#nah I’m not over ‘I’m nothing without my brothers’ and I never will be

[windingroadahead]

Barty & Evan getting together, SLOWLY

it's a long dialogue thing I typed straight into my friend's DMs I was just thinking about how those fuckbuddies would get together eventually and I got this idea.

Reg: hey, Barty, you can stop with all this hating Sirius stuff, I’m over it, we’re… trying to be brothers again. Barty: oh, good for you, but I’m not stopping, he’s done enough! Evan: that’s stupid, Barty, come off it, you’ve never even talked really.  Barty: and of course it’s you, Evan, defending him, well! I’ve got my own reasons to hate your brother, Reg! so I’m not stopping.  Reg:  whatever, Batty.  Barty: oh, that’s cheap! 

Gryffindor party, balcony, half a year later.

Barty, drunkenly slurring: oh, really? How’s that fair, I can’t even get my smokes without your royal presence, Black.  Sirius, lighting his cigarette: why d’you hate me  so much?  Barty: none of yours, Black Sirius: no, maybe no, but also, you’re Reg’s best friend, I want to, y’know, to… get to know my little brother’s friends.  Barty: tough luck with me, you’ve got Evan though, go chat with him, he’s more than willing to… provide.  Sirius, raising eyebrows: are you jealous?  Barty: fuck no. Sirius: you a-are!  Barty: nope, not jealous.  Sirius: just so y’know, I don’t fuck other people’s boyfriends.  Barty: and it’s a miss again, Black. he’s not even my boyfriend.  Sirius: you’re shagging and snogging around school like 24/7, I’ve seen you, Barty.  Barty: that’s… casual.  Sirius: for fuck’s sake, it’s not, you’re like on top of each other all the time.  Barty: just horny.  Sirius: then why the jealousy?  Barty: … Sirius: … Barty: … Sirius: you've got a crush on me?!  Barty: FUCK NO! Not everything revolves around you, Black. Sirius: oh, he has…  Barty: well, don’t… tell anyone.  Sirius: why’d you think Evan has a crush on me?  Barty: I just know. Sirius: he told you?  Barty: no, he didn’t have to. it’s… obvious. Sirius: ‘s not to me… Barty: aha, sure, you’re too royal to notice him.  Sirius: s’not like that…  Barty: could add him to the list of conquests though Sirius: I won’t, and I don’t have a list. I’m… Barty: in love with Lupin, yeah, I’ve figured. Sirius: fuck, you’re observant.  Barty: mhm...  Sirius: d’you… have a crush on Evan then?  Barty: shit… okay, don’t you dare tell anyone. Sirius: yeah, that’s shit for sure. we both have crushes on our best friends, that’s at least one thing we have in common.  Barty: I at least shagged mine. Sirius: I did… too. Barty: you… shagged Lupin?!  Sirius: yeah… Barty: casual? Sirius: drunk. never talked about it Barty: good, better than nothing, but better than fucking casual… I don’t hate you, maybe.  Sirius: you can, got every right too, if you’re jealous.  Barty: nah, think it’s… I’m done with it, y’know? he’s hopelessly in love with you, and I’m with him. no reason to hate you, really Sirius: that’s nice to hear… not the hopeless part, I mean.  Barty: yeah.

Later, Slytherin dorm

Evan: I don’t want to talk to him, Reg. we’re good now, I’m going to get as much as I can get, y’know? I… if that’s all I can have, I’ll have it until it’s gone.  Reg: isn’t it painful?  Evan: it’s fucking love, course s’painful Barty bursts through the door straight to his bed. Evan, panicky: shit… Reg: Barty, how was… Barty: NOT WANT TALK SHUT UP I SLEEP Reg, carefully putting a silencing charm over him and shocked Evan: you didn’t say anything to give yourself away, Evan. calm down Evan, recalling everything he said before Barty came in: well, maybe, yes, but…  Barty, whispering to his pillow: why. not. me. ***

Barty, finally rolling off Evan: why don’t you shag other people? Evan, startled: cause I’m shagging you, hun? Barty: and when you’re not? Evan: s’like 50% of my time, Barty. either shagging you or studying Barty: we could shag less. Evan, raising a brow: you want to? Barty, casually draping a hand over Evan’s chest: nah, but… ‘s experience, y’know? Evan: got plenty of that with you. Barty: that’s… I’m just one guy. and yeah, y’know me, but different people like different things. Evan: well, right now I’m shagging you, so I know what you like. Barty: but we’re not exclusive. you could, I dunno, try someone else. Evan, bluntly: don’t want to. Barty: but what if we’re… over? this thing, our arrangement. you’ll need experience with other people. Evan: you want to try something new? if that’s what this is, just tell me and we’ll try it together. Barty: that’s not! I just don’t want you stuck with me! Evan: I’m not stuck. could walk away, or more like fuck away, just don’t want to. Barty: alright, sure. you got a crush, right? why don’t you go fuck him then? Evan, smirking: I did. Barty, lifting himself on his elbows to look at Evan quizzically: ya didn’t! Evan, grinning: I did! Barty: he… he’d’ve told me! he… no. no way. Evan, a bit wary: so… you know my crush? Barty: I do! and I know you didn’t fuck him. Evan, chuckled: I did. few times. Barty: bullshit. was it it before… us? Evan: nah, not really. Barty: but he… he’d’ve told me!  Evan, amused: mhm, nice to know. ‘s… good, really. Barty: why’re you laughing? was it bad? Evan: nah, ‘s good. great, actually. Barty: then why ain’t you shagging him now? why don’t you… why d’you… why me? Evan just howls, unable to control his laughter. Barty, dead serious now: you know he’s in love with someone else, right? Evan sobers up and nods: yeah, I know. Barty: he won’t… love you back. He’s just using you. or was, anyway. Evan, careful: I… eh… Just want him happy, y’know? Barty: y’too nice. Evan: s’love, isn't it? might be heartbroken, but I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. Barty: so am I just your petty fuck? Evan, confused now: y’not. Barty: was he better than me? Evan: wait… shit. Barty, who the hell are we talking about? Barty: Sirius, ofcourse. Evan: WHO?! Bloody hell, Barty, no, I haven’t shagged Sirius Black! and he’s not my crush. Barty: not Sirius? who then? Evan: none of your business. Barty: but ‘s someone I know… and someone in love with another person… Evan:drop that detective act, Bee. ain’t telling you. Barty: was it Reg? no, he’d’ve told me too… Evan, getting up: I’m taking a shower. you can join if you quit this bloody interrogation. *** Barty, casually while walking to the owelery: I don't shag others either, y'know. Evan: ’s good to hear. Barty: that sorta makes us exclusive? Evan, nodding slowly: mhm. it does, yeah. Barty: Valentine's is soon. I thought… Evan caught his breath, thinking this could finally be it: confession, love, dating! Well, he was partly right. Barty: ’s like, we shag, we're exclusive, and... I know there's no love, but maybe we should, y'know, call it dating? I could take you to Hogsmeade, buy you a drink, then next time you'd do the same? and if we find someone, like, fall in love, proper, we just go back to being friends. no fuss. Evan: well... Barty: you don't have to agree! won't change anything. ‘s just... we could do nice stuff together. Evan: yeah. okay. I... agree. Barty, beaming: I WANT TO TELL EVERYONE! Shit, that’s… Evan, shadow of sadness in his eyes: good. we'll tell them. Barty, quieter: I promise, if you ever fall for someone, just say the word. this arrangement's off. no hard feelings. m’kay? Evan: yeah. same for you. Barty: great.

Three years later at James and Regulus's wedding.

Host: now, as we're heading towards the newlyweds' first dance, I'd like to ask you some questions. you two! you look like a happy couple. Barty, cheerfully: aren't we, honey? Evan: m-hm. Host: when was the moment you realised you're in love with him? Barty: oh, we're not… Evan, snatching the mic: fourteen. Host: wow! that's pretty early. never doubted it? Evan, quickly glancing at startled Barty: not a second. Host: amazing! do you remember the exact moment? Evan, shifting his gaze to Barty: oh, I do. I'd skipped breakfast to sleep in. woke up to this one, robes covered in treacle tart… Barty, trying to regain composure: I tripped over the stairs! Evan: and went back to get more, just to bring it to me. that soft, shy smile... that's when I knew. He doesn't look at Barty, but sees in his periphery how Barty's shock shifts into pure astonishment. Host: oh, that's beautiful! thank you!

As the host leaves, Evan presses his lips together. He knows the questions are coming. Three years together, five years shagging, six years loving in silence. He's so tired of hiding it, even if this might ruin everything. But Evan doubts it will.

Barty's voice comes quiet, raw in a way Evan's never heard before: thirteen for me. you were reading to me in the dorm. don't remember the lines. just... you. and I was gone. Evan feels it like a punch to the chest, his voice cracks: you never told me. Barty's fingers brush his, trembling: was scared. Evan: kiss me. please.

[reignpage]

helloooooo! i’m literally such a fan of everything you post and you’re literally one of the best smau authors on here periodt 🖤

how do you think the jjk men and jjk boys would react to their gf asking another man for help with something or seeing another man help them? like with setting up furniture or opening jars or fixing up their car?

Gojo:

on a mission you partner off with some other guy MAN IS STANDING THERE, JAW ON THE FLOOR HE'S FUCKING BUFFERING LMFAO "uhhhh, sugarplum cupcake sweetness chocolate mouse honeybee? I'm right here???" "don't take another step or god as my witness I will smite this entire country down" and then when you sigh and agree to partner off with him just so you can get this mission done, he's all smiley again, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and skipping off into the sunset

Geto:

on a date you ask a server for some tissues it's so harmless, so normal, so common sensical you'd never think he'd care but when you turn back to him, he's got that psycho killer smile the one that looks so peaceful, so kind and patient that your heart drops to you ass and you realise your mistake "I could have gotten tissues for you, pretty." "did you not want me to get tissues for you, angel?" "could that monkey really fetch tissues better than I could?" will not tip the server might even send a curse after him tbh

Choso:

jealous of his own brother you're at their home and you ask Yuji for a glass of water since he's already in the kitchen man starts sulking he's all depressed, fucking rain cloud over his head, and he looks like he just presented you with a drawing he did in class and you told him you're happy he gave it his best effort lol "I wanted to get water for you" "why did you ask Yuji?" "Yuji can't get water better than me, can he?" will make Yuji return the water so he can get it for you himself, gets a whole new cup and everything

Toji:

you ask a plumber to fix a leaky pipe under your sink comes home and sees a pair of men's shoes and he's readying a fucking weapon cocks a gun and everything marches in all ready for some guerrilla warfare sees you waiting for the plumber and realises the situation will backseat help "nah, you need to twist harder" "how much experience did you say you have?" when guy leaves, he's all moody and grouchy "no, I don't fucking care" "waste your money on some fucking plumber, that's on you" will break it when you're not looking so he can prove a point "it's hard to get good help these days ma, good thing I'll do it for free"

Nanami:

you're at work you ask a colleague for help with a document instead of him doesn't say shit he's trying to rationalise it in his head "she just didn't want to bother me, that's all" to everyone else, he looks fine but you see his jaw is tense, brow twitching once in a while, and he's flicking through papers much harder than he needs to have to smooth talk him "are you okay, kenny baby?" "I thought we had an agreement that pet names have no place in the office, honey." ride home is quiet, not really tense since you know why he's upset, and it's making you laugh a little when you get home, you have to hug it out of him and whisper sweet nothings until he relaxes "yes, you're right, my love. I was feeling a little possessive there. please come to me if you ever need help, even if it's the most minor thing. I would never turn you away." me personally, I wouldn't wait until we get home, I'm sucking him off in the car, hell under the desk, hell right in front of everyone

Sukuna:

you ask some random person in the street for directions whilst out sightseeing kills them you ask someone to get something on the top shelf in a supermarket, you don't even know Sukuna's there he kills them you trip, a guard on the estate catches you and you say thanks kills them changes out the entire guard doesn't even say shit, just does it without further thought or discussion

Yuji:

offended if you ask someone else to spar with you "HEY! I could spar you. I'm really good!!" will try to join in tries to show off his moves and the type to laugh really loud randomly to catch your attention you're going to have to throw him a bone because everyone else is getting annoyed if maki glares at you one more time, you'll cry "yay!!!! me and my girlfriend are the best sparring duo the world has ever seen" mood switches so easily, never holds a grudge

Megumi:

you're at a bookstore you ask for some guy's opinion, a recommendation or something he does that horror movie neck turn, the slow one with the jaws theme song doesn't say anything either just starts brooding oozing dark energy in the corner muttering to himself as he reads a book and if you tease him about it, he might actually just summon mahoraga tbh you have to butter him up and he'll let it go for the most part. just be aware you're never going to that bookstore again tho

Inumaki:

pikachu face when you ask panda to explain a joke to you you gonna do him like that??? with his BOY???? starts cursing all of you out "caviar!" and if you both ignore him, he'll start zipping down his jacket menacingly texts you "panda doesn't know shit, I'm the memelord, you should ask me" "panda's not explaining right!" spams "bruh" everywhere, in ur dms, in the group chat, on his insta/snap stories. fucking tweets it

[arieslost]

hi love! hope you’re having a great day. could you write something where the reader is oscar sisters best friend? thanks for reading my message!

anon YES! i loved writing this.

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

best friend’s brother | op81

your best friend never told you that her older brother was off limits, but she never said he wasn’t, either.

that still didn’t stop you from catching feelings for him, and you’d rather die than go up to her and say, “hey, i’m in love with oscar, is it okay if we date?” mostly because now you know oscar wants you too, and to be honest, it’s kind of fun keeping it a secret.

you saw him about as much as his family did— most of the time he was away for work, but the next race was his home one, and he arrived a week early. you, of course, being his sister’s best friend, practically lived at the piastri house half the time, and ended up being there for his homecoming. the side hug he’d given you was expected, but the wink he sent your way when he started climbing the stairs to his room was not.

you replayed that moment over and over in your head for the rest of the day, until eventually you found yourself struggling to sleep and decided to go down to the kitchen for some water.

silently slipping out of the guest room, you were careful to tread lightly down the stairwell, avoiding all the creaky spots with practiced ease. you didn’t want to wake anyone up, most of all the object of all the thoughts that were keeping you awake.

though, all your effort was for naught when you saw that the overhead sink light was on in the kitchen, and none other than oscar himself was quietly getting ice out of the freezer. his hair looked unbelievably soft and slightly messy, like he was running his hands through it. he was wearing an older looking pair of gray joggers, and worst of all, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. you’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, but one look was all it took to notice that he had most definitely filled out since you last saw him.

your mind was screaming at you to abort mission, abort mission, because you couldn’t be alone with him when he’s half naked like this, but when you shifted to make your retreat, you stepped on the wrong floorboard. it groaned obnoxiously loudly, and your eyes met oscar’s.

“can’t sleep?”

you shook your head. “uh-uh. figured i’d get a drink and see if that helps.”

“ah, we had the same idea then.” he smiled softly. “sit down, i’ll get it for you.”

“thanks, oz.” the childhood nickname slipped easily from your lips as you crossed the kitchen and lifted yourself up onto the counter nearest to him. “having a good season so far?”

“yeah, pretty good. good progression with the car, almost got a podium last race.”

“i know,” you said, looking down at your lap when he raised his eyebrows at you. “i watched.”

he hummed, handing you a glass and holding his own up. “cheers.”

you clinked your glass against his and took a sip before putting it to the side. “no teasing remarks?”

“nah, i think it’s cute.” he grinned, taking another drink and setting his own glass down. “my number one fangirl.”

“and there it is,” you rolled your eyes, though his quiet laughter was infectious and you couldn’t help joining in. “i’m your sister’s best friend, obviously i’m gonna watch.”

“and it has nothing to do with me?” he asked with a faux pout, flattening a palm right next to you on the counter so he could lean a bit closer.

“do you want it to?” you rested your hand inches away from his and closed the gap between the two of you a little.

“i think it already does.” his other hand slid between your thighs and forced them apart so he could move into the new space and effectively cage you to where you sat on the counter. “y’know, i almost kissed you in front of everyone earlier.”

“why didn’t you?” you whispered, eyes fluttering when his nose brushed yours.

“wanted it to happen when we were alone.” you could practically feel his lips against your own when he spoke, but you also really wanted him to make the first move.

running on the pure adrenaline stemming from your close proximity to the man you want more than anything in the world, you ran your palms over the back of his hands, up his forearms, past his biceps, and settled them on his bare shoulders. “oz…”

“yeah,” he replied, like he knew everything you were trying to say, before he finally closed the distance between you.

immediately, you knew you were addicted to kissing him. the way his mouth moved against yours, the way he wrapped your legs around his hips and held your knees to keep them there, the way he sighed when your fingers slid into his hair. you no longer wanted anything more than you wanted to keep kissing him even after all the breath left your lungs.

he took his time kissing you, keeping everything slow, soft, and gentle. there was no tongue, no teeth, no desperation. if either of you felt anything, it was relief.

finally.

it’s the first thing you said when you broke apart, causing him to smile before pulling you right back in. he kissed you again, and again, until your lips were swollen and you heard someone move around upstairs, breaking you out of your lovestruck trance.

“i’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered as you slid off the counter, reaching down and tangling your fingers with his and giving your hand a squeeze.

a squeeze that promises subtle glances across the table at breakfast, fleeting touches in the stairwell, and many more late night kisses.

word count: 957

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note: i got very creative with the title (not). i can’t believe i’ve never thought to write this before!!! omg this was so delicious.

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

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[hemmingshouse]

you’re not my pizza / chris sturniolo

summary: chris had always felt a hatred towards you ever since you two met. little did you know that after your outburst he would finally come to his senses.

warnings: enemies to lovers (sorta?), cursing, yelling, angst, sappy!chris

pt. 2

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“this is what i told you all about!” you exclaimed happily as you finally found the tiktok you’d been searching for ever since you stepped foot into the sturniolo house hold. you found a tiktok trend you thought the boys would love to do and made it your mission to find the video to show them. “it’s gonna be so fuckin’ funny.”

chris was sat across from you at the kitchen island whilst matt and nick were on both sides of you. you straightened your arms so the two brothers were able to see what was going on. when you three giggled it caused chris to roll his eyes, shaking his head as he internally told himself to shut up instead of making a snarky remark about how annoying you and your unhealthy tiktok obsession were. you slid your phone towards chris with some hesitation, the guy never really checking the video your tiktok played on repeat.

“nah, i feel like we could actually nail that,” matt chuckled as he watched his younger brother, nick wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he patted your head in an agreement to matt’s statement. “chris? are you in?”

the youngest of three looked up from where he was texting away on his phone, unbothered with what you all just talked about and the way the video played on a loop right in front of him. he sighed, “if this is about that stupid tiktok idea of hers, i’m not doing it.”

nick scoffed and raised his eyebrows, “excuse you?” he started as he sat up straight, “drop that attitude motherfucker, at least she’s coming up with ideas whilst you’re sitting here doing absolutely nothing.”

it had always been easy getting along with matt and nick ever since you met them. you met nick in the local park nearby your house when he struggled to get the right angle for his new pictures and asked you to help him out. when you showed him the ones you took, he swore on his life that nobody besides you or his two brothers could take his instagram pictures.

matt showed you around the neighbourhood the first time he hung out with you after nick had told him you moved down from boston to la to persue your art career and didn’t really know anybody just yet. he drove you around, loving the way you two bonded over your love for root beers and pepperoni pizza. matt always found it fascinating to hear your stories about boston because your lives were so similar yet so different. it was crazy how you only lived in the same state and only a few blocks down the road from the sturniolo household, but never crossed paths once.

chris, on the other hand, was another story. because matt and nick took so much interest in their newest friend and tried to build up a good and healthy friendship with you, they sometimes spent less time with chris. he always declined tagging along in the beginning, being satisfied with the alone time and how quiet the house was without his two brothers, but when they started to bring you to their house he switched moods instantly.

you weren’t really sure why chris despised you as much as he did. you often let the boys be and did your own thing, yet chris was always nagging about how his brothers rarely ever spent time with him anymore. you tried to bail out of today as well as the previous time, but matt was already in your driveway to pick you up when you tried to cancel.

it was times like these where you weren’t fazed with anything chris had to say. somehow and some way, that kid always tried to get under your skin and you always let him because you were scared his brothers were going to pick his side and drop you instantly.

but this time, you’ve had enough. you narrowed your eyes at chris as he looked almost proud of himself for spitting out another nasty remark. you ticked your head to the side before speaking up. “you’ve been yapping all fucking day and running your mouth, yet you fail to come up with something that actually makes sense? or something that’s gonna benefit you and your brothers. don’t fucking talk to me like that.”

matt’s mouth dropped and nick let out a yell at your comeback, slapping his hands over his mouth as he looked back and forth between you and chris. the smirk on chris’s lips turned into a thin line, his fingers creating a dent into the pepsi can he was currently holding because of how infuriated you got him by running your mouth.

“what the fuck was that?” he spoke up, eyebrows raised cockily as he leaned forward onto the marble kitchen island. “didn’t you learn to be quiet when it’s not your turn to talk?”

nick was gonna shut his brother’s behaviour down by stepping in and getting a word in, but you shot him a quick look not to. you turned your head back to meet a cold gaze, grin dancing on chris’s lips. “didn’t you learn to say thank you when someone tries to sort out your shit? you’re a fucking asshole and quite frankly, i’m fucking done with how you’re treating me.”

you stepped down from the high bar stool and grabbed your phone off the counter from where matt placed it back in front of you after saving the tiktok video you spent ages searching for after chris didn’t take a single look at it.

“y/n..” matt spoke up quietly, grasping your hand in his when you tried to reach for your house keys. “i’m sorry he’s such a shitface. please stay?”

“he can never help but be an egocentric little shithead when he doesn’t get his way,” nick spoke up disappointingly, running a hand through his hair as he took a look at their youngest brother. “i can’t believe your pathetic ass.”

you shook your head and sent matt an apologetic smile, squeezing his hand quickly before reaching for your purse that hugh from the bar stool. “i was never gonna get through his thick skull to begin with.”

“oh look, she’s walking away from confrontation again!” chris exclaimed as he shook his head in disbelief and sat back in his chair. he earned a smack on the back of the head from nick and a middle finger and deep, disappointed sigh from matt.

“luckily for you, i won’t ever step a foot into this house when you’re in it. you fucking win, christopher. i can’t be fucked with your bullshit anymore.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it must’ve been a week and a few days since you left the sturniolo household in a rush to get to your uber before anyone noticed you were sobbing your eyes sore on the way out. matt offered to drive you home, but you didn’t want him to get into a fight with chris for choosing your side.

you hated the way chris put you down every time, the way his face would scrunch up in pure disgust whenever you’d say or do something he wasn’t a fan off. you couldn’t brush it off anymore, it had gotten too much.

you just submitted an essay for your art course and decided you’d order yourself a pizza and watch a few episodes of your favourite show to try and relax a little. his words were glued inside your brain and it was hard to not think about them, they truly broke your heart. finding comfort in your favourite food and show seemed like a good thing right now.

matt and nick profusely apologised for their brother’s behaviour. matt had told you they both wouldn’t speak to him until chris came to his senses and would apologise to you. both of you were aware that was a big thing because he despised your guts - why would he ever apologise?

nick was on another level. he had ditched every single plan he and chris made the past few days, just so his brother was able to feel what it felt like to be downgraded the way he did with you. nick’s stubbornness surely made you feel a bit better, but it made you feel a bit torn. even if chris was a major asshole to you, you didn’t want the bond he had with his brothers to get abandoned because of you.

a knock on the stoor caused you to slip out of the trance you were in. you sighed softly and put yourself together before walking towards your front door to collect your doughy pepperoni pizza.

you swung the door open and plastered the smallest smile on your face, one that immediately fell when you saw him standing in the door frame. a sigh fell from your mouth, not wanting to deal with his shit right now. “you’re not my pizza.”

chris bit the inside of his cheek, knowing you were going to get grumpy when he interrupted your peaceful evening. “uhm- no- i’m not no,” he coughed, shaking his head. “hey uhm- i felt the need to apologise.”

you narrowed your eyes, “is that because you’re actually sorry or because you want your brothers to treat you normally again?” you asked him sternly, noticing how his hands slid into the pockets of his black joggers as he rocked back and forth onto his feet.

“i acted like an asshole,” he stated with a nod, “i’ve- like always been an asshole towards you and i’m truly sorry for making you feel the way i always did,” chris spoke softly, “look y/n- we’re so similiar in too many ways and i- i don’t know, it’s just scary to think i’m replaceable.”

“have you been practicing this in the mirror or something? it’s coming out a lil’ too rehearsed,” you yold him seriously, although there was the slightest teasing hint in your voice. “what do you mean by too similar?”

chris was surprised when you stepped out of the way to let him into your apartment, clearing his throat as he took off his converse near the front door. “we share the same interests, have the same fucked up sense of humour and we always yap everyone’s ears off,” he rambled on as you lead him towards the living room, “whenever- i’m- when you’d be at our place i’d always feel a bit left out,” he scratched the back of his neck, “you’re such a fun person to be around and- i don’t know, it felt like matt and nick chose you over me sometimes. i know that’s not your fault at all now, but i took it out on you because that- fuck- that was just the easiest way to deal with it.”

his words caused your heart to break a little. the frown on his face, scrunched up eyebrows and a hurtful look in his eyes made you feel so guilty for being so unaware of this all. you sat him down on the couch, clearing your throat.

“i’m so sorry you feel that way, chris,” you spoke softly, fiddling with the ring in your middle finger, “that was never my intention to begin with. i always hung out with y’all because i found you interesting - like matt and nick always told me we’d get along so well and i find it sad we never truly got around to actually hanging out because you always brushed me off so fucking hard.”

the brunette nodded his head, “i know,” he agreed, “i now know i should’ve gotten to know you before i came to a conclusion. i feel so stupid and i’m so so sorry, i can’t begin to understand how fucked up i made you feel.”

the way he was nervously fidgeting with the material of his joggers and how he ran his hand through his hair three times in the past minute made you realise that he couldn’t be more genuine than he was right now. you made a mental note to thank matt and nick for putting some sense into him as well, but the anxious boy on your couch was now your main priority.

“it’s alright chris,” you smiled softly as you reached forward to brush your thumb across his knuckles in a hope it would calm him down slightly, “thanks for apologising and coming here to explain yourself.”

he chuckled, “matt and nick not talking to me made me think about every encounter we had and i must say - i was kinda proud of you for sticking up for yourself last week.”

it caused you to let out a laugh before chris hesitantly turned his hand so your palms lay flat against each other’s. you were able to see he was trying to figure out if what he was doing was too much or not, so you took it upon yourself to tangle your fingers together with his. “really?” you shook your head with a smile, “was about damn time i scolded at your for being a fucking dick.”

chris laughed and nodded his head in agreement, softly brushing a thumb across your knuckles as a soft rosy blush spread onto his cheeks. you figured it was because you had never been this close before - this being the first time he actually felt physical contact from you. it caused a tingle to run up your spine as chris watched your every move.

chris found it important to read your body language to know if he was crossing the line with you - this new type of friendship making him wonder if it was okay for him to grab your hand or pull you in a friendly hug. he had never found himself wondering what it would be like to be this close to you, your breath fanning his lips and his knee brushing your bare one.

“i’m happy you did,” he spoke up, voice quiet, “we wouldn’t have been here if you didn’t.”

the way your eyes were darting back and forth between his lips and his eyes made your heartbeat race faster than you could ever recall. you weren’t sure why you suddenly felt so fucking attracted to him, but chris showing his vulnerable side must have ignited something in you.

his free hand reached upwards to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, fingertips softly grazing your cheek. you leaned into his touch while keeping eye contact with him, noticing how he hesitantly started leaning in a bit more. “you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, hand sliding down to cup your jaw and a thumb running across your soft lips.

you let out a shaky sigh, feeling yourself get worked up with the way chris was holding your face and keeping eye contract throughout it all. it felt surreal to have him this close after all you two encountered, but it also felt extremely good to let go of the hatred you felt for him - ready to have so many other feelings towards the youngest sturniolo.

“if you want me to stop, i suggest you do it now,” he inhaled sharply, “i don’t know if i can stop after i start.”

his words caused your head to spin as his free hand now cupped the other side of your jaw, thumbs resting on your cheeks. you closed your eyes for a few seconds before you looked at him again, “i don’t want you to stop, chris.”

the way you finally called him by his nickname more than once today made him feel all giddy inside as you usually only called him christopher or the occasional motherfucker when you were pissed at him.

he quickly licked his lips as he felt your fingers curl around his wrists, nose lightly nudging yours to test the waters slightly. when he noticed your breath hitch in your throat, chris knew you wanted it as much as he did.

his lips brushed yours every so slightly, loving the way your lip balm slightly got smudged because of his actions. chris was about to deepen the kiss by fully pressing his lips to yours, but got rudely interrupted when the doorbell rang.

he let out a groan and it caused you to giggle, still holding onto his wrists. “i reckon you’re staying over for dinner then?”



✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

do we do a smutty part two? ;)

[cevansbrat0007]

Indecent Exposure Pt. III: Poolside Promises

Summary: You convince Ari to finally let you have a little fun this summer. But at what cost? Check out Part One!

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Dad's Best Friend Themes, Older Men/Younger Women Themes, Brief Allusion to Oral Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Please heed all warnings. Part of my Indecent Exposure Series. If you'd like to be added to the tag list, please let me know.

Almost Two Weeks After Your Father's Departure...

You glide through the water effortlessly, seeking a brief relief from the summer heat. While the news had promised you and everyone else that today’s weather would be one for the books, the warnings still hadn’t been enough to prepare you for the heat that assailed you the moment you’d stepped out the back door. 

However, it’s not until you allow your head to break through the surface that you realize you were no longer alone. You had company. And he was also staring at you.

Again. It was something he had a habit of doing.

“Can I help you?” It’s a flatly delivered question. 

The man only shrugs, dragging a hand through his shaggy, chestnut brown locks. Frankly, he looked so much like his brother you were almost surprised that you’d never really noticed just how many similarities they actually shared.

Same striking blue eyes. Same massive build. Same chiseled jaw that looked great with or without a beard. But where Steve always possessed an aura or control, Ari emanated something a little more raw and untamed. 

You found found that it sometimes did funny things to those annoying butterflies that had seemingly taken up residence in your belly these days.

“Did you need something?” You try as you continue to tread water in the middle of the pool.

“Nothing you're quite prepared to give, sweet Clover.” Ari responds cryptically, his head cocking to the side as he continues to survey you. 

“Then why the hell do you keep staring at me?”

That was another thing you’d recently come to learn about Ari over the last couple of days. He didn’t seem to care whenever you decided to take a spicy tone with him – a fact you’d discovered when you’d found him sitting in your father’s study just the other morning.

You’d been so happy until that moment, especially since you’d previously been granted three days free of Bucky, Steve, and Andy. Your time alone had been glorious, even if it had proved to be short lived. 

You watch the older man closely, fascinated by the increasingly pronounced tick in his jaw. Hell, if he was allowed to stare then so would you. However, the question was, who would blink first?

Turns out, that award belonged to Ari. 

Humming a tune under his breath, he proceeds to grab a lawn chair before pulling it closer to the edge of the pool. Neither one of you says a word as he takes a seat, his sinewy muscles bunching and flexing beneath the thin fabric of his light gray t-shirt. 

“Just came out here to check on you.” He reaches up to scratch at his beard. “See how you were managing in this heat.”

“I’m managing by planning to spend all afternoon in the pool, like any other sane person would.”

“Ya know, I’m pretty sure Bucky and the boys made it clear that they don’t appreciate your little penchant for snark.” He muses, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  

Probably. You inwardly concede. It definitely hasn't been winning you any favors. Which is why you often preferred to play the part of a mute. Whenever they allowed you to, that is.

“Doesn’t seem to bother you.” You respond honestly before closing your eyes and flipping your body so that you can float on your back, giving Ari a glimpse of your peaches and cream-colored bikini.

“That’s cuz’ not too much bothers me. I don’t allow it.” 

“Hmm…” You spread your arms, silently wishing you could simply float away from this conversation entirely. “Maybe you should talk to the others about that. Seems like I find a new way to piss them off every time I open my mouth.” 

“Nah.” Ari shrugs away your words as he continues to appear unbothered by the heat. “Something tells me they don’t quite know just what to do with a pretty little thing like you.” 

“Oh. And you do?” Well, you could safely say that you hadn’t been expecting that answer. 

“I’d certainly like to think so.” 

His statement hangs in the air as you both fall silent. While you weren’t quite sure what your would-be caretaker was talking about, it was definitely enough to make you think. And it’s at that moment that you decide to change tactics. Instead of floating here annoyed, perhaps it was time to use Ari’s seemingly indulgent personality to your benefit. 

A friend of yours was throwing a party tonight. And you wanted to go. 

When you’d previously brought it up to Bucky and Steve, they’d both hemmed and hawed over the subject – asking you all kinds of questions and refusing to give you anything more than a non-committal “we’ll have to see” or "we'll have to sit down and talk about it". And when you’d tried to play the ultimate trump card by calling your father, he’d sided with them. 

“I’m not there, pumpkin.” Your Dad had said while you’d been holed-up pouting in your room. “I asked your Uncles to watch over you, which means I’m gonna have to defer to them in situations like this one."

And, as luck would have it, you hadn’t been able to get your answer before they’d just up and disappeared on you like the overbearing assholes they were proving themselves to be.

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure I trust the judgment of anyone who’s crazy enough to sit out here in this heat and roast – not when there’s a perfectly good pool, like, right in front of them.”

“Not sure that pool of yours is big enough for the both of us.” Ari mutters, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. Although you get the feeling he’s talking more to himself than you. 

“It’s plenty big.” You eagerly reassure him, adjusting your position so that you can float closer to where your pseudo-guardian is sitting. “See? There’s aaall this space.”

For a second Ari appears unsure. And the closer you get, there’s no denying the fact that he was finally showing signs of feeling the heat. It’s hard to miss the thin line of sweat dotting along his brow.

“C’mon…” You urge, playfully splashing him. “Don’t be such a hard ass, Uncle Ari.” You decide to tack on the last bit for his benefit, all the while trying hard to keep the edge out of your tone. But if he notices, he thankfully doesn’t comment.

“Fine. Melt.” You heave an exasperated sigh when he still doesn’t move. Climbing onto a nearby pool raft, you turn your attention back to your companion. “Jesus, you guys are always so serious, like all of the time. I mean, what’s wrong with having a little fun?”

“Alright.” That’s all you get before he reaches to pull his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted body hiding beneath.

You scarcely have the chance to appreciate the sight before you’re treated to the sound of a splash. You let out a squeal as water goes splashing everywhere, rewetting your already rapidly drying body. Seconds later, Ari’s head breaks through the water.

“Happy now, princess?” He disappears again, only to reappear closer to where you’re currently lounging. 

“Depends.” 

“On?” He asks, seemingly content to tread water alongside you. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t at least admit that the man was kind of attractive.

Or, as your friends had put it, sexy as hell. Yeah, you weren’t quite sure how you felt about that one.

“Well…” You hedge, giggling when he splashes you to encourage you to hurry up.

“Out with it, Clover. A closed mouth doesn’t get fed.” Or fucked. He silently adds.

“There’s this party I kinda wanted to go to tonight. All my friends will be there and I haven't really had the chance to celebrate my birthday with them yet.” You finish, your teeth going to worry your bottom lip. 

Ari studies you for a moment as he tries to figure out the best way to respond. “What did Uncle Steve and the others say?” He already knew that you'd asked them, and he wanted to make it clear that he’s not one to be so easily manipulated. “I’m assuming you asked them first.”

“They said “maybe”. Well, two of them did anyway. But then they left without ever giving me a real answer.” 

“I see.” He offers you a cheeky grin while pausing to swat at a wayward fly. “Maybe we should call them. See if they’ve finally made up their minds–.” 

“No!” You shoot straight up on your perch, accidently flipping the raft and sending you tumbling back into the icy cool water. You come up sputtering and coughing, and while you can’t quite tell, you’re also fairly certain that Ari is laughing at you.

“You all good?”

“Yeah.” You gag, hating the taste of chlorine. 

Ari nods before moving to retrieve your float. He’s even kind enough to hold it still long enough for you to climb back on it again. Only once he’s satisfied that you’re secure does he seem interested in continuing the conversation. 

“So…it sounds like you really wanna go to this party. Don’t you, Clover?” 

“Yes.” You breathe, refusing to say anything more than that just in case he was actually considering it. You’re so desperate that you don’t even balk when he begins swimming towards the edge of the pool, dragging you along with him. He doesn’t speak again until he’s reached his destination. 

“Tell me, will there be any drinking at this party?”

“Wha–no!”

“Now’s not the time to lie to me, princess. Will people be drinking at this party?” He reaches up to cup your chin, his brilliant blue eyes boring into yours as if he's attempting to unravel all of your secrets.

One by one.

“I swear! Grace’s parents would positively kill her if they found out she threw that kind of party.”

Ari quietly mulls over your answer before deeming it to be honest enough for his liking. “How about boys?”

Fuck. While you couldn’t be honest, you also didn’t want to lie. Not when you were this close to getting what you wanted. Which was freedom. 

“Her little brother will be there. He’s a couple grades below us. But it's not like she can kick him out or anything.”

“Just her little brother, huh?” You could tell he was feeling more than a little skeptical. However, you’re surprised when he seemingly lets it slide. Releasing his grip on your chin, he gives you a little push, content to let you float away. 

“I swear. We can’t do anything too crazy with him around – he’d rat us out sooo fast.”

Please believe me. Please believe me. Please believe me. 

Holding your breath, you watch as he climbs out of the water. He makes a beeline for your towel, patting himself dry to the best of his ability before draping it over his shoulder. 

“Okay, sweetheart. I might be willing to make an executive decision on this one, provided you’re willing to do something for me in return. Something that’ll keep at least some of the heat off of me when it comes to dealing with Steve and the boys.”

What you didn't know was that they had already discussed your desire to attend this party – him, Bucky, Andy, and Steve – and they'd decided that the answer was "no". But since you'd gone the last couple days without throwing a tantrum, Ari felt inclined to give you what you wanted. It also helped that he found your bratty ways to be rather endearing.

So long as you weren't outrightly disrespectful.

“Anything.” The word flies out of your mouth before you can catch it. And just like that, that damn tick in his jaw is back.

“The only way I feel comfortable enough letting you go is if you promise to text me every 30 minutes. Doesn’t have to be long. Just a message to let me and the other guys know you’re okay.”

What the hell?

You open your mouth to protest before deciding you’re better off not. Right now, you’d take the win and try to renegotiate the rest later. 

“Take it or leave it, princess.” 

“I’ll take it!” You reply, albeit probably a little too enthusiastically. “Thank you so much!”

Ari doesn’t even crack a smile. Instead that damned tick of his only seems to grow even more pronounced. “Alright.” With that, he turns and begins striding towards the door. “I’ll, uh…I’ll get you another towel.” He pauses once he reaches his destination, turning to face you once more. 

“And Clover?”

“Yeah?” You call back, feeling happier than you have in almost two whole weeks. 

“Don’t make me regret this." Ari rumbles, allowing you to get a good, long look at his muscled, hair covered chest. "I'd hate for my kindness to come back and bite me in the ass. It would be a shame to start the summer off on such a bad note.”

“I…”

His words leave you so speechless that you can only watch as Ari proceeds to waltz through the sliding door, leaving you outside all alone once more. But not before reiterating his promise to bring you another towel so that you can get ready for lunch.

“Well, fuck…” Is all you can muster before rolling yourself off your float and into the cooling expanse of the water. You swim down to the bottom, touching the floor with both hands as you work to center yourself. 

You hold your breath for as long as you’re able before the need for oxygen forces you to resurface. As you greedily gulp air into your burning lungs you tell yourself not to give a fuck about Ari and his bullshit. Instead, you decide to focus on the most important aspect of tonight, namely…

Just what in the hell were you going to wear?

END

Official Tag List

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[powderpinkprincess]

Out of Everyone II. [Lando Norris & twin sister!reader]

find part one here description: Being twins was easier when you were twelve. You both know this, because now you are ‘dating’ Lando’s friend, whom he absolutely hates for you. warnings: Lando’s friends mentioned in this are all made-up (except Max). If he has any friends irl who are called the same, that’s a coincidence.

A few days later, Lando met with a few of his friends at Max’s place. It was nothing major or well-organized. Max was playing FIFA with Matt on the couch, while Lando was talking with two guys he knew from karting. Joey was also there on the other side of the room. Lando expected him to finally say something about you, but it hasn’t happened yet. He felt irritated just by Joey’s presence, but he did his best not to show it. The others didn’t know about it, and technically, he wasn’t supposed to know about it either.

They all had a few shots and beers. The room was loud with laughter and chatter as usual when they got to meet after a long time separated. Lando kept stealing glances towards Joey, who was now talking about his team’s wins in the US. Lando focused back on his friends he was sitting with.

Lando was halfway through his drink, pretending to follow whatever Max and Steve were laughing about, when Joey’s voice cut through the noise. “Man, and now I’m shagging this girl, and she is such an easy catch. Maybe she’s caught feelings, or I don’t know, never had such an easy girl in my life,” he laughed, taking a sip from his beer.

Lando’s whole body tensed up within a second. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t flinch. Every nerve in him was suddenly on fire.

Joey just continued. “Yeah, not sure she’s even that much of a catch, to be honest.”

That was it. Lando’s fingers clenched around his glass, but he still had hard control over his expression. He turned towards Joey and spoke, his voice calm but ice-cold. “Who is it?”

The room quieted slightly, a few guys glancing over as Joey looked up, clearly startled. He just realized that your twin brother was sitting in the same room with him. He cleared his throat and then let out a forced laugh, waving his hand dismissively. “Nah, no one you know, mate. Just some girl.”

Lando didn’t blink. He didn’t move. He just stared. “I’m gonna ask again,” he said, his tone flat. “Who is it?”

Joey shifted in his seat, suddenly far less comfortable. Lando knew. And Joey knew he knew.

The room was silent now. Lando kept staring into Joey’s eyes so intensely that everyone noticed it wasn’t just a curious question. Something was off.

 “Everything okay, Lando?” Max asked, placing the controller on his lap cautiously.

No answer. Lando couldn’t tear his gaze from Joey’s face. He could barely hold back.

 “Alright, stop creeping us out,” Matt said, trying to defuse the tension with a hand on Lando’s shoulder. Lando shrugged him off without a word.

 “Is something going on between you two?” Steve asked, glancing between Lando and Joey.

 “There’s nothing going on,” Joey said quickly, finally able to break Lando’s intense stare.

 “Nothing?” Lando repeated, voice low, sharp.

 “It’s not serious. I don’t wanna date her or anything,” Joey muttered, trying to ease the situation, but this just made it worse.

Lando stood up in one smooth motion, grabbing Joey by the arm and yanking him to his feet. The room froze. Every set of eyes locked on them.

 “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?” Lando hissed.

 “What the hell are you on about?” Joey frowned, trying to play dumb.

 “How long?” Lando demanded. “How long have you been seeing her?”

 “We’re not seeing each other. We’re just- Hanging out sometimes. Not even that often. It’s nothing serious, man,” Joey attempted to explain himself.

Lando gave a bitter laugh. “And tell me, please, how exactly does someone like you just ‘hang out’ with my sister?”

Silence. The air in the room turned to stone.

Joey swallowed nervously, knowing there was no way back now. “How do you know?” he asked, trying to avoid answering Lando’s question.

 “She told me,” Lando said flatly. “The part I still don’t get is how you managed to keep it from me for three whole months.”

Joey shifted uncomfortably. “Didn’t think it was really your business,” he spoke hesitantly, regretting his choice of words immediately when Lando’s grip tightened on his arm.

Lando was barely keeping himself from punching Joey at that moment. “And why would you think that? You’re my friend, and you’ve been messing around with my twin sister like it means nothing. It was my business the moment you laid a finger on her.”

Joey pulled his arm free. “You’re overreacting.”

Lando looked ready to swing when Max jumped up from the couch and stepped between them. “Whoa, stop. Both of you.”

Lando took a few deep breaths, his eyes glaring at Joey. He gave his everything not to explode. Joey held his stare again, and it made Lando want to punch him until he admitted everything. Yet he didn’t want to create a huge fight now that his group of friends had finally gotten to be together.

No one moved. No one said anything. The silence dragged until Lando turned and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the floor shook.

The tension lingered. No one dared speak until Max finally broke the eerie silence. “Joey, what the hell?”

Joey shrugged. “I don’t know, he’s overreacting.”

 “Really?” Max shot back. “Were you really sneaking around with his sister for three months? What did you think would happen?”

 “I told you, it’s not serious,” Joey muttered. “Y/N and I are just having fun.”

 “And did you really think Lando wouldn’t care?” Max couldn’t believe his ears. It was obvious how much Lando cared about you. No one would be brave enough to mess with your feelings, except Joey, apparently.

 “No, but I didn’t think he was going to be this mad about it. Y/N didn’t seem to mind,” Joey admitted, running his fingers through his hair as the tension finally started to subside. He was fucked. Big time. He still didn’t understand why, though. You were an adult, capable of deciding what you wanted without Lando always being in your way.

 “Oh, come on, Joey,” Matt snapped, looking at him incredulously. “This is not just any girl. This is his twin sister.”

 “I know,” Joey said, sounding annoyed. “Didn’t think it’d be this big of a deal.”

 “Well,” Max muttered. “You were dead wrong.”

[zivazivc]

Because of a recent ask about the dad's name I am dropping this old drawing that should go along with a oneshot I doubt I'll ever finish because I don't like it anymore, so better I just put this out there.

The dad's name is Keanu and his husband's name is Wave. I don't actually know anything about them but here they are 😅

And you can find a portion of the unfinished fic with this scene under the cut. Warning: Floyd is a mess. A much much bigger one than I actually/currently think his present self is, hence why I don't like this so much anymore (and it was never meant to be canon to my ex bandmates au anyway). It's still pretty funny though.

. . .

Before Bruce could notice the change in Floyd’s mood his eyes caught movement behind him by the entrance to the restaurant. His grin eased down into a more relaxed smile for him to return to business.

“We have another troll family coming in,” he said and turned around to pick up a set of small, freshly-printed and laminated menus from the counter. “Been getting quite a number of those since we hosted the concert.”

Floyd snatched them from his hand, eager to push the replay of his anxiety to the back of his mind, and get back to work. “I’m on it," he said determinedly. "You take care of the big guys.”

He didn’t even know if he could handle carrying another Vaycaytioner-sized family-sized order of food. He hogged the regularly-sized troll customers as much as he could. 

The new guests had settled behind one of the small inflatable plastic tables in the pool area close to the entrance where the sun was shining through. Even with their lower halves submerged in water, Floyd could immediately tell that they were Techno Trolls from the way their hair flowed in the air, like gravity was just an afterthought to them.

Once he got closer, Floyd saw that it was presumably two dads around his age with their two kids. His eyes immediately glued themselves to the older, more physically attractive of the two men, because that’s what he always seemed to find himself doing in these situations. Not that it was his fault the guy was hot and Floyd had been grounded to perfume bottles, armadillo RVs, and underground bunkers for months on end.

When he made it to the pool edge and stood right above their floating table, he finally caught himself gazing. He blinked and reeled his stupid horny thoughts back in before he would do something dumb like bite his lip and give him the bedroom eyes in front of his husband and kids. Not that something like that had been completely beneath him in the past. But he was currently on a shift in his brother’s restaurant, so…

He put on a more acceptable, family-friendly smile.

“Hi, welcome,” he said easily, sounding nothing like how his spasmodic thoughts felt in his head. “How’s everyone doing? You guys hungry?”

He crouched down and leaned over the edge of the pool to hand them the menus.

“Starving, actually,” the attractive techno troll said with a friendly laugh in his voice, and leaned over the inflatable table to grab them. And Floyd’s eyes traveled down that toned arm and exposed stomach. Not only did he ooze the confident, warm charisma of someone who had his life together, he was also fit. Floyd almost fell into the pool in his attempt to accidentally brush fingers with him. The guy was back in his spot in the water before either of those things happened, much to Floyd’s relief and disappointment.

He straightened up and pulled up his notepad and pencil almost like a shield. Fuck, Floyd, get your head straight! “Can I get you anything to drink while you decide what you'll have?”

“Nah, I think we’ll look first,” the guy replied without lifting his eyes as he handed the menus to the rest.

Floyd was about to give up on his first round of trying to get this man’s attention, and sigh in relief that his stupid wants weren’t being entertained, when he registered a different set of eyes staring hard at him. He glanced to the left, to the other guy behind the table.

The intensity of the glare nearly made Floyd recoil.

His first thought was: Shit, I wasn’t even trying to be obvious. Because when he was, the angry stares he would receive from jealous boyfriends or girlfriends were usually heated and flustered, not intensely sharp and cold. The steadiness with which he was being pinned didn’t even feel like a newly developed loathing.

Shit was also Floyd’s second thought. He’s looking at me like we know each other… I haven’t already fucked his man before, have I? Floyd wasn’t so good with faces or names …or memory in general when it came to certain episodes in his life. But surely the hot husband would have remembered him at least…

Then his mind wandered to the other possibility. Did we fuck??

Whenever he tried to iron out his life, his stupid past actions always seemed to come back to bite him in the ass. He really hoped this wasn’t one of those cases.

He stared at the troll’s face, trying to place him somewhere. Techno Troll (that didn’t narrow it down that much), hair in two different gradients of blue, dark purple skin, a younger-looking face even for a Techno Troll, bright green eyes, and green freckles…

Sweat broke down Floyd’s back, and it had nothing to do with his recovering physical condition.

He swallowed uncomfortably and instinctively pulled his pencil and paper slightly closer to his chest. His eyes finally looked over to the other side of the inflatable table. He had only briefly glanced at the kids before, enough to know they were kids and uninteresting. But looking at them now… Floyd immediately deviated a couple of shades from his natural hue.

Neither had any of the hunky dad’s warm colors; in fact, the kids weren’t even fully Techno. They were mixed like his friend Liv. The scarce strands of thin, luminescent Techno cords were nearly swallowed up by dense, fluffy, regular hair. The girl—they were a boy and a girl—was lounging on a pool float with her feet in the air, and Floyd could see that instead of flippers, she had legs with the unusually webbed feet, kind of something like an amphibian. The other kid—the boy—had skin that didn't have the dim effect or rubbery texture to it that Techno Trolls normally had, and it was an uncomfortably familiar shade of turquoise. Both of them sported hot pink bangs over their eyes.

“Ah,” Floyd uttered out loud like some kind of dumbass.

The three heads who had been engrossed in the restaurant menu all looked up, surprised to see him still standing there. Floyd evaded their gazes only to lock eyes with the purple troll again.

He… He was the kid from the week-long, non-stop techno rave, back when Floyd had been deep in his sour worm addiction and going through a long manic episode to top it off… At one point during the party someone brought out pure citric acid and Floyd blanked out for three days straight after that, only to wake up in an unfamiliar bed with a double surprise…

It was like a switch, but now Floyd could clearly remember the young adult version of this troll floating around his dorm room with the egg from Floyd’s head in his hands, panicking about how his parents were going to kill him, all while Floyd silently lay in bed contemplating if he should mention the other egg stuck in the kid's hair or if he should just say he’s going to the bathroom and then never return.

“Uhm.” He swallowed uncomfortably, wanting to be anywhere but here. Maybe not the crystal bottle, but anywhere else. “…I think I should get you a different waiter…”

The purple troll’s glare did not waver in the slightest. “I think so too.”

Floyd took that as permission to bail on him a second time. He turned around on his heel and practically ran from the pool edge.

“Keanu, you good?” he heard the husband ask, sounding obviously confused about what just transpired.

Well, at least Floyd knew what to call that troll in his head now instead of just "kid"…

. . .

[gyuvision]

strawberry soju -> [back to masterlist?]

pairing : exes to ?? hong seunghan x fem reader

contains -> : drinking, mention of alcohol/being drunk

wc : 0.9k

preview ! - your drunken ex boyfriend calls you up out of nowhere, leaving him under your care for the night when he doesnt want you to go.

continue? ⬇️

you groaned at the sound of your phone buzzing once again. after all, it really does get annoying when its been 3 minutes and 7 missed calls.

“who could be calling so late? 10pm on a friday..”

setting down the ramen cup and pausing your favorite show, you swipe to accept the call, holding the phone up to your ear without checking the caller id. “hello? whos this?”

“y/nniee? that you?” the person slurred.

you knew that voice all too well, you didn’t even have to look at the contact name. “seunghan.” you sighed.

“you finally answered.” he exclaimed. you could practically hear his stupid smile.

“been drinking again?” you said, already knowing by his tone of voice.

“just.. a little tipsy..”

“are you-” you were cut off by someone elses voice.

“sorry y/n. he had a lot to drink.” eunseok joined in. “you mind getting seunghan? i know its.. awkward still. but my parents are supposed to go out soon, and i don’t want to leave my brother by himself.”

“hes sooo drunk that he seems to think you’re still together. he’s been asking for you all night!” sungchan snickered somewhere in the background.

“uh.. send me your location then? i guess its fine just this once. he wont even remember it in the morning.”

so you found yourself driving to a well known local restaurant to pick up your ex boyfriend. even though it was your choice, you couldnt help but wonder why you were doing this.

and you also couldn’t help but feel bad at the thought of seunghan being so drunk to the point he still thinks you’re dating.

“y/n, over here!” sungchan called out to you as you entered the building.

“wheres eunseok?”

“you just missed him. he had to go because he’s too worried about his brother.”

“my y/n! you’re here!” seunghan squealed going to pull you into a tight hug.

you awkwardly pat his head in return instead of hugging back. though you couldn’t say that you didn’t miss his touch.

sungchan helped you both to the car before he took off as well.

“god you smell like.. like, strawberry soju?” you exclaimed. “you really reek of alcohol. how much did you drink?”

seunghan replied by holding up 9 fingers, a lazy smile across his face and his eyes closed, with his cheeks a bright pink. “9 shots?” you scoffed as you set course for seunghans house.

“babyy.” seunghan whined. “im not your baby.” “you’ll always be my baby.” he teased back.

you sighed as you rubbed your forehead in frustration. “what do you want?”

“aircon please. i feel hot.” he mumbled as he tugged at the collar of his shirt.

you sank into your seat after turning on the air conditioning, putting up with how cold you were so he could feel better. after all, he was a bit of a liability right now though.

you walked up to seunghans apartment with him leaning into your shoulder while he had one arm around you for support.

“whats your code?” you asked, opening his keypad as you assumed he changed the password after your break up.

“same as always. your birthday. i would never change it.”

you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t soften even in the slightest.

after changing seunghans shirt for him then getting him tucked into the sheets, you went to get up to get ready and go home before he pulled you back into the bed with him.

“please dont go.” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, burying his head into your neck with a small whine.

“but didn’t you think that we..” “nah. just wanted to believe that we were. feel more confident when i’m that drunk.”

“im sorry.”

“why did you leave me?”

though seunghan had said some crazy things that night, nothing would’ve prepared you for that.

“seunghan..”

“i dont care about it anymore then. just dont leave me again. even if its only for today.”

you turned around in his grasp to press a light kiss into his forehead. “promise.”

you decided, maybe it wouldnt be so bad to spend the night. you realize you wouldnt mind being happy with seunghan again even if it meant that he wouldnt remember any of it.

‘but might as well, cause i cant help myself.’ [1:36]

..

‘i dont ever wanna know how it feels to not have you, my strawberry soju.’ [1:51]

[imaginespazzi]

Part 5: One Perfect Day

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7

Let me photograph you in this light (in case it is the last time that we might be exactly like we were)

(In which a procrastinating writer procrastinates giving her ship happiness)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Some Fluff

Words: 7.5K

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Good evening my lovelies <3. As many of you have reminded me it is indeed Friday and so here we are, nobody needs to yell at me! I know I'm years too late with this but I hope y'all like it anyways, even though this is very much mainly hurt with very little comfort. But for things to get better, they have to get worse and remember, it's all for the plot! There's plenty of creative liberty taken this chapter with how hotels and post-championship celebrations work and other logistics but I wrote it how I needed to so just go with it. Did I edit? Yes. Are there typos and errors anyway? Probably. As always, tell me what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next. Have a wonderful weekend lovelies!!

March 2019 

The final buzzer echoes through the Williams Arena, and the disappointment of the last couple of years is finally drowned out as the Hopkins Royals win the state championship. Surrounded by the cheers of her teammates, Paige doesn’t know if she’d call this the happiest moment of her life, the stomach flu symptoms haven’t quite faded yet, but she knows it’s definitely on her mount rushmore of times when life was great. 

For a second, as she’d been crouched over the toilet with Azzi’s hands soothingly rubbing her back, feeling her soul leave with the remnants of last night's dinner, Paige had almost lost hope. But she’d never been taught to give up without a fight. And so it hadn’t mattered that she definitely looked a little green or that standing up was taking twice the energy it normally did, Paige was going to play today. It hadn’t been a flashy scoring night but she’d done everything else her team needed. And as that lead had built and built and built, Paige knew, the moment was still hers. 

“Paigeyyyyy,” Drew is the first one to find her after her and her teammates break apart, launching his tiny body into her legs, “you won!”

Paige laughs, lifting her brother into her arms and spinning him around, “I told you I was gonna didn’t I?”

One by one, her whole family, the epitome of a modern family, pull her into hugs and then they gather into one large group hug, with Paige at the centre of it all. Her siblings look at her with pure admiration while her parent’s eyes are filled with pride. And it fulfils that part of Paige that has always lived a little more for her family than for herself. 

As her family moves away slowly, Paige finds herself face to face with Azzi’s shining smile and her heart skips a beat. And she doesn’t really know when it started or even how really, but it gets a little more difficult every time she sees Azzi, for Paige to convince herself that that fluttering in her chest is nothing. 

“You look a little pale white girl,” Azzi teases, taking a couple of steps towards the blonde, “glad you didn’t vomit all over the floor.”

“Nah no bullshit flu is stopping Paige Bueckers. The flu is scared of me,” Paige juts out her chest with a smirk, earning her a patented eye roll from the younger girl. 

“Oh yeah, you’re real scary,” Azzi indulges before pulling Paige into a bone-crushing hug, “I’m proud of you P.”

Paige smiles into the crook of Azzi’s neck, basking in the glow of the compliment. It’s these little moments they have in between their constant banter, where they let themselves be each other’s biggest cheerleaders, that makes them Paige and Azzi. They pull away, still grinning. and Paige’s eyes roam over the Team Paige jersey framing Azzi’s body. It makes her feel some type of way to see the younger girl wearing her name across her chest, but it’s not a feeling Paige is quite ready to accept. Perhaps it’s been written in their destiny that someday things will change, that eventually they’ll both have to confront the something more that’s simmering underneath it all, but for now, Paige just wants to protect what they already have. 

“That’s a pretty jersey,” she says with a wink, fingers rushing over the soft material. 

“I was forced at gunpoint to wear it,” Azzi sighs dramatically, “I was actually cheering for Stillwater. Their pg’s kinda cute.”

Paige bristles at the comment, the queasiness from this morning returning with vengeance, “she’s mid as hell on and off the court.”

“Don’t be petty Paige. You think she’d let me wear her jersey instead?” 

“You know what,” Paige fights a losing battle with the quick surge of anger that’s taking birth in her stomach, “how about you take off my winner’s jersey and go to the loser’s locker room and beg for her jersey instead.”

She knows Azzi’s joking, knows the point guard on the other team isn’t even really Azzi’s type, knows that even if Azzi’s being serious, Paige doesn’t have a right to feel this way. But that green eyed monster is clawing at her heart, squeezing it and making it hard to breathe. 

“Oh- hey hey hey,” Azzi’s quick to grab at her when Paige tries to storm off, “chill dude. You know I’m just kidding.”

“Well it wasn’t funny,” Paige pouts, aware that she’s being unnecessarily childish. 

Azzi opens her mouth, about to make some smartass quip but there must be something about how genuinely frustrated Paige looks that softens her expression, “I came to watch you P. I have no idea what that other girl was doing. I was cheering for you the whole time.”

“You’re so sappy,” Paige snorts, throwing a handful of confetti at Azzi, but inside, the ice cold jealousy melts into something warm and lovely, spreading through her heart into her veins. 

“Can’t even say nice shit without you being a dick about it,” Azzi rolls her eyes, as she links her arms through Paige’s,  “now come on, let’s go celebrate you.”

***

It’s almost 2 a.m. when Paige’s teammates finally begin to filter out of her house, leaving with droopy eyes and tired smiles. She and Azzi stand in the doorway, waving goodbye to every last one of them and it feels a little domestic, like a couple after a dinner party. Paige shakes that thought away the minute it begins to form, forcing herself to ignore the burst of wouldn’t that be lovely that blooms in her chest.

“What if I just fell asleep here?” Paige sags against the doorframe. 

“You’d probably fall flat on your face and I’d get an epic video of it.”

“You’re so fucking mean to me.”

“Oh yeah right because you’re so nice to me.”

“Am to,” Paige retorts, before she makes grabby hands towards Azzi, “carry me?”

Azzi swats her hands away, “Absolutely not lazy, it’s one flight of stairs.”

“That’s like 20 steps,” Paige whines. To be honest, she’s not that tired. Out of the two of them, she’s probably closer to being a night owl. But Paige is nothing if not a little bit of nuisance, especially when it comes to Azzi. 

“Are you an athlete or not,” Azzi chides, rolling her eyes. 

“Bro I just won a championship AND I had the flu. And you won’t even carry me? What kind of best friend are you?”

“Paige.”

“Azziiiiii.”

“Paige I’m tired.”

“Pleeeeeaseeee.”

The younger girl sighs, a sign of her caving in, before turning around so her back is facing Paige's front, “fine, get on you big baby.”

“YES-”

“Dude shut up, you’re gonna wake everybody up,” Azzi groans, always the responsible one. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Paige whispers as she jumps onto Azzi’s back, the force of it causing the brunette to take a couple steps forward, “fucking hell Azzi don’t drop me.”

Azzi lets out an indignant squawk, as she regains her balance,  “with that attitude, I should drop you.”

“If you’re too weak to carry me, just say that,” Paige teases, wrapping her legs firmly around Azzi’s torso.  She buries her shit-eating grin in her best friend’s neck, as she loops her arms around Azzi’s shoulders.

“It is not my fault you’ve put on like a hundred pounds since I last saw you.”

Azzi squeals when Paige pinches at her ribcage and the blonde immediately slaps a hand on her best friend’s mouth, “what happened to being quiet? Now, onwards horsey- OW! Did you just fucking bite my hand!?”

“What happened to being quiet?” Azzi mocks, adjusting Paige’s weight on her back as she begins to walk towards the staircase, grumbling something under her breath about ‘ungrateful best friends’ but Paige knows she doesn’t mean a word of it. She snuggles further into Azzi’s neck, letting herself breathe in the scent of the younger girl. 

When Azzi had first left Minnesota, after they’d spent every second since the plane ride back from Argentina, Paige had thought that that hollowness in her chest was temporary, that it would fade once she got back into daily life. It didn’t. And the thing is the word miss had existed in Paige’s dictionary before too but she doesn’t think she really understood what it meant til she started to miss Azzi. 

As soon as they reach Paige’s bedroom, Azzi’s already swatting Paige off her back. The blonde falls back onto the pillows on her bed with a content sigh, watching with a cheeky grin as Azzi pretends to stretch out the muscles on her back and her arms.

“I think that might have broke my fucking back,” the younger girl groan, face scrunching up in mock exhaustion, “and I have to sit on a plane again tomorrow.”

That wipes the smile straight off Paige's face. It’s so easy to get lost in the moment with Azzi, so easy to forget that they spend less time together than they do apart. They haven’t bothered with the actual lights but even in the dim glow of the moon through Paige’s windows, Azzi sees her best friend’s change in expression clearly, her own face becoming melancholic. Sighing, she climbs onto the bed herself and lies down next to Paige, intertwining her hands with the older girl’s. 

“You could stay a little longer,” Paige says after a moment, eyes resolutely focused on the ceiling. 

Azzi let out a wistful sigh, “I wish. But you know I can’t.”

“You can, you just won’t, little miss goody-two-shoes,” the light-hearted teasing eases some of the mood as they both let out soft giggles. They dissolve into a comfortable silence before, “I can’t wait til we’re playing for UConn together.”

Paige misses the way Azzi stiffens a little next to her, too enthralled with imagining a future where she and her best friend could conquer the world together. She knows Azzi, with all her indecisive tendencies, hasn’t quite come around to being anywhere near ready to pick a college team yet but Paige still has time to convince her and Paige Bueckers is nothing if not persuasive. 

“So it’s definitely UConn then?” 

“Yeah. I mean it’s UConn dude. The UConn. They’re the best. All these other programs are nice but when UConn calls, you don’t say no to that shit,” and Paige means that with all her heart. As the number one recruit in her class, there had been no shortage of offers and of course Paige had entertained them for a little while. But the minute Geno Auriemma had given his offer, everything else had become obsolete. She hadn’t committed yet, still maintaining a façade of being in the decision stage, but all of that was just a front. Paige knows she’s meant to be a UConn husky, there’s no way around it. 

“I think you’ll make a pretty damn good Husky,” Azzi says with a soft smile, as she absentmindedly plays with Paige’s fingers. 

“We’ll make damn good Huskies,” Paige affirms. 

“I don’t know P, California’s pretty tempting,” it’s said teasingly but a hint of seriousness slips through the cracks anyway. 

Paige scoffs, “cause it’s hot? Bruh that much heat would be boring. Connecticut gets all four seasons. We’d get the heat and the snow.”

“I get all of that in Virginia already,” Azzi points out with a huff, “maybe I want something different.”

“You do get something different. You get to play with me. That’s different.”

“Yeah but-”

“Dude why are you fighting me on this? Do you not want to be on the same team as me or something?” Paige asks agitatedly, suddenly feeling frustrated with the turn the conversation had taken. 

“Okay breathe,” Azzi gives her a stern side-eye, “I was just saying California’s nice. Of course I want to be on your team. Did the shirt not make that obvious?”

Involuntarily, Paige has to smile at the memory of Azzi’s jersey, the team Paige that had been loudly imprinted across her chest, “right, sorry got a little carried away. I just always want you on my team, you know?”

“I’m always on Team Paige. I always have been. I always will be,” Azzi says firmly, as if it’s the most obvious truth in the world.  

When Paige turns her head to look at her best friend, the younger girl is already looking back at her and the sincerity in Azzi’s eyes makes Paige’s heart stutter. The moon shines against Azzi’s face and Paige swears she can see every little detail in the dim light. And the thing is Paige has always known Azzi’s a pretty girl, she’s not blind. But it’s different tonight. Tonight Azzi’s the kind of beautiful that Paige wants to memorise until it’s imprinted in the back of her eyelids, the kind of beautiful that she wants to lock away in a treasure chest and preserve only for her own eyes to ever see again. The kind of beautiful that Paige knows she isn’t allowed to think of Azzi as. But still, right now, Azzi’s the kind of beautiful that makes Paige want to try and see if maybe, just maybe, there’s the possibility for something more. 

That night, when she finally falls asleep to the sound of her best friend’s quiet breathing, Paige dreams of UConn and championships and at the end of it all, kissing Azzi under the confetti. 

***

April 2024

There’s 14 seconds left in the National Championship game and UConn is ahead by eight points. Adrenaline courses through Paige’s veins as that one elusive dream of hers seems to finally be coming closer and closer to fruition. Winning a National Championship had been on her mind since she’d first picked up a basketball. The minute she’d committed to UConn, it had felt inevitable and yet year after year, her team had fallen just a little short. But this afternoon, it seems like it’s finally within grasp. 14 seconds to go. 14 steps closer to having her perfect moment. 

Except, every time Paige had imagined this moment, she’d expected her best friend to be there. In the beginning, before everything, she’d dreamed of them being on the court together, running into each other’s arms the minute the buzzer sounded. And then, until the last second today before she had to take the court, Paige had just assumed that when she’d look in the stands, somewhere in the crowd, there’d be the one face she wanted to see most in the world. But no matter how much she squinted, that face had been nowhere to be found and Paige had forced herself to compartmentalise her disappointment, and focus on the game. She hadn’t looked at the crowd since. 

The ball is in the other team’s hands, their point guard, diligently calling out plays before she inbounds it. Coach’s words echo in Paige’s head, try for a clean steal but don’t under any circumstances foul. Their pg inbounds the ball and the shot clock starts to count down. The ball bounces through the hands of different players on the other team but the UConn defence is stifling. Their coach is out of timeouts and it isn’t until the last millisecond that they heave up a prayer shot. And it doesn’t matter if it goes in, it’s a two point possession game, but Paige’s eyes are glued on the basketball anyways. 

The shot is an airball. The buzzer sounds through the arena. UConn wins their 12th national championship. 

For a second, everything goes silent around Paige. The normally over-excitable girl, known for her insane golden retriever energy, is perfectly still. It takes a couple more seconds for the adrenaline to hit. And then she’s screaming, pummeling her body into the rest of her teammates as the bleed blue crowd goes wild. She loses herself in the noise of her teammates cheering and the bright lights of cameras flashing nearby. They did it. And it doesn’t erase just how fucking hard the last couple of year had been, but it makes the burden significantly lighter. 

Paige rushes through the handshake line, the opposing team’s coach giving her an appreciative review of her performance before she’s recaptured into a group hug by her teammates. It’s a surreal feeling really, one that’s far better than even her most wonderful dreams. For the first time since the game began, Paige lets her gaze wander over to the family section who are all tearfully hugging, smiling at her parents and then her siblings and then- 

When her eyes meet Azzi’s, it’s like the last piece of the puzzle has finally settled into its rightful place, completing the perfect picture of Paige’s perfect moment. A #5 UConn jersey hangs loosely against Azzi’s hips as she smiles shyly at her best friend. And Paige is scared to blink, scared if she looks away, the girl in front of her will disappear. It takes everything in her to not rush into the stands, pull her best friend into her and kiss her under the confetti. 

Azzi doesn’t budge when the rest of the family and friends crew start to move towards the court. There’s too much attention, too much media, for that to be a feasible option. Paige wishes they would all just disappear, let her have her moment the exact way she’d pictured it. She thinks she’d like to fulfil that dream of hers, kiss Azzi in the confetti, twirl her around, and between it all, let the world know that she was Paige’s. 

As always, Drew is the first person to reach her. He’s a little too big for her to pick up, but she spins him around anyway. 

“You won Paigey,” her little brother squeals and he might be older now, but that innocent admiration of his older sister is as palpable as always, “I knew you could do it!”

“Thanks for always believing in me, little dude,” Paige says softly, leaning her cheek against the top of Drew’s head.

Over the top of her brother's head, Paige realises with sudden panic that Azzi’s not there anymore. Dread filters into her bloodstream, the voices in her head screaming it was too good to be true. The way her body tenses doesn’t go unnoticed by her mother who’s quick to hold her. 

“She said to tell you she’d see you at the hotel later,” Amy Jo says with a knowing smile, before letting Paige’s body sag into hers. She rubs her daughter’s back as relief settles into the younger girl's features, “proud of you Paigey.”

Paige smiles into her mother’s chest. Last year had been the hardest of her life and for a while the light at the end of the tunnel had been hard to see. Today, she feels the light surrounding her, washing away all the darkness from the last few years, bathing her in the glow of happiness. 

***

“I always knew you’d look good in a UConn jersey.”

Azzi’s eyes fly open and Paige smirks, leaning her body against the wall. The last couple of hours had been a whirlwind of media, champagne and excited chatter about what the after party would be like. Paige’s focus had been on celebrating, but the thought of getting back to Azzi had been a constantly lingering presence in the back of her mind. And as the bus had gotten closer to the hotel, anxiety had creeped in because what if Azzi wasn’t there? What if she’d changed her mind? 

Paige had smiled for the fans outside the hotel, diligently posing for pictures and signing autographs, ignoring the heaviness in heart. But as soon as she was far away from prying eyes, she was bolting towards her room. And then everything was okay. Paige has heard a lot of cliché things about love, about how it makes you hear violins and see stars and all of that, about how it increases your heart rate and makes you flush. But Paige thinks all of that can’t quite be right. Because when she’d seen Azzi, curled up in her sheets, #5 jersey crumpled but still fitted around her body, Paige had only felt a sense of calm. And that Paige thinks, is probably the actual truth of love, it’s about finding peace and to Paige, Azzi has always been her peace. 

“I’d look great in any jersey,” Azzi claps back groggily, moving to sit up. 

“But you look the best in mine. You always have,” Paige tries to keep her voice teasing, but it comes out sounding rather wistful, and the next words are even softer, “you came.”

Azzi bites her lips, looking down at her fiddling thumbs, “you asked me to.”

Those four little words carve themselves into a little crevice in Paige’s heart as if they’ll stay there forever, as if they’ll echo through her entire body for the rest of time. She practically throws herself onto the younger girl, the force of it pushing Azzi back down into the pillows, as she buries her head in the crook of Azzi’s neck. Their legs slot together of their own accord and it’s a little bit like they’re trying to meld into each other’s skin the way they press themselves as close as possible, til there’s barely space for air in between them. They lie like that for god knows how long; it goes by in a rush and yet ever so slowly. 

“I’m really fucking happy you’re here,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s skin, “really fucking happy.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, humming into Paige’s hair as she tightens her grip on the blonde’s waist but Paige can tell by the way she stiffens underneath her, that Azzi’s holding herself back from something. Her heart hammers in her chest as she lifts her face from Azzi’s neck to inspect the younger girl’s face. 

“What aren’t you saying to me Az?” she whispers quietly with a sinking feeling.

“Paige,” Azzi closes her eyes. And just that is enough for Paige to understand exactly what’s going through her best friend’s head and suddenly she wishes she’d never asked, just let them have this moment. 

“Never mind, I don't want to hear it.”

“That’s not how that works. I- I wanted to wait a little but we- we need to talk.”

“No we don’t,” Paige retorts stubbornly, fighting the tears threatening to spill, “I don’t want to.”

“Paige-”

The girl in question pushes herself off of Azzi, rising to sit on her knees, “this is meant to be the best day of my life Azzi.”

“I know- I’m sorr-”

“What game are you playing, Azzi? Why even fucking come if you were never gonna stay?” Paige spits out. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” Azzi says softly, as she sits up “maybe- maybe I should have stayed away. But it’s you Paige, it’s you and I- I’ve never been that good at staying away from you. And maybe I’m just really selfish but I- I told you once that I wanted to be there when your dreams came true and so- here I am.”

They’d barely known each other when Azzi had said that, when they had just been young innocent girls with a tentative friendship, lying in the grass and sharing their dreams. Back then, the words had thrown Paige off. She hadn’t quite understood why they had meant that much to her, why they had filled her with more warmth than the sun shining above them. But she’d tucked them away in a little corner of her heart hoping she’d understand it better when she was older. She’s older now and she understands. Except every single emotion she’d felt at fifteen is heightened with the realisation that the words had meant something to Azzi too. And-

Paige surges forward to kiss Azzi. She’s pretty sure this bipolar act of theirs will be the death of them someday but it’s the only thing in the moment that makes sense. Azzi is hesitant at first, clearly too in her head, always the overthinker, but she gives in when Paige squeezes at her waist. It’s not as if they’ve kissed that many times before but it feels familiar, a little bit like coming home. She moves to straddle Azzi’s hips and they can’t get any closer really with every bit of their bodies pressed together now, but Paige tries anyways, tries to etch please don’t leave me into the other girl’s skin. And she isn’t sure if the salt she can taste is from the tears steadily streaming from Azzi’s eyes or the ones free-falling from her own. 

The minute Azzi pulls away, Paige misses her. 

“We can’t-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Paige cuts Azzi off immediately, resting her forehead against the younger girl’s, “please.”

“Paige,” Azzi breathes out, “I have to go.”

“No you don’t,” Paige says stubbornly. 

“Paige please-”

“Stay- fuck please- Azzi- just give me tonight. Tomorrow we can talk and you can-,” Paige swallows, not wanting to say leave out loud, “but please- tonight can we just pretend? Can you give me that? Fuck- can I just have tonight? Please- just- stay.”

Azzi lets out a shaky breath, “it won’t make it hurt less.”

“I know- fuck- I know but I just don’t want it to hurt right now.”

“Okay,” Azzi whispers slowly, thumb caressing Paige’s wet eyelashes, “okay, I’ll stay tonight.”

Paige kisses her again. 

***

The UConn team falls in love with Azzi in a matter of hours. No one had been shocked when Paige had shown up to the after party a.k.a everybody gathering at the hotel bar, fashionably late and with a nervous Azzi teetering behind her. It had been awkward at first; everyone was a little unsure of how to act around the new presence. Not only was Azzi from a rival team, but everyone was at least a little aware of her tumultuous relationship with their star player. But then KK had wanted to film a tiktok that needed someone to do random camerawork and when everybody else had groaned, Azzi had quietly volunteered. Much to KK’s delight, Azzi turned out to be quite the cameraman. And that apparently was all that was needed and Paige marvels at the way Azzi just fits.

She moves around Paige’s team as if they’re just as much hers. One second she’s timing some stupid drinking game that KK and Ice are playing, the next she’s sitting in a corner laughing with a more subdued Ash and Q. 

Aubrey and Ayanna gush over their girlfriend and Azzi’s coos over their pictures, a hint of wistfulness on her face when she meets Paige’s eyes. 

The team does their routine of teasing Aaliyah’s about being vegetarian and Azzi diligently backs the Canadian up with a spiel of how tofu isn’t actually that bad. That gets her a hi-5 from Aaliyah despite the eye rolls from the rest of the team. 

Despite being a little tipsy from having been dragged into doing shots with Amari and Carol, the two other people she knows pretty well, Azzi diligently lets Inés and Jana teach her little bits of Portuguese and Egyptian. 

Even Nika sheds her frostiness, amused by Azzi’s curiosity to learn her native language beyond just the curse words, and teaches the younger girl a couple of words. Azzi rolls her eyes fondly when she realises she’s been taught to say UConn is the best team ever in Croatian and amidst Nika’s laughter, Paige knows is a hidden acceptance. 

But the best part of it is that although Azzi’s suddenly being pulled in all different directions by various UConn girls, she never really leaves Paige’s side through it all. There’s always a little bit of them touching, whether it’s their shoulders or their knees, even when they’re both involved in completely different conversations and activities. It feels oddly domestic and Paige is reminded of the part after her state championship all over again. The burst of i want this forever that stirs in her chest makes her want to sob because it collides head first against a wall of this is only for tonight. And Paige knows that one night won’t ever be enough for her. 

“Aye Paige’s girl, come play truth or shots with,” KK’s loud voice breaks through Paige’s cloud of distress and it’s eclipsed by the implication of those two words. 

Paige’s girl. The phrases makes itself home in Paige’s heart, sounding so fucking right. She hasn’t let herself acknowledge it truly ever but that’s how it’s always been in Paige’s mind. It’s how she’s always thought of Azzi. As hers. Her Azzi. Her girl. 

“I’m not-that’s not-” Azzi’s cheeks are tinted pink as she stutters through her words, withering under KK’s cocked eyebrow. 

“Uh-okay if you say so,” KK rolls her eyes, holding her hands up in a sarcastic defensive position, “guess we’re starting off truth or shots by lying.”

The rest of the team laughs as Azzi’s blush grows even deeper and Paige can’t even try and hide her smile, her own neck tingling a little bit as she tucks herself into Azzi’s side. And it’s not real, they’re not anything, but in this moment it feels a little bit like they’re everything. 

“You guys are sickening,” Ice accuses when she notices the two of them cheesily smiling at each other, “it makes me gag.”

“They’re cute. Leave them alone,” Caroline chastises, ever the supportive friend. 

Azzi leans back against Paige’s arm as the group goes around the circle, asking each other ridiculous questions, cheering like little kids when their teammates opts to drink instead of answering a vaguely invasive question. When it’s her turn, Paige can already tell by the glint in KK’s eyes that her menace mini-me is about to cause trouble. 

“Paigey cakes, when’s the last time you had sex?”

Next to her, Paige can feel Azzi stiffen immediately. The shot feels heavy in Paige’s hand as she seriously contemplates taking it. She knows why KK asked the question, probably having concocted some idea of exposing Paige and Azzi. She’d known by the waggling eyebrows that the whole team had thought the two of them were late because they’d been fucking but that couldn’t be further from the bitter truth. 

Paige chances a look at Azzi’s face as she bites down on her lips. The younger girl’s face is stoically devoid of any emotion and Paige knows she’s thinking about the night of the crash (or as Paige likes to call it, the most terrifying night of her life) except- 

“November, last year,” Paige says slowly and Azzi whips her face around to look at her, lips falling apart in shock. 

“Don’t play, there’s no fucking way,” Ice guffaws and Paige shrugs. 

“It’s the truth.”

“Bruh what the fuck,” KK looks a little shell-shocked, “how the fuck did you survive that long?”

“Some of us actually know what to do with our own fingers,” Paige quips defensively, trying to ignore the butterflies dancing in her stomach at the way Azzi’s still looking at her. 

“I bet Azzi knows all about your fingers huh Azzi?” and even that, KK’s unhinged commentary, isn’t enough to get Azzi to pull her gaze away from Paige. It’s almost as if she hadn’t heard it all. 

“You didn’t- that night?” Azzi manages to get out. 

“Couldn’t do it,” Paige mumbles, “she wasn’t you.”

Despite the horde of people around them, they’re in their own little bubble now. There are a multitude of questions swimming in Azzi’s eyes and Paige wants to answer all of them if it means that maybe just maybe, she could prevent the inevitable misery tomorrow would bring. 

“Okay Azzi, it’s your turn,” Amari’s voice draws Azzi’s attention away and Paige feels cold without the heat of it. She doesn’t know how she’ll survive tomorrow. Living in the present isn’t working and Paige finds herself already feeling the emptiness she knows will become her reality in a couple of hours. Her fingers tap an incessant pattern on her thigh as she tries to keep her focus on the game, 

Azzi swallows nervously before mustering up a grin with false confidence, “I’m ready. Hit me with your best, I’m not drinking.”

“We’ll see about that,” KK smirks, diabolically rubbing her hands together, before she turns to Nika, “all yours Nik-Nik.”

The other girls “ooh”, knowing  Nika’s reputation for being notoriously good at this game. The Croatian grins at Azzi, as she sits up from where she’d been lazily lying on the love seat, a glint of mischief in her eyes. And then her eyes meet the forlorn ones of her twin and something shifts. When she looks back at Azzi, there’s a more serious look on Nika’s face. 

“Have you ever been in love?”

There’s pin drop silence once the gravity of the question registers. The light-hearted air in the room is replaced with anticipation, as all of Paige’s teammates look back and forth between their point guard and her best friend. Paige isn’t sure if she wants to know the answer, doesn’t know if there’s an answer that wouldn’t break her heart just a little bit. For a second, it looks like Azzi’s going to drink until she puts the shot down on her hand rest until- 

“Yes,” she confesses in a whisper, and Paige feels her heart begin to race, “I have.”

“How many times?” Nika prods

“That’s not how the game works. I already answered your question.”

“Different rules for newcomers,” Nika shrugs. It’s a blatant lie but nobody says anything. Paige is still caught up in her own head and the other girls won't challenge Nika, not when they’re just as curious, “I get to ask questions til you drink.”

Azzi narrows her eyes, knowing it’s all bullshit and maybe if she wasn’t a little bit tipsy and competitive, maybe if she couldn’t feel every inch of Paige’s side pressed against her, she’d walk away but she can’t. 

“Only once,” she answers. 

“With your ex-girlfriend?” Nika asks. The way she raises an eyebrow suggests there’s only one right answer to the question. Paige doesn’t know if there’s a right or wrong answer, only that there’s an answer that would shatter her. 

“No. I was never in love with her,” Azzi directs the answer towards Nika, but everyone knows it’s meant for Paige’s ears. And despite the tornado still roaring in her body, the blonde lets out a sigh of relief. 

Nika’s intimidating demeanour cracks a little bit when that answer makes her smile, “are you in love with someone right now?”

Even if it’s not said out loud, the implication of Nika’s question, the someone, is clear. And suddenly Paige doesn’t want to hear the answer, not right now, not when they’re both a little tipsy, not when they’re surrounded by all her teammates, not when their future is so unclear. 

“Drink,” Paige cuts in, holding the shot in front of Azzi, “don’t answer it.”

“Paige-”

“Drink Azzi,” Paige says firmly. 

Azzi looks equal parts relieved and frustrated as she downs the drink, happy to have gotten out of the uncomfortable round of questioning but a little annoyed at losing in front of the UConn girls. 

“And you said you wouldn’t drink,” Nika sneers, as she hi-5’s her teammates. 

“Because you bent the rules; she did great,” Paige defends immediately and everyone snickers, the mood in the room returning to something more casual.

“So fucking pussywhipped,” Ice teases. 

“Shut up,” Paige whines, hiding her face against Azzi’s shoulder as everybody else laughs. If the voices in head screaming this is just for tonight would shut up for a second, Paige thinks maybe she could fall in love with this moment, surrounded by her found family. 

It’s almost 3 am when the team decides maybe they should start going to bed, knowing they have a morning flight back to Connecticut. Everyone else is still in a jovial mood, sufficiently drunk of both alcohol and the high of a championship but Paige’s stomach pools with dread. Every minute is a step closer to a goodbye, she’ll never be prepared to say. 

They get to the lobby of the hotel when Paige turns to Azzi, ignoring her anxiety to be a nuisance instead. 

“No,” Azzi says immediately when she sees Paige making grabby hands at her, “there’s literally an elevator Paige.”

“So? That just makes it easier for you. This is tradition.”

“In what world is this a tradition?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly. 

“Since I won the state championship,” Paige grins, “pleeeeease, I’m tired, my feet hurt.”

Azzi gives her an unimpressed look, “you’ve been sitting for the last couple of hours.”

“And before that I was winning a championship, after beating your team by the way,” Paige’s smirk widens when Azzi guffaws at catching a stray. 

“Oh fuck off. Reminding me of that is not the way to get me to carry you by the way.”

“C’mon Az, you know you’re gonna give in anyway. You know you wanna sleep, stop wasting time.”

Azzi rolls her eyes with a dramatic sight before doing exactly what she always does, giving into Paige, “hop on then you big baby.”

Paige cheers, latching on Azzi’s back as her knees circle around the other girl’s waist. Unlike when they were younger, Azzi’s doesn’t stumble anymore at the additional weight. She’s stronger now, completely solid and steady underneath Paige and that absolutely doesn’t trigger any inappropriate thoughts in the older girl’s brains, absolutely. 

“Y’all are so cringe,” KK crinkles up her face when she turns to look at them as they wait for the elevator, but there’s a certain amount of fondness in her voice, “but Azzi’s cool. Much cooler than you P boogers. You should bring her around more often.”

Paige’s smile vanishes in tandem with Azzi letting out a strangled noise. KK looks between the two of them, slowly realising maybe she’d just put her foot in her mouth. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Paige answers noncommittally, trying to keep her voice steady. 

Much to her relief, the elevator dings open, saving her from having to say anything more. She wraps her arms tighter around Azzi, burying her face as far into the other girl’s neck as she can and closing her eyes, trying to lose herself in Azzi, instead of in the jail of her own mind.

She doesn’t look up from where she’s nestled into Azzi’s skin, when the rest of her teammates start towards their own separate rooms, telling Azzi how lovely it was to meet her. 

“Can you get off her back, so I can give her a hug?” Ice pinches Paige’s arm but the older girl just shrugs her off. 

“No. Go hug someone else.”

“Bro you’re so fucking annoying,” Ice groans and Azzi sends her an apologetic wink but it doesn’t go unnoticed that she doesn’t try to shake Paige off like she normally would. It heals something in Paige to know that Azzi doesn’t want to let go either. And she doesn’t understand why they’re doing this, why they’re fighting this, when neither of them want to. 

“I think your teammates might like me better than you,” Azzi teases when they finally get back to the room and Paige climbs off of her back. The blonde is too lost in her thoughts to come back with a smart quip. And of course her best friend notices it immediately, nudging her quietly, “P? You good?”

Paige blinks up at Azzi, and even before she says the word, she knows Azzi’s already read them in her eyes, “I don’t want you to go.”

“Paige,” Azzi sighs tiredly, “what happened to pretending tonight?”

“Fuck pretending,” Paige blames the alcohol for how loud her voice comes out, guilty only because it makes the girl in front of her flinch, “I don’t want just tonight. It’s no where near fucking enough. I want forever. With you.”

“That’s not- Paige- we live on different sides of the country.”

“For now, but we can make it work. It’s us,” Paige pleads desperately. 

Azzi scoffs, stepping away from Paige, “you say that like it a good thing.”

“What-”

“Us! We don’t- it’s not- being ‘us’ is not a good thing Paige. May us from before but us now? Us now is complicated and messy and hard and I just- I can’t do this Paige.”

“You can- we can- Azzi- just- think about it okay- sleep on it- you’ll see. You’ll see, I’m right.”

Azzi shakes her head, closing her eyes as a single teardrop leaks out, “you’re making this so fucking hard Paige.”

“I don’t want to- I’m sorry- I’m so sorry baby,” the term of endearment slips through Paige’s lips before she can catch it, “but I need you to think about it once please.”

She moves to cup Azzi’s cheeks, thumb caressing away the tears, “please.”

“Okay, okay,” Azzi nods, resting her forehead against Paige’s, “I’ll think about it.”

They’re quiet as they get changed for bed, thinking about the same thing. Co-existing together comes naturally to them after years of inhabiting each other’s space and the. there's no getting in each other’s way, even if they’re both dead silent. It’s awkward when they finally get into bed, both of them lying on their back, resolutely staring up at the ceiling. Paige is the first one to move, turning onto her side so she can face Azzi. The moon shines against Azzi’s face and Paige thinks that so much has changed, but Azzi’s still that kind of beautiful, the same kind of beautiful Paige had thought of her as since the state championship. 

“What was your answer going to be,” she asks quietly. 

“To what?”

“To Nika’s question. Are you in love with someone right now?”

Azzi hesitates a little bit, before turning her own body to face Paige, “you know the answer Paige, you don’t need me to say it.”

Paige doesn’t prod, knowing they were too volatile for her to keep pushing. Instead she reaches over to intertwine their hands together. 

“Do you know what my answer would have been?”

“Yeah,” Azzi says softly, squeezing her hands, “yeah I do.”

Maybe there’s peace in knowing. Or maybe there’s only more pain. Paige doesn’t know if the truth sets her free, doesn’t know if she could ever even be set free from the shackles that bind her to Azzi, doesn’t think she even wants to be set free. But at least Azzi knows too. Maybe there’s peace in drowning together. 

***

Paige wakes up in a panic when she reaches over and finds the other side of the bed empty. She gets up with a jolt, eyes frantically searching for Azzi, until they finally land on the girl sitting on the couch next to the bed. 

“Fuck,” Paige’s voice is still wracked with sleep, “I thought you left.”

“That’s more your style,” Azzi says and Paige flinches at the reminder, “how’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. How about you?”

“Pretty shit actually” Azzi admits, “I woke up every two seconds, scared you’d be gone.”

“Az-”

“You asked me to believe in you- to believe in us and I-” Azzi draws in a sharp breath and Paige knows she’s not going to like where this is going, “I want to- I really, really, wish I could. But I don’t. I can’t- I can’t be with you Paige- not when I’m scared you’re going to break my heart every second.”

“Azzi,” Paige scrambles across the bed, stopping when the girl in question holds her hands up. Everything in her feels like it’s on fire. There are no burn marks on her skin but she swears she’s been turned to ashes underneath. 

“And you deserve better than that too Paige. You deserve someone who- who’s not scared. Who can give you all of herself without- without holding back and I- I can’t do that.”

“You can- fuck- Azzi you can- please,” desperation leaks through every syllable as Paige fights what she knows is a losing battle. 

“Not right now. Too much has happened between us and we can’t- we can’t just ignore all of that and start something new- maybe someday- but not right now.”

Azzi stands up from her seat, hesitantly walking over to Paige’s side of the bed. She cups Paige’s face, watery dark brown eyes meeting crystal blue ones that are glistening with tears. 

“Azzi please,” Paige begs, feeling everything slip away before she’d even had a chance to fight for it. 

Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s forehead, holding them there for what feels like the briefest of seconds until she’s pulling away, “I’m sorry P.”

And then she’s gone and every part of Paige’s heart is gone with her. 

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 4

🎋The footprints he etched on the earth

Prequel : 🌌The stars he left in the sky (can be read as a standalone)

Summary : The stars he left in the sky are nothing compared to the footprints he etched on the earth. or when you meet bokuto koutarou and wonder if you’ve ever truly known beauty before him.

Warnings: time skip setting, manga spoilers, slight smut (explicit / suggestive but no details), swearing, ex!oikawa

Words count: 6.3k

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3

“What? Wait-” You hear Osamu groan a little, probably not out of annoyance. He goes to the back room and returns with a chair, then puts it near you before extending his hand. “Get up, ya’ll be better here.”

You don’t complain nor thank him, you just sit.

“So, what’s goin’ on with ya? Ya look tired, man.”

He crouches down in front of you, resting his cheek against the palm of his hand. From up close, you realise how warm this man is. His smile, though a bit boyish and mocking, makes you feel safe.

You’ve experienced these kinds of moments in your life where you know you have no choice but to open up. There’s no other way, whatsoever, you can only choose to tell him the truth or to run away. And the second option would be weird since you’re in your shop.

You sigh, “I used to date this guy back in high school. We broke up. Well, I’m fine with that now, but still I’m scared to commit to someone else… It wasn’t a problem, until now.”

Osamu doesn’t move an inch, waiting for you to continue. “Because there is someone I like but I don’t even know what to tell them or show them or-” you’ve quickened your words without realising it. “I don’t even know if they’re single of not.”

“Well, I’ve been here before.” The brown-haired man gets up. “And we could talk hours and hours about this but let me tell ya somethin’, ya’ll never know until you ask. Wanna know if they’re single? Ask ‘em?  Afraid ya’ll be a bad girlfriend? Tell ‘em. If they’re a good person, they’ll figure it out with ya. Otherwise, they’re just a piss of shit and ya don’t deserve a piece of shit.”

It’s simple, extremely simple, but it sounds like the realest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. You feel your muscles ease, even slightly, and the frown that’s been held on your face, you didn’t know you had, releases. 

“I know, easier said than done. But I swear, yer just wastin’ time and energy by overthinkin’ everythin’. Sometimes, ya just need to let go a little for things to be right again.”

“But- but what if he has someone?”

You see the light in Osamu’s eyes gleam a little. Knowing it’s a man tightens the possibilities and he’s probably dying to know who it is (especially since you hang out with the same people).

“If yer talkin’ about my brother, then I can tell ya he’s single. But I’d recommend givin’ up on him anyway, he’s a jerk.”

You must have made a face of slight disgust because Osamu starts laughing. He crosses his arms over his chest after that, “whoever he is, I’m sure he’ll be more than honoured to know ya have a crush on him. And if he already likes someone, then it’s his loss, and ya’ll move on. Ya’ve been here before; ya can survive this again.”

When you get up, you almost step towards him to hug him, but there’s this modesty in you that freezes you. He’s the one to move; he holds out his fist to you, and you bump it with yours.

“Oh and before I forget, can I have five eggs, please? That’s why I came in the first place,”

“Sure, wait a second.”

You hurry to give him what he needs.

“I have some éclairs left from today, want some? I want to thank you, for… you know… not letting me root on the floor.” You offer.

He smirks, “The number of tourists comin’ in the street has doubled since yer here so I should be the one thankin’ ya. If ya died, my business would be impacted.”

You lift your eyes to the sky and hand him a delicate china plate with two coffee éclairs.

You see the hesitation in his eyes but after a moment, he shakes his hands respectfully, “Nah, thank ya, I shouldn’t eat sweets. The weddin’ is in two weeks, I need to fit into my suit.”

“Just buy a new one, it’s fine.”

“Airi would be mad as hell, we chose our fits together, to be matchin’ ya know.”

You raise an eyebrow, “why would you match with Airi?”

“’Cause we’re gettin’ married,” he answers as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “To be honest, I didn’t really care about that stuff, but she really wanted the colour of her dress to look good with my suit.”

You almost choke on your saliva. Your heart misses a beat, or two.

Did you hear him right?

“What-what did you say?”

“That I didn’t really care whether we match or not but-”

You don’t let him finish. There’s urgency in your voice, “no, no before.”

“I’m gettin’ married to Airi? But ya know that, right? We sent ya an invitation.”

Your mind empties out.

“Oh that.. I didn’t open it.” You want to look sorry, to apologise. But you don’t care right now. All you can think about is how you’ve mistaken everything, how you’ve pushed Bokuto away because you thought he was the one getting married to Airi. You were wrong, wrong about everything.

“Man, that shit is expensive.”

“But I thought she was getting married to Bokuto!” You finally snap.

Now, it’s Osamu’s turn to make a face of disgust. His brows rise and his lips turn into a weird shape. “Why would ya- oh gosh…”

“What do I do now?” You start panicking. “I need to tell him.”

“That ya thought he was marryin’ my fiancée?”

“Please enough with that.”

Osamu’s laughter explodes from his chest.

“This isn’t funny.”

“This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Shut up, shut up. I feel so stupid, oh my god… What’s his address?”

“Ya know they’re sleepin’ in Tokyo tonight before leavin’ for Poland tomorrow mornin’, I think they’re on the bus now. ‘Tsumu said they’d leave after pickin’ up the cake.”

“I have to go.”

Osamu doesn’t stop you. You don’t ask him why, but he’s oddly understanding of your situation. Maybe he’s been there too, you can only wonder.

You book the first available train, not thinking about logistics, just knowing that you need to get there.

 Osamu drives you to the station. “I’ll ask ‘Tsumu for the address of the hotel.” He promises as you board. “Go get the guy.”

You smile a bit.

The landscapes pass by the windows, fields of rice turn into skyscrapers and the closer you get to Tokyo, to him, the more panic slams into you.

What the hell am I doing? You want to curse yourself for everything (getting the whole situation wrong, not asking Bokuto, and now, leaving your shop in the middle of the evening to run after a boy).

You shift in your seat, over and over, hands gripping the fabric of your pants. This is ridiculous. Chasing after someone like this? It’s dramatic. It’s reckless. It’s something straight out of a bad romance movie you used to watch in your teenage years, except you’re not sure if this will end with a kiss or with you standing awkwardly outside of a hotel while Bokuto stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.

Osamu finally sends you the address. And you groan, burying your face in your hands. Your friend better be right about the hotel. The last thing you need is to crash into the wrong reception desk demanding to see someone who isn’t even there.

The ride feels both impossibly long and too short. By the time you arrive, your nerves are frayed to the point of breaking. The hotel is bright and modern, you want to step inside but decide it’s better to stay in the fresh air (because it feels like your lungs could blow up at any time).

Minutes stretch endlessly while you pace the floor restlessly.

This is insane. You’re insane. You should leave.

You’re about to bolt when two figures appear.

The first man is tall, and composed, with dark hair and delicate features that make him look quiet and older than he probably is.

The second man is Bokuto.

You push yourself toward him before you can mull over the words you’ll tell him.

“Hey-uh-Koutarou?”

You went for his given name, though you’re not sure if you deserve to call him so casually, but it seems like you couldn’t mouth it otherwise.

He lifts his head slowly, finally noticing you. His eyes widen for a second before something guarded flickers across his face. He’s confused, maybe still a bit hurt.

“Can we talk?”

The dark-haired man beside him glances between you two before giving Bokuto a nudge. “You should go Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto exhales, rubbing a hand over his face before murmuring. “Yeah. Okay.”

You smile shyly at Bokuto’s friend before following the taller man.

The walk to his hotel room is quiet. But not the comfortable quiet kind. The heavy, long kind that makes you hyper-aware of the sound of your own breathing and his loud steps.

The moment he swipes his keycard, and the door clicks open, you step inside.

It’s calm. Too calm.

Bokuto shuts the door behind him, and for a long moment, he just stands there, staring at the floor. He doesn’t want to meet your gaze, and you find yourself craving golden light more than you ever had.

“So-hm-was that Akaashi?”

He nods but then sighs, “What did you come?”

It doesn’t sound mean or suspicious. Coming from him you know it’s more of a “why did you come to see someone as lame as me?”

“Yeah-so…” It’s hard, almost physically hard, to get the words out of your chest. You look down at the floor, then up to him.

You need to be brave, that man deserves the entire earth and sun and moon and stars given to him on a golden plate. You can’t be a coward, not right now.

“I did avoid you.”

The truth is said and there’s hurt in his eyes.

“Not because you’re lame, but I am.”

“You’re not-”

“Let me finish.” You say and he crosses his arms over his chest.  That really isn’t helping you focus. Not when his arms are that muscular, that strong—stop. Stay on track.

Bokuto has been nothing but honest with you. He’s been there for you, supporting you, even when you were practically strangers. It’s your turn to be honest with him.

You inhale sharply.

“I thought- ” You hesitate, but after a second, rush to clarify. “I thought you were engaged to Airi.”

Silence.

Bokuto just blinks. His arms drop to his sides, his brows furrow deeper, and then—

“What?”

His voice is so flat, so utterly confused, that you almost laugh at the absurdity of it all. Almost.

“You-you and Airi,” you explain, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “I thought the two of you were getting married.”

He stares at you.

Then, all at once, he backs away a step, eyes wide. “Wait—WHAT?!”

You wince at the volume of his voice. “I-I misunderstood the situation, okay? You two seem close and I saw her ring, and I just assumed-“

“YOU THOUGHT I WAS GETTING MARRIED TO AIRI?" He looks genuinely in shock like the idea alone is painful to him. "WHY THE HELL WOULD I-?”

“I don’t know!” you exclaim, trying to match the pitch of his voice. You bury your face in your hands. “She’s pretty, and you’re-you! And I just-I got scared, I’m sorry.”

Bokuto lets out a strangled noise, gripping his own hair. “I-I don’t even-do I look like I would marry Airi?!”

“How was I supposed to know?!”

“I dunno, maybe by asking me?!”

You groan again. “Okay, yeah, I should’ve asked, but I didn’t, and instead, I had a full emotional breakdown over it and avoided you for weeks!”

He exhales loudly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Holy shit…”

And then—he laughs.

You look up, startled. It starts small, just a breath of a chuckle, but then it grows into a full-bodied laugh, his shoulders shaking with it. He stumbles back onto the bed, pressing a hand against his chest like he’s trying to steady himself.

“Bokuto-stop laughing!” you scold, but it’s useless.

“You avoided me for days because you thought I was engaged to Airi?” he wheezes, wiping at his eyes.

You huff, crossing your arms. “You’re allowed to laugh, but I swear, I was dying over this!”

“That’s actually kind of cute.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

“Like, really cute.”

“Bo-”

“You should call me Koutarou now," he says. His smirk turns cheeky, and he stabilises himself on the bed with his elbows. "Since you seem to have no problem calling me that when you were waiting for me outside.”

Your face burns. You roll your eyes, pretending not to feel the way your heart stumbles over itself. “I just wanted to make sure I had your attention.”

His grin softens. “I’m still a bit mad, though. I really thought I did something wrong or that something happened to you…and I tried to understand why you wouldn’t trust me but…”

“I’m sorry.” You swallow. “How can I-how I can make it up to you.”

He shrugs. “By being honest with me.”

You open your mouth to answer, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he says, “You took a last-minute ticket to Tokyo, left your shop on a weekday, just to tell me you thought I was engaged to Airi. You could have just called me you know.”

His eyes don’t leave yours. “Is there anything else you came here for?”

Your heart beats louder, faster, in your chest. Right. The real reason you’re here.

You get closer to the bed where he is sitting, almost, almost, settling yourself between his legs.

“I love you, Bokuto Koutarou,” The words spill from your lips. “I think I loved you the moment you walked into my shop.”

His amber eyes search yours, wide, as if waiting for the punchline.

“You don’t believe me?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t respond—not with words, at least. Instead, his gaze drops to your lips, his fingers twitching at his sides like he’s holding himself back.

Screw it.

You reach up, cup his face in your hands, and kiss him.

For half a second, he freezes. And then—

Bokuto is not a greedy man. At least, you didn’t think he was. But when his hands grasp your waist, pulling you closer, when his lips press hungrily against yours, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—you’ve both been deprived of each other for too long.

Somewhere in the blur of heat and movement, you find yourself pressed against his chest, his warmth surrounding you, his heartbeat hammering as fast as yours.

Between kisses, he breathes against your lips, “You’re amazing.”

“You’re-” You barely get the word out before he kisses you again, his hands tightening at your waist.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, a dazed smile on his lips. “You’re unbelievable.” Another kiss, then, “And you thought I was engaged to Airi. She’s just my friend you know.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay, can we talk about something else?”

“So, you were jealous?”

“Bokuto-”

“Koutarou,” he corrects, grinning wide. “C’mon, say it.”

You groan, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. “Gosh, Koutarou, shut up.”

Not even a second passes and you find yourself cramped between his broad chest and the mattress. You let out a startled scream when he turned you over as if you weighed nothing.

“I love you too,” he finally confesses, and your entire body seems to be relieved. “I’m so happy I said yes when Osamu asked me to help with the renovation. You were so pretty when I met you and you got even prettier as I got to know you, is that even possible? I asked Akaashi if that was weird, and he said it was probably because I loved you, but I think you’re just objectively very very pretty and that you’ll keep on getting prettier.”

You try to hide your face from the embarrassment, but the smile on your lips betrays the effect the compliments have on you.

He leaves kisses on the back of your hand, then your forearm, and as he gets down and down, you find yourself near breathless. 

“When-When do you leave tomorrow?” You ask, panting.

His fingers brush your waist and then lift your shirt a little so that his mouth can have access to your stomach. His skin is warm, but it makes you shiver as if it was ice.

“Too early.”

“I should probably leave then.”

His attention immediately moves from your body to your face. He pouts and frowns, “What d’you mean? You’re not gonna sleep here?”

You hesitate, and he senses it. But before you can say no, his pout only grows, “pleease?”

What a weak human, you want to curse yourself, but you brush a strand of hair from his face and smile. It’s enough to make his frown go away and instantly, the gleam in his eyes comes back.

His hand circles your thigh, with both strength and softness. You grab the sheets. He’s too far down now, kissing you and wetting your skin with his tongue.

“Can I?” He asks with his other hand on the waistband of your pants.

You nod with haste; your hips start moving in instinct.

Your heart explodes, your mind too. Everything in you soothes. Every muscle and cells and fiber are filled with pleasure and the need to ask for more. But Bokuto understands it without words, and he gives you more and more and more.

You feel grounded.

And it only gets worse when he takes off his shirt—giving you a perfect view on his broad chest and perfect sculpted abs. His beauty is going to be the death of you, you think to yourself.

That night, you lose all notion of time; only you and him matter.

The sun gets up and the morning light pours through the curtains. You realise that there are probably only a few hours left before his plane takes off to Poland, and you should stop him, reminding him that he has to rest to be ready for the championship. But as you watch him, sweating and whimpering against your ear, you decide to kiss him instead; yearning to have him again.

“I’ll sleep in the plane.” He tells you as if he just read your mind. A moan escapes his lips when you bite the space between his neck and shoulder. You’d beg to hear that sound once more. “I want you, baby.”

“I want you too,” you answer as you get on top of him, your muscles sore but your skin burning.

You sleep an hour, maybe two. Your head hurts when you finally emerge Bokuto is no longer by your side, but his space on the bed is still warm.

“Hey,” he says as he comes out of the bathroom, all fresh and ready.

So beautiful, you think to yourself as you take the time to admire him.

“I have to be downstairs in 5 minutes.” He kisses your forehead. “You can leave whenever you want. Wait. I think you can only stay until 11 or maybe 10, arrrrrgh I don’t remember-”

You chuckle, “It’s fine, Koutarou. I’ll get ready and leave soon.”

A smile blooms on his lips, “I can give you Akaashi’s number if you need it. He lives in Tokyo.”

You kiss the corner of his mouth, “I’m fine. When you come back, I want a proper introduction though.”

He grunts a little, but his smile only deepens.

“What?” Your brows rise a bit.

“I’m gonna miss youuu.”

“It’s only one week.”

“Too long.” His body falls on yours.

“Heavy.” You complain, but the man ignores it. You start scratching his hair slowly, they’re still a bit wet from his shower, but you find them incredibly soft.

“Yesterday you weren’t so gentle with my hair,” he murmurs. “You were grabbing them so hard, I thought I’d turn bold.”

“Shut up.” You click your tongue, though the memories from last night—and this morning—make your mind short-circuit.

“Does that mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

You don’t know if there’s fear in his voice, or maybe just a need for reassurance. Bokuto’s someone who needs to hear what others think of him, needs to be told when he’s done good or bad. Maybe that’s the reason why he was so hurt when you started avoiding him. The blur, the incertitude probably pained him more than any rejection could.

As for you; you’re not someone very vocal. You don’t like to waste time justifying yourself or repeating things you’ve already said, but Bokuto affects you in a way you can’t even explain. He sweeps off your mask and softens your heart. And if he needs reassurance, then the least you can do is give him that.

You cup his face with your hands to make him look at you, “of course, I’m your girlfriend, Koutarou. I came all the way from Osaka, waited outside of your hotel and kissed you. I wouldn’t do that for everyone, you know.”

Like a child receiving compliments, he chuckles and smiles. He nestles his face in the crook of your neck and his breath tickles your skin. “You also jerked me of-”

“Gosh,” you push him a little (though he and his stupid magnificent muscles don’t move an inch). “Shut up.”

He’s about to kiss you again, his eyes turning hungry, the way they were hours ago, when a knock chimes in loudly, “Bokuto-san! We’re leaving.”

You both flinch at the voice, “It’s Hinata.” He informs before getting up.

You wait for him to take his suitcase, kiss you (you hope) and leave but he stands still in the middle of the room, his eyes on you.

“What?”

“Can you fit in my bag?”

You sit on the bed, your eyes soft. “I can’t. But, I promise I’ll pick you up at the airport and I’ll take you on a date when you’re back. We’ll have plenty of time together this summer.”

And because you want to reassure him more, you add. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’ll wait for you.”

He jolts toward you and kisses you vigorously as if he had just been drugged with an energy drink. “I love you.” He finally exclaims and the next instant, he’s out.

It takes you a few seconds to come back to your senses, for your eyes to see clearly and for your thoughts to get back in order. You’re tired and calm at the same time, just like when you've been out in the sun for too long and you're back in the cool shade again.

You finally go back to Osaka in the late morning.

“Bokkun looks extremely happy today, any idea why?” Atsumu texts you as you get off the train.

“I don’t know, why not ask him?”

“I’d rather not. I need to preserve my innocent soul.” He answers and you want to tease him but before that, you receive a text from Koutarou with a selfie of him attached.

“We’re on the plane now!! I’m next to Omi-Omi, he is grumpy :// I love u.”

You bit your lips, considering whether you should put the selfie as your lock screen (he is too cute on it, he and his golden eyes and spiked hair).

You’re like a teenager (blushing for a simple text from her crush). But really, you don’t care. Because you’re happy, and whole, and in love.

The week passes (and it’s curiously long). You tell Osamu about your new-found relationship, he congratulates you. You also call Umi, admitting, not without shame, that you thought Bokuto and Airi were engaged.

“I never mentioned that she was with Osamu?” You hear the surprise in her voice. “I’m so sorry, gosh.”

“No, don’t be sorry. It was my fault; I should have just asked him.”

“I’m happy for you,” she says, and you thank her. “But next time, talk to me. That’s what friends are for.”

You nod, though she can’t see you. And promise you’ll try to rely more on her, and on your friends and on your boyfriend, on others. Enough of bottling your feelings, of wearing a mask, you’re not alone, not anymore.

You don't miss a single game of the Japanese team on the TV, even if it’s in the middle of the night or the early morning. You keep your phone near you because you know the second they get out of the arena, Bokuto will call you—“Did you see my sharp line shot, baby?” and “I winked at the camera after the first set, it was for you!” to which you answer, “yes, Koutarou. I watched everything.”

You pick him up at the airport as planned. He runs to you and lifts you in his arms, not caring about his teammates and coach and athletic trainer.

You offer him a bouquet of sunflowers and a box with a vanilla millefeuille inside, he kisses you in return.

You spend the rest of the day, and the night, and all the ones that follow together. He’s glued to you, calling you ‘baby’ and kissing every part of your skin that is bare whenever he can.

Airi and Osamu's wedding finally arrives, and you decide to go. The ceremony and the party after are gorgeous. You dance with Bokuto (not that he really gives you the choice when he takes your hand and drags you to the middle of the room).

Later, you sneak outside with him, laughing and eating cake under the full moon night (you brought an extra plate of cake for Koutarou, one with a lot of cream).

You’re happy, you really are.

Not every day is easy, between the pressure of managing your shop on your own and your fear of having your heart broken like it once did, you sometimes hide your feelings from Bokuto; pretend that you’re not tired and that you have everything under control.

“I know something’s wrong,” he assumes when you’re oddly quiet and grumpy one evening.

“I’m fine.” You lie between your teeth.

And he sighs in return. In the beginning of your relationship, he was very gentle when you tried to keep your feelings for yourself, but as the weeks went by, his own insecurities started to resurface. 

“You still don’t trust me, huh?” 

You roll your eyes. “You're changing the subject here.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong. You never tell me when you’re tired or sad. Do you think I'm so stupid that I don't understand? Am I not good enough for you?”

Your heart bleeds a little, your pride and fears immediately disappear as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, Kou. I love you, I swear I do. It’s just hard sometimes, to feel vulnerable… I’m trying, I really am.”

“I just want you to trust me.” He says with a low voice, and it makes your eyes burn.

“I’m not like you. I’m not so comfortable with my feelings and I don’t always know how to express them. This has nothing to do with trust because you’re the person I trust the most on this earth. I promise I’ll tell you when I’m down, but please don’t ever doubt my love for you.”

His mood shifts instantly, “I won’t. I love you, so much.”

You whisper in his neck that you love him too. More than he’ll probably ever know.

You understand that you both have your own ways of thinking, of healing your wounds. And even if they seem like the exact opposite, you’re convinced that it changes you, he and you, for the better.

 And eventually, you find a way to make things right again. Because you love him, and he loves you. So, slowly, you learn to tell him how you feel, how much he means to you. And he learns how to give you space when you need it, how to show his support even if you don’t openly ask for it.

Bokuto’s the golden boy who grounds you. He makes you believe that life is worth living, day by day. You accept your flaws and your fears, you accept that sometimes not everything can be perfect and in line. And you start enjoying the simple things of your daily routine. His toothbrush next to yours, the song of a bird on a Spring morning, the ray of sunlight that passes through a cloud. All things that surround you become more beautiful, the wind, the trees, the buildings, even when they’re imperfect.

You move in together and find a weird pleasure in getting to know him even more—he wakes up very early, he hates coffee, he’s terrible with bills and all forms of paperwork, he takes burning hot showers while singing pop songs from the 00’s, his stamina is that of a beast (you should have been prepared for this one since he’s an athlete, but you’re still impressed when he keeps on asking for another round and another round even though you already came four freaking times—)

And obviously you bake for him, a lot, probably more than Iwaizumi and his dietician would allow him (let’s keep it a secret). He even becomes your personal tester for your new recipes (though he always says that it’s ‘so so goood’ and ‘yummy’, which isn’t the most helpful and objective review).

But to be honest, you wouldn’t change a single thing about him.

When the Paris Olympics arrive a year later, you decide you finally deserve some holidays and go with him. You sit next to Airi for each game, supporting the Japanese team.

It’s their second match of the competition and Bokuto sneaks from the main court, where his teammates are practicing, to talk to you, even if it’s just for a few moments. He can’t seem to stay still, hopping and touching you, you know it’s not from stress but from excitement and the pleasure of playing. 

Atsumu interrupts after a few minutes, by clearing his throat. “Bokkun, the game is about to start.”

Bokuto groans dramatically but doesn’t let go of you. “One minute.”

“No.”

He sighs, finally—reluctantly—stepping back. But his hands linger on your arms, and his eyes are still shining.

“You’ll watch, right?” he asks, like he needs to hear it.

“You know I always watch.”

He grins. “Then I’m gonna win this for you.”

You laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

He leans in, pressing the quickest, sweetest kiss to your forehead.

“Just watch me.”

And with that, he jogs off toward the bench to join his team, his energy visibly ten times stronger than before.

Atsumu shakes his head as he follows. “Ya have no idea what ya just unleashed.”

You smile.

Oh, but you do.

The game starts. Bokuto grins your way whenever he scores a point. It melts your heart. You think he’s beautiful, like that, on the court, sweating, giving all his strength and will in every serve and spike and block. He shines even brighter, and you’re convinced that you’ll never, ever, be bored of his beauty. Real, genuine, kind beauty.

Japan wins and Bokuto runs towards you in the stands.

Between the cheers and the music, you can’t decipher his words clearly. But you can feel the thunderous beats of his heart under his jersey, and it’s enough.

“I love you, Kou.” You manage to tell him, and you’ve never been so certain of something in your life.

You follow Airi and the twins’ parents outside to wait for the boys once the arena has been emptied out. Mahiro, Suna’s girlfriend, is also here, as well as the other players partners and family. You keep on checking for Bokuto to appear, your mind is so focused on the door where the team is supposed to come by, that you don’t hear the footsteps coming behind you.

“Waiting for someone?”

You’re startled but turn around.

Curly hair, eyes like molten chocolate, charming smile. “Tooru.”

“Japan wasn’t too bad,” Oikawa crosses his arms over his chest. “But I’m gonna beat them, like I did in Tokyo last time.”

“Still so immature.” You roll your eyes.

The man pretends to be upset but a chuckle escapes his lips and yours.

“So, number 4?”

Your cheeks turn red at the mention of your boyfriend. You brush a lock of hair from your face and open your mouth.

“He’s a lucky guy.” Oikawa says before you can speak.

“I’m the lucky one.” You answer your voice above a whisper.

It’s weird, you think deep down, seeing your first love in front of you, years after you drifted apart. You remember the little girl from Miyagi who fell in love with the boy who shone like a sky full of stars. So much time has passed, so many tears have been shed. Still, you know that if you had to start your life all over again, you’d make the same choices.

You suddenly feel down to earth.

“Oi! Shittykawa.” A loud slap on his back stops Oikawa from continuing the conversation. “Why aren’t you with your team?” Iwaizumi interjects, dressed in his black polo shirt.

“Iwaa-chan, you’re gonna break my bones one day.” The setter whines. “That’s cruel and unfair, I’m gonna complain to the Olympic committee and you’ll lose your job and become homeless.”

“Crybaby.”

Two strong arms suddenly wrap around you and when you lift your eyes, you’re faced with Bokuto. You whirl around to hug him.

You believe you hear Oikawa complain and Iwaizumi calling him names. After that, they leave. 

“You were amazing.” You tell your boyfriend.

“It’s because you were watching me.”

You blush a little, “I’m always watching you.”

You’re about to kiss his lips but he cuts you off.

“Do you want to meet my parents?”

You’re taken aback.

“When we come home,” (he blushes as he says ‘home’) “we could have dinner with them.”

You obviously accept the offer, even if it already makes you nervous. You didn’t have the chance to meet them before, but maybe it’s finally time. He smiles. “Hey! Hey! Hey! But first let’s celebrate our victory!” He exclaims loudly, raising his fist in the air.

When you finally come home, you barely have time to drop off your suitcases because you need to get ready to meet Bokuto’s family.

“You’re-waw.” He exclaims, open-mouthed, when you get out of the bathroom dressed in your new red dress.

“I’m waw? Thanks, I’ve never received this compliment before.” You tease but are quickly stopped by two hands grabbing the back of your thighs and pressing you against the wall.

This is dangerous, you can’t help but think.

“Mmh… how did I get so lucky.” He kisses your shoulder, and you want to let him. But—

“Kou…” You almost moan. “We’re gonna be late.”

It takes everything in you to push him gently and get down on your feet. “We can continue where we left tonight.”

He pouts and whines, so typical of him, “but I want you noow.”

“C’mon,” you take his hand and lead him to the entrance. “I don’t want your family to think I’m rude.”

When you arrive in front of the restaurant, you’re more stressed that you should, but Koutarou doesn’t let go of your hand for the whole evening. You quickly realise that the stress was unnecessary. His family is kind (which honestly isn’t surprising since they raised him, the kindness heart, the sweetest man). His mother greets you with hugs and presents, exclaiming that you’re the daughter she always wanted to have—to which one of Bokuto’s sister can’t help but snap back. The other sister drags you to the table and knocks you out with questions (“does Koutarou take care of you?”, “he doesn’t steal your food, does he?”, “and if he snores at night you can just slap him, don’t worry!”). His father is the calmest of them all—and you pity him a little. Between his wife whose laugh is the loudest you’ve ever heard, two girls who are chatterboxes and a noisy and hyperenergetic son, his patience must have been tested more than once.

You spend a great night with them, eating and hearing stories about your boyfriend—how he started playing volleyball, how he lost his first teeth, how he ate his sister’s entire birthday cake once.

“Your cakes are the best though,” he grins.

“We need to come to your shop.” Nanako, the oldest, declares as she finishes her third pint of beer.

“Nana, you should slow down on the drinki-”

“Yes, we want to try your cakes! Koutarou keeps talking about it all the time.” His mother interjects, completely ignoring her husband’s attempt at controlling their daughter behaviour.

You feel heat rising on your face, and you answer that you’ll welcome them whenever they want. His other sister, Yuuka says she’ll come back with her girlfriend for Christmas and that they’ll make sure to stop by Osaka. Nanako adds that she’ll bring her kids too.

“Yaay,” your boyfriends shouts. “I miss my nephews so baaad.”

You can’t imagine how their home must look like with kids when it’s already so lively and full of love.

Ever since you met Bokuto you’ve felt alive and as you’re looking at his family right now, you realise that the world has so much happiness to offer. Maybe more than you could have ever pictured.

Koutarou notices the shy smile on your lips when you part ways with his family and start walking toward your appartement. “What are you thinking about?”

You look at the moon, it’s a cloudless night, then at him. “I’d like to have a family with you one day.”

You can see that he is genuinely taken aback, his brows raise, and his mouth open a little.

“Not right now, though. I don’t think I’m ready.”

There’s a loud sigh of relief coming from him as he presses his hand against in chest. “Woow-you scared me there, I started imagining what it’d be like to have kids and hm…what if drop them? Or forget to feed them?” You see the panic invading his eyes sentence after sentence, “or forget them at the gym?”

“Why would you go to the gym with them-”

“BUT”, he stops in the middle of the street and his face is soft and proud, “I’m sure we’ll be good parents. And our kids will be the best, especially if they’re like you. I could teach them how to play volleyball, maybe we could ever make our own team. That’d be a lot of children though. We need one libero, one setter and…” He starts counting on his hands but quickly stops. “And when we have a game in the garden you can bake cookies and muffins to cheer us up. Wait–you’re gonna make cakes for them and they’ll eat everything and there’ll be nothing left for me. Babyy, promise me you’ll still bake for me and not just for them.”

You chuckle at his rambling.

“You make me happy.” You whisper with a kiss on his lips and a caress on his cheek. “And yes, I promise I’ll always bake for you.”

For a minute or maybe two, there’s silence all around you. The wind brushes your skin, and you can hear the sound of your pulses and his heart. It’s romantic somehow, and calm, and peaceful—

“Should we practice?” He suggests.

“Practice what?”

“You know,” his grin wide. “Making kids.”

You lift your eyes to the sky, but something burns in your stomach. Will he always have this effect on you? Probably yes. “You’re a flirt.”

“But you love me.”

Yes. Yes, you do.

a/n: ahhhhh i love bokuto so much and i really hope i did him justice.

if you’ve read dont you dare run away then you already knew that airi and osamu were engaged sorry haha

taglist: @iluv-ace, @lvrrinx <33 thank u for reading this story

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 19

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

When Bill and Ford are in the dreamscape together, their dialogue is written normally. But if Bill and Ford are communicating in Fords head without the mindscape, Bills dialogue is in "italics", and Fords dialogue is in 'apostrophes and italics'.

WARNING: T/W Implications of past child abuse

First - Prev - Next

CH.19

“I buy all of my guns from a guy named T-Rex.”

“Good lord…”

“He’s a small arms dealer.”

*Fiddleford groans aloud and facepalms. Ford is ahead of them and doesn’t turn back, but there are muffled snickers from him*

“A thief stole the wheels off my car last night.”

“Sweet Mary, mother of-”

“I’m working tirelessly to catch him.”

“It’s not that I don’t ‘preciate your efforts to lighten the mood, Stan. But why do you gotta load us up on puns this early?”

“Early? It’s twelve in the after-.‘

“It’s always too early.”

“Sheesh, break my heart why doncha.”

*Stan looks ahead at Ford walking ahead of them and lowers his voice so only Fiddleford can hear him*

“Between you ‘n me, I think somethings up with him.”

“With Stanford?”

“Yeah. He’s been kinda… I dunno, down? It’s like someone broke his fancy chemistry set up or something. Hell, this morning he ate an entire bowl of unfrosted corn flakes. Without any milk.”

“Mhmmm…”

“Do you think something happened on Summerween? That’s when he started acting weird.”

“He ain’t said nothing about it.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at me… Like I’m a ghost or something.”

“Gentlemen! We found it.”

“What’d we find, Stanford?”

“The tracks of, what I have termed, the ‘Gremloblin’. Based on my intel, this footprint matches the description of the creature.”

“And where did your intel come from this time, Doc?”

“The fairies. It was all they would talk about at their nail salon.”

“...You go to a Fairy Nail Salon?”

“Yes. Twice a month in fact.”

“It’s a fight to get you to shower at least once a week but you’ll let magical creatures-.”

“Stanley, you are bringing us off topic. As I was saying, these tracks should lead us to the Gremloblin.”

“We’re just studying it from yonder, right? You’re not trying to fight, capture, interview, or gamble with it?”

“Yes, this is purely a research expedition.”

(...)

“Man you just had to jinx it didn’t you, PhD?”

“The fairies never told me looking into its eyes caused others to visualize their worst nightmare.”

“Specs isn’t handling it great-.”

“NOT THE SWITCH PAPPY! NOT THE SWITCH!!”

“-and the screaming is gonna attract the monster. What are we gonna do?”

“I am going to use my crossbow to scare it away, I need you to take Fiddleford and get far away from here.”

“What about you?”

“I am armed Stanley, I’ll only be a few minutes behind you.”

“If you say so.”

(...)

“You’re okay! It’s okay- I’m here just-.

“AHHHH!”

“C’mon F, you have to get outta your head! Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real.”

“Not the birch branch, not the bir- NOT THE TELEPHONE CABLES!”

“I’ve tried reassurance, I’ve tried the sternal rub, I’ve tried logic- what else do ya want, a kiss on the cheek?! …Actually-.”

*Stan grabs him by the collar and pulls him up to kiss him on the lips. And then suddenly dropping him to gag*

“Wha- who..? Stan-?”

“Holy shit, gross. You had a dip in when the monster got you?! How did you not choke on that while you were screaming?”

“Was I having a nightmare?”

“Kinda. Listen - I need to make sure your friend is okay, he’s still back there with that big green guy.”

“You can call him by his name, you know. You know what it is.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna get too attached. Now, you wait here while I go and risk my life for him.”

*Stan runs off and Fiddleford stays in place leaned up against a tree, before sighing and reaching into his lab coat to pull out a cigarette and a lighter*

“Sure is a good thing he’s cute…”

(...)

“Sixer, I’m ending your hallucinations as fast as I can, but your adrenal system is going to take a few minutes to catch up.”

‘I have only one bolt left, Cipher. Can you at least steady the nerves in my hands?’

“Gotcha baby girl”

‘Please for the love of - you - stop calling me that. I need to make this shot worth it-.’

THWIP

“Oof, you missed.”

‘YES CIPHER, I MISSED; I CAN SEE THAT BUT THANK YOU FOR THE RECAPITULATION.’

“You saw, they didn’t.”

‘What are-. Bill you said you ended the nightmare hallucinations.’

“I did.”

‘Then why am I seeing Stanley standing between me and the Gremloblin?’

“Oh that’s actually happening.”

“Back off, ugly! Damn it, this guys crazy but I’m not letting you hurt him!”

“St-Stanley just leave-.”

“Oh shut your yap, you’re the dumbest genius I ever met if you think I’m gonna let this thing eat ya. You got a word of advice when facing these things?”

“When fighting a Gremloblin, use water-.”

*Stan opens his canteen and throws water at the Gremloblin, which becomes much scarier and grows wings upon contact*

“-only as a last resort.”

“Why would you say it like that-?! Ouch!”

“No, don’t look it in the-.”

WACK

“You still wanna piece?!”

‘This doesn’t make sense, why isn’t it-?’

“Hey pipe your thoughts down Fordsy I’m trying to watch the fight scene.”

“What, you’re supposed to scare me or something? Like you’re dangerous? Danger’s my middle name-.”

“Your middle name is Romanoff.”

“Really killing the intimidation factor here, PhD.”

“¿noʎ uo ʞɹoʍ ǝɹɐʇs ʎɯ ʇ,usǝop ʎɥM”

“So you can talk? I only got every other word of what you just said, but I’m guessing you’re wondering why your nightmare eyes don’t work on me?”

“˙ǝɹɐɯʇɥƃᴉu ʇsɹoʍ ɹnoʎ ǝɔɐɟ oʇ noʎ ǝɔɹoɟ plnoɥs ǝɹɐʇs ʎW ˙ssǝupɹᴉǝM ɟo ǝɹnʇɐǝɹɔ ɐ ʇou ǝɹɐ no⅄”

“Buddy, you have no idea what I’ve gone through. Fuck, I don’t know what I’ve gone through.”

WACK

“You think you can give me my worst nightmares? I have nightmares every single night.”

WACK

“And the funny part, the really funny part? I don’t even know why.”

WACK

“I’m half of a person missing huge chunks of who I’m supposed to be, and you- you think you can conjure something worse than that?”

WACK

WACK

“Don’t make me fucking laugh.”

“St-Stanley, I think you got him.”

“Because all I can fucking do about it is laugh.”

WACK

WACK

WACK

“Because I can’t do anything else about it! It’s either I laugh, or I fucking cry. Like a two year old who doesn’t even know what he’s wailing about anymore!”

“Stanley- Stanley! Enough… Please.”

“I am my worst nightmare-!”

*Ford puts his hand on his shoulder, and Stan stops punching the Gremloblin, who is already bloodied and unconscious*

“Let’s leave… Let’s just leave, come on. We’ll leave together.”

“...Stanford?”

“Yes, Stanley?”

“...I wish I wasn’t like this. I-It’s not that I don’t want to believe you when you say I’m your brother. But what kind of brother am I if I can’t even remember why you care this much? … I don’t remember the person I’m supposed to be.”

“So it’s him, huh? I was betting on you.”

‘Betting on what?’

“On who would have a mental breakdown first - doncha remember what the hick said, IQ? One of you was bound to have one.”

“...When we get back to the cabin, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Aw, you’re finally going to be truthful? I was enjoying the drama.”

“Sure… Hey? It’s raining, right?”

“....Yes. It’s raining, Stanley.”

To be continued…

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Betrayal part 2:

Synopsis: Sam and Dean are at odds after what happened, and Sam tried to make up for his mistakes

Author’s note: not my best work, but I wanted to wrap up the fic a little more, so enjoy!

Sam had never wanted to share a bed so badly in his life. In all the years that he and Dean had been responsible for you, it was always a good day when he got a motel bed to himself. He and Dean would trade on and off with who had to share a bed with you, and who got a bed to himself.

But now, it had been two weeks since the demon blood incident. Fourteen nights, and each and every one of them you slept in Dean’s bed, even after Sam had completely detoxed from demon blood.

Sam was beginning to wonder if it was you choosing this, too scared to be that close to Sam without Dean in between you, or if it was Dean, too angry at Sam to trust him near you.

Either way, each night was just a reminder of how completely and utterly he had screwed up. He couldn’t decide what was worse; his own guilt eating away at him, the way you seemed to gravitate towards Dean whenever Sam got too close, like you were looking for protection, or the way that Dean refused to let you anywhere alone with Sam. And Dean was barely speaking to him, which was also pretty bad. Dean wasn’t one to hold grudges, at least not against family. But this was different. If Sam had failed you somehow, that would’ve been one thing. But this was so much worse. Failing you as a big brother would’ve been letting you get hurt somehow. But what he did…

He didn’t let you get hurt. He hurt you.

That wasn’t something he was ever going to forgive himself for. But a little part of him was still holding out hope that Dean could forgive him. He wasn’t worried about you forgiving him, he was pretty sure you already had, which almost made him feel worse. The idea that you could forgive him so quickly, before you’d even stopped having nightmares about what he’d done to you, just made him feel even more like a monster for hurting you.

Dean, however, wasn’t about to let this slide. There was nothing Sam could do except try his best to make up for what he’d done, although he had no idea how.

“Hey, we gotta case,” Sam snapped out of his thoughts just in time to catch John’s journal that Dean had thrown at him.

“What is it?”

Dean shrugged into a jacket, “Not sure. Three mysterious deaths, only about an hour away. I’m gonna go talk to the families, you do some research.”

Sam noticed you putting your coat on and frowned.

“And she’s going with you?”

Dean turned, “Yeah, and?”

Sam scoffed.

“Well she’s a little young to pass for an agent.”

“So she’ll wait in the car.”

Sam glanced at you. You didn’t seem ready to jump into the conversation, so he kept going.

“Or she could stay here. Work on homework, help me with research. It’d be easier for everyone.”

Dean placed a hand on your back, leading you out the door.

“Nah, she’s fine. Have fun.”

The door slammed shut before Sam could protest.

…

Sam was ready and waiting with everyone’s favorite fast food order when you and Dean returned to the motel.

Dean gave him a gruff nod, but Sam grinned when you smiled at him. Any little thing that showed him you were coming around was basically Christmas morning. Well, not his definition of Christmas morning, but a normal person’s.

Sam and Dean compared notes on the case while you sat on one of the beds watching tv. By the time the boys were done, Sam looked over to see you fast asleep.

Dean stood, heading for the bed, but Sam grabbed his arm.

“You should get your own bed,” he insisted. “You need a good night’s rest, you did all the leg work today.”

Dean shrugged his hand off.

“I’m fine.”

Sam scoffed, “It’s more than that, Dean. You can trust me with her.”

Dean gritted his teeth.

“I would’ve thought so too, two weeks ago.”

“Dean, I’ve apologized for that a thousand different times, an-and I’m trying to make up for it! Let me do that.”

Dean stepped away from Sam and sat next to your sleeping form on the bed.

“No, Sam. You do what you think you should, try to make amends if it’ll make you feel better. But that won’t include asking me to trust you. Not after this, not until I say so. You don’t get to make that call.”

Sam dragged his hand over his face, dropping his head so he wouldn’t have to look Dean in the eye.

“Alright, yeah. Your call.”

…

Sam awoke to the jarring feeling of someone shaking his shoulder. He bolted up to a sitting position, eyes scanning for some kind of danger. Instead, he vaguely made out your figure in the darkness, standing beside his bed. He remained alert, unsure of why you would’ve come to him.

If you were in danger, surely you would’ve just woken Dean, who wasn’t even six inches away from you. The soft sound of your crying made him feel both relieved and hurt. If there was a danger, you’d be yelling, not crying, but he’d really prefer neither to be happening.

“Baby, what is it?” Sam kept his voice quiet, not wanting to wake Dean.

“The demons…the demons got you,” you were trying to whisper, but the lump in your throat made it hard to get the words out quietly. “And-and you wouldn’t wake up, and I-I thought…” you broke off, your whole body shaking as you tried to breathe through your sobbing.

“Hey, hey,” Sam pulled you into his arms, letting you climb up on the bed with him. “It was a dream, you were dreaming, honey. I’m ok, I’m just fine.”

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Sam felt you fisting his shirt in your hands, pulling him as close as possible.

“It’s ok, I’m awake. I’m sorry, N/N, I must’ve been sleeping pretty deeply.” Deep sleep was a pretty rare occurrence for him, and he was annoyed that now was the time for it to happen. How long had you been trying to wake him up, afraid that he was dead?

“It felt so real,” your tears had stopped, but you still clung to Sam with all your strength. He held you as though you were made of glass, too afraid to hold you tightly. Perhaps he was too used to being treated as dangerous.

“I know it did, I know,” Sam rested his chin on top of your head. “But it wasn’t. I’m ok. You should go back to sleep.”

You shifted in his arms, turning your head up to look at him.

“Can I stay here?”

If you weren’t so distressed, he would’ve grinned.

“Of course you can.”

He tried to lay back on the bed, and his stomach twisted when he noticed that you wouldn’t let go of him, not even for a second. He didn’t pull you away, instead he held you tighter and struggled a bit to lay down with you still in his arms. He didn’t want to scare you anymore than you already were, so if that meant letting you Velcro yourself to him, that was alright by him.

Once he was settled back on his pillows, he felt you shift so that your head was resting in the middle of his chest. He felt your whole body instantly relax, and he knew you must be listening to his heartbeat. He kept his arms around you, almost as comforted by your presence as you were by his.

To think that you were ok with being this vulnerable around him, even if it was because of your nightmare, made him think that maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok again.

…

Dean awoke with the sense that something was off, and it took him a moment to realize what. He was alone in the bed.

He forced himself to remain calm as he scanned the hotel room. Surely you were around here somewhere.

His brief look around gained him nothing, so he quickly stepped out of bed and did a thorough sweep of the room. Nothing; even the bathroom was empty. He was about to head out to see if you’d gone outside to stretch your legs, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

A flash of Y/H/C nestled under Sam’s chin, the lump under the blanket too big to be just him. When Dean stepped closer, he saw your face, leaning against Sam’s chest, the two of you breathing softly, almost in sync.

At first he was taken aback, then confused, then torn. He still didn’t trust Sam, he couldn’t, not after what he’d done to you. Dean was determined to keep you at arm’s length from Sam, and he was even more determined to keep you close to himself. He hadn’t been watching you closely enough, and that was why Sam was able to hurt you in the first place. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

But at the same time, there was only so much he could do if you were this determined to forgive Sam. If you were this ready to just hop into Sam’s bed and fall asleep next to him, without Dean’s protection between you and Sam, how was Dean supposed to protect you?

He didn’t have long to ponder his dilemma, however, because just then Sam started to stir, and you let out a soft whine when he sat up, dislodging you from your comfortable place using him as a pillow.

“Sorry,” Sam mumbled as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, turning his head to look at Dean. “Hey. We got any new leads?”

Dean just shook his head, his eyes still trained on you as you sat up groggily, rubbing your face.

Sam followed Dean’s line of sight before turning back to his brother, shrugging and mouthing, ‘nightmare’.

Dean resisted the urge to grit his teeth. A nightmare? He should’ve expected that would be the reason, but lately your nightmares had been about Sam hurting you. So why had you gone to him?

“Can we get breakfast? I’m starving,” you mumbled, slipping off the bed and walking up to Dean. Dean couldn’t help the way his body relaxed when you were close to him, close enough so he could protect you if he had to. He was really starting to hate this part of him; somewhere, deep inside, he knew that Sammy wouldn’t hurt you, but Dean’s protective nature wouldn’t let him let go of the image in his head, the image of your blood running down Sam’s chin, seeing you cry out to your big brother to help you, only for him to hurt you.

He wanted to trust Sam again, he really did. But that image was seared into his brain, and as long as it remained there, so did Dean’s instinct to jump between you and Sam any chance he got.

“Dean?” Dean blinked as your hand waved in front of his face. “You ok?”

Dean cleared his throat, a light smile coming to his face.

“Yeah, I’m good. Look, we got some work to do here, so why don’t you grab us some stuff from the vending machine for breakfast, alright?”

Dean handed you a few dollars, and you shrugged and left to find some food.

“When did she…” Dean barely waited for the motel room door to close before he turned to Sam.

“I don’t know, middle of the night sometime. Look, I know you don’t want me near her, but she was really freaked. I wasn’t about to push her away.”

Dean shook his head, “No, and I wouldn’t want you to.”

“Ok,” Sam sighed. “So what do you want?”

“I don’t know. I know I want her to be safe.”

“She is,” Sam’s voice was resolute. “She’s safe with me, I promise. Look, I know how bad I screwed up. I know I hurt her. I would do anything, anything, to undo that, but I can’t. And I know you’re never going to forget this, and that’s fine, because neither am I. I can live with that. But what I can’t live with, is you keeping her away from me. I need to show her, and you, that I’m sorry. And that this is never gonna happen again. So, do what you have to do, hate me, keep me in the doghouse forever, but just…just don’t keep her away from me.”

“I wasn’t trying to take her away from you,” Dean stood, checking out the window to make sure you weren’t coming back yet. “I just needed…” Dean dropped his gaze from Sam’s penetrating stare. “I need to keep her close, Sam. You think you’re the only one who screwed up here? You were in detox, and I didn’t watch her close enough.”

“Dean, it’s not your-“

“Yes, yes it is my fault,” Dean interrupted Sam before he could finish the thought. “You were unhinged, and unpredictable, and I didn’t keep her close enough. And she got hurt. I can’t let that happen again, she won’t get hurt on my watch, never again.”

Sam nodded, “Ok. I mean, I don’t agree with you but I get what you mean. So what, you just can’t let her be alone with me, ever? Because you think that-“

“No!” Dean cleared his throat, trying to calm himself before he spoke again. “No. I’m just saying…I��m not trying to shun you from her life. Just know that…and if I start to get a bit overprotective, or if I don’t let you near her sometimes…I just wanted you to know that it’s not all you. It’s not just you that I don’t trust, it’s me.”

Sam gave Dean a melancholy smile.

“Ok then. I get it.”

Dean nodded.

“Ok. So…I’ll try to give you a little more room with her, but you gotta let me be protective sometimes.”

Sam’s smile turned real.

“Deal. Hey, I understand protecting her. I’m her big brother too.”

Dean returned the smile, “I suppose you are.”

The door to the motel room opened, and you entered with an armload of snacks.

“Sorry it took so long, the close one was busted to I had to walk all the way around.”

Dean ruffled your hair and snatched up a bag of pretzels.

“Thanks, squirt.”

You looked between the two brothers, and they knew that you were sensing the difference in atmosphere already.

“You guys good?”

Sam smiled at you and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, reaching over you to grab his own snack. He was happy to see that Dean didn’t tense in the slightest.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re just fine.”

[earthtoharlow]

Faux Love

Chapter 2

masterlist

“Should I wear this cream colored sweater with these pants or this pink one?” Jack asked, lifting up both sweaters in front of him. Jean let out a small giggle at her text and replied without looking at him. “The cream one, like I told you ten minutes ago!”

“Who are you texting?” He asked, tossing the pink sweater on the bed next to her before pulling the cream one over his head.

“No one”

“Yes, you are! Who is he? I wanna meet him.” Jack said, looking at her through the mirror as he tried to tame his curly hair.

“Absolutely not! You chase away every guy I introduce you to!” Jean said with a pout, she couldn’t remember the last time he actually liked one of the guys she was dating.

“I don’t chase away all of them, just none of them were good enough for you.”

Jean rolled her eyes and texted something witty back, trying to play hard to get. She threw her phone and stared up at the high ceilings of Jack’s apartment. She looked over and saw him still struggling with his hair. “Jack come over here and sit down, so I can help you.” Jean said before sitting up.

Jack sat on the edge of the bed as Jean got up to grab a comb. As she runs her fingers through his curly hair, she asks, “So, tell me about this lucky girl you’re going on a date with tonight. What’s she like?”

“She has dark hair.” He says with an eyebrow raise

“Oh, shocker!” She said sarcastically before hitting him lightly on the top of his head with the comb. “Ow!” Jack said in laughter.

“Where’d you meet her?”

“I met her during my music video shoot yesterday! She’s an extra, so you know she’s ridiculously hot.” He joked.

“You’re an idiot, but here you go I’m done.”

Jack looked up at the mirror, inspecting his hair. It looked perfect. “Thanks, Scout.”

As they made their way downstairs to the kitchen, Jean perched herself up on the bar stool and took a look around the dining area. Nothing looked ready.

“Um, are you sure you have a date tonight? Where’s the candles, wine and soft music? She should be here soon, right…you’ve lost your touch!”

“No no, this is part of the plan.” He says and then continues. “Once I let her in I apologize for running late. She’ll see how extravagant things are but not think that I was waiting around all day for her to show up! I’ll finish everything in front of her while we talk, I’ll pour her some wine, kiss her on the cheek dangerously close to her mouth and then the night begins!”

Jean couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous her best friend sounded. She picked up her phone when she heard it vibrating, signaling she had a new text.

“Oh c’mon, who is this guy!”

She laughed again. “Relax, I promise he’s just some guy. No big deal. Now, I should probably go before your date gets here.” Jean hopped down from the stool, and grabbed her purse.

Jack pulled her keys from his pants pocket as he always holds on to them because she tends to lose things.

“Thanks, bestie.” She said as she took her keys from him. “Have a good time tonight.”

“I will!” He said with a wink, and pulled Jean into a hug. “What are you going to do, it is Saturday after all.”

“There’s some UFC PPV coming on tonight, gonna go watch at Urban and Brielle’s house.”

“Oh.” Jack muttered. “Well, have fun.”

“Jack…just come with me. Cancel this silly date and come have fun with us! Brielle and I are going to make party snacks while Jasmine pretends to help!”

Jack shook his head with a pout. “Nah, I have plans.”

“Ugh, you suck! But okay, call me tomorrow.”

“Night, Scout!” He yelled behind Jean as she walked down the stairs. “Night, Jackman!” She yelled over her shoulder.

Jack and Jean had been friends for a few years now, it started when Jack flirted with her at a coffee shop and the rest was history. Except they decided they were better off as friends, as they were freakishly the same person. Jean knew that he would never be anything more than her best friend.

Over the years, Jean had become close friends with his younger brother Clay and his other best friend Urban. Since she’s known them, they had both been in long term relationships. Clay just got engaged to his high school sweetheart, Jasmine and Urban has been happily married to Brielle for two years now.

With everyone being so close, they constantly hung out together. Jean has been rumored to be “Jack Harlow’s hot girlfriend!” for years now. What was funny about that was that Jack hasn’t been in a serious relationship for a long time. He was enjoying the rest of his twenties and being a hot bachelor. Which wasn’t exactly a crime.

***

When Jean arrived at Urban’s home, she knocked on the door politely, waited a few seconds and proceeded to open the front door.

“You’ve gotta stop doing that.” Urban said as he walked towards her holding his arms out for a hug.

“Y’all should just make me a key at this point.” Jean replied with a shrug and walked into the hug. “Hi, Urb, Jack says hi by the way.”

All Urban could do was sigh. “He’s not coming?”

“Nope, sorry to disappoint you. But you’re just going to be dealing with me tonight.” Jean said with a smile.

Urban laughed. “Brielle and I just wanted everyone here but it’s okay. She's waiting for you in the kitchen, by the way.”

Jean nodded and skipped towards the kitchen. “Oh it smells good in here!” She sniffed the air and stood next to Brielle trying to see what she cooked. “Hey, B!”

“Hey! Is Jack with Urban?” She asked, trying to peek from the kitchen. “Actually, Jack’s not coming.” Urban answered as he walked in the room.

Brielle immediately put her mixing bowl down, visibly upset. “What? We were—“

“I know, but we should still tell—“

“Telling everyone without him here? It won’t feel the same. He’s basically your brother. We were going to ask him to be…” Brielle trailed off, not finishing her sentence.

Jean raised an eyebrow and looked towards Urban to see if he was going to finish her sentence like he usually did.

“Can you two just spit it out!” Jean exclaimed.

“Spit what out?” Clay asked as he walked into the kitchen holding Jasmine’s hand and a bottle of wine in the other hand.

Jean immediately walked to the cupboard to grab some glasses and placed one in front of everyone. When she got to Brielle, she began to shake her head. “No thanks, I’m not drinking tonight.”

“What?! I bought this just for you, it’s your favorite!” Jasmine said with a whine.

“I’m sorry!” But Brielle didn’t look sorry at all as she glanced over at Urban with a huge smile. “Doctor said I can’t drink for about 8 to 9 months!”

“You’re pregnant!” Jean squealed, lunging towards her. Brielle laughed as Jasmine joined in the hug. “Oh my gosh! This is amazing! Jasmine, we gotta start planning a shower immediately!”

“Already on it, I think I have a venue in mind!” Jasmine said, pulling out her phone to begin planning.

Urban walked over and wrapped his arms around Brielle’s waist, nudging his nose against her cheek. “We wanted to tell you all at once.” Urban admitted. “I’ll hit up, Jack tomorrow I guess.”

Jean noticed the sadness in his voice as Clay crossed in front of her to give Brielle a hug and congratulate her.

“Congratulations, daddy!” Jean said with a giggle. “You know, Jack would’ve loved to have been here!”

“And yet, he’s with some girl who he won't even talk to anymore by this time next week.”

Urban had a point. As Jack’s 30th birthday loomed closer, he caught himself in a whirlwind of dates with different women, not wanting to be alone. He wasn’t ready to settle down, like his brother and Urban were. Jack wanted to enjoy life while he could.

As Urban and Clay retreated to the living room to watch the fight pre show, Jasmine and Brielle cornered Jean. “So, Jean…” Jean sighed knowing what was about to happen. “When are you and Jack going to get together?”

“I was just talking to Jack before I got here and we decided the week after NEVER would be a good day!”

“Oh c’mon Jean! It’s like a match made in heaven!

“Think about it. You two already have such a strong bond. You understand each other so well…” Jasmine tried to stress.

“Look, I love Jack. He’s my best friend. Completely platonic.”

“That’s exactly it! Sometimes the best relationships start from friendships!” Brielle exclaimed

“Ok, you and Urban have been watching too many romcoms.” Jean said giggling, before continuing. “We wouldn’t work out, we tried, remember?”

“That hardly even counts, and the sooner the two of you figure that out the happier everyone will be! Especially those two.” Jasmine said, nodding towards the living room.

“Especially Urban. He’s really disappointed he’s not here tonight.”

“Clay too.” Jasmine added

Jean sighed, hating when they did this. “Ugh, I’m the best friend! Why don’t you go find some girl to hook him up with and maybe they’ll hit it off!”

“Hello?! That’s what we are doing!” Brielle exclaimed

“Just sleep with him already so he can realize he’s in love with you! I mean, you already think about him naked.”

“WHAT?! No! You guys are insane! We’re ending this conversation!”

“Fine but we’ll gang up on you with the guys during every commercial break!”

And they stayed true to their word. The four of them have been trying to get Jack and Jean together since the day they met her. It’s not that she wasn’t attracted to him because, c’mon the dude is hot.

Jean was very attracted to Jack but their personalities were too similar. They thought too much alike and Jean knew too much about him to ever have real genuine feelings about him.

***

As Jean walked into her apartment after leaving Urban’s house, she was met with an unexpected crash in her kitchen. She immediately grabbed her phone, ready to call Jack just in case she needed backup. Her heart was pounding as she crept closer to the kitchen, she grabbed the nearest weapon she could find—an umbrella.

Jean braced herself to confront the intruder, but as she rounded the corner, her grip on the umbrella loosened, and her eyes widened in disbelief. There, standing in her kitchen, was none other than Jack himself, stirring a pot on the stove.

“Jack?!” Jean exclaimed, relief flooding through her as she lowered the umbrella.

Jack turned around, startled by her sudden appearance, and his expression morphed from surprise to amusement. “Hey, Scout. You scared me for a second!”

“What the HELL!”

“What’s with the umbrella?” Jack asked, confused.

“I thought you were a burglar or something! You scared me half to death,” Jean replied, still trying to catch her breath.

She walked closer to him and saw he was making a double decker grilled cheese sandwich. His kitchen was ten times bigger than her own, she would never understand why he insisted on using her kitchen when he was hungry.

“How was your date?” Pulling two glasses from her cupboard and grabbing the milk from the fridge.

“She left, had to be up early in the morning for work. Thank god, she was boring. So I decided to come here. You want half?” Jack asked not waiting for an answer and slicing the sandwich in half.

All Jean could do was shake her head at him as he turned the stove off and followed her to the bedroom with the sandwiches while she held the glasses of milk.

Jean quickly changed into her pajamas and wiped the makeup off her face. She climbed into the bed with Jack, she thanked him as he held the cover up so she could slide in and handed her a slice.

“I hope you don’t mind but I used your shampoo.”

She took a bite of her sandwich before responding. “I had a feeling your curls looked better than usual. Also a quick question, are you capable of using any of the things in your own house?”

“Hell nah, now how many times did you get the talk?” Jack asked before grabbing the remote and turning on cartoons.

“Just a couple.” she said with a shrug. “It definitely would’ve been more if you were there. We missed you tonight, the guys were sad you weren’t there. Brielle is pregnant!”

“Seriously?! I’m gonna be an uncle?” The biggest smile formed on Jack’s face as he always loved kids. “That’s amazing! I’m really about to be an uncle.” He frowned a bit. “I saw Urban yesterday and he didn’t say anything.”

“They just wanted to tell us all together, but you know Brielle, she couldn’t hold it in! They’re so excited!”

“I’m excited too, wow” Jack said with a smile. “A whole baby!”

Jean smiled at him and offered him the last bite of her sandwich. Jack of course bit it off her fingertips and finished both glasses of milk.

Jack stayed for a couple more hours just making sure Jean fell asleep before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before leaving to go home.

For some reason, Jean was disappointed when she woke up and he was gone.

***

AN: thank you for reading!!

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part fifty-eight] || th

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ mdni)

word count: 3.1k

Sam barely bat an eye when you told him where you were going. 

“Okay, be safe,” he said as he kicked off his shoes. 

That’s it? That’s all he had to say to you? You wanted to ask him just that, but you were afraid of creating another rift between the two of you. Sam had said he wasn’t ready to talk about it so you shouldn’t push, right? But was it wrong to keep leaving like this?

Going back and forth with yourself was only wasting time and Tom was still waiting for you downstairs. Fuck it. 

You grabbed a spare room key from the dresser, shoved it in the pocket of your dress, and left without another word before you could change your mind. 

Tom was right where you left him, leaning against the wall by the elevator hub. He grinned when he saw you. 

“Thought you’d never escape.”

You rolled your eyes at him as you let him lead you through the lobby by the hand. You were still wary of people seeing you together but the lobby was seemingly empty. 

“Sam didn’t care. It was me who took forever.”

Tom paused, letting go of your hand as he gave you a concerned once over. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I don’t really want to talk about it. So, where are we going?”

He frowned, but only momentarily, quickly covering it up with a smile. “I- okay, um... remember how you said we don’t do ‘couple stuff’?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought maybe I could take you somewhere where we can do that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m taking you on a date, silly.”

“Really? Where?” When he didn’t answer, you groaned. “You and your stupid surprises.”

“It’s more fun this way and you know it,” he insisted, tugging you along by the hand.

“I like being prepared,” you argued. 

He grinned. “So be prepared for a good time.”

The drive wasn’t far at all this time but you were confused when he pulled into a crowded lot. You were even more confused when he didn’t turn off the car or more to get out of it. 

You turned to him in confusion. “Tom?”

“Y/n?” he parroted. 

“Where are we?”

“We’re on our date.”

“Yes, but where?”

“Did you not see the sign when we turned in?” You shook your head. He grinned. “It’s a drive-in.”

“Really?”

“Why do you think no one’s getting out of their car?” 

“I didn’t really notice, to be honest.”

“Too distracted by your hot date?” 

You didn’t spare him a reaction. “How’d you find this place?” 

“I did some research the other night,” he explained, “when you, you know, we talked about it. I figured this is about as close as we could get to a real date. At least right now.”

“That’s… really thoughtful.”

He shrugged. “Nah, it’s nothing, really.” 

“Well I was going to kiss you, but if it’s nothing—”

“No, no. I want the kiss. Give me my kiss.”

You chuckled, relenting as you leaned in. He met you halfway over the center console and kissed you sweetly. It was short but eager, just enough to leave you wanting more. 

You had to remind yourself not to get your hopes up. Sure, Tom was showing interest in you now, but what about when this was all over? Would he want to do long-distance? Did he want to date you at all? You had been telling yourself that it was just sex all this time but now you were on a date... but what did it mean? You could just ask but you were scared to ruin the moment, ruin whatever it was that was actually going on. 

You’d been asking yourself the same questions for weeks now and the scary thing was, it seemed like Tom was serious about you. He had all but said it outright to you. And here he was taking you on a fucking date. It was you who kept pushing back. You told yourself it was because of Sam, but if you were being honest with yourself that was only half of it. You were afraid of getting hurt. You had never been in a real relationship before for that very reason. Well, that and you liked being single. It seemed favorable considering the dating pool of your university. 

“So, what movie are we seeing?” you asked, exhaling deeply to try and physically release the stress you’d been holding. 

Tom pursed his lips, making you narrow your eyes in suspicion. “Um, Spider-man: Far From Home.”

“You took me to see your own movie?”

“It’s what they were showing! I had nothing to do with it, like they’re in the middle of a marathon. Last week they showed Spider-man: Homecoming.”

“Seems awfully convenient,” you mused. 

“Trust me, I know. I thought I was losing my mind when I looked at their website earlier.  But I promise I had nothing to do with it. You really think I’m so tacky I’d take a date to my own film? I mean, if I was going to do that I’d at least start with the first one.”

You made a face. “What do you mean, the first one.”

“Oh, Far From Home is the second in the trilogy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “We’re not even watching the first one? How am I going to know what’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you! That’s one of the nice things about drive-ins, no one cares if you’re talking through the whole movie. The second one is the best one anyway.”

“Will I be able to follow the plot at all? You know I’ve never even seen a Marvel movie, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I wouldn’t have taken you to a Marvel movie if there was something else playing, but there’s only the one lot. The plot isn’t that complicated, you’ll still be able to enjoy it.”

“If you say so.”

Tom smirked. “I do say so. I think you’ll like it, actually.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yeah, I hear the lead actor is pretty good-looking.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Oh yeah, Zendaya is in this, right?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d rather fuck you,” you quipped. He raised an eyebrow suggestively, making you laugh.

“What are we doing here, then?”

“We’re on our date!”

“But we could leave.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to get into my pants on the first date,” you scoffed. 

“I don’t have to try,” Tom pointed out. “I was already successful before our date. Many times, actually.”

“I was there, you don’t have to remind me.”

“Are you sure?”

You rolled your eyes through a grin. “Positive.”

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” you assured him, leaning over the center console to nudge his shoulder. 

You stayed there, shoulders resting against each other. He looked over and smiled at you before reaching for your hand and taking it in his. He lifted his other hand to check his watch. 

“The movie starts in about ten. I know they have a concession stand but if you want snacks you’ll probably have to be the one to get them. I can give you the money, obviously, I just can’t…”

“Leave the car,” you finished for him.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I’ll go see what they have,” you decided. Tom handed you his wallet but you didn’t take it. “It’s on me. You bought the movie tickets.”

“You know I’m in this movie, right? You don’t have to worry about splitting the cost of everything.”

“I know, just, let me do this.”

Tom held his hands up in surrender and pocketed his wallet. “Fine, fine. Can you get me a beer?”

“Sure. Any kind in particular?”

“Whatever they have is fine. I’m not picky.”

You nodded and stepped out of the car, smoothing your dress out in case it had ridden up. You stood on your tip toes and craned your neck to try and find the concession stand above all of the cars. 

Luckily, there was a big neon sign that read CONCESSIONS with an arrow pointing to a kiosk that was presumably sitting underneath it. 

You wove inefficiently through the parking lot over to the sign, sighing when you spotted the long line. It was moving pretty fast so you didn’t have to wait very long and by the time you made it to the front, you still hadn’t decided what to get. 

The woman behind the counter looked bored and impatient so naturally, you panicked. 

“Hi, um can I please get a medium popcorn and two Nerds Ropes?”

“Anything to drink?”

Your eyes flicked to the menu overhead but all of the options seemed to blend together in an unintelligible jumble. “Uh, a water bottle and a peach High Noon, please. And what kind of beer do you guys have?”

She listed off a handful. You chose the first one you recognized and hoped it was one Tom wouldn’t mind too much. You waited as she ID’ed you and rang you up, dropping a couple of bills in the tip jar when she handed you your change. 

You had stupidly declined a tray so you had to very precariously carry everything back to the car in your arms. It was one of those establishments that took the caps off of bottled drinks and opened cans before you were allowed to leave the counter which meant you had to be extra careful with how you balanced things so that nothing would spill. 

“You good?” Tom asked, watching you struggle with everything. “I’d help, but that would kind of defeat the purpose of not going to get the stuff in the first place.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. 

He didn’t look convinced but it wasn’t like he could do anything but watch so he didn’t comment further until you were seated again. 

“What’d you end up getting?”

“Well, popcorn.”

“It’s not a movie without it.”

“Exactly,” you agreed and handed him the bucket. “And I got us a water to share and some Nerds Ropes, I hope you like those.”

“Love em.”

“And then I got myself a High Noon and I got you a Heineken. I’m sorry, I blanked when she told me all of the types of beer they served and chose the first one I knew.”

“It’s okay! I told you I’m not picky. Heinekins are fine, babe, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

Tom chuckled and took a sip from the bottle as if to prove to you that he liked them. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t they be? Do you have something against Heinekins?”

You made a face. “Bad memories.”

“Mm, I see. In that case, I won’t offer you any.”

“Thank you. Did you want to try some of my drink?”

“Sure, what’d you say it was?”

You passed it to him. “A High Noon. Have you never had one?”

“No, I don’t usually go for seltzers.” You watched him take a sip, laughing when he made a similar face to the one you had made just a few moments prior. “Oh god, the bubbles hurt.”

“How big of a sip did you take?!”

“A regular-sized sip! The carbonation is just a lot!”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You do realize that’s my job, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “You just enjoy your drink and I’ll enjoy mine.”

“Gladly.”

Just then, the parking lot’s overhead lights dimmed. The projector flickered to life, casting the station to which to tune your car’s radio. Tom fidgeted with the dial until it was tuned to the right frequency. 

“Welcome to Aloha Drive-In’s adult-only feature film of the night! We have late-night showings for ages eighteen and up every weekday.”

“What makes it adults-only?” you asked aloud. “Is this the extended version of Spider-man where he fucks Gwen?”

“They serve alcohol,” Tom explained. “Something with the licensing prevents them from offering it during regular showings. Also, it’s MJ in this version.”

“Oh.”

“I can give you the extended version when we get back later, though.”

“What, are you going to eat me out while you hang upside down or something?”

He grinned. “If you want me to.”

“Please stay in your car for the duration of the film unless you need the restroom or concessions. In case of emergency...”

You listened to the rest of the spiel in silence, snacking lightly on what you’d bought until the Marvel logo showed up on the screen. You recognized some of the actors flashing behind the letters but could only make a few connections to what characters they played. You nudged Tom’s shoulder when the familiar red and blue suit popped up, feeling a strange sense of pride as you watched the Tom on-screen catch a shield. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you, gauging your reactions. It was hard to follow along with the plot since you hadn’t seen the first Spider-man or the other twenty-something MCU movies that preceded it. Tom helped fill in the gaps when he noticed you looking confused. 

You had to admit that it was a pretty funny movie, even though you didn’t have a lot of context as to what was going on.  You also had to admit that Tom looked good. The Peter Parker thing was really doing it for you. You weren’t used to hearing his American accent and you were surprised at just how convincing it sounded. 

The only other movie you had seen of Tom’s was the one you watched on the plane to Hong Kong, and you couldn’t even hear his actual voice in that one. You hadn’t ended up finishing it, either. 

“Take off your clothes.” 

Your eyes widened as the blonde woman on the screen commanded Peter to strip. Tom laughed at your expression. 

“I thought you said this wasn’t the porn version,” you mumbled. 

He chuckled. “Jealous, baby?”

You nodded. “She’s so pretty. Did you get to kiss her?”

Tom’s face fell. 

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then what’s going on?”

“Just watch!”

“Fine.”

You did, watching with curiosity as Peter unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants down. You couldn’t help but focus on Tom’s bare thighs, squeezing your own together as you stared at them. Tom’s gaze fell to your lap when caught the movement of your legs. 

“Are you cold?”

“Um, a little,” you lied. 

You were in fact, not cold at all. You were actually feeling a little warm. 

“Here,” Tom said, reaching behind him to grab something. It was a blanket, and he draped it over your legs. “Don’t worry, it’s not the same one from the beach.”

You nodded in appreciation, grateful that he had clarified that it was a clean blanket and not the one that had been laid down in the sand and had sex on top of from the night before. 

Tom kept a hand on your thigh even after he’d situated the blanket on your lap. 

“Warming you up,” he explained before you could ask.

You were a little suspicious of his true intentions but he wasn’t moving his hand and he had gone back to watching the movie so you let it go. 

The snacks you bought lasted you throughout the majority of the film. Once you’d finished them, you put the candy wrappers in the empty popcorn bowl and placed it on the floor of the car so that you could lean across the center console and rest your head on Tom’s shoulder. He met you halfway to make it less uncomfortable for you. It was a little awkward, trying to position yourselves in a way that felt natural.

Your suspicions about Tom’s hand were of course proved correct when you felt it begin to inch upward. Your thighs parted automatically for him before you could process what was happening. It was pathetic how responsive your body was to him. 

“I’ve been trying so hard not to stare at you all night,” he confessed. “Look so fucking pretty in this dress.”

“You should try harder,” you teased, reminding him of when you had to kick him under the table at dinner with his family.

“You’d be doing the same thing if you were in my shoes,” he insisted.

“No, because I have self-control.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, fingers ghosting over your panties.

You sucked in a breath, physically holding yourself back from arching into his touch. 

“This isn’t affecting you at all?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“What about this?”

You knew he could feel how wet you were getting. It was pointless to lie. But even as he pulled your underwear to the side and teased you by putting the tip of his middle finger inside of you, you wouldn’t admit it. 

“This is doing nothing for you?” Tom prodded, curling his finger in a little deeper. 

You gasped and gripped the car door handle, nervously checking your surroundings to ensure you weren’t being watched. Tom had parked in the back of the lot so there was no one behind you. Everyone else seemed zoned in on the movie playing like they were supposed to be.  

“I asked you a question,” he reminded you. 

“Feeling nothing,” you lied. 

Tom tongued his cheek in annoyance even though it was clear you were just fucking with him. 

“You’re such a brat.”

“You already knew that.”

He sighed. “That’s true.”

You were both quiet for a couple of beats, letting Peter and Mj’s dialogue fill the silence. Tom’s finger was still halfway inside of you under the blanket and your dress and you had to try very hard not to think about it. 

You hadn’t been paying attention to the film for the past several minutes so deducing what was happening presently was impossible. But then onscreen Tom took his shirt off and the plot seemed suddenly irrelevant. 

Beside you, Tom laughed. 

“What?” you mumbled absentmindedly, not looking away from the version of him that had his tits out. 

“You clenched around my finger when I took my shirt off.”

“What, I did not!”

“Love, I could feel it. I can still feel it, actually.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and you sunk down in your seat, which coincidentally pushed Tom’s finger deeper inside of you, making you whimper. 

“It’s not my fault!” you cried before he could say anything. “Obviously I’m going to be turned on by seeing you half-naked!”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” he assured you, voice full of amusement. “I’m glad I can make you feel that way. Quite flattered, actually.”

“You’re such a dick.” 

He leaned over to whisper in your ear even though you were sitting right next to each other and no one else could hear your conversation. “And I’ve heard I’ve got a pretty nice one too. What do you say we get out of here?”

iou tags: @youcouldstartacult @helen-on-earth @lnmp89 @lovelyxtommy

add yourself to my new taglist here!

[spnexploration]

Escort

Synopsis: Dean needs an escort to help him with his cover on a case (more of a case fic with flirting, no smut)

Pairing: I see it as Dean Winchester x reader but could be read as Dean Winchester x OC (no physical descriptions are given and she goes by what is clearly a fake name the whole time)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Words: 3k

This fulfils the Escort square of my 2023 SPN AU Bingo @spnaubingo

A/N: It's nice to write a really competent, confident female character!

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Dean,” Sam implored, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Sammy, I swear to God, you keep whining about the plans and I’m gonna stop telling you the plans.”

“She’s a distraction at best, and a liability at worst!”

Dean rounded on him, “Is your complaint because she sells her services?”

“What? No.”

“Really? Because you’ve sure made a lot of jokes over the years about women in her line of business.”

“Dean, stop it. I’m worried about her getting hurt, or getting you hurt.”

“It will be fine. For all she knows, I just needed a girl to make me look good to the other suits. She won’t even know I’m casing the joint while we mingle. Nothing will happen, you and I will go back later without the girl. Girl will just earn some easy cash looking pretty.”

Sam sighed. Dean took that as a win. He gave his brother one last look before grabbing his keys off the motel room table. “I’ll go find a girl.”

---

Dean rolled down the window as he pulled up to a girl standing on the street corner. He was already in a tux. “Hey sweetheart,” he said as he rolled down the window. “You wanna have a Pretty Woman moment tonight?”

She looked like she was struggling to control the urge to roll her eyes. He liked her already.

“Hey handsome,” she said, leaning through the open car window. “What did you have in mind?”

“I need an escort for a big fancy party my work is throwing.”

“And you didn’t want to call a real escort service?”

“The others probably know all of them.” She laughed. “So I thought I’d branch out.” In reality, he didn’t want the arrangement written down anywhere.

“And let me guess, you want some services that aren’t available on their menu, too?”

“Nah, strictly escort tonight. Possibly the easiest money you’ll make, except for the need to smile your way through painful small talk about the best way to fold napkins.”

“And what would you have me wear?” she asked in a sultry voice.

“I got ya a dress. It’s in the back, we’ll go to the service station and you can get changed in the bathroom.”

“How long’s the party?”

“Few hours.”

“I charge $120/hr.”

“Fine.”

She opened the car door and slid inside. “Nice car,” she remarked as she ran her hands over the seat.

“My Baby’s the best,” Dean replied with a smirk, before speeding off.

---

Dean pulled up to the line of cars waiting to go into the party. He turned to the woman beside him, now resplendent in a beautiful dress he’d gotten at the op shop earlier that afternoon.

“Uh, I uh, I forgot to ask. What should I call you?” he said, suddenly awkward.

She laughed. “You can call me… Hazel.”

“Alright, Hazel it is. Where’d we meet?”

“The street corner.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I had a flat and you helped me with it.”

“Ok. Recently?” He enjoyed letting her lead.

“Just the other day.”

“Sounds good.”

“So, what do I call you, handsome?”

“Drake,” Dean said, his hand on the car door handle as a valet came up to greet them. He headed around the car and opened her door, holding his hand out to help her out. He reached his arm around her waist and held her to him. “I’m new at the company,” he whispered, “So not many people know me.”

She shot him a quick, concerned glance before schooling her features back into a smile. Dean led her up the steps and into the party, flashing two tickets on his way past.

---

The party was going well. No one seemed to mind that they’d never seen him before in their lives, and Hazel fit in better than he could have imagined. He hadn’t expected that the girl he’d gotten off a street corner would be able to pull off the escort idea, but he’d been hoping she would take the attention away from him. That wasn’t happening now that she was actually good at it, but instead they seemed to be blending in. He’d take it.

He put his hand on the small of her back and leaned down to her ear, “I gotta go to the bathroom, I’ll be back.” She smiled at him and he walked off. He glanced around the room, but he couldn’t see the artefact he was looking for.

He headed into another room, still surreptitiously checking out the walls and display cases. He headed for an empty corridor and pulled his phone out, quickly dialling Sam. “Yo, you got any idea where this thing might be? It’s not in the main hall.”

“Dean, you are the one who said that was exactly where it would be and we didn’t need any further investigation!”

“Yeah, well, I might be wrong. Zero amulets.”

“I dunno, keep scoping out the place. What’d you do with the girl?”

“Told her I was going to the bathroom, so I can’t take too long.”

“Yet another reason it was a bad idea to take her.”

“Shut it, bitch.” Dean hung up the phone, Sam was no use.

He quickly scoped out the room closest to him before deciding he needed to head back to his date.

---

She smiled as he approached. “You took a while,” she said.

“Couldn’t find it, and then there was a line of women. They take forever.”

“You try peeing in one of these dresses.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said with a grin. She really was perfect, he’d like to have taken her out for real some time.

He glanced around, seeing the drinks table. “You want another-” he started to ask, before fading out. He saw it, the amulet. It was around the neck of the bloody hostess of the party. Not. Good.

“Yes?” Hazel asked, drawing his attention back to her.

“I- uh- sorry.”

“You see something you like?” she said with a smirk, following his line of sight to the beautiful woman with the amulet.

“Oh, no, just, you know, lost my train of thought.”

“Uh huh,” she replied, deadpan.

He looked back at her properly, “Tonight’s all about you, sweetheart.” He flashed her a smile, that usually worked.

“Let’s go talk to her, if you’re so enamoured,” she said, starting to walk towards the lady.

“No! No, wait!” he said, reaching for her hand to prevent her getting near the woman. He had a sneaking suspicion that being near the amulet would’ve been very bad for the hostess, given the descriptions he’d read about its powers. It hadn’t been entirely clear, but he had a feeling she might be being possessed by a powerful being. He didn’t want Hazel anywhere near her.

Hazel rolled her eyes and tugged her hand of his grip, heading towards the woman. “No, Hazel!” Dean said, which brought the attention of the hostess on him.

“HUNTERS!” she yelled, suddenly holding a fireball in her hand. Fuck, a witch. Hazel had paused in shock, so Dean grabbed her waist and pulled her behind him. Others were screaming and running. The witch threw the fireball, Dean dived out of the way and pulled Hazel along with him. He raced to hide behind the bar as she threw another one. The room was rapidly emptying of party-goers, running for their lives.

He reached into his pants and pulled out his gun. “Stay down,” he hissed at Hazel, who had just peeked over the bar. To his dismay, he saw her reach up under her dress and similarly pull out a gun. He groaned.

“NYPD, we can discuss your activities later,” she whispered to him.

“Of all the women on all the street corners, I got the secret cop.” She started looking like she was going to peek over the bar again and he pulled sharply on her arm to keep her down. “If those aren’t witch-killing bullets, you’ve got no chance.”

“Of all the thieves on all the street corners, I had to get the deranged one who thinks witches are real.”

“You see that fireball she threw at us? That ain’t normal, sweetheart.”

Speaking of fireballs, one took that moment to crash into the glass mirror above them, raining small pieces of glass all over them. Dean sheltered Hazel’s body with his own, then pulled out his phone.

“She’s a freaking witch, Sam!” he hissed into the phone after Sam had picked up. “We’re under attack.”

“Who is?”

“The woman who owns the amulet, she’s wearing it!”

There was a loud crack as the bar they were hiding behind took a frontal hit. It wasn’t going to last much longer.

“I’m on my way,” Sam said in the phone.

“That might be too late,” Dean replied, looking for an exit strategy. He couldn’t see one.

“There!” Hazel hissed, pointing at a door in the panelling of the back wall of the bar area. She crawled over to it, wrenching it open. “It’s a dumbwaiter.”

“Get in it,” Dean replied, “I’ll send you down.”

“No, we can both get in it. You’re not going to survive by yourself here.” To emphasise her point, more of the mirror exploded above her head. He was pretty sure the witch was just playing with them now.

He stood up, trying to get a good shot at the witch. She was surrounded by henchmen and impossible to fire at, but she threw another fireball at him.

“Ok,” he said, crossing quickly to her.

“You get in first,” Hazel ordered.

“No.”

“We’ll only fit if I’m on top of you, get in.”

He saw the determination on her face and surrendered. He awkwardly climbed in to the cramped space, then held out his hands to take her. She squished herself in on top of him, hitting a button on the side before closing the door. The cart began to drop.

Dean held his gun up, pointed at the door, as Hazel unlatched it. They were in the wine cellar, with no one around. The staff had probably run off at the sound of the gun fight upstairs. It was even harder to get out then it had been to get in, but they managed it.

Dean took a look around, looking for a door that might lead to the outside. “There,” Hazel whispered, pointing at a door to the left of them. He nodded and followed her, pulling his phone back out of his pocket.

“Sam?”

“Thank God,” Sam replied. He could hear the sound of a car, Sam must’ve jacked one. “What’s going on?”

“We’re in the cellar.”

“Ok, you’re going to need to get out and meet me so we can go back in and gank the witch.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work, Sam. They’re going to be looking for us.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I go back in, gank the witch. Sam, you get Hazel out.”

“Uh huh,” Hazel said, spinning back to him, “And how exactly are you going to do that alone?”

“Sweetheart, this ain’t my first rodeo.”

“As I might have mentioned earlier, mine either.”

“Can someone explain what is going on?” Sam yelled from the phone.

“Hazel’s a cop,” Dean replied, moving very close to her. “But no witch-killing bullets and this ain’t your normal perp, so you’re not coming with me.”

“You try to stop me going in there and it’s a crime,” she glared at him. “Obstruction of justice.”

“The justice you were looking for tonight was men who want to pick up sex workers, not witches who want to kill.”

“I’m multi-tasking.”

“The hell you are.”

“OI!” Sam yelled again. “Can you two stop squaring off for one minute to come up with a plan so you don’t both die?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Right,” Sam continued. “How many witch-killing bullets you got left, Dean?”

“4.”

“Give me 2,” Hazel replied.

“That will halve our chances, sweetheart.”

“You keep being that arrogant and I’ll cuff you to the dumbwaiter.”

“Jesus Christ, can you both stop it?!” Sam complained.

“Ok. I give you two bullets, and then what?”

“I go in as bait,” Hazel responded, “and you hide. If the moment presents itself, you shoot.”

“You are not going in there as bait. I did not drag an innocent into this to get killed. I’ll be bait, you hide.”

She glared at him, but eventually nodded.

“And you’re taking 3 of the bullets.”

“That’s suicide.”

“It increases our chances of you ganking the witch.”

“I’m not a bad shot.”

“Me either.”

“Ok, I’m nearly there,” Sam said from the phone, seemingly forgotten in the standoff between Dean and Hazel. “I’ll try and get in and bring extra munition. I’m tall and I have long hair, please don’t shoot me.”

“Alright, see you soon Sammy.” Dean hung up the phone. He opened his gun and started to take out bullets, handing them to her.

“So,” Hazel said with a smirk, “Dean, is it? That’s what the guy on the phone called you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure Hazel isn’t your real name either. I’ll give you 5 minutes to get in a good position before I start the distraction.”

She nodded and started to jog away to the right. He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

---

Dean took a deep breath. He’d pulled out his other gun, filled with silver bullets that were going to be useless against a witch. But they might be good on henchmen, any bullet’s a good bullet if you’re human. And they’d make a distraction.

He put the normal gun in his left hand, saving his one shot with the witch-killing bullet for his dominant hand. He didn’t think he’d get a good shot, but he’d make it count if he did.

He estimated it had been about 5 minutes since Hazel had gone. Show time.

He crept up the stairs at the opposite end to where she’d gone. He could see henchmen scouring the other rooms, probably looking for him and Hazel. He took a moment to steel himself, then headed around the corner, back into the main room.

He started firing with his left-hand gun as soon as he entered the room, taking down random henchmen. Fairly quickly he was having to dive to the side, another fireball headed his way. He didn’t know where Hazel was, which he realised was a bit of a flaw in his plan. He didn’t know where to lead the witch.

Not that he was really in control of the situation. He was barely surviving as it was. He fired over his shoulder and ran for cover.

He was diving for new cover when he spotted Sam out the corner of his eye. He diverted the other direction, hoping he was still creating enough of a diversion.

Suddenly, the room exploded behind him. He span around, ducking his head under his arms to shield himself from debris.

“Witch is dead,” he head Sam yell, “Let’s go.”

“Gotta find the girl,” Dean yelled back, searching around. He could see Sam doing the same thing on the other side of the room, intermingled with the two of them firing at the few henchmen who hadn’t fled or died already. The explosion had been dramatic, Dean had no idea how Sam had caused it.

Dean finally found Hazel, trying to extricate herself from under some debris. He lifted the remnants of a table off her, holding his hand out to her to pull her up. She limped out so he wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her move faster. They quickly made it to Sam and got out of the building.

---

“I don’t know what the hell I just witnessed tonight but I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to my supervisors,” Hazel said when they were back at the Impala.

“If I were you, I’d leave out the witch throwing fireballs. Doesn’t go down well,” Dean replied.

“I suppose you want me to leave out that the serial killers Sam and Dean Winchester were here too.”

Dean shot her a glare. “We’re not serial killers, we hunt the supernatural.”

“And sometimes the supernatural like to impersonate us and give us a bad name,” Sam added. “We didn’t shoot those people in that footage from the bank vault, monsters with our faces did.”

“Any other day and I wouldn’t have believed you, but tonight I’m a little more inclined. One question though – you always pick up random women to bring into harm's way?”

“Uh, not normally, no,” Dean said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I genuinely thought we were just going to be looking for the amulet tonight, and I just wanted someone to try and take some of the attention off me. Sorry.”

She laughed, “Wow, you don’t seem like a man who apologises easily.”

Sam, behind Dean, was laughing and shaking his head.

“So, what are you going to do?” Dean asked her.

“I have to call this in.”

Dean nodded, grimacing slightly.

“But that doesn’t mean I have to mention you,” she continued.

Dean smiled. Sam said, “Thank you.”

“When did you know?” Dean asked. “Who we were, I mean.”

“You looked a little familiar to me when I got in the car, but I thought you’d just been in the photo list of known sex worker users I’d looked at. Wasn’t until I learnt your names were Sam and Dean and you were handing me special bullets that I remembered.”

Dean nodded.

“Alright, you two better hit the road before anyone gets here. They probably already noticed the explosion.”

“Do I get to know your real name?” Dean said with one of his charming smiles. She gave a smirk and pulled a folded business card from out of a hidden compartment in her gun. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

She reached over and kissed his cheek, “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Anytime,” Dean replied, opening the driver’s door and jumping in. Sam jumped in the other side and they sped off, into the night.

“So how’d you make an explosion? Or did she just explode when you shot her?” Dean asked Sam.

“Witch-killing grenade, been working on it as a prototype. Same idea as the bullets.”

“Niiiiiiice.”

Dean twirled the business card in his fingers. Would've liked to get to know that girl some more.

.

.

.

Dean Winchester tag list:

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@lyarr24

@waynes-multiverse

@deans-spinster-witch

@zepskies

Everything Supernatural tag list:

@leigh70

@malindacath

@ellie-andthemachine

@iprobablyshipit91

@123passwort

@kazsrm67

@nerdymuffinbonkcloud

@magssteenkamp

SPN Fanfic Pond Dean x Reader tag list:

@babypieandwhiskey

@bkwrm523

@buckys-zomdoll

@canadianspnhunter

@cas-backwards-tie

@castieltrash1

@deanscarlett

@deanwanddamons

@ellewritesfix05

@emilyshurley

@emoryhemsworth

@firefly-in-darkness

@idreamofplaid

@ilovedean-spn2

@kalesrebellion

@katelyn--renee

@kayteonline

@kickingitwithkirk

@lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell

@manawhaat

@melbelle45

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@mysupernaturalfics

@notnaturalanahi

@plaidstiel-wormstache

@sinceriouslyamellpadalecki

@supernatural-jackles

@there-must-be-a-lock

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing

@trend90s

@waywardjoy

@whispersandwhiskerburn

@akshi8278

@ssonia13

[cabinofimagines]

2. Magnus Chase and the Gods what’s happening

Our system is 100% vibes and whatever makes us laugh the hardest -Asnyox and Danny

Will

Hey Magnus just navigate to Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill, Farm Road 3.141 Long Island, New York 11954

i’ll make sure Nico picks you up. 

Magnus

Okay, any specifics I should look for to find him?

Will

Nah, he can sense the dead from miles away. 

“He can sense the dead-? Of course he can...” Magnus muttered to himself as he shivered. Will had mentioned the weather within the borders would be maybe a light autumn- but outside of the borders, it was freezing. Even with his Frey heritage, his shorts felt a little cold.

 

“I can also sense bad fashion.” Magnus quickly turned around to come face to face with a dark-haired guy. Without introduction, the boy—probably Nico—motioned for Magnus to follow him, which he did. “Your full name is just Magnus Chase, right?” Nico asked. Magnus nodded as he saw literally nothing in front of him, just forest and trees. Nico stopped and held his hand out to touch air or something.

“I, Nico di Angelo, permit Magnus Chase to enter Camp Half-Blood, or whatever.”  Nico turned around, “You should be good to go now—wasn’t sure whether the border would stop you from getting in because you’re not Greek and all that. Anyways, go pretend to be my boyfriend, try not to die and join in the Christmas activities!” Nico walked off. 

“What.”

So Magnus began his day at Camp Half-Blood. As he made his way through the border, he laid eyes on the big house—which seemed normal enough, if it was not because of the line of hurt people right outside. 

Being the good person he was, he carefully made his way to said line and approached the one in the back. Before he even could greet the girl at the end, she turned to him, barely looking at him as she went, “Oh, Will! I thought you were inside already, they might need more hands.” 

Magnus paused before he caught up. Ah yes, people really did mistake him for Will.

“I uh, wasn’t yet. What happened?” He asked as the girl looked at him like he was stupid. 

“Harley’s two legged death race, holiday edition—wait did you skip it?” The girl gasped, “I won’t tell, but only if you heal me first.”  She then whispered. Not wanting Will to get into actual trouble, Magnus quickly healed the girl, who then thanked him and walked of after saying, “Hey, didn’t know you had instant heal! Sick!”

Magnus then made his way into the infirmary where one guy looked him over, went up to him, and whispered in his ear. “I know about the switcharoo, name’s Austin, I’m Will’s brother, I won’t snitch if you help heal the line out. You know how right?” Before Magnus nodded he was set to healing, asking each patient for details on their wounds.

”Myrmekes, you know, giant ants got us.”

“Oh, Sherman Yang decided I should be an ornament.”

“The crafting table didn’t agree with me. Nor did the glitter.”

“Archery practice.”  “Were you the target?”  “No, the instructor.” 

“A reindeer ran me over.”

“Decorating the lava wall.” “What.”  “Yeah, you should check it out!” 

So as the line grew short, Austin let Magnus go explore, kindly giving instructions to find the lava wall. 

Magnus did not know what he expected. However, somehow the words “Lava Wall” never made him think of a climbing wall with lava flowing down from it. Worse yet, multiple people were currently climbing it holding tinsel and lights, both quite flammable objects, and somehow it actually looked Chrismassy and joyful. Somehow.

“Impressive isn’t it, Will?” Some dude spoke from next to Magnus, “It reminds me of that one time dad tried to actually be there for Christmas. Hephaestus wasn’t too clear on why the trees should ���light up’ but he at least apologized for almost setting mom on fire. Good times! Catch ya later.” 

Magnus watched the guy leave with a look of concern, but as time went by, he realized that was probably one of the lighthearted stories he’d hear. Later that day, while having lunch with Nico, the guy decided to trauma dump as if Magnus were Dr. Phil’s little helper.

“Yeah, the decoration are cool most years but this one feels less chaotic than others—though not as quiet as the winter my sister died—” Nico shrugged. “That one was not fun. There’s also that other winter when things were too quiet and we ended up fighting Bob the titan, before Percy yanked him to hell—he’s alright though don’t worry. Bob, I mean. I saw Percy a week ago and he was acting crazy.”

Magnus remembers something then. “Where’s Klaus?”

Nico looks around. “No clue. He said a friend would come over as well, some Heartstone guy?”

Magnus frowns. “Why is he here?”

“No clue,” Nico repeats. “I think Klaus is trying to drive Percy to a nervous breakdown, don’t know why. Can’t blame him either, Percy makes you wanna do that sometimes.”

“Right,” Magnus eyes Nico, picking up his trash and standing. “I’ll take a walk.”

“Will!” A girl of about fifteen approaches him and smiles. “Oh, did you get a perm? Lovely! Though I would spend less time under the sun if I were you, your hair is getting sickly lighter,” she says casually. “Anyway, today for the campfire Chiron asked me to tell you not to sing any ballads, you know what happened last time.”

Magnus stares at her still hung up on the comment about his hair but trying his best to move on. “I do. Yeah, I know everything that’s ever happened here.”

“Cool,” the girl pats his shoulder and leaves. “No one needs more drama—ah, like that one time mom came to my prom wearing the same dress as I did and said ‘See, when someone the right size wears it, it does accentuate your curves!’ Ugh, totally unnecessary I mean, she knows I wore it because my actual dress was covered in acid from the gorgon pretending to be my grandma! Anyway, toodles!”

Magnus reaches the campfire and sits next to Austin. “Gods, I know I’m no one to judge but does anyone here have a decent childhood?”

Austin laughs like he just said the funniest joke. “Good one, buddy. What’s next, a proper education?” Chiron calls Austin to the front and he rubs his hands eagerly. “Showtime!”

Magnus watches the guy step to the front and bring out a saxophone. He starts playing and Magnus recognizes it as ‘Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree’. At first he sits back and enjoys it thinking he’s finally discovered something about this camp that isn’t inherently concerning. 

The problem starts when Austin gets a bit too excited and his music starts to command everyone to leave their seats and rock around the lava wall, which is functioning as their Christmas tree.

***

It’s 10pm, Magnus has been healing the entire camp from second and three degree burns, and he’s either hallucinating or he actually saw Blitzen and another guy with a santa hat on entering the forest in the back of a bronze dragon.

“Has anyone seen a reindeer?” A camper walks up to where he’s walking holding a flip phone against their ear. “No?” They talk back into the phone. “Sorry, Percy. No yeah, I sent them over to you this morning—yeah, I,” they spot Magnus and smile. “Oh, hi, Magnus!”

“Y/N,” Magnus waves casually. “Who the hellheim lost a reindeer?”

“You don’t wanna know,” you snort, texting someone on the flip phone. “You should tell Heartstone to make Klaus stop messing with Percy, poor guy is going bald and may be getting an ulcer.”

“He’s not the only one,” Magnus replies. “Hey, Nico told me you guy have a god around here named Mr. D?”

You hesitate. “I’m not sure you should go anywhere near him. He might not be okay with you hanging out here.”

“I’m already dead, what can he do, vaporize me? The lava wall already tried that—I can’t be burned.”

“Show off,” you state with no real annoyance. “Yeah well, he’s probably playing cards in the porch.”

“This camp needs like, a whole therapy guard—like an entire cabin for the mentally ill.”

“Oh, Magnus, sweet summer child,” you pat his shoulder. “The whole camp is for the mentally ill. See ya!”

Y/N walks away humming Rudolph the red-nose reindeer and continue to ask about the animal’s location to anyone you encounter. Magnus walks up to the big house and finds a man who can only be Mr. D sitting there and chugging down eggnog.

“Uh, hi.”

“Bill Lonely, you’re here,” Mr. D glances at the boy without even reaching his face. “What do you want?”

“I heard you sometimes give free therapy sessions—can I help?”

Mr. D snorts. “Are you a doctor?”

“No but I feel a lot of bad things when I look at your campers.”

“Join the club, kid.”

“Also my sword is good with words and if that doesn’t work I can stab them so they go to a better place. Sorta.” Magnus scratches his nose and sniffs. “So can I?”

“The clinic is all yours,” the god points to the front door. “Second door to the left, don’t touch my mini fridge.”