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ak-vintage · 1 day ago

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Stay Right Here

Pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You never had a problem getting out of bed in the morning until you started sharing one with Joel. A Secret Santa gift for my dear friend Britt @pedroswife69 <3

Word Count: 2.3K

Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Second-person POV, no use of Y/N, post-season 1/game 1 established relationship, SMUT (groping, fingering, P in V sex, praise, heavy emphasis on Joel’s broad, sexy, manly hands, Joel’s filthy mouth)

Thank you to @shchristine for the beta read and to @pr3ttynpiink for organizing! Shoutout to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

Read on AO3 | Main Masterlist

You never had a problem getting out of bed in the morning until you started sharing one with Joel.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve been an early riser. Up before the sun most days, you’re showered, dressed, and fed before the sky can fade from inky black to rose gold to blue. It’s made you a great candidate for the breakfast shift at the dining hall and an eager volunteer in the barns and stables. You’ve become accustomed to tending to sheep and cattle or cracking eggs and frying bacon before most of the rest of Jackson have even blinked themselves awake, and really, it’s been no trouble. That was, of course, until you agreed to gather up your modest possessions and officially move across town.

Into Joel Miller’s house.

Now, as early-morning light filters through the thin curtains of his bedroom – your bedroom – you find yourself tucked snugly against his broad chest, his legs intertwined with yours, and one long, thick arm draped across your waist, keeping you close. He smells like sleep – warm and woodsy and painfully masculine, and though he holds you tightly, he shows no sign of waking. Even in his sleep, he can’t seem to get close enough to you. It would be inconvenient if you didn’t find it so endearing.

You twist in his arms, craning your neck awkwardly in an attempt to spot the little analog alarm clock Joel keeps on his bedside table. When you finally manage it, you balk at the time staring back at you in the dimness. You’re due in the kitchens in less than 30 minutes. If you rush, you’ll make it, but only just.

Your touch is delicate at first, gentle and soft as you try to extricate yourself from his grip without waking him. With a few wiggles and a scooch of your hips, you manage to work your legs free, but by the time you’re reaching for his arm to peel it off you, it has become like a clamp around your midsection, and you are being drawn back into him, back into his warm, bare chest as he grumbles, “Jus’ few more minutes, darlin’.”

With a shake of your head, you sigh, peering up at him through your lashes. His eyes are still closed, his weathered face relaxed, and you feel a pang of fondness tighten in your chest at the sight. He does this to you because he knows you can’t resist him when he’s like this – cozy and sweet and soft, every barrier collapsed and every façade shattered. You’re one of the few who gets to see the true face of Joel Miller, and the privilege is not lost on you.

Still, that does not change the fact that you have never once been late to a shift since arriving in Jackson, and you are not about to sacrifice your perfect record for a few extra minutes of cuddling. Moving quickly, you roll onto your other side and make for the edge of the bed.

But even wrapped in the warm cocoon of sleep, Joel is still faster and stronger than you. You make it only a handful of inches across the mattress before his vicelike grip is back, bracketing around your belly and hauling you – a bit less gently this time – back into his embrace once again. His face ends up buried in your hair, his front molded to the contours of your back, and you feel it along every nerve ending as he rasps, “Quit your squirmin’. M’sleepin’.”

Except Joel isn’t sleeping. Or, at least, there is one particular part of him that appears to be very much awake. You snort softly into your pillow. You should have known.

“Joel,” you hiss, wriggling against his grip. “I’m gonna be late!”

He does not dignify your protests with a response. Or, at least, not a verbal one. Instead, he simply shuffles so he is pressed even tighter against you as his broad-palmed, thick-fingered, heavy hand begins lazily stroking every inch of you he can reach.

He’s unhurried in his perusal of your body – from the dip of your waist to the flare of your hip, from the soft give of your stomach up to the plush fullness of your breasts. His caress is familiar, soothing and inflaming in equal measure, and your muscles melt so readily – eagerly even – under his attentions that it almost steals your breath away.

You are putty in his hands, and he knows it, so when he tucks his fingers under the neckline of your sleepshirt and tugs down the worn material, you make a fatal mistake, and Joel simply grins.

As his hot, dry palm skates over your rapidly-hardening nipples, as his grip swallows the pillowy softness of a breast and massages firmly, you let out the softest, breathiest sigh and arch into his touch. Your ribs surge forward, seeking more of that calloused, work-roughened hand, and in doing so, your hips curl back, and you unintentionally welcome the long, thick, throbbing press of his cock between the globes of your ass.

Joel groans into the back of your neck, the sound tripping down your spine in deep, rasping shivers as he noses your hair out of the way. The second enough skin is exposed, he latches on and drags the warm slickness of his tongue along it, drawing the vulnerable little patch of softness into his mouth and sucking. His rough fingers tighten around your nipple, plucking and teasing as he works your neck, and the sensation has your throat gasping, the arch of your spine deepening.

Low and ragged in your ear, Jackson’s top patrolman chuckles and grinds his hips into your ass. “That’s it, baby. You got a few minutes for this, don’tcha?”

“I – my breakfast shift, I have to – ” Your words are interrupted with a moan, the sound wrenched from your chest as the hand on your breast slips down to the apex of your thighs, pressing firmly and steadily against your mound through your cotton panties. His name is a whimper on the back of another deep, urgent breath, and you grit your teeth against the urge to wind your hips against the friction of his fingers.

“Shhh,” Joel soothes, mouthing at your neck, inhaling the scent of your hair as it catches in the uneven whiskers of his beard. “Just relax, darlin’. The kitchen’ll keep for a bit. Lemme feel you a little.”

In the end, you find that you don’t have the strength to protest any more. His hands are everywhere – tucking under your neck from behind to settle across your throat, slipping into your panties, snaking under your shirt, tangling in your hair. You’re surrounded in him, swaddled in his thick, strong arms, trapped against his front, your body unable to choose between chasing the tease of his fingers against your slippery clit or grinding back against the enticing hardness of his cock.

He doesn’t let you choose, though. Instead, he strokes and plays and torments until you are ready to beg for mercy, and then he flips you onto your back and clambers on top of you. All finesse is gone as he shoves his pajama pants just far enough down to pull himself out, as he reaches down to tug the soaked gusset of your panties to the side, as he drags his soft, plush cockhead through your wetness. You can feel his desperation in the tension of his muscles, can see it in the deep frown tugging at his brow, can hear it in the curled-lip, gritted-teeth groan as he notches himself at your quivering entrance. It takes your breath away, makes you shudder and gasp as you stretch around the tip of him.

All the countless times you’ve taken him, and you’re not sure you will ever get used to that first breach of your body, that first trembling submission to the heft of him.

He fills you in one slow, inexorable thrust, and when your dripping pussy has swallowed every inch of him, when he finally seats his pubic bone against yours, firm and inescapable, he threads his fingers with yours and pins both of your hands above your head.

You can’t remember why you protested anymore, why you ever attempted to keep him at bay. He has driven every other thought from your mind and replaced it with himself. There is simply nothing else that matters.

He keeps you there as he takes you apart – thighs spread achingly wide, knees hitched up at his sides to take him deeper, ankles locked behind his back to keep him from retreating too far. Mouth on your neck, tongue on your tits. Teeth scraping across your jaw, tugging on your earlobe, sinking into the flesh cushioning your collarbone. Big, thick, rugged hands gripping yours, driving the backs of your fingers into the mattress. You are entirely at his mercy, and it makes your cunt drool for him.

“There ya go, baby, I know. Can feel how bad you need it,” Joel growls, making you shiver. “Gonna give you what you need. Just gotta take it.”

When he can feel that you are on the ragged edge of your climax, so close to soaring right over that edge you can almost taste it, he gathers both of your wrists in one hand and drops the other to your gaping, whining mouth. His thumb – huge, tasting of salt and musk and man – sinks between your lips and presses down on your tongue, and when you come, your cries are muffled in the suction of your mouth around the intrusion.

“There she is.” His words are syrupy-slow and sweet in your ear as you clench down around him, as you writhe and whimper as he fucks you through it. “That’s my good girl.”

Somehow, Joel manages to hold out for his own pleasure until you’ve come down from your high, until you’ve returned to your body and to the present moment. You are just lucid enough to watch him as he rears up on his haunches, withdraws his dripping cock from the clutch of your body, and uses one of those broad, heavy hands to jerk himself off over your belly. Your eyes can’t look away as he strokes himself, quick and firm, your gaze heavy-lidded and hungry as you watch.

“Come on,” you whisper. The words leave your mouth thoughtlessly, eyes glued to his flushed, angry cock as the tip weeps glistening pearls of precum. Fuck, he’s so breathtaking like this. “Come for me, Joel. Come all over me.”

It doesn’t take long with your encouragement. When he falls, it is with a ragged groan and a curse. You watch as thick, white ropes paint his scarred knuckles, and you can hardly stand to wait for him to stop before pulling that hand from his cock and dragging it to your waiting mouth. You clean his fingers with an eager tongue, lapping every drop from his skin as he catches his breath.

It isn’t until he collapses back onto the bed next to you, winded and sweating, that you happen to catch a glimpse of your bedside clock out of the corner of your eye. The sight is like a bucket of ice water in your veins.

“Shit,” you groan, rolling over to bury your face into your pillow in denial.

“S’matter?”

Your words come out muffled, smothered against the pillow as you hide from the accusing glare of the clockface. “I’m fucking late.”

Joel snorts a laugh. “Ah, well. Not the end of the world, darlin’.”

“I’m never late, Joel!”

You feel the mattress shift behind you as he rolls up onto his side, then the warm, heavy weight of his palm between your shoulder blades as he rubs your back comfortingly. “All the more reason why one time won’t hurt anything. Ain’t no reason you gotta be up at the ass-crack of dawn every damn day. Now…” He lands a quick swat to your butt, aiming for the bit of bare cheek left exposed by your twisted, dripping panties. “Why don’t you go hop in the shower, and I’ll make you a cuppa coffee for the road. How’s that sound?”

At first, you say nothing, keeping your face pressed into the pillowcase and your eyes hidden from him. What you really want is to stay irritated. You want to hold onto your annoyance at the ease with which he distracts you, the speed with which your mind and body succumb to his advances. But at this point in your relationship, you know better than to try. Joel has a frustratingly boyish charm to him when he wants to, can be playful and impish when the mood strikes. And when he lets himself loosen up.

Today? With unplanned morning sex under his belt when the sun has barely risen? The man is downright giddy in this moment, and you know the second you see his face, any bitterness you may be attempting to cling onto will dissolve like sugar on your tongue, and you will be left with nothing but affection (and an absolutely spine-melting orgasm) in spite of your ruined schedule.

“Darlin’?” he murmurs, that soft, warm touch returning to your back. “You really mad at me?”

Releasing a sigh, you roll to face him, let him see the wry smile you can’t suppress as you take in his dark, earnest eyes. “No, Joel, I’m not mad. But – ” You jab a finger into his bare chest, the pointy blow landing right on his breastbone. �� – I want the good coffee. Not that instant crap. If I’m gonna be this late anyway, I can wait for the pour-over to brew.”

Joel’s weathered face splits into a grin, the crinkles around his eyes deepening as huffs a laugh. He chuffs you gently under your chin with the side of his knuckles, those beautiful hands ready to have you melting all over again, and you can already feel it – the warmth of it settling in your chest, softening your heart.

“Got yourself a deal.”

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #jackson joel #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction #secret santa

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tkomptgoedluv · 2 days ago

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watermelon.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.3

pt1. here | pt.2 here | pt.3

joost klein x f! reader

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader still really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, angst angst and even more angst, did i mention angst?, tooth-rotting fluff, so fluffy it’s honestly a little cringe <3, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 3,494.

warnings: very brief + vague reference to SA, rpf.

notes: hello!! welcome to pt.3 <3 this is probably the part that i’m most proud of, probably because it weirdly hurt the most to write. a couple fun facts about this part: reader’s coat is heavily based on one i have in real life and absolutely adore. also, i genuinely couldn’t bring myself to touch this wip for two whole days because my personal life started to match up with this storyline and i did not like it! became a little too self-indulgent. anyways — enjoy!! lemme know what you think.

love you all lots 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

in a lot of ways, the whole situation was more or less your own idea of hell — ironic, considering it all started with literally the worst night of your life.

not once did you ever think that you’d be here, that this was how things were gonna go. the fun part? you don’t even know how you got here in the first place. for someone so in the middle of it all, you know surprisingly little about what actually happened, or what you must’ve done wrong.

all that you know is that it’s different now. joost is different now.

you still text everyday, a few phone calls here and there, and you’ll see him in person a few times a month or more, but you can still feel it. the subtle lack of emotion in his messages, the only-ever increasing wait times in between responses, the missing details in his stories that you’d still end up hearing from your friends. something, at some point, shifted and joost just didn’t seem to be your joost anymore.

at first, you tried to think nothing of it. you weren’t exactly a stranger to anxiety; it’s always been just a little too easy for you to get lost inside your own head. this also wasn’t the first time that you had fallen down this rabbit hole, suddenly convinced that someone you love doesn’t even like you because they said something in a slightly different tone once.

but then those weird few days where things didn’t feel quite right turned into weeks, and it just didn’t feel like nothing anymore.

you thought it could’ve been the videos because, as predicted, entire montages of the fight found their way onto each and every little corner of the internet. joost could be seen clear as day swinging for him, landing punch after punch until one of his friends would eventually step in. though somehow, the backlash against joost never came. for every clip there was a ‘story-time’ to go right along with it, and every single one explained how joost was just defending ‘this girl that had been attacked by that guy.’

so instead you exhausted yourself asking if everything was alright, just in case there was something else going on that he also hadn’t told you. but there was only so many times that you could ask the same question over and over again, only to get the same answer back.

joost was fine; great even.

so it had to be you. nothing was wrong, nothing bad had happened, it was simply just you that had repelled him all of a sudden. and that was all you could think about whilst you sat in a room surrounded by your closest friends — joost included.

it was someone’s birthday, a friend of a friend who’s name was still unknown to you and yet somehow you still ended up with an invite. aspon was on your left, deep in a conversation with stuntje about some new anime you’d never heard of, and alanis was on your right, asking to see pictures of daan’s latest art piece.

you, of course, were there in between them all, just staring into space. all of the ice in your drink had melted as it sat forgotten about in your hands, and you were fairly confident that you had memorised each and every scratch in the wooden flooring. you were yet to find a better place to look other than the floor, because of course it was joost that had to be sat opposite you.

he had pulled the short straw really, because by the time he came back in from his cigarette outside, the only seat left was one of those awful, plastic fold-up chairs. like the others he too was wrapped up in a conversation of his own, only his included a girl that you’d never seen before, and he was making her laugh a lot.

you didn’t have a single right to absolutely despise what it was that you were seeing, but still your skin felt hot and itchy, and tears burned behind your eyes. despite arriving together in your group and being seated a measly three feet away from each other, joost was yet to even glance in your direction, let alone talk to you. the blatant avoidance was unbearable; the new ‘you’ that he was talking to was even worse.

but with the anger came the shame, because really, you had no excuse to be feeling like this. two strangers with mutual friends, talking with one another at a house party of all places, wasn’t exactly incriminating. they also weren’t touching or even flirting for that matter — from what you could hear, their conversation seemed limited to small anecdotes about the people in common they both knew.

you weren’t being fair, you weren’t being reasonable; there was no excuse for the tightness in your chest.

without a word, you got up and made a dash for the balcony; desperate for a cigarette. so desperate in fact, that you didn’t stop to grab your jacket despite the rain bashing against the windows. you just needed the fresh air, needed space away from whatever the fuck was going on in there.

the small roof that the balcony upstairs provided did little to shield you from the rain. your hair quickly fell damp around the sides of your face as the wind brought goosebumps to your arms. you really should’ve stopped to grab your coat, you were soaking now.

but the pure, unbridled relief that you felt when you breathed in the smoke of your cig made it all worth it, though. it was something else to focus on, something to help soothe all of your aches and pains. best of all, it gave you a reason to be by yourself for a while — a moment alone to think, to breathe, a chance to get a fucking grip.

you took another drag of your cigarette.

“think you forgot this, schatje.”

over the sound of the heavy-falling rain and the music from inside, you hadn’t heard the balcony door slide open and shut again.

from the corner of your eye you saw joost standing there, clad in a black gilet and the same adidas track-jacket that you had bought for him two birthdays ago. your coat was in his outstretched hands; a big, red furry thing that almost swallowed you whole every time you put it on.

“yeah…thanks.”

you wanted to cry.

the silence that followed was heavy and awkward; neither of you could even look at each other as you took your jacket from him and slipped it on. whilst you focused on looking outwards towards the skyline, blinking away any tears that threatened to spill, joost busied himself with lighting up a cigarette of his own. it felt like you were standing next to a stranger, and not someone who quite literally knew every single little thing about you.

someone who always picked up the phone when you called; someone whose bed you’ve woken up naked in just a few too many times to count.

“you, uh, you doing okay?”

you almost choked on your cigarette.

he’d barely even glanced your way all night, too distracted by other female attention to really care that you were there at all, and now he wanted to know how you were doing? oh he had to be joking.

you stubbed out your cig underneath your shoe and went to storm back inside, shoving past him with your shoulder as you did so. you had almost made it too, before he caught you by the arm and gently pulled you back. it really pissed you off how hurt he looked, like this wasn’t all his fault in the first place.

“hey, can we not just talk for a minute? i wanna know what’s been up with you recently. we don’t really talk anymore.”

as hard as you could you pushed him off of you, and then you pushed him once more for good measure. you couldn’t bite it back anymore, couldn’t keep it all from spilling out when your blood was already boiling. if you were to regret it in the morning, you would just blame it on the few drinks you’ve already had.

“and why the fuck do you think that is, joost? tell me.”

a small part of you that you really couldn’t quite understand, genuinely hoped that he would push you back. that he’d get all up in your face, yelling at the top of his lungs, just as angry with you as you were with him. you wanted him to shout, to scream at you about how wrong you were; you wanted to feel crazy for even thinking that something could ever go wrong between the two of you.

you didn’t want him to just…stand there with his tail tucked between his legs, looking like he had already given up on you a long time ago. you found yourself shoving him again, only hard enough to knock him back a step or two this time.

“tell me!”

now more than ever you wished that you could stay angry, that you knew how to hold onto the outrage instead of always just breaking down into pieces. it made you feel so small the way that your voice was cracking; your shouts quickly shrinking into cries. you felt like a child again, begging to understand why everyone always left in the end.

“i just needed to work some stuff out, okay? none of this was meant to happen. i never wanted to make you cry.”

you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, the state of your mascara becoming an afterthought, before raking your fingers through your hair. thin strands stuck to the corners of your face and the back of your neck.

“please, tell me what i can do to make it better.”

joost was panicking now, looking a lot like an old dog that somehow knew it was about to be left behind at the shelter. you could see it in the way his hands were shaking and how he couldn’t quite seem to stand still, shifting from one leg to another.

“you can tell me what happened; what changed or what i did wrong. i don’t care.”

from the look on his face, you never would have guessed that all you’d asked him for was the truth; ‘panicked’ was no longer the right word.

“i can’t. i promise, i’ll tell you later but i can’t tell you here. not like this.”

you laughed — you couldn’t help it. three months ago, when you asked him why he was so insistent on doing anything and everything for you, he gave you the exact same line. either he forgot that he’s already used it once before, or he thought you were stupid enough to fall for it all over again; either way, you knew now that ‘later’ was never coming.

before you really knew what you were doing, you were back inside and weaving your way through the small huddles of your friends. a few stared as you began to tread water through the house, a long line of watery footprints following behind you on your way out. you muttered a quiet ‘i’ll see you guys later’ to whoever was listening and in one smooth motion, grabbed your bag from one of the tables and disappeared through the front door, slamming it behind you.

no one tried to stop you. probably for good reason, too, because you could feel the makeup running down your face.

the only good thing to come from looking so sad and drenched from the rain was that nobody on the street stopped to bother you either. not many people were out in this weather anyway, so at most you felt their eyes on you as they passed, a look of pity on their faces. pity for a girl all dressed up for a nice night out, just to be walking home early in tears.

you didn’t want their pity, you just wanted to go home. you wanted your bed and your pyjamas. you wanted a nice warm shower and to try and forget that today ever fucking happened.

you didn’t want joost to be chasing after you.

you didn’t want to hear your name being yelled from down the street by the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“cmon you always do this! stop running away from everything.”

that was the thing to get you; the one thing that made you stop and turn on the spot.

“oh i’m the one running away? you’re the one that left!”

you met him halfway with steam coming out of your ears, your hands trembling and nose all scrunched up. you were fuming and it seemed as though he was now, too.

“i never went anywhere! you’re making it sound like i disappeared off the face of the earth or something.”

“well that’s what it felt like! what about that don’t you understand?”

you were each taking turns yelling now, oblivious to how loud you were actually being. people were sticking their heads out of their living room windows, morbidly curious about the scene that was unfolding right outside their homes. those that walked by did double-takes and even contemplated getting their phones out to record.

“but i’m here now! and i was ‘here’ back there and you just ran away like you always do!”

“did you really expect me to just stand there and listen to you lie again? all this ‘oh i’ll tell you later’ crap, it’s just bullshit. ever since that night you’ve been different and if what that guy did to me changed how you see me then maybe you’re right, maybe we should stop being whatever the fuck we are.”

joost physically recoiled at your words, his entire demeanour changing to one of hurt.

“what are you..? schatje no, no, it’s nothing like that. fuck, please tell me you don’t really think that.”

how could you not? it was the only thing left for you to think. it wasn’t like you wanted to come to that conclusion or that it was the first one you jumped to, but joost never gave you any other choice. as much as it hurt, it was better than simply not knowing.

something died in him when you nodded — you saw it in his eyes. tears of his own spilled down his cheeks as he rubbed his hands up and down his face, wiping his nose with the inside of his elbow.

“i…i would never; that guy…that wasn’t your fault.”

“then tell me the truth, joost.”

all that adrenaline, all that energy from before was long gone. you weren’t two people arguing in the rain, full of love and anger like something straight out of a romcom anymore. you were just two people standing out in the cold, soaked to the bone, just trying to hold on for a little while longer.

you were still waiting for joost to say something, trying to prepare yourself for the worst. if he was to say that same shit again, that he couldn’t tell you now but would later on, that would be it for you. you’d walk away and not turn back again, not for anything; just like that it would be game over.

but joost wasn’t saying anything, and you couldn’t decide if that was any better or not. he was silent as he took a couple steps towards you, the palms of his hands suddenly cupping either side of your jaw. the pads of his thumbs wiped away all the tears and rain from your eyes and tucked the odd strands of hair behind your ears. not once did he glance away from your gaze, not once did he say something.

it was driving you crazy.

“joost?” you were pleading with him now, desperate for him to say something — do something. the way he was looking at you, it was like you were the only thing he could see. “say something.”

“i love you.”

you blinked, and all of sudden you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands anymore. it wasn’t the first time joost had said that to you because he says it to everyone, every single one of his friends. but he had never said it to you like that before, with a look in his eyes so heavy you feared that they might fall right out of his head.

“what?” your voice cracked as you spoke. “i don’t understand…what?”

“i love you. that’s what changed.”

a headache was coming, you could feel it. right behind your eyes, you felt a twinge, and then a subtle thumping that made your eyebrows twitch. you just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and the more you tried to make sense of it the more your head hurt.

“i swear to god if this is a fucking joke, if you’re just making this up -”

he shut you up with a kiss.

it wasn’t exactly for the first time or even close to being so, but it felt as though it could’ve been; all soft, gentle, careful. the hands that held either side of your face did so as though you could’ve cracked and shattered at any second. he moved slowly, almost hesitantly, until he felt you turn into mush beneath him. only then did he pull away, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

but you couldn’t let him have it though, could you? couldn’t just let him have the upper hand, just like that. you had to chase it, had to pull him down to your height by the collar of his jacket until your lips could meet his. by the time you were finished, both shaking and breathless, there were faint smudges of red all across his mouth.

“that was so hot; do it again.”

you laughed at his words for not the first time tonight, but now it was only out of pure joy instead of anything else. you laughed because of how out of it joost looked now, his eyes glossed over and lips parted ever so slightly as he panted. you laughed because of how much you did want to do it again and how you felt giddy knowing that joost wanted you to do it again too.

so you did. only this time joost was ready and pounced on you hard enough to knock you back a couple of steps, almost making you slip on the wet pavement. his fingers lost themselves in your hair, gently tugging at the roots as yours gripped onto the nylon of his jacket for dear life, too afraid to let go and risk letting him slip away.

you would have stayed like that with him all night if it wasn’t for the wolf whistle you heard from one of the windows above, followed by the rumble of thunder. the rain was starting to fall harder now, the storm only growing and you didn’t like knowing that people were watching you now.

“we shouldn’t be doing this here — people are looking.”

with his forehead resting against yours, joost simply groaned as he struggled to catch his breath. his hands still cradled the back of your head and his eyes were still squeezed shut.

“don’t care. need you.”

he may as well have been one of the puddles at your feet, the way he couldn’t even form proper sentences anymore. the things you were doing to him right now were criminal, almost cruel, and you were loving every minute of it. proud of it, actually. you might have been mush in his hands, but he was like putty in yours.

“well…maybe you should take me home then, yeah? then you can need me as much as you like.”

joost groaned again, muttering something about how you were ‘going to be the death of him’, and leaned back in. from your nose to your cheeks, to your chin, every inch was peppered with very sweet, very wet kisses.

“have i told you much i love you yet?”

he had, at least a handful of times by now, but not nearly enough as you would’ve liked. so you shrugged, a shit-eating grin plastered across your face as you did so, and stepped back, lacing your fingers with his.

“it’s okay, you can tell me one more time.”

apparently that was way too far for you to go, because after one singular step you were tugged back again and kissed as though joost’s very life depended on it. ironic, considering you were certain that you were both about to be struck by lightning at any moment.

“i love you.”

you figured if that were to happen by some chance, it’d be worth it if it meant staying here with him for just a little while longer.

“i love you too.”

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein x f!reader #luvvergirlwrites

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withjaejae · 1 day ago

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Hole-in-One | JJK pt. 3

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader

High society, richie rich setting

Warnings: Oral (m/f), fingering, car sex, superstitions, tiny bit of jealous Jk, mostly Simp JK, unprotected sex, just sex.

A/N: felt inspired by JK’s recent live so here we are. Enjoy

+++++++

“If I make this hole-in-one, let’s go to the charity ball together as a couple.” Jungkook smirks and hits the ball. He was confident that he doesn’t even look when the ball goes in so smoothly.

You on the other hand are smiling like an idiot.

Its been a month since you and Jungkook started dating but you’ve been doing it lowkey. With the finals over and graduation is just around the corner, he wants to publicly announce your relationship by going to your parents’ charity ball together. For the entire society to see.

Jungkook approaches you and bends over to peck your lips. You were about to speak when a cough interrupts your moment.

“So this is why you don’t ask me to play golf anymore.” Namjoon stood behind you two and frowns. “Auntie told me you and Jungkook would be here.”

“Okay, and?” You raise your eyebrows. His eye flicker between you and Jungkook standing very close to each other.

“What are you doing with my friend?” He finally asks and Jungkook drapes an arm around your shoulders.

“We’re dating.” You answer simply and Jungkook’s chest swells with pride. “What do you want, Joonie?”

“Jungkook, need a favor.” You groan and turn away, taking Jungkook with you.

“Aha. My days as your wingman are over, Joonie.” He teases him with the nickname. “I’m like your cousin now.” His words make you blush.

“Come on. You’re like the best wingman ever.” Namjoon groans. “There’s this girl who DJs at this club. You know people there, just give me an opening.”

“And I told you, I can’t. Plus, me and YN are going shopping tonight.” He shrugs. Namjoon groans in frustration.

You take pity in your cousin who is single as a pringle.

“You can go.” You look up at Jungkook. “It would be fun.”

“Nah. I hate clubs, the only clubs I want are these.” He hugs his brand new golf clubs that he bought yesterday. “Plus, I got a hole-in-one. Don’t I get my reward?”

“I thought your reward was the charity ball?” He groans. “Okay.” You tease.

“Ugh. I hate you two. Come onnnnnn.” You forgot Namjoon was still there. “You can tag along YN.” You contemplate.

“Damn. She must be really hot for you to let me join.” You turn back around to face him. “I guess we can go after shopping.” You look up at Jungkook.

“Fine.” He pouts.

“Would you be angry if I just drove around the block then back to the club house because I’m sure Henry or whatever can spare me a room?” Jungkook as his eyes glued to your legs. “Baby, you’re a sin.” His eyes finally met yours.

After shopping you both took an hour to prepare to get Namjoon a girlfriend. Or you hope its going to be a girlfriend.

You picked out a cute silver dress that’s too short for Jungkook’s sanity.

“If yoy’re the best wingman the way Namjoon says you are. We can be back at the club in an hour.” You trail your finger along his jaw before giving him a soft kiss.

He groans as you step away, he opens the door for you and you both drive towards the heart of the concrete jungle.

Namjoon had already chosen a VIP table near the DJ booth. His eyes light up as soon as he spots Jungkook approach with you right next to him.

“Ugh. You guys look good. Its annoying.” He rolls his eyes but hands you two an amorito sour.

“Okay, you ready?” Jungkook drinks half his cocktail and stands up.

“What? No! Its too soon!” Jungkook sits back down and pouts. “Do you have a next appointment or something?”

“No.” He continues to pout and you giggle at his cuteness.

“Relax.” You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “Let’s have some fun.”

A tray of shots gets served at your table and you’re just as shocked as Jungkook. But hey, you haven’t been out for a while.

The three of you took shots like actual college students. Jungkook’s hand sitting tightly in between your knees.

“Jungkook. Go time.” Namjoon nods, you both look up at the DJ booth where they switch and the female Dj exits towards you.

“Whatever you’re gonna see. Its all for show.” Jungkook whispers before grabbing a shot glass and walks down crossing her and accidentally spilling the shot over her arm.

He doesn’t apologize, instead he just walks away and you can see the dj mumble ‘asshole’ just then Namjoon approaches with a handful of tissues and strikes up a conversation with her. In a couple of minutes you feel someone sit next to you.

“Is it like a good cop bad cop sort of thing?” You ask before turning to see who sat next to you.

“I dunno.” The voice sounded different.

You turn to see Kim Taehyung, a highschool friend, you shriek and hug him.

“Tae tae! When did you get back?” You start speaking french.

You both attended a private school in Paris but he pursued art there while you came home for college. Though you knew each other since you were kids, you only became close in highschool.

“A couple of days ago, I’m in town for a relative’s wedding. Fancy seeing you here, you hate clubs.” His arm was draped over the couch behind you.

Jungkook could see it from across the room, his stare is as sharp as a spear. The moment Tae tucks a hair behind your ear, he snaps. Angrily wading through the crowd on the dance floor before he finally reaches you both.

Tae looks up at him. “Jungkook.”

“Taehyung.” The air suddenly felt cold. Your eyes going back and forth between them.

Taehyung was the reason Jungkook didn’t make swim captain in 6th grade. He’s pissed to this day. He was also the reason he didn’t join the Paris program, he didn’t want to be anywhere around the man.

Clearly you two became close while in Paris.

“Taehyung, you remember Jungkook, he’s my boyfriend.” The B word that came from your mouth made any anger from Jungkook dissipate.

“Ah. Seems that I was too late.” He teases but you reach up for Jungkook’s hand. Taehyung took it as his cue to leave. “It was nice seeing you both. If he ever breaks up with you…” he locks eyes with Jungkook. “Call me.” Then looks at you.

You give him a small wave as he left, Jungkook takes his seat back. A grin on his face.

“You called me boyfriend.” He wraps an arm around your waist.

“Are you not?” You bit your lip. But the expression on Jungkook’s face tells you he loves it.

“I most definitely am, girlfriend.” You both cringe and laugh.

You wait a couple more minutes until Namjoon gives a thumbs up while passing you both before you stood up and left.

“Well, that was fun.” You smile as Jungkook gets in the car with you.

“But not as fun as—“ Before Jungkook could finish his sentence you’re crossing the center console and sitting on his lap, landing your lips on his.

It was a good makeout session until Jungkook starts undressing you.

“Wait. We can’t.” You pull away from the kiss, his hooded eyes luring you in. He asks why, “It’s bad luck to fuck in a car.”

“Says who?” He chuckles. “Its not like anyone can see us.”

“I know and I really want to. But it’s bad luck. For the car, not us.” He full on laughs.

“I wanna test that now.” He continues to put both hands on your ass. “Shit.” He curses when he feels you wearing a thong.

“Fine. Its your car.” You crawl towards the back seat. “Do you want your reward?” You wink and he hastly follows you.

His jeep has a wide leg space for the back seat so there was no hurdle as you situate yourself between his legs. You tie your hair up in a pony tail and place his hand on it.

“Shit. I don’t think I’ll last long with you looking like a fucking goddess.” You smirk at his words as you finally take him in your mouth. “Holy fuck. You are most definitely a goddess.” You take him deep in your throat and swallow around him.

He groans deeply making your slick drip from your folds. You moan around him, you can feel his dick twitch on your tongue. You drag your tongue across every ridge and nerve, the slurping sounds echoing in Jungkook’s brain. Despite your ruined mascara, he worships how you take him so well. Whispering filthy things as he cums down your throat.

He pulls you by your pony tail, you’re facing the passenger’s side window, you feel his tongue lick your thigh all the way up to your folds.

“Baby, you’re dripping.” You chuckles. “Who did this to you?” He, again, rips your underwear off.

That’s the fifth time in the time you’ve been together.

“You.” You mewl and rest your head on the seat. “Kookie, please.” Your breathing becomes ragged as you feel him tease your hole with his fingers. Pushing back towards him.

“Eager, baby?” He bites your ass cheek as he plunges two fingers in you.

He’s making you scream and moan, not giving a shit if someone passed by and heard you. Begging for more, his fingers have no mercy after adding another finger. He makes you fuck yourself on his hand and he revels in your reactions.

Your thighs start shaking, a sign that you’re close but just before you dive into your climax he pulls away.

“Nooooo—FUCK.” Your complaint turns into a moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he rams his huge cock in you in one go. Your wetness making it easy for him to slide in.

He pistons in you, for sure someone can see the car shake but who the fuck cares anymore.

He takes a seat and you ride his huge cock facing away from him. You rest your hands on the front seats and give him something you’ve always wanted to do. And honestly, it drives him mad.

You raise your hips and start fucking yourself on his cock. As if you were twerking on him.

The view of your ass bouncing makes him lose it. He gathers up some slick and spits on your ass, you look back at him as he teases your ass hole with his thumb. You push back and nod, giving him a go.

He lets out a rough exhale as he pushes this thumb into your ass. You moan at the intrusion but surprisingly, it feels good. Maybe its the alcohol , or maybe its just Jungkook but fuck you feel ecstacy.

Your entire body becomes sensitive as you reach your peak.

“Baby. So fucking close.” You moan and Jungkook meets your ass by thrusting up. His thumb still in there. The sensation pushes you over and you’re cumming all over his cock the same time as he paints your insides white.

Your arms give out and Jungkook catches you again. You both catch your breat before you crawl to reach for the wet tissues from the glove compartment. You clean each other up.

“So… butt stuff.” You start and he chuckles.

“Its my first time too baby. Let’s put it on a shelf.” He kisses you deeply. Three words almost slipped out of his lips but he holds it back. Its too soon.

The next morning.

You both stand on the side walk, staring at Jungkook’s car as it gets towed. Apparently, it won’t start and its not because of the battery.

You open your mouth to say something but he shuts you up by kissing you. Out on the street. For your parents and the neighborhood to see. Both his hands on either side of your face, your arms wrapped around his waist.

“Yes, you warned me. But it was so worth it.” He pecks your lips. “We still have your car.”

“Nope. Its bad luck. My baby cannot have bad luck.” He keeps an arm around your shoulders as you take a stroll down the road.

“So, do you already have an outfit for the charity ball?” He asks and you nod.

You do hope he likes the deep royal purple gown you had custom made. It was also your graduation party after all.

#bts au fanfic #bts fic #bts college au #bts smut #bts #bts hoseok #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #golf jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jungkook smut #jungkook break #bts taehyung

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hpgal · 1 day ago

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DC X DP: VACATION TO A DIFFERENT UNIVERSE Pt. 1

CW: mentions of death

TLDR: Danny is stressed and depressed feeling like despite all the changes in his life, he feels like he is still the same.

Word Count: 1310

a/n: I plan on making multiple parts to this one but it will take some time. This is more a draft to part 1 than anything else and will most likely end up on AO3 in the future as a more completed version of itself once it is done here on Tumblr. Any feedback and suggestions (or even if you want to continue this plot with your own spin on it as long as I am credited/ tagged so I can read it too!) is very much welcomed!!

Danny wanted a change.

Not just for fun either. Though fun would be nice between all these Ghost King responsibilities he had been forced to start learning for when he comes of age, or well not, technically?

He doesn't know! It's complicated! He was 17 now, but his ghost age was only 3! The Observants said to fully assume the throne his ghost age was supposed to be 18 at the youngest but they'd make an exception for when he was 18 in the living realm.

Ghee, thanks you weirdos, because I totally wanted my adult life to already be over so I can manage my undead life.

Anyways, between trying to graduate and learn his forever job, he had been going to therapy now that he isn't the only ghost fighter in town. He has breaks! A support system! 14 year old Danny would never believe his parents accepted him for his ghostly side!!

His friends learned to fight and trap so well over the years that they don't even need him by their side anymore for every fight. The GIW was chased out of town and supposedly disbanded by the government because "it was a scam and ghosts don't actually exist." Even his parent's business was booming in town.

They started leaving the field work to others and focused on research. They hold ghost defense classes 3 times a week for any and all citizens. They build home defense gadgets and other anti ghost equipment to sell to the town, too. There are even kids from his class who want to get into the field now and intern at FentonWorks.

Over the years, everyone in town has grown incredibly capable of handling ghosts themselves that there is a city funded ghost protection task force. And that is all to deal with the ghosts that are more on the unruly side.

The reality is that it is not exactly necessary anymore to always be prepared for the next daily ghost attack. Since it became public knowledge for the Ghost Zone that he'd be assuming the throne, most ghosts have opted to leave Amity Park alone since it was his haunt. However, he has opened it up to any ghost who wants to visit as long as they do not leave Amity Park. And so, ghosts and the living live in harmony in the town.

In his senior year, the town has become so open to ghosts that when a ghost whose obsession is teaching, they hired him at Casper High! Danny is even in the class. He teaches an elective on astronomy, something the school could never afford. Ghosts didn't want to be paid in cash, so it helped! All Dr. Denver wants was to teach and to be allowed to claim the observatory for his research.

But while all this was great, Danny felt depressed. Which leads him back to why he was in therapy. It felt like all these amazing things have happened. That everyone has changed, except him. Thanks to his halfa status, his physical state isn't changing as much either. He discovered he is aging much, much slower.

Talking to his therapist, she helped him realize that what he craved was for a change for himself. Sure, he IS going to become The Infinite Realms king and that'll be a big change but it isn't what he wants.

He doesn't know what he wants, really. Which meant his therapist has given him an assignment to figure it out. So he talked to Clockwork, naturally hoping for some help. And Clockwork told him something surprising instead.

"Yeah, I'm ready for a change, but I don't know what to change." Danny told him in hopes the wording would draw Clockwork to give him an answer instead of something cryptic. He really didn't want to do the legwork to figure it out while he had midterms to study for and more ghost king lessons with The Observants later.

Clockwork paused as if in thought, "You could take a vacation to your universe of origin," he suggests. "That may help give clarity in what you need to change to be happy."

Danny floated next to him. He couldn't bring himself to be frustrated with the being of time for knowing exactly why Danny was here. Instead, he stared at him in confusion, distracted by what he just said, "What do you mean? I am not from here?"

He grins, his form flickering from old to young, "When you became a halfa, you changed universes from the complicated process you went through to become one."

Danny contemplated for a moment, confused but intrigued. A different universe? I wonder how different it would be from here. Without a second thought, Danny grins eager.

"I wanna go!" He exclaims like a young puppy who discovered a new toy for the first time.

"That would not be a problem, time runs differently between there and here. A week there will be an hour here so you won't need a time medallion." Clockwork simply looks off into the space surrounding them before continuing, "I have a friend who will act as your guardian while there. Head through the star shaped door near the Yetis whenever you are ready and he will be standing by, waiting for you" He shifts back into an older version of himself, pleased with himself for already knowing Danny would be taking this chance to go and made the preparations for this moment weeks ago.

Danny does a small dance in midair without a second thought and starts to drift off in that direction, "Oh, and Danny?" Clockwork calls out, "Legally, you are dead in that universe and.. well, much is different from what you know, so do be careful. Due to how time and the laws of that dimension for being such as myself, I am not the main ruler of time there, so the protection spells I placed on you are not guaranteed to save you this time." Clockwork grins knowingly towards Danny as Danny speeds off, oblivious to how serious his warning was.

---

Danny flies like the wind through the vastness of The Ghost Zone until he arrives at the door Clockwork described. His thoughts start to sour at the thought of this universe where he is considered dead despite it being his origin.

The door he arrives at is huge. Like he was not sure how to open the door huge. But wow, was it beautiful. It was like staring into space itself. It sparkled unlike any night sky he has even gazed upon. As he approached the beautiful door, he hesitated.

He was technically returning home, but he didn't feel any attachment to the universe in front of him. To him, nothing seemed different. Everything was exactly the same when he woke up after the accident, so he never noticed. The entire idea that he abandoned his family and friends by dying here was a horrible thought, but it wasn't his fault. He didn't know what happened here.

Wait, did that mean Vlad wasn't from that universe either? Danny shakes his head at the thought. It was pointless to fall down that particular rabbit hole now.

Maybe he should've asked Clockwork more before flying off without a thought. Clockworks words echoed inside him for fear of what he might find. Was this really a good idea? To return to the place he no longer existed? Could he handle seeing what the grief of his passing had done to those he loved?

A moment passes, and Danny shakes his head and steels himself. He needs to know how much changes, if he really did make an impact. Was he important?

With his decision made, the door seems to open itself. A bright beam of a soft white light floods through the threshold, and Danny steps through.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp crossover #dcxdp #dp x dc #danny phantom crossover #dpxdc #dp clockwork #good parents jack and maddie #ghost king danny #he's just a silly guy

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 13 hours ago

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The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 3

Source for pic

Trouble 3

Word Count: 4959

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I should have chapter 4 already finished... but it's not completed yet... I haven't written almost anything this week! I know with the hollidays it will be hectic around here, but I have a few days where the office is going to be closed, so maybe I can write a bit more! Fingers crossed! Until then, please enjoy the calmness before the storm!

Masterlist

“Morning, Bug.” Shanks fills a mug of coffee for you and sets it down on the table near your plate of bacon and eggs, beside a bouquet of wildflowers.

“Morning, Dad. Thanks for the coffee, but aren't the flowers a bit too much? It's not my birthday…” You mumble between yawns.

“They're not from me…” Shanks smirks and nods at a note that's tucked in with the silk ribbon.

Brow rising, your fingers brush the petals of a deep crimson poppy before they catch the note between them. ‘Wild and beautiful, just like you.’

What? Who?

Despite the lovely gesture, you can't shake the slightest feeling of unease, it tugs at your stomach, leaving you queasy and suspicious.

“Who's it from?” Shanks tries to hide his curiosity but falls short when he reaches over your shoulder to glimpse the note.

“I have no idea.”

“Come on! Not even the slightest hint?” You shake your head while your mind conjures up images of a slightly not-safe-for-work dream you had with a certain green-haired cop, and you blush unintentionally.

Obviously. Shanks picks it up.

“You and Zoro seemed pretty cosy when I arrived yesterday…”

“It's not from him… I think.” You deflect the implications, not wanting to read too much into it yourself. “He’s not the type for grand gestures.”

Shanks hums in agreement while placing his coffee cup in the sink. “I see what you mean.” But then he places his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at his unbearable smirk. “Though do not underestimate a man in love.”

“Dad!” You feel your ears getting hot as you get up suddenly, looking for a vase to set the flowers on.

“I’m just saying.” He shrugs.

“He’s not… we… we’re just friends! I just got back.” You fuss with the flowers until they’re all spread beautifully on the vase and then set them at the centre of the table.

Shanks pouts and stares at you through the flowers, across from you. “Friends.” He air quotes with two fingers. “I’ve been there, Bug.”

“Agh! You’re impossible, Dad.”

But he might also be right. Because if last night was any indication, you and Zoro might be crossing the ‘just friends’ barrier soon.

And, honestly, there’s nothing wrong with that.

-*-

Shanks tells you to put a hold on your job hunt because he’ll be gone for about three weeks to a month for a horse show on an island in the South Blue and he’ll need you to take care of the animals and manage the farm chores.

So you spend the next week getting reacquainted with most of your father’s tasks in addition to the ones you had taken over ever since coming back.

The gifts keep coming.

Every morning there are chocolates, or flowers, or stuffed animals, little trinkets… The notes are rather simple, always evoking your beauty, but short and nondescript. You are no closer to knowing who they’re from now than you were on the first day you got them.

Shanks keeps hinting that it might be Zoro, but you doubt that very much. Besides the fact that he’s not one for romantic gestures, he would’ve said something about the gifts after six straight days.

And it’s not like you haven’t been chatting… not in person, since you’ve been busy at the farm and he’s been pulling double shifts to have the Saturday off again, but you text every day.

Short texts, to the point, much like Zoro is, but he always asks how you are and if you need anything.

And knowing he’s trying to take care of you leaves a very warm feeling in your chest. Especially because your clumsiness almost brought you to the clinic twice just this week. You have to thank whichever deity is watching over you because, even though you hurt yourself, it’s never serious enough to send you to the hospital.

“When are you leaving?” You ask Shanks while packing beverages, muffins and a cake you’ve baked for today’s chosen group activity.

“Let’s see, today’s Saturday, Beckman says his helper will arrive Monday morning to keep in charge of his farm, so sometime Monday afternoon, Bug. Why? Missing your Daddy already?”

You are.

“No! I just want to make sure you carry all of your medicine and that you have Dr. Law’s emergency contact with you, in case you need it–”

“I’m not going to drag Law all the way to the South Blue just because–”

“I called him and he said you should call anytime, so you’re going to call if you need him!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Shanks has got to be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met.

“Where are you going?” He hisses when you swat his hand away as he tries to steal a salty bacon muffin you’re storing in a container. Then you relent and let him have it.

“Just one, Dad! We’re going on a picnic in the park.” You say with a grin. “Nami organised it, of course. We’re going to spend the day hanging out, playing games, and socializing.”

Shanks nods, never breaking your gaze, while trying to surreptitiously steal another muffin. This time you slap his hand with the lid of the container, and he yelps. His pout is quickly replaced by a smirk. “Is Officer Zoro going?”

You’re sure your nonchalant look can’t disguise the crimson blush tainting your cheeks, but you try to pay it no mind. “Yes. And Luffy, and Usopp, Chopper, Sanji–”

“I was going to tell you to be careful, but I’m sure Officer Zoro is going to keep you safe from all harm.” Shanks taunts and you seethe, hands flying to your hips.

“What are you, Dad, ten?” He guffaws as he successfully manages to distract you and steals another muffin before sprinting away from you and the kitchen.

“Be safe, Bug! Have fun!”

Seriously. How is this man a father?

-*-

Nami swings by your house with Vivi to pick you up for the picnic. You notice Robin’s absence in the car, and both girls giggle.

“Sabo’s picking Robin up. They’ll meet us there.” Vivi answers, and your mouth hangs open.

“Are they a thing?”

“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be long.” Nami laughs as she fixes her hair in the rearview mirror while waiting for the light to turn green. “Much like you and Zoro, I think.”

You choke on your own saliva, and it takes you a good minute to regain proper breathing functions, all while Nami and Vivi erupt into cackles and giggles.

“We’re just friends!” You say after you’ve caught your breath.

“Sure, honey. We all believe that.” Vivi turns on the front seat to pat your knee in a condescending manner while you blush.

“There’s so much heat coming off you two whenever you’re close that I don’t know how you still haven’t spontaneously combusted.” Nami quips, and you purse your lips. She’s not wrong there. “I mean, you’ve always sort of clicked, but now… daaaaamn!”

You sigh and bite your lip, trying to contain a giggle from erupting. “Who else is going to meet us there?” You ask, changing the subject and Nami shakes her head, knowing all too well what you’re doing, but not pressing on the matter.

-*-

It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and the park is the perfect setting for the beginning of a wonderful midday. There are rows and rows of trees, shade galore, small cobblestone pathways for long walks, and even a small creek providing a soft lull alongside the soft giggles of children.

You and the girls are setting up rows of blankets on the grass, by the shade of the tall trees, when the group begins to arrive. You lift your head, hand sheltering your eyes from the sun, and scan the crowd. Luffy, Barto, Usopp, Kaya, and Chopper are approaching the treeline. They probably rode together.

A slight breeze dishevels your hair as your eyes linger behind, but there’s no green mane of hair in sight yet. An absent sigh leaves your lips before you spy Nami’s knowing smirk aimed your way.

She doesn’t say anything, but you blush anyway. Her unspoken words linger around you like a thick fog. You are eager to see Zoro. She knows it, you know it, hell, anyone who saw you two interact lately knows it.

But you vow to retain some semblance of dignity and pretend to fuss over the blankets and small folding chairs. You’re so absorbed in your task that you don’t even see him approach.

“Hey there, Troublemaker, making trouble?”

The smile that graces your lips is instant and unstoppable. You turn slightly and bite your lower lip when your eyes meet his. Why does every shirt he wears seem so tight against his muscles?

“Hardly! I’m just setting up chairs!” But as you deliver the words, the chair you were opening snaps shut, almost catching your fingers, and you yelp.

“You’re a menace.” His tone is both amused and resigned, almost as if he knew something of the kind would happen, was expecting it, even.

“It attacked me!” You defend yourself weakly, a giggle bubbling up in your chest because he is right. You are a menace.

Zoro ends up helping you set the chairs, and you don’t even try to stop him. Both because you’re very likely to end up either hurting yourself or breaking a chair, and because he keeps brushing his shoulders and hands with yours, and the touch is welcomed.

Robin and Sabo arrive with flushed cheeks - you can almost see Nami registering that fact for later probing - and soon after, Franky and Brook, two older men you still haven’t met but Luffy quickly introduces you to, saying they’re also part of the gang.

You see Sanji already setting up food on the blankets, and he greets you warmly. “Hi, Sanji. You rode with Mosshead?”

“Oi?” Zoro snaps, and you ignore him.

“I did, Madame, and it was the most unpleasant ride of my life. Please remind me not to do it again.”

You giggle when Zoro’s brows knit together, his hands clenched into fists. “Tch, shitty cook, next time you ride with me, it will be in my patrol car and I’ll be dragging you straight to prison.”

Sanji starts to fume, his pursed lips crumpling the cigarette dangling from his lips, and you grimace. “Hey, hey, boys, it was just a joke!”

Nami sighs as they butt heads and continue arguing. “Never mind that.” She tells you. “Any chance they get to get up close and personal, they take it. They have a weird bromance thing going on.” She raises her hands defensively in the air. “I swear, for a moment there I thought they were going to be a thing, but Sanji loves women too much and Zoro is a man with a goal-oriented mind. Even if it’s someone he set his sights on a lifetime ago.”

Your brow raises at her as she smirks that all-knowing smirk. But she leaves it at that and stands in the middle of the boys, dragging Sanji by the scruff of his dress shirt, telling him the girls are hungry, which promptly sets him back to the task of setting up the food.

“Shitty cook…” You hear Zoro mumble as he sets his hands in his pockets and kicks a blade of grass. It’s cute how flustered he gets. Then his eye sets on you and he frowns with a low grumble. “Oi, I didn’t forget you called me Mosshead.”

You set a hand on your heart, feigning repentance. “Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Mosshead. I forgot your title.”

“Trouble…” He lowers his tone in mock warning, and you smile, taking a step back, hands in a defensive stance.

“Lord Moss, Knight–” Your antics are cut short by a piercing yelp when Zoro jumps and tries to catch you, but somehow, you swerve away from his grasp and start to run, an unbridled laugh filling your lungs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was just joking!”

“Repentance doesn’t dissolve the crime! Come here, Trouble!” He sprints, though you suspect he’s hardly even trying, and you cackle, running faster, the voices of the group fading into the distance.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Maybe you should’ve measured your words, because as soon as he hears the challenging tone in your voice, he sprints faster, and you barely have time to breathe before his arm wraps around your waist and he swirls you in the air, making you scream and laugh before he pulls your back against his chest.

Heart pounding against your ribs, cheeks flushed from running and breath catching in your throat, you feel your legs shaking when Zoro’s warm breath tickles your neck. “Gotcha.” He whispers, and you notice he’s not even out of breath while you look like you ran a marathon.

The world dissolves into just this moment. The chirping of the birds and the rustling of the trees are nothing but background noise to the deafening pounding in your chest and the buzzing in your ears.

Turning your head slightly to the side, you catch Zoro’s eye fixed on you, a wild smirk on his lips. “What now, officer? Are you going to arrest me?”

Damn. That was supposed to come out playfully, not sultrily. Right?

“Depends.” Did his voice get huskier? “Are you going to resist arrest, Trouble?”

You feel your throat bobbing up and down at all the wild fantasies running through your mind. The way he uses that nickname manages to send shivers down your spine and heat straight into your core.

“Obviously.” You sound breathless, and it's a good thing you can blame that sorry state on the run, or you wouldn't know how to explain it.

“Figures.” He chuckles low, and you feel it rumbling in his chest. Then, with a swift movement, he turns you, bends his knees, and hoists you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Wha–”

“Let's go.” Your flush deepens as you feel his strong hand against the back of your thighs, holding you in place. “The humiliation will teach you not to call me Mosshead.”

“Come on, Zo, I said I was sorry!” You whine, and he stiffens, his pace slowing for a beat, and you feel his shoulders shake slightly. Then he resumes his pace.

“I like that.”

You stop pounding your fists against his back and raise your brow. “What? Me apologizing?”

He grunts and keeps walking, the blanket and your laughing friends nearly in sight. “That nickname. Way better than Mosshead.”

Oh! Zo! Another small blush creeps into your cheeks, but before you can reply, Nami whistles. “What you got there, Zoro?”

You hear your friends laughing and bury your face in your hands, feeling mortified. “Someone’s been naughty.” Zoro replies with a smirk and an edge of amusement in his tone.

“Seriously?” You grumble, pushing against his back to try and wiggle out of his embrace, though it’s all for naught because he has an iron grip on your legs.

“Well, either set her down so we can all eat or take her to naughty jail and punish her. Away from our sight, please.”

“Nami!” You yell, exasperated, but Zoro merely chuckles, swerving right as if changing directions.

“Naughty jail it is, then.”

“No, no!” You whimper. “I’m sorry!” Chopper stares at both of you, not sure if you’re being serious, so you try to take advantage of him and stretch your hand. “Help me, Chopper!”

He reaches his hand out before Nami swats it away. “Let them be, Chopper. They need some alone time.”

You seethe at Nami, a pout on your lips. “Traitor.”

Zoro lets out a low chuckle before settling you down at the edge of the blanket. “Learned your lesson, Troublemaker?”

You steady yourself, hands against his chest, and a permanent blush tattooed on your cheeks. “Damn you. I’m never calling you Mosshead again. You won.”

“I see you’re a fast learner.” His smirk is impossibly smug. “Zo’s fine, though.” Then he turns his back on you, opens the small cooler, and takes out a beer, cracking it open with one hand and chugging at it without another look back at you.

And, damn it, if that doesn’t mess with your heart.

-*-

“Who wants another drink?” You ask and count the raised hands before getting up, heading towards the cooler to satiate your friends’ thirst. Zoro moves his hand before you reach it, and smooths the blanket before you can trip on its raised edge.

You smile at him, but he’s not even looking at you. His eye is shut, one arm behind his neck as he leans against the tree, though you know very well he’s attentive to everything. You pass the drinks around, then return to get your own.

“Watch your head.” Zoro mumbles, and you raise your brow but don’t heed his advice and, therefore, hit a low branch of the tree, releasing a string of curses while rubbing your forehead. “When are you going to start listening to me, Trouble?”

“When you stop sounding like a smug jerk.” You mouth, annoyed at his attentiveness and at how he seems to perceive danger before you even realise it’s there. He chuckles and you retrieve your drink, returning to your seat.

After a while of relaxing in the shade, Luffy drags everyone to a frisbee game. The boys are all down to play, but the girls just sit by a bench near the open space the boys chose to throw the frisbee and tackle each other.

You sit on the back of the bench, a case of water bottles by your feet because you know the boys will be thirsty soon. Vivi sits on the grass in front of Nami’s legs, and Robin and Kaya are on the bench.

After a small chit-chat about meaningless stuff, you decide to bring up something that’s been bothering you. “So I’ve been getting a lot of gifts lately…”

Four heads whip your way, and you sigh, already expecting that reaction and the bombardment of questions that follow. So you raise your hands, and they stop to let you continue. Though you decide to focus on the game in front of you instead of the way they’re all staring at you.

You especially focus on a very athletic green-haired man who constantly gazes up to where you are before focusing back on the game.

“It’s flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals… It started last weekend, after the party at Luffy’s. They have notes, but nothing personal. No name, no nothing… I don’t know who they’re from, and I don’t even know if I should be flattered or freaked out by them.”

“How do they make you feel?” Robin asks, and you shrug, not quite knowing how to answer that question.

“The first ones made me feel good. I thought they were from– I thought I might know who they were from. But since he didn’t say anything about it, I doubt they're from him. So now they just feel weird…”

“Honey, we all know you’re talking about Zoro.” Nami says in a very condescending manner, and all the girls agree.

You sigh and bury your face in your hands. You’re so obvious it hurts.

“Fine, yes. I thought they might’ve come from him, at first. But he’s not one for romantic gestures.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” Nami quipped back, a smirk tugging her lips as her eyes fell back on the game. Sure enough, Zoro’s eyes are back on the bench - on you, to be more specific. “I think it’s quite romantic the way he’s always checking to see if you’re safe. Keeping you away from trouble and making sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

A small blush creeps its way into your cheeks. It is quite romantic. “That’s just Zoro being Zoro. He’s a cop. He protects and serves.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure he would like to serve you.” Nami giggles and all the girls try to stifle their own laughs. “But you’re wrong about that. Sure, he’s always attentive to any kind of threats, but it’s different with you.”

“What do you mean?” You can’t stop the way your heart pounds maddeningly against your sternum.

“She means that Zoro doesn’t usually go out of his way to keep people from tripping on stuff or from bumping their head. And with you, he’s always extra careful.” Robin finishes with a small smile.

“Like the way he’s playing now, but keeps looking at you to see if you’re still in one piece. It’s like he’s expecting you to spontaneously combust or something.” Kaya adds with a giggle.

“It’s very endearing.” Vivi finishes, and your blush deepens, so you bury your head back into your hands, stifling a loud groan.

“But you’re still right.” Nami continues as if you’re not breaking down in front of them. “I don’t think he’s the one leaving the gifts…” She laughs suddenly. “But there’s one way to tell for sure.”

You raise your head from your hand cocoon to tell her to keep her mouth shut, but Zoro is already halfway to the bench and you squeak. “Nami…”

“Hey, Zoro!” She starts with a wave of her hand. You see Zoro raise his eyebrow at her, his long strides bringing him closer to the bench.

Shit.

He’s sweaty all over. Fat droplets of perspiration drop from his temples to his perfect jawline and neck, and you gulp, feeling hot and bothered. So, it comes as no surprise that when he reaches his hand to grab a bottle between your legs, you lose your balance and fall back on the bench.

Yelping, you expect to hit the floor with a dry thud, air escaping your lungs and sharp pain blinding you. Instead, you feel a strong hand wrap around your forearm and tug hard, then your face being squished against a muscular, sweaty chest.

Zoro saved you from an ugly fall. Again.

“Seriously, Trouble? Why?” His voice is gravelly and rough, but with an edge of exasperation lacing it. “I’m starting to feel like I have to be with you 24/7 or you’re going to end up in the hospital.”

Your breath is still leaving your lips in ragged gasps because of the slight scare of facing an inevitable fall, and your face is still pressed against Zoro’s chest. You feel the girls’ gaze on both of you and Zoro seems completely unfazed by it, while saying you’re embarrassed would be the understatement of the year.

So you disentangle yourself from the predicament that is Zoro’s muscles and laugh it off, a hand scratching the back of your neck. “Ah, thank you. I got… distracted.”

“By what?” He asks while taking a sip of water.

“Well, Zoro,” Nami begins, and he shifts his focus to her, “we were discussing who could be her secret admirer, and then you showed up. Curious.”

“Secret admirer?” Zoro’s gaze falls back on you, his brow scrunched.

“Ah, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just–”

“She’s been getting gifts. Flowers, chocolates, love declarations…” Why is Nami exaggerating? Is she trying to fish for information or make Zoro jealous? “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with it, would you?”

He drinks the water in three long gulps before answering, his scowl now permanently etched on his lips. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would do that?”

You look down and bite your lower lip. You knew it wasn’t him, but maybe, secretly, there was still a little part of you that hoped he could be showering you with that kind of attention.

“Well, I just thought–” Nami begins, but she’s swiftly interrupted by Zoro, whose eyes can’t seem to leave your figure.

“When I want someone, I make it clear I’m interested. You’ll know.” He finishes drinking the water just as your eyes meet his, and the fire burning there scalds and melts. Was he telling you he’s interested? Was he saying he’s about to make a move?

With a smirk, he turns his back, grunts a gruff ‘try not to fall again, Trouble’, and gets back to the game, leaving you more confused than ever.

“Did he–” Nami starts.

“Nobody says anything. We’re going to act like nothing happened.” You mumble before getting up and chugging down an entire bottle of water yourself to try and calm your nerves.

It doesn’t work.

-*-

The frisbee game makes everyone tired - and hungry - so, after all the bellies are filled again, the crew is relaxing in the blanket, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon and the lulling sounds of the park.

Chopper, Usopp, Luffy, and Barto are enjoying a card game. Franky seems interested, but he’s only overseeing and throwing advice that only seems to make Usopp lose the game. Robin has a book in her hands and Sabo’s head on her lap, his eyes closed with a blissful smile on his lips.

You have serious doubts that she's paying attention to the book, especially since she seems to be stuck on the same page for over ten minutes, but you don’t say anything. Kaya is braiding Vivi’s hair and Nami is snapping photos of the crew, taking little candid shots with her cellphone. Brook is gracing everyone with a nice, mellow song on his violin - he's a wonderful musician - and Zoro seems to be sleeping peacefully, leaning against the tree.

Everything seems peaceful, quiet, and idyllic.

But you can’t seem to shake the feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. It’s like someone is watching you, but you can’t quite pinpoint who or where. It’s a prickling on your neck, something you’re already growing so used to that you start to think you should have this checked out by a doctor.

With a heavy sigh, you stand up, stretching your arms to justify that action. “I’ll be back soon.” You say softly to Nami, who’s closer to you and she nods. Then, you look around before taking a step. The park is one big open space - with the exception of some trees here and there - except for the dense treeline behind you.

So that’s where you’re headed.

-*-

Zoro senses you getting up and opens his eye slowly, following you with his gaze and scowling when you don’t see the tree root sticking out and stumble a little before steadying your pace.

You’re such a damn klutz.

And damn it, if he doesn’t want to be there to catch you and protect you from everything.

His heart constricts slightly at the thought, and he sighs softly. He thought absence had made him forget how he felt about you. He even had some ‘relationships’ while you were away. Wait… can he really call something that never went past three months a real relationship? He never truly bonded with those women. Never truly cared.

No one ever made him feel the way you did.

The way you do.

But time and distance did nothing but make him pine harder for you. When Nami told him casually that you were returning, he almost didn’t believe her. You didn’t even come back for any of the holidays or to say ‘hi’, let alone come back for good after experiencing life in the big city.

But you returned.

And then he thought he wouldn’t quite forgive you for having literally abandoned them. No text, no email, no letter, nothing. He would be salty, at least. Grumpy and upset, at most.

But he forgave you instantly.

One look at your dishevelled form, chasing a goddamned tire with dirt all over your clothes and face, and he was a lovestruck teenager again.

Fucking heart, what a useless organ.

All those thoughts forgotten, he simply reached out. And you reached back, almost like no time had passed between you, and you could basically continue your story where you left off.

And he was willing to try.

Though he didn’t want to rush too fast - damn Nami should just stop intruding and let you two figure things out yourselves. He’d get there. He almost kissed you already, so the feeling is mutual.

He’s got time.

Sitting up, he watches as you peek behind trees, a cautious demeanour to your posture making him raise his brow. What the hell are you doing?

“Just go to her, dumbass.”

“Shut up, Witch. Mind your own business.”

Nami sticks her tongue out at him and snaps a picture of his grouchy face before turning her phone towards you and snapping another candid shot.

“You look like a lost puppy in love. It’s cute, you know? The way you keep looking out for her.” Zoro feels his ears heat up and leans back again, trying to close his eye and return to a state of relaxation, but he can’t very well do that when you’re doing God-knows-what near the trees, looking creepily at everywhere and everything. “Just make sure you make your move soon… or maybe that secret admirer will one-up you and poof!” She makes an exploding gesture with her hand, and Zoro scowls at her.

“You’re insufferable.” He quips before getting up and dusting his jeans.

“Word of the day? How smart of you, Zoro.” She giggles when Zoro passes by her and messes up her hair with his hand, earning an indignant gasp from the orange-haired girl. “I just went to the salon, you brute!”

Zoro smirks at her reaction and starts pacing towards you, Nami’s antics behind him. Well… all except one…

‘Make sure you make your move soon…’

Perhaps he should. He doesn’t want to lose you before even having the chance to have you.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks

#reader x roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x you #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x you #you x zoro #zoro x reader #modern day au #the meet-cute #reader insert

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sirhamburrger · 12 hours ago

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wins and losses (t. kageyama x f!reader)

in which two wins for him are two wins for you, and a loss for him is also a win for both of you. wc: 1.4k || tags/cw: pre- and post-timeskip reader and kageyama, reader went to kitagawa daiichi and was manager for seijoh vbc, reader is lowkey (highkey) pining over him, msby 4 are the best (worst?) wingmen a/n: "happy birthday i guess... it-it's not like i like you or anything!" (you must know i visibly cringed at that) happy womb eviction date my sweet sweet tobio <3 you are my second favourite dark-haired shonen manga deuteragonist whose birthday falls on dec 22nd :)

when you entered high school as a first-year, you joined the volleyball club as a manager for the boys’ team. for the most part, it was so you could see some familiar faces from kitagawa daiichi - your old classmates kindaichi and kunimi were playing for seijoh now, and so were your upperclassmen oikawa and iwaizumi.

it was - and still is - a busy job, taking care of about twenty teenage boys who more than not got fired up over the littlest things (or in kunimi’s case, not fired up at all). still, it was fun and rewarding, and makki and mattsun practically became your older brothers after a while.

but there’s no denying that when you walked into the gym for the first practice session of the school year, you were looking out for one person from the kitagawa daiichi boys’ volleyball team in particular -

tobio kageyama, your ex-classmate and longtime crush.

back in middle school, you’d walk past the gym during lunch break, and he’d looked so cool as he set the ball for his teammates. your friends used to tease you about it, even going so far as to try and set you two up. luckily, you stopped them before they could do anything. suffice it to say he probably didn’t know of your existence at all. you were determined to change that in high school.

but he wasn’t there that day, or any day after that.

you asked oikawa about it once, and he simply smiled sweetly and said he was glad dear ol’ kageyama hadn’t taken up the offer to come to seijoh - kindaichi and kunimi shared his sentiments. iwaizumi only sighed and looked over at oikawa.

“it’s probably for kageyama’s own good,” he’d said, not elaborating on his words.

and you see what he means now, even as karasuno wins their match against seijoh in the 2015 spring interhigh qualifiers. your players are devastated, and rightfully so. they’ve lost to karasuno countless times over the years, and this only seems to be salt rubbed into their gaping wound.

ex-captains oikawa and yahaba facetime your phone after the game, hoping to say hello to a post-victory team, but their faces fall when they hear the news. you leave the team huddled around your tiny phone courtside, excusing yourself to go to the bathroom.

you lean back against the cold wall of the hallway. karasuno’s going to nationals, and maybe you should feel bitter about it.

but somehow, all you can seem to think is - kageyama’s going to nationals.

***

not even a year later, when you've already graduated and gone to university, you see him on television representing japan in mens’ volleyball at the olympics. because that's what he is now - a man. so different from the quiet middle schooler or the intense-looking high schooler he once was.

he looks good - better - now. broader. stronger. taller. carries himself with a newfound confidence. he is a machine in action; his form is perfect as he serves the ball. it flies across his teammates’ heads, over the net, and slams itself into an open space on the court.

“aaaaand… number 20, tobio kageyama, again with his no-touch service ace! he’s practically unstoppable!”

the crowd goes absolutely wild for him, and he only nods slightly at his teammates’ praises, humble as usual.

sakusa snorts from beside you on the sofa, and bokuto just laughs.

“what?” you mumble, only half-listening out to what he’s about to say.

“you’re practically salivating over the guy, y’know,” the itachiyama graduate deadpans. “i’m glad he didn’t come to our uni or you’d practically be following him around like a lovesick puppy.”

“i-”

japan wins the match that day. of course, kageyama is all over the news after that; labelled a genius setter straight out of a newly-revitalised powerhouse high school, and already competing on the world stage. your chest tightens when you see the post-match interviews.

kageyama sits there, his face calm and composed, as reporters throw question after question at him. he answers them with the same quiet determination you remember, though his voice has deepened, more self-assured now.

you feel a strange mix of pride and yearning. it’s ridiculous, really. you haven’t spoken to him in years - if ever - and yet you can’t help but feel connected to his success. like a win for him is also a win for you

later that evening, sakusa teases you again as you scroll through your phone, looking at photos from the match.

“just send him a dm already,” he mutters, leaning his head against the back of the couch.

you blink a couple of times, considering the suggestion. but you quickly put it out of your mind.

“yeah. as if he’d even remember me.”

sakusa raises an eyebrow but says nothing more, leaving you to stew in your thoughts.

***

you’re there for sakusa’s big match - the msby jackals vs the schweiden adlers. it’s one of the most anticipated major league games of the whole season. mainly you’re going to support sakusa and his teammates like the good friend that you are.

… and kageyama being there doesn’t hurt either.

the jackals win. it’s strange seeing kageyama on the losing end, when he’s caused so much grief to seijoh in prefectural qualifiers, when he’s played against the world’s best in a foreign country. still, he goes to congratulate the other team for a game well-played, and then joins his team’s group huddle, smiling softly.

he’s got a kind of fire in him that warms your heart too.

it makes you think, in a moment of insanity, that maybe you should go and talk to him. reconnect. after all, he’s someone you think you’d life to have in your life.

but you won’t. he’s in a league of his own, and out of yours.

you focus instead on the jackals’ celebratory cheers, and cheer along with the other fans. bokuto has somehow managed to lift a protesting sakusa onto his shoulders, and atsumu and hinata… are nowhere to be found. that’s strange, considering they’re the ones who get the metaphorical victory lap up and running.

“- yeah, right this way, tobio-kun, she’s waiting for you up in the stands -”

“hurry up, bakayama, it’s rude to keep a girl waiting!”

with a jolt, you whip your head around, and you can’t tell if this is your lifelong dream or your worst nightmare come to life, but -

it’s tobio kageyama, standing in front of you. flanked by two very pleased-looking msby black jackals members.

“thank us when you’re married and living in the suburbs with two beautiful kids!” atsumu yells, already fleeing the scene with a giggling hinata.

you turn to face kageyama, wishing you could disappear from under his piercing gaze.

“uh, hi. sorry about them - they’re just messing with you. you probably don’t remember me, so -” you turn to leave. “i’ll just… go. great match, by the way! you did amazing.”

but he stops you, strong hand encircling your wrist, and you think you’re going to combust on the spot. he quickly removes his hand - though the tingling sensation remains, still - and scratches his head, averting his eyes.

you stare up at him, and find he’s even more beautiful up close.

“i remember you,” he says finally, his hand coming down to rest by his thigh. “from middle school. we were classmates.”

“yeah,” you murmur, more than a little surprised. “i saw you training in the gym a lot.”

“and you became aoba johsai’s manager, too. you were a good manager to them,” he says plainly.

it makes you smile. “thanks. i watched your olympic matches, and you absolutely killed it.”

he looks confused for a second. “i don’t remember killing anyone -”

“it’s a, uh. figure of speech,” you explain quickly. “what i mean to say is, you were - are! - really, really good. you’ve come a long way.”

he says your name then, and you find you like the way it sounds on his tongue, even if you didn’t know he knew it. "i'm sorry. i never had the courage to say anything to you back in middle school or high school. i was worried you might not even know who i was."

"are you kidding?" you laugh. "you're tobio kageyama."

he flushes slightly in a way you think is really, really cute.

"so... how do you feel about getting some coffee after this? i'll pack my stuff up, take a quick shower."

he might be a grown man now, but underneath lies the same nervous middle schooler you once knew. you're nervous too, and it makes you want to take you up on his offer.

and so you do.

you smile over at his departing form, and feel a familiar stirring sensation - the one that comes with a win.

haikyuu masterlist || general masterlist

#POSTED BEFORE MIDNIGHT I MADE IT #sorry fushiguro #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama #kageyama x reader #kageyama x you #haikyuu oneshots #kai writes

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garmrheim · 2 days ago

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🎄Santaphale Au collection🎄

Hello! ive had this in my draft forever now and its DUE TIME to make this and post it since ive gotten questions about the au and while i make art theres amazing other creators that has helped built it up in the sandbox and while i make art theres (as of now) three fics from the same universe posted on Ao3 that follows Aziraphale and Crowley in different points in their life. ------

For those that are wondering- the short introduction to it is that the Santaphale universe began over on discord with a handfull of friends that banded together to spin up an elaborate and extensive story featuring Crowley (she/they) around her late 30s in the beginning of the story and down the line she stops aging around her late 40s/early 50s and becomes immortal along with Aziraphale (he/him) , who (looks to be) around 50. He is of half human/elfin nature that makes him a cryptid of his own right with the power he weilds as The Spirit of Hope Through Darkness, Guardian of Childhood Wishes, the God of Winter Gifts, king of the northern elves, also called Sinterklaas or Santa Clause (Thank you salt for that perfect row of titles ) They met on a Christmas night when Aziraphale visits Crowley’s home while delivering presents and after a passionate night, departs after giving her a silver bell with summoning magic to ring if she wants to see him again. Crowley goes to bed, then wakes up thinking it was all a dream til she meets a familiar face a few months later and cue a lovely romance! They later come to live in the North Pole for the second half of every year, and eventually they end up having a small bunch kids that they love and adore and the art and fic follows this entire journey and so much more.

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This will be updated if and when new stuff is added just because i like having it all in one place and id like if you that are introduced to the au with my art has a way to get more! as of right now (december 2024) theres 3 fics published that belongs to this au and i will post their links and information below! i can highly recommend it as they are made by two of the most talented people i know and dear friends that im so happy to share this Santaphale sandbox with along with all the pals in our server hello! i adore you too! Any art that relates to Santaphale that ive done can be found on Bluesky now since i moved completely from twitter. its over on my Family oriented acc called VanadisHeim (that IS 18+ because theres also adult content there) the occasional Santaphale can also be found on my main account called GarmrHeim and any additional art made by my fellow cocreators that is published will also be added here! ✨ Have fun and enjoy! 🎄✨

''Silver bells'' @vaguely-demonic (Vaguelydemonic on Ao3) silver bells (5938 words) by vaguelydemonic Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Magic, First Meetings, Crush at First Sight, She/Her and They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens) as Santa Claus, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Santa Kink, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Coming Untouched, Coming In Pants, Mildly Dubious Consent, (previous tag clarified in author's note!), Crowley is vision impaired, Oral Sex, Christmas Smut Summary: It was Christmastime in the city and Mx. Antonia J. Crowley had resigned herself to yet another Christmas spent alone. Like everyone else, all she wanted was to live in a fairy tale world where she could just have her deepest desire purely because she wanted it: a nice big house somewhere quiet and far from the city, a partner to live out her days with, a happy family that loved her as much as she loved them. She'd come to the conclusion many, many failed relationships ago that what she wanted simply wasn't in the cards for her. Instead, her Christmas plans would once again be her, her ragged tabletop tree with a single ornament, and a bottle of wine to help her find sleep… Until there arose such a clatter and Crowley stirred from the sofa to see what was the matter. With a welcome so calm, collected, and pleasant, Crowley finds someone there in her living room, seeking to deliver a present. ------------------------------------------------- '' A Gift to us both '' @definitionsfading (Blackeyedblonde on ao3)

a gift to us both (7376 words) by blackeyedblonde Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Magic, Christmas, Aziraphale (Good Omens) as Santa Claus, Christmas Smut, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, Domestic, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Age Difference, Romance, Kissing, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Breeding, Impregnation, Knotting, Crying, Confessions, Come Inflation, Mating Press, Pet Names, Tenderness, Aziraphale Has a Large Penis (Good Omens), Size Difference, Bearded Aziraphale (Good Omens), Babymaking, Soulmates, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Femme Crowley (Good Omens), Lingerie, Fluff and Smut, Ineffable Spouses, Cervix Penetration, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Sex Magic

Summary: “When you say Christmas ‘wish,’ does that mean a five thousand pound gift voucher to the Liberty store in London, or something more in the abstract?” Crowley asks, lightly tweaking the curl of Aziraphale’s mustache. “I need to know the technical parameters of what you’re offering, here.” Aziraphale hums around a little laugh but goes quiet for a few moments to consider the seriousness of what he’s proposing. “You are a passionate person with a good heart and boundless optimism despite the struggles you’ve faced in your life,” he says, stating it matter-of-factly because he considers it to be true. “I’m an unusual figure in the position to grant wishes where I’m able, whether they be material or miraculous. But I suppose what I wanted to hear, if you’d indulge me, was something closer to your heart’s most ardent desire.” Crowley opens her mouth and then closes it again. Azirapahle watches the line of her slender throat as she swallows. “You’re yanking my chain,” she says, laughing as she shakes her head. “Taking the full piss.” “I can assure you I’m not,” Aziraphale says. ______________________________________________________

''Merry&Bright'' @vaguely-demonic (Vaguelydemonic on Ao3)

merry & bright (6814 words) by vaguelydemonic Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Original Child(ren) of Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Magic, Aziraphale (Good Omens) as Santa Claus, Established Relationship, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Spouses, Childbirth, Mild Blood, Bodily Fluids, it's childbirth okay there's gonna be some amniotic fluid, Pregnancy, Chestfeeding, Breastfeeding, Premature Birth, Less than ideal birthing conditions, Christmas, Christmas Party, Family Fluff, ineffable parents, Pregnant Crowley (Good Omens) Summary: When Aziraphale returned to the North Pole at the end of another successful run of delivering toys to the children of the world, the comfort of home was calling his name. A fire crackling away in the hearth. The promise of his beautiful family coming together for their grand holiday celebration later that evening. Crowley waiting sleepily for his late night return so he could slip into bed beside her and rest his palm over her belly, where their newest baby was nearly ready to join them. Truly, there was nothing more he could ever ask to come home to. Crowley and the baby had other ideas. Aziraphale had spent all night delivering gifts to others. It was Crowley's turn to deliver their own Christmas gift, away in a manger.

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TO BE CONTINUED ✨

🎅🤶 👦👧👩🧒🧒👧👧🧒 🎄🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🎄

#good omens #GO Santaphale AU #Good omens Santaphale au #Santaphale collection #fanfiction #fanart #i can highly reccomend reading the fanfics i listed they are made by such talented people and im HONERED to be collaborating with them #and everyone in our server i love u pals thank you!!#ITS THEIR SEASON!#Merry Christmas

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niallerspayno · 3 days ago

Text

The Line - Part 1

Masterlist

You and Zayn are inseparable childhood best friends, until one night when you make a pact to be each other’s rebound whenever one of you has a break up. Things get complicated when you start dating Louis, Zayn’s bandmate, and the line between friends and more begins to blur.

Tags: Zayn x childhood friend!reader, Louis x reader, friends to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, some smut

Part 2 | Part 3

…

You’ve known Zayn for as long as you’ve known yourself. Your childhoods were spent as neighbors, running between each other’s houses as if the fences weren’t even there. Your mums always said you two were a pair of troublemakers, joined at the hip and scheming from the moment you could talk.

It never mattered that Zayn was quieter than you, or that you sometimes pulled him into your whirlwind of ideas when he clearly wanted to stay on the sidelines. He always followed anyway, his steady presence grounding you when things inevitably spiraled out of control. He’s always been like that—a constant in your life, someone you’ve never had to question.

By the time you were teenagers, he knew everything about you. Your favorite songs, what you hated on your sandwiches, the kinds of movies that made you cry. And you knew him just as well—how he hummed when he was thinking, how he’d hide behind a cigarette when he was nervous, how his laugh could fill a room when he let it.

It wasn’t that you didn’t notice how good he looked as you both grew older. You did. How could you not? His sharp jawline, his dark eyes, the tattoos he got when you were still debating whether or not to dye your hair—it all caught your attention, made your stomach twist in ways it hadn’t before.

But Zayn is your best friend, and the thought of risking that—of losing him—has always kept you in check. It’s easier this way, you tell yourself, to push the feelings down, to ignore the way your heart beats faster when he throws an arm over your shoulders or leans in close to tell you a secret.

You’re the one he comes to when things fall apart, and he’s the one who can always make you laugh when you feel like crying. That’s enough. It has to be.

Because if it’s not, you don’t know what you’d do.

…

The pact is made on a vulnerable night after your first break up. You’re curled up on the couch in your living room, your head resting on Zayn’s shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his breathing grounding you. The tears on your cheeks have dried, but the ache in your chest remains, raw and heavy. Zayn’s arm is wrapped around you, his thumb brushing soft, absentminded circles on your shoulder. He hasn’t said much since he arrived, just held you, his quiet presence doing what words couldn’t.

“He was such an idiot,” you mumble, your voice hoarse from crying.

Zayn hums in agreement, the sound low and steady. “The biggest idiot.”

You glance up at him, catching the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. It makes your own lips twitch in response, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “You’re supposed to say something encouraging, you know. Like, ‘you’ll find someone better.’”

His chuckle is soft, warm. “You don’t need someone better. You’ve got me.”

The words settle between you like a weight, light enough to brush off but heavy enough to make your chest tighten. You snort, trying to defuse the strange pull in his voice. “Yeah, every girl’s dream—a best mate as her backup plan.”

Zayn shifts, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. There’s no teasing in his expression now, just a steady sincerity that makes your pulse flutter. “What’s wrong with that?”

You blink at him, caught completely off guard. “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth twitching in that familiar, crooked smile that always feels like home. “Not really. I mean… think about it. You trust me, yeah? I trust you. If the world keeps throwing us idiots, why not help each other out? No strings. Just… comfort. When we need it.”

Your breath catches, your mind racing to figure out if he’s serious. His gaze is steady, unwavering, but there’s a softness there too—an unspoken understanding that only the two of you could share. “You mean, like… a rebound?”

“Exactly.” His lips curve slightly, but his voice is quiet, careful. “One night, no strings. No expectations, no weirdness after. Just you and me.”

It’s reckless. A hundred ways it could go wrong flash through your mind. But there’s also something heartbreakingly simple in it—something about the way Zayn looks at you, like he’s offering a lifeline without asking for anything in return.

“That’s ridiculous,” you whisper, shaking your head.

“Maybe.” His thumb brushes against your shoulder again, soothing. “But at least it’s real. Better than wasting time on people who don’t deserve you. We know what we’re getting—no lies, no games. Just us.”

Your heart twists, torn between the comfort of his presence and the terrifying vulnerability of what he’s suggesting. “Zayn…”

He leans closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours. His voice drops, soft but resolute. “It’s just you and me. Always has been, yeah? This doesn’t change that.”

The conviction in his tone makes something inside you give way. You’ve never doubted him before—why should now be any different?

“Okay,” you whisper, the word trembling in the air. “But only if we have rules.”

His lips twitch into a small grin, though his eyes remain serious. “Of course. Lay them on me.”

“One night only,” you say, your voice firmer this time. “No repeats. No feelings. And we never, ever talk about it after.”

Zayn nods slowly, taking each word in. “One night. No repeats. No feelings. Got it.”

“Promise me,” you urge, your voice cracking slightly.

“I promise.” His voice is steady, his hand warm against your skin. “Nothing will ever change between us.”

You meet Zayn's eyes, searching for any flicker of hesitation. There's none-just warmth, steady and unshaken, like he's holding the weight of the moment for both of you. He reaches out, his hand brushing your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. His touch is soft, reverent, as if he's memorizing this moment, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

"You're sure?" he murmurs, his voice low, careful.

"I'm sure," you whisper, the words barely audible, but he hears them.

Zayn leans in slowly, giving you every chance to stop him, but you don't. His lips meet yours, warm and soft, and the kiss is tender at first— a question, a promise. His hand moves to the back of your neck, drawing you closer, and the kiss deepens, the weight of his love and care pouring into every movement.

Your fingers find the hem of his shirt, tugging gently as if asking for permission. He pulls back just enough to help you, lifting the fabric over his head and letting it fall to the floor. You take a moment to drink him in, the planes of his chest, the tattoos you've seen a hundred times but never like this.

He smiles softly, a little self-conscious under your gaze. "What?"

"Nothing," you say, your voice thick with emotion. "You're just... you."

His expression softens, and he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. "And you're you. That's all I've ever needed."

You pull him back to you, your lips meeting his again as his hands begin to explore. He's slow, deliberate, tracing the lines of your body like he's committing them to memory. His touch leaves a trail of warmth in its wake, and you can't help the way your body responds, leaning into him, needing more.

Clothes are discarded piece by piece, each movement careful, unhurried. Zayn watches you with an intensity that makes your heart race, his gaze never leaving yours as he guides you back onto the couch. The weight of him above you is comforting, grounding, and you feel a strange mix of vulnerability and safety in the way he holds you.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he says softly, his forehead resting against yours.

You shake your head, your hands tangling in his hair. "I don't want. you to stop."

He kisses you again, deeper this time, his body moving against yours in a rhythm that feels instinctive, like you've done this a thousand times before. The heat between you builds steadily, every touch, every movement drawing you closer together.

Zayn is careful, attentive, his hands and lips mapping every inch of your skin, making you feel seen, cherished. His movements are slow, deliberate, as if he's afraid to rush and break the fragile connection between you.

When he finally enters you, it's with a care that makes your breath catch. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and emotion that leaves you clinging to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. He pauses, giving you time to adjust, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispers your name like a prayer.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice barely audible.

You nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, though you're not sure why. "Yeah. I'm okay."

He begins to move, his rhythm slow and steady, and the world seems to fall away. It's just the two of you, tangled together, your breaths and heartbeats aligning. The intimacy is overwhelming, not just physical but emotional, a connection so deep it feels like it's always been there, waiting for this moment.

Every touch, every movement feels deliberate, like he's trying to show you without words how much you mean to him. You lose yourself in the rhythm, the heat building between you until it's almost unbearable.

"Zayn," you whisper, your voice breaking as the tension inside you peaks.

He holds you tighter, his movements becoming more deliberate, and together you reach the edge, falling into it like you've done this a hundred times before. The release is intense, shattering, and you cling to him, his name tumbling from your lips like a lifeline.

Afterward, he stays close, his body still pressed against yours, his forehead resting against your shoulder. The room is silent except for the sound of your breaths, slowly evening out.

"You okay?" he asks again, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

You nod, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. "Yeah. Are you?"

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours. "I am."

There's an unspoken understanding between you, a fragile peace that feels like it could shatter at any moment. But for now, you hold onto it, letting yourself rest in the quiet comfort of Zayn's arms.

…

A few years later you smooth the hem of your dress for the third time, the nerves in your stomach twisting tighter with every second. Zayn’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember, but his world has changed so much over the past few years. The small-town boy you grew up with is now part of the biggest band in the world, touring stadiums and gracing magazine covers.

Still, he’s never changed with you. He calls when he can, texts when he can’t, and always makes time to see you when he’s back home. Today, though, feels different. Today, you’re stepping into his world.

The door to the hotel suite opens, and Zayn’s familiar grin immediately puts you at ease. “There she is,” he says, pulling you into a hug. His cologne surrounds you, warm and familiar, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you again.

“Big deal now, huh?” you tease, stepping back and taking in the plush room behind him. “Fancy hotels, famous friends.”

“Shut up,” he says, laughing. “You know it’s still me. Come on, the guys are dying to meet you.”

He leads you inside, his hand resting lightly on your back, and your nerves spike again. The room is buzzing with energy—laughter, chatter, the faint hum of music playing in the background.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Zayn announces, his voice cutting through the noise. “My best mate. Play nice.”

You barely have time to process the faces turning your way before a whirlwind of introductions begins. Harry, all dimples and charm, greets you first, followed by Liam’s warm handshake and Niall’s cheeky grin.

And then there’s Louis.

His blue eyes meet yours, and for a second, the world tilts. He’s leaning casually against the arm of a couch, his smile crooked, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to your heart.

“Louis,” he says simply, extending his hand.

You take it, your fingers brushing his. “Hi,” you manage, your voice softer than you’d like.

Zayn’s voice cuts through the moment, his tone light but pointed. “Alright, Lou, don’t scare her off.”

Louis smirks, not breaking eye contact. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The rest of the introductions blur together after that, but you can’t shake the feeling of Louis’ eyes on you, watching, assessing. It’s unsettling and thrilling all at once.

Zayn steers you to the couch, making room for you beside him. The conversation flows easily, stories and jokes flying across the room, but you’re hyper-aware of Louis, who’s taken the seat across from you. Every so often, your eyes meet, and his grin deepens, like he’s caught you in some unspoken game.

“Alright,” Niall announces after a while, clapping his hands together. “Who’s up for food? I’m starving.”

As the group begins to stir, Louis leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on you. “You coming out with us?”

The question feels loaded, though you’re not sure why. You glance at Zayn, who shrugs. “Your call.”

“Yeah,” you say, surprised at your own boldness. “I’d like that.”

Louis’ smile widens, and something about it makes your pulse race.

As the group files out of the suite, Zayn falls into step beside you, his arm slung casually around your shoulders. “So?” he asks under his breath. “What do you think?”

You glance back, catching Louis looking at you again. “They seem great,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral.

Zayn hums, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Just remember—he’s trouble.”

The warning is playful, but the edge in Zayn’s voice lingers, making you wonder if he knows just how drawn to Louis you already feel.

…

The restaurant buzzes with the kind of energy that fills the room with a comforting hum. Laughter spills from your table, the clink of glasses punctuating each conversation. You’re nestled between Zayn and Harry, but your focus is steadily being stolen by Louis, sitting across from you, who seems to have this effortless way of drawing your attention.

“So,” Louis begins, leaning forward slightly, his elbows on the table, eyes locked on yours, “Zayn’s told us loads about you.”

“Loads,” Harry adds with a teasing grin. “Like how you’re the only one who can put up with him.”

“Shut it,” Zayn mutters, nudging Harry, but there’s a hint of a blush creeping up his neck.

Louis smirks, enjoying himself far too much. “What I’m wondering is how someone like you”—he pauses for effect, his eyes sparkling—“ended up wasting time on someone like him.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “She’s not wasting time.”

“I would be,” you tease, laughing lightly. “Honestly, I don’t even know how I put up with him.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Exactly. You’ve got a bit of that troublemaker look about you.”

“Troublemaker?” You tilt your head, the challenge in your gaze matching his. “You’ve got the wrong idea.”

He leans closer, his voice dropping slightly. “Oh, I think I’ve got it right.”

Zayn shifts next to you, clearing his throat. You catch the way his hand rests on the back of your chair, the motion subtle but protective. “Let’s not make this about me,” he interjects. “She’s not a troublemaker.”

“Oh, she definitely is,” Niall chimes in, looking at you with a knowing grin. “She’s always been drawn to the bad boys, hasn’t she?”

There’s a flicker of something in your chest at Niall’s words, but you laugh it off. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Louis’ eyes narrow slightly, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “You can try to deny it all you want, but you’ve definitely got that dangerous energy about you. Bet you’ve never been able to resist a bit of trouble.”

You bite your lip, the heat from his gaze making your pulse quicken. “Maybe… I’ve been known to fall for the wrong type, now and then.” You try to make light of it, but it feels a little too close to the truth.

Zayn’s jaw tightens, and you glance at him, catching the subtle shift in his expression. But before you can say anything, Louis speaks again, his voice low and teasing. “Well, I like a challenge. What about you, Zayn? You think she’s too much trouble for me?”

Zayn doesn’t immediately respond, his gaze unwavering. “Just keep it friendly, Lou.”

“Of course, mate,” Louis replies smoothly, his grin never faltering. “Just having some fun.”

As the night continues, you notice how Louis keeps his attention on you. He asks questions, not the usual casual ones, but deeper ones—about your childhood, your life outside of the chaos. It makes you feel something unfamiliar.

“Okay, maybe you’re not as much trouble as I thought,” Louis says with a laugh, his eyes softening. “But still, I’m pretty sure you keep life interesting.”

You smile, shaking your head. “I just get caught up in things sometimes. But trouble’s never far off, is it?”

Louis’ grin widens, but there’s something more sincere about it now. “I think it’s my favorite kind of fun.”

The conversation shifts again, but now it’s like the dynamic has subtly changed. There’s an undeniable pull between you and Louis, a chemistry that’s only been intensifying as the night goes on.

As the group starts to filter out, Liam gives you a knowing look. “Watch yourself,” he says in a teasing tone. “Looks like Louis has his eyes on you.”

You roll your eyes. “I can handle myself.”

Zayn, however, is unusually quiet. His gaze is sharp, flicking between you and Louis, his hand still resting on the back of your chair.

Louis glances over to Zayn, his expression almost too casual. “I’m just making conversation, mate. Relax.”

But Zayn’s voice is low when he responds. “Just keep it respectful.”

Louis doesn’t flinch, his smile not fading in the slightest. “Always.”

The tension in the air is thick now, and when the others start heading out, you’re left alone with Louis. He steps closer, his smile turning more earnest.

“Can I see you again?” Louis asks, his voice quieter, more sincere than it’s been all night.

You glance at Zayn, who hasn’t moved, his presence like a silent challenge. But you can’t deny the pull toward Louis.

“Sure,” you say, your heart thudding in your chest. “I’d like that.”

Louis’ grin spreads, pure mischief and warmth. “Good. I’ll make sure it’s worth your time.”

Zayn watches the exchange with a quiet intensity, and as you head toward the door, you feel the weight of his gaze on you, even as Louis’ presence lingers like a promise.

“Are you really going out with him?” Zayn asks softly, his tone almost too careful, his voice low enough that Louis can’t hear.

“Why not?” you reply lightly, but inside, the tension coils tighter.

Zayn doesn’t respond, his lips pressed into a thin line. You can’t help but wonder if this will be another one of those times when the attraction to the bad boy and the allure of danger come with consequences.

…

Part 2

#one direction fanfiction #zayn malik x y/n #zayn malik x you #zayn x y/n #zayn malik x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #louis tomlinson x y/n #louis tomlinson fanfiction

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