#it’s slightly less evident now i feel like they’re maybe writing him as into girls

[sammygender]

if zuko isn’t meant to be gay then why do they write him. like that

[unreleasedwrites]

I LOVED the gitae fic it was so good😔🙏 We need part two where Maybe he feels pity for us and takes us out to eat or smth, you do the magic im bad at writing lmao 🤧

Thank uuu♡♡♡♡

A Planned Coincidence (pt. 1) (pt. 2)

“Where’s the fun in spoiling it? How about I show you instead?”

summary: You’ve been stuck in the same warehouse you woke up in about three weeks ago, and no matter what plan you would make to escape— it’s no use and you’d only get in trouble. One of the times you did try with Gitae around, he had to clean up after you and the topic of your friends came up and so you begged to meet them. Unfortunately, it didn’t go as planned and you ended up ignoring Gitae for days. Eventually, he decided he’d take you out in hopes you’d finally speak to him.

character(s) included: Gitae Kim x fem!reader

cw: swearing, implied kidnapping, very toxic, same warnings as my first gitae fic (part 1) , yandere gitae, mentions of blood, death, kissing, suggestive, nicknames, cartel mentions, this is FICTIONAL, abuse, mentions of drugs, guns, his axe, implied cannibalism, a bunch of crimes so beware dark and possibly disturbing content

unwrapped on: Tuesday Morning, April 30 2024

wrapped up on: Friday Evening, May 03 2024

published on: Friday Evening, May 03 2024

“You tired of playin’ these stupid fucking games yet, doll?” Gitae said in an agitated tone, as he held your bruised hand and covered it in bandages. Afterwards, he planted a light kiss on top.

You remained dead silent and only looked towards the ground of the warehouse you were trapped in. You accidentally injured yourself in another one of your escape attempts, so here Gitae was, taking "care" of you once again with some condescending mockery.

“Well? Now you’re gonna go and play the quiet game with me, huh?” He said with a slightly more irritated expression on his face.

“Look at me when i’m speaking to you.” He said and he grabbed your chin to meet eye to eye with him, and you could tell he looked angry. He tightened his grip on your already bruised hand, causing you to yelp in pain from how much pressure was applied.

“Gitae.. I-I—, I was wondering if yo—” You were trying to speak when a few rounds of open fire suddenly interrupted you. You flinched and a visibly frightened expression was evident on your face. Gitae saw this and took you into his arms to face him, while on his lap so that he could straddle you and stroke your hair.

“Sorry about the noise, little girl. Just part of my men’s duties, I’ll let them know to keep it down though,” he said in a less irritated tone.

“Back to where we left at earlier.. Why do you keep tryna fucking escape?” He said in a slightly more raised tone.

“To leave..? Isn’t the answer to that question already kind of already a given?” You replied.

“Leave?” He scoffed, “and just where exactly would a little girl like you go? If I can recall, the friends you came to Mexico have gone missing.. And technically, you’re now known as a missing person, just like your four other friends.”

“Gitae, I hate to have to ask but— Did you have anything to do with those disappearances by chance? You’re speaking as though you know all about it and from what I’ve seen in the past few days..”

He cut you off and laughed, “did I? I thought that was already a given from when I took you here, was it not?”

“I think I get it now, I’m next.. Aren’t I?” You replied.

“What? When the hell did I ever hint something even close to that? I was talking about your little friends, they’re alive, but let me just tell you now that they won’t be for very long if you keep continuing this bullshit of trying to leave me.”

“They’re alive—? Where are they?! Can I please, pleaseee see them, pretty pleaseee??” You begged with your usual pouty face.

“It’s hard to say no when you say it like that,” he said as he held your cheeks together with his hand, “if you’re good for the rest of the day, I might consider it. How’s that for a deal, doll?”

“Deal!” You exclaimed and he tapped his cheek with his finger a few times while saying, “but first~?”

You then tried to give him a kiss on the cheek but he swiftly turned his head so that your lips would land on his instead, and it worked. Despite your situation, you turned into a blushing hot mess and Gitae simply laughed at your reaction, thinking “how cute.”

A little fast forward into that same day, the sun was finally setting, so you may finally get to see your friends again. You waited patiently in the warehouse, sat on top of some boxes, reading the books Gitae gave you to pass time while he was out doing who knows what.

Some kind of bell or alarm started to ring and from what you’ve been observing in the past three weeks, that alarm means that it’s around 8 or 9 in the evening, where most of Gitae’s “men” go out to do unspeakable acts that you’ve witnessed at some point.

Usually, This was around the time you’d try escaping the warehouse because everyone was way too busy to watch over you and most of the men there have left the warehouse, getting on some sketchy vehicles with all sorts of equipment, weaponry, and drugs. The remaining people were either asleep or high in the clouds.

But when you start to see the men leave, you’d usually start to see the second batch of men arrive with Gitae. You’ve noticed a pattern where half of the men go out with Gitae during the day and the rest of the men go out during the night and what similarity both batches shared was that they all came back bloody, smelling really odd, and sometimes Gitae would bring you what he calls a souvenir,— human flesh from one of his victims. Anytime Gitae would do that, you just ignored him for the next hour or two, depending on just how much his patience is willing to endure from you being a so called “brat.”

But, it was around 8 in the evening when the bell had rang, and now it’s past midnight. Yet you haven’t seen or heard from Gitae at all.

Reluctantly, you finally resorted to asking the men around to which they only replied with stuff like, “just give him another half hour and he’ll be here. He’s probably just ran into some trouble with a gang fight or somethin like that.”

One of the men was nice enough to give you some paper that you used to make little bookmarks for the various books you had.

Gitae usually takes you to sleep with him in one of the compartments of the warehouse that led to a bedroom, but since he wasn’t here and you had no idea on how to get in there, you fell asleep on the floor beside some boxes.

You woke up the next morning when you overheard a bunch of men who sounded like they were arguing. And weirdly enough, you were on the bed in the hidden compartment of the warehouse, with Gitae fast asleep beside you. His breathing was steady and he looked tired so you decided to just look around and take mental notes of what the room looked like. It was very different from the rest of the warehouse and was pretty cozy. Gitae’s usual leather jacket was hung on a chair nearby and you noticed some of his belongings on the table. One of which, was a gun. It had you thinking if you wanted to risk your entire life, jumping off the bed to get the gun which was on his side of the room, and shoot him blank.

But that was stupid, what about all the men outside? Gitae told you he isn’t a fan of silencers on his personal guns. They’ll definitely rush over thinking that you in fact, did something— because they all know that Gitae wouldn’t dare hurt you to such a foul extent.

So, you scratched that thought and looked at the door, where does that lead? You thought to yourself. Before you could even continue thinking as you were sat up on the bed, you heard Gitae suddenly start speaking in a raspy morning voice, “what are you up to, little girl? Shouldn’t you still be asleep in my arms?” You turned over to see Gitae, with messy morning hair, not in his usual state of a few loose strands with his hair slicked back.

“Nothing, I was jus-” You stopped for a moment when you saw Gitae sit up and reach for his gun, “doll, could you riddle me this,” he said.

You nodded in response and he spoke as he loaded his gun, “did you try to escape in any form and at any time yesterday?”

He looked you dead in the eye while readjusting compartments of his gun, you lost focus and started to stare at his hands fiddling around with the gun to which he suddenly snapped his fingers, “my eyes are up here, what did I tell you yesterday?” His eyes narrowed and you responded with, “to always look you in the eye when you speak..?”

“Correct. Now, answer.” He slowly finished prepping his gun.

“I didn’t, you could ask the men out there for proof of that.” You said.

“I already did, they told me you were finding me last night? Is that true, my pretty doll?” He said as he caressed your face.

“Well, you were taking much longer than expected to arrive.. A-and you did tell me that if I was good for the rest of the day, I’d get to meet my friends..” You said hesitantly.

“Right.. About those little friends of yours,” he spoke as he placed the gun on the table and your eyes widened, “what about them..?”

“Hoho, do you wanna find out for yourself?” He said with a smirk on his face.

“Gitae.. What do you mean..?”

“Where’s the fun in spoiling it? How about I show you instead?”

“Fine then,” you replied.

Gitae stood up from the bed and so did you, it was still about 4 in the morning so it was cold outside of the bedroom, which is why Gitae put his leather jacket on you since you weren’t wearing much.

He unlocked the door with some sort of key that he took from a high shelf you couldn’t reach for yourself. Before he even swung the door open after unlocking it, he took a blindfold and placed it on you first, something that typically happens whenever you guys were going to leave the bedroom. From there he just carries you to the main open area of the warehouse to which he then takes the blindfold off once you’ve arrived around the usual boxes you stay at.

“So.. Where are they??” You asked visibly confused, tilting your head to the side as you looked up at Gitae.

“Silly girl, they aren’t here.. They’re at some other location we’ll be driving to,” he replied as he looked at one of the men who usually drove you and Gitae around. To which that man immediately left, starting up one of the cars that were outside.

“Awh, but it’s so early.. It doesn’t even look like it’s 5 in the morning, why would you suggest we go now..?” You pouted as you looked at Gitae, because of how sleepy you were he had to hold you with one of his hands to keep you from falling.

“Don’t worry, sleeping beauty— It’s a few hours to get to where they’re at, so you could just sleep on me in the meantime.” He replied as he carrier you once again and took you to the car.

He positioned you on his lap to face him and you settled your head in the crook of his neck, slowly drifting away. He gave you kisses on the top of your head and stroked your hair while you gently caressed his shoulders. You fell asleep easily and stayed in the same position.

Eventually, the car parked at some hidden area which appeared to be in a secluded part of a forest. You were still asleep when you guys arrived so Gitae started pressing kisses all over you. You started feeling ticklish from all of it and woke up.

Not even sure how you guys got here because you didn’t see a road to drive on but you didn’t question it.

“Good morning doll~ We’ve arrived, would you like to finally meet your little friends?” Gitae asked you, who was still sleepy and had woken up from a good dream, still not processing anything.

You simply nodded and clung onto Gitae’s shirtless body because you were too tired to even try getting up and walking.

Gitae carried you with ease and walked towards what appeared to be a pretty run down building, but what it specifically looked like was a blur to you because of how out of it you still were at the time.

An awful stench was evident from the exact moment you were in the building. A loud screech coming from a girl was heard all throughout the large building, echoing amongst the floors. The voice sounded a little too familiar, almost as if it were one of your friends producing a vile screech, a desperate scream for urgent help. The echo suddenly came to a stop without repeating the rest of the noise. Gitae tried to assure you that was someone else but it was no use, you were in an environment you’ve never been in before, hearing all sorts of things. You were terrified and started to both panic and cry, while you were still in Gitae’s arms. He started to get irritated with how your current state was, he even threatened to hit you if you didn’t stop screaming and crying, trying to get away from him. You ran off into some other part of the large building, hiding from him. At first, he was annoyed but decided to play your little game of hide and seek. But, couldn’t find you and so he started to punch different walls, some of which collapsed in an attempt to find you easier and to get you out.

He couldn’t take it anymore and pulled out his axe, he said that you had exactly 5 seconds to reveal yourself or this wouldn’t end well.

“This is a stupid fucking game, Y/N. 5,” he started his countdown, “4,” and you knew better than to disobey, so hesitantly “3,” you started to leave your hiding spot to reveal yourself, “2,” before he could even reach 1, you were on your knees behind him, sobbing.

“Gi-Gitae, please..” You sniffled, “I already have gotten a good idea of what you did with them, so please.. I don’t need to see it for myself.”

He scoffed, “after you just ran and hid from me? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so.” He grabbed you by your hair harshly and dragged you to the basement floor. And that’s where you saw another nightmare right in front of you, from the scene of the group of men who attacked you, to your own closest friends, all dead.

Except one of them, she was your closest friend in the entire group and she was completely unharmed. But had to closely witness all that was done to the other girls. She was tied up with chains and from what you know, her voice was the noise you heard earlier.

Which had you wondering, why did her screaming suddenly stop? But instead of focusing on that, you looked over to Gitae who has never looked so angry before. His grip on your hair was only becoming tighter as you tried pleading with him.

You were terrified to know that in any second, Gitae could literally crush your skull with his bare hands if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Gitae suddenly let go of the grasp he had on your hair and looked down on you, “I’m letting you know in advance that what happens next is thanks to you being such a brat.” He then struck his axe at your friend, multiple agonizing times while the one man that was there forced you to watch, holding you at gunpoint and purposely turning your head in the direction of both Gitae and your friend.

Gitae looked back at you after he struck your friend with his axe so many times that she’s no longer recognizable, you were a sobbing, pitiful, and distressed mess. You were screaming at him, begging him to stop, all the while trying to break free from the man’s harsh grip on you but it was no use and you couldn’t do anything at all.

I won’t go into too many details but it was extremely gruesome and gut wrenching. By the time Gitae finally decided he was finished, he threw the axe at your direction, purposely missing by just an inch to slightly scar your neck (since you were moving around a lot, it just barely scraped the side of your neck).

You yelped, Gitae then took a part of her flesh, and bit it— but unlike the last time, he ate this entirely and licked his fingers clean. He then spoke out “clean this place up, (insert name of man who was holding you).” To which the guy nodded and finally let go of you, you fell immediately to the ground and continued sobbing, you were twitching at this point from how terrified you were.

Gitae then looked over to you, he’s seen you upset but he’s never seen you this upset before. He looked back at the girl he had just mauled and at the other girls that were laying dead on the floor. That’s weird, he was starting to feel— bad for you?

Gitae spoke with someone on the phone and after, he carried you to the car. You never stopped sobbing and you were trembling as Gitae had you on his lap, facing his blood scattered face and body. He was trying his best to comfort you but you were ignoring him. Eventually, the car started to move and you knew this was gonna be a long ride, but you just kept on sniffing while your head was nestled in between the crook of his neck. He took the hint that you really weren’t gonna talk to him at all, so he stroked your hair with his unstained hand while you silently sobbed, clinging onto him so tightly that it left marks on his body. He also bandaged up the tiny scar you got coming from his axe.

A few days had passed and you still hadn’t spoken to Gitae no matter how many times he tried or how much he threatened you.

He was fed up, but he had an idea that might just work. He decided he’d take you out for dinner at one of the places that had gambling addicts so no staff would care. He hadn’t told you all about his plan yet but he had some guy book a reservation and he went out to buy you a little gift. You didn’t know of any of this because you couldn’t understand Spanish so you were just reading books in the corner.

He went out to buy you some clothes that he was badly hoping you’d like. He bought you more sleepwear and a cute outfit that you could wear on your little date with him. He bought some more things you mentioned you like, like some more books he knows nothing about.

He arrived back at the warehouse at around 5:30 in the evening and asked you to come with him, he blindfolded you and brought you to a bathroom. It was much nicer than the usual bathroom and you were assuming that this was another compartment of the warehouse.

He told you to shower, and you nodded in response. But, he was just standing at the doorway, staring at you. So you just stood there.

“Well?” He rose a brow, “I thought you wanted a shower, what are you doing just standing there?”

You gulped and finally spoke for the first time in days, “d-do you really.. have to watch..?”

He looked you up and down, “either I watch or join you, take your pick.” You remained silent, you didn’t want either of that.

He scoffed and put the blindfold on you once again, you could hear him fiddling with his belt and clothes rustling. After, he started to undress you as well, disposing of your clothes in the trash.

He turned on the running water in the bathtub and while it filled, he was doing some things but you couldn’t see so you had no idea. He took you into his arms and the next thing you felt was pure water, you haven’t showered in a while so this was a bliss. He took your blindfold off and to your surprise, you were on top of him in the bathtub. He gently sunk you into the water, and laid you on his figure, showering your hair with water.

He then applied different products on your hair and massaged your scalp. after he finished washing your hair and body, he started fondling around with your body.

“Your skin is so soft, doll,” he said as he played with your boobs. You lightly moaned from what he was doing and he smirked, “you like that, don’t you?” You subconsciously bucked your hips in response which caused him to twitch down there. You could feel his dick on you and he started aggressively kissing you. Things escalated and you ended up having to take a second bath.

“Doll~, I forgot to mention it because you riled me up so much earlier that I lost the chance to— butt, we’re going out tonight and I bought you some clothes.” Gitae said as he took out some unfamiliar clothes from the shelf and started to dress you while he was still in a towel.

After you were fully dressed, he smiled at you and commented, “you look adorable, just like a doll.”

Afterwards, he got dressed and was finally wearing something other than just jeans. He was wearing black pants and a formal shirt. You thought he looked handsome in his outfit so you commented, “you look handsome, Gitae,” you giggled. He chuckled and planted light kisses on the top of your head.

You guys then went out and arrived at some nice and flashy building. It was weird at first, you couldn’t possibly fathom why he would do this. Either way, you just went it.

“Well?” Gitae suddenly spoke as you were sat across from him, in a nice restaurant.

“Thank you,” you replied as you looked around the secluded spot you guys were sat at.

Gitae sighed, “still not happy?” He frowned.

You simply looked at him, pouting. To which he pouted back at you mockingly.

The food eventually arrived and Gitae wanted you to try some of his rare practically live ass steak, so he fed you some of it with his fork. You made a dissatisfied face and he laughed at your reaction. He loves the way you react to absolutely anything, he finds it adorably irresistible.

“Thank you,” you said as you were about halfway done with your meal.

“I don’t care for words, you silly little girl. How about you just show me your appreciation after dinner?” He said with a smirk.

You didn’t take the hint and so you asked, “how?”

He laughed at your response, “I’ll give you a better idea once we’re in the car, and once were back in bed, you continue wherever we left off in the car.” Your eyes narrowed until you finally understood what he meant to which you looked at him with a pout while you were chewing your food.

“What kinds of food do you like?” Gitae suddenly asked as he looked at your food then at you.

You shrugged, “I’m not really picky, but I do have my preferences and dislikes.. For instance, that steak you’re eating or any sort of steak.”

He looked at his food, “it’s delicious, how could you not like it?”

“We have wayyyy different diets, I’ve seen you eat raw meats of all sorts you bastard.”

“Awh, how am I bastard?” He pouted, but deep inside he was amused and enjoying this.

“Because of your question about food! I suddenly had a flashback about my friend, whom you took a bite of!” You said, somewhat sarcastically because you know how moody Gitae is and you didn’t want him to get angry at you again.

He just laughed, “I remember that, she tasted alright too, I should’ve had seconds.” You rolled your eyes and he was only more amused and said, “but because of your whining and puffy eyes, I had no choice but to leave as soon as I finished the job. Such a pity.”

“Hey, would it kill you to have some remorse?” You said as you picked up some meat with your fork and lifted it up to his mouth.

“I don’t really like this, but it seems like something you’d like.” You said as he was chewing what you just gave him. He would never admit it, but you feeding him made him feel something.

“It tastes good, I thought you said you weren’t a picky eater?”

“I’m not,” you said as you grabbed more of that meat on your fork and fed a bunch of it to him. He was genuinely so happy inside and his amusement turned into butterflies because for once, you weren’t scared of him and he for some reason, cared about that pretty badly.

Your guys’ dinner date went on like normal, exchanging words and actually getting to know each other.

Eventually you felt the need to use the restroom so you mustered up the courage to ask permission to go.

“Gitae,” he turned his gaze over to you and mumbled in response.

“Could I use the women’s room, please?”

Gitae looked around, “I’m trusting you don’t need me to make sure that no stupid attempts of leaving will happen?” He asked sternly.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Fine then, go ahead but don’t take too long.” You nodded in response and excused yourself from the table.

And just as you said, you did go to the women’s room. And just as you promised, you came back right after. While you were making your way back to the table, you saw that Gitae was approached by two guys who he seemed to have known from somewhere.

You got back to the table and the two men that Gitae was talking to looked over to you. They looked to have been working in the casino area of the building.

One of them turned back to Gitae and said, “I see now why a guy like you is brought to a place like this. I’m guessing she’s your girlfriend, right?” You all looked at Gitae who replied with a smile, “yes, she is.”

“Damn, you’re one lucky guy. She’s gorgeous from top to bottom!” One of the guys exclaimed as he placed his hand on your shoulder, rubbing it intensely. Gitae stared at his hand then at him.

How dare he lay his hand on something I own? He’ll pay for even daring to look at what clearly isn’t his. Gitae thought to himself.

“Well, we’ve gotta get going now.. But you two enjoy your night, especially the pretty lady over here,” one of the guys said as he stroked your hair and then proceeded to walk away.

You turned over to Gitae who looked like his veins were popping out of his skull and his aura seemed to have changed. He then looked back at you and smiled, “don’t mind them, I’ll make sure to deal with them some other time. But not tonight, tonight’s supposed to be our night.” He tried to keep his composure.

“Right.. Who were they anyway? And must they be so touchy..?”

“They’re friends with some of the people I know, but they won’t be for long.” He said as he took the final bite of his food and placed his fork down.

It’s safe to say that those two were never seen again, and the police didn’t even open an investigation about the disappearances when it happened. Soon, the news about those two guys went cold and if anything, any trace or information of them was wiped out entirely.

notes: I did more than the request and added way more before the actual dinner date because im gonna be busy in the next few weeks so idk when I can post again, and because i have a bunch of Gitae requests, I thought I might as well and this is long asf, also i’ve got another gitae fic in progress 😭😭

- With or without proper credits, please don't try to steal or claim any of my works as your own

I genuinely appreciate opinions, feedback, likes, and reblogs

Once again, I hope this isn't too bad for a request, and l'Il be doing more characters in lookism so feel free to request!!

[goldengoddess]

dance with me? - kaz brekker

request: uh hi! i don’t think you’re taking requests at this time but there is just something that i can’t get out of my head. it would be a kaz x reader and they go in a job at a ball. they have to dance together to blend in so that means touching. so reader lets him squeeze her hand or something to take his mind off his past and stuff but he like hurts the reader and then feels really bad about it or something. i hope you like this and i LIVE FOR YOUR WRITING. um thanks i guess🖤🖤

a/n: ballroom dancing scenes!!!! yes,,, im a whore for these and oh my god this is so long totally got away from me <3333

warnings: heist stuff, touch aversion? and one mention of a gun

this is not how you thought your night was going to go.

honestly, it wasn't how the night was meant to go. but heists almost never go the way they're meant to.

even so, when you woke up that morning the last place you expected to be was dancing in a ballroom with kaz brekker.

the heist was at one of the more upscale parties thrown by some wealthy mercher. the original plan had involved you, kaz, nina, and of course, inej. you and nina would come through the front doors of the party with some fake papers that kaz had been able to retrieve. the two of you would be dressed extravagantly, nina more so than you. nina was meant to take all of the attention of the night, so no one would notice as you tried to take the necklace right off of a woman's neck.

kaz would sneak in through another door, dressed as a guest, but much more conspicuously. he would be your backup on the floor, if he got the opportunity to do your job, he would take it. and inej was jumping around rooftops on lookout, just in case any other gangs got any ideas or any of the plan was leaked.

that's how things were meant to have worked out. in and out, not raising any alarms, and walking out half a million kruge richer.

halfway through the night though, as you kept your eyes on the target dancing around the room, kaz appeared at your side. you raised your eyebrows, looking at him over the cup of kvas in your hand. the two of you had agreed that as a group you'd pretend you didn't know each other. the less interaction, the less chance of suspicion.

kaz tilted his head towards nina. you turned your attention to the girl in the pretty red dress. she was surrounded by people wanting to touch her, talk to her, just like she had been the rest of the night. you looked back at kaz with a confused look on your face. 'what about her' you tried to relay with your eyes.

he lifted his arms and motioned to one tall man in a black and white suit, watching her. you tried not to linger too much on kaz's ungloved hands but you did anyway. but then you noticed the very distinct outline of a gun strapped to the man's thigh.

you sucked in a breath and turned to kaz in panic. this party was strictly no weapons. you had a small knife tucked into your corset but you knew that there was no way to win a gunfight with a knife. and if that man was armed it meant he wasn't alone. and that he meant trouble. and he was looking in your direction. there was no way the two of you would be able to get that necklace now.

kaz seemed to search for something in your eyes. he had his scheming face on, as jesper had dubbed it. you could tell the moment he made a decision one what to do next because he physically grimaced.

slowly, and with evident hesitation, kaz lifted up his hand in an inviting gesture. your eyes furrowed in confusion and stared at his pale hand. he nudged it toward you and whispered "c'mon" under his breath.

you straightened our back and placed your hands firmly on your hips, "what exactly are you asking me to do."

he rolled his eyes in annoyance, but you knew him well enough to notice the way his hand was shaking. he was nervous. he was panicking.

"i'm asking you to dance with me. now take my hand. now."

he didn't wait for you to take in what he was saying and he grabbed your hand from your hip. he dragged you onto the dance floor, you only had a couple of seconds to pull up your heavy dress before tripping on it.

kaz placed a hand on your dressed hip. you rested your hand on his shoulder. he lifted your joined hands and pulled you a little bit closer.

and then he started to dance.

correction, he started leading you in a dance.

for a couple of seconds you were so shocked, by the feeling of kaz's hand in yours, by the closeness of your bodies, by the fact that the two of you were now dancing in a room full of the wealthy elite, that you could almost ignore the way kaz's entire body was trembling.

you pulled your body away from his slightly when you noticed, giving him more room but not letting go of his hand, not letting the act drop and calling unwanted attention to yourselves.

"kaz" you whispered and squeezed his hand gently. he finally looked you in the eyes and your heart almost shattered at the look in his eyes. you gave his hand another squeeze and tilted your head to the side, "are you um are you okay?"

he let out a shaky breath. he squeezed your hand back quickly, his face showed the slightest amount of relief at the motion. you furrowed your brows and gave his hand another squeeze, and he mimicked your motion. you raked your eyes up and down his body and his trembling had slightly stopped.

"squeeze" you whispered and looked around the rest of the ballroom.

"what?" you heard him say.

"just squeeze my hand. if it'll help" you whisper shouted at him. your emberassment wouldn't let you look in his direction.

but you felt him start to slowly squeeze your joined hands. his strength surprised you and within a few seconds, he was full-on squeezing your hand. you bit the inside of your cheek to stop a pained whimper from leaving your lips.

you could tell the motion was helping kaz calm down, helping him focus on something else other than the closeness of the two of you.

he led you around the room in dance for a couple of more minutes, the two fo you didn't say anything. kaz focused on not focusing on you. and you focused on kaz's tight ass grip.

he was a good dancer. better than you expected him to be. his grip on your thigh was feather-light, but he didn't falter in his direction and didn't lose his lead at any moment. it was easy for you to slip into this act. you had to stop yourself from leaning your head onto his shoulder, from letting yourself slip into the fantasy of being a princess with a handsome, non-murderous, prince. this was dirty hands himself not prince charming. regardless, you wanted to ask him where he had learned to dance like that.

then, inej, sneaky as she is, appeared at your side holding a very familiar ruby necklace. "got it" she grinned and then slipped away before you could get a word in.

then, as you turned to say something to kaz, nina showed up on the opposite side of the two of you. her attention switched to your joined hands and smirked, and then she looked at kaz and nudged her head towards the exit. "uh i recommend we get going guys, inej isn't as skilled at stealing as you two so we better get out of here. quick."

she started prancing out the door and kaz started dragging you away, following behind nina. you looked around and noticed a couple of scary-looking men were facing you and kaz. he let go of your hand as you quicken your pace and then all four of you were running down the streets. anything to get as far away from that place as possible before guns started going off.

a couple of blocks later all four of you stopped in an ally to catch your breath. kaz was rubbing his bad leg, tenderly. nina was laughing with inej, clearly, the two of them were pumped up with adrenaline.

you, on other hand, were shaking your hand to relieve some of the soreness you were starting to feel. you did it close to your body so the others wouldn't notice but of course, the professional criminals who stayed alive by noticing noticed.

"y/n, what happened to your hand?" nina asked, her smile being playful.

at this, kaz's head snapped your way from where he was looking. his eyes darted between your face and your hand.

you looked away and gave nina a very casual smile, "nothing, i'm good. i hit it on a wall or something when we were running here. just a little sore. now how about we see that necklace inej?"

after a couple of minutes of walking and joking around with the girls, bragging about the beautiful gems, they walked ahead of you and kaz.

your steps lined up with his, so when he slowed down slightly, conveniently out of ear range of nina and inej, you slowed down too.

you waited for him to speak. but were still shocked when he said, "i'm sorry"

you didn't look at him, just continued walking forward. "you have nothing to be sorry for kaz. we both did what we had to do to make sure we all got out of there alive. no harm no foul."

he scoffed a little, "saints you're starting to sound like me." you smiled slightly at that and glanced his way to find him already looking at you, knowing it was true. he continued on there was harm, is your hand okay?"

you nodded your head, "yeah. i'm all good, genuinely. but now i know you probably have a very solid handshake."

he chuckled and then got very serious. he looked you in the eyes as the two of you walked, "thank you. i needed that. i probably would have passed out if it weren't for you." the last words were whispered. you knew how hard it was for kaz to admit weakness so you understood.

"anything i can do to help", you smiled, "plus i got a free dance out of it. you are one good dancer dirtyhands." you teased him.

and surprisingly he teased right back, "maybe we could do it again sometime then?"

[beyondspaceandstars]

The Military Dog Tag Dilemma

Relationship: Stucky x Reader Warnings: N/A, just fluff Summary: You just want to wear the military tags of both your men but Steve seems to run into some issues. A/N: I am also always a sucker for Stucky writing ok and this was my first personal attempt at it and i thought it came out well <3

masterlist

Bucky gave you his dog togs within weeks of establishing your relationship with him and Steve.

You loved to mindlessly play with them as the three of you cuddled up in bed, enjoying some pillow talk after, particularly long days. Steve spooning you from behind as you laid on Bucky’s chest, his arm thrown around you, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. Your fingers would fumble with the shiny tags, turning them over in your hand, watching the minimal moonlight hit them every now and then.

You didn’t know what it was about the tags that had you so captivated nearly every night. It felt so simple yet so intimate as you stared at your lover’s name and information engraved in them. While you weren’t exactly an expert on wartime, you knew the tags could serve as gifts to partners, assuring your heart to one another. The concept definitely drifted through your mind from time to time, but you never brought it up.

Bucky, however, seemed to be thinking the same thing. Wordlessly, one night, he slipped off the silver chain, tags clinking together musically, and slid them over your head. The coolness of them tickled your neck as the tags fell to the valley between your breasts.

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was pounding as you ran your fingers around the necklace. Even Steve seemed a little shocked by the actions. But Bucky was fully pleased as evident by the cocky grin he wore watching you ogle at the gift. He had to admit — knowing you were walking around with his name dangling from your neck did something for him.

"Where are your tags, Steve?" You had asked after placing a loving, appreciative kiss on Bucky’s lips. Now that you obtained Bucky’s tags, it only seemed fitting you wore Steve’s as well.

Steve shifted. You looked up at him only to find him watching the wall across from the bed, seemingly lost in thought. "I-I’m not really sure, honey."

You let out a sad hum at the response. "Well, if you find them, let me know," you yawned, shuffling down in the bed to get comfier. "I’d like both of my men close to me all the time."

Since then, Steve had been on a mission to find dog tags. Going through archives, chain of custody notes, discarded boxes… Everything. There was just something about the entire thing that was driving Steve mad. He was honored you wanted to show off the claim your two lovers had on you but he was also deeply concerned about the fact that currently you only had Bucky’s to wear.

While Steve wouldn’t exactly call himself jealous in this situation, knowing you didn’t love him any less, the relationship was established the way it was and he felt you should still have something of his to truly show for it.

This led Steve on what felt like a manhunt for the "damn dog tags," as he kept referring to them when Bucky would check-in asking if all was okay. Nothing was really okay. He had looked high and low for them, going through every potential record in the database trying to at least confirm there was something to even look for.

He pounded his fist against the desk late one night. Steve had pushed you and Bucky to get some sleep, claiming he had some reports to look over before bed. You two had looked at him suspiciously but eventually agreed, planting loving kisses on his cheeks, and telling him not to stay up too late.

"I get cold without both of you there," you had mumbled with a sleepy yawn following. Your words almost made Steve give up for the night but then he caught a glimpse of the silver chain on your neck. Seeing you like that, using your tired, loving voice, he remembered what he was doing this for. It was you. It was all about you and your love for sentimental things.

He grudgingly agreed to be there in an hour and that seemed to please his two lovers. Except — it was way past an hour. The sky was close to daybreak when he hit the desk in frustration.

Pushing the folders away, Steve leaned back in the chair, sighing. Within seconds, footsteps came from the hall and Bucky appeared in the doorway, watching a frustrated Steve.

"Everything okay in here?" Bucky asked, leaning against the door frame.

"Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine," Steve nodded. "Go back to bed, I’ll be there in a bit."

But Bucky didn’t look the slightest bit convinced. He had a knowing look in his eyes which Steve tried to avoid by looking down at the now splintered desk.

"How are those reports going?"

Steve rolled his eyes, letting out an annoyed groan. Deep down he knew he couldn’t hide anything from Bucky but still, worth a shot.

He pushed all the folders away this time, leaving them at the very edge of the desk. "I did have dog tags, right?"

"That’s still bothering you, huh?" Bucky crossed the threshold into the office and made his way to one of the chairs in front of Steve’s desk. He took one of the folders and sat directly across from Steve. Casually, he thumbed through it, waiting for his partner to start talking.

Steve didn’t really want to get into it again as he had probably hounded Bucky about it all last week but acting like it wasn’t bothering him was getting him nowhere — obviously.

"Yes," Steve sighed. "I just want her to have something from each of us. It’s- It’s hard watching our girl…"

Bucky frowned, "I’m sorry, Steve. I should’ve waited to give them to her."

"No, Buck," Steve leaned forward, reaching his hand out. Bucky took the signal and leaned, placing his own hand in Steve’s. "You wanted her to have them. That’s your call. I just feel disappointed I have nothing to give."

"Well…" Bucky hummed, tilting his head in thought. Steve’s eyes furrowed, trying to get his partner to spit out whatever he was thinking. "What if we ordered you new ones?"

"Can you do that?"

"I honestly don’t know," Bucky chuckled. "But I don’t understand half of what you can do these days, so, I’d imagine there’s a way to get dog tags made."

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair, disconnecting their touch. It seemed reasonable and would do the job except for the fact— "But they wouldn’t be in combat or- or from the actual military."

Bucky just shook his head. With an annoyed scoff, he said, "Do you think that really matters to her?"

"I guess not…"

"Steve, honey, I promise. It’s about the presentation, the show of it. Our girl is just looking for something personal from you to keep close to her," Bucky assured him. "Plus, I think we can get it updated and personalized. Maybe even write something nice just for her on the back."

Steve had to admit, his heart was jumping happily at the idea. He really couldn’t argue with anything and agreed to the plan. The only issue was — they were a bit out of touch with ordering anything online. You had always been the one to assure online packages and food deliveries arrived but now they had to take you out of the equation. While excited to surprise you, they were slightly unsure about ordering and had to enlist the help of the team who all turned out to be more than happy to assist once they explained their idea.

A few weeks later, you were laying in your shared bed, back against the headboard, body cozied up under the duvet. You were engrossed in a cheesy romance novel, waiting for Steve and Bucky to join you for the night. Eventually, the two came in, but they were still in their work attire.

You frowned at their appearance. "Aren’t you guys coming to bed?"

As you asked your question, you couldn’t help but note their unusual stance. The two men were side-by-side, standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at you. Bucky had his hands in his pockets while Steve appeared to be hiding something behind his back. You eyed them suspiciously.

"We will in a bit, doll," Bucky said. You watched him as he came around to the side of the bed. He sat down and leaned against the headboard, shifting right next to you, sneakily taking the book out of your grip. "But first, Steve has something for you."

"For- For me?" You asked, whipping your head around to face Steve. He had a bit of nervousness to him as he nodded, making his way over to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Silently, he handed you a small box. You eagerly accepted the item, turning it over and over in your hands. Giving it a light shake, the box made a jangling noise. "What is it?" You asked, wide-eyed looking between the two men.

Steve and Bucky both let out soft chuckles at your excitement. "You have to open it to find out," Steve said. He still had an air of anxiousness, running his hands up and down his jean-covered thighs, fidgeting.

To put your poor boyfriend out of his misery, you opened the box. At first, all you noticed was something slim and shiny. Eyes furrowed in confusion, you pulled out what appeared to be a chain. You could feel a slight heaviness to it — and then you saw it. Your jaw dropped as you tossed the box next to you. In your hands was another set of dog tags nearly identical to the ones you already had adorned on your neck — only this pair were inscribed with the name Steven Grant Rogers.

"Steve-," you gasped, staring at the tags laying in the palm of your hands. You were at a loss for words as you read the tag.

"Are- Are they okay?" Steve asked, his nervous hand came up to rest on your thigh, pulling your attention back to him.

"Are you kidding me?" You let out a breathy laugh. "They’re wonderful, honey, thank you so much."

"You’re sure?" He asked again. Bucky gave him a pointed look for his ridiculousness but that didn’t stop Steve from rambling. "I-I couldn’t find mine so, I got a new pair made. I know they’re maybe not as authentic or something but I still wanted-,"

"You had these made?" You cut in. "For me?"

Steve nodded, "You had Bucky’s, so, it was only fair you had something of mine, too."

You couldn’t hold your emotions back at his word. Tears began forming as you looked at your soft, loving partner. You let out little sniffles as you turned back to the tags, still soaking in their meaning. Bucky placed a light touch on your arm as Steve scooted closer, probably suddenly scared by your tears.

"They’re perfect, honey," you whispered as you looked back at him and leaned forward, placing a sweet kiss on Steve’s lips. He eagerly accepted, practically sighing from relief under your touch. "They’re going to go perfect with the tags from my other man." You mumbled and turned to now give Bucky a kiss, who felt very pleased to get a turn to lock lips with you.

Facing Steve again, you handed him the chain. He looked down at it, confused.

"Well, soldier, are you going to put them on me?"

Both of the men chuckled at your actions but Steve happily slid the silver chain over your neck, watching as the tags fell to your chest. Once they landed, they clang nicely with Bucky’s. It sounded like music to your ears.

"I love you both so much," you said, your hand mindlessly running over the pair of tags. "Thank you."

"We love you too, doll," Bucky said. Steve nodded in agreement.

Smiling, you gave them both quick pecks and said, "Now, are you guys coming to bed?"

Bucky scoffed, "How could we ever deny you?"

You giggled. "I don’t think you can seeing as last time I checked I was a special girl."

At your words, both their gazes dropped once again to the tags hanging between your breasts, seeming so at place there.

"You sure are, honey," Steve mumbled, placing a kiss on your cheek.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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[calaofnoldor]

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290​‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass​​ (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural​‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant​‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo​ and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes​ Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.  

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.  

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @carryonmywaywardbucky​ @swiftlymoniquesblog​ @moosewinchester​ @sams-sass​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @jotink78​ @winifrede​ @writingforthelonelysoul​ @turtletaylor98​ @lyarr24​ @deanwanddamons​ @peridottea91​ @tvdspngirl314​

TEAM MOOSE: @paulaern​

if you’d like to be added (or removed) please let me know!

[spacexcowgirl]

I Think He Knows - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N gets drunk, and decides there's no better time to tell her boyfriend she loves him than the present.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Alcohol usage/intoxication!! There’s a make out scene. Also food. Otherwise mainly just fluff!

A/N: This is my first fic I’ve ever posted on here and the inspiration for it was born out of a drunken anon ask to @lumosandnoxwriting​ sooo here it is. I’ll probably end up writing another part about the next day and them recouping, but who knows. Totally open to any critiques/criticism/help anyone has to offer! Pictures are taken from Pinterest.

The flashing lights were bright and the music far too loud, but you didn’t care. You had liquid courage flowing through your veins and it was making it increasingly easier to lose yourself on the dance floor. Typically, you weren’t much of a dancer, but several shots of some pink liquid you had forgotten the name of had you abandoning all traces of your usual self. You swayed your hips to the rhythm of a song you didn’t know, giggling every time you made eye contact with Alicia or Angelina.

As the song playing came to an end, you gripped your best friends’ forearms and dragged them from the dance floor before another could start. You briefly heard their groans of protests but couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“I want another drink!” You shouted over the music, pulling them towards the bar.

“We don’t need another.” Alicia pointed out, but she was now following you on her own accord, which told you she wouldn’t be protesting too much.

At the bar, you ordered another round of shots for the three of you—asking specifically for ‘whatever the pink one is called.’ The three of you clinked the small glasses together before raising them to your lips and throwing your heads back, allowing the liquid to leave a burning trail down your throat. 

“I’m going to call him.” You announced brightly, slamming your glass down on the bar.

“Y/N, we talked about this!” Angelina whined. “Tonight is supposed to be girl’s night. Plus, Fred’s out with his friends. You should give him his space.”

“Oh please, you act like that boy wouldn’t drop everything to rush over here and be with her.” Alicia rolled her eyes lightly, a knowing smile lighting up her face.

Her words caused you to blush furiously, which you attempted to hide by sliding your cellphone out of your back pocket and bringing it to your face. The screen was too bright, but as you fumbled around with trying to turn it down, you came to realize just how drunk you really were. You quickly gave up on trying to turn down the brightness and instead opened up the call app, clicking at the button that read ‘Recents’ before tapping the name right at the top. You barely registered Angelina’s disappointed groan as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” 

“Freddie!” You called out, a sweet giggle leaving your lips. You were filled with the most wonderful elation at speaking to your boyfriend, sending a flutter of butterflies alive through your stomach.

“Oh, hello, Y/N.” The voice chuckled. “This isn’t—”

“Where are you?” You interrupted him, rocking slightly on your heels. Angelina was people watching those out on the dance floor, while Alicia had taken up flirting with some bloke next to her.

“We’re still at Lee’s flat.” There was a pause, then he continued. “Y/N, this is George you called. How drunk are you?”

“I don’t think I’m that drunk. Let me ask Angie.” You paused, putting the phone on speaker so your friend could answer for you. “Ang, how drunk am I?”

“Very.” Angelina answered over the music, earning a laugh from George on the other end of the line. “’s that George? Lemme talk to him.”

Angelina took the phone from your hand, ignoring your pout as she did so, and switched it off of speaker mode. At first, you had tried to listen in on the conversation she was having with George, but you quickly got distracted. You hoisted yourself up into one of the bar seats, kicking your legs back and forth as you gazed around. After a few minutes, you were pulled from your drunken thoughts when Angelina nudged you with your phone.

“He hung up?” You pouted as you looked at the black screen. “Are they coming here?”

“No, they’re staying at Lee’s.” Angelina shook her head. “But they said they’d meet us back at your flat when we leave here.”

“Well, let’s go!” You quickly went to jump down from the stool, only for Angelina to place her hands on your shoulders and hold you in place.

“Uh uh, we’re gonna let you sober up a bit first.” She shook her head. “Don’t want you doing something you’ll regret tomorrow.”

“Especially when we know you’ll blame us.” Alicia now joined in, evidently blowing off the guy she had been flirting with only moments before.

Perhaps if you were even a little less drunk, you would have been annoyed by their statements. But currently, you were in a state of almost childlike happiness and wonder. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to thoughts of your boyfriend, causing a cheesy grin to rise to your face. The past 6 months together had been some of the best of your life, and you often found yourself wondering why you two hadn’t gotten together sooner. You had always been friends during your Hogwarts years, but neither of you ever attempted to take that next step in your relationship until years after graduation. Now, you couldn’t be more thankful with the change.

“I’m going to tell him I love him.” You declared, saying the words out loud as more of a way to convince yourself than to inform them.

“What?” Alicia sputtered, shooting a worried glance to Angelina. “You mean, tonight?”

“I don’t see why not.” You shrugged. “I mean, I do love him. Why shouldn’t I tell him?”

“Y/N/N, don’t you think maybe you should wait until you’re sober?” Angelina looked at you hesitantly. “I mean, that’s kind of a big step.”

“You guys don’t get it,” You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest like a child being scolded. In your drunken mind, you knew that they would never understand the ins and outs of your relationship with Fred. The two of you had never put pressure on things that others deemed ‘the big stuff.’ Everything always had just come so naturally between you two, and you were convinced this should be no different. A small voice in the back of your head told you that the sober version of you would disagree, but you pushed it away. Your decision was made.

“This is like, exactly what we mean by you doing something you’ll regret and blaming us.” Alicia sighed. “So, you better not be mad at us tomorrow.”

“I won’t be, promise.” You affirmed. 

How could this possibly go wrong?

About an hour later, Angelina and Alicia had enough of the club environment and had decided you were sober enough that they could safely walk you back to your flat. The three of you gathered your things and your excitement bubbled inside of you at the prospect of finally getting to see Fred. You nearly skipped out of the club, Alicia and Angelina trailing close behind you, and into the cool night air. Almost immediately, your eyes were drawn to two heads of red hair, backs to you, talking at the edge of the sidewalk. Although they were nearly identical, there was something about one of their postures and energy, and you just knew that it was Fred. Before Angelina or Alicia could stop you, you were running and jumping on your boyfriend’s back, nearly sending him tumbling over.

“Freddie!” You squealed, attaching your arms firmly around his middle as your feet replanted on the ground. He swiveled in your hold, a bout of laughter leaving his lips, as he took in your presence.

“’s good to see you too, love.” He slurred, bending down at a slightly awkward angle to pepper your face with kisses. You giggled at the tickling feeling his lips left behind.

“Thought we were meeting you guys back at her flat?” Angelina questioned as she approached the three of you.

“That was the plan, but Freddie here has had one too many glasses of firewhisky and decided he couldn’t wait that long.” George rolled his eyes. “Said he’d go with or without me to find you guys, so we’ve just been waiting out here.”

“Great, so they’re both drunk off their asses.” Alicia feigned annoyance, but the small smile on her face as she gazed at her two friends public displays of affection showed that she wasn’t truly bothered.

“Alright, love birds, it’s bloody freezing out.” George clapped a hand down on Fred’s shoulder, pulling the older twin’s attention away from you for the first time. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

Fred nodded and held out his hand for you to take, which you happily accepted. The two of you lead the others, swinging your hands between you as you walked down the sidewalk. The entire time, you whispered and giggled back and forth, finding anything and everything to be the funniest thing you ever heard.

“Your hand is so tiny.” Fred giggled, halting your swinging motion to bring your interlaced fingers up and examine them. 

“Is not.” You pouted. You attempted to pull your hand from his, but his grip on you was firm. He used your conjoined hands to pull you closer to him, causing you to stumble slightly, which of course resulted in both of you giggling even more. Fred placed a kiss on each of your knuckles before letting both of your hands fall comfortably between you again.

“It is, but it’s cute.” He looked down at you dreamily, as if you were the most perfect thing he had ever laid his eyes on. In an instant, all of his drunk giddiness seemed to fade and he became uncharacteristically serious. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Hm.” You pretended to ponder the question, bringing your free hand up to tap your chin. “Dunno. I still think you must have me under some spell or potion.”

“Oh, right, how could I forget?” He grinned. “That reminds me, I’ve gotta make another batch of love potion before this one wears off and you leave me.”

“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” You teased back, knocking your shoulder into his.

“Never.” And you could tell, he was serious.

Up ahead you could see the familiar outline of your building. You hadn’t realized just how tired your feet were from walking in your heels, and you longed for nothing more than to slip them off and lie in Fred’s arms for the rest of the night. Nerves began to bubble in your stomach the closer you got, because you knew that meant you were just another step closer to finally telling him. While you hadn’t faltered in your decision, as you began to sober up slightly, you couldn’t help but be anxious for how he would respond. 

“Do we need to help you two get in?” George questioned once you finally were outside your building.

“We’ll be okay.” Fred shook his head. You cuddled into his side for warmth, causing him to raise your entangled hands and wrap his arm around your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, causing a dopey smile to rise onto your face.

“You’re sure?” Angelina looked between the two of you with raised brows. In response, you simply nodded. “Okay, well, call me tomorrow, alright?”

Both Alicia and Angelina sent you one last glance, one that you knew communicated how they didn’t encourage what you had told them earlier, before they all nodded and offered goodbyes, carrying on their way. Fred untangled your hands and removed his arm from your shoulder to open the door, dramatically bowing forward and extending an arm to allow you to enter first.

“After you, m’lady.”

You giggled loudly at his antics, skipping into the building and beginning towards the stairs. Fred  was hot on your heels, causing you to quicken your pace and run ahead of him, his laughter ringing out behind you as he tried to catch up to you.  Just as you turned on the first landing to continue up the steps, Fred’s hands caught your waist and began ticking your sides, causing your laughter to increase. You did your best to wriggle out of his grasp, which was much easier to do in his drunken state, and continued up the steps. Once on your floor, you quickly turned the corner and found the way to your flat, fumbling with your keys to get in before Fred caught up.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t seem to find the right key let alone slide it in to unlock the door, so Fred was able to catch up as you fumbled. You forgot your efforts and instead turned around and blocked the door, a drunken smirk on your face as you gazed up at your boyfriend.

“Sorry, you’re not allowed in.” You teased, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re really going to leave your sweet, loving boyfriend out in the hall, after he went out of his way to safely walk you back from the club?” 

“Mhm.” You nodded. “That is, unless you can tell me the password.”

Fred pretended to think for a moment, before he swooped his head down and pressed your lips together in a kiss. It was clumsy, both of your mouths seeming just a bit off center, but it was clear that neither of you cared. You tangled your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible, as he pressed your back against the door. He pulled back first, leaving you in lovesick bliss.

“Did you kiss the fat lady like that every time you forgot the password?” You teased once you were able to find your voice.

“Only sometimes.” Fred teased back.

You rolled your eyes playfully before unwinding your hands from behind his head and finally, successfully unlocking your front door. You pulled Fred into the flat by his collar, dragging him all the way to your living room before dropping down onto the couch and shuffling to let him cuddle up behind you. 

For a few moments, you both laid tangled in each other’s arms, listening to nothing but his heartbeat. The sound was rhythmic, and you knew if you didn’t speak up soon you’d fall asleep any minute. But, you weren’t ready to fall asleep yet. You wanted to stay up, to talk to him, to tell him exactly what was on your mind. So, you shifted awkwardly and held yourself up on your forearms to gaze at him.

“‘m hungry.” You declared, your bottom lip jutting out into a pout as you put on your best puppy dog eyes.

“’s too late to order something.” Fred sighed. “Lemme go look at what you have in your fridge.”

You sat up to let him get up, resisting the urge to sigh at his absence. From the kitchen, you could hear the familiar clatter as he riffled through your pots and pans and opened and closed various cupboards. Somehow the sound was like the sweetest melody. It was like a soundtrack of pure bliss, a reminder that he was there, with you, and that you were happy. In the simplest terms.

You shifted to lay down on your back and stare up at your ceiling, breathing in what you could only describe as domestic bliss. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear him re-enter the room, your focus only being drawn away when the couch shifted from his weight. He lifted your legs to rest in his lap, his hand lightly rubbing up and down your ankle at a soothing rhythm.

“Got a quesadilla cooking.” He declared, his eyes tracing up and down your figure as you moved to sit up and look at him.

“Couldn’t stay away from me long enough to watch it?” You teased lightly.

“Can you blame me?” Fred grinned at you, giving your ankle a light squeeze.

You giggled at the contact before sitting up further, swinging your legs around to straddle his waist. You let your arms rest around his neck, a dopey smile on your face as you fiddled with the short hairs there. Fred leaned forward and nuzzled his nose against yours, causing you both to giggle further. 

“You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that?” Fred breathed out, bringing your foreheads to rest together. 

His words caused the familiar butterflies to erupt in your stomach, your smile widening even further. Some part of you knew this would be the perfect moment to tell him exactly how you felt. To tell him that your days are just a bit darker when he’s not around, and how he can make you laugh even when you want nothing more than to cry. You wanted to tell him how whenever he was gone on business trips, you could only fall asleep if you were wearing one of the old t-shirts he had left at your flat, or how you always seem to find something that made you think of him no matter where you were. But, your drunken brain was far from articulate, and your nerves seemed to have a firm grasp on your tongue, so instead, you simply pressed your lips to his.

Fred kissed you back passionately, and it was clear that neither of you minded that both of your mouths held the aftertastes of different alcohols. His lip glided along your bottom lip as his hands found your hips, steadying your movements. When you knocked your teeth together in the drunken kiss, you both pulled back for a moment to giggle, before the passion resumed.

Things seemed to carry on like that for several minutes, wanting nothing more than to be close to one another in every way possible, to be tangled up in anyway that you could, but having to pause every little bit to let out drunken giggles at the situation. You were certain no one had ever gotten you the way Fred Weasley got you, that no one could make you feel so comfortable, and that you were irrevocably in love with him.

Your sweet moment together was brought to a halt by the sound of a loud screeching coming from the kitchen. It took a moment for your brain to recognize it as the sound of your smoke alarm, but once it did you both were to your feet and rushing into the kitchen. Fred cursed under his breath at the clouds of smoke rising from the skillet and quickly set to turn off the burner. You grabbed a drying towel from the counter and began to wave it by the alarm, attempting to cease the godawful beeping it was letting out. After a few minutes, the sound did cease and the smoke cleared, allowing you to breathe a sigh of relief.

“It’s burnt.” Fred pouted, lifting the skillet to show you the blackened quesadilla. 

You weren’t sure if it was the childlike expression on his face or the fact that you both had entirely forgotten about it in the first place, but you couldn’t help but erupt into a fit of laughter. Fred looked at you for a moment as if he were offended by your giggling, before turning his attention the burnt quesadilla, then back to you, and beginning to laugh as well. It was all so absurd and truthfully far from funny, but in that moment, nothing could make you laugh harder.

Fred slid the quesadilla in the garbage before placing the skillet in the sink, resigning to washing it later. In the meantime, you had grabbed the bag of shredded cheese and hoisted yourself up on the counter, swinging your legs as you scooped out a handful of the cheese and began to eat it.

Fred turned and smiled fondly at your actions, crossing the kitchen to settle himself between your legs. He opened his mouth and you wordlessly registered what he was requesting, leaning forward to drop some of the cheese into his mouth. Both of you continued to giggle lightly, feeling nothing but elation as you remained in each other’s presence. 

You raised your hand to offer Fred a bit more of the cheese, smiling warmly when he opened his mouth to accept some. The two of you weren’t as in sync as you might normally be, considering your varying levels of intoxication, and as you dropped some of the cheese onto his tongue you were too slow to remove your hand and he was too quick to bite down, causing him to nip your finger lightly.

You pulled your hand back hastily and Fred’s eyes widened as if he had just mortally wounded you. He swallowed the remaining cheese in his mouth before speaking up, taking your hand in his to examine it.

“Did I hurt you? Are you okay? Merlin, I am so sorry. Are you bleeding? You must be bleeding.”

You weren’t. 

His rambling and concern for you caused you to tilt your head back and let out a loud bout of laughter. 

“‘m fine, Freddie.” You assured, leaning forward to press your lips to his and squash his worries. 

Fred brought your hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the finger he had just bit, nodding to himself after as if to convince himself that now you were fine. Truly, it was just about the cutest thing you had ever seen.

You spent the next few moments polishing off the bag of shredded cheese, Fred abundantly more careful not to nip your fingers anymore. You chatted lightly, talking about every drunk thing that crossed your mind. Once the cheese was gone Fred poured the both of you a glass of water, sloshing it around slightly as he tried to balance them both in one hand and extend the other to you. You hopped down from the counter and accepted his hand, allowing him to guide you back to your bedroom. He spilled nearly half of each water on the way, mostly on himself, but neither of you could find it in you to care. 

Once inside, you threw yourself down into the center of your bed, extending your hands out in a grabbing motion as Fred set the glasses on your nightstand. Neither of you could be bothered to change into pajamas, so you settled by kicking off your shoes and doing your best to get comfortable in the dress you sported. 

Fred kicked off his shoes as well before crawling over to you and collapsing nearly entirely on you. He laid on his stomach and wound his arms around your waist, his head finding the crook of your neck and pressing a few soft kisses there. You wound your arms around his neck, your legs tangling together. Truthfully, it wasn’t exactly comfortable, but you had him close, and that was all that mattered.

You listened to the sound of his breathing as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Your mind was screaming at you to say the words that had been plaguing you almost all night, before it was too late. Now was your chance.

But, then, you noticed that Fred’s breathing had shallowed significantly and light snores had begun to leave his lips. You breathed out a sigh of disappointment from missing your opportunity, mentally cursing yourself and your nerves.

As if the sleeping boy in your arms could read your thoughts, his grip around you tightened, holding onto you as if his life depended on it. The small action brought a smile to your lips as your eyes fluttered shut.

Perhaps you could wait to tell him that you loved him until the morning. Besides, some part of you was aware that he already knew.

[hongism]

at the end of the day - p. seonghwa 18+

day 10 of kinktober: lovemaking - park seonghwa warnings: explicit smut, unprotected sex, soft sex, marking, creampie, fingering, tooth-rotting fluff, it’s so soft I can’t believe I wrote it, literally lovemaking, im broken after writing it wc: 1.6k genre: smut, fluff, pwp, 18+

​​

“Hi,” you greet, tone quiet. Seonghwa steps over the threshold, and the door snaps shut without much noise. His shoulders remain slumped forward, clear evidence of his exhaustion, but he still manages a somewhat cheery greeting in response.

“Hi, baby, how was your day?” He comes closer to where you’re seated at the dining table. Papers are strewn across the wood, and Seonghwa doesn’t even need to take a glance to know that you’re still struggling with schoolwork.

“Long,” you answer even though he already understands just from your expression. Likewise, he nods in agreement, smile stretching a little less than before.

“Seems we both had tough days then.” Seonghwa leans forward and rests his hands on the back of your chair. The gaze he offers is as soft as ever. You sit up straight only to push your head back against his stomach. “I’ll take a quick shower, then we can go to bed, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you hum. Seonghwa steps away from your chair, and you watch him disappear into the bedroom with a small sigh. The mountain of work before you still looms, but it’s the last thing on your mind at the moment. Sleep would be nice, but cuddling with Seonghwa would be even better at this point. Thus, you push away from the table and amble to the bedroom.

You can hear the soft trickles of the shower in the bathroom, and maybe on a night where you both weren’t so tired, you might be daring enough to surprise Seonghwa in there. Rather, you merely slip your pants off, crawling under the sheets to nestle in the center of the bed while you wait for Seonghwa to join you.

It doesn’t take too long for him to come out, towel around his neck, and a pair of sweats hanging loosely at his hips. You both instinctually smile at one another as soon as you make eye contact, and you huff out a laugh through your nose.

“What’s that look for?” Seonghwa inquires, bringing the towel down and dropping it on your head once he’s closer to the edge of the bed.

“Nothing, nothing,” you counter. “You’re just cute.” The towel slips down to the mattress, slightly damp from the moisture on Seonghwa’s skin, and he bends over you to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“You’re the only cute one here, baby girl. Now scoot over and make some room for me.”

“At least put the towel up first,” you grumble, tossing it back at your boyfriend before shifting to the other side of the bed. Seonghwa feigns annoyance with a slight roll of his eyes but picks up the towel regardless. He carries it all the way back to the bathroom before returning to you, slipping into bed at last.

You greet him with a kiss; your lips press against the tip of his nose first, then two small pecks on either cheek before finally finding purchase on his plush and rosy lips. They’re soft on yours, the gentlest pressure that leaves a blossoming warmth in your chest. It isn’t needy or full of lust – merely a small signal of the love and affection you have for each other.

“I love you,” you murmur. The words linger in the air between you for a few moments, Seonghwa’s only response being the same affectionate and tired grin. Even when he does do something, it isn’t verbal. He closes the minimal distance between your lips once more. The kiss contains a bit more pressure this time, yet again it doesn’t hold any desperation. You don’t let your lips part for a second as Seonghwa tugs you closer, hand drawing around your waist, and he tugs you forward and forward until your chest is flush against his. It only takes a slight tug for him to pull you on top of him, rolling onto his back so that you can straddle his hips comfortably.

A sigh of content leaves you. It’s one that Seonghwa eats right up, and his tongue caresses your lower lips with the same amount of care and softness as every other touch he’s providing. He slips his hands lower, tracing each curve and dip of your body until he reaches your hips and dances over the bare skin there. It doesn’t take much for him to let those same fingers slide up under your shirt. They leave goosebumps in their wake, gliding and shifting until he has his thumbs looped around the band of your underwear, and it’s with an unspoken agreement that he tugs them down. You have to assist him in getting them fully off, straightening one leg after the other until the undergarments are pulled away completely. He doesn’t bother doing the same for his own – mostly because he’s not wearing underwear, but also because he just shimmies his sweatpants down enough to bare his cock to the cool air in the bedroom.

Seonghwa doesn’t move any faster than he is; he maintains the same sweet and languid pace even as he slips two fingers between your legs and presses them past your already sopping folds. You moan into his mouth at the sensation, shifting your hips so that he can have better access to your core. His tongue breaches your lips at the same moment he pushes his fingers into your tight hole, and you would moan if you weren’t midway through a gasp of surprise. You let him control the kiss, instead focusing on the feeling of his fingers inside you, but you can’t keep from reaching down to take his member in your hand. It’s his turn to groan as you move over his cock with sloppy jerks, collecting the precum gathered on his tip and guiding it over the rest of his length.

“I want you, Hwa,” you whisper after pulling back to look him in the eye. His smile returns, and he gives you a small nod before slipping his fingers out of you. His hand meets yours on his shaft, lips coming to rest on the corner of your lips. He rubs the juices of your arousal over his cock then pushes your hips back to align with your hole. When he sinks into your velvet walls, you can’t stop the whimper that falls from your lips. The stretch burns and aches deep inside you, and Seonghwa slows his movements until he barely moves at all. Folding your hands around the back of his neck, you dug yourself down to his lips and kiss him as deeply as possible. Seonghwa returns the kiss with equal passion and penetrates you until he’s buried all the way in your cunt.

“I love you,” he says, parting from your lips to speak the words. “Let me make love to you.”

“You always have permission to do that,” you reply. You release his neck to cup his cheek, and he presses his face against your palm without hesitation. “So go ahead and do it, my love.”

Seonghwa’s grip on your hips tightens, and in one swift movement, he swivels you until your back collides with the mattress. His mouth overtakes yours, tongue pushing in without hesitation, and you can only moan in response. He rocks his hips against yours. The groan that leaves his chest is nothing short of heavenly, and you’d beg just to hear that sound over and over again, but he provides it without you begging at all. Each thrust has you seeing stars; his cock rubs over your sweet spot without cease, and the pace he maintains is still as languid as before. It feels different this time, like he’s putting all his feelings into each thrust. Not chasing after his own pleasure or an orgasm – just undivided attention on you and making you feel good.

It doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself in the pleasure running through your veins. Seonghwa is right there with you, quiet moans escaping him as more time passes, but it’s evident that he’s holding out until you orgasm. His thrusts only stutter once your walls begin to tighten around him. The band holding you back from your orgasm snaps as he thrusts particularly deep, and you arch your back off the bed. White fills your vision, red hot pleasure searing your body from head to toe, and Seonghwa kisses you through it. The warmth only persists because he cums inside you a second later, painting the inside of your walls with white.

You don’t dare to move for several minutes after and just focus on Seonghwa��s weight against your body and the softly spoken praises he whispers into the shell of your ear. When he does move away from you, you throw your arms around his waist and squeeze him tight so that he can’t leave.

“Let’s just stay like this a while,” you murmur, the exhaustion clearly audible in your tone. “Please.” Seonghwa laughs lightly, then brings his lips back to your forehead.

“Okay, baby girl. Anything for you.”

...

a/n: not funny. i cried. this is too soft for me. expect hard shit to make up for it ;-;

link to kinktober masterlist

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unable to be tagged: @sailing-goddess-of-ateez @gingerale-addict

[rayofsunas]

valentine | diluc [4] finale

A/n: excuse my little break, lol. I’ve been busy with homework and life tbh, but I’m back!! thanks to those of you who checked in and reassured me breaks are necessary, you really made me feel better thank you <333 andddd, this last chapter whoop whoop! I had so much fun with this, I’m kinda sad ;-; but I’m really excited to start my next mini-series hehe. I’m not sure who I’m going to do next, but I’m leaning towards scaramouche or xiao hmm. let me know what you guys think!! I hope you’re having a beautiful friday/day wherever you are! stay safe <333

Summary: the ever so stoic diluc thought he was being secretive when sending anonymous letters and gifts to you during the week of valentine’s day but turns out everyone in mondstadt knew it was him, though thankfully had tight enough lips to not spill the beans to you. kaeya is of no help, so you go seeking answers yourself.

Parings: Diluc/Fem! Reader (for my other mini-series, there will be some gn ones!)

Warnings: valentines (yes, I’m late, shoot me), fluff, swearing, OOC DILUC BECAUSE I CAN’T WRITE FOR HIM (you’ve been warned)

Word count: 4.9k (omg- I’m so proud of this chapter too, enjoy!)

Kaeya was the younger brother of Master Diluc. The anonymous man writing to you said he’d had a brother, you assumed younger and now that you knew which was the older of the pair, everything was pointing to the man being Master Diluc.

You couldn’t lie you were frazzled. Could it really be Master Diluc writing to you? You of all people? You weren’t special in any way, no matter how many times Victoria praised you for your intelligence and skills. You didn’t feel so smart right now though, seeing as though Master Diluc had completely slipped your mind as being the writer; you felt ignorant. 

Now that you were walking quietly behind Master Diluc, it made sense. The encrypted words, expensive and thoughtful gifts; Cecilia’s, Qingxin imported specially from Liyue, hell you were even gifted a gorgeous silver bracelet, a red jewel in the center that looked very similar to Diluc’s vision dangling by his left thigh. And although both Captain Kaeya and Master Diluc were well off in terms of Mora, it was your understanding that Diluc was the wealthiest person in Mondstadt, he could afford such commodities anytime he wished.

Should you ask him or would you just embarrass yourself? 

No, you should respect his wishes... If he was in fact the anonymous man, he’d wanted to stay that way for reasons he’d already stressed to you. The least you could do to return the favor was respect his decision and not force him to come clean... No matter how curious you were. 

By the time you were at the Knights headquarters - you have your own place, headquarters is just better to sleep it when you have early mornings - the cool night breeze had set in as well as the silver, twinkling stars. You stood awkwardly at your door, eyes frantically looking anywhere but those red hues. Master Diluc seemed to also be doing the same much to your comfort. At least he was feeling similarly to you. 

“I hope this doesn’t get you in any kind of trouble.” Master Diluc suddenly said, hand sheepishly going to scratch the back of his neck. 

You tilted your head, confused. “Hmm?” 

He blinked at you, eyes going wide for a minute; embarrassment it seemed. “Do Knights not have strict curfews anymore?” He asked. 

Ah, the curfew rule. You had been a young Knight when that was implemented, though, in recent years, it had fizzled down to nothing really. All thanks to a few rule-breakers, a few years back. Then rule had been made for Knights, Captains, everyone. Though now it mostly applied to Knights in training, obviously no one followed the rule. 

“Oh, no, the rule was changed a while back,” You said. “Young Knights in training kept ignoring the curfew and it became a hassle for the Captains to go search them during bed checks at headquarters, they pulled an invisible plug.” A look of distaste appeared on the young man's face, you frowned in response.  

“Of course,” He muttered. “Inefficiency at its best.” You watched silently as he folded his arms across his chest and looked off into the distance to his left. He seemed to be trying to control his anger and irritation, or at least keep it locked down in front of you. Though he was failing, the scowl was evidence on his handsome face. And almost as soon as the words had come out of his mouth, he’d seemed to have regretted it. He snapped his head back to look at you and rushed to apologize. 

“I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect-”

You waved a hand out in the air interrupting him. “I agree,” His face relaxed. You what? “The curfews helped us all be more responsible. There was less slacking off and rogue Knights, that’s for sure,” He watched in astonishment as you laughed it off as if he hadn’t just offended you and your fellow Knights.

“My Captain still follows the rules, to an extent. The trainees are required to live at headquarters, they can’t leave until they’re eighteen or get promoted to a higher position. Knights like me or higher, on the other hand, that rule doesn’t apply to us, unless there’s a far away commission the next morning.” You explained. Master Diluc seemed to visibly relax, you assumed he was glad to hear someone still followed the rules.

“Don’t tell my captain I said this, but he’s a real old-timer; that’s why he follows your rules.” You laughed again, a small smile formed on the redhead's face, you were surprised and caught off guard by that. 

“A good man.” He approved, you laughed again. Archons, was that music to his ears. 

“That he is.”  

Diluc enjoyed the silence settling in, that’s for sure. He only realized how late it had gotten until after he’d watched you yawn, eyes closing slightly as your body seemed to shrink with each inhale and exhale; you were tired, and no doubt had duties tomorrow. How ignorant of him to keep you up like this, even if he had more of a chance to speak with you and be in your presence. 

“I shouldn’t keep you any longer,” You heard him say, watching as he took a few steps back. “I’m sure you have a busy day tomorrow.”

That was partially true, you did have an early day tomorrow. You weren’t sure what your duties would be though, maybe paperwork, more training, a commission or two? You would check with your Captain. But jeez, why had things slipped your mind so easily today? 

“Yes... I nearly forgot.”

He chuckled, adding, “You seem to have forgotten a lot today.” You giggled tiredly. 

“I agree. I promise, I’m usually not like this,” You said. “I did have a question, but it’s quite late...”

A single eyebrow quirked up, he shifted to lean on one side, cockily almost. “So, you’ve remembered?” Shit. 

“Yes and no?” You replied, realizing, either way, you’d gotten yourself in a mildly sticky situation. 

Okay... At Dawn Winery, it had completely slipped your mind. But it seemed the fresh air and break from Victoria’s amazing story had helped you regain your memory. You remembered your question now, it was in bold, red words right in front of you. But you’d decided to not ask him, not until he came forward and revealed himself if he really was the anonymous man he would. Maybe you’d give it a week...?

“Interesting...” Diluc thought to himself, you cringed to yourself, fearful of being caught lying, he seemed to be onto you. “When you remember, will you come find me?” He teased. “Stop by for a drink one time; tea, wine, juice, anything. My mother really enjoyed your company...”

Master Diluc knew. He had to of known you were lying. He was far too intelligent to not know. 

“I- Sure.” 

-

Diluc had never thought he’d see you in his presence so soon, that’s for sure. He thought he’d only see you when he decided to confess, which he was still working on. He never thought he’d be walking you home, but you had been great company and what kind of man would he be if he let a woman walk home by herself? Even if you were a Knight. 

He was a bundle of nerves the whole way even after he arrived back home, to greet his mother was oddly still up. 

“Mother, you’re awake?” He asked, stepping into the house for the last time tonight, eyes scanning the room to see the fireplace lit and crackling, the older woman sitting on an armchair. And would you look here, his annoying brother was present as well. That caused Diluc’s face to crease in annoyance. “And you’re here. Why?” He spat, the Cavalry Captain rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t have a bedtime,” She teased, Kaeya smiling. Those two were like two peas in a pod once together, his mother was definitely the more reasonable and tolerant. “And leave your brother alone, it’s from my understanding that he helped you with that girl, Y/n.” 

Diluc rolled his eyes. Of course, Kaeya would tell their mother, but the real question was, had he told others? He definitely wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of Mondstadt knew of his crush on you, all thanks to his annoying little brother. 

“It’s no one's business, but mine,” The wine tycoon snapped. Victoria’s face scrunched up in anger, eyes glaring daggers. “Sorry...” He apologized, moving around the couches and armchairs, to finally sit on the loveseat not occupied, his hands went to his face, elbows rested on his knees.

“So,” Kaeya started, earning a testing look from the woman across from him. A look of warning. “You walked her home, anything else happen?” Kaeya couldn’t help but smirk to himself.

“What’re you implying?” The eldest snapped. 

Kaeya shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, did you maybe tell her, kiss her?” Victoria hissed, nearly launching herself over the arm of her chair to swat her youngest on the back of his head. He groaned in annoyance. 

“Not yet.”

“Are you going to?” The cryo user probed. 

Archons, Kaeya always had too many idiotic questions. Nosy bastard. Of course, he’d tell you, eventually.

“I’m working on it...” Kaeya chuckled to himself, Victoria just stared at the redhead with sadness. She felt bad, you were a great young woman, she saw that. Hell, she hadn’t even known you for an hour, but she already approved. She wanted this to work out for her eldest, he’d always been the one with the most burdens on his shoulders it seemed, he always picked up the entire world's troubles and carried them on strong shoulders. He deserved someone good, someone, like you. “Now, don’t you have better things to do? Like getting drunk? Go away.” He sounded like a child all over again, Victoria thought. He was unfolding right here, he was still her little boy after all. 

Kaeya frowned, seeing how bothered his brother seemed. An eye focused on Victoria who was mouthing for him to go upstairs, he decided to listen for once surprisingly. With less sass in his step, Kaeya found himself wandering towards the stairs and eventually disappearing up them.

As soon as the trouble maker was gone, Victoria shifted in her seat so she could fully face her eldest son. 

“Do you love her?” She suddenly asked, Diluc’s heart seemed to speed up significantly. “It’s alright if you��re not sure, I’ve been there many times-”

“Yes, I do.”

He watched with an embarrassed hue on his face as his mother smiled a genuine, bright smile. She was happy for him, proud, she approved. That’s all he’d wanted. He wishes his father could meet you, he’d like you, he was sure of it. 

“That’s great. I’m very happy for you,” She said proudly. “You should tell her. She’s a great woman, she’ll accept you with open arms.” She reassured though Diluc could only shake his head. 

“You cannot be so sure.” He mumbled sadly, Victoria clicked her tongue with the shake of her head, leaning forward in her seat. 

“I can,” She said, matter a factly. “She reminds me of myself when I was younger, though a little less reckless and in a much better headspace. She’s sure of herself I can tell, even though she looked quite frazzled in your presence; but all young women get like that around my sons.” The woman added with a teasing smile, Diluc just waved her off nonchalantly. He didn’t care about any other woman, you mattered most, above all. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” She reassured. “I’m not sure if her feelings are romantically driven, but I can tell she respects you a great deal. Poor thing though, she was so nervous she looked like a shaking leaf... I’ll have to help her feel more comfortable, after all, she might as well be my future daughter-in-law.”

Diluc nearly froze. Archons, his mother was something else... “Mother, I haven’t even told her I’m the one behind the letters-”

“Nonsense!” She said over excitedly. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about marrying her?” 

“Maybe even a family...?” He knew she was getting antsy for grandchildren, though he couldn’t understand why so soon. She wasn’t even in her fifties yet, and he and Kaeya were barely into adulthood. She’d had a hard enough time raising two helions at such a young age and then by herself after their father's death, so why was she resilient for him to start a family? He’d never understand mothers' need for grandchildren... 

“Marriage and children are two different things... I haven’t given much thought towards children,” He said honestly. “I always assumed I’d either be alone for life or marry for political reasons... Father had always said Jean was perfect for me,” Victoria frowned at his statement. “And children well... they don’t particularly like me.”

“Nonsense. I knew your father for ten years or so, and let me say, he’d be proud of whatever decision you make. Jean, Y/n- he just wanted you happy,” She explained wholeheartedly, words filled with sincerity. “And let me just say, no other child will look at you with such love and adoration, other than your own. They’ll hold you in the highest regards, then it won’t even matter if other kids like you or not. The only validation you’ll need is from your own child,” Her eyes glittered with joy, a smile forming on her beautiful face. “I can say that with one hundred and ten percent honesty and certainty, from experience with you and Kaeya.”

Diluc’s heart warmed at that. She always knew what to say and he always felt this great sense of pride from her whenever talking about being their mother. She enjoyed it so much, she was proud she’d taken the offer ten or so years ago, the best decision she’d ever made. 

“I much like your father, only want you happy. If being with Y/n without marriage or children makes you happy, then those things don’t matter to me.”

He flashed a warm smile, that nearly left her starstruck, nearly frozen like an icicle from Dragonspine. “Thank you, mother,” She nodded, cheeks flaring red. 

“I think one day... if things work out, I will ask her to marry me,” 

“And if she wanted children, I’d be alright with that too.”

“I’d do anything for her.”

-

“Captain, good morning.” You exclaimed walking into your Captain's office the next morning, taking note of how he was sitting behind his mahogany desk, reviewing what looked to be paperwork and a map in front of him. 

He briefly looked up, dark eyes meeting yours, before pointing to the seats opposite side of the desk. “Come take a seat, Knight.” You nodded following orders, falling into quick, silent steps, choosing to take a seat in the left chair. 

You waited for your orders, eyes staying trained on your Captain. He eventually spoke. “I see you’ve been making quick work of your commissions here in Mondstadt,” The older man noted, you just nodded, appreciating the praise. “Five a day and you’ve managed to fit in training for the younger Knights I see.”

“Yes, sir, I believe the daily training is important.” You admitted honestly. 

“Yes, it is,” He agreed, finally meeting your eyes only after he turned the map around so it was properly facing you. “Allow me to cut right to the chase,” You gulped nervously. Were you being blacklisted? Given a higher position, maybe Captain? What was going on? You slowed your brain, remembering he was going to explain to you what was going on in a moment. But that didn’t stop you from worrying. You were a capable Knight, your stats showed that you just hoped you weren’t being let go. 

Easing your nerves, your Captain began speaking again. “Acting Grand Master Jean has recently been notified that the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, Childe, has stolen the Geo Archons’ Gnosis.” Your heart dropped to your stomach. Shock, fear, confusion was present in every form within you. Those names and titles sounded familiar, they weren’t unknown figures in Teyvat, not at all. It was a custom for all types of schooling in Teyvat to be educated on all seven of the Archons and nations, and groups such as the Fatui with their elite branch of soldiers, the Harbingers. Plus, as soon as the Knights in training passed the required tests and became official Knights, they would be taught separately from what was usually taught; learn about much rarer and dangerous types of monsters, learn every detail of the Eleven Fatui, about any assassins and people to be wary about on commissions and travels between nations.  

One question you had was why in the world were the Harbingers stealing the Archons Gnosis? You’ve heard that Lord Barbatos’ Gnosis had also recently been stolen by La Signora, Eighth of the Fatui Harbingers. So, what was the reason for the Geo Archons to be stolen as well? 

The more obvious answer to that question was they were probably stealing their powers to harness themselves. They were strong enough though, they would only be selfish to steal a literal god's Celestial power and take it for themselves. Greedy, you noted.

But you couldn’t be sure because one of Alchemy's prominent figures, an elder, who closely worked with Albedo in the past, had recently been kidnapped by a Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Harbingers. Teyvat was lucky Albedo hadn’t been taken hostage, it was decided he would be under watch for now. 

You were seeing an obvious pattern here. A devious, worrying pattern. But now that an alchemist had been kidnapped and was under their care, maybe even lack thereof, one of the worst possible scenarios became evidently present and more aware. 

Alchemy could do many wonders, one is to make new forms of life; plants, animals, etc. If the pattern stayed true that they planned to be stealing all the Archons Gnosis was true, then they could possibly be creating an artificial army of sorts, with the usage of life forms created by Alchemy. This wasn’t good.

“This isn’t good.” You muttered, hand going under your chin in thought. Your captain nodded, though you missed it, too deep in thought. 

“You see the issue I presume then,” He said, you nodded in response. “Great. You’ll be a fast learner in the kind of environment you’ll be placed in.” You hummed, wondering what in the hell he was talking about.

“Acting Grand Master Jean and I, have cleared you to venture into Snezhnayan territory to gather intel.”

What? You’ve never traveled outside of Mondstadt, ever. Hell, you’ve never even been into Liyue, the closest nation to Mondstadt... Snezhnaya was very, very far away. Pretty dangerous territory, so you’ve heard. Even the locals had a hard time managing the severe storms and frigid cold. 

“Sir, I’ve never been to Snezhnaya before.” You explained, eyes filled with confusion. 

“Do not worry,” The man reassured. “You may take a small team with you if you please. The Knight’s cartographer, Maria, is very skilled at what she does, she’d be a great help,” He offered. You agreed, you’ve never met Maria personally, but she’d be a great help. “Any other cleared Knight, you may take with you on your journey,” You nodded. 

“But like all Knights, you’re exceptionally skilled in the medical field and your stats are practically off the chart; you’re an elite soldier, Knight. There’s a reason Acting Grand Master Jean requested you do this.” You froze, questioning your ability no longer. You would accept this mission without a fuss. Acting Grand Master Jean choose you for this mission specifically. She trusted you, she valued your skills and assets and was acknowledging them. This was any Knight’s dream. The man’s praise, no, Acting Grand Master Jean’s silent praise and approval meant worlds to you... You wished you had the time to thank her personally, but it was from your understanding you would need to leave immediately. 

“Thank you, sir,” He sent a firm nod your way. “I assume I would be leaving as soon as possible. So, could you pass my thanks and gratitude to the Acting Grand Master?”

He allowed a smile to spread across his aging face, head-nodding gently, though the smile had disappeared soon after. “I will.”

You bowed your head out of respect. “Thank you.” 

Your Captain continued to clue you in about the journey to Snezhnaya, that you would be sent as a spy since you’ve never had any run-ins with any of the Harbingers, therefore your job as a spy would be easier. He allowed you to pick a small team of your choosing, to accompany you into the cold. Though, reassured him you would manage fine with just Maria, the young cartographer. You didn’t want to burden anyone else, especially if this journey was much more trying and dangerous than originally thought. 

He came to a standing position, you mirrored his movements as he walked you to the door to see you out.

“I’m sorry to have to bring you this news before Valentine's day, I’m not sure if you wanted to spend the day with a loved one...” He trailed on, eyes filled with an apologetic tint. He was truly sorry to bear you this bad news of sorts, right before the day of love. You understood though, this was your duty. You wouldn’t complain because you had no reason to.

“I’m sorry to have to bring you this news before the day of love,” Ah Valentine's day... You’d completely forgotten that was coming up... “I’m not sure if you wanted to spend the day with a loved one...” He trailed on, eyes filled with an apologetic tint. He was truly sorry to bear you this bad news of sorts, right before the day of love. You understood though. 

“I had no plans, so it’s quite alright, sir,” You said turning to him as soon as you were standing under the door frame. “This mission is of the utmost importance. It’s my duty as a Knight to accept and complete the tasks asked of me.”

He nodded, hand raising to salute you, once he was done you mirrored him out of respect. “Very well put, Knight,” He praised again. “Safe travels on your journey, keep me updated with weekly reports.”

“I will, sir.”

-

As soon as you had left your Captain's office, you were quick to find the cartographer Maria, she’d be helping you find your way through Liyue and into Snezhnaya. 

It was to your knowledge that around this time of year, the snow in Snezhnaya was even thicker and harder to trudge through, you needed to leave as soon as you could.

Eventually, you found Maria in the library, grabbing various types of books and maps and throwing them into a large brown leather satchel. Great. It seems as though she had already been let in about the mission before you; you could get going much sooner.

Now, you were on your way to your own house to grab any necessities not left in your room at headquarters; clean clothes, Mora, etc. As soon as you made sure you had enough Mora to buy food or anything else you’d need along the way, and clothes for a warm journey, though making sure not to shoulder too much, you were on your way to the gates with Maria now at your side.

You didn’t make it far out of the gates of Mondstadt before you were being stopped, surprisingly by Master Diluc. 

He looked to be in a hurry, out of breath as he came running up to you and Maria. When he spotted the young woman at your side, your sword on your hip and backpack on your shoulders, he realized he might’ve caught you at a bad moment...

“Apologies, you seem to be on a mission...” He said meekly.

You waved your hand, smiling back at Maria who had wandered towards the gates to give you two privacy. Looking back at Master Diluc, you said, “No worries, I was just heading out.”

“May I ask where?” You tilted your head to the side, confused. He caught onto your confusion and clarified by saying, “I just wanted to tell you something,”

It must be important to come bounding after you like he just did, unfortunately, though you were leaving...

“Oh,” You glanced back at Maria waiting by the shared entrance and exit, face buried deep in a newly made map. “I’m actually headed somewhere important, I don’t think I’ll be back for a while,” You noticed his face drained paler than it already was, but you decided to ignore it. He probably wouldn’t clarify what that was about. “You could write me a letter and leave it on my windowsill for me for when I return-”

“I’m the one behind the letters.” He interrupted, face regaining color, but this time, his cheeks tinted red, matching none other than his wavy hair kept back in a ponytail.

Your heart stopped beating. “What...?”

“Please don’t make me repeat myself...” He whispered, glancing around. You followed his eyes silently, noticing people had begun to silently convene. 

You weren’t sure if they knew that he was the one behind the love letters. You assumed not.... they were probably just shocked to see the young wine tycoon out in public, nonetheless talking to a woman.

“Oh,” you said, ignoring that his face seemed to deepen in worry again. Unbeknownst to you, all Diluc could think was, she’s disappointed it’s me. Why else would she react that way? She hoped for someone else...

But you opened your mouth, and shared words that reassured him, made him feel less ashamed. “Thank you for telling me. I um- I’m very happy it’s you,” He glanced up from the ground, red eyes meeting yours. A genuine smile was on your face, and for once, a genuine smile came to his nature. “I’d secretly hoped it was you.” You admitted. Diluc’s heart fluttered with joy, he couldn’t describe the feelings and emotions that were currently present within him, he just knew they were so overwhelming, he’d only wanted to do one thing.

“May I kiss you?” He asked respectively. Your own heart began to flutter and do somersaults within your chest. 

Right here? Right now? In front of all these people? He was comfortable with that?

But you found yourself shyly whispering yes. 

And he did exactly that, he kissed you like a shy teen, quickly leaning in to peck your slightly dry lips (you wished you applied some lip balm before leaving your house, but you didn't know you’d be getting kissed by the most beautiful man in all of Teyvat) before pulling away bashfully. You giggled at that, ignoring the gasps of the woman, men, and few children - whose eyes were being covered by their mothers.

“I’m very happy to hear that you’re not disappointed it’s me.” He’d whispered against your lips before pulling away to stare at you. Archons, you wished he hadn’t pulled away soon. But the bright hue on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose made up for it. He’s so cute when he blushes, you thought.

Love, adoration, you couldn’t tell... But he seemed to be feeling it all and allowing it to shine brightly in his eyes. 

“I would never be, Master Diluc.” You replied, equally as starstruck as he appeared.

“Diluc is fine.” He reassured you, you stared at him in awe, before smiling. 

“Diluc...” You whispered to yourself, correcting what you'd said earlier. You would have to get used to calling him just Diluc, though dropping the title Master would be hard. It was what everyone called him.

“If it’s alright, I’d like to accompany you on your commission,” he said, shocking you for the second time today. 

“Really? You would seriously do that?” You asked, astonished. 

“Of course,” He started. “You can handle yourself, yes, but for my own sanity I would like to accompany you to make sure you’re safe.” He didn't belittle your skill, which you were thankful for. Many men, often ones in the military belittled your skill and claimed you needed assistance because you were a woman. You weren’t some fragile being, you were a Knight of Favonius. 

“Thank you...” You whispered, he seemed to understand immediately what the gratitude was for. 

“Are you ready?” You asked, noticing how he didn’t have any bags, just himself and his Claymore. “You don’t have any gear...” You noted.

“I’ll alright, that’s all I need if I’m with you.” He whispered so only you could hear, shyly reaching for your hand.

For a moment, you stood staring at his outstretched hand, wondering how in the world this had happened and when he became such a romantic. He’d been behind the letters the whole time and had kissed you?! Diluc would surely need to tell you the story of it all on your journey. You had a long way to Snezhnaya, soyou had time for the entire story. 

The only thing ingrained in your mind as you allowed his hand to encompass your own, was that you missed the touch of his lips on yours and greatly enjoyed his romantic admissions.

[🏷] TAGLIST (if you want to be removed from/added to this specific taglist let me know!)

@gladly-olus​ , @kyquu , @craptainlou , @mintydump , @chscklvr , @irisxiel , @minh0ree , @whatishappinesswhatislove , @rrintarou , @sorenthousand , @cvsmix , @nonniechan ,

3.12.21, rayofsunas

[ruzek-halstead]

meet me in the afterglow: first date

request from @felicitysmoaksx: i would like to see a continuation of the “i’m so stressed out during finals that i show up to the exam in my onesie and you tell me i look cute” university au. maybe like their first date?

read the original fic here

-

Luke and Julie ended up at a 24-hour diner a few minutes off campus. There was a light wind blowing through Julie's curls, and she was glad her onesie was so warm and fuzzy. Luke seemed perfectly at ease in his sleeve tank, but then again, she could feel his warm skin every time her wrist knocked against his arm. Her hand was still loosely clasped in his. She expected it to be slightly awkward; she had just met Luke and this was unlike anything she had ever done before. In her past four years of studies, she didn't have much time for a social life, much less a boyfriend. But there was no way she could've turned down his invite after the entirety of the situation.

When they reached the exterior of the diner, Julie spotted various empty booths. There were a few students who were quite obviously studying, what with their textbooks and highlighters strewn around the table, but it was generally quite empty. Even though it was relatively empty, Julie was still hit with a wave of anxiety with being seen in this onesie by everyone in the diner. It was dumb, she knew that; she had completed her exam in front of people with this onesie and even walked across campus with it. But for some reason, she couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling. When Luke moved forward to open the door, he stumbled back and realized Julie had stopped walking. Their intertwined hands pulled him to a stop. He noticed Julie's worried eyes and moved closer, ducking his own head to catch her gaze. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" God, Julie wanted to scream. This is not how their first date was supposed to be going. "This is going to sound weird," Julie laughed nervously. "But I'm feeling super self-conscious about this onesie right about now." Luke's facial features softened, and he stepped even closer. He let go of her hand to bring it up close to her face; Julie's breath hitched and he stopped his movements. "Julie, believe me when I say this, you look stunning in that onesie. Honestly, I’m too distracted with your beauty to even notice anymore.” Her brain was short-circuiting and no words were coming to mind. His green gaze was so captivating, she couldn't look away. But they were standing outside the diner and she had to do something. His hand that stopped mid-air dropped back down, outlining her arm through the onesie to intertwine their pinkies. Julie felt her knees begin to shake. She swallowed hard. “Well, I am pretty hungry.” That was the most her incapacitated brain could come up with currently, but the comment sent a brightening smile to Luke’s lips. “Great,” he added, once again pulling open the front door. Julie took a deep breath to regain her confidence. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought; it only mattered how she felt. And if she was being honest, she felt pretty damn good after hearing what Luke had to say. There was a sign at the front saying ‘seat yourself’ so Julie slid into a widow booth. Luke slid in across from her, his vibrant smile still on full display. It had been quite some time since Julie went on a first date. It was also pretty obvious that she was out of her element, but Luke seemed perfectly okay with taking the lead. “So, what’s your major, Julie?” He waited until their waitress came over to hand them menus and bring two glasses of water to ask his question. He was casually perusing the menu, but inside, he was dying to know more about this mysterious girl. “You mentioned something about an Evidence course?” Julie glanced up from her menu with a soft smile. She hadn't really gotten a chance to celebrate the fact that she was officially finished her major, (however, she couldn't think of a better way to celebrate than a date with an incredibly cute and caring guy). "I was in Criminology. That was my last exam ever, actually." Luke's eyes widened comically, a large grin spreading over his face. "Congratulations, that's amazing!" He cheered, reaching over to softly squeeze her wrist. "Wow, I should be taking you out to a five course meal — not this." Julie's eyes snapped up to meet his. He was grinning and he looked confident, but Julie could see the underlying insecurity beneath. It was intriguing to see, given how comfortable he had been since they'd met. "This is perfect," she replied evenly, meeting his eye with assurance. Luke matched her smile. The waitress came back to take their order, smiling knowingly at the adorable couple. Luke ordered a chocolate milkshake with a cheeseburger and fries, while Julie also ordered a chocolate milkshake and a chicken caesar wrap with sweet potato fries. “Perfect. I’ll put that order in right away and it’ll be out soon,” their waitress assured them with a bright smile. “What about you?” Julie asked, straw between her lips. She didn’t miss the way Luke’s eyes flickered down for a nanosecond; it gave her all the confidence in the world. “Your major?” Luke took a moment longer to reply (yes, he was composing himself, what about it?). “I’m actually a music major.” Julie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh, really?” “Yeah. I was just taking that course as a filler,” he explained. “That was my final exam too.” Julie’s face lit up in excitement. “Doesn’t it feel great?” “Unbelievable,” he chuckled. “A little scary because what the hell am I supposed to do now?” Julie’s smile dimmed a bit. She was in the same boat and she had been avoiding thinking about it for as long as possible. However, she was still young and there was always the possibility of going back to school (although, her current outfit and mental stability would argue against that). “But we’re not going to think about that right now,” she replied with a coy smile. Luke opened his mouth to rebut, but he was instead distracted by the mouthwatering scent of their food arriving. He was mesmerized, but Julie was straight up emotional about it; she truly thought she might cry. “Oh God,” she mumbled, her senses completely overloaded. “It’s been so long since I’ve had proper food. Does coffee count as a food?” Luke was already shoving fries into his mouth. “Definitely not,” he replied through a full mouth. It definitely wasn’t first date etiquette but Julie was so hungry, she couldn’t be bothered to notice. Not that she cared anyway, she was quickly gnawing down her wrap, nearly forgetting to breathe. Once Julie was satisfied that her hunger was appropriately satiated and she could finally multi-task again, she took a sip of her milkshake and turned her attention to Luke once again. “So, music. How’d you get into it?” Luke was momentarily surprised at the question, but he was more than happy to speak about it. Music was everything to him; he could talk about it all day. “Honestly, it kind of just happened. A cousin of mine used to have a guitar and we taught ourselves to play.” “Are you any good?” Julie meant it to come out teasingly, but it really ended up sounding more flirty than anything. “Maybe you should find out.” Luke very easily matched her tone and Julie found herself sweating before him. “How do you propose I do that?” Well, she may as well continue with the ruse. She had leaned forward in the booth, resting her chin in her hand. “Lucky for you, I have a band.” Julie’s brain immediately stopped all function. He was attractive, he had amazing biceps, he was sweet and respectable and he was in a band? “You — you’re in a band?” Julie cringed at the obvious fumble in her words. He can’t just drop that on her and expect her to be okay though. An unconscious smile spread across his features. “My best friends and I are in a band. We try to play gigs whenever we can; you know, exposure.” “Oh — you play gigs,” Julie swallowed. God, her throat was dry. “Does that mean you have original songs?” Luke nodded again; he looked so excited. “My band calls me the Shakespeare of songwriting. Can’t help myself.” Julie’s brain started screaming at her again: HE WRITES SONGS. Julie grabbed her glass of water and drained it halfway. “That’s awesome. Uh — so, are you the guitarist?” “Lead guitarist,” he smirked with pride. “I’m also the lead singer.” Julie squeezed her water glass so tight, her knuckles turned white. Luke’s eyes dropped to her hand and his smirk only widened. He was full-on torturing her now and he knew it. “How the hell are you even real?” Julie was never known for her subtlety. Luke should know that by now since she basically went off on him in the exam room already anyway. He wasn’t, however, expecting that random question. His eyebrows rose in surprise, but Julie didn’t elaborate. Instead, she seemed to be almost glaring at him. He laughed, a hint of nervousness in his tone. “Excuse me?” “You’re a guitar player in a band, you write songs and you sing them. You’re ridiculously sweet and kind and I haven’t seen any red flags yet, which is literally unbelievable nowadays. You’re somehow interested in me and you’re ridiculously hot. There must be something else going on here because there is no way in hell that this is real.” Luke could only blink at her. He took a moment to mull over his next words before he relayed them with a frown. “If you’re impressed by my kindness, which should just be basic human behaviour, then men clearly need to do better.” Julie bit her lip as she sighed. “Sorry. That was a lot. I just mean—” Luke interrupted. “You seem to be really surprised that someone like me could be interested in you and I just don’t understand,” he explained, brows furrowed together. “What you and I see is clearly different. I see someone intelligent and dedicated enough to her studies to block out everything else and get it done. I see someone beautiful, no matter what they're wearing. I see someone who doesn't think as highly of themselves as they should because I've only known you a few hours and that's enough for me to know that I want you in my life." Now it was Julie's turn to blink. "Sorry," Luke popped out a smirk, "That was a lot." "Listen," Julie breathed, openly avoiding eye contact as she started her explanation. "I'm not, nor have I ever been, that successful in the dating department. This," she motioned between her and Luke, "Has never happened to me before and I'm not entirely sure how to handle it. So, I'm sorry if I'm butchering this." Luke instantly reached forward to grab her hand. "You're not." "Are you sure?" She laughed nervously. "I've given you more than one reason tonight to think I'm certifiably insane." Luke looked up from their conjoined hands with an earnest smile. "I hate to break it to you, but it's going to take a lot more than that to drive me away." Julie considered it for a moment. "You know what, I'm okay with that." "Good," he laughed. He stood up from the booth. "I'll be right back." Julie took this opportunity to momentarily reflect. In the span of twenty-four hours, she had gone through a range of emotions like something she'd never experienced before. But she had successfully completed her exams, and thus, completed her major. She could now take a break from school and decide how she wanted to proceed. Somehow the worst week of her life ended up as one of the best. Luke returned a few moments lately, shoving his wallet back into his back pocket. "Alright, we're all squared away. You ready to go?" Julie nodded with a smile, easily following him outside. "Thanks for the meal, Luke. I needed it." "Of course." He was unable to lose the grin from his face. "Hey, is it alright if I get your number?" Julie almost tripped over herself in taking out her cellphone from the pocket of her onesie. They exchanged phone numbers with a smile. "I live just around the corner over there," Julie motioned with her index finger. "But tonight was great, and I had a lot of fun." Luke's eyebrows furrowed together. "Oh, that's great. But I'm walking you home." "You don't need to do that," she replied automatically. "I want to." Well, Julie couldn't dispute that. Luke once again reached for her hand and Julie led the way. She knew it would be an exceptionally short walk, but he kept the conversation going for all of it. It felt like he couldn't get enough of talking to her and it seriously made Julie's heart squeeze with affection. When they reached the doorstep of Julie's building, she turned to him with nervous eyes. "I would love to take you out again," Luke murmured quietly. The energy around them had suddenly changed and Julie was hyper aware of his thumb stroking her palm. "I would love to see your band," she replied, because honestly, she still hadn't gotten that image out of her head. An immediate grin broke out on Luke's face. "Then it's decided," his eyes softened once again as he took a step down. "Get some sleep, Julie. Celebrate your achievements by forty-seven hours of sleep." "You know what?" Julie threw her head back in a laugh. "I think I just might." His eyes were sparkling as he observed her laughing. It was the best sight he'd seen in ages. Julie could see his hesitation and decided he'd done enough already (especially through her multiple freak-outs over the course of the day). With his small step down, he was finally at her height. She took a small step forward and pulled him closer with a soft hand of the back of his neck. She met his wide eyes as she moved closer and pulled a smile as she pressed her lips dangerously close to his lips. She kept her hand where it was and only moved back to glance in his eyes. His own hand slid behind her back and she savoured every moment of his touch. No words were needed. All they needed was the mere presence of each other. Julie finally pulled away, throwing a shy smile in his direction. "Goodnight, Luke." He was grinning the widest she'd seen since they met. "Goodnight, Julie."

[brockadoodles]

Heartbreak and a New Tattoo - w. nylander

AN: Uhhhhhhhh. Definitely didn’t intend on posting a fic tonight but, cranked this out. It started off as meaning to be fluffy and cute but uh, my angsty cold heart said no? I’m trying to be better about writing shorter stuff, so let me know what you think! I’m gonna tag @broadstbroskis​ and @jasondickinsonss​ since they’re my resident willy pals. 

Word Count: 2653

Warnings: Angst, happy ending though. 

No one warned you that you would lose a piece of yourself when you fell in love. They didn’t caution you about how for every good moment, the ones that make your head spin and your heart race, there would be a chip of your own sense of person falling away. They didn’t tell you that after four years with someone, you slip into their habits, nestling tightly into their life. So much so that you aren’t even sure what direction you’re facing, because everything around you was built by him. It wasn’t that William did anything wrong. In fact, he did everything a partner should. His life was logistically a chaotic nightmare, each step felt like he was balancing on a rope, trying to get to the other side. But he was good at it, he always prioritized you, even when it was hard. The only problem was that he didn’t know the very rope he was stuck on was fraying. 

It had started small, the cracks between you. The calls during road trips became shorter, less engaged. By the time either of you realized what was happening, it was just two people who once aligned into one breathing on a deadline out of obligation because it felt like that was what you were supposed to do. By the time you realized that the person you thought you were, wasn’t anyone recognizable without William by your side, you irresponsibly thought that it was time to let go. So, you let go of the visions of marriage and a family, of the house you dreamed of building together once things settled down, of the thoughts of the holidays spent together, each one more special than the last. You let it all go, taking a seam ripper to the last bits of thread connecting your souls. You couldn’t decide what hurt worse, the demise of what you thought was forever, or the fact that William didn’t put up a fight as you packed your things and left. 

William didn’t know what hit him when you muttered that you were leaving. He was so sure it had to be a mistake, that there had to be some piece of information missing that would fix everything. He felt his chest caving in, the weight of you packing your bags codifying a new language into his head, one that didn’t include you. He spent weeks circling through the last few months before you ended it. Writing down and analyzing every fight, every night spent without talking to each other when he was gone, trying to piece together what moment made you leave. What he could have done to save the very thing that was destined to fall apart no matter how much super glue he tried to stick to it. You needed to find yourself again, and no matter how badly he longed to help you, he needed to let you go. 

When William came back into Toronto in September, he was incessantly telling himself that he was doing better, that the fresh season would throw him back into a familiar enough routine that he could finally adjust to life without you. But familiarity breeds nostalgia, and nostalgia controlled the heartbreak he had spent the last few months trying to let go of. It wasn’t until he was back in the apartment that you shared that the resentment stage of his grief had tucked into his heart. 

The resentment was the worst part of the breakup. Because he didn’t want to resent anything about you. He had gotten four years to love you as best as he could, and he didn’t want to replace all of the memories of love with a feeling of regret. He didn’t regret loving you, even if it ended the way that it had. He didn’t regret thinking he was going to marry you, and when he finally moved on from the resentment stage of grief, he realized that sometimes you can put your all into someone and they simply might not be able to give you all of it back. He was slowly starting to thread the foundation of a new rope, he was starting to move on. But when he saw you standing there in your dark blue dress, your hair a bit shorter than the last time he had seen you, talking to Steph, he dropped the newly constructed rope off the ledge. 

You on the other hand were spending your summer trying to piece together the remaining fragments of your own being, the person who you were before you met William. You were doing okay, as okay as someone could be when they had just ended a four-year relationship with the person that they assumed would be the one. You spent months lying to yourself about being okay. You spent months trying to convince yourself that you didn’t make a mistake, that you didn’t leave because you couldn’t handle being honest with him about how you were feeling. 

It was October and you knew he was back in the city. Hockey had started which meant that his presence was now one you actively had to avoid. You took the long way into the city and back home most days, actively avoiding the arena, knowing that being there would be too much. This half-hearted way of living in the city you called home was manageable, until December when you finally had the courage to unpack the remaining boxes from the home you shared together. 

You were going through a notebook when it fell out, Mitch and Steph’s wedding invitation from over a year ago now. You picked up the card, eyes welling with the tears you had shoved down for the last six months as you remembered that weekend. The weekend you realized Will was your person. 

“I can’t believe you and Mitch are finally getting married.” You hummed to Steph as you slid off your heels and collapsed onto the hotel bed. You had always admired Mitch and Steph, their relationship was one that was the definition of two people who fit together seamlessly, and made the choice to make it work between them. It wasn’t a fairytale or a whirlwind, it was real and raw and you couldn’t be happier as you laid in that hotel bed, dress and makeup still on, half-drunk from the overpriced cocktails that the boys kept flowing after they crashed the bachelorette party, that two of your closest friends were getting married in just two days. 

“God, I know. Is it weird I’m not nervous about it at all?” Steph called from around the corner. You stood up, your feet slightly throbbing from being in heels all night and your mind feeling a bit fuzzy from the drinks as you rounded the corner and saw her taking off her makeup in the mirror. 

“No, you and Mitch are just right, ya know? It works.” You looked at her hand, eyes shifting to the diamond sitting perfectly on her ring finger, sparkly and bright and perfect for her. You grabbed your phone from the counter where you had left it earlier in the evening, not wanting to bring it out with you while you and the girls celebrated with Steph. You looked at the home screen, a small notification catching your eye as you unlocked the phone and hit play on the voicemail. Steph grabbed the phone from your hand, a knowing smile on her face as she turned the volume on the speaker up, William’s voice filling the small hallway before you had the chance to stop it. 

“Hey baby, you’re probably back in the room by now. I just wanted to say that you looked amazing tonight, and I know we can’t be together tonight because of the traditions and all that, but I love you and will be thinking of you.” 

Steph handed you the phone back, a stupid smirk evident on her face that you were pretending to ignore. You went back toward your suitcase, sliding the dress off of your body and throwing on one of Willy’s old sweatshirts and a pair of shorts. You sat on the bed, fingers hovering over your phone as you thought of a message to type back to your boyfriend, a smile lingering on your cheeks from his message. 

“You know what he said to me the night he met you? Granted, he was shitfaced, but I still think it’s relevant.” Steph smirked as she came around the corner, crawling onto the other side of the bed and turning to face you. You rolled your eyes at her and set your phone down, ignoring her slightly as she started speaking again,

“He told me ‘I’m gonna marry her one day Stephanie, just wait.’” 

You let yourself cry over that memory, and for the first time since the breakup, you realized that you were worse off without him, that you had ended something entirely too good for reasons you didn’t understand. You picked up the phone to call more times than you could count, only to set it back down again, torturing yourself with the idea that you had made your decision, and you needed to lay with it.

You were in such a daze when he walked up to you, nerves settling into your stomach at the sight of him. He didn’t look like your Willy anymore, he looked like a hollow version of the man you still were hopelessly in love with, the one that you ultimately played the biggest hand in breaking. You followed him without a word when he asked you if you could talk because the truth was that you would follow William anywhere if it meant that maybe you could get a piece of him back. 

It was awkward for a few moments, both of you riddled with nerves, wondering who was going to dare to break first and say what they were truly thinking about. It was agonizing, being so close to him for the first time in such a long time, and it only made your own doubts about leaving him to come back to your chest in full force. William grabbed your hand quickly, threading his fingers through yours before finally speaking, being the first one to crack the eggshells that you were both walking on. 

“Do you sleep well without me? Because I don’t. I don’t think I’ve slept since June when you left.” He said, head hanging down as if the words he was speaking were in some way shameful. Your heart wanted to break for him because you had been in the same situation for so long, nights feeling long and empty without him there. But part of you was almost feeling some weird sense of satisfaction at knowing he was hurting just as badly as you. You weren’t surprised he dove right in, head first. It was what he always did. He had known you for so long, there wasn’t a point in dancing around saying he missed you now that he had the chance to tell you so, he had already been doing enough to push it away on his own. He didn’t want to keep pushing something that he was starting to realize wasn’t meant to go away. 

“No, willy. I haven’t slept well since we broke up.” You shook your head, opting to tell the truth because up until this point, lying to pretend you were fine had only left you empty, with a broken heart that you didn’t know how to heal. 

“I stayed up until 6 am just because at least then if I called you might be awake. I felt like I was watching myself just get worse and worse, and all I wanted was you. I’m not supposed to want you anymore, William.” 

“I would have answered, I would always answer.” 

“It’s not the same, you know it’s not.” William sighed softly at your words as he let them run in tedious circles through his head. He had spent the better part of the last six months missing you and replaying the events from the summer wondering if you were both wrong for what had happened. Your love story had been like a journey by train, exciting when you’re young and tiring when you get older. It was great until one of you, who could even remember who at this point, had gotten off during a stop and the other one continued on the journey alone and by the time you both reached the final destination, the two different trips couldn’t merge into one anymore. But the problem was that maybe the final destination was all wrong, maybe you were supposed to get off the train because now you could come back together and start a different trip together, one that isn’t tiring when you’re older. 

He looked over at you quickly and let his eyes linger on the features of your face, the ones he used to have memorized hidden by the obvious toll the breakup had taken on you, too. He couldn’t help but think about how if he were to take one look in a mirror that he had been avoiding for the past six months, he probably wouldn’t recognize himself either. 

“I tried to call you,” he started, voice tentative and unsure as you turned to look at him. Your eyes were blurry, and your mind nearly blacked out at the five words he just spoke. Five words that maybe could change everything, or perhaps they would have if you had seen the call in the first place. You tilted your head softly as William ran his hand through his hair. 

“But, your voicemail was full.” You looked away from him, the pain in your chest creeping back in as you took in his second set of five words. Your voicemail, the one that had been filled with messages from him, from times where you were happy, and from drunken nights after the breakup where he sometimes would call and all you would hear on the other end was silence. 

“I couldn’t bring myself to delete them, I just wanted a place where I would be able to hear your voice and have it be just for me,” you smiled sadly, letting the tears blur your vision as you stood up. You didn’t know what to do, this all felt suffocating and overwhelming and yet definitive at the same time. This was it, you were either getting William back, or you were letting him go forever. The choice should have been a simple one and yet it was almost more complicated than the initial choice to breakup had been because at least when you did that, you both thought it was what you wanted. Now you were presented with either putting your heart out in the open, tossing it carefully to the person you had known for so long and putting your trust in him to catch it, or you were running the risk of him dropping it and leaving you crumbled on the floor as you tried to pick up the remnants of whatever would be left after a fumble that big. 

“I spent Christmas without you, please don’t make me spend New Years without you, too.” 

“I don’t want to spend any day without you again.” You whispered, resting your hand on his cheek. William smiled at you and pulled you close into his chest. He tilted your head up and connected his lips to yours, something that you both had spent the last six months missing. You settled into him, feeling your fears melt with each moment that passed. The breakup had left heartache in both of you, but it was necessary to put your real love into permanent ink on both of your chests. A new start, one without heartbreak and with a new tattoo. 

[elysianslove]

Hi! Could I ask for Oikawa with his s/o where they are babysitting his nephew and his s/o's niece? I just think it'd be cute

this man is so precious i want to kith his cheeks and tell him he’s loved

also the first female japanese name i thought of was “mai” so i used that for the s/o’s niece. i hope that’s okay!

━ your lover is the most understanding person you know, and you mean it genuinely. whenever you unexpectedly reschedule your dates, miss any of his games, invite him over to cry in chest, he never once complains. he takes you as you are, with all the good and the bad, because the same you cancel dates suddenly, you also plan the most thoughtful ones; and even if you miss a few of his games, you’re there the next day, in his jersey, cheering the loudest; and the same way you call him over at the most ungodly hours to vent and keep him up with endless tears streaming down your cheeks, you’re there in seconds if the roles are reversed. 

he entire relationship is fifty fifty. he never expects too much, never too little. just enough.

and although guilt still drowns your heart whenever you send him a text notifying him that you’ll have to change your date, again, you remind yourself he’s understanding, and that it’s fine.

of course, your boyfriend’s not only understanding. he’s also, quite frankly, a genius, and it’s evident in the text response he sends you directly after you message him.

i’m on babysitting duty too! come over so we can fulfill our duties as guardians of these children together

also i’d get to see u ;) 

a dork, but still, a genius. 

after quickly returning the text by agreeing to meet him, you greet your niece in the hallway outside, and, anticipation guiding you, you lead her quickly into the bathroom, helping her freshen up before helping her pick an outfit. 

you arrive at around one pm, give or take a few minutes, and having expected oikawa at the door, you’re pleasantly surprised to find a much smaller boy at the door, frowning suspiciously. in record time, oikawa appears, rushing towards his, supposedly, nephew. 

“takeru, your mother will ki— yell at me if she finds out you’re opening doors alone,” your boyfriend huffs, hands on his hips, chest pushed out, and chin raised dramatically as he attempts to scold the child.

takeru crosses his arms defiantly and sticks his tongue out at his uncle. “maybe i want her to,” he retorts, and you don’t attempt to hide the laugh that bubbles at your chest and spills out your lips. 

at the sound of your laughter, oikawa’s attention turns to you, and the approaching frown on his expression disappears, fading into a bright smile. his eyes immediately soften, and he reaches forward, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the house, grouping you into a hug. easily, you fit in his arms, your head resting on his chest as he embraces you tightly, yet softly. with a light kiss pressed to your head, then another to your lips when you pull back, you both turn your attention to the two kids before you.

as oikawa shuts the front door, you kneel by your niece, grabbing her hand softly as the two of you face the young boy. they both seem entranced, like they’re never seen another kid their age before, and this time, you do stop yourself from laughing, opting to smile sweetly. oikawa soon joins you by takeru’s side, nudging the young boy and encouragingly whispering, “introduce yourself.”

almost as if shaken awake, takeru jumps slightly and grins, lifting a hand to wave at your niece. “i’m takeru!”

from next to you, the young girl squares her shoulders, and waves back, responding, “i’m mai!” just as loudly. 

“you’re pretty, mai,” takeru says confidently. 

oikawa’s eyebrows shoot up in both amusement and shock, and he whispers lightly, “who taught you that?” 

right after, mai adds, after an encouraging squeeze of your hand around hers, “thank you! you’re pretty too!”

takeru cocks his head to the side in slight confusion, turning to his uncle as he asks, “boys can be pretty?” when oikawa hums in confirmation, nodding his head, takeru shrugs, lifting a thumbs up and mumbling, “okay,” before reaching forward and grabbing mai’s wrist, proceeding to drag her deeper into the house, their feet tapping loudly against the floor. 

oikawa sighs loudly as he stands, stretching slightly before wrapping an arm around your shoulder, his turn to guide you into his home. against your temple, he mumbles, “date successfully saved,” sounding way too proud of himself. but you let him lead you to the couch, let him wear that smug smile on his lips, because you’re quick to kiss away at it anyways. he melts against you, his body relaxing as your hands settle on his cheeks, pulling his lips harder against yours. his own hands find their way around your waist, slipping beneath the jacket you had on, gripping tightly at the shirt beneath. 

“ewwww!” it’s a continuous, relentless chorus of it that the two of you break apart to, looking before you to find two scrunched up faces and little fingers pointing at you. how have they gotten so acquainted already that they’re ganging up on the two of you? 

“don’t do that on the couch or i’ll tell mom,” takeru threatens, and oikawa scrunches up his nose distastefully. he looks way too cute for his own good. 

“anyone ever tell you you’re a brat?” oikawa retorts, sticking his tongue out at the kid. with a smack landed to his arm, you scold him lightly, and although your eyes are wide, they hold no fire within them. you hear mai laugh gleefully at the interaction, and you roll your eyes, slipping off your jacket and settling into the couch. “you two hungry?” oikawa then asks, before turning his attention to you, and adding, “sorry, you three?” 

you fix him with a playful smile and shrug, “sure.” 

you’d expected lunch to go a lot less smoother than it had, but you decided quickly that your harsh judgement had been misplaced. although you knew mai was very polite while eating, and you didn’t doubt oikawa’s sister’s raising abilities with her own son, you hadn’t expected that combined, they’d still be just as polite and well mannered. 

they bite away at the food slowly, avoiding making a mess, their legs swinging on the high stools as they make idle chat with each other, you don’t entirely understand the conversation, it doesn’t sound very intelligent, but judging from their faces it seemed important or serious. opting not to interrupt them, you join oikawa at the sink, taking the now clean but wet dishes from his hands and drying them.

“hey no, you don’t have to do that,” he scolds, but you shush him, placing the dry plate aside and taking another one to dry. 

“i want to,” you reassure. “i like — i like doing these things with you.” 

he grins teasingly at you, scrubbing diligently at the mug in his hands. “you like playing house?”

you roll your eyes, snatching the mug from his hands. “don’t push it or i’ll leave you stranded with dirty and wet dishes,” you threaten, but he only laughs, leaning closer to you until your shoulders touch. you lean into his touch with subtlety, following this small routine you’d made in the moment, feeling every little tug of his muscles as he cleans and hands you the utensils, while the two children behind you laugh and chat eagerly. it feels — nice. warm. soft. it feels right. and when the image of a future just like this one fills your mind, you don’t push it away. 

end note; im sorry if i didn’t go into too much detail but i hope this was okay!!! i love any and all oikawa content honestly, and i loved writing this 🥺

[galacticlamps]

im sorry im sorry im sorry i know it’s been well over a year but i accidentally thought about Short Trips: Deleted Scenes (again) and it’s killing me (again) so i think im just gonna go ahead and post all these stupid thoughts that have been plaguing me about it since i first heard it & maybe that’ll help clear up some space in my head for like, real life things.

Spoilers I guess? It’s like a year and a half old but also high key the most recent 2nd doctor content i believe we’ve gotten which is like, the only negative thing I can say about it

The TLDR version is this:

I literally cant believe how sweet it is? Painful, but sweet. Like. I don’t honestly know what’s more likely - did they set out to write Jamie a nice little straight love interest and just fail miserably at it by constantly likening her to the Doctor AND paralleling the Doctor’s perspective with her ex’s AND putting Jamie’s relationships with both of them in direct tension with each other while constantly letting his with the Doctor win out?

OR - did they do a very 1960s thing and say hey we’re gonna write what’s essentially a story about how much Jamie and the Doctor love each other and release it on Valentine’s Day thinly disguised as a one-off romance with a french lady?

Now, as a general rule, my attitude toward questions like that is usually “don’t know, don’t care, doesn’t matter” - and while I 100% stand by that, I also have to admit that this particular audio seems to pay enough attention to detail that I’d kind of think I was selling it short if I assumed too many of these things were just meaningless coincidences, you know?

Anyway, that’s the most coherent/overarching thought. And here’s a disorganized list of things I absolutely cannot get over about it (they don’t form any kind of argument, mind, they just all happen to live rent free in my head):

- Celine is first taken in by Jamie being an idiot (specifically him claiming not to speak French, in perfect French); likewise, her entrance in the scene where they actually kiss is marked with a little anecdote about her hat getting stuck on a doornail and her scolding it as she attempts to fix her un-tameable appearance, and the narration says Celine “would often clown for Jamie like this” - all of which, while undeniably adorable, don’t exactly strike me as entirely original traits to have been assigned to Jamie’s love-interest (but also Celine is so cool and her perspective on film/media/time is an excellent addition to the long list of dr who characters)

- When they’re in the present, describing Jamie’s relationship with Celine in 1908, they call him her “companion” and highlight his going nearly everywhere with her, which earns a laugh from the 4th doctor (and me as well, though probably for slightly different reasons - but like, is that really all it takes to have a fling with someone in 60′s era who? bc if so...)

- Celine’s ex-fiance is still in love with her and is jealously watching when she kisses Jamie ... and then the Doctor appears beside him, evidently doing the exact. same. thing. They have the following conversation:

“You know, it’s not prudent to spy on people. But then, people in pain can’t be expected to act prudently.”

“Pain, monsieur? You mistake me.”

“Ah, do I? Good, because I rather thought you’d lost something.”

“What would you know about loss monsieur?”

- I’m sorry doc but who do you think you are, saying stuff like that and smiling sadly at the floor to boot? I 100% had to pause it here the first time I listened, just to not throw my laptop across the room. 

- Then when I recovered continued, the Doctor closes the door so they can’t watch anymore and explains “Possessing things comes so terribly easily to some men that losing them can feel cruel, intolerably cruel. In my experience, only the very best of men cannot be tempted to answer that cruelty with more - I do sincerely hope that you are the best of men.” (guess who gets described as the best of men by the end of the audio?)

- Jamie and the Doctor apparently develop a habit of walking along the river in Paris in silence

- During one such walk, Jamie suggests Celine come with them since she already figured out about the Tardis - and when the Doctor’s worried by this, he says he only allowed Jamie & Celine to grow closer “because of Victoria.” Jamie takes offense at the ‘allowing it’ comment and also refuses to admit he knows what the Doctor means about Victoria, which leads the Doctor to say that he knows how fond Jamie was of her - he was too, of course, but with him, “it was different, wasn’t it?” Jamie only says maybe that’s true and maybe that’s not, but his voice catches until he changes the subject

- Jamie doesn’t see Celine for days both times that she’s recovering from the shock and depression of her work being destroyed. In contrast, when the Doctor’s not well, Jamie’s "afraid” and “guilty” and hardly seems to leave his side at all, if his being there “rushing to embrace him” the second he wakes up - after a period Jamie describes as “at least a week” - is anything to go by, anyway. so either bf writers need to learn how to write a committed straight relationship or admit that’s not what they ever intended in the first place

- Oh yeah, and the Doctor spends that week "asleep” in Jamie’s bedroom - no, there’s no explanation as to if that’s where he was when he first collapsed or if it’s where Jamie decided to take him bc why would they feel the need to explain him being there? why was it even relevant to tell us it was Jamie’s room in the first place?

- The Doctor somehow manages to control the Tardis enough to take Celine on one trip to an alien planet and then return to the correct time & place for her to use the footage she recorded there in her new film - and while the audio doesn’t do very much to explain how that was possible, it does treat this as A Pretty Big Deal, and immediately afterward the Doctor has to spend a week communing with his past self (and/or the Tardis?) debating how likely it is that the Time Lords could use this to trace him. When he decides it’s not worth the risk and they have to stop the film from ever being shown to the public, Jamie asks why he agreed to it in the first place, and all he can say is “Because, Jamie, you asked me to!” earning awkward stares from the crowd.

- Oh, but, lest we forget, that little outburst is also immediately followed by him putting his arm around Jamie’s shoulders, and, shockingly, apparently beginning to actually explain the truth about the danger from the Time Lords - until they’re interrupted, of course idk why exactly but the idea of a 60s dr wanting to come clean with a companion but not being allowed to bc the show demands the war games be something of a reveal hurts me in a very good way

- The mental image of “the Doctor and Jamie, resplendent in borrowed evening wear”

- The audio admitting that Jamie’s not very good at subterfuge, and the Doctor asking if he’s going to be alright with them having to steal the film back from Celine - and Jamie’s little “Aye, Doctor” as he feels a ‘glass arrow piercing his chest’ glad to see bf is reading all my letters about exactly how i feel any time something sad happens to james robert mccrimmon

- The Doctor’s anxious to get out of there for obvious reasons, but he hangs around bc Jamie wants to see Celine again - which doesn’t happen, because of her aforementioned shock & depression, but she does leave Jamie a note that ends “you and that Doctor of yours - look after him Jamie, he loves you dearly, as do I.” yeah, if you didn’t want people to draw a parallel there, you could’ve picked, like, any other wording in the world.

- In case you weren’t fully convinced I’ve been reading too much into this whole audio already, consider this: Celine dies in Long Island in 1968, three days before her birthday - 1968 is when this story would’ve taken place in the show’s history (between Fury & Wheel), and dying three days before/after a birthday in America seems a bit... well I had some deja vu from it, anyway

- Four of all people being the one to bring back the film - I know he does it bc Sarah Jane makes him, but personally, I often feel like despite the length of his run, 4 is the Doctor with which we might’ve gotten the fewest glimpses into his interiority, so the fact that it’s him and not one of the more overtly sentimental Doctors makes it feel like it carries even more weight somehow, to me anyway. I think I wrote a post saying roughly the same thing about 4 & Fate of Krelos/Return to Telos but maybe I only did that inside my own head lol. Still, I’m all for any opportunities for Jamie to be one of the few characters to draw some noticeable emotion out of Four, but in fairness I haven’t touched too much of his EU stuff to really be able to compare the frequency with which this happens with other past companions

- Is Four referring to Two or Jamie when he says he got the film from “an old family friend”? Two did the actual stealing, but he probably means Jamie’s involvement - either way, it’s an interesting way of describing old companions - or selves?

- When Jemima goes to call Jamie a thief, Four is “roused” to defend him: “he really was the very best of men” again, any time four freely shows he cares about someone, im over the moon about it

- Oh ha ha, there’s an audio called “Deleted Scenes” featuring the Doctor who’s most affected by junked episodes. And at the end of it, a character who’s spent her life researching and lecturing about a lost film gets to watch it be ‘rediscovered’ after it’s gone unseen for decades. I feel marginally less stupid for reading into the other details of a story like this when it ends up deciding to be to be clever & slightly meta like that

But yeah

all in all, it’s kind of amazing to me that this genuinely reads like they sat down and said okay boys it’s valentines day, let’s write an audio where jamie kisses a girl, since that hasn’t happened except as a plot device in one story in 1967 - but then when they got down to business they accidentally(?) wrote a story all about how important his bond with the Doctor is and how easily that can be compared to a legitimate love interest (even if the love interest in question is a one off character & the extent of the relationship appears to be like one kiss & then having Jamie spend most of his time around the Doctor instead)

I realize there’s something slightly illogical about writing the words “shipping aside” after a post like this but seriously - no matter how many categories you’re able to see two & jamie’s relationship fitting into, this is 40 minutes of big finish just hitting you over the head with how powerful/special/important that relationship is, and with them being two of my favorite characters, i really haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #32 - Nobody’s Ever Actually Dead in Comic Books

Our band of merry guys-who-weren’t-on-the-Lost-Light-in-issue-#1 approach the shattered husk of the Lost Light, in a gruesome scene that is only slightly marred by the graphic design.

Font doesn’t really suggest danger, does it? Here, for comparison, is something I slapped together in fifteen minutes (including recreation of background) using a font I got off a free font site.

Now, one could say that my version is rather derivative, flat, and arguably cliche, but you know what else it is? Appropriate for the fucking mood of having found a destroyed, hemorrhaging ship after everyone you knew disappeared.

I’m available, IDW! Hit me up.

Theorizing that this is the ship that the Coffin Rodimus came from- remember that? It was a few issues ago- the gang flies in for a closer look. The ship blood is actually something called quantum foam, which allows for quantum space travel to happen. It’s not supposed to be outside of the quantum quills, but the ship’s pretty junked up, so it is.

Because the ship is so very full of holes, the gang can set down for repairs pretty easy. They land in Swerve’s, finding it in less-than-pristine condition. They also find evidence of Crosscut having gotten creative, as a poster for the play he was working on is hung up in the room. Considering he was still writing it when he disappeared, this might seem a bit odd. But then you remember that this is a ship from the future, and it stops being so odd.

Because this is a future ship, with evidence that Crosscut did some stuff, it stands to reason that, at some point, everyone is going to come back from being disappeared.

Just to die.

Which is a bummer, but one crisis at a time.

Megatron disembarks the Rod Pod, with Ravage following, and everyone is just a touch put off by the duo. Everyone but Nautica, who proceeds to commit a microaggression.

Nautica, that’s Soundwave’s father you’re petting like a common animal.

Ravage, angered by this over-familiarity, swats at her. Skids questions letting an active Decepticon roam around, but Megatron brushes off these concerns, saying that finding any still-living crew members is more important. With that, the search begins.

The gang splits up to look for clues, despite Riptide thinking this is a horrible idea. They’re on the clock for this one- the quantum foam is liable to explode if it touches anything, and there’s an awful lot of the stuff floating around right now.

Nightbeat and Nautica leave the rest of the group to their own work, seeing as Nautica has the most appropriate alt-mode for traversing the gaps in the ship.

Man, that’s pretty cool. Wish Nautica hadn’t been regulated to being “girl best friend” for her character arcs, I would have loved to see her do some neat stuff for her own development. Guess that’s what happens when you get introduced as main cast late, and have to compete with all the faves who had dozens of issues to be established and who also don’t have to deal with the whole “token girl character” thing.

The rest of the gang- Megatron, Ravage, Riptide, Skids, and Getaway- start looking in the area they’re already in. Seems a little lopsided, but whatever.

Ravage finds someone almost immediately, identifying Ultra Magnus through smell alone. Only, it isn’t just Ultra Magnus.

The Magnus armor lays not terribly far away, having had its hands cut off to prevent the recall signal from being activated before being gut-murdered.

Gut-murdered wiTH A FUSION CANNON, MEGATRON

Of course, Megatron was forced to destroy his fusion canon after it was decided he would be joining the Lost Light, but you can buy these things off the black market like it’s nothing. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Brainstorm had a few stashed in his lab.

As it currently stands, nobody can trust the guy who has a storied past of killing Autobots, on a future ship where the only folks who could stop him are dead. Megatron, at least, has the good sense to not argue this fact, and suggests that the boys lock both Ravage and himself up until they suss out exactly what happened.

Meanwhile, over with Nautica and Nightbeat, we run through all the weird shit that’s happened in the last day or so.

Nautica, you’ve been on this ship for months now. How did you miss the fact that the only couple within 800 miles got annihilated by way of Phase Sixer? I feel like that attack might have come up at some point.

Since they’re on the subject of spouses, Nightbeat asks Nautica if she’s married, or if she has friends. Though noting that such a direct line of questioning might get him slapped with someone else, Nautica reveals that she is single, though she does have a best friend. Nightbeat is also single, probably because he pulls shit like this.

While this conversation is going on, Nautica uses her Sonic Screwdriver wrench to open a door with the literal push of a button. Brainstorm tricked out her wrench so hard it turned into a magic wand, which is good, because they’re going to need all the help they can get now that space is literally warping around them thanks to the quantum foam.

Nautica kicks something on the elevator, and that something turns out to be Brainstorm’s mysterious briefcase. Too bad Swerve is gone, he was so invested in what it contained. Luckily, Nightbeat is just as interested.

Back over on the other side of the ship, it seems as though Megatron kept his word about not resisting, as both he and Ravage have been locked in a cabinet. Wonder how that’s going for them.

Oh, better than I expected.

Ravage is fucking pissed that Megatron joined the Autobots, thereby turning his back on everyone who supported his cause during the last four million years. Despite this grievous betrayal though, the Decepticons haven’t stopped moving. Turns out, Galvatron’s in charge now.

But only if Autobot Megatron isn’t some sort of ploy.

It’s at this point that we learn just why Ravage is here to begin with- to see if Megatron’s truly given up the Decepticons, and if he has, to murder him. But first he’d like to know why this is happening.

Megatron views himself as a monster, having perpetuated a war that ended the lives of billions, destroyed the Cybertronian way of life, ostracized his race from the rest of the universe, and killing just to have something to do. He doesn’t like feeling this way about himself, so he decided to walk away from that life by joining the other team.

Don’t think it’s quite that easy to do, but okay.

Ravage isn’t so sure that this change of heart is going to stick, still convinced that Megatron will snap back to his old self with just a bit more time. Problem is, Megatron may not have a ton of that resource left.

Didn’t they build that body in like an hour so you wouldn’t die? Yeah, no wonder it feels as ill-fitting as a twenty-dollar suit. Thing’s probably made out of pig iron and duct tape.

The lights come on before further self-reflection can be done, and the duo realize that they’ve had guests this whole time.

Someone put the kettle on.

Obviously some fucked up shit happened on this ship. Megatron isn’t so sure that it’s him who did these dirty deeds, however, as he reaches into Ratchet’s mouth and pulls out his brain. Which feels like something that doesn’t really absolve one of guilt, but okay.

Also, ew.

Back with Nautica and Nightbeat, things are getting weird.

Now, this sequence might seem confusing at first blush, but this is because the laws of reality are collapsing around them. Going by clues in the background, we can find the proper, linear progression of time, and thus is conversation. This is what is actually happening:

With the mystery of Brainstorm’s briefcase eluding us once again, we move on to see more graphic aftermaths of violence. Poor Tailgate has been nailed to the wall with a chunk of a metal beam that’s almost as big as he is. The mood lighting for this scene is gorgeous, but I’ve hit my limit for exposing y’all to gore for this issue, so you’ll just have to trust me on this one. Then they find something even more interesting.

Who’s ready for Under Cold Blue Stars… 2!

Back over on the opposite side of the ship, Riptide’s found something nasty. It’s a bunch of dead bodies!

Including, uh, Pipes.

Who already died a while ago.

Hm.

All the bodies in this room are in their alts, and it looks like they’ve all been shot and drilled into, for some reason. Skids brings up that he had a friend who could identify the placement of any robot’s brain module just by knowing what they turned into. Then he reaches into a corpse to see what the drill-hole’s all about. It makes him sick, though maybe not for the reason you might think. He gets on the phone with Nightbeat, who’s called to tell them that they’ve found Overlord.

Still locked in his weird body harness.

And decapitated.

Megatron is on the other line, calling because he’s figured out the same thing Skids has. Someone paid a visit to this ship. Someone nasty.

The gang regroups, and Nautica gets the basics on the DJD, because I guess nobody’s mentioned them even in passing in the last six months, either.

God, what do they even talk about on this ship? Certainly not their feelings.

The reason that one room was filled with alt-modes was because of Tarn’s addiction to transforming; t-cogs are easier to remove when they’ve been used recently.

We get a quick 4/5ths-page gore-fest, then it’s back to making it all about Megatron.

Maybe you should have thought about that before you FUCKING DEFECTED, YOU POOL NOODLE.

Nightbeat’s beginning to put two and two together. There’s an Overlord in the basement. That shouldn’t be, because Overlord got exploded by Chromedome when he mercy-killed Rewind. Something is off about the past of this ship.

Before he can establish his MTMTE everybody-lives-but-then-dies AU though, the quantum foam fucks with the ship. These sons of guns need to get the hell out of here, pronto.

Oh god, what now?

Ravage smells someone inside the Magnus armor, someone who isn’t a part of the usual nesting doll lineup. Megatron reaches into the Crackerjack box and pulls out one hell of a prize.

HE LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVES

Chromedome would be so thrilled, if he still existed.

[hurricanery]

If the Sun Comes Up - pt. 3

A/N: Sorry for the delay- here’s part 3 of If the Sun Comes Up! (AU - interns fic). It’s been a while since i’ve updated this so if you need a refresher, previous parts here: part 1 // part 2

If you’ve sent me a prompt recently, or even a while back, I promise I am starting to get to them. I’m on a break from school so I’m trying to write as much as I can <3 Also, I’m starting to switch around the POV for this story (this one is Link’s), and it’s very :) difficult :) to do :)

_______

It comes apart

The way it does in bad films

Except in parts

When the moral kicks in

_______

Link knows a few things.

The first is that Amelia Shepherd makes him nervous.

That’s something he knows. The reason behind it though, is a little less clear to him. She’s unpredictable. And he thinks that that’s part of it. Part of the reason his pulse quickens when she walks into the room. Sometimes, he’ll bump into her in the apartment, and she’ll be all darting eyes and nervous hands wrapped around a mug of tea. But most of the time, it’s the opposite. It’s shameless, the way she’ll walk into a room and say something completely audacious. Unexpected. Is the way he wants to label it. And the anticipation of it, the anticipation of which Amelia he’s going to get, is what makes him the most nervous.

This morning there’s an edge to her smile. One that feels measured and purposeful. Link watches her as she enters the kitchen. He finishes pouring himself a cup of coffee and witnesses, just in time, for Amelia to survey Maggie and Winston as they innocently eat their breakfast at the counter.

The smirk that grows on her face causes Link to instinctively brace himself. Because it’s the same look she gives before she’s about to say something completely untamed. Untamed, yet at the same time, Link knows whatever she’s about to say, she’ll say it so unashamedly. But when the words finally drop from her mouth, Link still doesn’t feel prepared.

“I miss sex,” she announces, as her eyes dart amusedly between the couple at the counter. “And you guys are doing a great job of reminding me of that.”

Link has to stifle the coughing fit that threatens to overcome his body as he struggles through his first sip of coffee. And the startled look on Maggie’s face just adds fuel to the fire. Like Amelia somehow gains something from this type of reaction.

“What’s with the faces?” she adds, nonchalantly, as she reaches for a mug and turns back to Maggie and Winston. “I’m saying I feel inspired by you.”

“Okay…” Maggie gives a warning stare. “But we’re not-”

“No, I get it,” Amelia interrupts. Link shuffles out of her way as she reaches for the coffee pot, but he doesn’t miss the sideways glance she gives him. “You guys aren’t together together, you’re just…” She trails off as she focuses on not overflowing her mug with the hot liquid. Then she turns back around to face the pair at the counter. “Having fun?”

Winston shrugs at this, and Maggie refocuses all of her attention on the food in front of her.

“Like I said,” Amelia’s expression falters only slightly to incorporate some sympathy towards Maggie. “Inspiring.”

And with that she turns on her heels, ready to leave. Like she always does. After dropping a bomb of awkwardness amongst the group, she immediately fleas. And Link feels his heart rate slow at her absence.

His eyes shift to Maggie and Winston, eyebrows raised.

“She’s pleasant in the morning.”

There’s hums of agreement, and Maggie stands up, beginning to clear their dishes.

“We carpooling today?” Link inquires, as he starts to help Maggie clean the kitchen.

“Well, there’s that intern mixer tonight,” Maggie reminds him. “That thing Dr. Webber is hosting?”

“Right,” Link sighs.

“I was going to go straight there after my shift,” she adds. “So, we’d all have to sort of plan our timing with that.”

Link nods, stepping forward to set his empty coffee mug in the sink.

“Will you ask Amelia what she’s doing? If she’s planning on going?”

Link nods again at Maggie’s request, and begins moving slowly down the hallway towards Amelia’s room. It dawns on him that he’s never stepped foot in Amelia’s room, or even properly had a glance inside. So, it feels foreign to him that his fist is knocking against the wood of her door.

“Yeah?”

There’s music playing on the other side and Link clears his throat to compensate for that.

“Hey! Maggie wanted me to ask you-”

“I can’t really hear you, just come in!”

Link hesitates. And he doesn’t know why. But then he’s annoyed with himself for not knowing why, so he pushes forward. His hand wraps around the door knob and then it’s twisting and suddenly he’s standing in her bedroom.

“Hey.”

His head turns to follow the sound of her voice and his eyes settle on her, to where she sits cross-legged on the floor in front of a full-length mirror. She raises her eyebrows at him, through the reflection in the mirror. And when Link doesn’t speak right away, she reaches forward to turn off her music.

“Can I help you with something?” She sounds smug as she resumes her mascara application.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Maggie wanted me to ask what your plans are for the intern mixer tonight?”

“Shit. I totally forgot that was tonight,” she mutters, concentrating on what she’s doing in the mirror.

Link sighs, and he feels the inexplicable need to shove his hands in his pockets. He takes a moment to let his eyes wander around the room. He can’t help it. The new territory makes him curious.

The room is a mess, and that’s putting it lightly. It almost looks like she hasn’t unpacked all the way. There are clothes scattered on almost every surface, and nothing seems to be put away. He’d like to assume that it’s because she’s not moved all the way in yet, but the pictures hanging on the wall say otherwise.

It feels self-indulgent, as he lets his eyes scan the framed photos around the room. They mostly consist of what Link gathers to be college friends and travels. But, there’s also a significant presence of people that look extraordinarily similar to Amelia. Her siblings, he presumes. There are two photos in particular, that stand out to Link. One consists of a young girl, no older than 6 or 7. In the photo, she’s riding a bike, and there’s a dark-haired teenage boy gently pushing the bike forward from behind. Derek, Link imagines. And it makes him smile to imagine Amelia learning to ride a bike.

The second photo that catches Link’s eye is just a solo shot of a middle-aged man. He’s standing on the edge of a dock, holding up a fishing pole. The man in the photo has a striking resemblance to Amelia and Derek, and Link is inclined to conclude that it’s their father.

Link snaps back to reality when he hears Amelia clear her throat. His eyes meet hers in the reflection of the mirror and she’s sneering at him incredulously.

“Get a good look?”

“Sorry,” Link mumbles, shaking his head at himself. He struggles for a moment to arrive back to his reasoning for being here in the first place. “Uh, yeah. Party tonight, or….‘intern mixer,’ or whatever you want to call it….do you need a ride?”

“Ugh,” she groans, starting to stand up from her spot on the floor. “Derek requested Lexie and I on his service, again, so. If we’re not too late I’ll probably grab a ride with him.”

Link nods. He tries to suppress the sudden disappointment he feels. Because it makes no sense to him, that he should feel anything based upon whether or not Amelia would be in attendance.

“Okay,” he turns on his heels, deciding he doesn’t need anything more than that answer from her.

“Link?”

He turns around in the doorway, looking at her expectantly.

“Maybe I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but he forces an element of nonchalance to his response. She’s staring at him with an expression of bewilderment and it only makes him want to rush his exit more.

He rips his gaze away from hers as he steps into the hallway, and when he pulls the door shut, he feels relief.

_______

Links knows a few things.

The first is that Amelia Shepherd makes him nervous.

The second is that this party is lame.

“This sucks,” Jo huffs out a sigh, from where she’s standing next to him.

They’re stationed at one of those tall cocktail tables, in the middle of a decently packed banquet room. Link’s eyes scan the room, for what feels like the thousandth time that night.

“Who are you looking for?” Jo ridicules him. She smirks at him knowingly as she sips her drink and Link tries not to roll his eyes at her.

“I’m not looking for anyone….” He trails off, as his eyes roam the room again. Because although he dismisses the accusation of looking for anyone, he does find her.

She’s standing near the entryway with Derek. And they must have just arrived, because there’s a leather jacket still covering her frame.

He thinks for a moment that he should cross the room. Walk towards them and casually point out where the coat check area is, perhaps. But he doesn’t do that. Because the closer he looks, the more it becomes obvious that the two are arguing.

Amelia’s back is to him, but her body language, and the sharpness to Derek’s expression, are all the evidence he needs.

“You’re staring.” Jo’s voice breaks through his concentration, and Link glances sideways at her.

“Am not.”

“Are too,” she bites back. “And you’re boring me. I’m going to get another drink. Do you want one?”

Link shakes his head at the offer, his eyes returning to his current preoccupation. He barely notices Jo’s dramatic sigh, as she walks away. Barely notices, because now Amelia is crossing the room, her eyes narrowing in on his as she visibly tries to shake off her anger.

“You made it.” It’s all Link can come up with as she approaches the table.

Amelia huffs out an exasperated breath as she settles across from him at the table. She shrugs, her eyes dancing around the room as she takes in the atmosphere of the event.

“Of course I did,” she mutters. “I’m a blast at parties.”

Link frowns. Unsure of how to lighten the mood.

“There’s a coat check, you know?” He glances down at her, surveying the black form-fitting dress and leather jacket. He suddenly feels unimpressive in the dull grey of his suit jacket.

“Nah,” Amelia shakes her head, still preoccupied by the room around them. “I’m fine like this.”

Her eyes finally rest on his. And she breathes out again, but this time Link thinks it sounds more relieved.

“I really am a blast at parties,” she bites her lip, grinning slightly. “Or, I used to be.”

“I believe you,” Link offers a smile in return.

And suddenly there’s a sense of ease between them. One that Link wasn’t expecting.

There’s something about her, or rather about her demeanor, that makes him feel nostalgic. He takes in her energy and it makes him feel at home, but not necessarily in a yearning way. Because there’s an edge to it. Like the feeling he’s nostalgic for triggers an almost anxious familiarity in the pit of his stomach. Like home is broken.

“So, what is it?”

He hasn’t even realized he’s voiced the question out loud. It’s when her defensive tone kicks in, that he realizes what he’s done.

“What?”

Link groans internally. Because he hadn’t necessarily intended to speak on behalf of his revelation.

“You….remind me of….me, Amelia,” he mutters the confession, shaking his head at himself as he tries to make sense of the direction his thoughts are taking. “Like a sixth sense almost….”

She quirks an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t offer any words. The silence urges Link to continue.

“Okay, no. I mean, you don’t remind me of me, totally. I just mean….”

“We are very different people,” she interrupts him. And it causes Link to look up from the pattern of the tablecloth he’d forced himself to analyze while he stumbled through his words. But he locks eyes with her, and there’s a smug smile on her face. It basically grants him permission to move forward.

“Yeah,” he chuckles in agreement. “But there’s some common ground here. I can feel it.”

Link tries to match her smirk, but he knows he’s not doing it any justice.

“So, what is it?” He repeats his question from earlier, his tone playful. “That makes you this way?”

There’s a fraction of a second where her face falls, in reaction to the additional question. It’s so subtle Link thinks he’s imagined it. Because he’s looking at her now, and the smirk is still there. So he continues.

“Doesn’t seem like you get along with your family,” he nods towards Derek across the room, to where he’s now stood chatting with Mark Sloan. “And from my experience, that kind of thing usually happens for a reason.”

Amelia shrugs dismissively, and reaches forward for a handful of pretzels from the array of snacks on the table.

Link watches her, notes her form of deflection, and he takes it upon himself to start lighthearted. Because that’s where they are right now. That’s the stage they always seem to be stuck in. “You….what? Scratched your brother's car up? Forgot to feed the family’s pet fish? And everyone still holds it against you? What is it, huh?”

Amelia stifles a laugh around a mouthful of pretzels, and it urges Link on.

“I’m getting closer, aren’t I? Should I dive deeper?”

Link tries not to laugh at her, as she struggles to chew the pretzels in her mouth. He lets himself be relentless, continuing with the interrogation.

“Okay, so….some sort of chronic diagnosis tear your family apart?” Link glances across the room as he speaks, and his eyes settle on Derek. There’s a snide expression on Derek’s face as he talks to Mark, and all Link sees is Amelia in it. His eyes dart back to hers as potential realization hits. “Children of divorce?”

Amelia immediately stops chewing her pretzels. And this time around it’s not as subtle when her face falls.

“Children of divorce! I knew it! I told you I could sense that kind of thing.”

Link is proud of himself for a moment. Until he watches her harshly swallow. It’s the kind of action that makes him instantly retreat. Instantly regret his exclamation.

Amelia finally finds her voice. And when she does, it’s laced with irony. “I wish it had been a divorce.”

And now it was Link’s turn for the silence. For the lack of response that would hopefully urge her to continue.

“Your parents are divorced?” There’s something cunning about her tone, and Link can’t quite place why it’s there. It surely doesn’t sound like a question, when she asks it. It sounds like she already knows the answer, and she’s choosing to be sly as she witholds whatever she’s about to throw his way next.

But Link nods at her anyway, disregarding the non-question.

“Wanna trade childhood traumas?” She eventually mutters, a slight smile on her lips as she looks down at the bowl of pretzels. Link can see it in her face, the way she’s determining whether to abandon the conversation and reach for another handful. But she doesn’t do that.

He continues to stare at her, in a desperate attempt to decipher which version of Amelia this is.

“My Dad died when I was five,” her gaze shifts from the pretzels to his face and Link’s heart drops to his stomach. “So, he kind of missed out on the divorce stage....” She laughs under her breath, almost in disbelief. “Not that there would have been one,” she adds the after-thought.

“Amelia,” he murmurs. And he thinks he steps forward, but there’s a table in front of him, blocking him, so there’s really no point. “I’m so sorry, I-”

It’s her laughter that cuts him off mid-apology. Link doesn’t know if he can categorize it as authentic laughter. The bizarre reaction would probably be more accurately described as harsh exhales and another out of place smile.

“Amelia.”

She swallows her laughter a bit at the seriousness of his tone.

“God, I feel like an asshole,” he mutters.

“Okay, but don’t,” Amelia shrugs. “Believe me I’ve had years to process it.”

Link feels his eyes narrow at this.

“And honestly I’m pretty impressed you could sense the childhood trauma in the first place,” she adds. “Maybe we’re more alike than I thought….” She trails off, and there’s a softness to her next words. “And I don’t at all mean to downplay yours….I just….have a dark sense of humor. Sometimes I forget that it can put people off.”

“No, I get it.”

Link watches as a subtle grin take over her expression, and he sighs in relief. But he can’t help but to notice how distracted she is. How her eyes keep shifting around the room.

“This party is kinda lame, huh?” Link muses. “I was going to head home soon. Want a ride?”

For a moment her wandering eyes stop, and Link thinks her smile looks polite. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, distracted again. “I feel like I should make the rounds first though, right? Say hello to a few people?”

Link nods. Because this makes sense.

“Give me like 20 minutes, okay? And then we can leave?”

“Okay,” Link agrees, but she’s already walking away by the time he says it.

_______

Link knows a few things.

But there’s one fact at the forefront of his mind.

This party is lame and he wants to leave. He’s promised a ride home to Amelia, but it’s been over an hour and since then, he’s completely lost track of her.

He gives up. Assumes she’s gotten a ride home with either Derek or Lexie.

He makes his way to the parking lot and he hears her voice first. It’s low and it’s gravelly and it’s certainly Amelia.

But it’s perplexing, because the first person he sees is Mark, and not Amelia.

But then Mark steps to the side, and there she is.

He watches, and he hasn't realized that his feet have stopped moving. But his eyes are glued the same way his shoes apparently are to the pavement below.

She’s smiling at Mark, but the look she’s giving him makes Link feel gross. Because it’s almost performative, the way she gets into his car. And suddenly there's another thing that Link knows.

That being, that for some reason, this hurts.

_______

It’s more accurate to say that Link has learned a few things. Especially since moving in with 3 strangers.

He’s learned the separate soundtracks of each of his roommate’s arrivals home.

He can tell when Maggie is home, because she usually mutters to herself as she walks about, hanging her purse and coat up.

He can tell when Lexie is home, because the first thing she does is walk to the kitchen. Link will hear the distinct sound of the fridge door opening just after someone comes home, and immediately he knows that it’s Lexie.

He can tell when Amelia is home, because of the clacking sound her boots make across the tiled floor of the entryway. He doesn’t know why she always seems to be wearing the heeled boots, but he finds comfort in the association.

Another thing he’s learned is that he’s usually the first to wake up in the apartment. Especially on Saturdays.

He likes waking up early on the weekends, but this morning feels a little different. Definitely due to the lack of sleep the night prior. He wants to blame the restless night on anything else, besides the fact that he’s yet to hear a pair of heeled boots cross the tiled floor.

Link seeks distractions on this Saturday morning. He thinks he’ll make breakfast. But, the relative emptiness of the fridge causes a change of plans.

And so he distracts himself by going to the store.

_______

When Link returns home, he’s not expecting to see Amelia right away.

He walks towards their front door, arms full of grocery bags, and there she is. Leaning against the wall outside and watching him carefully as he approaches.

She’s wearing the same dress she wore last night, her leather jacket slung over her arm.

“Well, good morning,” he tries to mask the sharpness in his tone.

She looks at him tiredly.

It’s then that he decides to give her the benefit of the doubt. He’d had a feeling in the pit of his stomach all night. He’d lost sleep over it. But he looks at her now, and everything he’s been feeling is replaced with one thing: concern.

So he re-routes his attitude.

“You waiting out here just so you could hold the door open for me?” He jokes, gesturing towards the bags in his arms.

“I lost my keys,” she admits.

Link notices the way she can’t seem to hold eye contact, and he decides to drop the joking manner.

“Ah,” he hums. “Here.”

He unceremoniously shoves a grocery bag into her arms, so that he can free up a hand to reach for his own keys.

He unlocks the door and Amelia basically darts past him, setting the bag on the counter and heading towards her room.

Link tries not to feed into his concern, and he busies himself by putting groceries away.

But, a moment later, he hears the familiar sound of her heels against the floor. The sound amplifies until she rounds the corner into the kitchen again, and Link looks up just in time.

She looks at him sheepishly.

“I, uh. I have so much stuff all over my bed….you don’t mind if I take the couch for a bit, do you?”

It takes Link a moment to process this information. He glances past the kitchen counter, to the living room area. It’s all pretty much one big room, an open floor plan.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs. “I was about to make breakfast though, so, hopefully I don’t bother you too much over here?”

Amelia shakes her head, as if to say she won’t be bothered, and she continues over to the living area.

“You should really….unpack all your stuff. Put things away,” Link jokes, recalling just how messy her room was as of yesterday morning.

“‘M too tired right now,” she slurs, as she collapses against the couch on the opposite wall.

Link attempts to carry on making breakfast. But he’s admittedly distracted by her presence.

She doesn’t look comfortable. She’s still wearing her dress from last night. And she’s sitting upright, her head tilted back against the cushions.

“I could help you, you know?” Link offers. “Put away your things and clear off your bed?”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Amelia, it’s 9am.”

This makes her laugh.

Her eyes are still closed but she’s laughing under her breath.

“Oh!” Suddenly Link remembers. “I saw this loose tea variety at the store and it made me think of you and I bought it.”

Even with the length of the room, Link can tell she’s slightly opened her eyes, peering at him.

“How about I attempt to make some? And we do some unpacking?”

There’s brief silence. But then her head is lifting from the cushions.

“Okay, but make your breakfast first.”

Link breaks out into a toothy grin, nodding at her suggestion. He watches curiously as her head drops back against the couch.

_______

It’s about 20 minutes later when he’s eaten and decides he’s happy with his attempt at tea. He walks over to the couch, proudly balancing two mugs, but it’s obvious that Amelia is drifting off to sleep.

He places a mug on the coffee table in front of her and the sound of it causes her to stir.

“Oh,” she sits up. “This looks….decent. Thank you.”

Link sits on the armchair across from her and watches as she takes her first sip.

“You’re allowed to say if it’s shit.”

Amelia exhales a laugh before setting the mug back down.

“It’s not bad, honestly. I’ll have to teach you my ways, though.”

She rests back against the cushions, and this time she shifts her body so that she’s more comfortably laying across the entire couch.

Link sighs.

And it’s like she hears what he’s thinking.

“Just a few minutes, then we’ll start unpacking,” but her voice is laced with sleep. She turns to him, her mouth twisting up in a familiar movement, and her eyebrows raising almost provocatively. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Ugh,” Link groans. “I do not need to hear about you and Mark-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughs a breath. “I had to.”

Link just shakes his head at her, not sure when he went from worried about her, to amused.

“I promise,” she adds, and the element of exhaustion is back in her tone. “Just 10 more minutes then I’ll be good to go.”

“Sure,” Link laughs.

Amelia still holds his gaze, and there’s an expression on her face that feels brand new to him.

There’s a hint of a smile. It’s barely there. But it’s different this time. It’s not the smirk he’s used to seeing, and it’s not in any way laced with mockery or self-doubt.

Link knows a few things.

But he learns a final thing by the end of the conversation. He learns that he’s going to do everything he can, to see the version of her smile that’s the most genuine.

//

[unmaskedagain]

Truth is Subjective

            This post is based off a prompt by #galahadwilder. I give all credit to them for the idea.

This did not turn out the way I wanted it to. AT ALL. I completely missing the mark; or in this case prompt. I couldn’t figure out how to make it work like I had envisioned when I first read the prompt. And now I’m just like ugh. L

  When Ladybug saw Alya frantically waving her down from where she was on top of her apartment roof. It was, nearly after midnight. She just finished off an Akuma. However, emotions had been running high among the students in her class so Ladybug didn’t hesitate to see what was wrong. Alya made not have been her best friend, or any type of friend, anymore but Ladybug was still a hero.

           A hero who was not happy to see Lila Rossi standing next to her.

           The Italian girl looked pleasant at first glance but anger was clear in her eyes. Alya had her phone out. It took all of two seconds for Marinette to figure out what was going on. Alya wanted an interview with Ladybug and her supposed best friend. Lila was sure Ladybug would reveal the truth like she did last time.

           Marinette fought to keep the grin off her face. She had idea. A rather wicked idea. She had taken to spending a lot of time with Jagged and Penny and Audrey Bourgeois, watching how they manipulated the news to better suit their individual brands. She now know that even if she told Alya what a liar Lila was, Lila could and would easily spin it to say that “Ladybug said that to protect me”. And Alya would just believe it.

           Not this time, Marinette vowed.

“Ladybug!” Alya beamed and immediately jumped into the interview, “I’ve been trying to catch you for months.”

“I know,” Ladybug said coolly.

           Marinette had decided that if Alya couldn’t check her facts, then Ladybug couldn’t work with her. She had been reporting too much false information and more or less become a site dedicated to shipping Ladybug with Chat Noir and promoting Lila’s B.S.

           Alya didn’t seem to notice the frost in the air. “We’re live streaming for the Ladyblog,” She said. “Ladybug and Lila Rossi; best friends forever.” She said waving her phone between the two. “Ladybug, Lila what’s it look being friends. Lila said she helped you rescue a bunch of people when you still lived in Italy. Before you became Ladybug!”

           Lila looked sick, “Now, it was so long ago. She probably doesn’t remember.”

“I’m sorry, Alya, but this interview is over,” Ladybug responded and before reporter could protest, she added. “I refuse to give an interview with my stalker.”

           It was like the wind was punched out of Alya, “Sta- Stalker?”

           Lila just stared with her mouth opened.

           Ladybug nodded gravely, while inwardly Marinette cheered, “Stalker. What else would you call someone who constantly follows you around? Interfere with my rescues. Fantasize scenarios where we’re close personal friends and tells people about it. Try to convince everyone that those tales are real. Maybe it’s a coincidence that she transferred into only class in the entire school, out of all the public schools in France that has had the most akumas thus students I see regularly.  Despite her mother being an important diplomat? Who knows?” Ladybug pitched her nose. “For god’s sake, Alya, she even got close to you, the only journalist I deal with on a continuity. You keeping spinning out her stories; feeding her delusions. Why do think I started avoiding you? I saw you were friends with her. I can’t be around her. I won’t.”

           It went silent. Alya’s mouth had dropped opened. She looked shocked and slightly ill. Lila looked like she was considering murder. Marinette was five seconds away from doing her happy dance.

“Alya,” Ladybug said seriously. “Be honest, Lila’s said so many stories about so many celebrities but there’s no real evidence backing it up. Her grand adventures with Jagged Stone, Prince Ali, Clara Nightingale; it’s all in her head. At least point, I’m started to think they may have been her past obsessions. She claimed I healed her so many of different diseases, I thought someone was going to try to give me saint hood. Do you really think Jagged Stone would write a song about an underage girl without her parents knowing? Or that Clara Nightingale stole her dance moves. Do you know how bad that looks? Not to mention that model kid Adrien Agreste. From what I heard, what she’s doing to him is borderline sexual harassment. I think they’re victims,” She stressed the word. “Like me. If I wasn’t concerned about my secret identity, I’d have gone to the police by now.”

“Police!” Lila squeaked.

           Ladybug shook her head, “I know people. Maybe I can just do a cease and desist order on the Ladyblog. But this has to stop,” She told Alya. “It’s the middle of the night, which is dangerous enough as it is. But there was an akuma as well. You called me, again in the middle of the night, to meet with my stalker. Do you know how scary that is? How that makes me feel?” She asked.

“I’m sorry!” Alya said with tears in hers, her phone still streaming. “I didn’t know.”

           Ladybug threw up her hands, “You didn’t even bother to ask! At any time in the last year, you could’ve checked with me that you were reporting the truth.”

           Alya sobbed. Lila just glared. She was too busy thinking of ways she could spend this.

           Ladybug looked around, with suspicious, “Do your parents even know where you are?”

“Well, I, I mean,” The glasses wearing girl stuttered.

           Marinette raised her hands in surrender, “No. I’m done. You’ve gone too far. You put yourself in danger. And you put me in danger. All for an interview. No more. You obviously don’t take this seriously; being a journalist, your blog, your life, anything. I’m done. I won’t work with you again. I can’t risk it.”

           And with that Ladybug, yo’yo’d away. When she transformed back to normal and safely got to her house, Marinette fell to the floor laughing. Tikki joined her. Revenge was sweet.

           The bluenette plopped down her bed. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow. For months and months she had been accused of bullying Lila, of being jealous, by tomorrow all of France would know what happened on the rooftop.

           Lila wasn’t outed as liar like she thought she would be. No, Marinette, Rossi got a much worse fate.

           When Marinette woke up the next morning, it was like the world had caught on fire. Nadja was having field day. Celebrities Lila had said she knew vocally denounced every knowing the girl. The world cried, “Poor Ladybug.”

           Marinette blinked at the sheer quiet of her class. She had expected chaos. Maybe they didn’t know. Maybe Lila was able to spin it around for the class.

           No that wasn’t right. Nino was comforting Alya, who had red eyes and messy hair.

“What’s going on,” She asked Adrien, one of the few people who were still friendly with her in class. She may not have had a crush on him anymore but she still thought he was a decent friend.

“You don’t know?” Alix asked, with shock on her face. “How could you not know? All of Paris is talking about Ladybug’s stalker.”

           Marinette scratched the back on her head, a look of faux-confusion on her face, “I got up late again, I didn’t have time to look anything up,” Looks of understanding came from the students. “Wait! Stalker?!” She took a dramatic pause. “…You know?”

           Alya stood up angrily, “You knew!”

           Marinette took a hasty step back, “Of course I knew. Don’t you remember I got you your first interview with Ladybug? I know her.” Alya looked somewhat placated but still angry. She told me all about it. She was really freaked out. But I promised I wouldn’t say anything,” She defended. “I don’t break my promise. Yet I tried to warn you as best I could. I tried to warn everyone.” Marinette shrugged. “And look what happened. Most of us aren’t even friends anymore.”

           Her words were a slap to the face. Most of her former friends had the grace to look ashamed.

           Marinette just shrugged again and went her seat.

“I’m ruined,” Alya cried into Nino’s shoulder. “My fans hate me. Half of them think I was lying to them. The other half hate me because I hurt Ladybug. How was I supposed to know Lila was a nutjob?”

“You could’ve fact checked,” Marinette told her. “Listen to me even one of the hundred times I told you she was lying. Asked Ladybug. Asked Chat Noir. Read the twenty percent of the Ladyblog’s comments that she said was lying. You could’ve done a lot to find out the truth.” She stared hard at her former friend. “You chose not to.”

           Alya cried harder.

“Harsh, dudette,” Nino glared at her.

           Coldness went down Marinette’s back. She stood up, “Harsh!” Marinette yelled, everyone flinched back. “Yeah maybe it’s a bit harsh. But you know what was worse? Losing all my friends. Being called a liar. A jealous psycho. Being bullied by people who I’ve known forever. Getting mean, nasty texts that could have the sender charged with harassment.”

           The bluenette glared around the room; at the paling, stunned faces of the other students.

“Harsh,” She hissed at Nino. “Well I’m sorry if the truth is a little harsh. But I think after falling for so many lies, maybe Alya deserves the truth for once. You all do.”

           Alya pulled away from Nino, and nodded. “She’s right,” she sniffed. “I’m sorry, Marinette. I’m so sorry.”

           Marinette looked at Alya, her former bestie. Nino the boy she thought always had her back until he stabbed her in it. Kim, her friend since they were in diapers, who had no problem accusing Marinette of awful things. Alix and Mylene, who led the charge against her. Nathanial who had sat and done nothing when they spilled and destroy her designs.

“Sorry’s not always enough,” Marinette admitted, hurt filling her. “There’s another truth for you.”

“My dad’s furious,” Adrien said, gaining everyone attention. “Everyone knows he insisted Lila do the photoshoots with me. An insider even revealed that I made it clear I was bother by Lila. They think he doesn’t take sexual harassment at work seriously. Brand’s taking a hit.”

“Ladybug must be so scared,” Sabrina put in. “My dad told me about some crazy stalker cases he’s seen. They got really obsessive. One guy even kidnapped a kid because he though it looked like his and this woman’s future child. Said the child was theirs. Dad wants me to stay away from Lila. He doesn’t want me getting her attention. Who knows what she’d do?”

           Sabrina words sent shivers through the students. A few who watched true crime stories looked particularly green.

“We should’ve caught on,” Alix frowned. “None of her stories even made sense. Saved a cat from being hit by a plane? Really? Are we morons?”

“Something must be seriously wrong with her,” Rose offered. “Maybe she just needs help.”

“She needs a nice white jacket,” Kim growled. “And a padded cell.”

“Where is Lila?” Marinette asked.

           Surprising it was Juleka who answered, “Hiding in her house. Reporters everywhere want a one on one with Ladybug’s Stalker. Her face is all over the news. She’s trending on Twitter. So’s the Ladyblog.”

           Alya groaned. Her blog, her life’s work was finally getting the attention she always wanted but in the worst possible way.

           Nino hugged his girlfriend, “At least no one will ever be fool again,” He offered.

“Undoubtable,” Max agreed. “I foresee that Lila is well on way to be the most famous stalker in recent history. They’ll use her as a textbook example one day, if this carries on. People will base their doctorates on her mental health.”

           Marinette smirked.

           Lila was going to get the all attention she’d ever want.

[mfingenius]

Can you write a dearth fic where Draco and Fleur get along really well (maybe they both speak French or smthg?) and Harry is kinda jealous of their friendship. Thanks so much, I loveee all your writing ❤️❤️

“Since when does Malfoy speak French?” Harry asks, glaring tightly towards where Malfoy and Fleur are speaking, sitting by the fountain in the courtyard, their nearly-identically matched blonde heads pushed together.

Honestly, their hair color is exactly the same! What’s up with that?

“The Blacks are originally French,” Hermione says distractedly, pushing her hair out of her face and frowning down at her book. “They still teach it to their children. Sirius probably speaks French, too.”

Harry barely listens to her; he knows that, logically, with the Triwizard tournament - and the fact that he’s in it - he shouldn’t be more worried about the tournament and less attentive of Malfoy, but it’s just - it’s weird.

Malfoy doesn’t talk to girls, alright? Not even girls, Malfoy barely talks to anyone! He’s friends with Zabini, and that’s about it. And now, what, two weeks into Beauxbatons’ stay, and he’s practically snogging Fleur?

Harry has seen them together everywhere this week. In the library, walking around the Black Lake, eating in the Great Hall. It’s - weird. Fleur’s clever, and gorgeous, and - badass. And okay, Malfoy is wicked smart, and, well, attractive - in a way that makes Harry very confused and also somewhat angry - and he’s, well, good at things like duelling, and Defense, which could probably make him badass in some sort of situation, but Harry doesn’t like them together.

It’s weird.

Still, Ron’s looking at him in an odd way like he’s realizing something and Harry doesn’t like that, so he hastily looks away and pretends to read the book in his lap.

*

They go to the Yule Ball together. They go to the Yule Ball. Together.

They look equally gorgeous as they stand next to each other, eternally whispering and laughing; even the other French students aren’t privy to their conversations, because anytime any of them come closer, they both stop speaking and make polite conversation until the person leaves.

It’s infuriating.

“How does he even look like that?” Harry wonders out loud, while he and Ron are sitting broodingly in one of the tables. “No one looks like that! This is - the sort of embarrassing childhood memory you laugh about, no one is supposed to look good!”

And Malfoy does look good; he’s wearing black robes, and, for once, his hair is not slicked back; it’s loosely framing his face, in a way Harry had never seen it before, and it looks - shiny. Soft.

One of the strands keeps getting in his eyes, and he tucks it behind his ear every few minutes while speaking rapidly with Fleur.

It’s driving Harry insane.

It also doesn’t help that Ron’s giving Harry that odd look again, and it makes him feel weird. Like Ron knows something he doesn’t.

But Ron doesn’t say anything, so Harry doesn’t either.

*

They put Malfoy in the lake for Fleur. 

It’s - weird. They’re not that close, they’ve known each other for less than a year! How could Malfoy be the person Fleur would miss the most? Even if her family isn’t here, and she doesn’t seem close to anyone from Beauxbatons, Malfoy is - Malfoy. 

He must’ve done something by now to piss Fleur off!

Except, evidently, he didn’t, because when Harry pulls him up - because he won’t leave the bloody prat to die just because he’s a prick - Fleur hugs him and kisses his cheek and thanks Harry endlessly.

Malfoy looks sort of dazed, and he gives Harry a small ‘thanks’ that make Harry’s belly do a weird floppy thing. He must be coming down with something.

*

Fleur’s family can’t come to see her - Harry doesn’t know why - but Malfoy’s there with her when the other Champions’ families come, so she’s not alone. Harry sees Fleur eyeing Bill up and down appreciatively, and - unlike Harry would’ve thought - Malfoy doesn’t look jealous.

He looks - amused. Excited, sort of. If Harry’s not mistaken, he eyes Bill too, before flushing lightly and looking away, and then him and Fleur begin to whisper in French again.

Before the families leave, Fleur goes up to Bill to start a conversation, and Malfoy’s grinning the entire time.

*

“Mate, you’ve got to stop it,” Ron tells him one day. They’re in their dorm, and Harry’s glaring out the window, thinking about the way Fleur and Malfoy had been whispering together during dinner.

“What?” Harry asks, confused.

“The Malfoy thing,” Ron tells him, as though it’s obvious. “It’s - weird.”

“What?” Harry asks. He frowns. “Don’t you think it’s weird he’s friends with Fleur? They’ve nothing in common!”

“I don’t know,” Ron shrugs. “I don’t understand anything they’re saying, so I don’t know what they talk about, but it’s an awful lot. I don’t think I’ve heard Malfoy speak English in months.”

Harry hasn’t, either, which has honestly been bothering him. No taunts, no insults. Nothing. Malfoy has barely even looked his way.

“Right!” Harry exclaims. “It’s weird.”

“You’re jealous.” Ron tells him, and Harry opens his mouth, before he closes it again. Silence. Then,

“What?” He asks incredulously. “You think I’m jealous? I don’t care about Fleur!”

Ron shifts in his bed, shrugging. “I think you’re jealous of Fleur.”

More silence. Then, more shrilly, “What?”

Ron grins slightly, and spreads his hands in a placating gesture. “Look mate, I don’t care who you like. If it’s Malfoy, it’s Malfoy. I mean, I get it, sort of. You two are - intense about each other. It makes sense, I think, so-”

“You think I like Malfoy?” Harry asks.

Ron looks at him incredulously. “Well, err, yeah.”

“I don’t!” Harry says. Does he? No. That’s - impossible. Insane. Ron is totally insane.

Although Malfoy is attractive. And his eyes are - good. Nice. Maybe Harry’s spent more time than is usual thinking about Malfoy’s eyes. 

Huh.

“I don’t,” He repeats, a little more uncertain.

Ron looks relieved. “Alright, good. Because I’m totally cool about you being into blokes, but Malfoy?” He shudders. “I mean, I’ll make my peace with it if I have to, but I’d rather not have to.”

Ron thinks he’s into blokes? 

This is turning into a very weird conversation. 

He catches sight of white-blonde hair out the window - and it’s after curfew, so Harry doesn’t know what it is Malfoy and Fleur are doung outside - and stares distractedly.

Malfoy.

Being into Malfoy.

Huh.

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

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