as a whole

“ S-sure! There’s one next week if you want to come .ANDmaybewecangetsomethingtoeatafter!” 

“ Sounds like a plan, its a date,” You smiled as Suga nods excitedly before rushing out of the store without another word 

“ Did I just hear her say that Ukai is her uncle?” Asahi asked as the three of them walked down the street

Suga nods and blabs on about his interaction with you but Asahi and Daichi look at each other the whole time as they think of how screwed Suga will be once Ukai finds out

➣Kageyama

Kageyama never really heads to Ukai’s store unless he’s with his teammates but one day when he’s out jogging, he forgets his water bottle so he decides to stop by Sakanoshita to grab a drink since he knows he won’t be able to run much longer in this heat 

He steps into the store and he’s blessed with not only the blasting AC but the sight of a girl around his age refilling the drinks in the fridge

Kags can only see the side of your face but even then, he feels his heart skip a beat 

He’s never felt anything like this before so he’s convinced he’s about to have a heart attack but then the unsettling thought hits him as he’s just standing there in the middle of the store with his wallet out 

“ She’s really pretty” and Kageyama doesn’t even realize he’s said this OUT LOUD until you turn around and give him a shy smile

“ Um, thank you, you too”

Kageyama wants to just run out of the store because he is so embarrassed and he can feel the back of his neck and ears heat up as he contemplates leaving

And that’s EXACTLY what he does!!!!

The dude just leaves without buying anything and decides to just run back home because he is MORTIFIED 

You’re kinda bummed out because “damn, I scared another one off this week” but you realize that he dropped his wallet as he was sprinting out so you knew he’d be back

You didn’t look through his wallet, all you did was put it in one of the drawers at the register and continued on with your day as usual 

Just kidding, you totally looked through it and founds his Karasuno school ID and when you saw he was a first-year too, you mentally gave yourself a high five

Kageyama on the other time is freaking out because not only did he lose his wallet, he is so sure that the last time he had it was at Ukai’s store which means he has to see you again

He decides to wait until later that night to show up because he thinks maybe Ukai will be there instead-but sure enough when he shows up, you’re still sitting behind the counter and this time, he can see your whole face as you’re doing homework 

And his heart stops when he sees that you’re wearing a Karasuno school uniform because he could’ve sworn he would’ve recognized someone as pretty as you around the hallways

He’s never felt this way about any girl before and now, he slightly regretted not listening to Tanaka’s advice on how to pick up girls because he was felt so lost on what to do 

You could feel someone staring at you but when you turned your head up, you found yourself almost glad to see him

“ Oh hey Tobio! Did you come back for something?” 

His brain short circuits for the millionth time because hardly anyone calls him by his first name and he figures you probably went through his wallet 

Kageyama sheepishly nods as he heads over to the counter. You don’t even understand how hard it is for Kageyama to even talk to you

Cause granted, he’s talked to girls before like Kiyoko and Yachi but never a girl he was interested in because until now, he never even found himself attracted to girls 

You hand him his wallet as you defend yourself, saying that you only went through it to find his address so you could return it after your shift  

he apologizes over and over again on how much it was a burden for you to keep his wallet for the day

All you could do was laugh at how absurd this whole situation was and your laugh made Kageyama tense up because even your laugh was attractive 

He made sure to keep that in his head though 

Kageyama doesn’t know why his feet are practically cemented in front of you but he just doesn’t want to leave

He makes up any excuse and looks down at your math homework and thinks of an idea

“ Oh, do you need help with that?”

And Kageyama feels so stupid because why the hell did he just offer to help you with math homework when he only has one working braincell

You look down at your homework and back up at him,” You know this stuff?”

Kageyama looks at you before swallowing hard and shakes his head,” No…I’m actually really bad”

You giggle at his attempt at trying to be helpful but you nod back towards your homework,” Well don’t worry, I have math under control...If you want I can tutor you sometime?”

Kageyama almost says yes way too quickly before he pretends to think it over in his head and happily accepts your offer

You smile back at him before grabbing a sticky note and scribbling your name and number on a piece of paper,” Call me whenever, yeah?” 

You know that face Kageyama makes where his smile is super weird and squiggly? Well thats the exact face he has as he takes the piece of paper and tells you goodnight

And you can bet everything you have that he immediately rushes home and pulls out his homework just so he can have an excuse to call you up 

➣Nishinoya 

Nishinoya frequently visits Ukai’s store even if it’s out of the way because he likes to see a familiar face 

And also tries to bargain a “family discount” to which Ukai always denies him 

So one night Noya feels a sudden craving for literally anything that isn’t within his own house and he just decides to go drop by Sakanoshita to annoy Ukai out of a free bag of chips

“ Oi Ukai-” Noya stops in his tracks when he sees a girl around his age carrying a big box of products out from the back of the store

He is completely SMITTEN for you right away and in the back of his mind he’s like Kiyoko who? 

He had been going to Ukai’s for a long time but he had never saw you around before so already his mind was thinking of who you could be 

“ She’s too pretty to be Ukai’s daughter- he isnt even married why would he have a daughter-unless his wife left him with a baby and that’s why he’s grumpy all the time- wait but aren’t babies made by having-”

Noya kinda snaps out of it as you let out a small grunt while you’re trying to balance the two boxes on top of each other

Lets be real, Noya is the number one women respecter so when he sees you somewhat struggling, he rushes over and helps take some of the weight off of you

You could feel your load lighten but you still keep your hand on the box,“ I got it, it’s fine!”

“ No, please let me help! You’re too pretty to carry heavy things, you need a big strong man to help!” 

He didn’t mean for it to sound so unfeminist because again, he loves women as much as Hinata loves volleyball but he just didn’t want you to hurt yourself

You guide him where to set the boxes and they’re way heavier than Noya anticipated but since he wanted to impress you, he tried to play it off like it wasn’t even that heavy 

“ Thanks for the help, I hate making multiple trips” You said as you crouched down and opened up the boxes. When you look up at the boy for the first time, you feel your heart skip a beat because duh, cute stranger alert and Noya was feeling the exact same way 

“ I would do it again in a heartbeat,” Noya smiled and introduced himself and when you said your full name, Noya felt like his mind had exploded

“ Woah! I know him, he’s my volleyball coach- I’m Karasuno’s libero-that’s the school I go to- and he owns the store- but you probably already know that- I’ve never seen you around before, are you new?” 

When Noya gets excited, he has a tendency to talk people’s ear off but you found it so amusing and almost endearing 

“ Yep, today’s my first day. It’s been pretty hectic but it keeps me pretty busy for the most part.”

“ You know, I’m here all the time so I practically own the store myself. If you need any manly assistance, I could help you- like right now- do you want me to stock these chips? The cheesy ones are my favorite what about you?” 

You didn’t want to burden him but after trying to convince him you were fine doing it by yourself, you just gave up and decided that it would be quicker with him by your side

It would’ve taken you about an hour to stock whatever was left but with Noya’s help, you two managed to get it done in 20 minutes. While you closed up the shop, he even offered to walk you home because “ someone as pretty as you shouldn’t walk home without a bodyguard” 

You happily accepted your offer because hellooooo any excuse to hang out with him longer worked for you! 

When you got to your house, you gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek to thank him and for extra measure, you pulled out a bag of cheesy chips from your coat

Noya practically fell to his knees once you closed your front door and he was simping so hard for you that everytime he wasn’t busy with volleyball, he would close up the shop with you and walk you home

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Don't Leave Me This Way

Warnings- angst, marital spats, language, a hint of spice

A/N- After a decade together, Honey and Leon have come undone. But on the anniversary of the day their lives changed, Leon decides to mend that. For @forenschik

Part One:

Honey was, in a word, incensed. That Leon would even think about the two of them going out on a weekday bothered her. Then again, at this point in their busy lives going out on ANY day bothered her. But that, Leon told her, was the problem. It was eat, sleep, work, kids, eat, sleep, work, OCCASIONALLY have sex. Throw in Sunny’s growing powers and the odd alternate universe traveller for good measure. That was the rhythm of married life she responded rather dismissively.

Leon took the club scheduling book out of Honey’s hand and held it high above his head where he knew Honey couldn’t fathom reaching it. “How about fuck off with this rhythm of life.”

“LEON!” Honey both whined and raised her voice at her husband as she scrambled to her feet and attempted to climb him. When that didn’t work, and he simply laughed at her and held the book higher, she stood on the desk chair. “How about you go fuck yourself?”

Leon threw the date book. Honey jumped to go after it, but he blocked her move. He held her tight in his arms so she was made to stand still. “Fuck’s sake, I was asking for a date. Now I’m telling you. You’re gonna go upstairs and get ready and put on that sexy purple dress. I’ve packed up The Littles. We’re taking them to your parents, and then we are going to that Italian restaurant you love on Mulberry Street. Then we’re coming home, and you’re getting a right good seeing to.” Before she could protest Leon clamped his hand over her mouth, “Now.”

Honey shockingly obeyed her husband. Her face crimson with anger as she held her chin in the air, arms crossed in front of her chest before throwing up the double finger. In the shower she realized something. It had been so long, and their lives were so busy, that Honey couldn’t discern being mad from being turned on. A lump formed in her throat because she was ashamed. Or disappointed? When was she ever NOT enamored by Leon? Maybe this date was exactly what they needed.

---

“I don't know, I think we should maybe homeschool Sunny. He's not going to have a handle on anything until he's come to the end of what he can do. Maybe we can communally teach him? Selina is fine, she always will be. She could use other normal kids. I think she and Sun are too dependent on each other. They're only six and seven. Usually that level of codependency comes later in life. Like you and Jonathan. I don't know, what do you think?”

Leon watched as his wife took her first breath since their dinners arrived. She swallowed most of her wine before chasing a tortellini around her plate. Her head in one hand like an insolent child instead of a woman in her thirties. Honey looked at Leon expectedly. He took a breath of his own, but she interjected just as he was about to speak.

“They might resent us if we separate though. Sunny needs to feel as normal as possible. They're in Montessori school, so all those kids are bound to be a little strange too. I guess if they were homeschooled you would have to cut back on your classes, and we would have to scale back on bookings.”

Leon clenched his jaw between sips of his bourbon. He stabbed at his dinner, chewed and swallowed while simmering. He sat back with the expectancy that Honey would continue, uninterrupted the same way she had for the last decade. He could feel the simmer start to boil just below the surface while, sure enough, she kept on.

“Punk is just taking off. I know CBGB is where it's at, but Hilly’s been a mensch sending us Patti, Debbie and The Ramones. I know we're still stuck in folk, but I REALLY think it can turn around into rock. There's this outrageous glam or metal or whatever band from LA. Oh! Did you get to hear that demo from the Irish band? Klaus said they're like, one of the biggest bands in the world. I don't know if that would be in our timeline too, but he's onto something. Get in while we can. But who wears sunglass-”

“αρκετά!!” Leon yelled. ENOUGH!

He banged a fist on the table which drew attention from nearby diners. His nostrils flared with anger and embarrassment. While the outburst mortified Leon, he also wouldn't take it back. It was his only means of getting Honey’s attention. And it did.

She sat back with her arms crossed. One eyebrow arched in challenge. Honey was no shrinking violet. She did tend to her grudges like a little garden. If she had to add Leon to it for a little while, so mote it be.

Leon’s face softened, his shoulders sank while he bit into his lip. Then he sat up straight, an air of defiance about him. Before she knew what was happening, Leon slid Honey around the booth with ease so that they sat side by side. He made a bold move when his wife turned away from him.

Leon snuck a hand inside of Honey’s bare thighs. He knew her. Knew she wouldn't be wearing any panties. It wasn't even meant as a tease. She just couldn't with this particular dress. He took advantage of that.

Letting two of his fingers delve inside of his wife, Leon slid them as painfully slow as possible. Her body reacted. It became instantaneously wet allowing him to slip in with ease. He continued in Italian.

“Tesoro mio, non stai zitto da dieci anni. Hai chiesto la mia opinione e io ne ho una.” His fingers pumped faster. One found her clit for a brief moment before abandoning it “Ora sii una brava moglie e lasciami dire la mia.”

My sweet, you haven't shut the fuck up in ten years. You asked for my opinion, and I have one. Now be a good wife and let me have my say.

Honey swallowed oxygen and choked on it. Her heart pounded in places she forgot carried a beat for the man beside her. Her hips shifted forward while she spread her legs to accommodate Leon.

“I'm.. sorry..” her breath came out choppy. “What.. what do you think?”

Leon removed his fingers and draped his arm along Honey’s shoulders. It curled around her neck but with a gentleness. All of the anger dissipated seeing his wife submit to him so easily. That sexual reminder he had as much agency in this marriage as she did.

“I think,” Leon lifted Honey’s chin so her face drew closer. Instead of her lips he kissed her forehead and caught her gaze, “It's time to send the Littles away without us.”

Honey inhaled ready to release a protest. Leon clamped a hand over her mouth. “For longer than a few days at the lake. Or a weekend down at the shore with your sister's kids. Or overnight at your parents place. It's time Yía Yía takes them to Greece.”

Leon felt his wife’s body start to tense. He knew she was processing what he had to say but was prepared to fight him every step of the way. He kept on, “We can take the kids to London, stay a day or two. Then the two of us are going away together for the first time. Not a weekend here. Or a day there. PROPER vacationing just us.”

“We-”

He cut Honey off with a kiss this time. “We can afford to close the club for a while. I love you, and I bloody love our kids. The three of you are my whole fucking world. Don’t you think we’ve gotten a bit lost? It hasn’t been just us since the 60s. You don’t even know what day it is, do you?”

Honey blanked. Her eyebrows knit together as her brain searched back through time to what she may have missed. Why a random day at the end of August was so important. Leon stared at his wife, willing her to remember. He knew she maybe just took it for granted that this instance had always been there. Neither could remember a time when it wasn’t.

Honey’s body deflated. “Oh, Leon.” Hot tears sprang to her eyes which she angrily wiped away. “When HAVEN’T I loved you? I don’t think I was ever able to boil it down to our last time away together. Has it really been ten years? I always thought the moment I saw you was the moment I fell in love. I held you at bay didn’t I?”

Leon used his thumbs to brush the tears away from her cheeks. One traced along her bottom lip before he pushed her hair off her shoulder to kiss it.

"Gracie, look at me." He lifted her chin again so their eyes met. She sniffled. "I think you know that little bits of me and you could scatter across the cosmos, and we would always find one another. It's why we need to get away, the two of us. C'mon, wanna go for a walk?

He stood, laid more money down than necessary, and reached for Honey's hand. She took it but rebuffed the rest, "Leon, it's midnight. It's the hottest summer on record. And someone is murdering women with dark hair and their lovers."

"So?!" She frowned. "Oh bugger off!" he teased. "Klaus said his name's David Berkowitz, and he never goes outside of Queens. I just want to hold my missus's hand and walk beside her a little while. That's all."

How could Honey resist?

Part 2 coming next week 💋

@elliethesuperfruitlover @magic-multicolored-miracle @maerenee930 @nightmonsters @neuroticpuppy @firstpersonnarrator @frogs--are--bitches @rob-private @bisexualnathanyoung @super-unpredictable98 @messengeronthemoon @a-ghoulish-tale @love-is-dirty-baby @vonkimmeren @duck-noises @feed-davis-and-steve @ghouls-buddy

[sjjdkdkwo]

Wong and Stephen don’t have fans like other superheroes. They’re names aren’t shouted at them whenever they walk out into the busy New York City streets, and people don’t have their faces on T-shirts or hung up in posters on their walls. No, Wong and Stephen work in the shadows, away from preying eyes and gone before civilians can even wonder if they imagined being saved at all. Neither of them minded though, they feel no indignation when they come back home worn and fatigued after a long battle only for the news to praise someone else. Alone in the Sanctum, together they find solace and praise with each other. It’s enough, and for many years it goes on that way, just the two of them hidden in a little corner away from the rest of the world. So when it changes they barely have time to register what happened.

 Wong spends a lot of his spare time looking for special offers, on food and toiletries mainly, more often than not with the help of Stephen. But ever since he’d found out that the other often missed roaming the vast and resplendent halls of New York’s many museums he’d added to looking for offers and special free

events on those too. They’re on their way back from a day trip to the MOMA— it had been kids get in free deal, and Wong hadn’t minded taking on the glamour spell as Stephen avidly explained each piece and the artist’s history to him — and had lost track of time. Between getting a late dinner from the dubious hot dog cart and the early darkening of the winter sky though, they both deem the bright and brilliant city night worthy of a walk home rather than their usual portaling. They’re a couple streets from home when they spot two older gentlemen arguing to each other garishly in the middle of the sidewalk. They almost walk away completely when they hear one of the men say they’ll never find their way back home now. Stephen sighs and looks at Wong who only nods in agreement and they make their way over. They learn that the men had misplaced their car, and could no longer find it and lived to far away to make it on foot.

 So they follow them as they look at every individual car around the street, listening to them berate and reprimand each other the whole time. Eventually they move on to other topics, commenting on Stephen’s messy hair and Wong’s clothing of choice. At some point they even offer words of wisdom, and they both listen earnestly as words of guidance are never something to dismiss when given freely. Each one whispering to either Stephen or Wong not to forget to the smaller more subtle moments of life, nor company that is willing to remain through the many years that will follow them as each old man spares a sly glance at his friend. It’s far later and they both know they would’ve been home by then when they old men tell them they remember that they’d taken the bus. Stephen and Wong can’t even find it in themselves to be angry with them, not when they’re laughing so zealously together and instead offer to walk them to the bus stop. They wait the entire time with them, worried now that it’s so late, and just before they can get on their bus, quickly place a protective spell on each of the men, waving them off and saying their goodbyes. They don’t think much on the matter after, and settle back to their regular routine.

 It’s Stephen who decides to do something kind for Wong this time. After many years as his colleague, Wong had slowly become Stephen’s closest and most treasured friend. A sentiment that was returned, though neither of them had to say so, not really. And when Stephen finds out that one Misses Beyoncé Knowles is going to be in New York for a concert, he enters every single contest he can find knowing well he’ll never be able to raise enough money to buy even one terrible seat ticket for Wong. As each attempt turns up futile though Stephen begins to loose hope. He’d already promised Wong that he would take him to the concert though, and watching him dance around the sanctum singing all his favorite songs Stephen knows he has to find a way. They’re outside the MetLife Stadium when Stephen spots the scalper, and really he knows he shouldn’t but Wong is decked out in his signature Beyoncé T-shirt and hat and Stephen has nothing left to lose. But when the officer nears, the scalper is shoving all the tickets into Stephen’s hand with Wong next to him and all they can do is stand there dumbfounded.

 Wong refuses to speak to Stephen while they’re in the uncomfortable cell, arms crossed and head turned away even as Stephen jabbers on apologies the whole time. Stephen sighs after thirty minutes trying and failing to say he’s sorry before he slumps down next to him. He’s almost ready to condemn himself to a long night of silence when resolve and perseverance run through him and he gets up in front of Wong. The other man barely spares him a glance till Stephen opens his mouth. “You’re getting your concert, Wong.”

 Wong can only stare in horror and shock as Stephen opens his mouth, swaying his hips a little before muttering softly to himself, “Vishanti, please no.” More than a half-hour later and a questionable rendition of “Irreplaceable” Wong is hiding what can either be tears of endearment or discontent. They’re startled out their little moment when they hear awkward clapping from the other side of the cell. A young man, sitting with a look of somewhat disdain and question on his face. Stephen quickly clambers back to his seat and allowing silence to overtake them all. It’s also Stephen who has to break it not one minute later to make conversation because he’s still mortified at the thought of anyone else having watched him perform terribly. After the initial awkwardness they find that the young man had gotten caught hot-wiring a car. Really it had been a job for a so-called friend who knew he’d been in need of the money and threw him under the bus last minute. He tells them his mother is very sick and they could no longer afford her medicine and Stephen in particular feels an ache in his chest at the words. Remembering a time where he’d have scoffed at a so-called “sob story” like this one and feeling awful for the young man in front of them. So he offers to look her over and pay for the medicine, he aware he can pull a few strings-though he really will pay, knowing it would be unfair to other people if he only offered the advantage to the young man alone, no matter how long it took-and looks to Wong with a strained smile. Wong however his smiling back, and gives him a little nod of approval.

 The young man looks at them doubtfully for a minute, they’re appearance not helping, before agreeing. Once they’re all set free Stephen and Wong allow themselves to be lead by the young man to his apartment. True to his word Stephen overlooks his ailing mother and a few hours later resurfaces with the medicine in question. The man looks near to tears when he thanks them both, hesitating for a second before hugging them each quickly much to their surprise. Stephen and Wong wave him off, leaving the two to rest for the night and to get some sleep themselves. And later if the young man gets a random job offer as an assistant for Stark Industries, all he can do is remember the two odd men from the night in the jail cell.

 The next time Stephen and Wong find themselves taking a long walk in the New York night they’ve just come back from mission across town. Nothing big really, just a few lowly demons causing mischief at the docks. So easy in fact they hadn’t been tired after and decided to enjoy the cool night air. It’s barely past three in the morning when they make their way around nightclub. A block down they come across a small group of young women, clearly inebriated and they keep a close eye from afar for a minute as their nerves become unsettled for them. A few moments later they paranoia is gratified when two men make their way over to bother them. They waste no time making their way over to step in, and a pained trembling first and panting Wong later they turn to check in on the young women. They offer to walk them to their next location, much to their mistrust and Stephen and Wong can’t fault them. With some skepticism they finally agree, not without proudly displaying the small can of pepper spray first though. It turns out they’d been on their way back home, and Stephen and Wong walk ahead of them a little to allow them distance. As they make their way onward though the women find their way next to them and begin to make pleasant conversation, and Wong and Stephen can only nod as the begin to speak about anything that comes to their minds. Somehow their conversations become more intuitive and before they know it they’re discussing deep philosophical matters. They’re almost to the women’s home when they turn and tell Stephen and Wong not to forget the rest of the world, that they’re not alone. They barely have time to respond when they’re waving them away and clumsily making their way through the door of their building. The words follow them for a few days before other worries wash over them.

 It barely a few weeks later when Wong and Stephen are out for a quick lunch during a rather peaceful day for them. They’re stepping out of the small deli around the corner when they hear the cries of children. Quickly forgetting everything else they run toward the noise and find four children alone in front of a building. Hurriedly they ask them where their parents are and the children explain that they’d ran off and lost sight of their mother’s. Knowing well that they won’t leave them out here alone Stephen and Wong sigh and resolve to forget their peaceful day to instead help the children find their way back. To Stephen’s surprise, of the two of them, Wong turns out to be a natural around children. Knowing exactly how to answer their questions and speak to each of them. Later he explains that he’d often looked after the young one’s in Kamar-Taj.

Stephen can only walk alongside them awkwardly as Wong shows them a few effortless spells and tricks, much to their delight.

 He flinches when he feels a small hand wrap around his own and looks down to find one of the boys pressing close to him. Stephen does his best to offer a kind smile and tries to speak with the boy only to find he doesn’t say anything in return. Briefly he wonders if he boy is hearing impaired or non-verbal and awkwardly tries to sign with his free hand, his past injuries and lack of practice make it awkward though. But when the boy only tilts his head in question Stephen decides not to press further and instead continuing their silent walk. Somehow though he finds himself speaking again, something about the boy makes it easy, like he doesn’t have to worry about being judged or seen as boring. He mostly rambles on about Wong, how his friend always manages to surprise him as he watches the other man lift one of the other children onto his shoulders as the others jump around him. Stephen begins to share with the boy quietly how much he’s come to care for the other man, and how he cherishes him dearly and tells the boy that if he should ever find someone like that to keep them close. Before either of them know it a group of women are running up toward them fussing over the children and they run toward them as well.

 After receiving the women’s unalloyed gratitude for caring for the children and brushing off any compensation they try to offer, they turn to say goodbye to the group. The children practically pounce on Wong telling him they’ll miss him and Stephen can only look on with deep fondness. He turns though when he feels small arms wrap around him and looks down to see the silent boy clinging to him. Stephen’s heart does a little lurch as he gingerly places his arms around him as well. His face breaks out in a grin when the boy tells him a soft goodbye, along with telling him he’ll miss him. As they watch the group leave they can make out the children telling their mothers that their new favorite superheroes are Doctor Strange and Master Wong. When Stephen admonishes Wong about this though the other man only shrugs as they make their way back home. But not before letting Stephen know, “I care about you too, Stephen.”

 The next few weeks pass in a blur, with more monsters than usual and workload by the double. So much work in fact that they’d forgotten to go out for food. Much to their chagrin though they find they’re out of money and their last can of beans has expired. They’re just about to chance the rancid smelling beans when there’s a knock on the Sanctum door. Puzzled they both make their way to answer it and to their astonishment it’s the mother’s from a couple days ago. When they question how they’d found them they merely wave them off, on of them saying something about hearing it from someone at work. Stephen and Wong don’t further question the women though when they present them with a casserole and a peach tart. Grateful for the food they gracelessly offer the ladies inside for some tea. Once inside the women take in all the oddities around the sanctum commenting on their “nice décor” before making their way into the kitchen with them. Once there they can’t help but take in their empty cupboards and shelves and question them on whether or not they’re eating properly. Stephen and Wong can only flush as they try an explain the situation but before they know it the women have already decided that it simply won’t do and start working their way into including two more servings in their future meal preparations. After some pleasant conversation the women leave much to their surprising dismay. And the women don’t give them the chance to say no when they promise to come by in a few days with more food. As Stephen and Wong eat the tart later in the evening they can’t help but feel a little bit of joy fill them.

 The women’s presence becomes permanent from then on, so they can’t help but be confused when the knock at the door one day turns out not to be the women, but rather the ladies they’d helped from the club all those nights ago. With groceries as well, to their bafflement. They explain that they’d been looking for them, and coincidently ran into one of the mother’s of the children at a salon. Through talking they’d come to find where they lived and wanted to thank them for their help. So once again Wong and Stephen open their doors and allow them inside for tea and a little chat. And just like that they now have a new group of people who bring them groceries and sometimes merely stop by to check in on them. And if they stop fussing less and less over the kindness and company, no one says anything.

 When the young man from the jail cell makes his way to the sanctum next, with the two old men no less Stephen and Wong let them in again. The old men are holding bags filled with blankets and coats and the young man carries a tool shed. It seemed one of the women they knew worked with the young man, and had shared their location with him. She’d also told him they’d had a leaky room for weeks now and he’d come to fix it in thanks. The old men meanwhile, lived in the same apartment as him and they too began to talk amongst each other. And learning that the Sorcerer supreme and his associate couldn’t afford heating had come bearing the blankets to keep them warm for the winter. Stephen and Wong are at a loss as they ease in and make themselves comfortable in the sanctum, repairing the roof and settling a box of arancini on their counter for them to eat. But the warmth that spreads through them stops them from even thinking of kicking any of them out as they make tea for each of them.

 Just like that Stephen and Wong are no longer alone in their little corner of the world. Instead, they have Tuesday dinner with the Dian and the other moms, Sunday football with the old men, Monday book club with the Sherry and the other girls from the club, and Friday movie nights with Hector the young man from the jail cell. The routine never stays the same though sometimes even having to jumble them together into one big gathering. And after a few times having to save each of them they catch on to the fact that Doctor Strange and Master Wong aren’t just any old New York City residents, and they understand when plans are cancelled or moved. But Wong and Stephen no longer go hungry, and the sanctum is no longer as cold as it use to be, and though they care for each other they can both admit that the new people in their life are a pleasant change. One that they both enjoy.

 So no, Wong and Stephen do not have fans like the other heroes. Not by a long shot. They have something else entirely. Something that, in their humble opinion is much better. Wong and Stephen have friends, who care for them both dearly. And if they only add up throughout the years that follow, well, they’ve come to enjoy the company anyway.

[tails89]

@ice-mage​

you asked for prompts for your teen wolf bingo. So for the kid fic square, how about this: Derek is babysitting Laura’s kids for a week while she and her spouse/partner go on vacation. While out with them on day 1, he runs into Stiles, who loves kids. Stiles makes a comment that indicates that he thinks Derek is their single father, and Derek just decides to go with it.

“I want choclit milk.”

The hand on Derek’s sleeve tugs insistently, but he can’t afford to let his attention stray from trying to wrangle a wiggly foot back into its sneaker. Caleb thinks it’s hilarious, gripping the Velcro and tossing the other shoe onto the ground.

Derek gives up with a sigh. He lifts Caleb up, settling the two-year old on his hip and retrieves the shoes, shoving them haphazardly into the kid’s backpack.

“Choclit milk.” The tugging has migrated to Derek’s pant leg now that Cameron can no longer reach his shirt and Derek wonders how Laura does it. He’s had his nephews for less than an hour and he’s ready to hand them back and sleep for a week.

“We’re about to head home Cam,” he says, swinging the backpack over his shoulder. “How about we have some with lunch?”

“With cookies?” Cameron asks, eyes lighting up.

“We’ll see about the cookies,” Derek tells him, reaching for the four-year-old’s hand. “Maybe after.”

He leads them away from the park and over to the car. He’s traded in his Camaro for Laura’s more kid friendly SUV while his sister and her husband are off on some second honeymoon.

Opening the door, Derek helps Cameron scramble up into the back and starts buckling Caleb into his car seat.

“Oh, hey man. I think you dropped something.”

Derek turns at the familiar voice, gaze locking on a familiar face. “Stiles?”

The teenager—no, not a teenager anymore—man standing across from him is holding a child’s Velcro sneaker.

“Derek? No way man.” Stiles crosses the space between them, the familiar bounce in his step sending a wave of fond nostalgia through Derek. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“I’ve been here a while,” Derek says, accepting the shoe and stuffing it back into the bag. “I thought you’d moved to uh, New York, or something.”

“I just graduated college last month.” Stiles grins, crossing his arms over his chest, the movement drawing Derek’s attention to just how broad Stiles’ shoulders have become. “So, I’m back with Dad while I look for work. Anyway, how have you been man? It’s been, what, four years?”

“Choclit milk!”

Stiles peers around Derek at the kids on the car, his scent going spicy in a way Derek can’t quite put his finger on.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “You’re probably trying to get these two home and I’m just yapping away. I’ll let you go.”

“Uh, yeah,” Derek says lamely. “But maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Choclit milk!” Cam calls insistently, tugging his arms through the child restraint belt. Caleb joins in with his brother, kicking his feet against his seat.

Stiles shrugs like ‘what can you do?’ and Derek rolls his eyes at his nephews’ antics before turning and reaching to buckle Cameron in. He tries not to flush under Stiles’ scrutiny as he checks the restraints and shuts the door.

“You know, I never pictured you as the Dad-type,” Stiles says, following Derek around to the driver’s seat. “But it’s a good look on you. I’ll see you around Derek.”

With a wave, Stiles crosses the street and Derek sits behind the steering wheel for a full minute wondering why he didn’t correct him.

*

“Oh my God, it’s like looking into a mirror.”

Derek glances over his shoulder and see’s Stiles walking up behind him. The human stands beside him, his gaze fixed on Caleb who is sulking because Derek wouldn’t let him squish the bread.

“He’s got the angry eyebrows and everything.”

Frowning, Derek looks down at his nephew. “I don’t look like that.”

“Oh really,” Stiles grins up at him. “You should tell that to your face.” He laughs at Derek’s deepening scowl. “Anyway, fancy meeting you here.” He comes to a stop beside the Derek, one hand holding his basket, the other loosely gripping the cart.

“At the supermarket?” Derek asks in disbelief. Stiles is standing so close, almost pressed up against Derek, his scent spicy and inviting. “It’s not a big town, it was bound to happen at some point.”

“Ah, so you were hoping to run into me then?” Stiles bumps his hip into Derek’s still grinning.

“No—I—” Derek quickly backtracks, his brows drawing together in confusion.

“I’m just joking,” Stiles’ laugh is rich and throaty. It triggers something in Derek and he just wants to hear it again. He doesn’t quite understand this reaction. Sure, he’d liked teenage Stiles well enough, but there’s something about this new, adult Stiles and Derek can’t help but stare.

“So, you going to introduce me?”

“Oh, um. This is Caleb,” Derek says, flushing. “And that’s Cam—”

“No.” Cameron stands up in the cart. “I can do it.”

Derek catches Stiles’ amused eyeroll and makes the same face back at him.

“I’m Cameron.”

Stiles crouches down in front of Cameron. “Nice to meet you little dude. I’m Stiles.” He straightens up, turning to Derek. “So, have you guys got big plans for the day?”

“We’re gonna play dinosaurs,” Cam says, bouncing in the cart. Derek winces for the groceries being trampled by tiny werewolf feet.

“I love dinosaurs,” Stiles tells him, grinning at the way Cameron’s whole face lights up. Derek groans internally. Whether he meant to or not, Stiles just made a new best friend.

“Come!” The four-year-old practically vibrates. “We can play.”

“Oh, I’m not sure,” Stiles says, looking to Derek. “You’ll need to ask your dad.”

Cameron looks around in confusion and Derek panics.

“Oh, I’m—I’m not—”

“It’s fine,” Stiles cuts him off with a wave. “Maybe another time, kiddo.”

Cameron deflates, his whole body sagging and bottom lip wobbling.

“You can come over,” Derek blurts, desperate to avoid a tantrum in the middle of the cereal aisle. “Honestly, it’ll be nice to have another adult around for a while.”

“Yeah?” Stiles’ smile is warm and sincere and Derek’s heart races. “Sounds great.”

*

Derek watches Stiles chatting with Cameron.

They’re surrounded by dinosaur figurines and toy trucks. Stiles hands every truck to Caleb to inspect before it’s placed down on the mat spread out on the floor. Both kids had taken to him immediately, chasing him around in the back yard demanding to be swung around.

“You’re really good with them.” Derek sits down on the floor beside Stiles, appreciating the way he arches back and stretches after sitting hunched over dinosaur figurines with Cameron.

“I like kids,” Stiles says, stretching out his legs before crossing them at the ankles. “Yours are especially cute. It’s super unfair man.”

Stiles has come back every day to hang out and it’s been great, but Derek still hasn’t explained to him that Caleb and Cameron are his nephews. He’s tried. Several times. But now it’s reached the point that he’s lowkey hoping Laura just doesn’t come back. Derek’s pretty sure he’d get custody of the kids over Cora.

The knock at the front door startles them both.

“Where are my babies?” Laura’s voice echoes down the hall and both kids take off screeching towards the front of the house.

“Mama.”

Stiles’ scent turns sharp and Derek panics. He’s not ready. He was hoping to at least have another day to figure out how to fix this mess.

“Hey Derbear.” Laura walks into the living room with a kid in each arm. When she spots Stiles, her lips tick up at the corner and she grins wolfishly. She ignores Derek’s subtle head shake. “I’m Laura,” she says, voice coloured with barely contained laughter.

“Stiles.”

“You’re cute. Where’d you find him Der?”

Derek is going to kill her… once he’s done being mortified.

“The supermarket,” Stiles quips, rising to his feet.

This time Laura does laugh. “I like you.” She puts Cameron down, kneeling in front of him. “Time to say goodbye to Uncle Derek.”

Derek gives his nephews a hug and helps Laura collect their things before walking them out to their car.

When he returns, Stiles is waiting for him, arms folded across his chest.

“I cannot believe you let me think they were your kids,” he says, his voice teasing.

“In my defense,” Derek says weakly. “I did try to tell you, but after the third attempt I gave up.”

“Uh huh.” Stiles nods a long very seriously, but his eyes are dancing with unrestrained glee.

“I did,” Derek insists. “You just talk way too much.”

Stiles steps up into his space. “You know,” he says, smirking. “There is one way you can shut me up.”

“This doesn’t sound very kid friendly.”

“Oh, it’s not.”

[scabopolis]

the gift of gab, the gift of you

Here it is @thisonesatellite! your 2020 CS Secret Santa gift. It was a complete and total delight to get to be your gift giver this year. That is not hyperbole - you are a gosh dang delight! Each of your message responses left me in stitches and while I will NEVER try and convince you a movie you think is bunk is good, I am delighted at the opportunity to recommend rom coms that don’t make you want to gouge your eyes out. 

This fic is heavily inspired by your love of coffee shops AUs (except...you know, a pub), your travel stories (which I shamelessly incorporated into the fic) and I believe rates about a 4 on the reindeer scale of Christmas cheer.  You’re a total eagle eye, so I just need to say I am well aware that Colin O’Donoghue’s accent in no way resembles an accent from Cork, but I just need that to be ignored, please and thank you.

Also, I’ve decided we’re fandom friends now. Okay? Okay! Finally, thank you to @cssecretsanta2020 for organizing this exchange and being the actual best and most patient fandom soul. 

*** Title: the gift of gab, the gift of you

Summary: Emma needs an Irish man. Wait! No! It’s not what it sounds like. And then the universe just has to go and provide her with the world’s chattiest, flirtiest, blue-eyesiest Irish man in existence. 

Available on AO3. ***

Emma is in no position to complain. From where she sits both literally – (perched upon a comfy barstool in the world’s coziest pub) – as well as existentially – (traveling abroad for the first time in her life) — she is fortunate and blessed. 

It’s just – 

It’s just it would be easier to enjoy it all if she didn’t have to deal with a rather annoying request from her rather annoyingly persistent mother. 

Her headphones are in but Emma still takes great care to speak in hushed tones over video chat. There’s nothing she wants less than to be the loud American who shares her private conversation with an entire establishment. The pub she found is at the end of a quiet lane off of Cork’s high street. The customers within the pub appear to be locals well known by the staff who tend the pub. In truth, she wouldn’t even be having this conversation if it wasn’t for —

“Who have you talked to today?” her mother asks. 

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I thanked the barista who made my coffee. And I ordered a pint in this pub.” 

“That’s not talking.” 

“It is by definition talking.” 

“That’s not what I meant. How else are you going to get to know the city?” Her mom interrupts before Emma can properly formulate a snarky reply. “And don’t you dare say ‘guidebooks.’ Your father and I raised you better than that.”

“Mom, please don’t make me do this.” 

“You said I could have anything I wanted as a souvenir.”  

“What about a mug? I bought Grandma Ruth one with a big fat sheep on it.” 

“Sounds lovely, sweetie, but no.” 

“Mom.” Emma realizes that as a twenty-six year old woman it is probably unbecoming to whine, but her mother is being absolutely ridiculous. Where is her dad when she needs him to rescue her? All he requested was a bottle of whiskey. What a sensible person!

“No. It’s fine. If you don’t want to get your mother the one thing she asked for on this trip that’s okay. I won’t say one word about paying for this celebration trip, or paying for graduate school, or —” 

“Shit, mom. Did you take a Guilt Trip 101 class or just Google how to?”

“Oh, this is natural talent. My present, please.” 

“Fine.” There’s a group of bearded men, the ones she pegged as locals, tucked into one corner of the pub. They’re probably her best bet, but she just arrived last night, and the combination of jet lag and travel nerves make her feel not yet up for that. Which leaves the staff working the bar. 

One of the two men she’s seen pouring pints and serving up food has gone missing. Besides, Emma wouldn’t trust herself in her sleep-deprived state to not say something utterly absurd to the blue-eyed, dark-haired, scruffy bartender. Probably a good thing he’s gone. Much safer is the other man working the bar – the one who refused to serve her Guinness but was very kind about it. While arguably attractive, he is a decidedly less intimidating sort of handsome. Unfortunately, he is in the midst of a heated discussion with one of the patrons, the two of them gesticulating to something happening with a football match on the screen. Which leaves the blonde haired woman currently polishing glasses. 

Emma lightly clears her throat. “Excuse me, ma’am?” When the woman turns to look at her, Emma smiles, and signals her over. She sets aside the pint glasses and tucks the polishing rag into her apron. Her mother, on the other end of the video call, is not satisfied. 

“Did you say ma’am?” 

“Mom,” Emma whispers.

“I said an Irish man, Emma Blanchard Nolan. Man.”

“No. You said person.” 

“The man was implied.” 

“Then you should have been more specific.” 

“Ready for another?” the woman at the bar asks. 

Emma looks down at her half-full pint. “Not quite.” She frowns. “And, uh, you’re not Irish, are you?” 

“No. Canadian.” 

“Ah. Okay.” Emma lowers her voice again and looks at her phone screen. Her mother remains unimpressed. “That’s foreign. Technically she’s a foreigner.” 

The sternness of Mary-Margaret’s expression is evident even over the video call. “Emmaline —” 

“Not my name, mother.” 

“Emmaline Blanchard Nolan, you promised me.” 

“I’ll find an Irish person tomorrow.” It’s about this time Emma realizes she’s rudely ignoring the very kind and apparently Canadian bartender. The one she asked to speak with. What’s more, the very kind and apparently Canadian bartender has been joined by the curly haired bartender. Both of whom peer at her with matching expressions of amused befuddlement. Emma removes her headphones and addresses the man. “You’re Irish, right?” 

“Well, miss,” and the gentle brogue of his accent, even with those two short words, is quite evident, “you are in Ireland.” 

“Excellent! Can you talk to my mom?” She detaches the headphones from her phone and turns the camera around to face the man and woman. “My mom wants to have a conversation with an Irish person.” 

“Irish man,” her mother corrects.

“An Irish man. Out in the wild.” The bartenders stare at her, nonplussed. “It’s her souvenir.” 

The woman presses her lips together – an obvious attempt to stifle a laugh. 

“Well, uh, aye.” The man tugs at his ear. “I guess I could —” He’s interrupted from his stuttering by the return of the blue-eyed, stubbly bartender, hauling a new keg into the back of the bar. 

“Actually,” the woman cuts in. “My husband,” she hip checks the curly-haired man, “needs to replace the keg.” 

“I do?” he asks. 

“He does?” This from tall, dark, and holy hell! also possesses an Irish accent. 

“But Killian is in the middle—”

“Shh,” the blonde woman interrupts her husband. 

“Yeah. Killian is—”

She goes on to shush the man Emma now knows to be Killian. 

“Oh no,” Mary Margaret whispers over the video call, “there’s two of them.” 

“What is happening?” Emma’s not sure which of the two men asked, this whole interaction spinning rather absurdly out of control. 

“I don’t know,” Emma says.

The woman ignores all of them. “I’m Elsa, this is Liam, and that,” she points to Killian, frozen with a hand on the keg like he’s uncertain what to do, “is my very single, very Irish brother-in-law.” And all at once it becomes clear what Elsa’s intentions are. “Killian, can you come over here and help our lovely patron and her lovely mother?” 

“Oh, Emma, Killian even sounds like an Irish name.” 

“Mom!” Originally she found her mother’s request to be silly but harmless. The more people who become involved, however, the quicker it approaches mortifying. Emma watches as Elsa whispers something to her brother-in-law, likely explaining the unconventional request. 

“I’m very friendly,” Mary-Margaret reassures anyone who might be listening. 

“You are a flirt, is what you are,” Emma scolds. “And what would dad say if he found out about this?”

“He asked for whiskey. I asked for this.” 

“Come on, lass. Don’t deprive me of a dashing rescue.” Killian leans across the bar, his hand reaching out for her phone. All that stubble and the blue-eyes and the accent are worse when directed directly at her. “Besides, your mum sounds like a woman after my own heart.” 

“If you’re sure—?”

“Absolutely.”

To her abject horror, the moment she hands Killian the phone, he walks away with it in hand. 

“As requested, milady,” he says to the screen, “one genuine Irish man.”

Her mother’s delighted giggle is embarrassing for all Americans everywhere but it seems to delight Killian. She can just makeout her mother’s question about where he grew up when he rounds the corner, out of her hearing. 

“Where is he going?” Emma asks, craning her neck. “Where is he taking my phone?” 

“If I know Killian, your mum is probably about to get the most thorough oral history of Irish pubs she could have asked for,” Liam says, tossing a towel over his shoulder. 

“Oh. Okay.” She drums her fingertips on her glass. “I’m sorry about all the trouble.” 

“Nonsense,” he waves her off. “This is the most exciting thing to happen in our pub since Seamus and Willy hosted their wedding reception here.” He jerks his chin towards the group of bearded men she noticed earlier, though which one is Seamus and which is Willy she can’t be certain. 

After another fifteen minutes, Emma has finished her pint and Killian still has possession of her phone. He crossed through the room once, merrily chatting with her mother as he regaled  her with the story of how he got the scar on his cheek. 

Elsa is filling a series of pint glasses for a group of women standing at the bar, and Emma feels the need to apologize again. “This isn’t what I expected,” she explains. 

“What’s that?” Elsa asks. 

“I was kind of thinking, best case scenario, there’d be an exchange of hellos and that would be that.” 

Elsa nods, hands the pints off to the women, and then fills one more. “Are you familiar with the legend of the Blarney stone?” 

Emma nods. She has absolutely no intention of kissing the dang thing (her research indicates local teens do all manner of ungodly things to the stone, knowing that tourists intend to kiss it), but it’s on her list to go see. 

“Well, Jones family legend —”

“I take it your husband and his brother are Jones’?” 

“And me by marriage. Jones family legend has it that Killian must have been birthed upon the stone because never has there been a man more endowed with the gift of gab.” Elsa finishes pouring the pint and sets it in front of her. 

“Oh, I didn’t order this.” Right at that moment, Liam returns to the bar and sets a turkey sandwich in front of her. “Or this,” Emma says. 

“Knowing my brother, you might be here a while,” Liam explains. 

“Gift of gab?” 

He nods, pleased that the Jones family lore has reached her. “Gift of gab.”

Liam proves to be correct, which means Emma has ample time to get to know both Elsa and Liam. The two of them are freakishly adept at juggling bartending, interacting with their customers, and keeping up a steady flow of conversation with her. The highlight is hearing the full story of Seamus and Willy (she is able to identify them by their matching navy sweaters – sweaters which Willy apparently handknits for the both of them), two men who worked on the same fishing boat for decades before realizing they were in love. 

“Once they sorted that bit out, they got married three weeks later,” Elsa says. 

“So which one of them is the designated driver?” Emma asks. 

“That whole lot lives down the street.” Liam raises his voice so the group can hear them. “And they do nothing but hassle me every day of my life!” The group all raise their pint glasses and cheer, indicating this kind of teasing is something central to the pub’s dynamic. 

Killian returns from wherever it was he was busy flirting with her mother and sets her phone on the bartop. She looks down at the display only to find it blank.

“Uh, your mum had to run to the market, but she indicated she’ll call you later.” 

“She didn’t even say goodbye? Unbelievable.” As Emma gears herself up for peak mom-annoyance, she gets a text message. “Speak of the devil.” 

4:38 PM - Mom to Emma hubba hubba

“Ah, geez, mom,” she grumbles. 

“What’d she say about me?” Killian asks. 

“What makes you think that text was about you?” 

“Because you have roses in your cheeks.” Emma frowns. She what? “You’re blushing,” Killian says. 

“No I’m not.” 

“It’s getting deeper, I’m afraid.” He takes away her empty pint glass. “Another?” 

“Yes, please.” 

He sets another pint of Murphy’s in front of her (Liam was the one to inform her that one drinks Murphy’s when one is in Cork). “Your mother is lovely.” 

“Yeah, she’s something alright.” She sips the beer and licks the foam off her lip. “What were the two of you talking about for so long?”

“Oh, just having a chat. She wanted to know about the pub and how Elsa and Liam met.” 

“The gift of gab.” 

“Ah,” he says, “Elsa told you of that, then?” 

“Like my mom didn’t tell you anything about me?” 

“It was all good, Emma.” 

She snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

“Why a conversation with an Irish man?” Emma frowns at Killian, not quite certain of what he’s asking. “For a souvenir. That’s truly all your mum wanted?” 

“Oh, that. In between flirting, did she tell you anything about her and my dad?” Killian shakes his head. “It’s kind of a long story.” 

As if waiting for his cue, Liam comes up behind Killian and slings an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “My dear little brother has time.” 

“Younger brother,” Killian corrects. 

“Shorter brother.” Liam bumps Killian towards the other side of the bar. “Why don’t you keep Emma company?” 

“I have another three hours on my shift.” 

“I think Elsa and I can handle it until Will arrives.” 

“Liam.” 

“Don’t make me fire you.” 

“You can’t fire me. We’re co-owners.” 

“Fine. Don’t make me quit.” 

Killian rolls his eyes but slides out from under Liam’s arm. He crosses to the other side of the bar and sits beside Emma. “I’ll take a pint, then.” He raps his knuckles on the bartop. “And make it quick.” 

Emma hides her smile in her pint glass. Both Liam and Elsa have been so lovely. There’s no reason to switch allegiances at this point. Regardless of how much she might be tempted by the stubbly-faced, blue-eyed flirty Irish man sitting beside her. 

“Between the two of them and my mother,” Emma says. 

“Yeah, not the most subtle lot.” Liam shoots Killian a glare as he sets the pint down to which Killian responds with the cheekiest grin Emma has ever seen. The interaction has older and baby brother written all over it. “So, your mom and Irishmen. Go.” 

“Oh, that.” Unlike her mother, and even her father, Emma holds the details of her life close to her chest. She’s made the mistake in the past of sharing too much too fast. When people leave her, either by choice or circumstance, it physically pains her to know there are people out in the world with knowledge of her worries, fears and dreams. But maybe it’s the sandwich sitting warm in her stomach, or the jet lag, or simply the buzz of international travel, because she feels inclined to share at least a few details of her life with Killian. 

“My mom and dad both took a gap year after high school and met while backpacking across Europe. They met at the Roman Colosseum, decided to match up their itineraries, and by the time they arrived in Budapest five months later they were in love and my mom was pregnant.” 

“And they’ve been together ever since?” 

“Almost 27 years.”

“That’s quite the story.” 

She nods. “They cut their year of travel short, and went to live with my Grandma Ruth, my dad’s mom. They always talked about returning to Europe, finishing their trip at some point, but by the time I was old enough to leave behind with my grandma, dad was in vet school, mom was teaching, and they were running a wildlife rescue from the family farm. They kept making new plans to travel but they just kept getting pushed back and back and back. Until, one day, they decided to put all that money towards sending me on my first trip instead. So, as much as I fight every silly request she has of me, I would do anything if it made her smile.”

“Your mum and dad never made it to Ireland?” 

“Nope.”

“Thus the strange request.” 

“Thus the strange request.” 

“Well, it gave me a reason to chat with the lovely lass at the bar, so for that I’ll be forever grateful.” 

Her Grandma Ruth, Aunt Ruby, and frankly everyone who knows her parents well, routinely comment on the resemblance between Emma and her dad. Apparently in temperament and affectation they are almost identical. But maybe she’s more like her mom than anyone knows because the conversation between her and Killian flows fast and easy. Easy enough that she barely notices when she and Killian finish their pints and Elsa slides new glasses in front of them. Emma’s head is feeling a little buzzy, and that turkey sandwich was more than a couple hours ago. Maybe she can hint at Killian that she wants to go to the Christmas market. Hint even more specifically that she wouldn’t hate if he went with her. 

No, she can’t do that. To even think such a thing would be ridiculous. 

She can’t possibly ask a practical stranger to walk up and down the stalls of the festive market with her. She can’t expect him to want to sample all the baked goods and food they can handle. Or to hold her hand while they drink spiked apple cider. That kind of thinking is romantic, and hopeful, and not at all her brand. 

“This is really your first trip out of the states?” Killian asks.

“I mean, Canada, but that’s so close to home it doesn’t count.” Emma catches herself, eyes darting to Elsa. “Don’t tell your sister.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Killian angles his body on the stool to face her more directly. Without Emma realizing it, they’ve drifted close enough together over the past hour or so that the move makes it so their knees knock together. Emma could move away, put some distance between them, but everything is foggy and hazy in that delicious way, and she can’t bring herself to move. “What does that make me, then? The ruggedly handsome foreigner you intend to seduce as a notch on your bedpost?” 

“Who said anything about seduction?”

“You’re giving me bedroom eyes.” 

“I do not make eyes of any kind. Especially bedroom eyes.” 

Elsa jumps in, setting glasses of water down for each of them. “Yeah, but Killian does. And he needs to put them away.”

Emma tries to react quickly enough to Elsa’s teasing to evade Killian’s detection, to turn away and hide her smile in her shoulder so he can’t see, but the gentle tug on the end of her braid indicates he caught her. 

“Think that’s funny, do you?” 

“You and my mom ganged up against me. I deserve to join with your family against you.” 

“Your mum is great.” He shrugs. “Well, based on the little I know.”  

“I know she can be a little intense. I hope she didn’t—”

“She was as lovely as her daughter.” Before his words can fully sink in, perhaps bringing that blush back to her cheeks, he’s moved on. “You’ll have to bring her with you when you return.” 

She rests her chin on palm, blinking up at him. Okay, maybe she sometimes makes eyes. “What makes you think I have any plans to come back?”

“Ireland gets in your blood. You’ll be back.” 

This time they’re interrupted by Liam. He swipes away the pint glasses in front of them, remaining beer and all. “That’s about all I can stomach of that.”

“What do you mean?” Killian asks. 

“You’ve been flirting with the kind tourist long enough. Time to go.” 

Oh. Emma looks down at her boots. A surge of deep embarrassment heating her cheeks and causing her stomach to churn. “Sorry,” she says quietly, her eyes turned down. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No!” The twin cries from both Liam and Killian startle her. She’s not sure which one appears more stricken by her announcement she intended to leave.   

“Apologies, Emma, I wasn’t clear,” Liam says. He extends his hand to Killian. “Apron.” It takes Killian a moment to react but when Liam stays in his place, his hand extended, Killian removes his apron and hands it to him. “See you tomorrow, little brother.” 

“Younger.”

“Dumber.” 

“Stubborner.”

“Not a word.” Liam stalks back over to Elsa who is shaking her head at the whole display. “They’re both idiots,” Liam says, and Emma is just going to pretend she didn’t hear that, thank you very much. 

“Have you been to the Christmas market yet, Emma?” Killian’s voice brings her back to the pub, and this particular bar stool, with this particular man. This particular man who has somehow intuited the secret desire of her heart to go to the town’s Christmas market with him. 

“No. No. Not yet.” 

Killian jumps down from his seat and extends a hand to Emma to help her down. “Come on, love. Let’s sail away.” 

There’s 100 ways Emma could respond to that. She could tell Killian she isn’t his love. She could jump down from the stool on her own. She could insist she’s fine going to the market by herself. But she tries to channel a little magic, that particular magic which for her mom and dad turned one day in Rome into a lifetime, and chooses differently. 

(Not that she’s saying she expects—)

She takes Killian’s offered hand and his answering grin is all the confirmation she needs she made the right decision. 

And so they go to the Christmas market, and at Killian’s insistence she tries mulled wine but quickly trades it in for a cup of boozy cider. They ride the ferris wheel, the cold stinging her cheeks from the top, the lights of Cork spread out before her, and that thrum of love for this place beats loudly in her veins. Suddenly every travel story her parents have ever told her makes sense and maybe Killian is right  – maybe Ireland is in her blood. 

They walk together side-by-side and at a point Emma can’t remember – somewhere between sampling whiskey, buying several bottles for her dad, and licking salt and malt vinegar from hot chips off her fingers – they transition to walking hand-in-hand. The heat of Killian’s skin, even through two layers of gloves, is what she blames for the fact that she actually starts humming along to Christmas carols. Where’s that deep cynicism she has been committed to for her life when she needs it? 

“Told you,” Killian says after the two of them step away from a stall with handmade ornaments. She must have been channeling her mom because she couldn’t stop herself from striking up a conversation with the vendor. Somehow by the end of the interaction she’d agreed to join him and his wife for their annual holiday pub crawl the following night. 

“Told me what?” 

“That you would fall for Ireland.” 

“You get the honor and privilege of keeping me company on my first full night on my first real trip out of the country and all you can say is ‘I told you so’?” 

“I believe what I am trying to say, love, is you appear very much at home here.” 

The sentiment makes everything in Emma buzz, but she does what she does best and works to diffuse it. “Well, uh, I don’t know. Does it ever snow here?” 

“Eh, we get about 50 mm every year?” At her look of confusion Killian smiles. “Not much.” 

“Have you ever had a white Christmas?” 

“Can’t say I have. They’re pretty rare in Ireland.” 

“In that case, I think this means you should come to Maine. We do a great white Christmas.” 

“Maybe I will.” 

“Great. Next year sound good?” 

Killian laughs and squeezes her hand. “Sounds great.”

She hears the faint echo of advice her dad once gave her. It was right when she was fresh off her heartbreak with Neal and wasn’t sure she had it in her to apply for grad school. He said something to her about moments. About the need to notice good moments even in the midst of bad ones. 

Standing here hand-in-hand with a man she met only five hours ago, the glow of Christmas lights dancing in technicolor hues against his cheeks and hair, Emma is absolutely certain this is a good moment. 

“Emma?” 

She answers Killian’s question by rising up on her toes and kissing him. It’s quick and fleeting, barely a brush of her lips against his, but the look on his face as she pulls away, all bright eyed-wonder, deserves to be classified as a good moment all on its own. 

It takes self-control Emma wasn’t aware she possessed to not drop their shopping bags to the ground, grip him by the lapels of his jacket, and kiss the crap out of him. Instead she loops her arm in his. 

“It’s getting late,” she says. “Want to walk me back to my hotel?” 

He swallows, that poleaxed expression still on his face. “Aye.” 

The next morning, Emma is woken up by the sound of her video call alert and boy it was a mistake to not extend her do not disturb until noon. She reaches out and blindly bats at the bedside table until she makes contact with her phone. As soon as she swipes up on her mom’s call, she squeezes her eyes shut again. 

“Hello?”

“Oh, sweetie. Are you still jet lagged?” 

“And a little hungover.”

“Sounds like you had a very eventful night.”

Killian grumbles from somewhere behind her. “What time is it?” he asks.

It’s right about this moment Emma realizes her error. Her mom goes quiet and Emma considers taking the opportunity to end the call. And then maybe ignore every call thereafter for the next five days. 

“Emma Nolan. Is there a man in bed with you?” 

“No,” Emma answers, though it’s perfunctory and not at all convincing. 

Killian presses closer to her, and shifts so his chin rests on her shoulder. “Hello again, Mrs. Nolan. And this must be Mr. Nolan.” 

That gets Emma’s attention and she opens her eyes enough to see her mom and dad sitting beside one another on the couch. While her mom is positively gleeful, her dad looks as though he wishes he could melt into the couch cushions and disappear. 

“There are certain things I don’t care to see,” her dad says. “Certain things I don’t care to know.” 

Emma rotates in bed and onto her back, holding the phone above her head so both she and Killian are still in view of the camera. “Oh hush, Dad, you and mom did it the first night you met.” 

“You told her that?” 

In response, her mom shrugs. “She asked.” 

“And not that it matters, but Killian and I didn’t have sex.” 

Though it didn’t stop them from trading long, slow kisses that left her dizzy and wanting more, more, and more. Killian must have felt the same because it took little to no convincing to get him to stay the night. Perhaps most remarkably, after extending the invitation, Emma had no desire to retract it or pretend it didn’t mean anything. 

“Your daughter was far too drunk to have sex.” Emma turns her head so fast in Killian’s direction she hears something crack. 

“That, for instance, is one of the things I don't want to know about,” her dad says.  

Killian cheerfully waves at the camera, ignoring both her father’s indignation and her glare. “I’m Killian, by the way. Happy to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Nolan.” 

Emma elbows Killian. The man is a total menace. “I’ll call you guys back when I’ve had coffee,” 

“I want details,” her mom says. 

“And I want no details.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Emma hangs up the phone and tosses it in the direction of the foot of the bed. She flips over onto her side and Killian mirrors her, reaching out to trace the freckles on the bridge of her nose. “So that was my dad.” 

“He seems a charming fellow.” 

“Don’t let the responsible tough guy act fool you,” she says, and snuggles closer to Killian. He responds just as she hoped, by wrapping his arms tight around her. “He once spent all his money on a cross country train ride and stole oyster crackers from the dining car for food. And during a California road trip, my mom almost froze to death sleeping in her wet bathing suit on the side of the road.” 

Killian chuckles, the vibrations of his laugh making her feel even warmer. “You’re saying they can deal with a half naked man in their daughter’s hotel room?”  

“Yeah, they can deal.” After a moment’s hesitation, Emma slips her hands up and under Killian’s shirt. It’s the one he wore to work, and she can still smell the faint aromas of beer and fried food that linger. She presses her palms against his back and bunches the shirt up, up, and then over his head. 

“Emma?” 

A girl could get used to the way his voice moves over the syllables of her name. “They might have a problem with a fully naked one, though.” She kisses his bare shoulder.

Killian’s hands move under her shirt to span her waist. Goosebumps breakout across her skin. By the slight twist of his lips, Killian notices. “So you’re saying—?” 

“I’m saying you should quit gabbing and kiss me before they call again.” 

“As you wish.”

And a week later, when she is back in Maine celebrating Christmas with her family and Killian is in Ireland with his, Emma convinces herself she imagined it. She must have. She must have imagined how safe she felt in the presence of another person. Imagined the comfort she felt as he joined her for a quick road trip to Dublin. Imagined that it could feel like your heart was split in two, half residing in the chest of a person you just met. 

But the week of New Year’s Eve, when he arrives in Maine to celebrate with her, she’s startled to find it was all real. 

The morning after Killian arrives, she sits with her mom in her parents’ breakfast nook, the two of them sipping coffee as Killian and her dad make waffles. 

“Not such a dumb souvenir after all, huh?” her mom whispers.

Emma shakes her head, too happy to even react to her mom’s shameless gloating. “No. Not so dumb.” 

[channiebbang]

fluttering hearts

synopsis: a cute first date along the night market and the bustling streets of Seoul. A little spark lightens up between laughs, blushing faces and fluttering stomachs.

characters: Mark, Jackson, Main Character

pairing: University Senior!Mark x Univeristy student!MainCharacter

genre: a shit load of fluff

word count: 2.7k

warnings: none

author’s note: this is by far one of my most fluff works lmaoo I'm sorry if there are any mistakes hehe

Y/n shivered as the chilly breeze caressed her bare arms. It wasn't a cold evening at all, the light wind felt nice, but she had been standing for some time now, and her sleeveless dress wasn't helping. She refrained from checking the time on her watch, having done that three times already in the last minute.

She thought at how she came to be in this situation. Dressed in a somewhat semi-fancy dress, a couple of steps away from a fancy restaurant.

Mark Tuan. Her university senior of three years. He was all everyone talked about, kind of like the "It boy", if you will. And for good reasons too. He was polite, soft spoken, gentle and a ball of positivity to be around. Everyone loved him. Professors, deans, students, everyone.

Girls drooled over him, boys admired him. He received confessions left and right from girls and the occasional boys. He had it all. Or so it seemed.

See, Mark may have been showered with attention on the outside, and to some extent he was grateful for all the nice words everyone said to him, but he didn't really feel a connection with anyone other than his few close friends.

In fact, the guy was careful who he talked with and what he said. He was a very reserved person and although he was very respectful he also liked being respected. He knew most of the people that tried to befriend him didn't do it because they actually wanted to be friends. It was either because his dad was rich or it was because being Mark Tuan's friend is benefitting. Words he had actually heard someone say. Or people wanted to date him because in the three years he had been in the university nobody had seen him with anyone that could've been labeled as his girlfriend. So the ladies wanted a piece of him. They wished.

So when he, not only showed interest in Y/n but asked her out everyone was stoked. Out of nowhere a junior had been asked out by Mark. Nobody ever saw the two together, nobody ever saw the two even talk. But once someone overheard Jackson asking one of Y/n friends for her number for Mark, the news spread like wildflower. And you bet your ass Mark didn't speak to Jackson for a solid day, no matter how many times Jackson whined that he was just trying to be a good wingman. In the end he gave in because, c'mon, it's Jackson Wang we're talking about, how could he stay mad at him when he was just trying to help out.

But it's not like Mark landed a date the first time he asked, no sir. In fact, y/n had ignored his dm's when he reached out on Instagram, not wanting to get involved with someone so much on the spotlight. She didn't like attention at all, she had two friends and she was happy to go unnoticed at university.

Of course she knew who Mark was and of course she found him breathtaking, I mean it's not like she was blind and lived under a rock. She knew of his more than good reputation but even then she didn't want to be involved with him in any way. She wanted to focus on her studies, thoroughly.

Because she had two great friends, it was obvious that they didn't agree with her decision and tried to persuade her countless times when she told them that Mark had slid into her dm's. She refused.

So a couple of days had passed when the two groups crossed each other in the hallway and of course y/n's lovely friends decided to greet Mark and his friends, lying later that it was just to show their respect to their senior.

Mark on the other hand was very glad because he had taken it upon himself to greet y/n separately, flashing one of his million dollar smile. She stared at him for a couple of seconds before she bowed her head and muttered a greeting.

When she went back to her shared apartment that night she had been doing homework, well tried to do her homework, because a certain Mark Tuan refused to leave her mind. She felt guilty about not replying to him. It had already been a couple of days but she felt bad because she feared she was being rude.

So, before she changed her mind, she took her phone and replied to his text. And that was how she spent more than three weeks texting with him. She had to admit, Mark was fun to talk to. In that short period of time he somehow managed to soften her up.

He had always a funny remark ready, always ready to help her with her studies, even when she refused thoroughly, worried that it would take away time from his own studies.

So there she was, she had finally accepted his request to go eat something. So she was clad in a soft lilac dress waiting for a certain senior to show up.

It was two minutes later when a car stopped on the side of the road, Mark quickly climbed out of the back of the car after muttering some instructions to the driver and walking to y/n.

Now, y/n knew about Mark's good looks, but this. This was straight up rude. He was dressed in a turtle neck and a long coat and he was breathtakingly gorgeous. So obviously, she gaped at him and totally missed his greeting. Mark chuckled, a wide grin spread on his lips as he waved a hand in front of her eyes. She blinked rapidly clearing her throat, blushing hard when he giggled at her flustered face.

"Hi," he greeted again, "Sorry, I'm late. There was an accident on the way and I had to take another street," he apologized, a mortified smile adorning his features. Y/n smiled shaking her head.

"That's okay, I wasn't waiting for long anyway," she assured him, Mark nodded before throwing a glance at the entrance of the restaurant. A slow blush creeped up his neck and tainted his ears a bright red. Y/n tilted her head sideways, concern written all over her face.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her fingertips lightly brushing over his elbow as he cleared his throat, eyes falling back on her. He found himself staring at her, only then noticing how pretty she looked in her dress and styled hair. He smiled fondly at the white sneakers on her feet, contrasting the rest of her outfit.

"Yup," the tall guy smiled, eyes crinkling, y/n found herself smiling too. She nodded.

"I think I'm way past my reservation time," Mark muttered in embarrassment, fingers scratching behind his ears as he gave y/n an awkward laugh. The blushing explained. Y/n looked at him amused.

"Oh," she mumbled looking back at the entrance of the restaurant before looking back at Mark, a smile on her face.

"How about some street food?" She whispered excited, Mark stared at her, mouth hanging open. Her eyes were sparkling, the widest grin he had ever seen on her graced her lips. She oozed of excitement and adrenaline. Maybe Mark stayed in that position for too long because Y/n's expression slowly fell.

"...or maybe not?" She said unsure, her statement sounding like a question. Was Mark uncomfortable with street food? Her eyes shifted at the high class fancy restaurant and she mentally face palmed. Of course he would be, look at where he wanted to bring you and think about what you offered, ugh.

She felt mortified. She shuffled on her feet, uncomfortable and embarassed to have his eyes on her. She cleared her throat and Mark seemed to come back alive.

"Yes," he breathed out, holy fuck, what was that? He thought. He felt like time had stopped for a couple of seconds too long. Y/n looked at him confused.

"What?" She muttered, eyes wide in confusion. Mark chuckled.

"Let's get street food, I know a market not too far from here. It's a bit crouded but it comes alive at night, let's go," the boy blabbed, before taking a hold of her wrist and starting to walk down the street. Y/n was left dumbfounded, she couldn't grasp onto what just happened.

She stared at Mark, trudging behind him. His long legs taking big strides to where she had to jog a bit to keep up, she didn't complain though. His hand had her wrist in a soft grasp, tight enough not to let her slip away but loose enough not to hurt her.

His dark hair bounced at every step he took, the big smile on his face lighting up his face and his surroundings in a mesmerizing way. Or was that just in her head? She didn't mind though.

Mark, right there, resembled more to an excited child opening up his birthday presents rather than the semi-serious senior she had sometimes seen on campus.

She seemed to come back to her senses when she noticed Mark had been standing on the side of the road, waiting for the streetlight to turn green. One hand in the pocket of his coat while the other still had her wrist in grasp. Mark turned to her and flashed a smile at her, automatically she sent one back.

"We're not too far from it, you'll love it," he assured her, slowly bouncing on his heels, excited.

"Do you go there often?" She asked, just as the light turned green.

"Yupp, usually I'm with Jackson and Yugyeom. Sometimes Jinyoung joins. Oh, and Jaebum too, he's the one who showed us this place," Mark explained, a fond smile on his face when talking about his friends. Y/n smiled up at him.

"You guys seem to be close," she pointed out. Mark sent her a huge grin. The proud look on his face mesmerizing.

"Uhhuh, we've stuck together since middle school," he nodded, "Although, Yugyeom joined us when we were in high school, he's the youngest but we met him in the playground we used to go to play basketball. He was freakishly tall for being so young, we thought he was our age until he started calling us hyung, then we found out he was like 3-4 years younger," Mark laughed, the sound so painfully adorable even y/n found herself chuckling and smiling at him.

"Oh! We're here. Stay close, it's crowded," Mark smiled at her as she nodded. They walked into the market, looking at the various stalls.

Mark, even though on the outside he looked completely fine, was dying on the inside. He had been holding on her wrist for a long time. Was it weird? Did she feel uncomfortable? Was it rude? Is he dumb? What the heck? All these thoughts were running wild in his mind. But nonetheless, he didn't particularly want to let go of her, so he didn't. Don't ask him where that courage boost came from because he didn't know.

He slowly let go of her hand and y/n would be lying if she didn't feel disappointed. What? Well sure, it's not like she wanted to go on a date with him at first but Mark had a way with people and she surely understood now why so many people liked him. Mark Tuan, despite his reputation and all the love he received from people, was a humble gem. He was ordinary, the kind of ordinary that makes you feel comfortable and at ease.

A blush crept up the duo's necks when Mark took a hold of y/n's hand. Mark stopped breathing for a second, testing the waters. Seeing if she'd pull back. But she didn't, and so he engulfed her hand in his. She looked the other way, hoping, wishing, she wasn't blushing too much.

"Hey," Mark whispered, tilting his head down to her height so that she could hear him.

"Huh?" She hummed, turning back around to look at him. Only her movement was a bit too fast, and before he could retreat to his previous height, her face was right in front of his. Her breath hitched in her throat, his features more clear, vivid, at the close proximity.

Mark straightened up, clearing his throat. He cursed under his breath, before taking a deep breath and turning to face her with a cheeky smile on his lips. He raised their clasped hands and shook it a bit.

"Hope you don't mind?" He giggled adorably, the sound making y/n forget about their previous awkwardness. She shook her head.

"I don't," she smiled at him.

The two walked along the stalls of the market, laughing and enjoying their time and food. They stopped at many stalls to try various things. Mark was glad that y/n wasn't one of those stuck up girls that didn't know how to enjoy this kind of places. The loud atmosphere, the tight and crowded street, the warm air, the strong smell of food. He was glad he could share this with someone that like him, didn't mind all those things.

Mark looked at the girl walking one step infront of him. She had tied her hair up with a clip, a couple of loose strands framing her face, her bag was hung across her chest so she had both of her arms free. His coat, too warm for the already hot air, was thrown over her bag. He had told her he could have just carried it on his arm but she insisted that he needed both of his hands to eat.

He looked at her as her eyes scanned over the stalls they walked past. Her eyes were shining with amazement, a wide smile lit up her face. In a way, he was glad he was late and his reservation got cancelled. He had a feeling they wouldn't have had this much fun if they had dined there.

Mark kept his eyes on the girl, it was happening again. As clichè as it sounds it felt as if time slowed down, all the noise around him seemed to fade away, everything sounded as if he was underwater, everything but her blurred out. It was as if he was looking at her through a camera lense and he had focused only on her, everything else just a meaningless background that he didn't particularly care about. All he could see was her.

Her beautiful smile, her shining eyes, the hair strands framing her face, her collarbones, the thin necklace adorning her neck. All he could focus on was her. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, he couldn't understand this feeling at all. But he didn't want it to end, he wanted to drown in this feeling, this emotion, he wanted it to always be like this. If he knew what the feeling of being drugged was, this was it.

If happiness and contentment had come his way, he didn't know, but he hoped. He really hoped this was it. He hoped that feeling of being full of something, feeling warm inside, that everyone talked about, that happiness that people associated with various things, he hoped he had finally found it. And fuck, if that was what happiness and contentment and being at home felt like, god, he wanted to feel like this everyday.

Y/n scolded herself mentally as Mark took her hand in his again. His eyes were focused somewhere else, his action seemed spontaneous and if it wasn't, y/n wouldn't know and she was okay with not knowing. She smiled as she too averted her eyes around herself.

She scolded herself for not answering Mark's dm earlier, she scolded herself for not going on a date earlier but then again, maybe that is exactly why this felt so good. Maybe letting things happen at their own pace was the right thing to do.

So she told herself not to ponder about what was already in the past too much, she told herself to enjoy her time with Mark now and for as long as she could.

She didn't know why and how Mark made her feel so comfortable and how she felt at ease around him. But she did and surprisingly that's all that she found important. She told herself not to overthink what was happening and to just let everything happen on its own.

Their laughter mixing with the loud chatter and laugh of the people around them as they enjoyed their silly banters and jokes. The chilly breeze didn't feel so cold anymore as y/n walked beside Mark, hand in hand, arms pressed against each other, as they talked about what to try next.